Olan's Visit: Bartering Goods and Exchanging Blows! {a log}

[De'Ryanna Aybara]

{Hello! The following events happened one night in group play. Though it is long - it'll be in several parts - it was thought to be worth the read (and there's a really well-played free-forum combat involved)! So take a look and enjoy!}

“Wind to your wings?” Well of course, that caused Gwen to pull up stop, the arms of the snow flake of her dress bounced; Her eyes widened as she looked at Liam in curiosity. "How did you know I have wings?” She spoke softly as if she was scared that someone else would hear her words, and she wasn't allowed to tell, because then the bad people would want to use her for bad things! Or something along those lines. The fact being that she assumed that Mr.Coat knew was something completely different; She did watch the exchange, and she thought it was very nice of Ryan to take care of their friend like that. Giving him a gift and all.; Gwen always thought that Ryan had that softer side and was just afraid in a way to let it shine through. A feeling the harder Ryan was more of a shield to the world. She spun just so looking at Ryan. "Thank you Ryan.” Of course, she didn't understand that they had their differences, Gwen adored Ryan...in her own way. She had gotten distracted...easily enough.

“I do..." She was right, it was with his sister. "We always have..." A boyish grin hit Liam's lips as he began unclasping the long traveling coat, tossing it onto the back of the chair. "Ooh, she's going to be jealous!" Said excitedly, exposing, probably for the first time, the slim frame, covered with a warm thermal shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows; his left forearm covered with a strange kind of sheath for a dagger who's blade sat precariously at his wrist, as well as the worn wooden sheath of a curved blade at his right hip that was usually hidden under the coat or tucked higher up when he wore the jacket to keep it concealed. He went about slinging on the new jacket -- freezing in mid motion, his right arm pushed through the sleeve, and blinked at Gwen. "... what?" Stared at her for a moment. "It's... just a saying..." Brows pulled together, confused a moment. "You have wings?" Surprised at that notion... outside of people he was related to -- or angels wanting he and his sister dead -- Liam had never come across another person with the same extra appendages. Reminded himself to finish putting the jacket on, pushing his left arm through the sleeve, and fixed it around his collar to test the fit, hands running over the leather.

Ryanna knew what Gwen was... she was her foster sister's sister, even if Gwen didn't know that she knew.. It wasn't something that she was going to go broadcasting out all over the place. However…. she knew how her sister felt about that sort of thing and so she would force a type of chuckle out and wave her hand. "Of course she has wings Liam, don't be silly. All those outfits she has." Looking at Gwen with one of those 'agree with me' looks. "Quite a pair of them, more than one I'd dare to say. Maybe she'll put them on for you next time you arrive. You should see how adorable she looks as a butterfly." Has she ever seen Gwen as butterfly? No, but no doubt like all the others...

Of course, Gwen realized once Liam said what he did, that well, he didn't really know. It was just a saying. Depending on how well he had gotten to know Gwen in the visits, and the look she had shot Ryan, when Ryan piped up, would depend on how he thought about what had been said. She gave a small blush, of features, giving her head a nod, at Ryan's words. But she didn't quite speak, she couldn't get herself to speak on that, because it was Mr. Coat. But if she changed the subject, or just avoided it, it wasn't being a bad friend, right? And Ryan said Gwen was adorable, can someone make notes on that? "Well....good night Mr. Coat, Ryan." A pause to look at the sleeping elf. "Sleepy... Its how he gets his name!" And then she slipped from the area, maybe suspicious but it was late and she was, well, not the best at secrets.

"Oh..." Said with a blink, glancing back at De'Ryanna and her quick chiming in. "Right." Smirked a little, almost a little disappointed. "'Course. That makes sense." Grinned and bowed his head to Gwen, right hand coming across to rest on his chest in a fist lightly. "Sleep well, Ms. Gwen." Went about looking over the jacket more, shifting his shoulders and twisting left and right at the waist, going about clasping the bucklets up to see how tight or loose the fit was, watching Gwen from the corner of his darker eye as she slipped off... those strange eyes eyeing her back for a moment, then shook his head a little, attention on his jacket again. "Pretty good fit, De'Ryanna, gotta say." Stretched his arms up and out, then let them fall to his sides, then pushed his right hand out in a swift punch with the heel of his hand, left hand following, expelling a sharp breath with each movement, just trying to get a feel for the new garment and how it moved. Snapped his head to one side, trying to toss the white streak out of his face.

