COLLAB POST BETWEEN ALLARD, BLIGHT, AND KING VRONDI.
Allard waved a hand as politely as possible. "A splendid idea! I couldn't ask for a better test," he said happily, eager to begin. "I'd prefer not ta use a blade myself unless it being absolutely necessary, and if tha time comes, I have my own. I appreciate tha offer, but I am as ready now as I ever will be."
Vrondi let out a small chuckle. "Ahaha. Well I feel you may need to. Our Blighted knight's blade wont be sheathed for this test."
"I wouldn't ask fer anything less, yur majesty," Allard replied.
Garrett thought to himself for a moment, he could oblige the guest and use his own fists, or he could use his sword, it did not really matter if they would be in close quarters, either of them could be at a disadvantage to the other at a moment's notice or a snap of the fingers, or some well placed hand movements. He lined himself up with his proponent, flexing his hands forward as if readying himself for a dexterous excursion. He readied himself, holding the pommel of his weapon with his left hand, the right hand readying itself to be imbued with the arcane powers Garret had learned.
Allard nodded as he saw the knight ready himself, but not move forward. A defensive stance to start with it would seem. "Alright then." Allard said as cracked his knuckles and a few other joints. "Let's begin!" Allard shot forward, faster than what some of the nobles believed something that big should move. First he wanted to test what this man would do so a simple charge should suffice for now. When he got somewhat close, he pivoted and used his body to twist around, putting his body in motion for a heavy backfist with his right arm, aimed to push through the target instead of stopping, His left arm already drawn back and waiting to come crashing down in case the move was dodged with a duck.
The royals turned with their attention all on the duel. The Gaian royals nodded at the sight of a size similar to what was kin to their own. The Fotians however began to question in small number the familiarity of the warrior. Drums beat as they went on. Beatings from Fotian drummers who play during Arena bouts and war time.
The die was cast for the both of them, however, Garrett did not enjoy when people rolled the dice in favor of their own gambles. Gambling was a horrible sport. However, Garrett could not scold who did those, because he did a strange type gambling of his own. With the cast of Gale, and Hardening, Garrett became a rock bullet or a cannonball, shooting into the air above the abridged pit fighter. The thump of air and pressure against the composures behind him would signal his movement, nothing was better than speed and force, but also catching those he fought off guard; his armor was a blight, corrupting the minds of those he fought from knowing his true colors. With sword now in hand, Garrett would drop down with the force of his body to either crush a being other than himself, or ruin some perfectly shined flooring.
When blight came down on top of him, he lifted his left arm in the air, guarding the impact close to his elbow. Instead of using his right arm however to strike, he swooped his arm out from under garret, as if going to catch a coin, going to grab him by the legs and slam him into the ground, tossing him to the side afterwords.
Momentum and Reflexes were key in any situation, Garrett knew this. He had to adjust his course in mid air to stand any chance of not taking much of any damage from this encounter, and to do so, he had to make opposite, pushing force in other directions; the direction he would take would be to throw his sword downwards at a curve in front of his opponent, in doing so, he planned to land behind the man with a crushing blow with his fists, or, ruin the castle floors like a good knight should.
Allard took the blow to his back, the blow would feel like hitting a solid wall of muscle, while stepping forward to mitigate some of the damage it could cause, he used the movement of this stance change, however, to lean forward and kick back with his other leg, shooting out like a cannon aimed right for Bilght. After the kick, he would roll to the side and take up a stance once more.
Garrett hated kicking, he believed it was the last resort in fighting, however, anything can be used to win a fight, or a war, in the eyes of the combatants. He believed the doctrine of impromptu utilization was admirable. But a rock, must roll. Roll, it did. Garret would make his departure from following up in the momentum to make sure he was not kicked by a mountain of muscle, a mountain made of rock does not wish to crumble by the force of man; A roll would suffice, like the knights of old. He would need to watch his opponent from the initial encounter given, but he did not wish to give him any leeway to recover, as soon as he was away from the reach of his leg, he would go for a charging assault straight towards Allard, but not without making sure his sword was within reach to recover. Submission was the only option for either of them.
The royals seemed pleased by the ongoing bout. Vrondi stood at the end of the stage. Floating with his arms crossed as if observing intently. But his face only held a bit of admiration. He too it seemed was entertained by this show.
When Allard landed from his roll, he saw that the knight was already charging in. he used the momentum of rising to leap forward to meet him, cracking the tile underneath him from the pressure and bringing down a heavy left fist over Blight.
The Blighted Knight did not back down from this challenge, in fact, he wanted this to happen, as if he had noticed that the dice had been weighted to land on a certain set of numbers. All he needed was more force to push his opponent back, a boulder does not stop for stationary objects or lighter forces acting against it. Ruined floors meant nothing in the heat of battle, in fact, more flooring would be ruined in the seconds to come. Garrett would propel himself again, not upwards, but forwards, another thud of air being acted against, as the increased rock-skinned armor-clad Knight barreled towards Allard, fists ready to clock the man a few centuries back.
