016573 vs. Abenaki: Possessed

[Breaker]

"This guy is all over the place. I'm surprised he hasn't stabbed himself yet."

The tribal's wild attacks seemed to be constantly throwing him off balance. In a strange way, he reminded me of a street fighter. The kind of punks who learned to fight just by fighting way too much, ignoring finesse and technique in favour of power. The way to deal with this type of fighter was keep your attack technical, solid, and fast. I felt confident that I could exploit the native's weakness.

I was breathing heavily, I realized, but mostly because of the pain in my hip. The more I focussed on my breathing, the less conscious I was of the blood flowing from my open wound. It didn't feel all that deep-- not enough to bleed me out, anyway. But the hip was slowing me down.

"No problem, I'll let Tarzan here do all the moving."

Indeed, the native began to circle, trying to get on my weak side. He opened his mouth, and again the garbled gobledeygook which sounded a little like tradespeak flowed out.

"What?... no! He didn't just say his name is Jada... it couldn't be."

For a brief moment, my normally confident grasp on reality slipped. I wondered if I had, in fact, attacked one of my students upon his arrival. If this wasn't Jada, then where was he? People often showed up late, but that made a lowsy reason for assuming the tribal wasn't Jada.

"No... that can't be right. None of my students have ever walked through that door with weapons drawn. Besides, he would have spoken to me in tradespeak if he wanted to be understood. This bastard is a much better fighter than those other two thieves could ever be, they must have sent him after me. At the very least, Jada would have KNOWN who I am, would have asked rather than attacking me full out."

The tribal had not identified himself as Jada, it had merely been a sound I evoked from his messy speech. I had probably, on some subconscious level, been thinking about Jada, and that had made me hear the name. Like seeing shapes in the stars.

My moment's hesitation fueled my wrath once more. The sun's increasingly powerful rays was turning my black clothing into a furnace, and sweat dripped onto the well-used blue mats. Again I turned my full attention to defeating the invader.

I stepped forward onto my left leg, staying in good balance. Releasing one end of the nunchaku, I snapped my arm forward, aiming the initial strike for the inside of my enemy's left wrist, again trying to disarm him. The whiplike nature of the chuck gave it both incredible power and speed, and I had barely finished the first strike when I began the second, the steel nun-chuck seeming to have life of its own as it snapped at the tribal's left temple. My arm was fully extended as I delivered the blow, and as I pulled back I aimed the flailing chuck for Tarzan's right wrist, figuring if I could disarm him completely I'd have the fight won. It as a fairly standard triangle attack, out-in-out, a striking combination unique to the nunchaku.

Settling my weight back on the uninjured leg, I curled the chuck over my shoulder, reaching my left hand behind my back and catching it there. Holding one end of my weapon just above my right shoulder, the other near the small of my back, I would be able to attack or defend in a heartbeat, with either hand.