[IC] Doc Doctor vs. ELGainsborough

[A Man Is No One]

The Wastes envelope an area over 172 million acres and expand well beyond the borders of Melekure. From Drasnia the capital city centrally located amongst the southern expanse of the Monarchy the Wastes are mostly scene in all directions. Running from the south around to the west and expanding outward from that point the forest abuts the borders of Melekure. Off in the distance to the north is the Great Plateau the base of which exists for beyond the northern border of the Monarchy.

A cool wind carries over the Wastes enshrouded in shadow by darkened clouds above waiting for gravity to drain it of the moisture that gave them life. Few days in the Wastes are host to the shining sun above. The thick scent of rot and decay are only masked by a faint hint of blood carried on the air. The chilled water lay motionless, the final resting place of so many undisturbed. Speckled with small isles of grass and trees the Wastes demeanor is amplified by intermittent decaying corpses or skeletal remains picked clean.

Finally, the ghastly remains of the ruins of Melekure act as the center piece of the entire nation. The ruins of the city where the Monarchy finds its namesake were nothing more than a specter of their former glory. Alabaster fortifications that once stood proudly were slowly crumbling struggling to maintain composure amongst battle scars centuries old. Beyond those walls lay the pristine structures of the city proper speckled with smatterings of a war fought long ago.

With the ruins of a once prosperous metropolis as a back drop, two warriors meet in melee combat. Trudging through the sludge of the Melekurian Wastes was a single armored knight. Strange as it may have been to see a single knight, even the most ignorant being to the ways of Melekure would know a cohort was not too far off. The lower extremities of his armor blemished with stains of muddy water. However, his knightly training had led him to suspect that something was awry. He trudged carefully, sword drawn and scutum shield at the ready.

[Doc Doctor]

There was a black guy urinating on a toad. It croaked angrily but didn't move, for toads can be quite stupid. It hissed as its throat puffed out, hatred burning in its eyes. The black man glared right back at it, scowling in concentration. Several dozen meters above, a black vulture circled lazily. Nearby, a shoddy sign had been staked into the ground. It said...

*Ganna keel all da bandulus dat go troo 'ere. Dat mean ya self, jus' so ya know. Dere be 'ceptions for da white wimmins. I like da white wimmins.*

[A Man Is No One]

“What’s this?” Sir Zachary pondered, narrow eyes caste down his nose beneath the enclosed helmet that protected him.

“This land belongs to the Queen.” The armored knight grumbled, standing in front of the sign for only a few seconds before he bashed it down beneath the murky waters. His eyes scanned the swamplands from left to right searching for whoever had been so bold as to claim these lands for their own. These lands may not have been desirable by many by to the people of Melekure these lands were their home and any encroachment regardless of how small would not be tolerated.

“Show yourself nave,” the knight shouted, “and fall to the Queen’s wrath with honor.”

[Doc Doctor]

Zande jogged over, pulling a steel war mask over his face. He randished a wicked battle axe in his left hand and a banana in his right. He stopped several meters away, yelling back.

"Ya wreck'd me sign bwana! Took two days makin' dat!"

The tribal warrior began walking towards Zachary, grinding his teeth in anger.

[A Man Is No One]

“Two days…” the Knight thought bewildered by the implication. To him as a man who has known nothing but civilization, while illiteracy was common most civilians still had a better grasp of the common tongue than this. With civilization so close it was shocking to see someone so seemingly opposed.

“You stand before a Knight of Melekure. Under the hand of the Queen you are accused of the crime of conversion.”

The Knight took a single step forward angling his body to narrow his form. The scutum bearing the royal seal held at this side, ready to defend. His sword held in an extended arm pointing towards the approaching savage.

“What say you?” Zachary exclaimed.

[Doc Doctor]

Zande stopped several feet away, pointing the banana accusingly.

"I say ya got da face of a bumboclott monkey, bad bwoy!"

He gave the banana a sharp squeeze, sending the mighty fruit within blasting forth towards the knight's face.

[A Man Is No One]

Enough of this twaddlespeak. This poor whelps attempt at conversation was baffling to a first class member of the knighthood.

”So it begins,” Zachary muttered tilting his body back to avoid the comedic relief the situation so desperately desired.

The well armored first class knight of the Melekurian knighthood pulled an about face. Zachary shifted his scutum to protect his figure. Protected by the leather wrapped steel shield the knight hefted his sword over his head at a downward angle – a position both defensive and offensive. Minding his step he approached, closing the gap slowly.

