A cold smile flickers briefly across Draconion's face as Sirius quibbles over the rules of the duel. In the time he spent waiting for Sirius, he had taken the opportunity to tuck the hems of his hakama into his belt, exposing his legs below the knees to free them up for fighting, his bare feet acclimatising to the cool sands. Also, he had tied up the sleeves of his haori with the tasuki cord, leaving his arms unhindered for swordwork. Standing quite unarmoured against the fully-armed and armoured Sirius, he is gratified at his opponent's insistence on victory by any means necessary. "Tell me, Tatsuro - what do you understand by the moral advantage in strategy?" "It means doing the right thing, does it not, Grandfather?" "And what is the 'right' thing?" "Things that are...right, Grandfather. Like what you and mother and father teach me to do, like what Father Haakan at the church teaches me on mass days." "And if those things cost you a crucial victory? How can you be said to have an advantage?" "...I do not know, Grandfather." "The strategist's moral advantage isn't doing those things all the time, regardless of time and place, Tatsuro. It is doing them when you are most likely to be seen and heard by as many people as possible, when they matter most, so those people will give you their support. And, oftentimes, it is waiting for your enemy to do things other people will see as bad - or making him do those things - so that you can use it as a reason to do the even worse things you need to beat him." "That does not sound good or right, Grandfather." "It isn't, Tatsuro, and I'm glad you understand that. War is neither good nor right. It is an unfortunate necessity, and we do the things we do in war, not because they are right, but because they determine who is left. The things we do in war have no place in peace." "I have no objections," says Draconion, loud enough for all to hear, "It was I who invited the good Apothecary to duel me in full panoply of war, with chainsword and gun, should he so desire. I told him I would meet him just as I am, and so I have. Evidently, he requires a little more than a wooden waster to bolster his confidence, so I do not begrudge him." Turning to face Sirius, he draws his suburito, holding it in a right-side waki-no-kamae stance. "I am ready," he says, beginning to stalk Sirius with light steps across the sands, always circling to the opposite side from his gun hand. As he moves, he uses just the faintest touch of telekinesis to give himself firmer footing on the sands, shaving precious split-seconds off his reaction time. At the same time, he is careful to betray not the slightest sign of his use of psychic power. Despite his seemingly reckless words, he is both fully aware of the consequences of his words and actions, as well as what it will take to triumph or at least survive under the circumstances. Just as I am.
<Sirius Jules> Making it look like trying, Sirius shot in front of the feet of Draconion, almost as if in attempt to scare him. "I hurt your pride and now you want to hurt me physically. But how can you break a broken man, Librarian? Will you let me go through my darkest nightmares to scare me? Forget it, for they came true already. Are you going to make me apologize? Forget it. A Son of Guilliman doesn't back off his words and deeds, he faces the consequence. Are you going to kill me? If you kill me, it proves only of your arrogance and how swift you are to change sides. No matter what you do in here, you lose."
[OOC: Forgot a couple things in the last post. Firstly, Inits, rolling 1d100: 99 Secondly, Draconion's weapon, only his is a lot darker, looks to be as much stone as wood and is, of course, Astartes-sized.]
[OOC: Will wait about ten minutes for Uriel to post inits, then I'll make my post and then I have to go for a few hours.]
A creature was prowling unseen in the shadows of the arena it carried itself silent now, keeping in back near the shadows of Mamaroths throne.
After hearing the chaplains word amraphel was content with just watching the duel unfold. This was going to be most entertaining, he thought and sat down. (OOC: grabs popcorn )
OOC: I don't care about initiative because I only shot at the sand, therefor I gave you a free hit, lol. I also won't roll for attack or defense; you will see why. And if not... Then you still don't get Sirius So just move along, I shot at the sand, your turn.
<Feron> Whilst various exciting battles and tense, dramatic encounters unfolded elsewhere Feron had trundled his way down to Deck 39 to reinforce re-construction efforts on a number of damaged turrets. Metal covers having been deployed over the hull to encase the damaged guns so that repairs might be affected even within the insanities of the warp where stepping outside and away from the gellar field meant being snatched away by hungry entities older than man kind. Moving in as a Sentinel Power Lifter unit hauled away a mangled heap of cannons and wiring the Salamander quickly turned to help guide in the next pallet bearing a gun carriage and barrels ready for installation. With the aid of a Servitor and four other men they quickly hefted it on over into position, a technician scuttling on over to begin fitting in all the new programs and getting it linked up with the rest of the Angelfall's systems while three others saw that it was fitted into place and anchored down. Feron busied himself with installing the cannons ensuring they were fitted properly, unshifting lest ordered to by the spirit within to track new prey. They were relatively small affairs compared to the rest of the guns on the ship, then again any other weapons requiring repairs would be too large for him to make a significant difference on anyways, thus he regulated himself to aiding with the interceptor guns that would hardly scratch a vessel of greater size but served excellently as a fly swatter for bombers or enemy fighters buzzing about like the pest they were.
At Sirius' shot, Draconion kicks into high gear, sprinting in a circle that will force Sirius to keep turning to his non gun-wielding hand side, minimising the opportunities for the other man to shoot him as much as possible. Rapidly closing the circle, he abruptly kicks off and changes vector, sand spraying into the air as he dives between the microseconds it takes for Sirius to clear his sight picture and bring his pistol to bear again. The obsidian-black length of the suburito rises over his right shoulder, causing the air to buzz angrily as it whips in a diagonal stroke from upper right to lower left, ostensibly bound for Sirius' head. At the last microsecond, Draconion changes the angle of the stroke, powering down instead to smash into the vulnerable thumb joint of Sirius' gun hand, the return stroke arcing back up to thunder into the Apothecary's jaw.
Sirius dropped his weapon and received the blow right against his jaw, causing his head to turn along with the blade, the bone must have cracked or whatever that painful sound was. "I thought you wanted to kill me? Not the guts to do so?" He simply asked, staring him in the face, not even hitting or kicking after him. "Or are you so pathetic you don't have the guts to finish me? Is it perhaps because you owe your life to me? Or even better, because you know that hundreds on the Angelfall owe their lives to me? How can you kill one, who does so much more than yourself. It would be nothing but jealousy to kill me." The Son of Guilliman laughed.
