Deitric felt and saw a flash of steel as his opponent's blade caught his tomahawk below the axehead before Reyin managed to tear his sword from the sheath to make his own attack. The black-haired brave was far from motionless, advancing behind the tomahawk attack, but his opponent's dual movements had caught him a bit off-guard. He couldn't block it in time, but if he could, he wouldn't have - the knife wasn't going to be able to hold off the sword in the long run, and it had a more advantageous purpose to serve.
SKKKRRRRR--
Reyin's long sword sawed through the leather jacket and ground painfully against steel. Not a prosthetic limb - a bracer. The warrior wore on on each arm, and they went from wrist to the elbow as best they could without restricting too much motion. They weren't the thickest pieces of armor around, but they did the job, usually.
Accelerate, dislocate
Reyin wouldn't get to worry about the misfortune of his attack, though - the dark skinned champion had been moving forward, and his opponent was going to be stuck between a rock and a hard place as it took the larger of the two fighters all of about a split second to cover one or two long strides in a short burst of movement, nearly aiming to body-press himself into the other man.
Set to crash and burn
Things were heating up it seemed, and not in any way that was good for the blonde-haired swordsman. The sword's maneuverability and range of movement was getting chopped into fractions of its former self at an alarmingly fast rate - it could go forward towards Deitric's right shoulder, or back towards its owner, and possibly a few other motions. There wasn't going to be enough room for either of them to fully extend their arms - and that was how the tribesman wanted it.
What's more, the tomahawk wasn't the primary weapon in the duo: Deitric Jocasta favored his left hand, not the right like most people. He was a southpaw. And that left hand held a good eight or nine inches of cold, sharp and pointed steel that had Reyin's name written all over it.
Haven't got time to waste
Deitric's left arm began to pump forward as he closed little-longer than arm's length distance between the two, aiming to jam his long-knife into Reyin's arm, shoulder, hand, or torso - anywhere he could get the blade to. The Khasmin man's opponent might find himself a little overwhelmed by the way the stabs seemed to multiply as a cackling buzz filled the air with hints of burnt ozone to accompany it. Which only meant bad news--
Abilities
â–ºRolling Thunder - This is the hand to hand form of the Storm of Spears, and largely considered more powerful and versatile. Deitric channels his power into his upper body, especially his arms. He utilizes the energy to fuel a storm of flying fists; the speed, heat, and charge of electricity in the air around his attacks making it look as if he's throwing hundres of punches (as opposed to the real number of 1-2 dozen), giving it the nickname of "The Thousand Fist Combo."
Except, of course, for the fact that Deitric's left arm held a knife, and he was stabbing away like a mad-man, aiming to messily grind away at his opponent's right side and arm with the eight or nine inches of gleaming steal he had. The lightning-charged tribesman was effectively hitting his stride, now; he could pump out enough electricity to do some serious damage, and he was putting himself in a position to capitalize on it. He could hold the attack up for a couple of seconds, but that was all he needed to get in at least a half-dozen badly aimed and painful stabs.
When will I ever learn?
