Drifting Pollen

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

It was a lucky thing to have an opening, but a split-second advantage was useless in the wrong hands. Options flickered through Favian's mind—should he throw another punch? A knee? No and no: neither one would have the momentum to stop a tackle. The safer course would be to throw his weight forward and counter the tackle with a sprawl, turning the fight into another grueling pushing match. Both knights would have ample opportunity to use their daggers then, and Favian was confident he could at least hold onto his lead until the marshal called a halt to the match.

But was that really what he wanted?

His mind, cool and rational, knew that this was far from a true battlefield. Yet in the thick of the fight, his warrior's heart had awakened, and now it roared in his veins, thundering through his skull in a deafening war cry. He did not jockey for points, God-damn it! He did not fight to be ruled the winner on a technicality! Tourney or no, he would not settle for being handed petty glories—he was Sir Favian Procell, the Storm Knight, and he would take this victory with his own two hands.

Sir Aslain surged forwards for the tackle, and Favian welcomed him with all his might. His body twisted clockwise, and his left arm lunged downwards, wrapping around the lion knight's helm in a tight headlock. Then both his feet kicked off the ground, and he was throwing himself backwards, pulling Aslain along with him, an ungainly mass of man and steel splashing together against the muddy grass.

I can't beat him in strength. And he's every bit as skilled as I. That left only one recourse: the mad, the unexpected. Rather than resist the tackle or try to land a counter before it happened, he allowed himself to fall, and used his own strength to bring Aslain along for the ride. Rather than landing with Favian on his back and Aslain positioned to easily stab or mount him, they'd end up pressed together, with Aslain's head held tight against Favian's breastplate and his chest squashed against the storm knight's lower torso.

Based on the course of his tackle, both of Aslain's arms would be at the level of Favian's waist or hips. If Favian had been quick and lucky enough to catch him at the right moment, he might even have managed to trap Aslain's dagger hand by squashing it between them before he could properly line up the strike. Favian knew better than to underestimate his opponent, however, and was prepared for the worst. A knife to the gut? A man can survive that, at least for a time. In a true battle, he'd have risked the same sacrifice.

The fall had nearly knocked the wind out of him. His armor mitigated some of the impact, and the ground was not hard, but even so it was enough to drive a sharp breath of air through his tightly clenched teeth. His body, though, it knew what to do. His left arm lower down for the tackle, his right arm aimed to run me through the intestines. Now was the moment, perhaps the best and only chance he would get.

Held in his right hand, Favian's blunted dagger slammed down upon the back of Sir Aslain's neck, striking right beneath the base of his helm.

A knife to the spine? Dead before he can take a breath.

Let the judges score that one as they would.

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

I'm thinking making this a lot like how the medieval knights used to duel during competition. Not really meaning to kill each other but dueling as if they were trying to and having someone score. I figured we can agree that if that was the case, you'd be ahead because of your earlier hit on his shoulder.

@Liotrent

Sure, we can play it that way if ya want!

Edit: wrote my reply as such. Lucky thing for them both those blades aren't sharp :P

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

Without missing a beat, Aslain caught Favian's right arm and moved to counter his attack. No hesitation, no second thoughts or doubts, only swift and formidable action. The crowd roared, some deep instinct within their souls recognizing the spirit of a true warrior.

But this was a dance of two partners, and again Favian matched the lion knight step for step. Even without looking, the pull on his right arm told him exactly what was going on, and he responded almost on instinct.

In that moment, both of Aslain's arms were occupied. With his left, he was pulling Favian into butting range, and with his right, he was drawing forth his own dagger to attack. Thus, it would be hard for him to defend as Favian's own left arm came whipping up in a ferocious left hook, and sent an armored fist screaming like a steel meteorite into his opponent's visor.

A punch like that would smart even through a helmet, but even if it did hit square-on, Sir Aslain had an elephant's fortitude. Favian knew it would take more than that to bring down his foe, and wasn't counting on a knockout or concussion. All he needed was to stun Aslain for a moment, or at least block his vision and distract him with the oncoming punch, so that he could enact his next move.

His left leg kicked out, aiming to sweep Aslain's right foot from under him, while at the same time his right arm shoved hard against Aslain's right side. Break the foundations, turn his weight against him. If it worked, he might finally take his opponent to the ground... He didn't see the dagger coming, and felt an impact on his left thigh, but counted on the fact that his blow and kick would throw off Aslain's aim enough for the thrust to glance off his armor. It was a risk, but that was the way of things: if this man would not cede ground without cost, then Favian would push on through the fires of Hell itself to bring him down.

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

<Snipped quote by Drifting Pollen>

Actually if that's the case, I made some errors in my last post (Got a bit over excited). I'd like to ask you if it's okay if I edit out some of those errors.

@Liotrent

Go right ahead! Just let me know once you’re done.

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

I'll ask for the sake of it... How am I doing?

@Liotrent

You’re doing great! You’ve avoided a lot of the common pitfalls I tend to see in people less experienced with arena stuff, and I’m having a lot of fun with this fight.

Wasn’t able to post this evening, but I’ll see if I can’t find time to write one after getting some sleep.

