Amadacian vs Arafellian: Final Combat

Marteol Anduan, Written by Phillip
Posted on Wed, Jul 7, 2010 21:22 pm

Whatever Marteol had expected his comment to elicit, it certainly had not been the rage fueled assault which Krath launched against him. He barely avoided the first stroke of Krath’s lathe which likely would have cracked his skull, and the bald Amadacian’s subsequent attacks lacked nothing on the first. Marteol fell back before him, wildly blocking and attempting to stammer out an apology at the same time. Nothing helped. Finally, he erred, so frantic had he become in keeping the other man’s blows away, that the overextended himself.

Kraths front kick was like a mules, and similarly, it bowled Marteol over backwards. He rolled over twice before managing to get his feet under himself and he skidded to a stop He stayed like that, kneeling, his hands down for balance and gasping for the air which the kick had forced from his lungs. As he managed a few ragged breathes he felt a hilt under his left hand. Opening his eyes, he saw another lathe, and he clutched at it as he stood, trying to ignore the wash of which radiated from the core of his body. Cold fury shrouded him, his skin felt as if it were on fire with the adrenaline which was coursing through his veins. Idly, he twirled the two swords, getting the feel for them in his hands. He saw Krath arming himself with a shield, the appearance of which he could not account for.

Snarling wordlessly, the Arafellian charged his antagonist, his swords spread behind him in Ji’val. When he got within striking distance he swung both of the blades forward, in a dual strike intended to decapitate. Krath caught both blades on the shields boss. Marteol then rained blows on the shields face, which Krath held before him as he now retreated, giving ground before his Arafellian opponents furious assault. After a long moment and the nearly unbroken clatter of Marteols lathes on Krath’s shield, the big man stumbled, going down on one knee, still crouching behind his shield. Marteol borrowed his opponents technique and put his foot on the man’s shield and kicked him over backwards. As the man lay there, still holding his shield, Marteol approached like an avenging angel, twirling his lathes savagely before ending them pointing down, intending to thrust them down onto Kraths chest.

But the other man was not done. When Marteol thrust down, Krath meet him with his shield and borrowing Marteols momentum, he rolled back onto his shoulders and kicked with his feet. Marteol sailed through the air, before bouncing off the ground, tumbling and skidding to a stop a few feet away.

Krath was already getting back on his feet.

“Blood and Bloody Ashes…” Marteol thought as he lay, squirming in a vain attempt to find a spot on the ground where his body didn’t hurt. Krath suddenly loomed in his vision and Marteol saw the shield as it came down toward his face. Frantically, the Arafellian performed a move he’d never thought to use in a fight, a rising handspring. The unintended consequence was that his feet, while going back to garner momentum, struck Krath in the stomach, doubling him over from surprise. Landing on his feet, Marteol turned, just in time to see the other man charging, his shield held before him like a battering ram. His eyes widening in shock and surprise, the arefellian continued his turn, making a 360 degree spin which left him facing the fence, taking off at a run he made for the nearby fence of the training yard, hopping up the three rails before he back flipped off the top, sailing dramatically over Kraths head. As he landed , he struck with both his blades, and he cracked satisfactorily off the former Whitecloaks back. It would not have been a killing blow even with live steel, but it would have been a grievous wound.

The other man grunted and turned back to face Marteol, and the two squared up, eying other for an instant before the both moved. Though both men might have been competent swordsmen in their own right neither showed it much now. Their lathes did dart and dance, clattering loudly off of each other and the shield. Krath and Marteol met each others rage with their own. The pair circled each other tightly and then Krath suddenly charged again. Vaguely Marteol was aware that his back was to the fence and he only had a moment to realize the fact before Krath plowed both of them into it. Marteols back screamed in protest. The arafellian answered with his own cry, and the rails joined him, before giving away under the strain, the top two rails shattering and spilling the two combatants back into the training yard.

Once more the two men tumbled apart, and the observers of the battle saw that they were a touch slower getting their feet than they had been. Marteol could tell that he was near the ends of his own endurance, and he had to hope that Krath was feeling the same. The two faced each other for another moment before charging again. “I have to end this..” Marteol thought, and so he faked another pair of overhand strikes, and Krath bought in, raising his shield to meet the strikes, but that was not Marteols track, instead he dropped off his feet and slid into Kraths ankles, tripping the other man so that he landed face down in the dust.

The force of the collision jarred the lates loose from Marteols hands, and they skittered away. But he was too tired to chase them. Rolling up onto his hip as he skidded and then onto his stomach, Marteol scrambled back to Kraths prone form, he landed heavily on the other man and attempted to pin him down. Despite the exhaustion he must be feeling, Krath still managed to buck wildly, and Marteol flew off him, clutching vainly at his shirt. Suddenly, there were hands all around Marteol and voices too. The hands grabbing his arms and his chest, restraining him and the voices attempting to sooth him. But he barely heard them, however he did not struggle much, for he was exhausted and quifirmly restrained. He could hear Elaryls voice, distantly, and he idly realized that he was in a good deal of trouble. But all he could see was Kraths limp form, as the other man knelt defeatedly in the dust, his lathe and shield discarded in the dust as tears streamed down his face, and his lips moved, though what he was saying Marteol could not guess. “What happened?” he wondered distractedly as he tried to focus on Elaryls disciplining.

