Eric - Holy Tempest 1

[18:32] As the battle commenced Ezekiel progressed into the fray quickly loosing sight of his ally hunters as they all rushed off to their own battle. For a moment his thoughts dwelled on them, their well-being though quickly such thoughts were forced from his mind by the task at hand.

He would boldly walk into a clearing, wings spread out wide and beating at the ground as if beckoning on anyone that was around to approach should they desire.

"Come on there has to be one of you around here somewhere..." He snarled to himself, frost covering the ground near his feet with each step farther into the opening.
(Ezekiel Morgan)
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[18:48]
{LOAD GAME}

[18:52] The blade shined in the light as Eric gave it a peek. His reflection showing on the blade as his expression held something of concentration and droopiness. He was content with the war as he wanted to protect his name and his home. His grandparents would want him to.

Then there was a chill in the air. The crunching of leaves were heard by his ears and Eric would switch his features to something more serious as he smiled for a mere second. He had faith in himself.

The moment the rustling came closer to him. Eric unleashed a light wind into his form and circuits to give him the speed he held at all times. He dissipated from his position at a quick pace like he disappeared and would approach his unknown opponent accordingly.

"The Divine Arts mended with the wind... The heart of the Salis compressing with my sword. The name of Osrona in my mind.

You.. drakanite." His voice rang throughout the plains and forest like a whisper. Into the ears of the Drakanite smooth like water. The wind flourished causing leaves to fall from the breeze.

His grandmother and grandfather told him things. People he should look out for when it came to fight. Rhoynish and,

"Drakanite…

You perish here, today." Golden winds exit from Eric's scabbard and release onto his blade. The slicing winds daring to ignite onto the drakanite's back as Eric goes in for an ambushing flurry!
(Eric cos Salis)
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[18:58] And as expected, there was a taker to the challenge made by the drakanite. As he walked forward through the clearing he heard the voice on the air and a smirk crossed his face that was followed up quickly by a snarl.

Ezekiel would take a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing the calm to set over him if only for a moment before the true carnage began. At his final words a more obvious smile passed over his face.

"I perish here? This shit ground would be lucky to taste my blood." The hunt was on.
(Ezekiel Morgan)
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[19:01] "Then so be it." Eric spoke with earnest. As he held a high hope for himself and the name that he held for years now, he fought with that much confidence that could win here.

Not for himself.

But for Osrona and the Salis together. For improvement and bravery. For everything that he held. For the very words that were branded into his blade.

Courage is Power

He never stopped from his speed and his own winds dared slowed his opponent or made it seem that his opponent was slower than him from how quick he was.

It was time to show why he was the Lord of his House.
(Eric cos Salis)
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[19:08] {Won Dangerous RPB against Ezekiel Morgan}
[19:08] * You have been awarded 1 Roleplay Points! *
[19:08] ** Eric cos Salis has inflicted an injury upon Ezekiel Morgan. ("Temporary Injury", "Temporary Injury", "Temporary", "Duration: Medium (4 days)") **
[19:26] Eric remembers this all to well when it came to the last time he had a drakanite opponent on the battlefield. The ice that matched the blue wings on their back, much like the one that he had faced by the name of Khione. A clean defeat he had taken. One that only left treatable cuts and bruises. This was him releasing those times to use to an advantage in how he fought against this drakanite.

His blade wrapped in golden winds like that of a Holy Sword Saint. Clashing against ice and fireballs that headed in his direction. Spikes of ice traveled in his direction at a quick pace but not enough catch up to him fully. There wasn't enough confidence and determination in wanting to catch up to him.

He felt that...

As his speed gave him consistent openings to attack, Eric held his hilt tightly as his circuits charged up mana which appeared to show like lines on his arms. The blade soaked it all in and with a single swipe of the air, words were released in a roaring cry.

DIVINE WINDS: STRIKING CYCLONE

"DIVINE WINDS: STRIKING CYCLONE"

DIVINE WINDS: STRIKING CYCLONE

It was all said from the very lips of the Salis. He swooshed a tornado that shined of Holy in the Drakanite's direction and dared to slice him up into pieces. Eric's body moved quick, like an afterimage to slice the male's body to slow his movements and head back to his original position so he was a much easier target to hit.

The technique damaged him completely but before he could be devastated by the attack, the drakanite had seemed to be saved by weaker soldiers that were on standby and stood between them to separate the two from any further actions.

Eric slid by with a snap of his fingers. The blade returned into its scabbard slowly before he looked into the distance. Not a word was said after that and he'd just disappear into the wind.

(Eric cos Salis)
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[19:41] There was little accounting for the intensity employed by the Osronan. As the Huntmaster pressed forward on the prowl chasing after the man he found his advances cut by quick, well placed strikes that despite the intensity of the cold employed by the man would simply be too fast for him to properly defend himself. Still there was fight in him, the flame within him however cold burned bright with the intensity of any that could call themselves a Fireblooded templar amongst any other distinctions.

Waves of cascading ice were conjured over the battlefield to chase after this man, though frustration and anger began to mount and more importantly it began to show on the expression of the snowy haired drakanite.

"DAMNIT STAND STILL!" He shouted, his free hand being flung forward towards the man as the frost from his wings encroached on the ground at a quick pace. He needed to slow him down, bring him to a more acceptable speed for him to combat but he was always just out of reach.

Flames were thrown forward from his being through the barrages of ice, in seemingly vain hopes to fell him with fire, though the gusts of wind picked up cutting into him almost as fiercly as the blades of his opponent had been. Despite his prior words the ground was soaked with his blood, a Huntmaster being bled almost like a pig by several sustained cuts that his ice was not fierce enough to stave off.

The final, or perhaps most severe strike to his abdomen sending him stumbling back into the hands of those lower members of the hunters lodge employed in this manner. He was dragged up a bloodied mess in defeat with anger in his eyes and a creeping chill and layer of frost coating that which he touched as he was pulled away.

His weakened form stared off at Eric, squinting through hazy and more importantly fading vision. Perhaps an attempt to remember the face for the future, the defeat leaving a far more bitter taste in his mouth now then any faced in the past battles fought. But as he stewed on this anger and bitterness he would fade completely being pulled to safety by those capable.
(Ezekiel Morgan)