Despite being of an age that some would qualify as ancient instead of old, Khasekhemwy was striking, dodging and weaving around with the same ease as he did when he was still young, the ring decorating his birds, clicked and tapped against one another with every wide movement, his eyes and body constantly emitting great amounts of solar vapour, redirecting a powerful swing of the stone scimitar, the uneven and rugged texture nearly digging into his palm despite the masterful deflect.
Nonetheless, he used this opportunity to step closer, and getting himself to It'Houwl's right, he had just parried a swing of the right scimitar, so currently, the undead's blade and arm were in the way of the left blade, and putting himself at an odd angle preventing him from being kicked, he fired a condensed bullet of prime vapour at close range, the air erupting with small flames around it.
But just as the attack was fired, Ir'Houwl bent her chest and stomach area out of the way.
