Unwritten Rule Nummer Zwei -[OPEN]-

[Elloria]

Niko rises fluidly out of his low crouch. He is not at his full height, but Solomon is currently keeping his body as compact and low to the ground as possible so towering over the man would be most disadvantageous. Presenting a small target was wise, but would do nothing to help his opponent. Few had ever bested Niko with a sword and none of them were human. As Solomon runs into the first strike, Niko dances to one side to avoid a pommel to the gut. He repeats the motion in the opposite direction as Solomon fluidly stops and switches the direction of the sword, aiming with the blade rather than the pommel. And then Solomon reversed direction again, aiming for another pommel strike. Honestly…his actions are almost textbook in their approach.

His hand snaps up and takes Solomon’s sword wrist in a vice grip – hard enough to bruise, but not enough to break any bones. And the moment he has the grip, he starts moving backwards and out of Solomon’s striking range. He knows Solomon will not stay stationary long and he wants to keep the man moving rather than just binding him up. A simple spell could have achieved that much. And sure enough, Solomon’s knee is snapping up. Niko continues moving back and blows the air from his lung as the knee makes contact. He releases Solomon’s wrist and takes a moment to take in a breath. He barely regains composure before something is flying at his neck. Predictable…

Once again, his hand snaps up and clamps around Solomon’s ankle in the same vice grip. The man tries to lower his leg and, finding such an action impossible, quietly mutters “Oh, come ON!” Niko can’t stop himself. A smile slowly twists his face. Yes. It is all worth it, just for this one moment where nothing is going right for Solomon. He might very well be satisfied if nothing else comes of their little plan.

Though Arashi would certainly be pissed if Niko just lets Solomon go.

Distracted by this thought, he nearly misses Solomon’s shifting and a foot flying towards his head and neck for a second time this evening. His body reacts before his mind catches up, his head jerking to the side to lessen the blow and his hand releasing Solomon’s ankle. But even so, the toe connects with his skull – slamming into his ear hard. Where the hell does this human find that much strength? Niko staggers to one side as he drops Solomon’s knife and collapses on the ground, clutching at his head. He can’t think, can’t see. His ears are ringing and the world spins. Something presses at his mind and he shies away from it – it is just more pain in an already unpleasantly painful experience.

Niko can feel Solomon near him…hears the man say something, but it makes no sense. Racial slarngblagger amateur gretten? Really, the man could at least try to make some sense. Niko blinks and tries to roll onto his back, to see what on earth is going on…

And another piercing roar shatters the calm night air. Niko shivers. Arashi…

Niko! What were you thinking? How could you let him strike you so easily? Are you a warrior or no?!

…Wha?

“NEIN!”

Niko groans. “Stop yelling,” he slurs as he rolls onto his back. Solomon’s not paying any attention to him, so he figures it’ll be wiser to get up slowly. And seriously…why did everyone have to yell all the time? He sits up slowly, blinking frequently to make the world stop spinning. Right. Motor functions still work…a bit slow, but that should right itself shortly…Missing something, but what…Oh, Solomon’s knife…dropped it when foot met head…

Niko looks around before settling on Solomon. One of the man’s hands rests tenderly on the terrible scars that litter his face. The man is muttering to himself and scanning the skies, totally oblivious to what Niko is doing. Another flashback? Huh…that wyvern attack must be one of the most traumatic events in Solomon’s life…that could prove useful.

Niko muses on this as he slowly gains his feet. He feels Arashi’s amusement and it fills him with a strange energy. They truly have the upper hand here, despite Niko’s somewhat fuzzy thinking. But the elf needs to wait for the big finale. He blinks again.

Five minutes, Niko. Last for just five more minutes.

