Nyka, The Warfields:
60th of Spring, 513 AV - Thirteenth Bell
Aren had spent the last three hours practicing every kind of scythe technique he had ever learned, with only a prodigious amount of sweat to show for it. The corridors were simply too narrow to allow for much beyond the standard vertical slash. Even then, a hasty swing could easily find the weapon caught at the top of the walls, annoying him to no end. The pommel blow was also somewhat effective, as it relied on the same type of horizontal motion to place the scythe in striking position, but that was little consolation.
He had been trained to alter the position of the scythe as necessary to deliver whatever blow was most efficient, but that was frustratingly difficult. Here, there where only two dimensions that you could swing such a large weapon in: up and down, forward and back. That may have seemed like a lot, in the eyes of an amateur or a master, but Aren was neither. As such, he would often find himself attempting to make a move that would end up striking the walls, only to realize this fact too late. The shadow fighter his mind sparred with was an annoying prick, it seemed, who enjoyed baiting him to make these kinds of mistakes.
With the Nykan sun beating down on him like an unyielding taskmaster, the frustrated warrior was seriously beginning to consider the possibility that he may have been mistaken. Perhaps he would simply need to improve his unarmed combat abilities, and rely on those in close quarters situations. It galled him to admit defeat however, especially when the problem hadn't seemed so complicated to begin with.
Just was he was about to give up and start looking for the exit, Aren suddenly found himself face to face with an unexpected guest. Leering at him from the other end of the corridor stood a robed figure, which the Akalak assumed to be a monk, from his attire. Though he couldn't be sure, new as he was to the city, the man certainly seemed to be garbed in that same fashion.
"You're thinking about it too much," The intruder offered, the edge to his voice as hard as the stone that surrounded him.
"W-what?" Aren asked, clearly perplexed as to just what this complete stranger was talking about.
"I'll show you," The supposed monk stated, before suddenly darting towards the Akalak like a blazing inferno.
Experienced warrior that he was, Aren promptly assumed a practiced defensive stance, only to find that his scythe was too long to properly position in the manner required. Without much time to react, however, he was forced to improvise some kind of haphazard block, despite the fact he knew it to be a bad idea.
The monk, who was upon him in what seemed like the blink of an eye, had draw his sword with equal speed and had brought it down on his opponent's head with merciless precision. Aren's snaith (the staff part of the scythe) had saved his life, but the diagonal position of his block meant that the sword soon found itself sliding down toward the Akalak's hand.
Aware that this was known to happen when one improperly deflected an attack, Aren reacted quickly enough to remove his hand from the path of the blade. Unfortunately, that meant that he was currently gripping his scythe with a single hand, which in turn meant that it was now capable of serving as little more than a glorified walking stick.
Seeing that his opponent's weapon was in no position to be used, the monk simply smiled and took the opportunity to unleash an otherwise inadvisable front kick to the Akalak's chest. Stumbling back from the blow, his balance having been compromised from the moment of the initial attack, Aren was actually grateful for the space between him and his enemy.
Though the azure warrior thought about using the opportunity to try to come to terms with this inexplicably violent stranger, his foe's piercing gaze told him that was simply not a possibility. The monk, he could tell, was inspecting him from every available angle, trying to ascertain the best manner in which to strike. Realizing this, Aren steeled himself for the inevitable resurgence of hostilities. This time, however, he was determined not to be caught so foolishly off guard.
Almost as if on cue, the aggressor resumed his attack, lunging at his foe with the same determination he had earlier demonstrated. Short on much time to think, Aren reflexively parried the attack with a horizontal sweep of the snaith, his mind instinctively realizing that such a blow did not carry the inherent risk of sliding down and cutting his hands. The monk, however, reacted by swiftly retracting his blade and then repeating the very swing which had started this battle. Aren once again defended with a diagonal block, as it was his only option, but this time around he transitioned into the same horizontal parry from a moment earlier, doing this the instant the blade struck.
Repelling the sword away with a flick of his scythe, the Akalak then quickly stabbed the snaith into the ground, using it as a balancing assist to facilitate a half step towards his opponent which rapidly evolved into a side kick to the man's mid section. Eerily, the canteens that were dangled from Aren's belt seemed to chime in response to this minor victory.
