[ OPEN ] Heart's on fire

[ombranera]

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Zevran Aranai's School for Rogues Who Can't Sneak Good and Want to Do Other Stuff Good Too.
WHEN: Wintermarch, all month
WHERE: Skyhold: Courtyard, Stables, Rookery, Battlements, etc
NOTES: Sass, Stealth, and Violence

He had mulled over the notion for a few weeks now; watching the soldiers take themselves to task, the warriors practicing as best they could; the mages training in their spells and thought- aside from combat (and even then there were tricks soldiers did not always think to teach) how was a rascal, a scoundrel, a rogue to learn more tricks? A well trained operation of any sort had well trained members of all sorts; the bruisers, the wizards, the rogues. Perhaps it was high time someone did something for the sneakier sorts.


[ Courtyard ]

Every lesson starts the same- a quick lap around the courtyard as fast as possible, vaulting over people and structures, running along the wall, making use of all the same skills that kept him alive all those years in Antiva City. For those that did not know them? The tricks came as a brief primer after the lap was finished- even a brief demonstration is offered. Afterward he runs them through a few training locks set into empty chests, some of the them wound with ringing alarms for the sake of practice. Trip the wrong tumbler? Off goes the alarm. After that it's stealth and pickpocketing. Sneaking about through a field of tripwires connected to more ringing bells and powder packets, a veritable labyrinth. Any bells go off, any powder on your person? You go through again. One of the training dummies has been re-purposed with bells and pouches on it- each pouch has a bell attached. They're timed and told to get as many as possible without ringing any bells. Ring a bell? Run a lap.


[ Stables ]

Here there is room enough for him to demonstrate proper trap production and dismantling. Every wound spring, every steel mechanism. They start with the basic bladed traps- though none of the blades are sharpened and none of the powder explosions hold more than dye. Once they've made traps that are...decent or satisfactory, Zevran walks them through detection and dismantling. Some of the practice traps have trick springs and triggers- if set off they'll be dusted with powder instead of losing their fingers. Later he goes through a list of common poisons and venoms to create and how to build up a tolerance for them. He does not provide them with samples this early on.


[ Battlements ]

Rappelling and dueling and improvisational combat and you! Here Zevran shows them how to climb, how to fall, how to make their own ropes when they've none of their own, how to throw a rappel to make it stay, how to haul it down, and how to dual wield on uneven ground. Demonstrations with Isabela and sparring with whoever wishes to take their turn happens throughout the day as requested; Zevran also covers grappling, breaking holds, and how to fight dirty. An honorable rogue is a dead rogue after all.


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Comments

[samahl]

Cyril moves to help. He mostly does it to speed up the process but he can also imagine what Merrick would say if he left a mess just so he could get Zevran into his pants. It doesn't seem like the best way to stay in good health.

Once they're done, he grins over at Zevran. "Now my back is even more sore," he teases. He's young and flexible so it's not like he's really that sore, he's just pretending to complain as a method of flirting, to try to get Zevran to soothe him.

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss flushed bright red at that, but the smile that came over her face was bright and deep. She did now have to splash a little water on the back of her neck, as she tried to stop smiling but honestly ... she apparently was a sap.

Sigh.

[ombranera]

"Any assistance you are willing to give, I am willing to accept." Less work for him, more education for the other rogues, and a fine dinner for he and a lovely little dwarf. No one here loses.

[sistertohermen]

"I'll give them some pointers on locks and picking pockets. And traps if any are having trouble. Maybe you could show me some of the finer points in agility." Look, with her center of gravity, the idea of running along a wall is absurdly cool. "Normally I don't do much finesse when I go at someone. I'm not very...finesse-y." But hey, there's not much need for that kind of finesse down there. Brawlers, sure, wall running, nah.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders blinks, a little surprised by the answer, but maybe he shouldn't have been. Isabela is fond of Zevran, after all. Briefly he wishes he'd met the man in his younger years, but Anders isn't dead yet. He can perhaps still enjoy himself, depending on Justice.

