faderift | [ OPEN ] Well I can't stand to be with myself, this liberation's seemingly rare

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[ OPEN ] Well I can't stand to be with myself, this liberation's seemingly rare

WHO: Zevran and Various
WHAT: Zevran sparring and dealing
WHEN: Throughout Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Violence, swearing, usual Zevran Content Warnings Apply. Open prompt below, poke me on plurk for a closed starter. Prose or actionspam welcome!

As much as he'd protested Alistair running off on some mission in the west- the time apart gives him that much more chance to train. He'd been doing so privately in the barn, occasionally squaring off against Settimo when they both had the time and patience for Settimo's paranoia and Zevran's over-adjustments for the blind side. Learning to fight with only one good eye is slowly driving Zevran to frustration. Settimo could not come at him hard enough to be a challenge, he could not learn his new limitations without a solid effort on both their parts.

Setting aside his vanity he takes to the training grounds- but working on stuffed dummies is only good for so much. Soon enough he is picking out soldiers and rogues to come at him in the dirt circle. Day to day it goes much the same. Zevran stands with bad eye covered and his swords, with his hands, with a single short sword and calls any that would step up to help him regain his awareness. It is, to be honest, slow going. More often than not if his opponent has any manner of skill he ends up on his ass. But he grits his teeth, stands, and goes at it again. And again. Afterward he recovers with the highlight of his training- a bucket of water to sluice off the sweat and grit of the day. Whether it's the relief the cold brings or the appreciative looks it tends to earn? He doesn't say. But thus he spends his days, training himself or wrestling with the fledglings, who will offer their own commentary and catcalling in Antivan during his other matches.

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"I am ready when you are." In battle the fights would not be half so fair but for the moment? He needs the warning. Time to settle himself into 'training' and 'nonlethal'. Dipping into his usual reflexes would be disastrous in this and he has no desire to truly harm Sam.

Honestly if he suspected that Zevran wasn't going to curb a bit of his skills to this sort of level he wouldn't agree to a match. Willingly putting himself at the mercy of a trained professional killer was not something he planned on doing. Not that he wasn't expecting to get a bit hurt, there was always that chance, just not sent to the healing tents himself.

Letting out a long exhale he steps closer, though still keeping out of Zevran's reach at the time. "Let's start then." That said Sam lowers himself into a stance, arms up to protect his face and sides if need be and shoulders squared for a hit.

"As you like." Zevran settles onto the balls of his feet, arms up, posture light and canted forward, coiled like a trap. He waits a moment to gauge the set of Sam's shoulder, where his weight lies before darting in, coming at him hard from the left. Bigger means further to fall, means longer reach (which is a given) but it also means a stilted center of gravity which he means to exploit. Zeveran attempts to hook a leg behind Sam's and an arm about his ribs for a pivot and twist. If he starts on his terms, he hopes to end on them as well.

With Zevran getting used to his blindside Sam had purposefully kept his left side lightly guarded, an easy way to draw the smaller man in without exerting himself, but equally prepared when and if he did. He has to stop himself from smiling when he sees the dash to the expected side, though he'll have to give Zevran props for the speed.

At feeling the arm connect to his chest he immediately raises his leg up and over the hook, setting his feet back down between Zevran's own. Krem's used that maneuver on him many times so he's gotten used to it from smaller opponents. Course he doubted Zevran could bodily lift him like the Charger.

With Zevran this close, Sam goes for a counter leg sweep, grabbing for Zevran's arm and then using his right leg in to yank the elf's own leg from under him.

There is a moment he thinks he might actually have it- his weight centered, his grip sure, and then abruptly? He does not. His leg goes out from under him and Zevran swiftly changes tack, hooking his arms about Sam's wrist and bringing his legs up to lock around his elbow, feet planted against his shoulder. It works better when he's already on the ground but-

Sam is tall enough and strong enough to be able to hold him up like this. Whether or not he can put a heel to his shoulder long enough in warning for the pull is something else entirely.

Sam allows himself a grin, perhaps a bit glad that he had caught Zevran off with countering that move. Course it's short lived when he suddenly finds an elf latched onto his arm. With the added weight to one side Sam teeters, and has to lean away to balance himself off from falling. There's a moment he can only blink, completely thrown off by the maneuver.

Alright, this was new.

When his arm starts to be pulled a little too far he hisses slightly, and in turn flexes in attempts to bend his elbow though that takes a lot of his energy to do so. Besides perhaps slamming Zevran into the ground to make him let go, Sam isn't quite sure how to deal with this situation. That being said, with his other arm he grabs onto one of Zevran's legs and tries to pry it off.

Arm locks work better when on the ground and when one had more leverage than simply hanging on for dear life while attempting to dislocate a shoulder without actually going through with the dislocation. Causing discomfort or some pain in a sparring match? Well and good. Actually injuring the other person? In the Crows they wouldn't bat an eye but this is Sam. Tempering his instincts is taking just as much work as learning new reflexes.

Sam tugs and he lets him have the one leg- slipping down Sam's arm and trying to hook the back of his knee over Sam's throat- not the easiest way to slip into a sleeperhold and not a position he expects to keep, but it's better than accidentally dislocating his arm.

Honestly it would be easier to deal with an arm lock if they were on the ground, at least there he would have the leverage and opportunity to counter the maneuver. Here though with Zevran coiled like a snake on him there wasn't much he could do. He's quite thankful that Zevran isn't actually looking to rip his arm from its socket, the thought having crossed his mind when he felt his joints start to strain.

