Their blades clashed in a cacophonous shriek of metal, the impact jarring her arms in their sockets. She grunted as he twisted his grip, entangling their blades and yanking her forward. Caught off-guard by the maneuver, she found herself pulled up against him, glaring into his eyes as he purred out a mocking greeting.<b> "Aryel Khan,"</b>she growled in response, her teeth bared in a feral grin that seemed more akin to a wolfish snarl.<b> "Knight of Aetus, Bloodline of the demon Greed, and the <i>breaker</i> of your 'reign'." </b>Attempting to pull her scimitar free proved fruitless, but before she could retaliate with an ironshod boot to the man's knee, he dislodged her with a flick of his wrist. She hopped backwards, wings flaring out briefly to keep her balance, before he was upon her in a whirlwind of steel.<br/><br/>Combat came as naturally to Aryel as breathing, she<i>relished</i>it, but even she found that Dradiro was more than a match. He moved viciously fast, with a finesse to his strikes that contrasted heavily against the tiefling's much more straightforward and brutal style of fighting.  She parried his first swing to the side and attempted to follow up with a cleaving blow that would have separated his arm from his body had it made contact, only to him to sidestep and retaliate. Back and forth, attack and counter-attack, the two traded blows with such viciousness that it was a wonder their weapons didn't simply shatter. Her scimitar was a mundane construct, albeit a very well-made one, but had it not been for the durability charms forged into it, she would have broken or melted it long ago. A wave of sweltering, incandescent white rolled through her flames as he taunted her, and she shot forward with a roar of fury, intending to drive her sword through his guts.<br/><br/>The angel's sneak-attack came out of nowhere, and though it was clearly directed at the bastard god, he dodged it nimbly, nearing causing Gabiriel's blade to stab her instead. She swung out on reflex, catching his sword and directing it away from her with enough force that the angel nearly stumbled.<b> "You stay out of this, turncoat," </b>she snarled at him, too caught up in the heat of battle to assume that he might be on her side. Dradiro, for his part, seemed amused at the angel's attempt at defiance, prompting him to strike at the shadow god again and again, forcing him back and affording Aryel a moment to catch her breath.<br/><br/>She wasted no time, however, and leaped back into the fray. Every time Dradiro dodged or parried Gabiriel, she was there with a vicious follow-up, forcing him to keep defending rather than attacking in turn. Did gods tire? She wasn't sure, but she still had enough left in her to keep this up for a while--she'd force him to keep his attention on her for as long as it took the others to get to safety. Their camp was hidden deep in the forest, and the raiding party would scatter as they fled, each one taking a different route back, doubling back and leaving false trails to shake off any pursuit. Trying to find the camp by following them would only lead Dradiro's hunters on a wild goose chase.<br/><br/>As Gabiriel went in for a low strike, she leaped to attack from above, her wings flared and ablaze. At first, it seemed as if they would succeed, but Dradiro was too fast and countered them, using their own momentum against them. She grit her teeth as their weapons clashed and attempted to leap back, only for something cold and cloying to wrap itself about her like the coils of a serpent. Alarmed, she tried to cut the tendrils with her sword, only for more to entangle her arms and wings, pulling them in painfully.<b>"What the <i>hell</i> is--" </b>Outraged, she attempted to burn them off, but they seemed to snuff out her flames as soon as they made contact. Her sword was knocked from her hand as they pulled her back, driving her to her knees. Gabiriel had suffered the same as well, entangled nearby. The ring of space that the trio of combatants had been afforded now closed in as Dradiro's soldiers surrounded them, one retrieving their fallen weapons. The tiefling strained and clawed at her bindings, flames continuing to lick at her wingtips despite being extinguished the moment they brushed the tendrils of darkness. Her breathing came hard and ragged, but as Dradiro approached, the glare she gave him belayed no exhaustion, only seething hatred. If looks could kill, the god would have been a smoldering pile of ash then and there.<br/><br/>She didn't flinch as he gripped her chin, her eyes narrowing at his words. A trickle of blood dripped from a shallow mark on her brow where his blade had scored a glancing blow.<b> "Go on, then,"</b>she hissed,<b>"Kill me. Give them a martyr to rally behind, see if this rebellion <i>dies </i>so easily after that."</b>She snorted, regarding him with scathing contempt.<b>"If you don't mind, though, try to keep all the wounds in the front. I don't want anyone thinking I died running away."</b>