[@Metal Tortoise]

[i]Tom tucked his elbows in and tightened his hands into fists as Steer took a step forwards from the kick, grunting in surprise that this opponent was actually as tough as he looked. Tom had been hoping this one would be all show. So much for that. He planted his right foot firmly, putting his weight down on it and screwing his heel into the dirt in preparation for enduring the sweep. It smacked into him and forced his boot to slide inwards six inches, leaving a deep bruise. It hurt far worse than Tom had expected. This Fatso hadn't even put his full strength behind the sweep, and it still felt like his foot was bruised to the bone. Tom wasn't a professional martial artist by any definition. He knew how to fight mainly from schoolyard brawls, backwoods tumbles, and Southern back alley scuffles. It was a rough form of combat, and not at all clean, but it got the job done when it had to. Tom's lack of formal training didn't allow him to prepare for Steer's chi thrust in time though, and the only thing he could do, out of blind reflex, was swing his right fist down to try and bat the thrust aside, figuring it for some kind of fancy palm strike. Given Steer's stout strength, Tom wouldn't even come close to redirecting the aim of the thrust, and the punch of chi hit him right in the spare ribs on his left flank. His eyes bulged behind his shades as he felt his ribs creak under the blow, a stifled groan escaping him as his cigarette dropped from his mouth. That was gonna feel bad in the morning. It took the full brunt of his Kentucky grit to not miss the chance for a counterattack.

Tom had managed to avoid getting the wind knocked out of him, and so was at least able to finish his spell.[/i]

[color=f7976a]"Nerdwerdus!"[/color]

[i]He fired his spell through the hand that had struck Steer's right thrust for an on-contact curse delivery into the man's arm with little chance of escape. The effect of the spell was to render Steer both near and short sighted, and to materialize a pair of fine glasses onto his face so that he could see again. Even as the spell was launched, Tom hunched forwards, twisted at the waist, and hurled a left straight as hard as he could at where those spectacles were due. Aside from the torque of his body the punch was untelegraphed, Tom keeping the flare of his elbow to a minimum to keep the angle and destination of the punch a mystery until the last moment. The result could very well be Steer's fresh coke bottles getting broken, along with his nose.[/i]