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You can’t even manage to slip in one last quip before your face is showered in a foul-smelling mist–a product of Vhale’s sudden takeoff from across the cistern! Breaking the sound barrier like a fuzzy fighter jet, you feel the duelist’s attack long before you hear it: a splash of brackish water, a blade <span class="mu-i">ripping</span> across your robe as you half-dodge, half-stumble out of its reach, and of course a ripple and hiss in your opponent’s wake trailing behind him by several seconds!
What started as a graceful dance between two duelists drifts into something resembling a drunk trying to dodge snowflakes in a blizzard–and you’re the drunk! By the time you have your <span class="mu-s">MAGIC SHIELD</span> raised for one strike, three more just barely miss your flank! And Vhale? He doesn’t seem keen on taking a break!
Violent <span class="mu-i">CLANGS</span> reverberate around the flooded arena as you begin to slow down–potent as demonic powers are, you’re starting to feel the wear and tear from so much dodging and fighting… and this is Vhale when Trier <span class="mu-i">ISN’T</span> protecting him!? No fair!
All good things must end, and you’d like to think your ability to dodge all of the Durher’s attacks has been pretty great! Stumbling away from another lunge, your posture stiffens and your eyes widen in shock and pain as you feel a deathly cold metal tip plunge through your side and out through your back!
“That should do it.”
Vhale slows to an abrupt halt as if he’d flicked a switch–his dead eyes looming in front of you like a cat about to stuff his face with a cage full of canaries. “How’s that feel, hm?”
You open your mouth to retort, but a sudden burning sensation <span class="mu-i">RIPS</span> through your wounds as if someone had smothered them in a salt and lemon juice marinade! You try to hold firm, but you’ve been fighting for too long… and with a baleful cry you fall to your knees in a trembling heap!
What… what the <span class="mu-i">HELL</span> is-
“My blade’s been blessed, remember?” Vhale answers as nonchalantly as if you’d asked him when dinner is. “One of my men used to be a Viislan Pathfinder, if you can believe it–didn’t even charge me a bell.”
His eyes narrow as he twists the blessed steel. “Hmm. Could have had him record some prayers too, now that I think on it. Ah well. Funny how these things work out, isn’t it?”
Taking your movement as an attempt to escape, Vhale wiggles his blade around and sneers at the ensuing cry that leaves your lips! “Well go on… aren’t you going to ‘grill’ me? Sear me to a crisp?”
You… you already did, you snigger as you force a weak smile onto your face! He’s… gonna feel that in the morning…
>CONTD.