In reply to Amacidian versus Arafellian Round 2[show]/[hide]

Beads of sweat dripped down Krath’s brow, the suns light beat down on the two as they faced off. Krath was doing well, granted he felt awful. He hadn’t got much sleep and had no ability to achieve any sense of the oneness. This being said, he was doing well. Even though they weren’t going full combat speed, they were moving pretty quickly, and Krath was keeping Marteol off balance. A pang of anticipation crossed Krath’s mind as Marteol struck first with Unfolded the Fan, Marteol elegantly lunged forward, braided hair swinging forth as his blade swung at Krath’s midsection, however Krath blocked the swing by moving blade forward from his guard, connecting with the Marteol’s lathe. Thwack. Krath kept that forward momentum going into The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, swinging his blade down quickly, but Marteol blocked it by stepping back, knocking his blade off course with a simple parry. They were supposed to stick to the forms they had learnt in this training class, but it seemed rather silly, as both him and Marteol knew better. As Marteol got back into range, however, Krath moved into his new stance, The Ox Lowers His Horns, slipping into a middle guard, lowering stance by outstretching his forward foot, grinding deep into the sand. Krath lowered the body on his back foot; Krath held his hilt is held close to his face looking at Marteol from just over the hilt. Krath swiftly extended his arms forward and down in a chest thrust, he had once been told what it was supposed to be called, but right now it really didn’t matter, as the tip of his lathe skated across Marteol’s chest, grazing his training jerkin. Marteol used Black Pebbles on Snow to deflect the his blade with a parry, then Marteol down-cut toward the his ribs with sudden force, however with swift side stepping Krath was able to make a quick parry, and move him into a defensive position as Marteol made his final strike. Being mid body, Marteol made a wide swing, arcing his lathe at Krath’s neck level. Krath spotted the beginning stance of Arc of the Moon, and figured a unique counter. Against reason Krath sped forward into the path of the blade, but with the correct timing, just as Marteol’s training lathe would start to pass Krath’s shoulder, he dropped into a spin with that forward momentum, and spun his own blade into a much lower arc, but with a body spin on his knee. Krath could hear Marteol’s blade sail over head, as he swung his own attack. Krath knew this would a dangerous move in a fight; He was now on his knee and would be far too easy to knock over with the simplest of kicks, he also would not be able to mount any sort of effect counter attack if this attack had failed. It hadn’t. Krath could feel the vibrations of his lathe making connection to Marteol’s side, just below his ribs. Its sound was sweet a –thwack- that rang in Krath’s ears. Krath could hear gasps from some of the other trainees, surely just as shocked that Krath’s attack worked. The thwack shouldn’t have hurt to greatly, more have smarted, as they were training blades, and neither men (at least in Krath’s mind) were trying to hurt each other. Standing, he bowed to Marteol trying to show deference to his worthy opponent, but Krath did turn to see just who was all watching their battle. Krath was sure they would get into some trouble. Initially they had been going slowly, (a simple training speed) but they had swiftly moved into a near combatant speed. Marteol sagged visibly after his 'defeat'. His lathe pointed down on the ground, allowing him lean on the cross guard. Krath turned to see him, as the weapon creaked, and the lathes bent alarmingly, but thankfully they did not break. Both men were breathing fairly heavily; they had begun to move fairly quickly, though they both had been fighting outside of their comfort zone. Krath smiled at Marteol, whose eyes looked at him as if considering what he had done wrong in the fight, perhaps? Suddenly Marteol said, with extremely casualness, “So you're the former White cloak right?" . Krath could feel his blood boil, as he was getting irked. HE hated when people said White Cloak. Unsure if this was bad sportsmanship or just a simple question, however, Krath tried to compose himself. Grinding his teeth and glaring at the man, would serve no purpose then to make himself seem the villain. Marteol pushed himself erect he held the sword in front of him, loose in his hand and point still toward the dirt. "Burn out any innocent farmers lately?" He needled the other man teasingly, however something deep inside Krath snapped. Krath could see himself leaping at Marteol, as if outside of his own body, watching it swinging Krath’s blade down forcefully, as if trying to cleaving the Arefellian in twine. He screamed at himself to stop, but nothing came out. His blood was boiling, and his body was moving on its own, Krath could clearly see the rage that cross his face. Marteol’s face looked shocked, as if he was unaware that his comment would have this reaction. Dodged backwards frantically trying to block and dodge Krath’s assault, his blade swinging madly at Marteol. Shouts came from across the yard, as they left the training area, swinging at each other as if their practice lathes were far more dangerous in this swashbuckling action. This pace had proved too much however, and Marteol whilst stepped back, leaving him off balance shortly, but Krath took his chance and kicked Marteol in the stomach. The blow solidly connected, knocking Marteol back, onto his back which he turned into an agile roll. Krath could see Marteol breathing heavily, as he rolled to his feet from the kick, a look of anger and pain crossed his face. As Marteol stood, as if by the one power itself, another training lathe appeared in his hand. Krath was fine with that, as it had appeared they had backed into another set of trainee’s training equipment. Hooking his foot under a large training shield, still smaller then his own shield, Krath kicked it up. Catching the padded edges of the training shield, Krath slipped it on his left arm, and took his stance. He was sure both could hear their instructors screaming for them to stop, however, it looked like training was really just beginning. OOC: There is no reason to be alarmed. Philip and I have this all planned out. There is no puppet stringing… its all cool. Besides the homicidal intent.

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