Closed [Fighter's Pit]A Fighter of Worth (Sieghart Valorian)

[Garland]

Winter 30

It was early morning, Garland had gotten quite fond of the Fighter's Pit, more so since he met a lot of great friends here, and gets to train while being out on stupid patrols. It wasn't too cold right now, though people still tended to stick near the fire. A lot of fighters seem to be branching out and thing were returning back to before winter hit.

Garland looked at the small walkway that was suppose to lead to the training area was snowed over, and it seemed like no one wanted to shovel anything the path either. Garland gave a weary sigh and walked off to get a shovel.

It seemed like a normal boring day out today, hopefully he might find someone he can spar after he finishes with the shoveling, with dozens of fighters here, he was bound to find someone willing to spar with the boy, then again, there are a few new people here that seem to be trying to learn how to fend for themselves ever since the attack last fall. He wanted to help them as much as he can, hopefully they wouldn't need the skills he would teach.

The winds were calm today, a slight breeze. It was a beautiful day today, but everything was just a bit too calm for his blood. He sighed and shoveled the snow out of the way. Other than the fighting and the training, everything seems like a normal boring day today, hopefully nothing would ruin this good day.

[Sieghart Valorian]

How glorious, the winds were absolutely pristine and lovely. The day was outstanding, and his dirty-blonde locks fluttered about within the gale. He knew that all he'd wanted to do was battle,and that was all that he planned to do ; For a very long period of time. He cared very little rather or not he won or lost, he was simply out to better himself. He wanted nothing more then to become stronger. To some day prove his strength, and to be seen as much more then an ordinary man..

He hoped that he would become stronger, not only so that he could protect himself, but so that he could protect others. He would more then gladly exchange blows with an opponent. Caring very little rather or not he left the area with scars, and heavy bleeding. Strength to him was virtue, and if it meant getting beaten down daily. He'd do it and have very little reason to care about the permanent markings left upon his body.

Therefore he'd stepped forth, and strode about into the vicinity. Although it was an incredibly early morning ; He'd woken up at this time purposely to see if he could battle for now. That is when the cerulean hue'd irises of his eyes caught sight of what seemed to have been an opponent to battle against.

"Ooh, pretty snow.." He'd spoken in a rather audible tone, so loud that in-fact it was practically a scream. He was having one of his moments again and now he'd fallen face first upon the ground. Before lifting his visage from the ground and allowing a laugh to erupt from his gut. Before he'd proceed to bring upward his legs. Using his core strength to leap upward and regain his balance. He absolutely despised when he'd gotten like this! How foul, how disgusting was it that he'd done that from time to time.

Now he would definitely require bathing when he returned to his home. This situation couldn't get any worse could it ? "Aye! I am looking for a challenge, are ye' up my friend?!" He'd spoken in a tone filled with boastfulness. Although he was a newcomer and not very well versed in terms of combat he wasn't afraid to show himself off. Regardless of how horrid his clothing at the very moment may be. With each of his words wisps of cold air practically rolled off of his tongue. As his hot breath came in contact with the cool winter air.

[Garland]

Garland had been shoveling the snow, for a few chimes now, there was something relaxing about this mindless task that he keeps on doing every time he comes here. It's sort of soothing in a strange manual labor kind of way. The soft white snow was disturbed when he heard someone say something about snow and then fall face first into the soft pile, Garland was shoveling.

He gave a small smirk and planted his shovel on the ground and leaned on it, trying to look and act cool(pun intended), but he forgot that the snow wasn't hard or deep enough to plant his shovel firmly into it, not only did he fall face first into the snow he looked even stupider than the other guy, trying to make light of his own brand of stupidity he pretended that it was the shovel's fault.

"The shovel has developed a fault." He said and quickly got up and dusted himself off. He looked at the man that approached him, he was much taller than Garland, standing at 6 feet compared to Garland 5'4. Right now, he was a bit cautious about his height. This man was well muscled as well, something Garland could respect.

He issued a challenge to Garland and happily agreed to it. He seems like a worthy foe. "Of course! You seem pretty strong and my name is Garland, It would be a pleasure to fight with you." He said and extended his hand to seal the deal.

As they were finishing up their deal, the fighters fighting in the pits were finishing up their fight as well. It seemed that Garland his new opponent will take the next fight. "Umm... What is your name, friend?"

