Being the exact opposite of a tank meant Ace had to keep his head on a constant swivel. While he'd scoff at any insinuation that he was fragile as glass, especially while riding on the high obtained from his newly reinforced frame, awareness of weak spots was a necessity when those same things were often responsible for his air superiority. Swift wings and flurrying attacks both required sacrifices in durability. Therefore as his target moved and the corner of an eye glimpsed the dangerous gleam of metal, jaws locked in a grimace of concentration. Timing of utmost importance, he twisted as the weapon neared impact.

Other than having to squint his eyes defensively against the light flashing across his face, no harm befell the living cyclone spiraling out of reach. He broadcast to comrades the close brush and daring escape from what could've been a critical blow, mind stewing in incorrigible smugness, and to the Warden he flung a derisive snort.

"Amateur! You think I haven't seen that move before?" Certainly assault using a glaive was a novel attempt compared to fire blasts and lightning strikes, but always one of the earliest plans of action against a flier was to separate him from his treasured airspace. "Keep flailing around. I'm sure that trash heap of a face will be a real winner once you knock your brains out."

"Survival's the name of the game, moron. Believe it or not, us cockroaches have the home advantage there! Don't need to scare anybody if certain Oil-spills are stupid enough to mop themselves up."

ROUND 3

100%

ATTEMPT: Be a showboat, er, plane and fancily dodge
DEFENSE: Armored underside and being a poison-covered pain in the ass
INJURIES: No, but give it some time

@The Warden

Missed the mark - that was okay, it had expected such a much to be well-within the Drone's expectations. It could tell from the exchanging of blows that he wasn't at least, an amateur. But he lacked the precision and practiced moves that had been hammered into the Warden by its life-giver, basically since hatching. It wasn't the best fighter the Forge had, but it was at least more trained then...this thing.

It didn't comment this time, only cracked a grin wider as the Drone coasted out of reach. Oh, if it thought that being out of reach of the physical glaive was out of reach of the Warden's abilities, it was quite wrong.

Oh, no, it did have to comment on the nonsense it was spouting now. "Home advantage? HOME ADVANTAGE? You are pests in the House of Chaos. You are insects that have crawled into an eons-long home of survival and creation. Your existence here is a pebble on the beach! We will be rid of all your nuisances soon!" It waited for when the Skyreaver was turning its course back towards the Warden, perhaps to come in for another strike, and instead of waiting, it twirled the glaive around in a rather flashy (heh) display, before thrusting powerfully forward, the flashes instead concentrated in a beam in an attempt to blind the flier.

ROUND 4

91%

ATTEMPT: you are out of reach? ok. light beam
DEFENSE: natural defenses
INJURIES: slash on the back

@Shrike

It was more of the same, but no less exciting. She leaned forward, eyes darting between the two fighters. She flinched, but--ahh! A dodge, swift, and Ace made it look almost easy; and here came more banter. A thrust of the glaive (that will never hit-) but OH, the beam of blinding light mde even Shrike flinch, though it wasn't aimed at her.

Her wings flared, then settled, as she rocked back from the light and then settled again.

And along with it came information. She didn't think that either one of them, ferocious enemies that they were, were necessarily good sources of true information. But it was interesting to hear nonetheless, and she wondered how much truth might be in these words. The 'House of Chaos?' The 'eons-long home of survival and creation?' These made her wonder; made her think.

Was there more to it than opposing magics and opposing philosophies? Was it a case of intruders and a 'home ground?' And--why?

"I didn't know you two had that much of a history," she offered. Not to distract--no. But they both seemed capable of talking and fighting, and maybe they could elaborate a little while they tried murdering each other. She was curious, after all.

And it seemed she might be signing up for more than just Order or Chaos; it seemed almost like the two had entire belief systems behind their combat types.

@Ace

Oh, that'd rubbed ol' spikes-for-days the wrong way. Feeling a little too cheerful about discovering a point of Chaos-based pride to poke and very much chuffed by the compliment of being a pest, Ace ceased the controlled spin and angled back toward the landbound beast, jaws open in preparation for unleashing another rain of barbs. As he'd been turned away, a barrage against one particular sense hadn't been accounted for; vision flashed searing white, and retinas screamed as if they'd been lit ablaze. His head jerked back, halting whatever swooping assault he'd been planning next.

