Substitute Teacher

The time for Seldan to meet with Erendriel comes, at the training grounds, as usual. The weather is fair, and it's a perfect day to train. But something is different.

The paladin is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, another familiar figure waits for Erendriel there -- Malik, sprawled out on a bench and generally looking relaxed and comfrotable. The red in his eyes suggests that he didn't sleep at all, and everything about his appearance suggests that he had a rough night, but there's a knowing little smile on his face as he stares off into the distance, examining a tree.

Several star knives sit beside him, however, and it's clear that he isn't here just to relax.

Erendriel comes on out as she has before. Ready to train. Well as ready as she is. But when she gets there, she sees Malik. Nodding to him, she walks on by without stopping, hands on her hips, looking around for Seldan.

Malik stands up off the bench, stretching a bit as she approaches. "Seldan's a little bit occupied at the moment," he tells her, suddenly looking much more awake. "So he asked if I'd be willing to fill in for him." He picks up one of those blades, giving it a curious spin as he tosses it up, catching it.

He picks up another of the knives, handing one to Erendriel. "He might be along later. Depends on how long he's detained for. Until then, though," he chuckles, "let's see what he's been filling your head with. Want to show me what you know?"

Erendriel turns around when Malik speaks. "How did you... oh. I see." she tilts her head, walking toward him. She takes the offerd weapon, holding it carefully, turning it in her hand. "Um, what do I know? I know you hold it here... and you sort of try to do this..." and she does some stabs in the air with it like you'd expect a sorcerer to do.

Malik moves around her, watching the form carefully, though that smile grows a bit. "Knowing where the pointy ends go is pretty much half the battle," he tells her. But he watches her form, curiously. "Alright. Not bad," he agrees. In a street fight she could probably handle herself well enough, even not being trained in the weapon. "But try this." He moves beside her, squaring her shoulders back a bit. "Put your left foot back a bit. A little more. Like that," he starts. "And when you move the weapon, don't swing from the shoulder. Move from the hips, using this muscle here," he says, pointing to his own obliques, "to move it, while you drive yourself forward with the back foot."

Erendriel giggles. "Well you know, this thing is all pointy ends" She then holds it up and turns it again. "Um, ok, yeah that's weird," she murmurs. Malik getting right into it, trying to be helpful, is forgotten for them oment as she just tries. Wlel she does it once, then seems satisfied.

Malik laughs, giving her a nod. "Feels weird, right?" He's apparently been through this part before. "Like your leg is too tight and your ass might start cramping, and moving from the side of your body seem to go against every law of god and nature." But it appears that he has something of a demonstration in mind. "Driving forward with your back foot? That keeps you in balance. And helps you keep your opponent off of it." He steps in, very slowly pushing his shoulder into her, showing her the different in the center of gravity. "And moving from the side, generating your power from your hips..." That foot steps behind her as the shoulder works, threatening to trip her, even as the points of one of those blades come dangerously close to her chest, "means that you can move in ways your opponent can't expect."

He steps back, letting her regain her balance. "Remember, it's not a weapon for chopping through trees and cleaving through metal. It's about precision. Bringing those points exactly where you want them. Their small tips will do the rest."

Malik files that one under 'Not His Circus, Not His Monkeys'

Erendriel follows everything Malik explains, watching step by step. Then again, she repeats it. Once. Nodding. "I see what you're saying... and it goes like this?" she explains as she walks through the steps of setting her feet, shifting her balance, and moving the weapon.

"Exactly like that. Almost," Malik tells her. "You'll have to generate a bit more power than that. This weapon might be all about grace, but if you're going to trip a man twice your muscle mass and push through his armor, you'll need power. Try it again. Let's say -- fifty times. That should be a good warmup." It looks like he's fully prepared to run through it with her, though.

Erendriel blinks. "Fifty times?" She asks softly, unable to stifle a sigh at that. "Oh gods..." she whispers under her breath as she does one. Then another. Her power output is limited but she is trying... through her boredom.

Finally, Seldan shows up, wearing his fairly-common sword but no armor, and the loose surcoat over shirt and trousers that almost looks like a robe. A blue woolen cloak covers all, and the headband he has taken to wearing is present and holding his hair out of his face. He looks as if he got about as much sleep as Malik did, and is moving with something less than his usual easy grace, but walks over in their direction. Seeing them in progress, he doesn't speak or interfere.

Malik watches the first few, shaking his head. "You'll still need to do a bit better," he tells her. "You're not quite committing enough to it. Run through the drills like your life depends on it. One day," he says, drawing a thin rapier and making a stab just as she's coming back up with the blade, the strange knife deflecting it. "It may." He pulls the sword back, but advances again, in the same way, this thrust harder than the first, threatening to break though the bored practice she's putting on. Suddenly, this practice may seem much less boring.

Erendriel pauses from her repetititons to wave to Seldan. But then goes back to practicing. Malik she watches, sighing heavily as it goes on FOREVER. Or at least that's what she'd say. She does try, and well again, she's a small half-elf, her power is fundamentally limited. But sheis trying to do the correct motions. The fine differences between 'right' and 'wrong' aren't obvious to her, so she can't tell if it's making the least bit of difference.

Seldan inclines his head at Erendriel. He's seen her, but he isn't going to distract her or save her from this. He simply watches quietly and soberly, the cloak pulled around his shoulders and covering all.

