RP:A Sword Reclaimed

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Dergious stomps forward, "As per me werd, I be here en so be yerself." He says, though his eyes dart left and right.

Aelfulf enters the remnants of the camp at a leisurely pace, his armor shining brightly in the moonlight, and a sort of...glow emanating from his bared sword, as if it is alight by some sort of otherworldly might. Upon entering fully, however, the paladin stops, his breath catching in his throat as the extent of the destruction sinks in. He'd been told, growing up, of the quaint elven camps of Sage, rather barbaric, but majestic in their own right. All gone. At that moment, the duergar makes his presence known. Aelfulf's jaw tightens, his words wrenched out from between gritted teeth. "You filthy, rotten bastard," he growls. His fist clenches on the sword hilt until the knuckles whiten. "Had we known about this, things would have gone differently."

Dergious shrugs and looks about still, "Aye, but ye yerself dun said sumthin bout da vitory go da spoils eh?"

Aelfulf sneers at Dergious, spitting out a gob of phlegm in the duergar's general direction. "I believe I said that any percieved oppression of your kind was merely the results of war. This...this proves that the war is not over, or that perhaps another has begun. But, in all the known past, we did not steal from your kind any sacred artifacts, any treasures. What's done here is done, and that cannot be changed. It can be undone, which I assure you will happen in time, but for now...give back the blade." The sorrow in Aelfulf's voice is easy to hear, although his face remains quite calm.

Dergious strides to the knight's right with a slow, plodding gate. "Da result o' war... dat be an excuse given by sumbody used te bein on da winnin side." He stops, and moves back in the other direction, "Da spoils o' war." he repeats. "Me an me own were less cruel den yer kind were ages past." He spreads his arms wide, "A place in da werld topside! We dun took it! We dun deserve it!" He stops finally, and looks into Aelfulf's eyes. "Life ain't whut yer wantin it te be, bub. We took prisners, but e'ry un o' em walked out o' here alive. We treated em afore sendin em on der way. Dats whut kind o' victor we be."

Aelfulf turns with Dergious, keeping the psion in front of him at all times. "Your people bring destruction and death wherever you go. You end what life you can, and pervert the rest. There is no room for you on the surface, just as there is no room for those twisted drow." He glares around in disgust. "And don't speak to me of prisoners. Did these people have any warning before the attack? Did they even know it was coming?"

Dergious waves a thick arm through the air, "Oppertunity... knocked so te be speakin." he says simply. "Dat be life. Unfair an cruel... yet ye carry on. Dey be carryin on, an dey no be back." He points at the dark tower, "Dis be ours now! Yerself be a part o' it. Yer own kind no be comin! Ye look down on dem dat were here, an when dey was in need none o' yer kin were te be found."

Aelfulf does not seem to have a good response to that, for he settles with, "Many of my people are misguided, and let old squabbles distract them from true threats. I myself once was, as well. But now, I am here, and I am going to do what I can to help. But, since you wish to paint yourself as a conquering yet noble hero, perhaps you had best hand over that sword, since to keep hold on something like that is simple theft, and not something someone so...noble would do."

Dergious said to you, "Ye keep callin it theft! Whut claim gots yerself onnit? Twer no yer kin, an twer no yer business!""

Aelfulf said to Dergious, "Are you clueless as to what you have? That is a moonblade, made by elves, for elves. No other race may use it, and it is the heritage of all elves. And distantly, it was my kin."

Dergious steps forward, and still there is no weapon in his hand. THe dwarf stares up at the elf, "I gots it cuz I took it. Dat be makin it mine, an if yer wantin it ye gots te take it!" The dwarf's strike is sudden and vicious. Once again calling upon the power of his ring which grants him nearly inhuman strength, the squat figure drives a studded fist at the knight's midsection, his intent to test the man's newly acquired armor.

