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 Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 3:44 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 3:44 pm
~Reserved~
Pictures coming soon
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Posted: Mon Oct 15, 2012 3:45 pm
~Reserved~
Pictures coming soon
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 4:54 pm
 Quilzar arrived about an hour and a half early to the Dojo, his arm slung so he moved it minimally and his wrist still braced. He looked around the structure, examining the architecture and its surroundings. The building wasn't to the tastes of the Drow, but oh well. Who was he to complain? Instead, he looked around for mushrooms and herbs he could use for his favorite hobby, and his current necessity. With him, he had a bag that was strapped around his hips at the top, and his right thigh at the bottom. With a sigh, he noted that the only disadvantage of having a manicure area around the building was the lack of wild plants.
He headed towards the more shaded forest, and was glad to find a trove of mushrooms. After a careful gaze, he identified several species of the fungus and set them in his bag, poisonous or not. They would be useful anyways. He did the same thing with the herbs he found. Poisonous or not, they went straight into the bag. He'd be able to put all of them to use through his craft, though he probably didn't need any poison for a while yet, if ever. With his bag full, he stepped out of the forest's protective shade and into the blinding sun. Quilzar squinted his eyes and held his hand up to cut the glare.
Quickly, he made his way to the inside of the Dojo, waiting for Marltok to arrive. Considering how high the sun was in the sky, it wouldn't be long now. While he waited, he unbuckled his bag with his braced hand to set it down. He put his sword to hand, and started a warm up. May as well get used to the feeling of having his wrist immobile while weilding his blade. If there was one thing Shynt'fryn beat into him, it was that injuries were no excuse to avoid a fight. And he certainly wasn't going to start using them as one now.
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 1:18 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd Last night Marltok hadn't slept as well as he would have hoped. He was still mulling over what had happened that evening. He was certain he'd treated he man too rough. He'd wanted to be harsh at the start to get the man in line, like a new ARCS recruit, but he'd gone too far. He'd broken the rules. Funny, he never would have guessed there were rules to being a master as well as being a slave or a pet. He'd have to rectify that. He had no idea how the hell he was going to pull that off. Marltok believed he man to be soft but did that mean Marltok had to be soft in turn? He scorned the idea and refused. How harsh could he be without breaking the man? These were normally things goblins didn't consider. They weren't the best at empathy or considering one another's 'feelings". It was all too mushy and sophisticated for him. In the end it just frustrated him and he'd had to calm his thoughts. In the end the only conclusion he came to was that he wasn't going to go soft himself. He'd also have to move that blasted hair. He cleared the lowest bookshelf in the living room and laid the ponytail across it. That would do until he made his final decision, which he had six months to do.
The goblin pulled on a shirt then set himself down beside the bed to do his normal daily warm-ups, core strength and muscle building exercises. It normally took an hour his leg had a seizure so he had to go a little slower. He also had the stab wound, if i hadn't been on his injured leg it wouldn't have been a big deal but the convulsions tugged at the stitching. The flesh around it was a little swollen. Two hours later he pulled tightened the straps of his leg brace and set to polishing the weapons he hadn't finished last night. It wasn't until 10:30am that he had finally washed up, shirt on, armed and was ready to go.
It was 11:30 by the time Marltok got to the dojo. He would have preferred a longer walk or at least got some more exercises in before he met with the drow but the seizure and doing yesterday's weapons care had set him behind. He hadn't even had time to find out what weapons the dojo was stocked with. It wasn't a big deal. If the drow was too injured to fight he could go through each weapon with the man to see which he knew how to use. Hopefully more than that sword. Marltok wasn't going to admit it but he couldn't fight with a sword. He learned the very basics when he was young but that was many, many years ago.
Quilzar was already at the dojo when Marlok wiped his feet and came in. He was impressed. Not only had the man shown up but he was early too! Marltok had been ready to drag the drow out of his room by the wrist if he'd refused to get out. It was tough love; sulking was no way to deal with anything. It was why goblins rarely had any time off work for mourning or psychological injuries. If one was fit and healthy one was expected to keep going.
