Duel:Bastrien v Reinhardh, 2
Bastrien vs. Reinhardh
- Judges: Soltinn, Liana, and Jacklin
- Winner: Reinhardh, unanimous.
Reinhardh ambles into the crossing, trudging on this path until the wayward road leads him to face Bastrien. The flowing of his garments cease as the male halts, twisting his upper half to perform a humble bow to his opponent. "May the best man win." He say, and assumes his stalwart stance. As in the same motion of returning to levelness, the Spell Blade is quick in grasping the ivory and black wood grip of his crossbow once held by the late Eshton. Tilting on his heels, the male raises the bolt-shooter to shoulder and eye level as he sights Bastrien, and releases two bolts with unerring nerve towards the avian's chest. The clicks sound as the arrows soar away from the Rogue, and are revealed to be more than just ordinary cross bow bolts; one arrow froths with a blue tint, that will freeze any limb upon impact, or at least render it numb and ineffective for use in a battle, anyway. And the second arrow glows incandescent with great heat, and regardless if the first one strikes true to slow Bastrien, the second arrow will have greater chance as it is spelled to split into many needles, and thus barrage the avian like quills from a razor beast. Releasing his aim, Reinhardh discards the bolt thrower to the ground and unsheathes his sword for a fight that would likely be brought to him.
Bastrien watches his opponent approach. Bow in turn, he readies himself for the inevitable attack. Not disappointed, he watches as the crossbow is unlimbered and fired his way. Feeling that pain would be more desirable in this battle than a useless limb, he spins away from the blue arrow, directly into the high velocity quills. Searing hot pain shoots up his side as the needles pierce into his thigh and lower back. Drawing his weapon, Bastrien turns towards Reinhardh and with a tremendous flap of his wings, propels himself across the surface of the earth. Using his free hand to draw a smaller blade, he brings them both to bear, sure that one will hit it's mark.
Reinhardh watches with satisfaction as the side of Bastrien is pocked with stabbing hot needles that embed piously within his form, making him an unfortunate pin cushion on whim. Reinhardh tenses himself to ready Basrtien's relentless advance, analyzing the way his torso moves for his beginning strike. As the Avian kicks up dirt, dust, and debris, the Spell Blade raises his sword and attempts to break the assault. Like mighty titans, the clash of steel reverberates with a shower of sparks as the Spell Blade is pushed against his footing yet stands strong, and attempts to move against the tide, halting Bastrien to a stand still in the air where he could be very vulnerable. The jarring impact slows him down little, the Ex Knight glad his disjointed shoulder had allowed to heal, else he would have been in for a unpleasant experience in stopping Bastrien as he does. With this opportune moment to strike, Reinhardh pushes forward and attempts to latch his gauntleted hand onto Bastrien’s ankle and whip him from the air like an abused child. The knight tilts his momentum as he jerks the avian, attempting to throw him into the dirt to crash on his back and break a bone or two.
Bastrien slams into the swordsman's defence, the clang of steel almost painfully loud to his senstive, Avian ears. Realizing the position he'd put himself in, he tries to draw back, but is a second to slow. As he feels the hand closes around his ankle, he flap his wings instinctively. He feels the spell blade's grip slip slightly, but not enough to stop the assault. Suddenly unable to tell up from down, vertigo sets in as he's slammed towards the ground. He flares his wings one last time. As feathered appendage meet hard ground, both combatants hear the crunch. Bastrien cries out, the pain unlike anything he'd felt before. Right away adrenaline sets in, pushing almost all the pain from his mind. He could worry about that later. Rolling to his back, he plunges the aforementioned dagger into a joint in Reinhardh's leggings. Then jumping to his feet, he leaps backwards, giving both men a moment to breathe.
