The aevis snarled, beating their wings in a display of intimidation and clapping their club-like tails against the ice. The Xaela’s eyes narrowed, and he sprang forward. The closest Dravanian appeared to have been caught off-guard by the gesture, and a swift thrust through the creature’s throat ended its life in a gurgle. Dragons were intelligent. It could therefore be reasonably assumed that their minions possessed some level of intelligence in order to organise.
All beasts could be tricked and startled, and the more intelligent the beast, the more the deception would unnerve them.
His breath puffed from his lips in controlled exhalations. His adrenaline was running high and had thankfully kept the creeping fatigue from affecting his performance. The tension and fear that came with combat was present, but rather than disconcerting, it was...comforting. It was different from the anxiety that came from having to sidestep his way around the Western continent’s obtuse social conventions, the navigating of which threatened to stretch his patience dangerously taut. The fear of combat, however, was familiar. It was a purely instinctual feeling that danger was present, and it allowed him to act without thought.
After his thrust, the Xaela swiftly stepped back, wary of Roen’s position behind him. Every attack he made would expose both of their flanks, but if these creatures were capable of thinking tactically, then Kasrjin’s seemingly reckless abandon would grant the element of surprise, so long as he made the effort to keep his attack pattern as unpredictable as possible.
The aevis were circling them warily like a pack of wolves. Still standing with their backs to one another, Kasrjin relaxed his stance, holding the greatsword lazily in one hand, the top just barely touching the snow.
Inhale. Exhale.
His shimmering emerald eyes flashed as they darted at the foes.
Two more aevis snarled, leaping forward. This was the first wave. The second wave would attack immediately after, taking advantage of the fact that he and Roen were only a pair, and they could not fend off every angle at once.
He heard the clanging of her shield.
From the loose, relaxed stance came an upward swing of incredible force. The blued steel of the greatsword cut an impressive gash across the first aevis’ snout, the creature clearly not expecting such a manoeuvre. Kasrjin felt his muscles strain in protest at the sudden exertion, but he felt satisfied all the same that his tactic worked. The next pair of aevis from both sides; one on Roen’s left, facing her shield, and one on his left. Wordlessly, the Hyur and the Xaela rotated with little effort, the momentum of their previous attacks carrying their respective blades towards the aevis. The aevis avoided the wide arc of Kasrjin’s swing, but Roen’s short height came in handy as the blade whistled above her head to catch one of the winged talons of the aevis she was facing. Again they spun, and he heard the clanging of her shield blocking a hooked claw from digging into his back.
His sense of time melted away, his movements now ruled by training and instinct. The pack of aevis would circle, strike, retreat, and occasionally he would leap forward in his recklessness and catch one unawares. Roen kept his flank guarded well, and his height and the reach of his own weapon afforded the pair an effective method of retaliation. He noted that her smaller stature afforded some greater degree of manoeuvrability, and while she could not effectively cover all of the Au Ra, she was at the least serving as an effective deterrent, allowing him to strike more effectively at the Dravanians without needing to overly worry about exposing himself.. The snow and their armour was splattered with Dravanian blood, and they had luckily come out none the worse for wear.
A horn sounded, but Kasrjin dare not snap his head away while the aevis remained. It was close, too close for comfort. Was it the other group of knights? Or had something gone wrong with the trap?
It blared again, and the Xaela dared to glance out of the corner of his eye.
He could not distinguish it, but a silver-gray mass came hurtling out of the sky from the clouds. Only when it roared did Kasrjin dare to guess at what it was.
The dragon.
The aevis, as if in response, roared as well. The dragon’s minions responded to their master’s call by swiftly retreating. Or so it appeared. He held his sword aloft, still wet with Dravanian blood, but he turned his head.
The dragon was spinning wildly, as if it had been thrown by a giant. Perched against its neck was a winged lance, where a man in spiked armour held on desperately. It was impossible to tell if the dragon was attempting to throw off its errant passenger or if Vaillancourt’s pitched combat with the creature had caused it to lose control of its flight.
The horn blared again. The aevis bellowed in response and in one mass began moving towards the outcroppings where the trap lay.
His breathing was strained but measured. Kasrjin was careful to control his inhalation lest the chilled air burn his lungs and distract him further. The Au Ra tapped Roen on the shoulder, saying nothing but cocking his head towards the outcropping before he broke out into a loping jog, greatsword balanced along his shoulder.
