Duel: Walled Out

Much like his commander and youngest squad mate, Wall was not very talkative in the armory. Part of it was because he was resting, walking around in the armor wasn't nearly as effortless as he claimed, but it was mostly because he jut didn't feel a connection with those around him. They were smaller than him, not exactly a feature considered when discriminating, but when he was a good foot faller than the next tallest person in the room it had an effect on their stance towards him.

It made them feel inferior, having to look up to someone they felt beneath them, but there was nothing they could reasonably do about it but wait for their chance. They could bring him down if only they were chosen to fight him. They were so certain of it they didn't even bother to hide it.

"Who let this hideous creature into the Sanctum?"

"We really ought to step up our donations. Clearly they must be in dire straights if vermin like this can be admitted."

Obviously this was treatment he was used to. Hell, these were the sort of insults he received back home, even if those were said in lighter spirits. Wall just kept standing there in the corner, waiting for his turn. These idiots knew nothing of him, so he would ignore them.

"Oh I've just had the most horrendous vision!"

"Do tell! Your imagination never fails to impress."

"Well I've just realized that if this thing has to cover its face due to how disgusting it looks, how horrifying must its mother look?!"

'Okay, that was a bit too far.'

As they made barfing gestures, Wall stirred a bit. Insulting him was one thing, but his mother? No good son would let that slide, even if he didn't think his mother could be described as 'pretty'. As his armor clanked and jangled, his mind was very distinctly pulled back to what Donovan had said.

"If someone starts stomping around in a pile of shit just to make you mad, are you going to join them?"

"No sir."

"Then don't fucking do it, not that hard. Ultimately they are just words, they aren't going to hurt you, so don't let them tick you off. If they insult your mother, then you need to keep a calm mind about you so you can ensure her name is not tarnished, but if you fail there then there really isn't anything you could have done about it anyways. Just let your opponent look like the asshole he is and walk away with pride that you fought the best you could."

These people were nothing but flies buzzing around a steaming pile of shit. Nothing they said held value, that much was apparent from their demeanor.

Wall couldn't believe how close he had come to giving himself extra wall sits courtesy of an enraged Donovan.

"How strange. I swore I just heard some flies buzzing around my helmet. . ."

He wasn't above returning fire, but he kept it tactful. No bystander would assume he was being mean-spirited. Antagonistic? Maybe, but he certainly wasn't the aggressor.

"I'll have to swat them next time they come around. It wouldn't do to have bugs sullying the Great Csillacra."

"Why you-"

"Wall of Gilded Earth!? Wall of Gilded Earth?!"

His harasser's retort was cut short by a call for a contestant, that contestant being the person he was insulting.

"Here Sir!" Wall's booming voice echoed throughout the armory as he started to move. He was deceptively fast with that armor on, completely a result of his massive legs. Unlike the others, people got out of his way instead of having to be pushed or asked. They didn't want to risk having their foot stepped on by an armored behemoth, even if they didn't like him.

- - - - -

Gasps and murmurs filled the stadium as he took up his spot in the white ring. This wasn't anything new to him, he had been the subject of great interest and disdain his entire life, but it hurt a little more when he was in an official stadium. He didn't feel like quite as much of a warrior as he did just an interesting animal on display.

His mood brightened a bit more when he saw who his opponent was.

"To think I would be fortunate enough to put a brute like you in his place!"

One of the two individuals who had insulted his mother was standing in front of him, lance resting lazily against his shoulder. His vision was obstructed by his helmet, however he could tell it was of good make. This weapon was probably the pride of some craftsman, such a shame it was wielded by such a dishonorable individual.

"I too look forward to our fight." Wall nodded his head, the distance between them prevented Wall from giving his opponent a handshake, and he couldn't be bothered to bow in his armor. He could probably do it just fine, he simply felt this opponent to be unworthy of the effort.

His opponent scowled, scoffing at him, leading Wall to wonder if he had done something to offend him. Something aside from existing in his line of sight that is. Was it something he said? Did responding to malice with professionalism and manners set him off?

Already an evil grin was spreading across Wall's face, a grin nobody could see. If this was all it took to irritate his haters, then he might have to consider taking some lessons in courtesy from Sanna, as much as he didn't like him. Those lessons might even serve to improve their relationship, not to mention how it would assist in fulfilling the role Donovan needed him to take. He needed to make a good impressions on others, and having good manners couldn't hurt.

If someone took issue with that, then it was their own damn problem.

"Ready?"

"I am prepared." Wall used language he felt fit the 'prim and proper' stereotype. He could work out the specifics later.

Much to Wall's disbelief, his opponent became angrier. It was evident he was hanging on by a thread, his breathing heavy and grip on the lance tightening.

"Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." His words were steeped in rage.

"Very well then. . . Keep your extremities inside the ring . . . good. Now, prepare to fight on my mark. Three, two, one, GO!"

Wall's opponent, whom he had decided to call 'Midget' in his head in spite of his average stature, shot from his ring the way every other opponent approached him. Wall just sank into a defensive position and waited for the impact to come. His opponent was confident in his ability and understood he had the upper hand here. This was the truth, and there was little meaning in denying it.

Wall could work around his disadvantages though, he had a thorough understanding of his shortcomings. He knew that he couldn't pull certain moves off, they were doomed to end in failure, but he knew there were a few options available to him that his opponent just couldn't afford.

