They rolled over once more and he felt a knee sink into his gut, forcing bile and acid up his throat. Swallowing desperately, Quentin grabbed Dayel by the collar of his leather jerkin and headbutted the man, even as Dayel punched him in the kidney. They broke apart for a moment, but before Dayel could get his breath back to even speak Quentin grabbed a chunk of stone nearby and threw it vaguely in Dayel’s direction, then leapt at the Avalonian again, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process.
Quentin's shoulder smashed into Dayel's chest and as they collided, he grabbed Dayel's leg. Leaning back, he gripped the Avalonian's ankle in the crook of his armpit and with a wrench, it snapped. Dayel screamed unintelligibly and swung his hand at Quentin's chest. He dipped backwards, assuming that the slight movement would dodge the blow, but as he felt the heat of injury as the hand passed by he saw Dayel's nails had grown to be two inch long blades. Alone, that would have still not caused injury, but on top of the nails the Avalonian's arm had stretched to be an entire hand length longer, which left Quentin with a hand's worth of flesh and muscle missing from his chest.
Blood and flesh flew through the air, but Dayel was not finished. He reached out for Quentin’s face and slashed it as Quentin rolled away from the strike. Finally the Avalonian had been given the distance he so desired. He held his hand out and yelled "Drain!"
A thick jet of blood shot out of Quentin's chest and wrapped around Dayel like a snake. Quentin paled, blood seeping out of all the nicks and cuts in his flesh. As Quentin lost blood, he sank low, his body limp, while Dayel only grew in strength. The blood coiled around him, segmenting and sealing him away from the outside world as heavy plate armour.
"Why fight?" Dayel said, standing up and letting the blood armour fix his broken ankle back into place, "You were destined to lose. My lord and lady are unstoppable, with bones made of stardust. We will not bend to the false goddess' whims like you. We will be all".
"If you're so sure," Quentin said between ragged breaths, "Perhaps you shouldn't have used my blood to case yourself in". The golden tattoos that covered Quentin's body lit up, refilling him with vigour and restoring his pale skin with colour. The wounds that covered his body knit shut in less than a second, and the blood around Dayel paled with every passing moment. As Quentin got to his feet, the blood only paled and hardened further, becoming as solid as rock and locking Dayel in place. "An Absolution has no fear of harming his body."
“You may have no fear of harm to the body, but what about harm to your future?” Dayel shattered the saltrock armour that encased him and raised his arm, even as Quentin charged at him again. As the Absolution clansman closed in, Dayel swung down like he was cutting wood and cried out, “Sever!”
The air tore as Quentin felt the attack rush through his shoulder, then there was an empty sensation on his right side. He glanced down as he skittered to a halt and looked in shock at the stump where his right arm used to be. Blood pumped out of the stump just as vigorously as it had from his chest, but Quentin did not cry out or step back. He just turned towards Dayel once more and strode on, the mana around them churning and drawing towards him. As the tattoos on his skin lit up, he ushered power into his right side, and before their very eyes, his right arm regrew as good as new. “My body is untouchable”.
“I don’t need your body though,” Dayel said, a murderous grin forming on his face, “I just need a bit of you. Blood and bone, to me!” In an instant the severed arm shot towards Dayel’s outstretched hand, shifting shape in the air from an arm to an oddly bent blade. The blade was top heavy, two handed and something that Quentin had never seen before, but instinctively he felt it belonged to him. Despite being severed from his form, the bone made of his arm was him and it just being in the hands of Dayel made him feel uncomfortable.
Dayel swung the blade and it sunk into Quentin’s chest. Rather than dodging, Quentin held it in him with his muscles as he moved to grab the blade over Dayel’s hands, before sinking it further into his chest. Gaining control of the blade, and feeling Dayel pull back against him, Quentin leant back and kicked out against the ankle he snapped earlier.
There was a crack. The ankle shattered under Quentin’s strike and the Avalonian man began to fall under his own weight, but Quentin was not yet finished. As Dayel fell, Quentin wrenched the blade almost completely out of his chest and slammed the bone pommel into Dayel’s face, knocking him on his back.
Removing the blade fully from his chest, Quentin turned it and pointed at Dayel with the tip, “My arm belongs to me, even if you cut it off”. As he spoke, the golden tattoos that covered his form began to fade. The wounds on his body closed up, but at a rate that was obviously much slower than he had been healing at earlier. He breathed out a slightly rattling breath of air before leaning on his blade shakily and looking around. To his left he could see the mass of Avalonian troops fighting each other to the death. There were less than ten still standing, the rest now a pile of corpses and the wailing injured. He glanced around to see where the twins were, to make sure they were okay when he noticed Jim and the woman, Ayna arguing. He saw her yell at him, her tear open the air in front of her and the giant bone arm slam into his companion, crushing him against the wall. He stared agape at the damage done by the frail looking woman, even as Dayel began laughing at the carnage, spitting out mouthfuls of blood in the process.
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