Apollosarcher and Eisenhorn collab post
Jacob drew his sword. "You ready mercenary?" He asked sliding the tome in to his off hand, he planned to feign right go left throwing two spells. He'd dodge and run in then, Jacob could strike, he knew his oppenent held more practical experience and strength speed and spells would win the tactician the day. He inacted his plan, throwing a two bolts of lightning as he feigned right then went left bringing the blade around to block an incoming stirke.
Jerod scoffed and entered a defensive stance, blade in his right hand as he kept his left foot back. He gave the lad no response yet, and as the champion fired off two bolts of lightning, and he shifted his weight and position left, evading the attempted magical attacks. This would also intercept the lad as he attempted to come around to his left side, and he lashed out with a fast horizontal which impacted the block that Jacob threw up. Jerod had no intention of letting the boy get off more magic, not easily, and would keep up close, aiming to force a contest of strength between the two by pushing the blades back against him.
Jacob grunted, he would lose this contested in seconds, so he did something unexpected he kicked Jerod in the ribs dropped his guard sliding under the man running for the far end of the room. He turned back leveled his hand for a spell firing a bolt lightning, not at Jerod but at his sword, a perfect lightning rod. He then began to run near the walls, playing keep away looking for another opening.
The mercenary grunted, the boot impacting scale armor but giving Jacob the space he needed to run, aiming more lightening attacks, but not just at him. He was being smart, targeting what would naturally conduct the lightening. Time for an old trick he picked up in Feroxian arenas, for handling mages who loved their little keep away games. He swung the blade, not at Jacob since he was too far off to ever be caught like that, but at the ground, sending the lightening down into the dirt, and safely away from the mercenary's body. Jerod grinned, laughing as he began advancing on the tactician, aiming to use his manouvering against him and leave him cornered, willing to play the waiting game for now.
Jerod was cooking up a plan, he had to end this before the mercenary pinned him down. He sighed, throwing the lightning spell book aside he rushed at Jerod, both hands on the blade he begun to strike. Attacking again and then clashed his blade against Jerods, knowing that none of those attacks would have made a blind bit of difference. He shoved his blades against Jerods with all his might, the boy was strong but he knew he couldn't keep up with Jerod.
Jerod yielded ground as the lad attacked, each swing the mercenary stepped backwards, his blocks turning the attacks aside rather than outright blocking them. He was waiting, and when the boy went to lock blades and pushed with all his might, Jerod didn't even play that game. He turned his momentum to his left side, letting all that pushing suddenly go without anything to counteract it, and aimed a hand for the boy's throat, stepping forward and intending to slam the champion onto the ground, tripped up by his left leg and forced back with the sturdy hand to his throat.
The Champion smiled dropping the sword, Jerod noticed that he had a fire tome in his hand with the sword having held both his hands had bleed a little on to the book. He released the flame spell point blank into Jerods chest, it had been fueled by blood and anger releasing powerful spell at the mercenary enough to send him fly at least. As the boy dropped his sword holding onto the spellbook.
Jerod saw the attack coming and knew there was no avoiding it, so he did the next best thing he could do. The spell threw him a good ways, torching his cloak and leaving a good bit of damage on the scale, and the superheated metal gave way to the smell of charred flesh beneath. But the mercenary laughed through the pain, giving credit where credit was due. It was a good ploy, and one not so readily countered as the lightening strike. Now the time for patience and subtle approaches were gone, and he went into motion again, storming towards the boy and waited for the inevitable counterstroke to his charge.
He could reach his sword and he knew what was coming, he flipped backwards. This next spell would decide things, he didn't have the energy to keep it much longer. The Champion summoned his energy and took a deep breath, standing shakily he lifted his blood covered hand. "Check... Mate." He said unleash a massive fire assault, the book burned in his hands from over use turning to ash. The huge fireball was rarity, only the lucky or the truely desperate attempted and it nearly always a garunteed hit.
"Fool me once...." Jerod muttered as the massive fireball was unleashed. Just as expected, youthful attempt at pouring everything into one last, decisive blow. So it was the simplest thing in the world for Jerod to launch his sword forward, throwing it right into the fireball and throwing himself downwards, into a rather painful roll as the blade was incinerated and destroyed by the massive fireball taking the blade and detonating on it. The explosion would shield the mercenary, his movements, as he came in on the boy's left, moving low and aiming a feint body shot before aiming a brisk, hard knee for his groin region.
The boy managed to turn and fall back scraminbling towards his sword, he coughed as blood stained the floor. The Grand Master threw a tome in front of the Champion, if they looked up they would see many a knights, servants, and the Exalt herself no stood watching the fight. The Grand Master spoke. "The Champion of Naga, losing to a common mercenary. Well if you are the Champion then wield the light, throw a spell of Naga's own domain at him or was the Voice of Naga wrong, eh boy?" He laughed. Jacob picked up the tome, he tried to launch the spell twice, knowing any moment Jerod would upon him.
Jerod wasn't one for playing games in the middle of a fight, something he and the Grand Master seemed to disagree on, as he threw fancy words out and tossed the boy a tome. Frankly, the mercenary had quite enough of the magic trickeries and didn't bother trying to rearm himself, not intending to waste time and aimed a shoulder check at the Champion as he tried to cast. If this Naga intended for him to win, then the spell would go off and, Jerod doubted, there was much that could be done for it beyond continued pressure to prevent further casting. Otherwise, the shoulder check would connect and leave the boy open to be wrapped up neatly.
He looked at his hands he didn't understand, he just didn't know why the magic wasn't working, the Knights began to whisper. Caroline frowned at him, even the Exalt looked worried now that this boy might not be what he claimed to be. As Jerod rushed at him time seemed to slow, he could see it all. He gripped the book tightly leaned against a wall standing up. "I AM THE CHAMPION!" He screamed at the top of his lungs and suddenly a bolt white hot light struck Jerod.
Jerod was slammed to a rather sudden halt, the white hot bolt throwing him back and blasting away the scale, already damaged, revealing the scorched and now torn apart tunic beneath, the man breathing heavily and looked unsteady before he began clapping, slowly at first, but picking up in pace as he straightened himself, blood dripping from his head due to a close call from the damaged scale, a grin on his face. "Ach, look at ye laddie, callin' on old lig't magic. Ain' 'eard o' t'at in a long w'ile, let alone seen it m'self."
He smiled and the whole room stayed silent then began to cheer, healers rushed out and both were soon back at full strength. He smiled walking over Jerod. "It was a good fight, but next time don't run head down at a mage. Weave, make it hard to aim the spell. You'll lose momentum but mages are chumps to knock over." He grinned offering his hand to the mercenary.
The Grand Master jumped down from the upper floor, rolling as he landed which showed just how tough he could be. "Boy you melted your own sword, so you may have this." He handed the Tactician a new blade, of stell prefectly blanced. "Carry it well boy, you have earned it... Champion." The Grand Master bowed and Jacob took the blade in awe as crowd cheered for their new Champion. The Grand Master stood up. "Shepherds, we are going to the gate. The wagons and horses await us. Transport has been arranged as well as fresh weapons and armor. The march to Ferox begins today!" With that the cword began to cheer not just for their Champion but for Shepherds, the Shepherd who would deliver them from war.