Over the last several minutes, the world outside had gone from the normal sounds to something abnormal. At first, it was not too loud, but as the minutes slipped past, the sound of creaking, clattering wooden wheels rolling down the road grew louder, as did the uniform clop of many hooves both in the form of something light and elegant (the Elven cavalrymen of the caravan guard were riding gray Lipizzan mares with white hair) and something as heavy and solid as those Lipizzan mares were light and elegant (the wagons themselves were drawn by Shire mares of as matching a color as could be found in the horse-ranches of his home state). The wagon train and its' assorted guard rolled forward. A single look might make a person do a double-take at what they saw laid out before them. A second look might boggle the mind. The first wagon was driven by an Elf. The following seventeen wagons? Driven dependably by people who had a look radically different than an Elf but also radically similar. These were not the overbearingly stupid, fat trolls that legend told about. They looked almost identical to humans, saving for the fact that they had skin the green of spring leaves and happened to be eight feet tall. If there were women among the reins men, it would be impossible to tell, since there was no vision of bosom (the same could be said of the riders). Standing on top of each wagon was a seven-foot shape with dark green scales, smooth and unassuming compared to what one might have heard about lizardfolk, with a four foot tail and a muzzle a foot or two shorter than might be expected, wielding a longbow. If any of the archers were women... well, their breasts must have been likewise bound. Eventually, that clattering, clopping, creaking, rolling cacophony of sound would stop: right in front of the inn. It was only a minute or two before the front door would open, and the Elven caravan-master would step inside.

There was a lot of noise going on outside of the Inn and suddenly a lot of varied smells hit her noise.. So many that it made her sneeze.. "What the in Nine Hells is going on out there!" She exclaimed as she moved to the window and looked out. What she saw made her blink.. and blink again. The wagons made a lot of noise because the road to the inn was not exactly paved smooth but the Inn was self standing and alone, there were not others businesses around that would be blocked and have their patronage hindered by the mess of wagons and creatures that were currently out by the porch. She huffed and gave her skirt a tug. "This is most defiantly not what I had been expecting." And it wasn't. Seventeen wagons? What was a lot to move around, and to find placement for. Not to mention the noise it was probably brining with it. "Guardsmen. Really. If any of them are here to cause trouble..." Then she looked over at Liam as he had been the one saying that he was born with a sword in his hand, and she had gotten a look at the sheath that was exposed when he switched coats. Oh De'Ryanna got a good look at people when she was able to. "You hear that?" To ask the obvious. She began to move out from behind the bar, full intentions on going out to see what the fuss was about when the elf came in. She stopped and looked him over, her head to the side a bit. There was no mistake that she was sizing him up. "Greetings..."

“I'm going to go try and --" Speaking as he was moving for the door before his gaze hit the window and he stopped... realizing he had been hearing the racket, but not necessarily registering it as anything. "Whoa..." Was his simple response. Well… guess he wasn't trying anything out. A glance to De'Ryanna at her mention of them starting trouble and he kind of; chuckled a dry laugh. "I'll give it a hell of a valiant effort… there's a lot of them, and I don't have my bow..." Moved to beat her to the door, pulling it open for the dark haired woman, and followed her out, his right hand falling to rest casually just under the guard of the blade at his right; just as if he was resting it there. Felt a little naked with the lightness of the new jacket that he wore, shifting his shoulders a little -- wait.. didn't open the door because nobody went outside. Scratch that. I'm slow. – STOOD there... holding the katana's sheath. Yeah. That's it. Liam stood there, stone silent, and tall, watching the elf with strange miscolored eyes of blue, setting his jaws and shoulders, doing his best to be imposing if need be.

Olan took a glance from the woman to the man who looked as if he might be preparing to make an assassinating leap, then over his shoulder towards one of the Elven magicians almost invisible beside a Troll reinsman (or reinswoman), who simply nodded, and he turned his attention back towards the woman. "Salutations. Apologies if my arrival has caused you undue stress. I assure you, the soldiery you see are quite professional and will not cause any trouble. They have been hired solely as my caravan guard. You see, my wagon train carries a wealth of diverse and in many cases highly valuable wares, and ... well, it might be foolhardy to wander around a dangerous world without protection, yes? I assure you, I am here only for the sake of, hopefully, making sales... but, if my caravan guard causes you uneasiness, I can be on my way. There are yet many hours before we would need to make camp." Far be it from him to impose. He simply was not going to travel with what might be in some places cargo worth a million Gold coins' value without having guards to protect him and, almost as importantly, his assorted wares.

She would have grinned at Liam, but he should be careful. With how she thought about men in relation to women, if a fight were to break out or a challenge be issued forth she wouldn't think twice about offering him up confidently to go into the fray. "There is one thing to be protected; quite another to bring an army." That is how she saw the caravan guard, before she glanced to Liam again and then peered past the elf to look out the door, even if it was closed. "You may be in luck, traveler, I manage this Inn and perhaps you can be of some use." But she wasn't going to check out the guys wares on her own. it was one thing to go into situations on her own choosing, and quite another to have them come to you. "Shall we see what he is about, then?" Asking Liam as though it was natural to consult him.

