Artra: A Warrior's Training (Private)

[Artra]

(Tales from before Artra's Mysterious appearance in Deep Forest. Obviously set outside of the Forest In the far off lands from which Artra takes his residence. I'm thinking this should be enough... I hope. His Bio for further use: http://www.unicornsvisions.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=29&t=23047&p=146114#p146114)

Artra stared at the empty field before him. The high grasses in every direction standing as the perfect background for his first day of training. His hand-like paw traced the hilt of the scimitar that hung at his side. This is what he'd hoped to learn, what he hoped would be able to save his life and those of his brethren in war, yet, all that sat against his hip was a piece of metal, not a weapon, nothing, that he could say, that felt like it would lead him to his own salvation; no what hung against his hip was lifeless and cold, nothing but pounded steel.

He looked across the grasses as a breeze sent them into an entrancing dance, the field now a rolling ocean in the calm before a coming storm. His tail twitched slightly behind him, swaying to and fro almost like that of a friendly canine. He stepped forward, wrapping his paw around the leather bound hilt. He pulled the blade from its sheath, letting the metal ring as it tasted the air once again. He brought the gleaming blade to his face, staring at it and in turn himself. Thoughts of the blood this... thing would spill made his stomach knot and yet he knew he must; it was his duty to take up this sword as his father had before him and his before him.

He swung the blade out sideways, feeling the weight of the weapon, attempting to feel the weapon for what it was. The blade still felt lifeless, Mocking him as an onlooker would, a child with his father's sword. He sighed and pulled the sword back towards his body closing his mind for the moment, trying to think this through, to concentrate on what he'd seen done by countless others. His right leg shot out and the sword followed suit, a single cross slice, the blade held level in the gleaming sun as his eyes opened and he exhaled in frustration.

He retracted his step and the blade not knowing what else he could do on his own. A sense of failure overcame him as he took the step and swung again, watching the blade as it moved outwards and stopped. He sighed retracting his step, leaving the blade level with the ground, daring himself to let it move, secretly pleading with himself to be stronger than that.

The blade, the weight at the end of his arm; It was beginning to become a nuisance. His arm ached and yet he held, it couldn't have been more than 5 minutes and already the angle of the blade had decayed to below that of parallel with the ground. "Damnit," he growled as he straightened the blade back out, feeling the muscles in his wrists and hands pull taught once again. He looked away from the blade, hoping that the view of the city, far off to his right, would distract his mind but to no avail. 'Pain is just weakness leaving the body' His father's voice echoed in his head as the blade began to droop again, ever so slightly

[ddpej]

Interference
Ten feet to Artra's left, amidst the tall grass that reached upward lazily toward heat and light, there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. This was to be expected, of course; even a novice was unlikely to choose an occupied, unusual, or unpredictable location for his first training attempts. There were exceptions, of course. Amateurs, as a group, had a remarkable capacity for foolishness that served as a form of natural selection. The really stupid ones simply never made it beyond their level into the next. It was a system most masters rather enjoyed. Chæos was one of them.

It would be easy, on first glance, to dismiss the slim female as a threat. She was clearly young, more than a girl but certainly not a woman, and clad in dark, loose clothes that could hardly be called proper battle gear. Though at 177cm she could look most men easily in the eye, any experienced brawler would agree that she was far too small and skinny to even carry momentum, much less deal damage. If she had speed, they would nod knowingly, she could be useful as backup support, perhaps, or as a hit-and-run attacker. With her peculiar headwings and sullen manner, she might even be able to scare away an opponent of weak heart and mind before the match began. Best that she get out of the way in a bar fight, they would laugh, lest she find herself hanging from the rafters with a broken rib!

They would be very wrong, these many warriors, but it wouldn't be their fault. Chæos was scrawny, by the usual standards, and if her shoulders were a touch broader than usual and her muscles honed and hidden behind youthfully smooth skin, well, who could tell? It was only when she moved that contradictions might begin to form. When Chæos walked, there was a restless grace to her steps that spoke of more years on her feet than the mere seventeen she seemed to have; when she ran, the motion was swift, efficient, and much too smooth to stem from anything other than controlled strength. Those who were lucky enough to watch her fight from a distance would notice how easily she carried herself, how naturally she held her weapons, and how intensely she focused on her battles. Those unfortunate few who ended up facing her in battle were usually too busy defending themselves to note anything more than the startling strength of her attacks, the speed with which she circled them, and the chilling fear her piercing gaze drilled into their hearts. Chæos was a predator in the purest sense of the word, and her eyes spoke it clearly.