Niko nods and feels a feral grin crawling across his face in spite of how his head aches. He can last five minutes. He focuses on Solomon, who still has not noticed a thing. The grin disappears as Niko sprints across the distance separating him from his target. He slows at the last instant, slamming into Solomon with just enough force to knock the man back to the ground. The clink of metal on earth is music to the elf’s ears as he realizes that Solomon has lost his hold on the diseased sword. Delighted by this little fact, Niko lets the animal grin resurface as he pins Solomon to the ground with ease. His prey curses in some foreign language and Niko cannot help but cackle as Solomon bucks beneath him. I could kill you, you know…Right now, if I wanted to…If only Arashi would not be so upset if I took this kill from him…

He gives a mental sigh and imperceptibly begins weakening his grip on Solomon. After a few moments, he is suddenly flipped onto his back as Solomon ‘gains’ the upper hand. There is a brief pause – brief because the look of intensity on Solomon’s face is enough for even Niko’s addled brain to realize that the man will end things quickly if allowed to remain on top. So before that can happen Niko suddenly bucks, throwing Solomon off-balance. They wrestle and roll around in the grass, each trying to gain the upper hand – Solomon with what seemed like desperation and Niko with amused contempt. The minutes tick by with the wrestling match appearing to be in a stalemate when Niko feels Arashi’s mental nudge – a signal of sorts. Masking his delight, Niko allows Solomon to roll them over so that Niko is pinned.

And now the fun begins.

[Amur]

Everything had come to a complete stop for Solomon, there was no fight, and everything around him had fallen to absolute silence. He continued scanning the skies, now wary of anything moving within their depths, his hand still tenderly placed over the top of his scars. Wincing every few seconds as he relived that strike to the head he had sustained to the head.

His breathing gradually slowed down and his thought process slowly became more coherent, at least to the point where he could remember that he was not in Empire Nirvana... But that roar... He drew in a deep, slow, calming breath, his hand still placed over the top of his scars... He winced, this time the memory was not as strong as the last one, but he still felt the impact of the hit as though he had physically taken it again.

He needed to pull himself together; he had little doubt in his mind that The Elf and his Wyvern-kin had seen the first flashback that had hit him. And the way he had reacted upon hearing that roar would undoubtedly been noticed, in fact, Solomon would have been completely unsurprised if The Elf had managed to piece together that Solomon had been hit by another flashback. Which was bad, if Solomon wasn’t careful The Elf could very well piece together that Solomon-

Wait, The Elf?

Everything that had just happened suddenly came rushing back to Solomon just in time for him to feel the impact of some kind of attack. The shock of the impact alone was enough to cause Solomon to drop his venomous short sword, it was just one bad thing after another right now, he was about to curse that fact when he hit the ground.

That caused him to become disorientated, the bad situations just kept-

Solomon then found himself pinned to the ground, NO! Solomon did not get put in this position, not by prey!

“Sie Sohn einer Hündin!”
He cursed out loud, he was in a bad position, he knew that, but refused to believe it. This, this amateur could never get that lucky. There was just no way, no way, that this could have happened. Solomon was better than that, better than The Elf, his prey was beneath him, always beneath him.

They were forever his prey.

HIS PREY!

He had to fight back, but he found himself largely unable to move. So he made the only move available to him, and thrashed around. He tried to kick, he tried to head butt, and he generally tried to make just about any move with just about any limb that he could move. There was a moment where his struggles seemed to be in vain before something shifted and Solomon found himself with the upper-hand. He didn’t stop to gloat about this victory, however, no, A growing feeling in his gut told Solomon that he needed to end this and quickly.

A look of focus crossed his face, this needed to end, he knew that much.

He reached for a concealed knife, but soon enough the tables were turned again, and Solomon found himself on the ground once more. Solomon growled, why was The Elf struggling so hard? Why couldn’t he just give up and admit that Solomon was his better? The persistence was beginning to annoy Solomon, The Elf was so damned stubborn. Solomon wanted nothing more than to run a knife through his jugular and watch as he died, put the damned Elf in his place, make his Wyvern-kin watch as its Elf died.

Then Solomon would turn his attention on The Wyvern-kin. Neither of them would escape him, he would put them both in their place, it may not happen tonight, but it would happen, that much he would promise.

The struggle continued for a while longer, Solomon very aware of his position, however, also equally aware of the fact he had so far, also managed to prevent The Elf from gaining any further advantages. Solomon was in the inferior position and he knew it, he also had no doubt that The Elf was also aware of this; if The Elf was toying with Solomon then he was going make sure that it was the LAST mistake that The Elf ever made.

Something shifted, allowing Solomon to gain the upper-hand once more, a fact grabbed with urgency as he placed his left hand around The Elf’s throat, tearing of his concealed knives from its sheath as the position solidified, Solomon had won, but he wouldn’t gloat about it, not until The Elf lie in a pool of his own blood.

