Completed A Ripe Terrorist if I Ever Saw one

[Cowlquape]

Fall 497

The endless flurry of Smack Smack Smacking as wooden and foil swords continually collide, punctuated by the shrill shouts of personal trainers. It smelled like fresh sweat in there; and Cowlquape was all but happy to contribute.

It had been the Fighter's Pit for a number of years, now. His first year; learning the balance of a sword and how it should be held; and then some conditioning. His second year was alot more indepth, consisting of the motions needed when sword-fighting. Swings, jabs, uppercuts... and at least a million of each. And then some more conditioning.

Now, It was his third year there. More advanced maneuvers had been practiced; and he had multiple sparring matches at which he excelled. Maybe it was his snooty high class behavior. Maybe it was his excellent perception. Either way; even his rivals would agree that he was the most perceptive man without an Evantia mark.

"Head up, Cowlquape. Drop it any lower and I'll cut it off!" His current sparring opponent taunted in his ditsy, upper class human voice. So high pitched and annoying. So proper.

This was a moderated match; the combatants draped in protective gear, and their swords: though realistic, were dulled to benevolence.

A sharp jab was made at Cowlquape. He parried quickly; and then blocked a resulting vertical swing with a nifty and well powered horizontal overhead block. That ought to have left his arm shaking, Cowlquape thought. I'll taunt back; and I perceive his confusion. Feint with a left swing and then move in close; drawing my sword along his blade with me. A swift, blunt jab with my sword pommel ought to leave a good bruise on his small sliver of exposed right shoulder, directly where exists a flaw in his armor. Good amount of force; lets make this bruise last awhile.

"What's that, Scowlquape? Cat got your tongue?" Came another reply from that horrid, high pitched speech pattern. Son of a wealthy shop owner.

"No, my tongue is fine dear sir. Shame about your neck, though." Cowlquape answered.

The snooty boy tilted his head to the side with a quizzical, unsuspecting smile on his round, pasty white face. "My neck? I'm afraid I don't-"

Cowlquape darted forward with a left swing. Confused, the opponent hastily blocked; weakly. Cowlquape drew his sword along his opponents and, with a mighty thrust of weight and force, brought his pommel crashing on the rival's shoulder; right near the base of his neck. The boy screamed out in pain. ;Lets have some fun, Cowlquape mused.

"I thought this was sword-fighting; was I wrong?" Cowlquape taunted. "And look, I see you've dropped your sword! Maybe all you have is the strength for a knitting needle..."

The moderating personal trainer coughed. His signal that this needed to stop.

With a mask of utter hate on his face, mixed with a grimace of pain, Cowlquape's poor, current rival once again lifted his sword and went in for a blow to the face.

Duck, and let him swing wide. Cowlquape dropped down a couple inches as the sword whistled harmlessly over his head, causing its wielder to stumble dangerously. Block vertically on the left. Push the sword away and go for a jab. Angrily, like a mad, drunken scarecrow, a horrid grimace on his face, the rival swung widely from the left again. What resounded was a clash from Cowlquape's sword. It was roughly forced away, and then the rival gasped as Cowlquape's sword was thrust into his stomach. Furiously, his opponent brushed the sword away with his own. Block the next three. His opponent raised the sword above his head, and then smashed it down at Cowlquape; more like a hammer than a sword -- three times, all of which Cowlquape deflected. Here comes the uppercut. Cowlquape stopped dead in its tracks what would have been a smarting uppercut blow to the side. Disarm. He positioned the blade of his weapon right near his oppnents grasping hand, wrenching the enemy sword mightily away, feigning forwards in the process.

His opponent stumbled yet again to the ground, this time his face, peering up at Cowlquape's smirk, mixed with both hate and fear.

Finish him. A swift kick to the head from Cowlquape knocked the boy's helmet off, and slammed him into the cushioned floor. A tingle of blood dripped from a busted lip. He was obviously dazed.

Methinks he's not quite finished. Cowlquape, with one hand, raised his sword above his head.

[Cowlquape]

Before he could drop that next powerful, devastating blow; his instructor grasped his arm to cease him.

Cowlquape stood there for awhile, letting himself calm down. He was powerful; and he was smart, and he knew it. Smarter than his opponent. Cowlquape smiled and backed off.

The rest of the day, no one wanted to spar against him. He had a select group of friends that he hung with; all of them from the same housing district he was from. Even they dared not get in his way. He was an excellent fighter (got his skill class), he was quick minded, and he had rich parents. Cowlquape was, for all intents and purposes, THE triple threat.

Cowlquape would have been worse if the Syliras Knights didn't exist. Much worse. And everyone knew it. He had a very passive aggressive behavior with the peasants he passed on the carriage ride back to his district. And if he was walking, they would be met with sneers and dirty looks, coupled with a hand resting on his skirmish sword's pommel. It was a very snooty sight to behold.

And when Cowlquape reached home, he practiced with the sword some more. His parents had urchins made for him, and they would often bring him private tutors. Cowlquape continued to hone his swordsmanship.

But for what?

Knights didn't act like Cowlquape. They were noble. No, Cowlquape's aggressive behavior was more befitting of Nyka, or Sunberth. But not Syliras. What's worse, Cowquape had gotten into gambling...

[Radiant]

Cowlquape :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Weapon: Sword Cane	+1 XP
Observation	+1 XP
Tactics	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Location: Anthonius Fighter's Pit

Loots

Notes :

Cowl, since he's still a novice here, I think you should play on his awkwardness and difficulties further, he acts like a (at least) Competent fighter in this. Not appropriately playing by your skill levels will cause you XP penalties in most cases or mod intervention if it's severe enough. Please do keep this in mind in your future threads.

Well, I also assume his opponent is a fellow Novice, yes?

Also, since you didn't specify which sword he used, I will just assume he used his Sword Cane.

Also

Among the Fighters Pit, he was respected, he was feared; he was an excellent fighter, he was quick minded, and he had rich parents

Uuuh nope, without the appropriate skills, you don't mean shyke in the fighter's pits. And since you were a novice, that statement shouldn't be possible. Gerard Anthonius would laugh at Cowl and send his butt packing if he acted all high and mighty.

And it's "Syliras" and "Syliran Knights" not "Sylaris".

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.