[Sieghart Valorian]

A subtle laugh exited the lungs of Sieghart. He practically ignored Garlands words at this very moment. He'd been experiencing one of the moments where he lost all ability to pay attention to the current situation again. His thin lips part and he begins to speak words that have nothing to do with the current situation. "Hah, I love the taste of snow, La La La. " he'd spoken in a monotone yet audible voice, and oh was it in the most child-like manner.

He then violently shook his cranium from left to right as he realized what went on just now. "Oh my god, I apologize.. My name is Sieghart, Valorian!" He'd spoken in a gasconade. How apathetic did he begin to become in such a situation. Because he'd only just now realized that he wished to challenge this person that he knew nothing about to a duel. Dear god what would Sieghart do now?

He was but an unseasoned fighter, trapped within the cage of what he thought to be a Tiger. Never underestimate an opponent, No matter what it is you see physically. That opponent could potentially be the strongest, no matter how small, or weak in appearance they are. He'd thought to himself, as he'd begun a stride toward Garland. He was practically trembling with excitement, and a combination of fear. Fear is something that can act as a double edged sword, you never know rather or not that fear can hurt or help you in combat.

Abashed; Was Sieghart at this very moment. An exultant smile crept about the visage of Sieghart. He'd been filled with both joy pride and fear ; He knew what was soon to come. Although it mattered to him little rather or not he won or lost. He wished to experience the field of combat more-so now then he has ever. Clad in no more then a nondescript hide composed of a wolf, which was upheld on his shoulders. Attached to the studded leather shirt he wore upon his torso. Which too was layered atop a coarse thick wool of vermillion hue.

He made sure that he was bundled up, and ensuring himself that he wouldn't be cold for the duration of the battle. A heavy breath exited the lungs of the male, and the misty substance exited his thin lips. "Shall we begin, My friend?" He'd spoken in a monotone voice, and drew his family heirloom from his right hip. The length of the blade was a whopping three foot seven inches, and the haft length a mere six. A weapon that was meant to be held with two hands and never with a single one.

[Garland]

This was strange, even for Garland. This man was just a strange man, he couldn't put his finger on it, but liked with strange man. "Right, let us begin." He grabbed a blunt sword from the weapons rack and headed down to the pits.

He had his shield up and his blunt sword. He was actually glad to find someone that just wanted to head right into the action, though he would have liked to at least know the man's name before they started fighting, with a smile he raised his hand up. "On the count of three!" He yelled and started counting.

"One!" He raised one of his fingers and then two. "Two! Three!" He finished up and got into position, his shield raised to his chest, and sword held back, behind him, for heavy swings, he decided to go basic today, practice what he had learned, feet apart, shield to the chest, remember the six striking positions, etc.

He would play defensively for now, he circled his opponent, watching how this man moved, he had a large broadsword, one that honestly, made Garland sweat a little. He only had a bastard sword with a regular length, he could use it with or without a shield.

This man had confidence and there is always a nugget of truth in confidence. "Here we go..." He said to himself, Garland was never really a nervous type, but this man was something to look out for, and this fight is where he needed to stay focus, as focus as if this was a real battle, let his instincts and knowledge guide him. He won't be holding back, that's for sure.

[Sieghart Valorian]

Sieghart simply watched, as the opponent got into stance. Now it was his turn, and he'd taken the opportunity to do what he did best. Not only to act instinctively, but to act without even having a hint of fear within his mind. The males lungs were then slowly but steadily filled with a deep inhalation. Followed by a deep exhalation,which sent white "Mist" from his thin lips as his hot breath mixed in with the cool air. He knew soon that steel would be clattering. Blood would befall the ground, and that he would see grueling sights in the midst of this battle. To underestimate an opponent is a mistake, and should never be done.

Therefore he'd done something much more odd today. He chose to seize the day with an incredibly powerful strike. In a wild attempt to test just how baleful the opponent was. The male gripped the haft of his blade in a strangulation hold, with his right hand placed directly beneath the cross-guard. His left hand followed suite and grasped hold directly below his right hand. Leaving but the pommel of the blade exposed. His right heel raises, and his leg bends at the knee; Before he would follow up the motion by slamming his heel into the ground. Sixteen inches away from his left heel, and he begins to slowly but steadily shift his left heel forward. So that he can attempt leaving no openings visible to the opponent.