He drew his arm back only slightly, aiming to end this with one quick stab to a lung, however, his progress was halted as the light from the moon seemed fade... No, something was blocking it, casting a shadow over the field of the battle. Solomon felt his hand freeze mid-motion as he heard the unmistakable sound of wing beats, and despite every urge compelling him to cut-and-run he looked up.

The first thing he felt was his eyes widening, and then his hand losing its grip on the knife he held, allowing it to clatter to the floor, and then finally his mouth hanging agape. Just how damned fast did the damned Lizards here grow? Such a growth rate shouldn’t have been possible, it was... Was... unnatural.

He saw it open its mouth; however, if any sound came out, it was lost to him.

It was making a beeline straight for... HIM!

It wasn’t the size of the Wyvern-kin that bothered him the most, though, no, not even the rate at which it had happened...

He could see its glowing yellow eyes.

He couldn’t look away from them, the eyes. He was reliving his nightmares, every sleepless night. Every flashback.

He tried to move, but found himself frozen in place, everything was just... Just... Wrong! Even after he had concluded to himself, right back when he had first heard their challenge.

Sentient creatures that had been humiliated to the degree Solomon had humiliated The Wyvern-kin and its Elf master to never came back unless they had something to their advantage.

Now, everything was adding up, and Solomon could not believe that he hadn’t caught onto their new-found advantage until now.

A beeline straight for... HIM!
He was very well aware by this point that he was having a difficult time keeping his breathing steady, in fact, he was breathing heavily, and having a difficult time preventing his free hand from trembling. He continued trying to move, to do anything, but he only got the same result as he did from his last attempt, a hardly responsive twitch from a random limb.

Everything, how could everything have gone wrong so quickly?

“Du... Du muiet se scheiden mich!”
He stuttered. Finally finding his voice.

For...HIM!

He felt a sudden a very sharp pain in his side. An impact. Solomon gasped in pain as the sharp pain faded slightly, but persisted, which then caused breathing to become painful.

He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that at least one rib had been broken, and automatically adjusted the depths of each breath he took in order to avoid aggravating his newly acquired wound. How DARE The Elf injure Solomon like that.

(However, and he would never admit this. The Elf’s action had jolted Solomon from his shock, which, he supposed he should have thanked The Elf for in some way.)

He moved faster than he had done before, his rage accompanied by a burst of adrenaline caused by the shock of the wound. Swiftly, he placed one hand at each side of The Elf’s head and pulled The Elf’s head forward as he thrust his own head towards The Elf’s. Solomon felt the impact as his head collided with The Elf’s head, but he could ignore it, the wound that had caused his scars had hit Solomon MUCH harder. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter, and didn’t stop to acknowledge the slight feeling of light headedness caused to him by his own head butt.

No, in fact, he head butted The Elf again.

And again,
And again,
And again,

Once more he made no effort to pause, not even to give himself a break. Even as he unintentionally began taking deeper, more painful breaths the more he exerted himself.

He gave The Elf one final head butt. Hitting The Elf with enough force to make his own ears ring with the impact, at this point he released his grip on The Elf’s head and had to pause for a moment. The Wyvern-kin was fast closing distance however; Solomon didn’t have the time to allow himself to recover. The world around him wasn’t spinning too badly, he had still taken worse hits to the head, he would be fine to ignore his now very slight headache.

He moved fluidly, swiping the knife he had dropped moments ago back up off of the floor, he raised his knife-hand into the air, ready to stab The Elf in the throat, using both hands to steady his aim as he prevented himself from swaying through nothing more than sheer force-of-will. He thrust downwards, the knife beginning its descent; and time seemed to slow to a crawl as inevitability drew closer.

[Elloria]

Niko fights the grin that is threatening to split his face in two as Solomon raises another simple knife. Even with the man’s chokehold and the obvious move to immediately kill, it is already far too late for that. The vanishing moonlight is evidence enough of that. Arashi’s shadow is more comforting than Niko would care to admit, but he cannot contain the relief from flooding both minds as Solomon freezes mid-stab at the unmistakable sound of large wings beating the air. Oh, the look on Solomon’s face is priceless. The wide eyes, the unmistakable horror in their depths, the slackening grip on the knife, the gaping mouth – oh, yes. It is truly a delight to Niko’s eyes and he commits the entire image to pristine memory. He will have to visit Josk after this and have both this moment and the one from the tree turned into fairths. Wait…he quickly incorporates Solomon’s dawning realization into the image as well. Might as well make it a good one, after all.

