Cirdan had entered the arena a while ago and waited for who ever if anyone would show. He didn't like waiting. Though there was almost knowing in the seatings, he was sure that people would not root for him. His kind was not known to be around cities. The only reason he was here would there be some good fighters here. He did not dare to disturb their living styles. He was not one for normal life around here. He just wanted more fights if anything. He may be some of the smartest of his race but he just used this illteligenace to enter the cities without being threatened. He was growing more impatient when noone was showing up yet. "Isn there be a sum-one willin' ta fight. he shouted shifting his head around in fustration.

Nathaniel didn't normally care for the Battlestand. Its structure was built wide open to allow the natural shafts of sunlight to illuminate it. However, that same open architecture led to a multitude of insects and mind-rotting heat on warmer days, and blankets of snow and ice that whispered death on the more colder days. Besides that, it was also very loud, filled with abrasive personalities of men who wanted to fight with mere onlookers. Others took to trying to spit on the opponents below, only to hit others sitting in the stands.

It was almost impossible to enjoy a good fight here given that so few managed the place anyways. Areas were quick to fall into disrepair, weaponry left half buried in the fighting rink below. How many men had been felled because they stepped on one of the half buried swords, thus becoming fastened to the ground and an easy target?

These complaints weren't only those of the human male, though. Many echoed these complaints, which was part of the reason it saw so few people. Drunks wandering around, the more bloodthirsty members of society; they occasionally entered these walls. Usually it was a way to tell apart the natives though; the tourist appeal of the place stopped there, with little to encourage the locals to take up their time there.

Half drunk, the self-proclaimed crude magician had let himself stumble here. It'd taken a lot of coaxing of his legs to bring him up the steps, and he'd sat at the seat closest to the rink. The alcohol had brought a buzzing of unpleasant memories and even less savory feelings, leaving him angry and confrontational. If he'd had a small child to kick, he would have.

Perhaps this is why, when the gargantuan lizard bellowed his taunt, Nathaniel had answered with the searing determination of a bull. He had never been a sloppy drunk, which was one of the reasons it was such a lethal combination. Self-assuredness bundled in the greasy fats of ability and raw power. Grasping the wooden barricade's top, he let his palms squeeze until splinters bit into his palms. Then he shoved himself over it, landing below in a crouch. Dark blue eyes traversed the form of the other, memorizing the green flesh and thick muscles. Playing out where his blade would bite first.

"I'll fight you." He spat to the side, menace and repulsion dripping from his word. He rose to his full height slowly--; it was insignificant compared to the other, but it would afford him the ability to maneuver around his opponent. His hand moved to his side, palming the blade sheathed there slowly. "Are you looking to make your hide a cushion today, or shall I simply reveal the dog you are?" A more malicious way of asking whether he wanted to fight to death or simple submission. Usually Nathaniel wasn't so colourful in his external response to others, but the alcohol had removed the inhibitions of such speech.

Cirdan snorted and left his mace strapped to his waist. He did not need it for this. He circled the human thinking of where he should strike. "I have hard time under-wordin' your speaking. But I am not k-nine" he said completely not knowing what the man ment. Something about a chusion and a dog. It was confusing. He charged the human and swung his arm down in an arc in an attempt to crush him.

Nathaniel gave a snarl of his own, diving quickly to the side to avoid being trampled. It seemed it was none too late, as the massive fists of his opponent could be heard crushing a path through the woven fabric of the air. Clambering up took him longer than usual though, so that by the time he'd raised himself and held his sword at the ready the flank of the giant was no longer exposed to him, a tactic that could have afforded him the entire fight. Nathaniel openly scowled at this development, resisting the urge to throw his weapon down in frustration.

Still, there was at least one thing that could aid him. He felt his very soul wrench its fist into the tendrils of reality, the glittering threads being tugged free of their stream. Like lightening it shot out vibrations across the others, until the human was able to absorb their very charge. To any onlookers, it appeared as little more than a movement of the hand. Those more intune with the workings of magic might have felt a charge in the air, like static leaping from their host.