He glanced towards the sky again, the form of the dragon growing closer and closer. Gouts of flame spat themselves from the creature’s maw like spittle, and it swiped with its claws at the dragoon. Kasrjin could not help but be in awe with the incredible fight. Vaillancourt leapt from the creature’s neck, and with little more than air and mist beneath his feet, the dragoon spun his Gae Bolg and redirected his trajectory, crashing into the bulk of the dragon’s flank.
Does he mean to dive it into the trap?
The dragon roared again as it was forced to ground, impacting heavily with the frozen soil. Vaillancourt leapt again, rolling with momentum as best as he could.
The pair reached the outcropping, where the biasts lay dead. Though the minions were disposed of, however, the appearance of Vaillancourt running frantically towards them signified that the hardest part was yet to come.
“Positions!†A ragged looking Tabourot gasped out, trying to catch his breath. The Elezen featured some impressive tears in his chainmail, having lost his coif somewhere along the way. The knights tightened their grips on their weapons and positioned themselves behind what rocks they could, their faces holding grim expressions. Kasrjin mirrored their gesture, holding his sword close to him and ducking behind the largest set of stones he could find, though he stuck his head out to keep an eager eye on the combat.
The dragon roared and began loping after the fleeing Elezen. Its pace seemed slower than it should have been, indicating that perhaps the beast was beginning to tire out. It was intelligent enough to position its minions in this tactically advantageous location, but if fear and bloodlust overruled it enough, maybe, just maybe….
Vaillancourt’s beaked helmet was missing one of its prominent horns, and several of the spikes and flanges that had been attached to his armour had been broken off.
He knelt, the snow beneath his feet puffing as he let forth one more leap. This was not one of the straight shots that propelled him like an arrow, but a slower, arcing jump, like one was tossing a stone into a pond.
The dragon roared and began beating its wings, leaping after the dragoon.
Kasrjin’s eyes glinted.
The Dravanian had leapt directly into the centre of the outcropping. In its state, it was not thinking rationally, and thus allowed itself to be lured into the trap.
A massive paw smashed onto the snowy clearing.
It was a small sound, almost imperceptible. Twang twang twang went the steel cables, one by one. The dragon paused in its bellowing, but it was too late.
Buried lightly beneath the snow, the lengths of briar and the cables snapped together all at once. The tension of the cables caused the hardy lumber to smash into the dragon’s wings and flank. The wood was flexible such that it bent in a neat curve, and though it creaked, it did not snap or splinter. The cables were crisscrossed in an elaborate fashion, practically tying the dragon’s forelegs together. They, too, did not snap but were instead stretched taut. The Dravanian struggled, thrashing to and fro, but the more it struggled, the tighter the snare gripped it. The dragon was well and truly trapped in the outcropping.
Vaillancourt was breathing hard, but Kasrjin could see the bloodthirsty grin of satisfaction crease the dragoon’s lips. The knights had now surrounded the beast, slashing and stabbing into it where they could while the dragon did its best to swat them away and beat its free wing to buffet the Ishgardians.
The Xaela blinked, and Vaillancourt was gone.
A black silhouette streaked upwards towards the sky, and held its momentum for a brief, split second. The dragon paused, and the Gae Bolg came crashing down upon its skull.
A sickening crack was heard as the lance’s point was buried deep into the beast, nearly up to the Gae Bolg’s elaborate wings. The violet weapon’s designed was painted in blood and gore as the dragon thrashed its head and neck to and fro.
A guttural growl rumbled from its throat, and the dragon’s movements ceased.
The knights were silent, as if unbelieving of their success. Vaillancourt pulled the weapon from the dragon’s skull and pulled the beaked visor up to reveal his face. His breathing was heavy, but his expression was one that could only be called one of exultation.
“And that is one mark down,†the Elezen said with a smirk, perching himself easily atop one of the dragon’s horns. The knights paused briefly to catch their breath before erupting into triumphant cheers, haggardly raising their weapons in celebration.
The dragoon pulled his visor back down and hopped off of the dragon’s corpse, still grinning. Kasrjin let loose a ragged exhalation, his sword held slack in his hand. It was done. The beast had fallen.
