Sandegar vs Tritan

[Darter]

OOC: This is where the final spar between Sandegar and Tritan will take place. It will end once it reaches a length of one page and the winner voted upon.

IC location: This spar will take place with one contestant, Sandegar, on the top of the cliffs (higher ground) and Tritan at the bottom (lower ground) The cliffs drop off sharply, and any beast wishing to climb up or down must be extremely wary.

Real weapons may or may not be used, it is up to you.

Good luck to both!

[Sandegar]

*Sandegar stood atop the rock, scanning the surrounding landscape and consulting the map in his paws. The hare twitched the black tips of his ears curiously as he read through the tiny text at the bottom of the battered parchment for the hundredth time, wondering if he'd gotten his coordinates right. He scratched his head ponderously, gazing about in bafflement at the wide expanse of rising cliffs and deep forest. He snorted as he noticed a grey flag flying at the edge of a rocky cliff not far from his perch, and glanced at the faint markings on his map, confirming the positioning of the sparring arena. With a swift, purposeful movement, the hare hopped off his rock, onto the rough path of flattened grass and bare rock.

Sandegar folded his map in two, and lifting the flap of the pouch at his belt, slipped it in, nestling it carefully among the matches and coins. Looking about optimistically, the hare shouldered his quiver, containing his longbow and arrows, and started walking swiftly in the direction of the grey flag. The wind blew against his sandy-brown fur, ruffling it, cooling him, and splattering him with a few raindrops blown off a nearby tree. With a slight smile gracing his features, the hare rubbed his forepaws together, pausing and looking up at the sky, anticipation and exhilaration bubbling through him. He lowered his eyes, but could not get rid of his smile, and proceeded to continue walking.

Sandegar's exhilaration was that which came to him before an arranged fight, and certainly now he was in for one. The hare was a young member of the Guardians of Mossflower, in line for promotion, and he had been matched against an otter named Tritan Stormfarrow in a spar to decide who would become the new lieutenant. His right paw slipped to the sheathed arming sword at his left, running his digits over the silver cross-guard and spherical pommel, feeling the roughness of the black cloth-bound hilt. His dark brown eyes sparkled with the light of expectation as he continued to walk along the edge of the cliff, his right paw on his sword, his left on his dirk.

Sandegar stopped. In front of him was a puddle where the mud had settled, providing a clear reflecting surface. In the water, he could see a hare, standing tall and proud, garbed in a sand-orange tunic, black quarter-length trousers and a wide black belt, a longbow and quiver slung over his right shoulder, a pouch and a water canteen hanging from the belt. The hare sighed at the lack of his cloak and boots, two components of his usual attire, but brushed off the pessimistic thought immediately. He glanced up from the puddle, reminding himself of the real reason he was there, and stepped briskly over the puddle, tapping a rhythm on the blue semi-precious pommel stone of his black-hilted dirk. Humming, he ambled forward, feeling bright and happy.

Before long, Sandegar found himself a few strides away from the grey flag fluttering in the zephyr. He ran a paw through the fur on his head, between his ears, flattening it backwards, puffing out slowly in an attempt to stop the increase of his gradually building nervousness. He recalled his fights during the inter-organization tournament from which he'd returned for a break, and told himself that the duel he was about to begin was nothing compared to the fights he had fought in thus far. Inhaling deeply, he drew his arming sword in a fluid movement, examining the moderate length of the blade. There were two nicks on the edge from a rather surprising match earlier on, but otherwise, the blade appeared unblemished in the bright sunlight, though it was a little scratched and chipped.

Looking about, scrutinizing the landscape, Sandegar wondered where his opponent was. Surely he'd remembered about the duel? He could hardly believe that any would be able to forget such an important event as that which was about to happen, but he didn't know Tritan, and didn't know what he was like. To while away the time waiting for the other combatant, the hare stepped over to the rocky edge, peering over at the dense woodland below. Wincing at the thought of climbing or falling down the cliff, he backed off, and sheathed his sword, beginning to hum again. He coughed quietly, glancing up at the bright sky, feeling the gentle sun on his back, and looked around again. When would Tritan come?*

OOC: This one's honestly not very good, so I apologize. It's Friday, and I'm tired.

