+Cyanomorphide flush commencing. Onslaught injectors standing by+ voiced his helmet. Aradax's jaw slightly moved up. +Onslaught injecting...+ Aradax removed his gloves, tightened his belt, adjusted his shoulder pads and Cuirass. Aradax's was now feeling it, the pleasure of war. Something he could never get enough. Rushing strait at Nero with increased speed. He held his blade with his right hand, keeping it to his side, Keeping his left dangling to the side of him. He dove under Nero who had left his bottom exposed from greater height, using his momentum he slid across the marble floor under Nero. He grabbed his Combat knife with his left and kept guarding his head with right Dueling sword. Aradax attempted to slash the exposed knee joints.
Nero smelled a change in the air, and smiled. Combat stims... Even with them, the parrot has no chance. He watched the mortal running, charging in sloppily lolling his left arm and as the man dove he drew a knife and assaulted the rear joints of Nero's legs. Useless. Nero stood taller than most Astartes for a reason his legs had been removed, and improved. The mortal would find it difficult to attack the digitigrade metal legs at best. As he slashed and slid between his legs Nero began to pivot on one leg, the other coming high into the air to stop down upon the parrot's chest. The clawed feet tearing into the marble floor, sending flickering sparks at Aradax.
Combat Stims. That was why the pirate lord thought he had a chance. Back during the days of the Great Crusade, Kheroth had seen countless brother-marines fall to the blades of stim-injected chaos cultists. But those were 'normal' astartes, well... all of the Eamperor's Children were exceptional warriors, but none of them had yet been touched by the Dark Prince. Nero, however, was no normal astartes by any sense of the word, even amongst the servants of Chaos. Aradax was either brave or foolish, though it mattered little. Kheroth did not see this battle lasting long.
Aradax was warned of the coming attack, by the sparks lighting up near his arms. Head almost touching the floor, his slide barley dodged the stomp. Aradax slid for several meters before leaping into the air and gathering his senses. Digits were falling out of his left hand, his size enlarging. His armor took shape under his combat fatigues as his muscles grew with every second. "I am Aradax, The Burning Whip" yelled Aradax. He came charging at Nero with a furry of attacks focused on his sword hand. Skin falling of his flopping arm each time he moved for another strike. "Warmaster of the Warband: Burning Hate" gargled Aradax syncing each word with an attack. At this point, thin sharp teeth were jetting out of the skull mask and saliva dripping down. +Cyanomorphide flush 50% complete+
Sigvald looked over at Kheroth "He's holding up pretty well, all things considered. Nero however I think still has a lot more chance of winning....so long as he ends the fight quickly." the Chaos Sorcerer tapped his knuckles on the hardwood of his chair arm "The longer this goes on, the more time Aradax has to heighten his senses to near Astartes levels, and if Nero lets this take too long then the pirate might actually start moving a little bit *faster* then him, depending on how many drugs are being used."
OOC: sorry if this has an obvious answer but this is my first RP thread, so how are duels' winners decided?
Out of nowhere Gak joined the group "It helped with some rest" he said and then looked at the arena "is this still going on? Wonderfull who is winning?"
The stomp was missed, as expected. The sparks had shown Aradax the way in their dazzling display. Aradax was screaming incoherently, an effect of the combat stims, his muscles stretching and bulging beneath his skin, always a wonder to see. A flurry of attacks came at Nero's sword arm, easily blocked. Left handed sword play often confused those who were used to fighters using their right arm. Aaradax screamed something about who he was, and Nero had had enough. He slammed his talons down in a fist at Aradax's head. The helmet should cushion the blow enough to not outright kill him.
"Nobody. They both lose." Vanilus simply said with a shrug. "For example I could have thrown a grenade in their midst and it would splatter their both internal organs over the place. Duels are foolish, because it simulates nothing. On the battlefield all is different. The best duelist is not the better warrior, he is simply better in one versus one, which makes him a duelist, not a warrior on the battlefield." The older mortal complained, still watching it though - tempted to do what he just described.
