Clash of Polearms

Log Info

• Title: Clash of Polearms
• Emitter: Aelwyn
• Characters: Aelwyn, Warrick
• Place: Northern Gates
• Time: March 5th, 2023
• Summary: Aelwyn and Skielstregar have a little spar so that the Dragoon can learn more about Malefic.

Early morning. Bright sun. Just a little bit of cool wind from the northwest. People piling by in and out of the city gates. A small ruddy sith-makar off the distance, wrapped up in a new leather cloak, holding a red ribboned glaive.

All things were as they should be.

Except this particular sith-makar could barely stand still; even with the banged up looking tin coffee cup in hand, blowing its wispy smoke in the breeze. Bright set of orange eyes attempt to look towards the gates; squinting at anything that might be (obscenely) tall and large, and be nearly impossible to stare at in the bright sun.

"Malefic jussst, calm down, it isssn't going anywhere!" a deep voice comes through the open gates. Stepping out into the morning sun- rather, being dragged- is a shiny silverscaled makari who's sparkling in the morning light. Both hands are grasped around his halberd, the weapon seemingly tugging him forward as he's half dragging half stumbling forward with it.

Once the morning rays hit the wicked looking weapon, it immediately ceases, standing upright and planting itself into the ground as the jagged smile on it curls upward. It's basking.

Skielstregar pants next to it, hands on his knees. "Ssseriousssly, you mussst make up your mind for thisss, either high noon, or dawn'sss break. We cannot keep changing it up..." he huffs, eventually looking up to scan the surroundings. He perks. "Ah! Aewlyn, peassse on your nessst! Thisss one hopesss they weren't keeping you wanting long!"

Aelwyn had been quite eager for this meetup. Not only because he could take a closer look at... Malefic. He had stories before, naturally - but it was quite something else to actually know a weapon with its own will.

And a very particular, strong will.

The ruddy sith-makar takes the last sip off his coffee before he walks closer; he was wearing a new looking leather cloak, with fur lining. It was completely wrapped around his far smaller form. "Silver, Malefic, peace of their nest." The Dragoon bows. "This one is glad they are found in one piece. This was worried if they had not gotten lost in the weapon shipments." Flash of teeth.

There was a hint of manure around him.

"When this one said that one's weapon is part of them, an union was not quite what he had in mind. How is Silver managing?"

Skielstregar rumbles a chuckle at that. "The only way thiss one would have gotten lossst isss if Malefic took them into placesss up on high," he snorts, looking back at the weapon beside him.

The halberd doesn't stop staying turned towards the sun, but it seems to... bend slightly at the axehead. As if it was acknowledging Aelwyn's greeting.

The silverscale samples the air. Quirks his head. "Thisss one isss fine, Malefic hasss many quirksss that thisss one is figuring out now that they have... woken up, ssso to ssspeak. But, erm, thiss one mussst asssk, did you do farm work? Your clothesss look new, but they ssmell horsse or cattle upon you."

Aelwyn takes a step closer towards Malefic. The draconian was well known for not having common sense, so he simply leans towards to examine the dark blade a bit closer - until Skielstregar's words disrupt him. "Silver's nose is keen." He replies with a low rumbling chuckle. Though he couldn't quite hit the way his tailtip swayed under his cloak; barely containing his excitement. "Rider thought me how to ride. Like the cavaliers do."

A brief pause, "Did Silver know the legend of Owlknight?" He clicks his teeth, "Apparently a legend of his family."

Malefic is a rather shiny, sparkling weapon, not unlike its wielder. But inching closer to it, one can feel this underlying sense of dread. A sinking sort of sensation when one is observing something quite dangerous. And it is cold. The jagged crack down the axehead doesn't abate its grin, them standing stock still.

Skiel's brows raise at that, also amused at how the Dragoon is inspecting his weapon. "Interesssting. It iss an important ssskill to have, and takes quite a while to learn. That iss good you are branching out sssome. Who iss Rider? Thiss one hass not met them." He shakes his head. "No, have not."

Aelwyn's curiosity tended to get the better of him, but part of him did find that grin unsettling; so his attention slipped more towards the ridiculously tall makari. "Lucius, he rides a horse named Thunder." Then the draconian reaches out with his hand. "His lance is very long." A flick of his tongue, before he steps closer towards Skielstregar and taps his ankles. "One should ask him about it, it is an interesting story."

