Street Urchins II .

[Elthas_Belthasar]

(Open to ONE fellow lowbie. Preferably level 0-2. I DON'T want to fight another high level dude, it would just be a one sided battle anyway lol. I will gladly fight against whoever comes first. You do not need to contact me first.)

After recovering from his injuries, a month later, the smell of strawberry incense filled the air in the medical wing. He knew he was still in the halls of The Citadel. I guess, end of the day, that is what counts. Elthas thought to himself as he sat up in the bed after breakfast. They actually gave him pretty good meals, definitely not five-star cuisine, but good cooking none the less. He figured it was all part of the medical team's rehab program. Elthas slid out of bed, in his pajamas, and looked at the nearby nurses. Therapy was included in the recovery process, but the emotional loss, was something that would be dealt with later on. Elthas looked at the girl, a nurse named Lucy. Lucy had short, raven coloured hair that was combed nicely. Elthas noticed that she always smelled good too. It was a strong perfume, nothing audacious, but good none the less. Elthas smiled at her, she had blue eyes but was a Hume. Native of Akashima, their folk were known for having unusually shaped eyes. Elthas had always found them attractive but could not flirt with the nurses for he was spoken for.

"Will you be leaving us now, Sir Belthasar?" Lucy asked.

"I live close by you know. Not in Radasanth proper, but on Terrentius Estate." Elthas said. "Either way I will definitely come visit, you have earned my respect. You healing gift is an art form." Elthas commented and grinned.

She nodded. "We are taught from youth." Lucy said. "By the way, Elthas, will you continue your studies in The Citadel leagues?" She asked.

"I believe so." He responded casually. "I have learned a valuable lesson during that last match though."

"The pursuit of knowledge is not just limited to the killing arts..." Lucy said, her expression becoming somber.

"I know." Elthas responded. I don't like to kill. And I don't want to either. "I want to learn how to stay alive so I can protect the people that matter to me the most."

"A humble pursuit." It was not Lucy who spoke, that was a man. Elthas turned to see Lukan, a monk of intermediate rank. The same gentleman had overseen his previous bout against that brat, Talen. Elthas turned to face Lukan.

Still bandaged up, Elthas knew he was not one hundred percent yet. However, he was eager to get back in Chamber Number twenty five. "I thank you, Father Lukan." Elthas bowed towards Lukan, a formal courtesy. "That brat was a bit too much for me to handle..."

"You hesitated at the end." Lukan said carefully. "You held back, this is The Citadel, you do not have to hold back." Lukan narrowed his eyes, they were hazel colored. He was bald, and wore the robes of a monk.

"He wouldn't have, I know. It doesn't matter. I have my own code I follow, I don't like to kill people. For me to win, I would have had to kill the kid, and I didn't want to. Simple as that."

"He would not have hesitated to kill you." Lukan reminded. "Furthermore, he was trying to kill you."

"Yeah, and he made a mess in the process." Elthas frowned. "Arguing theology and personal philosophy will get us no where, Father Lukan." Elthas pointed out. He got dressed in front of everybody. As an Elf he was not shy about his own sexuality, or masculinity. He knew who he was. He placed that fancy hat back on his head last. "Shit." Elthas suddenly realized. "I'm out of herb. Father, Lukan, did you manage to recover my herb from the chamber?"

"Right here." Father Lukan said. "I smoke on occasion too, but a far less potent herb."

The herb was named night's eye herb, and was part of the cannibus family of plans and herbs. It had a very specific scent to it. Elthas could smell the green buds in the pouch that Father Lukan handed to him. Elthas put the pouch away, he would smoke later.

"Okay." Elthas, strapped on his recovered quiver of bolts, and his crossbow back on his person. "I want to keep fighting, but I want to fight someone more my skill level. That brat was a bit too strong for my tastes."

"He also caused a significant amount of damage." Father Lukan said. "Killed several people too, all though the people were not real, it is the principle of the thing."

"A bloodlust is still a bloodlust, Father Lukan." Elthas said, annoyed at the event.

"I suppose you are right about that." Father Lukan responded. "Do you want me to ready your chamber? Do you have a request for scenery? Or, may I, indulge?"

"I do have a request actually..." Elthas said and began to inform Father Lukan of what he wanted.

