[IC] A Clash Of Steel, Battle in the Courtyard

[LeeRoy]

Chainmail rattled around his body as he made his rounds in the Duke's courtyard, though he was a mercenary the Duke's pay was more than enough to make him march. Hell, it was even enough for him to fight for. Maybe not die for but when you start a fight with another man you should always expect to die, even if he's unarmed. A man can kill another with just his fists so expecting to survive any fight is to play the overwhelming optimist's part, and as a man who's paid to kill all to frequently he's not that.

In a few moments he'd be beset upon by a warrior from a foreign land, in another few moments one of them would be dead. But right now he was musing about what he would do once he got home from this job. Perhaps he'd buy a piece of land, maybe settle down. Maybe he'd start traveling again, see the middle east for the first time. He'd heard legend of a beverage like tea down there, he'd even caught glimpses of it in the Duke's stocks. It was a drink called coffee, a bitter aromatic drink that could put pep into a man's step from one mug.

Come to think of it, he might even be interested in that foreign tobacco. He'd had his share of native smokes but they smoked it differently there.

Maybe he was a bit too distracted. He shook his head and raised his shield to look around. He flipped up the window and let the lantern's glare spread across the courtyard, something seemed to catch his eye and his suspicion flared. "If you're out there, you've got one chance to flee before I'm forced to lay waste to you!" Not his best threat, but at least it wasn't totally empty.

[Doc Doctor]

@LeeRoy

Zande swaggered into view out of the flat darkness, like an apparition. He waved at the window, yellow teeth glinting dimly from behind the seared steel of an intimidating mask strapped to his head. He was waving with a battleaxe big enough to make a Foreman grill out of. A second axe of similar size hung from his other hand at his side. The foreigner was tall, likely taller than most people in this country figured a man had a right to be. How scary! Surely with-

"'EY BWANA! Ya seen da bad bwoy I 'sposed ta be meetin'? I gadda kill 'em so I become popyalar an' den ged all da white wimmins ta pway hide da snake in da jungle brush."

He talked not only like an illiterate youth, but also surpassed every offensive stereotype known to men both black and white. Was he some sort of quasi-hipster? Did he even know what he sounded like? Who the hell in their right mind ran around not only dual wielding weapons, but weapons of such unwieldy size? Why am I asking YOU all these questions!?



Obviously, the only possible response to this situation was to jump out the window and challenge this racially offensive, culturally subversive amalgam of all things related to black people and jungles.

[LeeRoy]

Standing there in total bewilderment with his lips pursed tightly in confusion, he reached up and flipped the lantern window on his shield closed. While his hand was up there he reached over and drew his blade from the sheath on his shield.

In that moment he had absolutely no idea what this foreigner was talking about. In fact, if you told him he was speaking English he wouldn't believe you. It looked just about accurate to say there would be no dialogue between the two. "Whatever kingdom you hail from had best train good men, I'm not even a knight and I'm a fantastic warrior." Why brag to a man who he assumed couldn't understand him? Hyping yourself up is important, gotta get yourself in the zone.

Ansgar raised his shield and sword into a swordfighter's stance, angling his blade over the rim of his shield for maximum protection and offense. If anything, he was not a showy fighter. Ansgar was a smart man who understood that showing off gets you killed and following the rules keeps you alive. He made his advance on Zande with slow steady steps, his chainmail rattled slightly as he moved. In a few seconds he'd be upon Zande, he'd make an exploratory stab at him with a full extension of his sword arm. This would be to range him and maybe get a cheap early hole in his foe.

[Doc Doctor]

@LeeRoy

Zande advanced to meet Ansgar, but his approach could be hardly considered slow and steady. He broke into an outright sprint, legs pumping and scissoring him across the distance between them, left axe swinging high up over his left shoulder, the lunatic headhunter cocking back as if he were about to pitch for the World Series. As he rushed forth, his chest expanded as he sucked in a great, heaving breath of air, jaw clenched and cheeks taut in preparation for the exertion to come. Tendons played across his dark-skinned neck like wires in a piano. Upon getting within striking range of Ansgar, a shuddering, maniacal howl positively gushed out from him, spittle spray and steamed breath escaping his maw as sulfur and lava would an erupting volcano, his lungs emptying out as his entire body torqued into a mad caricature of volatile motion. Zande wasn't attacking in the way a man does. This was the assault of a genuine monster, whose sole purpose was to inflict as much grievous harm as possible no matter the cost.



The right axe thrust out to meet the front of the shield should Ansgar remain where he was in his current position, potentially catching the spike between the bladed prongs at the top of the axe head at an angle such as to force the shield outwards to Ansgar's left. Zande's intent following that was more than obvious, given how he was about to devote nearly every iota of his physical being into swinging his heavy left axe.

