Who: Maglor, Athelstan, Alice the Elder, anyone who wants to do a sparring log with Mags here or just talk to him
What: Training! Talking! Whatever you like
When: Any time in June
Where: The Citadel
Rating: ...PG for scripted violence? I will update if this changes.
The Citadel. Maglor sighs softly to himself. War is no stranger to the Feanorionnath, who so often carried it in their steps. But they are so young here, so many of them, so bright a light that he would rather see unsullied.
It does not take a warrior to die on a blade murmurs memory, and he closes his eyes briefly.
I
f it will save even one life, then, he reminds himself,
it is worth it. And with that he slips easily into the first steps of the dance of swords. He is out of practice, and the brief time that Elrond was here was not long enough to return to him all his old skills, but two thousand years of siege and war, and another six thousand of quiet skirmishes are not easily forgotten, and he is already better than he was before. Sword in his left and knife in his right, he dances, a deadly whirl of blades, swift and agile as a cat and terrifying swift. He has time, he knows, until those who wish to learn will come, and so he looses himself in the dance of battle for a while. The spear lays forgotten for a time, as does the great battle axe (although he does not think he can wield that any longer, not with his hands as they are). A great warbow lies unstrung nearby, but that is for his students, for he can no longer draw it.
Option A: Come interrupt him training! But don't get too close~
Option B: Come in after and ask for training!
Option C: Choose your own adventure