Liam listened, as the elf spoke, his shoulders relaxed some, head tilting to the right ever so slightly. Maybe it was the way the other eyed him, Liam made a point to noticeably relax, right hand relaxing from the grip on the katana's hilt to just a loose hang, his thumb hanging off the wood like it might from a belt loop. A glance down to De'Ryanna at her inquiry. "Sure." Lifting his right hand from his weapon to wave towards the door. "After you," Smirked a little. "Maybe find something for Vi... so she doesn't question me further." Reached over and snatched his half of roll that was left before going any where, taking a quick bite from it, and he'd follow, if lead.

[De'Ryanna Aybara]

Olan would step back from the door and give an inviting gesture, suggesting that they were welcome to come outside with him, should they so desire. "Oh? It is my pleasure to make acquaintance with the manager of such an outstanding inn so wisely placed." Olan was not above flattering a potential consumer. There had been more than one occasion wherein that flattery had proven to be a successful means of putting the prospective buyer at ease enough to relax, and realize that a production this large was not plausible as any sort of trap by would-be raiders looking to rob them. It helped that while he was unfamiliar with the inn, he did believe it was brilliantly located. "Please, come and see the wares I bring. I admit, you will probably not be too interested in the contents of the masonry, ore, or lumber wagons, but...perhaps you might find an interest in some of the other wagons. I carry weapons, armor, clothing, leather goods, general goods, enchanted goods, spices, gems, medicinal herbs, alcohol, bedding supplies, writing supplies, fruits, meats and dairy products. Perhaps some or many of the things there might be of interest to you?" Not to mention that considering that if they took an interest in the gems wagon and went to have a look, they would discover exactly why there were so many guards: he had two tons of precious stones and two tons of flawlessly-clear gems in a whole host of different sizes and cuts!

"On the contrary," She said as they started to make their way outside and to the wagons. Now, she was still in a good mood, but this was business and when it was business she didn't play around too much. Then again, it depended on the business. "I would like to see your masonry" She cast a quick glance to his guards, taking them in and making a count. Now that they were outside she could see them all better, and the various scents made her wiggle her nose. They all had to be sorted an filtered to each person and that happened mostly without her trying.. But there were the scents of them and the food products. Ryanna took a careful eye at the Calvary men and archers..."I take it that you have metal? Bar or bricks and their poundage please. I need something sturdy that is not going to buckle under a lot of pressure and yet is pliable." It could save her a trip to the smithy if she could gain the supplies from this traveler. Though she was walking with this man, she kept her distance near to Liam as well.

Liam followed at a comfortable, yet close, distance to De'Ryanna; as if the young man was the woman's own personal bodyguard. Those strange mismatched eyes covered the span of the carts and their riders and guards. Couldn't help the little surprised lift of his brows. Considered, if this came down to a fight, he'd probably be able to take six or seven up front…the archers would be a problem. He'd have to get cover someplace.... Liam's mind raced with the necessary tactics it would take to survive a fight that many people -- not that he was planning one by ANY means -- but people typically thought numbers equaled strength, but he'd also been taught at a young age that numbers also made people cocky. He glanced back at the conversation, missing most of what De'Ryanna was asking for, and when she stopped he lifted a hand casually, speaking in the deep, accented tenor. "I just need a specific style of dagger... but it can wait until you're done with her." Nodding his head in De'Ryanna's direction, indicating that he'd just stick by quietly while she looked.

Olan nodded and led the way towards the last wagons in the train, and spoke to answer her queries as he was walking towards the tail of the caravan. "Oh, I have a lot of good metal and stone. I have two thousand pounds of Marble, in ten-pound bricks. The masonry wagon carries a similar amount of Granite, Limestone, and one ton of standard red brick, each of the bricks being one pound. As for ores, they are in bars. I have two thousand pounds of Copper, and a similar amount of Bronze, Brass, and Steel. If you have an interest in the lumber, I have four tons of processed White Oak and four tons of processed Sugar Maple." He smiled the friendly and good-natured smile of a consummate trader and he showed no concern for their inspection of his guards. Indeed, the guards themselves showed no immediate interest, but if Liam were a skilled warrior, he could easily tell that they were alert even if they were not all staring at him. As they concluded that the inn was safe... the riders sheathed the eighty-inch blades of their cavalry swords, and the archers relaxed the bowstrings which had shining arrows which looked more like giant steel crossbow bolts as each arrow was solid metal, no wooden shaft and no feathering at the tail.

The Inn was protected. Though it may not be physically protected by armed guards, like this cart, it had something different. Perhaps those of the Magical arts that were among the caravan would pick up on an enchantment of a type that was around it. It wasn't anything fully dark or fully light…it simply was and the full nature of it was something that Ryanna didn't even know. It wasn't her magic. When they got to the wagon she looked inside and let out a slow breath. True, that she should be cold out side - it was winter and night and the air was cold and she was only in her long dress.. but she wasn't. Or she didn't act it if she was. "How much for your steel and limestone?" Those are what she was interested in first. "Where do you do your mining? Or are they imported?"