'Quilzar Torviir. I see you no longer look like a woman,' Marltok greeted, walking over to the man. It was the closest he would come to complimenting a man on how he looked. He wasn't even sure what to make of the haircut. It was certainly different and certainly not what Marltok was expecting. Was the man trying to say something? Did this mean he was no longer "damaged"? Marltok hoped it was the latter. He studied the drow's injuries from afar, trying to decide what they would do for the next six hours. He took in the man's eyes, the wrist and how he moved his arms. He'd have to do a better check than scanning over Quilzar's body.
'Either you're made of harder stuff than I thought or your arm is healed better than I thought. Hold out your arm, let me see,' Marltok ordered. He held out his hand so Quilzar could place his arm in it. With the brace he'd assumed the healing magic had been next to useless. Perhaps he was wrong. If so he wanted to know how it worked and why he hadn't used it on his shoulder. Now he certainly wanted to inspect it and see for himself just how well it had healed.
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 2:26 am
Quilzar found that his wrist, even though it was in a brace, responded rather well to weilding his sword. How lovely! Perhaps he'd even be able to take...well, no, that might not be a good idea. If there was one thing he didn't want to risk, it was straining his wrist, and prolonging his healing process even more. However, he found that having a sling on his off hand messed with his balance ever so slightly. Even as he tried to move it, jolts of pain went through his arm. But then, pain was never truly much of a distraction for Quil. Other than these findings, he found that his body responded very well, even under the duress. He missed this, even if he was injured. It reminded him very much of home.
He didn't skip any beats when he heard the door open. No, he just continued with his last bit until it was finished. Hearing Marltok's comment made him smile a bit. He finished his routine with a striking lunge before he stood straight. He set his sword point into the mat of the dojo and went into a casual pose.
"If you please, Master Marltok, I'd rather just be called 'Quilzar' if you are to use a full name of mine. The last name is only ever used for formalities, or whenever this one got in trouble." He wanted to run a hand through his hair, but he didn't want to drop his sword. Watching Marltok regard him, he wondered what the goblin was thinking. Was he worried for the Drow? Was he impressed? He found most Surfaceans were when it came to fighting with an injury.
When he heard Marltok's command, he sheathed his sword. He pulled the straps of the brace off with his teeth, and set the brace to rest in his sling. Then he did as he was told, holding out his hand with his palm facing upwards, and relaxed. He hoped that Marltok wouldn't try to twist it. He hadn't done very many movements like that since he had it healed, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out how his wrist would react. He nearly thought of damning Lolth to the Hells when he realized that was where she already lived. And he didn't much believe in Heaven, so he couldn't damn her there either. That and he was sure it would certainly make her less willing to do favors for him any time soon.
"Perhaps not as hard as I would like to think. Please don't twist it; it's not quite finished healing. A few more days and it will be as good as new." He tried reassuring Marltok of any doubts he may have about the wrist. But Hells, he wasn't any good at that reassuring crap. The closest he ever got to that was ******** the guy that needed it, but Marltok obviously had no desire for that sort of comforting.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 12:23 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd Marltok remained silent as he studied the drow's sworddancing. He wasn't particularly interested in swords but the forms and stanzas were interesting. Almost all of them were new to him. He was pleased the man hadn't stopped for him. It showed some amount of dedication, as did the fact he was using his injured hand, and meant Marltok was able to see the man in his natural form. He didn't quite like the lunge at the end; it was too obvious. Any finishing move would have been better than a lunge. Still, for all Marltok knew this could have been a performance or foundation sequence, which would mean it wasn't the drow's lack of ingenuity. When the drow had finished his sworddancing Marltok noted the beads of sweat of Quilzar's forehead and the dampness to his hair. The man's work hadn't been a complete waste of time. Unless one was leaning new formations they should always work hard enough to produce a sweat. If one did not push themselves' hard enough to produce a sweat the entire routine was a waste.
'Quilzar,' the goblin amended. 'Is that sequence of you own making?'
Marlok was raised an eyebrow when Quilzar unstrapped his wrist. He hadn't meant for the drow to go that far. He'd only wanted to see how far it could move and whether it was inflamed. Normally Marltok would have run his hand along the injury and pressed it in particular places to see what damage remained in the joints but given the man's sexuality he chose not to. From what he could gauge the man was no longer physically injured, there was no swelling and he'd been able to use it in his sequence. Marltok let go of the drow's hand.
