Another Day, Another Lesson [attn. Valadin]

[Silas]

Silas glanced about the practice yard, holding his quarterstaff loosely, glancing around with a slightly-disdainful look. The reason being the crowd of students gathered around to watch the lesson he was about to infli-- er, teach. He sighed. There were moments where he quite enjoyed his reputation as the Captain- it certainly gave him his pick of the Yards on even the busiest days. But then there were days like this, where his reputation just got in his way. He gripped the quarterstaff a little tighter, causing a stir amongst the assembled students, as he cleared his throat.

"Don't you all have... SOMEPLACE ELSE TO BE??"

The students then scattered like cockroaches, unwilling to further invoke his wrath, though a few stopped only a short distance away, still wanting to watch, just from what they believed was a safer distance. Silas rolled his eyes, but he allowed it for now. As long as they were far enough away to avoid interference, he didn't really care. He just wanted to get to the fun. Lesson.

...It would be a fun lesson. That was what he meant.

...It was moments like this that he felt sorry for his students.

Speaking of, his latest student would be here soon. Valadin Manelle, he thought it was. Sword user. Soldier. Silas smiled in anticipation. It was always good to have something to do with his time.

[Sean]

Valadin Manelle

Val fidgeted with the sleeve of his soft, white tunic…again. It was a simple garment made of sheep’s wool that he’d purchased from one of the few merchants allowed onto the Tower grounds. The man had been a fat, greasy Trolloc of a fellow with a thin mustache pasted over his lips; the thing looked entirely too neat to be genuine. Even so the number of garments supplied to Soldiers and Novices alike was extremely limited; likely because neither received any form of allowance. In this case, Valadin had promised future business as his price for the exchange and after much finagling managed to come away with his prize. As he strode hurriedly to the Warder Yards he felt sick as the sun’s heat engulfed him within seconds.

Outside the brightness of day brought the usual activity. Warders-in-training sparring or going over practiced movements with a determined focus while Novices hurried about at the commands of Accepted. The Gaidin rarely participated directly in the training activities, but their daunting presence and fixed stares as they stalked about ensured that no frivolity took away from the sacred intent of the training grounds. Carefully removing a lathe from a rack of practice weapons, Val examined the implement, his eyes moving over the shape of it and tried to imagine what wielding a real sword in an actual battle would feel like. Neither ambition nor curiosity spurred his recent interest in the way of the sword; it was an innate calling that beckoned him to walk the path that so many before had tread. This desire had been the reason he’d requested a mentor.

For his trouble he’d gotten the bloody Captain General of the Green Ajah to school him in the art of warfare.

Not for the first time since he’d gotten news of his honored circumstances Val considered simply returning to his room under the pretext of being ill, but already he could hear a commotion on the far side of the Yard. Peering into the distance he noticed a furtive gathering, the focus of their attention on a single man. That is…Silas Malkom? Val wondered as he made his way over to the scene.

Though he wasn’t exactly certain of his abilities when it came to combat, Valadin had learned a hard-earned lesson in approaching a warrior; never sneak up on them unless you meant to start a fight.

Lathe in hand as he approached the Captain General from a visible angle he announced himself formally, “Greetings Captain General, I am Valadin Manelle of The Four Kings. Light shine upon you for your help.”

[Silas]

Silas' gaze suddenly zeroed in as he noticed someone moving toward his position with a bit more purpose than the usual gaggle of admirers he attracted when he came here. Therefore, it was probably correct to assume that this was the Soldier he was instructed to... well, instruct. He turned, his icy-seeming demeanor melting away as he turned to greet his newest student. A few of the more experienced trainees shuffled uncomfortably- he always seemed nice at first, sure. Then the hitting started...

Regardless, the Soldier in question seemed not to have noticed the sudden change in mood from those stragglers that still remained to watch the spectacle unfold. He walked up briskly, before stopping a fair distance away and announcing himself. Formally.

They're so adorable when they're in that awkward phase. Silas smiled warmly.

"A pleasure to meet you, Valadin. But please, none of that "Captain-General" stuff here- you can just call me Silas. I like to keep things rather brisk here- light on their feet. To the point. And it'll take far too much of our precious time to call each other by our titles or full names and such. Speaking of, do you mind terribly if I call you Val?" He beckoned the Soldier toward him, walking further into the Yard that he'd appropriated for today's lesson. He twirled the quarterstaff once, then turned, settling into what looked like a very casual Low Guard.