Finally, he takes in a deep breath and moves to stand in front of Silver. "Shall we, then?" He glances at his own glaive, then towards Malefic. "... this one will receive his weapon back if it gets caught in teeth?"

Skiel rubs one of his fangs, scaled brows furrowed. "Hmm. Thisss one hasss not met them. Sssa, lancesss, very long. Very powerful on mount." He glances down at the tap-tap. He bobs his head once. "Sssa. Thisss one will asssk then, if they meet thisss persssson."

He looms over Aelwyn, it's hard not to given the size difference, but Skiel smiles and hums warmly. "Sssa. We can. And yesss. Malefic doesssn't keep weaponsss."

"Usually," the halberd says in a metallic, growling voice.

"Usually," he reiterates, picking up the polearm and holding it setting it beside him in a loose, one handed grip. "How did you wisssh to do thisss, Aelwyn?"

Aelwyn flicks his orange eyes towards the halberd - perhaps a little startled by the voice. His lips curl upwards then. "Tch, that is a voice to remember." He compliments, before he looks back up at the silvery makari. "The lance is very powerful indeed. To be trained from such youth." He spreads his arms. "It is as if one were to become a fire dancer."

Speaking of training, the ruddy sith-makar leans his glaive against the edge of his neck. "This one desires to know more about the way Silver's weapon dances - yet if this one were to ask for a demonstration of combat," He taps his chest. "Perhaps more padding would be required." The glaive is raised and he holds it in between them. "How would Malefic desire to mettle?"

The halberd, finally, looks away from the horizon as the sun has crested into its full splendor, now to face Aelwyn. It doesn't say anything for a moment, but metal groans and creaks as the jagged crack splits. "We can spar. I won't bite. Much."

Skielstregar smiles proudly. "Very well. We can spar. Keep it light. Mind you, sssince we are out of the sssoftskin city, Malefic and thisss one fight vassstly differntly."

Making sure the area around them was clear, Skielstregar pivots around to a more open space and he holds the halberd upright and.... releases it. He stands there with no weapons in hand, the ominious halberd staying upright before him.

There's a white bright grin from the makari, as he looks at Malefic. "Tch, someone knows how to excite their partner." He rumbles in amusement. "Shame my glaive cannot feel the same way."

Aelwyn moves to take his position as well. He picks up the clasp of his cloak; and then moves the cloak over to the other side, exposing his padded shoulder. It was all to make the movement of his glaive easier. "Hmmh..." The Dragoon says, momentarily uncertain. "This one would never be certain how to approach a stance like that." Yet he picks up his glaive and leans back on his feet, holding it out in front of him.

And like certain makari taught him about surprises, Aelwyn launches himself forward - slicing thrusting towards Silver's middle.

Simony has arrived.

Simony goes Gates <N>.

Simony has left.

Malefic has no comment for dance partners. But Skielstregar just chuffs. "Anyone that just lookss at you doesss that," he teases before settling into his stance. "That isss half the point."

And the glaive launches forward.

In a beat, Skiel swipes a hand through the air. Malefic's form... melts? Briefly. Into a familiar looking black miasma similar to that of Skiel's magics. But the inky mists rapidly reform into his swiping hand, making a perfect angle to deflect the blow.

In the same movement, the weapon melts away again, only to reform inverted this time around, as a brisk riposte is delivered with a downward thrusting stab with the spear tip.

Aelwyn shifts his grip as his strike is countered - letting the momentum be diverted; he was planning to ride out the shifting motion but then the weapon disappears once again. The downward thrusting stab makes his eyes widen and he does something more extreme - yanking his glaive down, he lets out a rough growl as he heaves himself up and against the larger makari's body, slamming in a very ungraceful motion to get out of the jab's way.

It also leaves him completely stumbling. "Tch. Weapons of mirage?" The Dragoon asks as he gathers himself. "Has silver ever seen the endless plains of sand and dust?" He asks then, suddenly, as he picks his own footing. "A flicker of something familiar - but no matter how solid one's footing, one is ever falling, failing to reach."

