Open Chronicles L-l-l-let's Get Ready to Rumble!

[Mualiin]

((Blimey, left this stewing too long. Smiling One ! What say we continue!))

The battle had been naught but trickles, skirmishes opposed to clashes, as the armored giant strove to cleave this young man in two, spear and all. The ebony axehead left dents and cracks in the ground from his strikes, and the air roiled and swirled as he twirled the weapon in practiced stances.

"Come now warrior. Engage. Do not idle."

He could respect his opponent's persistence in range, caution. A bit too dainty (or so an orc would say) for combat, but to each, their own. The movements were jumpy, trembling. Like a rabbit, he compared. Small, quick, somewhat adorable -

*CRASH!*

And annoying to catch, as his strike yet again missed, the man dancing out of his range.

"Or is evasion and defense your offense?"

((OOC Smiling One C'mon! Let's finish this!))

 

[Jason Chronicles]

Khurash saw the opening of the mouth. Heard the inrush of air as great lungs filled with air. Khurash went to his knees, sliding in the sand. His back bowed, arching, nearly parallel to the ground. Fire flooded his vision as the Horned-One exhaled, scorching the air where his head had been, blistering the bare skin of his chest as it passed above him by mere inches.

He came up as the torrent ceased, only for the foe to swing at his neck with a scimitar. Nimble Khurash jerked back and the tip of the scimitar missed his neck, but continued on to carve out a divot of flesh from his shoulder.

Roaring in pain from where he knelt in the sand, Khurash drove the backspike of his axe toward the Horned-One's foot.