church hound vs war hound ;; REDUX
Who: riastrad-ridire and Ciel
What: Friendly spar. Really.
When: Sunday May 2nd, 10pm. It's a prior agreement.
Where: John Doe Park
Warning: A fistfight. I'm not kidding.
They've done this before, but he was a full fledged Servant while she was completely human. Oh, she didn't ask him out of revenge or anything, but going by what she knew of him, now and from his previous stay, offering a spar would be like the equivalent of a handshake of goodwill. At her peak, she could probably hold off an average-ranked Servant, but one of Lancer's caliber is likely beyond her league, no matter from which perspective this may be looked upon. That would still have been a challenge that she would gladly accept, except that contrary to their first spar, she had the advantage by having access to her body's full potential, while he was stuck with the constitution of an average human.
Of course, that's no reason to underestimate the Hound of Chulainn. If anything, she's happy about this. No Dead Apostle would succumb to a fist: it just wasn't enough firepower to kill, so she rarely got to fight with her hands. It's a good change, so she will snap on a pair of gloves for the occasion, after having set up a barrier in a section within John Doe Park to prevent wandered from coming nearby. It's never absolute, granted, because Mayfield is weird, but that should at least minimize the odds of being found on chance by some random passerby.
So the lights are out, and dressed in her usual habits, she casually cracks her knuckles as she saunters lightly forward with a chipper smile.
"Mm, it's not a bad night tonight. Would you like to do some small talk first, Lancer, or should we begin right away?"
What: Friendly spar. Really.
When: Sunday May 2nd, 10pm. It's a prior agreement.
Where: John Doe Park
Warning: A fistfight. I'm not kidding.
They've done this before, but he was a full fledged Servant while she was completely human. Oh, she didn't ask him out of revenge or anything, but going by what she knew of him, now and from his previous stay, offering a spar would be like the equivalent of a handshake of goodwill. At her peak, she could probably hold off an average-ranked Servant, but one of Lancer's caliber is likely beyond her league, no matter from which perspective this may be looked upon. That would still have been a challenge that she would gladly accept, except that contrary to their first spar, she had the advantage by having access to her body's full potential, while he was stuck with the constitution of an average human.
Of course, that's no reason to underestimate the Hound of Chulainn. If anything, she's happy about this. No Dead Apostle would succumb to a fist: it just wasn't enough firepower to kill, so she rarely got to fight with her hands. It's a good change, so she will snap on a pair of gloves for the occasion, after having set up a barrier in a section within John Doe Park to prevent wandered from coming nearby. It's never absolute, granted, because Mayfield is weird, but that should at least minimize the odds of being found on chance by some random passerby.
So the lights are out, and dressed in her usual habits, she casually cracks her knuckles as she saunters lightly forward with a chipper smile.
"Mm, it's not a bad night tonight. Would you like to do some small talk first, Lancer, or should we begin right away?"