[Fighter's Pit] Sword and Spell... and Sword?

[Lorden Ladis]

81st of Winter, 514 AV

Lorden tucked his head through the entrance of the pit, and glanced around wearily. It was late morning, and Syna was only just beginning to stretch her bright, waform arms through the chilled winter air; he had come this 'early' on purpose.

The knight reached a hand up to his mangled and bruised cranium, barely sliding his finger pads along the swollen skin; yet the purposely gentle touch, still elicited a sharp sting upon the slightest contact with the bruise, that graced the side of his head.

Gritting his teeth, Lorden removed his fingers from his skull tentatively, and allowed his dominant hand to slide down and to the side slightly, to feel for his purple right eye. The knight sighed at the lack of feeling, and the ridiculously blurry image of his fingers, as his hand slide in front of the blacked orb.

Allowing his hand to slip down, the unarmored swordsman dropped his arm back down to his side once more. Thinking back, the knight could all but see the day before, and almost feel the pain said day had brought upon him, in the throbbing of his new found bruises.

"I don't think my friend wants me to," Yargul said gruffly.

Friend? the knight thought, shooting his eyes up from the fat man kneeling before him, to glance around. Lorden flung his buckler instinctively out to the side, as he saw Yargul's lackey running at him, the man now had his own longsword drawn.

The knight felt the concussion of a blow against his small shield, as a fat head drove its way into his groin, and caused his eyes to clench closed.

Lorden heaved over, and just barely managed to open his squinting eyes, before he quickly pulled his own sword from around Yargul's head. The knight swung swiftly as he could, at the fat man's approaching partner, managing to hit nothing but air through his pain. The swordsman could hardly fight two competent fighters, and as he swung, a familiar fist slammed into the right side of his skull. Lorden toppled, this time, as he hit the sand underfoot, he was out like a light.

The knight continued to grit his teeth. As much as Lorden hated to admit it, he didn't want a repeat of the embarrassing beating he had received, and he most certainly didn't want to be robbed again. Thus, with what was less than a smile, but was at least a smirk of relief, Lorden noted that the pit was devoid of the two commoners who had humiliated him.

The knight inhaled deeply, as he took a few calming steps, into the sand courtyard of the training yard. He'd take care of the robbers one day, if Lhex smiled upon him, and he ever saw them again. But until that day, he'd need to get better; at the very least, if he got to the level of skill he wanted to be at, he'd never be robbed again; then again, he'd never be beaten in a fight again, if that unreachable point ever came.

And thus, determination in mind, the ambitious knight slowed his step, as after a few ticks of striding, he came into the middle of the small courtyard. Slowly, Lorden dropped into a defensive position, his right foot moved to stance itself behind him; meanwhile, his left angled out to his front.

Squinting at the air in front of him, the swordsman reached over his body and drew his arming sword, extracting the sound of sliding steel from the leather sheath, that was strapped to his left side. Exhaling, Lorden's left hand unhooked the buckler, that hung opposite of his scabbard, hanging from his right side.

Quickly Lorden moved his two arms, in the closest thing resembling unison he could manage. With a right downward slash, he sliced the thin air, only to quickly rotate his hand, and move his arm up. With his arm raised, the knight brought a similar swipe down, this one angled from his top left this time. As his sword moved, his buckler clunked behind it, protecting the knight's dominant hand, from the imagined assaults of the invisible enemy he now faced.

Sweating, from the force he was putting into his practice strikes, the knight pushed his buckler out in front of him. Quickly, Lorden brought his sword up from the bottom right of his front, and prepared to throw a lengthwise cut from the same direction, which would bring his sword right under his small shield. Lorden flexed his biceps and swung his blade wildly.

With a clang, steel collided; buckler and sword sprang from their wielder's grasp, before quickly falling to meet the sand underfoot.

Damn, the knight thought frowning, his eyes dropping to stare at his fallen weapons. How had he not made that cut? How had he not raised his shield enough to clear a slash under it?

Doesn't matter now, Lorden mused frowning, even as he thought it he knew his words were wrong; he needed to learn from his mistakes, but he was frustrated. Lorden took a breath, and as he exhaled the somewhat distraught look on the warrior's face cleared somewhat. Calmed for the moment, the man bent to retrieve his fallen gear, from the shifting sand below.

Practice, the man thought,

I just have to practice..., even as he reconfirmed the statement, he still found himself glancing around, making sure no one had caught his mistake.