'Do you really think I would twist it?' he asked, his tone flat. If it hadn't been for the change in the drow's behaviour and how servantlike the man had been, Marltok would have considered it some sort of subtle elven insult. He'd heard the words "please don't hurt me" from an elf before. That time it had been to imply Marltok was a viscous savage. If it hadn't been for the circumstances of that meeting, Marltok would have punched the elf in he face for that insult.
'Lift your hand up towards you. Now back. Now from side to side. Now clench your fist. Does this give you any pain? What about your shoulder?' he asked, pausing between each command. After that he stood to Quilzar's side and pulled his shirt across to see how well he'd bandaged the shoulder wound. It was a good job. Given that he was going soft on the man, he wasn't going to ask him to move it around unless Quilzar stated that it was healing. If it was he'd see just how far the man could move it.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 1:04 am
Quilzar wiped at his brow when Marltok let go of his wrist, apparently pleased with the healing. When contemplating Marltok's quandary about the sequence, he put on a melancholy smile.
"I'm afraid not. I was taught that sequence by a Master in weapons. I usually practice the formal routines before going to the ones where I have made modifications. I usually hate putting the lunge in there. Much too opening without much room for quick defense," he explained quickly. No doubt, having been trained himself in martial arts, Marltok would have easily seen this in the finishing move. Usually, Quilzar liked adding his dagger to the sequence. That gave him the freedom to defend and attack at the same time. Where one opening was made, the dagger closed it nearly as quickly as it arose. Unfortunately, there was the matter of his shoulder being out of the game. The Drow hated that.
Quilzar bowed his head lightly when his monotoned question was posed. Sounded rhetorical. Nevertheless, he replied to it respectfully, "Forgive me, I meant no insult. Perhaps I should have requested that you not turn it. It can only turn so far." He demonstrated this by turning his palm out towards Marltok at a three-quarter angle. Alas that was all it could go at the moment. As Marltok had commanded, he went through the motions. His wrist seemed able to do most of the motions, though not as well as he would have liked. Seems Lolth healed the bones mostly, but decided to leave the muscles, ligaments and tendons wanting. That would take a little longer than anticipated to heal. Hells! That was inconvenient.
"Only the side to side motion does, but it is negligable. I've not the range of motion I'm used to as far as ability is concerned. As for the shoulder, it will heal and it is in some pain. But I will not make it an excuse to get out of sparring. That would be useless." And how true he knew that to be. How many Drow had been killed in a fight whilst injured? No, only the battle-ignorant would try and use injury as an excuse to get out of a good sparring match. "Besides, I've been through worse and been forced to continue with my routines regardless."
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 3:02 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd 'I noticed. Why would you train with a faulty sequence?' Marltok asked, not really bothered about the reply. It just seemed a waste of time to him. He knew that performance pieces were more about the beauty and the rhythm rather than practicality. The Dance of a Thousand Knives was the pinnacle of both. There was nothing better. There was so much more movement and flow to it than many other styles. To Marltok it was like the flames of a fire. The dance was the only way in which Marltok could express anything remotely like creativity or poetry. Sword stances and dance forms lacked in that regard.
The drow hadn't said no. Marltok nodded but said nothing. There was nothing that needed saying. He was more interested in the drow's injuries. Instead, he watched as the drow moved about his hand. He was impressed with how well it had healed. It meant the man was capable of sparring, even though last night he had seemed unwilling or even dreading it. The man certainly had changed his attitude since last night. His behaviour was even pleasant or easy. Maltok didn't bother to think on what could have caused such a change. He didn't intend to repeat his mistake. The was one idea that did play upon his conscious though. He wanted to know more on the drow's abilities. It was in the Pet Annex but he wanted to hear it from the man's own mouth. As such, he asked, 'what type of healing magic did you use?'
'Hm, so you're not completely soft. Here I was expecting you to throw a tantrum,' he said. He still thought the man to be soft but he was still unsure as to how soft. This man was not as clear-cut as diamond, as the goblin saying said. 'Where was that? I can't see you as the warrior type.'
'If you've finished warming up go back to your sequences. I will join you shortly,' Marltok said. He turned and was just about to walk over to the other side of the floor when he stopped. He hadn't asked the man his rules. He would have to get it over with before they started at anything. 'Quilzar. I would never have thought there were rules to being a master but last night I broke one of your rules. I don't intend for it to happen again. State your rules.'
