Board Thread:Random RP/@comment-26210095-20161022213310/@comment-26444332-20161102193418

(I believe "every single one of his attacks" means "every single one of his attacks", not "every single one of his attacks but this one".)

Seiryū bends over backward as Trillian's sword flashes over him, the finest swordsman among Dragons effortlessly avoiding the Archseraph's blade. A snap kick to the fallen angel's middle sends Trillian stumbling back, while Seiryū returns to Kiyo's side, taking up a stance once more.

As storms howl outside, another man enters the hall: This one dressed in a long black cassock, only buttoned from neck to waist. His hair is black, and his eyes, like liquid gold swirling in the forge-fire.

'Fafnir, glad you could make it,' calls Kiyo. 'Your timing is impeccable.'

'Couldn't they have waited until after my appointment with you...' Fafnir says as black light swirls around his hand to form a long arming-sword with a straight guard and grip: the Noble Arm, Lonely Sorrow.