22nd of Cylus, 717Duncan was the superior swordsman, but when it came to hand to hand, Andráska settled into a fast and ruthless persona. His green eyes flashed, looking for and thriving off of weakness, and try as he might to keep up, the younger noble was flurry of punches, leaving Duncan struggling to keep up. When he tried to throw his opponent off balance, Andraska could sense a victory was at hand. He grinned beneath the sweat that had begun to build up on a light sheen upon his skin, gripping the other male, This is for you, Ilaren. he prayed, dedicating the fight and hopefully his victory, to the Lightening Immortal.
Not long after, he gained the advantage, throwing Duncan off his balance and absorbing the other blows. He was focused now, intent on winning, especially after his devotion and pushed through Duncan's defenses. While the mercenary bucked and did his best to fight him off, Andras stayed strong until he heard the magic words.
Immediately, the young noble relented, pulling back with an almost boyish grin, and removed his gear, "That was fun," the Noble said once his mouth was free, his head feeling lightheaded as he panted and the blood pumped through his body. He was going to chalk it up to doing drugs pre workout. He leaned over, gripping his knees as he caught his breath, "You're not bad. Now..." He looked past the training grounds, in direction of town and the nearest tavern, "But I think I was promised a drink?"
He smiled, leaning over Duncan and extended his hand.