[Doc Doctor]

Zande pulled free his other axe and walked right up to the knight, swinging his right one up overhead whilst bearing the left before himself to defend with. Thick tendons sought to escape the dark flesh covering his bulging right bicep, the wildman actually winding full up for a strike of immense power. Judging by the size of the gnarly battle axes, even a glancing blow to the torso would rend asunder the unfortunate that had been on the recieving end, their soul leaving their body forthwith and with no remedy.

[A Man Is No One]

Ready for combat, Zachary was quick to respond. Not a terribly bold move. The move was oddly predictable given the scoundrels outlandish appearance. Experience had lead the knight to believe that someone that appeared so untamed would be prone to more bizarre combative maneuvers. While expecting such it would not be his undoing. The first class knight was ready.

Zachary brazenly angled his scutum as if block the incoming axe. Larger than the typical specimen, such a weapon would have been unwieldly in his own hands – which this particular savage wielded with ease. The axe clashed against the leather wrapped iron, but the result was anything but typical. The momentum brought by the axe was transferred to Zachary’s body, which he used to spin around the outside of the foes body. As his back aligned perpendicular with Zande’s potentially retracting right arm, Zachary dropped his arm to prepare for a slashing attack. As his body maneuvered around the opponent facing him the Melekurian knight swiped his swords at the opponent attempting to draw the blade across the enemies back.

[Doc Doctor]

Zande had indeed raised his axe, and the results of a hit were clear... But he hadn't yet struck or made clear where he was aiming!

It was understandable given the savage's strange timing. There had been an irregular pause as he wound up, and given the immense threat of the vicious axe most would prepare for it too soon. As the knight readied his shield, Zande took a sudden step forwards before attacking, aiming to plant his right foot upon the knight's left. The rubber soles and steel claws of his boot were specifically made to prevent escape. Given the size of the shield and the diversion of the axe, this trick could easily be missed. One would think Zande to be an outside fighter, who used reach to his advantage. He actually quite preferred getting close and personal.

If he succeeded in stepping on his target, then he'd lean in bearing his full weight into the stroke of his blow. Not aiming for the head or torso. Aiming right for the shield, just above that big center knob. A pulverizing blow of madman strength. When dealing with the defensive types, Zande knew well enough that the defences had to be dealt with first. He was trying to assail Zachary by fracturing or stunning the shield arm with the shock of the impact, or by breaking down the barricade itself! It might take more than a few bone numbing strikes to do so, but the scutum and the arm holding it couldn't last forever. He knew also that the knight may try attacking the foot he used for trapping with the bottom of his shield, or perhaps with a stab. Needless to say the wildman had seen it before.

[A Man Is No One]

A miscalculation indeed. When one absconds from action liberties had to be taken to force movement where a lack of forward progression exists. However, Zachary’s movements would remained unaltered. Zande’s attempt to squash the knight’s maneuverability by stepping on his foot would be a fruit bearing too high upon the tree. The knight’s evasive maneuver, which danced around the opponents right side was carried out. His movement would take less than two seconds to rave around the opponent before bring the sword held in his right hand down in attempt to slash across Zande’s back. Barring some level of defensive exercise it would surely rend the outlanders armor from his back.

[Doc Doctor]

As the knight's original intent had been to block first and step after, rather than the reverse, and since his raised shield likely obscured his vision of the imminent foot of Zande, it wouldn't have been terribly unlikely for him to be caught in the trap anyways. The axe had been delayed, but not the clawed boot. But, it missed in the end and the wildman was flanked.

Zande wouldn't follow through with his mighty downwards swing. Another advantage of him taking his sweet time to land a hit. It allowed room for error and readjustment. He'd whirl to the right as Zachary slashed, aiming to swing his primed axe in sideways to take off the man's sword arm and perhaps a portion of lung whilst the man was in the midst of his blow. The cannibal screamed in shrill ferocity as his monstrous weapon surged, eyes bulging and jaws agape. The knight's attack would still be able to remove the wildman's armor and put a nice gouge in the back meat, but all that devotion to a swing strong enough to do so would put him in a tough spot to block or dodge the mortal blow of the headhunter. Zande didn't know where his opponent was aiming, but certainly he was the sort of lunatic that would unflinchingly sacrifice himself to defeat an enemy.

