Darkness fell swiftly over the stands of Termáre Dagor. It was approaching night, and many city servants scurried about, setting alight the torches that stood in a strategic alignment all about the Battlestand. The entire massive amphitheater was slowly but steadily being lit with the flicker of fire, as the stars shone and the full moon hung overhead. Unlike the previous battles, these would be fought in the relative darkness, testing the fighter’s ability to compete with the distraction of a crowd and the impairment of limited vision.

A small breeze kicked up dust as it blew slowly across the circular field of The Battlestand. The ground here was torn and bloodied, and no green thing grew save for specks of grass and weeds around the very edges of the battlefield. Otherwise, the ground was constantly trampled by the millings of heavy feet, either training or fighting for their lives. This setting was much more glamorous than the previous stage for the battles in the tournament. The Drow Nafalen had come to Xoco some time ago requesting some assistance with the tournament, mostly keeping the competitors in line. But now it seemed that Xoco would be the one to begin the matches.

There were two entrances to the Battlestand, each one guarded by a heavy oaken door with sturdy steel rivets. Three guards armed with steel halberds kept watch over each door. Observers milled into the seats around the Battlestand, anxiously awaiting the battle to come. The slight hum of the crowd’s chatter filled the air, a soft rambling of a thousand different voices. It seemed rather out of place for Xoco to simply be standing here, amongst all of these people, none of them knowing who he really was. At best, he looked like a nobleman, and at worst a merchant who tried too hard. His blue and silver clothing and basic human features held no mystery for the spectators.

Two armored, heavy-built men brought out the equipment that each competitor had requested. The battles would follow one another, and first up was the match between Valearg and Jupiter. One was fully a dragon, the other only half-dragon, but it promised an interesting match. Xoco knew not exactly what laid within the piles of metal and various instruments of war, only that within each pile was a pointy reckoning that would shudder each opponent.

Finally, the stands had begun to fill up, and the noise of the crowd became very loud. It would be interesting to see if the competitors could cope with the deafening hum of the crowd. The firelight cast an eerie shadow across the Battlestand, for it had been commanded that the torches nearest to the battlefield not be lit as to provide some darkness in which for the competitors to fight. Everything was set. The very first battle was about to begin. With a nod to each of the guards, the massive doors were pulled open.

“Congratulations to both of you on making it this far,” said Xoco, “You have both proven yourselves once already in battle. But now you must fight a mightier opponent, and on a larger stage. Once you are ready, you may pick up your equipment, and begin!”

It was earlier in the day when he arrived, like any other face in the bustling crowd. The sun was to his back, low to the horizon, leading him to believe that the event wasn’t relying on light for continuance. The people filed into the vast archways at a steady current which gave the thief a chance to observe his surroundings. People were weaving in and out of the lines to catch up with their counterparts who had wandered ahead. Some peddlers held open boxes glittered with gold coins, stopping and taking bets to anyone interested. Several times bodies threatened to brush by him with heedlessness, yet he managed to stay tightly knitted into his own space. Vaudeux felt unreasonably bare without the familiar presence of his weapons strapped to his body. He also felt lighter, like he could float above the surrounding patrons, which ultimately caused him to stand taller than usual. Over the tops of the assorted crowns, ahead the stadium rose to incredible heights to the darkening sky. The stone architecture was layered up, several tiers in height, suggesting a high holding capacity. As the procession neared, banners could be seen slung over the main archways to finalize the event to any ignorant eyes. There on these banners Jupiter’s stomach rose to his throat in satisfaction as he noticed his own name painted over the light cloth next to his opponents.

Looking upward he barley noticed that he was now proceeding through the gates next to the procession booths. A youth male stopped to take his own gold for entry, when he stopped himself and noticed with whom was paused under the archway. The kid had to stop himself and wave another over, a second worker jogged over and noticed Vaud who was still stopped with a almost quizzical expression. The new kid now waved at Jupiter and trotted enthusiastically up a side path calling back to the competitor, “This way!” With a shrug, the thief followed the kid in his own stride, confident that he would lead him to the right location for the start of the battle. The pair neared a heavy wooden door by passing the stands through bowed openings. People were shuffling slowly into seats still, freckling the bulk of the visible risers. Nevertheless the pair exited from public eyes and into the cloisters deep in the coliseum.

