Exton

The redhead matches Keon stroke for stroke. Whoever taught him the sword, did their job well. Very well. Small cuts decorate both Sidhe, tunics ripped, hair matted. Between the two of them it is more a dance than a battle.

Keon watches his opponent call his power, the frustration of it being blocked. A slow smile curves Keon's lips and he begins to truly dance. His blade dips, slashing past each defense easily. His dark hair spreads on the breeze of each spin, making his movements beautiful. The Sidhe stabs into a twirl and Keon is suddenly not there, arching sinuously past the tip.

The scream comes as part of Keon's dance, building from deep within until it rips free. He hears it echoed from another Sidhe voice and thrusts as the redhead rushes him, thinking Keon lost in the moment. His blade bites deep. The redhead stumbles back, one arm useless.

Keon stalks him. The Sidhe backs away, trying to keep distance between himself and Keon, only to find himself backing up to Erik. The Viking is bleeding, the other Sidhe motionless at his feet.

The Dark Lord smiles slowly, a wicked gleam to his features. He flips the sword, taking it from a two handed hold to a one handed spear hold. His voice is melodic, a soft tenor.

"Ye have lost the right to the Courts. Ye have lost yer right to life. May Mother Morrighan judge ye now.""

The Sidhe drops his blade, opening his arms, and Keon drives the blade through his chest. The Sidhe drops to his knees, falling forward onto the blade. A small sob escapes his lips with his last breath.