Until That Day (Merevaika)

by **Konrad Venger** on March 29th, 2017, 10:28 am

He should have known better; in fact, he did. Tim after time he'd seen one blink, one tick, one beat of distraction or confusion turn the tide of a fight. Of course, that wasn't usually the way: most times you knew how it would go, regardless of such specks of random chaos and luck, but other times...

He glanced away for but a moment, following the girl's intense stare over his shoulder, and as soon as he did-

-she made him pay for it.

In the time it took him to snap his head back to her, she was already moving to his left, swinging her scimitar two-handed, and his kopis jerked up to take the blow-

-that never arrived, and neother did she.

Petch!

Damaged as she was, she still had a fierce will to her, and that was often enough. Before Konrad's eyes she slid across his path, scimitar flashing like curved fire at his right side... albeit with a grunt that choked out from her lips like a coaxed apology. Konrad saw it in a flash, which was often all you had in a brawl. Just a flash, to take in everything, and understand it.

Barely any balance. Weak swing. She's tiring fast and that leg has ruined her form.

With a grunt he yanked his horizontal kopis to the right and the scimitar crashed into it with a clang that birthed a brief shower of sparks among Syna's light. The crowd beyond them seemed to let out a breathy shudder, and Konrad ignored them. This was steel now, not just knuckles and knees. This could become very real, and very fatal, very quickly.

Before the reverberation of the two swords had even traveled fully up his arm, Konrad's sword was moving again. He didn't waste time absorbing the impact; his body had been honed through years of this treatment, and as soon as the scimitar's strike was blocked he pushed it away-

-kopis swinging down and across with a flick of his wrist-

-as the man wielding it slid past Merevaika's right, dancing out of her range-

-but not before smacking the flat of his sword against the kneecap of her now-thrice-struck leg on the way. He spared half a tick to wonder if a proper blow could have severed it, but squashed the thought just as quickly. This was sparring, training, if heated and boiling with resentment. Besides, he'd not killed anymore for a whole season, and for good reason.

This isn't home. People get touchy about that shyke.

"Geddin' better," he said as he straightened up behind the girl and to her right. Landed properly, the blow to her knee should have taken her feet from under her again; at the least it would hobble her, maybe drive her to one knee. From there, she would twist her head and see Konrad. Waiting. Instructing. "But y'left that leg open, din'tcha? Even wi' me poundin' on it all this time. Dun' do dat. If y'got a weakness, hide it. Shield it. An' don't lead with it!"

When she turned to face him proper, Konrad would make his move. Enough letting her dictate the tempo. He approached her and halfway across his kopis leaped from his right hand to his left, a quick flourish of the inverted blade telling her he was as good on that side as with the other. Then he showed her-

-kopis stabbing for her stomach, drawing out her scimitar to parry it. Simply avoiding it wouldn't do, or so he calculated: with that leg, her moving quickly anywhere wasn't likely. So she'd have to come up with that sword, and the two weapons would clang together-

-and that's when Konrad would go to work proper, kopis whirling in his hand, coming back and then chopping down in nearly a full circle in front of the girl, knocking her sword in the same direction she parried him, drawing it away from her-

-leaving her torso open-

-for his right fist to snap out like a cobra's tongue, crashing into her ribs. Just a stinger, though. Nothing that could break or bruise or even shake up that much. Just enough to tell her to keep her damn guard up, and a lot more solid.

OOCHope this wasn't too hard to follow! I searched for the right terminology but couldn't quite find it lol

by **Merevaika** on April 13th, 2017, 11:15 am

Merevaika

It was the clang of metal on metal that gave her strength, not sapped it with the thought that her blow was blocked. It meant she had been close, she realised with the shower of sparks. Her arm shook with the shock, struggling to steady herself with the sudden stop, but he was already moving, not even noticing it. His sword flashed in her view as he moved, the woman gritting her teeth as she tried to follow it.

Then he slapped it against her knee, causing it to cripple again, and for Merevaika to step back and put all her weight on the other. Sunk to her knee, and turned to face him, waiting for his instructions, for advice. How did he move that fast? How was he still up, still completely unharmed by anything? Because he could fight - that was why, and she couldn't, and she knew that very well.

Her body rose with every breath, like a piece of grass trembling in the wind. Only grass couldn't get beaten. Couldn't have one leg pounded until it was useless, until it was a weakness that had to be shielded. Grass kept twisting, or it was torn up by something bigger and better.

His advice made sense. About hiding weaknesses. About not leading with them. But she couldn't think like that. It was too restricting for her. There had to be another way to deal with weaknesses. Like facing them head-on, like she was doing with this fight.