Passing flickering torches, they galloped down a long set of stone steps before their soles scuffed the dirt of ground level. Paces later the kid skidded to a halt outside a solitary door at the end of the hall, of which he pushed open and allowed Jupiter to shuffle inside. It was a small benched chamber, heavily lit with torches in every corner. Other than the long sitting area, the room was empty and unimpressive. After a quick glance around he turned back to the kid in the doorway who was beaming at him, “Wait here! Someone will come back with your equipment soon.” With one last eager shake the worker darted out of sight, the door creeping to a close in his wake. Sighing, Jupiter backed up to the wall and sank into the bench. His feet splayed, back against the wall, and item-less he divulged into the only thing that could keep him occupied while he was waiting - his thoughts.

At first they loomed over the new arena, dramatically different than the former desolate grounds. News of the tournament must have been spreading for the outcome of onlookers was outstanding. It added a whole new element to the battle. He didn’t mind bystanders, as long as he didn’t hear any rude comments, which was bound to only fuel his temper. The last time he had come in contact with spectators he had become subjected to derision. Vaudeux had the tendency of becoming the least liked because of his advantageous maneuvers, ethical or not. Consequently the crowd tended to sway in the direction of his foil, purely out of desire for him to receive punishment for his actions. There was also a sense of heightened performance when others were watching in, so his shoulders relaxed immediately as he reminded himself of this. He looked towards the door in hope that it would open soon, yet it remained stationary. The half-breed leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs cocking his head over a balled fist as his mind continued to drift.

Alone in the room, he wondered what other new surprises this new round would bring including his new opponent. If it was going to be anything like his former battle he would have to expect a barrage of gashes and one long night. What if it’s sorcerer? He thought with a surge of slight dread. Sure he had seen the name of his opponent, yet he knew nothing of the being. It could be anything. And with round one still fresh in his mind he might as well be facing an orc. Like an orc anything could have weaknesses, it was just a matter of finding them in time to keep his own hide. Nevertheless, he still came prepared this time. Recently he had acquired a light set of armor that he brought out for the battle, it was better than going out with his own skin that would be subject to an array of peril. His only doubt about the armor was the fact that he hadn’t spent enough time practicing in it. Though when he did, it was like no armor he had ever felt before - light and flexible.

Suddenly the door burst open, a man with a wide frame cradled his possessions betwixt too ham-like arms. He looked up at the half-breed with a nervous glance and carefully lowered himself to the ground. With difficultly, the man sunk his armor to the dungeon floor, with Jupiter merely watching in secret amusement of the thug’s blundering. Only when the brute had slung his blades to the floor did Vaud finally rise from his spot and stroll over to his equipment. Every movement with purpose, he strapped, slung, and hooked his items to his body under his sweeping cloak. His dagger was at it’s usual retrieval location, bound to his ankle, whilst the wolf’s bane backpacked behind him. Lastly, he finally removed his cloak and dawned the dark armor. When the breastplate was stretched over his chest he rolled back his shoulders and observed his own stature. He liked how he felt in armor, like he was wearing a mighty uniform, in response he bounced up on his toes and quickly switched stance, throwing a air punch to an invisible target. His limbs were recently stretched and flexible, his stomach was full, and his overall confidence was unfettered. If anything he felt better than before his previous match. Round one had gave him the experience and he was no longer plagued by the first-time jitters.

Adopting no other equipment, he strutted out the open chamber door and out into the hall. Here he passed by the stout fellow who had brought him his gear, now looking hopeful in Jupiter’s direction. Subconsciously he nodded back to the man and continued forward, up the hall, towards a large gate where he assumed he would be entering through to the arena. He stood briefly, long enough to notice a spot of rust forming amidst the bar directly in front of him, when the gates shot upward and retracted with a loud clash, back into its holding mechanism. Surprisingly the arena was darkened. Faint lights of torches in the distance suddenly grew brighter as his eyes adjusted to the new element. It was like nothing had changed under his perception due to his unique vision properties. It would have been hard to see if he hadn’t had his own night vision. The colors were no longer vibrant, but now changing grey and dull. Only tolerable enough for the scene to be one of a dreary day. The next noticeable change from his former solitude was the noise level.

