Fanfic:A New Sword (Ravak Darrow)
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Running an oiled cloth along the length of the blade, Rav once again admired the craftsmanship that had been put into his new longsword. The pommel and crossguard ended in outwardly curving points that looked like blades of grass parting. The crossguard was inscribed with the conjoined symbol of the Flame and Fang on one side, and of the Great Serpent on the other. Over the Flame and Fang was a side ring that extended wider than the blade. That would make parrying a little safer, although Rav didn't plan on taking any chances when it came to a fight. His experiences in the Blight had brought home the lesson that he had a lot more still to learn. Packing away the maintenance kit, he sheathed the new weapon in one of the scabbards by his waist. The other held his sword-breaker. The design of the two weapons couldn't have been more dissimilar. His longsword was ornate, a beautiful piece of artistry in its own right; the sword-breaker was plain and entirely practical.
Rav was glaring at the sky a few minutes later. A light drizzle fell upon the red-haired Ji'alantin, although the sun was out. No doubt, the rain would pass before the next bell, but he wasn't going to cower indoors until then. Rain had never given him pause, but something else had, once. He no longer found the smell of the Training Yards as distasteful as it once was; the Blight had assailed his senses with a stench worse than death. By comparison, the scent of violence was almost unremarkable. Absently, he rubbed his nose. In another life, and with some more time, he could have been a thief-taker. But all chances of that had ended the moment he put on the grey of the Warders' Hall. His tunic was darker now, Fal Dara was further away.
Sparring lessons were starting, and Rav found himself wandering towards the crowd. He unbuckled the scabbards at his waist, and took up two practice swords in their stead. He had been working with his longsword in both arms for a while now. He still favoured his dominant hand, but when it was required, he could fight with his right with nearly the same skill. Recently, his focus had been on using both hands at the same time, a sword in each. Combatants paired off, with he was left facing against a Lugarder called Roisyn. Murandians seldom identified as such, instead aligning themselves with cities. It may have been true that Rav thought of himself as a Far Daran, but more commonly he was just a Shienaran, in spite of his looks. He enveloped himself in the ko'di before taking his place opposite the other Ji'alantin.
"Ravak." Roisyn's lilting accent sounded soft and inviting, much like her face. Rav wasn't a man who was fooled by a pretty face. Everyone knew that Murandians were a quarrelsome bunch on the whole.
"Roisyn." They nodded to each other in assent, both soldiers slipping into familiar forms. Ravak pointed his left sword towards Roisyn's head, the other sword aimed straight at the sky. Roisyn slipped into The Creeper Embraces the Oak. Wood knocked on wood as they tested one another's reactions, the Shienaran's main hand moving in attack and defence.
Roisyn pushed an offensive with Lightning of Three Prongs, a form Rav was all too familiar with. He deflected the first strike left and the second right. When Roisyn stabbed for a third time, Rav pushed the Murandian's blade aside with his off-hand weapon, using his main hand to slash at Roisyn's waist. Wood caught only air, as his opponent leaped backwards. "Too slow," Roisyn teased.
Taking the opportunity afforded with the other Ji off-balance and over-confident, Rav pressed forwards, blades already maneuvering to strike. He slashed at Roisyn's waist with each sword, mirrored attacks aimed at each side. The Lugarder dodged aside from one strike, parrying the other as she moved round to flank. Roisyn dropped into The Creeper Embraces the Oak again. It's too predictable, he thought critically. He would attack, she would parry, and then she would glide into one of a small number of forms. Let's see if my thinking is as good as I believe.
He attacked quickly and fiercely, bringing his main weapon up in a swing towards Roisyn's pretty head, the wooden lathes bending like no sword would. There was a sharp crack as she parried, her weapon whipping back and forth in a sweeping motion. Rav let his left arm rebound as he moved his right into block. He anticipated the River Undercuts the Bank, an upperward strike like he had attempted, and got his sword down to parry. Wood glided off wood, Roisyn's blade not having half of the power behind it as Rav predicted. She executed a half-circle with the deflected sword, before cleaving the blade horizontally. Oh blood and-
There was nothing to do but get hit, and he staggered back from the blow with a groan. Inside the ko'di, he could place the pain aside and focus on the moment, but that was going to be leave a rich mark on his skin.
"Too slow again," Roisyn mocked. She stepped away, allowing Rav to catch his breath. "Are you sure you managed to survive a Trolloc attack?" She spun her sword around in a flashy show as he brought both fists together, blades parallel.
"We were the ones to attack," he corrected, adopting the Kingfisher Watches the Sky. "And a good woman lost her life." Shame it hadn't been a selfish man instead.
They traded blows for a few minutes, each earning scrapes and small cuts rather than anything more serious. Rav still fell into the trap of using his main sword for everything. He would attack and block and parry, all whilst holding his other weapon uselessly. Conscious of his mistake, he kept adjusting to use his off-hand more defensively.
His first real opportunity to strike was when Roisyn dropped low to execute a jab under his guard. He twisted sideways, using his right hand - always defend with the sword-breaker - to push the offending attack away. He struck at Roisyn's open flank, landing three solid blows before she rolled out of the way.
"What was that?" Rav's voice took up a mocking tone. "Something about too slow?" The look the female Ji'alantin returned was not friendly in the least. Only the ko'di kept a grin off his face.
"Darrow." Rav turned to seek out the source of that voice. Ferran Gaidin, shaven head sheening from the drizzle, wore a thunderous expression, although the man always did. He was an odd dichotomy, with his beard a mix of both the Illianer and Tairen styles.
The Shienaran fell in line with the dark-skinned man. He seemed a towering presence, even though they were of the same height. He held both of Rav's scabbarded swords in his sturdy hands. "These be your weapons, Ji'alantin?" Rav nodded in the affirmative. "Good. Tomorrow, I'll see you here again, and we'll spar." He bundled the weapons into the Ji's hands as he took the two practice blades away.
"Oh," Ferran added casually as he walked away, "and wear some armour. You'll need it."
