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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 14, 2009 1:54:50 GMT
There was a while to go before night, even so Richard did not want to go far from the walls of Camelot. He told Riga he had a job that night within the walls and he would like to keep it.
The area they chose was flat but with enough waist high brush to make the sparring a little more interesting. Richard checked that his lone dagger and sword could both come free easily before turning to Riga.
"First to draw blood or the first to yield?" He asked. "Are we choosing one weapon only or shall anything go?"
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 14, 2009 4:59:19 GMT
Taking off her cloak, Riga started pulling on her gloves, working the fingers on carefully. "I hate to yield, so first blood it is." Flexing her fingers, the tall woman frowned. "My best weapons are throwing daggers, but since you'd have a hard time sparring with a blade in your throat....." Riga grinned. "I'm in sore need of sword-work, so let's say that, plus anything physical we can manage in between blade strokes."
A single meaningful look and a slight snicker at her inadvertent innuendo, and Riga backed up a few paces. Drawing her own sword, she took a stance, her feet shifting in the thick grasses to get a good purchase. Riga's eyes squinted in concentration, her entire focus on the man before her. "Any time you're ready, soldier."
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 14, 2009 5:41:04 GMT
"Throwing daggers?" Richard repeated with curiosity. His training had consisted of the dagger, sword and bow. He only knew a little of the stave and javelin. Just enough not to kill himself if he had one of them. Throwing daggers were of no use on the battle field however, certainly not for a man-at-arms and so he knew nothing about them. He was brought back to the present as Riga continued.
"I'm surprised no one has offered ta fulfill your need for sword work." He answered as he made some quick movements with his arms and shoulders, loosening the muscles. When Riga settled into stance, Richard's expression became set. Going into stance was not adopting a position for him, he relaxed into it with his arms and legs easy. Loose.
The first lot of thrusts and retreats were not meant to gain an advantage. He wanted to get a feel for what Riga was capable of. With every move and retreat he slipped deeper into another awareness. One where he was hyper aware of the movements of his own body and the signs that Riga's gave off. The world around him was also part of his consciousness. The prick of bush on his thigh was a potential trip, the flat dirt was a chance for him to slap Riga's sword away and use the momentum to move around her.
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 14, 2009 19:01:03 GMT
Vibration tingled up Riga's arms as their blades slid along each other, a brushing caress of steel on steel. They started with nearly gentle taps, a play of motion and touch without real power behind the blows. Riga grinned -- it was clear very quickly that Richard was no dandy pretender with a bought blade. He was a man who knew what he was about, his eyes lively and intense, all focus on their interplay. The larger man was able to occasionally sweep out with one arm on his sword only and that made Riga's brow furrow. She had always ever been a two-handed fighter with a sword, a main reason she considered herself weak with the weapon. With both hands occupied, she could not reach for a dagger.
"Many have offered," Riga grinned, "But most are found wanting. Can't allow a sword thrust from just anyone, can I?."
Breath intensifying, Riga dropped her shoulder to the back, stepped to the side and swept her blade high and to the side, an attempt to trap Richard's blade with a circular movement. As she stepped, her booted foot came forward to punch at the larger man's stomach, grunting with the effort.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 14, 2009 21:26:41 GMT
Don't answer me boy! A silent enemy is a frightenin' one! The words of his old weapons-master rung in Richard's ears and he obeyed. Not answering Riga. Suddenly, his arms were brought high and he tightened his grip on his sword.
Richard followed Riga's movement, sliding his blade down hers until their hilts were locked together. Riga's foot hit his side, glancing off his waist. His body turned a little to accommodate and he pushed his blade down and stepping forward, attempting to push Riga off-balance. They were close, Richard could feel the heat of her and noted that she was at that point in the battle, the point before the lungs relaxed into the stronger movement.
Then his leg snaked between hers, a quick pull and they both toppled to the ground. Their blades came free, Richard rolled. Back onto his feet, he swung the sword out behind him in case Riga followed with an attack before he could turn. The feeling of her body against his was a brief, momentary memory.
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 15, 2009 4:15:16 GMT
Richard was good -- very good. The impact with ground when they both tumbled was non-jarring, almost gentle. Knows how to use his body and use it well. Riga braced herself with one hand and chanced an arcing swing around with her right, the sword aiming for Richard's back. The blow was not nearly hard enough to cut, most likely would just tear some clothes -- no bad thing -- and perhaps a shallow bit of blood she could help him clean off. Oh yes...
