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Subject: **Darts to one side and the knife grazes hs shoulder** I never said anythin' about a gymnastics match, but I sure could beatcha at a gym-nastiness match! **Laughs at his own joke, gripping the hilt of his sword. He raises the blade, standing on the balls of his footpaws, and snarling. White teeth glitter like rows of knives in the firelight (is it still "night"?). His muscles are all taught as he prepares for a spring at the squirrel. He lowers his back haunches, sways slightly, as a coiled spring ready to be released. Suddenly he springs forward, sword outstretched directly in front of him, still light on his feet for any sudden move by his opponent** Author: Grisiga [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: 08:31:01 08/11/01 Sat In reply to: Grisiga 's message, "**Spins to his right as he leaps into the air, over Favre's blade, to land still facing the squirrel. He pauses for a split-second, then kicks with his right footpaw at Favre's lower stomach as his sword comes swinging, parallel to the leg, towards Favre's chest. He lets out a hair-curling yowl that only a wildcat can, and kicks again with his other footpaw**" on 13:28:11 08/10/01 Fri [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Subject Author Date **Tenses as Grisiga coils to spring, and leaps forward and slightly to the left of the blade a split second after Grisiga does. He grunts as he swings his sword at Grisiga's with all of the force behind his jump, a move to disarm or at least cause Grisiga to fall or stumble from the velocity of the blow** (NT) Favre 09:17:01 08/11/01 Sat **Is pushed a step back by the ferocity of Favre's blow, but keeps his footing. He yowls again and brings his sword down in a crushing stroke at and angle to cut through Favre's neck and torso** (NT) Grisiga 12:25:02 08/12/01 Sun **Parries the blow, but is at an awkward position. He lets the sword blades lock, grunting slightly in disgust at his own carelessness when his own sword nicks into his shoulder from the pressure. He waits for Grisiga to maximize his pressure, and then rapidly breaks the sword lock, spinning out from underneath the pressure. As he comes around, he uses the momentum of his spin and slashes his sword down at Grisiga's back** (NT) -- Favre, 20:42:40 08/12/01 Sun **Lunges forward as his blade is released, out of reach of the sword slash. He spins to face Favre again, furious that he failed to kill the squirrel with the last blow. He ceouches again, but instead of springing, waits to see what the squirrel will do** (NT) -- Grisiga, 08:01:47 08/13/01 Mon **Tenses as he watches his opponent like a hawk. He breathes deeply and slowly, apparently catching his breath.** (NT) -- Favre, 16:09:41 08/13/01 Mon **Sneers** Short o'breath, Brushy? **Smiles cruelly and licks his blade** Come now, don't hesitate! Old Grisiga's here for the taking! **Begins circling the squirrel** (NT) -- Grisiga, 19:35:50 08/14/01 Tue **Without warning and with lightning speed, the squirrel whips out another serrated dagger and sends it hurtling with deadly accuracy at Grisiga's chest. A split second later, he leaps in, slashing his sword at Grisiga's midsection in an attempt to disembowel. He grins grimly** Called concentration, Kitty-cat. Better than wastin' me energy spewin' insults. (NT) -- Favre, 09:26:53 08/15/01 Wed OOC: Oh. Forgot to mention, I'll be gone for the next 6 days, until next Thursday or Friday. Feel free to move on. (NT) -- Favre, 09:28:14 08/15/01 Wed **The dagger is implanted in Grisiga's chest. He clutches his chest, gasping for breath, but he is still on his paws. He manages to parley the blow to his middle, but that takes most of his strength. He is leaning to one side, eyeing the squirrel with incredible hatred** So... you have... defeated me...the great **gasps** Grisiga Montaba Gherabago. What now, squirrel? I wish to at least stand before all the leader...before...And I want to see my daughter... (NT) -- Grisiga, 15:22:49 08/15/01 Wed **Eyes the wildcat back with a gleam of feral triumph in his eyes.** Aye, I defeated ye, Grisiga. Told ye ye were a mite too cocky. **Motions for Kinnan, Astri, and his daughter to come, a silent obeisance to the wildcat's last wishes** (NT) -- Favre, 17:28:28 08/15/01 Wed