THE UNDEFEATED
(OOC: Seeing as Grosck's writer has seemingly left, and that this is a pivotal arc to our faction - I'm just gonna swap him out for an NPC for now and get this over with.)
The Heretic Leader hastily raised his weapon, defending from the impending lethal blow. No doubt, Tathra's charged momentum would stagger him, colossal log-like legs trucking backward several inches. His raised Axe was held horizontally, arms out-stretched. Tathra moved to pull down his own Axe, attempting to hook his blade and get inside the Heretics defences.
The Heretic Leader dropped his Axe low, pulling Tathra in close. That was a mistake. Tathra relinquished the grasp of his left hand as he drew close, striking with several tons of force at the joint of the Heretic's right arm. His arm lowered, bending against the force of Tathra's strike. Then, Tathra swung wildly to the left with his elbow aimed for the Heretic's head.
The succession of blows dazed him, Tathra capitalised on his advantage - kicking him right knee in the back, causing the Heretic to fall to the ground. The Heretic fell, still clutching his Axe.
Now, standing over him. Tathra felt no sympathy, no guilt. Simply rage. There was no drawn out battle, no second thoughts. Just, death.
Tathra thrust down his Axe, a hard and fast blow aimed to pulverise the Heretic in that instant. However, once more hubris had captured him, weakness spurned Tathra to falter. The Heretic rolled to the right, landing in a crouch as Tathra's Axe became firmly embedded in the sandstone. The Heretic rose with his Axe, activating the Gravitational pulse of his weapon as he swung two-handed in a spinning motion at Tathra's upper torso. The blow connected, the gravitational pulse doubling the momentum of the strike as Tathra was flung backward, Axe still embedded in the ground.
His body soared momentarily, crashing downward as he shattered the sandstone railing of the Main-Arena, falling down several metres, crashing down hard. Tathra spat angrily, black blood scattered among the sand. A moment of respite as his body recoiled from the immense physical toll of the Heretic's Strike.
To no surprise, the Heretic did not allow him that moment, leaping from the festival area above with Axe raised, ready to turn Tathra into little more than scattered flesh. Tathra rose to his feet quickly, extending his hand - calling the Hraelk Axe to him. Even at a distance, Tathra could feel the shockwave emanating from the Heretic's charged weapon. He would have to disable it first.
The Heretic Leader hastily raised his weapon, defending from the impending lethal blow. No doubt, Tathra's charged momentum would stagger him, colossal log-like legs trucking backward several inches. His raised Axe was held horizontally, arms out-stretched. Tathra moved to pull down his own Axe, attempting to hook his blade and get inside the Heretics defences.
The Heretic Leader dropped his Axe low, pulling Tathra in close. That was a mistake. Tathra relinquished the grasp of his left hand as he drew close, striking with several tons of force at the joint of the Heretic's right arm. His arm lowered, bending against the force of Tathra's strike. Then, Tathra swung wildly to the left with his elbow aimed for the Heretic's head.
The succession of blows dazed him, Tathra capitalised on his advantage - kicking him right knee in the back, causing the Heretic to fall to the ground. The Heretic fell, still clutching his Axe.
Now, standing over him. Tathra felt no sympathy, no guilt. Simply rage. There was no drawn out battle, no second thoughts. Just, death.
Tathra thrust down his Axe, a hard and fast blow aimed to pulverise the Heretic in that instant. However, once more hubris had captured him, weakness spurned Tathra to falter. The Heretic rolled to the right, landing in a crouch as Tathra's Axe became firmly embedded in the sandstone. The Heretic rose with his Axe, activating the Gravitational pulse of his weapon as he swung two-handed in a spinning motion at Tathra's upper torso. The blow connected, the gravitational pulse doubling the momentum of the strike as Tathra was flung backward, Axe still embedded in the ground.
His body soared momentarily, crashing downward as he shattered the sandstone railing of the Main-Arena, falling down several metres, crashing down hard. Tathra spat angrily, black blood scattered among the sand. A moment of respite as his body recoiled from the immense physical toll of the Heretic's Strike.
To no surprise, the Heretic did not allow him that moment, leaping from the festival area above with Axe raised, ready to turn Tathra into little more than scattered flesh. Tathra rose to his feet quickly, extending his hand - calling the Hraelk Axe to him. Even at a distance, Tathra could feel the shockwave emanating from the Heretic's charged weapon. He would have to disable it first.
| [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] | [member="Ankshar Kha"] | [member="Krael Vizkla"] |