Riga's slice was not met with an anticipated dull thud of blade on body, but the metallic clang of steel on steel. Oh damn. The woman blinked in stunned surprise, then had to scramble backwards to ward off any returning blows. "DAMMIT, soldier...." Riga panted, moving cautiously around. "You've sure got some moves for such a big man!"
Both fists were now back on the handle, and Riga wove the blade low in the air, trying to keep an eye on Richard's hands. When the next blow came, Riga squatted low, her sword brought crossways and above to deflect away from her shoulder. As Richard swung his blade lower, Riga jolted herself taller, one hand shooting forward to clamp over his wrist. She yanked forward hard, his blade thrusting harmlessly past her.
Their chests slammed into each other, Riga bringing her sword arm up to cast a finishing blow to Richard's neck..... only to find it's motion stopped short by Richard's free hand over her own wrist. Riga laughed even as they appeared to be at an impasse.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 15, 2009 12:53:55 GMT
"Fast," Richard breathed between gentle pants. "Now, if ye were to use your speed against me, you'd topple me to my back. 'Course, I think I would be stronger and so I'd still have grip on your wrist unless ye truly got violent and forced me ta let go. If I were ta move first, I'm afraid I'd use my skull against yer nose. 'Cept ye asked me not to bloody yer bonny face. In which case I'd try to get you on your back." Rather than test the scenarios, Richard rubbed Riga's wrist with his thumb. He felt the wiry strength contained there, but the skin was soft.
"Impasse," the thumb stopped its movements. "But we were supposed to go until first blood." He didn't attack, instead lifting his chin a little and drawing Riga's sword closer until it bit his skin ever so slightly. It stung. When he pushed the blade away, there was a thin red line on his neck and his eyes were heavy on her. It felt strange that when his thoughts turned to his wife, there was no guilt. There was love -- mere death could not change that -- but she was gone and his flesh was released from her and his spirit -- no spirit -- could ever belong solely to one person.
"Have ye ever wondered about all the blood on yer blade? The druids and mages, they always say that blood magic is the strongest magic. Why aren't our blades enchanted?"
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 16, 2009 17:08:31 GMT
"The blades are enchanted. It's the human touch that taints it." Riga ripped away her blade and arm from Richard's grasp, twisting apart with a determined grunt.
The tall woman's eyes snapped in ire as she grasped her sword with both hands low and in the ready, her stance half-crouched and poised for action. "I do not accept charity or... or a pity forfeit. Either fight me proper.... defeat me proper, or turn and walk away."
With a single yell of aggression, Riga attacked again, blade flashing fast and to the side.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 16, 2009 23:25:17 GMT
Proud and hateful. Richard thought and did not waste his time telling her that that had been motivated by something so much more than pity and charity.
Richard turned so he was facing the blade and brought his sword down on it with two hands on the hilt. Both points of the swords hit the ground, Richard yanked it out of the earth again, using the movement to strike the hilt towards Riga's face.
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 17, 2009 20:23:30 GMT
Too late to avoid the butt of the hilt as it came for her head, Riga could only jerk to the side. Richard's handle slammed into the vicinity of her jaw, sending her staggering backwards. It hurt like hell but the impact sent her away enough to bring up her sword again.
Swinging upwards, the clang of metal vibrated up her arm shocked Riga; Richard's hands moved with amazing agility over the handle of his sword, always shifting, spinning, and twisting the hilt about in a manner she'd never seen before. Most people clutched the hilt like they were trying to meld it to their hands; his hands, however, were in constant motion -- like he was playing an instrument, not wielding a weapon. I've GOTTA learn that!
Riga put all her weight behind the next swing up, not so much to cut but to distract. Expecting Richard to parry, she shifted her weight to the right, bringing her left boot up hard in a kick towards Richard's knee.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 17, 2009 23:52:34 GMT
Richard parried Riga's blow, twisting his blade underneath to swing her sword out wide. Then her foot hit his knee and he grunted with pain. The opportunity he might have gained by swinging Riga's sword out wide was lost as he spun out on one leg. When Richard was stable again he unleashed a series of cuts and parries, moving forward with each step in the hopes of sending Riga backwards. Perhaps to trip her up.
As they moved he became aware of the sweat on Riga's skin, undoubtedly matching his as they gave each other a thorough working over. Then there was the fire in her eyes -- or was it delight? As he swung the hilt in his hands to cut across her legs. She was handsome, no doubt about it.
With one hand he struck the sword up high, expecting Riga to protect her face with her sword. Then he drew his hunter's dagger, slicing it towards her stomach.
