[ Once she sits, X'rhun leans his elbows on the table, fingers laced together in front of him. He levels his gaze at her -- it's serious but not unkind. ]
You know me. You know I have never asked for reward for the things I do. If you truly feel that you do owe a debt, seeing you now, alive and well, is more than enough repayment for me.
Keep living, hone your craft, and I could ask for no more.
[ His brows go up, and he breathes out a laugh, tail lashing behind him with amusement. ]
'Tis adorable, the way you assume that for the last two decades and then some that I have faced naught but people, but go on. Tell me how you have improved upon what I taught you.
[She does! And once they're out into Thanalan, she drops any real pretense of being civilized. She gets low to the ground, looking for tracks, following a trail of... something.
Until she finds her target. A lone giant mammet wandering around. in other words: the fucking b-rank, ovjang.]
I've destroyed this thing before, but it somehow seems to come back.
Gone from her fighting are X'rhun's flourishes, fancy footwork, and honor. It's a style of a beast, made to fight beasts, the flashing fire and bright aetherial lights being turned into a distraction so she can strike from behind, or in the monster's weak point. Corps-a-corps brings her straight into the mammet, and with a few slashes, she Discplacements out, via kicking off the thing's face. Once she lands, her stance is low, like a beast's, and she's circling off to the side.
As Ibakha fights, she is never still. She's casting and doublecasting, building up both her white and black mana reserves, but she does so while running around the monster. She's constantly bouncing in and out, weaving together swordwork and spells, and if the enemy attacks one place, she's already moved. She moves freely in three dimensions, even- The aetherial swords of Fleche fly out, and she jumps, using them as footholds to get into the air, kicking off to launch spells from the air.
When she slashes, it resembles more the slash of a coeurl's claws than a sword. Her thrusts seem modeled after a Final Sting. Even her magic- Her Veraero blasts in front of her like Garuda's twisters, between Contre Sixte's many swords flying at all angles like the Knights of the Round. And in the end, she jumps into the air, raining a Verflare from above, following down into the explosion herself, planting her sword into the mammet's head.
(She'd make a good Blue Mage, if the game would ever give those to us.)
She pulls her sword back out, sitting on the mammet's broken body.]
[ It is different, but he can understand the evolution from something more structured to something wild, something with constant movement and hard-hitting, fast attacks. It is a sight to behold.
But if Ibakha believes it not to be flashy, then she is sorely mistaken.
When the whole show is over, and the mammet lay in a smoking ruin, Ibakha perched atop it easy as you please, X’rhun applauds. That performance deserves nothing less. ]
Very well done! You may consider my sufficiently dazzled.
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valoirs
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[so yes she did]
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Sit with me a moment, would you?
[ Because I just decided we’re in like a tavern or something. ]
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But for a moment, then.
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You know me. You know I have never asked for reward for the things I do. If you truly feel that you do owe a debt, seeing you now, alive and well, is more than enough repayment for me.
Keep living, hone your craft, and I could ask for no more.
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Sentimental, hm?
Ah, fear not of that. I have honed what you taught me. I daresay it no longer resembles your craft at all.
[living in the wilds vs being a fancy duelist will do that.]
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Oh? Now you have me curious as to what you have done with it.
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Your style, full of fancy and flourish, is surely effective to fight against people, but it is less so in the wilds.
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'Tis adorable, the way you assume that for the last two decades and then some that I have faced naught but people, but go on. Tell me how you have improved upon what I taught you.
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[OLD MAN]
Would you care to see it?
[... ibakha do not start a red magic bar fight.
ibakha DO NOT]
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[ Knowing Ibakha as he knows her, he’s quick to hold up a hand, stating firmly: ]
Not right here, and not right now. Let us take a walk first. I would see this improved technique of yours aimed at what it was made to fight.
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[... awww. no bar fight? She immediately stands up, shrugging.]
Very well. Where shall we go?
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[ Just what have you been telling people?? ]
Away from town. There's sure to be some beasts lurking about that would sooner make a meal of us.
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[absolutely blunt.]
I suppose... Ah, I have a suitable target in mind.
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[ about which part? Hard to say. ]
Very well. Lead the way.
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Until she finds her target. A lone giant mammet wandering around. in other words: the fucking b-rank, ovjang.]
I've destroyed this thing before, but it somehow seems to come back.
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[ Hard to tell with mammets, but either way, he stands back, arms crossed over his chest. ]
Go on then, my dear. Dazzle me.
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Gone from her fighting are X'rhun's flourishes, fancy footwork, and honor. It's a style of a beast, made to fight beasts, the flashing fire and bright aetherial lights being turned into a distraction so she can strike from behind, or in the monster's weak point. Corps-a-corps brings her straight into the mammet, and with a few slashes, she Discplacements out, via kicking off the thing's face. Once she lands, her stance is low, like a beast's, and she's circling off to the side.
As Ibakha fights, she is never still. She's casting and doublecasting, building up both her white and black mana reserves, but she does so while running around the monster. She's constantly bouncing in and out, weaving together swordwork and spells, and if the enemy attacks one place, she's already moved. She moves freely in three dimensions, even- The aetherial swords of Fleche fly out, and she jumps, using them as footholds to get into the air, kicking off to launch spells from the air.
When she slashes, it resembles more the slash of a coeurl's claws than a sword. Her thrusts seem modeled after a Final Sting. Even her magic- Her Veraero blasts in front of her like Garuda's twisters, between Contre Sixte's many swords flying at all angles like the Knights of the Round. And in the end, she jumps into the air, raining a Verflare from above, following down into the explosion herself, planting her sword into the mammet's head.
(She'd make a good Blue Mage, if the game would ever give those to us.)
She pulls her sword back out, sitting on the mammet's broken body.]
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But if Ibakha believes it not to be flashy, then she is sorely mistaken.
When the whole show is over, and the mammet lay in a smoking ruin, Ibakha perched atop it easy as you please, X’rhun applauds. That performance deserves nothing less. ]
Very well done! You may consider my sufficiently dazzled.
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Would you care to test your own skills against it?