[Holland Rolandus]

The first action determines the consequence.

The royal blue and silver clad male approached rather slowly; Only having just stepped foot into the vicinity. Not even bothering to go ahead and make a proper introduction. Due to the fact that he was much more firm of a believer in talking using weapons. He was a rather avid swordsman and even more so a Wizard. Although he'd for the most part kept to himself about being a Wizard. Due to the fact ; That from the cliche's people think that the Wizards are absolutely insane. Although that wasn't true in one hundred percent of cases; In most that surely might have been the case. Simply not in that of Hollands own; Not yet at least.

A menacing smile crept about his visage; Revealing his pearly white teeth. He'd simply on-looked the opponent who at this present time appeared not to have been wearing much armor. Although he'd already known well enough that an opponent like this was not to be underestimated. Due to the fact that under typical circumstance; One who wore less armor tended to be lighter on their feet. He'd actually begun to chuckle, and shake his cranial structure from left to right. He wore no more then a royal blue garment, Whilst atop that he'd worn a back and breast armor. Not to mention a simplistic pair of black boots, With a simplistic steel rapier which differed from the traditional rapier.

It was meant for both slashing and thrusting, and was far thicker then the average rapier. It looked much more like a straight sword at the blade, and had a lovely tip for thrusting motions too.

Just what was this strange man capable of? He begun to shake about his cranium form left to right; Whipping his onyx hue hair about within the dim gale. He places his right hand atop the pommel of the rapier with the Pappen-heimer guard. Before he parts his lips and speaks to the person on the opposing end. Approximately twenty paces away from his current position was the distance for now. Up until one of them decided to close it and make the first move against the other.

"Aye you! I'm in the mood for a little spar; Why don't you come and make yourself my opponent? You look like quite the good one to have a bout against!" Spoke the avid swordsman.

[Lorden Ladis]

Lorden finished his execution of an outward thrust, and glanced up as blurry motion moved into the view of his bad eye. Ignoring his temporary impediment, the knight turned his head to the right slightly, to direct his left eye to glare at the blue-clad figure. Lorden took in the man, noting that he maybe a bit older than him, probably about as tall too. The knight took a breath, and squinted his azure eye.

Is he starring at me? the knight wondered. His question was soon answered in the affirmative, as the only other man in the courtyard began to form words on his lips.

Alright, let's here it, Lorden thought, perking his ears up, as the first of the words were carried on wind to him, quickly crossing the short distance between the two men.

"Aye you! I'm in the mood for a little spar; Why don't you come and make yourself my opponent? You look like quite the good one to have a bout against!" the raven-haired swordsman raised his left eyebrow, meanwhile, the right was only capable of just bulging up slightly.

A little forward isn't he..., Lorden thought to himself. The man's tone was hearty enough, the knight noted. But still.

Bah, what am I thinking? The warrior cut his cynical thoughts off. Practice was what he had told himself he needed, and here it was, right in front of him. Yet, Lorden couldn't help but glance at the own man's outfitting; a mere joke compared to plate, yet, he was hardly wrapped up in his metal suit right now. No, sackcloth training clothes were the only thing that covered his body, and sparingly at that. At least the fight would be fair, the twenty year old mused. Hesitantly, Lorden opened his mouth to send back a response, toning his voice to be as friendly as possible.

"You in the mood for a real fight, or just a spar? I won't skewer you, but don't be going easy on me. I won't return the favor," Lorden was smiling now, and why not? A friendly bout was a nice contrast, to yesterday's mockery of common decency.

Lorden's eyes drifted down to his would-be opponent's belt. His one good eye almost squinted at the oddly proportioned blade. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off, plenty of time to look at the sword's whole length, once it was out in the open air. Hopefully, it only hit air.

"If you're good to go mate, I'd say draw that sword of your's, I've already got myself warmed up," the knight added, lifting his sword and buckler up in the air, as if to prove his point.

Lorden slowly dropped into a basic stance, the knight first willed his right leg to move back behind him. Meanwhile, the man's left leg stepped to support his front. As his lower body established itself, his torso and arms were also working. Lorden's buckler quickly shot out in front of him, the knight extended his arm, and the round metal shield it held, to about a half bend in the elbow. As the knight felt his blood beginning to pump, Lorden's sword was the last piece of the puzzle, to fall into place. The knight bent his wrist forward, and stuck the sword's sharp point out, before bringing his elbow back to be about even with his shoulder. Ultimately, his buckler was out a few inches, with the tip of his extended blade ducking just behind its metal body.