At that precise moment, however, she was approximately as formidable as your average tumbleweed. The absolutely ordinary patch of tall grass ten feet to Artra's left had somehow managed, in the blink of an eye, to sprout a most unusual ball of curled Chæos, the position of her limbs suggesting that she had been teleported into the field straight out of the tree where she'd been napping. She hovered there for just a few seconds, as if hanging from invisible strings, and then the spell that had carried her out of the Realms dissipated, and gravity reclaimed its hold on her dozing form.

The fiery warrior came boiling up out of the grass in snarling, black fury. She snapped her head around to focus on the only figure in sight as if the poor fellow had personally pulled her out of her tree, interrupted her nap, and dumped her on her head just for kicks and grins. Stalking toward Artra with a glare that could melt steel, Chæos wasted no time in letting loose her famously sharp tongue.

"Swear at the sword again and I'll cut off your tail with it. It's not the blade's fault you're too damned green to hold it right."

[Artra]

Artra still held the sword out before him, not letting himself move for the sake of his own sanity, the figure just now waking from her interrupted nap. He let the sword drop and looked up just in time to spot the young looking girl before she started raving
"Swear at the sword again and I'll cut off your tail with it. It's not the blade's fault you're too damned green to hold it right."

His eyes opened a bit wider at that remark. He didn't speak right away only assessed the threat of this new comer. She was thin, almost to the point of being nothing but skin on bones and yet her eyes spoke with a certain fire that he could not be led to believe belonged to a young girl. "Who the hell are you? Where did you come from?" he asked, his voice wavering a bit even though he prayed with all of his being it would come forth strong and confident. His eyes looked over her again, this time spotting the wings on her head. This made his suspicions frightfully clear, that this girl was not what she appeared to be and that the threat she made should be taken more than seriously; His tail curled at the thought.

He didn't stop even with this figure watching him. He stepped backwards, away from her, the blade at rest in his right hand. He closed his eyes and focused trying to make himself believe that she wasn't there, that nothing was different. He failed miserably at this but went about swinging the sword in slow motion anyways, maybe, by any luck of the gods, hoping that he was doing it right and not messing it up in front of this girl who apperantly knew something of the art. The thought of failure weighed heavily on his mind as he stepped through the swing and took another continueing his adavance across the dirt closer to the ring of grass .

[ddpej]

Confrontation
At first, the cat-fellow said nothing, and the glaring demon-spirit matched him word for word. Though he stood a good six inches taller than her and his solid frame indicated a definite weight advantage, Chæos seemed utterly unaware of it. There was no hesitation or caution in her body and eyes -- only disdain, arrogance, and restless rage. The wings on her head hung flat and flared forward in aggression, conveying her mood as clearly as the ears of a cat. They twitched when he finally spoke, flicking up and out swiftly before sliding back even wider and lower than they had started. Strong words, for a stripling holding a weapon he could not use. Strong words.. and stupid. Chæos always had and always would react to a challenge in one way and one way only, however shaky the voice that issued it, and her definition of a challenge tended to be very inclusive indeed. Letting loose a most feline snarl, the fighter stepped swiftly and intentionally directly into the panther's path.

It was his own fault, really. Addressing and promptly ignoring a cat is as much a declaration of dominance as staring it down, and Chæos was in mind and motion as close to a cat as Artra himself. More to the point, she was as dominant as they come -- particularly when facing a lesser fighter, which she had already determined this one to be. The subtle growl in his words and the near immediate closing of his eyes didn't help his case. The fact that he was still holding his sword horribly wrong, and swinging it no less, was merely icing on the cake. Dodging the first swing easily, she ducked smoothly under the blade as he stepped forward for another and planted herself solidly mere inches from his body, braced for impact. In the same movement, she extended her arm to cross the flat of the blade with her forearm, pushing the sword out past the bounds of good leverage, the casual motion belying the strength with which she held her position.

It was all very quick, a mere matter of silent seconds but for the snarl that had seen her off. Now, balanced firmly in preparation for the potential collision of bodies and bracing his blade off to the side without apparent effort, the slim warrior met his eyes unflinchingly. This close, the predatory fangs that graced her bite became visible, and the sharp needles tipping her headwings hovered close enough to tickle the fur of his cheeks. Her voice was low and dangerous, carrying an edge that dared the male to try to fight back and see what happened.