***

He was standing on the fields of Yarborough District, a large plains of grass all around him. It was hilly too, an interpretation of course, but the most important factor was the windmill that was nearby. The large prongs of the fan whirled about towards the east, powered by the wind as it endlessly ground wheat and flour. A farm was nearby. Elthas knew the land well, Terrentius Estate would hypothetically be located nearby. Elthas wore his suit, as always, it was coloured black and pin striped. He had his fancy feathered wide-brimmed hat lowered down to cast a shadow on his face. His cloak flapped in the wind, it was a simple brown cloak. No symbols were etched upon it whatsoever, it was simply meant to keep Elthas warm.

It was a late October day in the imaginary world, a chill in the air. Storm clouds were overhead, lingering, and people worked the fields. It was harvesting season after a long season of good weather and crop growing. Elthas had his daggers in his gloved hands, the blade tips pointing down the ground. The sun was not visible, and the chill that hung in the air threatened of deep winter. Elthas made certain to inform Father Lukan that he did not want a highly skilled opponent that time. He wanted someone of the same Citadel League bracket as he. Elthas's boots felt good against the earth beneath him, he stood upright and confident. If he had gained one thing fighting that brat, it was self confidence. He would definitely attempt to acquire more of that.

As he waited, the wind started to get stronger, to the point where he had to place a hand on the tip of his had and hold it in place. Elthas grinned. He smelled moisture in the air, which signified rain. Father Lukan got the details right. It was a Tuesday afternoon in the imaginary world, and it was roughly six o'clock, standard Althanas time. Elthas double checked his gold pocket watch to be certain of the time. It was accurate. He then looked towards the general direction of Radasanth, where his opponent would likely come from. He made certain that his opponent could only appear directly in front, as the windmill itself was behind his person, watching his back. Quite literally. Elthas recalled his battle against Talen. Hopefully this goes a lot differently than that incident... And Elthas could only wait.

[Red Dawn]

“Citadel League?” Dale was looking into the light hazel eyes of a wire-framed monk. His brown robes were fairly loose about his body, well-kept and arranged meticulously. He was smiling at the android, with his question lingering between the two. The Citadel was as much a warriors Mecca for all of Althanas as it was a training ground for the Corone Armed Forces. Dale Russell had been in the Corone Empire’s army for over a month, and had spent most of that time on small missions and within the Citadel itself training just as many other members had. It was a small relief, he had come to find, that the illusionary world could transport him to anywhere the imagination of the combatants could think up. More than once Dale had ventured into the halls for little more than a few hours of peace in a calm world, without an opponent and only the endless depths of the imagination to accompany him. “What is the Citadel League? I didn’t hear about it when I came the last few times.”

Father Lukan nodded. “It’s a fighting group, ladder combats that go from the bottom of the rungs all the way to the top. It isn’t as popular or well known as the Theater of War was in the past, but is about the same thing.”

Russell scratched the scruff on his chin and looked away from the monk. The smooth stone walls were immaculate in their simplicity, beautiful in a very modest way. It was a strange juxtaposition when compared to the grubby men with their bloody weapons and armor. Althanas was – as Dale had come to find – a world stuck within what was once called the Medieval Period of ancient Earth history, a history that Dale had learned very little about. As an amalgam of biology and mechanics, he had been created by the warring parties towards the very end of humanity on Earth. Nothing more than the copy of all androids created, one of thousands made, he was put on the front lines, in the trenches, and sent on subterfuge missions. In the end two sides of synthetic humans watched the destruction of the planet first hand, android against android. As far as Dale assued he was the last remnant of technological advancements. The conclusion to the world he had left behind, and its population, was unknown.

“Not sure what the Theater of War is, but if itsa fighting tournament type thing I’m sure my superiors wouldn’t mind me joining. They did say I needed to get as much practice as I could…” The chatty monk was overjoyed with the newest recruit to the League. He led the leather-coat wearing android along the halls, Dale constantly fidgeting with the iron plates on his chest and back. He carried his shield in his off-hand, the right, and had both crossbows holstered and loaded as well as the cavalry sword at his side. With a sigh he reached for a cigarette, but decided against it when the monk came to a stop and extended an arm towards the oak door. The brown clad Ai’Bron continually talked, only ceasing to offer a simple good luck as the door opened.

