Roleplay

Ren braced himself, cursing under his breath. Ironhand had expected his antics and he was now back to square one. At least Ren was thankful of all the time he spent practicing and strengthening himself for endurance. He could keep going for quite a while at this rate.

"No, I do not." He said somewhat coldly, "but I know when to pick a fight." He made an odd hop then quickly parried the knight's blade. His sword rang out as it was struck, and his brows furrowed. He was having trouble against the other's sword, especially since it was so much heavier. He was glad he had used Aeira's scales to reinforce the steel, and he momentarily remembered his first duel, where his blade snapped cleanly after blocking what would've been a killing blow.

That made him wonder if Lord Ironhand's sword was any sturdier given that it had a serrated edge. That surely would make it weaker, right? Meanwhile, Aeira continued to rake the ground with her claws nervously, itching to help her rider. A low growl escaped her, her breath shallow as she watched helplessly.

Ren took a step back to regain his footing after a particularly strong blow, then lunged forward, aiming for the hilt of the other sword. If he knew anything about swords - that was surely the weakest point. However, pulling a stunt like that put him far closer than he wished to, and Ironhand's longer reach could provide an advantage.

Aeira had began to pace as merely clawing the ground was not enough for her to vent her nervous energy. The Silverfang hugged the treeline, her tail swishing back and forth as he watched the duelers intently, each clash of swords making her heart jump. Of course, she had faith in Ren - he had fought, and won, against many who believed he was a poser or a spy.

Indeed, the circumstances had been odd. They had grown up together in their youth. The young human had been a helper, taking care of the noble and royal dragons. She herself was nearly the same age as he was, but incredibly sickly prior to his care. The surgeons and doctors pronounced her a lost cause, but Ren had been there to take care of herself, and she would not take anyone but him.

She caught some of the soldiers wondering about the strange occurrence and growled, forcing herself to turn away and focus back on the fight.

Beads of sweat clung to Ren's forehead as he continuously parried and dodged. He was able to get Ironhand to stumble a little every now and then, but there was nothing he could take advantage of. He had to keep looking for some weakness in his armor. If his sword wasn't the weakest link, something else had to be.

He shot out again, but this time, he locked hilts with the knight. With both hands grasping tight, he twisted, hard, in a rather peculiar direction. He had to duck to avoid being beheaded, but he knew in what way the swordhand was weak, and fully forced Ironhand into that condition. He clenched his jaw, having to exert himself greatly against the larger man.

Ren grunted with effort as he disengaged finally after not being able to twist Ironhand's wrist. He did notice the slight tremors the knight had as he fought back, however, and he knew that this was likely his way out. He ducked under a wide swing and regained his posture. "Not really, no. Normally we'd be flying right now, you know? Enemy intel doesn't grow on trees."

Whenever Ren got worried, he tended to become increasingly sarcastic. It just came with being from the lower class, he reasoned, and being different from the nobles, he just had his humor to pass the time.

Sparks flew as he struck and Ironhand parried. He was alternating between fighting with reach and fighting close quarters. His own arms burned, but he could feel his opponent weakening. Stay calm, he told himself, you've got him right where you want him.

It was getting progressively difficult as the battle wore on. He knew the knight had an advantage in strength, but Ren fought strategically. He was wearing Ironhand thin, he knew that, but his own strength was waning.

Once again, he lunged, and this time twisted in a wholly different, but equally awkward manner. He knew it was just as painful for the receiver, and he hid his smirk as he saw Ironhand struggle more than last. He dug his heels in, locked his blade against his, and kept applying pressure.

Ren felt himself slipping backwards as the sheer strength of Ironhand began to force him back. He didn't respond to the knight's words, instead focusing on keeping himself in the fight.

As he was preoccupied with fending off the other's sword, a swift kick caught him off guard and Ren stumbled back. The serrated blade slipped away, striking him in the shoulder. He inhaled sharply as he glanced down at his right arm. There was a strip of cloth hanging from the side, exposing the thin layer of armor beneath. The scales had fared well against the blow, and Ren barely felt himself bleed.

Aeira jerked when she saw her rider being struck, her own shoulder throbbing in empathy. She did silently smile seeing her scales protecting him, serving their purpose well. Ren had spent a lot of time gathering her shed and weaving them together, and many times it had paid off.

Ren held up his sword against another blow, reassessing the situation. If the battle went on any longer, he was going to lose given his disadvantages. He had to end it swiftly. When Ironhand bore down on him, he deflected the incoming sword just a hair - enough to miss himself but far less than he had been in the previous skirmishes.

He used the knight's weight against himself and once again locked blades, except this time, he was in a far more powerful position. He knew Ironhand could only fight back using the weakest muscles in the arm, and he fully took advantage of that fact, twisting hard. He hoped the weight of the larger sword was acting against its swordsman.

Ren watched silently as the knight accepted his loss, saying nothing as he stormed away, the other soldiers following meekly. He felt the Silverfang nudge him from behind and gently patted her for reinforcement.

He motioned for Aeira to stay as he ran after the soldiers shuffling out of the clearing. "Hey," Ren called at the soldier, the one he dueled initially, "I saw that your sword got damaged after we fought, are you going to get it fixed?"

He of all people knew better than to fight with a damaged blade, and wanted to make sure he didn't affect the soldier's standing anymore than he already did.