She turned - and he was at it again, constantly moving. Halfway through, his blade moved, switching hands.

Of course he could fight with both. Anyone with any sense could. She blinked, unfazed, then realised that he wasn't just showing off. He was attacking. And she was still on the ground, on one knee and with a leg that was pretty useless. He stabbed. Moving on reflex, her hand shot up, parrying sharply with her scimitar. The swords clanged against each other, Merevaika feeling the metal meet metal with another sharp jolt through her arm.

And he was going again, moving his weapon out, back in, pulling the arm still shaking from the impact out and away from where she couldn't defend. The woman slipped back, searching for space, searching for something. Then something crash forward - a fist, his fist - and she bit back the pain, finding a clump of dirt in her unarmed hand.

Swinging forward, she threw the dust and stones at his face, knowing the one advantage of fighting up close. They were close enough to touch, close enough for any movement to have a chance of hitting.

Then her sword flew up again, strength lacking, but determination behind it clear, in a wide sweep towards him. Her arm twisted, bringing it out further, hoping he wouldn't catch it with his inverted blade and block her. She was still on the floor, though, not in a position to follow him if he stepped back. But if he did, she'd have space.

If only she had her bow. Then she could use that space, and use it well. Show him she had a weapon that felt right in her hands. That she wasn't completely useless.

That if this really was a fight, she would have picked him off before he even got close enough to think about drawing a sword.
Or at least, with enough practice, would have been able to.

"Pavi"
Grassland sign
"Common"

by **Konrad Venger** on April 18th, 2017, 9:58 am

He knew from experience that you could prepare for everything; just "anything" in general. Problem with that, was that "anything" was quite a number of events, and it didn't matter how good you were, you couldn't see every single angle. Just the most likely ones. Konrad had survived as long as he had only because he could guess the moves of the guy opposite him... and if he couldn't, he could do exactly what he did when his world became choking dust and a shower of pebbles across his eyes.

Back the hells away and save his skin. It was hardly the stuff of a bard's song, but it kept his heart pumping.

It was more instinct that skill that sent him skittering back across the grass and away from Merevaika's slashing sword. He'd frowned minutely the moment before the cloud of debris struck him, seeing her hand tighten around nothing, empty air it seemed, then it came in in an arc and brought a haze with it that blotted them sky-

Before blotting out everything else as his vision was blinded. He spat curses in several languages and whatever effortless poise she had seen in him before shattered, replaced by a man taken by surprise and off-guard, backing up from her even as she was still on one knee.

Not that it lasted long. One solid shake of his head was enough to clear an eye, squinting balefully at her from under a curtain of lank, dark blonde hair. His kopis was up in front of him defensively, but his other hand was feverishly rubbing and wiping his face and when he spat-

TUNK

-a stone cracked back among its fellows and Konrad... smiled at the girl. Not a pleasant expression, true, but for the first time it was one that came with a smear of respect across those yellow teeth.

"Clever. Girl is learning." He circled her slowly as she got up, waxing lyrical as he covered his whirring mind with his words. "Use all you have. And not fight fair. Not ever-"

He moved on that final word, and without mercy. The toes of his boot dug into the ground and kicked out, sending a spray of dirt and dust flying at her. Turnabout was fair play, after all. Would she be expecting him to ape her own trick, almost exactly? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it was a distraction, like any other tool or object hurled her way, keeping her attention focused away from-

-his charging form, coming in sharply at her weakened side, stabbing with his kopis, driving her back... or drawing out her sword to parry him, in which case his free hand would chop down at the wrist of the hand holding her sword, seeking to rob it from her.

Unlikely, but it would bloody well hurt, and would tremble in her hand afterwards. Either way, Konrad thought it unlikely he'd knock her down again. Just back, away, giving them both time to breathe and ruminate on what a sneaky wee shyke the other was.

Aye, he thought with more than a little satisfaction. That's where it gets interesting.

by **Merevaika** on May 7th, 2017, 4:18 pm

Merevaika

It had worked. Not properly, not fully, but it had worked. He had been caught, surprised, unexpecting, and fallen back from that perfect pose, that warrior's stance. Somehow, the woman had got an edge on him. She couldn't try it again, but it was just the satisfaction that it had worked, that she had done something. It meant that he wasn't invincible and she could beat him, somehow. All she needed was a surprise up her sleeve-

-but she wasn't showing him that one. Not for a little fight, for training. She knew she wanted a trick up her sleeve, and not with something lacking importance such as this.