"I have absolutely no desire to argue that." Though suddenly he's struck by a thought that has his smile growing a little more. "You and Oghren must have been quite the pair. The poor Warden-Commander." Somehow, he doesn't sound like he really feels bad for the Warden-commander at all. After all, he'd had fun harassing everyone with Oghren.

But for now, there's a slightly more important matter at hand, something that could come in very hand if he's ever in shackles or a cell again. Anders holds out a hand for the practice lock. "I've some experience with refining my technique. And finding all the right spots. I wonder if magic can help with these ones too?" Force, or arcane, perhaps. Definitely not anything elemental.

[samahl]

[Cyril watches Merrick's display with amusement. He isn't too worried that Merrick will actually kill anyone, and it's just sort of entertaining to Cyril to see Merrick beat people up. It's likely a problem that he should work on.

But not today.

Once Merrick's fight is over and he is alone, Cy goes up to him.]

I don't think any of them will be going up against you again any time soon.

[ombranera]

"Turn around, then." Zevran finishes winding up the last bit of wire, what powder that could not be swept away staining the cobblestones. The dye would fade in time but until then? A colorful mess among the courtyard.

For himself he's far more interested in a particular shade on a particular elf; remembering well how red and lovely Cy might become when pressed. "Let me see what I can do for your back."

[ombranera]

"No magic." He sets the lock on the desk and slips out of his chair, motioning for Anders to settle there in his stead. "You need to be able to do this blindfolded and bound- not that I propose practicing as such straight away. But this is something you must learn by feel and dexterity- using magic will only call attention to yourself."

Even if templars cannot feel the pull of a spell- other mages might. And other mages are not always on Anders' side.

With a flourish he pulls two picks from somewhere on his person, offering these over for Anders to take. "This is a basic lock- when you can do this with your eyes closed without setting off the bells? We might attempt something more difficult."

[samahl]

Cyril grins happily that it worked, because of course it worked. Zevran is as happy to share moments with people as he is. Cyril moves closer and then turns to expose his back to Zevran. Ironic, considering the classes that Zevran is giving, but Cyril is reasonably certain that he doesn't have to worry about getting hurt. At least not in any way he won't enjoy.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders takes the picks and the seat, frowning down at the lock. Right. So there's spots to find and poke? He's good at prodding, at least.

"How will I know when I'm hitting the right spot?" He's left a wide opening for a joke, but it's a question he has to ask. Carefully, with his eyes still open for now, he slides both pieces of metal in. The frown grows as he attempts to remember how he's seen people hold these before. Honestly, most of the time Isabela or Nathaniel had been opening locks he'd not been watching their hands. Varric and Sigrun, though... One tended to be held steady as the other probed. He prods and feels a couple of things move, looking up at Zevran in hopes of getting something further.

"I push them?" Probably not, because doing so isn't opening the lock.

[ombranera]

"There will be a catch- or a moan, depending on what you are doing." Zevran snorts a soft laugh and sets himself against Anders' back, reaching out to rest his hands on top of the mage's. It is not entirely how he'd learned but- it is the best way to show him how to seek out and test resistance. Chin hooked over Anders' shoulder, he murmurs as he moves their joined hands, one pick sliding into the lock and turning until there is that subtle catch. "This you move until you feel- ah, there it is. That faint spot where there is less resistance? Then you press inward with your second pick to find the tumblers."

[justice_is_blond]

There's a flash of a smile at the joke, but before he can even think about a comeback the man is moving against him, warm and close. He stiffens despite himself, trying to hold back a little but it's been a long time since he's had this much physical contact and a few moments later Anders is relaxing for the most part, hoping he's not leaning too much into the elf. Zevran's a flirt. That's all. It takes one to know one, and Anders had once been exactly this flirty. He doesn't need to go weak and pathetic at what's simply a flirty method of teaching.

"Right." He felt it, and it shows in his voice... but so does a little hoarseness that Anders chastises himself for. One deep breath later and he's feeling for the spot again, finding it and pressing, while adding a little pressure with his other hand the way he's seen Varric do. Is that right? He's not sure, but he's here to learn and try things.

"Do I..." Another spot is now giving him less resistance, and he turns his head slightly in a glance back at Zevran. "This?"

