Duel:Ginger v Kuzial (DD)

Blood Fountain

This historic fountain has been magically restored, though with differences. The outer wall stands three feet high in a perfect circle, and a central pedestal rises a foot above that. On this have been raised two figures carved of pure white stone, a noble Lord and Lady of proud bearing, both obviously vampires. They are dressed in elegant robes, the embroidery depicted by fine, spidery engravings on the stone itself. Around the outside of the pool are carved, in slightly less detail than the statues above, depictions of all the races that may be sired, each in a vampiric form. The pool is already filled with bland but nutritious blood, the pipes creating a hypnotic spiraling motion as it flows in a clockwise direction. To the south a dimming path leads to high and ornate iron gates, beyond which may be glimpsed the tops of tombstones glinting below the bright moon as well as several larger buildings, and to the north seems to lie another hub of activity for the citizens and visitors of Vailkrin, to judge by the stream of nobles,commoners, traders and ruffians alike that are constantly treading to and fro.

Judges: Tysinni, Satoshi, Nymh.
Format: Standard DD, three rounds, normal rules, ten minute time limit,
Stakes: Loser gives all their items to the winner - some items are FORCED to be given, due to RP reasons.

Winner: Kuzial through unanimous vote.

Ginger focuses on her thoughts, following the tangled webs of influence and sorcerous blackmail to foresee which course of action would lead to the most profitable outcome for her clan. And she didn't mean the Syndicate. The unlikely pixie peers into the sanguine fount, still filled with chunks of gelatinous material from the unchecked vandalism. She teeters along on her enormous wings, which the careful eye would note were slightly longer than usual and had a few scorchmarks. The oddity is soon remedied, as the presence of the drow triggers Miss Thorne's little gift to Ginger. The extra lengths of bone leap off the scarred back of the pixie, rocking her slightly, if not a bit rudely. She turns to watch Magog form and charge to the offense, dripping strange chemicals. The alabaster hedgehog of bone charges headlong directly at Kuzial, whilst Ginger prepares a more well-thought out approach. One she'd worked for months on, just for such an occasion.

Kuzial eyes the pixie with distaste as she casually walks along the edge of the Blood Fountain. As she summons her 'beast' the drow at first can only laugh, before with a shake of his head he erupts into movement. His left hand draws forth his Penzance Sabre; the blade stolen from the corpse of Cornelius Von Penzance. His right hand pulls from his belt a finely engraved crossbow, the favored weapon of the drow. With a snarl he begins to charge directly at the hedgehog, looking as if he'll met thorned body with a fury unmatched. But instead he waits until the last minute before jumping over the small beast, careful when he lands not to put his feet into the chemicals it left in its wake. Without much conscious throught the drow enacts a globe of darkness over the fountain, before leaping at Ginger. His crossbow bolt comes first, laced as always with the potent sleeping poison the dark elves so enjoy using. Behind it comes the patron of House Stavret, his stolen sabre a mere blur as it flows through a variety of slashes and stabs, swipes and strikes, each aimed to carve the pixie into tiny pieces. He wouldn't land in the sanguine fluid, though - for as easily as he enacted his darkness he levitates above its surface in an attempt to keep the pixie in the range of his pernicious weapon for as long as possible...

Ginger keeps her face expressionless and continues her litany in a multitude of languages, long-thought lost in the annals of history, collected within the tome 'Grieve'. As the drow clears the bone-beast, the first incantation serves it's purpose and the skeletal construct conflagrates and explodes sending razor-sharp spears of unquenchable fire in all directions, adding a few fiery bolts to the bolt sent hurtling toward Ginger. The globe of darkness is shredded and a second incantation finds fruition, spiritual forms coalesce from the pages of the book, each speaking the words that they had signed. "I, Thea, Queen of Enchantment, do solemnly swear. . .", "I, Tiphareth, Patron of House D'Artes, Leader of the Underdark. . .", and so on. The words take on visceral form, geas-bound to commit to their word, and add their power to Ginger's. The pixie swings her rapidly growing sword, flakes of chaos chipping away as she counters the swordplay with her own masterful display of dexterity and uncommon strength. Finally, her last spell comes into play. T'ots dissolves and the realm of chaos is unleashed, rippling around the combatants and destroying all semblance of logic and order. The flaming spears begin to fly aimlessly, never losing momentum. Ginger ups her assault and bounces to stand on the sky, raining blows from above and below, defying space-time by being both places.

Kuzial is caught within a chaotic web of confusion like a spider caught in a web; spears of fire raining down in every direction as well as her continued assault with the chaotic sword. The patron of House Stavret is impaled and burned, his flesh leaking dark sanguine blood into the fountain at his feet where the vicious flames were not hot enough to cauterize the injuries. His blade keeps Ginger's at bay well enough for no wound to become fatal, yet the growing confusion causes him to adopt an entirely different strategy to his usual brutal swordsmanship. There were no rules, it seems, and so as such he will act. He begins to pull from hidden sheathes throughout his armor a variety of daggers. As each one appears the drow drops it to the ground beside the fountain, forming a pile that would put a small army to shame. When done, he focuses on his levitation and soars upward at the sky-standing pixie, his blade again driving at her flesh with the finesse of a drow weapon master. But the pile of daggers beneath him, that is the true attack. The patron dark elf focuses his mind upon them all, each one like a lost lover to him, and as one they rise, before they begin to soar outwards, then rush in; each one aimed at a different part of the pixie, each one keen to drive deeply into her flesh and end this twisted reality she has so brutally created in Vailkrin's dark streets. Not something he could usually do, but within this web of chaos, there is little limitation, it would seem...