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

To Aslain's credit, he adapted quickly. The knight's armored foot clanged against Favian's breastplate, and he let himself stumble backwards with the force of the blow, releasing his grip on the longsword. Losing the weapon was a tough sacrifice to make, but there were advantages to playing along. Taking a kick like that full-on could hurt a man even through armor, whereas moving with the force of it let Favian regain his balance faster and avoid the risk of being knocked over. And besides, he was not yet fully unarmed.

The dagger came out from its sheath with a sharp swish, glinting in the light as Favian effortlessly flipped it into an upward grip. With the blade in his right hand, he darted to one side, rushing in from Aslain's right before the man had a chance to fully acquaint himself with the sword. Doubtless the lion knight could use Favian's weapon with some skill, but first he had to pull it out from where it had jabbed into his armor, not to mention get a proper grip on it and shift into something resembling a proper guard. Speed was off the essence here: this critical opportunity would not last long.

So he would not hesitate. The rondel dagger thrust upward like a striking snake, stabbing up into the gap between Aslain's right arm and his torso. Favian didn't know for sure if his last blow had had any effect, but he would capitalize upon any weakness he could find.

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

No luck. Sir Aslain was like an iron wall, ceding no ground to Favian's relentless pressure. The blue-eyed knight grunted with effort as he pushed against the axe's shaft, the cold machinery of his mind racing to line up a new strategy.

He could not win in a contest of strength, that much was clear. How, then did he break through the lion's defense. Should I back off now, and seek an opportunity in the next exchange? Trading blows with that poleaxe was a risk every time, and Favian had no way of being sure he would come out on top if they went toe-to-toe again. No, he had to make a move now, while he still had some inkling of an advantage.

His grip on his sword grew tighter in readiness. The crowd roared, cheering on their favored knights or simply enjoying the spectacle of the two warriors straining with all their might.

When Sir Aslain suddenly gave way, it caught Favian by surprise. He fell forward slightly, losing his balance for just an instant before shifting his weight onto his leading foot to steady himself. Already, though, the lion knight was crashing against him again, giving Favian no time to adjust his posture. He would be pushed back, forced away—

—but not before his own trick came into play.

Even if he hadn't anticipated a feint, he had been waiting for the moment he could move his blade. And that brief interval, that false respite when Sir Aslain gave way, that was enough. Enough for him to angle his blade, eyes fixed on his target, and thrust it forward with brutal intent.

Yes, he would be pushed back, but in the process he was going to get in one good stab, jabbing his sword up like a crowbar to shove it into the gap between the breastplate and the gorget. Plate armor could protect very well against sword cuts and thrusts, but the joints were more vulnerable, and with the strength of Favian's well-muscled arms added momentarily to the forward momentum of Aslain surging back from his faked moment of weakness, he just might be able to force the blade through to the other man's neck.

A ruthless move, no matter its outcome. But that kind of steely resolve had carried Sir Procell through the wars of the past, and engraved itself into his soul. How does no quarter taste, Sir Aslain? Like metal? Like blood on steel?

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

The griffon was fast, the griffon was skilled, but with every movement Favian could better judge the limits of that speed and technique. He'd been playing it cautious so far, letting his opponent take the initiative, but all the while his cold eyes had been watching with the intensity of a hunting lynx, taking the measure of all they saw. So when Sir Aslain moved again to knock away his blade, Favian responded for more audaciously than before.

I know the timing of your swing, lion knight. It did not fool me the first time, and shame on you for trying it again. As the axehead came back around to slam against his sword, Favian lunged forward of his own accord, pushing off his left foot and stepping swiftly ahead with his right. At the same time, he let the grip of his right hand go momentarily slack, only to seize the sword again at a different point, partway along the blade this time.

The axe crashed home, and a loud crack rang out—hard wood against solid steel. The longsword was not pushed aside as intended, for Favian had switched to a half-sword grip and intercepted the beating strike along the length of blade between his hands. Now holding his sword like a metal staff, he capitalized upon his momentum and pushed further, throwing all his weight forwards against Sir Aslain and his axe. If he was quick enough, he could push the other knight backwards or even knock him down onto the grass, though that would depend more upon the element of surprise than any natural difference in strength.

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

Did Favian parry the axe towards his left or his right? During the thrust he stepped forward leading with his right foot shifting from his left.

@Liotrent

If that’s the case, then Favian is parrying to the left (to the right from Aslain’s perspective). Favian’s right foot is still forward (and you can assume that he’s maintaining that general stance unless I specify a change in a future post).

Fight Knights [Pollen & Liotrent]

Bright blue eyes watched Sir Aslain through a slitted visor, judging distance, anticipating movement. Favian had offered his opponent an opportunity, and the knight had taken it, closing even further now. His aggression was clear; it could only be a matter of time until he struck.

Favian positioned his feet carefully, keeping his sword pointed at his opponent and his profile narrow so as to present a smaller target. When the moment came, he was ready: a swift backstep answered Sir Aslain's lunge, and the axehead glanced the longsword closer to the tip than intended. The point swung to one side, but not so far or so hard that Favian lost control of it, and a quick adjusting of his grip on the hilt brought it back into position in time to parry an oncoming thrust. If Aslain did follow through with his attack, he'd see the flat of Favian's blade smack against the shaft of his axe, pushing the spike to one side as it thrust forward.