Then, Nathaniel leapt forth, like a tiger waiting to jump a buck. He exerted his hand in the other's direction, snarling; "Imbecile!" The words held a hollow ring to them, like the respected chants of blessed men. However, this was far different; Nathaniel had invoked one of the spells from his arsenal; confusion. There was always the lurking chance it would fail, or the other would dodge in time. However, the other was hoping that by moving closer he'd effectively made his chances of success higher; that, and the frame of the beast would be difficult to miss.

Now it was a question if it could pull on those same glitter-threads of the other, cling to his fabric and hone in on him to truly harm the beast. It wouldn't kill him, in fact it would likely only leave him confused for a short while, given how short a time Nathaniel had focused on his energy. But in that time the tides could yet be changed, and a final, efficient blow struck.

Of course, before he could see it take effect he reeled from the sudden pull on his system, both physically and spiritually. With a distinct lack of humility he vomited onto the dirt ground, wrapping one arm tight around his midsection and almost entirely doubling over. There wasn't a great deal to be regurgitated, but the motion still seared his throat and the precious moments had left him exposed to the other, if indeed the spell cast previously failed.

Cirdan did not understand the words that were spoken by the man. This time it didn't even sound like a word. Then his mind fried for a moment. He had no clue of anything anymore. "What happen?" he shouted looking around and had his senses come back to him bit by bit.

Cirdan looked at the man, he was puking. Cirdan didn't even have a second thought as he clutched his fingers into a fist and bought it down towards the human. "Die human." he said with a reptilious hiss.

Nathaniel looked up just in time to catch sight of the towering giant bearing down on him. Again he made to maneuver, though this time his speed failed him. Though his skull wasn't crushed into his belly, his shoulder was. Fire shot through his muscles, the nerves spasming as the shoulder blade completely dislocated itself. A yowl of pain later saw him stumbling to the side, dropping his blade so he could hold the area pathetically.

The bone was clearly jutting out, the flesh pulled taut around the lowered area. His entire left arm hung limp, a numbness spreading through his fingers and locking them from his awareness. Still the ferocious agony continued though, and Nathaniel could only wonder if this was not the same pain he'd dealt upon his foe Stella, long ago in a tournament that felt centuries-old. Taking another few steps backwards, he eyed the other up and down warily. He couldn't afford to underestimate him, not when he was this powerful. Already he'd been cost his arm, and it was one of the most vital things he had.

"Enough of this." Nathaniel snarled, once more reaching into the reserves, this time he plucked hard, until a symphony of discord rung through his ears and beat upon his eardrums ceaselessly. His vision wavered, though the white hot pain could have simply been an extension of the brutal blow. Taking another meek step away from the opponent, he let a gesture sweep from the functioning arm of the two. Within seconds he felt the tearing rapture upon his chest, his ribs wheezing.

Then rocks flowed through his very veins, and a strength many men his size would marvel at coursed through him. With the power of the other it still wouldn't be enough to toss him about, but it would hopefully be enough for him to engage in closer combat.

Lumbering forward, arm still hanging like a doll's, he glared fiercely at the other. Then, he forced himself into a full on charge, aiming to get him around the waist and grapple with him. Nathaniel had been made weary by the previous tactic of the other, so his eyes remained alert for any sign of the arms of the other coming up to bash him again. Hopefully he could get low enough to make such an attack awkward though. Then, when he drew in close enough, he would back down from the grapple and instead go for one of the exposed knees. With this might, he may just be capable of injuring it enough to leave the other with a limp.

See him charge then, the throbbing mind of the warrior squealed.

Cirdan did not know why the man charged him. He was obviously injuried badly. Pulling his right arm back and waited a moment then threw a fist out towards Nathaniel while gripping his left hand around his mace he swung it out ready to crush the bones of the if he ducked under the fist or was held at bay by it. If he was hit by the fist it may send him directly to the ground with a snapped neck from whip lash. If hit with the mace it would crush his hip or rips and send him flying to the left.

Nathaniel hadn't expected him to withdraw his mace. It had seemed rather ignored previously, and for the creature to call upon it now was... disadvantageous at best. Still, it proved the thing was at least capable of some rational thought, and was obviously not leaving himself as open as before. That could be good or bad, depending on the reasoning. If it was because the human had managed to rattle him onto his toes, then he stood a chance yet.

