Post by Vio on May 27, 2014 14:25:13 GMT -5
His opponent now on the defensive, Malcolm Stark's barrage of thrusts forced Shiroyama Yoko to expend her energy on parrying each and every blow. His strikes not particularly powerful, with every clink of steel the bounty hunter hauled back the shaft of his polearm, only to propel it forwards again at a slightly differing angle. Still, there was no doubt that the 'Sensual Samurai' was a dab hand with her weapon, easily fending off each blow as it came, but unable to mount her own counter attack, lest she be skewered.
At least I managed to land a hit... Somewhat displeased with the one attack that he had landed, the head of his weapon had only dealt a minor amount of damage when it had drawn blood. An admirable defence upheld against him, the flickering metal of his opponent's sabre danced before him to match his blows. One blow had not been enough to cripple her ability, and as long as she maintained her impeccable guard there was little chance of him winning. Each strike took just as much out of him as it did with Miss Shiroyama.
Quick on her feet? I'm not that fast... Hawkish sea coloured eyes watching his opponents movements, each strike made by the bronzed hunter was made to exploit possible weaknesses in the warrior woman's defence. But to no avail. A higher blow launched, the tip of his spear ricocheted from the protective curve of the blade. As if using the force of his strike to her advantage, the swordswoman rolled backwards, placing a good distance between the two combatants. The elegance of the move was impressive, but the practicality was obvious.
Heh. Out of range? Even my spear can't reach that distance. For a moment, Mister Stark eyed his opponent, confused as to the meaning of her actions. Making use of his powerful legs, he propelled himself towards her once more, but her actions only served to add to his confusion. The swordswoman turning her back towards him, it seemed that Miss Shiroyama was beginning a retreat into the trees. A surprisingly dishonourable move for someone who embodied the pride of the legendary country of the samurai.
Why the hell is she running? The huntsman now puzzled by this apparent display of cowardice, his pace picked up in an attempt to remain hot on the heels of this fleet footed femme. There was no doubt she was quick on her toes, his own pace only capable of matching hers thanks to years of swimming... But something was off. This was no dash to freedom, the way in which she moved indicated something different, all made obvious when her feet met the bark of a nearby tree.
Damn! As Yoko's feet scaled the flank of the foliate tower, Malcolm slowed himself, heels digging into the grassy earth as he ground to a halt. Now several feet into the air, the twisting motions of the Sensual Samurai were accompanied by lethal momentum. Her body arcing through the air above, the fisherman coiled the shaft of his spear into both hands, raising it in preparation for what would be an immensely powerful strike. The flicker of sharpened steel caught his eye as the full weight of the descending damsel was brought down upon him like a thunderbolt from the heavens.
Step back, Malcolm! You can't defend against that! His conscience screamed silently, a quiet howl that was met by the loud grinding of armament. As the razor edge of the samurai girl's blade met the hardened pike, the two weapons shrieked against one another. It was no use. The sheer force of the katana, backed by the very grasp of the planet itself, was pushing through Stark's guard like a ship cutting through waves. His legs buckling beneath the impact, it was all the spearman could do to push himself backwards. Within the shortest of seconds he found himself about a yard away from his previous position, raising a hand to his face and pressing his fingers against his right cheek bone.
"...Looks like we're even." Drawing his hand away from his face, the bronzed bounty hunter eyed the scarlet streak that now lay on his finger tips. Cold steel had met his flesh, but in its place was now a searing crimson cut that ran down the side of his face. So narrow it was--so shallow--but it was certainly noticeable. A quick thought flashed through his mind, realisation striking him just as hard as a wild wave as he came to terms with the possibilities. Had he not stepped back, the chances were that the scarlet life fluid would now be pouring from his missing arm.