A sudden clap to his shoulder startled the Xaela, and Vaillancourt had a wide smile on his face. “My men tell of your skill in dealing with the dragon’s minions, Ser Khadai. You do a credit to your people.†He turned to face the other knights. “Let us make use of those supplies we have received and return to the Convictory to celebrate our triumph!â€
All beasts could be tricked and startled, and the more intelligent the beast, the more the deception would unnerve them.
His breath puffed from his lips in controlled exhalations. His adrenaline was running high and had thankfully kept the creeping fatigue from affecting his performance. The tension and fear that came with combat was present, but rather than disconcerting, it was...comforting. It was different from the anxiety that came from having to sidestep his way around the Western continent’s obtuse social conventions, the navigating of which threatened to stretch his patience dangerously taut. The fear of combat, however, was familiar. It was a purely instinctual feeling that danger was present, and it allowed him to act without thought.
After his thrust, the Xaela swiftly stepped back, wary of Roen’s position behind him. Every attack he made would expose both of their flanks, but if these creatures were capable of thinking tactically, then Kasrjin’s seemingly reckless abandon would grant the element of surprise, so long as he made the effort to keep his attack pattern as unpredictable as possible.
The aevis were circling them warily like a pack of wolves. Still standing with their backs to one another, Kasrjin relaxed his stance, holding the greatsword lazily in one hand, the top just barely touching the snow.
Inhale. Exhale.
His shimmering emerald eyes flashed as they darted at the foes.
Two more aevis snarled, leaping forward. This was the first wave. The second wave would attack immediately after, taking advantage of the fact that he and Roen were only a pair, and they could not fend off every angle at once.
He heard the clanging of her shield.
From the loose, relaxed stance came an upward swing of incredible force. The blued steel of the greatsword cut an impressive gash across the first aevis’ snout, the creature clearly not expecting such a manoeuvre. Kasrjin felt his muscles strain in protest at the sudden exertion, but he felt satisfied all the same that his tactic worked. The next pair of aevis from both sides; one on Roen’s left, facing her shield, and one on his left. Wordlessly, the Hyur and the Xaela rotated with little effort, the momentum of their previous attacks carrying their respective blades towards the aevis. The aevis avoided the wide arc of Kasrjin’s swing, but Roen’s short height came in handy as the blade whistled above her head to catch one of the winged talons of the aevis she was facing. Again they spun, and he heard the clanging of her shield blocking a hooked claw from digging into his back.
His sense of time melted away, his movements now ruled by training and instinct. The pack of aevis would circle, strike, retreat, and occasionally he would leap forward in his recklessness and catch one unawares. Roen kept his flank guarded well, and his height and the reach of his own weapon afforded the pair an effective method of retaliation. He noted that her smaller stature afforded some greater degree of manoeuvrability, and while she could not effectively cover all of the Au Ra, she was at the least serving as an effective deterrent, allowing him to strike more effectively at the Dravanians without needing to overly worry about exposing himself.. The snow and their armour was splattered with Dravanian blood, and they had luckily come out none the worse for wear.
A horn sounded, but Kasrjin dare not snap his head away while the aevis remained. It was close, too close for comfort. Was it the other group of knights? Or had something gone wrong with the trap?
It blared again, and the Xaela dared to glance out of the corner of his eye.
He could not distinguish it, but a silver-gray mass came hurtling out of the sky from the clouds. Only when it roared did Kasrjin dare to guess at what it was.
The dragon.
The aevis, as if in response, roared as well. The dragon’s minions responded to their master’s call by swiftly retreating. Or so it appeared. He held his sword aloft, still wet with Dravanian blood, but he turned his head.
The dragon was spinning wildly, as if it had been thrown by a giant. Perched against its neck was a winged lance, where a man in spiked armour held on desperately. It was impossible to tell if the dragon was attempting to throw off its errant passenger or if Vaillancourt’s pitched combat with the creature had caused it to lose control of its flight.
The horn blared again. The aevis bellowed in response and in one mass began moving towards the outcroppings where the trap lay.
His breathing was strained but measured. Kasrjin was careful to control his inhalation lest the chilled air burn his lungs and distract him further. The Au Ra tapped Roen on the shoulder, saying nothing but cocking his head towards the outcropping before he broke out into a loping jog, greatsword balanced along his shoulder.
