By Cane and Rapier

Murphy took a drag on his cigarette and watched the kid practice his sword fighting. He was a tall son of a bitch but couldn't have been older than... 15 he guessed? He had some sort of cane but had dropped it when he started practicing some sort of... oh hell, what was it called...a kata? No, that was martial arts... whatever it was that weapons users practiced. He exhaled slowly, letting the tobacco fumes drift out in long lazy plumes.

"So, does practicing by yourself actually help? Or are you just practicing the motions to get them down to rote memory?" he called out, as the guy paused to look down at his cane.

Murphy paused and raised an eyebrow, you a telepath? he thought clearly and purposefully. That would make things... tricky. He inherently disliked and distrusted mind readers, though he knew that few on this island had chosen to have their abilities manifest. There was just something shady about someone rummaging about in your thoughts while being able to hide theirs. "Eh, a sword's a sword to me. Never saw the use in fighting when you can run." he answered with a shrug. He gave the kid a second look over. While he was really tall, he was incredibly emaciated making him seem like a looming scarecrow rather than a sword fighter. His jacket was some sort of designer brand in white and blue... colors that were probably meant to stand out in blacklights or at nightclubs.

"So what are you doing practicing up here? If all that will do is hammer in the basics, ain't it better to work with other fencers?"

Murphy thought for a moment, "Well, assuming that about one in around a hundred people fence, and maybe on in four of those people actively practice here at the school..." he concentrated, he'd run something similar earlier today but he'd had the benefit of a computer with several calculation programs running on it. Numbers whirred through his head and he finally nodded. "Eh, about twenty fencers at the academy? Though if you have the skill for it, I don't see why people wouldn't practice with you."

He took a final drag from the cigarette before putting it out on the ledge and pocketing the butt. Again he shrugged, "If so few people practice it and it can't be useful in a fight, what about things like judo? Since it is a lot of reactionary stuff, wouldn't your blindness be less of a handicap? Especially if you hear so well."

@"Mazermax"

Murphy glanced at the cane then back at the kid. "Didn't mean to scare ya off now, if this is a good place to practice for ya then do it." He knew first hand how uncomfortable it could be to not have people want to practice with you because of a handicap. His might not be as noticeable as the guys, but when you exuded an aura of misfortune people began to avoid you pretty quick. He approached the fencer and offered his hand, purposefully letting his fingers brush the side of his pants as it raised.

"The name's Murphy, Murphy Banks. Er, a tychomancer I think they called me."

It was a little surprising how strong his grip was all things considered, he certainly had more muscle than he showed. Murphy reached into his pocket and withdrew the small silver coin in his pocket and played with it idly. "Supposedly, tychomancy is the ability to foresee and manipulate outcomes based on observations of patterns or properties of things involved." He snorted derisively, "They make it sound like I can manipulate luck or see the future or some crap, which is true by technicality. I generate bad luck for everyone around me, and can ramp up the power of that bad luck if I try hard enough. Problem is, it catches me in the aura too so... yeah, it's kind of a shit power."

He watched over the ledge at the people below. It looked like classes had just let out and the students were scurrying about trying to grab a quick lunch before the next one. "It ain't all bad though, I'm here after all. Free housing, food, clothing and all expenses paid education so I can finally finish my damn master's degree."

Korite had explained his own power set as 'Helen Keller-esque' but surely there was more to it than that. He mentally shrugged however, not everyone was as willing to talk about themselves as he, often with good reason. "Well, if you can hear people's thoughts you've got a hell of a future in gamblin'" he grinned. "That's something at least."