[For Diarmuid, it is hard to imagine how even just one touch from that blade could not be fatal. Calling it a sword is really misleading. It is only a sword in the vaguest sense of the term. It is really so much more. Something even more alive than his own spears are. Something that forges its own paths and destiny. Still, he trusts the will of the king wielding that living blade and so, is not troubled in the slightest.]

One touch and done. Agreed, but do not worry. I am at peace. How could someone not be at peace in the face of such greatness? Besides, no matter the outcome--win or lose, life or death--to face such a king and such a weapon is an honor.

[He bows his head acknowledging king, sword, and the rules of engagement. As he does, he catches that challenging look in Gilgamesh's eyes and feels a rush of passion fill him. Every bit of himself suddenly feels as if it is on fire and full of life. These kinds of battles. They are what Diarmuid lives for and he finds them so rarely. They are gifts. They are treasures.

He will cherish every moment of this.]

Sing for us Ageless One and watch over our dance...

[As soon as the last words leave Diarmuid's mouth, he dashes into action. Once he is within a few feet of Gilgamesh, he drops into a roll and breaks toward the the side of the golden king not protected by the sword. Gae Dearg strikes out at that unprotected side as Diarmuid attempt to use the spear's greater length to his advantage.]