fight vs lando

Showy in her response, the performer half teases her way into a reply, one that is met by further amusement by the radiant knight, going as far as to invoke a vibrant surge of laughter from him.

Quicker to the trigger of the gun, he takes much less time before responding than she had.

"I hardly meant your business by that, Araceli." He utters, helping himself to cut the distance shorter and treading towards her, once more to linger firm just a handful of inches away, whilst two radiant blue irises gleam down upon her porcelain-like figure with certainty and confidence.

"Yet, I must say I'm intrigued. Searching for your muse in the wilderness, perchance?" He pokes.

"Would you not say you've found one in a certain shade of gold?"

It's an additional tinge of static that blossoms in the bridge's air that makes him stop while he were ahead, one that jolts down the length of his skeleton and tenses that parodically chivalrous disposition up in whole.

"Ah..." He nigh stutters, pivoting on his heel with a fraction of suffocated startling. And soon enough, the youngest radiant's eyes befall the circumference of a man he'd known before.

Needless to say, his conversation with Araceli might've been forced to an early end. Instead, he treads onwards to match the figure of Marcel proper in a straight line, drawn by that same inquisitive and brooding figure by nature.

Delayed, and under a sheened cover of solemnity, just barely spiced by a tinge of additional charisma, Lando chimes a salutation.

"Captain Delisle." Near monotonal. "Might I ask what brings you here?"
(Lando lux Metras)

She lingered on the bride, on her return from Starfall after a quick shortcut through some of the more eastern parts. The presence of the Delisle had intrigued her, and even more so to see how stood on the opposing side.

There was only the briefest glances spared to Araceli before Cerise offered her own wave before her sights set in front of her once more. Curiously. Yet she didn't speak - not yet!
(Cerise Sikora)

"..?"

Strange.

For people to come to stand in his way, no matter the purpose, is a fairly rare sight- even Imperials, let alone the enemies of the Empire, seem to avoid the Captain - for they know what he's capable of and what his anger can bring.

The stories of slaughter by his hands reach far- but as much as he's portrayed as a terribly cruel man, he's anything but that.

"I roam about daily. Often to find peace of mind or just to gather something." And even here - and even close to Osrona. Closer than most think, which comes with admittance in the following sentence.

"But I'm used to the fact that Osronans pretend they do not see me. Even in groups, they'd rather not confront me."

"I suppose I can't blame them." Though..

"Yet you're here. Brave of you to do this."

But the old dog of war doesn't reach for the gun. Quite frankly, he stopped caring about killing a long time ago, lest someone makes such attempt first- all he wanted is a single man dead. A single man responsible for the impossible heartache all these years ago.

Lando isn't that man.

"I'd say I could also hope Rhesus might finally answer the call for his crime."

"Though I should not expect a child-killing sycophant to show bravery."

As such, it was futile. Maybe one day he'll meet him on the battlefield, but that hope was waning by the day.

Unfortunate, really.
(Marcel Delisle)

"A shade of gold perchance, though I will not admit to such so brazenly."

Though the words that escaped her mouth was an admission of sorts, even if not in brazen fashion. Dancing around the subject matter, though 'twould appear their meeting would end as soon as it began.

As the approach of Marcel was made, she moved closer to witness, as well as eavesdrop.

"Mm."

A glance spared in the direction of Cerise, as well as a nod. For all intents and purposes, Araceli remained a neutral standby within this odd confrontation.

Part of her conflicted, hoping for Lando's win, whilst the other knew enough to stay her hand should the worst befall him. She could not afford to be branded an enemy to half of Esshar.

For now she could only observe.. quietly.
(Araceli Vellier)

Brave?

Daft, perhaps? No - he simply borne enough confidence by now to hold his heels firm, steadied over cobble and soot marred dirt alike. Today, it was the former. A hand is risen, aptly signaling the bridge's archer guards to stand-by, rather than rain fire on who would be one of the most lush artificers Achyon had to offer.

"I thought you to be the type." The oft arrogant faux paladin responds, nigh humbled instead. It's not often that he bears himself so casually, as that practice is usually reserved for a select few, of whom just a fraction he could consider close. "Do you thrive in thought naught from whence you came, but in the wilderness and faraway reaches of Esshar?

Doth thine mind find solace so whilst away from the colony?" Eyes narrow briefly, though in nothing akin to a scowl. They rather resemble a squint of focus, one that allows him to be wholly absorbed by the seasoned soldier's silhouette for the time being.

"Then, we mightn't be so different." He's not a man of similar expertise. Far from it, Lando instead basks in the differences and similitudes. Fixation is briefly made on the mention of his crimes. Lando has heard of Sanguinius enough - of times did the archmagi remind him of his superficial likeness to the venom brewer. Yet, no mention is made of him forefront, so the thought goes rapidly out the window.