“Du... Du muiet se scheiden mich!”

Well…if Solomon is just going to sit there and stare, he will soon find that is the wrong thing to do. Moments stretch on and Niko eventually loses patience. His hand curls into a fist and he snaps it into Solomon’s side. Underneath the satisfying thud is an equally satisfying snapping sound. Even in the awkward position, he’s managed to break at least one rib.

The satisfaction and irritation fade rather quickly. This is due not to anything on Niko’s part, but to Solomon’s rather abrupt and unexpected headbutt. The world becomes too fuzzy after that.

=====

Arashi lets loose a howl as Niko’s mind is suddenly darkened by whatever is happening on the ground. He gives one final beat of his wings, sending a large gust of wind across the area where the Solomon-two-legs crouches over Niko. What is it doing? There is a gleam in its hands – a gleam rather like the small-metal-claw and large-metal-claw that Niko carries with them. He roars as the small-metal-claw descends and turns with little effort to flick the pathetic fleshling off his Rider – mindful of the decidedly lethal spikes, if only because he does not wish to harm Niko.

Seeing that the fleshling is curled up a fair distance away from his Rider and unlikely to be posing a threat at all, Arashi moves closer to Niko. He noses the elf more gently than a dam nudges a newborn hatchling. The elf makes no response and worry floods Arashi’s mind. What has the fleshling done to his Rider? He nudges Niko just a tad harder, but still no response. Arashi feels a growl building in his chest. He can feel his Rider’s lifebeat – he knows that Niko is still alive. But the mind is still dark to him and it is more painful than he can bear. He nudges Niko one last time though he knows there will be no response.

The growl rumbles up from his chest, echoing in the still night air as Arashi turns to face Solomon-two-legs. Barely a moment passes as he glares at the rising figure of the fleshling that has darkened Niko’s mind. And then he bounds across the distance separating him from the fleshling, leaving deep gouges in the earth with his talons. He skids to a halt mere feet in front of Solomon-two-legs and rears back, towering over the tiny fleshling. His mouth opens wide in a thunderous roar, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He will rip this pathetic prey to shreds and savor its blood on his tongue. His head and neck snap forward, ready to obliterate this thing that dared to stand against them.

[Amur]

The knife was nearly there, nearly at The Elf’s throat. But, Solomon knew better than to celebrate victory before it happened. The knife was just inches away when Solomon felt something hit him, hard. He was briefly very aware of several large spikes very close to his body before he found himself flying defencelessly through the air for several seconds.

NO! He had him! He was so close to killing The Damned Elf!

He didn’t bother bracing himself for the inevitable impact; he already knew from experience that it did nothing to lessen the pain. And, in his current state doing so would have just caused him unnecessary discomfort before the impact.

He hit the ground hard, the air being forcefully driven from his lungs by the strength of the impact alone. The hit and the impact of the following fall had succeeded in aggravating his broken rib, causing him to suffer further pain before his body forcefully started taking in deep breaths in order to compensate for his winded state. Solomon winced, placed his hand over the injured rib gently and curled up on the ground as the pain caused by each breath slowly became too much to bear... But he wasn’t out, not yet.

He used his position to discreetly remove the shock-proof case from the pouch on his belt and very carefully removed one of the explosive vials from it before returning the case to its pouch and keeping the vial concealed in his hand.

He stayed where he was a moment longer, distantly aware of the Wyvern-kin checking on its Elf. A stupid mistake, The Wyvern-kin had apparently learned nothing from The Elf’s defeat during their first encounter; it should have followed up immediately. Neutralise the threat completely before making sure that its master was well and good.

Looking at the Wyvern-kin confirmed to Solomon that it had managed to hit him with its tail... The Wyvern-kin had touched Solomon, touched, Solomon. That it was an attack didn’t bother Solomon as much as knowing that it had been from the Wyvern-kin, now, he was disgusted; the vile Wyvern-kin had managed to strike him... The Wyvern-kin!

