| Thaltos allowed a slight smirk to play upon his face, and he bowed slightly with a flourish of his weapons.
"Then so be it."
Thaltos struck a standard brawler stance, but thought to himself: this man has seen me fight...he'll expect me to charge in with brute force, which would be completely ignorant and cocky. Just as I am gifted by my parentage, so too is he gifted by his patronage...he is likely stronger than I am, regardless of my divine lineage. I should not allow him to use this strength to its full effect. Instead, I will surprise him with a full demonstration of the speed of those of Gorgon blood...quick strikes, sinuous moves, and targeted strikes...that is how Balthizar will fall, not in a contest of might.
Sizing up the cocky attitude of the demonslave, Thaltos continued to strategize. I do not trust the likes of him. He claims a fair battle, without the use of sorceries, but just in case, I will hold my power at the ready for the event that he should show treachery. The Shears of Atropos have a high charge in them after slaughtering his minions so...the Morlu required much energy to animate them, and the power of the ones I slew fairly hums through the Shears. I should have enough charge for a single blast of my Stone Gaze, or perhaps I could use the electrotelekinesis of the Shears to rob him of his weapon. There are many options...I must continue to think on this as we fight.
His decisions made, Thaltos narrowed his eyes, meeting those of Balthizar. He allowed his stare to linger just long enough for the beginnings of the paralysis to set in, then unfocused his gaze enough to cease the effect. Balthizar was obviously somewhat shaken to find that his rocklike flesh was not immune to the effects of Thaltos' Gorgon heritage, though he hid it well. One would hope such a simple demonstration of power would humble the man, but it was doubtful that he was intelligent enough to truly understand the limits of his mortality...at least not with his mind grasped firmly by his master.
Thaltos smirked again, drinking in the discomfort betrayed by the flicker of Balthizar's cocky expression. Betraying no hint of his stylistic intent, Thaltos spoke evenly.
"Come. Meet your fate." |