2024-12-18 - New To The Arena!

The park has only closed half an hour ago or so, and the grounds crew of the Arena is sweeping over the grass to pick up left over shards of shattered lances and get the place ready for tomorrow's shows.

Drea has already changed into yoga pants, a tunic shirt, and a hoodie, and has her show-falchion and a heavy-draped cape out, playing around with maneuvers that include using the cape in her left hand to lash out at either an opponent or their weapon, then following on with the falchion. Most of the strikes are eminently practical, short, sharp, and direct. But every now and then she does something showy and whirly that would get her killed in a real fight, but might look dynamite in a show -- with the right attitude.

"Oh yeah, now I totally see what you meant," calls Tank after he exchanges a brief greeting with one of the grounds crew. "That is very showy, and I think adding something that can catch the light can make it a bit of a dazzling effect on top of you looking fantastic doing it." He is wearing a pair of black jeans and a black turtleneck, and is carrying a canvas bag. "I brought a mock up of that stretchy fabric for you to try out if you wanted, but..." He looks around for a moment. "I hope you can find a dummy to throw it at, because I'm not very good at taking blows."

Well into his second year at the park, and Benedict still finds his archery skills aren't quite up to par. The Black Knight is supposed to use underhanded means to win, when he does win, but it helps to have actual skill backing up your mischief to really sell it to the masses. It's much easier to fail (safely) when you know what you're doing, versus when you have no clue.

And that's why he's begged and pleaded and thus successfully convinced the grounds crew to keep one of the targets up, and after making it very loud and clear that this particular side of the arena should not be walked through by any means, he's started practicing.

Though when he hears someone approaching he pauses in nocking the next arrow to check that his lane is clear, looking over at Tank. They're in remarkably similar outfits, though Benedict's sweater has a v-neck, he's in his basically trademark all-black ensemble. Gotta rep the brand. And then his pause continues so that he can watch Drea's practice session for a little while, too, before he returns his focus to the task at hand.

He draws the bow back. Aims. Inhales. And takes the shot.

Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and an East Stroudsburg University sweatshirt, Miriam Lazarus makes her way onto the arena grounds to get a feel for it. She's spent all day in training, learning the show and the pre-set bits of choreography. As she moves, she marks major beats, trying to commit them to memory.

Okay. Maybe not that side of the arena. She makes sure to go up-range. Safer. Especially with that aim.

She overhears Drea and Tank and offers, "Looking for a dummy? You can throw things at me."

Drea lowers the dulled blade, looking over to Tank and nodding, "I know, right? So worth the extra effort to get to throw a cloak around." Sheathing the falchion, she sweeps the cloak around her shoulders and clasps it, making grabby hands toward Tank when he offers the mock-up, "I'm sure we can find a dummy around -- " she's looking over to Benedict where he's doing his archery, and then there's Miriam, and she flashes a smile in that direction, "I saw you in some of the run-throughs earlier, right? Between shows? Are you new? I'm Drea."

Plucking at the cloak now draped over her shoulder, she asks, "Do you have any background in HEMA? Uh, Historical European Martial Arts. I just started looking at some of the treatises that work with cloaks."

"Oh, crap, I'm way outta my league," remarks Tank when Drea drops her historical knowledge. "Now I know what you meant before. I just make pretty stuff." He laughs as he turns towards Miriam, offering a hand in salute. "I'm Tank, and I'm a dummy but not that kind of dummy. If you throw things at me, well..."

He glances over towards Benedict, practicing with his bow, and gives him a brief wave before looking back to Miriam. "I'm a costumer, so I'm just here to watch and figure out if I can do anything. Just ignore me, pretend I'm not here."

He tosses the bag towards Drea. "It should work, or at least give you an idea of what it would be like."

The arrow strikes true, but not quite in the center, and along with all of the other arrows that are currently embedded in the target, it seems Benedict's archery skills aren't going to show an improvement any time soon.

