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Demont versus Aniket
Demont stands near the ladder leading up to the fresh air, his soft orb scanning the dim room and it’s surroundings.
As his eyes come to rest upon Aniket, the assassin mouths a little chant as the sounds of numerous blades can be drawn as
the enchanted gauntlets upon his hands expose ten, razor-sharp blades at the fingers. Giving his foe a small smirk he sprints
to the left and behind a row of heavy book shelves. Figuring he is just about parallel with the human, Demont begins to hastily
climb up the wooden shelves and to the top. Spotting Aniket below, he leaps from one shelf to the next one over, picking up
speed as he does. Upon reaching the last of the set, he leaps from the edge out towards his fellow assassin, arms extended
and ready to rip through the member of Eternally Damned with great ease.
Aniket watches the vampiric assassin with great heed, paying attention to every minute detail as they are observed by the
ever watchful azure orbs within his pale skull. The human’s gaze peers straight up, body not swaying but remaining motionless,
as he watches the vampire begin his assault. The pale appendages on his right hand carefully grasp the diamond encrusted hilt
of Deathbringer as Demont plunges towards him. At the last moment, the assassin takes a dive to the left, landing behind a
shelving unit titled “The Draconians” and safe from the attack His left knee now slightly touches the ground as
he squats while his right digits still grasp the finely crafted blade in its sheath. The assassin looks around, catching sight
of the vampire and suddenly flicks his left wrist, causing a small, silver cylindrical device to slip into the palm of his
hand. With an evil smirk, the human brings the item to his crimson lips and blasts a rush of stale air through the tube, causing
three tiny metal objects to race towards his foe. The smell of garlic slightly plays under the human’s nose, but not
for long as the assassin soon dashes after the objects, trailing slightly behind them. As the distance shrinks, Aniket leaps
into the air and a slight metallic ring resounds through the library as Deathbringer is brought to life. The descending path
of the leap now places the flight of the cold steel in a direct path of piercing the vampire’s neck from right to left.
Demont’s acute eyes catch sight of the three projectiles and his keen sense of smell detects the pungent odor of
the garlic. Slightly perplexed, he wonders what this stereotypical attack will do. Quickly his attention is transferred to
he now air-borne Aniket and his blade. With a snap, his massive ebon wings unfurl, creating a span of nearly ten feet. Mumbling
the veracious chant he used to extend the razors of his gauntlets, they retract, just as he begins to step to the left out
of the path of the speeding darts. At that instant the trailing object pierces his bare flesh of his shoulder, burying itself
deep in his flesh, causing a wicked discomfort deep at the bone. With a soft growl and a practiced movement, his hands dive
to his belt where he proceeds to grip the hilts of two of the four blades adorning his hips. In a simple jerk he pulls Dark
Ice and Burning Dawn free just in time to see Aniket plummet toward him. Lifting Burning Dawn, an intense white flame erupts
around the black blade and the sharp clash of metal can be heard as the weapons of Aniket and Demont meet. Wavering slightly
under the force of such an attack, he slips and Deathbringer slides down and etches a superficial scratch across his chest.
Wishing to remain stationary for the time being, he once again uses an enchantment, this time for Dark Ice. Passing his thumb
over the diamond in the hilt of said blade, he pints the tip at the near Aniket and mumbles quickly. Suddenly thousands of
shards of crystal shoot foreward at amazing speed, threatening to rip through the opposing assassin’s flesh.
Aniket catches sight of a dart striking as his weapon scrapes the skin of the vampire. A smirk comes across his face, knowing
that it is far more than just a scrape. “Soon…” he whispers under his shortened breath. The human promptly
reacts to the looming barrage of diamond shards as the light azure orbs begin to search for an escape path. Spotting a bookshelf
barely out of arm’s distance, the skilled assassin leaps, reaching for the shelving unit with his now barren left hand
as the device has slid back into safety. With a mighty tug, the books from the shelf fly off, impacting with the tiny shards.
Paper, binding, covers are ripped to shreds and litter the library floor. A few still find the left calf of the man and a
crimson fluid now finds its path from inside to out as a pool forms below him. The man winces in pain, but averts his attention
back to the vampire. His left hand drops to his side, reaching for the archaic katana upon his other hip, and slowly draws
out the edge. The man crosses both before him, creating an X in front of him as his gaze slightly breaks from the vampire.
