- Joined
- Feb 11, 2009
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[Just looking for some good-old hand-to-hand practice, I'm getting a little rusty and I want to try my hand at a fight scene again. Anyone's welcome, I'll just ask that lightsaber-wielders don't use their sabers in this. Other than that, no restrictions on weapons, aside from it being melee weapons only. Thanks!]
Hakim slowly padded into the ancient temple, tightening the protective tan bandages wrapped snugly around his palms, wrists, and the lower part of his forearms as he walked. There was a fight to be had within this hallowed hall of martial combat. The black marble floor, unmarred by dust and recently polished, amplified every soft footfall of his bare feet, the soles and ankles of which were also wrapped for protection.
The room was large, the ceiling perhaps thirty feet high and supported by grand marble pillars that had bands of gold a handspan wide twisting around them from base to top like majestic gleaming serpents. The northern wall of the room, which Hakim was facing, had three massive stained-glass windows that allowed perfect rays of sunlight to filter in and illuminate the room with a soft glow.
On the east and west walls were massive oaken racks, filled with every melee weapon imaginable, from quarterstaffs to greataxes. He moved to the west wall and selected his weapon. It was an old Staff, carved from some unknown hardwood in ages long forgotten by great artisans. It was stained and lacquered a deep red, and highly polished brass caps were placed on both ends of the meter-and-a-half long staff, giving it extra striking power.
On the far side of the hall, nearly a hundred and fifty yards away, he heard the massive double door in the center of the wall creak open; his opponent had arrived. Grasping his staff tightly, he turned and proceeded to the center of the hall, ready to face off with his opponent.
Hakim slowly padded into the ancient temple, tightening the protective tan bandages wrapped snugly around his palms, wrists, and the lower part of his forearms as he walked. There was a fight to be had within this hallowed hall of martial combat. The black marble floor, unmarred by dust and recently polished, amplified every soft footfall of his bare feet, the soles and ankles of which were also wrapped for protection.
The room was large, the ceiling perhaps thirty feet high and supported by grand marble pillars that had bands of gold a handspan wide twisting around them from base to top like majestic gleaming serpents. The northern wall of the room, which Hakim was facing, had three massive stained-glass windows that allowed perfect rays of sunlight to filter in and illuminate the room with a soft glow.
On the east and west walls were massive oaken racks, filled with every melee weapon imaginable, from quarterstaffs to greataxes. He moved to the west wall and selected his weapon. It was an old Staff, carved from some unknown hardwood in ages long forgotten by great artisans. It was stained and lacquered a deep red, and highly polished brass caps were placed on both ends of the meter-and-a-half long staff, giving it extra striking power.
On the far side of the hall, nearly a hundred and fifty yards away, he heard the massive double door in the center of the wall creak open; his opponent had arrived. Grasping his staff tightly, he turned and proceeded to the center of the hall, ready to face off with his opponent.