Duel:Kasyr v Virros

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Kasyr strode quietly to one end of the battleground to be, feet bringing him close to the precipe before he paused. His gaze traveled over the edge for a moment, gauging how far of a drop it was before moving to observe the one he was to face. With a sigh and a slight shake of his head, the human moved his right hand to his back, removing the sheathed bastard sword from its habitual position with some small degree of care. "I suppose given blades are to be the only means of offense, My sheathes out of the question, oui?" Whether true or not, he didn't really care, left hand grasping firmly upon the scabbard so he could draw forth his blade with one clean motion, that pleasent ring of metal filling the air. With the weapon freed, that which he held within his left hand was twirled about in a swift circle, up until it was a veritable blur, by which point the guardian flicked it upwards, sending that inelegnant combination of leather and metal arcing upwards and away from the two of them. It was then that he lunged forth, using what he hoped was some slight degree of distraction provided to gain a minute advantage, figuring even a half pace gained betwixt the two with him unprepared could lead to an err on his opponents part. Kasyr wasted no time in closing that distance, feet pounding wildly against the ground in a beat that throbbed with the primal urge for violence, a fitting composition for the action which came in tandem. Shifting his right arm out in a wide arc, his grip upon the blade's hilt was redoubled before he swung it forth in a wild arc, the tip of the blade made to seem as though it were aimed for the mans throat, however as the manic dash was continued, his own weight would be shifted downwards, and his body would twist to the right, figuring a sudden arcing to a diagonal slash might provide a bit of an entertaining fare for an opening move.

Virros views his human adversary with little contempt, considering that he is an ally, but a battle is to be had nonetheless. The battle Kasyr is bringing to him, as the knight charges toward the dwarf. Through the iron slits of his face mask, the steadfast paladin watches the immense bastard sword descend quickly upon his oafish form. In response, he thrusts his blessed alabaster shield to the upper part of his assailed side, on track to block the blistering blow that would be caused. The impact hits hard; the clang reverberates off the cliff top and the area succumbs to a dull ringing sound that endures for a few moments. The stoic hunter is thrown off his feet onto the untravelled gravel, and the back of his chest plate scrapes the road and grinds some loose particles of dirt. Virros wearily picks himself back to his feet, and drops his gloved hand to the cold golden hilt of Daybreak. With a swift tug upwards, the sword is drawn, creating little more than a waft of noise from the unsheathing. Pressing the warm aureate blade near his lips, he utters the word “Hold.” Instantly, a white glowing tentacle grows about the human’s feet, entrapping him with light. Sensing a moment of vulnerability, the prudent paladin advances the few steps necessary the get within sword range of Kasyr, and lifts his arm to the sky. With a roar, he brings the glaive downward in a slash, attempting to cleave the knight’s arm off.

Kasyr 's eyes flared open in a momentary expression of surprise, those orbs of shade most oft comparable to that of pitch showing an uncharacteristic amount of distress at the approaching tendril of a mystic nature. Perhaps its the recollection of the loss that had been suffered the last time such a horrid bit of spellcraft had been wielded against him, or perhaps something related moreover to his nature, but irregardless the guardian had made every single attempt at backing forth from it, only to find himself bound by those forces currently beyond his ken. His own being did not fail him however, energies already being consumed by his own bizarre resistance, weakening that which held him in place to the point where he could manage the barest fragment of an awkward slide back, turning his sword arm away from the paladin in a desperate attempt at defending his sole means of counterattack, equilibrium almost lost in his attempt at evasion. It is however the blade which results in his crash to the rocky earth, tearing through what meager bit of wear he commonly sported as some poor manner of 'protection' with ease, that bit of armour he had acquired ever so illegally shorn through as though it were naught but a cotton shirt due to the keen edge of his foes arnament allowing the vulnerable flesh beneath to be mangled and maimed, rendering the limb interposed all but useless. Its with a grim hiss that the guardians form resumes its normal movements, that which had sealed his actions fully consumed by his person and contained for the moment, though his growing ire was now fully unleashed. Lashing his head forth in a vicious fashion, he'd affix a muderous gaze upon his tormentor before pressing the hand which still clinged fastidiously to his own implement of carnage, righting himself to a standing positon with a vigor fuelled by his unnatural state of being and that bloodlust which began to taint his mind. Cold steel was the swift rebuttal towards the dwarfs dangerous offensive, a blade swung forth with such devastating precision given its wielder was so aggrievously wounded, the bastard sword coming in an upward arc during his return to a standing state, no particular reason to the blow save for the letting of blood, before its momentum was allowed to carry it away from its target. The time gained during its retreat from virros'es form was then used to adjust it on a diagonal arc, intent to be to slam it directly the dwarfs shoulder in sheer spite of the damage done, unforunately leaving the human rather open to a counter attack, as intermingling pangs of fatigue and agony ran through his form due to his own recklessness.

