In Pursuit of Skill (Clair x Derick)

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair didn't know whether Derick deliberately chose to attack that moment, or whether it was his "combat reflex" causing him to respond. Either way, she did know he was charging in at her. The ground was slick, as his sliding foot demontrated fairly well. Not slick enough to be impractical to use, but the unwary would find themselves eating snow. His direct aproach could often prove effective in group tactics, but the lance itself was less about closing the distance, and more about stabbing anything close by. With his charge, he was becoming committed to the strike. A strike which would find nothing to hit.

With smooth steps, Clair moved back and resituated her lance right at Derick's chest. It was an exciting moment when someone charging realized he was about to throw himself on a spike. She'd stepped back to give him a bit more time to react though, as well as give herself a bit more room to maneuver. Spears could be used in close battle situations, but they excelled at long range battles. Sniping the enemy, in other words.

[Derick]

Derick's mouth opened in surprise as his adversary re-situated itself, offering a spike to impale himself on. He jerked reflexively, his body twisted and redirected its path. He dodged the lance tip, but landed clumsily. His legs strode out his momentum before he slowed to halt and turned to face the enemy.

Derick lips peeled back, baring his teeth slightly as he adopted a fighting stance and faced this new challenge. His lance ducked and weaved slightly, seeking an opening, but there were no options. The addictive reflex substance began to ebb and wane as the battle came to a stand still, so Derick charged once again. He took two steps forward and extended his lance fully from one knee.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair watched as her opponent threw himself off to the side of her weapon, avoiding running onto the end of her lance. This time he appeared to be thinking before he rushed in again, as he turned to face her.

"Try not to become so committed that you can't stop yourself. After all, you can never be completely sure of an oponent's skill level until you face them in battle."

His next strike came from the ground up to meet her. No more throwing himself on spikes, it seemed. Clair moved in response, raising her spear point, and dropping the haft to catch his attack and hit it off target. She sidestepped for insurance, before gliding in and bringing the front of her lance down towards her opponent's shoulder for a staff strike.

[Derick]

The staff crushed Derick's shoulder with surprising force. He lost his footing and wiped out facedown into the snow. As he lay there, the pain in his shoulder peaked, causing Derick to almost snap out of his combat reflex. After a moment, a wave of adrenaline and pleasure engulfed the pain, taking Derick's mind with it.

Derick rolled through the snow, tucking his lance parallel with his body to protect the staff. He stuck out his knee and felt it dig snugly into the snow. He used the pressure as a lever to pull out of his roll, and he landed securely on his other foot. The roll had carried him in a circle around Clair, leaving him just at the edge of striking distance. He lunged forward one again, his lance reaching for an opening.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair saw the blond haired spearman go down. He hardly even stopped though, tucking and rolling himself around her before driving in yet again. He was relentless in his attack. Every bit as ferocious as a predator.... Blindly ferocious was not what he needed though.

The sun's awakening orange rays reflected off her armor and caught in the fringes of her hair, causing a glowing silhouette to appear around her. She pivoted, following Derick's movement as he got up and charged in. She watched his lunge, looking for how the arms were moving, before swinging her own lance over with the purpose of guiding his lance tip off course. As she continued the step further to the side, she rotated her lance around for another strike, aiming to hit the back of his knee and sweep his forward leg out from under him.

[Derick]

Derick pushed hard against the opposing staff, aiming to stay on course. His adversary was strong though, stronger than he was even. Derick's attack was easily deflected and his balance began to deteriorate as well. His front leg locked, his boot attempting to dig into the snow. Just as his boot caught in the snow, there was a harsh crack. Derick's knee gave, pain exploded from the point of impact, and Derick fell facedown into the snow.

Derick awoke, gasping for air as though he had been drowning...Heck, perhaps he had. He blinked a few times, and began to panic as his vision remained dark. His hands scuffled for a hold, and he lifted his body. The powerful glare of a sun freshly awakened bore directly into Derick's eyes, he fell down instinctively, then arose again, turning away from the sun and sitting on a snow bank.