The wide open fields were gently sloped and rolling, covered with soft green grass. The southern Coronian lands were beautiful, as simplistically appealing as the Citadel itself. Before him he could see the large windmill and the figure of his opponent, waiting in his suit with daggers in hand. He looked nothing like what Dale expected of a fellow warrior, but his bout with the insane woman in a previous fight told him anyone would come to the Citadel. Dale approached the man with caution, letting his fingers wiggle over the butt of the crossbow with his left hand. Shoot first ask later was a common tactic. The army officers – who had read the reports of his fights in the Citadel – demanded that he use his sword more than his preferred weapons.

“Hey.” The android could think of nothing more to say to the man as he stopped almost forty yards away. It was enough distance to shout to the other man, his voice cutting through the saturated air and the slight chill. Overhead the distant clouds were building slowly, promising rain in the future whether the two would still be present or not. Dale shook his head. He wasn’t sure what it was with the monks and their obsession with rain, but it seemed to be a prevalent presence in each fight.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

A fierce wind picked up quite suddenly from the west. Elthas looked in that general direction out of habit. Then, when he turned back to face the previous direction, he saw his opponent roughly forty yards away. He is well within sniping distance. Elthas had to squint somewhat, but he did manage to see the combatant before him. Thaynes, he's wearing a forsaken C.A.F. uniform! This is not going to end well... Elthas had a strict stance on killing people. The monks often got on his ass about it, but he didn't care. Morales were morales. Elthas rotated his daggers for a moment longer as he stared at the Corone Ranger. He is likely a cadet, killing him wouldn't solve anything anyway. But at least I can hurt him.

The wind picked up continuously making the large fan at the mill spin rapidly along with it. Elthas knew the rain was close now. A few droplets began to fall on top of the world. The Elf looked up for a moment. For a moment, he pondered withdrawing. Can I even surrender at this point? Elthas was not a coward, but he was also not stupid. The Corone Armed Forces are direct enemies of The Syndicate. I am glad that I am not wearing any Syndicate markings on me. That practice is looked down upon... Elthas clenched his fists tightly around his daggers. Then, the guy called out to him. At least he's a courteous bastard, I'll give him that much. Elthas waited a few moments before he actually responded.

"You're Corone Armed Forces, aren't you?" Elthas called back, loud enough so that his opponent could hear. Elthas covered the distance between himself and his foe by walking forward, filling the gap. He was now roughly five yards from his opponent but had not yet attacked. "You should know, since you've advertised that you're C.A.F., that I'm a Syndicate Operative." Elthas frowned. He took a smell of his opponent and something didn't smell quite natural about him...something was off...

Elthas had no knowledge of advanced technology and thus, would never have known what his opponent was unless the guy revealed that secret. Elthas pointed a dagger towards his foe. "I see you like crossbows as well. I have one." Elthas motioned towards his currently sheathed crossbow. It was strapped across his back for the time being. Elthas decided he would continue to be polite to the stranger. "Well look, let's give them a good showing okay? I'll let you take first strike unless you decline that right and wish me to." Elthas said carefully. I chose the arena, it's only fair the bastard get first strike. Damn...he's a fucking cadet... Elthas assumed that part. He didn't know the guy's back story at all.

[Red Dawn]

The laden clouds rolled in quickly, bringing with them the hum of distant rain. Dale snuck a look beyond his opponent. Long arms of the windmill began to turn a little faster as the sudden gusts became sustained wind. While the two waited the android collected data. The ground was soft and porous, it would become slick when the rains fell in earnest. Placid hills with gentle slopes were distorting the horizon but were hardly any advantage. Other than the windmill itself, he could see nothing that would offer much in the way of strategic assistance. This fight would be man to man; the Ai’Bron monks and the scribe of the Corone Armed Forces saw to that.

As the man approached he spoke of Dale’s allegiance to the Empire and his to the Syndicate. Dale shook his head and let his fingers hover above the pistol sized crossbow in its sheath. He was not supposed to use it, he knew that, but the offer was so tempting. The winds would cause chaos on the trajectory. A bolt, normally with impeccable precision at forty yards, was almost useless. Elthas continued walking forwards, coming so close that the android almost smiled at the opportunity. Instead, he let it pass and decided to stick to his orders. The restraint he mustered was almost circumvented by disgust when he discerned the long ears of the elf. Nasty creatures, so he had come to know, Dale was anything but a friend of the elven race.

