faderift | [Open] Now Her Hand Is Raised

WHO: James Norrington and You
WHAT: James is completing his assignment for Forces, OR hey how effective is a broken bottle in a fight anyways?
WHEN: Mid-Justinian
WHERE: The Gallows - Training Grounds
NOTES: Warnings for possible violence? James is seriously trying out everything.

It's not unlike James Norrington to be out in the training yard, working on his sword and shield work. It is, after all, what won him such acclaim at the Tourney, and he practices daily to keep up those 'world-renowned' skills up to snuff.

Today, though ... today is a different sort of day. Today, James has got the equivalent of a pile of junk before him, and is, if you can believe it, using it to attack the dummies on the far end. Right now he's got a broken wine bottle and seeing just how far he could stick it into the dummy's artery. There was a chain, some sticks, some sand ... he really was just trying out everything as a weapon. Including a frying pan.

Maker knew he was going to get on-lookers, but for as ridiculous as the scene was, he was taking it completely seriously.

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James Norrington is not the worst human Iorveth's met. He isn't a racist twat, at least, and he's an extremely capable warrior - their team in the Tourney proved that well enough. Not only for his individual skill, but in being willing to listen to the rest of his team, give up the personal glory to work tactics and defend the others. That is what makes a successful unit more than talent alone.

This, however. This is just fucking weird. Iorveth stands not far from Norrington and his nonsense, arms crossed over his chest, watching this fuckery like he's waiting for it to make sense, before eventually speaking up. My dude, what the fuck.

"I suppose I ought to be glad you thought to bring more traditional weapons to the Grand Melee."

Honestly, that might be the nicest thing that any human-hating elf has ever thought about James. Even in passing, or just in one's thoughts. If he knew he'd honestly be flattered. Of course he was also willing to listen to anyone with the kind of battle experience his team had thrown around but still.

He looked up from where he was tossing the frying pan, then snorted, "Currently, I'm testing non-magical weaponry. Things we could get our hands on and use to fight if we were without our swords or bows." He twirled the frying pan. "However, I won't lie. I am now tempted to bring the frying pan for next year."

Still not the best opinion he's had on a human, but who knows, maybe James will get there, if he continues on being fair, level-headed, and not a twat. We'll see.

"If we're so pressed for weaponry that we're raiding the kitchen and broom closet for them, I'd call the battle well gone." My dude, what even is the point of that. Though, now that the idea is in his head, Iorveth's somewhat intrigued. Pacing over to the pile of household knick knacks to be tested, he examines a few things - a mop, a rope, the frying pan.

"What are the terms? Can your common tools be modified before being used?"

James ... tries to be but he makes his mistakes, just like anyone else. At least he's not the Orlesians, thank the Maker.

"Well this is more for if we are in a tight spot, and we have left our weaponry somewhere else. Or it was taken from us." James rubbed the scarring on his wrist. "One never wants to be helpless."

He shakes his head, "No modifications."

"Even if they're only modified with each other?"

Picking up the rope and one of the frying pans, the elf starts typing one to the handle of the other. Maybe it's against the mission rules but maybe this also seems like a fun idea to him.

"Even if they are only modified with one another."

James watched with some fascination while the other man put together the frying pan and the rope.

"Are you going to use it as an improvised mace of some sort? Perhaps a morning star?"

"Ah, well. You deserve a break for fun."

The rope is a bit too long for a mace or morning star, and once he has it tied, he holds the bulk of it in his left hand, and the rope closest to the pan in his right, letting it dangle just a few inches above the ground. "Not quite. But you may want to give a little room."

Because he starts swinging it, like a rope dart, albeit much slower, because a pan is fucking heavy. But, once it gets enough momentum on it, he brings it crashing against the dumbie, nearly crumbling the thing. Not that practical in this instance, but hey, it was fun.

"... well not many would say that, but thank you, regardless." James inclined his head, a quirk of amusement flickering over his face. He stepped back accordingly, watching the other man ... use it as some sort of thrown weapon.

He lets out a snort, before clapping his hands together. "Well done, that."

“You make it sound as if you have no friends, Ser Norrington.” The terrorist is concerned about your social life.

Iorveth gives a mocking, flourishing bow, and chucks the rope and pan back to the pile. It was fun while it lasted, and the elf lets out a short chuckle, shrugging. “Perhaps a small pan would be ideal.”

"Hmm ... not as many that I would consider myself a social man by any means, but I do have people who drag me out and make sure that I have meals and do not have my head stuck in a ledger." He goes to pick up the rope and the pan, hefting the pan once more thoughtfully.

"Something like an omlette pan? Yes that could be do-able."

[Open] Now Her Hand Is Raised

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