The Assailed Resident

[Damion Shargath]

Damion stood, his vision wavering and blurred, the elf’s words hammering into his head, “I’ll give you a good reason…”

He paused, fault of the intoxication, set a foot forward and regained composure. He stood flawlessly in combat stance, it was almost completely natural for him, nevertheless the question was if he would even be capable of executing a flawless attack to follow.

“A good reason why I would be able to fell you…” Damion snapped his halberd outward, retracted it and readied for the momentum to spring forward, “I’m not a single of those things you mentioned. I’m a mongrel, a fault-bred bastard of a beast they couldn’t control. A war monger, thirsty for the blood of my fanatic creators…weak, pathetic, so called religious…by all means no more than filth. They awoke something they couldn’t possibly hope to contain. Don’t…test my rage, it’s what fuels every fibre of my body to move.”

Damion clenched his teeth and hissed “Thayne” below his breath. He glowered at the intruder before him, the short moment of non-motion he was given granted him the time he needed to weigh out his opponents position and his possible reactions to an attack.
The halberdier launched forward and barged in with a probably unexpected defensive manoeuvre. His weapon, with blade pointing to the ground on his left, crossed his body diagonally. The close quarter would allow him to quickly twist

The two contenders engaged in another brawl. Towards the end of what was almost not more than an elevated push and shove, spiced with some sloth-like evasive manoeuvres, Damion managed to bury his elbow into Aerendir’s stomach by ducking underneath and past the swipe of a guan do. More stumble and luck than calculated precision. As the elf contracted in pain, his elbow landed on the back of the human’s head in return. Though for a moment it seemed that both of them would be earthbound any second, they used one another as levers to vault themselves into standing again.

They glared at each other, uncertain of the worth to engage another clench, uncertain of the will to fight under these conditions, only certain of their endangerment.

“You…fuck…” Damion cursed profanely, the lack of creativity proof that the Byoffnovoff was still coursing through his veins in roughly the same amount as blood, “It must be something toward morning, and since days I haven’t shut an eye. Then I finally manage, and you barge in and disturb what fickle peace finally reached my distorted mind. You know what? There are about 16 bedrooms somewhere in this lump of rock, begone and take one of them will you…just stop pissing me off…and tell me why the fuck you’re here apart from stupidity, if I might mention that wandering around outside with this weather is a little dull…”

Damion wavered over to the chair he had sat on, frowned at the mess of broken glass and scattered ashes, making sure to keep one eye on his opponent. Though he lacked the patience to engage another push and shove, smack and jab he refused to loosen the grip on his weapon being just too unsure of what awaited him as an answer.