05-31-2021, 01:38 AM
Well, polearm to polearm, Tiras figured he'd have more trouble with the polehammer. He attacked that man first, jabbing the dark-coated spear at the man. The hammer knocked it away, but Tiras was ready for that. He let go with one hand and used the other as a swivel, quickly bringing the metal butt of the spear to bear on the knight's helm. It wasn't to be that easy, however. Polehammer blocked him, and the fanatic struck with another magic gust.
He backed up to just out of range of both of them, then cast a spell again.
Spite...
It was by no means a powerful spell. It was what it did that caught Tiras' eye. It caused a minor warp on his opponent's flesh, anything from adding a deformity to merely changing the look of the face, but whatever it did caused the target excruciating pain. That could be very distracting.
Cat lip. Tiras cast the spell and waited a few seconds, and the man dropped the hammer to start scrabbling at his helm-covered face, clawing at it with his gauntlet-covered hands. Tiras thrust his spear into one thigh, then another, watching as the ground darkened under his body in the dim light.
When the dying man's movement slowed, Tiras turned to the man with the magic sword.
"Thought the church didn't allow those," he started off, crossing his spear over his lead leg.
"Heh. You'd be right, they don't. Guess where I took this from?" the captain responded, his voice too hoarse to continue bellowing over the din. His implication was just enough to guess.
"Building a collection, I take it?"
"Perhaps. But maybe I'll take to collecting rebel heads, instead, eh? Have at you!"
The man fought hard, and well, but he was just a bit too old, and just a bit too slow to follow Tiras' movements. Tiras ended up smashing the man's head with the spearbutt once he'd gotten inside his guard. Not wearing a helm was a stupid idea on the battlefield. Tiras stabbed his spear into the downed man's head, then proceeded to search his body. He found a key, and assumed it was to the man's chambers, likely in one of the higher sections of the prison keep. The druidic knight stood, holding aloft his dark-shrouded spear.
"Victory!"
His men took up the chant. "Victory," they sang, "Victory! Huzzah! Huzzah!"
Tiras began searching for the chambers that might have belonged to the man in charge.
He backed up to just out of range of both of them, then cast a spell again.
Spite...
It was by no means a powerful spell. It was what it did that caught Tiras' eye. It caused a minor warp on his opponent's flesh, anything from adding a deformity to merely changing the look of the face, but whatever it did caused the target excruciating pain. That could be very distracting.
Cat lip. Tiras cast the spell and waited a few seconds, and the man dropped the hammer to start scrabbling at his helm-covered face, clawing at it with his gauntlet-covered hands. Tiras thrust his spear into one thigh, then another, watching as the ground darkened under his body in the dim light.
When the dying man's movement slowed, Tiras turned to the man with the magic sword.
"Thought the church didn't allow those," he started off, crossing his spear over his lead leg.
"Heh. You'd be right, they don't. Guess where I took this from?" the captain responded, his voice too hoarse to continue bellowing over the din. His implication was just enough to guess.
"Building a collection, I take it?"
"Perhaps. But maybe I'll take to collecting rebel heads, instead, eh? Have at you!"
The man fought hard, and well, but he was just a bit too old, and just a bit too slow to follow Tiras' movements. Tiras ended up smashing the man's head with the spearbutt once he'd gotten inside his guard. Not wearing a helm was a stupid idea on the battlefield. Tiras stabbed his spear into the downed man's head, then proceeded to search his body. He found a key, and assumed it was to the man's chambers, likely in one of the higher sections of the prison keep. The druidic knight stood, holding aloft his dark-shrouded spear.
"Victory!"
His men took up the chant. "Victory," they sang, "Victory! Huzzah! Huzzah!"
Tiras began searching for the chambers that might have belonged to the man in charge.
Thank you Destin, for the awesome mug of Ambrose.