[i]As Zande felt his elbow miss it's mark, he felt also a deep and aching sense of disappointment. He put his very spirit into each attack, and whenever one failed it was like a tightening grip upon his heart. The same thing happened when he (almost always) failed at picking up women (preferably white ones). Zande had his ups and downs as often as he had successes and failures. He was comically, tragically, very much in touch with his inner self. If given the time, he'd have taken a brief respite to go slump in a corner to be miserable. But upon seeing his opponent hurl something to the ground, his instincts told him to suck it up and move. Zande had a little unspoken motto, learned from hard lessons in lawless slums. If somebody chucked something at your body, you "slipped" past the aim. If someone threw something at your feet, you fucking leapt like your life depended on it. Zande, however, hadn't failed to notice how his opponent would have thrown it at his feet too. It must not have been anything that would blow him up. 

Instead of hitting the deck, Zande made a quick little hop to rearrange himself and better orient his position to correlate with that of his opponent, the smoke billowing about them before his feet had even settled. But when they did, instead of trying to back away and figure out where his opponent was like any sane man, the hyper-aggressive headhunter would take a massive right step forwards, right arm cocking as far back as it could reach before he swung his axe with as much vigor as his untamed body could unleash, rippling legs uncoiling like steel torsion springs as the elevated emissary of terminal absolution slung forth in a flashing arc of white hot death, at roughly the level and place where the tribesman figured his opponent's center mass would be should he move backwards. It might even catch the man a nasty nick if he had moved to the tribesman's left. Zande's static strength may not have been world class, yet it was truly incomparable to the volcanic severity of his gratuitous striking power. The results of a direct hit would be cogently ruinous.[/i]