kawa~ inspiration #74
Feb. 15th, 2006 05:29 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Magic against Steel
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ kawa~ 74. This has been in my head for the better part of a week, finally got it down now =3 My left pinkie hurts now, thank you Rumal.
~ ~ ~
Rumal sat down on the bench that ran around the perimeter of the barracks, resting his elbows on his knees as he panted to catch his breath. His eyes scanned the room, where other swordies were clashing blades against each other.
“You’re going to have to stop favouring your right side sooner or later,” he told the swordie.
Emon massaged his palm as he sat down on the bench beside Rumal. “It still keeps stinging. I’ve got pain all up my left arm now.”
Rumal nodded sagely. “That will happen,” he agreed, “Give it a year or two and you’ll be back to your best.”
“I don’t feel like I’ll ever get that back,” Emon lamented, “How can I be sure I’ll make it past the next challenger?”
Rumal laughed and slapped the paranoid swordie on the back. “Look, quael, you’re still second best blade in the kingdom, fingerless or not. You just need a year to get your strength back. Trust me.” He held up his right hand and waved his three remaining fingers with an impish grin. “In the meantime, I need me some competition.” He braced his hands on his knees and got to his feet, striding over to where Nimay and Melraan had just finished duelling.
“General, I challenge you to a duel. Loser’s treat at the ‘Thrai.”
Nimay raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.
“Are you just fishing for free drinks?” Melraan asked him, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and turning to Nimay. “You haven’t got a hope.”
Rumal shook his head and held up his hands defensively. “Oh, no, I mean with magic.”
The other two swordies exchanged cocky glances before Nimay nodded. Melraan grinned broadly at the best swordsman in the kingdom. “You haven’t got a hope.”
Rumal shrugged and brought up his sword. Already Melraan had gotten the rest of the Own’s swordies to gather around, and the other men in the barracks were beginning to pay attention as well. Rumal could hear the bets being laid as he and Nimay began to circle, swords twisting in their grips.
Rumal had known the swordswoman for long enough to know her strengths and weaknesses without watching her actions as they circled. He knew that she was fast, but that she always flinched when a blade was brought crashing down from above, and once the blades were locked in front of her face, she was pretty much at a loss. She liked attacking low, trying to throw her opponent off balance, and with Rumal, that usually meant throwing his left hand out so that only the three fingers of his right were gripping the hilt. The tactic rarely worked on him though.
Rumal had to wonder just how much those weaknesses would come into play now that the yrae stone was a factor.
“Bets laid?” Rumal called over to Melraan, but not taking his eyes off Nimay.
“All the important ones, yes.”
“Nice.” Rumal lunged forwards with his blade high, but Nimay was able to bring her sword up to stop him. She flinched, as predicted, but when his blade clashed with hers, there was considerably more force behind her swing than Rumal was used to, and his sword was dashed away easily.
Nimay didn’t miss a beat, and swung out at the opening on Rumal’s right, so quickly that her blade’s tip nicked his shirt, but he was able to dance back before she could draw any blood. The General advanced on him with rhythmic, lightning-fast swishes of her blade, and it was all Rumal could do just to block her. It wasn’t that she was any faster than normal, rather Rumal was that much more sluggish. He had to use so much effort just to lift his sword, and he felt as though there was a hand on his chest pushing him backwards.
It was the pattern. She had complete control of this fight, because she was able to keep attacking in the same pattern and focus her attention on using the yrae stone. Somehow, Rumal had to break that pattern, but every forceful sword stroke was jarring his wrists and sending shocks of pain from the stump of his missing pinkie up his right arm like he hadn’t felt in years.
Finally, he was able to swing his sword against hers in his own lightning-fast, practiced manoeuvre, sliding his hilt up to lock with hers, but while Rumal’s wrists and right arm were crying out in pain, Nimay had the full force of that Aeia-damned stone behind her.
She shoved hard, twisting Rumal’s sword away from hers so she could level its tip at his throat, but Rumal wasn’t finished yet. He slashed once more at the offending blade, then dropped to the floor and swung out one leg, catching Nimay’s with his to trip her up.
The General stumbled back a few steps, but her wings kept her from falling over.
