Duel:Rorin v Macon - Round One of the Acolytes of War Tournament 2016
Duelists: Macon vs. Rorin Location: Snowless Training Yard Judges: Eleanor, Kreekitaka Duel: Traditional 3 posts each, with final defense. 15 minute posting limit. First round of 2016 Acolytes of War.
Macon trudges through the sand several ‘clank’ing paces to stand somewhere near the center of the training grounds. The brown haired man is in full, tarnished, silver armor aside from the helmet he is apparently missing in order to show off his kingly good looks to the audience. The scruff of a few days without shaving that comes with the territory of taking the trek up to Frostmaw covers the bottom half of his face and the double-bladed great axe strapped to his back at an angle with the sharp part down near his hip has a noticeable empty socket at the center of the axehead where The Rage Stone typically sits. He hasn’t brought the furious artifact it seems for fear of disqualification in this test of strength.
Rorin approached the center of the field from the opposite gate. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. Rorin wasn't sure he was ready for this yet and that made it the perfect test. The young squire was dressed in his regular battle attire, a full soldiers helm, an armored coat, with gauntlets and boots. They bore the red and black colors with the insignia of Lionel's army although there was a slight difference. Rorin had also left his scarf, pack, and crossbow behind, as he wouldn't need them here. Across his hips were only his five foot battle lance with its tear shaped length having a freshly sharpened edge and a large buckler bearing the same militia insignia. Quietly the half elf took his place in wait.
Duel Begins
Macon eyes his young opponent up and down through a blank, grey stare. ‘Elf. Or at least half.’ The former sheriff thinks to himself. He certainly will have the reach advantage in this fight should it come to fisticuffs, and probably even if it doesn’t given the length of the handle on The Fury Knight’s weapon of choice. After one more deep inhale and exhale of air that is much warmer than it rightfully should be in the Frozen City Macon moves to close the distance between he and Rorin to exactly where he want is. While he travels at a pace somewhere between a jog and a sprint the thus far silent man reaches backwards over his shoulder with his right hand and unleashes the currently timid Rage Axe from its spot on his back. It takes a bit of maneuvering to get the weapon in the position he wants it and this slows him down some on his approach, but once he reaches the young elf he has the axe in both hands, charging with it like it is a spear, with the butt of the handle leading. He thrusts the weapon forward towards the center of the squire’s chest. Should he hit, and succeed in pushing him back, a quick, smooth change of grip by the experienced axe wielder will herald a mighty, overhead swing of the massive axehead downward towards the supposedly staggered knight in training. And should he miss or fail to knock Rorin back with the initial blow the follow up is a wicked pivot in reaction to a move left or right that has the Death Knight spinning with the blade of the axe still behind him trying to catch the young man with a horizontal swipe.
Rorin took a quick assessment of the situation. His opponent was a large man with a large axe and he was almost certainly stronger than Rorin. For a true advantage the half elf would have to use his speed and try to make every strike count. Rorin drew his lance and shield as his opponent began to move in. Rorins armor was medium weight at most and so he would move in to a closer range while his opponent struggled to remove his weapon. Rorin quickly sidesteps the butt of the axe and with a surprising amount of grace he quickly jumped backwards of the mans swing and attempted to move in shield high for a well guarded thrust between his opponents ribs and hips, a typical chink in most armors.
Macon, even without The Rage Stone present shows some anger when he doesn’t feel the blade of his axe meet its mark behind him while he spins. A low growl rises from his throat while the momentum of his follow through on that swing has him turning 360 degrees so that he is once again facing the squire, The Fury Knight’s heels having grinded a small divot into the sand during that mighty pirouette. Macon then moves to meet the charge of the elf, taking steps forward to pit momentum against momentum, believing his weight advantage will win out. The axe pivots and turns in his hands, moving with a fluidity such a weapon traditionally might lack. He adores this weapon and can make quite efficient use of it. His arms rise up, with the axe horizontal to the ground, and throw the handle towards the oncoming shield like a hockey player throwing a highly illegal crosscheck. On impact the metal handle bows slightly, but does not break, though Macon’s grey eyes widen in sudden fear that any harm might come to the weapon. He is pushed back and releases the axe from one hand as he does, swinging the huge weapon in a wide arc out at the young elf’s ankles while falling backwards into a seated position in the unnaturally warm sand.
