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It was a rather uninteresting, and uneventful patrol normally. One he had committed to perform long ago, and maintained faithfully. Landristin wound his way through the dark corridors, only just beginning his march through the tunnels, when a noise caught his keen ears. Battle, it was distinct. The bugs were attempting to eat something, or someone, but more intense was the resonance of the blade off their shells.
Quickly, Landristin sprung into action. He prepared for whatever may eventually defeat the bugs, hopeful that he would only find chewed carcass. It was not long until his worries may be confirmed, Michael, the bloodthirsty Paladin.
Failing their formal agreement, to Landristin this only meant one thing. Battle would ensue. Knowing the odds, he readied himself for the inevitable, wishing only to make a point, rather than actually win this fight. The legends of Michael Zollas were well known after all, and once upon a time, in life.... they had traveled as friends. Confident, Landristin felt like he knew the blood thirst of this particular paladin more than others, there was no way he was backing away without a fight. Michael deserved the honor of battle more than his brethren.
At one time he had even commented that Michael may have been one of the least of honor among his alliance, but in recent times this came into question, in the mind of Landristin. This appearance deserved a respectful response. With that, he drew his sword and his shield, and summoned some aid,... albeit, under the cloak of magic. Once he shattered the bugs, Landristin thought, Michael will meet battle.
It was then, not even a moment before the thought was begun, that things escalated quickly. The command to attack, as Michael began casting his magics, was given.
Blades swung, Michael technically outnumbered. Each swung their best, and in the beginning, neither seemed to land any blows on the other. Sweat was soon smelled upon Michael, but his swing was unaffected. To the skeleton he turned, swinging and crushing it's bones with his blows. Soon, it was disabled. Michael turned back to Landristin with his sword, with renewed vigor.
Quickly he grabbed his holy symbol and uttered his holy words, and failed. In the quickness to respond to a new threat, a summoned undead knight, Michael attempted to utter his holy words a half a dozen times more, his confidence decreasing each time. Michael however, was not a warrior of steel, he was a warrior of faith, and soon sought to dispatch the newly arrived undead.
Then.... all attention turned to each other for the two. Hymns were hummed, and spells were cast, locked in combat for well over a half an hour, the two raged on. Only one however showed fatigue at combat. The spell fire was amazing. Had any one of the two had been lesser men, the other would have been astounded. Yet, each held their own, countering and sometimes relishing the castings of the other. The bite of Landristin finally made it's mark, he tasted of Michael for once.
It was then that the holy man, Michael, closed his eyes and summoned forth his deity for aid, and molested Landristin. Channeling a divine power, and laying a hand upon Landristin...... then again... and again.... Landristin stung from the channeling of the deity of the bloodthirsty Paladin, but never uttered a word.
Knowing he was outmatched alone, Landristin spoke only the words, "Next time, Michael.", before he disappeared in an aura of magic, and an onslaught of lizard men advanced upon Michael. Determined to locate the vanished figure, he could not, finally surrounded by the lizards, he had no choice but to lay low to them all.
Both escaped with their lives,... or unlives.. but the battle was epic, and sure to have scarred to their memory, the event. Landristin considered it a drawl, but he had tasted of the Paladin. Oh... sweet blood.
Quickly, Landristin sprung into action. He prepared for whatever may eventually defeat the bugs, hopeful that he would only find chewed carcass. It was not long until his worries may be confirmed, Michael, the bloodthirsty Paladin.
Failing their formal agreement, to Landristin this only meant one thing. Battle would ensue. Knowing the odds, he readied himself for the inevitable, wishing only to make a point, rather than actually win this fight. The legends of Michael Zollas were well known after all, and once upon a time, in life.... they had traveled as friends. Confident, Landristin felt like he knew the blood thirst of this particular paladin more than others, there was no way he was backing away without a fight. Michael deserved the honor of battle more than his brethren.
At one time he had even commented that Michael may have been one of the least of honor among his alliance, but in recent times this came into question, in the mind of Landristin. This appearance deserved a respectful response. With that, he drew his sword and his shield, and summoned some aid,... albeit, under the cloak of magic. Once he shattered the bugs, Landristin thought, Michael will meet battle.
It was then, not even a moment before the thought was begun, that things escalated quickly. The command to attack, as Michael began casting his magics, was given.
Blades swung, Michael technically outnumbered. Each swung their best, and in the beginning, neither seemed to land any blows on the other. Sweat was soon smelled upon Michael, but his swing was unaffected. To the skeleton he turned, swinging and crushing it's bones with his blows. Soon, it was disabled. Michael turned back to Landristin with his sword, with renewed vigor.
Quickly he grabbed his holy symbol and uttered his holy words, and failed. In the quickness to respond to a new threat, a summoned undead knight, Michael attempted to utter his holy words a half a dozen times more, his confidence decreasing each time. Michael however, was not a warrior of steel, he was a warrior of faith, and soon sought to dispatch the newly arrived undead.
Then.... all attention turned to each other for the two. Hymns were hummed, and spells were cast, locked in combat for well over a half an hour, the two raged on. Only one however showed fatigue at combat. The spell fire was amazing. Had any one of the two had been lesser men, the other would have been astounded. Yet, each held their own, countering and sometimes relishing the castings of the other. The bite of Landristin finally made it's mark, he tasted of Michael for once.
It was then that the holy man, Michael, closed his eyes and summoned forth his deity for aid, and molested Landristin. Channeling a divine power, and laying a hand upon Landristin...... then again... and again.... Landristin stung from the channeling of the deity of the bloodthirsty Paladin, but never uttered a word.
Knowing he was outmatched alone, Landristin spoke only the words, "Next time, Michael.", before he disappeared in an aura of magic, and an onslaught of lizard men advanced upon Michael. Determined to locate the vanished figure, he could not, finally surrounded by the lizards, he had no choice but to lay low to them all.
Both escaped with their lives,... or unlives.. but the battle was epic, and sure to have scarred to their memory, the event. Landristin considered it a drawl, but he had tasted of the Paladin. Oh... sweet blood.
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