“Syndicate operative? You’re gonna offer me the first attack like this is the opening move to chess?” He shook his head and raised his shield, putting his left hand on the hilt of the saber. The blade was drawn slowly from its sheath. The first plink of approaching heavy rain resonated against the metal of his sword and shield. He watched the tip of his hat dip slightly when a drop struck the edge. It was no spring shower coming with the clouds. Dale pointed his blade and smirked. “I don’t know what a Syndicate Operative is, nor do I care. However, I did take these crossbows off a dead elf in Concordia forest… hopefully one of your friends? I could do with a bigger one like what you have strapped to your back.”

Defensive fighting was not a strong suit of the android. His training with the army of the Empire had shown that to be a fact. When cornered with other recruits in a practice drill, attempting to form a shield wall, Dale had leapt forward to confront the enemy. The reprimand of breaking ranks had been severe, despite the victory. He was no reserve soldier, lacked the patience to passive-aggressively engage. With a thrust he pushed against the balls of his feet and lunged. Distance was eliminated immediately and the wide arch of the saber slashed through the remaining gap.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

"You wage warfare with tongues, Human." Elthas was annoyed at the impudent man before him. The man's scent still bothered Elthas greatly, but he did not comment on it. He simply assumed that something was amiss. He expected the next movement, in fact, he was counting on it. He admits he offed one of my ken. Not knowing that I don't give a shit about them, not really. Still though, a chance at some payback would be all right... The man attacked and Elthas reacted. It was a smooth flowing of thought and into action a direct consequence of Elthas's natural reflexes. Elthas took a quick step backwards, and prepared his own weapons carefully. The man swung his sword with elegance and skill, Elthas had to admire that. Elthas did not possess the same swordplay skill that his opponent possessed, his martial tactics revolved around a pair of elegant daggers.

And of course, the same trophy that Dale would attempt to take; his crossbow.

On the move, the Elf pushed his body weight, impressive as it was, downwards with both daggers. He placed both daggers one on top of the other, at a forty five degree angles, making it look like a twisted pair of scissors. Intercepting, the Elf moved quickly enough to clash blade against blade. There was a heavy spark of metal against metal, and then the Elf pulled back further, breaking the temporary union. He readied his weapons so that he was in a relaxed combat stance. His legs spread in a horse position, and his body heavily favoring his right side. That arm was extended forward and out towards Dale, whilst the other arm was raised away from Dale. The opposite dagger pointing away from Dale. They gleamed in the lightning that flashed across the sky, a forked tendril summoned by the wrath of The Thayne.

It coalesced through the clouds, signalling the birth cry of the storm to come. Elthas frowned. I'll have to thank Lukan for the effects show later, it is almost uncanny... The storm that was coming began a few moments later as heavy droplets of rain fell down in sheets almost within a matter of minutes. The rain made it hard to see, Elthas had to focus. He switched his normal vision to his heat vision. Then something went terribly wrong. Instead of the normal heat that a Human might give off, the energy tendrils lashed outward white-hot. It fluxed around Dale protectively forming a very expansive energy-based halo. Elthas had never seen anything like it.

"What the fuck are you..." Elthas's face was wide with something like astonishment and terror. "Your heat signature is not right...it is almost like..." Elthas shrugged the thought and didn't complete what he was going to say next. What the hell is he? Elthas thought to himself, and suddenly had the urge to retreat. Far away, away from this mystery man and his blazing halo. Elthas shook his head, he would need to focus on the center of the storm around Dale to see him through the rain.

The rain felt cold and heavy against his body. His clothing was already drenched. Elthas gripped his daggers tightly, he heard thunder in the distance. The Thayne are angry...wind and rain, storm elementals... Elthas thought to himself. He let a full five minutes pass without any other action only his keen intellect acting on the unfolding events. Elthas cursed. His hands were shaking from a mixture of the cold, and the fear he suddenly felt. It was like a arrow through the spine, sending waves of the emotion up and down his body. Rain fell down his hat, he had to wipe his eyes free of the water a few times. He was staring at the mystery man before him.

Elthas had never before felt what he was feeling at that point. Get it together, there will be a time for talking after the battle. He is an enemy, I can't psyche myself out of the game now...I can't kill him either...shit...what do I do? Elthas had a self imposed honor code that would prevent him from killing, even if his life depended on it. Even if the man would come for him down the road. Elthas didn't care, he was a professional, and had a way of doing things. His code had kept him alive that entire time. Then, Elthas attacked. He ran directly towards Dale, and rotated his daggers as he ran.