Still, the very present danger of a mace flying towards him came into play. The right hand lost no time, making up for the loss of its twin by reaching into the pant line of his dark trousers. From there he procured a dark dagger, one of Xoco's finest. With startling accuracy he slammed it against the head of the club, the force enough to cause a squeal of metal. Then he pushed backwards, using the force of it against the mace along with the continued arc of the weapon to send him flying. Though he landed awkwardly and his leg gave a painful crunch, he couldn't help but feel he'd dodged a death-dealing blow.

"Wretch." He spat to the side again, raising slowly. His leg trembled, blood oozing down his ankle. There was likely a trail leading up to a painfully ruined kneecap. "I am not one who falls so easily." Another hand gesture, though slightly more complex (perhaps it was the erratic flair he waved the dagger with while performing it that added that notion), and suddenly a healthy glow seemed to enter his cheeks. The crackling sound of bones and grit could be heard, and with a muted cry he wrenched his shoulder back up into place. Sensation returned to his finger tips, and as if to illustrate this he clenched his hand tightly.

"I underestimated you, brute." He lifted his sword from where it had been discarded, the mithril weightless in his strengthened grip. The dagger was tucked back at his side, the blade as sharp and keen as it had been before scraping against the head of the lizard's weapon. "I do believe the time has come to finish you off. Any last words?" Nathaniel didn't openly approach him again, instead he circled from a distance, near the wooden barricade. Luring the other into attacking, so that he may bury his club in the wall and get himself stuck.

Of course, there was no way to predict his opponent's moves. Not yet, anyhow.

"Don' test my patients human." Cirdan growled while shifting his mace to his right hand. He charged him and did not have a second thought. His first was to strike hard. Cirdan lifted his mace into the air and swung it down at the target with enough force to go right though him like butter. Cirdan would swipe his tail in the direction the man dodged in if he did as a response.

Nathaniel saw the massive force come rushing at him, and a grin twisted his features. "Demi!" The words lunged from his mouth like a thick serpent, stretching his throat and leaving a foul acrid taste in its wake. The gesture thrown at the lizard was far more important though. At his side he felt the dark dagger sing its appreciation of the spell, instantly reveling in its own dark element being used. Demi. Able to wrench the very life from a target, leaving them with more than half but less than full life. It was a painful spell to invoke, and no doubt left a lasting impression.

In case it failed, he'd prepared and timed himself. Nathaniel's feet set themselves hard on the ground, knees locked and arms ready. When the massive shadow of the other threw him into an eclipse, it was time. Rather than dodge to one side or the other, he lunged forward and pulled all of his limbs as close as they would come to his form. If successful, he would land more or less between the legs of the creature, safely away from mace and tail. The added effect was the outstretching of his mithril blade, aimed at the belly of his opponent. That, too, held the dark offer of leaving a lasting impression.

If successful, the other would be in enough pain for him to quickly get away. If it didn't work, he could stab from below the other into the tail or foot. If the other didn't continue the charge, then he could merely continue circling along the outside, waiting for another opportunity to strike. Nathaniel was much like the snake; brutal in its own territory, but rather weak when on even playing terms. Still, something sly promised to aid him, and the simple will alone kept the inebriated mage moving. Perhaps most ironic of all was the fact he would likely not recall this encounter at all later on, merely contemplate over where he'd acquired the extra scraped and bruises.

Cirdan felt blood run down his scales and then huges amounts of pain. But this did not stop him as he swung his mace towards the ground with very much force. The ground had cracked slightly and he looked down to see the man. He know thought of backing off for a moment and he jumped back. He growled at Nathenial and knew this was not going to work for him. He needed to work out a plan but his brain could not think of any.

Cirdan backed off a bit more and circled the area slightly untill ether he was attacked or had actually thought of something himself. He paid no mind to the pain he felt or blood at this point.

The yellow eyed beast backed off, and a hungry look entered the blue eyes of Nathaniel. Warm blood coated his hand and blade, promising to crust and falter in appearance given time. Still, the pure red was a comforting sight, if not merely because it spoke of having injured the other. Straightening out once more, he set his shoulders square. The blow to the ground had quaked the earth and left his stomach teetering like unsure bricks.

