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Demont runs his pale hand gently over the buds and blossoms of Roses, their silky petals washing gently over his calloused palm. He walks a gentle circle about Shogo, a normal act committed by the vampire. Cloudy blue eyes scan gently the Spell blade's form for a moment before his hand plucks a Rose from it's bush, the deadly thorns digging into his finger, "Let's do this." Surrendering his calm act, his hand snaps violently to the side, gripping the hilt of a blade, 'Burning Dawn'. A weapon her has had since childhood. The blade flows gracefully through the air, cutting easily through flowers, littering the ground with an assortment of colors. The assassin brings the blade before him, his left hand running down the length of the blade, whisper leaving his blood-stained lips. There is the sound of earth and plant being crushed together as Demont sprints foreword, Burning Dawn extended foreword only until he reaches within several feat of his opponent. The black weapon makes a wide arch upward, coming around once again for the position it was previously in to create a full circle, the only problem however is Shogo appears to be within the path of the blade.

Shogo cants his head to the side, emitting the sound of cracking joints, having not been in battle for some time. Donning his clawed gauntlets on each hand, he scrapes them together for a moment before bringing them to rest around the hilt of his ancient scythe, bringing it to before his idle form. As Demont begins his approach, Shogo remains idle, silently counting off the footfalls until the wisp of the blade cutting through the air is audible. At that moment, he twists his hands around with the scythe, hastily bringing the jagged blade of the weapon against the ‘Burning Dawn’. Letting the blades interlock for only a moment, the vampire shifts his footing, an ominous hiss released from the parting of the two weapons. As this is done, he continues to backpedal from his opponent, not bothering to glance behind him as he gains distance from his foe. All the while, hushed words of arcane powers seep from his lips, ones unsaid by his lips ever before. His cloak, which his now billowing slightly with the wind and his movements, flashes alight with lustrous, crimson runes. An ebon aura forms at his gauntlets and travels up the base of the weapon to the blade, igniting it into a sulfurous, yet somewhat ethereal flame of ebon hue. Taking a single step forward with his right foot to mark the beginning of his assault, footfalls are rapid and noisily in his wake as he advances on his friendly foe. Shifting his grip on the weapon, he brings it down upon Demont rapidly, hissing balefully as it descends toward his shoulder, and the flames suddenly leap out, seeking to envelope his form in a pyre of flame, yet their true intent is to singe his very soul…

Demont 's orbs follow the decent of the weapon, instinctively throwing his blade upward. The two weapons meet yet again, however instead of a blade lock, Shogo's scythe travels down his blade, falling off the edge, falling towards his left arm. A sharp pain travels through his appendage as the metal enters his flesh and as the flames of the weapon roast his flesh until it seems to boil and fall from the bone. A furious, primal growl travels through the field as Demont rolls away from the object in his arm. Having turned away from Shogo, mumbling can be heard as a gust of wind passes by, scattering mature seeds and pollen everywhere. The vampire turns about again, his left arm dripping in blood and absents of flesh near the shoulder, rendering that arm useless. His once blue orbs are now a ghastly white, his ashen locks whipping violently about his head. Lifting his right arm, a tornado like wind erupts about the man, spiraling ever upward. The elemental attack speeds foreword, ripping up earth as it travels towards Shogo, gaining speed with each second; Uprooted plants and earth left in it's disastrous wake. A grin makes it's way onto his face slowly, attempting to put the pain in his arm aside.

Shogo grins in sheer delight of spilling the blood of his opponent, but suddenly, a weariness overtakes him. The runes adorning his cloak dim, and he brings the scythe to before him again to prepare for what he believes to be another swing from Demont. As his gaze leaves the ground however, that is not the case, barely having ample time to take heed of the torrent of wind ripping away at the landscape. Powerless to stop the act of aeromancy, Shogo merely prepares more words of power, gripping his scythe with utmost strength, the oak of the handle nearly giving away to his grip. The violent winds finally reach him, tossing him violently into their grasp and lifting him into the air as the wisps tear through his garments, giving way to lines of crimson forming across his chest and other areas alike. Still in forced flight by the winds, the last of the words leave his lips, and the winds change their tune. Now, they blow in the exact opposite direction, propelling him towards Demont as his feet finally reunite with the ground, enhanced in speed by the support of the winds. Within moments he is upon the vampire once again, grinning wickedly and twisting the grip on his scythe, this time sending the blunt end on a collision course with his chest, surely shattering a rib or two if it should connect…

Demont emits a disgusted sort of sound as Shogo reverses his own attack, a deaf cuss leaving his lips as he ducks close to the ground his own attack charging over him, his body becoming aerodynamic. The torrent travels off several yards before diminishing to nothing but a gentle breeze. A steady rhythm enters his ears as Shogo's feet pad hastily against the destroyed land. His eye now returning to their original tone peer at Shogo as he advances, a sneer twisting onto his pale, angelic countenance. The assassin throws both leg's upward at the other vampire, his heels aimed directly for the lower area of his ribs, Demont deliberately placing his face in the path of the attack, snapping his jaw to the right, expelling a tooth or two as well. Demont can only hope that his legs connect squarely with his foe, thinking that with the increased speed added to the man he will not be able to react quite as fast.

Shogo meets with the inevitable, Demont’s boots colliding into his chest almost simotaneously as his scythe connects with the rival vampire’s face. His pale countenance contorts into one of shock as the breath is expelled violently from his lungs, the force from the impact sending him onto his back, where he lies motionless for several moments before his gasps for air suffice, drawing just enough to come to his knees. Winded by the combination of spell weaving and surely bruised ribs, he sets his palm against the ground and lets his scythe remain upon the ground. Bidding the last of his strength into painfully forced arcane words just barely seeping from his lips, the runes upon his cloak glow fiercely once more, and without warning, he springs to his feet! In the wake of his palm is a lustrous crescent that begins small, but continues to grow as it speeds towards Demont, its only intent not physical, but to sear his soul. Spent from using the newly learned magicks, the runes on his cloak dull, and he falls to his back, breathless.

Demont rolls painfully to his side, a stream of blood leading from the left corner of his lips. His head turns to the side just in time to see the crescent. His face keeps an expression of calmness in the face of the unknown object, not knowing weather it could kill him or do severe damage. Violently his form is thrust backward upon the collision of the magic, deep gasps escaping Demont, the attack having no effect. Previously unknown by Shogo, this creature's soul had been taken just weeks before. AS the attack diminishes, Demont falls again to the ground. Shogo's attack at least accomplishing something, stealing the remaining strength from his shell of a body. He lays motionless in the field, bruised and battered, unconsciousness not far off.