[IC] Auron Vs Meats (Digizel & Vordak)

[Vordak]

Meats rejoiced as he sucessfuly finished the armbar, strengthening the advantage he had over Auron, and continued onto the shoulder lock throw. Although his palms were facing downwards, his arms unable to rotate further clockwise in this position, he still knew a way to perfrom it; and as he curled his torso inwards, he was met with the joint's resistance - a familiar, rigid force pushing against his arms - only for it to suddenly vanish the next second, overwhelmed by the tremendous power of his muscle. The dragonkin's shoulder was visibly deformed as the joint shot out of its socket, an ugly bulge showing underneath the skin, and with a pained roar, the demon's foe sunk towards the ground.

Letting go of the now limp and useless arm, he raised the dagger overhead, pointing its tip downwards, and then mercilessly plunged it through the air, aiming for the nape of Auron's neck. The flashed with an eeire blue as it passed the thin stripe of sunlight between them, as cold and ruthless as its unwavering owner - but an mere inch away, it were brought to a halt. Without a trace of doubt Meats launched this attack, and in the exact same manner he aborted it. Stepping away from his opponent, he sheathed his sidearm, and then reached out for the falchion. Wrenching it out of the tree, the demon walked even further away, turning around to face Auron around 20 feet away from him.

[Digizel]

Auron clutched his arm, still uttering his loud, pained cry. His verdant eye cast off to the side, looking behind him at his opponent. He was completely vulnerable and he was sure that the demon knew it. But still, he did not flinch. In fact, he bit his sharp teeth into his tongue to try to force himself to ignore the pain shooting through his own arm. He also forced himself not to look at his injury. Instead, he cast his gaze upward and behind him as much as his head's joints would allow and he watched his foe stand overhead, readying the dagger for a final blow. He gazed up at the demon ready to end his life, showing as little fear as he could manage. If he was going to lose this fight and die, it was going to be with him screaming in pain. He was going to die like a true draconic warrior.

However, regardless of his lack of flinching, his end didn't come. Instead, the demon stopped his blade just an inch from his neck before withdrawing it. At first, Auron was simply confused. What was this thing doing? When it grabbed the blade that was still embedded in the tree, however, he realized what was going on and his eyes widened slightly. Did this...beast have some kind of sense of honor? It was clearly not simply sparing him. It faced him, eyeing him as though daring him to stand back up and continue fighting. Well, he was not about to let himself get scared off because of one little arm injury. In fact, he had almost forgotten completely about the intense pain shooting through his arm...and when it came back to his mind, he had to bite his tongue again to stop himself from crying out. He could not refuse a challenge like this...his personal pride and honor were at stake. Even if he was going to lose and die here anyway, he was not about to abandon his ways.

Auron struggled to his feet, dropping his large blade and gripping his arm to support it and prevent the injury from becoming even worse. Once he was back on his feet, however, he gritted his teeth and prepared for another surge of pain. Immediately, as though ripping off an old scale from his body, he shoved his arm upward, right back into the pit of its socket just like he had been taught in field medical aid lessons in years past. The pain that shot through his arm was astronomically worse than when it had first been removed, but at least he had been able to return it into its proper place without damaging much of the surrounding tissue...at least as far as he could tell. It was miraculous to say the least, but it worked. The pain stopped over a short amount of time and he felt comfortable letting the arm go. He then reached down and grasped the handle of the blade, testing his arm to make sure that it could still support such a large amount of weight on its own. Thankfully, he didn't feel any kind of tugging at his elbow. He could still use it to fight, it seemed.

However, Auron knew that for a while it could pop out more easily. He had to give it time to properly rest and regain its sturdiness. So then it was perhaps for the best if he switched to a two-handed style, like the sword was originally made for if he could help it. He would be able to use it single-handed easily enough...but too much strain could cause it to fall out of socket once more. He would need to use single-handed swordplay as scarcely as possible and never to block any powerful hits. His right arm was now a major weakness that could be potentially exploited. He would have to really guard his right side when dealing with this demon. With that in mind, the dragon gripped the hilt with his second arm and brought it upward, turning to face his foe and continue the battle. He wordlessly stared the armored demon down, thinking about what his next move could possibly be....

[Vordak]

Meats could end the dragonkin's life here and now, but this was no mission and he had no orders to do so. This was his personal affair, and what he would do now wouldn't interfere with his assinged goal and servitude unless he would be killed; of course, he was risking when sparing his foe, but chances were that he could always make his way in time if forced to - and the matter at stake was too important to cower in face of such some theoretical danger.

To him, a warrior at heart, deeds said more than words, and his noble gesture was a message meant to challenge the views of his overly righteous adversary and show him the abyss of moral grey which lies between black and white. The very same abyss that had tormented him, both a merciless slayer who would devast all that stands in his way and a flame-hearted warrior which strives to establish order with his sword in a world plauged by egoism and hatered - years passed by, but doubt remained, and he had yet to answer himself, wether his deeds could be justified, or he had gone too far playing god and bringing people to their knees, tampering with their free will.

Perhaps the pure and valiant soul before him could answer this question, and that was a reason enough on its own to spare him - but first, there was a lesson of his own Meats wanted to teach Auron.

As his opponent rised to fight once again, as expected the stubborn person he was, Meats rolled his shoulders and puffed his chest, tuanting the injured Auron with his unscathed, barely scratched body. Deep in thought moments ago, but now gleeful and eager to carry on, he couldn't help but feel proud of his victory in their first clash. In fact, that could still be used to his advantage, and Meats, expecting Auoron to be wary of his explosive battle style, took on the most agressive stance there were: the Vom Tag, with his right foot leading and arms raised high. Slowly advancing, in the most intimidating manner possible, Meats would then stop within the dragonkin's striking distance, and try to bait him with a series of feints, quickly stepping in and out of his range.