[Tritan]

OOC: If you call that a bad post, then I think I'm done for.

BIC:

*The Eastern Cliffs. A rocky, treacherous precipice where one slip could cause death. Pawholds were not lacking, but humidity had rendered the stone quite smooth and slippery. Although this terrain had nothing but disadvantages, it was perfect for the otter that would spar in it. Tritan had always been passionate about climbing since he was three seasons old, scaling a giant sycamore and dancing on low branches, frightening his father. He was also the lookout on the ship Gashwake, and had fought many battles, swinging and climbing about. He was determined to win this fight. It was on his specialty arena.

The otter unfolded the parchment that was given to him, apparently having directions written on it. Being a seabeast, he was a poor reader, so having to read the small, spidery writing was proving quite a challenge. He grunted and peered closer at the piece of paper and noticed it was upside down. He muttered under his breath that that was why the landscape wasn't familiar. He turned the map around and realized that he hadn't strayed by much. Relieved, he studied the symbols on the map according to the legend. He was to find a brown flag at the bottom of the cliffs. He was peeved to discover that his opponent's flag was set on top of the cliffs. And, so he had heard, Sandegar Arrowhawk carried a longbow.

He doubted very strongly that Sandegar would be easily vanquished, since the hare was very well spoken of and that even fabled fighters and duelers had fallen to his blade. Tritan was a young recruit, advancing in rank but still relatively inexperienced. He hoped that this fight would at least teach him some tricks and duel know-how.

Tritan’s arrival to the brown flag was not without difficulties, having lost the map in a marsh that was not indicated on the plan. The otter leered at it, as if it was the cause of all his troubles. He gazed around the top of the cliff, hoping he would spot his adversary. The hare cut a precise silhouette against the sun, so his sharp lookout eyes focused in on it quite quickly. His paw strayed to his brass-hilted cutlass, still hanging loosely about his belt, and he took his time to consider the state of his weapons. His cutlass and sickle, previously sharpened for his spar against Rosie had slightly lost their edge, but still stubbornly glinting and giving off light halos of light. They had been recently rebound, too, to achieve maximal grip. He smiled as he flexed his muscular limbs and stretched himself for the fight, staying relaxed but vigilant. This was to be his most significant duel yet.

The young otter leaned against a rock, swigging from his gourd and smacking his lips. He was excited about fighting on a cliff like this. He jumped up, seizing a ledge not far from where he was before. Forepaws swiftly playing on the medley of different sediments, he sought pawholds from which to get up to Sandegar. He smiled contentedly when he found them. He jumped back down and cupped his paws to his mouth.*

‘Ey, Mister Sandy the Gar, o’er here!

[Sandegar]

OOC: Sorry for the long wait, I'll try to post ASAP.

EDIT:

OOC: Again, it's Friday, and I'm dead tired.

BIC:

*Sandegar yawned quietly, feeling dozy as the noon sun beat down on him. He rubbed his eyes with a paw while he stepped away from the boulder against which he had been leaning against. The sun had climbed the sky to it's apex, and now the soft, gentle rays caused the hare to feel sleepy. Swatting away a fly from his nose, the hare stretched and yawned again. The breeze blew again, ruffling his fur, cooling him, and the hare bounded to the edge of the cliff warily, but curiously. The sun behind him made it hard to see the ground in the shadow of the cliff, and so he straightened and backed off again, wondering where Tritan was. The otter was a little late, the hare decided, and it occurred to him that his opponent might be located below him.

Sandegar was about to turn and stride back to his boulder when a shout from below made him turn on his heel. Heart racing, the hare wondered if the shout had really been from below. He was quite certain. He twitched his ear in thought, the black tip quivering. He could not see below onto the ground, with his eyes used to the bright light and not the shadow of the cliff, but he could fire an arrow down. To him, that was the most practical answer, though why he could not fathom, and how it would help, he did not know. Looking around thoughtfully, the ponderous hare wondered if he could send a message down with his arrow.