"Now. You have come to learn the sword, have you not? Or, at the very least, to learn how to fight. Appearances to keep up, duties to fulfill, that sort of thing. Well, you may be surprised to hear that I'm not here to talk to you about any of that. In fact, I'm not even really here to talk. I'm here to... demonstrate, if you will. A demonstration of not only what I am willing to do to help you be the best damn Soldier I can possibly shape you into being, but what you must be willing to do in order to prove worthy of my attentions. Anyone could teach you to fight, Val- a drunk in an alley, a brother, a friend. But I'm not going to teach you to fight."

Suddenly, the Captain's demeanor changed. Before, he had been warm, inviting, talkative. His stance had been lazy, casual, disarmingly so. Now, suddenly, he sank into an almost primal crouch. His body still looked loose, but the way he held himself seemed to imply that every muscle in his body was tense and coiled, ready to spring forth into action. The staff in his hands was now held much more competently, seeming transformed from a simple length of wood into something truly dangerous.

But the most telling change was the eyes. Whatever warmth had once been in them was gone. They were now focused, sharp. And cold. Icy cold. Silas grinned, though it held no emotion, cloaked in the Void as he was. This was more like the feral grin of a wolf- no mirth. Just bared teeth.

"I'm going to teach you to dance. You lead, Soldier- show me what you've got."

==~==

OOC: Okay. So, as far as I know, Val has had absolutely no training with the sword, right? Not a pip? If yes, then I want your first post to be on the awkward side. How does Valadin feel about all of this? About Silas' demeanor, or just having this training session to deal with in the first place. Put that character into Val's first attack- make it feel just as clumsy and awkward as Val himself must be feeling right now. We can get to the badass stuff later.

Also, do you mind if I have Silas rough Val up a little during this lesson? Thanks!

[Sean]

OOC: Actually Master Silas, Val has since become Competent in use of the Sword so I think it’ll provide for something a little interesting in our training because he’s just good enough to be cocky at this point. Plus he’s an aspiring Green so it’d do him some good to have the Captain General school him some. I was hoping this might be the start of Silas taking Val under his wing--at least for martial training in the future. This being kind of the test of worthiness for poor Val .

The air chilled as Master and Student faced off. A rush of air swirled between their two forms, the charged atmosphere fueling the tension that closed in on Val. Suddenly the practice sword felt like a lump of iron, useless and clumsy in comparison to the lithely twirling staff that hummed a dangerous tune before preparing to strike.

So this is the Captain General’s true face… Val observed in awe.

Like the morning dew on a hot midsummer’s day all semblance of levity had evaporated, but for Val the feeling wasn’t alien. Fodhr had exuded the much the same sort of intensity. The scale of the sensation differed, but the crafted savagery at the heart of it was similar.

Val reined his thoughts in as everything was fed into the Void as he’d come to know it. For him it was diving deep into a black, bottomless lake where the light above was a distraction and the darkness that he struggled towards offered clarity and focus. Many times he found himself unable to make his way into the depths of the emptiness, however lately his embracing of the Void and immersing himself into its waters had gradually become easier. In a moment he felt its icy numbness spread through his muscles and ease away his anxieties. His body became loose and ready to move, yet each motion was unhurried as he took methodical steps straight towards his counterpart. Dueling was becoming an area of expertise has he gradually picked up certain tendencies in those unschooled to the ways of fighting; part of him relished at the opportunity to allow the roaring energy within to burst free.

The eagerness he felt sent ripples of disharmony through the Void, but it held. Taking only two steps before springing from the balls of feet Cat Crossing the Courtyard quickly became Cat Dances on the Wall as the point of his lathe feinted to and fro before thrusting at various points in Silas’s defense. Each time Val felt he struck at an opening he pressed the advantage though even in his advance there was no haste. Blinking away beads of sweat from his brow he was became acutely aware of the moisture at the collar of his tunic. He even sensed the heaviness of the summer air that precluded a storm’s arrival. Somehow these details blended with the darkness that awaited at the bottom of the Void.

