Duel:Adain v Kasyr
Dark Arena:
The arena is filled with various killed and undead as well. Several Zombies seem to be carrying corpses out of the arena, returning them to the masters they served. Many bodies here look disfigured and ill, clearly abominations constructed by Necromancers to serve in the gladiator like battles held here. Several of the other bodies though are completely normal. A battle must have recently gone on here, as the crowds of people step out of the entrance of the area. To your south is the way out, to your north is a path leading to the back of the arena.
Kasyr's Judge: Razeal
Mid: Razgriz
Adain's Judge: Jillian
Adain makes his way into the arena slowly; his presence made known by the light click of his nails on the blackened cobblestones beneath his feet and the low growl the rumbled from his throat as his eyes settle upon the tiefling’s form. The huge wolf perks his ears at the sight and scent of the man, his nostrils twitching lightly at the enticing aroma, fresh prey… With a gleam of hunger in his golden flaked irises the lycan crouches his shaggy black form, his lips curling back from the barred canines lining his thick muzzle. In a burst of motion the wolf bounds forward, his large paws thudding against the stone floor of the arena in a quickening beat, his motions becoming fluid and synchronized with this tempo. Cutting in an arc to Kasyr’s left the lycan turns back sharply, his tail swishing violently from side to side to keep the wolf balanced in his sudden change of course. Teeth and jaws snap quickly as the lycan turns his head towards the back of Kasyr’s legs as the wolf passes behind the man in a darting pass, keen canines aching to cut into the soft tissue and muscles of the man’s calves to rip the tendons from its place and impair Kasyr’s movement.
Kasyr entered in as mundane a manner as his foe; albeit lacking the distinctive noise which accompanied every footstep. Nay, the tiefling simply announced himself, bequethed in trenchcoat and scarf- hands quite nicely stuffed into his pockets as he came to a standstill and resigned himself to the simplistic duty of observation; cautiously eyeing the nemesis borne by momentary purpose. And so, he was hardly surprised when the first move was taken, little done in recognition to those actions save a distinctive slouch towards the left, and his hands freeing themselves from whence they rested to dissapear into the folds of his coat. It was as such that he remained until the wolf closed that distance, that sudden veering of direction an all too familiar tactic- damned fleetfooted critters. Abruptly curling fingers of his left hand about Gospels hilt, all motions were made to unsheathe the damned blade- a shriek of enraged serpents rising a dire cacophony as blackened steel cleaved a path through the air- desperation granting the tiefling just enough speed to begin a pivot as the wolfs teeth found home upon flesh- that extra push of momentum allowing him means to a rather haphazard spin- to stab towards the creatures back leg and pin it to the ground- whilst the means of his own equilibrium was handily preserved by his weight being rather hastily placed upon the sheathe now tightly grasped in his right hand.
Adain perks his ears as the barely perceptible first movements where made by the tiefling, his draping making it difficult to monitor the exact position of each of his limbs. As the man begins to swing about with his sword, the screeching notes the blade makes grating upon his ears, Adain’s step studders, causing him to slow his pace only slightly, yet it was enough to save him from the intense pain of having his back leg impaled by the keen steel. The blade passes directly before his hind leg, tip colliding with the hard stone floor with a sharp clang as the metal reverberates in the tiefling’s hands. Adain’s swift pace did not give him time to avoid the rod of steel before him as his back legs run full into the blunt of the blade, knocking them from under him and causing the wolf to slide forward on his chest and face on the rough stone. Quickly regaining his feet despite the throbbing pain in his shins, Adain darts in again, leaping towards Kasyr while still just beyond the range or any attacks by the tiefling his weight shifting back as the lycan’s anatomy is restructured before the man’s eyes. Adain’s shoulders and chest broaden and his center of gravity drops towards his stomach, giving him once again the humanoid bipedal motion. Following through with his lunge, hybrid beast Adain had become colliding with Kasyr’s form as the two of them tumble to the ground in a tangled heap of bodies. Rolling as quickly as he could to the top of the mess, Adain makes a heavy swing of his left hand while his left grapples quickly to contain Kasyr’s right wrist.