Sandegar rejected the idea, telling himself that it would be easier to get his eyes used to the shadowy view below. Getting down on his paws and knees, he peered over the edge of the cliff, focusing on the shadowed area at the foot of the sheer drop. After staring for a few moments, he decided that he could see a flag and an otter next to it, most likely his opponent and his marker. He twitched his ears again, thinking, wondering how he was supposed to get down, or his opponent up. The tall hare leaned back carefully and cupped his paws to his mouth, leaning over a little to look over the cliff down at the flag and the otter.*

Would you be Tritan?

*Sandegar sat back down on his haunches, questioning himself. He pondered whether or not to say something further, and he debated as to whether he should send down an arrow. Deciding it would be a mere waste of arrow, he dismissed the latter thought, and debated between whether or not to say something more. The hare did want to fight, and he knew his favourite close-range fighting would only be possible if they were on the same level. If he didn't say anything, the fight would not progress, and he wanted to fight. He looked for any opposing points to his arguement, and finding none in his immediate line of thought, he cupped his paws to his mouth again.*

Tritan Stormfarrow, will you be coming up here?

*Sandegar backed off from the edge, placing a paw on the black hilt of his sheathed sword, trying not to imagine having to fight while climbing on the cliff. The hare was not afraid of heights, it was just that he was afraid to fall. Sighing, the hare clapped a paw to his forehead, and dropped to his knees, crawling back to the cliff edge again. Lying on his stomach in an undignified manner, he clung to the rock and stuck his head out, looking down. He immediately pulled in again, shivering despite the heat. He twitched his ears nervously, grasping at his sword hilt again, and edged away from the drop, waiting for Tritan's response.*

[Tritan]

* At Tritan's call, the otter saw the hare twitch and attempt to look down. The hare must not have seen him, for he simply kept looking down uncertainly. Tritan waited for Sandegar to spot him, and he leaned against a nearby boulder. The hare seemed to still be looking for him. Tightening his crossbelts which fastened his spears to his back, he thought desperately for something to do, seeing as Sandegar was still not responding. That's when he felt something hard in his shirt. He took out two slightly mouldy acorns and smiled in reminiscence of the nautical game Acorn Toss an' Shipmate's Glory which involved throwing an acorn and a coin. If an acorn fell on its cap, touching the coin, the coin would go to the one who had tossed the acorn and the loser, who would have the least good tosses in twenty tosses, would wash the dishes for the night. He was rummaging around to find a coin he could play with when a voice came down to him like new rain.*

Would you be Tritan?

*Tritan had been sure that if his opponent had spotted him, that he would have known who he was. He put away the acorns in his shirt, pondering on starting to climb up or not. Then again, he thought, maybe he should wait and answer to conclude the cluelessness of the situation. He repressed a laugh at the thought of responding No, it's yer fish-'eaded ruddergut wid a plate o' scones up 'is snodder, but he quickly discarded the thought with a wave of his tail. He was about to answer that, indeed it was him, when Sandegar answered his own question.*

Tritan Stormfarrow, will you be coming up here?

Reassured, the otter unsheathed his cutlass, inspected it and uselessly honed it on a stone. It was a habit he had always entertained when fighting someone. He sheathed it again in his belt, and spat on his paws to assure premium grip. Tritan walked toward the cliff, where he would start climbing up-not only that, but he would expect Sandegar to climb down too. He savored the thought. A mid-cliff battle.

He was slightly disgruntled to see that the pawhold plan that he had tried and certified climbable had slipped from his memory. He quickly found some others, and quickly inserted his paws in the natural cavities. Throwing up his head proudly, he vowed to defeat Sandegar in a duel, or throw him off the cliff; they both worked fine.*

I'm comin' up, you come down, meet yer 'alfway!

