Cry Merc-y (Clemens)

[Alexander Faircroft]

12pm
81st Fall 516AV
Fighting pits.

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex stepped through the streets of Syliras once again towards the fighting pit. A place where those of the common people could take up arms and learn how to fight. Alex today had arrived as usual garbed in his full plate. The light spots of rust and dings and dents left in the battered material signalled that it was clearly not his own. At least not originally. Alex sat on one of the benches slightly raised from the edge of the pit the embedded circle a display for onlookers. Though if one was to take a glance towards Alex they’d see a man literally encased in steel both in terms of his armour and the blades he carried a vast array. His full display of weapons on show today. However he wasn’t likely to just jump in and get on with the fight no he was searching appraising the pits for a fighter around his skill level.

Hie eyes canned over the playing field, the array of people there to test their mettle was something eh could take stock of however what set apart from the rest was one man lurking amidst the gathering, a long haft sat against his shoulder and half of his head shaved, the other stretching almost past his jaw. An odd sight, however what Alex noticed the clearest of all was the way he carried himself. Like he knew what he was doing, to some extent. A vast difference to the other rabble around him. That was who Alex was going to test himself against.

After all if he couldn’t hold his own against a member of the commonplace populace he wasn’t quite ready to leave the knights. He wasn’t the kind either to use live steel against people. However this place had only live but dulled blades. Still enough for the truly strong to cause some serious harm with.

Alex slowly approached the wall and picked up three blades from the rack, two of the same bastard swords dulled and blunted but still effective. The other was a blade he’d been trying his hand at and found he quite liked. A double bladed beast. Haft in the centre and a good three feet of blade either side. Stabbing the two swords into the ground next to him and stepping over to the strange haired man Alex’s vibrant and soft green eyes washed over the man. As his soft and light voice flowed out like the gentle rush of water in a stream.

“Excuse me. I was wondering if I might ask for a hand with my training. You seem to know what you’re doing and seem to be the least occupied person here. If you wouldn’t mind of course?” Alex finished with his practiced and well used smile, but as usual it was a simple empty formality.

[Clemens Kos]

What was he doing up at this time, Kos didn't know. Last night he barely slept, and yet he wasn't complacent staying in his room, under the sheet, wasting time. Instead, he found himself in this somehow used place, where the clash of metal overshadowed common words and insults. And he knew for what reason. He was weak, plain and simple. Lost so many fights because he simply got outclassed. And thus, the man thought he could become better. He felt like he did, too, but time and time again he was proven wrong. He wasn't a sore loser, but he simply felt like there's so much more he could do. His guess was this is why he was here, and not in his bed. It was already midday, so if he'd lose any more time rotting around in his little room, it would be even worse for him. And so he stood there, on the outskirts of the area, watching people of all shapes and sizes go at each other, some with more fervor than the rest. He himself just finished with warming-up, allowing his heart to finally wake up an the bloodstream to wash his drowsiness away. It wasn't usually difficult to find someone who'd want to practice, but then again, that someone wasn't usually a half-shaven, mask wearing creep with only one way visible. The mess one would call hair somewhat covered the other eye, together with a missing ear on the same side. His right leather boot left the ground for a moment, as his leg was brought up, and with a simple circular motion the last routine was finished. His outfit seemed poor, compared to most anything the others wore. A simple leather jacket, adorned with pouches and pockets. His skin somewhat dirty, afflicted with dirt from what seemed to be the arena's own soil. His nose, which poked through the mask he wore, seemed to be broken several times, and not surgically repaired, which offered a quite uncomfortable appearance. The only piece of armor on him metallic vambrace he wore on his right arm. Truly, the only amazing part of him was the halberd he wore with him, which seemed to be bigger than he was. The top part, adorned by an axe head, which ended with a spear point on the very top. The shaft itself seemed to be made out of quite a durable wood, even though that itself seemed to be already somewhat worn. The man's single eye looked around. Even through his masked visage, he didn't look particularly old, but his eyes spoke of a tired, and worn out man already. His half-way daydreaming state was interrupted by what seemed to be pure white smoke, until he focused. The noise turned into sound, which then turned into voice. Someone was talking to him. The man turned his head over his shoulder, to meet the source of this masculine tone. He listened, and he heard. But he couldn't really follow. He's got a weapon on him, that is true. And if by looking this human thought 'knowing how to not get hurt by it', he might be right. It could, however, just be an attempt at a compliment to get Kos to help him easier. He learned that sometimes, using a tactic could be effective. The masked man however never was good with words, so compliments were not something he ever really gave, or received too, for that matter. His boot brushed against the ground, as he turned to the man fully, looking over him with mild interest. And this man that approached him was even gifted a blink of confusion. Kos just realized that there was a wide, armored man standing next to him. His first thought was maybe he did something, and the knights would be on him again. But this armored man apparently only wanted to spar. "I guess..." He spoke out, without even having a moment to think about the situation at hand. Mainly because he didn't want to. He was here to get better. If that meant trying his hand at someone with the obvious advantage over him, so be it. The answer he gave was half-way indifferent, however, and he didn't say much after that. His new partner would easily realize that Kos himself wasn't much of a talker, and with a single nod, he'd roll his shoulder, and grab hold of his weapon with his right hand. Using it much like a walking stick, he'd distance himself somewhat from the man, before turning around. His voice might of been indifferent, but his actions spoke of an eagerness to fight. He stood there, with a straightened back, using his left hand to reassure the straps on his vambrace were neatly in place. After that was done, the masked man turned to the man who was now slightly more away with him, waiting for him to move into position as well, or, even worse, try to talk to him some more.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