He glanced towards the sky again, the form of the dragon growing closer and closer. Gouts of flame spat themselves from the creature’s maw like spittle, and it swiped with its claws at the dragoon. Kasrjin could not help but be in awe with the incredible fight. Vaillancourt leapt from the creature’s neck, and with little more than air and mist beneath his feet, the dragoon spun his Gae Bolg and redirected his trajectory, crashing into the bulk of the dragon’s flank.
Does he mean to dive it into the trap?
The dragon roared again as it was forced to ground, impacting heavily with the frozen soil. Vaillancourt leapt again, rolling with momentum as best as he could.
The pair reached the outcropping, where the biasts lay dead. Though the minions were disposed of, however, the appearance of Vaillancourt running frantically towards them signified that the hardest part was yet to come.
“Positions!†A ragged looking Tabourot gasped out, trying to catch his breath. The Elezen featured some impressive tears in his chainmail, having lost his coif somewhere along the way. The knights tightened their grips on their weapons and positioned themselves behind what rocks they could, their faces holding grim expressions. Kasrjin mirrored their gesture, holding his sword close to him and ducking behind the largest set of stones he could find, though he stuck his head out to keep an eager eye on the combat.
The dragon roared and began loping after the fleeing Elezen. Its pace seemed slower than it should have been, indicating that perhaps the beast was beginning to tire out. It was intelligent enough to position its minions in this tactically advantageous location, but if fear and bloodlust overruled it enough, maybe, just maybe….
Vaillancourt’s beaked helmet was missing one of its prominent horns, and several of the spikes and flanges that had been attached to his armour had been broken off.
He knelt, the snow beneath his feet puffing as he let forth one more leap. This was not one of the straight shots that propelled him like an arrow, but a slower, arcing jump, like one was tossing a stone into a pond.
The dragon roared and began beating its wings, leaping after the dragoon.
Kasrjin’s eyes glinted.
The Dravanian had leapt directly into the centre of the outcropping. In its state, it was not thinking rationally, and thus allowed itself to be lured into the trap.
A massive paw smashed onto the snowy clearing.
It was a small sound, almost imperceptible. Twang twang twang went the steel cables, one by one. The dragon paused in its bellowing, but it was too late.
Buried lightly beneath the snow, the lengths of briar and the cables snapped together all at once. The tension of the cables caused the hardy lumber to smash into the dragon’s wings and flank. The wood was flexible such that it bent in a neat curve, and though it creaked, it did not snap or splinter. The cables were crisscrossed in an elaborate fashion, practically tying the dragon’s forelegs together. They, too, did not snap but were instead stretched taut. The Dravanian struggled, thrashing to and fro, but the more it struggled, the tighter the snare gripped it. The dragon was well and truly trapped in the outcropping.
Vaillancourt was breathing hard, but Kasrjin could see the bloodthirsty grin of satisfaction crease the dragoon’s lips. The knights had now surrounded the beast, slashing and stabbing into it where they could while the dragon did its best to swat them away and beat its free wing to buffet the Ishgardians.
The Xaela blinked, and Vaillancourt was gone.
A black silhouette streaked upwards towards the sky, and held its momentum for a brief, split second. The dragon paused, and the Gae Bolg came crashing down upon its skull.
A sickening crack was heard as the lance’s point was buried deep into the beast, nearly up to the Gae Bolg’s elaborate wings. The violet weapon’s designed was painted in blood and gore as the dragon thrashed its head and neck to and fro.
A guttural growl rumbled from its throat, and the dragon’s movements ceased.
The knights were silent, as if unbelieving of their success. Vaillancourt pulled the weapon from the dragon’s skull and pulled the beaked visor up to reveal his face. His breathing was heavy, but his expression was one that could only be called one of exultation.
“And that is one mark down,†the Elezen said with a smirk, perching himself easily atop one of the dragon’s horns. The knights paused briefly to catch their breath before erupting into triumphant cheers, haggardly raising their weapons in celebration.
The dragoon pulled his visor back down and hopped off of the dragon’s corpse, still grinning. Kasrjin let loose a ragged exhalation, his sword held slack in his hand. It was done. The beast had fallen.
A sudden clap to his shoulder startled the Xaela, and Vaillancourt had a wide smile on his face. “My men tell of your skill in dealing with the dragon’s minions, Ser Khadai. You do a credit to your people.†He turned to face the other knights. “Let us make use of those supplies we have received and return to the Convictory to celebrate our triumph!â€