Then he mirrored her action, kicking up stones, but she was half expecting it, her mind automatically running through ways she would have reacted to her own attack. To his attack. Her head turned out of the way, one arm moving up to shield as she kept him in the edge of the eye, expecting an attack as the stones and dirt blocked her view. That was, of course, exactly what she had done. Why would he be any different?

As he began to charge, she ducked, sensing the movement approaching, or at least guessing them. The woman began to roll forward, her attempt at throwing herself to the side and out of his blade, and as she did, she kicked out, in hopes of snagging his leg with her own foot, however weak it was. It wasn't the most directed shot, considering she was too busy focusing on getting out of the way, but it was going to happen anyway. With her flinging herself to the side, a leg was going to be left behind, and it was better to make use of that.

At the very worst, she'd have done nothing and be in the same position as she would be otherwise, on all fours a tiny distance away from Konrad. At the best? She'd manage to kick him or trip him up or slow him for just a second.

And a second was enough for her to rise from all fours and adjust her stance to make herself firmly planted on the ground - but also ready to move and dodge, once again.

"Pavi"
Grassland sign
"Common"

by **Konrad Venger** on July 21st, 2017, 7:22 pm

"Slippery wee bitch, arncha'?"

Konrad sneered, as it was the closest he came to showing respect. A warm, friendly smile did not sit well on his face; would probably be looking to escape as soon as it could, in fact. But his eyes still danced and chuckled, despite his words, as he watched the female spring away from him like a bird, rolling away from his sword and limbs-

-pinging at the side of his knee as she went, making him wobble and grunt like a bear-

-before coming up on all forms to his side, eyes as venomous as a wounded catamount. Which just made him sneer all the more.

"Smart girl," he said, flexing the leg she'd kicked, musing on how much more that could have hurt if she hadn't been wildly lashing out. "No block, no eyes, no attack... so go. Get away. Get breath. Get time."

The walahk nodded his respect, narrow as it was, and then he sheathed his sword. But if the female thought the spar was over or his will was broken, she was mistaken. When he hand moved again, it vanished to his back... and came up with what seemed like a shrunken kopis. Maybe eighteen inches long, a third of that a leather grip in his hand, the rest of it gleaming silver, curved forward and as keen as the weapon he'd just sheathed.

"But no think man you fight not change, too. Not, ah... adapt." Konrad chuckled more at his victory over yet another diffuclt world in Pavi, and then the moment was gone. So was the sneer. The light in his eyes. The fight was not over. "Quick girl. Man fight you, see you quick? He get close-"

As the words were sinking into Merevaika's ears, Konrad was already acting on them. He came in low and so the side, first left, then right, kukri swiping across Mere's front, then a backhand coming lower-

-but they weren't looking to land, just keep her guessing, buy him time-

-and distance-

-to get close enough for his left hand to hammer into her kidneys, drawing a screech from her if her could, and if he couldn't-

-follow it with a swinging elbow to her jaw, scrambling her wits and raising a tasty bruise-

-hopefully with time enough to swing the kukri back to the sword she held, which would probably be hurtling his way in retaliation... but not as effectively as she'd want, he'd wager. Thing with swords, they're only as useful as their length. Get in under that length, under the arms of the man swinging it, and it's just some useless bit of steel taking up one of your hands.

Konrad was close enough for her to smell every bead of sweat on him. The food on his shirt that had dripped their from breakfast. The stink on his breath. Be peppered by droplets of sweat as his body swung and whirled mere inches from here.

Where it gets nasty, love, Konrad thought with a fresh, black bulb in his vision. Close enough to use your teeth. That's where the brawlers come to play.

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.

by **Merevaika** on August 1st, 2017, 5:47 pm

Merevaika

Grunts. Grunts were good. Grunts meant something had worked. She soaked the grunts in, letting their impact spur her on. His words, their garbled, mangled mess, were left behind in the dust as her eyes focused on what was really important. His weapon, as it flickered in the air. The way the weight shifted in his body, trying to guess what his move would be next.

Sheathing his sword? She refused to believe this spar was over. Did she really fight that badly? There was no way he could be bored already, not with the increasing number of hits she was managing, especially now. Merevaika curled her lip, ready to spit at him, coax him into another fight with spews of words and saliva.

Unnecessary. In his hand, another blade appeared, even before she could finish her thoughts of provoking him. Shorter, this time around, which would give her less space. As her thoughts matched his words, she shifted back, knowing that this distance between them was about to vanish. Her scimitar would become useless.