[Sandegar]

*Sandegar gazed down uncertainly, wondering if his opponent would answer. He saw the shadowy form of the otter move to cliffside, and the hare bit his lip. He tipped his ears up, listening intently for a response. The response came, but it was very discouraging. The hare sat back on his haunches, pondering what his rival was saying, sensing the dull gloom within him, realizing that there was no avoiding the climb down. Apparently his opponent was good at climbing and a fair bladebeast otherwise. The hare weighed his chances, trying to ignore his honour, the voice pestering him to climb down and face Tritan on the cliff face in an epic duel. The debate was unending and agonizing for the young hare.

Sandegar gripped the hilt of his sword, captive to the confusing indecision. Muttering under his breath, he stood up and looked around, searching for anything he could use as a rope. Going against his common sense, the hare decided to descend, as Tritan expected. Growling in exasperation at his lack of appropriate equipment, the hare walked moodily to the cliff edge, inhaling deeply. In attempt to calm himself, the hare closed his eyes and clenched his fists, basking in the sunlight. A little calmer and braver, the hare drew his arming sword with his right paw, and slowly crouched. He looked over the cliff, down at the ground below and desperately tried to think of a place where he might have something that would ease his descent.

Not able to think, Sandegar quelled the rising panic in his stomach. His bravery was leeched by the formidable chance of his defeat, coupled with the probability of his painful fall to the ground. Dropping his longbow and quiver, he gripped his sword tightly, inhaling the cool air. Breathing shallowly, the hare slowly turned his back to the cliff, placing his forepaws firmly on the grass. He lowered a footpaw down into the air, eyes wide with fright, and reached about for a pawhold. Fitting his right footpaw into a snug hole, he lowered his left footpaw lower, touching the rock, looking for a foothold. Feeling the sweat on his paws, soaking into the fabric wrapped around the hilt of his sword, he lowered his left paw, looking for a pawhold.

Trying not to look down, Sandegar touched a little ledge of rock, and hung onto it as he slowly stabbed his sword back into its sheath. It was dangerous for him to climb down with his sword in paw. How he would fight, he would solve when the time came, and he tried to not think of anything but finding pawholds. Everything seemed intimidating to him in his vulnerable state. Shaking with near panic, he inhaled the cool, breezy air, smelling the moisture in the air. He focused on the feel of the rock, logically assuming it was slippery due to the water vapour in the air. Coughing, he slowly reached down for more pawholds, frightened near to death. His fierce grip on the rock made his knuckles go white, though he was hardly in a position to notice.

The cold stone was hard and firm beneath Sandegar's paws, a little slippery, but firm enough. It was difficult, but he swallowed the fear and the sour taste in his mouth, scrabbling about blindly for footholds. He felt acutely the sun beating down on his back and he could hear the whistle of the wind and the twittering of the birds. His brown eyes were focused on the grey rock, wide with panic. Quite sure he had just began the descent to his death, he lowered himself down slowly, glancing around and seeing Tritan someway down on his left. The hare stopped to admire the expertise in which the otter climbed the cliff, and cursed his own clumsiness. Certain that he had condemned himself to a slow and excruciating death, he hopelessly continued to climb.*

[Tritan]

*Tritan's ascent was much more difficult than he had expected. The pawholds were not so present as he wished them to be. He paused to wipe his paws, one by one, on his shirt. He continued his climb, noting that the rock got slipperier toward the middle, where the fight was to be. The otter blew in his paws to soothe them, for he would need them later. He did a quick checkup on his gear, mentally noting that his sickle was starting to slip off and to lift it back up when the pawholds would be more abundant. He looked up to pinpoint Sandegar and to evaluate which tactic would be the best.

His opponent was, to his dismay, unknowingly approaching a ledge from where Tritan could present an easy arrow target. He started to move in under the ledge where Sandegar would have to look down to shoot, and bend over the ledge, thus leaving the safety that it offered. Tritan slipped, and cursed under his breath. He knew he should have brought twine. He was now close to the middle, and the amount of available pawholds was decreasing alarmingly. He found a crack in the rock which had sand in it, the product of lots of rain and erosion. The sand was soft and it supplied him with grip.