Rorin watched his foe spin about like some kind of bladed top. The opponent certainly had stature but did he have control? It was shown in the dexterity he wielded his axe with yet Rorins shield won out against the blow. The half elf's arm was stunned even in its brace, his buckler taking its own wear under the might of the impact. Rorin would use the mans rebound to his advantage and start moving in, striking at his unequipped sides underarm in an attempt to disable him even momentarily. The strike would cause the man to go even further if it hit but his armored leg was taken out the axe, crumpling some of the armor there and spraining the half elf's ankle easily. With his good leg however he would bend backwards, showing some intense flexibility in his well flowing armor coat, bracing his hands on the ground and flinging himself backwards. Rorin would stand with his left side forward, trying to favor his worn arm and ankle, but also giving respect to his opponent in waiting for him to get up.
Macon had been so concerned about the well being of his precious axe that he seems to have missed the sensation of lance tip slipping past his armor, and tearing cloth, and piercing skin, and finding hip bone shortly thereafter during the impact of shield and axehandle. Now though, in this quiet half a second he finds to himself seated on the ground The Death Knight feels the twinge of pain and the warmth of blood starting to pool behind armor. Then the kid follows up with another strike that the seated Rage Knight barely manages to fend off with a wild swing of his heavily armored arm, deflecting the lance tip off behind him with the loud sound of metal meeting metal ringing through the field. Rorin allows him time to find his feet and he does so, using the butt of the Rage Axe against the ground to support him during the rise. A faint smile crosses the lips of the former Larket Councilman before he speaks, “Now then… I think we can ge’ started.” facetiously. With that said he takes the axe in both hands and begins to spin his body again, just one full turn again, while the large weapon slides through his gauntleted hands and he flings it like one would during a hammer throw, the furious axe, missing its power source spins wildly through the air towards Rorin while Macon stumbles slightly after release and soon chases after his precious weapon, a charging right hook cocked and ready to be thrown while the elf is still dealing with comprehending the absolute gall of someone throwing a great axe.
Rorin took the time to reasses. Both contenders right sides had taken damage but Rorins left was his fighting side. Though his foot had trouble moving and his shield as well as its arm had become stunned they could still be of some use. The knight opposite him seemed more than a little crazed as he swung once more and launched his axe. Rorin was experienced in the way of throwing unusual weapons as he for seemingly no reason sprinted forward instead. A bit of distance closed Rorin would spin himself and launch his shield into the ground, leapt upon it, and like a spring board he leaped over the axe and became a missile, bearing his lance down in a mad descent toward his opponent like a man sized javelin thrown thrown from the heavens.
Macon doesn’t cease his slightly limping sprint in the face of elven acrobatics and the pair of combatants are on a very serious collision course. Something between a wince and a sneer through gritted teeth shows up on The Fury Knight’s face when his axe goes sailing harmlessly under the airborne squire and a moment after that expression is made the two men meet. Macon’s body turns to throw the punch and miscalculates, his arm flying over Rorin’s shoulder while the lance meets the armor of his chest. The collision dents the form of the plate, providing the man with a difficult breathing experience as the inside of the silver armor presses hard against his body. There is a long ‘shing’ as the half-elf’s weapon slides the rest of the way across the Death Knight’s armor and they both come collapsing to the ground. The former councilman coughs as the wind is knocked out of him for a second time. Lance meets sand towards Macon’s left side and Rorin falls on top of him. That arm that missed the punch seeks to curl around the aspiring knight’s back up near his shoulder blades in a bear hug to keep him from freeing himself up for further attacks.
Winner: Rorin
Rorin jarred as he slid across the mans armor, his own lance taking quite a bit of damage to its tip. As it continued to slide down in the sand the young half elf sprawled wide against his opponent and gripped on its handle. The man grasped the squired damaged arm near the shoulder and both of them began to roll. Rorin refused to let it end here and instead took the butt of his lance to his opponents temple, bludgeoning him repeatedly, almost savagely until he let go. It was with heavy breathing and a lot of pain in his right side that Rorin finally stood, apologizing to his very unconscious foe. It would most likely be that one would help the other and both would leave the battle with great respect.