The hallowed spellglaive is drawn, then made spiral to the side of his figure, as if it were winding up a mechanism. There's a conscious effort to keep his breathing pace in check, for he could easily become agitated from interacting with the man for too long.

Marcel felt oppressive to be around, even in however passively he carried himself. 'twas merely a reputation, nay - a fame that preceded him.

"Tis not cowardice that ensnares my lord like so, but duty.

Yet, I suppose it would be in my jurisdiction to remind you how the scale works.

To get to the ceiling of the temple, one must scale its pillars. So, before even thinking of laying hand on Archmagi DeLaurentis..."

An overbearing whitegold radiance erupts from his frame, whilst a hand extends forward in a faux beckon, that grin of his strengthening with impetus.

"You must first confront his attendant."
(Lando lux Metras)

Where else he could find peace of mind?

It's expected from someone that belongs to the Empire to detest the nature, but it's the opposite- there's certain fondness to the serenity it could provide and a distraction from all of the daily thoughts that visit his mind.

"It allows me to not look at the fractured glass that is my past."

"Each time I try to pick up the pieces, I only end up cutting myself. It's far easier to not think about it- to not be reminded of it."

"Of the countless horrible deeds by others, treachery and the raw cruelty they are capable of."

Does he speak about a particular nation? Not quite... it's more so speaking about the people that have ever hurt him- being in Achyon quite often reminds about them, if only due to the countless betrayals that he had to experience.

There are many things that remind him of such..
But such quiet and solace by far were easiest to cope with.

Though, with the weapon drawn by Lando, the Captain doesn't seem either amused or surprised- truth be told, it's expected; not a single shred of emotion is shown upon his features when that happens, for he already knew.

This old veteran knew all too well what such interactions mean. In absolute silence, he casually draws his own weapon- a gunblade.

"Those that shield their crimes behind the false righteousness are the worst."

A brief response to his claim that Rhesus is bound by duty- in truth, Marcel knew Rhesus all too well, as well as what kind of a man he was. After all..

He was the one to see him grow and become what he is.

"The fate is a strange thing, child."

"You do not know what you protect, or what you fight for."

Does Marcel care to elaborate? Not quite. He doesn't expect Lando to understand, or to listen- much like the general aura of his, it is rather passive, careless.

He long gave up trying to change the minds of others.
There's only one thing left for him.

"Come, then."
(Marcel Delisle)

Cerise watched the interaction with a baited breath, unsure of how the two men in front of her would react upon one another. Yet thus far, it was casual banter, before Marcel made mention of the Archmagi's crimes. The Sorceress' brow immediately furrowed; she had not heard of what supposed crimes he had committed thus far and it troubled her.

No, Rhesus was a good man. He wouldn't commit any crimes. Or... At least, that was how Cerise viewed him. After all, he believed her. He trusted her. She did not know the truth of Marcel's son.

But there it was, as Lando's golden splendor exploded all at once - proclaiming he'd be the gatekeeper to the Archmagi's safety. He wasn't entirely incorrect. There was the briefest lighting of crimson within the palm of Cerise's hand however, a roll of her fingers which was subtle in it's own movement.

The Sorceress was silent, her dull blue gaze settling upon the AchyonCaptain soon to be Commander. She'd stay - just in case.
(Cerise Sikora)

For the time being Araceli could only stand as an uninvolved observer. Gaze shifting from one male to the next, before lingering upon the form of Lando.

Biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation, as digits skimmed against the hem of her dress. Anxiety ridden, though the clashing of ideals and beliefs was a spectacle to behold all in itself.

Would the Commander whom represented her homeland win? Or would it be the valiant Radiant, clad in gold?

Only time would tell, though she would remain close to see the fight reach its natural conclusion.
(Araceli Vellier)

"Tis sadness that's brought unto me." The radiant speaks, whilst the Eosian gem lain at the guard of his glaive is lit by a brighter, silver spark of chiding light. Those gleaming eyes, now erupting with an inquisitive jet stream of mana, are brought to find allay over the gunblade, before drifting back towards the man's own.

"Your grief is rooted in unloyalty, no? Betrayal of one's liege slighting you so."

He digs deep within the bottom half of his abdomen, pulling out a distressed breath, though one that allows his sensibilities to return in the call of duty.

"For I respond to the pride I bear in duty, and the sacrifices I'm willing to make for my kin.

My righteousness is aware of where it begins and where it ends.

And, to your contradicting critique... I simply shan't slight the order that befalls. Hierarchy is so, then I will shield it." The conservative youth rectifies.