[A Man Is No One]

In any attempt to avoid confusion, it was Zachary’s perception that as Zande evaded certain injury by moving to the right he had done well to evade the attack all together. While tastefully trying to avoid certain misery and stigmata, he could not at this juncture dare to make a cunning gesture that would accurately reflect his skill. His ignorance of the particular battle style had prevailed well beyond what was previously anticipated.

Zande’s maneuverability had provided him with an evasion of the knight’s slashing attack. However, at this point the knight was fully aware of his miscalculation and could appreciate that perhaps this round he had been bested. His only advantage at this point would be to distance himself from the opponent. As his own sword came full swing missing the opponent by a good margin, Zachary tumbled to the ground while before landing had performed a one-hundred and eighty degree turn to face his opponent once again with the intention of denying him a free attack of opportunity.

He readied himself once again. He stood armored tarnished by mud that dripped from every crafted line. He held his shield beside him ready to defend yet not dependent on the manner of which he was attacked. Zachary held his sword at the opposite side it too ready but for either a defensive or offensive action. This time he was try to stave off ignorance to this current style where his previous experiences had at this point left something to be desired.

[Doc Doctor]

A fighter that used his head might use such a chance to back away and evaluate any vulnerabilities. Zande fought not with intelligence but instinct. Without missing a beat he'd let the momentum of his swing carry him after his opponent, turning full around and taking a single massive left step in pursuit to close the distance, not intending to allow the man to even stand up from his roll. Relentless, fast, scarcely even thinking. Upon nearing Zachary, the tribesman would screw his heels into the ground and twist his torso towards his foe, putting the full heft of his lean body into a left-handed blow of such ferocious vehemence that even if the savage tool were blocked, the raw force would send the knight sprawling to the ground as if clubbed by the swing of a major league hitter. Zande's gaunt face was contorted in demonic emotion, lips pursed and eyes lethally sharp as he really, as the pros say, "put his ass into it". The knight would probably be in the process of turning around and rising up from his crouch when the headhunter rushed upon him, the attack aimed for the shield if Zachary were facing mostly away, or the sword arm if not.

[A Man Is No One]

Stifled behind the narrow construction of the helmet that donned his head, the knight failed to see the majority of what had transpired in his last ditch effort to avoid certain bodily harm. He was at a loss. A rush of stagnant water washed over his brow as he tumbled through the swampland. He would barely tumble onto his feet before his body was jostled and thrown like a rag doll.

As he came to rest in a crouching position from his evasive roll, his shield came into position just in time to save the knights life. The unsavory axe glanced across his shield, sending him tumbled further without the precision he once had. It was by chance of dumb luck that the shield had flopped up in a manner that would only barely leave a stinging sensation across his forearm. The shear force was enough to push him well off balance. As standing up was not an option, as he came to rest a few meters perpendicular to his assailant who had just provided a molly-wop in a crouching position. He clung desperately to the wire wrapped hilt of his blade. The rectangular scutum before him exploited to maintain his composure as it pushed against the waterlogged soil beneath the water disturbed. His chest heaved as he took what previous second to reevaluate his efforts.

[Doc Doctor]

Zande was already in the midst of his next attack, right weapon swinging up over his head as he loomed in. Perhaps there was a certain method to his madness, all in all. He wound up for strikes of incredible force, taking irregular pauses betwixt each one to catch his opponents off guard. But there was more to it than that, a psychological factor. It was intimidation. Even if Zande himself didn't know it, his particular style conditioned opponents to fear the next blow, to wish for it to come all the more quickly that the dread anticipation be quenched.

The muscles in the cannibal's right bicep twitched, and he leaned forwards sharply. Was he going to try and brain the knight over his shield? Not this time. It was a fake out to try and make Zachary lift his shield and obscure his own vision out of reflex, since it didn't pay to take chances with the lethal seven pound sparth axes. Every single move though, was a risk. Were the knight to raise his scutum, Zande would instead hurl himself bodily upon the shield with a maniacal scream, attempting to rugby tackle the man to the ground and pin him beneath his own defense. Zande would keep his left axe held near to guard against the possibility of the man attempting a sudden stab.

If Zachary didn't fall for the feint, then Zande would bring his already raised right axe cocking as far back as it could reach before unleashing an explosive snort of fogged breath, swinging it down in a homing overhead chop with as much vigor as his untamed body could unleash, rippling legs uncoiling like steel torsion springs as the elevated emissary of terminal absolution slung forth in a flashing arc of white hot death. This one easily boasted enough blistering power to harshly dent in the shield with a resonating *KERBLONGGGG*, making the knight's knees literally sink a couple inches into the mud if he blocked the hit. This black dude's capacity for violence was no joke.

