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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Jan 25, 2016 16:01:03 GMT -6
The elf rolled his lower lip inwards; he would have to figure out the answers to all of these mysteries later. Right now, the Raven stood before him, an ornate blade resembling a relic more than a practical weapon in his grasp.
Years ago, he would have struck immediately with his weapon, lashing out with his untrained anger in an attempt to beat his enemy into submission. But that was a different man from years ago.
No, he reminded himself. Not a different man. The same man but untempered. I will fight back.
Faljere stood straight and bowed before removing the clasp keeping his robe upon his breast. The garment slipped off of his shoulders and slid delicately to the ground, landing in a mound behind him. Now he could be seen in all of his glory: a mahogany robe lined with golden thread was tied close to his hirsute, athletic frame. A sash hung from his brown belt, resembling a frayed strip from a plaid, and surrounding it were various trinkets and ornaments from his past.
Inhaling sharply, he then reached towards his belt for a short sword hanging by several loops of thick leather. With his naginata, Wollenren, still snapped in four separate pieces, and his previous claymore being too unwieldy and unclean to be suitable, he’d needed a quick weapon while he refurbished his previous one. From his second home of Fort MacNiel he managed to procure a blade from its current inhabitants, the infamous Cerberus Legion. A spatha, or a roman cavalry sword, was the best he could do before leading several guards on a chase through the woods. He knew he would return the sword, or at least return to pay for the stolen weapon, but for now it was essential.
He drew the spatha and raised it in a dueling position that he’d grown accustomed to before he earned his polearm years ago.
“Gallant is far from the truth, and you know that,” he stated valiantly. “But I would not say that weak fits, either. I do not wish to fight you, but that does not mean that I’ll stay my own hand!”
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Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Jan 25, 2016 16:01:57 GMT -6
The Norman man lifted his sword off of Faljere’s shoulder at the aggressive display being put on by the man.
Blimey, is he insane? he thought to himself; he had no chance of staying alive against this foe!
But in his posture there was something…something strange that gave the Norman a sliver of hope. Not enough for him to think that Faljere could easily take this foe on and come out victorious, but the kind of hope one would get from seeing a man about to take on a troll whip out a broadsword enchanted to harm trolls.
The Raven held a strange posture, too. It was proud. It was arrogant. It was…bloody uncharacteristic, that’s what it was! The Raven being proud to fight someone instead of simply kill them? Perhaps there was even more hope for the Trio and for Faljere.
Who knew? They might end up just killing the Raven anyways.
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52 
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Post by The Raven on Jan 25, 2016 16:02:39 GMT -6
The first strike.
It belongs to the one who cannot refrain.
Who has waited so long for this moment.
I know that he will tarry.
Perhaps this honour is mine.
“The honour of striking first!”
As he calls those words, he rushes forwards in a burst of speed too quick for the eye to catch. The wind blows through his cloak, batting against his leather and his mask. His blade is held aloft, in a lunging position, and yet he knows Faljere will dodge the blade’s strike.
But he has no intention of letting Faljere strike back: this attack is a decoy for many more to follow.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Jan 25, 2016 16:03:20 GMT -6
The Raven’s first strike is easy to block, but the next few present a bigger challenge. His bladeword hasn’t changed since they first duelled in the burning Saiyen village. That day where the Raven slew innocents who had no affiliation with his damned crusade in order to locate his guild. His strokes were quick and light, his blade like a wind.
Faljere used his skills defensively, dodging most of the strikes the Raven tried to land and only parrying a select few. However, Faljere definitely wasn’t quite as quick as his enemy, and his technique was proving to be effective against the elf. Several times the tip of his enemy’s sword made a small gash in his flesh, but it was enough to throw the elf.
But Faljere wouldn’t strike back yet. There had to be an opening.
He would be patient.
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Feb 10, 2016 12:54:13 GMT -6
A strike to the leg.
One to the thigh!
Another to his shoulder!
This is far too easy.
I expected more from you.
Strike me!
Strike me!
The elf is taking the light blows, but every time the Raven strikes more heavily, he is blocked. It is no matter yet, as the light ones should soon take effect; they will weigh him with pain, and soon his arm shall fall.
The Raven brings his blade forwards for a grapple with his crossguard…
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 10, 2016 12:55:05 GMT -6
There!
His opportunity presented itself in the form of a grapple!
Faljere struck the crossguard with his own, knocking the blade off-balance. The Raven was noticeably shaken by the attack, leaving Faljere a proper opening.
Bringing his arm forward, he reached out and slammed his palm into the Raven’s armoured stomach. He felt the pressure of the blow push against his arm, but he remained steadfast as he shoved his enemy back.
He then followed with a quick kick to the shin, which landed perfectly to knock the Raven’s foot out from under his body.
The final strike was with his other leg, aimed towards his head; perhaps if he were to knock off the man’s mask he’d be able to weaken his foe, maybe even drain all of his strength!
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Feb 10, 2016 12:55:59 GMT -6
Knocked off balance.
But not out.
Here is my opportunity!
The Raven brings his forearm up and slams it into the elf’s leg.
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Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Feb 10, 2016 12:56:44 GMT -6
The elf tumbled sideways after the blow landed on his shin by the Raven. Covered in small but piercing wounds, he seemed as if he was going to give in anytime soon.
Not if we can do anything, the Nord thought as he leaned forwards.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 10, 2016 12:57:51 GMT -6
He fell to his knees.
This wasn’t going to be the end.
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Feb 10, 2016 12:58:32 GMT -6
And now.
A second strike should suffice.
He swings his sword out…
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 10, 2016 12:59:16 GMT -6
The elf regained his balance quickly enough that the Raven’s next blow was deflected; however, the weight of the strike still forced his arm back.
The wounds were draining him…
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Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Feb 10, 2016 12:59:49 GMT -6
Lukis readied his knives…
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Feb 10, 2016 13:00:41 GMT -6
Another strike!
This one is backed by all of his might.
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Post by Faljere D'ael Elderbaden on Feb 10, 2016 13:01:19 GMT -6
He gave in and let the fiend’s strike connect with his chest. The elf toppled backwards, dropping his sword beside him. There was a deep, red gash now in chest, and he could feel its sting in the crisp air.
Was this to be his end?
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Feb 10, 2016 13:02:28 GMT -6
Red.
Red like the stone she desired so much. That was all that covered her best friend’s chest.
Perhaps…is this the reason it is red? she wondered. Is this the price of peace and happiness?
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