As the loud crack of wood on wood resounded countless times in as many seconds Val felt weightless as he darted forward, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips with each parried strike. The Captain General was fast—so much so that the staff which was a continuous stream of motion in his hands seemed to be alive.

Still, he thought to himself, Looks like he wasn’t expecting me to have had any experience; I’ll can push him back before he notices!

Valadin entertained the thought for a moment before dismissing it as foolishness; he’d have to examine his opponent before playing his lone gambit. The purpose of the lesson had quickly shifted for him. No longer was he simply seeking education instead a powerful compulsion for victory gripped him and the speed of his strikes quickened as his concentration sharpened to a fine point. He tested the top, bottom and sides of Silas’s guard in rapid succession once more before relenting.

Finally as he danced backward, the lathe’s point dropped low to the earth and his grip of its handle relaxed as he assumed a low guard. Already his palm was slick with sweat, but the practice sword fit into his hands as readily as if he’d been born with it. That’s how he felt—born to wield a sword.

[Silas]

Silas grinned as Val tested the waters. The boy was competent, at least- still rough around the edges, but at least he knew the right way to hold himself. The footwork wasn't too shabby, either. And here he'd been told that the boy was a total novice with the blade. It wasn't upsetting at all, though- far from it. Silas loved having students with at least some experience in the field. It gave him something to build on, a foundation, as it were. And there was definitely room for building in this one.

He was eager, and it showed, even if he was embracing the Void. He was confident. Perhaps too much so. His assault wasn't the hesitant strikes he was normally used to, which he appreciated- he was actively testing the waters, trying to find a flaw or weakness to exploit. Val actually wanted to hit him. Silas grinned even wider, relishing that thought.

Oh, this is going to be delicious. I haven't had a student this eager to get hit in a good long while!

There were always going to be those students, Silas knew- he wasn't much to look at, even with his constant training. Slim, wiry, not overly tall- there were a lot of people who underestimated him, and sought to undo the Captain's lofty reputation amongst the trainees (and, obviously, start emphasizing their own "legend"). To a one, they were all beaten black and blue, their own overconfidence their undoing. So, while it was nice to see someone as eager as Val coming for him without being too obvious about it, Silas had to wonder whether or not that eagerness would turn the way so many others' had.

With a sudden shove, Silas disengaged himself from Val, settling into High Guard.

"You're a quick study, Val. Last I heard, you'd never even so much as held a sword. And now look at you- you may just be a natural at this.

"But a natural talent means nothing without cultivation, which is why we're still here. So, I want you to stop testing the waters and strike, Soldier- no hesitation. Do not try to hit me, just hit me."

OOC: Oh, is that so? In that case, change of plans- in your next post, please have Valadin end with an attack, perhaps in the mentality that he is confident/cocky in his ability to hit Silas, leaving it open-ended for Silas' counterattack. Also, be prepared for it to hurt. Valadin may (will) regret his cockiness by lesson's end. Keep that character in your descriptions, though- you're doing very well so far.

[Sean]

OOC: As you wish, Master Silas

Val’s only response was a grunt as he began stepping sideways, his eyes never leaving those of Silas. He could feel his lips peeling back in a snarl, the deepness of the Void lengthening as he became even more aware of a cadence in the backdrop of everything. Shifting constantly from low to high guard and back, he circled the Captain General with The Creeper Embraces the Oak; each shift of his guard posing new threats while giving little ground for the staff to take purchase of. Even so Silas’s eyes were ablaze with an excited energy that was both intoxicating as it was frightening. In them, the easy-flowing calm which had present in their earlier exchanges raged into hurricane as the instincts of battle took over. With each footfall Val realized that the lesson had changed for the master as much as it had for the student; both were fully indulging in their most base desires…the call for domination, for victory.

Nothing less would satisfy either.

As he wheeled around Silas’s rear he waited for the Captain General to turn and face him as he moved, but like a rock planted firmly in the middle of stream the man remained fixed. Even so, Val never felt as though he was beyond the older warrior’s vision and it infuriated to be so casually underestimated. Stop waiting—he wants you to hit him; so hit him! Hard! Fast! If I can take him in one blow here, I’ll have him!

