Rafe and
Alex
Both had long hair only Rafe's was braided on the sides to keep it out of
his face and Tristan had his tied back. The ears of an elf tended to come to
a point on top and both shared that characteristic and sapphire blue eyes,
whereas Rafe's hair was midnight black and his skin golden Tristan's hair
was golden and his skin milky pale. Both had broad shoulders, wide chests
covered with a light furring of hair tapering to a narrow waist and they
carried their swords easily as they circled each other. Tristan retorted with a savage smile, "Yes, yours." Rafe laughed as they exchanged the first blows. As the swords met there
was a chime, almost bell-like that proclaimed that they were the highest of
quality. They circled each other exchanging a few blows as they tested each
others defenses. As the minutes passed the pace and strength of the blows
changed from feints to powerful blows. The fight continued, sometimes one or the other would hold the sword with
two hands, it wasn't a reaction to being tired rather it was to put a little
extra power into the blow. It was true that after a while their muscles
started to ache from the exertion, but they had both been trained to ignore
it, just like Rafe ignored the sweat running into his eyes and Tristan
ignored the cramp in his leg. In a real fight if either of them took the
time to sooth the small annoyance they could end up mortally wounded, so
they fought on. There was a rhythm to their duel, following a signal that no one could
see they would speed up their blows and then they would slow again. They
would stand toe to toe and then move around the area in random patterns.
There was an occasional smile in recognition of a good move on the part of
their opponent but most of the fight was in silence. Because it was a
friendly match there were none of the ugly taunts, kicks or blows that would
accompany a true fight. After close to an hour Tristan's guard slipped for
just a moment and Rafe struck hard, Tristan saw it too late and brought his
sword up to block at the last moment. Rafe's sword glanced off Tristan's
upper arm but he had blocked so quickly that Rafe wasn't sure if the blow
had been hard enough to break the skin so they continued to fight until
there was a clear trickle of blood. They both realized it at the same moment
and lowered their swords breathing hard.
Rafe
folded his shirt before he hung in on the rail and picked up his long sword.
To look at the pair the first thing one would notice was that they looked so
similar. They were the same height but Tristan tipped the scales at a higher
weight than Rafe. That was because of his drarven blood which gave him a
heavier bone structure and bulkier muscles. Rafe on the other hand was
slightly slimmer with the compact muscles of the fairy folk. No less strong,
he just carried less mass, they both had the same fluid movement, lightening
fast reflexes and intense scrutiny of the world around them.
In a true fight Rafe
would also have his short sword and his boot knives, and Tristan's favored
second weapon was an axe, but this one was just for fun so they were content
with just swords. Rafe grinned fiercely, "First blood?" he inquired.