The man leans forward, touching the blades slightly with his raven locked head, then both drop to parallel level as he sprints
towards the vampire. He swings them erratically, creating no certain flight path as he draws near. Suddenly, the assassin
leaps in the air and begins a 360 degree spin, using the weapons in a propeller motion as they now hope to relieve the vampire
of his head.
Demont grins with slight satisfaction as the shard tear through the calf of the man, hoping to maybe slow him a bit. Quickly
the grin is whipped from his face as he sees the human advance, and he places his arms in front of him just as Aniket leaps.
Struck with a sudden idea, Demont leaps skyward with the aid of his wings, but at that moment the katana of his foe finds
his flesh and digs at it relentlessly, causing a steady flow of vitae to wash over his leather clad leg. Through clenched
teeth, and now being pumped with adrenaline, the turns both his blades in hand towards he floor and throws them foreward at
his annoying adversary. Hoping for his blades to pierce vital parts of the man, his now free hands return to his hips and
retrieve the two remaining blades, Red Rose and Black Rose; Two wickedly curved and serrated blades. Following the flight
of his thrown swords, he turns Red Rose in his left downward and points it out to the left. Nearing Aniket, he swings down
with his right, sword laden hand and up in a diagonal with his left in an attempt to rip the flesh from the human’s
chest.
Aniket grins as his katana digs into the vampire causing sanguine fluid to spread forth from the wound. The orbs of the man
catch sight of the incoming projectiles, and the man carefully awaits their arrival. With skill unmatched, the trained assassin
bats both blades away, causing them to fall harmlessly into a stack of ruined books, done in by the shards. The pale cheeks
of the man slightly rise into a smile as he sees the vampire prepare a second assault, now drawing upon another set of swords.
The human crouches, creating a buildup of potential energy within his massive leg muscles, awaiting the attack. In a split
second, the assassin jumps for a bookshelf nearby, catching his footing on a now empty shelf. Now with his back turned and
his assailant a small distance away but still closing, he pushes off the wooden shelf creating an acrobatic leap. Passing
over the vampire in mid-flight, the assassin narrowly escapes the impact of the Red Rose blade. Having the advantage of landing
behind the vampiric assassin, the human throws the katana, watching it fly end over end, squarely aimed at the back of Demont.
The human now charges after the blade, seemingly wanting to catch up to it, but now raises Deathbringer in the air, creating
an arc of magnificent display as the flesh yearning sword hopes to slice the wings of the vampire off.
Demont curses silently as both of his attacks fail. Calling upon his superior speed and nimbleness, he turns head over
feet and rotates to the left as he watches Aniket pass over head. With his facade void of any emotion he dips his head back
deeply as the katana near, harmlessly passing him. Suddenly he flick his hands up along with his blades and crates an 'X'
in front of him just as Deathbringer comes in. Raising the two blades up, he catches the descending Deathbringer and halts
it's assault, though the tip, much in the same fashion as the previous attack from the weapon find the flesh of his right
arm. With the pain in his left arm now completely uncomfortable and unbearable he drops Red rose to the floor with a loud
clatter and shoots back with a strong flap from his wings, avoiding any danger that could have come from the parried sword.
Kristerl lifts her gaze to the elevated Demont, tilting it for Aniket's countenance, before announcing, "The victor is
Aniket."
Draken versus Demont
Draken looks around the beautiful view closely. It was warm around him. He loved the warm weather and the clear skies. Then,
once he looked at Demont, all of his happiness faded away. Like if darkness was swallowing him, and taking his love away.
He then picked his pick axe with his right hand, and pointed it at Demont. " Death awaits you," he said to Demont while he
looked into the clear skies again, and continued." death or pain." he continued. Finally, Draken dashed at Demont with great
speed and threw his pick axe over his shoulder, bringing it down and attempted to smash it against Demont's head.
Demont stands sturdily, a slight breeze blowing by. Demont watches as Draken Speeds towards him, gracefully Demont brings
his hand before his face, holding it inches away he gently presses his thumb and forefinger together, pointing them upward,
his 3 other fingers pointed at Draken. The vampire parts his lips slightly, allowing a gentle breath to pass by an hit his
thumb and forefinger. From the thumb and forefinger a dust of some unknown substance seems to spill forth, glittering in the
light. The dust flying towards The Half Elf, and into his eyes, causing them to burn and water. AS his foe approaches Demont
quickly draws his Black Diamond Blade, parrying Drakens attack to the side. As he does so, The nimble Vampire drops down to
his back knee and extends his other leg foreword, from he momentum Demont throws his leg at the backs of Drakens attempting
to trip him.