Followed at a casual stroll. A longer glance at the rider's swords, and Liam blinked. Whistled to himself inwardly, brows lifting with a smirk. Overkill... wished, now, he could have a casual spar with one of them men with those swords. Hadn't seen many like them. Figured he could work the Katana around the guard – or even his pike would work. Lips pursed in thought, having the spar with the rider on the fifth horse in his head, his eyes darting around as he played his moves out in his head -- so much so paying attention to his own thoughts that he bumped into De'Ryanna when she stopped walking at the cart. Blinked and muttered a sheepish little apology, taking half a step back to push a hand through the shaggy dark mess of hair with the thick white streak across his left bang. That's what you get for having imaginary fights in your head.

He contemplated her question for only a moment. "Steel bars cost one Silver coin per bar, or one Gold coin per twenty bars at a time. The Limestone bricks cost ten Silver coins or one Gold coin for every pair of stones. If you want all of the Steel and Limestone, that will cost you five hundred Gold coins for the entire amount." It was a fair price, he thought, for two tons of cargo. Particularly since the price included unloading it to wherever she wanted to store it. "All of the steel is imported from the mountains south of my home, the Limestone is being harvested from the excavations of the mountain below the city I am from. You probably have not heard of it, it is a city named Mount Harlis, a few hundred miles from here. As they excavate, they harvest the stone in bricks neatly hewn out of the rock. There are a few different kinds of stone, but I am only interested in the Granite, Marble, and Limestone." A bit of a shrug given at that. As for Liam's desire for a dagger? Oh, he might be surprised to see what was in the arms wagon. Ryanna might, too, if she followed him there when the time came.

"What about two hundred and fifty coins." gold coins that is, "and you can keep your labor for I have my own." That meant Liam. He was there and so she was going to put him to use. Besides that she wasn't too sure about having the creatures walking in and out of the Inn or stable – which is probably where it would be stored till morning. Liam had bumped into her and her stance had slightly changed, it was tenser than it had been a moment ago but she was focusing her attention on the selling of the metals and rock. She felt her skin prickling, but they were outdoors and any change in her skin could be attributed to the cool temperatures. "There is no use in paying for labor if it is not going to be needed." Logical, yes?

Wooosh. That was the sound of Liam being manual labor going RIGHT over the young man's head. Why? Because his attention had turned to the nearest rider with those ridiculous long swords. The tall and lean young man moved his way over to the rider, arms crossing over his chest – feeling the tightness and newness of the brown leather jacket over his arms that was going to take some getting used to. "May I ask you a question?" Not even giving the guard a moment to say yay or neigh, Liam moved on. "How does one fight with a sword that large there?" His eyes flickering to the weapon, then back to the guard. "I mean, I can see how something like that would work well against a large foe, giant or troll or even a large orc or something; but if you were fighting something smaller and quicker, wouldn't such a large weapon be kind of cumbersome to wield?" He wasn't being snarky or anything, but vaguely interested in how that weapon would be of much use in a close combat situation.

Olan was not strictly opposed to barter, but there was one little problem with haggling: he was already offering the very best price he could while still managing to earn a profit from the exchange. "As much as I would like to take you up on that, I paid four hundred and fifty Gold coins for the Steel and Limestone. The very lowest that I could offer you while having things still balance out would be four hundred and fifty-five Gold coins." Olan prided himself on offering as fair of a price as he could, minimizing his profit to make certain that his customers could buy as much as they needed and not feel as if they had been swindled. Olan hated merchants who swindled their clients and who thereby, to Olan's thinking, gave all tradesmen a damn bad name, frankly! As for Liam's query of the first cavalryman he ran into?

"Oh, these are cavalry swords, intended for the kind of sword fighting that is typical of when you get two riders charging at each other across an open field in a sort of jousting-style charge. For closer combat..." He turned his Lipizzan mare around, revealing that on the other side of the horse as the barrel-sheathed cavalry sword, whose handle (sheathed as it was right at the moment) was actually behind his knee, was a vertically sheathed sword that was far more plausible for close-range combat with a thirty-five-inch double-edged blade, "... the Harlesian spatha is a fantastic weapon." The cavalryman smiled with friendly good humor towards the inquiring man on the ground, then sidled his mare sideways, away from Liam, before spontaneously swinging one leg and sliding down. "Sorry, I had to dismount. It is extremely discourteous to hold conversation from horseback with someone who isn't on a horse, themselves." As for Ryanna's concern about unloading? It actually would not be done by the Trolls, Lizardfolk and cavalrymen, it would be done by the magicians: they were quite skilled, and had kinetic spells that would let them float it out in a steady stream. She would only need to let one magician stand in the doorway so that she could point out where she wanted it stacked.