Should he wait for the world he wanted to see? Then he simply would.

"Engarde then, Captain Delisle...!"

Without a moment to spare, the radiant charges - whilst the backup fire of the bridge's own archers lifts and readies up, likely in hopes pressuring the older man further, were a steep disadvantage to present itself.
(Lando lux Metras)

Unloyalty? Is that all he thought of?

Truly Lando knew nothing- not of the people's cruel nature, not in the darkest hearts they can harbour, or the wicked feelings that turn venom at the most opportune moments.

"The people are cruel, cold- save for the very few you could call true friends."

"Just as you fight for them and hold pride in your country, they will not hesitate to toss you aside when you're no longer convenient to them."

"They will only praise you for as long as you're useful."

Because he's been there before. An idealist at heart that would never falter in the face of the enemy, holding deep care and devotion for such people. With time, he realized the folly of his ways..

Of ever caring for these people, but one thing didn't change - his resolve to stand before his enemy, no matter what.

No further words are spoken. The black lightning that shrouds the Captain does a fine job in ensuring that the arrows do not touch him, yet they evidently require a partial focus to deter- the movement becomes unpredictable, phasing...

He takes a firm stance with his gunblade.

They'll fight.
(Marcel Delisle)

{RP BATTLE} You have WON round 1!

Silent.

The supreme operative of the Empire was so ever quiet in his work, always analytical in his combat and looking for the inherent mistakes that his opponent could make- whereas the war veteran was by no means an extremely powerful magi, unmatched to some of the most prominent figures..

He had something very deadly to compensate.
Experience.

It's undeniable. With deadly precision and fluid grace of his movement, the flames of Lando are repelled- they singe the Captain, but it's unnatural resilience and incredible pain tolerance that carries him through.

What are few more burns, when his whole body is riddled with scars?

A single misstep- in the exchange of powerful magics, Lando finds himself propelled away; another array of arrows is repelled through the black lightning, and the Captain stares with impassive expression.

"You're talented, but reckless."

"You fightwith pure, unrefined passion. Commendable, but it will never prevail against careful planning."

"Think before you engage, or you will lose this battle."

Is... he actively telling Lando what to do? The gunblade is idly adjusted, and the Captain seems to give an ample time for him to recover.

"Now, stand up."

Swift, another engage follows.

They're not done yet.
(Marcel Delisle)

How?

He could understand the virtue of finesse and towering agility in the battlefield, both traits of which Marcel had a surplus of. Yet - though Lando's sheer physical tenacity allows for an inane sum of strikes to be brushed off, even that unyielding guard and physical advantage can be overwhelmed.

And Marcel, with minor rather than modest effort, brushes the Radiant's assault off, instead punishing the staggering nature of his goldfire blasts with a perfectly calculated choreography of black lightning and colliding hurricanes.

He's brought to a near collapse, swiftly. A coughing fit strikes the bottom of his lungs, yet he's still far from wounded - that impetus simply wouldn't give out so easily.

Was it fear? Fear guiding his flames like so, rather than allowing him cool command of their end?

Concentrate, Lando.

Concentrate.

The choleric astyan's breath is grasped onto once more, and he pulls himself back from his ashen cinders once more, grimacing in obtuse pain and restating his guard once more.

"You'll give me no orders, Captain Delisle." That tense showing of pearly whites, adorned by a string of maroon that cakes them, turns into yet another grin.

"I only take orders from my superiors...!"
(Lando lux Metras)

Marcel Delisle says, "Very well. Then I will demonstrate which one of us is superior."

{RP BATTLE} You have WON the battle!

It is different this time around.

Even if Lando fights with pure passion still, there's a certain plan to it all- attempting to overwhelm the Captain by such powerful flames, yet being careful in ensuring that he would not get caught up so easily.

An exchange of lightning and winds, versus the flames and the holy magics- one that causes the Captain to invest more effort in such battle; for as much as he still had plenty of strength left in him, failing in any manner right now could result in a disaster.

He had to ensure that does not happen.

These flames were powerful enough to break through the black lightning, even landing few more severe burns across his skin- something that Marcel would no doubt recover from relatively soon, and yet..

It is there, the result of better effort.

"You listened."

"You attempt to overwhelm, but you tread more careful in your steps, expecting my retaliation."

While he's normally silent, the Captain speaks at last amidst the exchange- wearing down the old veteran some, the ever analytical gaze of the old dog of war spots a weakness.

He was exhausted.
He will not endure this shot.

"--But you make mistakes, still."

"You're not careful enough when you should be- not nearly soon enough."

The gunblade swiftly unveils its gun part; Marcel takes aim with runic-assisted aim system, and soon...

