as written by glmstr and Rōnin
Aaro rolled his shoulders forward, kicking the toe of his boot into the ground. He held aloft his shield, weighing it, and took a few swipes through the air with his sword. All things considered, he was lightly-armored, his breastplate being the 'heaviest' aspect of his getup. Against Izaic or Celeste it might have been a mistake, but Aaro didn't think it would hurt him against Camille. While he couldn't hope to match his fellow proselyte's dexterity, he at least stood a chance of evading him. For a time.
"Good luck, Camille," he smiled, voice vaguely metallic beneath his helmet. He extended his sword towards the boy.
Camille cracked his knuckles and drew both of his weapons, giving the long estoc a few twirls to refamiliarize himself with the way it swung. The Lacroix would have to mae good use of his ornate armor, so he could go on the offensive. Then again, the estoc's long reach could warrant trying to reach behind Aaro's shield, but that was to be determined when the battle actually started.
"As to you Aaro," he held his sword's hilt about eye with the tip pointed up and then extended his arm downwards and to the side, a common salute for fencers.
As both boys saluted and assumed their stances, a bell was rung. The fight commenced.
Aaro circled his opponent, studying his footwork, his weapons. The dagger and estoc combination made it clear what kind of duel this would be. Victory wouldn't be a matter of strength or power, but a struggle to outmaneuver the other fighter.
His shield fixed firmly before him, Aaro planted a foot forward and made a thrust for Camille's center chest - swift and steady. He had the reach advantage over Camille. At the very least, he would test his opponent's defenses.
Camille assumed a somewhat standard stance to begin with: his sword ahead of him, his arm bent around sixty degrees at the elbow, and the tip pointing directly towards his opponent's face.
Aaro's first attack felt almost as if a taunt: nobody would open with such a bland and textbook thrust, right? Lacroix simply flicked his wrist to the side to catch the broadsword along his own main armament and keep the attack from connecting, then swung his arm to the side to push it away and possibly stagger his opponent.
Without hesitating to see a response, the proselyte lunged forward and brought up a jab with his dagger aimed for Aaro's arm, the one holding his sword.
The thrust was countered - as expected. Camille threw his weight behind the parry, but Aaro's footing was solid, leg muscles tensing as he fought the throw of his sword and kept his balance.
He drew his arm behind his shield just as Camille lunged forward, checking the metal against his rival's weapon. They were in close proximity now, and Aaro ground his feet, pressed the front of his shield against Camille's body and pushed - attempting to body-check Camille away using his shield.
This time Aaro did not hesitate. If his shield-check worked, he lunged forward, sword flashing in a viscious one-two slash and blackslash aimed for Camille's head and side. A smile broke his calm as he took the offensive, the glee of battle setting his pulse racing. Though a notorious slacker, Aaro was still a proselyte. Among any other school he would have been a straight A student, a paragon academic and athlete. Only among the upper crust of Lutetia's finest youths did he appear average. Even then, he had his moments, his strengths. Fighting was one of them.
Camille immediately disengaged and leapt backwards when Aaro pushed with his shield, using the proselyte's force as a boost to create a few feet of distance. Aaro was very likely stronger than him in brute force, so he needed to be creative.
He waited for the first two slashes from his opponent, then jabbed his dagger forward to catch the broadsword. He curled his wrist and hooked his curved crossguard against that of Aaro's, then gave a solid yank to either wrench the sword from his hand or two pull them together. In preparation for the latter, he lifted a greaved foot and poised to deliver a kick to his stomach.
"Woah!" Aaro yelped as his sword was caught. Unwilling to relinquish his grip, the proselyte found himself yanked forward... right into Camille's boot. He barely managed to get his shield up in time, Camille's heel striking the steel circle with a hollow 'thud'.
The force of the blow still staggered Aaro, however, who felt his balance rapidly leaving him. He made a final, desperate yank - trying to get his sword away from Camille's lock - before falling backwards, 'oofing' to the ground. Camille let the proselytes weapon go, allowing Aaro to flop on the ground however he planned to.
But Aaro already had a plan, throwing his body backwards with the momentum of his fall. He backrolled, swiftly catching his balance and springing back up to his feet.
"Nice," Aaro grinned, quickly assuming a defensive stance, "got a bit more strength than I was expecting." He brushed some dirt off his shoulder pads. "Got my armor dirty, though. Do you have any idea how much I paid for this?"
"Thanks," Camille smirked. "I need to be strong enough to wield my weapons, don't I?" The proselyte giggled at Aaro's quip and rolled his neck, preparing for another clash. This stance was somewhat different: he stood angled to the side, almost all of what was facing Aaro was his more heavily armored right side, with his estoc closer to his body than before.
Aaro was cautious as Camille changed stances, and began sizing up his opponent once more. He was taking an angle now. Camille was much more suited for close combat, if he so desired, but could also lunge if he so desired.
With his right side forward, Aaro circled around Camille's left, forcing the proselyte to continually cover his exposed back.
However, in this case, unarmored didn't quite equate exposed. Camille feinted forwards with the dagger, giving one quick slash followed by a thrust from the side with his main weapon.
The feint made Aaro flinch, but not enough to where he wasn't able to counter the incoming slash. He met both strikes his shield, angling the metal downward and bashing the estoc on the last swing in an attempt to glance Camille's strike at an angle and force him to drop his guard. He took a side-step around Camille's footwork, trying to take his back, before swinging from his left hip for the back of his tricep.
Camille lost his balance momentarily, only regaining it as Aaro's strike was coming down towards his arm. In a last ditch effort to guard, he raised up his arm and caught the blade with his gauntlet-covered forearm.
Lacroix's long skirt managed to obscure his footwork as he repositioned his feet, crouching down slightly and pivoting towards his left to thrust the estoc towards Aaro's gut.
Though his footwork was obscured, Aaro could still see the glittering estoc positioning in Camille's hand, preparing for a thrust. The proselyte slid his blade along Camille's bracer, swinging the steel downward and catching Camille's sword with the edge of his own. It was, to his knowledge, the first time their primary weapons had clashed.
Knowing Camille's dagger was close at hand, Aaro put his weight into his sword and pushed, attempting to knock away Camille's sword from his guard. He swung for his chest, hoping to score a lethal before his opponent capitalized on his proximity and put his dagger to his throat.
The sword was approaching, and Camille needed to act quickly. Instead of trying to guard, he instead let go of his sword and grabbed Aaro’s by the blade to hold it at bay. This gave him the room he needed to bring his dagger down towards his adversary’s back and neck, hoping for the final blow.
The blunted blade swung into Camille’s open hand, no doubt causing him some degree of discomfort. Still, it stuck. Aaro grunted as his sword stopped in mid-swing, eyes widening as he felt Camille’s dagger on his neck. How on earth…
“Ahh…” the ref examined the situation, confused for a moment, “...lethal! Lacroix!” He had won.
“Damn,” Aaro swore, drawing a breath. He was disappointed, but it’d been a good fight. He clipped off his helmet and smiled at Camille. “Congrats, Cam. Good luck with the rest of the tourney.” He extended his hand.
“Thanks,” Camille shook the proselyte’s hand and promptly made his way out of the ring.
