Purple and pink [Xalet]

[Markus Andres]

4th of fall 511 AV. Draped in full battle gear. Body covered in plate mail. Bastard sword in right. Heater shield in left. Dagger sheathed below left arm. It was early morning, Markus had had breakfast. A quick one before he had left to practice while the area was still empty and more importantly, his master was not there to observe. He moved in the square of dirt. Right leg stepping forward. Simultaneously his right arm thrusting straight at a non-existent target. The arm bulging beneath the metal armor. He pretended the imaginary foe had the sword pushed to the left. Markus' right side exposed. His movement stopped dead in the tracks. Markus analyzed the situation. The imaginary foes blade suddenly poked into the open area below Markus' armpit. He backtracked in his mind. He had to find a way to reverse that situation and then train it until he could do it on instinct. He suddenly smiled as he thought of a possible escape route. His mistake was simple. He hadn't been offensive enough. Markus pushed with his left leg. The non-existant blade now collided with his shield and would slide off to the left. Harmlessly. Defeat averted. The scenario Markus was playing through his mind. Over and over. Was the final moment of the last spar between Markus and his master, Stern Mason. His master had feigned weakness. Markus had eagerly struck at the feigned opening. A quick shield block had Markus' blade away and a quicker thrust below his right arm. Defeat. It had almost become an obsession of his to defeat his master in a one on one fight. He had been close. So many times. But never once had he defeated the man. Markus stepped into the position again. His right leg stepping forward. In expertly timing, the tip of the bastard sword was thrust forward. Brushed aside. Markus pushed off with his left leg. His mass would collide with that of his master. From there, Markus would most likely get pushed away. But, most importantly, he wasn't in that terrible situation anymore. It ought to work. He was certain of it! He almost longed for another spar with his master at that moment. But the man was busy that day and for a week ahead at least. Patrolling duty outside of Syliras. Markus snapped out of his little trance and focused on the area around him. Noticing that there were more knights in the room. He just hoped they had not taken notice of his... bizarre training. Then again. He hoped someone had and was ready to spar with him. For his success in thinking of a viable counter gave him a desire to test his skill against someone. Get his blood pumping and his adrenalin rushing.

[Xalet]

Markus was a hard worker, Xalet knew that. He was also his senior as far as squires went, Xalet knew that as well. He couldn't help but remember what his Patron had been telling him, in order to improve the skills most important to the Knighthood, he had to test himself against those of skill and tact. He had to master the movement of his body, as much as he pushed it through strength training. That could only be done in tests of actual combat. Protect the city and it's people, never allow them to leave the shadow of his shield, that was the idea.

Just from watching Markus, Xalet could tell Markus' movements were faster and more precise than his own. When you crossed swords with enough skilled Knights you knew the difference between skill and performance. The difference in their abilities made the Akalak want to withdraw. He didn't stand a chance against that kind of talent. Talent was something Xalet had not a lick of. Where was that talent at? It was supposed to come with every Akalak. It was supposed to be in his blood, the blood that filled a body built for war.

"Good day, Markus Andres." said the Akalak, helmet tucked beneath his arm, dulled short sword at his side, and shield strapped across his back. "I've never gotten the chance to spar with you. I'd like to seize the opportunity." he said, quick and direct, just like an Akalak. He didn't have that Riverfall culture, but the parts that made up his body and soul were undeniably Akalak. Markus was growing ever closer to becoming a Knight, and Xalet had to take the time to challenge him while he was still a squire. Could he actively provide a challenge? All he could think of was making his Patron Sergeant Braklin, the Priskil of Syliras, proud.

