Duel:Arcadian v Xzarren

Arcadian stands still in the mind for a moment because his pick axe starting to cause blisters on the palm of his hand. His eyes cast upon the intruder to his abode, he thinks about the night before and refuses to ask questions, his Bright red eyes erupt and he slams his pick in the wall with great strength. Arcadian growls under his breath and then pulls forth his Delavian-Victims Bone-Swords, with one in each hand he stares at his target and smiles from under his Vizor. Arcadian grips the swords tightly, he pulls back his blades and takes a quick running stride towards his opponent, he pulls one back quickly and slings his sword toward the upper chest of the new victim. His eyes and hair turn to bolts of flames as he continues to charge and pick up dust behind him, the other blade pulled to his side, as he nears his target he kneels and slides against the rocks on the floor, causing him to glide, the Deep dragon man slides with his blade outward toward the mans legs, with timing he will clip his opponents legs clean off.

Xzarren marches into cavernous underground where the slaves of drow matrons toiled endlessly. One unfortunate soul fought back against the reign of tyranny but his words were quickly stuttered into anguish cries at the end of the flogger's the drowess' claimed as due punishment. The vampire lord dismisses this as just another day in this malicious monarchy kingdom and the pity he felt was drowned out by his long extinguished mortal coil. Apparently, however, his trespassing was made illegal in regards to this man who bore his swords of bone at him. The dread knight smirked beneath the featurless faceplate of his obsidian mask, his horned helmet depicting a monster of cruelty and evil not unlike these drows in power. The vampyre acts as quickly as his body will allow, his age still relatively young, but his passion for battle something legendary. His raises his spiked cuff and the edged blade of his enemy swipes off the jagged spines of his bracer, deflecting off to remove a slave-laborer's head, his bloody insides spurting out to a cry of horror from others. Not waiting for further assault, the vampyre swings into action, barreling to the side of the warrior, who cuts a ribbon into his armored thigh with fresh red blood drip as his reward. The vampyre knew he had no time to review this however as he sent his armored knuckle to break the bond between man and weapon the delavian boasted, his heavy steel hand lowering to bludgeon the other's, and hopefully break it. However, with no weapons of his own, the vampyre continues on, lifting a viscious drow pick axe from the dead laborer and lifting it high into the air to blugeon the male's turned back, and hamper his movement and ability further, if at all possible. The force of his strike was enough, and the hatred he had for this creature who he could smell at too well to be one of dragon lineage, to have bone-shattered results that would leave weaker men like the surrounding slaves to be at the whim of those with much more power. However no matter the result the vampyre's keeps his distance, his makeshift weapon in his hands as he grins mirthlessly.

Arcadian continues to slide his weapons glow with the hint of blood, his target was hit, his smile grows and quickly fades as his back was struck heavily, thru the Chaotic plate and his scales the weapon did little noticeable damage but internally he feels the middle of his rib cage crack, his eyes widen greatly, not feeling the force of a blunt weapon in years. Arcadian, falls to his face and slides against the cave wall, his left side being the target of the man's attack, as he looks up he feels the cold blood of his own. He notices he cut into his own hand as he slide and hit the wall, blood dripping from his hand slowly he find it hard to grip his sword. He stands fully erect, a massive shadow begins to slowly surround Arcadians body and with a sudden pulse of Energy the shadow creature lets itself be known. He looks on at the man before him and offers him a slight not, respect for the man's prowess. Arcadian tries to charge but feel the pain in his side increase and his breath begin to weaken, he shrugs it off and glares, the man before him has almost stopped the Mystical warrior in his tracks, he feels the warms of his hand ignite, the Spell warrior begins to distract the man to give him a distraction for a moment, as a bolt of fire begins to create in the right hand of Arcadian he continues to look at his opponent, the bolt sizzles and continues to grow, his hands becoming engulfed and small flames surround the arm of the caster. Arcadian shouts loudly as the bolt of fire is then thrown violently toward the man before him. After throwing the fire he begins to pull the Shadow-Dragon shield from his back.

