Bleeding General
Dilandau pulled his katana out of the dragon's side. Twisting his head, he smiled as his slayers quickly finished their jobs, carving the energists out of the dragons' hearts. "We are finished." He declared, wiping his sword on the burnt grass to take the wet blood away, so the metal didn't rust. Sheathing it, he looked up to watch Miguel Lavariel approach.
Miguel wiped the sweat from his brow, doing nothing but mixing it with the blood of the dragon. He handed the yet pulsing drag-energist to his master, a small smile peeking out of his stoic face. Dilandau knocked his sheathed sword over his slayer's head. "Don't get cocky on me, Lavariel." He snapped. Miguel saw the pride in Dilandau's eyes, which made the reprimand a compliment. Taking his place at the end of the line, he left his master to deal with the others.
Shesta Chiiwai and Gatti Ryouni came with their smaller energists, talking excitedly about the experience. Dilandau glared, backhanding both with one motion. "I do not accept incompetents in my Dragon Slayers!" he hissed. "Chattering is a distraction which I will not tolerate!" Both hung their heads. "Forgive us."
~^&^~
Back at camp, Dilandau had his outer armor off, and was polishing his nicked sword. Miguel sat idly beside him while the others washed in the lake. "They say the sword mirrors the warrior. From the amount of nicks in yours, I'd say-" A backhand silenced Miguel from finishing his sentence.
"The nicks mark all the fools I've fought. Training the dragonslayers has given me many more. So if the nicks indicate my skill as a warrior, it marks my difficulty keeping you in line. This must change, and it will start with you." Dilandau stood up, and led Miguel into an open area.
The other 13 slayers gradually came back, and watched the match. Both swordsmen fought their hardest but neither gained nor lost any ground to the other. This went on for hours, until both became so exhausted that their katanas felt like lead weights. But still they fought. Disgrace before the others was unacceptable, especially to Dilandau. If the leader was beaten, a new leader was needed. Who better than the one who defeated him?
Shesta leaned over, and whispered to Gatti, "Dilandau's leaving open his- yep." Before he could say it, Dilandau's face was nicked, a small scrape across his forehead.
Dilandau's eyes lit with fiery anger, and with a scream, he took Miguel to the ground with a hundred times the injuries he suffered himself.
Miguel lay panting on the ground, for the first time terrified at the sight of his master.
Dilandau tossed his katana to the ground. "Never let anyone bleed you without taking recompense." He left the others to help Miguel up and see to his wounds. It was not his concern.
Dilandau pulled his katana out of the dragon's side. Twisting his head, he smiled as his slayers quickly finished their jobs, carving the energists out of the dragons' hearts. "We are finished." He declared, wiping his sword on the burnt grass to take the wet blood away, so the metal didn't rust. Sheathing it, he looked up to watch Miguel Lavariel approach.
Miguel wiped the sweat from his brow, doing nothing but mixing it with the blood of the dragon. He handed the yet pulsing drag-energist to his master, a small smile peeking out of his stoic face. Dilandau knocked his sheathed sword over his slayer's head. "Don't get cocky on me, Lavariel." He snapped. Miguel saw the pride in Dilandau's eyes, which made the reprimand a compliment. Taking his place at the end of the line, he left his master to deal with the others.
Shesta Chiiwai and Gatti Ryouni came with their smaller energists, talking excitedly about the experience. Dilandau glared, backhanding both with one motion. "I do not accept incompetents in my Dragon Slayers!" he hissed. "Chattering is a distraction which I will not tolerate!" Both hung their heads. "Forgive us."
~^&^~
Back at camp, Dilandau had his outer armor off, and was polishing his nicked sword. Miguel sat idly beside him while the others washed in the lake. "They say the sword mirrors the warrior. From the amount of nicks in yours, I'd say-" A backhand silenced Miguel from finishing his sentence.
"The nicks mark all the fools I've fought. Training the dragonslayers has given me many more. So if the nicks indicate my skill as a warrior, it marks my difficulty keeping you in line. This must change, and it will start with you." Dilandau stood up, and led Miguel into an open area.
The other 13 slayers gradually came back, and watched the match. Both swordsmen fought their hardest but neither gained nor lost any ground to the other. This went on for hours, until both became so exhausted that their katanas felt like lead weights. But still they fought. Disgrace before the others was unacceptable, especially to Dilandau. If the leader was beaten, a new leader was needed. Who better than the one who defeated him?
Shesta leaned over, and whispered to Gatti, "Dilandau's leaving open his- yep." Before he could say it, Dilandau's face was nicked, a small scrape across his forehead.
Dilandau's eyes lit with fiery anger, and with a scream, he took Miguel to the ground with a hundred times the injuries he suffered himself.
Miguel lay panting on the ground, for the first time terrified at the sight of his master.
Dilandau tossed his katana to the ground. "Never let anyone bleed you without taking recompense." He left the others to help Miguel up and see to his wounds. It was not his concern.