Why Won't You Die?
Tristan's foot connected with where he was targeted it, but instead of directly making contact with the back of the blade, he made contact with the shield that was pulled up at just the right timing. The shield in fact reduced some of the power from the kick but ultimately still was pushed backed into the blade having it impale the body but again it did not seem to do any major damage. The armored man stepped back gaining his footing from the kinetic energy driven by the kick to his shield and then knocked the blade loose from his side. The scythe's blade landed on the cobble stone surface that these two fought on and his enemies eyes kept watch over Tristan's position. Tristan was in a defensive stance, sword up and 10 inches from his face, tilted forward just a tad down range. His feet were shoulder width apart and slightly staggered for more balance, back heel up, and eyes locked on to his opponent's. The armored man crouched into a defensive position as well, he seemed he wanted to keep waiting for the most opportune moment given to him by Tristan.
Tristan played the offense well, but his enemy was still standing. It was going to take a lot more effort than anticipated earlier in the fight.
"Having fun yet?"
Tristan had no sign of fatigue, he had a small gash on his left back that he could feel blood dripping down from but soon the coagulation of the cells would take affect and stop the bleeding. Tristan's left fang hung over his lip as the left side of his lip smiled leaving the right side at its normal pose. The fog finally seeped heavy enough into the town, it had been building the entire night, until now when it was in full affect. Tristan slowly backed up into the fog in his defensive stance and waited for his enemy to disappear from his sight. This would allow him to know that he too was out of his enemies sight. Tristan would take advantage of the conditions...his favorite kind.