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The Usual Manner
Tue Sep 12, 2006 13:49
68.225.109.144 (XFF: 192.168.1.3)

Locke examined the man whom had him at the neck. He was watching him watching him; he had the Sergeant at the stomach. The silence was buzzing angrily with tension, the space between each combatant's eyes seemed ablaze with a kind of sideways consternation; dead men looking at other dead men. Some who were nearby had stopped to observe - it was an attack out of the blue, after all. Locke's black hair swayed slightly as he exhaled carefully, making sure not to slip his tissue into the biting steel of the axe that was entirely too close for comfort. The Sergeant was breathing heavily, and seemed angry, well, angrier than before, when he noticed two beads of sweat on his opponent's cheek. Locke could feel the man's eyes across his face, taking him in. He was incredibly young, for an Asha'man - he'd be incredibly young for a Dedicated! - the sly, cunning grin that was on his face seemed out of sorts with the situation. Adrien seemed pensive, thoughtful.

"Hello, Sergeant." Locke flicked his sword off of the man's gullet and sheathed it smoothly, the ribbon holding his ponytail back fluttering lightly as he shook his head, stepping back. Pale skin against a high-necked black coat gave him the appearance of ghostliness; he continued his introduction. "My name is Locke Lemain, and I will be your teacher for the remainder of the afternoon." A usual manner of introduction, after an ambush. It seems almost comical. Locke had a strange sense of humor. Adrien saluted smartly, even though taken aback, and waited at attention, silent, contemplative. "There are four things I would change about that fight, from your standpoint. One: when facing a charge from a man with a shorter armament than yours, do not close the distance. Distance is your advantage. It's true that you can limit a swordsman's available options by moving in close enough to bite his nose, but it's a much greater disservice to remove his arms at the elbow from afar." Locke started to pace, slowly, deliberately, in a small line, back and forth, back and forth, hands in his pockets, as nonchalant as one could imagine anyone ever being. "Two: If you're going to throw something, throw it like you mean it." Locke snatched the axe from the ground and mimicked the roll that Adrien had performed to start, only it was aggressive and angry, murderous. Locke exploded into the forward dive, and coming out of the rotation, let the momentum carry him through the movement of heaving the light axe hard as he possibly could, which he accompanied with a ferocious growl. The blade whipped through the air in circles and suddenly held fast, suspended in front of the sergeant's face, not two inches from impacting him squarely in the eye at a diagonal. Releasing his hold on saidin, Locke let the axe fall. "Three: Capitalize on movements that are unexpected to your opponent. That twirl you engaged earlier was smooth and impeccably done - I was caught unawares, and I daresay if you'd brought it roundabout, you could've cleaned my proverbial clock by wheeling the flat of the axe blade across the side of my head." Adrien nodded, still examining, still studying. He's an analytical soul. Wonder if he pulled all this away from the fight as the fight was happening? "Four: Don't engage in maneuvers that are destined for deadlock, which is where we wound up. It is a messy, silly place." Locke crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue - he was dead. Adrien quirked an eyebrow, and then, remembering his protocols, lowered it hurriedly. Wound up tight, aren't we?

"And now, honey-bunches, we go again." Locke drew his sword and looped it once, letting his wrist go light for a moment, before stepping back into a low righthand guard, blade pointed down.

________________________

OOC: No worries, mate. It's not a case of you "doing better" at all. You're usually prompt, and, as such, I was just a lil' concerned as to what was up with ya IRL. Eeeenjoy. ^_^

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