The cooling temperatures and darkening skies were a welcomed reprieve, both from the earlier heat in the day and the tensions that had thickened the air through dinner within the main room of the Soldier’s Club. Roen had finished the last of the trout by herself, thankful that Nero decided to step out first. Their conversation had ended at a standstill, as it so often had before. Would they always come to such intense argument whenever their principles clashed? Neither was the type to back down; this Roen recognized by now.
But then the pirate turned to flattery which caught her off guard. She was never the one for flirtatious exchanges, they always made her uneasy. Especially with Nero, since he seemed to use it the way he did with insults--to gain the upper hand in a conversation.
Pirates… Roen thought darkly to herself. As much as she believed in the good that was buried within the man, she also had to remind herself how exasperating he had been throughout the day. Perhaps, somewhere in between those extremes, she hoped to find a workable medium.
So when Roen saw him in a boxing stance, throwing punches and practicing his form, she beamed inwardly. She had been eager, since her ordeal with Itarliht, to learn, practice, and improve her hand-to-hand combat. Practicing what she had learned from Qaeli and Osric helped keep her focused, and had prevented her from going stir-crazy while she was in the gaols. Perhaps in this, she hoped, she and Nero could find some common ground.
She approached him as he continued to throw punches into the air, intently studying the speed of his strikes and his stance. He did not seem to notice her approach, his eyes trained straight ahead, his attention obviously elsewhere.
“You were trained in hand to hand?†Roen asked after a moment, clearing her throat.
Nero immediately dropped his fist, looking startled.
Roen held up her hands in apology. “Do not let me interrupt. I was just...studying your form."
The smuggler crossed his arms and coughed uncomfortably, a slight ruddiness to his cheeks. "I was not…trained, necessarily. I was…well..." He shrugged. “Growing up in Ul'dah necessitates the use of one's fists. My father taught me some proper fighting techniques…but I am not a master, not by any means."
Roen crossed her arms, mirroring him. Her tone was reassuring. “I have only recently sought out a few lessons.â€
“The sword is suddenly too good for you, Miss Deneith?†Nero scoffed, his trademark smirk quick to return.
Despite her intent to stay casual, Roen found her voice dipping, any trace of mirth draining from her face. “A sword is no good when you do not have it on hand. Then you are helpless if you do not know how to fight without a weapon.â€
Nero did not seem to notice the shift in her mood as he glanced to her amusedly. “Out of all the things for us to agree on… that’s at least one.†He raised his hands again and nodded to her as if beckoning.
Roen stepped up in front of him, first taking a moment to watch his movements, then taking her own stance. She raised her fists in front of him. “You would not mind showing me a little?â€
He was already assessing her form. “Your legs are too stiff. Your opponent…†he stepped forward swiftly and pinned her left foot with his. “..Will take advantage of that.†He stepped off her foot even before she had a chance to react. “Looking to learn, are you? Perhaps this is something I may be able to educate you on…though you would do well to seek out the Pugilist’s Guild if true mastery is what you seek.â€
The paladin pulled her leg back as soon as it was freed, bringing her weight to the balls of her feet, trying to lighten her balance. “I know of one pugilist, a Flame Sergeant. He gave me a couple of lessons.â€
“More like no lessons, if that is the result,†Nero said jokingly, poking her forehead with his index finger.
Roen frowned. “You caught me off guard,†she protested. She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes narrowing at Nero.
“Perhaps I repeat what you already know, but fighting is no art. It is a tool. You use it to end your opponent, quickly and decisively.†He clasped his hands together then gestured both hands towards his face. “Hit me.†When she paused, he beckoned her again, bouncing a bit on his feet. "Hard as you can. Pretend…well, pretend I'm Taeros. And I just…kidnapped…your pet cat.†He grinned.
The paladin narrowed her eyes at the growing grin on the man’s face. She nodded, then loosened her arms, balling up her fists.
“Now, with your main hand.†The smuggler tapped the side of his face. “Everything you’ve got.â€
“I am allergic to cats,†Roen said, before she threw a quick jab at his face. She was shocked when it connected, she was so used to Qaeli blocking all of her blows.
Nero stepped back a few steps at the hit. “Not too bad,†he said amiably, rubbing his cheek.
“I thought you were going to block that,†Roen apologized.
