Clash of the Titans - Round 2, Ian Versus Salivan Options

[Taillus]

Mehrunes Dagon, still without his appetite for death, fighting and destruction peruses through the different versions of Nirn in hopes that he could find another pair of powerful mortals to battle to the death for his enjoyment. He peers through alternate realities until coming across two specific warriors potentially capable of entertaining him even if it would only curb his boredom for minutes.

The first, a brown haired, younger Imperial male named Salivan who possessed a definite skill in battle as Captain of the Guard in the city of Kvatch was picked from reality by the curious Mehrunes Dagon. Dressed in the standard Kvatch guard attire complimented by a smoky grey cloak and wielding his personal favorite steel broadsword he was placed where the two previous warriors had been set, frozen in place in waiting for his opponent.

The second fighter to be chosen by Mehrunes Dagon was also of Imperial descent although slightly older. The man named Ian stood across from his opponent after being placed there by the powers of the Daedric Prince and was dressed in his trademark grey agent’s robe. His short black hair was pulled into what we know as a rogue’s knot. A Daedric Bow and arrows sat patiently against his back, partially hidden by his robe and in anticipation for the impending battle.

With only a rising motion of his hand and a quick shouting of the word, “Begin!” The two competitors quickly regained control of their bodies and looked at each other in wonder. They were both confused, disoriented and full of questions but in a battle to the death, one must refrain from thinking outside of the fight. Questions can come after the battle.

Salivan revolts, expressing his disapproval for the battle before it even commences. He doesn’t want to kill a man he doesn’t even know, let alone a man who has probably done nothing to deserve it. He lets his blade drop to the stone floor by his feet before crossing his arms in front of his chest, turning to the now streaming Mehrunes Dagon.

“I refuse to do this. Strike me down where I stand if you so wish to do so but I will not fight just for the sake of killing a man for sport.” Salivan states as he looks Mehrunes Dagon in his demon-like eyes.

The Daedric Prince begins chuckling in a deep, rumbling voice. With a wave of his hand, a vision of Cyrodiil surrounds both of the fighters, allowing them to see a conjured image of their homes, families and friends being destroyed by hordes of Daedra. The land looked completely wasted and charred, with thick smoke and surging flames devouring everything in its path.

“This is the fate of everyone you care about if you two do not fight. This was never open to any sort of discussion and neither of you have a choice. Fight now, or face consequences worse than death!” Mehrunes Dagon explodes before making the vision disappear.

Without thinking twice, Salivan reached down and grabbed the hilt of his weapon but when he looked to face his opponent, he was gone. Salivan could still sense his foe, knowing for sure that he was still around. He could practically still hear the older Imperial’s breathing. Cautiously, Salivan walked in a tight circle all the while being careful not to make too much noise in hopes that he could hear Ian walking but suddenly, a sharp noise breaks his concentration making him spin on his heels to look behind him.

He looks to see a deep, black and red Daedric arrow sticking into the stone wall before him and before he could even react, he was treated to a sword blade in the upper back that broke through his chainmail, knocking loose some of the links to his armor as they fell to the floor.

Salivan stumbled forward, angry at himself for falling for such a tactic and swung behind him violently to give himself some room. In turning around Salivan could see that his opponent’s robe was granting him the gift of chamelionism but also noticed that Ian wasn’t even smiling. He could tell that he wasn’t dealing with an egotistical fighter. Ian seemed to be a cold and calculating man who was ready to get the job done. Salivan readied himself as Ian was in the process of conjuring his bound Daedric blade back after just attaching his bow to its place on his back. Salivan swung with precision, noticing the split second of opportunity and let his blade crash underneath Ian’s arms as he was unable to defend himself.

With a metal on metal sound, Salivan tweaked his brow in wonder. His blow had knocked the wind out of Ian but by all rights his blade should have passed straight through his opponent. Through the sliced robe, Salivan could see what he thought to be part of a suit of black glass armor.

Shaking his head, he launched another attack at Ian, confident in his own blade skill. There was no one around who could stand toe to toe with him in a sword fight that he knew of and he was going to be unforgiving against his crafty opponent. The excruciating sound of blade against blade echoed through the dimly lit stone throne room as Mehrunes Dagon rapped his fingernails against the arm of his throne, eager to see some blood. Little did he know that the attack from Ian to Salivan’s upper back had drawn quite a bit of blood and it was paining the fighter deeply.

The two warriors exchanged blows but in the end it was Salivan who had the upper hand. Ian wasn’t as proficient in close combat skills as he was in delivering blows from a distance and he knew it. He knew he had to get a few steps away from his foe to give him the opportunity to use his bow once again. Salivan parried just about every attack that Ian launched, letting it glance to the side, stumbling Ian and making it very hard to get his blade up to block Salivan’s attacks. With a perfect parry, Ian gasped as his blade fell from his aching hand as minutes of trying to get through Salivan’s defenses was making his blade wielding arm numb.

Salivan brought his blade perpendicular to Ian’s chest, making Ian’s breath escape him again as the edge of the broadsword chipped a fair chunk out of the black glass of his cuirass. Ian fell to the stone floor, hitting his head hard but not willing to give up yet, he quickly pulled a lone arrow from his quiver and stabbed it in between the tight links of chainmail that protected Salivan’s thigh. The links broke free from the force of the strike as the Daedric material of the arrow proved to be far superior in construction when compared to chainmail.

Salivan cried out in pain but still managed to limp over top of Ian and force his blade downward, letting it slam into Ian’s armored ribcage. The tempered glass armor caved from the impact, breaking in two pieces and causing Ian to spit blood as his ribcage, lungs and more had been the focus of Salivan’s attacks.

Ian gasped for air as more blood trickled from his mouth; and Salivan fell to the floor on his tailbone from the sting of the Daedric arrow that still pierced his thigh. Both competitors writhed in pain, still wondering why they were even here but also knowing that they would have to continue to appease the bloodthirsty Daedric Prince laughing from his Throne…


PS - Sorry about Savlian's misspelling...What was I thinking, and not just once either. Eep!!

This post has been edited by Taillus: Dec 2 2006, 02:21 AM

[canis216]

It does seem like Savlian has the edge...