Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Yeah, sure," Gatz said with a smile. "A whale with teeth, and a big set of claws. But back to training, to which I'd like to point out 'that which kills you doesn't make you stronger--it makes you dead.' It's equally true... though there are a few, rare exceptions." He shrugged non-commentally, not wanting to bring the subject of Roan back up for now.

"Now, the basic princples of Blade Dancer are as follows..." the entity said, unzipping the heavy canvas bag he was holding.

"First, center yourself."
"Achieve the middle distance, and use it to read your opponents' moves while observing your surroundings."
"Dodge the attack with minimal effort."
"Continue to observe and dodge the attacks as they come.
"When the opening presents itself, check for fients."
"Use the opening when it presents itself--also know as 'stay alive until your opponents f*cks up, then finish them off.'"

Gatz shot his friend yet another unpleasant grin as he reached into the bag. "In days past, those who gained complete mastery of the discipline would to dodge swordstrikes at the last moment, within a hair's bredth of being hit, which is how the style got it's name. This is one of those 'simple in theory, hard in practice' techniques, which is why it can take a lifetime to perfect it. Since your 'lifetime' is currently gives us a somewhat schedule to work with, however..."

The entity tugged a large, complicated mass of blades and chain out of the cloth sheathe and set it spinning in his hand, making the air sing with death. The leathal blurr of steel halted with a series quiet clicks as various couplings locked together, leaving a six-foot long, double-headed scythe in its place. The weapon's new form wasn't any more encouraging--so much of it was blade, one was hard pressed to see the handles.

"--We'll have have to skip right to the acellerated learning course," Gatz deadpanned, a bit of madness in his grin. "Now, because you aren't going to be mastering this anways, and because I imagine that Roan has a few magical weapons which kill people by simply brushing against them, feel free to change the whole 'hair's bredth' thing to 'a minimally safe distance.'" Quint's teacher dropped the canvas sack so as to grip his Reaver Stick with both hands. He leveled the weapon at his pupil, showing off more than a man's length of killing edge.

"Don't worry, Quint!" he said with a sly wink. "This thing is so large and cumbersome, you'll see my strikes coming from a mile away. That'll make it a good training for a begginer like you."

"On the flipside, though, I can't take it too easy on you," he said, almost as an after thought, "so I'll have to more-or-less try to actually kill you during the excercise. On the off chance I succeed, I'd like to apologize in advance." His shoulders moved in a careless shrug. "Mistakes happen."

Gatz hauled back with the scythe, preparing to take a devastating swing at his friend.

"As a wise man once said: 'Victory is not getting cut'.'"

((To see a picture and a description of the Reaver Stick, visit the Armory here at PIP.))

The 'instructor' widened his eyes slightly, as if surprised by the insight.

"Hey, that's pretty good!" he exclaimed as his weapon dug several inches into the solid rock making up the cliffpath. "I'll have to remember that one for later."

Gatz paused for a moment, examining Quint before he struck again. "... Since you're bothering to talk to me, I suppose you haven't slipped into the 'middle distance' yet. Just a little FYI--the term refers to 'a state of detacted mental focus by which you gain near-total awarness of your surroundings', and not the more literal 'stand a certain distance from your opponent." Qunit's teacher casually lifted his right leg up and braced it against the cliff wall, as if preparing to do stretches.

"Forever imortalized as 'bullet time' by the Matrix movies, it's an estential fighting disciplince that can not be taught, only learned..."

The Reaver Stick clicked quietly again as the entity suddenly pushed off from the cliff wall. Unbound beneath the head and above the last handle, the weapon's chain played out a little, swinging him out over the abyss and back again to land behind Quint. Gatz landed lightly in a crouch, his right hand gripping only the lowest section of his weapon by the handle. As soon as his feet touched his left hand was up, grabbing hold of the metal links and pulling them tight as he lifted up.

This left Quint pinned between the cliff and a quickly shrinking semi-circle of metal--the bulk of which was filled by a three-foot long section of bladed death, intent on chopping him in half.

"... Learn quickly," he finished with a feral smile.