"Only the very skilled and the very stupid close their eyes to someone they've just challenged. Which are you, cat?"

[Artra]

(I think I can say Quality over Quantity, But compared to Yours, Its almost nothing.)

He felt her before she spoke. His eyes dare not open and see what part of her was just fractions of an inch from his face, nor did he want to see what she had done, or how close she really was to him. He felt the blade move and because of his grip, had no choice but to follow the blades motion with his arm.

"Stupid" he muttered, his tone defeated and his tail falling deathly still behind him. Slowly he let his eyes open to see her, and the wing like exstentions on her head, the barbs to be more specific, just touching the outermost hairs of his fur. A cold shiver ran the length of his spine as he stared at her, his eyes not moving from her's, at least hoping to hold off any other offenses he could make to this stranger. His ears twitched slightly as he picked up the faint sounds from the distant city, his overall paranoia keeping him from closing his ears to the city.

[ddpej]

Tension
For another long moment, there was no answer, and the golden-green eyes remained closed as if the cat intended to continue ignoring her. He made no effort to fight, however, and it was that utter lack of sparks that prevented Chæos' temper from raging out of control before he finally spoke. It was the right answer, and finally he opened his eyes to meet hers. Somewhat mollified by the submissive response, the feisty warrior dropped her arm away from his blade, no longer blocking its motion. All the same, she made no move to step back, and the malice in her glare retained its potency. Narrowing her eyes slightly, Chæos made no effort to conceal the quiet growl bubbling in her throat.

For someone who was clearly not quite human, the bulky fellow facing off with her seemed quite unaware of the importance and basics of body language and confrontation. He had admitted that he could not best her in a fight, to be sure, but the admission lost quite a bit of its power when it was followed immediately by a blatant staring contest. Even humans knew well enough not to lock gazes with something more powerful than they. Admittedly, humans also tended to forgoe that particular survival instinct when they thought they could bluff their way out of the situation with enough bluster and feigned confidence, but most of the partially-human species knew better than to think such tactics would work on anyone but a human or a mindless beast. No, this fool was either utterly unaware of the challenge he was issuing, or simply even more moronic than Chæos had previously assumed. Possibly both.

The wings on her head twitched, their tips leaving faint trails along his cheeks as they slipped through fur along the way, then flared up into dark, wide fans with a faint but audible snap. The motion was automatic, demonstrating a swelling aggression. Additionally, the sudden expansion of darkness above her head was usually considered not only distracting but even disturbing, a reminder that this was no average human teenager. Maintaining her unwavering glare, She growled deep in her throat again, a touch louder, fangs flashing white as her lips curled slightly with the sound. She said nothing, only waiting, daring, staring her larger opponent down, the intensity of her push for dominance reaching near-palpable proportions. Chæos bowed to no one.

[Artra]

Artra felt her arm move away once he opened his eyes but he felt something anew as he looked into her eyes. Shit... again..? he thought about looking away, trying to make himself look away, to try and make imself look like a subordinate to her. But he couldn't, something in him made him continue his stare. The thing is, even though he was still staring her in the eye, there was no meaning behind it, no force behind the gaze, no anger, no rage, nothing at all it seemed.

he could see darkness growing above her through his pariphrials but he didn't dare look away, not now. Whoever this was he was not going to look away, even in knowing that she might kill him just for this bold outstatement against her, he would not flinch. Voices began to fill his mind, warning him that bravery was both a trait of fools and heros. the multitude of voices reminding him that he was indeed being an idiot at the moment.

There was nothing to fight for, so why was he standing up to the smaller and yet so much more threatening foe? He didn't know but it felt 'right' and other to closing his eyes to continue on his practicing, they had never served him wrong before. Then again he had been raised by a higher up family, even as a second class son, but that might have still given him the perks of a caste scociety.

As he thought this over her could feel tension rising between himself and the young girl. at the moment it felt as if a bolt of lightining would shoot across the space and roast him in the next instant. he inhaled softly and tried to clear his mind, what would work to his advantage right now...Look away and possibly avoid a conflict or stay where he was and hope that this 'young girl' wouldn't kill him for the fun of it? life is definitly more important than a little pride. He looked away slightly, though through his pariphrials he still watched her face.