Elthas growled. He wasn't really angry, he was afraid. And sometimes, psychotic fear was worse than psychotic rage. As he ran, the top soil was already getting loose and muddy. He felt his boots splashing against the dampened earth. Mud splashed upwards with each heavy boot fall, Elthas's cloak flowed behind him in the wind as he ran. The fear drove him, not a desire for murder. I have to survive this, at all costs... Elthas suddenly used his forward arm, the right, in an heavy slashing movement. The blade reflecting lightning that flashed across the sky periodically.

Thunder howled every so often, at regular intervals and sounding dangerously close by. Lightning streaked over head the clouds seemed unnaturally close to the ground. Elthas ran, best speed, top speed, his mind focused on the single purpose that he had in mind. "Whoever, whatever you are, you will bleed today." Elthas suddenly said, and pushed his weight forward, there was fear even in the single movement he made. His hand did not shake, it was driven. Fear drove that deadly purpose, and it was Elthas's intent to cut the chest of his opponent...

That psychotic fear was making Elthas a very dangerous animal.

[Red Dawn]

The howl of the approaching rain was like the rumble of a train, sheets of it drove towards the two from behind the mill. The wall of water overtook both of them suddenly. Flashes of lightning streaked from cloud to cloud and reached for the supple fields below, accompanied by the bone vibrating clash of thunder. Unnaturally sudden and immediate as it was, the torrent was almost comforting. Dale had fought on Earth as a bio-mechanical amalgam against innumerable foes in uncounted battles. Each time the lines were drawn and the trenches dug rain was not far behind. A dead world with only scarred and twisted trees had offered no obstruction to an overheated atmosphere, creating vast and dangerous storms across Earth. This deluge reminded him of home. It was a memory that bore with it disgusting images of the bloodied and battered last days of a planet.

When the rain struck the two the saturation of his uniform was instant. Dale retreated a few steps from his opponent with his failed assault and the expert block. He tipped his head and let the wide brim of his ancient west style hat take the onslaught of the heavy droplets. Even with the advantage of not having water strike his synthetic black eyes, everything had taken a much darker tone. Thick rain and tumultuous clouds overhead absorbed the light and left the flickering lightning to be the only guide. Nearly transparent lenses covered his eyes and blinked when the flashes struck, allowing his low-light vision to cut through the area between the combatants. The piercing autumn winds attempted to numb the fingers and chill to the bone.

Without the ability for internal dialogue Dale whispered to himself more often than not. He could postulate and make multi-linear assumptions about situations. His brain was able to follow multiple thought processes into different paths at the same time, but there was no same form of ‘internal thought’ as a human might have. Some scientists had seen it as a flaw; others saw it as an inability to be counterproductive in second-guessing on the battlefield. “What is it that you see,” he muttered under the howl of the storm as he raised his shield and readied his sword. “How can you tell I am different?”

Elves were dexterous, Dale had come to find, but this one was also fast. He moved with a speed unexpected and closed the gap between the two suddenly. Lithe arms reached forward and the blades sought synthetic flesh. The android shoved his shield ahead of him and let the smooth, brushed iron take the blows. Raps of steel across iron followed a staccato pattern as they attempted to circumvent the defenses. Rolling thunder reverberated alongside the strikes and through Dale’s arm. He forced his shield to push the daggers upwards and sliced horizontally under the raised defenses. The Syndicate Operative’s reflexes were uncanny as he escaped the slick surface of the steel blade.

It was not a strike but just enough to get distance. The android pushed backwards on both feet and put another gap between himself and his opponent. He slid to a stop in the thick mud and lowered his shield. The urge to put a bolt between the eyes of the elf was barely restrained. Instead he lunged towards Elthas with a grunt and unsure footing. Thick leather boots and steel toed tips dug at the soft ground as he attempted to put weight and speed into his attack. He feigned a thrust, turned the blade at the last second into a sweeping arch over his head and at the chest of his opponent.

Minor bunnying in this post alone, the second to last paragraph, was granted by Elthas.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

As he struck the shield, he instinctively slashed at a few more times. He was testing the strength the thing, but moved out of the way as Dale countered. This is going to be a long and drawn out battle, I can already tell. Elthas thought to himself as the rain fell. Overhead, the Thayne were busily tossing their lightning bolts across the sky of Althanas, and each time, the world below was lit up in a plethora of colour. Elthas did not focus on the colour of the lightning showers, instead, he focused on the strange being before him. It is almost as if the fucker was made of light, but how can that be? Just pure damned light...what the hell is he? Elthas thought to himself as he regrouped. Then, Dale lunged once more.