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 4:11 am
The only thing Quilzar did at Marltok's first question was chuckle. Indeed, he agreed, but it was always good to know the root form of your derivations. At least, that was his opinion on the matter. It also served as a training tool in Drowish culture. If one could see the openings, one could learn to change the system. Once you could change the system, you could change the rules. Perhaps he'd practice the more rigid forms apart from Marltok, as they were riddled with openings. At least he had made plenty of modifications to them to keep the openings from happening. He was almost completely lost in thought when Marltok's next question broke his concentration like glass.
He had a feeling this would come up. ******** Hells! How could he explain that he was still a mortal semi-consort-slash-plaything of Lolth's? The only indication of his internal conflict was a furrow in his brow. He didn't want to think of his owed favor to his Goddess. Who knew what would happen? Would he beaten until he was black, blue and purple? Or would She have her way with him? Maybe both. With a sigh, he contemplated any number of things She would either have him do, or do to him. Not to mention that he'd probably pissed Her off by shedding tears the night before. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before answering Marltok.
"I cannot perform magic quite like that yet. I asked Lolth to heal it for me at a price. Unfortunately the price is so high that I don't like asking for multiple favors in a day. Most times, it's not worth the price She demands of me." His eyes opened and he looked straight at the ground. It would be easy to tell that he dreaded something, probably less easily told would be the subject of his dread. Quilzar never dreaded sparring. But he did always dread his duties to his Goddess, for whatever reason She decided.
The Drow scoffed when Marltok voiced his thoughts on Quilzar's assumed reaction to having to spar with the goblin with an injury. His gaze jerked up when Marltok posed his next bit of thought. Well, wasn't that a complicated question? Officially, there were three answers to that one. There was the obvious one, sparring with Shynt'fryn and being made to continue in light of being injured during the fight. There was the less obvious one, the bedroom antics of both the males and females where everything was literally taken from him. Then there was the obscure one, the one that happened at night in his dreams. But then, he wasn't sure that last one could truly count.
"Two main places. One you won't want to hear of, and the other was when I was training with the Weapons Master. Hard to tell which of the two held worse injuries," he said this last part with a bit of a melancholy tone. He turned towards the other side of the room to continue his practice, this time with modified forms. He stopped when he heard his name. Cocking an ear in Marltok's direction, he listened before smiling.
"Master Marltok, there are no rules to being a master. Not where I come from. I disrespected you, you punished me, and now I understand that what I did was unacceptable to you. The mistake will not be repeated, and if I did I would expect worse punishment. Besides, I realized that it is only hair. It will grow back. Though you think the punishment was too much, did it not fulfill your need and meaning? Is that not what punishment is for? As for rules, I need none. I have never needed them. I wouldn't know where to start in asking for them in any case." He turned back and started working on his more practical forms.
It wasn't long before he was lost in them. Even as he moved, he accomodated for the openings that his slung arm created. If there was one thing he was good at, it was improvisation. Quil not only used his top half, but his bottom as well. There was no need to keep his legs out of the game. He even closed his eyes, becoming lost in the fluidity of his movements. If there was one place he could find some semblence of peace, this was it. Nothing to think about except for the movements and his sword. All of the trepidation, all of the hurt, anger and hatred all seemed to smooth away as if they were the invisible enemies that fell beneath the blade. He even forgot about his continuing slavery to Lolth in moments like these.
(Changed experiences to injuries. Fit the question better and Quil's pestering to say injuries >< )
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 1:11 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd 'I see,' was all Marltok said. There was no need to press any further and he was sure he would not want to know, considering what he'd read in the Pet Annex. The drow's reaction cemented Marltok's want not to press further. Whatever it was "Lolth" did to him was probably best left unsaid. The man was doing that thing where he looked at the ground again. The goblin thought it looked weak but he wasn't going to say anything. Marltok remained silent as he waited for the man to pull himself together. Marltok would have thought Quilzar would have gotten used to whatever Lolth had him do.
When Quilzar gave another slightly cryptic answer, Marltok's mind went straight to what he'd said about Lolth. Again, Marltok said nothing. What could he say? He had the answer he wanted; the man was not a hardened warrior. It wasn't his business who had ******** the man over and how they'd done it.
