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Bother, bother...

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Legault

Legault silently agreed as Drake explained how much easier it would have been to go to some other country in the world rather than what seemed likely to be the least welcoming one. It actually hadn't occured to him at that point that perhaps Melethia wasn't looking for some simple fire tomes for the sake of having them. Then again, he was a bit distracted what with keeping an eye on his surroundings. Enemy territory and all that.

Still, it was pretty hard not to notice Melethia's half-shifting into...well, she was decidedly humanoid, but those features were undeniably similar to the Fire Dragons that had briefly stepped into Elibe. And there was that whole "burn" exclamation she had made...leaving Legault to wonder if she, like Ninian and Nils, had been forced to take human form. There was also the question of why a dragon had recruited a lowly assassin's aid. Perhaps she had taken pity on him due to being stranded in the middle of the desert, certainly, but still more questions arose as to her overall intentions...

Legault knew he should have been a bit more alarmed by the fact that Melethia was getting angry and showing off her dragonly features (of which was another concern, naturally), but, in truth, he felt like a spectator connecting the dots at the moment. Of course, that changed when the Serpent Fang addressed him...subsequently giving the order to try and kill one of his best men. The first reaction on the former Black Fang's part was quite predictable - bringing out his daggers. In his right hand was a Killing Edge and in the left was a Runesword, the latter being a treasure he'd come across whilst adventuring with Eliwood and friends. The next thing he did, though, was regard the Serpent Fang rather than his supposed opponent.

"So I suppose you have all your male guests engage in mortal combat with your best agents?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice (though not particularly trying). Now somewhat resigned to the fact that it was one of those confounded 'comply or die' situations, Legault stepped forward with his eyes trained on Murphy and flipping over one of the daggers in his hands, conveying that he was ready whenever the other man was.

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...it looks like this won't be easy...

It was only to be expected, really. Drake used his attendants for a variety of purposes, and as one of his most trusted, Murphy could only be expected to be called upon for something like this. The Assassin's daggers appeared as Legault drew his weapons, spinning them idly in bandaged fingers before holding their handles tightly. Legault was a mystery, his abilities unknown, with no prior evidence that the Assassin could extrapolate from. The muscles in Murphy's legs were already tightening, ready for action.

"...Ladies first." Murphy tensed, shifting to a ready position, but continued to wait for Legault's response, hair swept across the eyes. Murphy's entire frame was tense, taut like a bowstring, brown eyes focused squarely on the fellow Assassin standing close by. No sound came from Murphy after that, simply the slight shifting of fabric as the Assassin watched. And waited.

Murphy said nothing. Legault was ready for combat, taking a few steps forward before stopping within reach. The Assassin did not respond to his taunt, and merely stood. And waited. Legault's methods and fighting style was a complete mystery, and as it was, the best way to ascertain his abilities was to give him the first strike. Murphy's strength lied in movement, dodging attacks and striking back. So the black-and-purple-clad Assassin waited. And waited.

And then he moved, the red blade of his Killing Edge whipping out towards Murphy's neck. The Assassin didn't flinch; even the brown eyes peering out from under thick black hair belied very little reaction beyond determination, steely and hard. Murphy merely leaped back, hands pressing neatly to the floor, and rebounded up and back upright in one smooth motion. As Murphy fell back towards the ground, one hand flashed towards a baggy sleeve, and then a pair of wickedly sharp knives were whistling through the air, aimed for Legault's shoulders. The Assassin's soft-soled shoes silently made contact with the floor again before the knives could make contact with anything but air, and Murphy simply stood, not saying a word. The two knives the Assassin wielded spun idly in adept fingers while waiting, brown eyes not leaving Legault's form.

Murphy's fingers twitched on the handles of the melee-range knives as Legault sidestepped the knives that had been thrown, aimed to incapacitate. It was much easier to pick enemies off when they were unable to fight back, and it reduced their ability to inflict damage while you were busy attacking them. His violet cloak whipped around him like a whirlwind as he moved, eyes glinting intently as he took aim and struck.

The Assassin's response was to dip neatly to the side, spinning in a tight circle, then to dip and roll once, pulling back upright and solidly on both feet. It was as if the young Assassin was dancing around him, effortless and graceful. Murphy's gaze never left Legault's form, eyebrows drawing together as brown eyes narrowed in determination. Murphy produced another throwing knife, using the left hand to throw it at Legault's shoulder, and took a bounding step to the side to place more distance between the two of them. Two more throwing knives followed the first, and then the second melee knife appeared in Murphy's left hand again, as if it'd never moved.

"...Is that all?"

