All was quiet in the wildlands as the day transitioned into night. Not so much at a caravan camp in the Wildlands in Sylira. The crowd cheered at the exchange of blows and the store of beer was tapped into at the behest of the Caravan's leader. Those gathered about were making a time for themselves and all were in high spirits. All the while the guards were keeping a watchful eye over their surroundings. Those experienced fellows knew that danger lurked beyond and did not partake in the entertainment. Ancient, new, knowable and not, mundane and magical things that sought the enmity and death of the good folks seeking passage through their lands.
Stars winked into being as the fight wore on. More and more they relied on the great fires built for cooking and light. Haurence's blade glinted and flashed as he slipped it back and made for a thrust. Staves were decent at blocking slashing attacks and such, but a good stab was a bit harder. Whether the magically blunted blade made its mark or not the man was already working on his next attack.
He stepped nimbly to the side, and dug the point of his toe into the ground to turn, pulling out his sword to make a rather risky maneuver. He spun a near 360 degrees, his sword out and gaining momentum in the spin. It was quick but left his back vulnerable for precious few seconds. Additionally it was obviously telegraphed, but should the blade meet flesh it would send said flesh flying in the opposite direction.
Of course, this sort of flamboyant display was exactly what the crowd wanted. The flourish was met with another cheer and was met with another chorus, of suggestions. However, not all of them were for Haurence. The staunch defender had a few of his own. Things such as, "You can do it!", or "Show that Merc who's boss!" Or even, and this was perhaps not so much a suggestion as it was a comment from one onlooker to another, "See? Quarterstaves are a decent weapon, and if you get smacked in the head it can crack your skull!"
And so the fight continued, and so the crowd gleefully and good naturedly watched. Theovan of course kept a close eye on Haurence's feet, who were coming close to the circle.
Stars winked into being as the fight wore on. More and more they relied on the great fires built for cooking and light. Haurence's blade glinted and flashed as he slipped it back and made for a thrust. Staves were decent at blocking slashing attacks and such, but a good stab was a bit harder. Whether the magically blunted blade made its mark or not the man was already working on his next attack.
He stepped nimbly to the side, and dug the point of his toe into the ground to turn, pulling out his sword to make a rather risky maneuver. He spun a near 360 degrees, his sword out and gaining momentum in the spin. It was quick but left his back vulnerable for precious few seconds. Additionally it was obviously telegraphed, but should the blade meet flesh it would send said flesh flying in the opposite direction.
Of course, this sort of flamboyant display was exactly what the crowd wanted. The flourish was met with another cheer and was met with another chorus, of suggestions. However, not all of them were for Haurence. The staunch defender had a few of his own. Things such as, "You can do it!", or "Show that Merc who's boss!" Or even, and this was perhaps not so much a suggestion as it was a comment from one onlooker to another, "See? Quarterstaves are a decent weapon, and if you get smacked in the head it can crack your skull!"
And so the fight continued, and so the crowd gleefully and good naturedly watched. Theovan of course kept a close eye on Haurence's feet, who were coming close to the circle.