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Revision as of 00:46, 13 September 2019

Duelists: Reginae v Dyraxdiin
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner.
Judges: Daath and Josleen

Elegant Bridge

A large, wild and gushing river separates the lands of Larket and Kelay-Sage but luckily a long and elegant bridge formed of sweeping arches crafted carefully of brick and stone links the two lands together. On the north side are a pair of Larket Knights in armor and on the southern a pair of Elven Rangers, neither side appear to be bothered by the other but it would appear recent events have led to the stone bridge now being guarded round the clock. The southern side of the bridge is bright with verdant growth; the beginnings of Sage Forest. On the northern side, however, is a bustling city of stone.

Environmental Challenge

Josleen :: The Larket Academy of Magick’s terramancers have carefully prepped the bridge for tonight's duel. At their command, the entire arch trembles, and with a grinding roar, the stones begin shifting. The southern end of the bridge crumbles away and falls into the river. Those stones that fall into the water soon magically reappear at the northern end of the bridge and rush southward again, forming a giant stone conveyor (like an escalator). Any player who falls off the bridge is disqualified. Likewise, any players who cheat themselves off the bridge's moving surface by means of flight, magical or mundane, are likewise disqualified. Bleachers have been erected at the southern end of the bridge for an optimal view of the never-ending struggle to conquer the bridge’s synchronized collapse.

Optional Introduction

Josleen thought she would not have to attend this duel. Her son, until this very morning, remained absolutely gutted over Shishi's recent loss against Reginae. But this morning Prince Guillem surprised her by insisting that attend, because Shishi will be in the audience and he needs to know the Prince supports him. When they arrive, Guillem finds Shishi on the bleachers and marches right over to him. "Mr. Shishi, everyone has a bad day. My dog Gigi," he gestures at the obese poodle at his side, "once ate a wasp and his whole face blew up. But he's okay now. So. You'll be okay."

Josleen :: Gigi licks the underside of Shishi's shoe, because there's something foul but fragrant stuck onto it.

Shishi is sure Gigi is a girl's name, but nods along with his number one super fan's wisdom. "Aye. I also once ate a bee..." He omits the word 'keeper' from the end of that sentence to protect a child's sensibilities.

Dyraxdiin stalks across the bridge with determination in his step, his countenance frozen in a look of utter cool-calm. He wears his typical mage-garb, complete with gray robes and mithril halfplate which covers only what is absolutely essential to surviving an otherwise mortal wound in this simple human form. His hair has been closely-cropped, showing off the raking claw marks across the left side of his temple, eye and nose. Long since healed, his left eye remains milky white and devoid of intelligence. Opposed to this, his right eye is alert and trained upon his destination at the other end of the bridge where he will take up his position in preparation of this bout.

Josleen :: Prince Guillem giggles at the thought of Shishi eating a bee. "I once swallowed a copper." This is news to Josleen who gawks at her son. Really? When? Prince Guillem sits beside Shishi, to Josleen's dismay. A guard sits on Guillem's other side and another directly behind Shishi. Josleen sits behind that guard with full view of her son.

Reginae shows for the duel in the exact same fashion she’s shown up for all her duels; humanoid with a white braid, unremarkable garments save her vambrace on her forearm and twin daggers on her belt. The scarring on her neck from the exploding blemish during her fight with Shishi was still visible, angry and screeching for the attention of any onlooker that caught her right side. The vambrace on her left arm, black with gold studs,is scuffed but solid. Her lanky appearance painted an uninspired picture for any newcomers. Those who had seen Reginae fight before would know she possessed speed, strength and physical resistance beyond the humanoid scope. She moves herself into position on the opposite side of the bridge, tilting her head at Diin with a smile of recognition. He’d translated that old naga slab from years ago.

Shishi narrows his gaze out at the bridge as Dyraxdiin makes his appearance. He's not glaring at the mage, no, his expression is the result of possibly being one upped by a little kid. "Oh yeh? I once ate a rat*." *Fermin

Magik finds himself a decent view of the upcoming duel near the river. He holds his left fist at arms length and uses his right arm to mimic pulling back an arrow and letting one loose towards the young prince. If seen, he would wave stupidly with his right hand and quickly drop his left. Regardless, there was a 'poof' sound that emitted from the blood sucking elf followed by a quiet chuckle to himself.