Rumal got quickly back to his feet, sword ready as Nimay retracted her wings back into the silver clasps that hovered over her shoulder blades. “Forgot about them,” he panted, then darted forwards again, sword swinging.
He was determined to keep attacking this time. He couldn’t let her get back into that pattern, otherwise he was gone. It still took a lot of extra effort to move his sword, but he didn’t feel so sluggish as when Nimay had almost complete control over his blade. He just kept swinging, attacking high, low, with swipes or with stabs, anything to stop her from getting back into that pattern. Every clash jarred up his arm, but he didn’t let that stop him.
Apparently though, the pain was harsh enough now that it was visible, maybe not to the crowd of swordies gathered around them, but certainly to his opponent.
She slashed out against his right shoulder, his right hip, his right leg, forcing him to put most of his power behind his pained right arm, then suddenly she struck out against his left side, putting even more of the yrae magic behind the swing.
Rumal gasped with the shock of pain, and his right hand flew involuntarily from the hilt. He didn’t have an instant to recover from the shock though, as Nimay’s sword crashed relentlessly into his again. Coupled with the yrae stone that had been tugging at his blade the whole fight, Rumal couldn’t help but drop his sword, and he found himself staring down the length of Nimay’s yrae-crafted blade.
Rumal crossed his arms over his heaving chest, one hand on either shoulder in the gesture of defeat. “Haven’t had to do that in a while,” he panted.
Nimay grinned and lowered her sword, using it to support herself as she slouched over to collapse on the bench.
Rumal bent to pick up his sword, then flopped down next to her. He flexed the fingers on his right hand, cringing and sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. “That’s me out for a day or two.”
The General gave a breathless laugh that dissolved into a groan. She held one hand up to her forehead, and her eyes seemed to be staring fixedly at the floor, almost as though she was trying to ward off dizziness.
Rumal couldn’t help grinning. “Good to see it wasn’t an easy victory then.”
Nimay shook her head briefly, then winced faintly at whatever pain there was in her head.
“Let’s not do that again for a while,” Rumal decided, massaging at his palm with his other thumb.
The swordswoman nodded. Not for a long, long while.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ kawa~ 74. This has been in my head for the better part of a week, finally got it down now =3 My left pinkie hurts now, thank you Rumal.
Rumal sat down on the bench that ran around the perimeter of the barracks, resting his elbows on his knees as he panted to catch his breath. His eyes scanned the room, where other swordies were clashing blades against each other.
“You’re going to have to stop favouring your right side sooner or later,” he told the swordie.
Emon massaged his palm as he sat down on the bench beside Rumal. “It still keeps stinging. I’ve got pain all up my left arm now.”
Rumal nodded sagely. “That will happen,” he agreed, “Give it a year or two and you’ll be back to your best.”
“I don’t feel like I’ll ever get that back,” Emon lamented, “How can I be sure I’ll make it past the next challenger?”
Rumal laughed and slapped the paranoid swordie on the back. “Look, quael, you’re still second best blade in the kingdom, fingerless or not. You just need a year to get your strength back. Trust me.” He held up his right hand and waved his three remaining fingers with an impish grin. “In the meantime, I need me some competition.” He braced his hands on his knees and got to his feet, striding over to where Nimay and Melraan had just finished duelling.
“General, I challenge you to a duel. Loser’s treat at the ‘Thrai.”
Nimay raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.
“Are you just fishing for free drinks?” Melraan asked him, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and turning to Nimay. “You haven’t got a hope.”
Rumal shook his head and held up his hands defensively. “Oh, no, I mean with magic.”
The other two swordies exchanged cocky glances before Nimay nodded. Melraan grinned broadly at the best swordsman in the kingdom. “You haven’t got a hope.”
Rumal shrugged and brought up his sword. Already Melraan had gotten the rest of the Own’s swordies to gather around, and the other men in the barracks were beginning to pay attention as well. Rumal could hear the bets being laid as he and Nimay began to circle, swords twisting in their grips.
Rumal had known the swordswoman for long enough to know her strengths and weaknesses without watching her actions as they circled. He knew that she was fast, but that she always flinched when a blade was brought crashing down from above, and once the blades were locked in front of her face, she was pretty much at a loss. She liked attacking low, trying to throw her opponent off balance, and with Rumal, that usually meant throwing his left hand out so that only the three fingers of his right were gripping the hilt. The tactic rarely worked on him though.
