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The sound of crystal and steel crashing against each other filled the small confines with an almost musical chime as the two combatants met. Cyrus' initial swipe was met with a forced block, and the gnome pressed forward in response, using the haft of her spear as a quarterstaff and applying pressure against the legionnaire's sword arm and chest. Where Cyrus might have been taken aback by the gnome's aggressive manuver prior to engaging the creature in combat, once the fight had begun, the soldier was an entirely different entity. He did not yet give in to his demons; those writhing tendrils of fiery rage and bloodlust that lurked within his spirit, but he approached the fight with a methodical gift for violence that would chill most mortal men.
As he felt the pressure forcing him back, the young legionnaire's left hand shot upwards and firmly grasped ahold of the spear haft. It was a move that usually required a heavy gauntlet in swordplay, but Cyrus' long fingers had no trouble wrapping around the weapon's smooth wooden surface. In the same moment, his back left leg planted itself firmly, toes pointed forty-five degrees to the left of the direction that Cyrus faced. The stable platform would give Cyrus something to brace himself against in the face of the gnome's pressure, and if the creature exherted enough force to try and topple the legionnaire, it could be redirected in the manner perfected by Ataa practictioners. Though the soldier had little schooling in true Zinn'ka, he had enough experiance brawling in taverns and alleys to be somewhat familiar with the nuances of close, personal combat.
Not giving his foe time to register his hold upon her weapon, Cyrus jerked backwards as hard as he could with his left arm. His strength was formidable for a man of his size, and it was his intention to throw the gnome off balance, using the pressure that she was already applying in conjunction with his own move. As his left hand wrenched the spear-wielding gnome closer, his right leg shot out in a formless, rudementary front snap-kick, aimed at the gnome's knee. Cyrus hoped that his strike would break the creature's limb, shattering whatever concentration that she may have and making it easier for Cyrus to disarm her. He spared not a thought for the gnome children that still cheered from atop the spear rack, for a crippled mother was still preferable to a dead one.
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