The crowd lit up as the first competitor entered the arena. It wouldn’t be long until they would see their much wanted bloodshed. It was a monotonous roar, dulling into the back of his mind, apart from joyous shrieks from a group of swooning lasses. Automatically he stuttered into the arena, his eyes darting almost suspiciously over the bulk of the crowd. His movements were awkward at first, his body deciding whether to wave or offer any other type of gesture, until he spied a man in the center - most likely the judge - and walked purposely towards him. There was no one else on the battle field but the pair of men at this point. Once again he was the first to arrive, leaving his opponent’s approaching stride left open to interpretation. Vauduex Jupiter stopped and stood a tolerable distance from the judge, then signaled that he had already adorned his equipment when prompted. For the remaining moments before his competitor entered the stadium he observed his surroundings, the coarse grain of the earth and the expanse of the battle field itself, looming in its grandeur.

The dull roar of the crowd drowned out all other noise as it sank down into the small waiting room where Valdearg sat unmoving on a bench. The guard who was watching him was beginning to get nervous as Valdearg had been motionless for more than half an hour. It was always unnerving to watch a man who wasn't moving in the slightest, it always made you wonder what in the world they were thinking about. After the first fifteen minutes the guard had begun shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wanting Valdearg to do something, but not want to break the spell that had fallen over the room. Despite the noise from the crowd, the room contained a silent quality that was disturbing. It was almost as if Valdearg would have continued to sit there even if the building started burning down around him. The guard's heartbeat sounded very loud in his ears, and he was beginning to sweat despite the fact that the room was quite cool.

Valdearg's hands were clasped in front of him, hunched over slightly as he concentrated on the task that was before him. In this second round of the tournament he had entered, he was going to have to fight someone who was most likely even stronger than the angel he had defeated. That had been a hectic battle. Zenith Meria was both a skilled swordsman and a master magician, combinging his use his spells and physical assaults with an ease that spoke of long practice. Valdearg had managed to get away without too many scrapes and bruises, but he had needed to revert to his draconic form in order to defeat the powerful archangel. In this arena, there would not be enough room for him to revoke the spell that caused him to wear the form of a human. He would be cramped into a small space if he did, and his opponent would be able to strike at him from beneath where Valdearg would not be able to strike back effectively.

When one of the doors to the room opened, Valdearg's eyes shifted to where he coudl see who was entering. An armored guard came into the room carrying his few weapons. Apparently they were going to get the weapons before they actually saw their opponent this time. with unblinking eyes, Valdearg followed the movements of the guard as he carefully placed Valdearg's weapons on the floor of the room. Most likely the man had been planning on just dropping the items to the ground, but he had caught sight of Valdearg's stare. This man wisely decided against such a hasty action, as it probably would have resulted in blood being shed before the round actually began. Valdearg was not at all loath to kill fools who possibly damaged his possessions. Especially when his health would depend upon those possessions in a matter of minutes.

Slowly, the guard stood up and backed away from Valdearg's weapons, leaving the room without turning his back on Valdearg. A smile that contained no mirth flashed across Valdearg's face as he stood up, unfolding his body from the bend he had been sitting upon. For this fight, Valdearg had decided on a change from his normal appearence. As a matter of habit, Valdearg typically made his disguise that of a fairly large man, obviously a warrior, and someone you didn't want to mess with. The obvious reason being that people tended to leave such large individuals alone. But for this fight, he didn't want to be large. It would give his opponent more mass to hit. Standing at about 5'5", Valdearg weight about 150 pounds. On his chest he wore a dark leather vest that would help him somewhat in deflecting blows. Loose, dark blue pants and sturdy boots competed the outfit. As in the first fight, Valdearg was completely bald, not wanting to have to deal with any hair getting into his eyes.

With care, Valdearg picked up his curved dagger, threading his belt through the loops in his pants and placing the weapon at his right hip. Taking care, Valdearg tightened the belt enough to where it would not slip, but left is loose enough to where it wasn't constricting. With that in place, Valdearg picked up with other weapon, his Blade of Destruction. Valdearg brought the strap up over his head as he placed the sword diagonally across his back, the hilt poking up above his left shoulder. Shifting his shoulders around, Valdearg got the blade comfortably settled before turning to face the second door to the room. This large door led into the arena where he would soon be facing off against his next opponent. Taking a deep breath, Valdearg lifted his chin, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Letting his eyes become unfocused, the dragon in disguise simply relaxed his body.

