Fight:Mercurial Lightning

Bridge of Glass

Kasyr isn't exactly a frequent visitor to the Avian cities; though for reasons other than the general animosity the race held for vampires. If anything, it's his general hesitance towards doing anything that might preemptively precipite Solaris into returning to this area. Still, as much as a potential mishap could spark into an international incident- Kasyr still finds it necessary to occasionally venture to these areas, in an attempt to prove that neutral co-existance is in fact maintable...and to keep an eye out for military developments. It never hurt to keep an eye out for such things. All this being said, busy 'work' tends to make smoke breaks all the more desireable- which is why Kasyr is currently pacing back and forth across the glass bridge, a thin trail of smoke lingering in his wake. Likely, his habit provided him a sort of eerie air, if only because the cherry of the cigarette is the most visible part of the Kensai; what with the hour bordering near midnight.

Acrid smoke assaults the nostrils of the sleeper beneath the bridge, drawing him from his slumber with a slow yawn that ripples from sleek, gaping maw down to whip-thin tail. A snort escapes the dragon as further wisps of smoke drift his way, a scent that causes him to curl his lips back in distaste as a silvery eye is turned toward the bridge in search of the source. Clinging to the rockface that serves as Schezerade's underside, the saurian beast is nearly invisible to onlookers, especially in the hours of twilight when his reflective scales blend in seamlessly with the metallic shadows of the elerium wall. He had been dozing in peace, with no intention of harassing avian citizens, until he'd been rudely awakened seconds ago. A mercurial temperament is provoked then, furthered when he spots the dark stranger pacing atop the bridge, as the good-inclined beast deems this a hellish spectre that must be destroyed for the sake of preserving his territory. No sound is made as the dragon begins to climb up the rugged wall with claws gripping as deftly as a gecko to the surface, no sound will betray his presence until he's wormed his to the bridge's underside. Opening his maw then, the mercury dragon inhales deeply, shining sides expanding in preparation, before he exhales with explosive force. A high, keening roar is Ravadhuir's announcement of his arrival, as well as the burst of concentrated light he's directed at the glass right below the revenant's feet, the immense beam serving to cleave through a portion of the structure on either side of Kasyr with the intentions of neatly dropping the dragon's target into oblivion. What fragments of the illuminated breath are reflected by the glass only serve to create a blinding screen of dazzling light around the Mercury, hiding it from sight.

Kasyr is somewhat at a loss, if only because of the peculiarities of this situation. After all, whilst the Revenant had gotten some vague idea that there was some degree of hostility directed at him- hostility is not exactly something uncommon for vampires. No, its' only upon that thunderous roar that the Kensai realizes the peril he's in. Not knowing what to expect, and having failed to pinpoint his enemy, the Kensai simply calls upon the peculiar bond he still shares with Daedria- her divine favour sought out, in the form of a protective barrier. Unforunately, whilst Kasyr, is in fact spared the brunt of the scathing heat- he's simultaneously robbed of the ground & his cigarette, with injury to insult coming in the form of a burnt trench coat, and seared flesh. "Fffffuuuuu-" Still, the Kensais fall doesn't particularily last long- a jagged gouge of black energy rupturing into existance beneath his feet; a hastily summoned broadsword serving as an impromptu landing platform. With a sort of tentative control exerted over the situation, there's very little to prevent the Revenant from coaxing eleven other darkling blades into being, broadswords each and every one of them. With nary a whisper or shout, each one promptly propells forward- the unnaturally dense weapons propelled towards the relative location the Kensai can 'sense' the desire to do him harm. Which is about the point Kasyr realizes he should probably hope there's nothing between him and at, at this point. Property damage probably wouldn't go over well.

Claws relinquishing their hold upon stone and wings unfurling with a shuddering snap, Ravadhuir emerges from the glittering smokescreen in a less than expected manner. Straight down the dragon plummets, natural speed and gravity's pull more than plentiful to carry him out of the path of swords bulleting his way while granting him a chance to locate his target once more. Eyes narrowing, the Mercury twists his lithe form around while wings cup to catch the winds and still his descent so that he can hover in place a moment and examine the strange being that's managed to defy gravity. Ravadhuir draws his lips back to reveal glossy fangs, an almost musical snarl rippling from the depths of his throat in open challenge before, with a twist of his shoulders, he alters the angle of his wings to gather the moonlight and send it reflecting off mirror-bright scales directly at the kensai in a bright white flash. With any luck, the light will serve to momentarily blind and even pain the nocturnal, cattish vampire, allowing Ravadhuir to dip wings and bring himself into a spiraling dive aimed to place him below the kensai. With all the celerity gifted to this small and agile breed, it's no wonder the Mercury requires little effort to redirect his dive into an upward loop to place him behind Kasyr, where he intends to lash out with rapid strikes of tooth and claw, a short-lived barrage promptly ended by the dragon unexpectedly twisting away and skyward once more.