Aelfulf's natural born agility again comes to his aid. He jumps back, evading the worst of the blow, while exhaling swiftly. That way, when the tip of the duergar's fist strikes the mithril shirt, no air is lost, and the paladin is able to counter. With his unarmed left hand, he lashes out at the right side of Dergious' head, only to pull the blow back as his leg jets out in a swift, powerful kick, aimed to smack the short man's head and neck from the left.

Dergious spins as the paladin's foot strikes, lessening what would have been a nasty blow. Still his jaw flares with pain, and his teeth clack together audibly with the force of it. Undeterred, the dwarf's momentum continues, and a heavy spiked hunk of metal swings around on a bladed chain, and it comes in low. The morning star, weapon of chaos, swings at the paladin's planted leg while the other continues after having just struck the dwarf's throbbing face.

Aelfulf manages to hop toward his foe once before the morningstar arrives, the bladed chain grating along his boots in a shower of sparks, tipping him over. From the ground, he thrusts up with the sword, whose properties now flare to life, manifested in a ray of white light that, perhaps, will blind Dergious temporarily, allowing the sword to pierce under the dark mithril shirt and into the soft flesh of the belly.

Dergious is indeed blinded, and backpedals to avoid a lucky strike. The paladin's sword strikes not it's intended target but instead clangs against the iron manacle on his wrist. The morningstar falls to the ground, the hand now numb. He spins again, and the shadows cloak his squat form and the paladin's as well. It is as if the moon and the stars were wiped away, leaving the paladin's sword the only source of light. It is as if the elf stands in a great void, the light doing little to illuminate anything beyond a few meagre feet around him. The dwarf's voice sounds, "Yer pride gonna gitcha kilt, bub." and the slight sound of the very same blades from the previous night swirl around the man. "Do ye be a'scared o' da dark?" sounds the voice again, and the blades strike from the darkness, moving of their own accord.

Aelfulf's lips move in silent prayer, the paladin maintaining contact with his deity at all costs. Because of this, he is able to ignore the taunts of the duergar, focusing instead on the blades. As they dart forward, he ducks, pulling a shield from his back that begins to glow with the same light as the sword, illuminating a bit more of the darkness. At that point, however, the weapons come again, one lodging itself in his hip, just under the mithril shirt, and the other striking the shield in a blaze of light. In that flash, Aelfulf catches sight of his foe and charges, sword swinging in a diagonal slice from overhead, intended to split Dergious from neck to waist.

Dergious had enough time to produce a shield of his own after having lost his weapon. The Chaos-Enchanted Tower-Shield deflects the paladin's blade upwards and to the side, unfortunately not enough in either direction to avoid the blade slicing across the dwarf's neck. Blood spurts, and the man is lucky it wasn't any deeper than it was. Growling, the dwarf slams his shield against the paladins hand in the hopes of disarming him, and the dark blade of the dwarf slices forward at an exposed leg.

Aelfulf's sword is knocked from his hand, the glowing light disappearing as soon as contact between paladin and blade is severed. At the same time, Dergious' sword slams into the elf's shield with immense force, causing another explosion of light and then...pitch black, as the shield's light is, for the moment, extinguished. In a panic, the elf throws himself backward, hand groping about desperately for his sword. In his mind screams the question, over and over, 'where is the sword?' He even begins to whisper it aloud, heedless of the fact that it may draw the duergar's attention. Just then, his fingers find a hilt and he pulls, snatching the sword up. It resists, as if something had been on top of it, but it comes all the same, singing to Aelfulf in a mournful yet alluring tune. Shock registers on the paladin's face for, rather than finding his own sword, he has found the very object of his quest!

Dergious howles as his hand cups over his bleeding neck, "Elfling, me patience be at an end!" and a flare erupts as it sails through the air. The sounds of movement all around the two cut through the darkness. The unmistakable smells and sounds of orcs approach as Dergious's voice rings through the night. "Find it! Kill it!"

Aelfulf's head perks up as the orcs approach, every fiber of his being screaming at him to go. As well, it seems to him as though the sword speaks as well, adding's its voice to his mind, commanding him to flee. With the agility of his people, he slinks off into the forest, putting as much distance between himself and the camp as he can.