Without missing a beat, Aslain caught Favian's right arm and moved to counter his attack. No hesitation, no second thoughts or doubts, only swift and formidable action. The crowd roared, some deep instinct within their souls recognizing the spirit of a true warrior.

But this was a dance of two partners, and again Favian matched the lion knight step for step. Even without looking, the pull on his right arm told him exactly what was going on, and he responded almost on instinct.

In that moment, both of Aslain's arms were occupied. With his left, he was pulling Favian into butting range, and with his right, he was drawing forth his own dagger to attack. Thus, it would be hard for him to defend as Favian's own left arm came whipping up in a ferocious left hook, and sent an armored fist screaming like a steel meteorite into his opponent's visor.

A punch like that would smart even through a helmet, but even if it did hit square-on, Sir Aslain had an elephant's fortitude. Favian knew it would take more than that to bring down his foe, and wasn't counting on a knockout or concussion. All he needed was to stun Aslain for a moment, or at least block his vision and distract him with the oncoming punch, so that he could enact his next move.

His left leg kicked out, aiming to sweep Aslain's right foot from under him, while at the same time his right arm shoved hard against Aslain's right side. [i]Break the foundations, turn his weight against him.[/i] If it worked, he might finally take his opponent to the ground... He didn't see the dagger coming, and felt an impact on his left thigh, but counted on the fact that his blow and kick would throw off Aslain's aim enough for the thrust to glance off his armor. It was a risk, but that was the way of things: if this man would not cede ground without cost, then Favian would push on through the fires of Hell itself to bring him down.