Paks flashed a smirk as Alrim pulled her back to her feet, “I did indeed ask. The way I see it, we’re all tied. Next person to be on the receiving end of a lethal blow buys the other a drink. Sound good?” She dusted herself off as she waited for his answer, and took a moment to look at the crowd that seemed to gather. It wasn’t all Novices and Accepted. There were a few other Drin and Ji’Val who were watching too. Might as well give them a show, right?
The Drin settled into a guard stance and rolled her shoulders a couple of times, “I won’t be holding back, and don’t expect you to either, got it?” Seeing he was in a guard stance of his own, Paks didn’t wait for his answer as she launched herself forward, feinting a thrust across her body. As he moved to block the thrust, she grabbed for his wrist, and attempted to get her hip and leg behind his.
Alrim twisted out of her grip, and Paks shuffled back, blocking a slash with her left forearm. It would leave a bruise, and in a real fight, would have cut her, but not been fatal (so long as she got it Healed). With the block, she pressed advantage, and tried to strike at his side, but the Ji’Val jumped back.
Drin and Ji’Val both settled into a guard stance, and Paks smirked, “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
The truth of it was that Alrim was incorporating much of other forms of fighting into what he was doing with the dagger. While sword forms wouldn’t really serve one well, unarmed skill was an asset when it came to daggers. Paks knew a thing or two about unarmed as well, so she could more than hold her own. Her benefit was she’d had more experience with daggers than the Ji’Val.
“We could be,” Paks agreed, though her smirk grew a bit broader. “Mind. . .I could have been holdin’ back on you just a tad. Don’t want the pretty lasses to think you are a total pushover,” she added, the mischievous glint in her eye matched her smirk. In the back of her mind, she had a hint of an idea that could, if executed well, bring an end to their sparring match. It would require quick reflexes and Alrim moving in a specific way, so there was no guarantee she’d manage to pull it off. Only one way to find out.
The Drin did two quick shuffle steps forward, slashing horizontally with her blade, testing his reflexes, and driving him back. Arlim countered easily, but then fluidly moved forward into a feinted slash followed by a thrust to the face. Paks ducked as she brought up her free hand to land a touch on his mid-section. He’d expected it and twisted out of the way and back a step.
For her part, Paks didn’t relent as she drove her attack forward, again forcing Alrim to give ground. Knowing he’d want to turn the tables, she feinted a thrust, which he went to block and then advanced his own attack. She took one step back as she ducked a thrust to the right shoulder, and another as he slashed at her. Using her free hand, she grabbed him as she stepped forward, on the outside of his arm and body, pulling him past her, and pivoting, taking his arm with her and twisting it behind his back. A split second later, her practice blade was at his throat.
Paks couldn’t help the soft laugh, “And that’s a touch.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before letting him go, the eternal smirk firmly in place, “That might even get you a bit of sympathy from the onlookers.” Off in the distance somewhere a bell told, and Paks knew it to be the end of training for the day. She cast a sidelong glance at Alrim, “What do you think about getting cleaned up and finding a tavern for a hair o’ the dog, so to speak?”