@sharpscion sent: A new round was to begin, and so he found his place among his Blue Lion allies to fight once again. On the battlefield right before him was a girl atop her Pegasus, eyeing him from that perch. She was to be his opponent, he supposed, readying himself not not quite pulling his sword from it's sheath. In the silence he allowed himself to ponder how the girl was so similar to one he also had known. Fee and her Pegasus Annand, fighting just as hard as the rest of them for liberation. It left a bad taste in his mouth, but he had promised Lord Seliph he would do his best from here on.
"I am Scathach of Isaach, and I will be your opponent this round." With introductions out the way, he drew his sword while allowing her to also prepare herself. It was all the welcome he needed to see her lance readied, and so he began his assault.
Scáthach initiates combat with Sunder Killing Edge. 1d20-2 = 4 ! Scáthach deals -3 damage to Est. Scáthach has HP: 6/6 remaining.
He is quick to move, and with each step forward his blade grows in strength. At least he is at her face, and with a grunt of force, he speedily plows the sword forward. He feels the familiar resistance against his blade, the feeling of landing your mark.
Scáthach has HP: 6/6 remaining.
The battlefield waits for no one. Est should know this well, that one battle's conclusion merely opens the door for a new confrontation. So fate decides her next opponent, Hermes easily gliding through the air at the whims of the storm, leading her to a swordsman dressed in the colors of a Blue Lion.
“And I’m Est,” she returns in greeting, lance raised, “of Macedon. Pleased to meet you!” She guides her pegasus low, ready to begin their bout with a swift strike as she had the last, but her opponent moves faster. His sword swings, red blooming where the blade touches her skin before she can reel back. It draws a low hiss from her lips as Hermes kicks off and away, lifting them back into the skies before she can even prompt him.
Est rests a hand on his head for a beat, smiling, if only to keep from grimacing. “Good boy,” she murmurs, lance twirling in her other hand. “Let’s give it our all, okay?” She nudges him forward gently, just enough for him to tip them forward into a dive, straight as an arrow and quick as a lightning bolt, her lance point a flash of silver against the dreary skies.
Est [2/5HP] counters with the Killer Lance. ROLL 1D20-2: 13-2! Crit! -4HP Poison Strike activates! -0.5HP
Est doesn’t miss the thrill of battle overmuch, doesn’t mourn the fact that she no longer has to worry for her life at every given moment. She’s been a soldier for long enough. But a spar with no life or death stakes, only the wind and rain on her face and a sparkle in her eyes— that’s the sort of thing she misses. The things that used to make her feel just a bit closer to her sisters.
“Let’s have a good fight, then!” she says cheerily, and even with rain turning her hair damp and wind having tousled a few strands here and there, at least the smile still shines in her eyes.