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 18, 2009 20:35:23 GMT
It was delicious and raw to be in such a battle, every limb working in unison, every sense honed on an opponent. Each slice had a counter-swing, each step forward matched a step back. Riga grinned despite the exertion and dawning knowledge that she would be defeated. It would be an honor to fall under the blade of one such as this.
Arms screaming in fatigue, Riga swung her sword high and across to parry Richard's attack, only catching the blurred movement out of the corner of her eye. Too late. Riga had been on the point of moving forward so the dagger swinging towards her belly hit home much harder than Richard had probably intended.
Riga's sword dropped from her nerveless fingers as she staggered backwards in shock, both arms wrapping immediately around her middle. Her sharp cry echoed around the field. Dropping to her knees, Riga hunched over, gasping audibly, then fell to her side. She was aware of Richard's large form hovering over, his breathing sounding loud in her ears. A concerned hand laid on her shoulder, something was mumbled aloud and Riga managed to raise her head....
.... And exploded outward with a leather-gloved fist, slamming in the direction of Richard's head. At the completion of the arc of her arm, Riga let the momentum carry her rolling to the side then she was on her feet in one smooth movement. Left hand followed with a short dagger she liked to call The Quill because of it's curved, petite shape. Grabbing a fistful of Richard's long hair, Riga dragged the man's head close the The Quill.
She hissed in his ear, grinning. "Compassion.... an unforgivable sin in combatants, eh?" The Quill bit into Richard's skin, very near the spot where he had pushed her sword into his neck in near-forfeit. A small trickle of blood followed.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 18, 2009 22:47:06 GMT
His forehead throbbed from the hit it had taken and felt something wet, the skin had split. Then there was a slight sting as Riga hissed in his ear.
"Aye, compassion kills." Richard panted and released his sword. It fell at their feet with a dull thump. "Twas ever my weakness. Compassion when sparring if not on the field. That and my hair." He grinned and touched Riga's jaw, marveling at his own sense of control. How he managed to keep the survival instinct suppressed. Even the fast beat of his heart was from exertion and not fear for his life.
"Yer jaw is going to be mighty colourful tomorrow. Can I check yer stomach? Make sure it wont go rot." Richard had learned that rotten wounds would kill no matter how serious it was to begin with.
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Post by Riga Poniard on Dec 19, 2009 6:25:04 GMT
"So what if it is," Riga smirked, a defiant jerk of her head. "Won't be the first time I'm sporting some bruising, certainly won't be the last." She liked this man touching her and didn't flinch away, her gaze open and direct. Unflinching.
Barking out a laugh, Riga waved a hand downward. "Sure, check all you want, but you may be surprised at what you find." In a half-whisper, Riga added, "I heal ver-r-ry quickly." In bold movements showing not a hint of shyness. the tall woman undid her belt, letting it drop to the ground. Riga dramatically sighed, fingers moving through cloth on her tunic, newly shredded from the match. "I'm going to have to mend that, and I'm wretched with a needle."
Under the cloth where the skin of her stomach should be lay a skin-tight waistcoat of thick leather, a long scratch showing against the dark skin. Riga grinned with cheek. "Sorta like armor only lighter and more flexible. It won't stop a determined stabbing, but I make out just fine in a slashing fight." Tapping the leather smartly, Riga pushed down the tunic again, regaining the belt and snapping it in place.
Boldly, the woman gave Richard a look. "If we're to the disrobing part of this, let's go over there." Her head jerked toward a small barn, the kind used to store hay for the winter months. Scooping up her sword, Riga swiftly sheathed it, resting a hand on the pommel and gave Richard another one of her appraising looks.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 19, 2009 6:47:50 GMT
"Oh aye, we're at the disrobing part of this. If ye want." Aside from wanting to see what other surprises this woman had in store for him, he wanted to to look over the waistcoat. Perhaps even coax her to show him how to throw knives. He stooped to pick up his sword, sliding it back into his scabbard.
"However," he stepped towards her and put his hands on her waist. Now that his touch was firm, he could feel the leather underneath her tunic and doubted she could feel much of his touch. "I'd hate to rush these things. And I'd get blood on you if we rush," he grinned at her. "But I doubt that bothers yer. It bothers me I didn't draw any of your blood. I need to practice ... because I was bested. Not because I was bested by a woman."
Richard's kiss was soft, not sure how tender her face was after the beating it had received. Then he stepped back, tossed another grin over his shoulder and strode towards the barn Riga had pointed out.
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