The peaceful calm that had encapsulated him before shuddered as his impatience warred with reason. Val was at Silas’s rear right when he shifted the lathe to his strong side and struck at the man’s exposed back with Low Wind Rising, a form he’d barely practiced. Exhaling explosively as he heaved upward, balance and concentration fell away as suddenly the Void was replaced by the violent power of Saidin. It filled him quickly and where precision once prevailed Val struck now with brute strength hoping to obliterate the small man in front of him.

[Silas]

Silas stiffened slightly as he felt the sense of malice indicative of another male channeling. And it didn't take a genius to figure out just who it was.

That idiot... what in damnation is he trying to do? He had to react fast before the boy got out of hand. And so, he did what he did best- cold, absolute devastation. He leaned forward, just letting the Soldier's attack sail over his head, while getting his staff into position. As Valadin predictably missed and over-extended himself, Silas struck behind him with the butt of his staff, jamming it into the Soldier's diaphragm painfully. Before he could react, Silas placed a hand on the forward end of the staff, before using the whole thing as a lever, cracking into the young man's jaw. Finally, just as quickly and as devastating as before, he kicked back, planting a foot into the Soldier's midsection and bearing him to the ground, painfully.

Silas straightened out, the area around them deathly silent as the audience, so to speak, realized that there was something different from his usual training methods in this rebuttal. Before, no matter how badly he hurt his students, the Captain never did it with any malice, or out of any joy for causing pain. It just... was how he struck.

This assault, on the other hand, had been tinged with just the barest hints of... rage.

He walked over to the Soldier, prone on his back, and planted a foot on the Soldier's chest.

"What... were you doing, Soldier? Did I tell you to seize saidin? Did I tell you to touch the Source? NO! Of course not, because that would be suicidally insane! What would have happened if you let your impatience carry you away in it? What would have happened if you'd let yourself get lost in the heat of the moment and try and channel, just to try and hurt me? You could kill me, or someone else standing on the sidelines, or, as is more likely, force me or someone else to harm you- perhaps seriously- to get you to stop! Never do that again unless I tell you to do so, understand?"

He lifted the boot from Valadin's chest, still fuming slightly, even as he reclaimed the Void. He didn't really want to be so harsh on the young man, but it was the only way he'd learn. He turned back, still in High Guard.

"Get up. You wanted this lesson so badly, you earn it. Come at me again, Valadin, and for Light's sake, use only the Void. Try to seize saidin again without explicit permission, and you will not like the results.

"Stand, Soldier. The day is not yet through."

OOC: Okay. I realize that's pretty harsh, but gonna need you to keep it coming. For the next post, please have Valadin try a sequence of attacks- around three to four. Incorporate the injuries he's just received, as well as his feelings regarding Silas' reaction. Is he scared? Angry? Shocked? Maybe embarrassed at being so impatient? Let me know what Valadin is feeling right now as he attacks, and, as always, leave the final blow open-ended for Silas' counterattack. You're doing very well so far, writing-wise, so keep it up?

[Sean]

OOC: No worries about the harshness. As I said from everything I could tell about Silas Malkom, he’s an excellent in-character idol for Val. So please keep it coming. This is pretty fun and my first combat sparring.

For a moment, Valadin swam in the warm embrace of nothingness. Only peaceful numbness existed with worldly distractions removed from concern. In the distance, Asha’man Malkom’s voice droned with a tinny pitch though every word was clear and obviously angry. What have I done to make him upset?

Pain ignited his mind and his body was reborn into a world of fire as instinct drove him to his feet, lathe clutched in hand. Something shifted uncomfortably in his gut and each starved breath that passed through the crack of his lips sent a lance of agony shooting through his skull. With every ounce of concentration Val schooled his face and forced his back to remain straight to mask the nauseous suffering that made his senses swim; a gambler’s gambit. He knew his bluff was worth nothing to one such as the Captain General. Only foolish pride made the charade worth maintaining. “Yes, Asha’man,” he responded curtly, words slightly slurred for each syllable was labored and caused his jaw to click when he spoke.

Now understanding the folly of impatience, its lesson excruciatingly carved into his body, Val found himself respecting his enemy. Had I seized Saidin? he wondered. In lessons before the Power had only come with difficulty, its wild energy resisting the command of his will no matter the fervor. To be able draw upon it here was…Focus. Embrace the Void. It’s the only thing that matters. The only thing that exists…

Gathering himself, Val fought the swimming of his vision and the unease in his stomach. They were targets that would be struck if he gave in; his practice with Fodhr had taught him the importance of messages translated between warriors. What was his opponent telling him?

