2 v 2 Vice vs. Cipher Nex

[Dirge]

Out of the corner of his eye the sorcerer could see the advancing opponent, her movement little more than a blur. She had the ability to rush forward far faster than Vigo could have reacted had he faced off against her alone. His focus was split though, a moment of vulnerability being present. Under his breath he muttered a curse, but tensed his muscles to continue the swing nonetheless, hoping that it would strike before she could hinder him or hurt him. Instead of attacking his exposed side, taking advantage of the opening and removing him from combat, she protected the dress wearing woman. It was a small reprieve, one that allowed Vigo a quick look into the combat that would come to dominate the awkward battle.

The cane was mid-swing when the sewn mouth freak attacked, her dagger striking and sticking into the wooden side of the halflings weapon. The secreted blade quivered beneath the wood, the vibrations rattling through his white knuckled hold. He could feel her strength through the attack, up either arm and into his shoulders. If she was like the sorcerer and the insane child, opting to defend her companion before finishing an opponent, there was an advantage present that Vigo saw opening.

Her thoughts, telepathy her assumed only means of communication, passed into his mind. They were pervasive, angering, annoying. Worry streaked his cocksure façade, wondering at what else she had at command mentally and fearing that she had chosen him as her opponent. Had she attempted to enter the mind of the younger Jacob the scene would have changed dramatically; had she toyed with the boy’s mind, she might have possibly been absorbed by his overwhelming insanity. Instinctively the sorcerer let his hands loose a little on the cane, allowing her to push her momentum into the lodged dagger.

Her second hand removed another dagger, a move that the sorcerer assumed would happen. It was purely logic that brought his conclusion that no Althanas person every carried only one dagger for use, and everyone wielded two at a time. He, however, was as prepared as the precarious place he had been forced into would allow. His booted foot pushed off a jagged rock, his attention turning to the arching blade aimed for his gut. It was moving quickly. He did not back away too far, assuming the secondary weapon was shorter.

Assumptions fueled his very survival, natural and learned tendencies that seemed pervasive throughout the society of Althanas. They were correct to that point, and he could only hope that they would continue to prove useful. The blade swiped through the point where his exposed chest had been, barely missing the twin layer of clothing that wrapped his thin frame. Vigo let go with one of his hands, the sickly glow of his devious spells coming to life suddenly. His opponent was close, just as he needed, and he took full advantage of it.

“Fuck off,” he squeezed through gritted teeth as he launched himself forward. The jerk of movement, changing momentum so suddenly, put him off step but he was close enough to compensate for it. His free hand reached out towards her smooth face. The sewn mouth would suffer first. It was an open palm strike; an attack would not injure the woman enough to be noticed. However, at the tips of his fingers, he reached with the necromantic touch, attempting to place the rash and boils across that macabre beauty.

What happened with his companion was all but unnoticed, there was a more pressing issue at hand.