Lorden adjusted his feet, shifting his weight to his back leg.

"When you're ready," the knight called out heartily. Just as he was about to dedicate his mind to fighting, a coy thought bubbled up.

"Impress me will you? I need a good fight,"

[Holland Rolandus]

The sheer pitter-patter of his heels as they begun to collide with the ground could be heard now. He chose not to have drawn the weapon just yet; He chose to watch the opponent get into stance. Paying close attention to how the opponent upheld the sword and shield. Now he proceeds to take up a stance of his own. Rather then having himself take up the stance of one who uses a Rapier in a typical fashion he does something idiosyncratic to himself. His right foot shifts forward, planting itself sixteen inches before his left foot. Turned sideways so that his toes faced west.

Whilst his left foot remained behind and outspread, taking up a rather odd stance that could be made use of to draw swiftly. His digits coil about the weapons shaft directly beneath the Pappen-heimer guard in a strangulation hold. Grasping it so tightly that the leather of his gauntlets released a blood curdling sound. One that would rack the nerves of the toughest a'men. His left elbow is now facing the opponent, and the left hand clasped around the shaft of the weapon.

He allows his cranial structure for a moment to lower itself, and for now he simply looked at the ground beneath his feet. Now his right hand grasps hold of the scabbard; Leaving it loose purposely so that it can be used as a secondary weapon. This was a stance that he thought of on the fly; When the opponent took up stance he thought immediately why not aim to remove his ability to move inward.

"Bare your fangs then, and be prepared for the battle that you are about to receive. The name Holland Rolandus will be a name that you will not soon forget, and that is a promise!" Holland exclaims at the top of his lungs in a gasconade.

What in the world was this man capable of? In a stance like this it would be rather incredibly difficult ; To figure out where it was he would strike. He could strike from multiple angles, and in various ways. Although anyone with eyes could see that the most common choice of action would be a vertical cleave. Though the opponent may or may not have come to notice that just yet; Holland thought that he could stand a good chance of winning if he'd focused on being passive.

Now the question to be asked was; Would it succeed or would it fail?

[Lorden Ladis]

Lorden watched intently, as the the man began shifting into a fighting stance of his own, or at least the knight tried to anyway. A part of Lorden's mind told him, that he should note every move this blue-shirted swordsman made, and commit it to memory. And yet, he didn't know how this man fought, he didn't know what style he used, or if he even had a style; for all Lorden knew he had never picker up a sword, and was just winging it.

I know how I fight, I can control what I do, I should focus on me, the knight resolved to himself, as the other swordsman made another overly loud declaration.

"Bare your fangs then, and be prepared for the battle that you are about to receive. The name Holland Rolandus will be a name that you will not soon forget, and that is a promise!" Lorden hoped the man wasn't going to talk through the whole spar, the knight wasn't much of talker in battle. Still, it wasn't really this Holland's words he was paying attention to anyway, it was his hands, his sword-hand to be exact.

I wish he would just draw, the raven haired swordsman thought with slight trepidation; the mystery of the sword's nature made the knight a bit uneasy. Having a sudden thought, Lorden's eyes dragged up the man's arm, following the crossed limb over his torso, and up all the way to his shoulder. A spark of viciousness showed in the knight's eyes, only just barely tempered by a lighter sportsmanlike glee.

The knight closed in on the man as fast as he could, keeping his sword and stance, as he slipped over the cold morning sand. As he reached a promising distance, Lorden sent a thrust, as fast as he was capable, over the top edge of his buckler, aimed right at his opponent's dominant shoulder.

He'll either draw his sword and dodge back, or take his hand off the damn thing's handle, the knight thought coyly to himself. As he moved, a smirk of exhilaration began to frame itself on his face. His muscles were already beginning to wire themselves. This wasn't a real battle, no one had to die, no lives were on the line, and he wasn't at risk of being robbed; the knight could enjoy the adrenaline without worry or guilt. And it felt no less than astounding.

[Holland Rolandus]

He's closing in, That can only mean that I'll have to draw quickly; Although that would be far too easy to predict. Holland thought to himself as he watched the opponent closing the distance. He began to figure something out just as the opponent charged. Watching how he bounced as he ran upon the morning sands. Bouncing as he'd done so, Holland began to think for a moment. He's running, but why does he continue to bounce? Running must be nothing more then a series of falls. Right now He's off balance; Suddenly the opponent threw out a rather vicious thrust. He wasn't at all surprised; Due to the fact that he had been reading the opponents waist.

