| | A Power Clash | | - Guardian Dragon Verses Top Slayer - Monty + Zay *Gaspgasp* It'll never end O_O

It had been said, stone cold words fixed everlastingly in his complicated mind. His mind a tangle of betrayal, contempt and anger, that only pushed him to try harder work more...
...The history of years of defending what a certain other person had left behind to die and pressure to progress with a society as primitive and animalistic as they came, had made the perfect kind of beast slayer---and the worst type of person, namely Zartear.

And today, he vowed to destroy a certain beast as he had promised a long time ago to one of his supposed "friends" today he would bring down in flames a guardian dragon, the blue and silver.
Walking through the woods reflecting upon what this meant, and more importantly how to do it made him sharper and hungrier for this prize. And he would be rewarded handsomely, if only he could do it. And he would, naturally.

Taking a look into the expanse overhead and breathing deeply in, it would become clear that you enver fought this dragon as you would anyother, this would demand the full stretch of power, on both sides dare he say.
And so he walked through the wood, looknig much more like he was on a stroll, but had you ever seen a person out for a mere walk in the forest with such steely nerves and the hair prickling on the neck, the body language indicating such a strong strong lust for power.
For victory, to keep this promise.

It was at times like this, when the shadows and light, paradoxes together most bought out the true ferocity of feeling in Zartear, if that's what you'd call it. Ferocity of fear-inspiring things, the pale pale skin and the tar black of hair, stroked by the wind the only one that called to a heart as frozen and dead as one like his.
Preservation of a time long gone by, hard to imagine a kid of twelve crying and with sympathy too, especially a person that grew into a repulsively natured human that seemed only ever to cultivate the negate in everybody else.
Thing of death, the only way to live a futile life, and this was it, this would make him or break him.
He stopped in the forest and drew the black tool of a dragon's bane forward, swinging to the right, the left up, and freeze...
Pause, breath, breath...
Strike the ground, draw it up and re-group.

Calmness shattered by the scattering of leaves and the dead cut sound of rzor metal hitting on the earth with a dull drum.


Just a little longer, and then the fire would be unleashed.

Zartear then drew his hands on the hilt back to his chest, the sword straight, lying against his shoulder...he walked further forward, it appeared he was in the initiate battle stance, like he had already seen his prey, he hadn't but the battle could come in the next hour, or second or minute.
To be caught unawares may finish him.
Then he slowly looked up, thinking, how would this dragon be approached the usual dead lock of "you move first" would certainly not apply here, may the fastest and strongest win. In fact, many did not know of how crucial this face off was, killnig this dragon may signal the start of power control in dragons cove.
Oh how fine that would suit him, then he would have a ruler's title, that would suit him jsut fine.
But first, to destroy this dragon, and he would not be selling this one, he would pound and shatter it's bones.
Crush it's skull and tear the wings, no way could he sell any part of one of these without some form of hatred striking up of dishonour of the parts.
Rather, a death and no trace left would be fine. Just perfect, for him.
And so he waited, as if it was arranged like fate would decide this.

Zartear then lifted himself from the trance of meditation and pre-battle readiment, and then crystal clear the swish of a tail through the canopy overhead, no more time went by, Zartear rushed forth each leg step pronounced with a loud pounding like a train o nthe tracks, set dead ahead to deliver the initial blow and start the fight of his life.
So the armour was tightened on the bracers, the girders greased on the motion points but held in tight with each link firmly guarding the next, it was one thing to want to be a slayer and another thing to become the machine built for it.
And let go, of all the guilt that would entail a person that did not know how to manage the job.
And now, the stage set the prequel performed....the show was to begin.
And it did so in breathtaking seconds,
Zartear plunged forth, his battle cry erupting and causing the trees to tremble like an actor ripping the mask and disguise away...
Sword forth and charge.

Zartear carried on his roar, he acknowledged the dragon too -Silverwing, then he sent forth the sword, feet and body leaving the ground and flying forward, the energy pulsing the air like a bombs radiations, And so he sent the sword forward to hit the dragon square on it's front, it'd have to think fast to avoid this one, a strike to start the match would come in handy after all.

It was almost unusual Zartear should put so much effort in over a dragon, and he would continue to for what would be a long battle like this merciless thing for purpose, and at that energized for what seemed to last indefinitely.
And for a fleeting moment it crossed his mind.
"Will this be my last battle? My last move?"
Then he cut that off.
"Never."

Zartear felt his hair sway backward as the dragons immensity gushed into his ears with it's overwhelming noise, but as they say the stronger the call the harder they fall.
And really most slayers never dare fight a guardian dragon for two reasons:
One, some didn't simply because they thought it could be unjust.
Two, they were far too strong and collossul warriors of the skys, natures protectors.
Some even believed killing one would be like killing part of the ground, but nothing not even the greatest legends or stuff of mythical words would sway Zartear's opinion. As far as he was concerned, his word was final and that was it.

