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[Baralai]

"Well at least you can dodge that one. Not bad for an old man. But i'm just testing you." He smiled devilishly, apparently his personality was a bit more humanish than most elves. He really hadn't used all that much force against the wizened stranger. Afterall, he couldn't just fight humans with his superior strength all the time. Someone would get scared. He smirked at the thought. Might as well fight just as hard as he to see what he's got. I mean it isn't like this inferior creature will be able to beat me. As the thrust towards his torso came closer an ecstatic look went upon his face, he decided to cut it close and instinctively moved to the left with his most favorite battle tactics... speed. "A bit slow there old man." This was the best part... the taunting. It always made his opponents riled up and maybe he would get a good fight. Using the closeness that had been wrought upon him to his advantage he sent an unorthodox jab to his opponents neck...

[Arvedui]

Arvedui smirked at the half-breed. Of course he looked old, and was indeed old. He was over one hundred years old now, and wasn't as young or intimidating as he used to be, but he was still as quick and strong as he had ever been. Almost one hundred years of training and fighting could never go wrong.

"A bit slow perhaps." He shrugged, ducking and side-stepping as he brought up his sword, blocking the blow. He wasn't surprised by the 'dirty' move; he was familiar with and had used every dirty move in the book. "Whelp." He thought to himself. This elf was reminding him of Estel, when he had trained the boy.

Arvedui, since he assumed they were using dirty moves, swung at the elf's leg and went for his neck with a knife pulled out in a whirl from his belt. He kept his head, which surprised him. He took offense easily and often let anger take over him, but he was only letting bloodlust take over.

[Baralai]

OOC: sorry for the delay >_<

Baralai could have laughed then. Yes, laughed. For some reason it made him think of the elves of children stories who were supposedly freaking happy, gay characters that were always laughing and dancing. Curious little creatures. Exploding with happiness... The mere thought of these one-dimensional beings makes me sick. He was nothing like them. And by the way who the hell created such retarded idols, who would want to be like that? If he laughed it was a sinister site caused by his enjoyment of other's pain. His happiness was conceived by the agonizing misery that came off of others like waves. It fed him, gave him strength... The smirk on his face disappeared, seeming to portray that Baralai was actually getting a little... troubled by his opponent. He wasn't really anxious though... he just decided to drop the arrogant act. His dark emerald eyes followed the ranger's leg easily enough. He allowed hisself to be hit by the leg, but he absolutely would not stand for a knife wound. Using the flexibility that he had gained from his childhood he arched his back, just barely missing the knife. Rebounding quickly he looped his arm around the Ranger's attacking arm and maneuvered hisself so that he was directly behind him and managed to grab both of the human’s arms so that they would be (well at least he hoped they would be) immoveable. "Not very smart for an old man are you?" He whispered into the human’s ear.

This post has been edited by Baralai on May 2 2006, 11:33 PM

[Arvedui]

Arvedui was surprised when he found himself, his arms behind his back, almost completely immobile. Of course, he could move, but not to the point that he could whirl around and attack. He let out a string of imaginative curses. First, it began with some everyday human curses, then went to the few elvish ones he had picked up from Legolas and then the long list of the dwarven curses he knew. All in all, it was a good swearing fest. He smirked.

"Or so they tell me." Arvedui snarled back, using his hip bone to... come in contact with a place one male should never attack another in. It wasn't good decorum, even in a battle, but he wasn't still alive because he played fair. He wasn't going to get his pride beaten by this whelp.

"Too cocky." He reprimanded condescendingly. "Now, tell me, half-breed, where do you hail from?" He asked, almost if in a conversational tone. He just enjoyed keeping conversations going as amusement for when he would win. He was a Ranger, a Dunedain, and he would be letting down his entire kind (including King Elessar) if he lost. And Arvedui didn't lose. Why? Because he was too pretty was too skilled.