'' I ... won't be defeated by the likes of you ''.
You won't, will you?
The man's voice rung in Drejak's ears as clear as a gunshot echoes through a canyon. He sounded confident and collected, even though Drejak had rendered him weaponless, essentially handless, and unable to retaliate. Drejak had been hoping the fellow wouldn't try to push his luck, but that's just what Sephiroth was doing, now. With a line like that, and the predicament Sephiroth was in, Drejak could only come to one logical conclusion: There was something big on the way.
By this time, Drejak had managed to land at least five or six blows with the staff's tip, and Sephiroth seemed to be nearly unphased by the rib-cracking force each blow carried. Since the man had made no further effort to escape, Drejak assumed that he was settled in and quite comfortable with the attacks Drejak was driving home. It wouldn't be much longer before Sephiroth's ribs on his right side would probably give way entirely and open the window for Drejak's staff to start pummeling the soft tissue and organs contained within the chest cavity. Oh well, his loss.
The one thing that put Drejak off a bit was that his head was being forced slightly backwards. The only things that kept him from toppling were the sheer strength of his back muscles, neck muscles, and leg muscles working together and his tail adjusting behind him to accomodate the shift in gravitational center. His knees were bent a bit, now, too, to reinforce his position. He still had his jaw clamped, and his grip locked, because Sephiroth hadn't really done anything to disrupt either. Instead, the swordsman had decided to run his mouth. Sephiroth's confidence would cost him.
Obviously, Sephiroth was disregarding the fact that his ribs were being demolished. There were no exclamations of pain. He hadn't even so much as winced, yet. Nor had he made any more serious effort to escape. Perhaps he didn't feel pain? That was always possible, but currently unimportant. So, with all of these unguarded blows, what difference would one more make? Drejak was about to find out, because as he drew his arm back to ready another blow, Sephiroth might feel the slight shift of Drejak's body as Drejak turned just slightly to his own left and furrowed his brow. Something changed in that instant. It was so miniscule a difference that Sephiroth probably wouldn't notice out of the corner of his vision or through his peripheral, or however he might be watching.
Drejak's body twisted slightly to the right as his left fist came forward again to drive the staff's tip, most likely unguarded since none of the other attacks had met resistance, into Sephiroth's ribs again. This blow would come with more force than the previous ones, and it would be carrying an additional threat with it.
The change that had occurred had been the slightest example of Drejak's earth-communing prowess. The only earth he had available to him at this point was the stone staff. So he had manipulated it in an attempt to end this fight before he had to deal with whatever Sephiroth was cooking up. The previously blunt tip had withered away into a conical shape. The staff had now become a sharp-tipped spear, and that spear's tip was aimed to pierce into Sephiroth's chest cavity. Drejak was stabbing a little wide, deliberately avoiding the heart and aiming for the right lung, instead. The weakened ribs there would prove little defense against this nearly-lethal close-range stab, which was backed by Drejak's body pivoting slightly into the motion of the swing.
Needless to say, Sephiroth was probably about to be given a new hole to breathe through. He hadn't been able to escape any of the previous strikes, and since this one was of the same nature and movement, he probably wouldn't be able to avoid it, either. Being that there was only a foot of the staff protruding above Drejak's fist, the staff-now-turned-spear would embed itself in Sephiroth's chest cavity and pierce his lung if it connected. The spear tip would either slip through a gap between the weakened ribs, or break through them, altogether. The spear wouldn't push out Sephiroth's backside or run him through. There would be too much resistance and not enough build up to the swing for that, but it would leave a nice circular hole in his chest that would be a little more than an inch in diameter.
Drejak had been trying to avoid resorting to such an attack, but Sephirorth was apparently resistant to the fact that his ribs were being destroyed by blunt force trauma. So resistant, in fact, that he had been able to form a completely un-faltering sentence in the middle of this pummeling. So, Drejak had to test the waters and see how he handled injuries to his organs and having holes gouged into his chest.
We'll see.
Drejak could only think responses since his mouth was full, and it wasn't really in his character to talk while he was fighting. It just seemed silly to him.