His first option, that being his go-to, was to stall. In theory he could just wait for his enemy to run out of split and strike them down once they were exhausted, but he would also be worn down with time. In reality, he just stalled to open up more options for himself. His opponents might not tire immediately, but if they didn't have any discipline they would inevitably try to do something stupid. If it was stupid enough and they committed to something too hard, an axe would find its way to them with the full force of a boulder behind it.

His second option, something he recalled to be the most successful approach, was to take a hit and return the blow. Dangerous but effective, his armor and sheer size granted him the ability to survive the initial blow, but he knew that if he didn't secure that killing shot in return it was all over. Once he was bleeding or run through the gut, his opponent only needed to run away from him and he would eventually end up dead. If he wanted to be of use to Donovan, this option wasn't on the table.

The third option was something he had never attempted before, but his spar with Titanyana and his time with Donovan had given him the inspiration to try it out. If it failed, then he could just fall back to option one. Of course, he was still going to have to play the waiting game to make Midget do what he needed, but it wasn't a stupid move. At least it wouldn't appear to be on the surface.

"URAAAA!!!" The first thrust came at Wall from the direct front. Despite the bladed tip, it would seem Midget knew that his only shot at breaking through Wall's plate armor was a piercing blow, a slash just wouldn't have the cutting power. This obviously made lances the most optimal weapon to use against him, something Wall considered to be unfortunate given the weapon's popularity, but it had a few weaknesses he could exploit.

He just needed the conditions to be right. . .

As Wall batted the incoming polearm away with the side of his shield, he came to understand that this was not a full-strength attack. There wasn't any 'weight' to it, no desire to follow through. This was a probing attack, something Midget could use to get his bearings on Wall's reaction time and get himself settled into a position to take Wall out.

Not content to give him a consistent distance, Wall took a half step back. Now he was outside of the range Midget could perform a meaningful thrust from, the power would be limited by his body unless he decided to lunge. That being said, a lunge was something he could get away with, Midget had an excellent understanding of the disparity between their ranges.

Of course Wall understood that well, taking the blow on the shield before moving in. It was a feint, kind of, Wall could still mount an assault if Midget didn't step back, but he was more interested in conditioning the arrogant lancer to not lunge towards him. Lunges might be powerful, but they weren't what was needed to pierce Wall's shield.

As counterintuitive as it might sound, that was exactly what Wall was aiming for.

He wanted Midget to pierce his shield, though he would prefer if it didn't pierce his arm or make it through to his body. He had learned from his spar with Titanyana just how tantalizing the prospect of piercing through a shield was to everyone else. It was the primary reason shields weren't used, they could simply be punched through, but because nobody used them nobody had ever had the chance.

His new tactic was to use his shield, his primary form of defense, as bait. Of course he would defend himself with it, that was its primary purpose, but he wouldn't try to make it an uninviting target. Normally he would hold it to the side of his body, taking the blows he could see with the shield at slight angles to deter his opponents from trying to pierce it in earnest. Everyone practiced against wooden dummies to start out with, sometimes covering them in metal plates once they learned to use split, and they all learned the damage that trying to pierce hard targets at an angle could do to their weapons.

Swords could bend and the shafts of spears might shatter even if they pierced it, while blades that didn't slash into it at right angles would very quickly become chipped or warped. It simply wasn't a pleasant experience.

For a few minutes their dance continued, the Midget and the Wall. Midget would launch a volley of short stabs and the occasional thrust aimed at a weak point, and Wall would block them. Some of the smaller attacks he knew couldn't pierce his plate he would let through, risky as that was, just so he could close and put pressure on his opponent. Every inch closer he got was an adjustment Midget would have to make to his grip to keep Wall in the kill zone. Once Wall felt he was getting too close to keep blocking everything headed his way, he would step back.

Midget would then lunge to capitalize, only to be blocked by a shield and threatened by Wall's axe.

It was a delicate balancing act for Wall. If he got too close while his opponent was still in a serviceable stance then he would very quickly find himself on the receiving end of a thrust that could very easily skewer him, but staying too far away would only give Midget the opportunity to recover.

Then finally it happened. Just as Wall stepped back from the pressure, he saw that Midget didn't pursue. Instead he was in a power stance, lance at the ready, all charged up for an armor piercing strike.

All Wall had to do was step forward again, just as he had after every lunge before.

And step forward he did. At least he made it look like he did. What Wall actually did was move his shield forward towards his opponent.

Out of patience and at his wit's end, Midget impaled Wall's shield with everything hi could muster, a smile spreading across his heavily sweating face.

All Wall felt was the spalling metal striking his armor. Midget's spear had pierced the shield alright, but only the shield. There was still roughly an inch of space between the tip of the lance and Wall's belly armor, but midget was already dead. He just didn't know it yet.

Now Wall pulled from what little Donovan had showed him of grappling, stuff he had learned from watching him body Cholst. He twisted his shield, pushing it out and away from him like he was opening a door. Now the lance was being 'grabbed' by the shield, the force generated by the twisting shield and Midget's grip threatening to break the lance's shaft. With the foot opposite his shield, Wall stepped forward. His axe, which had been dutifully raised up to repeat the motions of the feint, now fell on Midget's neck as if it belonged to an executioner.