The space between them widened as the man walked away and spoke two simple words. Not one for much conversation… To each their own then. Alex picked up the double bladed sword and felt the weight, it was one he was vastly unused too at least comparatively to his other blades. Alex shifted it around in his hands and then allowed. The other man to get steadied up.

“I didn’t catch your name.” Alex spoke again with the soft words as he lowered his blade into position and then assessed his opponent. His mind calculating the shortest path to victory based upon his opponent’s weapon and his build. Then factoring in his own limitations he fell into stance. Closing the gap between them with a step to his opponent’s side stepping into the range of the halberd Alex then shifted his own twin blade up and across to try and seal the motions of the blade towards him, simultaneously bringing the lower blade towards his opponent’s legs. Trying to catch his feet out from beneath him as he did so.

The show was a little choppy and a little sloppy but there was some practiced precision behind it, clearly taken from the other blades he wielded. Trying to show that he’d picked the weapon he was least versed with for this to stand on equal footing with someone not of the knights or of the squires. Then again had he himself not been part of them he probably never would have even picked up a blade that wasn’t his dagger.

It was only as he entered the range though that he began to see that if he missed he’d be right in the worst possible spot for a counter attack. If by some really poor chance that this man had a small blade on him then Alex wasn’t going to be getting out of this without another scratch on that armour, at least.

[Clemens Kos]

"Kos." The man replied, his voice somewhat low, yet still having some faint sort of youth resonating through it. Wasn't particularly deep, either, but masculine enough to not be able to misheard it. His name didn't carry a lot of weight behind it, either. For him, having a name was having a word to go by, and nothing else. He knew of some people that were proud of their names, or what they stood for. The masked man was different, though. it held no value for him, nor did it bring comfort hearing it. it is that reason, why he was able to give it away so freely, even in casual exchanges with someone he never seen before. To someone that simply exchanged a few words with him. Even though this someone seemed to be getting ready to go on the offensive, as he watched the interesting weapon design come into place. Not one, but two swords, being held together in the middle. Or were they attacked. It seemed much like his second guess, and that it was forged in such a way. His one eye focusing on the weapon for a second, asserting possible outcomes in his attacker's plans and movements. He isn't exactly reaching a lot more than with a simple blade, and he'd guess difficult maneuvers were also out of the picture, unless the man wanted to hurt himself with the other side. His feet were drawn apart, and his knees bent slightly, lowering his somewhat towering height down, to offer him a much more stable position. His hands moved to the second half of the shaft, as both of them coiled their fingers around the wood, taking a firm grip of the weapon, and moving the spear tip into the direction of the man that stood in front of him. The axe head was for now pointing up in the air, reflecting the metal in the sun light that was visible in the late fall midday. It was then when the man decided to close their distance, but Kos didn't feel like taking the bait just yet. He knew he had the range advantage, and was going to use it smartly. With a step forward the armored clad man did, Kos sidestepped backwards, keeping the man at bay. He knew that if he came closer, his problems would be beginning. Another step was taken back, before his arms coiled outwards, much like a snake lashes out when cornered. The spear tip was trusted into the man's face, but the motion was nothing else than a feint. His right hand suddenly applied pressure to the end of the shaft, trying to hit against his weapon to test the grip he had around it, before retreating back, keeping his footwork somewhat solid. His heart was slowly beginning to amp up more and more. Even though a spar that isn't supposed to mean anything, it was still very easy to get hurt. And Kos felt alive because of it. His warm breath hitting the leather of the mask, warming the lower side of his face, and applying a somewhat wet condensed feeling on his skin. His eye focused on the man, but even more than that, his weapon. This strange bladed contraption that seemed like an offensive's fighter greatest reward. His mind did however try and figure out how to take advantage of that. His idea was going on the offensive himself, and forcing him into a much more defensive position, where he guessed he'd have an upper hand. But those were just guesses, after all. He didn't know the wielder, and his reputation. His skills, or his flaws. For what it was worth, this could be a somewhat even fight, but it all depended on the fact, that he guessed the armored man didn't exactly know how to fight against his own weapon. It was easier to plan for Kos, even though it seemed floppy. The duel simply started, so he'd have to wait for his next attack, before he went on the offensive.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex had made a good decision. A he closed in Kos decided that it’d be good to throw a strike towards Alex’s face. With the positioning of Alex’s blade however he was about to attempt to parry it before the weapon head slammed into the twin blade Alex carried. All too soon did Kos find out that Alex’s grip on the blade was beyond iron. Alex could now hear Kos’ breathing starting to get heavier and heavier as if he was starting to actually wake up. Alex on the other hand stayed slow and even.