Well, nothing to be done for it but practice more. He strolls up to the target to pull the arrows free and restock the quiver hanging from his hip, but rather than take up his firing position once more, he heads over to where the discussion is happening.

"Are we getting new costumes?" he asks, having only heard bits and pieces of the conversation from over where he was before. The bag that is tossed Drea's way is eyed with interest, though he's not sure what sort of changes he could expect for his own knightly wardrobe. Not a whole lot of variety available when your name is also a physical descriptor.

"Yeah, I know about HEMA. Never got into the book side of it too much, to be honest. Did twelve years at the PA Ren Faire and played around in the ACL for a bit. Uh. Armored Combat League? But it was too much alpha male bullshit and people who were afraid to hit me." Miriam drops down into an easy crouch to pick up some soda can tabs some tourist must have tossed into the arena. She stands back up, fidgeting with them as she continues replying to Drea. "Yeah, you saw me in the run-throughs between shows. New hire, 'Sir Eleanor the Night Mare'," she introduces herself with a sweeping bow.

Oh. Right. An actual introduction. "Miri Lazarus. Just arrived a few days ago. They want me to squire for a week or two before going all in." Her auburn brows quirk upward when Tank introduces himself. "I think I've got an appointment for a fitting with you this week, actually."

Aha! The archer approaches. "Hey. Oh, hey, you're the Black Knight, right? Badass."

Drea catches the bag eagerly, crouching down to dig into it. She looks up to Benedict as she unzips the bag and starts to pull out stretchy cloak-like material, "I asked Tank about adding a cloak to my costume so I could do some sword-binds with it -- and stay a little warmer through the winter." Her costume for the melee and equestrian sections is very stereotypical 'warrior woman,' including a skirt of leather strips to the knee and a distinct lack of sleeves. It helps show off the snakeskin-patterned skin that she has for shows that has to be great makeup but isn't.

"He had some great ideas about modern materials and some cheats to make binds easier." Looking over to Tank, she flashes a grin, "Which you can't get from looking at old treatises." She brightens up when Miriam notes that she knows HEMA, "Awesome! I knew some of those Buhurt or ACL guys. Mostly guys. Definitely lots of toxic. I got started in competitive jousting so..." her laughter suggests much the same there. Shaking out the stretchier cloak, she gives it a whip this way and that, watching it flow, "Nice to meet you Miri. I play the Serpent of Seraphin in most of the shows, and then the Mystery Knight in the joust."

"If you want some, sure, just let me know what you need," Tank answers to Benedict. "I'm all too happy to come up with some ideas to make y'all look good."

He nod as Drea and Miri compare notes on the various leagues. "I never did any of that stuff, but I heard stories. Before I came here, a lot of my work was at cons and with cosplay, and the folks there would always tell me about some of the bullshit they had to go through." He shrugs. "Life on Broadway was a lot simpler. No one gave a rat's ass about any of that, other than a bit of prima donna behavior. And that didn't matter between alpha, beta, toxic, etc. It was just people being mean based around talent."

He moves away from the group a bit to give them room to work. Not wanting to be too close to the blades, practice blades or otherwise. "Well, pretend that I'm not here, I'll just watch you all, and get some ideas." He looks to Miri. "I'll watch you to get some thoughts, maybe have some ideas worked up in my head when you come for the fitting."

"Ah, cheers mate, but I'm mostly just in armor, so I don't know if I actually need a costume refresh," Benedict admits, after a momentary pause. His English accent is still prominent despite his time here in the United States. "There's not much you can do to improve upon the perfection of the Black Knight." And when Miriam recognizes him, he takes a step back and offers a sweeping bow, arm spread out wide.

For his own introduction, he simply offers up a quick, "Benedict, or Ben is fine, to the gnashing horror of my mum."

Peacocking done, he straightens back up and nods in understanding to Drea. "Understandable. It's getting to be about that time to add a layer on underneath the armor." He's contemplating just that when Tank mentions Broadway, and Ben's head snaps around lightning-quick. Though he doesn't ask, he looks intrigued, and makes a mental note to potentially follow up later.