Zartear pulled back the sword as he landed another jump half crouched over, keeping his centre of gravity, boots gripping the dirt like unsheathed claws...
"I suppose I'll just have to keep pushing the limits....And prove the fables wrong..." He then stood back up and with both hands at the hilt tilted the sword horizontally, in front of his chest...preparing to strike again at any given moment.

Zartear had seen the nasty attack coming but soon noted this was not an attack to be dodged as much as endured...
So roaring his warcry he ran forward the sword raised again, head on into the blue aura, his swords black magic and sheer will keeping the flame from singing his face to a crisp.
And as the flames blasted his body he felt the armour take it's full pelt, glowing hot and blue shards of energy flying off in every direction as the blast impacted , he closed his eyes shut and bared the pain attacking from every angle while gritting his teeth...
Then a split second before the energy ball made contact, he thrust the sword through it, splitting it away, thus diverting it from his body, black rays mixing the blue and silver in a cocktail of deadly energy.

He snarled at the dragon as it cleared the silver dustings on his armour glowing brightly, the sword tingling in his hands hyper-charged...fear had never stopped him, so why should this?
He moved on closer to the dragon ---his eyes focused, and then he pounced, flying again into the air...one had to admire the strong will in him, even if the motive was warped beyond belief.
The sword turned with blade toward the dragon, flung above his head ready to come down like a guillotine.

Zartear had he had the time would have enjoyed that look of surprise from the dragon had it not been for the sudden second energy ball sent up at him...
So sudden change of plan, he could not attack the dragon without harming himself severely, mid-leap he twisted forward past the dragon in a front flip, the energy ball exploding from behind, it's shockwaves propelling him forward...
Then using all he knew in the way of agility, he twisted his body over landing next to the dragon's body with a growl of exasperation...
But picking himself up quickly sent the large sword swingign around, in a swift side swipe aimed for the dragon's side, it may not be a head blow but still reasonable damage if it hit...
You could just feel the tenseness and pwoer in the air, like a chokehold of chains binding the scene together inescapable and intoxicating...Zartear appeared solemn and serious but really, THIS was what he loved most.

Zartear lashed the sword back around in time with his body as he craned his neck upwards seeing the dragon take off of the ground, two could play at that game....
He morphed his sword, (and that was one of those extra advantges he had in flexibility) to it's tri-whip form...
The three whips conjoined in the hilt swayed to and fro like they were living snakes, the ends of them tipped with harpoon-like arrows...
He then thrust them upwards, towards the dragon, hoping to latch on around it's body for what would be a tremendous aerial fight if it was managed...
If not he hoped they would at least inflict a nasty scar to that dragon...and you could tell in his eyes the iron grip focus controlling the whips ends as they drove ever upward.

Zartear held tight on the whip and braced him self then WHOOSH he was lifted with a jolt as the dragon flew at it's speed, manouvering his body to clamp onto the whip, now to hoist himself up...a tad tricky in these conditions, but he'd have to move quickly this dragon was wasting no time in attempting to dispose of him...
So holding tight his body was being thrown about side to side as wind flew like a torrent around him, the whole elements seemed against him and siding with Silver Wing.
But not disheartened the faith ever-strong, he drew his body in on the whip, moving nearer and nearer, while flying terrifyingly above the land, a fall would be sure-fire fatal.
And his luck had held out quite nicely, but in the blink of an eye it could all change and he knew it well.

Zartear growled and felt his left arm become detatched from the whip and his right hand slid awkwardly down the whip, the tendons and veins visibly working hard to maintain their grip on the whip, which was loosening every second, his whole body was on edge with wide-eyed agonizing worry of a fall, which made him hold the whip ever stronger, but it was becoming more and more difficult, the metal and sweat causing him to lose the grip further.
"Curse you dragon!" He shouted up at Silverwing continually /trying/ to get back up, the dizzying swaying world below made his focus strained...and he squinted his eyes keeping the dragon's body in his sight refusing to look down again at what would be a horrific end.

Zartear anticipated the move and summoned the energy to latch onto the cord through the deathly speed nose dive, this next part would be hard, but probably help him obtain the dominance in this duel.
As the dragon stopped, he was naturally sent flying down, and promptly landed on the dragon's back, with a ferocious face and gritty attitude, he tore the whip away from the hold it was in and looped it in front of the dragons head, pulling back on the cord piece and on the other part as it looped around the dragon.
Zartear rose to the challenge where others failed, he made a superb grappler and dragon wrestler, and really this Guardian dragon would test the true depth of his skill.