[CRP]The King's Duel.

[Marion]

Marion half kicked herself for the tavern excursion. It had been nearly a fortnight and she was still sick, though she would never actually admit to such a thing. To admit it meant to admitting a weakness she could not afford to show. After all, she had changed her loyalties in the battle, and returned to the land on the aftermath of sending one Brother away and attempting to allude the other. So now, as she sharpened her knives- and left off the poison, though she was resenting that rule, she sipped the tea and tried not to gag. Not even magic seemed to heal her - not that her magic was meant for healing rather than it was hurting.

Over the mountains and through the woods, to the dueling arena she went. Unhappy and unhealthy. Not that she let even the slightest bit of illness show. For the most part, she appeared as she did always; angry and annoyed. Her white hair was pulled back and up out of her face, and her icy blue eyes were as cold as ever. Stepping into the ring filled her with a sense of pride that showed in the way she raised her chin and straightened her broad shoulders. She would show no mercy until the judges ruled it as such. That's what she had in mind.

Each gauntleted hand was gripping her long knives, and patiently, she waited for Fenia's King to show his face...so that she could rip it off.

[Zuan]

Zuan had left for the arena but a few hours before, followed by his entourage of royal assistants, guards and whom ever else had decided to head down to the arena. Personally Zuan was more than happy to go alone, after all he had faced the elf, Marion, multiple times in combat before. He descended upon the arena as the winter weather howled around him, it was by no means Spring yet, Fenia still facing thick snow-fall and freezing conditions, their winter was hardly over, but yet despite this the two combatants would fight for what...perhaps pride?...perhaps honor?...or perhaps just an excuse to raise their blades against one another since it had been so long since their last duel.

Zuan was dressed in light golden chain-mail, which consisted of two pieces; the first a golden chain-mail body, which was short sleeved , and was met at his waist by the second, golden chain leg-mail, which covered him from neck to heel in the light, but highly protective mail coating. Over this he wore a black leather Jerkin, with a golden dragon embroided onto the front of the Jerkin, which was matched by black leather gloves, and boots. He did not wear a head guard, but he did carry with him a circular gold plate and black leather shield, which was also covered by the emblem of the golden dragon on the front. The shield which was both strapped to his arm, and held - to provide extra movement.
His weapons included two silver short swords, and a silver tipped spear, which he carried towards the arena. The swords strapped into his armor, whilst he held the spear firmly in his right hand as he entered the arena, and looked around. At first he could not see her, but then as he looked across in the wintry darkness, he saw what to many would just be a shadow, however he recognized it to be Marion. As his following stopped and took a position near the entrance, he continued to walk towards her, shield raised in defense, expecting her to make the first strike. He did not speak, as he knew he did not need to, she would no doubt have seen him from the moment he had walked into the arena, and no doubt already had her first move thought out in her head.

[Marion]

Marion was clad in her usual spiked armor that hugged her body form generously. As Zuan entered the grounds, Marion smirked and snorted a bit - not from laughter but from spite and sourness. She feigned that his armor was too bright and brought her black gauntleted arm to block the fake shine from her eye. Then she put her arm down and looked at him.

"You have gotten much..brighter...than when I last saw you. And I do not mean by your mental capacity. Are you ready for this?"

[Zuan]

He smirked arrogantly at her, as she made her best attempt at a 'joke' it was hardly funny, and then felt to go explain it just in case he had not understood it. Comedy never seemed to be any elf's strong point, and for Marion that was only exasperated by her negative attitude to nearly everyone, and everything. He continued to smirk, and paced slightly back towards the center of the arena, but still in talking, and no doubt striking distance of Marion. As she questioned if he was up for the fight her gave a cold laugh, where his breath was turned to a vapor cloud by the cold winds, he stretched his arms out either side of his body, and spun on his heel to face her yet again, still chuckling before finally speaking.
"If I was not ready to beat you into the ground - then I would not be here, would I? - now since I am in such a good mood, or perhaps cause you need a handicap, by all means try take the first strike"He spun the spear in his hand 360 degrees before looking at her. "Well, I'm waiting He gave her another arrogant smirk, before bracing himself for her first strike.

[Marion]

Marion watched him with an even distaste as he spout on about how ready he was. She refused to let her illness hold her back, and she was willing to prove it by driving Fenia's king into the ground. It marred her that he said it as a 'handicap' to go first, but she imagined that it was best thought that She could go first, and he still had such a good chance to dodge. There was no intent to retort, the less talking she had to do with him, the better.

So she moved with the speed of a feline, and the grace of a dancer. Her knives sung through the air as she closed the space between she and the king who she would never claim as her own. As she approached him, she swung the right blade up from lower to upper diagonally, but instead of putting any intent on striking him that way, came to a crouch and slid the other blade horizontally against his shins.