“Of course not.†The pirate snorted. “If you’re going to learn to fight, you need to know what it feels like to hit your opponent. And that was not terrible, no, but it was not everything you had. You were holding back.†He clapped his hands and gestured to his face again. “Once more. Your right hand. Keep it straight, and put everything you have into it.â€
Roen still hesitated. “You are going to block it this time…?†Hitting wooden dummies was one thing, hitting a man who was just going to stand there was something wholly different. It did not sit well with her, practice or no.
Nero rolled his eyes to the dark skies with an exasperated sigh. "Just wait until Satz hears about this. I've actually found someone who is hesitant to punch me in the face. Guess he owes me that hundred..."
“Fine,†she replied tersely. She balled up her fists again, this time consciously recalling her previous lessons. Her approach was direct, not wasting much movement or energy, as she threw another jab at him.
The smuggler deftly ducked his head to the right. “Didn’t I say everything you have? That was better, but you didn’t put much force into it.†He sidestepped another jab. “I’ve seen harder punches from a Lalafell standing on boxes. Come on.â€
Roen’s eyes were narrowed into slits. She continued to advance on him, two jabs to her right then a left hook.
Nero was quick on his feet; the jabs were dodged, his body nimbly navigating around her fists. “You’re still holding back, aren’t you?†The cross was parried with his forearm. “No wonder Taeros was able to take you down so easily.†His grin became derisive and mocking. “I’m going to have to save Ul’dah all by myself at this rate! I guess we might be able to put a footnote about you in the history books…†He ducked under another strike. “Maybe I have to go antagonize that Roegadyn again to get a proper punch, huh? Or I’ll just make his name that much more true…Broken Nose was, was it?â€
Her nostrils flared as his words were starting to get to her. Her steps quickened as she closed the distance between them again, no longer was she holding back her punches. Two jabs to the face came close, and Nero narrowly blocked a blow at his ribs.
The smuggler gave a low whistle. “Your form is not terrible. We might be able to salvage something from that. But you are not--†his left foot shot out towards hers and stepped firmly on it, “--watching your feet.†He sent a left cross straight toward her face.
As soon as her foot was caught, Roen found herself off balance, her eyes reflexively shooting to where she was pinned. She nearly did not see the fist that flew her way, as she jerked her head back away from it.
Nero stopped his fist just before impact. He uncurled his hand and lightly tapped the side of her face, grinning all the while. He relaxed and stepped off her foot, his hands lowering.
“A bit of work is in order.†He paused, regarding her with a tilted head. “A lot of work is in order,†he corrected himself, but seemed pleased. “But nobody starts a master.â€
But then the pirate turned to flattery which caught her off guard. She was never the one for flirtatious exchanges, they always made her uneasy. Especially with Nero, since he seemed to use it the way he did with insults--to gain the upper hand in a conversation.
Pirates… Roen thought darkly to herself. As much as she believed in the good that was buried within the man, she also had to remind herself how exasperating he had been throughout the day. Perhaps, somewhere in between those extremes, she hoped to find a workable medium.
So when Roen saw him in a boxing stance, throwing punches and practicing his form, she beamed inwardly. She had been eager, since her ordeal with Itarliht, to learn, practice, and improve her hand-to-hand combat. Practicing what she had learned from Qaeli and Osric helped keep her focused, and had prevented her from going stir-crazy while she was in the gaols. Perhaps in this, she hoped, she and Nero could find some common ground.
She approached him as he continued to throw punches into the air, intently studying the speed of his strikes and his stance. He did not seem to notice her approach, his eyes trained straight ahead, his attention obviously elsewhere.
“You were trained in hand to hand?†Roen asked after a moment, clearing her throat.
Nero immediately dropped his fist, looking startled.
Roen held up her hands in apology. “Do not let me interrupt. I was just...studying your form."
The smuggler crossed his arms and coughed uncomfortably, a slight ruddiness to his cheeks. "I was not…trained, necessarily. I was…well..." He shrugged. “Growing up in Ul'dah necessitates the use of one's fists. My father taught me some proper fighting techniques…but I am not a master, not by any means."
Roen crossed her arms, mirroring him. Her tone was reassuring. “I have only recently sought out a few lessons.â€
“The sword is suddenly too good for you, Miss Deneith?†Nero scoffed, his trademark smirk quick to return.
Despite her intent to stay casual, Roen found her voice dipping, any trace of mirth draining from her face. “A sword is no good when you do not have it on hand. Then you are helpless if you do not know how to fight without a weapon.â€
Nero did not seem to notice the shift in her mood as he glanced to her amusedly. “Out of all the things for us to agree on… that’s at least one.†He raised his hands again and nodded to her as if beckoning.