[ddpej]

Indifference
The panther's decision came just fractions of a second too late. Chæos had already started moving by the time he averted his eyes, and as close to each other as the two were, she couldn't have stopped her motion in time if she'd wanted to. She didn't, if course.

Her lunge was quick, decisive, and firmly grounded, intended not to cause damage or inflict pain -- though she really wasn't concerned about the possibility of either -- but simply to transfer momentum. Specifically, to knock him back quite forcefully and preferably down onto the ground. Down was a toss-up, unfortunately, something she couldn't plan on. WIth his size advantage, he might well be able to stay on his feet, and if he was enough cat to be able to react in time, he might only stumble back a few feet. Still there was a distinct possibility that she'd get lucky and get him flat on his back, and no matter what, he was going to be feeling the impact of that solid, bony shoulder in his gut for a while afterward. The snarl that followed immediately behind the sudden plowing was cold and unimpressed.

"Either you can ignore your pride or I can beat it out of you. I don't much care which."

It was nothing personal, inasmuch as anything Chæos did was ever not personal. Given that she hadn't pulled off her hairtie yet for full-on traumitization, the introductions were actually going rather well by her standards. She'd already seen a bit of potential in him with the sword, for all that he was going about it completely wrong, and there was a distinct possibility that she'd work with him on it before she took off again. Chæos actually liked training newbies (assuming, of course, that they had a brain, potential, and the strength of will required to learn anything from her). Training a newbie increased her chances of getting a good, solid, satisfactory fight out of them someday, as opposed to the mundane drivel she usually had to deal with. Good fights were far preferable to easy ones, but unfortunately also far less frequent.. making the idea of spending time passing on some of her knowledge to a youngster as an investment for the future rather more appealing than one might at first think.

Of course, he still had to earn it. And before he could do that, the proper pecking order had to be established. Such things were a vital part of introductions, after all!

[Artra]

Artra sensed the movement before it hit him only not soon enough to avoid the hit. He let out a rush of air as her shoulder dug into him just beneath the ribs. He curled over forward for a second before the force pushed him backwards, his feet shuffling across the dirt. He stumbled and almost fell, only regaining his balance at the last instant. The minute distance between them turned into five... then ten feet before he stopped, his face still in a look of pain and more importantly suprise.

He looked up at her, not directly, and sighed "I appologize" he muttered with a sincerity that he decided, since she could obviously beat the hell out of him all day, that she deserved more than once over. He looked away then back before he took a tenative step forward.

He looked past her, figuring his step forward was pushing his luck again. He saw the vague outline of the village in the distance and sighed inwardly figuring that if this seemingly young woman let him go, he would return to that un-interesting life with a new bout of shame on his shoulders, slowly eating him from the inside, letting its poison doubt flow in his veins.
Subconciously, while his mind was distracted with thoughts, his tail twitched aimlessly and a paw like hand rubbed the sore spot just beneath his sternum. His breaths were still short and every time he inhaled it felt like a rush of fire into his chest. Every exhilation left him feeling as though he would start coughing and never stop.

[ddpej]

Exploration
Finally satisfied with their relative positions on the ladder of authority, Chæos accepted the muttered apology with a soft snort, a slight nod, and a prompt gesture toward the sword that had started the whole matter.

"Why's a cub out alone with a weapon, anyway?"

She used the word cub not as an insult, nor even as a reference to his unknown number of years. As someone who didn't and couldn't physically grow, Chæos saw lifestages in terms of experience rather than age -- measured in bruises, blood, battles, and ability compared to days, months, and years. Furthermore, there was no bite to the question beyond her usual bluntness. Inexperience was nothing to be ashamed of, if the opportunity to gain experience had not been easily available in the past. That said, wandering out on one's own to try teaching oneself the ways of the sword was not really a viable plan without a solid swordsmanship base to work from. And unless the unidentified catfellow was a very, very good actor, he was definitely lacking that crucial first step.

She'd only seen a short bit of his attempts, admittedly, but it didn't take much for her to recognize poor grip and sheer bad form. If he continued practicing that way, he was only going to develop horrible habits. Those would then have to be broken and relearned the right way in order to actually get anywhere, which was a highly inefficient method of training. Given how vital efficiency was to fighting well, it was clearly advantageous to nip that trend right in the bud. Even if he tried to decline the 'offer', he was bound to learn something from the scuffle that would ensue. Chæos, after all, was not known for taking no for an answer!