Malik goes through all fifty motions, not holding back. Half elf or no, she'll need to learn to survive. But he's not trying to kill her, either, offering instruction as they go, giving little pointers here and there. "Shoulder up," is the first one, "back square. Bend your forward knee a little more." Little by little, as the burn of the muscles intensifies, she'll start to feel which ones she's working the most -- which one Malik is making her work the most, by not holding back -- and the movement starts to become slightly more intuitive, less cerebral.

Stepping back, he gives her a nod. "That's not bad," he commends her. "A few months of that and you'll be able to hold your own." He sees Seldan there, giving him a nod. "Two minutes," he tells the woman. "Then throwing practice."

Erendriel sighs deeply after the fifty repetitions. "seriously?" she mutters, as she then sighs and drops onto a bench afterward. Then as she sits, he .. throws that next instruction out there. "THROWING? THIS? But it's HUGE!"

"It can be done." Seldan finally speaks up, although he does not move from where he leans against the tree. "I have not yet taught her the way of it, Malik." The Myrrish-tinted voice sounds tired, but coherent and present. "Nothing here will serve you in a true fight, Erendriel, until your body knows it better than your mind. I have told you this."

Malik turns to listen to the man, crossing his arms as he nods a bit. "Alright," he agrees. "No throwing today then. Probably best if we build up your strength first." He gives Seldan an easy smile, though there's a questioning look there as well. "Get a drink. Two minutes. Then we'll do the same thing on the other side."

Erendriel doesn't mind the least that Malik relents, sitting back and flopping her arms out after holding that huge thing as long as she did. Looking to each of them. "Other side?" she sighs, going from satisfaction to disappointment abruptly.

"You would not wish to strengthen or learn only one side of your body." Seldan straightens from the tree and finally moves over at the signaled break. "What happens, should you lose the use of your fighting hand? You will train both hands equally, and be equally strong in either hand, so that you may switch hands at need. It is not ideal, but better than certain death." The practice knives that Seldan has Erendriel using are actually heavier than the live steel ones. "Malik, you have my gratitude for undertaking this."

Malik reaches out, putting a friendly hand on Seldan's shoulder, though he's using a different hand than he normally would. "You can show me your gratitude later. It's your turn to buy dinner, and we skipped breakfast," he laughs. Though as Erendriel questions the training regimen, he can't help but smile. "Have you ever seen one of the arena fighters who are bigger on one side of their body than the other?" he asks her. "It's not what they do in the privacy of the night that causes that. Unless you want to start looking lopsided as well, then yes," he agrees. "Both sides." Seldan might appeal to practicality, but Malik appeals to vanity. "The shape of a pear shouldn't run from left to right."

Erendriel throws her head back, sighs, and nods "Fine." The two of them convince her to keep going. She then gets up, awkwardly tries to hold the starknife with the other hand, which is even more pitiful than it was with the main hand, and approaches.

The pink color that Seldan turns at Malik's remark about the privacy of the night is most interesting, and many might find it amusing. "He is right, that it does not look well, either." However, as Erendriel picks up her weapon and makes to resume, he steps back beneath the tree, with a small shake of the head meant for Malik. The meaning is clear enough - _no_ - but why is less so.

Malik steps to the side. "Alright. Show me the move again from the other side," he tells her. "Maybe -- five times. That should give me enough time to figure out where we need to start." He circles around her, remarking, "Leg a bit further back. Bend the back knee a bit. No, I'm not staring at your ass," he assures her, in a not-very-reassuring way, circling back around to the front, though Seldan can at least see that he speaks the truth. Mostly.

Erendriel grunts and hefts the weapon with her off hand, and starts moving in. Malik's commentarise do make her giggles as much as they may make Seldan blush. "Five times... isn't it clear the first t... never mind." she complains before just doing it.

Seldan shakes his head, returning to his watching. "It is not, Erendriel. He wishes to see if you perform it in the same way each time, as well."

Malik nods, examining how the women does it. On the third try, he presses his toes against her ankle, causing her to wobble a bit off balance. "Straighten this leg," he tells her. "Think of it as one long line driving into the ground. You're carrying more weight on this side now, you have to shift accordingly, or else you'll find yourself on the ground. And at least in a fight, that's absolutely not where you want to be, most of the time." A glance to Seldan there, as if remembering something, and he circles back around to watch the fourth and fifth. "Your shoulder is weak on that side," he tells her. "So I think we'll skip the rapier training for now. You have enough resistance from the blade alone."

Erendriel does go along with every correction Malik makes. "RAPIER?I don't need to learn how to use a rapier!" she then complains. Hitting her break point. The wepaon sinks in her hand, and she stakes a deep breath. "I think I need to take a break. Thank you very much though, both of you."

Erendriel gets an idea for a meetup

"No, but you might find yourself fighting a wielder of such a weapon." Seldan stays where he is as she pleads for a break, his bearing and expression a mask. "That is for him to decide."

Malik nods. He can be at least a bit compassionate. "Ten minutes," he tells the woman. "Get a snack. Then we go into the second set." Both he and Seldan have professional warrior training, and it doesn't look like either of them are going to let her out of her committment to this.

Erendriel will take her break, and do a bit more training. She does keep on cmoplaining, briefly, but continues to stifle them until the session is complete.