He'd been walking for a while, and had shown up near this training arena. He'd been here before, but it'd been awhile. He let out a small "Hm." and walked over tothe all-too-farmiliar training area. He reached to his left with his right hand, and unsheathed the sword there, named Silfaen, after his passed on father. He held the blunt end of the blade to his forehead, and thought completely of the image he'd seen of his father, long ago, at the Temple of Balance. Focusing on that image, he released his energy, seemingly teleporting, which, he could do, but not so much. He landed at the other side of the log, with the top half falling off at an angle. A grin crossed his face, and he replaced the sword in it's sheath. There weren't many people, and only a small percentage had he seen before. He had been gone for too long.

A training area...it had been some time since the black-cloaked figure had been to one of those, and he had some rather good memories from each of the previous times he had, at the many lands he'd been through before coming to this place. Looking around a bit as he arrived, he noticed a strange man with short, silvery hair clad almost completely in black. The man felt like a half-dragon to him, and he'd rarely been wrong about identifying what anyone was...could be interesting enough, he thought to himself. As he watched, the man slashed vertically through a log with nearly sonic speeds, making it seem almost as if he'd teleported to the other side of it, though he knew full well that that wasn't actually the case. Figuring that since he was here he'd go and talk, he walked over to the man. "Not bad...mind if I ask what kind of sword style that's from? I always like knowing a bit about different ones, personally, though I only officially use one," he called out. His voice sounded like that of a normal teenage human, but his red left eye, the only thing currently showing under his cloak aside from the hint of a weapon at his right side, which could easily hint that he wasn't.

"I don't... really have a style."

He said, smiling, turning around to view the figure.

"I just train myself, mostly."

He looked up.

"That,"

He pointed to the broken log pieces,

"Was just to see how I'm doing. S'been a while since I've trained. I was surprised by how fast I did it."

[Crap! Wrong account! Just pretend this is Blaez, 'kay?]

(will do)

Lance nodded in understanding. No particular sword style, eh...he'd met a few like that, though it was often good to at least have standing knowledge in at least one particular sword style, particularly for counterattacks. To each his own, though, and he wasn't going to preach any particular way of training.

"Impressive enough...suppose now I may as well show a little something," he said, walking over to one of the split log pieces and placing his foot on the end, flipping it back and then kicking it up into the air. As it began to come down, he brushed the lower right part of his cloak aside and placed his left hand on the hilt of his apparent sword, gripping the sheath with his right to hold it in place. One instant he was standing like that, slightly crouched with his left leg in front, as the piece of the log fell. The next, his katana was being held out at his left side in an instant that, without extremely quick eyes, could only be seen as a flash, and the piece of the log landed upright on the ground before the top half of it fell back, sliced cleanly off. And during and shortly after the attack, the katana itself seemed to be trailed slightly by shadowy versions of itself from the speed it moved at.

Dark Descendant's gaze shifts to the forms of Lance Starr and Blaez. She smirks slightly seeing the move of this man, Lance Starr, She watches his for a moment before grinning widely, Seemingly delighted by the very sight of people training with blades, She smirks towards Lance.
' Seems to be a replica performance of the very move the legendary battousai the ManSlayer uses. Very intriuging, That it is. ' She says, The smirk spreading across her lips.
' What hilt is it you use? A ken mount? a Buke - Zukuri hilt? Shira - Saya? Or is it another? ' She glances towards the two men and then their blades, Her own Jindachi - Zukuri hilted Daito swaying to and fro, suspended from her waist, Her Tanto also sways to and fro at her opposite side, it's Yasume -Zaya mount seeming to gleam, As if polished. The wood in a perfect condition.
Her gaze shifts from both men, Gaze transfixed upon their blades, She grins once more towards the blades. Eyes gleaming with delight.

Lance looked over in slight surprise, having not noticed anyone else around in the midst of his concentrating on his attack. Battosai the manslayer? He couldn't say he'd ever heard of such a person, and he was sure that the person who'd taught him his current sword style wasn't him.

"What hilt is it you use? A ken mount? a Buke - Zukuri hilt? Shira - Saya? Or is it another?" this girl asked, and he shrugged, not really sure or concerned with what kind of hilt it was. All he knew was that it was a katana, which he was good with, and was thin and lightweight but durable, meant for speed, formerly having belonged to his teacher and adoptive father years ago.

"Can't say I really know...my katana is simply meant for speed and durability, that's really as much as I know, and it's one of the only few blades I've used in my life," he said, and noticed her seemingly hungry expression, looking over his sword and the one belonging to the other man. But that was no real concern of his...whether or not she wanted his blade, she wasn't going to get it, and thus he sheathed his katana back at his right side, pulling his cloak back over it.

