Harrowheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
westfallcorndog) wrote2015-11-22 05:00 pm
westfallcorndog) wrote2015-11-22 05:00 pm
Magic Lessons for Steve and Verity
At the truly, rudely, ridiculously early hour of 3:30 in the morning Harrowheart sent the following texts:
Eleven and a half hours later, Harrowheart is exactly where he said he'd be. The destination is a large area of tall grass surrounded on all sides by woodland that remains leafy despite whatever season it may be on other worlds. The whole area is surrounded by a wooden fence of aged split logs. On one side, nearest the path that leads up to the clearance, is an old picnic bench. Laid out on the table are two thick quilts, two pies under glass covers, a sizable trunk, and one lidded black cauldron sitting above a candle that keeps it warm.
Sitting there at the seat of the bench is Harrowheart. He's dressed much differently today than usual, all done up in a heavy-looking suit of blue armor with a red cape on his back that flows down between his spread legs. His hands are attached to his wrists inside a set of gauntlets. A pair of icy blue axes sit against the bench at awkward angles, their handles attached to the belt of his outfit. He pats his thighs anxiously and often looks to the pathway while he waits for Steve to show up.
To Steve:
"Steve; Borrowed a phone to let you know we will meet in 11 and 1/2 hours for magic lessons. Eat lunch first but there will be food. See you then! – Harrow"
To Verity:
"Verity; Borrowed a phone to let you know we will meet in 12 hours for magic lessons. Eat lunch first but there will be food. See you then! – Harrow"
A quick follow-up text reads: "Do not text this number back. Tell that Steve person the same thing."
The texts each accompany a photo of a hand-drawn map with instructions to a place on the far, far outskirts of the Parklands.
To Verity:
"Verity; Borrowed a phone to let you know we will meet in 12 hours for magic lessons. Eat lunch first but there will be food. See you then! – Harrow"
A quick follow-up text reads: "Do not text this number back. Tell that Steve person the same thing."
The texts each accompany a photo of a hand-drawn map with instructions to a place on the far, far outskirts of the Parklands.
* * *
Eleven and a half hours later, Harrowheart is exactly where he said he'd be. The destination is a large area of tall grass surrounded on all sides by woodland that remains leafy despite whatever season it may be on other worlds. The whole area is surrounded by a wooden fence of aged split logs. On one side, nearest the path that leads up to the clearance, is an old picnic bench. Laid out on the table are two thick quilts, two pies under glass covers, a sizable trunk, and one lidded black cauldron sitting above a candle that keeps it warm.
Sitting there at the seat of the bench is Harrowheart. He's dressed much differently today than usual, all done up in a heavy-looking suit of blue armor with a red cape on his back that flows down between his spread legs. His hands are attached to his wrists inside a set of gauntlets. A pair of icy blue axes sit against the bench at awkward angles, their handles attached to the belt of his outfit. He pats his thighs anxiously and often looks to the pathway while he waits for Steve to show up.
I'm so glad you said red/white/bluescreens because i was thinking it too.
At least the crack wasn't any bones. He's all in one piece. Just disoriented.
"...My head kinda hurts a lot now though." Steve isn't bleeding out his nose or stroking out, so that's good. He's probably not hemorrhaging but it's impossible to tell at a glance. "...Did I Faint? Aww, maaan...."
Steve's an old man but he's too young to have a stroke. (Also cowardly worgen, I laughed)
He turns around after his excavation mission and returns with his haul: In one hand is an Erlenmeyer-style flask filled with a vibrant red liquid. In the other, some kind of training sword with a wooden rod where a blade ought to be. Wedged under one arm is a round, wooden buckler with a metal ring around the edge. It looks suspiciously like it once was the lid to a barrel.
Harrow crouches down, sets down the weapons, and offers Steve the potion. "Healing potion. It tastes like daisy stems, so get ready for a mouth fulla grass. It's worth it, though. Drink it, you'll feel better. It'll wake ya up, heal ya up, make ya go all day. Give Verity a sip if she wants to drink after you." Asthma's contagious, right?
"I realized I shouldn't'a been havin' you two fight me. You oughta be fightin' each other. You're both newbies, it'll be good practice. Verity's gonna work on conjurin' or wand work, and you're gonna try to block her spells. The activity oughta get you warmed up again. Sound good?"
:D
Healing potions sound great and all, and she's all for Steve getting one of those. But the rest of the idea... (that face, guys, that face). "Are you sure that's a good idea? How's a wooden sword going to stop magic?"
SHIELD HYPE
"Sword might not unless i can deflect them. But this should work." Steve slips the buckler over his right arm and smiles somewhat at the weight of it. It's not too heavy to lift with one arm, even his noodle arms. He feels kind of heroic with a cape, sword, and shield. And a might bit silly.
