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A solid opener from an orthodox swordsman. Nothing wrong with it at all; in fact, it followed all the rules. It was a wide swing, too low to be ducked under, using the advantage of reach that he had with such a large sword. It was a good, solid move.

His enemy was not a training dummy, however. A charge was met head-on with a charge as the cloaked figure dug his feet into the snow beneath him to find firm purchase upon the cracked earth beneath it while Ryugi closed the distance. During those last few feet when he began his swing the man would then burst forwards himself with a sudden motion intended to close the gap between them before Ryugi could bring his sword across.

Two fast steps to close the distance and then a drive forwards with the left foot; stepping across Ryugi's path and bringing his left side full-on against the front of the charging dragon as the cloaked man's left hand snapped out straight to his side with a driving palm strike aimed for the hollow of Kazamaru's neck.

With the snow and ice coating the ground, there was little chance of avoiding a train wreck between the two men, even if neither of their strikes found home; but that would only make things more interesting in the long run.

Time to prepare was a luxury. It was something you had when two fighters stared at each other across an open space, possibly charging some glowing attack that would be unleashed later while in the meantime they planned a strategy for what to do next. Time to prepare was not something for close combat, when every movement had to be reflexive.

Ryugi had managed to avoid both the sudden strike and the train wreck... something that showed promise in his ability to make those reflexive movements when things heated up. Instinct was a pure thing that far too many fighters had trained out of themselves. Instinct is never wrong, only misguided. Instinct knows immediately what is necessary.

The cloaked man responded to Ryugi's movements with a sweeping strike of his own; straightening his front leg from the sudden movement and springing back almost exactly in line with where he had come from. The outstretched arm bent at the elbow and swung back behind him as the man practically leaped backwards into the dragon with an elbow strike aimed for the side of his face and following a counterclockwise circular path.

Ragnarok was pushed forwards as Ryugi attempted to close the gap and ram his opponent before the attack could connect. It closed the distance just as the man leaped backwards to deliver his strike; which brushed away some of the snow that had begun making nests for itself in Ryugi's hair, but did little else when it passed clear over the ducked head it had been aimed for.

The wide sword wouldn't see much action, though, as the moment the elbow strike passed over it became clear that the cloaked man had not almost leaped straight into Ryugi with his attack... he had leaped straight into Ryugi with it. The swift rotation delivered with the strike turned his body to fully face Ryugi just as Ragnarok was coming to bare, and by firmly planting his free right hand upon Ryugi's left shoulder that the cloaked man flipped straight up and over the swordsman as he rushed forwards; turning a barrel roll in the air before landing behind where Ryugi had been in a low, crouched stance with his left hand outstretched to his side and his right pressing three fingers down upon the frozen ground in front of him.

A landing leaving plenty of time for Ryugi to get his bearings back and spin back around.

Instinct was never wrong. Instinct could tell you that a skilled opponent should not be shown your back. It could tell you that discretion is the better choice when faced with a dangerous situation. But it can also tell you when and where to strike, with tooth and nail but not with wood and steel. Swordsmen train to make something unfamiliar like a second nature to them, but in doing so they learn to neglect the first nature. The animal.

Snow crunched under foot as the cloaked man rushed forwards from his low stance; charging swiftly across the ice-covered ground towards the man that would be dragged back bloodied when this was all over.

(( I need to get more sleep before writing these. Those last two were just not up to my usual standards, and I only really got about 3 hours for this one, too. xp I'll bet I'll hate it very soon. ))

Ragnarok's well-timed maneuver cut only air and drifting snow on Ryugi's reversal. The cloaked man was no longer there for it to connect.

The low charge that had suddenly started turned into a sudden skid when the man dropped to the snowy ground and slid on his haunches across the dirt and ice behind Ryugi's right leg; snagging the cuff of his pant leg in a fist as he slid past and yanking the entire leg out from beneath the swordsman.

The edges of his boots jammed into the dirt and frost as the cloaked man thrust his left hand down in front of him to 'hop' back onto his feet; while using Ryugi's own body as an anchor. If he couldn't keep his footing from this, the cloaked figure would be set to pounce; quickly drawing a sheathed sword from behind his back in a reverse-grip and slashing with the short blade quickly across Ryugi's torso.

Metal ground against metal as the two weapons clashed against each other for a moment; sparks of hot metal scrapings flew as the cloaked man dragged his blade across the edge of Ragnarok. Kazamaru rolled out before he found himself trapped, but that didn't mean that he was free just yet.

With the sword held reverse-gripped in his left hand, the cloaked man placed his right palm against the end of the hilt and leveled the weapon in front of his chest, pointed at the tumbling dragon. With a thrust of the legs, through the body, shoulders, and arms, the cloaked man surged towards the swordsman with a powerful straight thrust of his weapon.

What was to come next was that the distance between them now created a pause. If Ryugi was doing nothing but defending, then he would see this break as a chance to collect himself after the assault. If the cloaked man wished to press the attack further, then he would see this break as an opening.

Instead, he simply stood straight, kicked the cached snow from his boots, and spun the sword hilt once over his wrist and back into his hand before sliding the blade back up into the sheath and out of sight once again.

"You're making this harder than it has to be."

Though the cloaked man said it, there was nothing in his voice that would suggest sympathy or mercy. He was simply saying that there was always the option of giving up... though there was no mention at all about what would happen to him if he did.

Holding the left hand open between them, the cloaked man balled his right into a fist near his hip and spread his legs into a stable stance. The lead hand closed slowly as he took one deep breath; and then the man dashed forwards again, dropping low after the first steps. What happened next depended entirely upon the angle of Ragnarok's swing.

The man would read Ryugi's swing before it happened by the angle of his shoulders. If Ryugi favored his left, it meant that the swing would go low and come up as it swung across, having come to expect something after the last encounter. If he instead favored his right, it meant that the swing would start high and come down as it moved towards his right side, expecting something different than what had happened before.

Instead his swing was a simple horizontal motion, and thus history would repeat itself. The cloaked man ducked beneath Ragnarok's initial arc as it sliced through the air and the snow, leaving only whatever move the swordsman had in mind for himself between what did happen, and what was about to happen.

As soon as he was within the swinging range of the sword, having ducked the first swipe and entered into close range again, both of his arms flew out in front of his head with his hands flat, one layered over the other. The cloaked man ducked in swiftly to deliver a double palm strike to the center of the swordsman's chest without even slowing down; using his gathered speed, his momentum, and the driving power of his entire body in unison to deliver a sudden strike that would send the Angaran sailing into a snow drift a dozen feet behind him.

It was a powerful strike on its own; even more so when coupled with the wave of concussive force that would blast through that dragonsteel chainmail as if it weren't even there.

Due to the fact that the narrator doesn't feel the need to describe what just happened, suffice it to say:



Kicking someone in the chest when they're running really fast at you tends to work like shoving a stick in the spokes of a bike wheel. It sure ******** with what the wheel was intending to do, but it doesn't really stop the bike.

The snow drift twelve feet back was still the center of attention.