Ginger does nothing to deter the blades from piercing her above self as they pierce, dismember and otherwise cause a nuisance. The Ginger below, on the other hand begins to lose cohesion, and her sword in the process. The pull of chaos tears the spears apart, leaving flames with no fuel. The grievous tome continues to spew doppelgangers sworn to aid the cunning and deranged pixie. Finally, the one that Ginger had been hoping for appears. "I swear that if she should find out what you stole for me, I will take all responsibility for her vengeance, all retaliation I claim on myself." The form dissolves before any can identify it, but the man had succeeded where direct power had not. One form of Ginger had reformed in the maelstrom, in a black dress and parasol. Shaken and rattled by the concussive forces, a red light gleams from the pixie's pocket, followed by a lavender glow. The legendary pieces of six react to the unbalanced waves of disorder and trigger the stone on the entropic priestess's neck. Ginger's severed body reforms elsewhere, while the whole one begins shifting into a new form. Apparently, the drow had killed the real pixie, and only an emerald pomeranian remains. The mangled corpse of dead Ginger rises, probably animated by the torrential energies she'd unleashed. It lifts a glowing white sword of fractured chaos. The pomeranian merely yips in futility and bounces around, flapping it's slowly growing bat-wings. It darts in and nips the drow's ankle and skitters away. The blood darts to dead-Ginger's sword, adding mass. The corpse continues to stalk Kuzial, whilst the little doggy chases the dying flames. Dead-Ginger slides a finger across her bare throat, telling the drow all he needs to know. The winged pomeranian stares into a flame, letting the reflection bounce off the collar at it's throat.

Kuzial curses as his ankle is nipped by the small beast, its teeth piercing the armor, his blood soon flowing to feed the twisted blade the deceased pixie now carries. He releases his levitation spell and falls to the ground, his daggers soon following suit as he no longer concentrates on keeping them floating. They had done their job, it seems. Yet before he could bask in his joy the now undead Ginger makes her unspoken proclamation of death; that gesture, one he uses so often himself, is all the motivation the dark elf needs. He draws with his free hand the E`et-Nilah Blade. Tendrils of abyssal blackness snake around its fine edge, consuming the light like a ravenous beast. A howling sound is heard from the weapon, a wordless demand for blood and souls to feed its unending hunger, and in the hands of Kuzial Stavret, it is a call that is always heeded. He steps forward with languid grace, the pain from his many wounds ignored, and once again explodes into a series of beautiful swordsmanship; each blade flows through a dizzying array of attacks; twisting and striking from confusing angles in a vicious display of drow swordsmanship. Of all the masters in the Underdark, Kuzial is spoken with the utmost reverence, and it is shown now as his sinister sword and the stolen sabre seek to tear the deceased pixie apart...

Ginger gives a canine grin as her joke hits it's mark. Yes, Ginger had finally fallen prey to the insididious trap of the Topaz collar. The corpse wasn't proclaiming the drow's death, merely pointing at the one tell that would have pointed him at the correct target. The one wearing the collar is the real Ginger. As the great swordsman slices and dices the less than dextrous corpse, the pixie let's the chaos-field drop, letting the drow think he had won. Slowly one by one, her spells dissolve, deprived of their energies. The pomeranian waits for the drow to declare his victory, before she finishes him off.

Kuzial snarls in rage as his 'opponent' is torn asunder beneath the fury of his vicious assault. When he is done with the corpse he replaces both his blades into their respective sheathes, before bending down to pick up her own weapon. Without wasting time in examining the new blade, he spins on his heel and leaps at the Ginger-turned-dog. He spends a few moments chasing it around, his curses filled with frustration as more of his blood leaks to the ground, before finally grasping it by the scruff of its neck and lifting it above the ground. "I hate dogs." Is is only words, before tossing the dog into the air. He retracts his stolen sword before slicing it forwards just as Pomeranian-Ginger passes his line of sight. It is remarkable the ease in which his blade cuts her in half, an explosion of doggy parts and blood coating outwards, some even adding to the ever-sanguine fountain. With a snarl he squashes some of the bigger pieces beneath his heel, before bending down and picking up her collar. This is put in his pocket for later examination, as is the various other objects he pilfers from both her corpses. Before, at the last, he lets out another vicious snarl, his blood-lost hardly sated, before stalking off; rather quickly merging with the shadows that always rest in Vailkrin until all that's left before the fountain is the grisly remnants of Ginger's corpses.