Draken puts his hands on his eyes, to block the dust from entering his eye, then as Demont parries his pick axe and trips
him, he stands up again and creates a transparent ball of energy in his hands. Draken then dashes a few yards away from Demont
and corners him on the cliff. The transparent ball of energy continues to grow as Draken mutters some words under his breath.
Once the ball of energy is big enough, he points the ball of energy towards Demont. Soon the weather becomes windy, and sends
Draken backwards a few steps. Then the ball of energy explodes in Drakens hands, sending about fifty small beams at Demont.
Once the beams reach the ground or live skin, they explode.
Demont holds his blade limply at his side, the tip dropping heavily into the earth. A grin blissfully appears on his pale
visage. Ashen strands fly about around the warriors head. As the beams fly towards Demont, he moves his mouth, though no words
come out. The beautiful Emerald Hued eyes of Demont now glaze over and turn pallid. A torrent of wind erupts in a circle around
Demont, in attempt to prevent the beams from reaching him. Several beams make contact with the earth in front of him, exploding,
showering dirt at Demont. The violent wind caused by the vampire sends the dirt everywhere, covering the onlookers. A beam
or two penetrates his elemental shield, hitting him in the chest and thigh. The warrior is thrown backward several feet near
the edge of the cliff. Demont stands and eyes Draken, Burning Dawn grasped tightly in his right hand. With extraordinary speed
Demont runs at the Half Elf. Demont gracefully moves the blade from his side, and up next to his right ear, grasping the hilt
with his left hand directly behind his right. As Demont approaches, he swings the blade horizontally, in an attempt to strike
Draken in the mid-riff or Chest.
Draken watches closely as Demont creates his elemental shield blocks all his beams but two. Draken then mouths a few words,
and a transparent shield of ice appears, floating infront of him, unseen by eyes other than himself. Then Draken watches as
his two beams burn Demont on chest and thigh. Draken watches Demont appear infront of him and slash at his 'shield'. The shield
then shatters like glass, and Demont's strike reaches Draken's stomach. Draken quickly reaches for his stomach as blood pours
out. Draken screams in pain, releases his hands from his injury, all wet with his blood. The blood quickly vanishes, and a
white aura appears on both of his hands. Draken then creates a small ball of blue fire on his left hand and runs towards Demont.
Draken bends his knees and jumps high into the air, dropping down above Demont, and with a small grin on his face, he attempts
to smack the ball of blue fire onto Demonts fragile head.
Demont holds up his blade to stop Draken from making contact. The flat of the cold blade makes contact with The Half Elf’s
forearm, seeming to burn as it is left on the skin. Demont draws his blade back quickly and juts it foreword, stopping just
before Drakens forehead. The ashen orbs of Demont return to there former splendor. Piercing, sparkling Emerald eyes look into
Drakens. Demont returns 'Burning Dawn' to its scabbard and drops to his knees, sitting back on his calf’s, hands placed
upon his thighs, his left thigh smoldering slightly, as well as his torso.
Demont versus Cyran
Demont steps into the middle of the way gingerly, keeping as much weight as possible off his previously injured foot. As
his gaze washes over Cyran, he takes note of the knights body, looking for any weaknesses he could use to his advantage. With
his right hand held just above the hilt of two blade--Dark Ice and Red Rose--, he contemplates on which weapon to use. With
a shrug he dips his hand down now to wrap his lithe digits around Dark Ice once more, to battle Cyran, again. With a sigh
, his left hand hides behind his back and secretly grips a small vial of a silvery substance. Taking a few simple steps foreward,
he shrugs off the pain running up his right leg and throws the container at the feet of the human, the class container open
and spilling the contents. There is a loud hiss as a thick smoke arises and envelops the entire way. With a smirk on his face,
one which is quite obviously unable to be seen by those gathered, he rushes into the surrounding forest, a few click can be
heard as what appears to be traps are set. With great speed, Demont rushes by foe, laying just inches from the ground, several
strands of long thread which are connected to the traps. Having set the strings where he wishes them, he plucks one of the
chords and a loud snap can be heard, followed by a slow whistle as an arrow flies from the confines of the forest toward Cyran.
