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Adrien-Baptiste Chandonne
It's Not Unusual
Thu Sep 21, 2006 11:21
65.210.64.3 (XFF: 192.168.1.3)

“And now honey-bunches,” the instructor, the Asha’man, said as he drew and executed a sharp flourish with his sword. “we go again.” He dropped into the Ji’Val guard again. Adrien wasn’t sure what it was about this instructor, but he felt himself growing fond of the fellow. He was young to his rank, almost two years Adrien’s junior, but for all of that he had that same… otherness that marked him for what he was, even better than the pins. The Sergeant paused for that and bent to retrieve his own pin from the tatters of what had once been a serviceable uniform jacket.


As he tucked the silver sword back into his palm, he heard footsteps and threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the sword which whistled malevolently over his back. Rolling over, the andoran threw a kick straight back over his head and heard Locke grunt when the point of his students boot dug into his stomach. The blow staggered the sword-wielding Asha’man and gave Adrien time to scramble to his feet. He was somewhat surprised to notice that the double-bitted axe he had picked up when the lesson began was still clutched in his fist. He disliked the weapon, it was much too unwieldy. Two bits was one too many to the Sergeants mind, who liked things simple. So he took Locke’s second point of advice.


“If you're going to throw something, throw it like you mean it." Rotating from the waist, Adrien hunched his torso down over his legs. He’d learned this technique for throwing from a game he and his three brothers had played, only once, involving their mother’s china. Feeling the muscles all down his back tense and strain against those already coiled in his legs, the Sergeant released the tension and leapt lightly into the air, coming up like a spring let loose from tension. He spun through the air like the spore of a dandelion but the axe he had been holding, whistled through the air, spinning manically toward the neck of the Asha’man, who had only just recovered from his stagger at being kicked squarely in the diaphragm. It was likely only his instinct that saved his life, for the blade of that bastard sword flashed and with a sound like a struck bell, the broad of its blade met the spinning head of the axe. There were a few gasps of surprises and some scattered applause from those who had gathered to watch this duel (there were always a few) as the two weapons struck a shower of sparks. The axe spun away from Locke and hit the grass, then skipped from its own momentum and luckily, missed anyone watching. Lockes sword had fallen from his fingers the instant after deflecting the projectile bound for his head, and the Asha’man was clutching his hand to his chest trying to sooth the jangled nerves in his sword-hand.


Coming down from his leap, Adrien snatched his own battle axe from his back and charged. “Capitalize on movements that are unexpected to your opponent.” The Asha’man had advised. Adrien wondered if this would suit. As the distance between he and his antagonist closed, the Andoran swung his axe behind his back and over his shoulder, intending to sweep the other mans head from his shoulders. Locke however, flipped the sword off the ground with the toe of his boot and that blade, though not rotating fast enough to do serious harm drew Adrien up short. A moment of panic occurred to him when he realized that he had lost his surprise, when inspiration struck, and he swatted the rising sword out of the air with his axe, another fantail of sparks raining down on the grass of the Yard. The sword skittered away, well out of reach and Adrien smiled, then, flourishing his own weapon by spinning the weapon full circle before his eyes, brought the business end back before Locke’s. Just in time to see the fist that struck him between the eyes and erased his mind. He went down like an unstrung marionette.

“Capitalize on movements that are unexpected to your opponent.” Lockes voice rang in his ears as his vision clouded over and then finally winked out like a guttering candle in a high wind.

  • The Usual MannerAsha'man Locke, Tue Sep 12 13:49
    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 ... more
    • It's Not Unusual — Adrien-Baptiste Chandonne, Thu Sep 21 11:21
      • Usually Unusual, Universally SpeakingAsha'man Locke, Tue Sep 26 16:19
        It was better. Much better. Locke examined his fallen foe with a quirked eyebrow, noting the small red blot on his face, the burnt-in reminder of his own fist, that would metamorph into a purple-blue ... more
        • The Six on One OvertureAdrien Baptiste-Chandonne, Thu Nov 2 08:45
          "Now, since there is only so much that I can teach you all by myself, and a real battlefield consists of more than two men having at it at their own leisure," "That might be the first mistake I’ve... more
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