Solo ... Getting Sharper

[Razkar]

Continued from here

16th Day of Spring
The Middle Suvan Sea
10th Bell

Razkar knew he was outmatched within a fraction of a chime, but while his mind realized that, his body saw it as no reason to give up and die. Nearly two decade of muscle memory rose to the fore and his blade-filled hands jerked up to stop the sweeping initial blows from the Akalak.

Not that it helped him much.

Eranis' stance was more like a boxer than a knife-fighter, elbows bent, lakan-equipped hands up at neck level... and both of them held in a reverse, stabbing grip, cutting edge out. And when he struck, it was like a boxer, sweeps and blows more like punches than the swings of a sword or ax.

Making them all the harder for the Myrian to block... especially when they were in tandem.

The first blow came from the left, a right hook at Razkar's shoulder that he jerked his arm up to deflect. Lakan met lakan but the sweeping motion meant that the glancing impact was just that: glancing, not substantial enough, not stopping Eranis' blow, just... redirecting it.

The Myrian hissed as the blade clanged off his own and made a shallow slice across his upper chest, pain blinding him for a second-

-the Akalak's left hand already moving, going for-

-a real punch.

He was smaller and slighter than his cousin, true, but Eranis was still one an Akalak, and that meant he topped Razkar by a good few inches, pounds and several millenia of in-the-blood athleticism. In a flash, Razkar saw the wisdom of his double-reversed grips, his boxer's stance.

Because even if the blade does not slice flesh, the punch can still bruise it.

He slammed a short, sharp jab into Razkar's chest, using the curved guard at the top of the lakan's handle and the smaller knuckle guard at the bottom as impromptu knuckledusters when he struck. So instead of just bone and flesh smacking into Razkar's breastbone, it was flesh and bone safe behind a band of steel.

He grunted in pain and staggered back, only just keeping his guard up... and felt more redness ooze out of him. Glancing down, he saw the punch had sliced skin, too, the guard of the lakan being the bottom of the blade, too.

The Akalak rolled his shoulder muscles, face still expressionless, but did not press his advantage. Hells, Razkar thought, he didn't need to. Defensive or offensive, this fight was his.

Still no reason not to try. You may lose. You probably will. But even in defeat, you can learn.

"Education..."

No smile on that blue-tinged face, but a brief glitter of amusement in his eyes, and Eranis nodded.

"Indeed. Come."

Razkar breathed in deeply, and felt a light spray mist over the deck as the Cuttlefish ploughed through a hefty breaker. The salt stung his open wounds, making him grit his teeth, but he ignored it, shaking the sweat and seawater out of his eyes. The duel with Turak had weakened him, tired him... but he had plenty left to go.

You wanted a challenge, didn't you?

With a grunt, Razkar surged forwards.

OOC :

Just to give you a more visual idea for the combat style Eranis is using, which Razkar is trying to learn: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBg69X7bRt4. Oh, and here is a picture of a lakan, just so you can see what I was jabbering on about referring to the reverse grip, edge out, guard, knuckle guard, etc.

[Razkar]

Surged. Not charged.

Tackling Eranis head-on he knew was suicide. The man's skill with the lakan was far beyond his own, and he was already wounded. No, it would take a more subtle approach... which, to be frank, Razkar was not too happy, but what other choice did he have?

Be smart. Be quick. And stay clear of him.

His feet slid across the deck rathr than stepped, keeping his balance as ably as he could, and the Myrian launched a feint with his right lakan. Both of his were now gripped in the same manner as Eranis's: in stabbing form, with the edge out. Eranis was quick and lethal and, in this time and place, his teacher. He remembered Herliz, that sadistic bitch at the Training Grounds of Taloba, drumming an important lesson into his head.

Want to improve your technique? Find someone better than you. Watch them. Study them. Fight them, if you dare and you can survive. Learn from them and ape them, if you must. Give it time, and practice, and student will become teacher.

But not today, apparently. Eranis read the feint for what it was, swaying to his right but anticipating Razkar's true move: a short jab to the Akalak's chest with his left. He turned his sway into a sidestep, letting Razkar over-reach, twisting as he moved, bringing his right arm up in an uppercut-

His fist missed, but that was not his intent. The lakan slashed up the outside of Razkar's arm and the Myrian yelped out in pain, barely keeping hold of his weapon-

-and jumping back when Eranis followed up with a left cross, twisting as he punched, blade and fist flashing in front of Razkar's chest but missing him as he backpedaled.

Wounded again and back on the defensive, Razkar was still silently awed. The Akalak was so... fluid. He stepped, pivoted and uppercut all in one practiced, solid movement, not breaking them up into separate actions that could be blocked or thrown off balance. The speed, as well, was almost unnatural.

He heard a familiar bass rumble and saw Turak chuckling, icy towel still over his crotch but color already returning to his face.

"I did tell you!"

