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Elyntine rolled to the side and Feather-Tail's blade struck the ground violently. She picked up her sword with her left hand. "I'm ambidextrous, you boot," she said, and attacked again.

Kah'jihreed had fallen asleep on his rock, curled up like a housecat. He had stayed up three quarters of the night, reading.

Feather-Tail, having effectively dropped his guard given his assumption that the duel's end was near, was unprepared for Elyntine's attack. Her blade's fine edge split his hand as he attempted to draw to one side- he quickly rebounded, however, sending two successive jabs toward his foe's lower torso.

Sebastien watched the duel in utter horror from where he stood. "Please," he cried out, imploring helplessly to the two. "I beg of you, stop this at once!"

Unable to block effectively with her inexperienced left hand, Elyntine was defenseless against the attacks. The Dunmer staggered to the ground as blood began to seep from two wounds in her side. "Sebastien-" she pleaded, as she anticipated the Argonian's second execution attempt.

"Lizard." Irriwen cautioned. "You have victory, let that be enough for you."

"You're obliged to face me next, Bosmer," Feather-Tail began, his harsh statement directed toward Irriwen; he soon became distracted, however, by Aramith's convincing illusion. He crouched low as to avoid the dragon's breath, disregarding Elyntine even as her execution was expected.

Irri launched an arrow at the beast. It rather conspicuously passed straight through. She looked at Feather-Tail. "No bows, I take it?" She asked, laughing her quick chime of a laugh.

His name upon the Dunmer's voice was more than he could handle. Sebastien turned to the Argonian, his face twisted in a strange mix of bitterness, anger, and agony, yet before he could speak he was overcome by the Altmer's illusion - as, too, was the lizard. He staggered back, then shook his head, and blindly hurried next to Elyntine's side, taking her into his arms and steadying a protective hand above her wounds, the gentlest glow of a restoration spell beginning to light his fingertips.

"Enough, I said," he said to Feather-Tail, placing himself between the two and ignoring the beast completely - much better than he was ignoring his own shaking hands, terrified from the horrible illusion of dragon above. "There is no glory for you in taking her life, lizard." Softly, he murmured to her, "Elyntine?"

"Argonian." Irri spat. "Shall you answer me?"

"The arrow I shot went straight through." Irri said calmly.

Feather-Tail, rising again to his full height in an attempt to restore his presence given the revelation of the dragon's illusive nature, stepped deliberately from Elyntine's perimeter.

"I have triumphed in this duel- the Dunmer's fate is for me to decide, old fool. I shall, however, relegate the duty to another time." Feather-Tail then turned to face Irriwen, wordlessly acknowledging her repeated query.

"I now challenge you, Bosmer. Draw your blade."

Irri shouldered her bow, and pulled her axe out of her belt. "Luck to you, Argonian." She said musically.

Sebastien shook his head angrily and glanced over his shoulder at the two, a fierce expression on his face. "Fools," he hissed. "You are wasting your time and your breath fighting each other. Don't you understand? We're all trapped in this horrible game together. You know not what you do."

Irriwen crumpled to the ground, her axe slipping out of her grasp. Her dark eyes angrily alighted on Aramith. "Mmmn!" She moaned indignantly.

Feather-Tail reacted similarly, his blade tumbling half a meter from his reach.

Elyntine was limp in Sebastien's hands, but not due to Aramith's spell- they were either out of its radius, or he had the ability to selectively target who it affected. She began to calm down, and her rapid heartbeat slowed as the healing spell took effect. "I'm here," she said. "I'm sorry."

Kah'jihreeds muzzel twiched and he growled in his sleep.

Malatar was sitting upon a branch hanging over Selara. He watched the fight intently, simultaneously mucking on an apple. He clapped in amusement as Irri fell.

The Breton turned his attention back to Elyntine in his arms and shook his head. He steadied his hand. "Don't let your pride overwhelm you, Elyntine," he said sternly but quietly, with a heavy hint of compassion. He shifted his attention to his hand, watching as the spell twinkled across his fingertips. "And don't apologize."

"Like small children in a swimming pond." Malatar said aloud. "Nedics..."