Raoul vs Caden, exhibition match.

Raoul burst out laughing. The imperious walk, the smug dickheaded smirk, the pretend armor. The joke weapons. Clearly, he had been mislead as to the nature of this bout. Caden was obviously not the stick-up-ass tool he had been expecting. Clearly, the man had a finely-honed sense of the ridiculous himself.

“God, damn, man!” He called out. “And I thought I was playing at foolish games…” He laughed again, squeaking his ducky menacingly in Caden’s direction. But a fight was a fight, and he did keep his guard up as he laughed and spoke. A silly game it might be, but it was a silly game he fully intended to make a good showing in.

He eyed Caden’s stance appraisingly. Holding the sword angled between them, he stepped forward, moving his left foot up, then stepping out with the right, maintaining his stance as he closed some of the distance. He twitched the point of his rapier forward slightly, then dropped back into his ready stance. Perhaps he was testing Caden’s defense. Or maybe he was just goofing around. He did time the motion with another squeak of the ducky, after all.

Instead of circling, Raoul simply stepped forward and right, bringing himself off-line and keeping Caden to his front at the same time, as well as closing the distance a bit more. “Ah…. the quiet type, I see. Or is it that… how do you say? El gato has got your tongue? Do not be ashamed. I am a very pretty man. You are not the first to get flustered and lose confidence when I approach.”

As he spoke, Raoul again stepped forward and right as Caden took his second step, denying his opponent’s circling and closing the distance more. As he moved, he flicked his wrist and straightened his elbow, snapping a vicious cut down at Caden’s right knee. The strike would come at an angle, slightly from Caden’s right to left, but mostly down, and taking advantage of the more than a foot of extra reach in Raoul’s favor, from well outside of Caden’s measure.

Caden was a warrior. But he was apparently a stupid, blind warrior with poor sense of distance and timing, as well as being overconfident and clumsy. While he had thought he was a mind-reader and could tell that Raoul had over-estimated his reach, he was entirely wrong. And as previously stated, unless Raoul acted, Caden would close inside his measure…. So Raoul had acted. Having estimated his own reach with precision and skill, he had, as previously stated, launched his attack from well beyond Caden’s reach, and no amount of not having an extended stance would change or retcon that, no matter how much Caden’s player pretended otherwise.

Of course, the simple parry was easy. Raoul had attacked directly into Caden’s guard, after all. Like a fool, Caden had taken the bait and leaped into the parry with fully committed explosive speed. After all, the only way to push off of your leading foot while moving forward is to lean one’s body in front of it, then jump. Unfortunately for him, pushing his blade out and down didn’t create the bind he had hoped for. The low cut had turned Raoul’s hand knuckles out, and all he had to do was raise his arm to lift the blade away from the attempted bind and present the point directly to Caden’s chest and let him run into it with his fully-committed, explosive movement. All of which happened from well over a foot beyond the ability of the substantially shorter tiger hooks to reach his body. Apparently, the hardened warrior had forgotten some very fundamental rapier techniques, and had no concept that secunda transitioned into prima so smoothly.

If, after spitting himself like a pig for the roast, Caden still felt up to worrying about his left arm, which he had apparently locked back in his chambers three or four times today (which was probably for the best, considering that the rest of him had exploded three or four times already), then he would swiftly learn that Raoul had come dressed for a real fight with sharp implements, not for an SCA bout. As actual armor, and not a prop, Raoul’s plate included substantial besagews, and any remaining gaps were still protected by heavy mail and the gambeson beneath. His goofy upwards jab would have had little to no chance of actually severing major arteries even if he hadn’t already impaled himself on Raoul’s sword. It was slightly less stupid than his initial impulse to stab directly into the side of the breastplate, at least, where it would have had less than zero chance of penetrating the plate armor even if Raoul taken the armor off and laid it on a table at a convenient height and angle for him to strike.

