Jagged Leaves

Garand let out a growl as his blade recoiled away from the hunter's helmet, he was lucky to still have his head.

"Your body will be far from your mind soon!" Garand shouted, slashing with his blade to deflect the hunter's own. The hunter spun, followed with a fast horizontal slash, but Garand barely managed to duck under it, and he could see various snips of his cloak falling like jagged leaves to the ground. Garand took a step back, but the hunter was now hot on him, it seemed the Draugr could barely keep up with their hot-blooded flurry. The Half-Elf narrowly dodged another slash at him, deciding that he needed to make distance between the two of them and use his magic. The hunter was a wise one, he wasn't going to make it easy.

The hunter slashed twice, before bringing his sword down hard on the Half-Elf, Garand's own sword the only thing in between himself and deadly steel. Garand made to swipe at the hunter with his stiletto, but the hunter seemed intent on keeping his life. Garand felt his wrist in the hunter's grasp, and then a strong knee to his waist. Garand keeled, and the hunter did not hesitate to capitalize, breaking the struggle with a spin and slashing. Garand was not ready. The Half-Elf fell backward, rolling away not long after he hit the ground. Two Draugr stepped over him, working to encircle the hunter. Garand rose to his feet, touching the gash across his chest. He couldn't feel it, as his numbing spell had not worn off, but he knew it was bad. He attempted to heal the wound, imaging magma cooling over a great divide, but alas, his magic was not strong enough on its own.

His eyes focused on the hunter, who had little trouble dispatching the slow Draugr. Those ones looked like the last.

Garand focused on the hunter, his sight seemed blurry and dark, but this was his only chance to end this, he had enough distance now. He gritted his teeth as the pain in his chest suddenly burned bright like a lit flame upon his skin, seeping within, but he refused to let himself be deterred. He pictured ice, his target trapped in it, it's cold embrace holding him hostage within. His legs were giving out, the pain from his wound earlier yet another sudden, burning strike to him. The hunter rushed for Garand, and the Half-Elf was practically swaying in the wind as he struggled to stand up straight, he was weak and vulnerable. This was his last chance, he wouldn't last for much longer, the dark and black embrace unconsciousness was calling for him. He released his will upon the man, assaulting his mind with dark arcane force. It was the last he had, all he had, and now he could feel the pull of the world as he fell backward, eyes shutting tight.