angry murderelf is angry

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

I seek a sparring partner.
Use whatever weapon you desire. I will will not be wielding any.

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[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

Zak remains perfectly still as the masked man makes his move, darting to the side at the very last moment to grab at Rorschach's wrist to use his own momentum to send him spinning. They're similar in size, but the drow moves with an almost unnatural level of fluidity and grace. he comes in again with a series of basic punches and kicks, which become faster and more tactically inclined the more of a rhythm they find. The style isn't flashy, designed to force an opponent's movements to work against them.

[what_do_you_see]

Curiously enough, the human's style isn't far off, though he tends to a more aggressive mode of attack, and there's certainly nothing supernaturally fluid or graceful about him. His attacks are quick, jerky and efficient and brutal, and his counters tend to be designed to hurt the other opponent. He's good. Very good. But not centuries of good, and Zaknafein will doubtless outmatch him.

Still, the human puts up a good fight and seems to have a very high pain tolerance. He sucks and weaves around blows, but when he's hit he tends to move into the attack to try and force the drow off balance, or grapple with him.

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

Zaknafein has been holding back. The main reason because he's still getting used to this technique, but the less he things about it and the more he lets his instincts take over the more direct he becomes when on the offensive. Another reason is because he's learning to read his opponent, to gauge his tactics. If he's stronger than Rorschach it's not by much, but he's a great deal faster, getting in more hits and becoming harder to hit with each passing moment.

When the human starts trying to barrel into him, Zak changes his offensive tactics. Rather than coming head on, he starts attacking the vigilante's limbs directly, hitting pressure points to send momentary but crippling pain up his arms.

[what_do_you_see]

The blows are quickly starting to disable Rorschach - less because of the pain, and more because the numbness that comes with them makes it hard to use the limbs effectively. But the redhead doesn't stop. He may be slower and weaker and far less experienced than Zaknafein, but he's both ridiculously stubborn and persistent and pretty damn good at what he does, even as outmatched as he is.

He switches styles abruptly, the furious and brutal aggression turned to a more defensive approach. He does his best to stay out of Zaknafein's reach, giving his body time to recover, the feeling to return to his limbs while he studies how the drow moves.

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

A measure of respect can be earned from the masked man's determination. Countless times by now, Zaknafein could have taken him down with little to no effort on his part whatsoever, but he hasn't. Not due to any display of pity, but because he doesn't want the fight to end before it's done. Skill or no, a lesser fighter would have been completely overrun.

He appreciates that Rorschach isn't holding back, and before long he actually starts to look like he's enjoying himself. His slender, muscled form darts and stalks around not unlike his son's panther companion. Sweat shimmers on the skin of his exposed arms and face, giving him the look of polished ebony. A living shadow that does everything in it's power to keep the vigilante from finding any true moment of rest.

[what_do_you_see]

Rorschach so rarely is allowed the chance to truly let go, to immerse himself in an almost entirely engrossing and physical activity. Zaknafein's attacks are so unrelenting that he has little time to think, to worry, to plan for more than just the next few moments ahead. There is a kind of relief in him, to be able to lose himself so thoroughly in the thud of flesh on flesh, in pain and sweat and heat. He doesn't want to rest, even though he knows it's his best strategy, and there's a gratitude in him that he doesn't even recognize in the moment.

They're a curious study in contrasts. Zaknafein is nothing short of beautiful, in his graceful movement, in the glorious midnight shine of his skin, in the perfection of his musculature, in the flow of his moonlight hair. Rorschach is so much his opposite - ugly, brutal and abrupt in his movement with an uneveness lent by exhaustion, pale, freckled skin flushed and blotchy and not made the tiniest bit more lovely by a sheen of sweat. But the human has no time to compare, to bother with such an entirely trivial thing as appearance when he has to dodge the next strike, when he has to counter and weave and dodge and pant.

Of course, that doesn't mean he isn't taking in the full impact of the drow's darkly masculine beauty. It simply means he isn't consciously processing it, isn't agonizing over any reaction he might have to it, isn't bothering to hate himself or deny that he notices. It's just a part of the background as he fights as though this is more than a sparring match, as though something much more solid than his dignity or pride is on the line. Zaknafein may well have to knock this one out before he quits.