The pain invoked the beginnings of rage, yet never did it rise above a simmer. Remaining access to his other senses held back such passion and allowed more cunning thoughts room to flourish. Taking the ranged attack as an attempt at creating an opening through disabling an opponent, he decided to embrace the part of temporarily weakened foe.

"Ow," he whined, milking the blindness for all its worth. "If poking me in the eyes is the best you can do, that promise of yours is going to take a while. But damn, this hurts!"

A few exaggerated moans were thrown in for good measure. Additionally he shook his head, mane flopping from side to side, in vain retrieval of his lost sight. Meanwhile the appendages mounted on shoulders took advantage of the commotion to brush through venom-soaked hair and prime themselves for attack. Should hearing pick up vision's slack, he'd spear the Warden if it decided to bridge the gap between them. But let's be real: Ace is way too loud to pull that off.

"Pfft, history." Ace snorted, unable to resist a remark. "No way has twinkle-terror here lived enough to know what that is. Otherwise it'd know there's more beaches than this one out there. And the pebbles aren't being washed away as easily as it thinks."

ROUND 4

82%

ATTEMPT: Surprise spearing
DEFENSE: Armored underside and being a poison-coated pain in the ass
INJURIES: And there we have it! Blinded!

@The Warden

The Warden was not the smartest valkhound in the oilstone cabinet, but it had at least been trained for a number of cycles by a champion fighter and, while it may not have gotten to The Sentinel's level of combat ability, one of the things that it had definitely learned was strategy. Reading through opponent weaknesses, observing their behavior, figuring out if they were bluffing or not.

And Ace was definitely bluffing. The beam from the glaive was not a full spell and wouldn't fully disable the drone. Besides, wasn't it going on and on about how much better it was or something? And suddenly it was milking being some hurt little victim? Yeah, right. The Warden snorted, gripping the glaive and remembering the practice it'd done with it - the weapon was good to reach and that's exactly what it wanted here. To press the advantage it had opened without falling for the Drone's bluff.

It glanced to Shrike, still keeping itself aware of her questions. "Oh yes. Not us, but these caves were created by Chaos. Order is merely a group of pests that have washed in and taken root. Roots that will soon be pulled." And back to fighting - it lunged forward, holding the glaive closer to the base as it stabbed and slashed at its full reach towards the Drone. "As if you have lived any longer," it chuckled through its attacks. "A toy soldier made to raise knives against their betters. An attempt that failed, of course. And we will just keep winning."

ROUND 5

91%

ATTEMPT: flurry of stabs with the glaive
DEFENSE: natural defenses
INJURIES: slash on the back

@Shrike

Shrike found herself deeply amused. They'd gone for metaphor--pebbles and beaches--and then abruptly swapped metaphor, now to roots.

It was funny. Like they couldn't settle on one--or rather, The Warden couldn't, in particular. She sort of wanted to make her own, to toss out a cool new secret third metaphor, and see if they grasped her humor. But... quick thinker she was not, no more than the other two, and she found herself at a loss.

Oh, well.

Mental shrug. Moving on.

She was honestly too hung up on the fight, anyway, raptly watching each movement: the subtle rake of claws through mane, the sudden lurch forward and skilled thrusts of the Warden's glaive. She could squeal, it was so fun to watch! If she could learn to fight like either one of them she'd be pleased.

Of course, Ace seemed to be the better choice for Shrike in particular: flying combat, without a weapon, would suit her far more than trying to pick up a knife on a stick or whatever it was that Warden was using. But she imagined Chaos must have at least one idiot with wings.

And if not, and she joined them--well, she'd be a first, at least.

@Ace

"Pebbles or plants," Ace cackled and shook his head in mock disapproval. "Doesn't matter! Either way, soon we'll be too many for you and rest of your band of dirt-grubbers to push out."

