Rose Valley Shenanigans

The Spar

A precise battle meant not to hurt, but to prove someone's worth. A spar. Or, at least, that was the human interpretation. A reaper spar went further than that. Humans might stop at submission or first blood, but reapers might go to knock-out or inability to fight.
The thought made Eric slightly nervous as he mounted his horse. Sure, he had been training for years now, but still. One good hit to his old wounds on his left side, or a good tug on his limp left leg, and he would be falling from his horse to his submission.

Lonely Soul moved under him, sensing his nervousness. The horse looked back and nuzzled his friend, gently nibbling on his sleeve. It caused a smile, which made him wicker softly and drop his head, satisfied. His owner was happy, he was happy.

Eric sighed. He was done with strapping into his handmade high-backed saddle. It supported his back quite high with a huge cantle that ended in two arms, had a deep seat carved to his dimensions, a fender to strap his dead leg to on the left side and a huge gullet and horn to keep him from tipping over forwards. If anything, it resembled a medieval human saddle without the jockeys. He shifted in his seat, then looked up when Grell called.

"Hey, Eric! Be ready to get your ass kicked! I'll try to spare that pretty face!" she called over, standing ready with her scythe in one hand, the other on her hip. She would be helping him prove his worth today, and it was not just for anyone. The Lead of Rose Valley was watching, judging his progress.

Grell would not be holding back, he knew. And if he was actually going to show the Lead what he had been doing these last three years, he would not hold back either. It was his punishment, after all, and the Lead had been keeping a close eye on him. If the six reapers wanted a thousand demons from a paralysed man, they would have to be patient.

"What pretty face?" Eric called back, readying his own scythe. Deactivated and dull when he received it, he had smithed it into a long, spear-like implement to his own liking. A double bullhook. A demon-killer.

The roar of Grell's scythe told him where she was more than his sight ever would. She was coming to his right side, an overhead strike. Eric let out a breath, then blocked the chainsaw in one of his hooks, Lonely rearing to take Grell's weight.

Her little impressed noise ended when the blinded reaper swung her over his shoulder and Lonely bucked. 

Eric got the quality of his horse training skills confirmed when Lonely didn't even flinch. Grell landed on the gelding's hips, soon after jumping away to take her distance. She licked her lips. Her first taste tasted like more. More of this brand new fighting style, more of this new Eric.

A moment of silence. The roar of Grell's scythe was quieted for a moment before it began anew. This time she came from the front, jumping horizontally to land in front of him on the saddle. Her scythe followed in a big, diagonal slash.

It went further than it should have. Eric bent forward, dodging the scythe. Not a moment after he brought up his own, ramming the butt of it on her right shoulder with all his cold, dead determination.

Grell lost her balance and had to jump down, stabbing at Eric's left leg as she did. Lonely jumped the stab, flying over the chainsaw. He turned and kicked, connecting in her chest.

"Good boy," Eric grinned as Grell was knocked back, lying on the ground for a moment. It was just a moment before she disappeared altogether.

Eric growled. "Not fair!" he called, turning to look to his left. Of course she would come from his blind side.

"I'm not that brutish, Eric!" sounded Grell's voice from the right before pain flared up in the mounted reaper's right back and shoulder. The air was knocked out of his lungs when he was forced forward and to the left, but it also allowed him to twist and hook his scythe into her and pull with all his might, drawing a dagger with his left.

The dust settled, allowing the Lead their look at the winner.

Eric and Grell were in a deadlock, it appeared at first glance. Eric had his scythe hooked into her right shoulder, crossing the staff over her chest to force her against the horn of the saddle. Her legs wouldn't find any purchase on the tack, not with Eric's left leg blocking any movement. Her right arm was useless, her left gripping the right side of the saddle and her scythe. It was against Eric's head, making a dangerous statement of near-death.

Yet it had stopped roaring and didn't harm Eric. The deadlock was a chokehold when you looked closer; while Grell had her scythe pointed at Eric's head, she couldn't move it, not without risking further injury- or maiming herself with the dagger held against her throat.

"E-Eric, you've changed a lot, geez!" Grell got out with a grin, struggling to move. The bullhook dug deeper into the bone of her shoulders. The pain prompted her to stop.

"I have," Eric confirmed. "I've gotten stronger," he looked dead serious despite his face being screwed up in his own pain. His chest and back flared with every struggling breath, but he was not going to let go.

His sparring partner let out a happy, purring noise. Blood slowly trickled from her lips, staining her shark-like teeth crimson. "I'm liking this tougher act," she tried to wrestle free again.

Eric hissed. The longer he held her there, the worse his back was screaming, and her struggling didn't help!

Lonely let out a sigh beneath them, dropping his head to graze.

"Do you yield?" Eric asked, blood welling up from the dagger when he pressed it deeper into her throat.

"I yield, I yield," Grell blurted. "Easy, Slingby, you're going to kill me!"

The man smiled at that, patting Lonely's neck. The horse laid down at the command. "Heh! I think not," he gently set her down, letting go of his bullhook to untangle them. "Are you okay?" he asked, seeing her put a hand over the weapon stuck in her shoulder.

"I'll be fine," with a growl she pulled the hook out of her shoulder, part of her muscle coming loose too. Wasn't that a bother, she had to go see the medics... "What about you?" she looked him over. He appeared okay, but with the sheer amount of pain he had been hiding the past three years it was trying to read a cat.

The mounted reaper coughed a few times. "Gah," he admitted with a grimace, "you had to break my ribs?!"

"Can't let you go without a scratch, now can I?" Grell took his outstretched hand to sit behind the saddle with a smile, giving Lonely a pat.

At that Eric chuckled. It made him flinch. "I suppose," he agreed, steering Lonely to where the Lead was waiting. "So, any thoughts?" he looked back over his right shoulder at her.

Grell grinned at him. "You're too defensive for my liking, but I think you are ready, darling. Eric Demonslayer," she tried it out. "I love it!" She appeared humbled but very happy for him. "Or did you have something else in mind?"

Eric hummed, turning his head back forward. "The Lone Wolf." he smiled. They began to trot, then canter. To new beginnings, and a new life.