Razkar's lips twisted to shoot back a reply but already Eranis was on him, striking like a snake. He back up again and again, focusing on avoiding the Akalak's strikes rather than blocking them. A jab came in from the left and he pivoted, twisting to the side and stepping back at the same time, knowing that-

-a right came in, aimed at his stomach-

-Razkar knocked it down with hire forearm, away from his torso, pulling his leg back frantically-

-but not fast enough to avoid a shallow cut on his thigh.

He grunted again, now bleeding from five places, four of them made by Eranis, and having made none of his own. The control of the Akalak was startling, too. With those blades and his speed, he could have sliced tendons, slashed arteries, stabbed or cut deep enough to pierce organs and render slabs of muscle useless.

But this was a spar. Training. Education. So he was holding himself back, and every cut was a mere... lesson.

Panting harder now, feeling the exertion and flowing blood start to take its toll, Razkar swallowed hard. Eranis wasn't even breathing heavy, and cocked an eyebrow.

"You wish to stop?"

It was not a compassionate request; merely the concern of someone who didn't want to waste time training with a substandard piece of equipment. With a slight chill, Razkar realized that was how the Akalak saw him: a thing, not a person. He had assumed that the hulking Turak was escorting his bookish companion, protecting him. Now he wondered if it was about equal... or even the reverse.

He swallowed again, tasting coppery blood. Think, think, think! What were his weaknesses? Razkar analyzed him as they circled, keeping his distance, giving himself every moment he could to focus...

He has control. He has speed, and timing. But... he does not have reach. Wear him down? No... no time. No strength left for a long fight, either. So... get in close. Bring your strength to bear, and the rest of your body.

Razkar swallowed at his own conclusion, knowing the cuts he sported would not be the last... but he had little choice. He shook his head and smiled thinly. No goading for this one; he knew that keen, intellectual mind would see an attempt to rattle him instantly.

"Let us get over with."

Razkar came on again.

[Razkar]

Eranis had to give the Myrian credit: he wasn't going easily. Bleeding and tired, he swept forwards, leading with his right foot but hammering forward with a left cross. He swayed back to avoid it, striking with his own left, a brutal blow to the stomach-

-Razkar grunted as the steel-rimmed punch cleaved through flesh yet again-

-but kept coming forwards, and was rewarded with a single surprised blink from the Akalak-

-jerking his pelvis forward and aiming a massive kick with his left at the Akalak's crotch.

But once again, Eranis was too quick for him. He jumped lightly up and onto a barrel of fresh water, elongated Akalak frame doing so with deceptive ease. Razkar paused for the briefest of moments in surprise-

-and was punished for his complacence with a kick to the face.

It hurt. Gods, it hurt, his broken nose battered further and sending fresh tendrils of pain shooting across his face. But even in his addled mind, he knew he had to use this. He reached up though his hand was filled with a lakan, grunting and groaning in apparent agony.

He felt the vibration as Eranis jumped back down... the creaking as he stepped forwards, knowing he was probably cocking back an arm to finish off his (apparently) blinded, wounded foe-

Now or never.

-only for Razkar to snap his eyes open, gauge the distance of the man in a blink - well within range - and exploded both arms outwards, both punching, stepping forwards to add power to the blow-

-but that damned Akalak spun, actually spun to his side, coming up on Razkar's left, past his arms, lakan already sweeping up-

Gotcha!

Razkar was still moving forward but he jerked his left arm back into himself again, his arm going from straight to crooked in a blink of an eye, twisting himself to the right as he did so-

-crashing his elbow into Eranis's face, even as the Akalak's lakan uppercut a second time and sliced into his wounded left arm, lakan finally falling from his grip.

Turak frowned minutely. He hadn't seen that happen for a long time. Eranis seemed surprised, too, unused to such fierce pain and staggering for a moment, one hand up to his face-

-but Razkar gave him no time to ponder.

With a Myrian howl he faced him, aiming a roundhouse punch with his remaining lakan in his right hand, only for the Akalak to duck under it, slicing at his right thigh as he went down.

Razkar grunted in pain, but clenched bloody teeth and forced himself to continue, just for a chime more. He went down, too, to one knee, but cocked his left arm in as he did, elbow facing downwards-

-and slammed it onto Eranis's right toes.

Now the Akalak yelped, staggering on one foot for a moment, and Razkar took advantage of what would probably be his final chance, cocking back his right arm and half-lunging, half-falling forwards as he jabbed-

-catching Eranis flush in the gut, feeling a delicious deja vu as now it was his sharpened-steel-encased fist striking the blow, drawing blood and deflating the Akalak's chest, sending him staggering back.

He rallied, or tried to, up on two feet-

-and Eranis truly did end it, just as they both knew he would.

[Razkar]

With the twin injuries he sustained, Eranis's mindset changed. This was still a sparring session, true, and he would take no lives today, but he was through toying with this Myrian. He had wounded him and, if he looked at it logically, if the savage continued in this vein, he would make him kill him.

When Razkar lurched upwards he slid to his left, at Razkar's right, striking out at his shoulder before he'd even straightened his legs. With a grunt the Myrian swayed away from him, left foot coming up at the same time.

Too much weight on your wounded right, Eranis's calm mind said, not enough left in your, my friend.

