It was a hit. The knight’s iron scutum covered in leather colliding against the scoundrel’s iron chest plate with a resounding thud. The shock of the impact reverberating through Zachary’s arm. It was just the momentum that he needed to regain control to at least be proactive rather than reactive as his opponent had shown a great deal of preference to. It was much more personal than war.
Singles combat was vastly different in comparison to war. War was terribly dirty. Wherever one would turn they would find death. Or at the very least there was another fresh body to slice down in their prime. The battlefield strewn with bodies. Shallow moans cascading across the solemn battlefield amongst the cacophony of clashing steel.
As Zachary’s scutum found opposing pressure against Zande’s sturdy chest plate, adding momentum that carried him into the air the knight surged forth with a great burst of raw power. It was not the typical defensive measure to add distance between two combatants but a wee-trained superbly executed Melekurian Shield Bash fine-tuned over centuries of combat training. It would serve well to act as a precursor to his forward assault.
For as Zachary found strength in maintain a connection to the ground beneath his feet he would force Zande back only a few feet. It would provide just enough distance to allow the savage an opening to attack with his raised axe. It would drop down upon the knight like a rolled up newspaper against a rabid dog. It would be equally as effective. As logical physics and reason would usurp the strength and procession of balance and steadfastness in step the once master handled axe would drop down upon him like that of a flailing amateur.
The axe blade had fallen down before the knight but it had not found its home upon the armored warrior’s clavicle. Instead, between the distance added by the clash and the lack of stability would force the axe to slash across the face of Zachary’s shield. As the axe came to splash against the water’s stagnant surface the knight moved the battle forward. He lashed out with his broad sword in a vertical arc starting complete opposite of his shield with every intention of severing the warriors arm from the axe that it wielded.
Singles combat was vastly different in comparison to war. War was terribly dirty. Wherever one would turn they would find death. Or at the very least there was another fresh body to slice down in their prime. The battlefield strewn with bodies. Shallow moans cascading across the solemn battlefield amongst the cacophony of clashing steel.
As Zachary’s scutum found opposing pressure against Zande’s sturdy chest plate, adding momentum that carried him into the air the knight surged forth with a great burst of raw power. It was not the typical defensive measure to add distance between two combatants but a wee-trained superbly executed Melekurian Shield Bash fine-tuned over centuries of combat training. It would serve well to act as a precursor to his forward assault.
For as Zachary found strength in maintain a connection to the ground beneath his feet he would force Zande back only a few feet. It would provide just enough distance to allow the savage an opening to attack with his raised axe. It would drop down upon the knight like a rolled up newspaper against a rabid dog. It would be equally as effective. As logical physics and reason would usurp the strength and procession of balance and steadfastness in step the once master handled axe would drop down upon him like that of a flailing amateur.
The axe blade had fallen down before the knight but it had not found its home upon the armored warrior’s clavicle. Instead, between the distance added by the clash and the lack of stability would force the axe to slash across the face of Zachary’s shield. As the axe came to splash against the water’s stagnant surface the knight moved the battle forward. He lashed out with his broad sword in a vertical arc starting complete opposite of his shield with every intention of severing the warriors arm from the axe that it wielded.
