Duel:Arien v Tiphareth

Duel Info

Judges: Gregor, Thea, Jacklin <mid>

Stakes – one autohit maiming round for winner

Venue: Scenic View (southern)

Winner – Tiphareth (split decision)

Arien is a high elf and seems to be a paladin. Arien is wearing mithril breastplate on her body, sea-shell earring on her left ear, scale cloak on her neck, mithril armband on her left arm, mithril armband on her right arm, empowered gauntlets on her hands, leather pants on her legs, and knightly footwear on her feet. On one of her right fingers, you see mithril band. Arien is using blessed sword as a weapon. Arien is using Heavily armoured sleeve as a shield. Arien has green eyes, pale skin, and red hair, and is single.

Tiphareth is a drow and seems to be a mage. Tiphareth is wearing runecloth-warlock robe on his body, shadowed hood on his head, obsidian face-plate on his face, D'Artes House-Insignia on his neck, Cloak of Stealth on his shoulders, walking stick on his hands, soft leather-leggings on his legs, and woven sandals on his feet. On one of his left fingers, you see L`Quarth-d`Avariel Signet. On one of his right fingers, you see Royal ring of Archmosia. Tiphareth is using Vast Arcane-Knowledge as a weapon. Tiphareth is using Shadow dweomer as a shield. Tiphareth has red eyes, dark skin, and white hair, and is single.

Tiphareth vs Arien

Tiphareth , not appearing as his usual stoic self, seems rather perturbed at the presence of the paladin before him, though even through his obvious disgust he seems to ignoring the opponent before him, nonchalantly tracing a number of bizarre symbols upon the ground underfoot before casually walking away. Tiphareth takes a wayward glance at the Xalious Tree in the distance, the magical symbol of all symbols; the inspiring sight only serving to strengthen the Drow`s resolve. A smug grin seems apparent on the Eldermage`s visage, thin ebon lips curling upward slightly at the corners as he finally turns to address his foe. ``You were indeed foolish in thinking you can insult me without consequence High Elf, let this evening serve as a lesson to curb your loose speech.`` With the completion of the sage`s words, the tenor of his face alters rapidly, a stern look taking over his sharpened features as he casts his hand outward. With little notice of his intended action, Tiphareth releases the natural racial abilities within him, casting outward a massive sphere of impenetrable darkness about the elven combatant before him. With the magical shroud in place, Tiphareth rapidly produces a strange orb of iridescent glass from a pouch at his side, tossing it aloft above Arien`s position. Upon reaching the apex of it`s flight, the orb hangs still within the air, high above the duelists as if a fixture of the cool night sky, the mage initiating a hasty series of arcane formulae as the eldritch orb proceeds to glow. While occult verse spills forth from the mage`s lips, his aged frame begins a slow descent into the soil beneath him, the earth apparently giving way to his mass by some magical means. With what can only be described as a flash of darkness, a sudden blast races forth from the levitating orb in the direction of both combatants, encircling them both with an aura of mystic force. Just as this mana link is established, the floating vessel takes on a significant alteration in hue, filling as if with the essence of the foes with whom it`s made contact. Tiphareth takes one last breath as his form finally disappears beneath the ground, the orb nearly full of the magical vitae. Tiphareth awaits patiently for the spell to take its effect, for when the orb`s pervasion is complete; a rapid juxtaposition will take place between the magus and paladin, hopefully leaving the detestable Arien to suffocate slowly within a lonely earthen grave.

Arien observed the actions of the drow, her mind leaping ahead of his own as he carried out his phased attack. First, the darkness, for with it gone, she would be able to see to defend against all other attack. Arien`s already pale face was quickly becoming a blazing beacon as it continued to be bathed in the paladin`s internal light. Upon closer inspection it would be obvious that the light was coming from the elfess` eyes, all the holy power in her soul channeling outwards into action. In the light of holiness, the darkness was banished and the paladin stood clearly able to see the orbs that would be the source of the entirety of his attack. She would not be so foolish as to stand there and wait for it to be enacted. Arms outstretched, the elementalist murmured the words that triggered a swirling storm of holy light and natural energy to life in the upper atmosphere. Surging winds, enhanced with holy power swept into the glade, scattering the orbs and what would have been the ensuing entrapment. Ohh..and she was angered that he would thus attempt so dishonorable a death for her. She raised her arms heavenward, watching as the mage began his anticipatory descent into the earth. Within moments, the roiling clouds, amplifying the continuous clamor of thunder, became portals. From every direction holy spirits flooded the battle field to the aid of the gods` own living portal, and began their attack on the drow`s chaotic and evil soul. Each holy spirit chanted a different prayer, every God of Hollow being worshipped within the storm of power, invoking the Dark Lord`s ultimate doom. As more prayers were said, the magnitude of holy presence on the battle field increased until there was enough to complete her ultimate goal. The partly transparent spirits bound together to create a screen above the drow, upon which images of the Underdark were shown by the entities. Their task was to reach into the dark recess of his mind and soul, and show him his own personal hell, the drow`s heredity weakness to psychological attack having been targeted by the paladin. There, flashing before Tiphareth`s eyes are replayed images of the devastating attack on his family; unseen in reality, but surely the haunt of his dreams. The emotional blow afflicted by the psychological attack would hopefully be enough to distract him, allowing her the opening for the final strike. Drawing her daggers, she whispers almost lovingly the words of enchantment, incanting the once simple blades with the seal of righteousness. The weapons glowed almost eerily in the night`s pressing darkness, cutting an arching trail of glory through the space between them, aimed with deadly precision for his heart and head. Should they penetrate his flesh, the enchantments would go to work, hopefully weakening him even more, as the holy magics drew upon and consumed the dark power held within his frame. So too - should the natural blades find their intended homes- would the drow suffer the natural consequences of his heart or head being rent asunder by the elven crafted blades.