Examining Silas as if for the first time, there were hints of leftover anger as the man whirled his staff menacingly, but more noticeably was a playful confidence in his skill. A breeze rustled the tied tassel of reven hair held together by a single green band of cloth. Though the Captain General never moved his feet and posture were light—effortless—as if he were strolling atop a cloud or…Dancing.

Memory of his initial reaction to the instructor’s words made him frown, this time letting a wince of discomfort break through the impassive guise he’d set in place.

“Well…it’s worth a shot…” he murmured softly to himself.

Valadin stepped forward, his step’s weight off-balance and the footing heavy. The Void shuddered with discontent at his lack of concentration. Exhaling slowly, he allowed everything to flow out of him. All thought, worry, even pain he tried to force from thought. Impulsively a hum escaped him, its simple single note resonance rolling through his body in a gentle wave. His next step was to his right, this time his footfall less clumsy, but still the Void’s absolute control eluded him as he droned another note, the melody a nameless song he’d caught from just outside Saml’s common room at the end of a muggy, summer’s day.

Vivid imagery bloomed into creation as imaginings of him as a small boy leaning back against hardwood walls as a gleeman’s tune mesmerized his audience. This time the melody quickened as Val stepped toward Silas, his lips tightening as pain shortened his steps, but it didn’t quite shake the Void. Now the song he hummed mixed with the sounds of the Yard beyond them. The collisions of practice weapons, the shuffling of feet, the thickness of salty perspiration in the air all mixed as one to his senses as they attuned themselves to the formless undertone of the world around him. Soon Silas’s song blended into music, the world’s dulcet tones fading to the background in the wake of the complex cadence of the staff’s rotations.

Without thought Val’s body lowered into stance, feet spreading apart with one foot outstretched before the other. He vaguely remembered the form had a name as he sat his weight onto the rear leg and raised the hilt of his sword to the bridge of his nose. Agony pulsated in dull drumbeat against the flow of song that swirled around him and his opponent, but rather than ignoring it the song enveloped it, folding into the lines of music until even that pain became of a part of the Void. Angling his wooden lathe down towards Silas, Valadin opened his eyes to meet the ice-water blues of the man across from him as his body settled into The Ox Lowers His Horns.

His heart raced along with the quickening music and though the Void remained still, every muscle tensed with anticipation. Seat trickled from his brow, dotting the tan tunic which was now rumpled and speckled with dust.

Then he attacked.

His back leg hurled him forward, the song blaring in his ear until he heard nothing else—no thought could have squeezed past the noise to distract his mind. In a breath he was near Silas, the man’s foxy angled face appearing in great detail to him as the staff the hummed, its melody warning of an impending salvo. The Falcon Stoops struck quickly, but its effort hindered by a crippling tautness emanating from his stomach. He aimed for abdomen, but the feebleness of his attack was easily parried by the blackwood quarterstaff with a loud crack.

Even then the hum on his lips could be dissuaded, the breaks of its song matching every intake of air as Val retreated for an imperceptible second to The Lion on the Hill.

The pain in his jaw made it hard to drink in a full dose of air and though the Void kept the troubles from clouding his thoughts his lungs burned as he shifted his weight, driving a second thrust from his guard towards Silas’s neck. This time the Captain General danced back lithely to create space as the practice sword’s tip drew just short of its mark. Lightening of Three Prongs roared with the rhythm of the chorus Val heard in his heart and soul, the thrust quickly becoming an overhead slash to Silas’s right leg, another effort which was thwarted by a superb guard, but an opening appeared. Seeing through the Void and knowing the breach of defense by ‘listening’ to the battle’s song Val flowed, his second strike coming from below towards Silas’s left leg.

For the first time a hint of surprise materialized in the other man’s eyes. It wasn’t a look that felt comfortable or familiar for one so well-versed in battle and for a moment the two melodies of the two men were in perfect harmony; one overwhelming while the other yielding.

At the precipice of victory, Val faltered his stomach threatening to spew lunch on the ground. His balance, the Void, his ‘song’—everything left him as he hung between forms, defenses exposed.