There was a figure, Derick blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted. Clair--with a lance. What is she...? Derick's eyes found his own lance, and they widened in recognition just as a bolt of pain blasted through the front of his skull. He groaned faintly, remembering how futile he had just been, and hoarsely tried to address Clair, his throat was completely dried out. Humiliated by his defeat, he reached for his canteen and took a drink of water. He drank too fast, he choked and sputtered before finally managing to utter, "'Mm S-sorry!"

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair finished her maneuver and stepped back as Derick unceremoniously faceplanted into the snow. There wasn't any laughter on her face here. No joy at having bested her opponent. It just was what it was. And it meant a dead Derrick if this hadn't been a sparring exercise.

He came to himself a moment later, after some thrashing about. Must have been knocked cold. At least he didn't seem to be seriously injured. There was that to be thankful for.... At least, as long as he didn't drown himself.

"I think I told you not to commit yourself to a strike." Clair said lightly, and she was smiling now, trying to make light of it all. She planted the haft of her lance on the ground and leaned casually on it as she looked down at where he was sitting.

"Are you alright, Derick?" There was some concern mixed into her voice, but whether it was from potential injuries, or his combat reflex issues, she didn't know. Likely as not, it was both.

[Derick]

Derick pressed his palm over his right eye and gritted his teeth as he willed his headache to go away. "This happens all the time," he spoke to Clair without looking at her, beads of sweat ran down his face and his breathing was still ragged. "That fight...I never remember what happens until I see something to piece it together...blood, my weapon...it's different everytime, and even then, it's just bits and pieces." His breathing slowed to a regular rate, he took a long pull from his canteen and sighed as the water soothed his dry throat.

He sat still as more of the fight came to mind, as he processed the thoughts, he looked up at Clair. His first impression of her had been rather incorrect, she looked scarcely older than he did, yet her battle prowess and maturity made Derick feel like a child. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath as the full memory of the fight finally came to him. "I'm sorry..." They were supposed to be SPARRING...but Derick hadn't held back at all...his actions had been completely intent on killing...but he didn't know how to explain this.

[Clair Feldsky]

Derick was confused and upset. That much became clear. Clair had to bite her tongue from growning in frustration though. He'd fallen prey to his reflex again, and she didn't have any idea what to do about it. As long as they were sparring, as long as she was pushing him, he would have to challenge this bloodthirsty rampaging, which he'd apparently been conditioned to give in to.

Idea!

"Get up. We're going again, but this time, things will be a little different." As long as he was fighting her, he'd have to resist that tendency of his to give into the rampage, but if she removed a certain piece of the puzzle, perhaps it would change the outcome.

She backed away to a distance more approriate to combat, and waited for him to stand.

"Listen up, Derick. I don't want you holding back, but this time...," She picked her lance up and took a firm, two-handed grip on the weapon as she lowered it to target height.

"This time, you're not allowed to attack. Just defensive practice." She waited to see his reaction. She was already at her ropes end. Now she was just grasping at whatever straws she could come up with.

[Derick]

Derick nodded, his headache was clearing up, and he found he was quite steady once he rose to his feet. "Yes ma'am!" He reached down to the snow and picked up his slim lance. The key to defense with a lance was to either hold the enemy out of striking range, or use the lance's shaft to deflect incoming attacks. Derick found his stance and extended the lance outward. As he faced his adversary, he felt his combat reflex building up again. Derick swallowed hard and concentrated every extra measure of willpower on staying alert.

"R-ready when you are, C-commander." His voice shook, but his body was still steady. Sweat began to bead on his temples as he awaited Clair's first attack.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair saw that Derick was trying, but when he spoke, he still had that stuttering quality that meant he was struggling. She sighed softly and muttered under her breath. " Fine...." Hopefully, they were on the right track here, because no fresh ideas seemed to be springing to mind.

She put concern for what they were trying out of her mind, and simply focused on what she was doing. A calm, dedication to zeroing in on her target. She was going to force her opponent to put everything he had towards his defense.