You won't, will you?
The man's voice rung in Drejak's ears as clear as a gunshot echoes through a canyon. He sounded confident and collected, even though Drejak had rendered him weaponless, essentially handless, and unable to retaliate. Drejak had been hoping the fellow wouldn't try to push his luck, but that's just what Sephiroth was doing, now. With a line like that, and the predicament Sephiroth was in, Drejak could only come to one logical conclusion: There was something big on the way.
By this time, Drejak had managed to land at least five or six blows with the staff's tip, and Sephiroth seemed to be nearly unphased by the rib-cracking force each blow carried. Since the man had made no further effort to escape, Drejak assumed that he was settled in and quite comfortable with the attacks Drejak was driving home. It wouldn't be much longer before Sephiroth's ribs on his right side would probably give way entirely and open the window for Drejak's staff to start pummeling the soft tissue and organs contained within the chest cavity. Oh well, his loss.
The one thing that put Drejak off a bit was that his head was being forced slightly backwards. The only things that kept him from toppling were the sheer strength of his back muscles, neck muscles, and leg muscles working together and his tail adjusting behind him to accomodate the shift in gravitational center. His knees were bent a bit, now, too, to reinforce his position. He still had his jaw clamped, and his grip locked, because Sephiroth hadn't really done anything to disrupt either. Instead, the swordsman had decided to run his mouth. Sephiroth's confidence would cost him.
Obviously, Sephiroth was disregarding the fact that his ribs were being demolished. There were no exclamations of pain. He hadn't even so much as winced, yet. Nor had he made any more serious effort to escape. Perhaps he didn't feel pain? That was always possible, but currently unimportant. So, with all of these unguarded blows, what difference would one more make? Drejak was about to find out, because as he drew his arm back to ready another blow, Sephiroth might feel the slight shift of Drejak's body as Drejak turned just slightly to his own left and furrowed his brow. Something changed in that instant. It was so miniscule a difference that Sephiroth probably wouldn't notice out of the corner of his vision or through his peripheral, or however he might be watching.
Drejak's body twisted slightly to the right as his left fist came forward again to drive the staff's tip, most likely unguarded since none of the other attacks had met resistance, into Sephiroth's ribs again. This blow would come with more force than the previous ones, and it would be carrying an additional threat with it.
The change that had occurred had been the slightest example of Drejak's earth-communing prowess. The only earth he had available to him at this point was the stone staff. So he had manipulated it in an attempt to end this fight before he had to deal with whatever Sephiroth was cooking up. The previously blunt tip had withered away into a conical shape. The staff had now become a sharp-tipped spear, and that spear's tip was aimed to pierce into Sephiroth's chest cavity. Drejak was stabbing a little wide, deliberately avoiding the heart and aiming for the right lung, instead. The weakened ribs there would prove little defense against this nearly-lethal close-range stab, which was backed by Drejak's body pivoting slightly into the motion of the swing.
Needless to say, Sephiroth was probably about to be given a new hole to breathe through. He hadn't been able to escape any of the previous strikes, and since this one was of the same nature and movement, he probably wouldn't be able to avoid it, either. Being that there was only a foot of the staff protruding above Drejak's fist, the staff-now-turned-spear would embed itself in Sephiroth's chest cavity and pierce his lung if it connected. The spear tip would either slip through a gap between the weakened ribs, or break through them, altogether. The spear wouldn't push out Sephiroth's backside or run him through. There would be too much resistance and not enough build up to the swing for that, but it would leave a nice circular hole in his chest that would be a little more than an inch in diameter.
Drejak had been trying to avoid resorting to such an attack, but Sephirorth was apparently resistant to the fact that his ribs were being destroyed by blunt force trauma. So resistant, in fact, that he had been able to form a completely un-faltering sentence in the middle of this pummeling. So, Drejak had to test the waters and see how he handled injuries to his organs and having holes gouged into his chest.
We'll see.
Drejak could only think responses since his mouth was full, and it wasn't really in his character to talk while he was fighting. It just seemed silly to him.