Skiel, while being a towering brick of silver and muscle, still is weak to physics, the strike getting deflected downwards and pulling Skiel closer. Again, he lets go, letting Malefic jam its spear point into the ground as if he's been disarmed.

The silverscale laughs quietly. "It isss only a mirage if you keep looking at it," he rumbles, both in jest as well as actual advice. Speaking of, he pulls his hands back at an odd angle. But its clear as Malefic reforms in his hands, the axe-head is split wide open, poised right bite down onto Aelwyn's blade!

"Tch, but if it were not mirages, what would one thirst for?" The Dragoon asks instead, slowly giving his head a shake.

It seems that every time Aelwyn crosses his blade with Skielstregar, something unexpected happens. Fine. Let it. A wide grin leaves his mouth as he slowly ducks under the falling down axe. The glaive continues to fall down over his shoulder as he instead bull rushes forward; Malefic may gain his prey, but Skielstregar will instead get a bellyful of straight pointing horns, with its flaring ribbons in tow.

Malefic bites down on the glaive. Chomp! "Mmmhmm! Gmt mmt!" it says, muffled.

Skiel grins, shaking his head. "Experience- oof!" He's cut off as weapons are seemingly abandoned, straight pointing horns jabbing forward and against his armor. The silverscale has to retreat a step, hands coming down to grab the horns and drive them back. What to do..? He's locked in a bit of a bind.

A thought occurs to him. One hand slides down to push atop the quilled mane. The other reaches up, over and- he wraps a whole arm around Aelwyn's torso and simply attempts to lift the Dragoon up. Curled under an arm.

Aelwyn already had his next steps planned. While Malefic was busy chonking down on his latest toy - he really needs to find a less palatable weapon - he slides his hand down along the haft. Taking a step forward, he raises the end of the polearm to try and chin-

Hold on a second. What happened to the ground?

A surprised hiss, vaguely draconic, leaves his mouth as he is simply hoisted up like a bag of meat. Rumbling, he hangs in defeat. "... tch." He replies, giving his head a shake. "This one was taught the distaste of blades dancing too close."

Not that it stops the short, runty sith-makar from trying. He lowers his legs - and then with a hoist of his butt, he smacks his tail hard down against Skiel's head.

"Your blade isss good for disstance, you gave up that advantage, Drago- ACK!" He really should have expected it. The whip-like tail smacking on his face is a bit of a weak point as he haphazardly drops Aelwyn and stumbles back to rub at his snout. "Okay, that wasss clever..."

Malefic abandons holding the glaive down, instead reforming beside Skielstregar. "That one had a good taste. You should try it."

"Thisss one cannot /eat/ metal...!"

"Shame," Malefic seemingly tuts before the weapon is suddenly picked up and thrown to the side.

A distraction, as Skiel steps the other way. Malefic remanifests into his hands, and he goes to loop a leg under one of the metallic swoops.

Aelwyn neatly catches the ground with his hand and falls back over onto his feet. His tail sways behind him with a wiggle. "That is what this one was always told by the one who gifted his blade. Yet there is a little thrill in dancing too close, isn't there?"

The glaive in the Dragoon's hand does not gleam in the sun. If it could, it would look terrified.

The distraction is expected this time. Why else would Skielstregar throwaway his weapon like that, if not to come at him from a different angle? Aelwyn takes a running step towards the side and leaps; the blunt end of his polearm aiming for Skielstregar's head instead.

Skiel tuts, his large tail swaying behind him. "Thisss one suposses," he rumbles, taking his step to the side.

Aha! Aelwyn is learning the mirage! Malefic misses the loop and trip as Aelwyn leaps. Skiel turns, the blunt end racing towards his head. The silver scale is thick-skulled, usually.

He's also thick skulled. So it comes to mild surprise as instead of ducking out of the way or taking the blow, he instead opts to head-butt the oncoming shaft with skull and horns.

And in the same spin, his large, armored tail comes swinging around. Looking to slam into Aelwyn's side.

That connected. Aelwyn was surprised at first - but he was even more surprised when his polearm does not only not knock Skielstregar back, but instead the larger makari just -headbutts- against it. That trips up his landing, forcing him to take few steps to balance.

