No Holds Barred (Torm)

[Mint]

The sky over the training ground is a strange, irregular patchwork of gold, gray, and pink; the mongrel conglomeration certainly fortells the approach of a violent summer storm. The wind, too, is strong, hot, and laden with atmospheric moisture. It was certainly not a time for the faint of heart to be training outside, and many students had chosen to study indoors or seek other forms of entertainment. Mint, however, was not to be perturbed; she thrives on stormy weather. It makes her feel alive.

Today, Mint is wearing a magenta top and white pants that are form-fitting at the top but flare slightly as they reach down to cover the ankles of a pair of yellowish-brown work boots. It was the last stuff she had had in her wardrobe that had not been worn at least once that week. Chores like washing clothes cut into time meant for living, but Mint maintains al least that level of tidiness.

Mint shakes her fist at te sky, a defiant expression on her face. "I DARE you to rain, you blasted sky!" she yells. Her voice echoes across the empty grounds, and is seemingly answered by a distant peal of thunder. She turns her attention from the sky and returns to doing push-ups on the packed, sandy yellow soil. This section of the grounds resembles a desert ruin, and yellowish blocks of stone stand in irregular stacks scattered about the area. Her huge double-axe, for now resting idle, leans against one such pillar a few yards away.

"Wait a second..." she murmers, and her expression becomes one of curiosity. She places an ear on the ground and listens intently. "Someone's here..."

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

"Are the worms performing Beethoven's 5th? Or is it Vivaldi's Four Seasons?" Torm calls as he approachesthe girl lying prone on the ground.

Torm had been out for one reason alone: He loved storms. Strange skies and humid gusts bring great storms, or so he had deduced. There was a covered rotunda in the training grounds that would be the perfect place to sit and listen to the rain and watch the clouds rumble by overhead, hurling their loads of water and lightning at the world below. That plan had disappeared when he had spied another intrepid soul under that portentious sky.

She appeared to have been doing...push-ups! Push-ups? She's training here, now? This dirt might be hard-packed now, but when it starts raining this will be mud, sure as Sunday follows Saturday. Whoever she was, he couldn't see her face yet; what with her ear on the ground and her hair untidy and all over the place.

(OOC: Short-ish, sorry)

[Mint]

(OOC: There will be no more apologies for "short-ish" posts in this thread, do you understand me? )

Mint leaps to her feet lickety-split and dusts herself off while shooting an angry glare at the man who had intruded on her solitude. In keeping with her characteristically tumultuous emotion changes, her expression shifts from one of vexation to one of curiosity. This newcomer was not an everyday sight. He was wearing a now billowing tan overcoat and matching hat, and his shadowed face was framed by a sharp-ish orange beard. The metal-shelled gloves and boots shining in the half-light did not subtract from the effect. He was weird, but cool, in his own way. He had with him...a ladder? Weirder and weirder...

Her expression shifts again, from one of curiosity to one that spoke of wry skepticism. She giggles and smiles rakishly, "So who the hell are you supposed to be? Indiana Jones, an IRA hitman, or Bob the Builder?"

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

(OOC: *looks at mint's post* Yeah, like you're one to talk... ;D)

Torm is somewhat surprised by her jibe. I don't even know her yet, and she's already making fun of me! She either has no notion of tact at all, or she simply doesn't worry about speaking her mind...

"I dress how I like, and you dress how you like," he says irritably while staring her in the eye with a straight face. He takes a moment to plant the end of his folded ladder on the ground and looks her over. Her hair was untidy and stuck out in strands and clumps irreglularly, but it framed a round, girlish face with expressive eyes and mobile features. As for the rest of her...to make a long story short, her pulchritude was undeniable.

"Sorry I bothered you, it's just that I didn't expect anyone else to be out her, so I was curious." He moves as if to go away.

[Mint]

Mint blushes slightly as he appraises her, but she detects no pervertedness in his gaze, so she laughs and turns in a circle slowly with her arms held straight out. "You break it, you bought it!" she says, and laughs again. ^Hmm...I'm beginning to suspect that he's...^ Then, his replies and attitude confirm her suspicions. ^Aha, I knew it! He's a gentleman! Maybe I can mess with him a little then...^ she thinks, and grins slyly as he turns to go.