"I'm up for anything that isn't fainting again, so feel free to chuck ice at me Verity. I'm pretty good at catching!" Someone's recovered quickly. Healing potions are sweet.
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He motions for the two of them to stand and takes a step back himself.
"Verity, you and I are gonna work on a simple ice punch technique real quick. I'll provide ya with a little cold to getcha started, then you'll channel that coldness into the shape you want it to be. Think of it like a glove that'll go around your whole hand. Most of your focus is gonna go into containin' the magic so it doesn't hurt you. You gotta tap into that willpower to control your surroundings. The shape'll come naturally so long as you will it."
For a quick demonstration Harrow shapes his hand into a fist. A thick layer of crystal-clear ice forms around it almost instantly, and to prove how durable it is he beats it hard against his armored chest. Unfortunately it doesn't make a comical gong sound, just a violent thud. Then he flexes his hand and as quick as the crystals formed they're gone, falling off like grains of sand that disappear into the grass and melt away.
"Remember. Your focus goes into refusin' to be hurt by the cold. The shape comes naturally from the thoughts in the back of your mind."
As he promised he assists her with starting up the magic. Luckily he doesn't choose 'fucking cold winter tornado' as the spell du jour. Just a mini version of that, a channeled stream of icy magic localized around her hands that's cold enough to sting if she doesn't find the will to overcome it.
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"I don't want to hurt you." It's a stupid hope, but she's hoping Steve will not try to hit her. The minute she feels attacked, he's going down.
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Steve gives Verity a long glance, and then tosses the sword to the ground before moving his left hand to brace the shield already attached to his right arm.
"You won't hurt me. Toss some magic my way. I'll block or use the cape, don't worry."
Round One: FIGHT
"Steve, keep an eye on your left hand. Don't let your fingers get crunched. When she comes at you, don't just expect to block her punch. You wanna push against her." He pauses, sighs, and clarifies, "Not enough to hurt her. Just try to push her off balance or get the upper hand. Verity, same goes for you. Your ice glove is your shield. You wanna use it to deflect Steve's counter-blows, and you wanna use it to unbalance his shield. Strike for the edges, not the center... But for Light's sake, don't accidentally knock his teeth out."
He gives the two their space, pauses a moment, then claps his hands. Chop chop!
http://bit.ly/1QWN8Xt
"I never claimed to have any bloodlust," she points out. "But Samus has been trying to teach me to defend myself for a while now. The problem with only fighting defensively is you've got to be hella strong to push people off again and again and again." And she could probably pick Steve up by the shield and shake him.
She's not going to do that. It doesn't sound like fun for anyone. But she is going to fall into a fighting stance and start going through some of her usual routines. She's pulling her punches; this is a game of touching, not tackling.
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So the next time she swings Steve turns away, unclipping the cape as he does and letting Verity swing into that while he's trying to get around her. Neither one wants to hurt the other, but Steve is eager to see if Verity is going to be able to throw ice his way.
He'll circle around and try to gain some distance between them.
Those cats were too cute, my word. Verity Whiskers and Steve Meowgers (i'm bad at this)
He claps and beams so proudly. But not just for Steve! As the coach he's got to support the whole team, and it's easy with a fast learner like Verity.
"Verity, can you shake off that ice fist? Try to conjure some ice and throw it! If you can't do a projectile spell, make a snowball and toss! No sweat if you don't get it the first time, frostbolts ain't easy!"
Verity Williskers?
"Never give the enemy a weapon, Steve."
Then she'll take a step back and focus on trying to make some kind of projectile. Or at least a snowball. Snow pebble?
Steve Mrowrgers =^o^=
Wow she really is better at him at like everything. The thought fists itself into the pit of his stomach, and Steve turns back toward her--right into the oncoming spell. His reaction is more instinct than thought; Steve swings the barrel lid out like he's throwing open a door, knocking the projectile back toward her with as much adrenaline rush as he's got determination. It's a brilliant effort, except he's off balance from the effort, and with trying to right himself he slips on the frosted grass and falls back onto his backside.
Perfect target for snowballs! Chuck like there's no tomorrow Verity!
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"Steve, you're a natural!"
Buuuut if Verity wants to throw some snow on her prone victim, he's not gonna step in. The circle of nature must take its course.
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No. That's someone else.
"Good job, Steve!" She has no desire to take advantage. Instead of throwing snow or shade, she steps forward to offer him a hand up. "You have good reflexes. Next time, try it on a dry surface."
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"It looked cooler in my head."
