[center][h3][color=green]Lewa[/color][/h3][/center]

With the wind at his back, Lewa got the extra burst of speed he needed to land a solid blow on his buffeted foe. As it shattered the man’s poise and sent him flying backward into the foliage, that blast of compressed air made it clear -and in no uncertain terms- that despite his lack of experience, he wouldn’t be a pushover. Elated by the rush of satisfaction and renewed confidence, Lewa recovered and hoisted his axe up onto his shoulder in a heroic pose for the viewing pleasure of the stunned Raven Herald audience. Duels might not be his forte, but the toa of air knew how to leave an impression. Still, he didn’t plan to get too cocky. His opponent stirred at the base of tree trunk where he’d ended up, confirming that the fight wasn’t over just yet.

Though that concentrated airblast and the resulting arboreal impact hurt the man’s body, leaving a bevy of bruises and lacerations where his getup failed to negate or blunt the damage, it seemed to have hurt his pride even more. The blonde simmered like a pot seconds away from boiling over, a mixture of rage and disbelief accentuated with blood on his face. He wasn’t the only thing burning, though. While Lewa had noticed the strange energy dancing across his adversary’s weapon during the fight so far, he hadn’t thought anything of it. It was only natural that a warrior with elemental powers of some stripe would use them to strengthen his or her weapons. Igniting his flame-shaped blade was a favorite technique of Tahu’s for instance, and he used that blaze to great effect against rahi and bohrok alike.

As the man struggled to regain his feet, however, Lewa saw that strange energy not only engulf the weapon, but also spread over the Raven Herald’s flesh. Like wildfire racing through the scrubland where jungled Le-wahi bordered the volcanic wastes of Ta-wahi, threatening to rage out of control and consume everything in its wake if not stopped by the proper precautions. At the sight of it, Lewa couldn’t help but be concerned, even if his opponent didn’t seem to be. “Your weapon-tool,” he warned. “It’s light-burning you. Eating you.” Even as he spoke, he felt a sense of uselessness, fairly certain that his words were falling on deaf ears. His time around Tahu had taught him more than the ins and outs of combat; he’d also learned well his brother’s fiery temper and pride, a sharp contrast against his own more easygoing persona, not to mention the cold calculation of their brother Kopaku. He glanced around toward the uproar of the other fights. It seemed like things were going in his team’s favor.  “You should retreat. No shame-regret in running to live another day.”

In the probably case that the man didn’t listen, though, Lewa hefted his hatchet. He flourished it once, then grasped it with both hands. If his foe wanted to stand there and smolder, the toa didn’t mind taking the initiative to put him out. The toa would whirl his axe around like he did before, then on the third swung unleash the same whirlwind that unseated the rider earlier to bear down on the Raven Heralds like a miniature hurricane. It probably wouldn’t do more than knock them down or toss them back, but hopefully it would convince them to flee.