Caspar wasn't surprised that the guy went for Ric first — the Holy Knight was stronger, even if Cas was lighter on his feet. He turned his attention to the two women, quickly sizing them to figure out which one posed the greater threat. "Alright, ladies. One at a time," he called, sinking into his usual provocative Sentinel tactics, "there's plenty of Caspar to go around." He waited for one (or both) of them to come at him. It was time to put on a show.
"Only one? Be ambitious," Loch called back with a smirk. No sooner had the words left her mouth than an identical copy of her appeared in her place, smirking at Caspar; the real Loch was already behind him, her knives slashing down his back in an X.
Siri’s participation on the tournament was completely related to the two fighters she stood alongside right now. This sort of combative event was not in her nature, but well, here she was because they were. The thought warmed something long lost inside and it was easy to get caught in the past. In Kerwon.
Siri laughed at Caspar’s words, but it was not enough to distract her from the offensive spells. Her blizzaga was aimed at Jareth because really, please do not mess with Rictor Cassul. Which lowered her guard against Lan.
And Lan hadn’t missed anything. Actually, right as Siri was shooting her spell she would probably manage to notice that not one, but </i>two</i> Lans were flanking her, the incredibly realistic copy swinging a knife to the woman’s chest while the real one quickly crouched for a deft kick at the back of Siri’s legs. She would have to remember to thank Loch later. Or maybe not.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ring, the berserker and the holy knight were still grappling with each other, their strengths evenly matched; Jareth kept raining fists and blows down on Rictor, who bore it while delivering his own hits in return, knuckles bruising against bone, against jaw. The blast of piercing magickal cold flew past them.
But then three-on-three suddenly became three-on-five as the women from the other team doubled, and Ric made the mistake of paying attention to Siri. The Kerwonian’s strength was also their weakness, their glaring vulnerability: the moment D’Albis took injury, both Rictor and Caspar’s rhythms were thrown off. The knight’s focus dwindled, immediately swinging back around to slash his claymore at one of the Lans—leaving him open for Jareth once again.
And Jareth took it, taking advantage of the opening to land a fist on the Holy Knight’s side, sending his opponent staggering. Without waiting, he dropped into a crouch and swept Rictor’s legs out from under him, careful to roll out of the way in case the fucker fell on him. That’d be a great fucking way to lose: loss due to being crushed under shiny silver armor.
Li and Aspel would laugh for years.
“You know,” he said conversationally, swinging his axe towards Rictor’s shoulder, “I’m the one you’re supposed to be fighting.”