Vs. Tibalt 1

Not far from Elspeth and Ajani, Tyvar used his blades to keep the twin barbs of Tibalt's tails at bay, holding the almost bestial Planeswalker as far back as he could. Tyvar's skin was still metallic and gleaming, his entire body having converted into Glimmervoid metal for the sliver of protection it could offer him against the glistening oil that dripped like venom from Tibalt's body.

"Little prince," hissed Tibalt, a vicious smile on his distorted face. "Little pretender, little would-be hero, there will be no sagas in your name. If your legend survives this day, it will be a tale of failure. The saga of a man chosen by a greatness he could never have been worthy of. How does it feel to be the last prince of Kaldheim?"

"You're not the God of Lies," snarled Tyvar, bringing up his arm to block one of Tibalt's tails. "Even so, nothing you say can be trusted."

"Perhaps not, but you're too stupid to understand when you should be afraid," said Tibalt, whipping one tail away from Tyvar's hold and stabbing it toward the other man, barb glancing off the metal of Tyvar's shoulder.

Tyvar hissed in pain, and Tibalt hissed in pleasure, the two men united for the first and perhaps only time in their acquaintance.

INEVITABLE REVOLUTIONS