Solomon groaned in pain as he forced himself back to his feet, he couldn’t allow his wound to get the better of him. No matter how much pain the simple action of standing up was now causing him. He was on his feet again, resuming his crouched stance as the Wyvern-kin turned to face him, he kept the explosive vial concealed in his hand, keeping his stance compact and his hands close to his body in order to minimise suspicion.

He could hear it growling.

The Wyvern-kin was thundering towards him, and he tensed, getting ready to react as fast as his currently dimmed reflexes would allow him to. –though, once again, he couldn’t help but be very aware that once again their inexperience had cost them, had the Wyvern-kin just charged straight into him there would have been nothing Solomon would have been able to do about it.- The Wyvern-kin reared back, standing on its hind legs, and still Solomon held his ground, he needed to remain as calm as possible, keep a steady hand no matter how... Intimidating the size difference now was.

It roared, telegraphing its attack far too nicely for Solomon, he couldn’t help it, despite the situation, he smirked. His timing was perfect; he altered his stance and dove away from The Wyvern-kin, casually flicking the explosive vial as he dove away from it. He stretched his arms, his rib protesting at the action, and rolled as he hit the ground, just in time to hear the explosion.

His distancing had been slightly off.

He was out of the blast-radius, but, the force of the explosion knocked him to the ground face-first. This aggravated his broken rib, but at least it was better than being dead.

He sluggishly managed to get back to his feet, and, was still able to see the Wyvern-kin as it fell to the ground... And he laughed... Out loud, in relief.-though, he would NEVER admit that- That, however, ended abruptly in a groan of pain as his rib once again made even that simple action cause him pain.

He raised his hand to his rib, gently. Damn, it hurt to laugh.

He swayed on the spot, taking stock of what he was able to see around him, the knives he would leave, they were plain steel, and those he had plenty of, his venomous short-sword, however, that was irreplaceable, and he was definitely going to be getting that back. But first, no matter how much he was hurting, Solomon had one last task... Enjoying the feeling of his victory.

Hand still gently clutching at his wound he walked –staggered- toward the fallen Wyvern-kin, and once more, stood just out of its reach, smirking at it... Even if the explosion had left it too disorientated to know exactly what was going on, Solomon was going to taunt it.

“You...”
He still struggled to control his breathing, attempting to hide the fact that this encounter had affected him more than their first.

“You got bigger Wyvern-kin...”
He sneered –breathlessly-

“Still... Not too big to put on the floor through...”
He finished off, backing away from the Wyvern-kin –sluggishly-

“Oh... J-... Ja, you left... You left the follow up too long.”
He still struggled to keep his breaths shallow enough to avoid causing himself pain, and he was also very aware of the fact that he was largely failing to keep his condition hidden.

“Should. Have. Followed... Up... While. I was... On the... Floor.”
He sneered –still breathlessly-

He continued backing away, making sure that he was well out of its reach before he turned his back and slowly staggered his way toward his venomous short sword.

“N-never. Forget... You are. Forever... My prey.”
He left them with that final taunt, at this point too tired and too injured to care if they received it or not and then continued to stagger away, leaving them where they fell to him. Heading toward his next hidden base-camp, he was in a bad state, and until he managed to get there and dress, and secure his wound properly he would be vulnerable. A situation that caused him rage, though, he was thankful that the Wyvern-kin and its Elf would be highly unlikely to notice that given the distance he had now managed to put between them.

They would pay for what they had managed to do to him tonight, he was going to make sure of that... He couldn’t simply allow them to believe that he was so easily injured.

He fell to one of his knees, but immediately forced himself back to his feet, he couldn’t rest, not until he was well out of sight and able to nurse his wound... One step at a time... One step at a time...

By the time the Wyvern-kin and its Elf recovered Solomon would be long gone, and in the state they were likely to be in they would be unable to follow... One step at a time...

He had won once more, despite the fact that they had caught him unprepared and off-guard... They should be ashamed; they had, had him, and yet still failed to cause any significant damage to him... Amateurs...

He staggered, using his venomous short sword to force himself to remain on his feet.

Forever his prey...
Forever his prey...