Combat went on inside of that darkened cylinder, and while it was only a short time when you were fighting to capacity it could have ever well felt like an eternity. The Knight had to back off ot keep from becoming a target for that large bastard sword. The fight for the older man was not as simple as maneuvering or exerting his body, there was a mental focus to establish and maintain as well, and he was quite good at it. Even in the midst of combat he was planning his next maneuver, directing the flow of his Djed, trying to push the squire in order to reveal his talents.
To Markus' crippled senses, his sight removed from the equation temporarily, his ears had to pick up the slack. They revealed to him a pointed movement to his rear, just as he had expected and then, with the force of his might and the training of his blade he struck. An impact resounded. A glorious impact that had Markus' elbow nearly hyperextending from the sudden stop, but there was something strange about this impact. A trained squire knew the feeling of their blade striking a man, a shield, or a weapon. This sensation was nothing like those, instead it was almost as if his sword had been...
caught. The darkness peeled away with another foreign word, revealing the bald man standing there, his hand gripping high upon the bastard sword Markus wielded, nearest the hilt. Those cold eyes stared at Markus momentarily, and even if he tried to pull away it was as if his blade was encased in solid rock. "You've got skill. You're a very straight forward fighter. Straight as an arrow." the towering Knight spoke before his arm suddenly moved with a most unnatural force, tearing the weapon from the squire's hand and sending it clamoring to the ground before skidding to a halt, nearly taking Markus' shoulder joint with it. "When you fight it isn't just push and pull. But if you want to make it about push and pull, you need to be damn sure you push and pull harder than the next guy." Those were the techniques of a Mage-Knight, skilled in the use of magic to augment similarly formitable martial powers.
To Markus' crippled senses, his sight removed from the equation temporarily, his ears had to pick up the slack. They revealed to him a pointed movement to his rear, just as he had expected and then, with the force of his might and the training of his blade he struck. An impact resounded. A glorious impact that had Markus' elbow nearly hyperextending from the sudden stop, but there was something strange about this impact. A trained squire knew the feeling of their blade striking a man, a shield, or a weapon. This sensation was nothing like those, instead it was almost as if his sword had been...
caught. The darkness peeled away with another foreign word, revealing the bald man standing there, his hand gripping high upon the bastard sword Markus wielded, nearest the hilt. Those cold eyes stared at Markus momentarily, and even if he tried to pull away it was as if his blade was encased in solid rock. "You've got skill. You're a very straight forward fighter. Straight as an arrow." the towering Knight spoke before his arm suddenly moved with a most unnatural force, tearing the weapon from the squire's hand and sending it clamoring to the ground before skidding to a halt, nearly taking Markus' shoulder joint with it. "When you fight it isn't just push and pull. But if you want to make it about push and pull, you need to be damn sure you push and pull harder than the next guy." Those were the techniques of a Mage-Knight, skilled in the use of magic to augment similarly formitable martial powers.