Gatz tugged the chain tight, straighting out the length of his weapon as his student evaded into the air. The blades that had been scything toward's Quint's midsection slammed against the rock face with a solid thunk, bitting out a large chuck of stone before they came free. With demon speed, the entity yanked the weapon free and locked it back into its orginal configuration.

"And I thought you knew that it wouldn't make a difference," Gatz responded grinningly.

He reversed his grip, flipping the Reaver stick upsidedown so that one scythe tip pierce the cliffside like a hot knife being dipped into butter. Quint's instructor then began to run up the side of the edifice, letting the friction of his feet and the grip of the blade behind him hold him in place. He traced a large scar through the rock as he speed along, rapidly nearing Quint.

"Oh, and I'd suggeting that you avoid using your bats during the lesson..." he called as he drew closer, casually popping out the spear-like tip on the head of the weapon. Of course, with Gatz's body blocking it from view, and the showy 'rockclimbing' manuver he to attract attention, it was doubtful that Quint even noticed when the chain start to play out.

"Those minions act like an extention of your body and your thoughts, so we don't have to train them," he explained, drawing parallel to Quint. "If you have to rely on them during this lesson, however, you're crippling yourself before your fights even begin."

At this point, the martial artist pulled the scythe blade loose in a sweeping overhand, a powerful blow that, combined with his current speed, would carry him to the top of the cliff. And though the deadly blow would come within arm's reach of Quint, it was just a fient, with the bulk of the weapon serving to distract the man while a single length of chain rose from below. Gatz's intent was to catch his student by the feet, then drag him upwards for a stretch before placing him non-to-gently on the top of the cliff. A bit rough, perhaps, but gentle in comparison to a real battle, such a tatic would amount to a slap on the wrist.

Besides, Quint had complained about the lack of space eariler...

"Then I suggest you pay closer attention to the lesson," Gatz replied in callous tones, flicking the chain free of his friend's leg. The metal links rattled over the stony ground as it was reeled in by some unseen mechanism, finally snapping into place at the top of the weapon. Quint's teacher planted the but of his weapon in the ground and leaned against the flat of it, ignoring the razor edges that where just inches away from him.

"... Besides, if you can't achieve the mental state needed for this disciplince, I have little hope of teaching you other, deeper meditative states," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Ones that, with practice, might help to heal your tired spirit somewhat, and extend your current life expectancy by a fair amount." Gatz gave a slight shrug, as if in disregard for the glimmer of hope he was offering up to Quint.

"Despite what Western thinking might say, souls don't get 'used up' by as much as 'worn out.' Once the power--the potential--in them is exhausted, the spirits simply fall into a static state of being. From there they slip back into the ether of the universe and travel to their fated destinations... wherever that might be," he finished with a knowing grin.

"So, now that you don't have to worry about fading away to 'nothing' anymore, we'd better get started again." The entity plucked his Reaver Stick out of the ground and spun it around several times with one hand, like a baton. He seemed to get a feel for the weapon again.

"This time, take time to center yourself physically and mentally," he instructed, switching hands without bothering to stop the blades' rotation. Most other people would have lost an arm in the attempt. "Clear that jam-packed head of yours for a moment, and give those all those worried thoughts a rest. Such things are dangerous in the middle of a fight."

"Next, focus your attention on nothing specific--but at the same time, try to take in everything about the world around you. This is the key to finding the 'middle distance' with your mind and senses, where you will be able to observe all without haste or distraction."

Gatz hefted the massive blade overhead, keeping it a whirl of steel as he quickly twisted his grip, switched hands, then twisted again. Once again the air began to sing of promised death and carnage, a whistling note that went on and on, rising and ebbing like the tide in a sea of blood. "Watch how your opponent moves. Judge their speed, their strength, their reflexes. Let the pattern of their attacks imprint themselves on your mind. Follow the flow of battle as if it were a winding river, and you will know the attack coming before they even think of it."

He threw a wry smile at the alchemist. "You can probably guess the rest... except for the last part, apparently," he said with a chuckle. "Your 'turn' comes up when I leave an opening you can exploit, and trust me--it'll probably be awhile yet."

With his lecture over, Gatz whipped the scythe-like weapon down into a low ready stance, cutting the haunting hum of the blades off with suddenly abruptness. A thin could of dust was kicked up from were the blow had threatened to slice open the rock surface. The dust devil fo floated ominously in Quint's direction before scattering to the wind.