[De'Ryanna Aybara]

It looked like Liam had found something to entertain himself with and the corner of her lip went up in a smile as she turned her attention back to the Traveler. She studied him and then looked back at the wagon…Sure it had more than just those two things inside of it. "It is a bit much to ask for the wagon as well in the price, you have your other goods inside and where would you store them then?" where indeed.. though it was a bit of a question as well, to see how he would respond to it. "I shall tell you what. I will give you the five hundred coins....so you can make a profit of your goods if," she waved a hand over towards her partner. "Your man can provide some exercise to my good man there." Her eyes rested on Liam again before she looked back to the man she was dealing with. "He seems interested in demonstrations and I am curious in one myself. Perhaps it would only sweeten the deal for this sale and future ones to come." She did so like to be entertained. It worked better than flattery.

"Ooh," The young man said, nodding, eyeing the blade when it was shown. "I see. I don't have my experience on horse back... so, suppose I wouldn't have ever learned how to use one of those." Those miscolored blue eyes -- the left several noticeable shades lighter than the right -- eyed the spatha, and he outwardly whistled this time. "That is a nice piece... I've been trained with a spatha but never own--" Spun his gaze around, De'Ryanna's words hitting his ears and brain. "Wait.. what?" Double blinked. "Uh... is.. this... your way of... trying to confirm what I said earlier?" Blinked those strange eyes at his friend. She's going to get me killed... either by Violet or Strangers or Vampires... my grave is going to read 'Here Lies Liam Crue... Thanks De'Ryanna..."

Olan would tilt his head a little bit, then looked over in the direction of the one that Liam was talking to, then back towards the woman, with a light roll of the shoulders. "Oh? Hm. I suppose there would be no harm in that. By the way, my name is Olan." He looked over to the rider that Liam was talking to, and rolled his shoulders, turned up his palms, and gave a bit of a nod to him. "Sirlan, do you feel up to a friendly spar?"

The rider raised an eyebrow in answer, and then rolled his shoulders in answer to the question, as if it were no big issue, as he turned and drew the wood-handled spatha from the scabbard with what looked, at least, like it was a plain steel blade. "Okay, that'll be no trouble. I have to warn you, with a caravan guard as large as this, my skills may have gone a little bit rusty, so... ah... no hitting the main body with the edge, only the flat." Of course, that was to say nothing about what other impacts there might be: if Liam were inclined to try to cleave through Sirlan's sword by impacting it with his edge at a clash, he was welcome to give it a try. It was not as if the weapons wagon did not have more Harlesian spathas available for the purpose of replacing Sirlan's weapon if something should happen to the other. Actually, on closer inspection of the blade once Sirlan took a few steps away and took up a defensive stance... the blade looked quite silvery. It was clearly not made of steel, but it was just as clearly not made of silver, so it must have been some other ore.

"Wonderful!" Didn't she just sound delighted, and that smile was back on her face as she looked at the two opponents. Sure she would be late for the Riders, but that was of no matter, they would come later or she would go to them. "Olan." Saying his name and giving a tip of her head. "It is often wise to have your men fight amongst each other, for fun. I will even provide refreshments and a stay for you and your men if need be." There was always room somewhere if the fighting and dealing took longer or someone was in need of aid. "And at the end, I shall give you what is due to you." It sounded fair to her. "My name is De'Ryanna..." she would have introduced Liam but not everyone liked others saying their names for them.

Eyed De'Ryanna with a squint for a moment before turning his attention to the rider. "Liam." Said, extending a hand to the man to shake it. "A moment." Holding a finger up, and turning towards De'Ryanna, unclasping the new jacket he'd just been gifted, shrugging it off and throwing it over her head casually, muttering an "Trying to get me killed by strangers now?" Smirked, and slid the sheathed katana from his belt and put it in the woman's arms before walking away, head tilting left and right to crack the vertebrae either way, arms stretching up over his head, cracking his elbows as well. "All right. I don't want to break my Katana... " Eyes flickered to the weapon, then back to Sirlan's face. "I know my own blade's abilities..." His left hand extended about half his arm's length away and in a flash of what could only be described as a flash of gold, Liam pulled a six foot staffed and bladed weapon from thin air -- the gold glitter that it seemed to have materialized left to fall in it's wake as the young man whipped the blade around a few times then held it off to the side, the length of his left arm. "Mind?" Inquiring if the weapon was suitable.

Sirlan reviewed the weapon investigatively. It looked special, and the nearest magician nodded a little bit in answer when he looked at them, before Sirlan looked back to Liam. "All right, just please kindly avoid pointing it at me and shooting lightning out of the blade or anything. If it's all the same, I prefer my uniform without singe marks." He wasn't sure of exactly what kind of abilities it had, but the magicians seemed to think that it had some kind of enchantment on it that gave it abilities that the standard six-foot pike wouldn't have. In return for the consideration of not pointing it at him and cannon-shooting a fireball at him the size of his head, he would politely not aim his spatha blade towards the shaft to cut the head off the snake, so to speak. Against a spear, however, there was a decided range disadvantage, since the reach of his own blade was only thirty-five inches, just less than half the length of the man's long-spear, which happened to be taller than Sirlan was, himself. In fact, Sirlan was an inch or two shorter than his employer.