Murphy let out a small breath and took one step back as Legault ripped the knife out without so much as a wince. He didn't seem to take note of the wound in the process, nor be bothered by the blood saturating through the fabric of his clothing. Either he was resistant to pain, or trained to push past it. Either way, it was a useful thing, a fellow that could continue on despite injury. In the context of a battle, though, with him as an opponent... not so useful.

He was bullrushing again. Why was he bullrushing again? It was ineffectual the first time. Murphy's melee knives deflected the sharp blades of his own weapons, but as the Assassin was rolling out of the way, Legault was striking out again with one of his weapons. The confusion flitted across Murphy's face for only a moment; in its place was surprise, and then stifling fear. Murphy tried to leap out of the way, but the surprise stalled the Assassin's actions just long enough for the Runesword to strike accurately. Murphy collapsed on hands and knees to the ground as the elder magic of the Runesword swept over like a thick fog, dulling the senses and the mind. N-No...! Focus...!!

As soon as the attack broke, Murphy rolled away and back up, breath coming hard. Brown eyes glittered as the Assassin stared hard at Legault, knives ready. You aren't going to hit me with that again. I know how it works. I know how you fight. You will never win.

Murphy's breathing was reined in with just a few seconds of concentration; though the sudden shock was still lingering in those brown eyes, Murphy's chest had stopped heaving quite so violently in spite of the aftereffects of an increased heart rate and swelling panic and sharp ache in the lungs. Murphy took a single step back, watching Legault with all the intensity of an eagle watching its prey far, far below on the ground. The Assassin's brown eyes flickered briefly to the Runesword in his hand, then to the Killing Edge, and back to Legault. Those eyes narrowed, jaw setting, lips curling back just enough to reveal gritted teeth.

Very abruptly, almost as if there was no transition between the two, Murphy was running at Legault, knives out. The Assassin dipped to the left, then leaped to the right, flipping around in the process, both wrists flicking out to give a powerful slash at the wrist and forearm holding his precious Runesword. "Too slow," Murphy muttered, face just barely close enough to the fellow Assassin to be heard, before twirling around and reaching his back. Murphy gave another mighty strike, knives giving an x-shaped blow to his back before flipping over and landing back upright a short distance away, knives out.

Murphy flicked a lock of black hair away from the eyes and stared at Legault, leg muscles tensing again to prepare to dodge or strike. "...Was that sufficient?"

[in summary: feint left, leap right, spin once in place to make striking back in any one place less simple due to all the movement, slashing at his left wrist and hand to cripple the use of his Runesword, then around to the back, crossing blows down his back, and then flip over and away from a possible counterattack.]

Murphy waited in silence, hands still clutching onto melee knives that now dripped blood onto the ground. Legault's wounds were not deep; shallow enough to allow him to move, but deep enough to cause pain. If Legault passed the Serpent Fang's test to join their ranks, it would be imperative to not kill him. And so Murphy watched, brown eyes focused on his form as his cloak shifted before he rose up to his feet again. The Assassin stared back at him, taking in the expression before tensing, feet shifting to spread the center of balance more effectively before Legault moved again.

Murphy swiftly sidestepped, kerchief flapping briefly in the air before settling back against the Assassin's neck and collarbone. Murphy's response was to produce another throwing knife and toss it towards Legault's unwounded shoulder. Both melee knives were back in the appropriate hands when he lashed out a knife as if to strike with his elder magic attack again, and rolled to the side. Murphy was standing upright again when the dark, distorted cloud of elder magic came from out of the weapon in Legault's hand and bulleted forward, aiming for the Assassin opposing him.

"Sh--" Murphy leaped out of the way of the attack, tucking into a roll in the last minute, and rose up, panting hard. The Runesword strike had missed, but the frantic, last-second attempt to dodge the attack had caused Murphy to land badly, and now the Assassin's left shoulder ached horribly, stinging in pain each time Murphy attempted to move that arm. "...Tch..." Murphy spat quietly on the ground and took a step away from Legault, visibly wary. Elder magic was dangerous. Very dangerous. The only way to stop him from using it was to keep him from moving...

Murphy's eyes darted around the room, and after a few moments, the Assassin leaped into action; Murphy planted a foot on a nearby crate and kicked it towards Legault. Even if the strike missed, the action would kick up a considerable cloud of dust in the air, obscuring his view. While it would only obscure Murphy's, too, Murphy had considerably more experience in finding visibility through sandy conditions than Legault did (at least, Murphy liked to assume that was the case). So with this impromptu 'smokescreen' in place, Murphy leaped from environment piece to environment piece, crate to chair to broken pillar to solid, upright pillar, finally rebounding off of the pillar and towards Legault's chest, heel first.