Kasyr s' at least caught sight of his foe now- the saurians emergence leaving -very- little to the imagination. With a grimace, the Kensai begins to shrug off his trenchcoat, his eyes closely following the beast- even as the dextrous dragon makes its downwards plunge. It's for this reason that the Revenant finds himself stumbling upon his impromptu perch, one arm flailing free of his coat- as he tries to blink the stars out of his eyes. Kasyrs' empathy once more proves to be his saving grace, that peculiar 'sixth' sense of his alerting him to the presence of the sly and stealthy saurian- effectively granting him enough warning to react. Pivoting upon a heel with such vigor that he near swings out into the void, the Revenant promptly swings his right arm out towards the offending entity- unholy energy surging forth from the limb, if only so it can take the guise of broad sword to match the other twelve strewn about the area. Solid as Gospel is, it serves well enough for an impromptu shield- the impact of Ravadhuirs claws effectively halted from shredding into Kasyrs flesh. With one particular problem. Whilst Gospel is dense, and the Revenant is strong- the Revenant still finds his arm being wrenched back from the blow, and his body being hurtled back. His only saving grace comes with the deftness he's able to reposition a few of his floating broadswords into his predicted 'stumbling' path- effectively bounced between them- if only to slam into one that serves as a buffer. On the bright side, hes' entirely free to finish shedding his coat at this point- which leaves him in a prime position to propell all the blades he'd gathered about himself up towards the dragon which seeks to harangue him. Whats' more, when it invariably moves to attack, the Kensai is quite intending upon taking a dive off that final blade, whether its from gleaming fang or light- so as to free up that broadsword for use as an impromptu projectile- to be speared into the beast whether it loiters at a range, or strays near.

Ravadhuir is in mid-turn when it hits him. Pain, pure, unadulterated pain, blossoming first in his left side, followed by the right as a pair of the swords punch through mirror-like scales as if they were truly made of glass. An agony-filled screech escapes the dragon then as he begins to twist involuntarily in an attempt to wriggle the blades back out of his body, that pained keening never ceasing. His writhing coupled with his lithe build serves to prevent most of the remaining swords from finding homes in Ravadhuir's flesh, but three still manage to cleave deep furrows in his flank, chest, and tail, while a fourth sheers through the membrane of his left wing like paper. Finally, with an effort, the dragon's jaws twist around to take hold of one of the blades and yanks it free of himself to be spat back into the open air, the second following soon after, leaving the beast oozing blood and panting with ragged breaths while it stares at the still-balancing kensai. Jaws shudder abruptly then as he inhales, a prewarning to the building of his light-based breath, but when the exhale comes, it is not nearly as potent as before, nor is it initially aimed at Kasyr. Rather, Ravadhuir choses to turn the focused beam upon himself to sear his wounds closed and finally, with a tricky twist of his spine, use the smooth scales of his hindquarters to reflect the remainder of the beam at the vampire--specifically the blade he's perched upon, in hopes fast-approaching light and high heat will force him into open air and that plunge he'd started moments ago. Ravadhuir isn't far behind the beam of light, with wings tucked flat and body streamlined so that he can arrow straight for the calico, where he can lunge out with talons at the last second to take hold of him in a four-legged grapple.

Kasyr has indeed given himself over to free fall, the intense halo of light that formed behind him serving well enough as an indication to get clear. With his arms and legs snapping together, so as to aid his downwards flight, the Revenant simply endeavours to gain a bit more time as Ravadhuir seeks to close the distance. Whether or not the dragon noticed the grotesque swelling that bubbled up in two places along the Revenants back, or heeds the smell of tainted blood filling the air when those monstrous hills of flesh rupture...its' fairly certain that it won't fail to discern the abrupt appearance of a pair of leathery wings- the likes of which are abruptly snapped up to catch the wind as the dragon comes too close to the Kensai for comfort. The manuever is reckless, true, given the manner in which the sudden pressure of wind against his wings forms a number of cracks within them- damage which is only exacerbated by the raking of claws against those vast appendages. Nonetheless, he's still borne upwards by virtue of that stolen velocity for a few brief moments, hurtling up towards the beasts front. Flexing his right arm back, the Kensai can't help but contemplate as to whether or not the dragon will take note of the manner in which the night sky seems to consume his flesh from fingers to forearm- as scales black as night layer themselves in an scaly gauntlet of nightmarish angles. What he is certain of however, is that he'll feel this- fingers clenching together as he places his trust within the vast reserve of strength contained within his form, a strength that his accursed and odious weapon would seek to amplify in its guise of a gauntlet. The coup de grace comes in the manner the air 'ripples' about his fist as it hurtles towards the dragons flesh, brute force and momentum seeking to drive his fist into the beasts scales- if only so that he can discharge a massive amount of aerial energy through Gospels chosen guise. It's a corruption of Gospels' stolen ability to make a 'blade of wind', effectively being misused in this particular instance to instead create a vortex of magical wind around his weapon so that he can drill through the beasts solid scale, and then discharge that gathered funnel of energy into the wound to inflict upon his foe a number of internal energies. A devastating attack. With one small problem. Hit or miss it was going to send him hurtling backwards towards the ground. "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii - You stupid dragon!"