'The punishment did not fit the crime. I was too hard on you and there were consequences,' Marltok stated. He wouldn't budge on that. The man should not have spouted his elitist bullshit but Marltok should not have attacked something precious to the man. It didn't matter how well the man had accepted it. There would have been better ways for the goblin to get his message across. That time had passed and all Marltok could do now was learn from it. The lesson had been that even slaves had their limits, even if they were not forthcoming as to what those limits were. Marltok would just have to find out Quilzar's rules the hard way: trail and error.
Marltok had already done enough walking to start his exercise so now he could spend the next half-hour on a variety of stretches as well as core and muscle building exercises. They left him with the wonderful heat that told him he'd warmed up his muscles were ready for something a bit more intense. He took out the two scull crushers from under his shirt, he wasn't going to take the thing off around the gay drow, then took the beginning stance of the Roar of the Wind. The piece was a test for Marltok. It required a lot of leg and body work rather than arm work and it was done at fast pace. Obviously Marltok's braced leg didn't allow him to work at the pace he used to, nor could he bend his leg. Over the past six months he'd been doing the piece with one straight leg. It was better to work through the Roar of the Wind with his leg rather than adjusting it. It may have looked weird to throw kicks with a straight leg but he needed to work the leg if it was going to get better. Despite having to go to go at his leg's pace, Marltok still managed to work up a good sweat and have his mind meld with the power and song of the battle form. His body may have been crippled but his mind was as clear and as sharp as ever. Seeing the way he danced through the piece and the power and energy he put into it told any man worth his armour one thing. This goblin was not broken.
The last moves of the piece were to flip across the back of one's imaginary opponent then land low to the ground. One hand went up with the blade pointing up to block the other's weapon and one hand slammed down into the top of the knee to finally down their opponent. The opponent was obviously very beaten up by the end of the battle form so Marltok stood up in a neutral position then bowed. One always bowed at the end of any piece. As soon as it was over the goblin relaxed his damaged leg. It was hard work to get it through the Roar of the Wind, even at a slower than normal pace and especially because of the new dagger wound he'd received the night before.
The hot and sweaty goblin wiped the moisture from his face then ordered, 'Quilzar! To me!'
'You will obey the rules of sparring,' Marltok ordered. 'Rules. You will no strike to kill. State your rules.'
Even though the match hadn't started, the goblin was already in position to be attacked. He was standing side on with both arms raised. It was a very basic position but it had so much potential as to how to strike next. It didn't matter to him that the sword had a longer reach, the blades and spikes of his weapons would work to block any attack sliding down his arms. The sword was a more rigid weapon by comparison and had more weight to it. These was both good and bad. Quilzar's strikes would have more force to them but retracting blows would be slower. Both combatants had a good side and a bad side, which they were both likely to take advantage of. A few good strikes to Marltok's leg or jarring movement could end the match for him and knocking out Quilzar's good arm would leave his attack skills severely weakened.
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 2:56 pm
There wasn't a lot of fancy movements in Quil's modified form. Elves did that shite. Not Drow. For Drow, fighting was a matter of survival. And though Quilzar's movements could be considered beautiful in their own light, it was obvious that the style was made for practicality. It was also easy to tell that Quilzar relied on his speed; even his sword moved quickly. Once he was fully warmed up, his feet moved with all the agility of a seasoned River dancer. His booted feet kicked with the speed of a striking snake, returning to its proper place almost as quickly as it went out.
While he performed his routine, he kept his peripherals on Marltok. How interesting that the goblin's style was something between a dance and a fight routine. All that pretty crap didn't do anything to help the style. Quil would have rather seen the more practical version of it. He couldn't help but notice that Marltok seemed to refuse to accommodate for his leg as well. How interesting. To stop the distraction, Quil closed his eyes and continued by feel. Yes, this was much better. The rhythm was easier to fall into now. A series of strikes, mixing between kicks and sword, came first. Then defense and attacks, until it blended into only defense. After that it faded into something else altogether.
In doing all of this, Quilzar worked through some of his confusion on the matter of the Goblin. Rules to being a Master? That was certainly one that he’d never heard before. As for having broken a rule of Quilzar’s? That was positively ridiculous. Quilzar had no rules. And very technically, nothing was off limits. So what? He’d lost hair that had never been cut before; not a big deal. The shock of it hurt him more than the actual action of cutting it. Besides, when he was younger, all he wanted was to lose the damn locks. And if he really thought about it, it was only precious to the females. How often had he bitched, moaned and complained to his personal slave about having to wash it every day? Not only that, but then he had to put a softener in it, then there was the time it took to put it up every day, brushing it, scenting it. The list went on and on. So why in the Hells was Marltok saying that he’d attacked something precious? It was probably due to the fact that Quilzar freaked out when he lost the section of silver.