[A Man Is No One]

As Sir Zachary came upright with a stomp that sent ripples across the water’s surface, his eyes came forward as the opponent came for him. As if caught in the grips of death the triumphs of his past had loomed before his eyes. The unsavory criminals that succumbed to his valor trembled at the gallows. Hordes of orcs and goblins crumbled at his feet. Even a mighty troll hell bent on tearing down the walls of the city fell before him and his comrades. A patrol of knights were beyond comparable to even the most dastardly creatures in the land. How laughable it would have been for a single knight to have fallen so easy.

Of course, while he may not have been ready for the kill Sir Zachary was more astute than ever. As the axe came down, Zachary braced himself to meet it. However, it was not the direct block that Zande was hoping for. As the axe came down, Zachary turned edging his shield along with it, pushing Zande’s striking arm directly before him. In a sparse illumination that disappeared beneath the splashing water the axe scrapped against the shield deflecting towards the ground.

It was at a precise moment that Sir Zachary lurched forward as the axe brushed against his iron shield pushing Zande away from his stalwart defenses. What might be confused as a shield bash was nothing more than a forceful push to allow for some comfortable distance between the two. Under the assumption that Zande was not an acrobat given those extremely cumbersome foot accoutrements and the addition of the hefty axe adding additional momentum to pull him away logical rationale would dictate Zachary the opportunity to withdraw from his staggered position back into a stance competent for combat.

Once again he stood at the ready.

[Doc Doctor]

@ELGainsborough
Zande was quick and agile most of the time, but here he was actually at a disadvantage. His boot claws allowed him to sprint and climb with ease on nearly any surface...

Save for a marsh. And indeed, whenever one of his massive swings missed, it took a good moment for him to recover. His front right foot was caught by some sort of root buried in the muck, which the force of his swing had made him sink in to.

With a hiss of effort and a wet plop, he pulled his foot free and swung his right axe back up over his head. Nope, the target had already gotten back to his feet.

"Mudderin' bumbyclots!!"

With a tropical curse and a grunt Zande began stalking towards the knight, whom he no longer deemed a trifle that could be grouped in with the paltry rabble he slaughtered on a regular basis. This one was worth something. The tribesman's default stance seemed to involve keeping his right arm raised high as a threat, whilst the left was kept chambered by his side with considerably more subtlety and his left foot leading. He would without a doubt be willing to trade blows, and to take up such an offer was near suicide. Yet, to play defensively was a like bid to survive a lightning storm by sitting beneath a tree.

He'd move closer and closer, hunched over with a plump red tongue lolling out and dark eyes bulging. There was a different vibe about him now, far and away from the toad pissing loony that had been the opponent thus far. If the knight didn't do something, the headhunter would gradually wind up within, say, smooching distance.

Yes, yes, very much so, yes. Smooching distance would be worse than the axes, so much worse. Something had just changed, just snapped. What did it really mean to lose in this situation?

*Rolling in the mud. Fat lips part. The teeth within are thick and strong and sharp. No mere schoolyard tumble where a teacher can intervene. High pitched screams. Worse things than death*

[A Man Is No One]

Indeed, Zachary would have to make a decision. Luckily enough Zande would provide the knight with ample opportunity to consider his options. He would not need long. “Smooching” distance would be interesting enough. The tribesman had intended to bold encroach within the knights striking range. However, Zachary would hold his sword back even as Zande draw closer. As this smooching distance came to fruition the knight would not wait to see what the warrior had up his sleeve. The great knight exploded forth but not with his blade. Instead he lead with his shield in a great thrust sending a great bash to force his opponent to smooch some iron.

[Doc Doctor]

Zande expelled the breath from his lungs and jumped off his back leg, being the lunatic that he was. His feet left the ground as he attempted to take the shield bash in his plated chest with expert timing, a far sturdier target than the face. It was almost like a frat boy chest bumping. The knight had two weapons and only one was close enough to be used without giving away intent. Zande had not missed this fact. He meant to embrace the scutum against his body to temporarily leave the knight without a defence.

The right axe came whistling down towards Zachary's left clavicle in a diagonal descent at the same time, not as mightily had Zande's feet been planted but still weighty enough to kill. The Wildman's left arm would be held at the ready to deal with the sword should the knight try to devote any final moments to revenge.