[Markus Andres]

A larger armored knight approached him. Markus turned his face, curious. By the height alone, Markus would have recognized his non-human origin. But what really tipped him off was the purple skin that covered his face. A face Markus seemed to recognize, but the name had slipped his mind. Markus had always been impressed and a bit envious with the physical fitness of the Akalaks in the knighthood. But it was only their fitness he envied. Hardly their skin tone. For some reason Markus couldn't picture himself having purple skin. A grin appeared on his face when the Akalak, who Markus only then recognized as Xalet. One of the Akalak squires in the order. Markus sheathed his blade and then slid the visor on his helmet up. Made it much easier to talk. Or rather. Made it much easier to be understood. "Good day, Xalet. You got an impeccable timing. I was just thinking about finding a sparring partner." Markus said. He was quite pleased that a partner had appeared to readily. Saved him from bothering other squires or knights. Markus tactical mind started to churn out raw facts about the difference in their equipment. Markus' bastard sword had a longer reach. But the Akalak had longer arms. Off-setting Markus' reach advantage. After a couple of moments Markus stopped his train of thoughts before he got too technical. The tactic against Xalet was simple. Keeping a distance would work in Markus' favor. Markus looked around. Seeing if anyone higher with a higher rank wanted to use the ring. When he saw none he looked back to the almost seven foot tall non-human. "Just start when you are ready." Markus said before he slid the visor down and drew his bastard sword. Preparing to defend himself.

[Xalet]

Somehwere in the back of his mind, Xalet almost wished Markus would have answered 'no'. It was a certain tightness in his mouth, a dryness in his tongue, and a tense sensation in his muscles. Xalet was big, and Xalet had strength and size, as well as a great deal of mass, but the most powerful Akalak's were known for their technique, of which Xalet was still quite far from thoroughly developing. He still hadn't learned the most important facet of Akalak combat yet either, learning to unify his light and dark halves until they could compliment one another. As it was, right now as far as Akalaks went, he was essentially half a man.

Despite those shortcomings he would supplement his weaknesses with his pride. With that he slicked his hair back, lifted up his helmet, and placed it atop his head. As he slid into place he flexed his fingers beneath his gauntlets. They felt good. Swinging his shield around by his guige, he slid his hand through the straps until it was snug on his forearm. His right hand went for his hilt, pulling the short bladed weapon from its sheath. How to overcome the bastard sword, he wondered. More importantly, how to overcome that shield.

A skilled Knight was a defensive juggernaut. With shield, armor, and weapon, there simply was no greater defense possibly in all of Mizahar. Many did without heavy armor, perhaps due to the cumbersome weight, or due to the cost. But if you could wear it properly and function despite it's weight it was a mans best protection from death, short of luck and reflexes.

To a Knight a shield was a weapon, much as a sword was a weapon. Xalet had a third weapon that he was spurred on to learn due to his Akalak blood, his body. Slowly he edged inward. So, Markus was going to let him have the first move, probably due to his superior training. Xalet wasn't about to throw that opportunity away. When Xalet was still too far away to use his short sword he stepped in with his right foot, before lifting his left up and plowing it forward. It was a waist high forward stomp kick, a typical Syliran technique to unbalance a for by impacting with the most weight. Afterward the left arm would sweep in to bring the shield forth to quickly defend. The main differences were, due to Xalet's size, his waist height was appropriately chest height for the typical man, and his foot carried almost sixteen inches of sabaton.

[Markus Andres]

Markus slowly exhaled. His eyes focused on the purple skinned humanoid in front of him. There was a fierce determination in his eyes and anyone watching his aura would see it change considerably. It was unusual for Markus to let someone get the first attack. Markus was a very offensive fighter. Always seeking to gain the advantage with his attacks and exploit or create advantages as he fought. The Akalak moved forward and Markus remained still, he was curious to see how he would start out. If his idea was to surprise Markus, it certainly worked. It was rare heavily armored people dared to kick. Especially that high. It messed with the balance. That, at least, was why Markus rarely, if ever, kicked while wearing heavy armor. He had been taught that balance was everything. Losing your balance, often meant you lost the battle. Something Markus would try to show the Akalak. Markus slid his right leg out as far as the armor allowed him. His legs bent. Lowering his body. Finally, the last ingredient to have Xalet's attack miss. The Shield. The top of Markus' shield would slam into the back of Xalet's leg. Hammering the leg up and above Markus' left shoulder. The armor of Xalet's leg would screech against the metal edges of the shield. Quite an unpleasant sound and Markus was right next to it. A wonder he wasn't deaf after so many years of training. If the Akalak had not already fallen due to his left leg being lifted above his waist to around the height of Markus' head - Markus would proceed. Markus would straighten his legs and shove Xalet back with the shield, hopefully causing the Akalak to lose balance and fall on his back, where Markus would be quick to point the tip of his blade at Xalet's throat. If he managed to maintain balance and stay on his feet. He would have gained some respect from Markus for his nimble feet. Markus would be there. His right arm swinging out in a backhand. The bastard blade would swing at Xalet's right side, aimed at the middle of the row of ribs.

