From the depts of the Abyss I come...
Moderators: Shir'le E. Illios, Bhaern Quel
Somehow, the man and all his possessions seem to withstand the heat. The arm that held the shield before comes up to the top of his scimitar, and he lays his palm against the blunt edge of the weapon, allowing for more presure to be put against the woman. Blood from the wounds in his shield arm boils in the heat, giving off a fettid stench, though this bothers him none. He simply steadily applies presure, trying to push the woman's weapon back.
The man stands his ground, yet his movments are somewhat slower, clearly the speed magic had worn off. He manages to block a majority of the incoming attacks, though he recives several dents in his armor, and a few cuts mostly across across his abdomen where the demon's blade had found its way through weaknesses in his armor, yet he seems to hardly bleed from these, the fire sealing the wounds before much blood can escape.
It would appear the tactics employed by the woman are working, his limp preventing him from being able to move to defend himself against her constant diving in and out of battle. And yet he simply stands there on the defencive as if waiting for something...
It would appear the tactics employed by the woman are working, his limp preventing him from being able to move to defend himself against her constant diving in and out of battle. And yet he simply stands there on the defencive as if waiting for something...
The pale master watched her through the slit in his monotone black helm, carefully scrutinising her movments. The next time she moves in, he lifts his right arm to to try and catch the incoming blade, the burning edge cutting through his gauntlet and into the flesh beneath, the stench of burning meat filling the air within seconds. Yet as he blocks, he lunged forward with all the speed his limp allowed him in an obvious attempt to use his heavy weight and the (Hopefully, if he managed to actualy grab it) grip on her blade to knock her over, or at least unbalanced.
The man regained the balance he had lost during the attack, and his helmet slowly moves to look where the woman's sword lays, before the gaze returned to the woman. His stance becomes passive, and his hollow voice grates from within the black metal covering his head, "Get your sword."
His stance says he will not move untill the demon does as he said, or unless he is attacked, and so he simply stands there, his sword hanging limp by his side.
His stance says he will not move untill the demon does as he said, or unless he is attacked, and so he simply stands there, his sword hanging limp by his side.
Last edited by Velve on Sun Oct 22, 2006 10:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
In a slow advance, the man comes. Moving much like a living statue would, one foot at a time. He could possibly be more heavily wounded than he appears, or simply choosing to move in such a steady, deffensive manner.
Upon reaching range, the man struck out in a diagonal blow, high from his left to low on his right.
Upon reaching range, the man struck out in a diagonal blow, high from his left to low on his right.
The darkly coloured plates on his boots make a tortured screech as they slowly start scraping backwards on the floor. His armored hand rises to brace his sword, yet it helps little as it becomes obvious he was steadily loosing balance. However simply pushing him backwards would do little, more would be needed to truly gain the advantage against the man.