>>5219595>>5219661>>5219672>>5219717Close one guys. This would have had some lasting consequences.With a roar he charges towards you again and you roll out of the way rather than meet his weapon with yours. You expect him to plant his axe in the ground once again, but he is too skilled for that. The trajectory of his axe alters mid swing, and he scores a shallow hit on your back. Despite the glancing nature, the sheer power of the blow sends you sprawling forward into the powder, and you are forced to scramble back to your feet.
“This aint some Lord's training field, boy!” He calls out, his grin still plastered on his face. He gives no time for further recovery, his axe meeting your left steel vambrace as you raise it to protect your vital areas and let your sword arm lower. It dents deeply and your arm alights in searing pain. You faintly hear a “No!” from behind you but no aid can come to this kind of fight. The wound is crushing, but you had worse from Reiji, so you force yourself back once again. You just barely outdistance Domlech's axe, but it's clear his skill with it can force you on the back foot. Using your superior agility to the burly savage you begin to stay just out of his range as he keeps up his furious attack. This infuriates the man. “Ye said ye would fight me, cur! Typical Godsdamned southerner, all talk, no balls!”
But you never planned not to fight him. In his fury, you see his expert movements slow and your final gambit takes form. You can't outfight him. Not if you are where he wants to be. You cannot run forever, honor demands resolution. So you will make sure he is forced to fight you as less than he is. You will make him lesser. Your left arm is still operaple, but you let it fall almost limp, as if the blow was more grevious than it was. And as you do, you one hand your hand and a half sword, something possible but very taxing. Your swings to drive Domlech away as he advances become sluggish, your feet begin to stumble. The very picture of a wounded enemy sapped of energy. You are hurt, and tired, but that does not mean you cannot play it up. You hunch slightly as if catching your breath, and your foe charges towards you for the killing blow. For half a moment, you close your eyes.
The first thing ever taught to you by your father in the training field at Hold Campbell was never, ever let loose of your weapons. A warrior must hold onto his tools like they were family, never letting go. He had died with his sword in his hand. The very sword you now carry. It's weight is heavy on your sword arm, it's heft meant to be used in two hands.