Roen stepped up in front of him, first taking a moment to watch his movements, then taking her own stance. She raised her fists in front of him. “You would not mind showing me a little?â€
He was already assessing her form. “Your legs are too stiff. Your opponent…†he stepped forward swiftly and pinned her left foot with his. “..Will take advantage of that.†He stepped off her foot even before she had a chance to react. “Looking to learn, are you? Perhaps this is something I may be able to educate you on…though you would do well to seek out the Pugilist’s Guild if true mastery is what you seek.â€
The paladin pulled her leg back as soon as it was freed, bringing her weight to the balls of her feet, trying to lighten her balance. “I know of one pugilist, a Flame Sergeant. He gave me a couple of lessons.â€
“More like no lessons, if that is the result,†Nero said jokingly, poking her forehead with his index finger.
Roen frowned. “You caught me off guard,†she protested. She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes narrowing at Nero.
“Perhaps I repeat what you already know, but fighting is no art. It is a tool. You use it to end your opponent, quickly and decisively.†He clasped his hands together then gestured both hands towards his face. “Hit me.†When she paused, he beckoned her again, bouncing a bit on his feet. "Hard as you can. Pretend…well, pretend I'm Taeros. And I just…kidnapped…your pet cat.†He grinned.
The paladin narrowed her eyes at the growing grin on the man’s face. She nodded, then loosened her arms, balling up her fists.
“Now, with your main hand.†The smuggler tapped the side of his face. “Everything you’ve got.â€
“I am allergic to cats,†Roen said, before she threw a quick jab at his face. She was shocked when it connected, she was so used to Qaeli blocking all of her blows.
Nero stepped back a few steps at the hit. “Not too bad,†he said amiably, rubbing his cheek.
“I thought you were going to block that,†Roen apologized.
“Of course not.†The pirate snorted. “If you’re going to learn to fight, you need to know what it feels like to hit your opponent. And that was not terrible, no, but it was not everything you had. You were holding back.†He clapped his hands and gestured to his face again. “Once more. Your right hand. Keep it straight, and put everything you have into it.â€
Roen still hesitated. “You are going to block it this time…?†Hitting wooden dummies was one thing, hitting a man who was just going to stand there was something wholly different. It did not sit well with her, practice or no.
Nero rolled his eyes to the dark skies with an exasperated sigh. "Just wait until Satz hears about this. I've actually found someone who is hesitant to punch me in the face. Guess he owes me that hundred..."
“Fine,†she replied tersely. She balled up her fists again, this time consciously recalling her previous lessons. Her approach was direct, not wasting much movement or energy, as she threw another jab at him.
The smuggler deftly ducked his head to the right. “Didn’t I say everything you have? That was better, but you didn’t put much force into it.†He sidestepped another jab. “I’ve seen harder punches from a Lalafell standing on boxes. Come on.â€
Roen’s eyes were narrowed into slits. She continued to advance on him, two jabs to her right then a left hook.
Nero was quick on his feet; the jabs were dodged, his body nimbly navigating around her fists. “You’re still holding back, aren’t you?†The cross was parried with his forearm. “No wonder Taeros was able to take you down so easily.†His grin became derisive and mocking. “I’m going to have to save Ul’dah all by myself at this rate! I guess we might be able to put a footnote about you in the history books…†He ducked under another strike. “Maybe I have to go antagonize that Roegadyn again to get a proper punch, huh? Or I’ll just make his name that much more true…Broken Nose was, was it?â€
Her nostrils flared as his words were starting to get to her. Her steps quickened as she closed the distance between them again, no longer was she holding back her punches. Two jabs to the face came close, and Nero narrowly blocked a blow at his ribs.
The smuggler gave a low whistle. “Your form is not terrible. We might be able to salvage something from that. But you are not--†his left foot shot out towards hers and stepped firmly on it, “--watching your feet.†He sent a left cross straight toward her face.
As soon as her foot was caught, Roen found herself off balance, her eyes reflexively shooting to where she was pinned. She nearly did not see the fist that flew her way, as she jerked her head back away from it.
Nero stopped his fist just before impact. He uncurled his hand and lightly tapped the side of her face, grinning all the while. He relaxed and stepped off her foot, his hands lowering.
“A bit of work is in order.†He paused, regarding her with a tilted head. “A lot of work is in order,†he corrected himself, but seemed pleased. “But nobody starts a master.â€
