42nd Trial, Ymiden, Arc 718
Outer Perimeter, South Side
Outer Perimeter, South Side
Continued from here
If he was honest (which he often was, despite himself), this was the part he'd been looking forwards to the most. Because it was more a part of him than even the blades he carried or the reputation he brought everywhere he walked. It was simply a matter of finding the time and means to... blend together, these two parts of him. One new and ill-tested, but growing in proficiency. His skill with throwing knives was a recent development, yet now he could draw and turn and aim and plant one of them in the trunk of a dummy a dozen paces away or more, within the space of two trills.
But marrying this burgeoning ability with his oldest expertise... with this strength - no - this gift that he'd been nurturing since times he no longer remembered... so deep and familiar he barely needed to even think when he let loose with it... that was the ultimate goal.
Separate, they're dangerous. But together, they are unstoppable.
Kasoria opened his eyes and took in the space around him. The dummies had been moved. Now one was in front of him, and the other was to his left. He didn't want to get too familiar, too complacent. So he switched things up. Kept things moving and flowing and changing, just like every brawl was. He rolled his shoulders and the loosening motion went down his arms, his torso, his legs... until he was ready.
He breathed in. This was the part that made it even more real. This ability to see dead wood and lifeless matter... then close his eyes... inhale... exhale... and open them again, to see flesh. Faces. Bodies. Enemies.
Now he was ready.
Without preamble he drew a knife from his right sheath and hurled it to his left, aiming low-
Most armor protects the torso. The trunk. All the valuable organs. But you're less likely to see it on the-
-blade piercing the groin, and before the impact had even rippled through the dummy, Kasoria was bursting forward-
-right arm thrown up as he went, coming in low and fast towards an enemy that was not a wooden puppet, but a real, raging opponent. Swinging a sword at his head and he could almost feel the impact when the imaginary blow was blocked by his forearm-
-left hand going from cocked at his side to exploding up-
-heel of his hand hammering into the face of the dummy. In his mind he saw a nose broken, felt the hot spurt of blood across his palm, enemy reeling back in pain as his vision exploded and his balance vanished-
Never waste that moment. You may not get it twice.
He drew back his right hand as his right leg flew out, stamping hard on the dummy's leg. Nailing him hard on the thigh, enough to splinter wood and he could see the broken-nosed man fall down to one knee with a gasp, still managing to raise his sword-
-as Kasoria drew a throwing knife from his thigh and-
Stabbed it three times with blinding speed into the side of the dummy's neck. Dark, weather-blown wood was carved away by the trio of blows, revealing the brighter, untainted matter underneath. Were it a man, his carotid would have been ripped open, devastating blow opening a ragged hole that no hand or binding or salve could have closed before death claimed him and-
Not done yet.
Kasoria turned fast and hurled the same blade at the dummy he'd crotch-shot mere trills before. Still swaying slightly, man still probably screeching and trying not to vomit. But still alive, still a threat-
So Kasoria let fly and the blade whipped across the yard, landing with an oddly meaty sound in the dummy's chest and-
-the dance did not end.