Rumal had to wonder just how much those weaknesses would come into play now that the yrae stone was a factor.
“Bets laid?” Rumal called over to Melraan, but not taking his eyes off Nimay.
“All the important ones, yes.”
“Nice.” Rumal lunged forwards with his blade high, but Nimay was able to bring her sword up to stop him. She flinched, as predicted, but when his blade clashed with hers, there was considerably more force behind her swing than Rumal was used to, and his sword was dashed away easily.
Nimay didn’t miss a beat, and swung out at the opening on Rumal’s right, so quickly that her blade’s tip nicked his shirt, but he was able to dance back before she could draw any blood. The General advanced on him with rhythmic, lightning-fast swishes of her blade, and it was all Rumal could do just to block her. It wasn’t that she was any faster than normal, rather Rumal was that much more sluggish. He had to use so much effort just to lift his sword, and he felt as though there was a hand on his chest pushing him backwards.
It was the pattern. She had complete control of this fight, because she was able to keep attacking in the same pattern and focus her attention on using the yrae stone. Somehow, Rumal had to break that pattern, but every forceful sword stroke was jarring his wrists and sending shocks of pain from the stump of his missing pinkie up his right arm like he hadn’t felt in years.
Finally, he was able to swing his sword against hers in his own lightning-fast, practiced manoeuvre, sliding his hilt up to lock with hers, but while Rumal’s wrists and right arm were crying out in pain, Nimay had the full force of that Aeia-damned stone behind her.
She shoved hard, twisting Rumal’s sword away from hers so she could level its tip at his throat, but Rumal wasn’t finished yet. He slashed once more at the offending blade, then dropped to the floor and swung out one leg, catching Nimay’s with his to trip her up.
The General stumbled back a few steps, but her wings kept her from falling over.
Rumal got quickly back to his feet, sword ready as Nimay retracted her wings back into the silver clasps that hovered over her shoulder blades. “Forgot about them,” he panted, then darted forwards again, sword swinging.
He was determined to keep attacking this time. He couldn’t let her get back into that pattern, otherwise he was gone. It still took a lot of extra effort to move his sword, but he didn’t feel so sluggish as when Nimay had almost complete control over his blade. He just kept swinging, attacking high, low, with swipes or with stabs, anything to stop her from getting back into that pattern. Every clash jarred up his arm, but he didn’t let that stop him.
Apparently though, the pain was harsh enough now that it was visible, maybe not to the crowd of swordies gathered around them, but certainly to his opponent.
She slashed out against his right shoulder, his right hip, his right leg, forcing him to put most of his power behind his pained right arm, then suddenly she struck out against his left side, putting even more of the yrae magic behind the swing.
Rumal gasped with the shock of pain, and his right hand flew involuntarily from the hilt. He didn’t have an instant to recover from the shock though, as Nimay’s sword crashed relentlessly into his again. Coupled with the yrae stone that had been tugging at his blade the whole fight, Rumal couldn’t help but drop his sword, and he found himself staring down the length of Nimay’s yrae-crafted blade.
Rumal crossed his arms over his heaving chest, one hand on either shoulder in the gesture of defeat. “Haven’t had to do that in a while,” he panted.
Nimay grinned and lowered her sword, using it to support herself as she slouched over to collapse on the bench.
Rumal bent to pick up his sword, then flopped down next to her. He flexed the fingers on his right hand, cringing and sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. “That’s me out for a day or two.”
The General gave a breathless laugh that dissolved into a groan. She held one hand up to her forehead, and her eyes seemed to be staring fixedly at the floor, almost as though she was trying to ward off dizziness.
Rumal couldn’t help grinning. “Good to see it wasn’t an easy victory then.”
Nimay shook her head briefly, then winced faintly at whatever pain there was in her head.
“Let’s not do that again for a while,” Rumal decided, massaging at his palm with his other thumb.
The swordswoman nodded. Not for a long, long while.
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Date: 2006-02-15 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-15 04:16 am (UTC)