Belgian Attitudes

Posted: March 8, 2013 in Uncategorized

The sharp ring of foils scraping and wobbling onto each other filled the southernmost hall of Daursenalya Keep. The tapestries were rolled, the art and the small bits of wooden furniture piled into the corners, and the sun rose beyond the open windows. The sky was the color of pale amethyst and Lennalus admired it as he caught his breath, a moment of clarity and order before the details came into view once more. With a crack and a frustrated shout, Ekoro brought the squared edge of his forte down on Lennalus’ guard, trying to rip the weapon away with sheer force. He preferred results to pageantry, and typically focused more on overpowering his opponent rather than trapping them with baits and false security. Lennalus however, as is the tutor’s right, was capable of fighting beyond the unexpected force of Ekoro’s attacks as well as setting a trap. Before Ekoro could draw his foil away and take a step back, Lennalus charged. Ekoro ran backwards with him step for step, blades touching, until Lennalus drew the guards together, shoved Ekoro onto his backside, and spun counterclockwise with a wide strike, freeing the foil from Ekoro’s southpaw grip before he could remind his body to hold onto the weapon while he braced for the fall. Ekoro hit the ground hard and leaned his head back, knowing the button would be staring at him if he bothered to try and sit up.

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