He brings forth his hands, bending his arms at the elbow at a forty degree angle. Before he uplifts his forearms, and aligns the tip of the longsword with the opponents chest cavity. Leaving the length of the elongated blade aligned with his own torso. Before he proceeds to shift positions once more, taking a step forward with his left foot. Entering a position that made it seem like he was going to charge the opponent. Now his elbow bent at a rather odd angle, his wrists were brought toward his right shoulder. Leaving the length of the blade to be turned at a slight angle. Now the blades tip still remained aligned with the opponents chest cavity.

By now he was well used to being struck with blunt weaponry, and he wasn't afraid of it at all. The males optics closed, and the iris of his cerulean hue eyes were hidden for a moment. As he simply attempted to pay attention to the sound momentarily. The hide which was attached to his shoulders and worn like a cape fluttered about in slight motions. He listened to the material impacting his backside time and time again. He was well aware of the fact that he faced a strong opponent. He could only hope that he wouldn't be stricken so hard by the first blow that he would fail.

"Indulge not thyself in the passion of anger; it is whetting a sword to wound thine own breast, or murder thy friend." Spoke Sieghart, but only to remind himself that anger wasn't the way to go. Never become angry, because the moment you do you become sloppy. Your stance is more broken then a piece of shattered glass. Your mind is no longer as sharp and as strong as the Mountains top. Your balance is no longer the rock which is unmovable, and your strength no longer tears asunder the land like flame.

[Garland]

It seemed that he needed to make the first move. He stepped close, studying his opponent carefully, he seems to be confident, and he is hiding his inexperience well. He moved his weapon with grace, and seemed ready to fight. Garland did not believe in any god, and honestly why would he pray for a sparing match, this was not life or death, but he did feel like eyes were watching him, and besides you learn more when you lose instead of when you win.

He kept his shield raised as he circled around his opponent, keeping his guard up. He took a deep breath and then charged Sieghart he swung his sword with a strong swing. If it hit, he would back off and then run back at Sieghart and try to bash him with his shield.

He kept an eye on his footing, trying his best to stay on balance. The snow was not helping, but he needed to practice fighting on the snow, who knows when he needs to fight on the snow. If his attack has been blocked, he would try to jump back, but if his attack could easily be countered and be hit hard across the chest.

He was taking deep breaths as he swung his sword, keeping his lungs open, breathing was one very important thing to practice. He hoped that his plan would work.

[Sieghart Valorian]

There it is, that is his opening! Sieghart thought to himself as he watched the opponents feet. In the midst of his charging motion he paid close attention to the fact that the opponents balance was off. The opponent charged in a spearhead like motion; Sieghart noticed that as well, although he wasn't very good with observation! He was practically sure that the opponent had a plan. Although he couldn't quite put a finger on it; Sieghart begun to squint hard as the opponent moved in and closed the distance. Rotating his right heel forty degrees, and leaving his right heel and left heel to face different directions. Before throwing out a thrust with all the strength in his biceps and triceps. The males wrists shot forth leaving the length of the blade to practically crumble the opponents defenses. Aiming to slam the tip of the blade into the opponents right hip. Only further attempting to thwart the opponents balance as he led the charge.

Sieghart very slowly but steadily paced about in a circular motion.Simultaneously with the striking motion. He retracted it and begun regaining his former stance and now once more was his blade aligned with the opponents shoulder. He made sure that he moved slowly; Because of course this is Snow you're bound to slip! Though he still refused to hesitate, and he refused even further to allow himself to fall in a battle like this. He refused to end up like his father when he watched his father duel as a child. His father was a duelist, and grew up battling quite often in Storm-hold Castle. His father was a practical hero in the eyes of Sieghart! Until that faithful day he was defeated by a lone knight. The Knight didn't even bother to use effort against his father. For the Knight triumphed his father both strategically and experience wise. A battle where his father fell to the sword of another man in front of him. It absolutely crushed all of what Sieghart thought battle was! He at first thought of battle to be a simplistic and fun experience.

He thought wrong, very wrong. Even now he was proving himself wrong; Because in battle many things are required. Only now was he beginning to learn that tactics apply to battle. Not only does brute strength win the battle, but a man who thinks and makes a strategy wins. For they are always multiple steps ahead of their opponents motions. He must learn to be more strategic, to observe more and to make sure that his tactics go according to plan. Sieghart begun making a prediction in his own mind as a result of that! He predicted that his opponent will likely attempt to target his hands. Being that the opponent seems to be much more agile.