Obviously this attack was more passive-defensive; The buckler was already raised. The thrust was aimed for his shoulder; Immediately he shifts his footing. Rotating his entire embodiment as his knees bend and he drops into a superbly low stance. The sands fly as he slides himself across the ground into the opponent prior to doing so.

His embodiment is now facing backward, leaving his back exposed to the opponent. Just as his right hand made one swift movement; Sending the scabbard rocketing into the opponents gut. In a hammer fist motion backwards. Only somewhat exposing the blade in half of it's 39 inch length and the 6 inch shaft of the blade. The Pappen-heimer guard was oddly shaped and consisted of a large circular metal piece; Which had more metal pieces protruding outward from that one. Protecting the entirety of the hand of the wielder.

Just as that motion was being executed he begins to rotate simultaneously. Attempting to stand himself back up; Before he would quickly free his blade from the restraint of a scabbard. The sound of clattering steel could be heard resonating from the inside of the scabbard. As it'd been sent flying into the opponents gut. Yet, he'd only begun to just barely stand up and his stance begun to slowly become heightened.

[Lorden Ladis]

Lorden's eyes dilated in shock, as the man ducked under his high thrust, all but clearing the knight's sword as he did. Clenching his teeth, the swordsman could hardly keep from stumbling over his lowered opponent, as the man drove his scabbard into his extended torso, pounding the leather container against his stomach in particular.

Petch, Lorden thought gasping, as a ringing shot though his ears, and a bit of air jumped from his lungs. It had only been so hard of a hit, it was only a leather container for Sylir's sake; but it had caught the knight off guard. It had caught him, in a moment of self-assured victory, and because of that, it had done more damage than should have been feasibly possible; even if only to the knight's mind.

Gulping in a few tarried breaths, Lorden attempted to reassert his stumbling feet, as the sound of sliding steel entered his ears. As his feet moved, the swordsman's leg opportunely brushed up against fabric. With something between a smirk and a battle-clouded grimace, Lorden starred on at his opponent's long shirt, as the man rotated and exposed his back to the knight.

More than willing to take his chance, Lorden drove his right leg behind him, shifting his weight to it. Meanwhile, the knight's front leg lifted to reassert it's balance, and as it fell a tick later, it landed purposefully right on top of his opponent's shirt, in an attempt to pin its wearer to the ground, before the saber-bearing warrior could bring himself to stand fully.

Gritting his teeth as his feet moved, the swordsman rotated his dominant hand from where it had fallen, after his failed thrust. The knight moved his sword, till its blade pointed away from his enemy, and with a tarried exhalation, he rocketed his arming sword's pommel towards the back, of his sparring partner's open ribs.

If the knight had his way, he wouldn't be the only one, who stumbled over his feet this day.

[Holland Rolandus]

And Then There Was One..

For the first time someone was actually foolish enough to step foot upon his Shirt. Now Holland proceeds to rotate rather rapidly and continues to pick up speed. Thwarting the opponents equilibrium, and leaving him to be sent off his feet; Just as rapidly as he'd stepped atop the Shirt. The blade was removed from it's scabbard, in a singular rapid motion. Aimed for wrist of the opponent which held the weapon. For now the opponent aimed to collide with his ribs, and that was just fine by Holland; He cared not about being injured at all! Yet, the opponent wouldn't need to know that now would he? Therefore he didn't even bother letting his opponent figure that one out in the least bit. He proceeds to attempt hacking away at the opponents wrist with the swift drawing motion. Aimed in a forty degree diagonal slash as the opponent brings down his strike. The action of drawing occurred in the time it took for the opponent to bring down the pommel.

He knew that the first strike took the opponent by surprise, and now the second strike might've done the same thing. By now he very well knew how to handle a Rapier; Especially one like this. He was doing something he'd never before so much as managed to think of doing. Although for now it seemed like he was developing various techniques as he continued to learn. The more he fought the more he learned about how to use this particular weapon. Regardless of how much he used it he always figured out something new.

He began to notice how lightweight it was; Although he'd known that provided him with an advantage. Obviously the opponents blade was something much more odd in his eyes; Something new. Therefore he would have to watch out for it until he could obtain information about it. Although his first attempted strike successfully hit he was afraid of this ones result. Hopefully; Just hopefully this would work.

