[Anthonius Fighting Pit]The familiar feel of exertion

by **Milartek** on October 24th, 2013, 5:18 pm

4th Fall 513AV Morning

The young Akalak was feeling in good spirits this fine fall morn. The previous evening he had visited the The Rearing Stallion where he had got talking to a rather helpful fellow who mentioned that the fighting pits were a good place to go train and let of some steam.

This was exactly what he needed.

Since arriving in Syliras he had been too busy trying to make the necessary arrangements a change of location dictated to focus on his usual training and regime. This was starting to result in a rather sour mood which made him fearful that Artek would rear his ugly head.

No today he would put that right and train long and hard.

Upon arriving he was immediately pleased with what he saw. Even this early a good smattering of people sparred and practiced with various weapons, and the air was filled with grunts and the familiar clang of metal striking metal.

As he looked around he noticed a view of the people glance in his direction. There were various races and even a few women there, but no fellow Akalak so far. This was a slight disappointment, but nothing was going to stop him from working up good sweat.

It was a little chilly so he kept the rough cotton shirt he wore on and started looking around for someone to spar with. Almost everyone was either already sparing, or so absorbed in what they were doing it didn't seem right to intrude. There was however one figure pondering over a weapon rack containing various weapons, all in a rather poor condition.

Milartek approached him slowly, taking in the features of the man. He was human, maybe 6 foot, slim but solid build with shoulder length lank dark hair. He couldn't tell his age because he could only see the back of him, he found it hard to judge age anyway.

He hoped that this was how it worked, but it was too late for that now, as he reached over and tapped the stranger on the shoulder. He turned and looked up at him, then down then back up, not saying a word. Milartek was slightly unnerved, but decided to ask anyway.

"Hi friend, would you care for a gentle spar? I don't mind using weapons or fists, that could be your choice."

The man just stared until finally saying "If you are trying to intimidate me, blue, its not going to work. If you think your worth my time then fine, you use the blade on your hip, and i'll use mine but it'l cost you more than a few bruises. Half speed, pulling any fatal blows, but i cant be blamed if your guard is so poor that i give you the odd nick"

Without waiting for a response he backed away from the weapon rack, unsheathed the blade at his waist and turned to face the young Akalak.

Utterly confused by this exchange Milartek drew his Lakan from the belt it was tucked into and turned to face the man. He took his basic stance, left foot forwards, right foot behind and pointed at 45 degrees to the right. His legs were just under shoulders width apart and his knees slightly bent.

As an Akalak he had spent pretty much his whole life training to fight, but considered that Akalaks live to well over 300 years, and Milartek was only 34 he had many years ahead of him before he was anywhere near as masterful as them. Yes he could use a Lakan but he would not be described as skillful.

Still he fancied his chances in this spar. He was bigger, probably stronger, and after all he had spent years training, even if it wasn't as long as the more mature Akalak.

Besides it was only a training spar!

by **Milartek** on October 24th, 2013, 8:13 pm

The black haired man made the first move. He closed the gap with a quick step forwards and arched his long sword towards Milartek. the attack was slow, but not so slow that you could just step out of the way, with enough power to give a realistic impact. However they were no were near full strength.

Milartak stepped backwards, just moving his left leg back so he original position was mimicked but with the right foot now in front. The step was clumsy and it almost cost him a cut to the shoulder but he managed to slap the sword away. He retaliated with his own downward slash which was slapped away with so much force that the blade was wrenched out of his hand and flew almost a foot away to his left.

Milartek cursed out loud and shook his right hand. He stared angrily at his opponent. "What the petch happened to half speed? There was no way that was you going easy!" The fact that he was sparing with live weapons unnerved him slightly and this guys attitude put him more on edge.

The fact that he was sneering at him really annoyed him.

"There is no excuse for poor form, even at half speed. An elderly woman could hold that blade tighter! And here I was thinking Akalaks were known for their fighting skills, I guess the rumors aren't true! Pick up your weapon and make this worth my time!"

Milartek stood there for a tic both astounded and angry. Maybe his grip was a bit loose, but there were certainly better ways to explain that. Insulting him was just unnecessary.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned walked over to his Lakan, crouched and grasped it in his right hand gripping it tighter than before conscious of it now. He heard the movement behind him which gave him good prior warning, for as he turned round starting to stand up the man was already behind him a blow coming down at him.

Gripping the lakan as tight as he could he slashed wildly and aggressively at the incoming blade smashing it away causing a large amount of noise. The vibrations of the clash echoed through his hand and down his arm bringing sharp pain. The pain and the anger he felt about this mans actions caused him ti let out a feral growl as he stood up to his full height and shoved the man away with his left hand.

The two combatants stood apart, the Akalak male breathing hard. He was desperately trying to control his emotions, he couldn't fight sensibly in a cloud of rage. And he risked Artek taking over. His concentration was broken by the man speaking at him. The sneer was back.

"And now your gripping too tight. Too tight and the vibrations will be amplified, along with the pain, and too loose you will constantly loose your blade. As you so fabulously demonstrated. But better keep your blade than not keep it so lets carry on. Back to half speed"

Annoyed as he was, Milartek couldn't help but see the wisdom in his words. Even if he was being an arse about it. He also couldn't help feeling that this was somehow more than a spar. It felt more like one of his uncles lessons.