The monk was pushed back a significantly further distance than he had managed to make his opponent move, but he smiled in response to the blow, almost as if he had delivered it. Despite this, it was clear the hit from the much larger adversary had knocked the wind out of his sails a bit, and the man now seemed to be eyeing his foe with a more careful glint.
Aren, in turn, was hesitant to press the attack, wary of being on the receiving end of a similar counter should he press forward unwisely. And so, the two combatants merely looked at one another for what seemed like a lifetime, each trying to guess the other's next move. After a few moments of peace, however, the calm was unceremoniously broken.
The monk once again attempted a lunge, the blade somehow seeming to move even faster this time. The reason for this, as the Akalak soon discovered, was because the man was using the movement of the action to position his body closer to his opponent, likely in an effort to preclude the kind of counter attack he had earlier experienced.
Though responding with the same horizontal parry from earlier Aren found that there was no space for either combatant to attempt the same counter they previously employed. Even so, he realized that the close proximity allowed different avenues of attack, which he capitalized on by unleashing a brutal elbow to his opponent's face. The monk, in turn, was all too aware of this fact, which he took advantage of by simultaneously delivering a knee to Aren's abdomen.
The impact of both blows forced the pair apart, and it was obvious that neither one was too eager to get back into the fray too quickly. The monk had nearly been thrown to the ground from Aren's elbow, and his brow had been visibly opened up by the blow. On the other hand, the Akalak was now clearly favoring his right side, knowing that if he didn't already have some cracked ribs, another similar blow would all but guarantee such an eventuality.
Once again sizing each other up in the lull between solid hits, they both knew the fight would likely be decided in their next engagement. This time, however, Aren chose to be the aggressor. Feeling like he couldn't afford another exchange like the last one, he hoped that by putting his foe on the defensive, the man would be unable to exploit his weakened midsection with any pinpoint attack.
Rushing in with a wide, over the top swing, the Akalak knew that such a skilled opponent would be able to avoid such an obvious attack easily; but he WOULD have to avoid it. The weight of the scythe, combined with it's crane-like shape and the downward force such a swing provided, meant that blocking a blow like this was nigh impossible for a weaker opponent with a lighter weapon. Similarly, parrying it was risky, because though you may get it clear of your head, your shoulder might not be so lucky. In contrast, the move tended to be so ponderous that just getting out of it's way was usually the simplest solution. In such narrow confines, however, even that task was made difficult.
Nevertheless, the monk expertly avoided the swing by hugging the wall, and somehow managed to simultaneously get his sword within striking range of his target. Managing to react fast enough to escape with only a graze, Aren countered by shifting his body back to allow his shoulder to momentarily pin the flat of the blade against the stone walls. Using this brief opportunity, he pulled back his scythe below the monk's right foot, temporarily unbalancing him as he tried to pull his blade free of it's predicament. In this moment of vulnerability, the Akalak lunged forward, bringing up the edge of his scythe to the stranger's throat.
"You were right, I was thinking too much," The victorious warrior conceded, chest panting up and down, both from excitement and exertion.
"Fights like these are about reflex and instinct, about seizing the incredibly brief opportunities the other guy gives you. When you're fighting yourself, though, you can't really see that," The monk stated, equally as out of breath as his worthy adversary.
Nodding in agreement, Aren withdrew his weapon from it's proximity to his new friend's throat, prompting a question from the erstwhile foe, "When did you know?"
Smiling, the Akalak's golden eyes affixed themselves to the monk's own, "When I was bringing my blade up to your throat, I remembered what you said, and I realized that most of the things you forced me to do might have never occurred to me under different circumstances."
A little concerned that his life was decided by a chance remembrance in the heat of the moment, but otherwise considering himself lucky to have concluded the battle relatively unscathed, the monk was glad see such a productive end to the encounter.
Bidding his unexpected teacher farewell with a respectful bow, Aren knew it was time to finally get out of this maze. It had been an interesting day, to say the least, but he wanted to be covered in as much water as he could find, as quickly as possible. Hopefully, it wouldn't take him too long to find his way out of this labyrinth. |
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by Matthew on February 6th, 2015, 12:41 am 