Dyraxdiin regards the bridge as it begins to move with the aid of magic at a slow, yet steady pace. The inability to use flight is disatisfying, but it's a challenge he has grown accustomed to since the tournament's beginning. He largely ignores it, along with the rules implemented by the tournament hosts. Neither are important. He is Magister Templi. His good eye finds Reginae, whereupon he offers her a nod. Melee fighter, perhaps? He visibly shrugs and jumps onto the bridge, careful to match his brisk, forward walking pace to the floor's movement. Then, he steadies himself with a rhythmic breathing as he launches into an archaic fever! He weaves the arcane with deft hands, reciting an esoteric mantra without cessation until the full unity of these refined acts draws upon the arcane pool within... several deafening thunderclaps erupt, a semi-circle of circular fractures in the ground follow in the wake of echoing sounds - 'chk' 'chk' 'chk', the sounds toll out in herald of magic wrought. From those small fissures rise ethereal weapons, manufactured from the very elements around: daggers of air, a sword of fire, an axe of earth, and a staff of water. The ancient dragon wields them with a deft movement of his hand. They surge forth with the collective goal of harrying Reginae relentlessly in a whirlwind of twice-hazardous elements.

Reginae, having been on the south side of the bridge, scrambles forward, narrowly avoiding an impromptu swim. That would have been a hilarious way to lose. She keeps a decent stride with the shifting stones, but The Mage is ahead of her and closing the gap fast with a fury of magic and weaponry. Oy, ranged fighter. Just as the weapons begin to appear, Reginae propels herself forward with other wordly speed against the momentum of the bridge below. She counts one, two solid hops before the third sends her into arching false flight with the aim to tumble down on the empty side of the semi-circle armory. Before reaching a reasonable height, the sword of fire catches the inside of her knee. The cloth combusts, flame eating the fabric in a greedy show of force while she grunt and aims for a soft landing on the other side. Here, she throws herself down flat on the stone conveyor, counting the seconds under her uneven breath, with the hopes of slipping by Diin and freezing his feet to the bricks underfoot. It wasn’t so strong that it’d support his weight if the stones crumbled off and reformed on the northern side of the bridge but it WOULD slow his movements down considerably if successful. He had a way with elements, as he’d demonstrated, but she had speed on her side. All his summoning took fancy words and grand gestures; special effects and pizzazz. Was he a fighter or a showman? She had to hope he was too much of the latter to escape in time.

Dyraxdiin watches the woman narrowly escape the onslaught of magical mettle, but he isn't slow to respond. The initial attack is abanondoned, the weapons to disintegrate. Her machinations are made evident when he begins to feel the cold grip at his feet. As she said, the great wyrm has a way with the elements; he uses brunt force of magical will to combat the fast-freeze of his feet. She may be quick, but magic is his strong suit. To respond, Dyraxdiin exchanges places with her by way of quickening his pace for a moment. Then he turns, and drops to the ground in an act probably regarded as rather bizarre for a mage, mirroring that of Reginae's only moments ago. Still, he holds himself prone for a beat. Two. He inhales sharply, his nostrils flare, chest to swell with the waxing compound of magic-infused breath... his good eye locks on Reginae, or rather the ground at her feet, and he releases! The destructive force of the sonic breath attack is scaled back significantly, however... Strange. Instead, the very ground begins to vibrate in a b-line toward the naga - the rustling of dust visible upon the floor's surface. Dyraxdiin has fine-tuned the harmonic frequency to cause levitation instead of outright chaos. But what possibly follows is assuredly chaos nontheless. If she is caught in the frequencies path, she will be sent reeling up and up, until her own resonance can regain equilibrium. Far from finished, Dyraxdiin sheds his pathetic mortal form and springs forth into the scale, sinew and raw strength that his heritage is so known, utilized in the form of anthropomorphism. He rushes toward Reginae with terrifying celerity - partially out of desire to get away from the rapidly approaching edge - he seeks to rend her flesh with his own wickedly-twisted claws should she manage to avoid disqualification. The great wyrm holds no ill will toward this woman, specifically, but the feral in his mind howls at him from within it's cage. It demands a tribute be paid in blood, which he will seek to extract by severing the strings that animate life - to strike arteries and pressure points.

Reginae, for all her speed, is blindsided by the swap. While her mind reels as she tries to run, her ankles grinding reflexively against the restraints. Lizard brain responses for survival. She frees her injured leg first, eager not to fall off the rattling stones. The rattling, despite her best efforts, only increases. Diin’s breath upsets the very -balance- of gravity and when it hits, the wax hold on her ankle breaks and she’s pulled free. Maybe too free, as she’s lifted in a rapid gust a few feet above the bridge. The weight of the vambrace keeps her from blasting off. Ropes lash out of her fingers, aiming to grapple around the Wyrm’s ‘neck’ as he takes his true shape. If she misses, she’ll still coil the other hand’s set of ropes around a chunk of bridge. The Mage’s new form is impressively lethal. His claws miss vital organs, instead severing some of the binds that orchestrated her fall back to earth. Stones shift when she lands, the disguised naga grunts in pain. The palms of her hands burying her own set of claws into the brick below, anchoring her body while a heavy stream of poison jets out from her surprisingly large, open mouth. It sprays continuously, oscillating back and forth between each edge of the bridge, eager to sear Diin’s flesh like steak or drop the beast in the waters below.

