First Standoff

My joints unbolted. Weight pressed hard into my heels against the grain of the wood. Directly ahead stood an opponent, silent and motionless in his blue quill crest. I focused tension into my hands, curling them until the spiked gloves locked tight. I stepped forward, closed the distance, and tapped his chest plate with my knuckles to test his guard. A dry click echoed off the tabletop. He did not shift, but my balance held solid. I am awake, grounded, and ready for whatever comes.