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Nexx looks into the open sky for a moment before levelling his gaze with that of the former vampire that awaits him across Kelay Way. The minute movement of the drow-vampire’s pupils is a subtle indication that he is measuring Demont’s character - both body and soul - and taking heed of his kit. For a moment, the vampire’s appraisal rests upon the daisy in his foe’s hands… an odd choice. His lips turn into a sardonic sneer and he rasps, “pushing them soon, Demont…” With a slow, deliberate scrape of his left foot, Nexx grooves the earth like a great bull indicating his charge; but he is no mindless animal. First things first: the light and openess of Kelay Way. With but a thought, Nexx calls upon his drow heritage and evokes a blanket of profound and utter black which cascades east to west, north to south along the Way. The subsequent shadows bring with them a pervasive, dank chill that the living might find most uncomfortable. That done, the assassin slowly advances, one hand resting upon his unremarkable black katana, the other free at his side. At fifteen feet, it seems inevitable that Nexx proposes melee - but at ten, his eyes narrow, his muscles go taught, and his methodical approach explodes into the elaborate movement of a master trained in far more than bare combat. The final ten feet are a miasma of motion as Nexx’s speed leaves him but a blur - the distance is closed as he spins a thrice 360, his first movement sending a quintet of gleaming black shuriken toward Demont, each one streaking in varied directions so as to offer the angelic avian a simple choice: where to move? Up, into one? Left, into two? Right, into two? Or low, into one? His second spin brings with it the slash of his black katana, its fine edge slashing low to the left should Demont elect two to the left. His final spin brings forth his heavy saya, the scabbard perfectly weighted as a cudgel - its blunt option swings high, should the angel take wing. And Nexx himself, his triplicate complete, takes the right side as he passes through.

Demont ’s gaze rests on the rapidly moving clouds above, his mind wandering off and thinking of a person, rather than the battle placed before him. The words of Nexx reach his acute ears, sending him forcefully from his trance as he looks to the daisy then to his foe. As the thought of the person once again forces it’s way into his thoughts, his pale countenance takes on an expression of complete and absolute misery. At the sight of strange mist produced by the fellow assassin, the massive, brightly toned wings adorning his back snap open instantaneously, almost as if they have a mind of his own. With his sight slightly hindered, his ears pick up upon the crunch of the earth beneath the soles of Nexx, counting the steps and speed silently; --Fifteen, ten-- then the sound of missile weapons being flung into the air. With his gaze adjusting to the dank atmosphere, Demont draws his arms in close to his body, proceeding to spin about in a counter-clockwise motion in hopes of dodging the five blade. A tearing sound can be heard as three of the thrown weapons pierce the wings of the avian, two sailing straight through the right, one through the left. At the same times as he spins about, his right hand maneuvers to his left hip, his slender digits calmly tapping upon the ebon hilt of ‘Burning Dawn.’ When he feels as if danger is inevitable, he pulls free the tainted blade, white flames shooting up he length of the weapon. A loud resounding clash is heard as the three blades from the two combatants meet, while the inferno upon the blade of Demont’s intensifies as he pushes foreword, attempting to hold the skilled advisory off. While the force strains on his arms, he kicks his right leg back, the only option open to him at the time. Deciding on a place to strike, Demont bends his knee and thrust upward towards the stomach of Nexx.

Nexx continues to sneer through the entirety of his layered manouevre, the frost-blue fires of his eyes burning with unrepentant spite. He had anticipated Demont’s skill - knew the man would likely block his sword and saya strikes should he elect to intercept them rather than move, and he was pleased that Demont had chose the safest route available: to remain where he stood, letting the shuriken pass harmlessly - though not without some small pain - through his wings. But it meant the angel was kept stationary, which pleasantly allotted Nexx far more options. What he didn’t expect, however, was the barbarism, the crude effectiveness of a knee to the gut. And so, as their swords sizzle against each other with the ring of steel upon steel, Nexx does indeed take the sharp strike of Demont’s knee; the blow staggers him backward and breaks the precarious cross of their blades, though Nexx is seasoned enough to immediately slash both sword and saya in an X before him to counter any further, forthcoming attacks. The cross, however, meet nothing, as Demont cautiously awaits another advance rather than follow up the effectiveness of his knee with any deadlier addition. Nexx, silently hoping to maintain Demont’s relative lack of mobility, continues the X of his blades into a low cross by the saya - a strike aimed at the very knee(s) that had buckled him - and a high, arcing slash by his black steeled katana - a blow more than adequate enough to strike the head from a giant should it connect cleanly with its mark. The finality of the tactic bears barbarism of its own: Nexx spits crimson blood from a recent feeding directly toward his adversary’s face.

Demont 's visage retains it's expression of misery as he looks on satisfied with his strike, however slightly surprised by the quick retaliation of Nexx. Taking a simple pace back places his head out of the way of the high blade, the weapon passing harmlessly before his face just as the sanguine flung from Nexx's putrid mouth splashes upon his dull complexion, the redness contrasting greatly to the pale nature of his face. Suddenly a sharp pain runs from his right knee, quickly followed by a warm sensation as blood slowly finds it's way down his leg, Nexx's former attack a success. With his hand still placed firmly on his blade, he lifts it up slightly, giving a simple twirl as misery slowly starts to be pushed away by anger, aided by adrenaline, equaling rage. With just that, rage. Demont allows a simple flap from his massive wings to carry him only feet from the ground, 'Burning Dawn' burning even more brightly than before, casting sinister shadows upon the chiseled features of Demont, giving him a seemingly demonic look. With a grin hr rushes forth through the air, gaining speed and momentum with each second as the strong wings flap now and again to aid in the pushing foreword. Having extended his blade outward before him, he drills towards Nexx, the flame ridden blade threatening to find it's way clean through the enter of the man's chest.

