Scene #4615: Scion vs Legend: Round 1

Owner	Pose
Young Arthur	It's the crack of dawn, Arthur has already finished warming up and is currently in the process of brutalizing a training dummy. His strokes are accurately aimed, well-practiced, and show some real muscle behind it. Yet there's still abundant room for improvement, and a practice dummy is no substitute for someone who dodges or worse, hits back.
Eithne Sullivan	Eithne is up as well, but it's because she hasn't been to sleep yet. Most of Dun Realtai seems to enjoy being up and at 'em very early, so it's no surprise to hear the loud 'crack' of yet another poor training dummy being victimized. To her delight, however, it's not Sir Bedivere (though she understands that the King is also a great warrior) but the other, male-r version of King Arthur. The dark-haired girl approaches the training circle from the direction of town, a ...really, really ridiculously large sword slung over one shoulder. "Good morning~" she calls out, waving her free hand at him. "Givin' that poor doll a good workout, eh?"
Young Arthur	"Good morning, Enya." Arthur answers, taking a break from whacking at it to take a step back and observe the results of his deeds. He glances at the massive sword and seems curious, "That's a big sword you got there." He points out idly, before adding, "Prowess is an important trait for anyone who lives by the sword, one must not neglect practice."
Eithne Sullivan	"I didn't choose it," she shrugs philosophically, though the Scion seems fond enough of the pitted, ancient blade. It looks like she dug it out of a mud pit or a shipwreck! "Ma gave it to me." Hefting the blade in one hand, she gives a practice swing. Despite the size and weight, Eithne wields it easily. ~Elites.~ She gives the dummy a look-over, nodding thoughtfully. "That's the part I'm still workin' on. I can swing this thing all over the place, but I'm not very skilled." She puts on her most winning grin and points the dull tip of her blade at him. "Whatcha say? Want to show me how a king fights?"
Young Arthur	"I suppuse I did not pick Calibourne either." Arthur shrugs, letting the details of how it came to be in Eithne's possession slide over him as meaningless. It's clearly important, and thus likely more than it seems. "A duel, you say? That sounds good to me." Arthur puts aside the wooden practice sword and draws a well-made but entirely mundane steel sword. "I'd prefer not to use Calibourne, that sword is ill suited to friendly duels. I hope you'll forgive me."
Eithne Sullivan	Some people get to pick swords, and some people are picked /by/ swords. It's one of those things that seems to be important in the context of legends and fables (and more mundane novels as well). "I don't mind a bit! Rhiannon's not got any fancy magic tricks, so there's no need to worry about that." Maybe she'll get to see him use Calibourne another time, but Eithne's completely willing to let a little time pass before her next attempt to take on something that far outstrips her own power. She tosses her light jacket on top of the training dummy and takes the hilt of her sword in both hands. She wasn't lying - her form's all right and shows evidence of practice, but it's not yet second nature to her. "Come at me, then~"
Young Arthur	Arthur is patient, reaching out for a wooden shield to strap on his arm before he even makes his first move, and even then it's not much of one. A quick little jab that seems aimed to test Eithne's responses, if she makes any it'll be pulled back before it could even land. Mostly, he keeps his distance, trying to get a good read on the scion's movements. He himself is patient and relaxed, the stance and gestures of a boy who's been doing this since the day he could walk. He may be a king, but he's without doubt a warrior, a young man fit for the battlefield, and he's in no hurry to get this fight properly going.
Eithne Sullivan	The difference in their skills is plain to see, especially for someone like Arthur. Her reflexes are good enough, and despite the weight of her weapon she moves as if it were made of wood... but she's not as skilled as he is. Her natural aptitude for it can't disguise the fact that Eithne hasn't been carrying a weapon for more than a year. She swats at the jab, an attempt to parry a blow that wasn't intended to land. "Ah, gonna test me out, huh?" Eithne laughs. Bouncing on her heels, she draws back her sword and lunges forward, committing her body to take a swing at his hip.
Young Arthur	At the same time, Arthur isn't as strong as she is. Oh he's no weakling, for sure, but when that sword lunge comes, Arthur sees it coming and moves to block it with his shield. Which doesn't prevent the blow from reverberating through his arm and knocking him to the side. He rolls with it, and gets up, but there's already some scrapes to be seen, and without a doubt he felt that the most in his arm. "I'll have to figure out how to deal with that." He mentions, before approaching, swift but carefully, he aims to get right in Enya's face, up very close. He's even holding his sword above the hilt rather than below it, to shorten its reach and allow him to comfortably use it at these distances. A quick swipe at the girl's belly follows, and this time it's for real.
