𝔎.𝔓. ℌ𝔬𝔟 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sneakery) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2023-01-16 07:40 pm
sneakery) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2023-01-16 07:40 pm
open network - video
Who: K.P. Hob & various
Username: K.P.Hob
Warnings: None
[Standing beside and towering over a combat dummy is one K.P. Hob. As always he stands ramrod straight, though today he holds his well-used halberd in one hand. His attire is a crisply pressed peacoat worn over a knitted turtleneck.
No pants.
He clears his throat, yellow eyes briefly shifting to the person recording this video before, apparently reassured, focusing once more on the lens. When he speaks his voice is deep and refined, with the affectation of rolling the odd R here or there. Somehow, his mouthful of many sharp teeth fails to obstruct his speech even slightly.]
Ahem. Good evening. I come to you today with a request. You see, while these—[he pauses here to give the dummy a light swat with the flat of his blade for emphasis]—are adequate while drilling forms, I find myself sorely lacking in practical combat exercises. To this end, I would like to enquire if anyone is in need of a sparring partner?
Username: K.P.Hob
Warnings: None
[Standing beside and towering over a combat dummy is one K.P. Hob. As always he stands ramrod straight, though today he holds his well-used halberd in one hand. His attire is a crisply pressed peacoat worn over a knitted turtleneck.
No pants.
He clears his throat, yellow eyes briefly shifting to the person recording this video before, apparently reassured, focusing once more on the lens. When he speaks his voice is deep and refined, with the affectation of rolling the odd R here or there. Somehow, his mouthful of many sharp teeth fails to obstruct his speech even slightly.]
Ahem. Good evening. I come to you today with a request. You see, while these—[he pauses here to give the dummy a light swat with the flat of his blade for emphasis]—are adequate while drilling forms, I find myself sorely lacking in practical combat exercises. To this end, I would like to enquire if anyone is in need of a sparring partner?
cw injuries, deaths, previous suicide attempt??, not even 10 tags in I'm sorry
Tries not to remember how much getting run through with the real thing hurts. Tosses the Widower and Owens and Z and Pru's sliced throat out of his mind.
He plays absently, halfway seriously, with the thing. He registers the weight of it, juggles it from one hand to the next and tells himself to catalog just how different the practice blade is to hold compared to a simple bo. He's also wondering if the series of claps Mister Hob just gave was supposed to be for real and he has the image of Dick, his brother, doing the ritual just to mess with him and-or to signal a wet-willy incoming. It's the reason Tim's lips are turned up wanly.]
Tim Drake. And the last time I challenged a swordsman, I should have died.
[As in, he had had it all planned out and. He'd been fine with falling. And... And. Well. Now, he's here. And that's what matters.]
So that'll tell you I'm no master of the art. Fully accepting criticisms with the disclosure that I don't fight... with, or for, 'honor'.
[Sounds dickish.] I just fight to win.
[Tim even looks mildly apologetic about it.]
So it's a good thing we're not really fighting right now.