tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; September 26th 7:00 p.m.
Rating; PG, possibly PG-13 for language and violence.
Characters;

vaterlands_wolf Captain Hans Gunshe
Summary; A duel to first yield.
Log;

The sun was blazing a path across the waters of the ocean in an undulating line.

To Scarab, the scent of salty air evoked memories of another time..a different lifetime.
But this wasn't a sight seeing trip, and for the third time this hour, she rested her hands on the hilt, and saya of the wakiashi strapped horizontally across her lower back.
She had made the proviso agianst guns, but not agianst as many blades as she usually carried.
The short sword was the most prominent, but she also had a bowie knife in her boot, and the long tapered ornaments that held her black hair back did double duty as both aesthetics, and hidden weapons.

Her mask was busily scanning her immeadiate vicinity for movement, and showing her it's readouts in the implanted red lenses of her eyes.
It also looked for temperature fluctuations, and kept track of her vitals.

She drew in a deep breath, and though filtered by the mask, she could almost taste the sea.
This little match was just what she needed to help her get her mind off recent events.

Too many sleepless nights..

A tiny time display in the bottom of her left eye showed her the time as it clicked over to seven p.m.

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Hans strode lightly across the sands, then stopped in front of her. His hat and collar helped created a cover of shadows over his facial features, leaving only two glowing, feral eyes to stare out at her. There were no visible weapons on the heavy coat.

"I am ready," he said, taking a defensive stance, "You may attack."

Straight to the point, huh?

The mask never changed expression, and showed nothing more than the movement of her own red lensed eyes as they looked him over.

A fractional duelists' nod, and she was liesurely taking steps backwards across the sand.

It wasn't intimidation, simply a chance to give the implanted lenses make some readings on the captain, and maybe give her some more information on her opponent.

She circled once, at what could be called a stroll, then came to a stop in her first position directly in front of him.

It happened fast.
The flurry of hand movement that brought her hand up to the hilt of her sword and pulled it, saya and all, off her lower back and into a slanted angle across her body.
While her hands moved, her feet carried her the few steps foreward to get in close to the captain.

He didn't move, not even when she unsheathed the sword, and brought said sheath around in a high horizontal strike meant for his eyes.

The old wolf quickly evaded the strike, ducking low and countering with a sweep. After the first pass he quickly went upright again, throwing a high roundhouse.

She jumped over and away to avoid the sweep, and managed to get her footing in time to drop into a split to avoid the kick.

Fast for such a big guy.

He was already on the offensive agian, and leaning her weight back, she swung her legs above her in a butterfly kick, one foot sweeping after the other and making an effective counter to attempted hits while simultaneously getting her up and on her feet without the use of her occupied hands.

He avoided her with ease, but she wasn't quite finished, and once rolling to her feet, she was using her momentum to bring the blade up and across his midsection.
He managed to avoid that one too, but she did feel the cloth on the edges of his coat part.

He jumped, back and used the extra cloth of his coat to sweep a large cloud of sand up into her path.

"You have some skill, I see." he said to her, reaching into the cloud with a jab.

"Too bad it won't be enough," he threw a series of jabs and elbows at her, trying to stagger her.

The lenses of her mask kept the sand from blinding her completly, but it did throw off her vision enough that she was hard pressed to keep up sufficient blocks to counter his attack.

One she caught with the saya, but the last clipped her left shoulder and threw her weight off balance.

Son of a bitch!

Making a split second decision to turn with the blow, she threw her weight into it and danced away to his left.

Kicks would not be wise here, she was relying too much on speed to keep out of his reach, and punches wouldn't have enough force.
She would have to rely on the blade for now and wait for an opening.

Turning away and coming up on his left she used the moderate reach of her short sword to her advantage and swung it out in an underhand slice that put another rip in his coat, and even managed to push through enough to penetrate his uniform and nick the flesh beneath.

The mask never changed expression, luckily or he would have been tempted to stick her toungue out at him.

Supernatural creatures and thier superiority complexes.

He jumped around her, gliding easily over the sands. He began to systematically test for weaknesses, stopping every few jumps to rocket forward and strike at her. She was managing to keep up with him rather well, which surprised him to know end.

"Who taught you, human?" he calmly asked, striking at her legs, "Are you entirely human or not?"

She was starting to become hard pressed to keep up, but being smaller and lighter was still working to her advantage.

The problem now was trying to use that speed to land more dibilitating hits without losing a limb in the process.

"I told you. I was trained by a black ops group back home: The Circle of the Noh, and I'm au naturale, barring a few implants."

"I see, then you are the same as "that man", in my world. A human trained to their peak."

He resumed a defensive posture.

"But you are still merely human."

He leapt straight up, trying to use the ambient sunlight to make himself harder to see, then came down at her with his boots.

There wasn't time to avoid the hit, and before she knew it she was flat on her back in the sand with a rather large boot on one shoulder, and her right hand.

The force of the hit had left her hand numb, but a suspicious tingling warned her it wouldn't be staying that way for long.

She was at a disadvantage, yes, but this was possibly the best way to get inside his defense, and so she neatly flipped the sword blade-out in order to drive the end of the hilt into the side of his knee.
If nothing else it would get him off of her....

He took the blow to his knee, but stood firm.

"Non-lethal means will do little good. You must always fight as if your life depended on it."

He brought up one foot in a position over her head and quickly brought it down again.

She managed to turn her head enough that he only trapped some of her hair and sent up a puff of sand.

" Duly noted."

Left arm now freed, she brought the sword back to bare, and drove it up toward his gut.

Hans took the sword deep in his belly and jumped back, grabbing on and dragging the blade with him.

"More like that."

He pulled the blade out of himself and tossed it back to her. He removed his had and coat, setting them aside.

"Now that you know that, I will show you that range of ability that no amount of training can prepare a human for."

His body began to slowly change, growing larger and hairier all around, the bones of his skull contorting into the thickened muzzle of a wolf.

"Again.">

In a heartbeat he was in front of her. He lashed out with a light punch to her chest.

After what she had seen since coming to the city, a nazi transforming into a werewolf wasn't all that stunning.

He tookher sword, but she was ready whenhe threw it back. Choosing to regard the return of her primary weapon as a ruse, she let it imbed itself in the sand, and instead went for one of her silver hair needles.
Far less reach, but maybe if she could get inside his defense agian...

He had been fast before, but now she was having serious trouble keeping up, and staying out of reach.
He was on her in an instant, and it was a bit more luck than anything that allowed her to move just enough that the hit was glancing.
She turned with it, and ended up side-on, a very short step away from being grabbed.
Still she used the oppurtunity, and drove the eight inch needle toward his throat.

In a snarling flash of teeth, he stopped the blade in his jaws, his teeth locking into the steel. He seemed to be bleeding from his tongue, but if it bothered him, he didn't show it. This face was even less expressive than his human one.

"Yield the contest. You have no chance of defeating me."

She narrowed her eyes and considered telling him to fuck off.
She had never been very good at accepting defeat.

Still, he was right, and getting killed wouldn't help her much either.

" I can't yield."
That would be a sign of weakness after all.

" But I will call this a stalemate. Next time, guns are allowed."

To prove good faith, she let go of the needle, an waited; tense in case he decided to try and grab her anyway.

He dropped the blade and easily shifted back, regaining his clothes.

"Whatever you tell yourself to feel better," he said, "The only one you have to convince is you."

He brushed the sand from his cap, donned it, and was soon lost amid the sands.

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Log: Complete

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