"Wait, wait, Doctor Jones. I know what you're really here for," she says mischieviously, and takes a few swaying steps until the two are about a foot apart. Though her face is angled downwards, her eyes look up at him, and an almost libidinous smile spreads across her face.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

(OOC: )

What the hell? Now Torm is confused. First, ridicule, now this... That girl is pretty wack. Still, he obstinately refuses to be set off-balance by her intimidation attempt; he wasn't a kid anymore, for pete's sake!

Torm turn's back to her and plants the end of the ladder on the ground again. He leans nonchalantly on it, his face now almost level with hers. He fixes her with a cool even stare, totally emotionless, and replies.

"Oh, do you? And what might that be?"

[Mint]

(OOC: Did I scare ya? ;D)

Mint's coquettish expression is replaced by a scowl. ^Not phased at all...how annoying! That was no fun at all.^ she thinks. She hurls herself backwards into a triple backflip, and her feet barely clip the brim of Torm's hat on the firts turn. She lands solidly in a crouch near where her axe is leaning against one of those inexplicable stacks of huge stone blocks.

With a serious expression to match his, she replies, "Well, to spar, of course! What did you think I meant?" She smiles again. ^I'm already running circles around him in conversation anyway, so how hard could a fight be?^

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Now it's Torm's turn to chuckle. Spar? Rather gutsy for a newbie; she's definitely new here; I would have noticed her earlier otherwise. Of course, I'm no veteran myself, technically. It's impossible that she has any idea what I'm capable of, but I suppose that goes two ways. Truth to be told, Torm had yet to truly combat a fellow student ouside of controlled class situations.

Torm stops leaning on the ladder and stands straight, and an amused half-smile establishes itself in his face. "I have no reason to fight you; I don't even know you. Why me, here, and now?" he says as he eyes the sky again, regretful that his plan to enjoy the storm seemed to have been thwarted for the time being. Still, it seemed like it might not be an entire waste of time: two relatively new students, unknowns to one another, testing strength in a definitive manner.

[Mint]

Mint kinda had expected that sort of dubious reaction. She snatches up her axe and replies levelly, "Well, to answer your questions...Why you: You're here. Why here: we're both here. Why now: we're both here now. Simple stuff!"

Shifting emotional gears again, Mint puts on her best 'please, please, pleeeease?' face. "Aww, c'mon! It'll be fun! Two strangers, battling in the desert under a stormy sky for honor and glory!" As she says this, her expression becomes mock-fierce, but collapses back into a soft smile. "We'll go get a drink afterwards, ok? Sound good? Winner buys?"

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm laughs at her drink proposal. "It you think I'll lose on purpose to avoid the cost of drinks, you're sorely mistaken," he says. I guess that was as good as a yes, he thinks, then continues, "I should let you know that I play for keeps. The match will be till a total knockout or a death, though we should try not to take things that far. At least, if I die, you can be sure I'll haunt you 'till I get that drink."

Torm hoists the ladder and holds it diagonally in front of him in a guard position. He grins, and says in his natural Irish/Scottish brogue, "So step it oot, missy, as best ye can, and I'll do the same, for sure." Pausing for a moment he adds, as if in passing, "Uhh, I don't think we've really been introduced...can I have the name of the woman I will be buying drinks for later? I'm Tormaigh MacRagallach, or Torm, if you prefer..."

[Mint]

Still seemingly relaxed, but inwardly tensed for movement, Mint replies dryly, "Don't you mean 'the name of the woman who will buy your drinks later?" Without waiting for a reply, she lurches into motion barely after she finishes speaking.

Mint dashes across the short distance between them at top speed and launches her first attack: a diagonal downward slash followed by an attempted bash in the face with the end of the handle as the blade end descends. He had undoubtedly expected her to at least give her name first, and Mint was pretty sure he was caught off guard. There was hardly a chance tha a first attack would cause any damage to an alert opponent, but you had to start somewhere.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm feels another chuckle coming on as she makes her own confident remark, but the urge to laugh is quickly stifled as the girl darts at him without warning! He quickly changes the angle of his ladder so that the blade slides along it under its own momentum, effectively deflected, and brings a gauntleted fist up and takes the forceful handle-bash on the back of the steel-shelled back of the glove. Holy shit, she didn't even answer my question. She expected that I would expect an answer before we began, and used it to get the jump on me. Clever, but I my reflexes saved me.