Allard slammed down into Blight with a hamming blow from his left, bearing into the ground, with an uppercut from his right ready to follow through. Allard face was still that of one having fun, as it was, he was having a blast.
No man would be sane enough to leave themselves open like this. Garrett did not stop himself, in fact, it only made him mad that somebody would try such an attempt to incapacitate him. He continued to close the distance, making grand strides in order to connect his rocked fists against Allard's face. Following through with this, he would need to take this man to the ground. He did not want him moving anywhere, and even the greatest of chest players knew when to call it early.
As Allard's attack stuck home, creating an indention in the ground, he noticed that the man had guarded it, which was quite impressive. Allard felt that it was a skill that the man used, as no man at that size has even stopped such a blow. Allard noticed that the man seemed to direct the attack to the side and move in for a strike to his face, which struck home. Gritting through it, he snatched Blight out of the air with his right arm. it was time to scale this up a bit. "I AM INVINCIBLE! MY SHADOW SKILL IS UNMATCHED!" He slammed Blight into the ground as he recited an old chant. "THE POWER OF MY BLOW HAS NO EQUAL!" His left first started to glow as he raised it to strike. "HAMMER OF THE GODS!" He brought down the punch right on top of where he had Blight.
As the fist of Allard swelled with a immense energy a voice rang through their minds. "Enough." The voice of Vrondi said. A hand gripping the fist before it flexed to come crashing down. Allard would surprised. His arm would not be able to move effectively with the warm glowing hand of Vrondi holding it back by the forearm. With a single arm of his. He was turned half way, not facing them but his head was turned to look down at them. He was smiling.
Allard looked back up at the king with a jolly laugh, "Sorry about tha mess. You have quite tha fighter in this man here!" He stood up and extended a hand to Blight to help lift him up if he accepted it. "I could barely geta hand on ya!" he said, directed to Blight.
Garrett grabbed the hand of Allard, if his helmet wasn't on, he'd be happy that there was such a great brawl in the halls of this place. He pulled himself up, releasing the arcanes that bound him to speed and strength. "Likewise. I really had to use my head there. Not a headbutt, I'm sure you'd know how to deal with that!" He shook the hand that helped him up when he was at a stable stance. "I'd like my sword as well." He pointed at a convenient place behind Allard, a rooted sword in the cracked flooring.
"Fine bout the two of you. Even without your blade you're formidable. How one like yourself ended up here working in the cellars is beyond me! Haha!" Vrondi chuckled. Pleased. While this happened a few Fotian royals spoke amongst themselves. "No doubt about it." One said. Slipping off.
Allard waved a hand as politely as possible. "A splendid idea! I couldn't ask for a better test," he said happily, eager to begin. "I'd prefer not ta use a blade myself unless it being absolutely necessary, and if tha time comes, I have my own. I appreciate tha offer, but I am as ready now as I ever will be."
Vrondi let out a small chuckle. "Ahaha. Well I feel you may need to. Our Blighted knight's blade wont be sheathed for this test."
"I wouldn't ask fer anything less, yur majesty," Allard replied.
Garrett thought to himself for a moment, he could oblige the guest and use his own fists, or he could use his sword, it did not really matter if they would be in close quarters, either of them could be at a disadvantage to the other at a moment's notice or a snap of the fingers, or some well placed hand movements. He lined himself up with his proponent, flexing his hands forward as if readying himself for a dexterous excursion. He readied himself, holding the pommel of his weapon with his left hand, the right hand readying itself to be imbued with the arcane powers Garret had learned.
Allard nodded as he saw the knight ready himself, but not move forward. A defensive stance to start with it would seem. "Alright then." Allard said as cracked his knuckles and a few other joints. "Let's begin!" Allard shot forward, faster than what some of the nobles believed something that big should move. First he wanted to test what this man would do so a simple charge should suffice for now. When he got somewhat close, he pivoted and used his body to twist around, putting his body in motion for a heavy backfist with his right arm, aimed to push through the target instead of stopping, His left arm already drawn back and waiting to come crashing down in case the move was dodged with a duck.
The royals turned with their attention all on the duel. The Gaian royals nodded at the sight of a size similar to what was kin to their own. The Fotians however began to question in small number the familiarity of the warrior. Drums beat as they went on. Beatings from Fotian drummers who play during Arena bouts and war time.
The die was cast for the both of them, however, Garrett did not enjoy when people rolled the dice in favor of their own gambles. Gambling was a horrible sport. However, Garrett could not scold who did those, because he did a strange type gambling of his own. With the cast of Gale, and Hardening, Garrett became a rock bullet or a cannonball, shooting into the air above the abridged pit fighter. The thump of air and pressure against the composures behind him would signal his movement, nothing was better than speed and force, but also catching those he fought off guard; his armor was a blight, corrupting the minds of those he fought from knowing his true colors. With sword now in hand, Garrett would drop down with the force of his body to either crush a being other than himself, or ruin some perfectly shined flooring.