With his traps set he slowly makes his way to the corner of the tavern, the smoke screen starting to dissipate, only slightly
revealing the silhouettes of the onlookers. From his spot, a whisper falls from the assassin’s lips as his thumb washes
over the flawless diamond embedded in the hilt of his weapon. As the last syllable leaves his lips, more whistles can be heard
as thousands of crystal shards are expelled from Dark Ice and sent rapidly towards the human, Cyran, threatening to tear him
to shreds. Should he choose to move left, right or back, he will only spring more traps containing deadly arrows, and the
only option open to him it seems, it to move foreward, into the path of the shards.
Cyran lets out a small sound from his throat as the smoke fills around him. He draws Ghostly Talon and listens intently, his
ears used to being in caves. He smirks abit at the seriousness of this fight. Click after click his mind begins to wander.
Thinking of how to hurt his enemy rather than defending himself, he allows Demont to run through the forest, laying his possibly
deadly traps throughout it. His digits wrap tighter around His wicked blade. It's handle is crafted of fine mithril, a red
gem embedded upon the pommel. The handguard is golden, and above that is a crescent shaped object. The blade is only red and
black, no other color...yet. (To get an image, go to http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v290/TerranMaxwell/dino_a04.jpg ).
He mutters some words and the blade lights up with royal gold, the only thing seen inside the dark cloud. The gold runes which
seem to float to the onlookers quiver in the half human's hands. Then, the twang and snap is heard. The golden runes flit
about, looking for a target. Cyr hears the shrill whistle and instantly reckognizes it, for he deals with traps alot. Fearing
Demont lay ahead in the smoke, he slams his body to the ground, allowing the arrow to by-pass his body and the shrapnel crystal
pass his head. He spins on his back and waits for some sign to go. The gold seems to saw, and more clicks are heard. Cyr set
off the other traps. He lay once more until the traps are through, and proceeds right, swiftly hugging a tree and hiding behind
it. He spots Demont and believes he hasn't seen him, save the runes, which became less visable in the sunlight. He fishes
out some golden sulfur-like mixture from his pouch and incants some words. It forms a huge bird, which engulfs itself in fire.
It flaps it's wings severeal times and clears the smoke before flying it's fiery figure straigh towards Demont. Cyr smiles
as his Pheonix spews fire in it's wake.
Demont spews a silent curse as he takes note that his missile attacks made no contact with flesh. Noticeing a slight glimmer
he turns his attention to where Cyran is hiding but swiftly transfers his gaze to the large bird which the knight conjured.
Growling slightly and taking several hops backwards, he takes his left hand and brings it to his right side and pops the hilt
of Burning Dawn free from it’s casing and proceeds to quickly pulls the rest of the weapon free, white flames instantly
erupting about the dark blade. As the fiery bird nears, he raises his blades in an ‘X’ fashion to ward of the
over sized creature. His weapons seem to pass harmlessly though the creature’s body and intense heat takes hold of the
Vampire, sweat streaming down his body as a result. Once more muttering a small spell, the clear blade of Dark Ice emits a
light wisp of cold air. Thrusting his weapon at the fiery beast, it becomes solidified and falls to the ground and shatters
into thousands and thousands of tiny crystals. Now turning once more to Cyran, he tilts his head from side to side, sharp
snaps leaving the joints of his upper vertebrae as he cracks his neck. With his body burnt and sweaty he tips his lithe, yet
muscular frame down toward the earthen path and pushes forward. As he nears Cyran, he points each blade to the opposite side
of his body and draws each one horizontally, one aimed for the upper torso and another for the legs of his opponent.
Cyran is somewhat impressed in the bird, for she tired Demont. Watching him near him, he watches Demont bring the blades crossed
on his torso. He thiks quickly and brings his left hand down, spinning a small, scorpion-tipped style blade from his belt
toward Demont's gut. As the arms snap outward, he tries to leap backward. To no avail. His shoulder is caught and causes him
to be send to Demont's right, in a spinning frenzy. He leaps, spins to face Demont, and plants his feet firmly to cease the
dizzy spinning. Cyr glances to his shoulder and notes a small trickle of blood finding a path out of his mithril and guardians'
armor. He now stands a mree eight feet from Demont. Cyr summons some odd, outer-plainly power from his sword. The battle-rage
of his ancestors burns in his eyes, and in his blade. The blade begins to get a bright blue aura (as bright as a blow torch).
