Vahn throws himself at Vorlasht. "Renarth, take her from here." His cloak discarded, he breaths fire at the vehrakt as a starting maneuver before showing the warclaws hidden under the cloak.
Renarth carefully removes the wire, though the tugs are quick to pull them through. He shakes his head the entire time, growling heavily, until the point he has her free. Quickly he puts his arms around her, holding the young Priestess, turning such to watch Vahn...
Ashia stirrs once more, "Renarth... I need a healer." she raises her still bleeding arms to show him, "Too much blood..." she rasps. "I'm all torn up....inside." she looks down at her thighs and hisses softly.
Vorlasht snears, jumping backwards and to the side, avoiding Vahn's flame easily. He says, "How expert of you, Aldani. To throw such an expected maneuver at an expected time. You can't hope to best me with such novice tricks. Let a real warrior show you how to fight!" His glaive swinging in well practiced movements.
Renarth winces at Ashia's comments, and just nods slightly. He leans down, then heaves hard, letting his wings carry the weight of both. It's a hard flight, and wears on the muscles heavily, but he needs to get her back...
There is a discarded carry net off to the side of Ashia, a wooden crate still in it. From the look of it, she was carried here as well in it.
Vahn doesn't let the insult get to him. To do so would mean his death, for if he lost his temper in this fight, the Vehrakt's words would ring true. He just grins, teeth showing widely. "I'm just getting started." He suddenly makes a running dash towards the Vehrakt, warclaws pulled to his side, elbows back, ready to strike in a heartbeat.
Vorlasht just roars his defiance, glaive swinging down, blade at the fore to catch this attack. He thinks to himself, "How predictable. How this amateur ever survived the war is beyond me." Vahn sees the blade, predicting it from the Vehrakt 'amateur' before him, and jumps up to avoid it. The Vehrakt is faster than he thought and the blade follows his leap up and still manages to nick him in the left leg.
Vahn is forced to twist mid-leap to keep from losing his balance altogether as the glaive's blade cuts him. It's not serious, but a sliver of blood can already be seen.
Vorlasht sneers, "First blood, old dragon." He says no more, letting his glaive do the rest of the talking for him. The blade swings up, trying to catch anything it can, the blade being used as a decoy in this feint he learned from his practices at Fortress Vehrakt.
Vahn deftly jumps back, words gone. All that's left is the seasoned fighter and built up instincts. His right hand swings out, the blades catching the glaive's blade, his other hand sweeping down to block what he knows is coming. His own tail lashes out to the right, hoping to catch the opening that's about to open...now.
Vorlasht sweeps the butt-end of his glaive at Vahn's mid-thigh, but the move is already being blocked by Vahn's other warclaw. He staggers back a step as his ribs are smacked soundly by the Aldani's tail. Bruised lightly and far from being hurt, Vorlasht pushes his attack again, this timne twirling the glaive so the blade is pointing down and the butt-end is up. He swings out again with the butt-end, folowing it up with the blade right behind.
Warclaws follow glaive in a deadly dance. Back and forth both warriors go. Up and down as they duck and jump each other. The glaive's blade snakes in, cutting at Vahn's right arm, blood flows freely from it, staining the armor around it. Warclaws both strike, hitting either side of the Vehrakt's ribs, blood flows from there to drip down and color Vorlasht's loincloth crimson.
The dance of death continues, neither warrior giving ground. Glaive catches on shoulder-piece, slicing it in half. One warclaw holds the glaive at bay while the other scores another hit, this one to the left arm of the Vehrakt.
Vahn sways backwards, pulling his arms back and leaps forwards, arms now outstretched, blades first. His feet are not far from being under him. Vorlasht holds his glaive out horizontal in front of him. The tough, hardned wood is no match for the nearly full weight of an adult dragon. It snaps in Vorlasht's hands, splinters flying, two broken shafts in either hand. Vahn's forearms are scored by the shattered wood where the armguards of the warclaws do not protect him. Vahn knocks Vorlasht down as he moves with his momentum to dive over the fallen foe. He knows if he stops on top of the Vehrakt, he can be leaving himself open to many attacks.
It takes but a heartbeat before Vorlasht regains his senses and rolls to the side, not letting himself remain in one vulnerable spot for any longer than he can help it. He rolls over and is up to his knees quickly. By this time, Vahn has turned himself and is already launching himself at the Vehrakt.