Virros attempts to block the dreadful attack with another deflection of his ivory shield, but is unable to respond quickly enough to subdue the fast human, and in return feels the cold steel blade of the bastard sword enter smoothly into his shoulder. He curses under his breath as raising the shield created a gap in his heavy armoring, allowing the greatsword easy access to his rough meat. The pained paladin opens his lips and exhales a scream of sharp pain, and trickles of deep red blood dribble from the wound and drop to the earth with tiny plopping sounds. Stepping directly onto the pool of life-giving vitae, the injured dwarf retreats several shuffling paces backward, and grimaces. This battle was taking its toll on him, just as his previous one had. Remembering his wound once again, Virros drops his sacred shield to the ground, lessening the load on his bad arm, and levels a glare directly into the eyes of Kasyr, his electric eyes crackling and sparking with energy and remaining vigor. Mustering up this vigor, the paladin launches a counterattack upon the knight, deftly feinting high once, and threateningly diving the blade downward, thrusting twice down low with all his might, searching for that chink in the armor between the belt and the platemail.

Kasyr granted Virros the barest of malicous smirks, a malignant nature apparent within his expression, seeming to almost revel in the chaos of the battle at hand, albeit those winces which betrayed his own agony with every breath and movement made. That facial mannerism better suited to most other miscreants persevered even upon his current rivals approach, refusing to part from barely parting lips up until steel first shore through the achilles heels of his own defenses. The guardians expression then wavered, gaze fixating down upon that river of a sanguine substance which rushed forth from the newly formed wound, one eye seeming to widen at the unexpected appearance of such a gaping wound. Careless. He wasn't used to wearing armour, it robbed him of much of the mobility he used to better those he habitually ended up in conflict against, and it was quite apparent in how easily his foe had picked through his defenses. Foolish. Barely pulling out of the momentary reverie to take notice of the secondary thrust, his defense came a few moments to late, the haphazard clashing of blades failing to fully send its target askew, resulting in a fair portion of his side being removed in a gruesome display. Reckless. Those eyes of a midnight shade narrowed, before his sword arm was pulled back and his own form staggered forward to crash into the dwarfs, intent on slamming his blade up into the mans upper torso with barbarous zeal, a subconscious power to present itself quite ~fortuitously~. As the weapon was withdrawn for a moment in preparation of the strike, all those energies which had been drawn from the holding spell flowed forth into the blade, an easy conduit due to those wild emotions which ran through the guardians mind, granting the blades edge a deadly keen, and a sounder impact should it strike, and more than allowing it the capability to be simply shredded out of the dwarves side with a simple but brutal jerk of his arm should it run his foe through...which is quite simply what Kasyr intended to do by this point.

Virros widens his viridian eyes in unrequited fear as the magically-induced bastard sword chops cleanly through the bottom of his weathered breastplate. The well-aimed blade slices into his side, embedding itself into his soft waist. The paladin glances down and about his new wound, and examines it thoroughly before the pain grips him. A scream erupts from inside his face mask, and the cry echoes off the metal walls of his iron helmet and facemask, ringing each piece of armor respectively. As the ringing abates, Virros shuts his eyes, hiding their emerald hues from the world, and takes a moment to compose himself. Several sharp inhales and exhales are made, and his breathing regulates. Now he turns to regard his next move. His left side all but useless now, the dwarf hobbles forward, and lifts his mobile right arm into the air for a final strike. He points the gleaming golden sword at the silvery moon, and tightens his already firm grip on the jewel-encrusted hilt. With a swift turn of his head and an abrupt jerk downwards, the hand pulls the hallowed edge down upon its victim’s head. The glaive streaks through the night sky, as its arced trajectory leads it on course to plow through the knight’s helmet, and implant itself into the base of his neck.

Kasyr finds himself noticeably distracted by the agony he caused, that dire cacophony caused by anothers incomprehensible suffering providing him a momentary easing of his own pains as though they had taken a moment to cease their constant bitings into his nerves to listen to what was wrought before resuming their arduous duty. A lackdaisacal chuckle slowly worked its way from the guardians gullet as the dwarf made his attempt at a final blow, followed by the human imp hybrids attempt at a final act of mockery, sword simply dropped from his grasp so as to free up his gauntleted hand. With a final surge of speed, the armoured fist was sent lashing out towards the paladins hand, fingers unclenching so as to encompass the smaller persons fist and engulf it, intent to hold it at bay so as to revoke his right to a final blow. This was all done, as a precursor to chuckle which held an almost scathing quality, bitter and sardonic and nature, as much so as the puckered up lips and inclining of his head to his foe which followed. "Mwah~" A vicious cackle would come from his throat, a rather bizarre conclusion to that bloody ordeal.

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