The sand proved to be no use, because the otter was now facing a huge stone wall with no pawholds, only a few weeds that had managed to seep in through the cracks of the rock. he stayed there, gauging the probability of survival. If he held on to the weeds, he had no idea if they would be strong enough to hold him. Furthermore, the rock was smooth. The only half-possible pawholds were going in the direction opposite to that of Sandegar. It would mean a long detour, and also leaving the cover that the ledge provided. But... wait. Tritan peered closely at the hare and noticed that he had left his bow and quiver on top. His final decision was made. He would go through the detour. It would be a waste of strength and valuable time, but it would get him to Sandegar.

He climbed onward, to his left and up. He heard the distant pattering of a nearby woodpecker. This sound was calming to him, and had a relaxing effect. The otter was reminded of one time where he had met a family of woodpeckers, The mother and father teaching their hatchlings how to fly. He recalled that he was fascinated by flying. Just then he wished he had wings, to be able to fight with more ease. After all, a cliff such as this one was not a choice arena. Although Tritan kept going, his mind was wandering around, trying to detect every inch of the landscape. A whiff of dampness caught his senses, and he instinctively knew a stream was nearby. Good thing he had brought his empty gourd up with him.

Sandegar then became the center of his attention. He stopped climbing to loosen some large pebbles. He used his spear to enlarge a crack to make makeshift missiles. He decided he wouldn't store them in his shirt; he was carrying enough weight already. Tritan found a nice pebble that nested perfectly in his hand. He hurled it at his opponent, but lost his balance and rocked back and forth, trying to regain his position, but finally ended up slipping down a considerable way. he caught himself again and ploughed onward to reach his adversary.*

[Sandegar]

OOC: Tritan, I'm really sorry I've kept you waiting for so long. I was going to write a post today, but I had to write an Olympic post for DAB, and it completely leeched my creativity. It was a good twelve and a half thousand characters, and I only have so much brain power. I expect it'll take until Tuesday for me to post again. I'm really sorry. Or I could post a really sucky post, but.... well. Sorry.

[Tritan]

OOC:That's okay, you can just take ideas from that! It's not like I'm going to read the Olympic post.

[Sandegar]

*Cursing himself, Sandegar slowly lowered a footpaw down, feeling for a pawhold. He was sure that even if he didn't fall off, he would die of the fear. It clutched at his heart, leeching the heat from within him. His paws were slippery with sweat, making it harder still to hold on to the cold rock. Slotting his right footpaw into a little hole in the rock, he carefully shifted his center of gravity, moving his left footpaw down, searching for anything that could support his weight. He found another little hollow, and with a snort, he hooked his paw inside, warily moving his weight again. His sword was heavy, dangling from his hip, and his forehead was drenched with cold sweat.

The lanky hare glanced down, noting Tritan's position. Halting for a moment, he wondered why the otter was taking what appeared to be a detour. He looked down at the cliff face, and noticed that pawholds were scarce below him, but there was a secure ledge someway down to his right. Wishing he had the comforting weight of his bow and arrows, he set his course for the ledge, where he judged it would be easier to fight. Feeling his stomach do a flip at the thought of having to fight such a distance from the ground, he ground his teeth together. His heart was thudding irregularly, and his whole body felt strangely warm and yet cold. Grimly he reached down for a pawhold, his left forepaw dragging across the rock.

Holding his breath, he grabbed the pawhold. Sprawled across the cliff, he slipped his left footpaw out of its hollow, looking for one lower down to the right. Instead, he noticed one to the right of his right footpaw, in an ideal position for his right footpaw. Gritting his teeth, the hare shuffled his right footpaw to make room for his left in its current hole, and eased his left footpaw in beside it. Nearly slipping, he moved his right footpaw to the next hollow, conveniently above the secure-looking ledge. Holding his breath, the hare slowly lowered his left footpaw down, feeling his leg muscles grow taut. But it wasn't enough to reach the ledge! With a risky hop, he landed with both footpaws, and slumped against the rock, trying not to look down.