Instead of attempting to intercept the man, and risk the damned shield again, Elthas kicked things up a few notches. He ran at best speed around the attack, keeping a few inches away from where the blade ultimately struck and hit nothing but air. Elthas had the speed advantage on Dale, but Dale had a ruthless edge that Elthas had to watch out for. Is this more of that damnable Corone Armed Forces training? Or something else all together?! Elthas thought. He was thinking about the situation at hand, his odds seemed to shrink as the storm overhead raged. Elthas had to maintain on the offensive if he was to survive the ordeal at hand.

Rotating his daggers kept Elthas from losing his cool. Losing his own edge. He knew he had to focus.

Elthas attempted to run completely behind his opponent. If he was able to do that part of the plan, he could then perform the next part. Assuming Elthas was able to get behind Dale of his own speed and skill, Elthas visualized the next part of the strategy. It was a crude plan, a desperate one even. I can't kill him but I can hurt and maim him. Once Elthas was starting to come arrive behind Dale, he suddenly dove forward. Vaulting in midair, Elthas forcibly launched himself through the downpour of rain. Sheets of rain pummeled him as he flew through the air. Elthas suddenly attempted to throw one of his prized daggers right at Dale's leg that was facing closest to Elthas.

The dagger's blade reflected the light of a trident-like lightning bolt and Elthas saw it spin skillfully through the wind. His trajectory was just off by a few inches, but Elthas's mark was Dale's leg in general. I am going to clip you piece by piece, mother fucker! Elthas thought to himself as he watched the dagger sail towards Dale's leg. He held his other dagger tightly in hand as he leaped, keeping it in a defensive position across his chest. He would need it to block any counter strike attempts that Dale made. If I can just clip the bastard's leg... Elthas thought as he saw the earth coming up beneath him rapidly.

The leap had left him in midair and vulnerable to counter attack in whatever form it would come...

[Red Dawn]

Water dripped from head to toe off the android. His hat was bending with the permeation, when it wasn’t flapping with the wind. This was the elemental forces of nature at work, attempting to supersede any advantages that a combatant might wield to deadly force. The slick ground gave way to booted feet, the wind played second fiddle to the torrent of rain, and subsisting in the background was the ever present flashes of impulsive light and throaty thunder. Through it all the wet leather gloves and weight of the iron bracers were making it more and more difficult to grip efficiently. Dale almost lost his hold on the hilt of the saber while swinging and again after the blade missed its mark. He recovered the sword to his side and fingered the hilt to get a better hold. “Fucking rain!”

As the weight of his weapon and his body’s momentum pulled him towards where Elthas had once been the elf took flight. His impulsive maneuvers were well timed and within a second the side of the android was exposed. Dale repositioned his shield to avoid the flanking assault, but nothing came. Instantly he turned his head the opposite way and swung his blade. It met no resistance. The elf was just out of range directly behind him. Elthas’ arm cocked and released quickly, with the edge of the blade lit up as it was pointedly freed.

The blade bit into the soft exterior of the androids leg, slashing a long yet shallow wound. Blood blossomed in the cut instantly. The warm crimson flow was diluted by the rain as it began to spread down his leg. Dale cut off sensory feelings to the wound as soon as he could, while at the same time attempting a counter. The man was mid-air and bounding towards him. With a split-second to think the android defied defeat tossing his sword aside.

He dropped to his back. The mud splashed around him. His shield was placed in front between the two as he attempted to hide behind it. Before it could come to rest in place, his emptied hand pulled a crossbow and fired instantly. The quick-draw skill he had learned as a soldier on Earth had come in handy many times with the pistol bow. It hurled a projectile at the nearly defenseless elf in the midst of an aerial assault. Scrambling as the twang of the tensed cord was overpowered by the crashing of thunder, Dale attempted to push against the ground. His leg throbbed gently with the fresh wound. The slick surface offered further complications. He managed to scramble a foot backwards before the threads of fate would decide the course of the iron headed bolt.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

(Bro, let me know if bunnying the sword was okay.)