Dark Descendant arches a brow as the male seems to put the blade away she laughs slightly, Much satisfied with her own blades and not wanting another blade, Only delighted that she had finally seen someone using a blade.
She craters over, Gritting her teeth as more shoots of pain go through her form, She brings the blood stained cloth out of her pouch immediately bringing it to her mouth and coughing heavily into it, The cloth being coated with a new coat of blood. She glares towards it before discarding it back into her pouch.
She knew the disease was getting worse but discarded the matter with no further thought, Her gaze shifts back to the form of Lance Starr once more.
' As I was saying...Your blade is light...You may just have a simple hilt such as a Ken mount...Obviously you should care what hilt you have as this will tell you how long ago your blade was made...If you have a ken mounting however, It will be more difficult to guess the time in which it was made as it is only a wooden hilt, That it is...These hilts are usually made for replacing damaged hilts but alot of people use them, That they do. You should take more notice of your blade, All blades are beautiful pieces of equipment even if they are used to shed the blood of one's enemy. They are still beautiful.
With this she un-sheathes her trusty Daito, This sening a ring of sound around the area, Echoing throughout the room, She glances down at the gleaming blade, It obviously having been used in battle many times because of the scratches upon it, But other than this the condition seemed to be magnificent, The Yaki - ba gleamed white brightly showing it had been polished skillfully.
The tsuba also gleamed brightly as she held it tightly in her palm, The cords all seemed to fit perfect around the tsuka.
She grins, Seemingly delighted by the sight of her blade. Her gaze shifting back to the form of Lance Starr ' You should respect your blade, You battle with you blade so you should show it respect, That you should. '

Lance appeared to frown slightly as the girl coughed heavily into a bloody rag, if this could even be told from only seeing his one eye. She was obviously rather sick, but healing and diseases weren't exactly his specialty...he was much better at harming, quite truthfully. Perhaps he should care about the make-up of his blade...but it was used and made by his adoptive father, and was of great quality, not to mention it suited both their purposes, so that was all that really concerned him. True, he'd used other blades, but most of which he'd double-wielded, with his trusted katana in his left, main hand.

"You should respect your blade, You battle with you blade so you should show it respect, That you should," the girl continued. It seemed that she didn't think he did just because he didn't know anything really about what it was made up of.

"I'm in no way saying I don't respect my blade just because I don't know nor care how it was made or what it's made of, or even what style it is...I respect it as much as my adoptive father, who made and formerly wielded it before passing it on to me when he died. It's never failed me yet, and I'll carry it for all the centuries that I'll live," he responded.

Dark Descendant nods towards Lance Starr listening to his words. She thinks for a moment before answering his reply.
' Good that you respect your blade, How you do, That it is. A swordsman's blade has saved him/her many a times and therefore should be shown respect, I am delighted to find you know this, That I am. '
She says in a less harsher tone than her usual one.

She nods in respect to the swordsman, Bowing slightly as most samurai do, Her Daito swaying to and fro suspended from her waist, Swaying slgihtly as she bows to the male.

[Sorry about the shortness I just can't think of anything to write XD]

"Good that you respect your blade, How you do, That it is. A swordsman's blade has saved him/her many a times and therefore should be shown respect, I am delighted to find you know this, That I am," the girl said, bowing politely after she said this, though swaying slightly as she did so. She was clearly rather sick...in a way he wished he could do something about it, but again, he had no experience in diseases. Not to mention, the course of life, of diseases and illnesses, were other people's business, not his. Not a demon's.

"True enough...though it doesn't seem the best idea for you to be out here like this at the time. You're obviously rather sick, so you should at least get some rest," he commented. True, illnesses and the like were other people's business, but there was always the suggestion he'd heard time and time again to others to 'get plenty of bed rest'. He probably couldn't talk, though, knowing that rest restored one's energy, but knowing nothing about living beings' physiology, how it handled injuries and illnesses and other ailments.

Dark Descendant arches a brow to the words of Lance Starr. She shakes her head slightly towards his form, Daito swaying to and fro at her side as she shakes her cranium towards his advice.

She merely laughs towards his form, Not a laugh of joy, Nor a laugh to ridicule him, A simple laugh, One of a put on face. She knew the answer to his advice, She had said it over and over to many people.

' I am fine..Mere sleep cannot help it...I have tried, And being out here, Speaking to others..Fighting, It makes me feel better in it's own way...I am fine, I am well, That I am. '

She nods once more to his form, Bowing slightly, This a more hasty bow than before, Her eyes gleam as she stands up straight, A gleam of determination visable in her eyes.

Her gaze shifts about once more, Gleaming gaze averting around, Travelling off the many fields of grass, She repeats herself, A much quieter voice this time, As if muttering to herself.

' Aye, I am fine...That I am. '

Lance frowned slightly, which at least could be told enough by his eye. She wasn't fine, he knew it, but that was her own business how she handled her apparent illness, not his. Shrugging to himself after watching her for a moment, he looked around a bit, mainly for something else to occupy his time here. What a dull place when there weren't many people around...what he really needed was some kind of battle or something, some excitement. Now probably wasn't the time for that, though, and there wasn't much else for him here, so there was no need to stay here any longer, it seemed.

"Well, it's not really any of my concern anyway, I suppose. As for me, I probably may as well leave. There's really nothing for me here at the moment, and I have a lot of exploring left to do so that I can mentally map this full land out in my head and always know where I'm going. See you again...maybe," he said, turning back and waving slightly with one hand, which had a fingerless glove that reached beyond where the cloak hid, and walked off. New places, new experiences...that was really what wandering was all about, which was all that he did for the most part. What a dull life...maybe he'd visit a tavern or something. Those were usually eventful enough.