Looking around, Sandegar saw Tritan to his right. Raising a paw, he waved at him, gripping the hilt of his sword, leaning against the rock for a sense of security. He was in a convenient position to spar Tritan, on the ledge, which appeared to be secure, though a little narrow for his liking. But anything was better than having to fight while clinging to a cliff. Wiping the sweat off his paws with his tunic, he rotated his neck, which had grown stiff, shaking his ears along with his head. He drew his sword and decided that he had enough maneuvering space to fight with his sword, though the ledge was not wide enough to accommodate the hare and his blade comfortably. Waving again at the otter, he cleared his throat with a cough.*

Come o'er here! This's a fine ledge!

*Backing against the rock, he turned away from Tritan, trying not to look down at the ground far below. Muttering restlessly, he paced the ledge, trying to think up a sword move that would work efficiently in his inevitable clash with the otter. Stealing another quick glance, he assessed his opponent's weapons, noting the cutlass and the sickle. Assuming that the otter could wield both efficiently, possibly at the same time, the hare began to despair. Murmuring curses, he looked up, wishing he had his longbow and arrows, as he could probably shoot at Tritan from where he was. Slapping himself for not using his head, he resumed his slouching position against the rock, and waited for Tritan's response.*

[Tritan]

*Tritan was having trouble with the rapidly disappearing pawholds. His paws were numb from continuously slipping and scratching on the rock. Not only were the pawholds scarce, the stone was made from sandy clay, which disintegrated to the touch. His heart jumped when he slipped from one of those holds and was holding on only by his legs and one arm. He watched as the clump of clay skittered down the face to finally bounce away from the cliff and fall out of sight. At this moment the otter realized exactly how high he was. The ground seemed so far away; the trees looked like clumps of moss. And right below him was nothing but bare, rocky earth, with the occasional stripped tree ready to impale anything that happened to be falling down onto it. He gulped, imagining his sure fate.

*He shook himself and regained balance onto the stone. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheek, which was cold not only from the chilly wind that had started up, but also because he became conscious that he would need to fight Sandegar three hundred feet in the air and at the same time try and keep a steady foot as not to drop... the same distance. His former confidence had left him and he was alone with himself. Tritan decided there was nothing to fear and continued his perilous climb. His weapons clattered at his side as he placed his footpaw in another pawhold and pushed his body upward. His paw played across the rock in a desperate attempt to find an available pawhold but all he found was an extremely narrow ledge. He hung onto that with his paw, feeling it start to slip. He quickly pushed up with his other footpaw, knowing his life depended on it. He thought only relaxing thoughts, determined to keep his current concentration.*

Come o'er here! This's a fine ledge!

*The shout completely broke the course of his thoughts and he slipped several times but luckily held on. He looked over to where it had come from and saw his opponent on the ledge he had seen earlier. He continued his quick hoppy style of climbing, gaining a little more height to reach a pawhold which seemed manageable. Yes! His whole body weight was solely depending on that sturdy pawhold. He pulled himself up and felt a water drop on his head. The otter looked up and got another on his nose. It was coming from what looked like it had been a stream, but was now reduced to a small trickle. Tritan noticed that his tongue had gotten quite dry from the climb, so he collected a few drops on it and resumed getting to Sandegar.

*Shaky paws continued to grip the cliff face until he was level with him. All he had to do now was to move horizontally. He moved like a crab, using the same technique as before to concentrate on relaxing thoughts. In the meantime, he examined the ledge he was to fight on. It was quite narrow for a beast to wield two blades. His spears might also hook on the rock and throw him off balance. Not giving much of his chances of winning the spar, he now scanned Sandegar. Hm. A dirk. An easily wielded weapon in restrained spaces. That might prove to be a disadvantage, but close combat was still an option. And the sickle was the best for close combat. He mentally thanked himself for bringing a choice of weapons, because one was never sure exactly what the circumstances were going to be. He hooked himself on tight, about ten feet away from Sandegar. He unhooked one of his spears, faking the use of it to lever himself up. Without warning he flicked it at his opponent and jumped onto the ledge, his sickle at the ready and trying to block all falling thoughts from his head.*

[Darter]

OOC: Since this is taking a while, I'm just going to end this spar now, and let everyone vote. If you guys would like to continue this on another thread, feel free to go ahead and do so.