<div align="center"><strong>Corann Character Post</strong></div><br/><strong>Time of day beginning post: </strong>1-2ish.<br/><strong>Time of day ending post:</strong>1-2ish.<br/><strong>Location beginning post:</strong>Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Location ending post: </strong>Bold Bison Inn<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with: </strong>Rianna<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required? (Yes/no):</strong>No.<br/><br/>“Tight corridors?” Corann asked, sounding both piqued and a bit incredulous. “My experiences in indoor fighting have made it pretty clear to me that if I want to be effective using a long blade in a tight space is a waste. Even magical blades nick when you smash the tips into solid stone, and it’s nearly impossible to maneuver fluidly with a blade even as long as a three and a half foot broadsword.”<br/><br/>Skirting away from the table, careless of the fact that the tavern was packed to the gills with uneasy sailors, a half golem and her giant husband, Corann spread his arms in a wide motion, as though he were sizing something, then he went to the roaring fireplace and grabbed the handle of one of the metal pokers – giant sized, so it was probably closer to five feet long. When the giant inn keeper looked up, Corann waved a hand in his direction, followed by a practically luminescent white smile, before nearing the table.<br/><br/>“See,” Corann began, flourishing his poker, “good for stabbing and broad strokes,” then he stepped closer to the table, until the lower portion of his pelvis and thighs were pressed tightly to the wood and made another flourish, “but not so good when someone is close.” He lowered the poker and pointed to a spot about two thirds of the way from the handle. “The craftsmen among my people talk of a blade’s sweet spot, yes? The place where a wielder’s force and power is magnified. Outside of that sweet spot – especially for a huge weapon, most likely used for slashing rather than ornate lunges, the effectiveness of strikes are greatly reduced. I doubt that I could splinter a man’s armor if he was this close and I had my big one out. A dagger, on the other hand…” He gestured at one of the multitude of daggers strapped across his chest, shrugged, and returned the poker to the fireplace with a wave of thanks to the innkeeper.<br/><br/>That done, he sat back down. After his demonstration, the man moved with a little of the predator in his steps, an eagerness for violence that was more wolfish than human. Then again, he wasn’t human.<br/>