Although of course if it did work it would indeed make things much more interesting. He refused to have made himself look weak in any way shape or form; His muscles begun to burn and sting as his endurance ran low. Although he was running out of stamina he wouldn't stop. He would continue to push through to the end of the battle regardless of how long it took. He began to somewhat breathe heavily for a moment. Although it was only temporarily due to the fast pace of movement.

Now he continues to turn and advance toward the opponent. Waiting for the first mistake that he would so much as make. Now the prey has become the apex predator.

[Lorden Ladis]

Petch, Lorden screamed mentally, his eyes dilating as his feet sprung from under him, thrown by the upward motion of the cape he had attempted to hold underfoot.

Had he not gotten a firm enough pin?, the thought echoed through Lorden's mind, as his body collided with the less than soft sand, whipping up ample dust in the process. As air flooded from the knight's lungs, and steel scraped against his un-gloved hands, the bested swordsman realized, that why he was on the ground didn't even matter; only getting back up off it.

As blood leaked from the small incision on Lorden's hands, one could easily see Holland's assumption had been right; his quick and merciless strike, had indeed caught the knight off guard. But, even a winded and shocked Lorden, was not fool enough, to ignore the arc of the opponent's saber, as it closed in for another go at his newly injured appendage.

Fighting through the ringing that echoed in his skull incessantly, that had been brought about by his fall, the knight lumbered his left hand over in front, of its sword-wielding counterpart. Taking a breath of reprieve, the defending warrior's eyes dilated, as he heard his sparring partner's steel saber scrape against his own shield. The force of the blow, was a little too determined for his liking.

Gritting, his teeth, Lorden rolled his torso up and in, pushing himself towards his opponent's legs, with his own, as he did.

He'll petching fall this time, the knight thought, flying through the air. As he dived forwards, the swordsman rolled his buckler over his head blindly, to try and protect himself from any further assails from above.

Aiming to collide with the man's shins inexpertly, Lorden prepared himself mentally. The knight was determined to get Holland to the ground, and pin him. If the man didn't surrender, he'd be in for a beating.

[Holland Rolandus]

The opposing male was moving; and indeed he was moving fast. Running directly toward Holland, and leaving Holland with one of two choices; Face being defeated here and fall, Or attempt to escape and continue to fight. Holland knew that he was never forced to fight bare handed before. Therefore; Holland decides upon attempting to counter-act the opponents motions. Now all that he could think to do was to breathe. A rather rapid and swift inhalation followed a deep exhalation. His lungs expanded before releasing the air that was restrained within them; Leaving it to roll off of his lips. He'd not bother hesitating to battle an opponent.

Therefore as the opponent seized the day and began his charge; So would Holland. Although rather then attempting to throw a strike; Holland aims to grapple the opponent. Therefore as the opponent comes forward; Holland steps backward. Holland knew immediately that his new-found opponent was instinctive. Reckless, and absolutely incredible in terms of his approaching speed.

Now it was time for Holland to react, and swiftly. Holland immediately proceeds to widen his stance and lower his embodiment. Into a much more squatted position; outstretching both his arms simultaneously. Proceeding to bring inward both his arms; Simultaneously. So that the opponent would more then likely land his cranium right in between Hollands grasp. Holland loosed the weapon from his grip, and prepares to take the opponent head on. At this point Holland knew that he shan't hesitate; Because if he did he would be utterly destroyed. The battle; Like raging flames only grew more intense. At first it was simply a dance of Blades. Now it'd become an exchange of bodies and interestingly enough became more brutal.

A cry of determination escapes Hollands throat. A rather well audible sound "Agh" Holland exclaimed at the top of his lungs. Whilst the opponent continues to charge in. Hopefully the opponent off-balanced his own equilibrium enough for Holland to break it. Shall the opponents cranial structure actually be caught in Hollands arms; May the deities help him. For Holland would constrict the opponent in such a vice grip; That it would be incredible.

Although Holland grew more and more exhausted by the minute. He lacked the proper amount of endurance to withstand a drawn out battle. Hopefully, just hopefully this would work and the battle would end. Although if not it would result in a battle of fists. Which for now Holland wasn't at all likely to win. The sheer sting and burn of his muscles became overwhelming.

This time, This Time I shall break him! Thought Holland to himself.