Aug 22, 2021 13:30:46 GMT -5
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Moving like a wild cat Morgan stalked around the edge of the square, watching her opponent who nervously turned with her shield held tight to his body. Exactly where she wanted it. She stopped and began to circle him in the other direction. Suddenly, Morgan lunged. The ferocious blow forcing the other Demigod to one knee but she danced back bringing her blade into a low guard once more, the moment her opponent found his feet her whip lashed out slicing into his cheek before snapping back and slashing into his thigh, blood spraying out over the sand. Despite the pain, however, he reached Morgan and slammed his shield into her side, pirouetting Morgan swept under his blow kicking his legs out from under him in one fluid movement.
She kicked his shield away and tapped the tip of her blade against his chest, smiling sweetly as he held his arms out yielding.
Morgan stepped back, helping her fellow Legionnaire to his feet and helping him out of the sparring arena towards the medics before joining some of her Cohort on the benches, cleaning her whip and blade with a cloth. She almost felt bad for how handily she’d thrashed him and she knew the pain of a whip, the way it ripped the flesh even when using a thicker training tool rather than her actual whip. It was painful and he would be feeling that sharp, biting agony for days to come. She set her training weapons down within the case, next to her live blade and barbed whip, accepting the offered flask of water from one of the water bearers for the day. The cool water brought relief for despite how short the match was it still took a lot of energy, her muscles were still burning from the previous matches as well. She watched as two more Legionnaires entered the arena, a First and a Third, squaring off. She watched them as they probed, striking at one another to test each other until finally blows started landing.
Morgan flinched when one such blow caught the Third across the shoulder blades then the forehead, watching as he fell in a heap like a sack of potatoes.
Moving like a wild cat Morgan stalked around the edge of the square, watching her opponent who nervously turned with her shield held tight to his body. Exactly where she wanted it. She stopped and began to circle him in the other direction. Suddenly, Morgan lunged. The ferocious blow forcing the other Demigod to one knee but she danced back bringing her blade into a low guard once more, the moment her opponent found his feet her whip lashed out slicing into his cheek before snapping back and slashing into his thigh, blood spraying out over the sand. Despite the pain, however, he reached Morgan and slammed his shield into her side, pirouetting Morgan swept under his blow kicking his legs out from under him in one fluid movement.
She kicked his shield away and tapped the tip of her blade against his chest, smiling sweetly as he held his arms out yielding.
Morgan stepped back, helping her fellow Legionnaire to his feet and helping him out of the sparring arena towards the medics before joining some of her Cohort on the benches, cleaning her whip and blade with a cloth. She almost felt bad for how handily she’d thrashed him and she knew the pain of a whip, the way it ripped the flesh even when using a thicker training tool rather than her actual whip. It was painful and he would be feeling that sharp, biting agony for days to come. She set her training weapons down within the case, next to her live blade and barbed whip, accepting the offered flask of water from one of the water bearers for the day. The cool water brought relief for despite how short the match was it still took a lot of energy, her muscles were still burning from the previous matches as well. She watched as two more Legionnaires entered the arena, a First and a Third, squaring off. She watched them as they probed, striking at one another to test each other until finally blows started landing.
Morgan flinched when one such blow caught the Third across the shoulder blades then the forehead, watching as he fell in a heap like a sack of potatoes.
[attr="class","THREAD1BLTAG"]368 WORDS Estelle R. Mason