[Artra]

Artra looked down at the offending piece of steel, admittedly he'd forgotten about it in his thoughts and was surprised it was still in his possession after her strike. "a shoddy attempt to..." the sentence died away, that was a lie to him. It hadn't been a shoddy attempt only a misguided one. What was it he came out here to accomplish? was it only to swing the steel blade that his father had used to spill blood so many times before.

He looked from the young woman to the blade and back again, constantly averting his gaze. He didn't mind the 'pup' and figured it was deserved since he could not tell her age. He flexed his free hand absently, his tail twisting behind him in an almost unnatural fashion as a deep ill-ease continued to wrack him.

He stood now, half a sentence formed, dumbfounded as to why he'd taken his father's sword out into the middle of nowhere to practice an art that he'd only seen, and in those few times, at a great distance. Every answer sounded hollow and idiotic in his own ears, much less what they might seem in the ears of this young warrior.

[ddpej]

Basics
To her great disgust, Chæos' question received little more than a few words, none of them particularly enlightening, before her day's potential source of entertainment suffered a paralyzing stroke of realization. She knew it was shoddy, whatever he might have been attempting; that was the reason she'd asked in the first place. Flicking her headwings in restless disapproval, the warrior reached down to shuffle through her many pockets, her gaze never wavering from his distant eyes.

It took her a few tries to find what she was looking for. The items she found first -- three knives, two daggers, a handful of rocks, a sling, some pinecones, a variety of other small, pointy things, and a pair of sunglasses -- were all used more frequently. This one was little more than a toy, something she'd stashed away absent-mindedly long ago that had simply never made it back out of her pockets. Finally, however, after lifting her leg to reach into the pocket down by her ankles, she found it. Settling back into a solid stance, Chæos tossed the item lightly in her hand once to before chucking it quite purposefully at Pumaman's head. The bouncy-ball connected squarely with the center of his forehead, and she caught it easily on the rebound as she lifted an eyebrow.

"Lesson number one: no stunned revelations in the middle of a perfectly good fight. Ruins the whole thing. I could have killed you twenty times over by now."

This might have been an exaggeration, but it was hard to tell. Certainly she could have killed him, and certainly he'd left her time to do so in any number of ways. Then again, after the first death she doubted he'd have cared much how many more she managed, and she wasn't one to enjoy beating on a dead body anyway. Her point remained -- he'd left himself open, and very much so. A master of the arts she might be, but Chæos was not known for her patience or any semblance of gentle care. That was no way to go about a battle, much less a training session!

[Artra]

( Sorry it took forever and a day to get this post up, but I'm back in my swing, for the time being. )

Artra flinched back when the ball hit his head; it hadn't hurt, at least not really. It had, however, startled him and he leaped backwards seeing his flaw before she started speaking. He focused his eyes on her as she spoke, nodding lightly at first, letting his head still as she finished. He swallowed hard at the mention of his own death, the thoughts of that sending a shiver down his spine; he looked into her eyes for a moment before he looked down again, shaking himself out to chase off the feeling. "Lesson one?" he asked after a moment, tilting his head curiously to the side "what do you mean by that?" he asked cynically, not thinking that some stranger would come and attempt to teach him how to fight.

[ddpej]

[OOC: Not a problem. Welcome back!]

Beginnings
The sudden refocusing of her new pupil's attention may have needed a trigger, but that was common. He had at least been quick and relatively calm about it once the trigger hit, which was more than she could say for a fair amount of others. She also approved of the no-nonsense attempt to get down to business. Headwings and posture settling into a stance of easy confidence, the self-appointed teacher raised an eyebrow.

"It's something you should learn and know, and it's the first of such somethings I've mentioned." Chæos lifted her leg again to return the bouncy ball to its pocket and shrugged lightly. "You didn't think I was going to walk away to let you abuse that poor blade again, did you?"

It was truth, however partial. She would most likely have chosen to work with the fellow anyway, had their encounter been unplanned. Ayre Kila had been rather blunt about the matter when she spelled Chæos over, however, as was her way. She hadn't bothered to mention why sword education should occur, of course, nor who the fellow was, but the lingering impression dropped into the warrior's brain when she was deposited here had been quite firm: the boy needed training. It was succinct, but accurate -- and who better to train him than a bored master of blades?

