Two eyes stared into the thick of the forest behind the samurai, the canopy eventually becoming thick enough to stave off the little daylight left. As much as those eyes now looked forward to the continued struggle to claim a weapon, it was very evident that the hunt would need to be ditched if the prey fled to such a position. There was no way she'd be able to do anything beyond the point of darkness.

"That's good to hear, really. Maybe you can stop running away then. You certainly wouldn't want me to follow you back to your sweet mate because you thought you could outrun those not hindered by a need to rest or eat."

If only she was such a creature. Still, Morgoth had seemed to believe her claim to undeath without hesitation, may as try to get as much leverage out of that as she could. It was already quite lame that he slunk into the shadows, things wouldn't get any better if he retreated further into the darkness. With the night on her heels, though, the trappings of the forest may not even get a chance to be the problem. A cloudy night wasn't too far away, such a night would leave her at the mercy of the black blade and its owner. She focused on his voice, the red of his leather confirming his location. The hunt would be concluded one way or another; it mattered little how much she would oppose phantom advice from her sibling, she would retreat once night fell.

She ran at the man, wanting to release her spell into his leg, but knew better than to chance at such a punishable failure. A thrust at the center of his chest would allow his leather to soak up much of the fist-like force, while being more predictable, but she was bent on the man thinking the punch would be just as much a threat, if not even less so, than her first strike with her staff. He didn't seem to flinch, but if he remained just as sure as to what he should and should not react to, the results would be enjoyable. On a normal cast, Vibration felt like a very strong punch, something that was already out of the natural ability of a high-elf caster, but she had focused as much attention to the power of the spell as she was able to. With her ability to add force beyond the strength of ley-lines, she anticipated that his leather wouldn't be shielding as much of the force as he'd expect, and maybe, just maybe, drow weakness would push this past the realm of rude.

She trekked through the mud in her dash, her staff held horizontally in front of her as she advanced. Once she got close to the drow, she'd move the staff out of her way and off to the left, stepping into her magicked punch aimed at the chest of her foe, hoping that he wouldn't expect a weak witch to pack much of a punch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vibration from last post cast.

The dark elf came back from his own little world to observe the woman finish her charge. Pulling aside her staff she slammed her fist into his breast plate. The elf had just realized with a sicking feeling that this was no ordinary punch and he felt a rippling pain in his chest and his bones ached two broken and, three, four bruised ribs. He felt the breathe leave him as he fell to his knees his mind was racing. Stupid, stupid, never let your enemy inside your guard he could feel the disapproving strikes of the wooden practice blade across his head ringing him like a bell. The drow felt the disapproving eye's of Alashand on him as he knelt there almost waiting for the witch to reach for her spoils.

As soon as she did he knew his response. His steel would strike her right arm with the flat of its blade reminding her of the wounds he'd dealt her. The drow fought to keep consciousness as he considered his next moments following. His chest was raw and sore, his breathing shallow but he knew now the witch had shown most of her tricks she wasn't that much younger than himself meaning she couldn't have learned much more. If anything she'd know less in-fact he pulled her into the forest she was in his world all be it the edge. The problem was his limbs were far from responsive as the elf knew he'd miscalculated roughly rolling away pulled his sword up he hadn't been this confident since that night.

The ring of combat echoed as Morgoth saw not the elf but his brother there bleeding. It was the night of the semi finals the tournament was set up to choose the royal guard he'd chosen to compete even though he'd never ware the mantle. The year had changed the boy he'd killed his father reinstated his brother as rightful heir apparent and found true love. The boy that had fought in his first tournament stood a man striking down men. The drow had eyes only for Myrie no knight would stand between his happiness. This barely even classified as combat as he dispatched foe after foe. His brother like a fool had also entered under the name Vaide. He'd known his skills had waned as a swordsmen but not to this extent his first opponent tried to fight him blindfolded. He'd killed that one for his insolence but the other three had dropped knowing his birth. This semi finalist wasn't one to give up because his king pride was involved. The heavier man wore plate armor and carried a spear and shield. With three gaping holes in his chain mail and one in himself Maverick conceded in the semi finals. Morgoth having decapitated three of his five foes was in the final round against Kane the knight Maverick had yielded too. The man nearly one hundred years on the princes had the combat prowess of all the other competitors combine. Unfortunately he'd also become older and slower meaning the well oiled skills of Morgoth shown like the sun. Morgoth simply was behind his foe at almost all times the spear could not be used to quickly attack a foe behind one self. The younger elf after beating his foe handed him the mantle of the guard.

