<strong>Who:</strong>Henrik Raubriter<br/><strong>For:</strong>Open, Chiya specifically<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Outside sparring ring<br/><br/><br/>"That is true. I meant, during training exercises with others, I avoid the vitals."  He responded. "I know far too well how rare second chances are.  I've more dead kin than live as proof of that." At no point, even recounting this fact, did his attitude or voice seem to change. He spent most of his days in a sort of Zen-like state of tranquility; beyond emotions, beyond being bogged down with feelings.  Even in battle; especially in battle.<br/><br/>Ahh, there she was. The moment she moved, it was like ripples in a still pond in his mind; he did not need to see her to know where she was, in relation to his position. In part, this was due to the nature of the sword, and how it aided the mental prowess of its wielder; in part, it was also because of his Warrior's Zen.<br/><br/>His sword would lash out at her, his intent being to lock his blade against hers and keep it occupied; if he could do that, the scabbard would once more see action, this time, flying straight towards her head; the metal studs ensure such a blow would be painful if it connected.