[Kendoka Sasaran] Whatever Works (Solo)

[Razkar]

[Continued from here]

So make it count.

Razkar went on the attack, training sword gripped in both hands so every blow landed with all the force of his body behind it. Omshev's own weapons thuddered and shook with each impact, making his hands tremble, momentarily driving him back. He started to counter-attack, and soon his blows to the left and right started to tell, started to drive the Myrian back and down.

Razkar's face twisted in exhaustion and desperation, his final strike ending with his left leg jutting out-

-and Omshev struck him on the shin with a bark of victory.

White-hot pain burst through the Myrian's leg and he went down to one knee, sword touching the ground. Omshev smirked above him, right hand lowering as his left raised over his head for the final blow to end this pathetic duel.

Razkar felt the gnosis on his neck burn in anticipation, smiled softly to himself from beneath his bowed head, and moved.

Fast.

Omshev's final vertical blow had barely begun falling before Razkar's sword lashed out at the Akalak's left arm, smacking him squarely on the wrist. Once supple and strong fingers became mere nameless digits and the stick fell from them, thudding onto the matt.

But the blow kept coming, down and down even as the Akalak yelped in agony-

-and Razkar's stick moved to block it before Omshev's right-hand stick had even hit the ground, short wooden pole making contact not on the oak blade of Omshev's weapon, but under the fist that held it, in the space between his wrist and the hilt of the training stick, stopping the blow dead.

Razkar snarled with joy as he exploded upwards from his knees, bruised shin now forgotten, anaesthetized by adrenaline. His left hand jerked up and grabbed the end of Omshev's remaining training stick, ripping it out his hand and bringing it down in a slight curve, from over the Akalak's head-

-to the back of his knee.

Omshev cried out in pain as the hilt of his traitorous weapon slammed into the middle of his leg, bucked him on the mat so now he was the one on his knees, eyes screwed shut for a moment in pain. Then he felt something at his throat...

He opened his eyes, and saw Razkar's right-hand stick pressed against his throat. The Myrian's dark eyes burned with barely-restrained lust, a passion that would only be held back by his word, given mere chimes ago. Finally, after an eternity of looking into those holes, jagged lips opened to reveal yellow teeth, and...

"You yield?"

"Y... Yes..."

And the duel is over.

[Razkar]

Razkar knew how easy it would be to truly end this. A blow to the back of the neck. A brutal push that would crush this arrogant barbarian's lyranx windpipe. Or perhaps just hitting him until the wood broke and his brains were leaking out of his ears.

Mutterings around him, some awed, some fearful. Many of the students were evidently thinking the same thing, faced as they were with the stereotypical savage Myrian standing over a fallen Akalak. Razkar looked around slowly, took in their faces, and Mizra's...

Whom he had given his word to. And that was what mattered.

He straightened up and tossed the two sticks at the man's knees, no longer needing them. He never wielded two weapons at the same time; he had yet to learn the method. But he had to admit, for that brief moment, it had been exhilarating. He turned to Mizra, who was already approaching, then heard a scuffling behind him, Omshev getting to his feet, curses spilling from his lips. He whirled-

"ENOUGH!"

The boom could have shattered windows and silenced Tigers. Mizra's face darkened like the sky and Omshev's fist stopped in mid-punch. If it was possible for a blue-skinned being to go pale with fear, Razkar was sure he would have been looking at a classic example.

"He... He stole my weapon!" Omshev stuttered, trying for any avenue he could to salvage his defeat. "The duel was invalid!"

"Technically," Mizra said calmly, but his frown lessened not a fraction, "You made it invalid by choosing two weapons instead of the preferred one. However, Razkar did not complain."

The towering Akalak stepped forwards and looked down at Omshev like he'd scraped the man off his shoes. Instantly he was humbled, head bowed, shoulder slumped.

"Do not change the nature of a duel and then mewl like a child when your opponent does the same. You chose to yield, did you not?"

"He-He had a stick to my throat!"

"That does not immediately denote submission. You chose. And then you sought to turn backstabber like a coward."

The word is like a rock in a pool, ripples of stunned muttering spreading across the hall. Razkar had been in Riverfall e nough to know the Akalaks valued their martial abilities almost as much as his people. To be called a coward, and by so seasoned a warrior...

"Think on your actions this day, Omshev. Return here only when you are certain they will not be repeated." His work done, Mizra turned to Razkar and nodded shortly. "You fought well, Myrian. Fast, sure and inventive. But next time," he said with just the rumor of a ghost of a smile on his face, "do not depend so highly on predicting your enemy's actions. On equal footing, that may be forgivable. In a duel like that, with your opponent dwarfing you, go for the fast kill. What else did you learn?"

Razkar was not expecting the question, but should have. He was still breathing heavily and knew his shin, side and chest would ache tomorrow, but it was a good pain. A pain that reminded one that only through living, and living well, could you truly feel life. Pain was the price you paid for that pleasure.

He thought for a few moments, lips pursed, frowning, then looked up and up to his instructor.

"Not let chest open. Not let parry open up chest." He pantomimed his arm being pulled away to his side, how he'd let Omshev land that first brutal blow onto his sternum. "Keep moving. Not stand still. Move around enemy."

"Anything else?"

Razkar smiled wide, stretching the bone-studded flesh around his lips.

"Be inventive."

"Very good."

Mizra turned his back and walked away, nothing left to say. The students went back to their duels and groups, their instructors snapping orders left and right. Omshev glared at the Myrian with undisgusied hatred, and Razkar shot it right back. But he remembered sparring at Taloba, how he'd hated his instructors, the older warriors, the men and women who'd bruised him in ways this barbarian could not imagine.

He fought alongside them mere months later. As warriors.

Razkar bowed slightly to the man, not taking his eyes off him, but giving him a warrior's due.

"You fought well."

He did not gets words, but he was not expecting them. Something softened for the briefest moment in Omshev's eyes, and a curt nod was tossed his way. Then he walked briskly away from the Myrian and out the doubles doors, letting sunlight cascade into the hall before shutting it out yet again.

Razkar smiled to himself, rubbed the welts on his body with pride. A good fight. A worthy victory. And now, after this, at least his fellow tenants would be safe. For a while.

On the way out the double doors he noticed the collection plate for the first time. He smiled minutely at it. Broad, wide and shining, it was filled with gold... and yet no-one had ever tried to pilfer from it. Now he understood why.

He dropped ten tinkling gold coins into it, and stepped out into the fierce sun.

Worth every copper miza.

[Gossamer]

. Character: Razkar Experience: +3 Gladius, +2 Endurance Lore: Utilizing Myri’s Gnosis In Combat, Disarming Opponents, Using Opponents Weapons On them Additional Note: It was hard to tell how well your PC should have done or shouldn’t have done because Omshev isn’t an NPC listed in the Kendoka Sasaran and since I don’t have my NPC library up and running hes not easy to look up and find. If you made up an NPC then that isn’t exactly allowed without permission, though I give it on almost all occasions and would have in this case. Make sure when you spar you fight with someone a Mod can see stats on or guess at (like generic bandits don’t need stats if they are clearly generic whereas someone unusual might). I would have liked to give you Dual Wield XP but I cannot until you have 30 xp in gladius. Nice social interaction within this thread too. . .