Ware it well Kane you need the honor more than I. The memory faded now there was just him and the witch. On the decent now he was ready for anything,

"Woman do your worst fore when i hit the ground we'll both be squarely in my world."

His threat rang hollow now he'd known the risk of taken a spell her hand had glowed faintly but the deed was done nothing to be done now but soldier on. He pulled himself to his feet raising his arm putting his sword in the ready position. His breathing was labored; His eyes coming in and out of focus deep breathes made his eyes twinge as he attempted to clear his mind. The samurai's honor wouldn't let him fall no matter how battered his body. He'd been trained never to lose consciousness and to bare the pain given.

The shock of realization and pain made themselves delectably evident after her knuckles brushed against the hard surface of what would have regularly provided absolute protection against such a lousy punch. The confidant to a fault samurai fell to his knees, laboured breath explaining the depths of the impact. His blade, the original goal, seemed to call out, her mind suggesting this may be the only time to retrieve it, but she knew better. As long as it's owner lived, getting and keeping the weapon would be a chore, likely, a very painful chore. No, a much better plan would be to kill the drow first, then loot the corpse. There'd be much, much less potential for hassle like that. Instead of reaching forward, the witch took a step back to regain composure. There was no need to remain in striking distance where prey could lash out suddenly when magic was on your side.

Her smile melted as she prepared another spell while Morgoth rolled about and seemed to jump with no particular goal in mind, acts which she justified by suspecting the blow to his ribs was causing him to see things that simply were not there, or, perhaps, he was keeping mobile to avoid missiles while he couldn't see at all. Not that she minded at all from a combat perspective, as it gave her plenty of time to cast, but such antics irritated her when she went back over things he had mentioned thus far.

"Pathetic. You were too proud to surrender an object, and too incompetent to strike down those seek to take it by force. Someone as long-lived as yourself has no excuse for ignoring these deep flaws; that you have taken this path anyway makes it fairly evident that you care little for your fate, or that of your Myrie's. Then again, it's probably better for her to find someone who isn't ready to die for nothing, and since you are so poor at looking out for the girl, I guess I should be responsible and do it -for- you by removing you from her."

He managed to righten himself, not yet willing to concede, spouting stuff about how strong his advantage currently was. Were Ellia not feeling so hostile and dark, she may have found humour in the statement. On one hand, duh. Even -stating- that was about as meaningful as her stating that she knew magic at this point. On the other, even though it was a true statement, it had obviously not benefited him in anything but causing doubt and protecting him from a spell. His present discomfort with breath made such benefits seem very ignorable.

{Energy Ball, 2/2/1}

She rose her right hand, the spell aimed to give him some tasteful memories of the meeting by leaving a lasting impression of an explosion where his face was. She -was- genuine about her concern over Myrie, though she never met this person, and didn't care about her existence in any way beyond how one could think about grass that would need to eventually be cut, the idea of Morgoth flirting with death to protect his katana over his fate was disturbing. Ellia would have preferred, on some level, if Morgoth had struck her down without hesitation. His promise to get back to his lover in a timely fashion would have held much more meaning if he acted to bring about the fulfilling of the claim instead of playing around and wasting time.

"You offer her nothing but the opportunity to feel great pain with your irresolution. That you would prefer to harm her instead of me makes me wonder just how much of a soul-mate she really is to you... seems like you are content with someone who simply reminds you of her after all. I do have a room at the inn, if you are really such a sad excuse of a lover."