Tiphareth `s descent into the soil continues unhindered as the paladin apparently knew the intentions of his arcane assault before it`s inception. The impending doom overhead spreading with rapid abandon as Arien draws her dual crafted blades, the vision causes a rapid acceleration of the Drow`s decent, his head disappearing below the grade just as the airborne knives attempt to reach their intended goal. The visions he experiences as he lies underground play out like a visceral cinema within his mind, though the paladin`s intentions were apparently flawed, for as the Eldermage relives the event which marked the turning point of his life, his emotions were not of fear, nor of pain, but rather of freedom, for this event marked his singular chance to be rid of the accursed binds of matriarchy he`d lived for centuries. As his mind reels from the images displayed within, a mystical force of untold levels builds within the sage`s body, which suddenly appears within the circle of marked runes placed upon the soil before. The inspirational images now feeding a frenzy of magic not channeled by the Drow for aeons as he directs his glare toward Arien, yet another overbearing matron in his way. Tendrils of arcane force ripple outward from the mage`s form as he stalks toward the paladin, finally reaching the optimal point for his intended strike. With a veritable fire erupting from within his iniquitous, he strikes downward with his ever-present staff, the sheer impact causing the fibrous implement to be scattered into countless shards as the massive volume of mana flows forth into the ground, a massive rift spreading instantly from the point of contact, separating the entire cliff face upon which Arien stands from the bulk of the elevated structure. The mage stands at the ready as his dirty work unfolds before him, the giant slab of aggregate beneath his foe sloughing off into the deep ravine below.

Arien cursed softly as the mage disappeared beneath the earth and her blades went skittering into the dirt. She wondered for a moment what she was supposed to do to get to him beneath the ground when he appeared, as if by -magic- before her. There was no doubting the potency of his power. Staff shattered, she felt the earth beneath her give away and then she was falling, falling. She wasted no time with futile scream but instead looked to the earth, to the roots now exposed and visible and commanded their aid. Tendrils reached out to wrap around the female, lifting her in a surge of power to the level of the surface where she was released, dropping into a crouched stance. Arien cast a quick assessing glance around their environs once more. She needed leverage, literally. Her gaze focused, narrowing in on the path she would need to take to flank the drow to avoid the fearsome magics he could evidently produce. She would have to be fast, supernaturally fast if this were to be a successful maneuver. She reacted instinctively, her emerald eyes changing, flickering hazel in indication of the earth magics she was accessing. The words of the spell murmured would result in what earth that remained around the pair shuddering, cleaving and breaking apart into slabs that were shaken free from the confines of solid ground. Additional words, whispered in the lilting tones of the elven tongue, would magnetize the natural metals threading the rocks with reverse polarity. Now they hovered above the ground, a sea of stone awaiting the command which would cause them to align in the particular formation that Arien desired. The elementalist called upon the power of the air to complete this first phase of her attack and a rush of wind swept in, lifting the elfess before it to land catlike, on the first of the hovering stepping stones. Leaving Tiphareth little time to discover her objective, Arien leapt from stone to stone with divinely assisted speed, out and around in a wide circle attempting to flank the drow, whose age and slower speed should hinder his reaction time to her maneuver. If she were fortunate enough to make it into his blind spot, as was her objective, she would leap with an arching flip from the last stone, attempting to land on his back and hold firmly to his hips with locked knees. From there, a powerful pulse of holy energy directed from her body into his own, would hopefully have a singing and crippling effect upon his already magically weakened frame . To stay alight the powerful male however, would be to invite death. And so, attack successful or not, she would push off of his body in a last diving roll, that would lead to a sprinting run that could take her out of his range again.