Just with more abuse.

Before he could ask any questions the man was advancing again, so he stepped his right foot back and assumed his stance ready. This time the longsword was thrust at his mid section, thankfully slower and with less power than before. Milartek was taller than than his opponent, this meant he had to bend his knees slightly as he flicked the long sword off to his right. There was still a jolt up his arm, but not as much before, and the blade stayed firm in his grip.

A slight smile tugged at his lips as he went on the offensive. his right foot stepped forwards and as he did so he thrust his lakan forwards directed towards the mans sternum. The movement started from his right shoulder and extended through his arm and his hand angling the blade into a horizontal line.

The attack was easily parried and because his arm was so straight and rigid his arm offered no sideways resistance and his arm span off to his left. His shoulder tugged as it was stretched to far across his body. he grunted and through a desperate backslash in front of him that was easily avoided.

The man shook his head in disapproval. That sneer was back.

"The parry was better but then you followed it with that thrust! When you put everything into an attack like that you better be damn sure that it connects or your just opening yourself up to loosing. With a smaller weapon like yours you need to be in right close with that thrust. Your footwork was good, but you just weren't close enough. Then that whole rigid arm extension and the exaggerated pivot through the shoulder. You defeated yourself with your own move."

"if you don't believe me come at me again".

Confused and frustrated he took two quick steps towards his opponent and lunched his blade towards him, pivoting through the shoulder and leaning into the attack.

This time the man dropped his sword, sidestepped and Milartek felt hands grab his wrist and pull him forwards. Because of the way he had leaned into the thrust and extended his arm so much he was completely off balance and he plummeted forwards, dropping his lakan and rolling over in the dirt.

It was definitely undignified and he pushed himself off the ground, mind now over ruled by anger and humiliation.

The sneer was once again plastered on the mans face, in fact he wasn't even sure if it had ever left.

"I told you so. Again you weren't close enough and again you left yourself completely off balance. Get in closer, keep the arm slightly bent and instead of leaning, thrust! Start it at your hips, bring it up through your body. Into the shoulder and out through your arm keeping the elbow slightly bent.

Milartek would later look back on this moment with gratitude for what the man was saying was indeed true, and has since led to a better fighter. However at that point he was embarrassed, annoyed and covered in dirt.

And Artek had finally decided he could do a better job.

by **Milartek** on October 24th, 2013, 9:13 pm

Who was the man? Why did he feel the need to teach? To coach? All Artek wanted was to spar. He wanted that familiar feel of ache and fatigue tugging at his limbs. This wasn't that. This was someone making a fool of him.

Yes the man was clearly more experienced than him, but that didn't mean he wanted all these preaching lessons.

Artek growled as he got to his feet marched over to his Lakan, bent and picked up in his right hand without stopping and advanced towards the man. All thought of technique gone. All he wanted to do know was put this man on his arse.

He swung the lakan down from right to left across the mans shoulders, that was slapped away and another slash from left to right was again slapped away. The shocks reverberated through his wrist, but he didn't care about the pain. He would not let the weapon go again.

This time when he thrust he was closer, but there was no movement from the hips. It was just a thrust with the arm, no power behind it and again the flat side of his opponents sword again flicked it harmlessly out of the way, and he took a step away from Artek.

"Now who is ignoring the half speed rule? The distance for the thrust was much better, however the execution was poor. You are also defeating yourself with your anger and forgetting the basic footwork!".

Artek had had enough of his words, despite the fact when he had calmed down Milartek would absorb his wise words and learn from them. But at the moment there was just annoyance.

"Who are you? This feels more like a lesson than a spar! A lesson that is not appreciated! Just spar! Why are you determined to teach me when i never asked you to?"

To his frustration he didn't answer any of his questions but instead just said; "Just watch the footwork"

He took the stance Artek had been using, left foot forwards, right back t a 45 degree angle. He shuffled forwards until he was in thrusting distance of Artek and his long sword threw up towards his sternum.

Artek had not been paying attention to his opponents footwork. But more importantly he hadn't been paying attention to his and at the time of the thrust he was square on and he stumbled backwards whilst awkwardly pushing his opponents blade away.

So when the second thrust followed the first his legs were already in the wrong place and he stumbled backwards. Out of fluke the moment took him out of reach of the thrust. However when the third thrust forced him back again he was already falling. Lakan, now forgotten in the flailing attempts to remain on his feet, fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Once again he found himself staring up at the sky, covered in sweat. His legs ached, his wrists and arms ached. Well he was certainly fatigued but it hadn't happened the way he had hoped.

Suddenly the sky was obscured by the shape of the man and cold steel pressed against Artek's neck.

All he could see was that petched sneer.

"I warned you about your footwork. And your anger.As for your questions you asked me to teach you when you asked to spar. You are, after all, in the Anthonius fighting pit. And I am Gerard Anthonius and you owe me 5 gold Miza's

Receipt5GM for training