OOC: I’d rather not have the lesson end yet…but if Silas feels that it’s over then well, that’s of course your call. I was trying to play on what was said earlier and perhaps create a concept for Val to really make swordsmanship part of his character. Tell me in the next post either IC’ly or OOC’ly if it made sense.

Basically he finally found a flow as opposed to just striking and just as he was close to victory, the injuries from the last counter, cost him an opportune advantage against a vet…who may or may not be able to fend off the student’s best efforts, but whatever.

[Silas]

Silas' eyes widened appreciatively at the change in his student- he was keeping rhythm in battle by humming. A novel idea, and one that seemed to be serving the Soldier quite well- his movements became more fluid, his injuries barely slowing him as he flowed to the beat of the dance they were crafting. In fact, he might have almost been getting ready to land a point on Silas, had reality not chosen to ensue. Even the Void could not hold back Valadin's injuries forever, and in the blink of an eye, it all fell apart, like taking a hammer to spin-glass. Silas sighed inwardly in disappointment, before moving forward for his riposte.

He let go of the quarterstaff with his right hand, which then shot out to grab at the Soldier's tunic with a firm grasp. In another blink of an eye, Silas pulled forward and down, dragging the young man forward, past Silas' right side, and downward, flinging him face down into the ground. He walked forward a few steps, before turning back to the man's prone form, quarterstaff still held casually, in no particular form or guard, but still radiating deadly purpose in his hands. He smiled as the Soldier tried to recompose himself.

"That... was much better. If I hadn't been so harsh, perhaps you might have even been able to land that blow you were winding up for. But alas, we shall consider this part of the lesson. Do not overextend yourself. Work within your limits, and if need be, retreat for a more advantageous position. If you cannot face your enemy head on, you take them from the back or sides. You cannot use your arms? Lash out with your feet and trip your enemy. Your opponent has thrown dust in your eyes? Use your ears instead. Know your limits, Valadin, for it is the only way you can transcend them."

He moved his staff into Guard of Wrath- a guilty pleasure of his, which he felt the need to indulge. "You have done well, better still after reining yourself in. But I must ask you to keep coming. Your body is weak, your flesh feeling frail, the pains almost too much to bear. But it is only now that you learn how far you can push yourself. Come forward, Soldier. Show me, and yourself, what you are capable of."

OOC: Lesson's not over, but I'll have to see how much more Val can take before I assess whether or not we're through here. Have Valadin come in for a more desperate attack- true, he'll be taking Silas' advice into account, but let's face it, he's not in the best shape. Have Valadin improvise an attack- whether a sequence of attacks or a single, powerful one- taking into account his injuries, Silas' teachings, and anything else you can factor in that he's learned so far.

Keep it coming! I'm looking forward to seeing what you can come up with!

[Sean]

By now, the prospect of victory had dimmed greatly. Pain blazed an fiery line through his chest with every breath that he drew. Already it took almost all his concentration to keep his fingers on the practice sword’s grip and the Yards tilted uncertainly whenever he blinked. The fight to remain conscious was a battle that was slowly being lost and usually the risk of total destruction was enough curtail any more resistance, but…

I had it! For a moment I was weightless. Everything so clear and…and the Void! I’ve never felt it like so strongly before. I’ve got to…do…more. I needmore…

“Yes, Cap—I mean, yes Master Silas. I will continue,” he answered while calmly patting the dust away from his damp tunic. Of course the Captain General knew of his injuries; no amount of bravado would mask the hurts now. It had become a matter of being unpredictable, something Valadin had never tested in his life. “Prepare yourself, sir.”

The interest in the sparring lesson had peaked as troves of Drin stood a safe distance away, their eyes watching hungrily with hope that Silas would dismantle yet another poor soul. Though stony faced and menacing in their admonishment of the recruits, even the Gaidin appeared to be drawn into the match, silently appraising the young man testing his skills against a worthy adversary. Accepted were the closest to the ring with furrowed brows counting the number of weeks the fool young man would need to spend in recovery after they examined him. Tension so thick it encased the two men at its center, but Silas seemed unaffected—even unaware—of the attention that he’d drawn. Fighting seemed his natural environment.

