let's get down to business

[whattaprick]

Who: Nightrunners and whoever wants to make use of the training yard for whatever reason.
When: S2 D1-D5
Where: The Training Yard
What: Training, or pointing and laughing at people training.
Warnings: Explosions and swearing, probably.

Though it's never really been off-limits, once they're down off the moon, Lambert wastes little time informing the nightrunners he officially expects them to get back to training and getting in shape. They can make ample use of the training yard facilities to learn how to work with each other after their extended vacation, or just get to know their newer coworkers in an environment closer to what their actual working conditions will actually be like.

The yard, as usual, isn't limited solely to nightrunners. Anyone who wants to work on their physical or magical skills are welcome, as well as anyone from the other departments who have anything they might want to test out that requires a combatant, for some reason.

Lambert's generally a constant presence at the fringes, sometimes participating in exercise or sparring himself, but mostly just watching and making sure no one's about to put someone's eye out or break the equipment, because that would be bad for obvious reasons.

[ ooc; this is an open log, so bring your own toplevel! ]

Comments

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya gives 9S an incredulous look.] Why would I--

[And then 9S's sword slams into his back and with a pained wheeze Syrlya trips forward. He barely catches himself on his sword.]

That's why! [He waves his hand again to summon another sword welding phantasm to harass 9S.]

[dressedtothe]

[Wow he didn't expect that to distract Syrlya enough for him to nail the guy with his sword. It would just be fantastic if Syrlya continued to stay still long enough for 9S to hit him!!

If Syrlya was expecting him to back off or deal with the phantasm, 9S does the complete opposite; now that his sword is back in hand, 9S steps in and thrusts the scabbard covered weapon up towards Syrlya where the solar plexus would be located on a human.

Its an attack that would leave him completely open to the phantasm should he miss, but 9S figures if the strike lands -- in his mind, there's no doubt -- then Syrlya would have to yield.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya jerks up, thrusting the off hand blade down to parry as he twists to the side. His muscles can't compete with 9S' strength, so it still strikes against his side.

He teleports away again, putting a few feet between them as he staggers to recover himself. He has a feeling something's going to bruise later.]

[dressedtothe]

Augh!

[Frustrated at Syrlya teleporting away yet again, 9S throws his sword point down into the ground. Guess who doesn't spar very often? This guy. He's done.]

This is stupid! How are we supposed to know who wins?

[He can't pin down Syrlya when he keeps teleporting around like this and a lot of problems he's facing would seriously be solved if, you know, it wasn't a bad idea to cut up your co workers! And Syrlya obviously can't really hurt him with these practice weapons even if the weird mind magic is a right pain, so at this rate they'll be at a stalemate forever, in his mind.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya's admittedly not used to such a drawn out spar, either--not without it being a case of being equally matched. Here, though, it seems to be that neither of them are capable of overcoming each other's strong point--or exploiting a weakness.]

We spar until someone gives up? [He shrugs!] Call a forfeit. It isn't really about winning, anyway.

[dressedtothe]

[Oh, if only his hacking powers worked on living beings! It's such a pain being restricted to only using the weakest of his abilities in a fight.

9S wrinkles his face, dissatisfied.]

If it isn't really about winning, then you call a forfeit.

[Is he being a huge child about this? Yeah.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya pauses, like he seems to consider that. And then he straightens his back, raising the blade not quite in a proper position for battle--but certainly not a surrender.]

Well, perhaps I am not yet at my limit.

[This is now a battle of attrition and pride.]

[dressedtothe]

[9S opens his mouth like he's about to protest, but then shakes his head.]

Well I don't want to keep doing this pointless dancing.

[He could go for longer, but it's not like he really enjoys fighting like this. Sure, he still enjoys fighting, but not fighting the way combat androids do!]

Fighting's not even my forte, anyway!

[chronosynthesis]

[Aha! This was, honestly, the only way Syrlya was going to claim victory in a fight of attrition, so he's a little pleased at that.]

Suit yourself. [Syrlya shrugs, lowering the blade.] I suppose I'll see you next time Lambert gathers the Nightrunners for training?

[Given There's only so many of the Nightrunners 9S can feasibly combat.]

[dressedtothe]

[9S groans dramatically. Is that answer enough? He doesn't want to keep sparring! Dismissively, he says--]

Yeah, yeah. I'll be there.

[Though, that said... He has to admit, he's never encountered anyone who fights quite like Syrlya.]

So, what's the deal with all the fake yous? Do you have a limit to the number you can project?

[chronosynthesis]

Illusions. [A gentle correction, although 'fake you' isn't entirely wrong.] I can create as many as I can maintain focus on, but controlling the magic is usually too difficult after about three.