A clash of blades

(( ooc, this is a dramatized version of an event that happened yesterday. It was done quite publicly so anyone who was there, or not but likely would have watched, please feel free to comment! As well, this writing of the fight has not been approved from the Quel'saruk himself, so may be subject to change))

The Quel’saruk Zeyl stood across from Drada Vic’riia, the only thing between them the bridge of stone that marked all passage to and from the camp. She stood there, watching his posture, his every slight movement a precursor to the battle to come. She heard his words, casualy said as if this was nothing to him “ Whenever you are ready Drada”

The word almost goaded her as it was intended, at least the way it was said. She had seen enough combat at this point that it would not catch her off guard. But , there was only one thing left to do. Setting her shield and raising her blade she charged , apparently catching him off guard as she swings with the giant bulk of metal she called a shield, holding her scimitar back to parry. The chemical modifications that ran through her blood made her stronger then most of her kind, and he had not been prepared. Knocked down she moved in for the kill, singing in several vicious arcs.

The Quel’saruk had not earned the title by being a mere sargtlin though, the blows easily deflected by his shield, and she had to hop back to avoid losing her legs from the overly long blade he preferred.

The next few moments had them trading blows and parry’s very little getting through the guard of the two seasoned warriors. She ground her teeth together, a bad habit, but with both of them feeling so evenly matched, her patience was being tested. She decided to change the pace, and rushed him. She saw the swing coming as she expected and moved to dodge it, feeling her scimitar already start to move. She was far too dedicated to the move when she noticed the blow had been a faint the blade already re-directed and catching her viciously in the side once, twice. Only her fine plate had prevented her from being split wide by the blow. As it was she was driven from her feet, hitting the ground hard face first… the battle was over.

It was more the sting of defeat that left a bad taste in her mouth the blood. But even as she lay there, immobile there was a sense of accomplishment. Few had lasted as long as she had against the Quel’saruk, let alone having had landed a few telling blows as she had done. She felt, more so then heard the words of a prayer leave his lips and feeling returned to her body. She looked up, seeing his hand in front of her and took it “Well fought Sut’rinos Zau’afin ..” the grin that split her lips was the first honest one she had had in many cycles..