Reinhardh waits near his opponent's feet, a pernicious grin overcoming his features as he grounds Bastrien. A hand inches to grasp the leather coiled hilt of the short sword strapped to his hip but fails to procure as a sharp pain cuts into the lightly armored thigh of the Spell Blade; turning out to be Bastrien's loosed dagger. The human staggers back as a small trickle of red fluid can be seen staining the male's leggings, leading him to clutch the area instinctively, the pain temporarily overcoming him. With a shaken breath, Reinhardh regains his bearings and stands as straight as his legs would offer. Knowing his wounded appendage would not carry him far, he eyes Bastrien and tugs on the hilt of his brand, releasing it from its sure prison. "One can't forget the lessons pain teaches." With this he raises his brand and clutches it's handle tightly. At first a myriad of embers trickle on the male's knuckles, bleeding into the steel of his weapon and shortly calling upon the flames of the magic realm to his aid. With his magnificent weapon burning brightly, Reinhardh changes stances only slightly enough to turn his form to face Bastrien sideways. Holding out his sword behind him, he would breath serenely and concentrating on absorbing the essence of mana within the air to unleash his next attack. His sights held Bastrien in them as the male was thus ready, and twisted his body with a slash of his sword into the air. The chaotic burst of energy would ignite itself as a glint of wind dashed against the field, like an explosive swing of a broad sword by that of a giant. If Bastrien stood in its way, he would find the sickle of energy to slice off a limb or his separate his legs from his torso.
Bastrien stares at Reinhardh, his eyes watering slightly from the pain he could not allow to posses him. Rolling back his shoulders, he grasps the hilt of his sword firmly in one hand, bringing it vertically across his chest, ready to attack. He watches at the spell blade begins to concentrate. Knowing what is coming next. Bastrien shifts his stance to one of cautious offence. Beginning to circle his opponent, he feels the air shift around him as the tendrils of flame start to form on Reinhardh's hands. Wishing to close the gap between them to prevent the now flaming sword from being able to gain too much momentum, he swings his sword mightily towards the onrushing weapon. However, what one might not see is the Avian'slips forming a quick string of words. "Kie'shara Ahmnich elohim." With this quickly uttered prayer, he imbues his own sword with his own, albeit much less powerful, Holy magics. The clang of steel once more echoes through the Forest surrounding Kelay as the two swords collide. Bastrien's own spell kept the flaming steel from smashing through his own, but upon contact with the flames, dissipates. Focusing all his might on keeping the flaming sword off his body, Bastrien begins to flap his wings. Reinhardh's pressure was keeping him grounded, and slowly forcing him towards the dirt, but this could be an advantage. With each stroke of his wings, more and more dust from the heavily trodden path was stirred up, blinding both combatants and spectators alike. With almost all of what was left of his strength, Bastrien pushes off the swords and leaps into the air. Lacking the strength to stay airborne, he dives towards a partially blinded Reinhardh, slamming into his weak side, sending both rolllng and sprawling into the dirt. He could only pray that his heavier armour would protect him more than the magicians lighter coverings.
Reinhardh engages Bastrien in close combat once more, as he wished. Their steel clashes together in a mixture of fire and sparks, the Ex-Knight keeping Bastrien at bay but feeling the soreness of his arms for this endeavor. As the lock is broken, Reinhardh grunts and stumbles in place, the stirred up debris doing nothing except annoying the man and stifling fresh breathing. Reinhardh could easily see through Bastrien's game, his wings aided in his own undoing as the flapping of feathers pushed the area of dust, removing the plume from combatant's sights rather easily. Instead of being ran through and having the air knocked out of him, Reinhardh quickly topples into a dive to the side; the motion aggravating his bloodied limb via shock and vibration. The sweeping avian could be left to tumble into the dirt on his own as Reinhardh knelt just a few feet away, balancing himself as he was convinced to see the end of the duel. He glances at Bastrien, a gaze of mechanical malice and coolness being spoken, as well as a fierce, confident grin. The sound of his sword entering its scabbard emits briefly as the male stands and fixes his cloak, his part being played and now the only thing left is the judgment of those that held eye on this affair, deciding on which man would win or lose.