The Dragoon is most surprised by all by that armored tail making his way. His breath is knocked out as he barely holds onto the large appendage, sliding his body around it to dull the worst of the impact.

It didn't do much. It still hurt. Yet he clings onto the tail, glaive dragging in the air behind him.

That tail is about as thick as a tree branch, and made of solid muscle to keep this entire makari balanced. However, what /does/ throw off his balance is having a sudden Dragoon clinging on to it. This sets Skiel in a sort of wobbly, always falling backwards but turning in a spin kind of gait to stay upright.

He suddenly stops. Flicks his tail once to be straight.

Then just falls backwards on top of Aelwyn as his counter attack.

Aelwyn inhales as the world stops spinning, claws digging towards the ground. When the tail straightens out, he quickly rolls around on his back to try and swing himself back up on his feet-

- and... "Fuck." The ruddy sith-makar hisses, in their respective native, draconic tongue.

A moment later there is a snarl, hiss and kicking of leg, before the glaive falls to the ground, defeated.

At hearing the draconic curse, Skielstregar simply laughs, it felt more than heard as the heavy, massive, freezing silverscale was poised to easily crush Aelwyn under his weight. But he just pats Aelwyn on the head as the Dragoon kicks and hisses, the silverscale carefully rolling off him and getting to his knees.

He offers a hand to help Aelwyn up, mirth all on his face. "That wasss a good bout," he rumbles warmly.

Aelwyn makes a face as he is patted over his head. Way to rub a ice cold hand on one's face. He does gladly take the hand though, coming to a stand; scuffed and covered in grass marks - and now not only manure, but he had a springly scent of grass on him.

"Tch, Silver reminds me of the Strongman." The Dragoon says, flipping his loincloth back over where it belongs and adjusts his shoulderpad. "And he still carries gnawmarks." He flashes his sharp teeth, before kicking up his glaive. "That was an exciting bout indeed."

The glaive's blade is examined in the sunlight. "... though this one might have to get a new blade."

Skielstregar grins merrily, hands on his hips. "Doesss thisss one? Thiss one can certainly get rather clossse in featsss to whoever thisss Strongman isss. Perhapsss we can do thisss again, but with less of a tussle and more focusss on the weaponsss, sssa?" he offers with a chuckle.

The glaive, thankfully, only has a few scuff marks from being clamped down on. "I did not eat your weapon, Aelwyn," Malefic rumbles in their metallic growl. "Just a little sample taste is all."

Skiel perks at that. Then scowls at Malefic. "... isss that why thisss one'sss felling axesss have bite marksss in them?"

"The sun is out, Skielstregar, let us praise the Knight."

"This is no time for deflection," Skiel pouts, picking up the halberd. "Thiss one can go again, if you wish?"

Aelwyn flicks his tongue, "This one does not think that Silver wishes to see how far they can bend molten-" And then his voice trails over for a moment, the adrenaline fading. He gives his head a shake. "This one agrees. Yet this has taken notice that Silver wishes to use his body more as a weapon than Malefic. Perhaps that is why one's weapons get so bitten?"

"Whyfor one would praise the knight?" The ruddy sith-makar asks then. Incidentally, his attention is taken by Malefic again. "... what is the tastiest metal to bite on, anyway?"

Aelwyn then turns his head towards Silver and after a moment, spreads his lips wide apart from his teeth. "Please. No more tail slapping?"

Skielstregar just stares at Aelwyn at the teasing, an amused look crossing his features. He inhales, then lets loose a tiny stream of frigid air at Aelwyn in response for it. "Tsch. Funny. But yesss, thisss one ussess everything at their disssposal while fighting. And, well, Malefic can be vicious asss well." And glance to the halberd. "Malefic ssservesss the Dragonfather. Asss doesss thisss one. Though, Malefic isss very reverent of Him."

"Praise be," Malefic bows in the direction of the sun. And without missing a single beat, it answers Aelwyn's question. "Silver. Followed by gold."

Figures.

The large tail sways, amused. "Hah! Very well. No more tail slapping, tackling, picking up, headbutting, or tosssing," Skielstregar agrees, twirling Malefic and preparing himself.

"Let'sss go again."

-End Scene-