MicahTheRogue

When the Flames Die

The kick connected with the back of Jon's knees, sending him to on knee. Jon knelt there, breathing heavy, with blood dripping from his face, "There is no week nor day nor hour when I will yield to you." Jon said, with a tone of defiance on his tone. Jon tried to raise himself from the ground, but as he rose a couple inches to get himself back up, he collapsed back down to one knee, "If you want your victory so bad, knight, why don't you earn it?" Jon said, spitting to his side, once more. He kept his back to Jezin, as he stayed there, on one knee. Jon struggled to find his strength to get himself back up, to fight, to win this fight. His vision blurred as he did so, but the sheer amount of will he exuded made it impossible for him to give up. He wouldn't bow for anything.

When the Flames Die

Jon ducked, as the blunt side of the blade brushed past the tip of his hairs. Moving fast caused pain to ring out throughout Jon's body, but he wasn't about to let that stop him from winning this fight. As Jon ducked, he also dived forward, at the wait of Jezin, attempting to wrap Jezin up, and take him to the ground, where Jon could gain some sort of advantage of the skillful knight. Jon was starting to get tunnel vision, the edges of his eyesight starting to turn black. He knew it must be from the repeated blows to the head, the pain, and blood loss combined. Jon wasn't going to let himself pass out, though. He wasn't going to simply be put into unconsciousness. Jon didn't bend as easily as other farmers and commoners did.

When the Flames Die

Jon smirked as he witnessed the damage he had done, but it soon faded, after he realized he had absolutely no feeling left in his hand. As he looked down, he noticed the knuckles of his right hand were grossly out of place, and he could see a bugle in the middle of his knuckles. Jon looked forward, as he the knight charged at him. Jon didn't move. The man had given Jon his hit, the man deserved his own. The pommel of the sword slammed into Jon's forehead. For a moment, Jon's vision was black, but as quick as his vision had faded, it had came back, and he was still on his feet. He could a rush of warmth over his head, as blood gushed from the wound on his hairline, down past his eyes, all the way to his chin. Jon felt his head on fire, as if someone had started a campfire on the crown of his head, but Jon didn't budge an inch. He was in immense pain, but Jezin would be the last person he would ever show his pain to Jon pushed the pommel away from his line of sight and, still dizzy, and feeling lightheaded, drove his head forward at Jezin's head. Jon was going to headbutt Jezin in the nose.

When the Flames Die

Crack. During the loud clang, it could be heard. Jon could feel it. He had broken his hand. Jon was surprised Jezin didn't take a jab at him, once he had failed on his attack. Despite having a slightly broken hand, Jon refused to let any pain show on his face. Jon clenched his right hand, again. It hurt more than just about anything Jon had experienced in his life. He grinded his teeth as he clenched his fist, and sprinted at Jezin, again. While Jon's face was most removed from emotion, his eyes showed a fire that burned so intensely that it was a wonder that the man could keep a straight face. Jon dodged around the pointed sword, and ducked slightly, and raised his fist up at Jezin, aiming for an uppercut, and placing everything he had into the punch.

When the Flames Die

Jon once again, spat out off to his side, while keeping eye contact with Jezin. Jon was going to make his father proud, and prove that he was worth something, even if it meant taking a sword in the belly, "Your best against my best." Jon said, simply, with no emotion on his voice. Jon waited about a period of 3 seconds, before sprinting towards Jezin, right fist cocked back. Jon kick jumped the last few feet, throwing the punch downwards at Jezin's chin. Jon wasn't going to let this knight put him down without Jon putting up a decent fight. Sure, he had given the knight a hard time, but that wasn't enough for Jon. He didn't want to do good for a potato farmer, because he knew he had the potential to be much more than that. This act of stupid defiance wasn't a sense of pride, and unwillingness to fail, it was a Jon earning self-worth, and proving to himself, that he was better than everyone thought he was.

When the Flames Die

Jon was able to lift his sword up, to block the incoming slash, but he wasn't nearly trained enough, nor strong enough, to grip the sword well enough to keep it from flying out of his grip. While he had blocked the attack from Jezin, he was no left unarmed, his sword nearly a ways away from the pair of them. Jon puffed his chest out, and his visage became stony, as if he had a new found type of determination, "Yield now." Jon issued a warning, as he clenched his fist. He wasn't going to run for his sword. He was going to fight like his father had taught him, even if it meant his death. The words of his father echoed in his head 'The man willing to die, will be the man that wins the fight.'

When the Flames Die

As soon as Jezin began to drop his gear, Jon released hold on the man's knee, pushing forward as he did so. In a fairly sloppy roll, Jon dodged to the side, grabbing his sword as he did so. If Jezin was planning on turning this into a grappling fest, Jon wasn't going to participate. While Jon probably had more strength, he didn't have armor, nor did he have any secondary weapons. Jon back stepped, holding his sword as he did so, putting distance between him and Jezin. Jon was waiting for his opponent to pick his gear back up before attacking. While Jon wasn't one to hold up honorable combat as a way of fighting, he wasn't going to fight a knight if he was unarmed. He wanted his best against the knight's best. He wanted to prove he didn't have to fight dirty to beat anyone.

When the Flames Die

Jon could more or less hear the boot coming, as well as he it. As he saw the kick coming to his exposed stomach, he dropped his sword, and bent down slightly. The kick slammed into Jon's chest, instead of his weaker stomach. It hurt. It definitely hurt. But once more, it wouldn't kill Jon, and Jon knew that. Jon gripped the knight's knee, with both hands, his years of plowing and picking potatoes out of the ground showing with his immense grip, leaving him still standing upright. Jon wasn't about to go down on his back. As he gripped the knight's leathered knee with his bare hands. He attempted to swivel his hips, in order to throw Jezin into the ground.

When the Flames Die

Jon wasn't expecting a shin hit, but to prevent being knocked down, Jon bent down, and tanked the hit to his shin. He wasn't expecting that hard of a hit, though. He had had wooden boards broken on him before, when his father was angry, but that didn't feel anything like a wooden shaft. It was painful, but Jon wasn't going die from it. Jon, immediately after tanking the hit, brought his blade across his body, and slammed it in the diagonal motion, from bottom to top, at the side of the shield. He was attempting to destroy Jezin's block, and allow Jon to finally get in really close, and end the fight.

When the Flames Die

As soon as Jon felt his hit connect, he started to roll out, but wasn't quite fast enough. Jezin's shield struck Jon on the back of the head. It definitely hurt, but Jon was thankful for his rough upbringing, as it gave him a hard resolve, and even harder skull. Jon kept rolling, until he was safely out of range of the long spear and Jezin, and then slowly got to his feet. Jon flipped the sword back in it's rightful position in his hand, and placed it out in front of him, staring Jezin down. There was a good 10 feet between the couple of fighters. Jon's ears were still ringing from the shield bash, but otherwise he was completely fine. All the shield bash had done was strengthen the resolve of Jon to win this match. Jon stood still. Jon knew what he had to do. He gripped the broadsword with both hands, and went towards Jezin. While not a blind run, Jon was moving fast enough. The blade was down and to the left of his left leg, gripped tightly, as he went towards Jezin.