Tiphareth watches carefully as he attempts to ascertain the resulting location of his slippery foe, ever watchful of his immediate area, as all who know Drow, understand they don`t have a `blind-spot`. Spying the nimble paladin attempting a flanking strike, he stands aloof, playing unaware as she nears. With Arien growing ever closer, Tiphareth pulls a strange vial of black ichor from a hidden pocket within his cloak, readying it in his palm as the paladin leaps. The vial is thrown directly at the High Elf`s chest as she descends upon his form, her speed slightly more than he expected as her body latches onto his, now covered in the thick alchemical substance crafted by the mage. His chanting initiates the very instance of contact, releasing the intended sorcery contained in the tar-like concoction just as the paladin`s strike begins. The attacks seem to transpire simultaneously as the holy energy courses into the Drow`s form, his muscles convulsing as the dark aura about him flickers, shielding him from the brunt of Arien`s blow. Though the mage`s attack is far more vile, as a fury of summoned spiders spills forth from within the mystic stain, pouring out by the thousands to swarm over Arien`s form, attempting to cover the High elf`s face like a suffocating hood of death, guided toward each seam and opening of the paladins armor, seeking out any available flesh, fangs veritably dripping with massive quantities of their paralytic poison.

Arien knew the instant that she landed upon the drow that she had been mistaken in her prey for he was ready for her. As their magics clashed she fell from his body, mouth agape in purely feminine horror. The spiders swarmed, and fangs penetrated leather guard to break skin. With a soft cry she felt the creeping advent of paralysis, and knew if she could not get them off of her she would be done in indeed. Her armor was not enough. Rolling in the dirt she called once again upon the magics of the earth to generate stone skin. In an instant the soil around her moved, rising to encase and cover her from head to toe, hardening to compact rock and causing the remaining spiders to fall off her form harmlessly. A pulse of divine energy shattered the casing a moment later freeing the weakened elfess to begin her counter attack.She drew her blessed sword from her place upon the ground. He may be ancient and dreaded, but she could still make him understand the power that lay in what was sanctified and holy. She arched the blade of the sword weakly through the air, still laying in place and murmured the spell that would evoke a Judgment of Light upon the Lord of the Underdark. Immediately, along the invisible pathway that had been carved by the blade in the atmosphere, a shimmering stream of light and holy energy appeared. It glowed first with red hues, then white, until it charged to the intensity of the pure energy of blue light. With a simple and focused motion of her free hand, Arien set the wave in motion, hurling it at light speed towards the drow before collapsing from the effort. Surging towards Tiphareth, the light would separate into the colors of the spectrum as it approached his ebon form. Each wavelength, if unrepelled, would snake its way around and into his body, using any and all available orifices, down to his very pores, to seek the hiding place of his dark soul. If they penetrated that far, the holy magics would begin the process of inflicting some damage on the dark power of the mage, rendering him more vulnerable to future strikes

Tiphareth lies in his weakened state, the toll on his venerable body considerable after channeling such voluminous amounts of arcane power, not the least of which being the paladins holy magic. Struggling to get to his feet, Tiphareth manages a menacing grin upon his ebon lips as he watches the paladin succumb to the swarming arachnids, though his demeanor shifts to one of surprise as the accursed High Elf seems to overcome the paralytic effects, and releases yet another assault on his form. His eyes become burned with the sudden flash of brilliant light emanating from the paladin`s sword, turning immediately to his arcane senses. The presence of her mystic spellwork apparent in his mind as he struggle to react, his hands thrusting outward in attempt to meet the railing rainbow head-on. His reaction time, slowed due to the efforts of battle, prove an obstacle he can not overcome, for the strike reaches him unprepared. The feeling of the serpentine energy writhing through his body causes a series of disturbing convulsions to come about his visage, his aged soul reacting with all possible power left within the venerable magus. A darkening cloud begins collecting about the Drow, as an unseen counterpart builds within. The two forces attempt to seal the paladins magic between them, his shaking and contortions growing worse as the paired powers close in on her spell, encompassing the mystic force completely before suddenly merging into one, squelching the holy power with a violent flash. The Drow finally opens his eyes, blood shot veins visible due to the strain within as he gasps for breath, his body, mind, and soul weakened from the night`s events.

Auto-hit round

Tiphareth struggles to his feet, his battle worn body allowing only a modicum of movement as he attempts to steady himself without the aid of his usual walking stick. The paralytic poison finally taking hold of the High elf as she lie vulnerable on the earth. With barely enough energy to muster a reasonable melee strike upon his foe, the mage simply removes the Blood-lust dagger from its sheath at his side, tossing it upward toward the High Elf. The Drow is confident to let the voracious dagger decide which part upon which it will descend, and the unholy implement soars rapidly toward such an end. Targeting the wielding arm of his paladin adversary, the ominous blade goes to work, voraciously slicing away at muscle and sinew until the appendage lie rended from it's former home. Walking calmly to the severed limb, the mage scoops it up from the ground, releasing the only magic he has left into the pale elven skin. The arm desiccates almost instantly, turning an atrous hue and reeking with a putrid odor as if having decayed for months. With that, the mage turns northward, arm in tow as he leaves the venue without a word.