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"You two make a good sparring team, you know that? And, more importantly, I think you both got what it takes to be good fighters in your own right. Verity, you got the magic, and you know how to tap into it. Steve, whether or not you got magic in you, you got inner willpower in spades, I can tell. That's a gift not everyone's got. I think if we got you an enchanted suit of armor to compensate for your..." Oops. How can he put this? "Natural strength. You could make a good knight."
He nods approvingly between the two, smiling as he does. "The fighter and the mage. The classic buddy combo. Now, you two take a quick breather and tell me about this Samus person. You're taking fighting lessons from them? You think you got the time to come back for magic training half as often as you go see her?"
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"Thank you." Harrow gets a quick smile. "She'll understand my making time for this. Samus is a bounty hunter from the future who lives in outer space. She is an extremely good fighter and a tactician. She's been training me for... about six months now, which is the only reason I can pretend I know what I'm doing."
((*She can totally lie.))
Prot Warrior all day erry day. You make me miss WoW Harrow.
This Steve overbalanced with a wine barrel lid for a weapon.
"I intend to keep trying though. ...Maybe not passing out. Hopefully not passing out. That was really unpleasant."
Don't miss WoW until Legion comes out next year. It's gonna be tight as fel B)
He claps a hand to Steve's shoulder and with a shrug says, "But, hey. Maybe she won't. There's stuff we all gotta come to terms with not bein' able to do. Maybe for me that's space, and maybe for you that's magic. Still, what I think both of you would benefit from is readin' some good magic books. Maybe on defensive stuff, maybe on the offensive stuff. Just knowin' what folks out there can do is a defense all its own. What is it they say, knowledge is power?" Unless you're a corn-fed hick who knows nothing and manages to be strong anyway.
"I hate to say this, but... Since Verity's so warm on Viatorus... Maybe you two oughta talk with him about magic? He's from an Earth where it exists, and apparently he's a big nerd scholar. Or... Or!"
Uh oh. His eyes are so on you now, Verity.
"Ixis Naugus! Maybe he could share some knowledge with the both of you! I know you said he's busy, Verity, but... Hell, I'll see if I can't talk him into findin' the time to teach you both some stuff. Steve, maybe he can make you a shield outta his unbreakable crystal! You could train like a pro with somethin' like that."
Evil schemes are coming together here. We're one finger steeple away from disaster.
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Oh, Harrow. Really. Don't talk about V. Just don't. She won't dignify that with a response.
That look she was trying to give him would work better if she weren't distracted into smiling at the idea of Steve with a big green shield. "Thank you, Harrowheart, but I can make my own arrangements with Naugus. It'd seem odd if I didn't since we're roommates."
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Steve is confused.
As for Naugus, well, Steve doesn't really know racist grandpa much at all either. So he shrugs and listens instead.
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Harrow mosies on over to the picnic table and takes a seat on the bench. All this watching other people work has made him sympathetically tired. He searches his satchel for the phone he'd been so generously gifted, but he doesn't turn it on right away. Instead he stares at his reflection in the darkened screen. Whatever he sees, it makes him frown.
"Verity," he says with a heaving sigh. "I'll meet Viatorus again, if it'll make you happy. But you gotta set it up, 'cause I ain't phonin' him. That'd be weird. Maybe he and I can have a chat about your magic lessons. And speakin' of..."
He twists around and removes from the trunk two sheets of paper full of hand-written instructions and schematics, and two small sections of iron chains.
"Homework. Chains of ice. It's kind of a pain in the ass at first. You'll wanna read about the different types of chain links and take a while to look at the iron chains. Conjure up one link at a time, then try to conjure another link so it loops in with the first. Make a chain. Then smash up all the ice and start over. Only way to get good is to practice. It's a good exercise in patience and precision. Steve, you're exempt, unless you really wanna try."
Racist Grandpa hasn't been fulfilling his public ranting quota lately. Tsk.
What she wants to say is that V is wonderful, but his family is made of fail and he needs to be saved from them. But that wouldn't be very diplomatic. (But his family really is made of fail.)
"Chains of ice." She picks up one of the chains, turning it over in her hands before looking to the papers. "Right. I'll see what I can do."
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"I don't know most people well enough to judge, I figure." Viatorus doesn't really stand out to Steve much either way. He's pretty much just on the long mental list of 'Verity's friends' Steve tries to keep track of.
"I'll read about it, at least. If I can manage anything more than a snowflake out of the wand maybe I'll give it a shot." He hasn't taken the shield off yet. It's comforting. He likes it.
Steve's out for the weekend and I'm gonna wrap the thread unless you've got something to say!
Yeah, we got ditched for a honeymoon. :P