With a loud bang, the doors where thrust open, and Valdearg strode through the entrance, confident in his ability to deal with what was to come. As he walked towards the center of the arena, Valdearg fixed his eyes on the man who appeared to be his opponent. The man was several inches taller than Valdearg, meaning he would have the advantage of a longer reach. Also, the man was wearing real armor, not simply a leather vest. Well, the was something that Valdearg wasn't too worried about. If he managed to get in a good, solid hit, then this man was going to need all the protection he had. His Blade of Destruction would easily even the odds a bit. With it's ability to cut through practically any metal and a few other innate tricks, the sword was worth four times it's weight in gold.

Absentmindedly, Valdearg popped the knuckles in his fingers, flexing them slightly to warm them up. The room where he had been waiting had sunk the cold into his hands more than anything else, and he couldn't fight very well if his hands where cold. With his eyes never leaving his opponent's face, Valdearg easily saw the man's red eyes, a sign that this being was more than what he appeared to be. Well, Valdearg was also more than what he appeared to be, and his deception was just as obvious. The one thing that never changed about his appearance, where his golden eyes. Inclining his head slightly, Valdearg was the first one to speak. "My name is Valdearg, I am ready to fight when you are." It was time for the second round of the tournament to begin so that they could determine who would move on, and who would go home.

It wasn’t the uproarious nature of the crowd nor the initial disappearance of the gate, on the opposing side of the arena, that signaled him the arrival of his adversary; it was the same loud clanging from the rusty gateway echoing across the field. While the mechanical gate was still vibrating in its roost, Jupiter’s head had shot over to take witness of the new arrival. With short strides his opponent approached, even from their distance Vaudeux knew that the silhouette’s gaze was on him and he returned it with a passive glance, all the while searching over every feature of the man he would soon be facing in combat. The half-breed noticed the pommel of an impressive sword peaking out over the man’s shoulder, like a parrot to a pirate. Finally a proper parry, He thought while trying to imagine the blade of the weapon, his mind refreshing impressive battle tactics involving the way of the sword.

There was something amiss as his challenger drew closer though. It seemed that his body had stopped growing in size as perception changed. At first Vaud believed that he was playing fool to a mind trick until he blinked and his opponent was meters away yet still the same size. The man wasn’t as impressive as Vaudeux envisioned. In fact, he was several inches shorter and could be considered a light-weight. At once the Wyrm piped up in the back of his mind, the first time queuing in on his battles so far, You’ve got to be kidding… it hissed. Secretly Jupiter couldn’t agree more with his conscious-like counterpart. His eyes darted once more to the hilt of the man’s blade and wondered if the chap could even lift the heavy long sword, which caused an undeniable smirk to fix on his expression. Instantly he blinked, and the scarlet that unknowingly traced his irises disappeared in a sea of green as the presence of the Wyrm faded to the back of his thoughts once more.

The rest of the challenger's façade was as equally surprising for the caliber of the new round. He wore a simple vest of dark leather over his chest. It made the thief feel almost overdressed. In the few seconds while his opponent halted to a stop, Vaudeux also noticed a radically curved dagger fastened at the man’s waist. He seemed like the warrior-type with weapons like that, though, Vaud couldn’t be sure. Like himself, the man could have a few devious spells hidden up his sleeve. Jupiter took once final observing glance while checking to see if the guy was returning any opposing looks as well. He wondered what was going through Valdearg’s mind at that moment, what he took of the figure contrary to his position. The half-breed liked to think of himself as impressive nonetheless, especially when he dawned his armor. Perhaps he had already completed the task of intimidating his opponent through sheer presence.

Nevertheless he was about to look away when his keen eyes caught glance of something fascinating in Valdearg’s expression. A pair of golden orbs were showcased before him under low brows. Jupiter turned back slightly with intrigue and allowed his glance to linger for a few moments as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the pair of eyes. Suddenly it hit him with a wave of familiarity. The aura was distinctive once he caught wind of it. The man must have been part dragon. Dragon’s had an unmistakable sense towards each other, even halves could make the association after a while. Even if his inklings were incorrect, he adverted his eyes back down to his left hand, nothing else of interest from the opposition. While they stood the thief heard faint popping noises, air escaping the gaps between bones, from knuckles. Subconsciously he wanted to crack his own fingers, but resisted and allowed the chance for silence before they would begin.

