"You wish to duel me? To what end?" Sten asked, raising his white eyebrow. Ahne had trained often against Alistair, and they were familiar with each others' styles, sparring had become rote and more often than not, they ended in a draw. Not to say that Alistair was boring or untalented, it was just that they knew how the other fought, intimately, and so their skill was evenly matched. She needed new blood, and Sten needed a good smack around the ring.
"To test our skills against one another, learn to battle an opponent who wields a different style than yourself," Ahne explained.
"I already know how to fight, there is no point to this battle. Besides, I will win, it would reflect poorly upon you when I defeat you." Ahne's eyes narrowed, and through sheer strength of virtue, and a few deep breaths, did she manage to keep her composure under Sten's verbal joust.
"Really then," Ahne growled, planting her feet shoulder length apart, and putting her hands behind her back. She looked very much the general about to issue an order, which she was. "Go suit up and then meet me in the ring."
"As you wish."
Sten curtly bowed and went to fetch his equipment, the heavy plate called 'Effort' was meticulously shined. A Qunari prided not only their weapons, forged for their hands alone, but in diligent care of the equipment that protected their bodies. In this, Ahne shared an affinity for the giant man. Her teachers had always insisted she take care of her belongings, intoning that if she took care of them, they would take care of her. Thus far, it had served her well.
Seeing the Qunari was almost finished, Ahne stalked over to the makeshift training ring they had erected in camp. There were training dummies used interchangeably for hand to hand combat, weapon practice, or archery, so the poor mannequins had seen a lot of use. Still, Ahne wasn't going to be carving them up today. Today, it was Sten's turn to find out where exactly he belonged.
The Qunari hoped over the jury-rigged fence, coming toward her at an easy yet cautious pace. Asala, the sword she had gone to great lengths to find, flowed easily in his hands as he rotated it beside each arm. To the untrained, it looked like a fancy way to show off, a way of intimidating her by showing how well he could move the blade. But in reality, aside from its fancy movements, its was a great way to warm up the muscles. She gave the man credit, he wasn't coming in cold, and had at least enough respect for her to acknowledge that she could fight.
"Hit me if you can." Ahne goaded, both eager to begin and annoyed at Sten's earlier arrogance.
Ahne planted her left foot, putting a light amount of weight on her right foot. She wanted freedom to move, and so she would not deliver the first blow, she'd wait for Sten. He already saw her as weaker than him, and would not wait to allow her the first opportunity to strike at him. Just as she had predicted, his sword came down. She easily stepped to the side, now favoring her left foot for the follow-up swing she expected. Sten delivered, but she was nowhere close to his blade.
Far from being angered that he could not hit her, Ahne knew he was annoyed that she favored a more cowardly technique, to run from his powerful swings rather than meet them head on. She was playing on this, using his own preconceived notions to delude his ability to watch her actions, watch how she moved, watched how dangerous a foe she could really be. Where he relied on strength, she relied on speed. If he hit her once, the blow would be devastating, but she had armor to protect her. If she got in close to Sten, she'd hit him not just once, but up to five times before she'd had to move out of reach of his great sword. Her blows might not deliver the same punch as his, but she'd eat through his defenses faster.
Sten brought his sword in an overhead arc, that angled down on her left side, expertly delivered, she admitted. To a lesser adversary, this blow would have cleaved right through their armor, maybe even gouging them in the process. However, she was not there when the blade came in level at her. It did, however, open up the opportunity she had been waiting for and danced in close to Sten.
She swept in low, aiming for the inside leg, getting Starfang in the inner thigh, and hooking Veshialle in the straps behind the Qunari's calf. Using her momentum as she came up, she brought her weapons with her and the giant lost his balance, and came toppling down to the ground. It was a one time cheap shot, but it would give the Qunari second thoughts on how to deal with this 'inferior' woman.
Anhe came to Sten's head, planting Starfang at his throat. "Get up." She ordered.
"As you command." He intoned, and did as he was told. This time, she did not give Sten the chance to test her reflexes. The moment he was up, she charged, meeting Asala as he brought it up to defend himself, but only just barely. Her weapons clanged against his, and she pushed his blade aside. She stepped in again, striking successfully twice on his breastplate before she had to retreat from his blade.
As the duel raged, Ahne found herself sweating and smiling, her eyes burning with intense hunger. Sten was proving to be quite the adversary. Where she traded in light, quick blows, he used heavy and slow blows, but he was not a novice at his craft. He kept himself well guarded, allowing only fractional blows from Ahne to land. Still, as the sweat dripped off his blows, and still unsuccessful in landing a blow on her, she was emerging the victor.
The others lined the wooden beams that made up the makeshift pen, watching as Ahne danced around the Qunari giant. They were at first curious as to why Ahne had chosen him as a parring partner over Alistair, then were drawn in by the show. Ahne's enthusiasm for fighting was evident with every passing second, a smile of rapt pleasure tugging at the ends of her lips. The longer she persisted, the more she faced Sten's looming blade, the better, and happier she seemed to become. It was entrancing for the onlookers to watch.
Finally, Ahne decided Sten had had enough and moved in as he prepared to wind up for another big swing. She brought her axe across his midsection, pushing him back a step, followed it with Starfang, knocking him off balance, then once again brought Veshialle towards Sten, this time driving it into his head. The Qunari fell to the ground, and Ahne brought her plated foot atop Asala, preventing him from raising it. The man would never drop it from his hands, especially in battle, and therefore, he was successfully considered pinned.
"I have underestimated you, Qa'dan." Sten admitted, and tension Ahne didn't even know she had been carrying flowed out of her in one deep breath.
"Just remember who you pledged your life to. Do not judge me for the decisions I make, or you can march your ass back to your people without an answer. In this camp, you will obey me, or I will turn you out. Am I understood?" Ahne spoke gruffly, her anger at his constant challenges showing.
"As you wish." Sten said, rising to his feet as Ahne removed her foot from the blade. To her surprise, and immense please, he seemed. . .pleased that she had asserted herself over the man. Taught him his place, took a Leader's position. She sighed, realizing the mistakes she had made with him.
Sten was a military man, used to being given orders and following them. His men were honorable, but instead of standing by her decisions as she made them, he'd question her, and her 'explanations' had only seemed like excuses to him, pathetic assurances to placate him, He needed to know that her main focus was the Blight, and she had been feeding him insecurities and dalliances.
"Thank you for the honor of battling you, Qa'dan." Sten said, bowing to her respectfully. She nodded in reply but said nothing else. He was finally handing over his defiance and settling into the role he'd served all his life. Soldier.