<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/90/WTMaster.jpg)</div><strong>Character name:</strong>Kalain Baneron (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=234819.msg11561809#msg11561809)<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Master of Arms, Pain in the Ass, Most Pompous of ass<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Theraeve Valaim<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Saven 6th | 990 NE | Afternoon<br/><strong>Place:</strong>Training Grounds<br/><strong>Warning:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>The verbal banter seemed to be at an end. He would not mourn the loss, even with winning the last word; the Master of Arms would persevere. Somehow. It did mean that things were starting to get serious. There was no longer a time for quips or even innuendo, at least on her side. He still had quite a few in reserve. So focused on completing the hold she had forgotten the landscape of the fight, the leverage he gave up by the change in position being completely negated by his superior strength. By the time she realized what was happening it was too late. As she came off the ground he felt the way her muscles tensed for the impact the ground shaking. The only reason why she could still move after was the sudden twist at the end.<br/><br/>Good, she still hadn’t lost her edge.<br/><br/>There was pain there, if the situation was reversed it would have even drawn more than a grunt from him as well. The dirt however was not something he had really expected. It usually took a year for the Warder to pound into the trainees that there was no honor or glory in a battle. Those things were decided when it was over, the victor claiming them or reshaping history so that others called them that. In a fight to the death there was no middle ground it was life or death, no one ever talked about the honorable dead combatants outside of speeches to widows. Kal hissed softly as the sand got into his eyes and to his credit he did not rear back. Instead he tried to strike where she was within his memory, it however would never connect.<br/><br/>A foot struck him in the shoulder pushing him away. Without thinking he tucked into a roll, separating them and using the momentum to spring back to his feet. His eyes closed he wiped away the sand with the back of his hand slowly opening them his vision still cloudy but one thing was certain she was on the move. A foot slid behind him, strengthening his stance while bending at the knee. There was no way she would charge him without a plan, it would place their strength against one another and the Sister already knew how that would end. So he went into the contest expecting deception and was not surprised when he found it.<br/><br/>It was fancy, well thought out, and entirely over engineers. She bent her knee and planted the back leg committing fully to the attack. That would be her undoing. He stepped forward a quick burst of speed pressing them together once more. With most of her power disarmed he only held a hand up as the leg came back down to soften the blow to his head. It struck and the power behind it was more then he expected. His vision fuzzed, the pain flaring up and turning into a flame. The void called, its icy claws reaching up and sliding him down into it. Violence would be there within its cold embrace. Calculating and unremorseful violence.<br/><br/>He resisted.<br/><br/>“Good, improvisation and creativity.” He twisted slightly his right hand winding up and reaching out to strike her across the face with the back of it. “Never try something fancy when a normal kick would do. If it succeeds then you might have won but if it fails you leave yourself wide open and your opponent knows even more of what to expect.”<br/>