Torm grins slyly at her past this upraised hand, which is still holding back the axe's metal and wood handle. "So, you play for keeps too, I see. Are you going to tell me your name? I don't want to have to refer to you as 'Axe-Lady' or 'Woman-who-may or-may-not-buy-me a-drink' all day long. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

(OOC: Where are ya? I'm waiting...)

[Mint]

(OOC: Some people have lives ;D I really was a little slow on getting back though, in this case, so my apologies)

Mint leaps backwards, putting a distance of about ten feet between them. She draws herself to her full height. "I am Mint Isel Adnande," she says in a formal tone. "But you, Mac, can call me Mint. Or, Your Higness, if it pleases you."

Mint drops back into combat stance. "Let's cut the chatter, shall we?" Her eyes close for a moment. This was how she had been taught to prepare for a fight. Mint empties her mind of all thoughts; nothing but blackness and silence exist there for a moment. First, you must die. If you die before you fight, you cannot be killed again. Then she pictures a single flame. She imagines herself plucking her thoughts and emotions from their hiding places in the darkness and feeding them into the flame, making it grow larger, stronger, brighter. Second, you must burn; the soul of the dead is tempered in fire, made indomitable. The flame now fills her consciousness. It was time for the third step. Now arise and dance, for the dawn comes not for those who shyly line the walls at death's party; those who decline to dance death's dance. Mint's eyes open, and her irises are now a riot of blazing blue. She begins to move.

Mint moves towards Torm. Battle was not a fight, to her. It was a dance, and she knew all the steps by name, by heart. She closes the distance to Torm in a loping gait that she knows as Cat Crossing the Garden; it was a purposeful stride that spoke of alertness and left her ready for any sort of movement or reaction. As she reaches striking distance, she starts in at Torm with Parting the Reeds; a series of high upward slashes, and the axe's blade swings back, down, and next to her face on the left, right, left as she chains those upward swings together fluidly, though her hands seem to stay in the same place forwards and above her head.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

(OOC: Apology accepted. BTW, I had no idea you were a Robert Jordan fan. The Void and the Flame give it away. You added your own twist, very cool, so I won't call the Copyright Cops this time ;D)

Mac. She called me Mac. My sister calls me that. I hate that nickname! Torm thinks. Mint, eh? Well, two can play at this... "Very well, your worshipfulness, let us begin."

Torm watches with curiosity as she pauses with her eyes closed. Some sort of pre-combat meditation. That's all very well and fine, but a litte mind-clearing won't help her here... When she opens her eyes, however, Torm is really surprised. Blue eyes? They weren't blue before. What the heck's going on here?! Torm is left with no time to ponder the cause for such an oddity, as Mint chooses to launch an offensive.

Her approach seems different from how she had moved before. Very...well...Torm couldn't quite place what it was, but she didn't dash at him like before, that much was certain. It was more like a confident but hurried stride, really. Then, As Mint flows into her first attack, Torm gets it. Precise is the word I was looking for; every movement seems almost rehearsed. Like a drill, or a dance. The axe twirls in her hands and blurs as it streaks upward past his face and then again, closer. If I try to take the attack on my ladder, it will bring it up and out of the way of the inevitable lower strike; it was a good move, but my gut never fails me in this sort of situation. And so, I'll counter like this... Instead of blocking, Torm takes a step backwards and lowers the ladder as if to ram her with it, and thrusts it straight at her midsection. It is unlikely that she'll be able to cancel out of her chain of swings fast enough to do anything about this; her mistake was leaving herself open to a lower attack while trying to create the same sort of opening against me.

[Mint]

(OOC: Gee, thanks... Let's put on a show, shall we?)

Hooah! Mint thinks. He fell right into that one. The obvious counter to her chain of higher attacks was a long-range strike a bit lower, and she had counted on the fact that he would probably respond in a predictable way, and was ready. Instead of continuing Parting the Weeds, she allows the momentum of her last swing to pull her to the left side of the ladder thrust, from her perspective.. She continues this motion into a full spin. Swinging in the Eaves to Churning the Water, and now Maiden's Tap... At the point in her spin where her back is to Torm, she brings the axe up and drags it around with momentum from the spin, handle-end out. The axe's handle cuts across over the ladder and swings in towards the opposite side of Torm's head. The blow will come at him from his left side, the opposite side from the one I'm on; he shouldn't have the reflexes or forsight to see it coming from such an unexpected direction. He walked right into that one.