Ansgar could continue with his stab, Zande wouldn't stop him. It was a tempting proposition, surely, to try and stab Zande through the neck or body as he rushed into range. But, all things considered...

*Hot Steppa, the battleaxe that was soon to come. An instrument of death if ever there was one. Six pounds of wickedly ridged steel, the same amount of metal put into a Zweihander, quadruple folded into a compact cleaver-like blade that could bludgeon a wild boar to death just as easily as it could chop the animal near in half. It took more than strength to put such a weapon to use. It required the body's full devotion and perhaps even more importantly, one needed the raw insanity to even think about being reckless enough to swing the thing around. But at exactly what point did Zande's recklessness become cunning? Madness and stupidity are separate entities, after all...*

[LeeRoy]

@Doc Doctor
Was this guy serious? Zande was sprinting towards him, Ansgar had livened his pace accordingly. The sellsword withdrew his sword arm and pushed it against the back of his shield. Adding extra support to it as he made his next movement.

The moment that Zande's first axe met his shield he turned himself shoulder towards the incoming arm. He stepped forward and absolutely ruined his foe's swing, he put himself inside of the arm's swing. A swing this big takes a very long time to make its way through the full swing, it gave him more than enough time to answer his blow.

Zande's elbow would strike into his shoulder, his elbow would collide with the thickly padded armor and likely hurt a bit. The thing that would hurt more would be the fact that his axe would continue forward and down despite his arm reaching a stopping point. If he didn't let go of the axe, he would likely break his own arm.

Regardless of whether or not he let go of the axe, Ansgar would continue stepping forward into Zande. An elbow tackle to match Zande's sprint, since he wouldn't need as much speed as Zande was sprinting towards him. Without armor, Zande's chest was a huge weak spot. After the axe arm struck his shoulder, he would sharply raise his elbow upward and smash it into the berserker's sternum.

[Doc Doctor]

@LeeRoy

Something was very, very wrong. At first it mightn't be apparent. Everything happens so fast when you're fighting for your life. Ansgar was a professional though. He'd probably figure it out, but likely too late. What was the problem?

Zande hadn't swung when he was supposed to. He had wound up, he had rushed in screaming, poised to attack... But he hadn't yet brought the axe down. Therein lay Zande's method. He used the threat of his fast approach, of his terrific offense to goad opponents into reacting hastily. First off came what Ansgar had probably expected. After the lead right axe clipped the shield and during Ansgar's attempt at an elbow, Zande dropped his weight so that the elbow would impact and skid across his thick chestplate instead of his solar plexus, right arm flexing up so that Jancro could guard his head and neck from spike or sword.

Chances are Ansgar was, at that moment, using his right leg to push forwards for maximum power delivery as pertaining to his elbow strike. Zande had more weight and much more momentum, as so Ansgar likely intended to use that leg as a kickstand to support the impact as well to stop the jungle man cold. That rear leg would probably be, at least briefly, locked straight as Ansgar pushed forwards. Zande was counting on it. The cannibal's long left leg swished out, heel plowing into the ground on Ansgar's right as Hot Steppa whipped in with an electric vibe of power at a low angle to just about take the knight's right leg off at the knee. Zande's dark features contorted into a rictus of capering ferocity as he surged into the blow, a loud groan of pure inflammatory emotion wheezing out from clenched jaws. So broad was the blade of the bearded axe that even if Ansgar had the last second foresight to try and bring his right knee up at the cost of his stability (resulting in him being bowled over by Zande's charge), he'd still be struck. His chainmail might prevent the leg from being fully severed, but it'd absolutely be rendered useless should the axe land, the kneecap thoroughly crushed and lacerated.

[LeeRoy]

@Doc Doctor (I'm sorry for the wait. Work and stress has kept me away from this.)

Again, was this guy serious?

In fact, he'd managed to make this situation worse.

Ansgar was only going to disable the man and leave him to limp off in shame, but now he'd cut off his own arm.

How?

Well, Ansgar's elbow had struck the plate of his armor and pushed it off to the side. With his particular footing this was quite fortuitous, considering he had a very sturdy posture. Ansgar simply dragged his arm straight upwards and turned his wrist towards Zande's under-arm. Slashing upwards towards the flesh of his arm, considering he was swinging a massively heavy axe downwards towards his leg. It would be difficult for him to stop his arm.

Once his arm was sufficiently sliced, the axe would likely fall harmlessly from his hand. Directionally thrown by the force of his swing.

Oh, and about his other axe? As his right arm swung upwards, his left arm raised slightly. Pulling the shield up between himself and Zande's body. A cramped movement, considering they were already touching. Though not impossible.

