Sunspear Challenge: Come and Face Me - Razail Dusksinger
The sun was at its zenith as Muroco Rockhoof neatly arranged his practice weapons within the training grounds of the Dawnspire. He would have preferred to use his actual armaments, but the Sentinel made it clear that he did not want anyone to be maimed, crushed, mauled, dismembered, severed or even killed during dueling sessions. His inspection was interrupted by the sounds of boots pressing against grass. Turning, the tauren saw two figures walking towards him; one was a young blood elf, with long blonde hair tied into a ponytail and a mask concealing his facial features. The other was a troll, a perpetual smirk hiding behind long tusks with intricate carvings etched onto their surface.
“So,” Muroco said, straightening himself, “I see you two got my letter.”
The troll nodded in assent. “Ya, anna’ we come togetha foa da fun,” he said as he pushed Razail forward. “Ya be goin’ first.”
Razail stumbled forward, looking up at the tauren as he straightened himself. “It’s...it’s all for fun, right?” He smiled behind his mask as he drew his daggers from his belt. “Guess I’m ready when you are.”
Muroco nodded, turning to retrieve one of his weapons. “It can be fun, but I’m hoping you will at least take notes from these duels. I am willing to teach what I know if you’re willing to learn.” The warrior picked up a practice battle-axe and tested its weight in his hands before pulling the visor of his helmet down. “We’ll go best two out of three. Begin.”
Razail nodded and crouched slightly before rushing at Muroco, phasing out of sight by pulling shadows around him. Muroco moved to the center of the ring, his blue eyes scanning the perimeter. The elf reappeared on Muroco’s left flank, lunging at the tauren. Muroco raised his battle-axe to defend himself, parrying several of the strikes only to be hit by the last two. Striking out with his battle-axe, Muroco forced Razail to the edge of the ring, clipping the elf’s shoulder with a counter attack.
“Not bad,” said Muroco. “Remember, when you’re facing an opponent with a two-handed weapon, they have the advantage of weapon reach. However, that advantage can easily turn against them if you get close enough.”
Razail nodded, his emerald eyes remaining locked on Muroco’s weapon. “Quickly in, quickly out. I’ll try to remember.”
The remainder of the duel remained brief. Razail would use his talents to hide and reappear to strike at Muroco’s flank. The tauren, in turn, would make the effort to keep Razail in striking distance of his weapon. Muroco was pleased to see that the elf took his advice to heart; the round concluded when Razail scored a blow against Muroco’s thigh. “Alright, that’s enough.” Muroco rumbled, moving back to swap weapons. “You win this round, well done.”
Razail jumped backwards and hopped a little. “Next one, then?” he said, smiling wide enough that a scar on his left cheek appeared above his mask, “This is kind of fun.”
Muroco nodded, picking up two wooden longswords. The weapons were typically weighted and crafted to be fought with a shield, but Muroco’s size and strength negated those handicaps. “Next one. This time, I will be dual-wielding weapons. I might have speed to my advantage this time, but a big guy like myself can be trounced if we don’t watch our flanks.”
Razail tilted his golden-haired head to the side. “Trounced?”
Muroco paused, checking his vernacular. Did he really just say that? “It’s a word I picked up from some goblins when I worked as a bouncer in Ratchet.” He shook his head. “Anyway, let’s fight.”
The two combatants ceased their talk and surged at each other. Muroco swung his left sword at Razail, only to feint at the last minute and lung with his right. The attack clipped Razail as the elf rolled to the side, striking at Muroco’s right flank. The tauren moved to guard himself, blocking the first two attacks but getting struck in the leg by the third. Muroco brought both weapons down upon Razail, only for the latter for disappear into his artificial shadows. Muroco held his weapons aloft, the sounds of his beating heart hammering in his ears. He counted to himself, waiting for the rogue to strike.
As Razail reappeared from the shadows, Muroco spun on his hooves, lashing both weapons out in a full circular swing. Razail was struck square in the chest, leaping backwards to regain his balance, but Muroco was already upon him. The tauren lunged his left sword forward, striking Razail in the leg and causing the elf to trip on fall on his backside.
“I win the second round.” Muroco announced, hearing the troll chuckle to himself on the sidelines. “A good effort, but the principle of our previous fight still applies. Warriors like myself will often carry long, heavier weapons into battle, even when dueling. Use that knowledge to your advantage and try to force your opponent to overextend.”
Razail scampered from the ground and dusted himself off, his ears twitching as he listened to Muroco’s advice. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Force to overextend or get in really close.” He positioned himself for the next round. “I think I can do this!”
Muroco traded out one of his longswords in exchange for a wooden pavise shield. Pavises were often used to protect crossbowmen and archers, but Muroco’s size allowed him to use it like a normal shield. “I admire your enthusiasm. For this last fight, I’ll be using a shield. Remember, a shield is not exclusive to defense; it can be used as a deadly weapon in the right hands.”
“Oh yeah, I know,” Razail said, nodding. “Got whacked by one the last time I tried to duel. Got a new...scar!” He rushed at Muroco on the last word, opting not to vanish before striking. Muroco held his shield aloft, attempting to block the flurry of attacks, but one clipped him on his blind side. Muroco brought his sword down in an overhead strike, grazing Razail’s calf as the smaller combatant attempted to move away.
The duo moved back and forth across the ring. Razail bobbed and weaved through Muroco’s attacks like quicksilver, the latter having difficulty landing a telling blow. Muroco was impressed by Razail’s prowess; most combatants broke themselves upon the shields of their opponents, but the rogue was cognizant of this fact.
Near the round’s end, Razail lunged at Muroco’s legs in an attempt to feint and strike at his chest. Muroco heaved his shield upwards, sweeping it across the air in a horizontal sweep. It was a trick he learned from fighting against Kul Tiras marines years ago. The pavise made it difficult to perform, but the shield struck true and swatted Razail away. Razail landed a few feet away from Muroco, doubling over in laughter.
“Alright, we can stop now.” Muroco nodded in approval. “You fight very well. I am impressed. I learned that last move from the pink-skins -- I mean, some Kul Tiras marines a few years back.”
Razail couldn’t stop laughing for a moment. “Well, it worked against me!” He mused, offering a thumbs-up to the tauren with a big smile under his mask.
“It was a close fight.” Muroco concluded. “Often times, a fighter with a shield will stand in one place, expecting their opponent to crash into their defense. You demonstrated knowledge of this, so the best method is to out-maneuver them.”
Razail nodded. “Right. Okay! I just need to get quicker then...I think.”
Muroco smirked behind his visor. “What was your name again, if you’re done giggling?”
Razail tried to calm himself. “Razail. Razail Dusksinger!” He put his daggers away in their sheathes and wiped a tear away from his eye. “Duskward in the Pathfinders.”
“Alright, Razail, I will make sure your superiors know that you fought well today.”
All traces of laughter drained from Razail’s face at the mention of “superiors”.
