Cerellean ((Open to Blaze))

[rook]

"This fight is far from over, pup." The bear's voice was gruff and low, unhurried. "I know you. I know your kind. You have to finish things quickly. Or not at all." The Druid planted all four paws solidly in the ground, snorting.

Rook straightened up, forcing his breath quiet. There was truth in his father's words. The strength of a Rogue was in concealment, surprise, incapacitation, swift movement and sudden death. Being matched against a durable opponent in the open was no match at all.

He stared across the distance that separated him from his opponent. His father was giving him time to breathe, he realized. To think. He blinked. To back down. He relaxed his stance, standing loosely. He tilted his head to see the blood that ran down his shoulder to his hand. The wound was still muffled by shock, it didn't yet hurt.. It would soon, though. The tip of the blade in his hand didn't waver. Neither did the eyes of the great bear across from him.

The Rogue sighed.

"How did that bolt feel, old elf?" He asked, lowering the blade to his side. "Sting a bit?"

The Bear narrowed it's glowing eyes. "...Give up, child. I'm not outside of showing mercy. Go home with your mate... Your toy made only a scratch, I've been hit far harder."

"Harder, perhaps." The Rogue's voice grew soft. "But never worse..."

The bear squinted at him, it's black lips turning down. Then, realizing suddenly, he turned his head to his wound, which still oozed blood.

"Poison." The bear huffed, it's rough voice heavy with disdain. "You coward."

The Rogue nodded sadly. "Perhaps. But I fight with what I have. I fight with speed and cunning. That's the way it's always been."

The bear huffed again, the sound a little more throaty.

"...Your windpipe will close up." The Rogue continued, forcing the words out. "But it's not poison. I know you too, old man. I know there are certain kinds of foods you don't eat... Certain nuts, certain shellfish. ...And I know why."

The bear coughed, a strained, dry exhalation. It pulled air in again as a wheeze. He began to feel dizzy. It was as though the air was being pulled away from around him, like once when he had flown as high as his wings would take him, till the day sky had turned to black and the stars shown above his head, and Azeroth lay below, spinning and infinitesimal.

"Coward." He choked out again, and coughed. His son flinched, his eyes low. He took a step forward. There was one option... He could finish the fight before he ran out of air. There could be no more waiting game. His lips rose away from his teeth, venting his rage in a savage, choked snarl.

[rook]

The bear came on, as loud and unstoppable as an avalanche. The Rogue didn't need to stop it, however, and rolled away to his right away from the murderous teeth and claws and squinting eyes. He gained his feet a moment later and the bear rounded on him, snarling and swinging a massive paw which he ducked under, smashing it hard with the pommel of his blade as it passed over his head.

The rogue turned and fell back across the clearing, grunting as he made a slight misstep and had to parry one of his father's massive strikes, the impact straining his muscles and nearly knocking the blade from his hand. Gods aloft, the old man was still strong. Maybe too strong...

As though on cue his father's form shrank and he was again a shadowcat, a ball of fur and claws and murderous fury. An open wound appeared on the rogue's thigh before he rammed the sole of his boot between the slitted eyes, stunning it. Rook stumbled away, clutching his new injury. Godsdamn, this wasn't going well. Had he misjudged the effect of the allergen? ...If he had, then... Then there wouldn't be any room for stall tactics, or indeed anything other than a fight to the death.

The cat shook it's head and refixed the Rogue with his eyes. A small moan of despair passed Rook's lips.

"Father, wait..."

[۞ KAT ۞ AKA Red Viper]

((Closed since the player of Rook has left wow. ))