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Valarus lifts his pallid grasp up his weapon before grabbing it with his other hand. His silver-hued eyes drift around the area quickly, before they fall on the assassin. The smallest smirk forms on his still bloodied lips before they are opened and a dark, evil sounding war-cry is set free. Valarus starts to charge forward, the ground between the two is still muddy from earlier so instead of thuds, slops sound out each time a foot is torn from the ground. As the spell-blade gets nearer to his vampiric opponent the war-cry is replaced by fast spoken words, “Mej’kill loliryt meaailt!” A blinding flash explodes from everywhere at once, blinding any who are foolish enough to look. At this exact moment Valarus leaps forward, his axe in his hand. He leaps partially to the left of his opponent, as he gets beside him he arcs from the top left to the bottom right, his axe down at the shoulder of Demont, hoping to cut the man literally in half. But, sadly, because of the mud on the ground his leap isn’t quite what it should have been and instead of going for the shoulder, the axe of Valarus flies right towards the body of Demont, still to cut him in half, just not quite so cleanly.

Demont watches calmly as Valarus shows his weapon, not worrying at all about what the spell-blade may have up his sleeve. Instantly a burning sensation is felt within the azure toned eyes of Demont, his right hand shooting instinctively to shield his eyes from the blinding source. With his sight temporarily impaired, the muddy footsteps of Valarus sounds in his ears, signaling the advance. Remaining calm, he slowly brings each of his hands to the opposites sides of his body, each digit seeking the black, worn handle of a curved blade. The ears upon the vampire perk slightly as the sound of a slight rustle of wind resounds, the assassin can only surmise it is the attack. Quickly drawing his duel blades and taking a gently step foreword he prepares to swing outward, but suddenly a searing pain runs from his back to his heels, a warm liquid running down his back. With a slight growl he stumbles forward, silently cursing as he turn to face his adversary. Within seconds Demont rushes forward at Valarus, drawing his arms across his chest, placing each blade on the opposite side of their former region. With the distance shortened, Demont swings the blade horizontally in a scissors like motion towards the mid section of the loathsome creature in front of him.

Valarus smiles darkly as his weapon cleaves the flesh of Demont. As he lands from his leap his feet slip in the mud and the pride-filled vampire lands flat on back. Crimson flushes his cheeks before he leaps up and spins on his heel. At this moment the blades of Demont slice the air towards him. Because of what can only be stupidity both blades fly at the same point in his body and the spell-blade lifts his axe to meet both weapons. Sparks erupt around, and an almost tangible shock is felt as the three weapons connect. The blades remain locked for just a moment, before Valarus removes one hand on the weapon and aims it palm first at Demont. Using what must be the simplest spell of all, the vampire doesn’t even speak, doesn’t even move, he simply wills it, and from his hand a fireballs tears itself free to soar towards the assassin. Because of the lack of pressure on the weapons, the axe of Valarus is forced back at the last and one of the swords runs down his arm, leaving a crimson wound upon the flesh of the slave who is also a master of slaves....

Demont ‘s eyes dart to the fireball quickly making it’s way towards him, his brows furrowing in frustration as he feels his right blade make a measly wound upon the arm of Valarus. Rearing back quickly as the fireball reaches ever closer, Demont rises his left arm and simultaneously turns to the right, placing his left shoulder and left side of his body to the blazing object. Another growl runs from deep inside his throat and out his lips as the ball of fire collides with his bare flesh, causing a shower of sparks. As Demont stands, a large charred circle upon his flesh can be seen, smoke rising ever so slowly from the area. With a simple shake of his head, the assassin brushes his lock from his eyes and presses firmly from the muddy earth, a slip or two initiating the advance towards Valarus. With his feet firmly placed as he speeds across the road, he narrows those blue eyes, his sight focusing squarely on the spell-blade. In an instant his eyes widen and he swings both blades upward in the beginning of a long arch upon his left side, both blades following closely behind each other as the begin a decent towards the right shoulder of his foe in hopes of cleaving that appendage off, or causing severe damage to make it painful for Valarus to wield his axe.

Valarus ignores the blood pouring down his arm from the wound and once again he places his axe between himself and the blades of Demont. Like last time the assassin has slashed them both in the same place and like last time the axe catches them both. This time Valarus keeps both locked and grins at Demont, “Slave.” In a blur of motion Valarus moves. Fluidly he shifts his axe from under the swords and in the same instant takes a step to the left. Both blades continue down leaving the spell-blade’s vampiric opponent almost defenseless. In this exact moment Valarus reacts. His axe he swings in from left to right, aiming to remove the arm off who will be his newest slave. His free hand he once again faces palm first towards Demont and but this time no fireball erupts, instead a river of small blobs come, aimed mostly for the face of the assassin.

Demont spits in disgust as his blades dig slowly into the wet earth, his gaze following his future master the whole time. Suddenly, a loud snap is heard as the white wings adorning the back of the vampire unfurl, a single flap leaving the two objects. With the motion of his wings he lifts from the ground, removing most of his body from the path of the wide blade of the axe. As he moves away from Valarus, the very edge of the weapon finds a mark upon his unarmored skin, a thin line of sanguine appearing in the path of the axe. Wiping his face away from the blobs,--What ever they are.-- He attempts to hide his face, but to no avail. As his face begins to become covered in the magic attack, he suddenly drops of his blades, making his left hand free. Just before all sight is extinguished from Demont by the blobs, his free hand makes it's way his belt, pulling three of five daggers lose, Skillfully he brings his arm under him and after only a second throws his arm foreword with a snapping motion, sending three deadly blades tumbling through the air towards the right knee, chest, and left arm of Valarus. With the blades moving foreword, end over end, the winged vampire falls quickly to the ground, making a hasty attempt at removing the blinding objects from his face.

Valarus takes a few step back as wings appear on his opponent. The hand which spat the blobs -which are blobs-falls back onto the shaft of his axe and holding it two handed he continues to back off, unsure what his opponent is planning. As the knives of Demont are thrown, the spell-blade tries to dive to the right of them, but once again his feet slip on the mud caused by his earlier attacks on Istrak and Aranna. His axe he waves wildly in an attempt to right his center of gravity. More by luck than skill the axe catches the knife that would have been rather homey in his chest. The other two blades slide past the waving weapon and sink with horrible force into the arm and leg of the vampire. A scream is heard as pain glides through the body of Valarus. Then, unceremoniously the vampire falls flat on his face in the mud. Curses are heard bubbling up from the ground, before painfully he drags himself to his feet, tears the knives out and throws then on the floor before the struggling Demont, “Enough, slave. I tire of this. Wounded me you have, be proud. Now is the time for eternal slavery…”

Valarus is declared the Winner.