What did De'Ryanna do but offer Liam a sweet smile as he handed over those belongs to her, she even said 'thank you' as he went away. The smile and the thanks was her reply to getting him killed by people. He should remember, too, that it wasn't too long ago that she asked him how he was at surviving. If he did well with this spar and showed promise, who knew what else she would use him for? She was running her hand over his weapon and paying close attention to what was being said about the weapon that was being used. Magic weapon.... It only got better didn't it?

"If I should fall in battle, De'Ryanna!" Said in kind of an overdramatic fashion, glancing back at the woman. "I want that jacket back before my dying breath." Squinted for a moment, then grinned a bit at his dramatics, kicking the pike back up around to catch it with his right hand, whipping it back up into the defensive, listening to Sirlan, a brow quirking at the idea of shooting lightning bolts at him. "There are ones that can do that?" Intrigued, clearly, and casually suggesting that his pike had no such abilities. "Gotta look into that..." Hefted the pike in his hand, shifting his stance so his left leg lead -- being a lefty sometimes was in Liam's favor, dipping his head in a nod to the ready. Didn't get nearly enough practice with the staff on a human target. Layle sometimes wasn't so willing since he had the height already on her -- adding an extra six feet of height to him wasn't always appealing to his twin.

Well, Sirlan was a full four inches shorter than the other man's weapon. His own weapon did not give him the kind of reach the other could have gotten out of it, depending on how he wielded that particular long-spear, and where down the length of it he happened to hold it with each hand. Such being stated, however, Sirlan decided that the wise choice was to take the advice of his Commander, Celes, who had offered words of recommendation before he took extended leave for a profitable vacation. He swiveled his hips to the side, minimizing the amount of his body that could possibly be targeted, then lowered his sword-hand to about hip-level, with the blade held erect ahead of him, in a very strict vertical bar. He had seen his Commander battle, and successful, many times in this very sword-stance. Hopefully, it would work for him. Celes' rule of thumb was, in essence, to fight to stalemate against someone with a longer weapon unless or until you got a clear, unmistakably unintentional, opportunity to cut that weapon down to size when dealing with pole arms, or to disarm them in the case of swords far longer than your own. Sirlan every bit intended to take his Commander's advice. "All set."

For the sake of the fight.. she had moved off to the side to where watching in the light would be most optimal. And, for that reason, the lights that were on the porch seemed to get a bit brighter, making this 'playing field' easier to see.

[De'Ryanna Aybara]

Liam's chin dipped in a nod. The only other weapon to speak on the tall, thin young man was the strange sheathed dagger that was attached to his left forearm like a guard; but it didn't seem he was going to bother with it, occupying both hands with the staffed weapon who's height he matched. Those strange mismatched eyes watched the man's stance, turning his body somewhat to the side to lower his own surface area to hit, and the first thing Liam did was come forward with a quick step; right arm bringing the butt of the pike up and forward to his right, angling it across his body -- both to quickly disarm and protect guard himself. If that makes any sense. Already he was putting himself into closer range than would normally be expected, feet shifting his stance only so much to switch legs.

The light shining off of the buttcap made it almost impossible to miss. If Liam was hoping for a quick win, he would be one sorely disappointed ... whatever he was. Something other than Human. Humans had a clear and unmistakable aroma to them. A pleasant fragrance to the nose (or, at least, most Elves tended to find it a pleasant scent) which this particular male... was decidedly lacking. As for the incoming sweep of the buttcap, which was aimed towards not him but his blade? He took an instant judgment of the level of the swinging arc, then slacked his blade forward all of the sudden just enough that the buttcap should pass over it, while retaining his grip he relaxed the vertical position. If Liam did not compensate and the swing over-extended, he would make a responsive movement towards Liam, if Liam were in range of the thirty-five-inch blade. If not, but Liam were almost near enough, he would slip his forward foot forward along the ground, extending his reach in a sudden snapping arc to slap the lower calf of the nearest of Liam's legs. If Liam were out-of-range completely... then Sirlan would not attack at all, simply bring his blade sliding back up after the buttcap passed, and back
into the defensive position as before.

Hey! Liam had been told more than once in his life that he 'smelled like the air on a sunny breezy day!' He had no idea what the hell that meant, and to each his own, he supposed. The young man was certainly in range, having stepped in close enough, although he pike never stopped it's motion -- as soon as Liam realized he didn't connect, his movements shifted from the forward arch back to himself, whipping the blade down faster than he'd sent it up, trying to knock the blade from cracking his right calf -- having to jump back a little to keep from knocking the pike into the blade, and thus, the blade into his calf -- jumping back on those peculiar boots toes, the butt of the weapon hitting the ground momentarily for him to regain a full foot back, pushing himself out of range with a hop. Sirlan responded to this by - following the sheering swish of metal against metal - shifting backwards once again and retaking the original stance. He would retain that defensive posture and wait for the next assault to come in. He didn’t mind to get a bit of practice.