Just as the crowd was starting to get settled into their seats a strange sensation befell over his chest. At first it felt like he had taken a great deep breath that filled the space below his ribs, until he noticed that his chest did not facilitate movement. For some reason his vision grew stronger in the gloom and his head became more clear with the passing seconds as well. The feeling was astonishing and he welcomed it. It was almost like he could draw into his magic abilities with power and ease. Though, he probably wouldn’t need any of his trivial spells, but it only helped. Curious, he looked around himself for a second then noticed that his armor was emitting a captivating gleam in the darkness. Moments passed when he suddenly realized that the feeling was being emitted from his armor. Looking up his face was bright, yet held no particular expression to give away his sensation. At that point Valdearg was introducing himself, How sportily of him, with an accompanying gesture.

Confidently, Vauduex reached behind his shoulder to his back and removed the short sword via pommel and brought it back down to chest level with a practiced semi-circular spin. He held the blade with a strong grip, bouncing it slightly to feel its fluency, then held its end with his left hand for balance and equilibrium. This battle was different that his former already. Jupiter had already noticed how he was starting, properly addressing the man with a common sword position. Yet, his feet were positioned diagonally to the left at forty-five degrees each, like his normal. This left him open to a variety of movements besides tedious linear combinations. Once his stance was completed he looked back to Valdearg, a brow quivering above the other in a complete sneer. With a masculine draw he answered simply, almost like he was coaxing his rival on,

“Jupiter. Shall we?” Before Vald had a chance to answer the half-breed, he was swinging with an upward glance. Blade crossing protectively in front of his own body while diverting to the head of the short figure, which was mere chest level for him; the wolf's bane slashed out and swallowed in the space with its short striking arch.

Since Valdearg had been staring his opponent in the face as he had walked up, the man's smirk had been quite prominent. In his mind, Valdearg pictured that smirk, but he refused to allow a smile to come to his face. If Valdearg hadn't been a competent fighter with the form he had assumed, then he would have used something else. Although in a way, the man's smirk was well placed. Valdearg was relying on his vast endurence to see him through the fight, and if the contest continued for too long, then even Valdearg's endurence wouldn't be enough. Especially in this form, he burned up energy extremely fast. With such a small body, most of his fighting consisted of getting out of the way of the other person's attacks. If he were a giant of a man, he would be willing to exchange blows, counting on his superior size and strength to allow him to get off a blow that dealt more damage than his opponent.

Valdearg watched as the man selected the weapon that he was going to start off with. The man's weapon was a short sword, meaning that with the greater length of his Blade of Destruction, their reach would be about the same. Well, that would be one thing that he no longer had to worry about. At least now the only advantage the man had was the fact that he was taller. Valdearg's head would be easier to hit. If Valdearg wanted to strike at the man's head, he would have to aim upward, which would take something off of the blow. Shifting his body slightly so that his weight was over his left foot, Valdearg continued to stare at his opponent, waiting for the man to make the move that would begin their confrontation.

When the man settled into a stance with his weapon before him, Valdearg glanced up and down the man, getting a feel for how the man fought. The way a man stood told you a lot about how he fought, and this man was no different. His feet were angled, meaning that this man didn't simply move back and forth. That was something Valdearg was going to have to watch for. This man would probably attack from the side just as often as he did the front. Returning his eyes to the man's face, Valdearg once again saw the man's visage contorted into an image of derision. Well, he would soon learn that Valdearg would be harder to beat than he thought. At that thought, Valdearg couldn't help but allow a small smile to appear on his face. It was always a pleasure when the enemy underestimated you, then you always had the thrill of smashing that arrogance back into their face.

With a sudden rush, this man, now known as Jupiter, went for Valdearg's head. If he hadn't been waiting for the man to move, then Jupiter probably would have gotten in a good hit, perhaps even ending the fight almost before it began. As it was, Valdearg simply swayed to his left, letting the short sword impale the air where he used to be. Ducking slightly, Valdearg's right hand snapped up to the hilt of his blade, ripping the blade from his sheath with a powerful tug. Although he could have struck at the man, Valdearg refrained, instead backing up to gain some distance. Spinning the blade with both hands, Valdearg let the point fall until it was facing the ground. With a swift motion, he jabbed the point into the floor of the arena, calling on the blade's latent powers. For a fraction of a second, nothing happened, but then Valdearg felt it building. Desperately, Valdearg leapt backwards just as a geyser of fire and smog erupted from the ground where the blade had been.