In the face of such confidence, Valadin nearly faltered. Years as a slave had taught him never to resist. Defying the master’s order would result in something terrible—a dear trinket taken from him, an associate who’d shared a kind word with him murdered, a blooming romance destroyed; Val did not take chances lightly.

A weak smile touched his face now as once again everything fell away. The suffering that weighed his body down. The stench of sweat, earth, and bloodlust mixing into a stifling combination. The wavering sights of people in the background, inspecting his every movement. The ramming of his heart against his ribcage. The sound of cheers and jeers assaulting the small ring. Everything was fed into the Void until nothing, but Silas, the quarterstaff, the practice sword, and Valadin remained.

As the hum rumbled through his innards a slight discomfort registered across his consciousness, but in the folds of the Void the pain lost its bite. Again the blood song came to him, the balls of his feet carrying him forward, in a swift dance. His first and second steps carried him smoothly into The Cat Crossing the Crossing the Courtyard, the balance in every motion unhurried and confident as he drew almost teasingly closer to the waiting Captain General.

The Green Ajah head’s guard was menacing, the tip of his staff high in the air, waiting to come down with wrathful vengeance. Its shadow touched Valadin long before he’d drawn within striking range, but no fear could penetrate the song and Void. All doubts were taken with the feeling of his sword in hand. When they were within two strides of one another Val stopped. Humming as he lowered his body once more to meet the challenge of his superior, The Lion on the Hill raised his sword high, the grip level with his shoulder and the tip leaning towards Silas.

For an eternity the two men faced one another. Rank and reputation falling to the wayside as only the hum existed between them. In their gazes, an unquenchable thirst burned; a question yearning to be answered.

Who would prevail?

It seemed the outcome was certain enough, but combat—true combat—was never certain and in that fact Valadin took solace.

No inkling of injury was obvious as he faced his enemy and the stillness of his stance was near-perfect, hours of practicing during his Free Hour paying dividends. The hum lulled on, its verses transferring into the mounting excitement that was harnessed for the final charge; Valadin knew he would fall with this exchange.

A rush of air was the only warning that Silas would have as Val retreated half a step before advancing forward with a one-handed thrust in the blink of an eye. As it had been before, the initial attempt at penetrating the quarterstaff’s guard with Lightening of Three Prongs was circumvented without compromising the Captain General’s form. The hum’s harmony wasn’t altered as its refrain mirrored the previous onslaught with Valadin’s momentum carrying him into a slash towards Silas’ right side then left side in rapid succession. Again these were defended as the form ended with similar success as its last try leaving Valadin hopelessly overexposed, his weight too far forward to recover from.

Through the Void Val sensed disappointment radiating from the Captain General’s person as a precious moment of transition took place. This time the song’s chorus took in the enemy’s movements; breathing, eye contact, center of gravity. All these were felt rather than seen as Val’s impetus carried him near to the ground.
He waited. Body falling, falling…falling. To most it would look as though he’d stopped moving and was about to crash face first into the ground. Instinct rippled through the Void, anxiety interposing itself into the song’s chorus before quickly being snuffed out. Wait…wait…
NOW! From an impossibly low position Val stepped forward with his right foot, his head nearly at his knee as he drew power from his sternum and pressed upwards with his hip as the coda of his song took the tail-end of Lightening of Three Prongs and flowed it into Low Wind Rising. Using two hands to facilitate all of his speed and might for the transition, Valadin burst upward from his feint, practice sword striking the Captain General’s torso in a blur from the man’s left thigh to his right shoulder. This time there was no crippling pain binding his movements as the song blared to its apex, thirst for victory and the euphoria of surpassing his limits taking him to a place beyond pain or fatigue.

In that moment, glorying in the Void and the song; Valadin was…weightless.

OOC: Alright…this post…I enjoyed writing. Honestly whatever happens I’m happy with this. For your understanding I’ll provide a summary. What Valadin pulled off here was a triple-feint. Figuring that Silas would be waiting for a multiple stage attack, he went for the same attack as last time, BUT!

This time he made it appear that once again his body gave out on him before at the last second linking Lightening of Three Prongs with Low Wind Rising. Basically it’s an extremely delayed attack from below the peripheral playing to Silas’ focus on a higher grounded stance. Hope it meets your expectations.