[hider]"The archer never realized his shots. Triangular pieces of sharpened metal took every arrow out of the air mid flight before a fifth cut the string of his bow. The only shadows in this room would be Syndana. Last of the Lost. When an elf betrays their kind, kills their kin, and forsakes their homelands, they are branded Lost. Syndana was one such Elf.
From the skylight she dropped into the room, a tight roll that put her back on the balls of her feet in a lunging rush at Djin. Twin daggers flashed in a dizzying display of thrusts, jabs, swipes, her footwork was losing momentum as she continued her sudden rush upon her opponent but confidence oozed from every inch of her. 
With a quick double slash of her twin daggers, Syndana disengaged with a simple springing kick backwards. Her next move was one of complete grace as the Elf deftly tossed her dagger up into the air and flicked another sharp metal triangle before catching her blade again in the same movement. 
Then she came right back in again."[/hider]

There is an old Sektephi saying about luck, "A nomad can spend an entire day with clear skies, or struggling to keep the sands out of his eyes" It seemed as if fortune saw it fit to hurl a handful of sand into Djin's face as the elf began her assault. Backstepping as fast his feet would allow, the wanderer watched for when it seemed Syndana would cease her advance. After a good number of swipes and thrusts the Lost threw herself back to prepare for another attempt. To see an elf in Omujir, let alone their fighting style, was an extreme rarity. But Djin wasn't some newly arrived Sektephi, her unorthodox fighting style would be met with his own, knowledge gathered along his journey from numerous culture. One such technique was relieving himself of a now useless bow. As soon as Syndana leaped back, Djin hurled his bow as hard as he could at her, spinning as it flew across the room before deflecting the metal projectile. Unsheathing Daityat he charged forward wielding it with a single hand while his free hand formed a tight fist. His only thoughts were, "If only I spent more time with the Sehrai, I could have ended with fight long ago"

Djin brought forth his blade to deflect the first dagger swipe, should it connect he would follow up with an elbow strike to the face and hopefully gain the opportunity to grab the elf's off hand. In his mind it would be a simple thing to do; block the first strike allowing him to disorient his foe with an elbow bash then follow up with a punch to the gut which would send their upper body forward and vulnerable to a finishing strike should he not be able to disarm her off hand. As much as he was against pointless bloodshed, Djin secretly loved duels. The finesse it took to study your opponent's moves and formulating a plan to defeat them as the battle carried on. To see how his opponent fought against him would tell him so much in such little time. It was an intimate thing, intense and eye opening as to what kind of a person your adversary was. 

"I would offer you the Nil Miasleten but you are a Lost. One without honor cannot be granted such", Sektephi customs allow for a combatant to offer the Nil Miasleten which gives their opponent the ability to concede defeat without any loss of honor or harmful punishment towards either party. If a combatant is casteless, not capable of complex thought, or is simply deemed honorless then there is no choice but to fight. "A shame really, I would have very much liked to speak with you"