[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color] [@VitaVitaAR][@PigeonOfAstora][@ERode][@Raineh Daze] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mi11pfUUrk]The clanging report[/url] was as though the grand bells of Aimlenn's chapel, rung to herald the day's passage— and beneath it, Gerard could feel old bones creak, maybe even give. A good hit to be certain, better than he would have dared imagine sinking into the Hero in his life— Yet, inevitably, the armor fell away as the gleaming titan pivoted off the impact, finally having wrenched his blade free and bringing it to bear. The revived had no need for air, felt no pain, weren't traumatized by the shock rippling through their innards the way the living foes Gerard had faced until this point were. Techniques developed to maim and kill common soldiers were doubtlessly useful, rooted in universal principle— but it was a sure fool who expected them to work in full on one well past being killed. He had known as much going in. Backhanded swing of the Demonbreaker. Propelled by the rotational velocity of Cazt's pivot away from the prior strike, it didn't waste motion. His skills were alive in there. However— Gerard was close, necessary for the shorter [i]Dawn's Break[/i]. There was less leverage the old knight could bring to bear for a cut, even with the space he'd created by his backward step. The arc of danger for the longsword, sharp as a razor even now, was as broad as the summer's day, but a sword's ricasso was never the ideal cutting edge— dulled by its lower velocity. Erich's reflexes were surely there, in fairness, but a flash of blonde and blue appeared in the periphery, a streak of steel erupting from below less than a blink later. The Captain, repeating her thrust into the armpit from their fight against Jeremiah. It would find no lethal artery. Yet it would jam the shoulder joint within Cazt's kinetic chain. Even if he somehow bypassed the well-forged steel lodged within, that would further slow his blade. A fraction of a second window becomes multiple. Strength that cracked mountains, speed that baffled demonkind, danger that lived centuries past the mortal life— There would be no other opportunity like this, where he was nearer to human. He could not think and waste any time. When opportunity struck, it was to be [i]seized.[/i] Technically he could egress with this much— An idea immediately blown away by action, and instinct. How did Serenity do it, that spar? Gerard stepped forward and in, mirroring the undead's rotation to maintain the dominant angle. His mace arm extended up, bringing the sturdy, blessed steel haft of Dawn's break to bear against Cazt's sword. The Demonbreaker was sharp enough to hew stone, yes. But enchanted weaponry was storied for exceeding the robustness of the materials they were forged from. Between this, and all the factors that would slow and dull the stroke, it was a worthy gamble. He wouldn't go arm for arm against a massive foe, and waste this motion. Almost simultaneously, the sturdy shield in his left hand slammed, as though a battering ram, against the shining revebrace, just behind the opponent's elbow. Blocking the arm's extension with a physical barrier, threatening hyperextension— the latter likely not a concern, but the former all-important. He wouldn't go weapon for weapon against such a legend, none of them should have. However, if he could take it away..! Shifting the haft of his mace in his grip, Segremors swiftly brought the butt of Dawn's Break forward, a shower of sparks casdcading forth— and hooked the crossguard from behind. With a wrench of the hips, his whole body weight twisted, forcing the shield [i]forth and down[/i] while the blade was yanked [i]up[/i]— all of the force he could muster matched against Cazt's one hand. A bare fraction of a long-dead hero, versus the full, living physicality of a lifetime farmer, then mercenary, and one day proper knight. A gamble borne of daring and desperation, propelled by the sudden, violent seizure of the moment's window the Knight-Captain had bought him. If it paid off, it would rip the sword from the goliath's grasp. If he considered it not paying off, fear would have taken the moment, and it'd be lost for sure.