Nexx ‘s sneer endures - indeed, grows even more vile - as his attacks are simultaneously a success and a failure. With Demont at flight, the blow to the knee - though painful - means little, but the drow vampire is silently comforted that his unsophisticated “attack”, if one could call it that, had struke true to the angel’s face and finally managed to draw him from his malaise and into a suitable battle fury. This! - this furious rage was what really got Nexx’s soul to sing in sadistic glee. He had got to Demont’s senses, made him lose his calm. So simple a manouevre could be oh so beautiful. But his time to ruminate is but a fleeting thing as Demont soars forth, Burning Dawn born straight and true to tear the unbeating heart from Nexx’s chest. For a mere moment, Nexx is aghast at the demonic visage that now plays across the angel’s face - for even a damned thing such as himself is not immune to the horror of beauty turned to hateful revolsion. But again, no time to ruminate! Burning Dawn brings final death, and Nexx but barely avoids just that as he redirects his opponent’s fatal strike with crossed blade and saya. His strength, however, is not nearly enough to turn aside the attack completely - instead of heart and chest, Burning Dawn finds the full meat of Nexx’s left shoulder. The saya immediately falls from unfeeling fingers, and the vampire’s katana slides upward along Demont’s blade to meet its hand-guard, pushing upon it to break away. The impalement slithers out with a gush of blood that sprays outward to the gallery of spectators, and Nexx’s sneer shifts to a gape-mouthed shriek of pain. The wound cauterizes instantly from the flames of the blade, but the damage is done - Nexx’s left arm is useless, the pain nearly blinding. With his katana low, he desperately thrusts it toward Demont’s gut, at the same time lunging forward with his fangs bared in an effort to find a place - any place! - to sink his hunger and slake his thirst. His leap is remarkable in the sheer animalism of it blade and mouth seeking flesh like a hungry tiger at its prey!

Demont is almost beside himself with the sheer glee he feels as his blade sinks deeply into the man, the excitement he feels at the sight of the blood, something he hasn’t felt for quite some time. A mad man’s expression soon takes hold of the face of the angel-like creature, a feeling of no control coming over him. His brightly toned hues catch the sight of the blade held in the left hand of Nexx fall, distracting him slightly, the event causing his lips to curl more with the grin brought on by the sense of no control. Suddenly rage takes over as a feeling, one he should be accustomed to, enters him, the feeling of cold steel searching about inside the warm entrails, creating a greatly varying contrast in degrees. Pushing himself away with a mighty flap of the feathered wings, Demont eyes Nexx with utmost hatred, a malicious cackle passing from his throat as his left hand dives inside the folds of his heavy leather cloak. Making distance between the two advisories by giving yet another few flaps he managed to create a space of nearly fifteen feet. Realizing his right leg is useless, he decides it better to stay air-borne, the blood upon his wounded knee becoming sticky as coagulation begins to take hold. As his left hand still searches about inside his cloak, he raises Burning Dawn once more, the flames becoming extinguished with a hiss. Demont removes his hand from the dark confines of the cloak to reveal three daggers, each laced with a poison capable to paralysis. Taking on once more a subtle expression, Demont’s lips press back together, the left hand of the winged being shooting foreword, releasing the daggers head-long, end over end at Nexx with blinding speed and skill. Just as soon as the three projectile leave his hand he rushes after them, his blade held tightly at his side. Once more, closing the distance between the two, Demont raises his weapon above his head, making ready to swing downward as soon as his first attack passes by.

Nexx too sprung to motion as Demont withdrew, the drow-vampire’s once graceful movements coming in agonizing jolts as the screaming pain of his shoulder sends searing anguish throughout his taught body. Without fully realizing it, Nexx ran north beneath Demont’s flight, the winged assassin above casting an even blacker shadow over the wounded assassin below. Had he still bore his saya, his blade and scabbard could well have woven a defense swiftly enough to cast aside all three daggers - as it is, however, only Nexx’s katana remains. It deftly parries two of the incoming blades, but the third finds no resistance as it plunges into his side, the wound again sending a rain of scarlet across the field of battle - some of which gruesomely spatters the drunken fool as he stupidly passes through so dangerous a place. With the dagger in his side, and unaware of exactly where he is, Nexx literally leaps up to meet Demont’s charging flight. His black katana meets the extinguished Burning Dawn, its now naked hate still more than deadly. The resulting clash of steel and bodies causes a tangle of wing and limb, spit, blood, clothes, and more, as both Nexx and Demont complete the angel’s rush with a crash, their momentum finally stopping at the very door to Kelay Tavern: the once place in all of Hollow one might find respite from battle. And it is there, in a crumpled heap of pain and exhaustion, Nexx finishes his frantic defense against Demont’s final promise of death. Burning Death rests upon Nexx’s throat… but one cannot see Nexx’s katana, hidden beneath the body of Demont between himself and his able foe. Steel on flesh versus steel on flesh. The choice was simple: finish the strike, and suffer an equal fate.

Nexx is declared the Winner.