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The assassin once again shot Tagerion a glare that would have dropped him on the spot if looks could kill, but he did take his words under consideration. He was about to deny the human's request, simply out of spite, until Malag spoke up. "You continue to forget your place, slave," Veldrin growled. "I could care less if you have any qualms about the newest members of the House. You will do as you are commanded, and be glad that you still draw breath!"

"I am curious, however," he continued in a more even tone, "to see what level of martial prowess our new additions possess. Your request is granted."

Malag smirked broadly in response to the small scene that followed. As the large man moved out of the room, Malag sniffed snidely.

"Well, the air has taken a better fragrance already. Shall I be the first to demonstrate my skill against the drunken oaf? I could use a bit of a cool-down; my last assignment has left my muscles a bit tense."

He looked to Veldrin respectfully.

"With your leave, Jabbuk, I shall take his challege. I think you'll find this show most entertaining. Seeing a head in a satchel in one thing, but getting to watch the process unfold is entirely another..."

Malag tipped his head with respectful smile, mind anticipating the battle to come.

"Indeed, I shall do my best to avoid his death. In order to assure that I don't do him undue harm, I won't even use my sword. It would be a pity to end the fight so quickly; My blade cuts through foes like a Hushed Whisper cuts through the silence of the night. Watch closely, Jabbuk; I'd hate for you to miss the telling motion."

As he walked out into the court yard, he withdrew a small vial from one of his pockets and slid it up his sleeve; potent Dwarven ale. Highly alcoholic, extremely fragrant, and almost certain to send any alcoholic scrabbling after it like a pig after chesnuts. As he stepped out onto the field, he looked to Tagerion apprasingly; the man was beyond powerful, a hulking titan of muscle and flesh. Since he had removed his armor, he would also be much faster than before, but Malag was not concerned; the only advantage speed gave was the advantage of first reaction. It provided no guarantee of accuracy, nor any means to halt once the blow was thrown. Nonetheless, Malag made a note not to underestimate the human. Tagerion was clearly a well-trained warrior with significant experience, and a potent, probably sentient weapon as well. Malag raised his hand to his chest in a salute to his foe, and dropped his ebon blade to the ground, sliding it away from them.

"I will not be using my sword: it has a nasty habit of ending fights entirely too quickly for my liking. We may begin when you state your terms for the fight; I know how humans are with their rules."

Tagerion squared off to the assassin in front of him. As the ebon blade fell to the ground, Tagerion followed suit, ramming Stormhold blade-first into the ground nearly two feet. The blade simply fizzled in its indignity.

He bowed, somewhat unceremoniously this time, and spoke
"Yield or Incapacitation, any magics or weapons are permissible, if that pleases you, my lord."


Assuming his terms were agreeable enough, the human slowly squared off against the Drow, bringing his broad shoulders to bear and his hands leveled out in a defense position. Even unarmored he seemed nearly motionless as he waited.

The small crowd had quickly gathered, a large number of the houses slaves and soldiers now gathered round, already betting small baubles and trinkits, and even a few females began appearing. Generally, the slaves betted on Tagerion and the soldiers on Malag, while the Females seem to stare viciously through both of them.

Tagerion simply grunted gruffly at these new terms, agreeing wholeheartedly, there was no need for magic in a place like this. Especially considered the human had barely an ounce of magical talent away from a hot forge and anvil.

Without another word, he removed Stormhold from the ground, unceremoniously wiped the dust and debris from the blade, the began charging.

In what seemed like one great stride the man closed the Gap between himself and the assassin, dragging stormhold lightly across the ground behind him on his right side.

Once within six feet he swung the blade in a wide arc, the blade ends facing up and down and the large flat side of the weapon bearing towards the drow in an attempt to at least appear as if he wasnt trying to kill one of the "Superior" race. As the blade moved forward, he kicked out with his left leg , using the momentum of the massive blade to keep him balance during his two attacks.

Tagerion continued through his mighty swing and kick with one fluid motion, almost gracefully planting the offending foot and recentering himself to his nimble opponent.

He eyed the Assassin cautiously ,his experience had shown him that a drow on the defense had something in his sleeve and he refused to let his folly win the battle for this enemy. His mind raced as it attempted to formulate a strategy, but the effects of withdrawal was only worsened by the physical exertion and no brilliant tactics came to mind.

In a burst of rage-filled speed and violent strength he kicked forth, this time at the ground , sending a large clump of dirt and dust flying at the assassin's face. Without Delay he jumped forward , blade held out to the assassins' right flank and his long arm to the left, attempting to stop the Drow from evading the Massive headbutt that was quickly coming through the cloud of debris.

Tagerion responded immediately to the nimble attack, bring the massive blade to the rear in a back hand motion. The attack was never meant to strike, simply to gain his space.

He turned towards the assassin again, and though his various magical runes engraved into his skin felt the taint of some insidious poison began flowing through his skin his instincts told him to finish before the effects could take hold..

Fueled by rage and insult, the man let out a roar so terrible that even the nearby orcs flinched from it, nervously looking from side to side. Responding to his owner's emotions stormhold flashed in a violent cackle of electricty, filling the caverning with a blinding magical light for a brief moment.

Tagerion lunged forwards once more, cackling blade held behind him, his massive right shoulder hurdling straight forward to pummel the assassin's chest.

Tagerion was in a state of absolute mental chaos. The toxins of the assassin , paired with the effects of his withdrawal told his body to simply shut down, yield did not further dishonor your self, for you have already broken the terms of your battle. On the other hand, his body and spirit refused to give in. He was moving on pure rage , adrenaline and instinct.

Although the magic was not his fault, the others couldnt understand the blade had a mind of its own, and Tagerion did not intend to give away his best friends secret.

Acting before he hoped the crowd would regain their senses, he charged once again, stormhold held his in the air, hoping to cleave the drow in two.

Click

He made it not three strides before he felt the familar tinge of pain in his chest followed by a cold numbness. His charge slowed, yet he fought forth , beginning to stumble.

Click
Click
Click

Finally looking down, as he was now at nore more than a stumble, he saw the darts sticking from his chest. The crowd had ended the fight for him