"Buhurt? More like Butthurt." Miri apparently has opinions. She strides over to a weapon rack and picks up a longsword, feeling the weight in her hand. "Tank here wants to see me move. And nice to meet you, Benny. Will your mum explode if I call you Benny?"

She does a few lazy flourishes, then upnods at Drea. "So, wanna try and cape me? See how it works against a boring standard swords."

"Honestly, I'm pretty sure the stories are the best part," Drea grins crookedly over at Tank, "Besides actually whacking each other with sticks or swords. I've heard stories about Broadway too. Maybe different sorts of toxic? I'd love to hear real stories some time." She laughs readily at Benedict's peacocking, "That reminds me, Ben." Because the gnashing horror of all upper-crust mums is great according to Drea, "One of the Corporate folks was talking about having an interest in learning what we do here and maybe joining up. Said he played a lot of polo."

Her laughter bubbles up again at Miriam's response, and she points to the other woman, "Yes. That. And yes please, Miri, I'd love to see if the elastic cloak is easier or harder to bind a blade with. He's also got a great idea for a cloak with like, loops on the inside, like a caged buckler." Taking a couple of steps back from the bag, she takes a low stance, left foot forward and cloak in her left hand, her right held low at her side like she has a blade in low guard.

"I can get you some easy underlayers that will keep some of the chill of the metal off your skin," offers Tank, as he moves his way over to a convenient perch to settle in and watch the proceedings. "There are stories, for sure, but a lot of the good ones are the sort of, no one ever talks about them. Like this one time, Nathan Lane..." He pauses, and glances around, as if checking to see if TMZ is hiding somewhere. "Well, let's just say that someone left a bird cage back stage and the bird was not house broken, and Mr. Lane was not amused." He laughs. "Not nearly as interesting as some of the others, I guess."

He settles back and watches Miriam approach Drea, and nods in appreciation. "Show me everything you've got!"

Oh, Benny is a new one, and Benedict snorts at that, well and truly amused. "My mum objects to anything that isn't the full, resplendent glory of it. So yes, Benny would absolutely drive her around the bend," he confirms.

Looking over in interest when Drea calls his attention, his eyebrows going up at the mention of polo. "Ah, that so? Wonder if we ever crossed paths, then." After a momentary debate, he shrugs one shoulder in a loose gesture. "Well, the more the merrier if you ask me. I've always wanted a squire of my own to knock about."

Given that it seems Drea and Miriam are about to have a practice sesh, he follows Tank over to that convenient perch, though he chooses to lean against it rather than have a sit. Balancing his bow on one point, he says as an aside, "Sir Kenneth Branagh once walked in on me while I was having a cry in the bathroom of the Garrick, most embarrassing moment of my life," though he doesn't seem at all bothered by relating it to Tank in the moment, even cracking a smile as he glances over. "It wasn't even over anything important, someone had eaten some leftovers I'd really been looking forward to and I absolutely lost it. Fully going to pieces."

Miriam isn't going in for a true spar. That's not what this is for. She meets Drea's gaze and telegraphs her swing. It's a controlled, precise movement meant to give the other woman something to work with to try out her new cape and cape-related tricks.

Even with the banter and awesome stories flowing around her, Drea focuses on Miriam and the cloak, twitching it back and forth to get the feel for it. She gives a little nod, and when Miri comes in with that telegraphed strike, she lashes out from her right to her left, sweeping up the sword in the cloak and buying herself time to step away from the strike. It's a near-run thing though, and she doesn't quite manage to fully bind the weapon, leaving her laughing ruefully, "Okay... that's definitely going to take more practice before it's show-ready. But I like the heft of the cloak, Tank. Thanks, Miri, for being our dummy. And oh my gods, meeting either Nathan Lane or Sir Kenneth Branagh would be awesome. Although maybe without the bird poop or the tears."