Time seemed to slow for Aemon as he watched his strike hit; his opponent, however, did not fall. At least, not immediately. Aemon thrust himself backwards as he blocked the blow that eventually missed, kicking dirt into the air as he did. The silver coywolf kicked himself up, standing over Helotes and avoiding a wild jab upwards from the fallen man. His weapon ready in his hands, he swept his darker opponent's staff to the side, kneeling to thrust the other end of it now downward, as if straight into Helotes' chest. He stopped before he pierced flesh, of course, but the blunt end of his weapon rested firmly against the rising and falling breastplate. If his weapon were tipped, this could be a killing blow.
Aemon retreated now, lowering his weapon idly to his side, letting his partner rise. Not bad, he said honestly, grinning slightly. How do you like it? he asked, curious. He didn't know many who favored this sort of weapon, but that wasn't to say there weren't.
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