"Whenever you're ready, old friend," the entity said with a pleasant smile.

Gatz watched his pupil's movements with a careful eye, notcing a certain grace and fluidity previously lacking from Quint's stance.

Seems like he's starting to get the hang of things, he thought to himself, turning his attention to the on-rushing fireball. His blade came up in an one-armed, underhanded arch which cleaved the firey sphere in half. Quint's instructor calmly swept the up and around through the air before him, tracing a small circle in the air as he used the bulk of his weapon to fan the remaining flames aside. He gave his friend an amused grin, ignoring the errant smoldering patches on his coat sleves.

"Right--let's get this pary started~!" Gatz dashed forward, draggin his weapon along with him.



... An hour later, the entity decided that the lesson was over for the day.

"Okay, that oughta do you for now," he said with a grunt as he settled to the ground. Whisps of smoke danced around the outline of Gatz's outer form as he plunked his Reaver Stick into the dirt. "You've got the basics down, anyways, which should help until you can practice more on your own."

He smiled and gave his weapon a friendly pat--it was slightly amazing that he managed not to hurt himself doing it. "It took you long enough to land a solid hit, though," he continued with a chuckle, "despite how rusty I am with this thing. Thanks for the warm-up."

"... By the way, did you hit a bush or something?" Gatz asked, twisting to glance around. The change of posistion showed of a palm-sized lump of flame in the middle of his back, steadily burning away what was left of his jacket. "I can smell something burning..."

"Oh, I can feel pain," Gatz replied, a sad little smile in his eyes. "Probably not in the same manner you do, though. Besides, you learn to grow numb to it after the first few centuries. After that, though..." Gatz lifted his hand and inspected it, as if seeing it anew. "... Well, if one stops feeling everything and anything, it's not much different from being dead. I'm not a machocist or anything, but pain is a part of life--" The entity gave a helpless shrug. "--So I suppose it's a good thing. Perferably in small doses, mind you."

He stood up and smiled at Quint. "Besides, I knew the fire was there all along..." He threw his friend a wink. "... I just couldn't resist the joke."

"Speaking of fire and descrution, that reminds me. I have something I've been meaning to pass off to you..." The entity rumaged around in his pockets. Shortly he pulled out a large scroll of parchment, wrapped in a protective sheathe of leather. It carried a musky, ancient smell.

"You'll have to be careful with this," he warned, not yet holding the scroll out of Quint. "It's been pretty well preserved for it's age, but not even I can keep parchment from degrading after a couple thousand years. Good thing Atlantian scholars knew how to keep their records intact..." Gatz winced slightly at an old memory. "... Short of 'fire and destruction,' anyways."

"It's the recipe for creating Orichalcum," Gatz replied without preamble, plunking the scroll into the alchemist's wait hands. It was hard to add extra drama to the situation--the act of handing over the long-lost formula for one of the most legendary metals ever created tended to steal the limelight from Gatz's usual speeches.

"Oh, wait--" The entity suddenly remembered something, and quickly produced a thick stack of paper from his bottomless pockets. "--And here's a recent translation, just in case you don't understand ancient Greek. Thought it'd be best if you had the original for reference, though."

"Besides," he added with a shrug and a smile, "it's time spring cleaning, and that old scroll wasn't doing a whole lot of good sitting in the back if my closet."

((Actually, Wiki seems to indicate that Orichalcum was probably some type of bronze...))

"Oh, there's probably a few other things left back there," he said with a grin. "I thought that this is what you'd find to be most useful, though. Orichalcum--besides being light, durable, and able to injure a number of supernatural beings--also asorbs electric current. I think it also does something special once charged, though I can't remember what. Anti-gravity, or electromagnetics, or something," Gatz said with a vauge wave his hand.

"Since you've been going head-to-head with Roan lately, and she seems to favor lightning-based attacks..." He shrugged slightly, as if indicating that the connection had been obvious. "... Pain reduction techniques only do so much." He chuckled a moment before adding, "Besides, I figured you wouldn't enjoy being nicknamed 'Twitchy' after the nerve damage started to kick in."