[Kendoka Sasaran] Little And Large (Solo)

[Razkar]

[Continued from here]

5th of Fall, 512AV

The whirling, thrusting crowd around them was forgotten. All sounds blocked out save for their own breathing, their bare feet on the mats. Razkar could even hear the minute squeaking from the grip of his training sword. Omshev wasn't so arrogant, now. The Myrian had shown his speed and accuracy, and he had adapted accordingly. Now he waited for the blow... and Razkar obliged him.

He stepped forward and aimed a sweeping strike at Omshev's side, knowing it would be blocked. With speed that belied his size the Akalak brought his sword outward horizontally, knocking away Razkar's blow, spreading his arm wider, exposing his chest-

-and thrusting the sword in a stab at the Myrian's solar plexus.

That time, Razkar was not fast enough. The blunt wooden tip hurt more than a blade would: more surface area to bruise. His sternum crunched under it, air knocked out of his lungs, tendrils of pain exploding around his chest, and he covered his retreat with a wild slash at the Akalak's legs. Parried again, Omshev twisting his wrist down to block the swing.

With a grunt, Razkar backpedalled, training stick back up if only a little shakier this time. His first breath was like liquid fire in his lungs, but he felt... alive. Heightened. Here was a man that truly wanted to hurt him, that did not care for him or his kind and would very much like to bruise and beat him into submission.

Marvellous.

Time for a little mind warfare, he decided. Staying well out of range, the Myrian flexed his shoulder and lowered his stick, twisting his head from side to side as if working off a slight ache, stretching his arms back and smiling like the burning in his chest wasn't even there. Omshev narrowed his eyes, unsure as to whether his opponent was just screwing with him or was genuinely non-plussed.

A second later, Razkar resumed his stance, and went on the attack again.

[Razkar]

The Myrian strode forwards twice, zigzagging as he came, first the left then the right, coming around with his stick with the latter. The same horizontal chop as before, and Omshev reacted the same way, smasking it aside with his stick held vertical-

-as expected.

Razkar spun to his left as Omshev's counter came again, a diagonal strike that would have nailed him across his pectorals. That time the blow hit thin air, Razkar already crouched down and to the left, right arm tucked for a backhand-

-that nailed the Akalak squarely on the hips. His whole body shuddered and a grunt escaped his lips. But if Razkar had learnt anything, it's never to let the initiative falter in a fight, and he followed it up right away with a stinging strike to the bigger man's shin.

Omshev faltered on his feet, swinging with a backhand. But Razkar has already moved closer, under and into his reach, both hands clasped around the training stick and bring it in for a thrust-

"OOOF!"

-that stabbed straight into the Akalak's belly, knocking the wind out of him. And like that, the dynamic changed. Now Omshev was on the defensive, backing up with his stick waving before him, trying to get air back into his lungs and rubbing his belly with his free hand.

Razkar straightened up and grinned. He liked this. This uncertainty, this flow, this... pulse. If he thought hard enough, he could imagine his heartbeat matching his footsteps, the blows, the thrust, slash and parry of this glorious dance. And he had to hand it to Omshev: he didn't panic. He straightened up and forced his lungs to work normally. But Razkar can see the anger in his eyes now, the humiliation writ large.

"Think you're pretty fine with that stick, don't you?"

Razkar just nods. So Omshev walked to the wall... and grabbed a second stick.

Razkar never took his eyes off the man, but sensed the subtle changes in the room. Feet stopped moving. The volume of grunts and wooden cracks lessened. Omshev glanced to his side and he followed the glance.

Mizra had stopped his circling, arms crossed. He cocked and eyebrow and nodded minutely, but slowly. His expression was so open even Razkar could read it.

It said, "I will allow this because it is interesting, and the new blood may be able to handle it. But the second that changes, you will cease, or I will cease it."

Omshev turned to Rakar and cocked an eyebrow. Part of Razkar wanted to shake his head, admit the fact that the larger fighter was skilled with one stick and so would be truly dangerous with two... but the other part... the part that had been denied and starved for long weeks, dwindled to nothing but impotent lust for battle...

That part nodded. And Omsehv smiled.

[Razkar]

The smile told Razkar he would have one key advantage that round: hubris. Now wielding double his opponents' weapon, the Akalak would come at him full force, anger driving him, two arms pistoning. He had to find some way to work that to-

But before a plan could form, Omshev exploded towards him.

He backed Razkar away with a flurry of chops and strikes. The Myrian's own stick jerked left and right, up and down, wrist twisting to parry those blows that came from up and below. But he knew he was merely buying time, prolonging the inevitable.

Omshev's eyes burned as he came closer and closer, sensing his victory. A heavy blow from the right was parried by the little savage, but left him open to a stabbing thrust into his ribs. Razkar let out something between a yelp and a growl, wincing in pain, dancing backwards away from the next whipping arc that would have brained him.

The Akalak didn't let up, didn't let him get his wind back. Just as he would not.

In a blink, with Omshev bearing down on him again, one stick held out for defence, the other poised above his head to strike, Razkar saw it all. The dozen students still and staring around them, forming a semi-circle around the duel. Mizra, unmoving and unworried, not a finger or limb out of place than where they had been before. Omshev, sweat glistening on his brow, approaching like a lion at a lamb.

Razkar took a breath and made a decision. He would only get one chance.

Then again, when did you ever get anything more?

[Razkar]

Continued here

[Gossamer]

. Character: Razkar Experience: +3 Gladius, +2 Endurance Lore: Sparring With Akalaks, Move Faster And Don’t Get Hit, Additional Note: I’m assuming here you are now using wooden gladius’ so I don’t have to come back and change this later like I will the first thread. Nice little sparring thread. .