I stood there, a hand on my hip, as this demon went on and on and on about... uh... something on weapons, sleeping with people, and a memory. Ugh. Even as he raised his weapon, I felt myself glaring in disapproval of his long monologue. As he swung, I lep backwards. Empty air was swung into with a clean, hefty blow as I stepped back in the rubble. "Pfft!" I resumed a stance with my weapon.
"Boring!" Why did this demon with lack of style and taste have to be a philosopher too? Just why! This shattered temple was too dead, it needed to be alive with the sound of warrionrs and battle! I raised my goedendag, intent on reaching a more up close approach. I was using it as a club, ramming it into this depressing opponent with everything I had. He did not even react to the blood dripping from his shoulder from the iron tip of my weapon. He was tough, like a stale piece of bread. And just as boring too. I knew that two blunt weapons so close would be brutal, I craved it. Desired it! Longed for it! If I won, I was a skilled fighter and that was cool. If I lost, I would learn the secrets of Citadel revival. Oh yes, my mission! My missions to retrieve any information possible for my master! Yet, to get there, pain must be felt.
"I'm going to keep hitting you with my club-spear thing!"
Of course, madness was not without reason. I knew that this was a likely aggressive fighter beneath that emo demeanor. My weapon was longer than his tools of war. I would have an easier time blocking, especially with how much smaller I was than him. Still, this would likely end with broken bones and bleeding skin. Let it come!
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