When blight came down on top of him, he lifted his left arm in the air, guarding the impact close to his elbow. Instead of using his right arm however to strike, he swooped his arm out from under garret, as if going to catch a coin, going to grab him by the legs and slam him into the ground, tossing him to the side afterwords.
Momentum and Reflexes were key in any situation, Garrett knew this. He had to adjust his course in mid air to stand any chance of not taking much of any damage from this encounter, and to do so, he had to make opposite, pushing force in other directions; the direction he would take would be to throw his sword downwards at a curve in front of his opponent, in doing so, he planned to land behind the man with a crushing blow with his fists, or, ruin the castle floors like a good knight should.
Allard took the blow to his back, the blow would feel like hitting a solid wall of muscle, while stepping forward to mitigate some of the damage it could cause, he used the movement of this stance change, however, to lean forward and kick back with his other leg, shooting out like a cannon aimed right for Bilght. After the kick, he would roll to the side and take up a stance once more.
Garrett hated kicking, he believed it was the last resort in fighting, however, anything can be used to win a fight, or a war, in the eyes of the combatants. He believed the doctrine of impromptu utilization was admirable. But a rock, must roll. Roll, it did. Garret would make his departure from following up in the momentum to make sure he was not kicked by a mountain of muscle, a mountain made of rock does not wish to crumble by the force of man; A roll would suffice, like the knights of old. He would need to watch his opponent from the initial encounter given, but he did not wish to give him any leeway to recover, as soon as he was away from the reach of his leg, he would go for a charging assault straight towards Allard, but not without making sure his sword was within reach to recover. Submission was the only option for either of them.
The royals seemed pleased by the ongoing bout. Vrondi stood at the end of the stage. Floating with his arms crossed as if observing intently. But his face only held a bit of admiration. He too it seemed was entertained by this show.
When Allard landed from his roll, he saw that the knight was already charging in. he used the momentum of rising to leap forward to meet him, cracking the tile underneath him from the pressure and bringing down a heavy left fist over Blight.
The Blighted Knight did not back down from this challenge, in fact, he wanted this to happen, as if he had noticed that the dice had been weighted to land on a certain set of numbers. All he needed was more force to push his opponent back, a boulder does not stop for stationary objects or lighter forces acting against it. Ruined floors meant nothing in the heat of battle, in fact, more flooring would be ruined in the seconds to come. Garrett would propel himself again, not upwards, but forwards, another thud of air being acted against, as the increased rock-skinned armor-clad Knight barreled towards Allard, fists ready to clock the man a few centuries back.
Allard slammed down into Blight with a hamming blow from his left, bearing into the ground, with an uppercut from his right ready to follow through. Allard face was still that of one having fun, as it was, he was having a blast.
No man would be sane enough to leave themselves open like this. Garrett did not stop himself, in fact, it only made him mad that somebody would try such an attempt to incapacitate him. He continued to close the distance, making grand strides in order to connect his rocked fists against Allard's face. Following through with this, he would need to take this man to the ground. He did not want him moving anywhere, and even the greatest of chest players knew when to call it early.
As Allard's attack stuck home, creating an indention in the ground, he noticed that the man had guarded it, which was quite impressive. Allard felt that it was a skill that the man used, as no man at that size has even stopped such a blow. Allard noticed that the man seemed to direct the attack to the side and move in for a strike to his face, which struck home. Gritting through it, he snatched Blight out of the air with his right arm. it was time to scale this up a bit. "I AM INVINCIBLE! MY SHADOW SKILL IS UNMATCHED!" He slammed Blight into the ground as he recited an old chant. "THE POWER OF MY BLOW HAS NO EQUAL!" His left first started to glow as he raised it to strike. "HAMMER OF THE GODS!" He brought down the punch right on top of where he had Blight.
As the fist of Allard swelled with a immense energy a voice rang through their minds. "Enough." The voice of Vrondi said. A hand gripping the fist before it flexed to come crashing down. Allard would surprised. His arm would not be able to move effectively with the warm glowing hand of Vrondi holding it back by the forearm. With a single arm of his. He was turned half way, not facing them but his head was turned to look down at them. He was smiling.
Allard looked back up at the king with a jolly laugh, "Sorry about tha mess. You have quite tha fighter in this man here!" He stood up and extended a hand to Blight to help lift him up if he accepted it. "I could barely geta hand on ya!" he said, directed to Blight.
Garrett grabbed the hand of Allard, if his helmet wasn't on, he'd be happy that there was such a great brawl in the halls of this place. He pulled himself up, releasing the arcanes that bound him to speed and strength. "Likewise. I really had to use my head there. Not a headbutt, I'm sure you'd know how to deal with that!" He shook the hand that helped him up when he was at a stable stance. "I'd like my sword as well." He pointed at a convenient place behind Allard, a rooted sword in the cracked flooring.
"Fine bout the two of you. Even without your blade you're formidable. How one like yourself ended up here working in the cellars is beyond me! Haha!" Vrondi chuckled. Pleased. While this happened a few Fotian royals spoke amongst themselves. "No doubt about it." One said. Slipping off.