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Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (7/9/2011 17:31:52)
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Reeve heard the shadow man’s approach and was not slow to get out of the way. He moved to his left with a spin and watched his foe miss his mark. He didn’t lunge in to take advantage of the half-instant where his enemy was left off guard, knowing full well that he was much slower than the shadow man. If this is a knife fight, I can’t win. That close to him his extra speed and strength leave me vulnerable. As if to confirm his thoughts the two wounds he’d just received throbbed painfully.
His grip tightened on the sword now in his left hand and the hint of a smile played around his lips. With a sword though, everything changes. The extra reach will win me this fight. He took a step back, so as to be standing nearly half way between the two northern pillars, with his back to the north-easterly one. A new thought came unbidden and distracted him slightly. There’s something on the hilt of my blade. Blood? No, it can't be, I'm sure I didn't see any. The substance worried him; it could be a poison or acid of some description, but he forced himself to put it out of his mind as much as possible. He had more pressing matter to attend to.
Before launching an attack on his enemy, he quickly looked him over again, looking for any signs on damage. Unfortunately the shadows that cloaked him hid everything, injuries and all. Reeve’s eyes darted over to look near the base of the northwest pillar and he saw two of his rings lying nearby. So two of them missed at least, but where is the third? Did it actually pierce his skin? It was too much to hope for Reeve realised, and indeed he saw the third ring not too far from where the shadow man had previously stood. So one may have hit him then. That’s something at least.
Like a striking serpent Reeve struck, sudden and precise, his sword cutting a path that would end in the shadow man's heart.
His first attacked, missed, which he expected, as his opponent was skilled and experienced. A mere test to see how the energy contestant would respond. What slightly surprised him was when he heard no whistle of a blade as his side was exposed for a moment. Being a gentleman, eh? We'll see how polite you are when you're close to death's door. Swinging his left foot forward to stop his momentum, the rogue looked up to see that the shirtless man had moved so that he was in between both pillars, his sword out, ready to strike. Now that he was no longer within a close knife-combat range, this man would be far more dangerous. At this range, the longer reach and greater power of the sword would work to his opponent's advantage.
Kainrahn stepsided to his left, avoiding the jab at his right side, moving forward as he did, but did not hesitate as his opponent had and aimed his left knife at the warrior's stomach, his right hand shooting forward to grab his wrist and disarm him, knife still clutched tightly in his grip, seeking to take advantage of the slight moment of vulnerability. He grimaced slightly as his left side protested, an flare of pain coming from his cut and a dull throb coming from his shoulder. An itching rivulet of blood slid down his side from the wound, and Kainrahn had to resist the urge to wipe it away.
Instinctively, the rogue knew that the lunge had been too quick, too light to be a real attack. Most likely, the dark-haired man would be retaliating with something heavier. This did not stop him nor make him hesitate; rather it encouraged him. His job now was to stay close to the man, where his agility and light knives would inflict more damage than the large sword. Two knives would not hold up to a sword at the swordsman's comfort range, where the rogue would be bombed with heavy blows that he could not block.
Parting the shadows before his face, his thin lips curled into a sneer that said it all. Oh, so that's all you can do? Pathetic. Come and try harder, maybe you'll actually get close this time. Kainrahn was trying something risky by taunting his opponent. If he were to be infuriated, this might work to the rogue's advantage, since he could use the clumsy blows and reckless moves as a chance to get past his guard. Off balance and at his comfort range, the darkness participant knew that he could make short work of the warrior. But on the other hand, if it only boosted the man's determination and encouraged him to strike with his best, then that would be more dangerous to him than a calm opponent.
Ah, but what does it matter when his Goliath of a sword can't reach me? After all, I don't think he's mastered the art of fighting someone between his torso and weapon. Let him hack away all he wants to.