"Beast! You bore me." He eyed the thing over, exhaling a slow breath. "I see no need to prolong the inevitable. This match is over." Nathaniel looked him over again, this time more slowly. His dark blue eyes lingered on the blow he had landed. It had been quite pleasurable using Baphomet on the other, and he certainly hoped it hurt a great deal. The enlarging mithril sword, entrusted to him on a night too dark to see faces with too much alcohol to remember words, had initially been odd. Now he appreciated it for what it was. With a serrated edge that grew three times it size upon tasting flesh, and forged of the strongest mineral to be found, it was hardly a toy to be tossed about.

Nathaniel had traded in his father's longsword for it. Though it'd been hard parting with the blade, the rum had eased his fingers just as simply as it eased his tongue. Perhaps he would seek it out once more, given time. Perhaps not. It mattered little right now, with danger lurking. The human looked as intimidating and proud as his heritage could afford him, offering the larger being no remorse. Not even those who'd found the battle worth watching could suspect how tired he was of this.

He was drunk, yes. And absolutely despised non-humans, which this thing embodied so perfectly. Yet they were stuck in a loop. It seemed for all the damage he dealt, the other gave twice as much. Though now that he relied on magic to aid him he seemed to be gaining an upper hand, he didn't doubt once it ran out he'd go back to being a rag doll. Until it charged of course, at which point it would start all over. Nathaniel wasn't stupid. Continuing this fight was pointless; at least at his current strength. When he was more well-practiced, he could seek it out again and make a point to have his boots freshly licked clean.

But this was a double edged sword. To openly back out would be seen as cowardice; submission. He wasn't willing to accept such a fate. Instead, he remained stoic. Taunting the other into compliance, into realizing they were evenly matched. Of course, given the thick skull Nathaniel was left praying to every deity he could think of that it got through to the lizard.

Cirdan knew that he could not think of any plans of attack that he already hadn't used. He knew this would go on and the human would do something different everytime. He was going to just leave untill something came to him. It wasn't the best of ideas but it would do as something different. He started to charge the man again but hucked his mace directly at him. Cirdan would then go in the direction he avoided to and lunged at him with his claws.

Nathaniel had expected the other to leave. Or at least give some response; a bellowing roar, or some semblance of the Common Tongue. But the creature didn't. Instead it was almost silent, as if it were contemplating. Contemplating? Bah! The thing wouldn't know where to shove its food if it weren't for the giant hole on its face! It was these dark thoughts that distracted him long enough for him to miss the movement of the lizard's arm, and notice not a breath too soon the flying mace. Nathaniel ducked low to dodge it, rolling forwards and shoving himself up onto his feet. It gave him just enough time to bring his blade up to his face, blocking the claws of the other.

The power of the other alone shoved him back a few steps, sand hissing as it was shoved, his feet refusing to come off the ground. His heels pushed harshly against the wood behind him, the clunk merging with the crunching sound of the sand. Still he held his blade firm to hold the other off, the mithril's strength keeping the human from becoming a mere slice of bread for the gleaming talons of the other. Another shove and he felt his side twist, body trying to move under the force even as the blade refused to yield. Then, with whiplash speed he pulled it back and slammed it forwards, hoping to do some damage. Even if it didn't, it would hopefully surprise the other long enough for him to roll out of harm's way.

If it didn't work he would throw himself low and under the arms of the other, which, in such close quarters, couldn't reach that low if Nathaniel ducked down carefully. Then he would impale his shadow dagger in the foot of the other, and break free while the other got used to the pain. Either way, he was fighting to get away, and one of the tactics would hopefully work in breaking free enough to put distance between them. When that was done he would break into a full run, lunging at the wooden barricade to try and pull himself out of the rink. It wouldn't be a pretty sight, and would no doubt involve slamming his blade into the wood so he could scale it. But, it would hopefully get him away from the raging beast.

"Mad cow! If you seek your death so badly, go find an angel to engage! I have no interest in wasting my time on the likes of you." Another glob of spit, and then he would head off, fully intending to leave the place and find himself another drink. That thing was going to kill me! Incredulous.

Cirdan was about to bring his other hand down atop the mans skull but he moved away from Cirdan quickly. The human said something and the response was simple. "I no cow. If human want to stop fight, should o ask. trying his best to speak correctly and make it easy to understand his bad tongue for the language. He just went over and unlodged his mace from the wall. He then proceeded to leave the arena to treat his wound.