Using the geyser as a screen, Valdearg ran to the side, hoping to get behind Jupiter before the man managed to track him. In the back of his mind, Valdearg was already planning what he could do. Planting his foot, Valdearg raised his left hand high into the air, yelling a single word that produced a brilliant flash of light and heat. With a roar, the two combatents were surrounded with a ring of fire that was 20 feet across. While it would limit Valdearg's manuverability, he would also be able to use it to his advantage. With his other spells and his sword, he might be able to drive Jupiter back towards the circle. With a fire at the man's back, it would make life very difficult for this Jupiter. It would also make the fight a bit more interesting. If Jupiter planned on surviving that test, then this fight would end up a contest between dragons and not humans. That was the goal that Valdearg was aiming for.

Spinning so that he was facing Jupiter, Valdearg held his blade aloft, rotating it so that the point was up and to his left, his body turned slightly to the side. His right foot was back, ready to serve as a brace if he had to block an assault, and his left knee was slightly bent, ready to move quickly to avoid any spells. So far, he had not seen any hint as to whether or not Jupiter had dabbled in the art of magecraft, but he wasn't about to decide without proof. The firelight gleamed wildly in his wide eyes, giving him an almost mad look. Raising his voice, Valdearg called out over the roar of the fire. "Come Jupiter, let's see which dragon is better prepared! Come face this test and see if you can stand the heat!" A wild grin split his face, and inside Valdearg was laughing. Would the half-dragon see through his act, or would he be deceived by Valdearg's wild manner? The battle the fought would be as much psychological as it was physical, and to the victor went the prize.

The smirking face of his target was within reach, and his sword was ever closing the space, arching towards the seemingly stationary head. For a fleeting second he started to think that his frontal assault was going to succeed, until he noticed his opponent lean away from his swipe in a lucrative dodge. He hadn’t been expecting much more from a weaponless rival, in fact he thought that the man would have drawn his weapon sooner and to parry his blow instead. Consequently Jupiter stepped sideways as his green orbs darted downward to his nearly crouching opponent. It was then he realized that the man was now drawing his blade, thereby slicing inward to bridge the gap between them. Instead Valdearg spun up and retreated steps away while spinning his blade. It looked like a show-boating maneuver, yet not a very impressive one. The man didn’t even complete a full momentum swing and instead let his blade point down to the earth.

Vaudeux’s mind was only on one thing at this point, and that was to attack any chance he got. Seeing his opponent scuffle with the long blade licked his intrigue and he sprang at the chance for an unprotected stab. Eyes primed at his target, a full-on vulnerable chest, he slid over the dusty arena floor gaining feet in mere seconds. At once he lunged forward and allowed his right sword hand to reach the rest of the distance between them. Little did he know that his opponent had punctured the ground below them with his long-sword, which meant nothing to Vaud at that point, who continued to send his wolf’s bane piercing through the air at great speeds. He was zeroed-in on Valdearg at this point, any shifting noticed in a fraction of a second. Suddenly he noticed his challenger back away hastily, either reluctant to fight back or dodging his stab. The constant retreating was starting to become repetitive and aggravating, it had become apparent that the man wasn’t as seasoned with a sword as he had previously assumed.

At that moment he felt a rumbling near the soles of his feet and, before he could notice the sword in the ground near him, an earthquake-like detonation rumbled the very earth he was standing on. The noise was almost deafening; a roaring belch similar to that of a thousand hungry lions. Staggering backwards from the tremor, a wall of thick fire swept over his front and a wave of heat commanded the atmosphere before him. As a last defense he turned a sharp head away from the bombardment, just as he was blasted away from the searing geyser. From the stands it was an explosion of bright orange and white in the dark night, a large beaming torch in the middle of the spacious arena. Many patrons cooed with awing expressions while others cringed as they noticed the handsome figure silhouetted against the outskirts of the horrific display of fiery gases. As the geyser continued to hiss up into the sky it lit up the faces of the challengers darting around the magic fury in attempt to catch the other off guard.