Color was bleeding back into his vision, and blurry shapes began to emerge, slowly growing more defined by the second. This recovery, however, experienced a major setback once subjected to an assault his constantly running mouth had loudly covered the approach of. A metallic glint captured eyes before they were engulfed once again by light, and the first of a series of stabs punched into abdomen plates with a distinctive thunk that knocked the wind out of him. He reeled and staggered back in mid-air. Wings stretched to catch the breeze so he might take evasive maneuver before the rest struck true against him. Mostly feathers uselessly fluttered in the wind while rapid flashes kept the Drone utterly disabled.

Whether stubborn Mother-imbued willpower or plain stupidity, having the words bashed out of him by each successive blow didn't prevent the eventual spitting of more overconfidence. Even as his armor creaked beneath the strongest of the jabs, his grin remained defiant and cocksure. True, he was one soldier, but a toy? Other than his love for the game of war, far from it.

"Wow, that overcooked oil you've been thinking with must've really done a number on you. This was a warm up, a spar, as the good lady said. If this were an actual attempt, you wouldn't be seeing any knives, let alone talking about them. Can't see how the shittier half fights without slowing myself down."

ROUND 5

68%

ATTEMPT: Avoid most of the stabbing
DEFENSE: Armored underside and being a poison-coated pain in the ass
INJURIES: Blinded

@The Warden

Each of the blows connected, the blinding beams from the glaive ensuring avoidance wasn't possible. And still, the Drone just kept talking. To be honest, The Warden was growing tired of what felt like baseless overconfidence. So now that it was losing, it was going to point out that this was "warmup"? "A spar"? Okay then.

It pulled back, muscles relaxing, planting the butt of the glaive back into the ground at its side. "Oh, an actual attempt? Like what you did in Leo? We saw you then, it was pretty easy." It looked to Shrike, one of the claws wrapped around the glaive loosening to point at the flying drone. "All bark, and no bite. He can insult me all he wants, but he can barely hit me. Like most of Mother's toys."

The Warden glanced between the two and then shrugged, turning its attention fully back to the hybrid. "Well, this was a fight for you to decide allegiances, yeah? I'm sure you'll make the right decision. Unfortunately, if you don't," the grin widened ever-slightly more. "I'll have to chase both of you out of here. Or kill you. Whichever happens first. Can't have order bugs wandering so close to Draco, you see."

@Shrike

Character: The Warden Age: +25 (38th Cycle) Magic Level: +3 (Brawler) ROUND 1 Attempt: +1 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +16 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +10 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +18 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +14 Penalties: - Total: 87

Character: Ace Age: +25 (28th Cycle) Magic Level: +3 (Brawler) ROUND 1 Attempt: +13 Penalties: - ROUND 2 Attempt: +9 Penalties: - ROUND 3 Attempt: +13 Penalties: - ROUND 4 Attempt: +4 Penalties: - ROUND 5 Attempt: +2 Penalties: - Total: 69

WINNER: The Warden

Shrike looked between the two. She felt that the fight, honestly, had been quite close. Both combatants were clearly skilled and relatively experienced, despite the few clumsy mishaps here and there. And she'd hate to leave with new enemies, truth be told. Perhaps a bit of flattery-?

It seemed that, of the two, Chaos had won the day. Despite nearly faceplanting at the start, the centaur-esque creature had still managed to blind the multi-eyed aerial combatant. It's a shame, she thought, and voiced the rest aloud as she turned toward Ace: "I would have liked to learn from you." A moment's pensive thought as she looked between them. "It's a shame that you're enemies, too." There weren't any bars in the caves. If there were, Shrike might've asked them if they both wanted to go grab a drink after this spar. But... she doubted they'd have accepted.

Hell, the Warden was essentially threatening her life, now, which earned it a sharp and dour glance. "Tsk," she said--actually said--"that's no way to treat a new ally. Let's try to keep it more civil?" The suggestion was made archly, her tone and demeanor somewhat haughty as she pushed up again from her position as spectator. Her wings flared, and she looked again to Ace. "Thank you both for indulging me. I think I must gauge the winner to be-..." Oh.

She stared for a moment at The Warden.

"What was your name?"

That... would probably be a good starting point.

She'd heard it introduce itself as "the Warden of Draco," but that was surely just his title, and she hadn't caught its name.

@Ace