Xzarren 's crimson cloak enshrouds his form as he halts his movement in order to watch his opponent, his faux-angelic dark wings spreading to his side idly as the heavy-head of the pick axe falls onto the stone-ground. He catches the slight nod of an covered head, causing his lips to spread into a wide grin. However, he knew it was not a sign of submission. Without any use for the tool the vampyre tips it over , dropping it to his side as the tangible air of power surrounds the warrior and makes itself known for what it truly was. The former avian surveys the scene, blue eyes darting around within the blackened helm he wore. His sharp eyes seeing the head Matroness rear back her whip of nine-tails to strike either of the combatants. Xzarren forced his own physcic talents outward, being sure to trick the mind of the slaver into attacking Arcadian exclusively, and keeping her trained whip, sharp with the heads of monster teeth, talons, and pieces of sharp metal, far away from him and on his opponent. This would give the deep dragon enough time to muster the magical threads into the chaotic mass of energy that formed before him but perhaps perfectly so. The vampiric battle lord spreads his stance, no weapons drawn, yet ready to defend himself at the moment's notice the orb launched forward. When it did so the crusader of vakarash dropped to his knees and raised his spiked-circular shield to ward off the attack, though even then it blasted a macabre disfigurement into the worked metal, and forced the shield to wrap around his hand and arm painfully, the male stunned for a moment, just in time to see the matroness' whip bare down on Arcadian. The ruined shield was thrown off the vampyre's hand, as well as his gauntlet, his hand bloody from the trauma. Airing the words of curse to flow from his chest with ragged breaths, the eidolon of doom attacks Arcadian with a curse of affliction that would break down his muscles and reduce him to a pile of agonized metal, flesh, and bone for the atrocities of the angry gathered matrons.

Arcadian stands still for a moment, when the bolt hits his opponents shield he smiles from under his vizor, as he looks at his hand he feels the Matrons whip snap him several times his arms and neck begin to bleed almost instantly, he body and legs were covered, but neck and arms stayed open, with his bloody hand he reached for the Matrons neck and grags her close, before breaking her neck he places a kiss upon her lips and then throws the Matrons body in the path of the curse, saying a small prayer he winks toward the Vampire creature and then looks at what he has available. He ground and begins to spit, the acid be began to emit gave a strange scent, a toxic scent. He kneels slowly and growls in pain and he picks up the braided whip, as the spell warrior focuses for a moment the whip begins to glow, his enchant weapon spell still new to him he was unaware of the effect, but he was sure it would cause damage. He stomps his foot upon the ground, as the ground rises below him he roars and uses the ground to do the running for him, the Deep Dragon skilled in manipulation of earth, as he takes a sliding charge toward the creature before him, he pulls the whip back and swings it over head, the glow of the weapon radiating a unique circular motion above him, before getting to close he looks up and spits into the swinging whip, as it sends the toxic poison in all directions he makes it hard for anyone to leave the cave before feeling his wrath. Arcadian feels the acid like substance burn thru how own glove and the metal melting to his scales.

Xzarren 's hand pulsated wtih the abuse it absored through his shield though it was an artificial wound that a good feeding would fix. He had a couple ideas for feasting on the rich drow's blood within the very mines after this farce of combat was over, and Arcadian lay broken before him but such ideas were swept away as the black-steel covered male presses his other metal cased hand into the flooring and pushed himself up to his knees, then his feet. His wounds numbered increasingly, but the state of them were no more than annoying to the vampire lord who had once been buried alive and broken of every bone in his body. He stood up just in time for the spectral showcase, the acidic cocktail of dragon saliva and magic barreling around through the channeling of the whip and as a result distributed evenly along the occupants of the cave. Xzarren watched as the workers were scorched by the destruction, the head matron dead at Arcadian's feet with a thick serving of acid eating away at the tender construction of her face. Nothing remained but chewed flesh and partially uncovered skull. Not wanting to face the same consequence the dread knight draws his crimson cloak around his body, collecting the spats of chewing acid as some bore threw his cloak, yet most just ate at the fabric of his descendant cloak. It's torn from his shoulders and discarded as the barrage comes to an end and the vampyre fighter stands with minor scorches over his blackplated armor, a glimmer of hatred in his eyes. "It's over." He states, the cowl of dread falling over him as he summons magic of his own. He dashes towards Arcadian as a spectral scythe is borne into his hands and slashed outwards towards the opponents mid-section. An attack to leave him dissected, or disembowled. The symphony of destruction is far from over as more scythes are summoned to the vampyre's will, three in total, one in the air above him, and two at his flanks. The devilish scythes spin in place held by an invisible force as the former holy knight surges forward, at a hovering glide. One by one the scythes were released, close in time to each other, with their sick, razor sharp edges spiraling towards Arcadian in a maelstrom of death. Even the one leased within the warlord's hand took flight with personal aim, it's jagged edge specficically looking to lop off the dragon borns' head as it's master watches on with a serrated grin with the coming finality of this duel.

Arcadian stands still as the scythes clang aginst his armor and scales, some deeply would and some scratch, his scales fall and his blood continues to fall. "Very well Sir, I honor thee as a good fighter" with that said arcadian draops to his knee and bows. Pain surrounding him greatly but the man refused to say he gave up. He smiles from under his vizor and helm of Delavian bone.