His weapon may be broken in two, but that does not mean he's defenseless. It now means he has two separate weapons, which he puts to good use. Left hand goes up with the bladed end of the glaive to parry the diving Aldani while he twists his body sideways, letting Vahn's momentum carry him right in front of him. He takes but a heartbeat to survey his openings...there. The left hand slashes in with the now-sharp, shattered end of the glaive to shred Vahn's left wing membranes. A snap can be heard as the wood even breaks one of the fragile wing bones that spread the dragon's sails out.
Vahn roars in pain as his wing is rendered useless. No time to consider how badly it's damaged. He thinks to himself, "Must stop this or the rest of me will end up that way..." He let's his momentum, just now used by the Vehrakt, take him into a forward roll. He halts the roll suddenly, kneeling forward, only to reverse his movements with a backspring and flip over the young Vehrakt warrior. His hands reach for and grab Vorlasht's horns. He uses his new momentum and his hold to force Vorlasht to the ground in a forceful toss.
Vorlasht is pulled backwards, but he has been through this sort of treatment before, he knows how to deal with this. With a well-practiced move, he actually let's himself be pulled backwards. His arms go up, over his head, which is quickly aiming down to the ground. He somersault's in place, legs and charcoal grey tail swinging with force at Vahn's face.
Vahn does not see this unexpected move in time as it comes from his left side, his blind side. Vahn roars in pain yet again as the side of his face is hit so hard from the impact, both the Vehrakt's foot is smashed to a shattered, broken mess and Vahn's metal eyepatch is actually ripped from the rivets holding it to his skull. Flesh is pulled from around it and blood flows badly and freely into the scarred and gaping mass that used to be his left eye in his younger years. The three old scars that had taken his eye can be seen but briefly as blood seeps and fills everywhere.
Vorlasht's own roar echoes the pain of Vahn's, his left foot now useless. He ends his somersault with a crouch, not even trying to hold his wieght up with his shattered left foot and ankle. A smart warrior would take this time to flee, heal and plan to take revenge at a later time, but this Vehrakt is not going to let this Aldani make him run. This Aldani has taken from him already. Has taken what cannot be replaced. For that, Vahn must die, even if this Vehrakt has to fight until one or the other is dead. There is no stopping now.
With a snarl of pain and pure rage, Vorlasht leaps, using his right side solely to propel him headlong into the Aldani, no longer caring for his personal safety. He grabs the broken shaft of the butt-end of the glaive in one hand, holding it in an overhand position, the bladed end in the other, also in an overhanded downswing.
Vahn blocks either hand with his own forearms, the blades clashing against the broken halves of the glaive. Vorlasht does not let this deter him, for his true intent is to go after Vahn's body directly with his own. His lunge at Vahn drives his body into Vahn's, his teeth going right for the Aldani's thinly protected throat.
Vahn is almost helpless as he's driven backwards, his throat being held in the vice-like grip of Vorlasht's teeth. He no longer has the agility nor the maneuverability that the Vehrakt used earlier to escape such a move, but he does the next best thing...he takes the Vehrakt down with him. His arms, which had just deflected the Vehrakt's arms out, now wrap around his waist, ensuring his downfalll with the Aldani. Vahn knows that if he had let Vorlasht stop his own momentum, Vahn's throat could have been ripped out in one single move. It's still possible, but this at least gives him a chance to escape.
Both warriors struggle and roll sideways, one determined to keep his grip, the other determined to escape it with his life. Warclaws slash and stab, broken halves of glaive do the same. It's not until Vahn gets a lucky strike to Vorlasht's armpit, that he has a chance to break away. The sharp pain to the soft, unprotected underside of the joint where arm meets shoulder, cutting tendons and rendering his whole right arm useless, causes Vorlasht to roar in pain yet again, unintentionally releasing Vahn's throat, but not before pulling across the semi-soft scales there and causing a nasty tear on either side of Vahn's throat first.
Vorlasht rolls to the left, Vahn to the right. Both are on their feet at roughly the same time. Both are breathing hard from the lengthy fight and amount of wounds both are garnering. Blood flows freely over both, coloring them both in crimson. It's hard to tell who's blood is who's, there is so much of it and so many wounds, both great and small on either warrior.
