Why is Thy Blade Sharp? (Kassan)

[Alderache]

Timestamp: Winter 38, 511 AV Time: Midday Location: Clearing just outside the city. Who: Kassan Alderache was not happy about giving Alseroth the reins to their body. But after Wysar's advice, he knew he had to. So Alderache walked outside of the city. He'd learned to stay away from the monks, they made it very clear that they ran things around here. Alderache found a decent clearing, and gave Alseroth a stern warning. "Do not go hurting anyone, or I will make sure you don't see the light of day for an entire season." Then, for the second time since he'd arrived in Nyka, he relented control to his brother. Although Alseroth would never admit it, he was slightly thankful for what his brother was doing. It was exhausting trying to fight for control. He drew in deep draughts of the sea kissed air. Syna was out, despite there being snow on the ground. He removed his shirt and his worn out boots, and stepped into the bitter cold. He drew his Lakan tossing it end over end, catching it by the hilt each time. It'd been too long since he'd practiced. He wished he had a sparring partner, he hadn't had the chance to use Wysar's blessing much since they received it. While Alseroth might despise Wysar, he liked powerful tools in combat, and Evantia was an extremely powerful tool. He looked down at his Lakan, "Okay Shivara, let's get some payback on our welcoming party." He remembered the monks that used him as a punching bag the first day he'd arrived in Nyka, and he vowed to train until he could return the favor. Since then, he'd learned there were four types of monks, all with their own areas and own weapons. They ones who had picked him carried these whip looking things. But they didn't even need to use them. He closed his eyes, picturing the four monks in front of him. They spread out, one on his left, one on the diagonal left, one on the diagonal right, and one on the right. None of them drew their whips and all settled on open combat stances. Alseroth could tell they were all around the same skill level as himself by the way they held themselves. He sighed and put away Shivara. He wanted to beat them on his terms, even if it were just an imaginary battle. He took two steps backwards and settled into his stance. His fists were up and out, his left leg out, as he balanced on the balls of his feet. He was not in a defensible position, so he chose to not go on defense this time. His feet shuffled him forward quickly bringing him to the monk on the diagonal left. The other monks would be able to close in on him quickly. He tested the first with a weak left jab, which was easily parried. He followed it through with a hard right cross aimed at the monk's chin. It was blocked by an elbow. He took the moment to evade to the man's blindside, and was now behind him. He planted his front foot, spun, and unleashed a bone shattering kick at the man's exposed back. Alderache told him that kick would be stopped by another monk. They worked well together. Alderache then took over as the mental responses of the monks, while Alseroth attempted to counter. Even in a mental state, he couldn't win. He couldn't maintain his calm. He drew Shivara and slashed at the empty air, his mind saying that he just opened up a monk's throat. "STOP!" Alderache mentally screamed at his brother and wrested control for just a moment. And none too soon. He had stopped their blade from opening up a man's throat. Alseroth hadn't been paying enough attention outside of the imaginary combat. Alderache scolded his brother and belted his Lakan. He looked at the man, "I apologize, I got caught up in my training." OOCYou can make yourself the man he almost killed, or a witness to it all, either way is good

[Kassan]

On his day off, Kassan went walking just outside the city. Partly, to soothe his soul. But he had ulterior motives too - searching for signs of slaver caravans. He could see the sea from where he walked. It was a calm, cool day. The water glistened in Syna's radiance. Uphis... I want revenge. When I find those slavers, he thought with a growl, your art will become actuality. Having not been looking where he walked, he was shocked when he heard a voice in front of him, and stopped dead before a blade. An Akalak stared back at him, apologising. For a moment, Kassan bristled. But the man had been carried away training, with a blade. He could only hold respect for those who walked Uphis' path. "Don't worry about it," he said slowly, "just be more careful next time."

[Alderache]

Alderache quickly realized that he'd nearly killed a monk. He was inwardly slinging verbal assaults on to Alseroth for being so stupid. The killing of a monk was sure to have dire consequences. But Alseroth was having none of it. He'd seen, and recognized the insignia on the man's robe. He didn't know much about those monks, or their god, but he knew they liked blades. "Alseroth, don't. You've already started trouble, don't keep it going. "Shut up you Zithpetcher. If I kept you in charge, we'd never get stronger. Now watch and learn, brother." Alseroth rested control over the body from his brother. He held up his blade to the light, and without turning to the monk, he said, "Perhaps a monk like you would enjoy a little blade sparring? I'm sure you can appreciate such an event." Alseroth tried to do a friendly smile, but it seemed to come out a bit more creepy. He had no way of telling how strong the man was, aside from the fact that he was a monk. Alseroth relished the challenge.

[Kassan]

Kassan had always admired the Akalak race. They were disciplined, strong, striving for leadership and tenacity. They weren't so different from the monks of Uphis, he thought. He looked upon the man, who seemed to be lost in thought with something, before he held his blade towards him. The surface glimmered menacingly in the light. Confrontation. "Sparring..." Kassan replied, half staring into the distance. His hand instinctively touched the cool surface of his glaive. "If that is what you wish." He would test himself against the Akalak. How could he ever hope to defend his most holy Alvina, if he could not even win this duel? That was why he had to fight. His glaive was impressive to most. As he unsheathed it, moving the length of deathly metal before him, he watched the man's reaction. It was a weapon that was sacred to him, left by the mysterious figure that had saved him from his captors. It had been the first link in the chain of fate that had led him to the Sharp Blade. "You are foolish though," Kassan said cooly, glancing down at the ground, "to take on a monk of the Sharp Blade."

[Alderache]

Alseroth watched as the monk drew his glaive. That weapon would be a major problem. It had a very long reach on it, especially in comparison to his own Lakan. The only way to win would be to disarm the man, or get in past his guard. Both of these feats would be extraordinarily difficult to achieve. Alseroth ignored his brother's warnings, and prepared to fight the man. He stepped back a few paces, out of the estimated reach of the glaive and he assumed his fighting stance. He held Shivara in a reverse grip in his left hand, which he held out front with his left foot. His right foot was back, and right hand held up to protect his chin and throat. He bent slightly at the knees, and balanced on the balls of his feet. Speed would be his biggest advantage here. When his opponent was ready, he began to circle around, slowly, to his left, trying to get slightly ahead of the glaive and find an opening. After several seconds of this, and waiting until his opponent was adjusting, assuming he did, Alseroth darted forward. He held his free right hand ready to block the shaft of the glaive. This was not a full on assault, he simply wanted to measure his opponent's speed to his own. He would attempt a weak stab toward his opponent's stomach, then bounce back out of reach. While there, he tapped the mark on the back of his neck, summoning the power of that damnable god Wysar. A little practice never hurt.

[Kassan]

Kassan watched as the Akalak began to circle him, wielding a lakan. The bladed one should think on Uphis, he thought momentarily. Surely this man would do well under such discipline and guidance. All of a sudden, he darted in, hoping to strike at Kassan's chest. The monk growled, and with an unmatched agility, he turned his glaive unexpectedly, and met the blade. It was a heavy weapon to most - to those unskilled in its use. He smiled faintly, but that was not to last. The man touched at a mark on his body. "Gnosis..." he whispered in his childhood language. He had not come across many marked people. Uphis did not mark his followers, such was his way. His gift came in his strength, and all that he lent to his bladed followers. There was no telling what sort of power the Akalak now wielded. Kassan hopped back, making distance while holding his glaive outwardly. He supposed they had never agreed to play fair...