Bang! The shot is fired straight into his core at a large distance - essentially a sniper shot; with how worn down he was, he can no longer endure, finding himself injured and defeated.

Yet the Captain remains silent for a moment. Only eventually does a remark follow, a reference to what he said in the past.

"Does that mean you'll summon Rhesus to me now, hm?"

A jest, of course. It's obvious to him Lando wouldn't do that, but given his speeches of toppling someone below the chain of hierarchy..

It's quite a poke at him.
(Marcel Delisle)

The fray rages on, Lando's strokes of goldfire dawning in a much better timed cadence, one he uses to positive effect once he garners some semblance of pacing to the way Marcel pulls his punches, then winds himself up in order to dig in when his guard is at its most vulnerable.

And whilst a permanent radiance of light he bears, Lando is simply no lightning timer. His best bet had always been to catch it, then respond in accordance before the captain could remove himself from his immediate vicinity.

A tactic that nearly works once, whilst he's cleaved into - yet not staggered. A spot he uses to pivot on his heel and blast the man across the back, a stroke he manages to parry with minor scratches and sears.

The bulk of his muscles, enhanced by magic to better endure, can only work against targets that excel where he does. Marcel is a complete opposite, but more importantly - he knows it. Using it to his advantage in every turn of the skirmish.

At the bitter end, it's one final shot of dark voltage that collides against him, pushing him into submission. Yet, faintly breaking through the impediments of his augmented form, Lando'd figure rapidly shifts between his pure yellow and a timbre of pale whitegold, one that allows for his body to contort around the sniper's strike, thus putting his forearm in the way of the projectile.

And whilst he adapts, he does so vastly late, enough so to make the margin of talent and expertise between himself and the commander vastly evident.

Between heaves and groans of aching, his eyes pursue Kieran in a quickening. He'd seen him in the fray - and upon his defeat, he can only think to ascertain his wellbeing firstmost.

Yet, soon returning amidst his pained struggle, the young radiant winces and tightens his mandible, bracing the upper half of his left arm in the aftermath of the bout.

"Please, do you think me daft? You've only earned the right to duel him in the field proper..." Yet, deep down, he knows. If not him? Then who could compete against Captain Delisle?

"Tch… archers...!" Fire rains from aloft, as the victor achyonites are given a clear route to be sent away, before the projectiles begin meeting their marks proper.
(Lando lux Metras)

Floating over, the little maid would levitate towards Marcel. A brief glance offered to his adversary before her passive attention shifted towards the Captain.

"Home?" Andromeda flatly asked, wondering if it was time for them all to head back to Achyon proper. It seemed their business around the area looked to be about finished!
(Andromeda)

Cerise had watched, not just Lando's own bout with Marcel but Kieran's as well, the Sorceress more than willing to step in should either of them needed her backing. Thankfully, however, they didn't.

Injured as they were, they were not at the mercy of those they had battled and Cerise's shoulders relaxed only the smallest inch. It was good. It was good! There was a natural curt frown on her lips at the Captain's jesting retort regarding the Archmagi, and she stepped forward.

Not to halt him, even as the archers lined along the bridge began to rain down proverbial Hel. No no. It was two-fold all the same however.

"No. There's still one more you'd need to push through." Cerise intoned while leaving it vague, aiming to motion to the Radiant wordlessly; he knew what she meant. She saw the blow from the Gunblade, and she wasn't foolish enough to think both of them wouldn't need medical attention.

Now her gaze shifted to Kieran and he was motioned to just as well.

"Come on. To the clinic." She stated, clearly distressed. So much work to do.
(Cerise Sikora)

How quaint.

To think that they were willing to shield Rhesus so much, putting not only their life on the line, but genuinely believing that he's meant to be protected in such manner- that he should not be facing Delisle, and that there's a right to be earned. It's commendable, but..

At the same time, it's sickening.

Few know Rhesus as much as he does- for he was around Marcel quite often as a child, and the two got to become quite familiar. It's only ever since the murder of Sanguinius that he made himself scarce - a sin that he will not forget.

But they?
They don't understand.
He doesn't expect them to either.

"You would most certainly not be daft for listening to what I say."

Whether it's about Rhesus, or even advice in combat, but as much as he poked briefly at Lando with these words, the steely gaze and impassive expression promptly returns.

"But I suppose it's time we part ways for now."

Ah. Archers? With the volley of arrows fired at him, these are repelled by the powerful winds- a wall of stream that interrupts their flight path and drops them before the Captain.

It's futile to try to harm the Captain this way, but it serves a modicum of distraction- though, his gaze turns towards the rest of Imperials.

"Yes."

"It is time we go home."
(Marcel Delisle)