Her staff switched hands. Though it'd be less comfortable protecting her already weakened left, but she expected some sort of rage to result from her most recent tongue wiggling, some sort of 'proof' of his 'love' for Myrie. Blocking calculated strikes with her wounded arm was painful, but angry ones would be horrid.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Energy Ball used, 0/2 remain

His shock that she'd try to kill him rung out any thought she looked like Myrie. The blue sphere of light sprang towards him closing much of the distance before he rolled under the thing. Slowing his breathing and coming up again directly in front of the witch. The following happened as fast as he could make it so fainting left, right, left attempting to draw her staff off the blocking of her shoulder. The elf would put as much of his strength as he could in attempting to cleanly sever that arm from where it once was. [Art of combat] If he was successful in a clean hit he'd have done the job he should have completed earlier. Short an arm the caster would be at his mercy.

The dark elf had staked everything that that strike would end this fight as the ball of energy struck the ground where he once stood. A great flash of light and the sizzling sound of the leaves and under brush crackling and fizzing out in the damp. The energy behind the attack dimpled the ground and the samurai sincerely hoped that this fight was over soon. He didn't have much left to give nor the strength left to out run her.

Forgive me my love I might not make it back and I truly hope this woman will treat you better than I.

His empty comment had little in the way of inflection and all his hope was in her lack of skill with that strip of wood. His gambit was that of a desperate man who is good at his craft. Unfortunately she'd probably react the same way he had to her fatal looking blaze of energy. The hope of his future would drag this drow to any lengths to keep Myrie safe. The fact that this woman might take his life meant little as she said since he wasn't able to protect himself what is there to keep his love one safe.

He'd proven himself against Infineon how is this mediocre staff wielder playing him like a harp. The truth was because of her lack in martial skills he'd underestimated her. He would never make this mistake again whether he walked away from the battle field or was buried by the mud of the current storm. The burning in his chest was like nothing he could imagine a greater flaw. A warrior based on his sword play was already classically weak to the caster archetype and he'd chosen this profession with out a thought for his natural weaknesses. He'd have some thinking to do should he survive this battle.

-----------
Skills remaining:

Spinning blade: 1x
Art of combat : 1x

The moment the drow began to dip under the attack, the witch had altered its course, angling the sphere of energy to adjust for the movement [Denouncing Linear Magic]. She wasn't quite sure of how good her opponent was feeling, but had hoped he would use a minimal amount of effort to remove himself from the trajectory of the spell, something that could now be punished. But it didn't happen. The dip was only the beginning, and once the roll forward was shown, no amount spell control would have changed the spell's path in time to make it hit. The explosion nestled itself into the damp ground much sooner, but just as wastefully, than normal. It was the last time today she'd be able to use the spell as well; options were becoming limited. Soon she'd need to tie off the encounter, as she had no urge to fight the samurai with a stick in one hand. She immediately began to retreat, but her movement was slow. The darkness and floor of the forest made walking backwards a tricky thing to do hastily, and she only managed a couple small steps back when Morgoth had completed his role and began probing her defense for a weakness.

She expected him to go for a kill-blow after his feints. After insulting the man and doubting his bonds, then hurling a small explosion at his face, she really expected he would get agitated enough to try to finish the encounter as quickly as he could. In the dark, his blade and arm were harder to track than the norm, and with the assumption a decisive attack was to follow, it wasn't too shocking that the blade caught her arm a second time. Her staff moved in to slow the attack, and she twisted back, thinking the strike was meant for her heart. While far from a severing blow, the metal did cut quite deep, tearing apart much of the muscle that bridged to her arm. With a yelp, the elf dropped her staff and leaped back, her now free right hand squeezing her new wound enough to stretch and open the scratch on the same shoulder. Her left arm was now shaking and bleeding quite a bit, and a quick grip test showed it wasn't going to be particularly useful at doing just about anything for a while. While retreating further, she quickly pooled mana in her left arm for another spell {Magic Shards, 0/2/3}. They would be quite weak, and the aim would be terrible, as her left hand remaining at her side and shaking far too much to even suggest where she might end up throwing glass at. She twisted the flight path of the glass as soon as she could, adding direction to what surely have been a complete miss if she hadn't. Weak as the spell was, it was fast, and she needed it to serve as a distraction to give her a break so that she could consider the new situation.