Not that Raoul would simply stand still and let it happen, of course. Caden would have to run up four feet of rapier before he could get close enough to make a jabby dagger-style strike anywhere near Raoul’s armpit. No matter how explosive his movement, clearing that distance would take Caden time. And in that time, Raoul, he of the mongoose reflexes, would already be gone. Twisting clockwise as Caden had fully committed to his move to Raoul’s right, the fencer slid gracefully back and away, like water flowing around a stone.

With a cheerful laugh, he again squeezed the rubber ducky. Squeak.

Caden imagined a great deal after impaling himself on Raoul’s sword, apparently. For example, he imagined a world where he had launched his attack from several feet closer than he actually had because he apparently thought two short steps that weren’t even directly towards his opponent would carry a person ten feet closer to him. Or perhaps one in which he could teleport himself forward. Or one where could go back in time, and pretend the phrase “from well outside of Caden’s measure” had never been written.

But he didn’t live in that world, and so Raoul’s attack had been launched from well outside Caden’s measure, exactly as written, no matter how hard he wished it hadn’t been after the fact.

He also imagined a world where lifting a hand meant the exact same thing as lifting a sword. One where he could at the same time pretend to have expertise and also pretend he didn’t know what the shift from Secunda to Prima entailed. One where pushing out and down against a sword near the point would prevent it from slipping the bind at pointing directly at his chest because his parry was sloppy and he was too busy “chambering” his off-hand to apply any defensive measures.

But he didn’t live in that world, and so Raoul’s blade had slid up when his own moved down, sliding right off of it and presenting the tip to Caden’s body.

He went on to imagine a world where Raoul would be required to thrust rather than simply hold the sword and watch Caden’s committed, explosive motion cause him to leap chest-first onto the point like a suicidal maniac that had no idea how swords work. One where careless berserker charges would carry the day against skilled fighters.

But he didn’t live in that world, and so Raoul standing and holding his ground for a fraction of a second would be sufficient to put a foot of steel through Caden’s chest.

Caden then imagined a world where sloppy little jabby motions had the power of a warbow to penetrate armor. A world where people would ever bother to wear heavy armor if some goon with a knife could just stab right through it. One where low-power movements were the equivalent to some of the most powerful weapons of the age. One where actual battle armor was the equivalent of junky Museum Replicas costume pieces.

But he didn’t live in that world, and he could not stab through actual plate armor that way to injure the man wearing it, and neither could war bows, even at close range.




He then went on to imagine a world where a person wearing plate armor from the start only had “retroactive protection” against attacks rather than protection clearly described and presented from the start. Where simply denying plain facts could make any attempts to point them out retroactive. Where his utter lack of actual knowledge and expertise would be flashed up for all to see, and if it was, he could just bullshit his way out of it without anyone noticing.

But he didn’t live in that world, and he was making an ass of himself.

Next, Caden imagined a world where wearing plate armor, and then stabbing him in the chest, and then moving out of the way added up to “nothing to prevent Caden from closing in or striking.” One where all of his imagined worlds came together perfectly such that he had somehow gained complete freedom to stab Raoul in the armpit and then move around him some more and push him down and call himself the winner of a match in which he had literally jumped onto the point of his opponent’s sword.

But he didn’t live in that world, and none of it had come together for him, no matter how much he imagined that it might.

Then, for some reason, he imagined a world where plate armor was largely restrictive of movement and knights were basically turtles that couldn’t get up if they were pushed onto their backs. One where plate armor was essentially a 100lb straitjacket, apparently rendering the premier soldiers of their time unable to move and fight effectively.

But alas, he didn’t live in that world, either, and people in plate armor could move around just fine.





And so, Raoul had slipped away from his opponent, opting for forego the cartwheel or ninja roll at the moment.

Fortunately, the arena wards would prevent a sword in the chest from killing Caden, but that was really the only thing he had going for him. If he stayed on his feet and wanted to pretend he hadn’t just lost, he would find Raoul standing, sword in hand, in the same relaxed ready position, squeaking the rubber duck threateningly.