08-21-2008, 10:30 AM
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The bronze wolf was right. There was more to this than duty any more, honor seemed to be very real right now, and there was a certain...symbolic appeal to having this fight be unarmed. Killing Skoll with a sword wouldn't mean much, nor would being killed by the bite of an axe. If he lost unarmed, then Skoll must truly be a remarkable warrior, to best the wolf who Varn believed would be the sixth or seventh best fighter of GreyClaw. With out-of-date training, and an old and torn up body, truly that would be an amazing thing. If he defeated Skoll, it would mean that he had slain a legend with his bare hands. It was a dubious honor, and one which he would avoid if he had a choice, but given that he was to fight this man anyway, he knew he wanted to do it right.
After they discarded their weapons, the battle broke out in full. They did egregious damage to one another, bones creaking and flesh bruising with impact after impact, delivered by deliberately hardened knuckles. He received the worst of it, even though his training was superior, Skoll seemed heedless of what blows he received, and though Asmodai could block, he could never back out fast enough to escape a return blow from his long-armed adversary. He had decided early that his plan would be to take Skoll to the ground, but that had proven very difficult. He could always take Soro down with little trouble, but this enemy was more well-rounded. His striking was very formidable, but on top of that he had near-perfect footwork, which assisted him in escaping time and again. Finally, success. Locking one of Skoll's legs with his own, the GreyClaw warrior was able to bring the fight down into the sand, where he hoped he would hold the advantage.
Fortunately, he was correct. Skoll was a demon on his feet, and Asmodai could tell that to most he would be a demon on the ground also, but when down in the sand he was over-matched. Not forgetting anything Varn had taught him, anything he had practiced for years, he sought to tighten his hold, to adjust his grip and increase his leverage. He would make his control of the ground more and more restrictive until he had Skoll unable to defend his throat, and that was when the fight would be over.
The struggle in the sand came to a standstill several times, while both considered how best to make new acquisitions of leverage without putting themselves in a position to lose previous gains, or in Skoll's case, without putting himself in a position to lose his life. Suddenly, a twist of the body, and Asmodai's grip was compromised. The bronze wolf squirmed out of one hold, and got his knees beneath him. The younger wolf sought to bear down on the bronze wolf's upper-body, but felt a surge of power as the seven-year-old's feet got under him, and he stood, fighting Asmodai's weight the whole way.
Sudden impact. Then another. Then another. Brutal, hollow thuds as he threw his knee again and again into the bronze wolf's sternum, seeking to shatter ribs and drive breath from his lungs. Cracking could be heard. His enemy's arms fell from his shoulders to break away, but he kept his grip, prolonging the situation as long as possible. One golden arm caught his upraised leg, preventing it from falling back to the ground. Pushing him backward, and then another arm grabbed his other leg, and he felt himself lifted up. A pained groan came from Skoll's jaws, as Asmodai felt himself lifted six feet off the ground. He wasn't facing it, so he didn't see the ground rushing up at him as he was brought swiftly down. Pounding the ground, he felt his breath explode from his lungs, and he was motionless.
The bronze wolf was right. There was more to this than duty any more, honor seemed to be very real right now, and there was a certain...symbolic appeal to having this fight be unarmed. Killing Skoll with a sword wouldn't mean much, nor would being killed by the bite of an axe. If he lost unarmed, then Skoll must truly be a remarkable warrior, to best the wolf who Varn believed would be the sixth or seventh best fighter of GreyClaw. With out-of-date training, and an old and torn up body, truly that would be an amazing thing. If he defeated Skoll, it would mean that he had slain a legend with his bare hands. It was a dubious honor, and one which he would avoid if he had a choice, but given that he was to fight this man anyway, he knew he wanted to do it right.
After they discarded their weapons, the battle broke out in full. They did egregious damage to one another, bones creaking and flesh bruising with impact after impact, delivered by deliberately hardened knuckles. He received the worst of it, even though his training was superior, Skoll seemed heedless of what blows he received, and though Asmodai could block, he could never back out fast enough to escape a return blow from his long-armed adversary. He had decided early that his plan would be to take Skoll to the ground, but that had proven very difficult. He could always take Soro down with little trouble, but this enemy was more well-rounded. His striking was very formidable, but on top of that he had near-perfect footwork, which assisted him in escaping time and again. Finally, success. Locking one of Skoll's legs with his own, the GreyClaw warrior was able to bring the fight down into the sand, where he hoped he would hold the advantage.
Fortunately, he was correct. Skoll was a demon on his feet, and Asmodai could tell that to most he would be a demon on the ground also, but when down in the sand he was over-matched. Not forgetting anything Varn had taught him, anything he had practiced for years, he sought to tighten his hold, to adjust his grip and increase his leverage. He would make his control of the ground more and more restrictive until he had Skoll unable to defend his throat, and that was when the fight would be over.
The struggle in the sand came to a standstill several times, while both considered how best to make new acquisitions of leverage without putting themselves in a position to lose previous gains, or in Skoll's case, without putting himself in a position to lose his life. Suddenly, a twist of the body, and Asmodai's grip was compromised. The bronze wolf squirmed out of one hold, and got his knees beneath him. The younger wolf sought to bear down on the bronze wolf's upper-body, but felt a surge of power as the seven-year-old's feet got under him, and he stood, fighting Asmodai's weight the whole way.
Sudden impact. Then another. Then another. Brutal, hollow thuds as he threw his knee again and again into the bronze wolf's sternum, seeking to shatter ribs and drive breath from his lungs. Cracking could be heard. His enemy's arms fell from his shoulders to break away, but he kept his grip, prolonging the situation as long as possible. One golden arm caught his upraised leg, preventing it from falling back to the ground. Pushing him backward, and then another arm grabbed his other leg, and he felt himself lifted up. A pained groan came from Skoll's jaws, as Asmodai felt himself lifted six feet off the ground. He wasn't facing it, so he didn't see the ground rushing up at him as he was brought swiftly down. Pounding the ground, he felt his breath explode from his lungs, and he was motionless.