Vahn crouchs back in a defensive position, letting Vorlasht continue this dance of death. The wounded Vehrakt seems to oblige him and with single useable arm, jumps yet again at Vahn, twisting his lunge so his wounded side leads. If it can't attack, may as well defend with it. There's little chance it will ever be used again, despite the intense pain there. But to a Vehrakt, pain fuels anger. Anger gives strength. Strength is what Vorlasht needs now against this thrice damned Aldani.
Seeing the same attack being used and remembering what happened last time, Vahn lunges back, letting his own momentum crash the two warriors together. Vorlasht stabs the glaive's blade deep into Vahn's right shoulder, just past the collarbone. Vahn doesn't let that deter him as he grabs once again for the Vehrakt's horns, this time yanking them hard to himself, letting his thick skull do the talking for him to Vorlasht's muzzle. Blood spatters as the Vehrakt's muzzle crunches under the force and pressure of Vahn's attack. Vahn also reels a bit, dazed, from his own blow, but does not let go of the horns.
Vorlasht's roar turns to a bloody growl as he twists the blade in Vahn's shoulder, starting to yank down. Vahn pulls himself back to hold Vorlasht at arm's length, not to distance himself, but so he has swinging room. He doesn't give the Vehrakt time to do anything as he suddenly yanks down, his own knee driving up into Vorlasht's face. Another sickening crunch, more blood. When Vahn pulls Vorlasht's face from his knee, there are actual teeth still embedded in Vahn's flesh, just at the top of the knee cap.
The Vehrakt's vision is blurring, both from the intense pain to his face and from the loss of blood. His fighting turns more primitive, more carnal. Glaive blade forgotten in Vahn's shoulder, his muzzle useless, Vorlasht starts slashing wildly with claw, his tail swinging wildly. He cares not for himself at all, this creature before him must die!
Vahn's vision, in his only good eye, is also blurred, from blood dripping across his face and from his own drastic loss of blood. But he has been a warrior for much longer than this young Vehrakt and does not let the primal feelings come through. His fighting instincts are too strong for that. He blocks what he can with his warclaws, one half useless. It has been bent, digging into the back of his bare hand underneath. When this happened, Vahn is unsure, but he's careful to use it little, knowing full well how easily those blades could slice his hand if pushed much further in. And there's no time to unstrap the thing. "Oh well, still got the other one.", he thinks to himself.
Vorlasht does the unexpected and jumps backwards, what's left of his muzzle opening wide. Vahn has an idea what this stupid..."Oh shit..." is all he has time to think to himself as his arms come up to shield him from the partially blocked blast of napalm spewing suddenly from the Vehrakt's mouth. In his crazed, unthinking instinct, Vorlasht forgot that his muzzle is bloodied and broken, actually hampering the spray. Only half of it actually flies towards Vahn, the rest melting and burning the remains of his muzzle and face, liquid fire dripping down onto his chest and out to his shoulders and wings as he flails about in more pain than his maddened body has already taken.
Vahn's special tunnelwyrm armor helps in keeping most of the heat and fire of the dragon's breath from burning his chest and belly, but not his arms. The metal of the warclaws heat up, slowly begining to burn the flesh underneath. The unprotected parts of his arms, both uper and lower, which are already covered in cuts and bruises, are now covered in splatters of liquid fire, the dragon's breath fluid sticking there and causing even more pain. It's all he can do to keep himself from passing out.
Vorlasht is not quite so lucky. His flailings do nothing to help put out his own fires. The pain is too intense for anyone to handle, much less this young Vehrakt warrior. He passes out, falling down on his belly, his head twisting at an angle that should not be. A snap is the only sound heard as he actually hits the ground. His cries and gurgling screams suddenly muted.
Vahn drops to a knee, suddenly too weak to stand any longer. It takes him a few minutes, but he realizes the glaive's blade is still stuck in his shoulder. He debates about taking it out himself and decides it's better if he got to a healer first. He's seen enough serious puncture wounds like that to know that the blood's going to flow much worse and much faster as soon as he takes that thing out.
The fires die quickly, the fuel used faster than it seems. Vahn has enough mind left to undo the straps, letting his warclaws fall where they may. He stands and begins to stumble across the clearing, only to finally succumb to his own wounds and pass out. What little instinct is left keeps him from meeting the same fate as Vorlasht. His arms go up, padding his head from the impact. The world goes dark for Vahn.