Since there was literally nothing to save Elthas in his mid-air leap, the Elf was virtually doomed. The crossbow's bolt, unexpectedly drawn, was fired through the air. Of course, because of the rain and wind, the trajectory was considerably off. But once it struck Elthas, it struck true against his left shoulder. It knocked him right on his ass, and he landed face face first in the mud after spinning unceremoniously in the air. He growled in agony, the fucking thing hurt. The bolt had almost completely pierced right through Elthas, but thankfully, had not hit any major organs. Still, the injury was serious and blue Elven blood flowed from the injury. Elthas thought about removing the bolt right away, but knew that the thing was a bolt. The bolt's head tip was likely designed to open the injury up further. Then, something happened that Elthas was not prepared for.

He coughed up blood. It's a shoulder wound... Elthas must have injured himself further when he landed on the ground. No stranger to ranged combat, he admired the skill in which Dale wielded the crossbow. Even in the rain...

Elthas was concerned for his well being. He was down to one dagger. Furthermore, the rain would make it exceedingly difficult to fire off shots from his crossbow and connect with Dale. Pushing himself up and off the ground, Elthas crouched low. He decided to keep the bolt inside his body, knowing it would damage him further the longer he kept it there. He no longer cared. He is trying to kill me... Elthas thought with a somber realization. He is not trying, he likely will kill me. He has great skill...It's a shame it had to come down to this. Elthas saw the man's sword nearby to his position. Suddenly, he came up with a plan. The hell with this, I've got one crazy idea... He thought to himself and burst in a run towards Dale's sword. Since it had been tossed to the side, it was already covered in mud, but Elthas could still see the handle sticking out.

Elthas grabbed at the handle in an attempt to snatch the bastard's sword away from him. If successful, his plan was to throw the weapon far as he could into a deep puddle of mud, so that his foe would be at a greater disadvantage. Childish tactics, I know, but he is fighting dirty as well, so I might as well cut loose. Elthas thought to himself. If he had grabbed the sword in time, he would throw it as far as he could, into the mud, and far away from Dale. Forcing Dale's hand. "You hear me you son of a bitch! You're going to remember me for the rest of your days, whatever the fuck you are!" And Elthas threw. Away from Dale, away from the battle with his healthy arm. He didn't know that he had injured himself further, nor did he care. Elthas saw the weapon fly through the air and land several paces away from the two of them...Elthas was still open to attack, but he didn't care.

[Red Dawn]

Another fork of lighting raced across the sky, flicking its brilliant light across the dismal battlefield. It was accompanied immediately by the peal of its companion. The pair played their symphony of disorder, the tune haphazard and brutal. As the show of nature’s power raged overhead mortals devised the outcome of their own clash below on a much smaller scale. The flash licked the head of the bolt as it found its mark within the shoulder of the elf. It cast a silhouette of shadows that momentarily left the arena nothing more than a canvas of black and white. With a sideways blink of his low-light lenses Dale was able to keep the circuitry of his eyes from burning out with the sudden spark. Blinking his eyes-lids as well could not keep the streaks of white from forming as the darkness of the storm resumed.

The mud covered Elthas had a streak of dark liquid coming from the edge of his lips. More was dripping from the embedded projectile that protruded from his shoulder. As quickly as he could, though still clumsily, the android pushed himself to his feet and reached for his sword. It was not on the ground close to him, nor within sight. He scanned the area fretfully. His opponent was already on his feet and moving quickly towards his flank. Dale pointedly held his small iron shield between himself and the elf, watching as he reached for something in the mud. His sword was taken by his opponent in that second, wrenched from the mud. “Bloody…”

Dale thought to curse at his misfortune. He had the tactical advantage in both arms and armor till that point. His shield and lightly plated leather armor offered him protection the elf did not have. His cavalry sword offered the reach and power that the daggers could not grant. If Elthas had his sword he had only his shield left. Instead of keeping ahold of it, however, the man did something completely unexpected. He lifted the steel blade and threw it as forcefully as he could away from the area. As he did so he screamed his rage and fury, obviously inhibited by the emotion.

A deep, throaty laugh was impossible to withhold. Dale watched the blade spray mud and water as it struck the ground. The potential advantage of his opponent wielding his own weapon against him was gone. “You idiot!” Dale bellowed as he pulled his ten inch bowie knife from its sheath. He backed away from the elf and continued to hold the shield in a defensive posture. Weight was shifted to his uninjured leg. A few steps behind him was the furiously spinning windmill, before him his adversary. He could feel the fibrous cords of his mechanically interlaced muscles strain against the continued weight of holding up his defenses. “Instead of taking the sword and using it you throw it away? It is as if you want to prove your inadequate abilities to fight are indeed not a fluke!”