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Lucian would not fight him, not directly at least. He found that he was throwing himself to the other side to dodge another blow that was coming at him from above. The strike was a swipe with those long claws of the Kroxigor’s, such a limb would have killed the Knight if it made contact with his head.
So he moved, being thrown into a roll that caused him to run over a set of roots. It was not a terrible shake up, but it caused Lucian to lose his balance and sent himself sprawling upon the ground.
Bok, even in his rage, saw this happen and advanced. There was no cry of anger but a efficiency that was not of a monster. Like a man at his practiced craft Bok was already working a phantom Lucian in his hands, determining how best to capitalize Lucian as he was on the ground.
The Noble was quick, throwing himself to the side as those large hands tried to grab him and instead they found dirt. Lucian had tried with his motion to roll onto the staff of his scythe, to bring himself upwards, but the Knight found that the motion was useless. He did not have all his strength back and the pains from the toxins were flaring once more.
When he felt his hands upon his own blade, the Knight realized something. Bok was always calm around the Skink, but there was probably several reasons for that. One of those were that he was the loyal hound of Tee-Nee-Tyny. Then he remembered, back in the tunnels underneath Bastonne, where the nose of that powerful beast was able to smell out nearly anything.
He struck himself, fresh blood leaking from his hand. His motion was quick for Bok was already upon him with a snout wide open to bite into Lucian. To toss him around and rend his flesh asunder. With a flick of his bleeding hand Lucian landed his blood upon the snout of Bok, the moment the beast’s maw was less than a foot away from Lucian’s face.
And like a puppet whose puppeteer had stopped operating his doll, the giant monster stopped.