Dyraxdiin is grappled rather easily, considering he's nearly lost to the feral that lurks within him. He doesn't worry, he finds himself beckoning her closer in his mind, in fact. The poison is not anticipated, but saurian scale serves it's purpose well enough to keep him from being choked out, as well as reduced to a pile of sludge. He releases a feral shriek, severing the ropes that bind him to her and then leaps back, using his anthro-wings to increase the distance gained before he lands again. While this puts him dangerously close to the retreating edge, he prefers it over the acid. He begrudging rejoins the march to the beat set by the Larketian terramancers, to avoid taking a swim. The urge to give into madness rises, threatening the dragon's mind. Instead of yielding to it, Dyraxdiin resumes what he knows best - magic. He relies on it as much as it relies on him to be brought about into fruition. He commits his all into it, redoubling his efforts. He focuses his sights on his opponent and swings his arm in a wide gesture. The bridge is suddenly encompassed in an inky black orb of darkness. A gamble he is willing to take, he will rely on his other saurian-trained senses. Dyraxdiin grits his teeth, trembling beneath the pressure of wielding the next spell, in addition to visibly fighting off the pain from the acid, which leaves pockmarks across his torso and face. Clawed hands thrust up and the cobblestone at his feet change - two inches deep of the stone is transmuted into water, which rises up in a swelling wave, building kinetic force. A single utterance of arcane verbiage sends the wave rushing forward. He feels no need to further amplify the danger this represents, the bridge acting as a perfect avenue to bear the wave.

Reginae falls, palms thudding into a large chunk of the bridge before it tries to fall away. Her body pivots, toes pointed and wrists twisting to propel her lower body forward back onto the chaotic battle ground like a high diver in reverse. That was when the bridge was solid and visible. Her injured leg is still weak. The solid landing stresses the cauterized skin until it splits and paints a messy trail of blood down her leg, only to vanish in the inky water underfoot. She curses through the pain, snarling at no one in particular while she struggles to think. Her snowy braid flexes and lashes like a tail, cracking in the air overhead. In an instant it’s nearly tripled it’s length. The end of the braid swells and morphs into the likeness of a large snake head. Flecks of her hair glimmer like scales. Both daggers are pulled from her belt by deft hands, tossed into the air, and snapped up the snake braid’s mouth. The bulbous mass of the ‘snake’ stretches itself into a long, thin line and dives into the wave sent in her direction. Combined with an assist from her roped fingers, Reginae breaks through the other side of the water barrier, winded but not struggling for breath. The ‘snake’ reappears, damp but darting in the Mage’s direction, maw opening impossibly wide with two familiar daggers as stand ins for fangs. It’s intent is to sink it’s teeth into his functioning eye while the naga puts all her physical strength into a vambrance’d left hook towards the jaw below his presumably blind eye.

Dyraxdiin cannot see, but relies on his saurain-gifted hearing to garner enough information that the woman has changed and instead glides towards him, her advance hastened by the oncoming ground. His saurid tongue flicks out, testing the air. She is nearly here, he can smell her. He doesn't back down from the fight, opting to continue his forward march to oblivion, as it were. Unable to see and therefore unable to respond with a proper defense becoming a Magister Templi, Dyraxdiin is left with little option but to rely on his own heritage, the cursed thing, once again. Instead of shifting to a full-scale great wyrm, he does something altogether different. His body shrinks in an instant, donning the guise of a Pixie - he has to sprint as fast as he can to keep the same measured pace, but he manages to work himself into the corner where wall meets floor. The surge of muscle and poised lethal energy of Reginae as she passes him nearly sends the great wyrm to his rear end, but he steadies himself against the towering wall - to him, at least - then disperses the orb of darkness to regain his bearings.

Winner: Reginae

Auto-hit Stake

Reginae’s punch misses and her snake hair clamps down on air. Her tired body is pulled forward with the momentum. The poison left on Diin’s side is slick and catches her boots. She slips, arm flailing to regain balance when her Vambrace jettisons off her wrist towards Diin’s pixie form. It promises to be a startling experience any way it lands.