Adain *right hand swings... left grapples... *curses*
Kasyr was verily as a rabbit before rabid hound- the very epitome of defenselessness before the oncoming mass of fur (and then not-so-much-fur) and flesh that barreled into him and set him tumbling towards the ground. Save, generally, that whole, quivering bit implied no arnaments, such as the sword which had never left his hand, one which was jerked back albeit the pain which was sent running through his arm to simply edge the point upwards so that during the scuffle the lycan would hopefully find himself with a rather nasty hole in his gut and some stomach acid eating through his flesh- The sheathe on the other hand was relinquished with no struggle at all, hand simply used to press flat to the ground on impact and reduce some of the ever 'pleasent' burning sensations that coursed through his body on shock- the lovely bite upon his ankle finally beginning to squeel in protest of the shock. It hardly mattered however, desperate squirmings and flailings of the hybrid imp managing to evade a more direct blow as to somewhere vulnerable like his throat (Though that could have also been more attributable towards his head tucked inwards)- rather, earning himself a painful blow to his chin and torso- flesh splitting from the force of the impact and causing countless little rivulets of crimson to flow to the open air. It was an act that required a reckoning to be sure and hence, the tiefling acted, abruptly lunging towards Adain to push him up slightly, before moves were made to push away, to garner space enough to begin unfurling his scarf- something which would remain unfinished as he then rammed forth anew to switch positions with the wolfkin grappler- hopefully causing enough of a shock that the tiefling could finish unwrapping the scarf from his neck, and loop the mithril wire laced bit of finery about the wolfs throat, so that the invariable attempt at garotting the poor bastard could begin in force.
Adain gains a hold on the mans wrist a moment too late, the blade twisting about and sneaking its way inside his defense of grappling and blows to make an incision into his side, the blade lightly deflected from the more vital organs to rip into the less important flesh of his abdomen. Eyes going wide in pain at this, the lycan lashes out again with his fist before reaching for the blade that hung at his side, his lift finaly securing the right hand of the tiefling. Kasyr begins to shove Adain back, gaining some ground as the pressure finds the sensitive place on his side that had just been wounded, causing enough uncomfort that Adain releases the man and stumbles back, fully drawing the chill bade Winters Bite from its slumber in the icy hosing at his side. Kasyr makes another stab with Gospel, the blade seeking only minor injury as it is more in defense than a true attack, which is easily parried away with a swing of Winters Bite, flakes of frost falling from the chill blade as the steel collides with steel in a ringing clash. Backpedaling for the moment Adain keep enough distance that the man will have to dart in to reach him, his left hand clasped over the free-flowing wound in his side and his pace hobbled by the swelling and soreness in his shins.
Kasyr let out a rather abrupt 'whoof' sound upon that second impact of fist- though verily, it wasn't much to be feared- even with lycans strength, when compared to a unnatural blade which seemed tainted by winters chill. Really, it was enough for him to warrant scooping his scarf back to himself and coiling it about his neck anew- before the more important task of retrieving Sheathe was made- that retreat on his adversarys part taken full advantage. Once returned to his 'rightful' bearings, or rather, the moment he was content enough to simply settle into a crouch, with the sheathe held to the side, and sword held level before him- the tiefling simply began to focus- using the lycans distracted nature to his advance. Asofar, he seemed utterly prepared for a physical attack- and a gnawed on foot was a rather large hindrance towards rushing after, lest he leave himself at the opponents mercy- Thus being said, half blooded nature did tend to have some particular benefits- one being his wisp magic. Emotions were sensed, drawn upon, weaved into a pattern work to rival that of a tapestry- pure elemental force in the form of earth coaxed into the very ground itself- to guide up a mass of ground from behind Adain, to upheave earth where fallen gladiators lie- upheaving bits of fallen equipment. And when formed, those mounds simply slid forward- to rather hastily crash into the lycans feet and upset his footwork, to hopefully cause him to precipitate forward, or at least crash and fall into a vulnerable point- one which might be close enough that a few hobbling shuffle slides forward might prove themselves enough to skewer the pups sword arm to the ground- or more rightly slash upwards to sever the tendon should he move to knock the weapon askew.
Adain readied himself as the tiefling made his preparations for this next attack, his fingers clenched relentlessly upon the black leather-bound hilt of his sword. Measuring the motions of his opponent, Adain cocks his head to one side as the earth around him was itself evoked to lend its strength against him, the mounds of steel and stone that formed behind him to usher him into the waiting attacks of the opponent. With a sly smile Adain flicks his Winter’s Bite up towards his parted lips. A glimmer of the moon’s light reflects from his blade as its molecules excite with ice’s powerful flow, the steel forming into a fluid mass of translucent water. A smirk touches the corner of his lips as Adain intakes a immense breath, swelling his chest to the maximum his it could, the shadowed emblem that was emblazoned there by Targier flickering its shadowed light as its powers swelled along with Adain’s chest. The lycan blows a shimmering gust across the blade, fracturing the formed liquid into a glinting cloud of ice particles, shining like diamonds in the cool air and obscuring all vision within ten feet of his form just as the tattooed wreath of flames that had been flickering flashed in its action, shifting his form between the physical and shadow planes as he vanishes from sight in the arenas oppressive gloom. The mounds of earth and rubble crash to the stone floor kicking up more dust and shimmering crystals before they both settle to reveal that the mear shade of Adain stands back, away from the commotion and safe.
Razgriz said, "ooc: Votes are in, yo. Kassy wins 2-1