He stepped forward, staying at Razkar's side, but slashed down as he went, piercing the Myrian's right leg again. One leg swinging, the other wounded again, Razkar could not maintain his balance and toppled, feet barely hanging on-

-and when Eranis slashed upwards again, scarring his right forearm and taking his second lakan, he was defenceless.

Stepping forwards quickly, ignoring the throbbing in his toes, the trickling needles of pain from his bloodied chest and almost-as-bloody nose, Eranis swept forwards and used his larger body against Razkar, no longer having any weapons to fear-

-slamming him against a water barrel, almost bending him over it backwards-

-one lakan at his throat, the other at his crotch. The second was... insistent.

"Yield?"

Razkar burned to say "no", Eranis could see that. The savage had probably not been so wounded or dominated in a duel for a very long time, and he was willing to bet he hadn't lost one for a while, either. But every man found his match; it was, in fact, something that Eranis was looking forward to when he arrived in Syliria, home of the fabled Knights. And a wise man knew his limitations. He had the courage to accept them and to push them back and back.

The savage, as they called him, as Eranis had himself defined him, finally let out a shuddering, almost grateful breath, and nodded.

"I yield. You fight... very well."

Eranis stepped back and sheathed his blades, making a note to clean them later, and Razkar promptly slid down to the blood-spattered decks. Above them both, unseen by the combatants, Sander tutted and rolled his eyes.

"Hope we get rain tonight. Bloody murder to wash that out..."

[Razkar]

"You're a stubborn bastard, y'know that?"

Razkar just chuckled at the unrefined language coming from the bookish Eranis, but that was quashed a second later by the saltwater cleaning the cut on his chest. He hissed in pain and clenched his teeth.

"Urrrgh... Yes. It is said some time."

"Well, it's accurate." Eranis shook his head and bandaged the wound, the rest of them similarly cleaned and dressed. He sighed. "There. Best I can do. I should petching well charge you."

Razkar was already reaching into his pockets. He was on his last handful of mizas but for the last hour the Akalak, grudgingly helped by Turak, had cleaned and bandaged the myriad of cuts on his body. Such assistance, which did not need to be given, deserved reward.

And yet, Eranis waved a hand dismissively.

"No. You were a good lesson." He sniffed, patting his slightly-misaligned nose gingerly. "You'd earned the aid."

Razkar chuckled, bemused, and hauled himself upright. He groaned, unafraid of whom would hear it. Goddess... yeah, those would ache for a time. No exercise for him for a few days.

"I was a lesson? You were teacher."

"Even teachers can learn more, Myrian." He patted the bandage across his stomach, covering the ugly bruise and uglier cut that Razkar had given him. "Our session was proof of that. Facing a different and challenging opponent... it is the only way we can sharpen our abilities, is it not?"

Razkar smiled, this time genuinely, though it made his noise grumble to do so. Different as they were, it was always pleasant to find some commonality in strangers. He held out a hand respectfully.

"Yes. When I am healed-"

"You deal with me, remember?" Turak grumbled, finally walking without a limp and eyeing the Myrian from a foot in the air. "Like I said?"

"As you wish... warrior."

No scorn in the words that time. Just a sincere statement of fact. Turak proved his brains by seeing it as just that, shaking the Myrian's hand after Eranis did so. The smaller Akalak licked dry lips, inquisitive look in his eyes...

"So... it feels odd, just calling you "Myrian". A shame we cannot..."

He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to. The three of them glanced up and saw Captain Tonio glaring down at them, as if hearing every word, even from across the deck. Razkar sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Fifty mizas was a reasonable fare, from what he'd heard. His own feed for Mrrko, serving as an additional sword if they should be attacked and not asking questions... they were reasonable requests, too.

"Yes. I know. But no names, yes?"

Turak nodded slowly, almost as disappointed as his cousin. "No names."

A short, uncomfortable silence. Razkar finally smiled wanly and shrugged his shoulders... and, once again, his fresh wounds made him regret doing so. But he had learned much, tested himself and, though he'd lost, he had improved.

He nodded curtly to the two of them and decided to make for his hammock.

"Until that day, Akalak."

"Until that day, Myrian."

[Anchor]

Loot Razkar's Find : Skill Points Dual Wield 2 Dagger 1 Brawling 4 Acrobatics 2 Obserfation 2 Lore Eranis: Quick and Deadly Hitting & Slicing with Lakan Eranis and Turak: Desire for a Name Other Stuff Razkar has received quite a few cuts across his body, especially on his right leg which will make it uncomfortable to lean on for a day or two. The bandages should be left for a day, and then afterwards fresh ones should be applied just to be safe. His nose has also received another large blow, though that requires no special treatment other than time, a few days longer than the original length. Another good training thread, though the thing with getting beat up so much is you don't get to do much for xp. Quite a bit of brawling, some acrobatics for the dodging and the like, but you haven't actually used the daggers very much as daggers, so not so much there I'm afraid. All in all it's quite good, and I'm looking forward to seeing you in the quest!