[Garland]

It was dumb move moving with reckless abandon. He got hit by SIeghart's sword, he was careless and landed on the snow, he gave a small grunt and stood up, he raised his shield and blocked Sieghart's blows as he started circling him.

A satisfying clank was heard with each successful block. He hopped back and started circling him, he needed to be more careful, take his movement and attacks more slowly. He needed to analyze the situation more. He was usually so comfident in fighting, it almost came naturally to him, but this was different, his opponent was confident, and that threw him off, usually he could "guess" at how good his opponent is and how safe he needed to play it.

Sieg was different, he was confident, not cocky but just... comfortable with fighting, but he could feel that this man had not a lot of real combat experience. Garland took a deep breath and went in with a diagonal slash, aiming for Sieg's shoulder, it was slow and was mostly a distraction if Sieg blocked his attack he would tackle with his shield and try to make him drop his sword. Garland gave a small smile, hopefully this plan would work.

He had little experience with planning in combat, a few times he had thought about short plans and such, but other than that, nothing. He learned how to fight down in the pits, where most of the people that fight here are more on brute strength rather than quick wit... Except for one old man he seen fight one fateful Fall day, but other than that, most of these guys were just stringing their attacks along, hoping to hit something and then back off to recover stamina.

He was no tactical genius, but he's quite happy with his plan.

Unbeknownst to Garland, a certain knight was watching up in the seats. She crossed her arms and watched as the battle unfolded, Garland's strange feeling of being watched was right, his Patron was here and she was evaluating him, seeing how well he had grown in her absents. Catherine took out a small notebook and started taking down notes. Garland had improved quite a bit, though he was still young and very brash, she was quite happy with how he was turning out. She sighed and looked at Garland opponent, she had no comment about the fighter, but she could see the ferocity of his attacks and how carefully he was fighting.

[Sieghart Valorian]

Man, is he intelligent! Yet, the swing is slow.. His weapon length seems to be limited in comparison to my own. I suppose now I can try to close the distance. He thought to himself, as his prediction was of course proven wrong. Therefore he'd chosen to charge in and lay waste to the castle that was the opponents defenses. He knew the opponent was far more proficient when it came to defending himself from blows. So Sieghart took the much more wild approach. A high risk high reward move, and he did so with caution. Whilst the opponent blocked off one of the blows with his longsword he knew that would leave an opening. Therefore as the metal on metal clattering could be heard echoing throughout the vicinity. He made a move that could virtually cause him to lose the entire battle. Although he cared very little for such a thing in the first place! He let go, and the grip upon his longsword was loosed and left the blade to descend toward the ground. As an acrobat he had the advantage in this situation, due to his flexibility he could dodge the opponents attack in an odd manner. He charged forward, and turned his body to the left side, throwing out his forearm causing his opponents fist to slam into his shoulder rather then the length of his blade. The forearm aimed to wrap about the opponents underarm. He charged in so that he could attempt wrestling the opponent to the ground once more. He didn't even bother to care if he was slapped around with a shield. The most important factor is that he causes his opponent to fall over.

He pushes forward with all of the strength in his body in a violent attempt to do so. He knew that this would be the only proper tactic that he could use for now. Obviously his opponent was much faster in terms of weapon speed. Bastard swords must weigh a whole lot less then a longsword! He was incredibly inexperienced with combat, and with each grueling moment of this battle he continues to learn. The only thing that he could be sure of for now was that the opponent would be taken by surprise. He was being instinctive again,and refused to simply fall in battle with ease. His willpower burned with the passion of one thousand luminous Suns. As he'd preformed the action of attempting to tackle his opponent to the ground he uttered a few words in an audible tone. Practically screaming at the top of his lungs " Priskil, May you guide me and give me strength! "

The attack was as unorthodox as it was amateur; and he couldn't be absolutely sure rather or not he'd done it properly. He took the slam of the opponents hand against his shoulder and shrugged it off with ease. After all he has developed somewhat of a pain tolerance due to the amount of fights he got into as a young child. He would attempt to prove to the opponent that he was a force to be reckoned with. Even though he was incredibly inexperienced he wouldn't make himself look weak.