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The Baron went into a lazy charge, bringing forward his lance with the knowledge that the force of the impact was going to come from Lucian, not himself. It was this fact that made Lucian know that the Knight was going to try his damndest to strike a killing blow at either the skull, neck, or some other joint that he thought was weak enough for his polearm to penetrate.
Right when Lucian was going for the charge, the sound of thunder crackled through the air. It can only be described as a cannon of force that slammed into the stomach and ribs of the Knight. Whatever magics was happening felt as though they were trying to grip the organs of Lucian and vibrate his very soul.
The primal part of his brain threatened to look, gripped firmly by the light show that was now happening at either side of Lucian’s vision. Just as Lucian was blessed with the conquest of primal death freight, the Black Knight was able to keep his eyes upon his quarry.
The Baron, who had raised his head just slightly to see the mayhem that was happening behind Lucian, had also raised his lance just that little bit that it gave Lucian the room needed.
Like a viper Lucian ducked under the lance. The weapon becoming useless the moment Lucian’s eyes were past the tip of the spearhead. The Baron must have known what was happening for he raised a shield in such a way that it blocked the incoming strike that would have instantly severed the head from the torso.
Lucian did not need that though, for as he passed the Knight he was now able to give the weapon all the force that he needed. He could feel his muscles tense and his heart ache as what felt like the crumbling of wood echoed through the scythe and into the mind of its weilder.
With a mighty pull Lucian brought the Knight off the horse, sending him onto the ground with a metallic thud.
Lucian rounded about, keeping his eyes upon the Knight. Baron Budapest had a third of his shield ruined where Lucian’s scythe had dug deeply into. Most of his body seemed fine though and the Knight was already taking his sword from its scabbard knowing full well he was at a disadvantage.
He could only glance, but Lucian’s eyes were paid with the sight of devastation across the mounted Yeoman. Terror and mayhem were on a date throughout their ranks as corpses either smashed, severed, or burnt were scattered about the field.
Lucian had a choice now. If this was a duel to the death he would be expected to dismount Nightshade and challenge this man on the ground. After all, he had already bested the man from horseback. Even if it was honorable, Lucian wondered if anyone would be alive to witness his selfless deed except the gods.
>Dismount with a jumping strike
>Genuine dismount
>Slice his head off