"It's going to be much harder to care for her if you keep cutting me, fool."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Magic Shards used, 1 of 3 remain.

The single mindedness with which he attacked was all he could muster. The fact was his energy was depleting quickly and his only hope was to severely limit his opponents actions. With the success of his strike was a great comfort. He negate a spell while taking her arm out of play for the rest of now short battle. The rate at which she was bleeding and the fact she'd forsaken her staff suggested the caster was up to something. He noticed something was off after the last bolt of lightning something glimmered in the air. He thought back through their fight, it had to be that magic shard attack she displayed at the beginning. He had just enough time after this thought process to protect his eyes.

Several shards struck his chest a few scratched his face but most fell to the ground around him. Shards had also shattered against his sword arm that he'd blocked with. His tunic was in tatters as he lowered his arm and there was a shard sitting upon his head. Morgoth realized he must look ridiculous and barely held back a burst of laughter. Collecting himself he breathed heavily and started to walk forward. Approaching the elf with his blade raised, Morgoth decided if she struck at him he'd be ready.

"It's going to be much harder to care for her if you keep cutting me, fool."

[Bleeding night] Focusing his best to stay mostly unseen he approached in darkness of the trees. Over time the storm had dissipated and now that last lightning bolt seemed to have ended the electrical part of the storm. The rain still forming sheets around the combatants. By this time both combatants were severely drenched, Morgoth was surprised he was shivering. He'd spent years in the trenches fighting for inches and now a little rain and his body started breaking down?

The end of his walk there was about a foot between them. He leaned into a quick sword slash across her chest swing his weapon two handed. The elf hoped for the best feared for the worst and prayed it hit.

Though the distracting spell was brief, the drow did take his time returning to his advance, giving the witch a moment more to retreat and decide on things. It was hard to guess as to why he took as long as he did though, for the elf. She had wondered if he was he so sure of his situation he doesn't mind taking his time, perhaps taking a moment to enjoy his new fortune, even appearing to struggle with containing laughter, or if his sluggish reaction was due to the hit he took to his ribs. Not that it really mattered, she decided; it was pretty clear to her that it was time to flee. With one hand being nearly useless, the other preoccupied with holding divided flesh together the best it could, no staff, and only a couple spells left, the situation would have already been sufficiently poor before the darkness was taken into account.

She had lost. The warmth that now leaked through and down her robe brought with it light-headedness; she would need to lie down soon, or get some form of aid. Worse still, Morgoth continued his approach, not content with leaving leaving her be. She inched back, ever closer to the edge of the forest, but she dare not turn and run while she was unable to determine the likelihood of her foe being able to keep up or catch up. She was about to admit defeat and hope the man sparred her unlife, but then he continued to advance even after he was within striking range. He continued moving forward until there was only a foot of room between the two, a distance certainly not ideal for a two-handed hold on a lengthy weapon like a katana. That was hardly enough room for a forearm to move about in, never mind a swinging blade! Ellia had heard about things that drow did after a successful battle back when she lived north of Darkness Incarnate, and though she had been reluctant to think such stories were less common than suggested or outright demonization, the close, armed approach suggested the stories true. Intimate range, as far as she was concerned, happened when someone was within a foot and a half away. Such stories would not parallel what was to happen here if the witch could prevent it.

With only a foot between the two combatants, and her foe leaning in further for his attack, there was so little room between the two she could feel his breath. The option to leap back or away was, of course, present, but with the small distance, doing so would only make the attack comfortable for the samurai. Instead, Ellia took a step forward and slightly to her left after having dropped her right arm, which closed the tiny gap. She too leaned forward at this point to press her torso against Morgoth's arm, expecting the pin to disrupt whatever sort of manoeuvre the man was attempting with his blade. Then, with a bit of a delay, she brought her good arm back up to the man's ribs, releasing a second Vibration to his ribs[Weight of the World]. At this range and weird circumstance, she was sure she would hit, bringing with it moderately more force than a very strong punch, and was quite hopeful in the idea she may walk away from this encounter yet.