He leaping step once with his right leg, draws his right arm, holding the sword, to his left shoulder. He snaps it toward
the collar bone of Demont with the speed and reflex of a mongoose. As the blade seeks contact with Demont's flesh, it sizzles
with an all-to-familiar sound to Demont. Ghostly Talon is hungry for flesh.
Demont smirks with a sense of mild accomplishment as he beckons forth some vitae from his foe. Once more taking a trivial
step backwards he attempts to evade the oncoming blade of Cyran, but only succeeds slightly as the very tip of the weapon
cuts into his right side of his chest, tearing the black cloth covering his body and drawing forth a line of red liquid. With
a sneer, Demont shrugs his shoulders and stretches them, the heat of battle taking hold of his normally calm disposition and
filling him with a crazed look, adrenaline pumping profusely through his veins as the culprit of this new look. With Cyran
so close to him now, the vampire uses this to his advantage, as well as his vampiric prowess and assassination training. Relinquishing
hold of Dark Ice only momentarily, he wraps both hands onto the hilt of Burning Dawn and brings it to the middle of his body.
Bending down to a knee, he begins to thrust upward in a violent manner towards the abdomen of the man he fins annoying, the
flaming blade hoping to pierce clean through the body of Cyran.
Cyran wrenches his face into one of disbelief. The blade penetrated, but not by much. It travels about one fourth through
his armor, alowing his gut room to breathe, yet still bringing him dire pain. His brow lowers, his eyes flash the same color
once agin and he leaps back, the blade either coming with him, or pulling out. Caring not what happens to the bloody blade,
he leaps forward again, bringing his blade from his waist to his crown. Now nearly a foot from Demont, he brings his blade
down with strength enough to rival a dwarf. The experience he has brought with him from the Battle of Tunir. His father, Aecyn
Bloodwind running through his mind, he pleads with him to aide him his dwarven strength and battle prowess. The blade, still
coming down with unfathomable speed, becomes a blade of white, no longer black or red or gold. Just white. The same shape,
but all white. Cyr mentally thanks his father as the blade is brought with double force. All of this thought in split seconds.
Demont withdraws Burning Dawn from Cyran and gathers up Dark Ice in his other hand, quickly rolling over his shoulder to
left in an attempt to evade the oncoming blade. Miscalculating the speed of himself and of Cyran, the heavy blade of the man
finds a hold on his right leg, digging deeply into the back side of his thigh and cleaving it open. With clenched teeth he
struggles to raise himself to his feet but is overwhelmed by the pain. With the knight now upon his right side, only a mere
foot away brings his thumb over the diamond in the hilt of Dark Ice once again, attempting to use the missile attack he attempted
previously. With thousands of crystal shards flying with unfathomable speed at Cyran, Demont shouts out in pain as he brings
Burning Dawn across his chest and swings it backwards towards the backs of Cyran's legs.
Cyran clenches his teeth as a shard is pinned deeply into his rigth shoulder. He quickly realizes there are more as two embed
themselves next to the first. He brings his feet high, dodging the Swing toward them. Cyr dives lower from the shards and
onto Demont, withdrawing his own blade. He struggles on the ground, now a wrestle for life. He draws another scorpion-tipped
blade, but bigger. Cyr once again beckons his father's mighty strength for aide. His white blade resumes in his right arm
as he slams the left hand, holding the dagger downward and thrusting it masterfully towards Demont's upper right ribs, under
his arm pit. He spins Ghostly Talon down, holding it in two hands, now that the dagger either found flesh or fell harmlessly.
Ghostly Talon burns it's white color strongly and is brought down with a blur toward the immobilized Demont's chest, crackling
once more. Ghostly Talon screeches as it is blurred into motion, looking for Demont's heart. The blade snaps and crackles
awaiting to burn the flesh before it. Cyr begs his father for fortune and strength to end this fight.
Demont snaps Burning Dawn to the right and knock the dagger free from Cyran’s grip. With pain still coursing though
his leg, and his right arm pinned down, Ghostly Talon find a spot in his chest and runs a path through him and stop halfway
through his body. Clenching his teeth once more, he screams out as unconsciousness snakes it’s way into Demont. He breaths
heavily as he shoves Cyran off of him and lays upon the earth, awaiting the judges decision.
Cyran is thrown to the ground beside Demont and breathes heavilly, also awaiting the descision.
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