She moved in suddenly, snapping the lance around in a horizontal swing at Derick's chest level, if he blocked that, she'd bounce the other end of her lance towards him from the other side, and continue on varying her strikes directions and targets for a time.

[Derick]

Derick's lance seemed to move on it's own as Clair struck at him. It jerked in front of him, its tip pointing directly into the ground. Clair's spear haft bouced off his own, but she was already switching directions for another attack. Derick heart pounded, and his lance started to go in for an attack. Derick pulled with all of his might, redirecting it into a feeble, clumsy block. Nevertheless, it worked, Clair's lance rebounded and went for another sweep. Derick opened his mouth to scream "STOP!" when something very different happened.

His vision blacked out, and all he could hear for that brief moment of blackness was his own blood screaming through his system, supercharged with his combat reflex. And then, his vision returned, but everything was tainted, everything was a vivid shade of red. He raised a hand to wipe his eyes, but he found he couldn't. Then--A blur, Clair's lance was sweeping through the air towards him, but it seemed to be moving in slow motion. He froze, unsure of what to do, but then he felt a tremendous, beautiful sense of calm, and then his body seemed to move of it's own accord. His lance butt thrust out, catching the haft of Clair's lance. In a fluid motion, Derick felt his body step back while his lance bore down on Clair's. He seemed to be trying to force both lances into the ground, attempting a stalemate.

[Clair Feldsky]

Derick started off a bit clumsy. Perhaps he'd not been quite ready yet. Still, the goal had been to push him, and so Clair had begun throwing swift, if simple attacks at him repeatedly. It was working. He was definitely being pushed, but he started to get the knack of it after a moment.

His lance struck out, intersecting hers and pressing it down towards the ground. Her lance's incoming momentum resisted his press block, long enough to realize what was going on. For a moment, she wasn't sure whether this should be considered an attack or not. It was a good use of your weapon, letting the lance wielder really make use of all that length they had on the other typical weapons, but for the purposes of this exercise, it was still an aggressive technique. She wasn't about to stop the match to say that though.... If it was like last time, she'd probably have to knock him out to end it again. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. That's what this is about after all.

It occurred to the Falcoknight that this was major progress. She couldn't remember him doing much to block before, due to his singleminded pursuit of attack. She stepped away from the weapons lock, breaking contact, and letting him have his victory. She paused for a moment, just long enough to reorient. Before he could revel in it too much though, she aimed and threw a thrust towards his chest. It was controlled. She wasn't forgetting all safety here, but she wanted to keep giving him something to think about, even if they were straightforward attacks.

[Derick]

A savage satisfaction came over Derick as Clair withdrew her lance. He quickly realized how foreign it felt, however, and so he withdrew from the feeling. When he did this, he felt a certain measure of control for a moment, but it was quickly overtaken by a rush of adrenaline. He felt his lance close in for an attack, but he was promptly interrupted by the Clair's spear slamming into his chest, causing him to stumble back.

He caught his breath, he had been careless. His lance flicked up in his hand, the tip collided lightly with Feldsky's, and, as though his body had already picked a course of action, he tried to force the tip up and off to the side. To Derick's own surprise, the move was not to force an attack, but to prevent Feldsky from attacking directly again.

[Clair Feldsky]

He'd started to throw an attack. She'd definitely spotted it that time. He was getting the right idea by beginning to take a mkre active goal in guarding himself, but he still wasn't completely able to resist attacking, which was the point of all this.

Her lance collided with his, giving a moment of respite from her attacks, but she had a point to make now. She quickly reversed directions, and spun her lance, aiming to knock his weapon from the inside of his guard to the outside.

"I said..." She kept the lance twirling swiftly, moving it from where it started near the front, and arcing its path back to the side, then over her head before she brought it down in a whistling strike to a spot between his hands. Specifically, to a point which ought to cause Derick's lance shaft to pop right out of at least one hand, slipping it out between the thumb and the rest of the fingers. This was the aim at least.

"No attacks!"