And so he came, swing after swing, the woman stumbling back. Her legs were too shaky for this. Her attempts to parry and block fell short, or slow, or something, and he only came closer.

A blow, kidneys. The Drykas roared silently, letting out grunts as he hit. Folded, as if to catch his fist with her stomach.

Folded to bring her jaw to his elbow, strengthening the impact. Spray, as she felt teeth meet tongue meet blood. As her head was thrown to the side, she could make out more movements. The blade - it was the blade this time. He meant to block her sword, her retaliation, her strike.

But that blade was out of her hands already, and his kukri would meet empty air. Had he forgotten?

With her hands clutching her stomach at his blow, they met her belt. First, the leather, sweaty, sticky. Then the lump of a weapon, one much more suited for close combat.

Wincing at everything that hurt, she let herself stumble, faking her pain. Not quite faking it - just exaggerating its effect on her. But she only stumbled a little bit, her hands working furiously at her waist. Something gave way and she could feel the knife in her hands, the blade gripped with fingers intertwined on it.

She could have spun it, where she held it. Got the sharp end out, the one that would make things really hurt.

Just a friendly fight. This wasn't life or death.

The stench rolled off him, sweat and stink and sweat. Without feeling it, she knew that sweat was mixing on hers as it splattered angrily on her skin. Between them lay nothing. A single breath. A moment. Empty air thin enough that it was barely there at all.

Close enough for her to jut the handle of her dagger out, into his stomach, matching where his fist had gone. She dug her nails into the blade as she dug her blade, the wrong way around, into his flesh. Twisted it, as if it really was the metal in his skin.

Letting her eyes drift to his, she let the glint tell him everything. A fist or elbow or knee could have worked just as well as a knife handle. But it was a warning, instead. That if she had just flicked this blade round, there would have been blood.

So this was why he wanted to get close.

"Pavi"
Grassland sign
"Common"

by **Konrad Venger** on August 1st, 2017, 7:09 pm

The more hits he landed, the more she gasped and groaned, Konrad felt the fight start to shift his way. So much so that it was no longer much of a fight: now he was just beating on the girl, and that wasn't good.

It may have been educational, to a degree, but he could already hear the ugly murmur from his audience. Now it looked like the Big Nasty Walahk was just pulping up the Little Drykas for the fun of it.

Despite everything anyone may have thought, that was not Konrad's way. When he put a hurt to someone, it was for coin.

"Not eas-"

There was an impact on his stomach. Not a blow, or a punch, or a knee, or anything that was really a hit. Just a short, insistent pressure that drew his eyes down... and Konrad's lips parted softly.

The handle of the dagger was just an inch above his navel. If it had been reversed, it would have pierced him right up to his spine, and then just a heavy, heaving slash to the sides, or up and down... and his guts would have been piled up on his boots like dead snakes.

You missed it. So close. Too close. You were blind to your own lesson.

"... shyke."

Their furious dance had come to an end. Konrad took a step back, arms spread, and the audience gave that peculiar-yet-familiar "oooooh!" of realization when he did so. The walahk was outwitted, he could hear them whisper. All that flash and brutality, and she faked him out. Tricked him.

Konrad smirked softly. It was desperation, not tactics; her hands grasping any weapon it could, not some calm stratagem. But what did it matter? She'd made her point. If this were real...

If it were real, she'd have shoved the wrong end in your belly, and you'd have sliced her throat open with your blade.

"Good. Very good." He wandered over to where his hat lay, claimed it and set it back on his head, wiggling it a little to get it just right. "Be sneaky bitch. Trust me. Best way to win."

He tugged the brim of his hat down with two fingers, his way of saying farewell without words, and turned. His blades went back into their leather wrappings, his coat was grabbed up from the ground, and when he walked through the crowd, Drykas and walahks alike parted easily for him.

Konrad tossed one final look over his shoulder. Eyes hidden from Syna's glare, he didn't need to squint, but seemed to anyway. Memorizing features and details, from the way her skin bruised to her chest as she panted, to the way her hair stuck to her sweaty face.

Good enemies were hard to find. He wanted to remember that one.

"Until that day."

Then he was gone, leaving naught but the echo of strange, savage words, and a laugh half mocking, half approving.

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.

by **Rufio** on September 2nd, 2017, 7:29 am

G R A D E

K O N R A D

Click :

M E R E V A I K A

Click :

notes - Most exhilarating & unpredictable fight scene I have ever had the pleasure to read, well done!

If you feel I missed anything shoot me a PM.
Don't forget to edit your grade request here -

PM to join Until That Day (Merevaika)