Despite witnessing it already, Reeve was still surprised by the shadow man’s speed. His lunge was dodged with ease and suddenly the knife wielding man was inside his sword’s reach, where the large weapon would be next to useless in either offence or defence. Of course that wasn’t a problem if Reeve wasn’t there.
Reeve did not have the superhuman speed that his enemy could rely on, but that was not to say he was slow either. Almost before the lunge had really finished he was moving back, pulling his entire body away from danger. The knife that sought out his stomach met only air, while the other knife was deflected by the retreating steel of the Reeve’s sword.
The shadow man had revealed his face; a pale, thin-lipped man looking out from that all-concealing darkness and bearing a smirk that mocked and challenged in equal measure. Did the man think Reeve could be baited into making a mistake so easily? No, it was not so simple. Reeve replied with an even, unblinking look.
The smiling foe was not fazed by his failure. His next attack came seamlessly, almost seeming to be simply a continuation of the initial offensive. The deadly, blood stained blades flashed through the air and only instinct and luck kept them from tasting Reeve’s blood again. Reeve’s few attempts to respond were clumsy and slow by comparison, his own dagger occasionally darting out to threaten an exposed arm, or his sword swinging to strike a limb if the shadow man left enough room for Reeve to manoeuvre. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Reeve knew the arena was unnaturally cold, but the exertion was such that he barely felt it. A knife came far too close to taking an eye and all thoughts except survival fled his mind.
He did not stop moving backwards; making sure to hold the steel sword extended before him to ward off his foe. His progress was slow, but it was still not long before he felt a foot touch the base of a pillar; the north eastern one.
Moving directly east had been foolish in some ways; he now had no easy way to retreat further and keep his precious distance from his foe. He was also now further from Gabriel; his (he searched for another word and found none) ally. On top of all that, he’d left three pieces of his equipment near the north western pillar; equipment that may have proved useful.
Reeve let himself smile now.
Everything was going to plan.
Now it starts to get hard.
The two men stared at each other with cold smiles and eyes that promised murder. Both bloodied and both unwilling to give an inch. The very air seemed to still in anticipation; the breath of the arena itself held while it waited for the coming together of two great forces. For less than the space of a heartbeat the two men; Reeve and Kainrahn, stood still, but to them it seemed a lifetime.
Little did either man know that their encounter was fated. Both were the children of a secret war that raged silently across the world. Both were the victims of this war, and the weapons too. Experiments they were called, the very name denying their humanity; their right to exist as free people anymore. They were tools to be thrown away if they proved without use. And so they faced each other now, unknowing soldiers on different sides of an unknown war.
They moved together, as if the same thought filled each mind. Kill! Steel collided with steel only long enough for it sing a single harsh note. Then they were apart again, but not so much this time. Kainrahn would not give his foe an easy win and he danced within the range of Reeve’s sword without fear. The weapon was dangerous, but so was inaction. Better to die fighting.
They moved again, Reeve bringing his mighty sword around in a vicious arc that would have removed Kainrahn’s head if only it had stayed where it was. The air Kainrahn had occupied was empty, his body now well inside Reeve’s reach and aiming to do his foe harm. One knife cut a path to Reeve’s throat and another searched for a place to sheath itself in the shirtless man’s chest. Yet just as Kainrahn found a way to keep his head, Reeve managed to escape injury. His own dagger intercepted the blade that would have pierced his chest while a impressively rapid movement of the upper body kept his throat out of range on the other weapon.
Neither man had any time to catch their breath; a flurry of blows were exchanged, along with grunted curses and looks of hatred. For a few short seconds the two men came apart, each sporting a dozen tiny cuts newly earned in the fight. In truth, Reeve had the worst of it, his upper arms and shoulders looking as if he had fallen through a thorn bush. The man was slower than his opponent and suffering from worse wounds. His earlier encounter, still only moments before but feeling like days, had left him with two large cuts that steadily let his lifeblood dribble to the floor. All this was only compounded by his inability to retreat now, the pillar behind him forcing him to stand and fight. He was slower already than Kainrahn, and he was slowing.