Speed may be this dragon's greatest asset, but not even Ravadhuir is fast enough to disengage himself and utterly defy his descending momentum to avoid the incoming punch. Initially, when there might have been time to make a hasty evasion, the dragon foolishly thought nothing of Kasyr's preparations. What could a simple punch do to a scaled beast such as himself? However, the warped, black energies roiling about the revenant's fist as it's jutted toward Ravadhuir are more than enough to make this quick-witted beast balk. Locked in a downward spiral with the vampire as he is, unfortunately, the saurian is given little chance to escape despite his sudden change of mind on this situation, leaving him wide open for the collision with Kasyr's gauntleted fist. A strangled roar is voiced on the moment of impact before it's cut off by Gospel's dense form as it causes the scales of Ravadhuir's chest to crumple inward, flesh and bone giving way beneath the shockwave that follows. Were it just the behemoth punch he had to endure, Ravadhuir might have been able to escape and fight another day then despite a ribcage caved in and a lung collapsed, along with the gaping hole in his chest. But it isn't just monstrous force Kasyr has inflicted on the dragon, not with that follow-up of a concentrated whirlwind that rips through the wound seconds after to shred the remaining lung and then decimate his heart, tearing both vital organs to bloody ribbons. Death is instantaneous in that moment, Ravadhuir going limp against the revenant with claws still buried in him and with wings splayed at unnatural angles by the winds tugging at them during their continued plummet toward earth. The dragon's final defiance is an involuntary attempt to drag Kasyr down with him, weighted as the kensai is with the immense, metallic bulk entangled around him.

Satoshi told Kasyr, "*a faint nudge, an attempt to avoid intruding in a distracting fashion* That mix of giddy and frustrated feels like you're fighting a dragon-beasty. Bring it back intact, if you can?"

Kasyr , for just a threadbare moment, hates his life. There's something to be said for spiraling down towards the ground, with a hulking behemoth clutching you in its death throes, whilst your anethema spills out from its chest and accumulates around a hole that seems to gape hungrily. The fact that his wife chooses -just- that moment to contact him and tell him to bring it intact is the proverbial icing-on-the-cake. It's enough to provoke the Kensai into clenching his fists, his eyes engulfed in a venemous loathing for this situation that's so intense, it makes the fledgeling sparks of electricity which form about the Kensai pale in comparaison. In short, it provides the perfect opportunity for one of those fragmented portions of the Revenants soul to be called forth from bindings already weakened by a mixture of pressing conflicts and the passage of time. A power that had once belonged to the Ancient black dragon, Zeran, now fuels the dark swordsman- an ironic well of strength, provided to him in his moment of ~want~. By this point, Kasyr doesn't even have anything to fear of those free falling flecks of blood, the unnatural manner in which the blood is drawing to him meaning -very- little when it's promptly evaporated into ash. No, his concern rests with Gospel, the damnable weapon flicked forth, as the vampiric Revenant exerts his will upon its form- coaxing it to adopt the guise of a Katana. Its' at that point that the dragons' blood loses all inherant meaning to the Kensai, all of his forethought being granted towards the sensation that accompanied the violent ionization of the flesh upon his arm and the inherant goal of that sacrifice. A goal that is ever so violently made reality by Kasyr, as his body briefly touches the very element he harnesses so adeptly- his form flickering forward like some divine lance. For a brief moment, the downward descent of the dragons husk is slowed, giving the carcass the eerie appearance that it might endeavour to fly once more. Yet that illusion is dispelled just as swiftly, as a brilliant flash of lightning erupts out from its back- the Kensais literally lightning quick thrust having sent him shredding out the beasts back in a narrow line. Liberated as he is from the saurians impromptu hug-from-the-here-after, The kensai has very little to hinder him from coaxing a number of his blades into existance once more, thereby granting himself the ability to create a new surface to perch upon, so that he might await the regeneration of his wings. In tune with his strength as he currently is, the wait would doubtlessly not be long.

Kasyr told Satoshi, "*The mental equivalent of a grimace resounds through the link* Its' dead, et relatively intact. Should you desire to retrieve it for your own desires..or to deliver it to Vailkrin, I leave it to your discretion."

Satoshi told Kasyr, "*another nudge, a tad more insistent and considerably more on the appeasing side suffices as answer, along with a potent wave of gratitude*"