Belcoot has to admit that he's coming into this match a bit distracted. He's a master of the sword, a veteran fighter and fairly experienced with many different forms of combat, but for the life of him cannot figure out how Lady Harken pulls off Fast Draw techniques with a *scythe*. It's mind boggling! Still, he's got to keep his head in the game and parry those lightning scythe strikes like anything else or he won't be keeping his head at all. Fortunately that's just the kind of game he's good at managing. Parry, counter, then smash right through the threat of Maximum Risk with the power of the Falcon Rune.
|
V |
S |
Lady Harken knows there's a time for work and a time for play... and there's a game that Suikoden duelers have frustrated ppponents in the arena with for too long: the parry, evade and countering game. Unfortunately for Belcoot, Lady Harken can play at that too. She's incredibly good at it! It'll be a sight to see Belcoot frustrated for once, as even if he gets through, all he does is leave himself open for an ever more potent Maximum Risk. Marina will be upset, but at least she'll have fun nursing Belcoot back to health. He'll be in the hospital for a long time after this one, having taken his biggest risk yet!
|
Sei
Two blademasters in the field of combat.
There was only one way this battle could possibly take place.
Charging at full speed, Belcoot and Harken drew their respective weapons and attacked one another in a flash of movement.
They paused as they passed. After a moment, a huge, diagonal gash appeared from Harken's shoulder to her waist as shreds her armor showered the arena.
Belcoot closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief. He was now one match closer to a championship.
Then his eyes widened in shock as a curved blade slid its way out of his chest.
"Metal Demon, remember?" Lady Harken whispered from behind him before kicking Belcoot off her scythe. Godlike awaits.
Belcoot: 13
Lady Harken: 15
Barubary
Belcoot how do you do it. How are you still alive in this tournament of champions. I must confess I guess that sword of yours is pure unleaded awsomesauce made of unleaded win.
So gratz sir. Just gratz. You deserve the heavyweight crown.
Remember LOYALTY!
|