Besides, there was no punishment too harsh if it got the message across. Quil may still think the same way about the Goblin-Tongue, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Marltok that any more. He may still think that he was above all other races, elves definitely included and Illithids probably excluded, but he wasn’t going to let Marltok know that. See, lesson learned, punishment successful. Why in the Hells, after all this time on the surface, was this one Master going soft on him? Too harsh. Pfft, he couldn’t help but scoff to himself during his routine. He seen and been through things that would make the Goblin’s blood curdle. Too harsh. Ha!
The Goblin’s rough voice brought him out of his thoughts. He finished his routine, a different one from before, this time with a down-ward slice coupled with a quick kick followed by a jab with the sword. This would not only knock down the opponent, but kill him too, particularly with a poisoned blade. Let’s see anyone survive that. He turned to face Marltok and cocked a brow when it came to the rules thing. Oh, this again? He clicked his tongue in annoyance. He could just state the Drow Creed when it came to shite like this, don’t get caught. But then, this wasn’t an assassination was it? Hmm, should he risk punishment again and just run towards the Goblin without saying anything? That’s kind of how no rules worked wasn’t it? But then, if he’d just thought through his actions every once in a while, he might not be hurting quite so much.
“No rules,” he said with a lazy tone. If anything, his tone mocked the ‘rules of sparring’. Pfft, this is what happened when you were too bound to traditions. You forgot that sparring was supposed to be an imitation of a real fight. It wasn’t like your enemy was going to stop and make up a few rules to follow, if you please. Once he had responded, he darted forward with lightning quickness. Of course, he did the smart thing and darted to his right at the last minute. With his left foot, he aimed a kick designed to go from knee to ankle and scrap all the way down. He kept his sword by his slung arm just in case a strike came towards it. Though he wanted to protect his arm from being injured any more than it already was it was better than having his good arm injured. That would end the fight all too quickly and leave him incapacitated for a good long while. Whether or not the kick succeeded, he darted away with something between a sideways jump and a skip to his right.
((Sorry, long post is long >< ))
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Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2012 7:10 pm
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd Marltok knew several styles of dance and martial arts, many of which overlapped. He'd always found learning a new sytle enlightened him to the nuances of another. One learnt just as much about how their body worked through dancing as through martial arts. One style complemented and supplemented the other, creating a more well rounded attack on the battlefield.
There were three main types of sequences: performance pieces, foundation sequences and battle forms. Performance pieces focused on the rhythm, expression and perfection of the formations and stanzas. One may perform the same routine and show any number of angles from which the piece could be viewed. Foundation sequences were the crux of the of their art, the heart. Every person who trained in a martial art had to know the essential sequences. They contained every single move within the art, starting from the simplest to the hardest. They were used to prove one could do the forms required for each level and were usually quite repetitive. One could learn every move within the art and practice them over and over as a learning tool. Many considered them the most important and practiced only the foundation sequences but Marltok knew there was more to martial arts than just knowing the moves. The flow, timing and combination of moves were just as important. The third type of martial arts sequence was the battle form. These imitated actual battles and fight combinations. The battle forms were generally much harder than the foundation sequences because of the flow and combinations. They also tended to focus on elements within the style rather than every single move.
A style of martial arts was something akin to what "jui jitsu" or "fencing" were in the human world. The Dance of a Thousand Knives was a style that relied on complicated movements, fluidity and multiple blades attached to parts of the body. There were no shields so one had to "dance" around their partner to avoid being hit by one of up to nine blades their partner wore. The Roar of the Wind, however, was a kicking style that relied speed. Another style was the Fists of Kaultak, which required a firm base and powerful strikes to vital points. Sometimes Marltok would train in one of the many styles and sometimes he'd work with a few. After all, one could not rely upon one style alone when at war. They had to use their whole arsenal of skills to stay alive and kill as many of the other buggers as possible. Perhaps it would be useful to teach the drow about the different forms of martial arts. It was so much better than using that ruddy one-hander.