Truth be told... Liam better hope that he lost this round or else was forced to forfeit from exhaustion, because there was every possibility that the other thirty-five horsemen might decide they would like a refresher round with him, as well. Of course, this would probably delight De'Ryanna to no end. It would probably also spell a heart-attack for Liam. Of course, such a heart-attack might not be a bad thing... after all, his employer could then demonstrate one of the medicinal herbs which was used to counteract just such a health concern! All the same, Sirlan couldn't do anything about being blocked, except to slide backwards into the old defensive posture and wait.

Probably... heart-attack inducing, seeing as how De'Ryanna has full intentions on making him do manual labor afterwards -- although, he wasn't yet aware of that fact. The young man slid himself back to his original stance as well, although the weapon was held up in more of a guard than it was before. The young man wouldn't yet hit his twentieth birthday until Spring, and he was skilled enough to keep up with the best of them. Considered himself a moment before jerking forward again, this time with a quick thrust of the pike's blade just down below Sirlan's blade, snapping the weapon up fast, bringing the butt end down and forward; mostly expecting the man to swing his blade out of the way of catching range of the pike; but had full intentions on catching the man's shin or thigh with the butt of the weapon, planning, mostly, to bring the blade back over his head and shoulder.

This would prove to be unfortunate in one way or another. Liam had taken a risk with such a move, but as the buttcap-thrust swept in towards him, Sirlan did not respond in the same way that he had responded to the former attempt, an attempt geared at disarming, nor in the manner of the man's response to the counter-swing at his calf. Instead, Sirlan allowed the buttcap to slid in under his sword, but then suddenly slammed downward in a sharp, smacking motion. The pommel of Sirlan's sword was big, round, and had a solid metal cap, which made a resonant CLANG when he brought it down to the buttcap. If the buttcap did swing down as hard as he hoped, enough to actually fall below the halfway mark of his own calf, Sirlan would spontaneously jerk up that leg and stamp down on the buttcap. Only if this were successful would he then take the golden opportunity as presented, to take a swing at Liam's therefore-unprotected flank while weighing his entire moderate weight (of one hundred and sixty pounds) on the buttcap in case he attempted to jerk it up. Such a swing, were it to occur, would be aimed towards the mid-section, specifically a hard flat-of-the-blade metallic slap across the left side of the ribcage. Not hard enough to fracture bone, leastwise not in a Human anyway, but hard enough to leave a stinging bright red mark on his skin, maybe a welt if Sirlan were to have underestimated his strength. Conversely, if the attempt to trap the buttcap failed... well, he might be hit in the ankle.

Well... Liam totally thought he had the upper hand long enough for the corner of his mouth to pull into a grin -- which promptly switched to a frown when the resounding claaang hit his ears. "Shit!" and instead of fighting back against the yank down on his pike, the young man did a very odd thing -- he abandoned it. As soon as his right hand's fingers began to slip he completely dropped the weapon and let it fall, and his reaction was to throw himself, good and hard, over top of the falling weapon like he was high jumping. He'd hit the ground hard on his shoulder, rolling up to a knee, left hand swinging out to his side. Under Sirlan's foot, the pike he was slamming to the ground on his boot would give way, like he had destroyed it, the entire weapon flashing away from sight all together, perhaps to lose his balance or weakening his stance -- a flash of gold spouting up and dusting his boots and pant legs. The weapon flashed to existence in Liam's left hand again, swung around to be caught in his right and he pushed up from his knee in a sprint, using a backspin to try and clang off the weapon with the butt end --mostly using the back of the weapon because he knew full well how bloody sharp the blade was.

This would cause a very surprising result, and one which by the way would backfire entirely. The sudden disappearance of the pike caused Sirlan to lose his balance more utterly than Liam might have suspected it would, and he fell to the backwards position just as the other was starting his swing, yet did not fall entirely. Rather, Sirlan's years of combat experience in the Guild and training gave him the physical strength to pull off an impressive feat of one-handed ... not-falling. He caught himself on one hand while both legs were aerial, causing Liam's swing to go bodily over the top of his current place, before Sirlan's legs swung up in a double-kick aimed towards Liam's chin. Strike or miss, however, the motion would be followed through as he carried himself overhead, through a brief one-handed hand-stand, and then shoved off to land on his feet again... albeit, admittedly, an additional three feet further away from Liam than when he'd started.