He was used to this. And ready for a lot more than most others were. Perhaps he’d show Kos that. His left hand reached out to grip the haft of the halberd just below the head and try to pull Kos off balance. An easy way to put someone on the back foot was often to try and remove their weapon. Or at least show you had the capability to do so. Just as Kos had tried to test Alex’s grip Alex was testing Kos’ balance. Each one probing something else. And just as Alex had refused to give up his blade he was certain Kos would do much the same. Which was Alex’s logic behind the pull. As he did so he brought the blade in his other hand low and angled.

His entire fighting style was based around one simple idea. Information. He liked to gather as much information about how a person fought, how they acted, how the tended towards attacking. He probed and tested in every way possible to try and get the best possible amount of information back. And now Alex had a clear point of attack. Kos wasn’t actively defending his legs to Alex was focusing his attention there to try and catch him out. And potentially turn the tables later once he was expecting things.

[Clemens Kos]

heard the clash of iron against iron, and all too soon Kos found out that this combatant didn't just look trained, but also had the experience to back up that claim. A thought ran through his head. This knight must simply be toying with the man, if that's the case. No real other reason for someone to walk up to a stranger. After all, knights received their own training. Why would be be here, trying to fight someone that appeared to be less capable. A grin flashed behind his leather mask, as he felt the iron grip of the armored man on his weapon, which barely budged at all. Once again, it seemed like Kos was being used for something or the other, and it made him feel quite angry. But, not angry on the knight, because he had full rights of doing what he was doing. he simply felt upset with himself. Time and time again, he proved that he simply wasn't up to par with everyone else, and that now turned around to bite him. Perhaps. But he'd be damned if he allowed an easy victory, even if he wasn't as skilled as the others around him. His green eye looked into the armored man. Wasn't fear, nor hate. It was motivation. Being angry on himself, drove him further. Wanting to better. Knowing he can do better. And he was going to prove to himself that he is capable. maybe not now, but wouldn't this be a great place to start. He felt the grip bellow the armored part on his weapon, but much like his opponent, he wasn't going to forsake his weapon this easy. He made it. His own sweat and time was poured into it. And he wasn't going to let this man take that away from him. Not him, not anyone else. In only a moment, he exhaled, allowing his body to calm down for a moment. He saw the blade going towards his unarmored arm, where most of the control of his weapon was. He needed that stability, unless he wanted to give up right there on the spot. He had a trick up his sleeve, however. He was in no way a master fighter, nor did he know what they did which would allow him to get an upper hand in this fight. He had something else, though. His wit. And right now, it was much more sharper than the blunt weapon the armor wearing man wielding. He didn't know if it would work or not, but it was worth a shot. Either that, or standing still and taking the blow. And he wouldn't have any of that. It was at that moment Kos took action, drifting his right foot against the ground to relocate his weight forward. The right hand on the shaft then switched grips. Where before, his his palm lied on top of it, and his fingers wrapped under, his hand somewhat switched, so the bottom side of his palm would be pressed against the lower side of his grip. With that, he could assert much more force into a somewhat unorthodox attack. His right hand, which was also his primary one, and thus stronger than the other one, lashed out. The wooden shaft trying to intercede the blow of his weapon, before aiming to power through the sweep, and if all went according to plan, his end motion was to slam the wood against the neck of the armored man. As he was holding his spear, he used his own grip to Kos' advantage. No matter if his sweep connected or not, the man leaned left, and with his weight shifting once again, he'd follow his attempt with a sweeping kick with his right leg, aimed to push the man away and to regain some space between them. If his attack failed, he didn't want to be left open with less than an arms reach between them. His hair flaring, following his own movements. If Alexander paid attention to him at that moment, he'd notice he was missing an ear underneath his hair.