From there Jupiter stumbled around the opposing side of the surprise assault, an obvious stagger in his step. He couldn’t just stand right by the very beast that had bit him, so he was off - walking unsteadily. His limbs were flailing to keep his balance, yet his momentum carried him around the smog in a tight circle. The figure’s sword was shinning in the new light which reflected the rays across the stands at odd angles, it was evident its holder was in pain. The half-dragon could do nothing but plunge onward with his forward momentum, it was all he could do to keep himself from falling. He reached up with his spare hand to grace his face, for it was his left side that had taken the damage due to his quick maneuver, but was now stinging with the intensity as if being scalded by boiling water. Mere inches from his face he had to retract his hand, the stinging had became unbearable. Stumbling into the light of the fire jet, Jupiter’s left eye was clenched shut, lashes still smoking at their charred ends. The total side of his face was raw and riddled with injury. Little did the other know that they were chasing one another in a mad circle around the geyser, while keeping the same distance between each other, no ground breeched by either adversary.

After a few more heavy footfalls, the jet stream died and a wall of fire exploded across the area like it was embedded with a perfect circle of kerosene. At first the half-dragon suspected that it was another attack like previous, so he grappled his sword with both his left and right hand and spun towards the closest flames as if he could ward them off, suddenly finding his balance. Then, behind him, the hissing had ceased and he whipped back around to see Valdearg positioned there, on the opposing shore, where the geyser had once stood. Now there was a vicious hole that penetrated the arena, mounds of earth stacked like cards from the initial pressure of the attack, near the mouth of the hole. He looked outward to the man, the flames standing tall behind him; a perfect scenery to express his fury at the mage. Vaudeux’s dismay towards his opponent from even before he had met him, had came true. With an arsenal of spells like from the current display, there was no doubt that his challenger was a sorcerer. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, after a futher thought, he would have to balance a mixture of closeness and distance if he was going to maintain his stamina for the rest of the battle.

The fire crackled and snarled into the air around them, a complete circle, a smaller arena within the former. Automatically he took a step forward towards his opponent, whom was several feet away, aiming his blade in his direction. Whatever advantages the geyser would have given in the distraction portion was null, for the contestants were back where they had started - in a stare down of examination and wits. He looked back at the silhouette, his infravision clearing up Valdearg’s features at once, and glared into the disturbing eyes wildly lit up with the surrounding conjured flames. With one more subtle step, he closed their gap once more, yet the pair were still too far away from each other to exchange suitable blows. Like he hadn’t noticed, Vald proceeded to badger him, wanting more attacks. Of course one would if they had not a fresh scratch on them since the beginning of combat. Suddenly Jupiter’s eye flickered, like a half blink, at the man’s statement once it had sunk in. Somehow the guy had figured out that he was part dragon, yet was mistaken to call him as pure. Only if a full-bloodied beast could have heard him commit to such an utterance, such beings loathing the impurities that lingered behind halves. At least the one Jupiter had the misfortune to encounter months beforehand.

Aside from Valdearg’s prodding the thief did not respond, for his mind was calculating his next maneuvers. If anything he supplied the man a shrewd grunt; barley audible over the roar of the circumference of flames. As much as he would have liked to charge at the ignorant being he stood his ground and restored some of his composure through a passive expression and his flexible stance. A few seconds passed and Vaudeux was able to open his left eye to a slit before irritating tears started to well from his lacrimal duct. He shut the eye for the time being and suddenly executed a cross step across his left leg to sway notice. It was time to bridge the distance between them, subtly testing the opposing offensive techniques. When he was back in his stance he continued cross-stepping until he was drawing a semi-circle parallel to the perimeter of the ring of fire. The tip of the wolf’s bane was drawn outward, pointing from his solar plexus onward, gripped tightly with his right palm on its hilt. Then, oddly enough, he held up his left hand as a constant guard to his chest. It was his true position, rarely seen but in far off lands, yet provided enough comfort and protection for his purposes. The half-dragon continued stepping and nearing his opponent, yet not striking at once this time. His center of gravity was between his feet and functioning eye was working double-time to keep his vision sharp and focused on the movements of his adversary.