Eithne Sullivan	Though she lacks expertise, Eithne's unnatural strength and tenacity still let her fight in the same league as people like Bedivere and Arthur. Even though he blocks and rolls with the hit, she doesn't follow up with another strike. Either she doesn't yet have the instinct, or it's being overriden by caution. "I can't dodge stuff as well as most," she nods. It's hardly giving him her cheat codes, she's well aware that just about anybody would be able to see it! "Someone that can hit me enough without takin' too many hits will end up wearin' me down eventually." ...It sounds really obvious when she says it out loud. Like so! Arthur's brought himself in close enough to render her sword all but useless, and rather than have her stomach opened she bats his strike away with an empty hand. The edge of his sword opens up a gash on her lower arm, but she doesn't slow down. Eithne grabs for the front of his shirt with that empty hand, ready to /yank/ him down - and headbutt him right in the damn forehead. That can't be fair, can it?!
Young Arthur	"We can look at what can be learnt after, no reason to point out all your weak points to me while we fight." Arthur points out with a slight grin, pulling himself back a little until his shirt is grabbed onto, and he's pulled down. Seeing what's coming, he twists his head forward and around, lining his mouth up in an attempt to make Eithne's lips meet his with her own movements.
Eithne Sullivan	"Half of it's fer me, as well," she laughs. "I'm just goin' over old lessons!" But no lesson that Bedivere's given her could prepare her for what Arthur tries next. For a long, confusing moment, Eithne can't figure out out why he's trying to headbutt her with his /mouth/. Then she /gets it/, and her eyes widen - then she changes her angle, turning her face away. He might get a nice mouthful of curly black hair before Eithne /hefts him over her head/ with one arm and /throws him/ a good twenty feet. "Don't go around tryin' to kiss girls without askin' first!" she shouts after him, and now she /does/ follow up on her attack, charging after Arthur with something like bloodlust in her eyes. He'd better move fast, because Eithne's lifting her weapon overhead with both hands - she might cleave him right in two!
Young Arthur	Arthur starts laughing when Eithne realizes what he's up to, though he does roll with the throw, landing properly and able to get out of the way of that sword in time. Still more bruises and scrapes from being so roughly handled, however. "I was just trying to get a rise out of you, that'll happen in a fight and I wanted to see how you'd respond." He justifies his actions, getting his laughing under control as he jumps, trying to land on top of Enya's sword and balance on it to approach her, a quick stab aimed at her shoulder.
Eithne Sullivan	For all her carefree cheer, apparently it's not that hard to get under Eithne's skin! "That would've been my first kiss, yeh dolt!" she counters. "I should hope there won't be an awful lot of people tryin' to kiss me on the battlefield!" Cimorene never had to put up with that kind of thing!! To be fair, Cimorene was the kind of princess that didn't need to do a lot of fighting. She had a dragon friend to do that sort of thing for her. He lands on her sword, though his weight's too negligible to hold it down. Eithne doesn't try to lift it, though - she leaves her shoulder open, an inviting target~ And when his blade sinks into the meat of her body, she lets go of her own sword to grab his by the blade and /pull/, heedless of the damage to her own hand. He'd better be quick or she'll tear it free and keep it! "If I'd been a man, would yeh have tried to get a rise out've me the same way?"
Young Arthur	Arthur is letting Eithne grab the sword and keep it, he just shows he's far stronger than he looks by picking up his opponent's blade with both hands, a little unsteady as he holds it, he's not as strong as his opponent, "I would've been honoured to have it." He answers the comment about it being her first kiss, and perhaps wisely he doesn't answer the latter. Instead he swings that massive blade, it's unwieldy and he's obviously not uses to weapons like it, but swing it he does, and his aim is fairly accurate, in the sense that without a doubt the weapon is going somewhere that, if not avoided, is going to hit the Scion.
Eithne Sullivan	Of all the things he could've said, how is Eithne supposed to react to that? Because however it was supposed to be, instead she very eloquently turns beet red and gapes at him a bit. She's never been terribly good at processing more than two emotions at once, and the combination of embarrassment, anger, and something a little tiny bit like actual /bashfulness/ is taking up all of her brainpower. The wounds on her arm and shoulder bleed, and his sword feels weightless in her hands. But Bedivere had taught her a bit about adapting to that, as well; without Rhiannon's weight, she's just a little bit faster. Of course, she's still not fast enough to completely avoid the blow, and she gets a good clonk on the arm from her own sword. ...Too bad Rhiannon's about as sharp as a butterknife. "Ow! Awright, awright, enough," Eithne calls, and wipes her blood off of his blade with the hem of her shirt. "It's weird seein' someone else hold her." Still, it's kind of impressive that he can lift it at all...!