[Xalet]

Markus responded quicker than Xalet had expected. Even with the emphasis he placed upon the understand that Markus was no doubt the more skilled combatant, it seemed the Akalak still managed to underestimate his ability to quickly respond. Xalet threw quite a few kicks in his time, and typically the weight of his frame allowed him to remain grounded so long as his leg never came above his own waist. The squire always had a heavy focus upon unarmed combat, even while armed with his short blade and shield, though the tools available to him would never be forsaken.

That still didn't stop him from ending up on his back but, with a deft quickness, his sword hand tightened it's grip upon the hilt. He pushed his knuckles into the ground while his torso swung upward, and with as best a movement as he could provide in his mail, he kicked his feet under his body, prepared enough to swing his short sword in a delayed parry against Markus's weapon, attempting to push it upward but only having enough time to leave it scraping across the bridge of his helm.

That's when Markus might have realized, Xalet wasn't particularly skilled in any part of his combat, but he was extremely quick to get back on his feet. Strangely enough, that was the type of maneuver that only came from getting knocked down, over and over again. Xalet had nearly always fought people superior to himself and lost on a fairly consistent basis. The Akalak had literally developed something of a reflexive muscular reaction to getting dropped to the floor!

"Damn." he still cursed inwardly to himself, not so much in frustration, but more at a realization of how difficult the defensive shell that surrounded Markus was to crack. Having no unique or unusual techniques at his disposal with which to use, Xalet moved inward to attempt the same strategy he used against Jaelyn and her spear. He had to get his weight into his opponents inner most defensive circle, butting their shields together if he had to, and then utilize the short nature of his sword. Doing so, Xalet's feet shuffled forward in his best try to close the distance. His short sword suddenly dropped down low by his right thigh while his shield pressed forward as a 'screen' maneuver attempting to block some of Markus's sight. From there, he would stab his weapon low, trying for an attack arc beneath both their field of visions to hit the low abdomen or groin area.

[Markus Andres]

Markus was impressed. The Akalak had been outmaneuvered, but his quick wit and physical prowess had saved him from losing. Markus feared for a moment that his blade might have injured the Akalak, but the fast actions of his opponent told him otherwise. Or at least. It told him that he wasn't going to give up. Despite any injuries he might have sustained. Markus calmly looked at the Akalak, waiting for an attack, but at the same time losing patience. He was an offensive fighter. Not defensive. Given enough time, any man could crack a defensive shell. But then Xalet moved. Markus almost immediately recognized the tactic Xalet was attempting. He must have used that particular attack over a hundred dozen times. A smile crossed his lips. He had been defensive for long enough. Markus quickly stepped forward with his right. Trying to time his attack at the most opportune moment. The long bastard sword swung in with a heavy strike. Timing would be of the essence in the attack. About half a foot down the sword, from the tip, the blade would hit the left side of Xalet's shield. Intending to knock it aside just sufficiently for the Akalak to continue his forward stride into the blade. Simply speaking. He would walk directly into the blade himself. Markus right hand would thrust forward. Send the blade directly at the huge Akalak's abdomen. Where the chest of an ordinary human opponent would be.

[Xalet]

Powering through an Akalak's attack was difficult, especially so when it came against Xalet. Supplementing the natural physical bulk of his Akalak heritage Xalet had been building his body with special herbal supplements from his Patron as well as dedicated strength training. There was some surprise when the weight of that sword came across his shield and instinctively he attempted to keep it right where it was, but the motion of his body was all off. When his body turned to stab with his right arm his left side turned, limited by the motion of his own frame.