But he was still smiling.
Kainrahn attacked again, this time avoiding his foe's sword with barely a thought; it seemed to move much slower already. His blades leapt out again as fast as arrows, but missed their mark once more. For all his speed, Kainrahn could not seem to gain a meaningful advantage over his opponent. The sword was part of it; even though he was much more agile than Reeve, Kainrahn had to be wary of the longer blade. More than that though was the experience and instinct of Reeve. Reeve knew how to get out of the way and it was this, and this alone, that kept him alive.
Kainrahn cursed as he felt a heavy boot slam into his shin. The pain and surprise would have left a lesser man off guard and unable to avoid the incoming dagger. But Kainrahn was better than that. He rolled back and out of way of the dagger in a movement that seemed effortlessly graceful, especially against the otherwise barbarity of the fight. The roll did not get him out of danger though; the long blade of the sword sweeping down and aiming directly for the centre of his skull. Had it hit it could easily have cleaved the man in two, but hit it did not. His own blades intercepted the attack as it came crashing down, Kainrahn’s strength more than a match for that of Reeve. He twisted and came to his feet, but felt a knife ripped from his grasp as he did. His right hand seemed empty without the blade, but he had no time to retrieve it as more attacks assaulted him.
An ordinary man would never have dodged Reeve’s next attack; a sword stroke intended to slice through his foe’s torso and a dagger aimed at the same man’s heart. But Kainrahn was no more ordinary than Reeve. His right hand was empty, but that did not mean Kainrahn could not stop the sword that threatened his life. Again demonstrating his extraordinary speed, Kainrahn managed to grab Reeve’s left wrist and hold it in place; stopping the sword stroke ever being completed. The dagger was even less of a problem; with an almost dismissive swipe of his own blade he parried the dagger and then plunged the already bloodied knife into Reeve’s upper arm.
Reeve let out a cry of pain as the cold metal parted his skin, letting yet more of his blood free of his body. His dagger, soaked in his own blood now, dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor at the base of the pillar. Never letting go of Reeve’s wrist and never removing the blade from his right arm, Kainrahn pushed Reeve further against the pillar, as if mocking him for trying to run in the first place. Reeve’s smile was gone now, replace with a snarl. Kainrahn moved his face closer to Reeve’s, letting the defeated man take a good look at his killer before he left this world. Kainrahn twisted the blade in Reeve’s arm before pulling it out, earning himself a few more screams of agony. His thin lips turned up into another mocking smile and he prepared to finish the fight.
And Reeve head butted him.
Reeve forehead collided with Kainrahn’s nose and the sheer unexpectedness of the crude attack was almost as effective as the force. Kainrahn stumbled back a few paces, letting go of his grip on Reeve’s wrist to hold his nose, which was bleeding heavily, perhaps even broken. He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. A blast of force similar to the one Reeve had used earlier took Kainrahn in the chest, sending him flying back through the air to land a good few feet away on his back.
Instead of pressing his advantage, Reeve moved around to the south side of the pillar and lay his back against it, taking a second to catch his breath. Unfortunately, that was all he could allow himself. Another blast of force shot from Reeve’s feet, this one not so powerful as some others, and sent him throught the air and across the arena towards yet another pillar; the one in the south east.
As the momentum from his kinetic blast wore out, Reeve was still a few paces from the pillar. He hit the ground heavily, but managed to get himself to his feet and, without too much delay, he had staggered to a stop at the pillar.
He slumped against the stone and for a moment considered just staying there. He was in pain. He was tired. He was bleeding. He was really in pain. But he couldn’t rest yet, the shadow man was still a threat, not to mention the ice mage. He had to keep going, for just a bit longer.
He straightened once more, ignoring the blood that continued to flow steadily from his countless wounds and forcing his brain to work through the cloudiness summoned by pain and fatigue.
Not much longer now.
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