[Coliseum] Skill at Arms [Ishkaral]

[Ifran]

45th Fall, 511 A.V. The sword dancer often came to the Coliseum to train in earnest. His grace was prized by Master Fabel at the Playhouse, but here he could pick up practice blades and let loose against an opponent not born of his imagination, fight without choreography. There had been the occasional duel in old Ahnatep, but otherwise his skill was largely ornamental. But give him a sharp edge and he could cut a man. Stripped to the waist, his practice had warmed his muscles, but his skin was nubby with gooseflesh in the autumnal chill. He bent his knees into a low crouch, his torso held upright. His feet were parallel, toes pointed at the huge green man, right foot in front of the left. His practice blades, two weighted, wooden khopeshes, were held at the ready in a neutral stance, not defensive, not offensive, but prepared to move into either at will. "When you are ready, Master Ishkaral," he said, his Common lilting with a desert bred dialect.

[Ishkaral]

The sand fell from between Ishkaral's hands like the sand in an hourglass, sliding his palms over eachother with the moist sand, probably from all the blood spilled in the Colloseum, inbetween them. He hoped the sand would help him get a solid grip on his opponent's twin wooden weapons but it was the first time he fought inside the Colloseum and even actually battling an armed opponent, this will be an experience to relish and remember.

Ishkaral pushed himself off his crouched stance and with eyes opened, tried to focus on his breathing and clearance of mind. It took him a short while to feel the effect but he could feel his skin stretch and harden itself in a crude pattern of scales, it wouldn't have much effect on increasing his damage or anything, but it would help him maintain a better grip on the weapons if he managed to catch them aswell as lower the incoming damage from facing such a weapon headon with his bare hands.

Ishkaral only excerted his Djed enough to maintain a scaled skin on his hands up to the area slightly below the elbow. The Djed used to cover the skin for this small areas wasn't taxing right now, but it would be in the long run. He wasn't going to push his limits, his intent was to finish this battle in a short period of time...Granted that was always his wish since his Sanctus Peccator-techniques were made for such a fighting style, but things don't always go the way you want them to go. Ishkaral was naive in that sense, he thought his training alone would get him through this battle, he forgot completely this isn't fighting against an imaginary opponent or a battle without pressure or damage, this was a real fight. And he was about to learn what that truly meant.

Once his fists and arms were covered in black-green'ish scales, he hopped a few times on his feet and nodded to his opponent.

" Let's go. "

Sanctus Peccator was more of an agressive style in contrary to most other styles and it showed in Ishkaral's fighting. The moment he had finished the spoken phrase and the second his heels were back on the sandy ground after the hopping, he kicked himself off the sand and tried to close the gap between them as quickly as possible.

He wasn't used to fighting in the Colloseum or a sandy underground and it showed in his rushing sprint, it was slower than usual because he wasn't used to running on sand. Rather than use his toes more to dig him slightly into the sand to push himself off faster and with more strength, he let his heels do most of the work.

He had no intention of stopping his sprint nor lingering at the fact that he realized his sprint was slower than usual, Eshacro and Ishkaral were pumped and ready to fight this man.

Near enough to the man to start fighting, Ishkaral's body didn't stop or decrease its speed, he was about to collide head-on with the man who wields strange looking wooden blades.

[Ifran]

Ifran was no magus, but he saw the darkening of the Akalak's hands, the strange way the light played off of them, as if he had a darker version of Konti scales. But then the man was charging, and to his mind it lacked the decorum of a duel in Ahnatep, but then this was not the jewel of Eyktol. With adrenaline coursing through him, he thought quickly, assuming that magical addition to his hands was to make his fists hurt more or to grapple away the khopeshes, which were only practice blades in any case and could bludgeon him a bit, but probably not kill. From his stance of balance, he quickly moved to the side, feet sure and exploratory on the ground beneath him, one blade lashing out to throw the Akalak off balance while his leg swept low to take him off his feet. It was a bold counter, but then people were watching. This was a performance as much as it was a battle. He didn't expect to win in that moment, but perhaps in a later one. They said Akalaks had two natures, to persons within them. He hoped the one least likely to succeed came to the fore, that he might better win. Ifran of the House of the North Winds did not like to lose.

[Fallacy]

XP Award! Name:Ifran XP Award: Khopesh- 1 Lore: Fighting in the colosseum Notes: Name:Ishkaral XP Award: Morphing- 1 Lore: Fighting in the colosseum Notes: Any questions or concerns about the rewards gained please send a PM