18581206 09:06:51

18581206 09:06:51

MW-S-2400

Charles Angelo sat in an ornate wooden chair opposite of the door from where the three men adorned in the white fencing practice uniforms emerged. Cook came out first with his head lowered to an extent that his chin made contact with his chest. Tazewell followed, and glared from one side of the room to the other as if he was expecting to be seen, or at least fearful of that prospect. Massac came out last and lazily yawned while scratching the outer side of his thigh, then crossed his arms as he took his position to stand to the left of the other two men.
"Very well." He said no more than this before he stood up from the chair and walked across the floor to inspect the men more closely. Their faces did little to hide their current discomfort. From one man to the next, Charles was able to see small issues to address and touch up. Despite trying to mentally prepare himself for the sight of it, his head was filled with equal parts amusement and disappointment as he saw these black men in white suits which were hastily thrown on and did not suit their physique or appearances.
"He's treating this like a fashion show now, heh." Massac's interjection did help aleviate some of the silent tension in the room and brought Charles to focus.
"Yes, and you must forgive me for having the instinct of presentation in mind. I'm aware that the full supplication and adherence to the French style of fencing is not the intent here. With that, gentlemen, if you can draw your swords, I would appreciate it, as it would inform me of what tools we shall be working with."
Without hesitation, the three men each placed their hand over the metal chains wrapped around their waists and compelled the links to swiftly liquefy and reform into their swords. Charles has not seen the weapon transition before and reflexively flinched backwards as this occurred, though he was not near their physical path.
"My heavens, that is certainly, uh, that is. That is just amazing. I was told about it before and not that I doubted it, but it's something awful to see in person. So um, Jesse, is it? Are you able to hand me your sword then? Is it true that you cannot?"
"Yes, that's right. The sword only keeps its shape when its in my hand. You can feel it revert to the link chain if you were to hold it. Care to see?"
"Oh, no, thank you but that won't be necessary. I will need to find a way to see how much weigh these swords have though, and with what agility these can be used. Could you at least show me a few simple attacks that you would do now? The quickest, most direct strikes you would do. Fencing demands precision and dexterity."
Cook took a step forward as the other two stepped away from him, and prepared to swing by holding the holding the sword upward and at an angle, nearly resting the back of the blade upon his shoulder. He audibly took a breath, focused, then snapped the blade down with all the force he could muster in his arms and wrists. The tip of the blade came down to nearly touch the ground at the end of the swing.
"Again." Charles made this request after a few seconds of silence.
Charles studied Cook's wrists as he made the second swing, and saw that they had barely moved in the motion; it seemed that Cook was using all of his force in his arms. It was apparent that he had a lot of instruction ahead of him.