'Watch your tone elf,' the goblin warned as he waited to be attacked. It wasn't a direct order but he would not let a slave openly mock him. If they hadn't been about to fight he would have punched the man in the gizzards for his attitude. Perhaps he still would. Quilzar had to know his place and know that Marltok would not let anything slide.
Quilzar started in practically the same way Marltok had yesterday, darting to Marltok's right at the last moment. The attack was more than obvious, so much so that after the goblin pulled his leg up, he automatically blocked with his arms. He was actually disappointed the drow hadn't taken advantage of Marltok's defensive action. Instead the drow retreated! No matter, now was not the time to think on it.
Maltok followed the drow's retreat and came from below. He had one weapon up ready to block a counter attack while bending down on his good knee to strike into Quilzar's boot with the other weapon. He didn't stop there though. This was such a good angle to thrust up and use his injured leg as a bludgeon to the man's floating rib. It was a risky move but he was hoping the drow would step up his game. Besides, if he knew his leg was easy to attack he would be prepared to defend... in this case a defence would mean a double strike to the sides with his skull crushers. At least that was what Marltok currently had in mind.
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Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2012 11:36 pm
The Drow smiled a small wicked smile when his obviously weak attacked worked in getting Marltok to attack. If there was anything he disliked about sparring, it was beginning the attacks. He had actually expected to miss, the attack was far too predictable. Quilzar figured that the goblin could counter in two ways, both of which chased him. The first way he supposed would be attacking from the top. It would give Marltok an advantage over the shorter Drow as striking downwards would be a stronger move. Or, he could do the slightly less predictable way, and attack from below. He was interested to see which the goblin would do.
So from the bottom it would be. Immediately, he saw an opening towards Marltok's shoulder, in between the attacking hand and the defending hand. Quil quickly lifted his leg to avoid the scull crusher and brought it down hard to try and pin the armed hand against Marltok's wrapped leg. During this, he feinted towards the exposed shoulder changing last minute to slice at Marltok's attacking arm's bicep. He cut the change so close that their weapons probably touched with a metallic clang. With a jolt, quite literally, he realized that Marltok had pulled his leg away. No matter. With a quick spin using the momentum from the short fall, he brought his right leg to kick at Marltok's bad one, hoping to get it from under the goblin. Now they both faced the same direction. He brought his sword arm down to prepare for any attacks that might come his way.
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Posted: Wed Oct 31, 2012 12:52 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd The skull crusher landed in the wooden floor with enough force that it would have pierced Quilzar's boot. It meant the goblin wasn't able to withdraw as fast as he had hoped and his hand got stepped on while he was still retracting. Any second later and Quilzar would have bruised the hand rather than the soreness Marltok now felt. Alas, Marltok couldn't defend the hand without losing his defence from the sword. He easily followed the drow's movements, both the feint and the following attack. The corner of the skull crusher, where the blade met the body. Marltok knocked the sword back towards Quilzar's body. He would have thrust further if it was not for the kick to his bad leg. Marltok just lowered his leg slightly so the kicks wouldn't hurt either of them. He'd taken a risk and it had come to nought. It was better than continuing the attack and causing a seizure.
Marltok spun backwards once so their backs were facing then twice so they were facing one another. There were no kicks this time but he brushed his blade along the drow's back and sides then punched as soon as he was nearing the man's front. The punch was hardly enough to damage anything though, he was expecting Quilzar to attack and had to leave his defences available. No sooner were they facing and Marltok made three simultaneous attacks: punch to the throat, *right foot hooked to the back of the knee and a skull crusher to the injured shoulder. He used the momentum of his body to add power to the attacks. As soon as the punch to the throat was enacted his arm was back ready for whatever strike the sword would make. It was such a small sword; Quilzar was sure to be quick with his counter attack. Marltok roared in the drow's face in that horrible voice of his and let spittle fly at his opponent. He then stepped forward, even pushing Quilzar back with one hand (the one opposite to the injured shoulder) during the man's attack.
OOC: Trying to make it longer. Failing. Marltok has no time for introspection, there isn't anything around them he can use and he's not going to reveal his hidden weapons (kris and dirk) unless he has to. At the moment he'd prefer to keep them hidden even if he's left without a weapon.
*directions are from Marltok's perspective. "Jumps left" is Marltok jumping to his left, which may be Quil's right depending on how they're facing. I hope this comes off easier. I can't remember which side was Quil's injured wrist and shoulder. T.T
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