[ombranera]

To be on the run is to be paranoid- to be starved of affection and contact. Zevran had but the crows to mind and while they are not an inconsiderable force- they are not near the number that would turn on Anders for what he had done. It leaves him few places to find his comfort, fewer still to fill the very human need for contact. Zevran takes the weight Anders rests against him- even goes so far as to slip an arm around his waist for a moment simply to hold him.

To ground him. It is a casual flirtation, yes but- it is a need that he knows well. A familiar ache he knows how to tend.

Not offering his aid would be impolite.

"Very good." Voice a low, warm burr Zevran murmurs, guiding that second hook in and bringing it up in little catches. This close Zevran feels as though he can see past Anders' eyes- see whatever he carries inside. For the moment? Those concerns are irrelevant. "Just like this. You are trying to press the latches back into place so you can open the lock."

[justice_is_blond]

He inhales when the arm goes around him, closing his eyes for just a moment. In the last month he's gotten more kindness than he had in years, but this? Touch from someone who knows who he is and what he's done? There's nothing like being held. He takes another breath before refocusing, directing his thoughts away from the physical and toward the lesson. Though the elf smells fantastic, Anders' traitor nose informs him, leather and metal and clean.

"Latches," he echoes, bringing that mental picture into focus. Push the latches, so that they'd... well, latches catch. So there's something they catch on, and that train of thought explains what Zevran had just helped him do. "So now the next."

More tension is leaving his body as he urges the third into place and leans more against the Crow. There's no speed there yet, the motions aren't smooth, but he's starting to get a feel for how it should work, he thinks. Hopes, even. If it's this simple, as long as he makes sure he has picks, he could potentially escape whenever they catch on to who he is. It's nice to have even a tiny bit of hope for the future.

"There's... two more?" He feels two, but he's not sure he's got that right.

[ombranera]

"Mmhmm." Latches. This lock had simple ones with automatic catches, the mechanism not quite as tricky as the rest. Perfect for beginners. A mage's deft hands lend themselves well but most of it is experience- the rest? Knowing how it ought to feel.

Again, much like love making.

Zevran tips his cheek to rest against Anders' still holding the one hand still while he lets Anders feel out the remaining two catches. "You must be careful- if you jar the lock too much? The first three will come down and jar your picks loose at the best- or snap it at worst. Speed and smoothness will come with time. Right now you merely need to know how it feels. Memorize that? And even should you find an unfamiliar lock you may be able to work your way through it. Unless it is trapped, but we shall worry about that another day."

With that Zevran removes his hands from Anders', dropping them down to once again curl around his waist. He can watch his progress from here well enough- the mage knowing how to find the latches and press them into place on his own for the last two is the important lesson here. And, perhaps, he simply wishes to warm himself on the back of a man he knows isn't too terrible.

[disgracedchampion]

"In the presence of royalty this entire time?" Michel did not seem the sort to make jokes or engage in this sort of idle behavior, simply because he wasn't often exposed to it. He was not immune to it either, so he put on his best, scandalized Orlesian front which, he was certain, fooled no one, "I've been ill dressed on every occasion, I should hang my head in shame. Ill prepared for such beauty as well, I had no idea the Queen of Antiva was so attractive...and so solid..."

Now that he had done his flattering for the day, Michel made room for Zevran to come along beside him so that he could lavish the horse with attention. Not that he seemed to mind it much. As for taking an interest in Zevran's lessons? Michel was a perfectionist, harder on himself than anyone else could ever be, so if there was something to learn then it was important to do so.

"Well, your Radiance, I would not wish to distract you...but I would be honored."

[foxsays]

“I think the kitchen staff might hate me, or rather the head cook? The grumpy one that likes to shout at the rest? She definitely hates me , for all that I actually do help out, you would think extra hands are something to be grateful for but no. ‘If someone complains about a meal you’ve touched I’ll tell them to blame that Antivan girl with the green hand’, that’s all I ever hear.” Not that it bothers her too much, she’s choosing to put up with it but the people trying to do their jobs shouldn’t be treated badly by an old harridan. “You can try to flatter her, nothing I’ve done works.”

She’s willing to chalk that up to her hand more than anything else and the increasingly half-hearted ‘I’m not an Antivan’ protests.