[Artra]

He watched her put the ball away, only now noticing the clothing she was wearing and its many pockets. He was bewildered by the possibilities of what else she might have in store just under the surface fabric. He tore his eyes away, back to her as she started to speak.

"I figured you wouldn't" he muttered with a small sigh and a smirk, watching her, hoping to see some sign in her body language or face to tell what she was thinking. "I have one question before we continue on. Who are you and what am I to call you?" he asked with a small smirk, wondering if this made him come off as a smart ass of sorts.

[ddpej]

Introductions
Chæos matched her pupil's smirk with a darkly humored baring of her own teeth, giving off the unmistakable impression of predatory amusement. If the cub was getting a feel for her style now, all the better -- and once he settled into whatever impression of her he was forming, she would have that many more opportunities to catch him off-guard if it seemed appropriate. Never one to waste time or mince words, she responded immediately and bluntly to his query.

"Name's Chæos. Call me what you want. No promises on how I'll react."

It was at once both a relevant answer and a private game. Chæos truly didn't care whether or not she was addressed as "Master" or "Sensei" or any other such honorifics. She was a simple-minded, solitary dominant, unimpressed with the formalities of political and hierarchy-based systems. There were only those submissive to her, she herself, and the rare few who ranked above her. How any of them ranked amongst themselves was quite unimportant, and she personally didn't garner any more respect from titles as from the use of her name.

That said, calling Chæos a lady was a good way to find oneself in the midst of a battle, regardless of one's status. Similarly, hailing her with cries of "little girl", "sweetheart", "skinny chick", or anything implying weakness would be equally likely to provoke a fight. Any term implying a challenge would similarly start sparks flying. It was nothing personal, really, though Chæos was too volatile for it to be an emotionless fight. Mostly she just liked to fight, and was happiest when glaring fiercely at an opponent with the fire of combat humming through her veins. Besides, hair-trigger ambushes were a wonderful way to keep trainees on their toes!

[Artra]

He gave a soft smile, looking between her and the ground, more at her, knowing she was more skilled than himself. "well, what are we waiting for" he said softly, as he took a half step back, not sure if she was just going to jump him or try and teach him a technique first; the thrill of not knowing her next move after such an predictable lifestyle was great, it was a good time for change. He slipped the sword back into his hilt, figuring he should at least stick to a weapon he knew how to use and to his claws there was not better weapon, his fangs agreed. He pulled the scabbard from his waist and let it fall to the dirt, his now unhindered body slinking into a more predatory cat nature, watching her, waiting.

[ddpej]

Misunderstandings
Raising an eyebrow high, Chæos snorted in disdain as her pupil promptly dropped the weapon he was supposed to be learning to use. He was sorely mistaken if he thought she was going to teach him everything she knew about everything, starting from brute combat on. Chances were good he didn't have time for that. She did have time, being immortal, but she was deficient in other areas -- namely, patience. Besides, brute combat and the use of inherent weapons would come far more naturally to him than to most, given his nature. If he couldn't figure the basics out on his own there, he was hanging out with all the wrong people.

"Cub, you are cat. You know how to use your claws, or you damn well ought to, anyway. How is me trouncing you at your own fight going to teach you how to use a LongClaw?"

Chæos recalled, a bit too late, that LongClaw might not actually be universal feline for "blade". She had heard it used more than once in the past, but she actually didn't encounter talking cats much, and most of the ones she did meet were fluent in the common tongue. Nevertheless, she decided, LongClaw wasn't exactly ambiguous. Any sensible cub ought to be able to figure it out. The faint flicking of her headwings remained, for now, the only sign of impatience as the trainer waited for her pupil to prepare himself for training.

[Artra]

It only took a moment before his mistake rang clear in his own head... in fact it was faster than her words or looks had betrayed themselves. "sorry, I.." he started as he knelt, keeping one eye always on her form as he slowly reattached the belt to his waist and drew the sword, gripping the hilt tightly in his right paw, not finishing his sentence, perhaps figuring that if another word were spoken in his own defense, that he would be punished with something a little more painful than a ball. He bent his knees a little and waited a moment doing his best to assess the situation at hand... It only took a moment before he stepped forward, left leg first, moving into a vertical strike, aimed to cleave at his would be master and teacher.

(Sorry that this took so long, V_V my life intervened... and she would not let me come back to my fictitious worlds till I was done dealing with her.))