Course having to argue with Fortitude in his head, it having sensed his pain, in the middle of the spar wasn't helping him try and figure something out. Having it talk wasn't distracting, but trying to explain what was going on and telling it not to react certainly was. In a regular fight the commentary and help would be most helpful.

For a moment he feels that he's made some progress when he manages to get one of Zevran's legs, but when the other moves to wrap around his neck he reflexively lets go to grab onto the other leg before it can fully get around his neck.

Apply pressure along the throat and-

Well it would be easier if he could keep his legs where he needed them and not scramble with Sam trying to pry them away. This has been one of the least successful attempts at pinning for the day by far since he'd gone at it wrong from the start, Zevran releases Sam's wrist and hang's in his grip for the moment it takes him to reorient himself and attempt to scramble away.

"I think I need to try this again, yes?"

Judging by the snickers and chuckles he can hear from the peanut gallery, the two of them have been a great source of entertainment. Honestly he would be chuckling too at how awkward they had been during all of it. Actually he is chuckling now that Zevran is detaching himself and moving out of his reach.

"Probably good to start over." A grin while he rotates the arm that Zevran had gotten into a hold. "For what it's worth that was a good move." Honestly if it weren't for Krem teaching him that probably would've landed him on his ass.

"If someone attempts that arm lock on you, fall backward. You will be able to control how you land- they will either have to let go or be stunned by the impact." A tip he can offer while working on his own skills as is only polite, after all. He rolls out his shoulders and readies himself for the next bout- hanging back to play defensive this time around.

"And if they go for the sleeper hold, slam on their knee, downward."

"I considered doing that, but I wasn't exactly looking to hurting you that much." He knows Zevran is a professional and that in sparring there were injuries, but he wasn't looking to get to the point of injury if he could help it.

The mention of slamming someone's knee has Sam wincing a bit, but he still nods. "Good to know." Hopefully he'll never need to use it.

Rolling his arm once more, Sam raises his arms again, this time lowering his center of gravity and beginning to step to the side, beginning a circling motion.

This time Zevran minds Sam's approach, circling right along with him as he considers his options. His usual flip and pin had not worked and likely a variation on it wouldn't work a second time. Sam's adjusted his stance to make such things more difficult all the same-

Perhaps it is better to react defensively and follow his usual (non-lethal) instincts.

Putting them both into motion certainly gives Sam time to consider a plan of action. Zevran is confident in his footing, but judging by his earlier attack he still had issues with his blindside. Taking that into consideration, Sam lunges, aiming to grab hold of Zevran's arm and shoulder.

A solid lunge- Sam has the reach for it and aside from falling back? There is little for Zevran to do. He darts, skidding a little on the ground as he finds his footing, twisting in under Sam's arm to snap a hand out at his ribs. A love tap, truly, should it hit.

Zevran is certainly quick, and while Sam sees it coming there is little he can do to block - not unless he used magic, which he wasn't. The hit has Sam hissing, and his only saving grace was that Zevran was probably going easy on him and for the fact that he was used to harder hits. Even so the pain doesn't have him backing off, instead Sam brings his arms in to try and catch Zevran while he's within his reach.

A hiss is sign enough for Zevran- and he dials back to old, old training. Come in fast, strike, disengage. The strike was successful and he smirks to himself as he attempts the last, darting back. or. Trying to as Sam catches him by the shoulder and he is unbalanced.

The grip isn't very good, but even so Sam tries to pull Zevran back, or at least keep him off balance. Pressing the slight second of advantage he sweeps his leg towards Zevran's in hopes in taking them from under him.

This time Zevran cannot quite dodge the leg, landing with a grunt, more winded from the earlier bruises than the actual fall. Still he scrambles, attempting to find his feet before Sam goes for the pin.

Zevran goes down a lot easier than he had expected, losing his grip on his shoulder in the process. Tsking at the bit of advantage he had, Sam quickly moves to try and indeed get Zevran into a pin, or at least to get a hold of one of his legs, and perhaps an arm as the man scrambles, feeling his hands slide a bit against skin or cloth when he tries to get a grip.

Well.

This is awkward.

Half pinned in the dust by someone much larger than him and too bruised and tired to put together a way to squirm out just yet, Zevran grunts when Sam's weight bears down. Brasca. "You are at an advantage, here."

Awkward indeed.

Even though he hears Zevran give a grunt he doesn't let up on his hold, knowing that without hearing a 'yield' of some sort, the man was more than likely to take advantage and get away, or put him in a worse position. Still, he doesn't press harder.

"You did challenge me to a match after doing a few beforehand," he points out, tilting his head a bit.

He takes a moment to consider his options. His shoulders, the dust under his cheek, the snickering laughter of his fledglings on the fence. This is most undignified and-

He is weary.

With a great sigh, he murmurs. "I yield."

It isn't half so fun as it could be, truly. "Perhaps tomorrow when I have learned to not push myself so far, we might try again?"

As soon as the words 'I yield' are muttered, Sam is quick to release, but doesn't back off. Instead he rests his hands on his knees and watches Zevran, breathing deep and controlled. After a moment though he offers out a hand, lips curling a bit.

"Or perhaps make sure I'm just as bruised and tired as you before." He chuckles lightly at that, not at all minding the snickers. "You know the least I can do after all that is heal you up a bit. At least so you aren't so sore."

Zevran is content to lay in the dirt for a moment, rolling out his shoulders before rolling over to take Sam's hand on the way up. "Now that would be hardly fair of me."

Not that he wouldn't try, truly. "I would appreciate that, Sam. I think I took, perhaps, a few hard landings more than I'd expected."

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