Pushing his abdomen toward the back of his spine, Xalet essentially 'sucked in' all the air he could as, instead of fighting against the turn of his body, he continued in it's motion, his right hand and weapon moving past Markus's form while the broad blade of that bastard sword had put a fresh dent in his plate as it skipped off the side where Xalet's ribs would be, and moved across the plating of his abdomen. The slightly rounded nature of the plate in that area along with the turning of the body managed to withdraw some of the punch from the thrust. One thing to note, instead of moving away after the attack, Xalet lifted up his left leg and began to slide it in a quarter-circle forward. His body dropped slightly as his left arm carrying his shield looked to draw in closely to his body, atop where Markus's blade was. It was a more difficult maneuver than Xalet often tried, a blade trap!

All he wanted was a moment to secure that blade, even just a second. He needed Markus to stand right where he was because as his right hand carrying that short sword had missed it's mark, he looked to bend the blade inward and perform something of a clinch. The attack wasn't coming from the short sword however, instead it came from left. With his own shield fanned out toward the left in his attempt to catch the blade, his front lane was left open. Open to attack from Markus, but also open to push forward with his weight and deliver a knee strike to Markus's core.

[Markus Andres]

Markus was surprised that the Akalak had managed to keep his shield steady enough to avoid the blade impaling him. Markus felt the sharp jolt when the blade connected with his side. But it was far less than what he had expected so it didn't really bother him. But it worried him. Now his blade was useless as the Akalak was in too close. Markus tried to withdraw his blade, but it was too late. He could see it was trapped between the arm and torso of Xalet. Markus felt the exhilaration rise in him. He had thought the less experienced Akalak would be easy to defeat. But he had been proved wrong and he enjoyed every second of it! He could feel the beginning effects of adrenalin in his body. Sharpening his senses. His body having prepped itself for fight and or flight. With it came Markus natural aggressiveness. He couldn't afford to surrender the initiative to the Akalak, not now. Markus moved his shield to his left. Prepared to intercept the Gladius he expected would come in for a thrust at his side. But Markus realized then that the purple giant had no intention of attacking with his blade. Markus saw the knee rise and immediately knew he could not dodge the attack. So rather than trying to back away Markus did the opposite. The knee struck his armored core. Due to the armor, he could feel the impact, but he didn't really feel any pain. It made it that much easier to maintain his focus as he suddenly pressed forward. Slamming his entire body weight into the Akalak as he was still standing on one leg. Once again, Markus' goal was to put the Akalak further off balance. Slamming his heavy shield against the Akalak's body/shield. There was quite a gap in their body weights, but Markus hoped that being on one foot would more than make up for Markus' lower weight, but Markus was still very strong for an ordinary human. The idea was to have him stumble away from Markus, so he could suddenly jerk his sword free of the Akalak's poor grip. At what point, Markus would chop it down from above at the head/shoulders of the Akalak.

[Xalet]

Xalet realized he wasn't the only one that had been training his body. When he felt the solid clang of his articulated knee plate coming into contact with Markus's main body he noticed a lack of displacement. The Human's body wasn't moving rearward, he had trained his legs and abdomen well to keep such a strong stance. It was then that Xalet realized breaking down Markus's stance wasn't going to be easy. It was difficult to the point that he had to focus on some other method of attack, but in the heat of the spar his brain didn't get enough time to shuffle through the other possibilities.

When that body pushed into him from the front, Xalet tried to focus his strength on keeping that bastard sword at bay, but his hold wasn't meant to last throughout the course of a fight, just enough to keep it steadily away from a typical blade withdrawal. When Markus dedicated his strength to retrieving it on top of putting Xalet backwards enough to force his leg to land behind his right. As a right handed fighter that meant his stance was now backwards. "Poor Xalet, never thinking past the first attack, ha ha ha..." that dark voice inside of him said mockingly. It froze his attention away from the battle just long enough to try and shake it free from his mind.

That much was too much. He tried to brace his left leg and raise up his sword to parry a downward chop, but the weight and length of a superior sized sword knocked his smaller weapon aside and left a resounding clang upon his pauldron. The gravity and been enough to cause his left knee to collapse and put him down on one knee. That was a good solid blow, he couldn't deny the fact that he felt that one. "Incredible. You defend and counterattack accordingly without pause." Xalet said as he raised a hand up for a bit of a breather. If he was even to try again, he had to figure out some course of attack. He hated to admit it, but Xuphim was correct, his combat was mostly improvisation, and he rarely thought beyond one strike at a time.