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

Zaknafein would hardly call himself beautiful. He's likely as twisted up and broken on the inside as Rorschach is and handles it in much the same manner. He would be out murdering drow if given the chance, or slaughtering the hoards of orcs and kobolds in the tunnels of the Underdark. None of which deserve the right to live by his reckoning.

The imperfections of his body are meticulously hidden, the few scars on his arms a pale shadow to the hateful, twisting ruin of his chest and back. These imperfections mark him as flawed, something to hide. His son has been trying to get him to view his scars as symbols of all he's survived. Though in truth, he had not survived them at all.

The former weapons master knows fighters. He's trained a great many soldiers in his time and fought and incalculable amount of battles. He can tell that this one isn't going to let up despite pain and exhaustion. While he doesn't know what's spurning him on in this case. Hatred perhaps? Or are they similar enough that they're both seeking oblivion through battle.

Perhaps it's lucky that they're not using weapons as he hits a point of no return, blades in hand his warrior's instinct would have had Rorschach left in pieces on the floor. Zaknafein Do'Urden doesn't take prisoners. The style he's using now, that's been encoded into his brain, is not designed for all out slaughter. This principals of harmony, circle, and water still shine through his movements, but he's not making any attempts to lock his opponant down to the floor.

Instead he keeps going for the pressure points, chest, shoulders, the side of his head as he pushes Rorschach's momentup away from him.

[what_do_you_see]

Rorschach fights on, but it becomes clear that the will that drives him is stronger than the body it inhabits. He simply can't physically keep up, and his blows get weaker, his dodges slower, leaving him more open to the drow's punishing strikes. It's a vicious cycle that drives him down further and further, until eventually he's struggling to get up each time he hits the floor. He's panting and trying to heave himself up, but he keeps slipping back down with a soft grunt of frustration and disgust.

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

The longer struggles give Zaknafein time to start coming down from his haze, and when it looks like Rorschach isn't going to be able to get up again on his own, he steps forward and offers a hand. "You fight well."

[what_do_you_see]

The smaller man doesn't take it, but only because he needs to sit for a few moments and breathe. That, and his hands are arms are too numb to properly grip Zaknafein's. "Not well enough."

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

"Only because you have not been trained properly." He says simply, looking the other man over. "You have room to become much greater."

[what_do_you_see]

"Was trained as a child," Rorschach explains. "Boxing. Gymnastics. Nothing past that. Learned from books, doing."

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

"Why do you fight so hard?" He asks with an air of needed importance.

[what_do_you_see]

"Then? For justice," Rorschach says simply. "To punish those that hurt others, society. No God to do it for us, only men. Now, because it's all I have."

Though that's not quite true, is it? There's Riddick, Gale, Lupa ... Faed. "Mostly."

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

"I had been a teacher once." He says almost matter of factly. "You could be far better than you are, if you wish to continue it."

[what_do_you_see]

Rorschach considers this seriously for a moment, as he slowly climbs to his feet, his limbs still numb and not really wanting to support him. Zaknafein looks younger than he is, though he's learned by now that that doesn't mean much, here. And he's clearly proven himself the superior fighter.

And training with the elf would allow him more times like this, times to turn his brain off and just live in the physical moment, focused on pain and sweat.

"Yes."

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

Zaknafein, on the other hand, only barely seems winded. This time he doesn't help the human up, allowing the man his pride. "I admit I have never taught a weaponless style of fighting before. It should prove interesting."

[what_do_you_see]

The human examines the drow for a long moment, taking in his handsome face, the strength of his muscles, his scarring.

"Where did you learn?"

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

"I attended the training Academy in Menzzoberanzan, where I went on to teach for a time." He'd learned a great deal before then as well, which he doesn't much talk about.

"After that it was a matter of experience."

[what_do_you_see]

"How old are you?" Rorschach asks, because it's difficult to tell by looking at the elf. There's the white hair, but he's seen another black skinned elf with white hair as well, and that one looked younger.

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

"Well over four centuries, though I am uncertain as to exactly how much now." He could go by Drizzt's age, or he could go by Jarlaxles age. Neither line up, not to mention time spent in the abyss is unmeasurable.

[what_do_you_see]

Rorschach pauses.

"Hurm," is all he says, before bending over to pick up the coat he'd set aside earlier.

"When?" he asks then, though doesn't indicate what he's asking about, specifically.

[hiding_honor_in_darkness]

"When you are ready."

He responds, without skipping a beat.