“From what you’ve said before,” she starts carefully, more wary here of overstepping boundaries when so much in Thedas seems to hurt, “I take it you learned very differently to how I did.”

[ombranera]

"Let me see..." He peels off his gloves and rests them upon his shoulders, squeezing lightly at the tension he finds there. About as much as he'd expect after a hard day's work- and a little more besides. "Ooh, tresoro, you are all tied up in knots- and not the fun kind."

[ombranera]

"But of course! It would be my pleasure to walk you through the finer points of agile movement in and around the battlefield." An agile brawler is a lethal brawler. Well. A doubly lethal brawler.

[ombranera]

"Just like that. That is the smile you need to use when you attempt to sell a lie." Why he couldn't manage that early on- well. Who knows?

[ombranera]

Zevran crackled a low, warm laugh- surprised somewhat by the twist of humor but not so much that he could not respond in kind. "Well I come from a long line of handsome Queens."

He leaned just enough to bump his shoulder against Michel, peering up at him from under his lashes. Mages he could teach given time, light hands and quick wits are something of a requirement- but Warriors? It was a completely different discipline than those they used. Why Michel chose to linger beyond simply watching Zevran's very fine self, he could not say. "And yet here I stand, thoroughly distracted. Where should we start, mm? The stealth, the traps, or the lock picking?"

[the_effect_she_has]

"So you basically want me to think of Cullen Rutherford while I'm lying." She arches an eyebrow at him, even though she's still grinning, "The most honest person I know?"

[disgracedchampion]

"They teach us the fighting tactics of duelists from Antiva and Rivain, but I'm beginning to think it is more prudent that we travel further north-east," if he could endure the warmer weather, he'd been in the harshest regions of The Dales for so long he wasn't entirely certain about the more balmy climes. An ocean might be nice though, Orlais had the Waking Sea, but he'd never been further east than Halamshiral and Val Chevin to really see it...until recently.

Fortunately Chevalier were...flexible dancing partners when it came to the warrior class, they weren't as rigid as Templars and were often made to train using a variety of tactics. He remembered how grueling the training had been, climbing trees fully armored, dueling one another, with pells spinning around them fully bladed. The one thing a Chevalier was not proficient in was dishonor--opportunism was one thing, exploiting an opponent while facing them in a fight...defects, weaknesses, they were not above this. Such things as stabbing an opponent in the back, torture, and certain acts of foul play were not permitted by those who strictly adhered. One might even kill a friend to protect a foe in the face of dishonor. So there were certainly limitations to what Michel could be taught...but why he lingered? "I will have to become very familiar with your traps, so let's make sure I have the right of it, shall we?"

Courtyard

[arlathvhen]

She's determined to not have her rookie mistake happen again. She puts pretenses aside, she puts looking wide eyed and cute aside, and she focuses. She moves carefully, delicately through the field, and constantly checks for powder, so she knows where she messed up, so she can be more careful next time. She gives the pickpocketing a try for trying's sake, but it's clear she is focused on repairing her mistake.

She doesn't succeed at first, of course, but she takes the lap without complaint, racing around the courtyard. It even looks like she's enjoying herself for the lap, so much like racing through the forest. Instead of trees there are stalls to duck around, and instead of rocks to leap over, there are people. But it's a good way to work out all the tension that builds up every time she tries something and fails.

The pickpocketing she proves to be completely terrible at. Dalish don't pick pockets. But she still tries, and after a few attempts, gets frustrated enough to swat the dummy, making every bell on it ring.

Courtyard

[snarksman]

Clint's good at distance rogue things. He's good with poisons, good with mixing elixirs and making things go boom. But that close up stuff? Picking pockets and the like? He'd laugh. He knows how to go it quite poorly, enough to be considered passable for him to not get caught, but nowhere on par to consider himself a proper rogue. He's good with flipping and tumbling and getting over obstacles with ease - he'd trained for years with a performance group that saw to that - but ask him to pick a lock and he'll pale in the face.

Clearly he needs Zevran's crafty expertise.

"Quite the set up," he quips, whistling low. "Are there to be nightly shows?"