[Doc Doctor]

@LeeRoy (No probs, take your time. In fact, I'm gonna try to make things more fun and interesting.)

There were many things Zande could have tried to evade the slash. He might have released his axe and snatched it up later, or perhaps he could have attempted to maneuver his right axe into the way of Ansgar's blade. As motherfucking if. This particular cannibal just didn't roll that way. Zande was without a doubt a glass cannon, lightly armored and made purely to dish it out. His offence was his defense. He'd been in many, many fights to the death, and more often than not he could bully his opponents around by way of intimidating them with his raw, rushing power and unpredictable timing. They rarely had the chance to attack back, because if they did they'd get creamed. But, that was because most of them were thinking about stopping the axe at the head, where all that deadly force was concentrated. Ansgar had just thrown Zande for a loop by actually standing his ground and attacking the vulnerable meat of Zande's arm instead of trying to block or avoid the axe. He was answering Zande's attack with an attack of his own, daring to trade blows with the monstrous tribesman who was largely inexperienced in dealing with men brave enough to take him head on.

But, Zande was a quick-witted and wily killer. He saw Ansgar's elbow flaring up and reacted almost instantly. He jerked his right axe up (not with much force due to his commitment to swinging the other axe) so that the bladed prongs would secure the shield's spike and nudge the man's arm back, to perhaps cause a delay and a shift in the sword swing as the shield arm bonked into the adjacent rising sword.

What was Zande's ultimate goal? Well, it wasn't really very ultimate. He just wanted a tiny moment to progress the swing a ways further so that when the axe left his hand, it would be chucked nearly point blank into Ansgar's knee. It would lack the full follow through of Zande's muscular power, but would still be easily enough to maim the knight and cripple that leg.
A trade off, Zande was seeking. An arm for a leg. Ansgar would have a definite advantage. He'd be wounded, but with no severed arteries. Zande on the other hand would have his brachial artery sliced open, and would have only about forty-five seconds before he became too weak from blood loss to fight. He'd pass out after a minute.

A likely result of the altercation would be Zande's weight and height toppling Ansgar over, with the savage scrabbling for a mount of top of the knight whilst bleeding like a pig. It'd be a simple contest, if this scenario happened. Last out for forty-five seconds against a one-armed Zande. How intense could forty-five seconds possibly get?

[LeeRoy]

Unfortunately, his sword had successfully found providence in the underarm of the primitive. He hadn't particularly taken into account how crazy these tribal cultures can be, because the man had somehow managed to throw his axe midway through the swing. Normally not much of a problem, but this thing was tremendously heavy and it had been slingshotted straight towards Ansgar's right leg where it smashed in force against he side of his shin and continued forward.

In any situation with any normal weapon, this wouldn't be much a problem. Maybe a little bruise and maybe a little bleeding, but this axe weighed an inhuman amount. His shin cracked and buckled beneath the weight, as hid his leg. The bone split pretty cleanly and the man could no longer stop the advance of Zande.

However!

Ansgar was a trained professional who knew more about fighting than he did about having a normal life, his reaction was pretty fluid. His upper body twisted with the force of Zande's advance and he shoved his left elbow outwards and into the tribal's side. Almost resembling a clumsy judo throw before his weight could no longer be held by his broken leg. The pain was so intense in this moment his eyesight had washed red and his body had moved on its own. Hopefully Zande would be thrown a goodly distance away from his own momentum, but in the off chance he wasn't the pair would land facing eachother on their sides. Ansgar on his right and Zande on his left.

[Doc Doctor]

@LeeRoy

Ansgar succeeded with his judo throw, but he couldn't have expected it to go smoothly where a wild black man was concerned. For Zande, this had been the first time he had ever been judo'd by someone smaller than him. For Ansgar, it'd probably be the first time an opponent had propelled a nasty gout of blood into his face. Zande flexed and rocked his wounded left arm at Ansgar's face as the clash took him up and over the knight, potentially drenching the man's eyes with red in more ways than one.

Were Ansgar to be temporarily blinded by the blood, he'd find himself quite dead not a second after hitting the ground across from the tribesman. It was a simple tactic, but simplicity is often the best weapon. Zande dropped his right axe when they toppled over each other, and Ansgar might have been too fogged up with the gooey bodily fluid to see the lunatic whip his weighted hunting knife out. Ten inches of viciously sharp serrated steel that would, if Zande had his way, be immediately thrust through Ansgar's visor and into his right eye socket after they landed, a skillful assault not of the sort to be disrupted by a lucky head tilt. Zande'd make sure to avoid the shield arm so that his aim stayed true, though of course that's easier said than done. If Ansgar pitched a fit in anticipation of getting stabbed in the frontal lobe, it'd take Zande considerably more time to line up his shot.