{Vibration, 2/0/3}
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vibration used, 0 remain

Realizing his folly a second too late dropped his blade placing his arm in the path of her movement forcing her second punch to hit further to the left. He dropped to his knee's once more most maybe two ribs on his right side remained undamaged now. His breathing ragged, his vision coming in and out of focus. you need training boy! The voice rang in his head Alashand must have been watch his wife was a very gifted seer. That moment felt like it was dragging along, neither combatant was armed. Morgoth leaned against a tree, breathing heavily trying to readjust his vision.

That was an amazing fight Ellia, with of the night. Welcome to my world, here I accept you as a combative equal. Thank you for this learning experience.

With that he leaned over to pick up his sword and her staff. Falling to his knee's again feeling lightheaded. This fight was over and they both knew it. Morgoth sheathed his blade and slowly regained his feet. He tore another strip of cloth and passed it to Ellia.

Bind your arm neither of us can really continue in this state.

He passed her the staff and began to walk away into the shadows. The clouds began to clear and the sky brightened a little the stars glimmer and the played in and out of cover. The pools of water all around shown in the moon light and Morgoth sighed as he walked away.

Farewell!

The simple battle changed his world that night. Morgoth knows that he'll have to gain some defenses against magic a swords best offense is a good defense. This means Morgoth can't be caught off guard next time or it's shame on him. Maybe a new weapon? A training regiment doesn't seem enough anymore does it? Alashand's thoughts still echoed in his mind. The feeling of someone else's presence in his mind was a strange thing. He felt uncomfortable thinking about what Alashand might have gleaned from being inside his mind. The moment passed and he focused on finding his way back to town.

Though her short casting delay gave Morgoth enough time to adjust for the impact, allowing him to avoid a worse outcome, it was not enough to protect all of his ribs. Still, the defense proved to be too little; the man fell to his knee, which was a most favourable outcome. Were he still able to stand, Ellia would likely have been skewered and slain, since her latest effort caused a great measure of dizziness which begged for a . Instead of keeping up her attack with her final spell, she wandered back to lean on a tree, quite happy to see her foe doing the same.

Her breathing had become short and panicked, so she figured it'd be a good use of time to struggle to control herself away from hyperventilating while her opponent collected himself. She clutched at her wound, anxious to get away or permanently down her opponent. But how would she kill him now? Shards would likely not be enough to win the day unless she was lucky enough to hit his neck, an unlikely task given her dizzy state. Not possessing a knife would mean a more mundane way would require much more energy than she was able to give. She was ready to forfeit and hope for the best, but it became an unneeded gesture when the samurai fell back to his knees and thanked the woman, then offered her a strip of cloth and her staff back.

"I don't understand why you would show me kindness. Thank you."

A clumsy tie was all she managed after slumping down to a sitting position at her chosen tree, but it was better than nothing. The weight of her soaked robe would help, but blood loss made the tavern feel so much farther away than it was, so she made herself comfortable instead of trying to get back.

Sleep had been unknown to the elf since her natural life ended. Being so worn out, unable to sleep, yet not quite to the point of passing out sucked. It sucked and it hurt like hell. As she watched Morgoth leave the area, she had half a mind to toss whatever magic she could at him, just for the sake of injury. She stopped herself, however, thinking how much better it was that he was walking away instead of toward, and how much that could change should she attack him again.

"If we ever meet again, Morgoth, it will be under less fortunate circumstances on your end... I will have that blade. Until then, take care of the girl, and realize that you likely need to stay alive to keep her happy."

She watched him leave while she awaited the less-than-natural healing process to begin. She swore to herself to never challenge an armed drow so close to sunset again, unless they were indoors, of course. It simply wasn't worth the hassle or the pain taking them on in an environment where even their warriors could hide without much effort. She also needed to know when to walk away from a fight; she knew things were going to be harsh as soon as the man made it to the trees, yet she followed in anyway.

Next time, she thought, she wouldn't act on what she expected her brother's advice would be, at least not in the opposite way. That voice was her own, she reasoned, and just because it was in the tone of a snarky sibling didn't make the advice ignorable. Once Morgoth left her sight, the elf watched the night sky clearing up, and prepared for a very, very long night.