Who are we kidding? That was an awesome display that Liam --had he not just got kicked in the face -- would have been very impressed by. There was a sharp crack in Liam's skull, and the young man double blinked, his swing faulter and he stumbled back a little. Oooh... that brought tears to your eyes. Liam didn't care WHO you were... a full kick to the jaw like that hurt. Tested his jaw out, rolling it open and shut twice before smirking a little. "That was cool," Admitted with a point. Knew when he was bested. Liam shifted the weapon around to guard himself again, waiting for the man, this time, to make his attack, right leg shifting back to shoulder forward with the blade ahead of him.

It was fortunate that Elves had quick reaction times. It was the only thing that had allowed Sirlan to make that full bodily arc and launch. Fact of the matter was, Sirlan had far more arm strength than one usually expected in Elves since they were so light. Granted, Elves were indeed lighter than Humans, but not by as much as Humans liked to kid themselves into thinking. Elven bones didn't just crackle and crumble like potato chips when you hit them or put weight on them. Elves were not as ephemeral as that. They were very much beings of this world, not ones born in the afterlife that clawed their way back haggardly the world of the living. Although, that would've been cool, too. As Liam commented on his motion, Sirlan smiled and bowed lightly in acknowledgment and appreciation. "Thank you, very kindly. Your weapon is impressive, the ability to be abandoned and recalled like that is exceptionally beneficial. It allows for, I imagine, no worry of its' loss or theft, and perhaps some surprises in dangerous situations." Spoken as he strolled back forward to a respectable distance, and sighting the other's defensive stance... realized that it was either going to be the end of the spar, he would have to make an attack himself, or they would stand staring at one another for several minutes in defensive postures until one of them got tired of waiting. Since the other still seemed ready to practice, ending the spar there would have seemed a terrible waste. Since he did not fancy standing in what Yoga called the Warrior Pose for half an hour, he ruled that right out, too. Only left one option, aye? So he examined the other's physical position, estimating where best to assault. He moved his sword into a defensive position just in case the other was feigning defense, as he inched closer, closer. Then, he made a feint with his sword by making an easily-deflected thrust with a solid grip, thrusting towards the air beside Liam's right-side ribcage. Considering the nature of the scoring in a friendly spar, the insinuation was clear. If Liam couldn't block this, it would not impale him, but Sirlan would be scored as if he had impaled him. His real move, however, was to suddenly lift-lower his forward leg in a move to step on the other's foot (quite literally, you see), and then his real tactic would come: if, of course, Liam went for the feint and knocked his sword out to the side and the stamp succeeded... he'd make a slapping motion to the back of the calf of the foot not stepped on, in the hopes of planting Liam back-first in the soil.

“You're welcome," Replied politely, then chuckled a little. "It's all good and well when it wants to come back." Admitting, some, that he wasn't 100 percent with his pike skills -- more so the losing and gaining of the weapon. The young man watched with those strange eyes, darting back and forth as Sirlan edged closer into his range. Watching it, Crue... watch it... telling himself. The elf was smaller than he was -- and closer to Layle's height, and Layle knew his weaknesses -- getting within his guard was easily one of them. Liam shifted his right stance, and the feint was spotted -- Layle just LOOVED her stupid feints -- and he lifted the full side of the weapon up to half catch the sword and swing the pike forward in the same motion. Turned the blade so it wouldn't have sliced his spar-mate's arm straight open -- reminded himself playing with the blade open like that was more dangerous than it was worth. Didn't want to rip the elf's arm off. So, rather than end up slicing his arm off, Liam dropped the weapon and took stomp, blinking those mismatched eyes a little in surprise of the move. "Gah!" The pike being yanked back fast enough to protect his calf and keep from being grounded. Ooh... but now they were VERY close quarters...


] Sirlan did indeed end up being in very close proximity to him. The trick of it was, when you were so close that your phallic muscle was touching the other guy's... er, well, maybe they weren't that close. Good thing, too. Preferring men was the boss' thing, not the cavalryman's! Although, he was certainly close enough to put hand-to-hand tactics to use without having to actually use literal hand-movements, and he made every attempt to do so. All at once, he was in motion at this incredibly near proximity to his friendly opposing duelist, his torso moving forward in a motion ... very much akin to a headbutt. However, at the same time, he swiveled one leg to get in underneath the other's jewels. Not for the purpose of harming them, mind you. That would not have been friendly, in fact, it would be really rather rude. No, if the headbutt were successful, he'd use the position of forward leg to suddenly jerk it side-ward against the back of the other's knee, once again attempting to drop him into the ground. His sword-and-swordhand were put to use forcibly holding the spear back so that it couldn't be used at all at this close range. Ironic, a man who had questioned how such a long weapon would fare in close combat found himself now using a weapon that was too long for combat that'd gotten so close it was very nearly wrestling. His free hand would also jerk forward at the torso movement, moving to strike like a serpent uncoiling from his side, to snap fangs down... err, wrap fingers around the other's other wrist, so that he wouldn't be able to use it to attempt to defend himself. Anyone who thought Elves didn't know how to fight at range so close it was called lover's proximity... would've been very, very wrong, indeed.

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