Duel:Arien v Vuryal

Duel Info

• Date:July 14,2009
• Judges: Rheven (mid), Thea, Trekia
• Stakes: Choice of Prisoner/Slave
• Rd/time: 3rds / 15 min
• Location: Great Western Plains
• Decision: Vuryal/Unanimous

Vuryal vs Arien

Arien arrived at the arena of engagement punctual, as ever, and prepared, a youthful page close on her heels carrying what weapons she could not comfortably support upon her person. It was amusing- the challenge of the would be emperor- presented to her as a dare; as if she would quail to meet him. She had never walked away from a challenge in her life, even for the highest of stakes, and the stakes they danced for this day were indeed of a nature to give most pause; losing, was not an option. The paladin stood still, assessing the dark avian before her, emerald gaze roaming his form, performing a mental review of what she knew of his offensive and defensive capabilities based on their previous engagement. This was not going to be an easy affair. Excellent. She needed a challenge. The guardian shifted her weight from one hip to another, the action drawing notice to her blessed sword, and perhaps detracting attention from the mystic dual bladed staff that she was using at the moment, much like a simple walking stick. With the flash of a quick smile that did not quite reach her eyes, the elfess prepared for her first assault. Sometimes, the best offense was the simplest and most direct. The staff was twirling now, under the guidance of flexible wrists, emitting a soft eerie cobalt glow as it channeled mystical energies through its length. The paralyzing poison with which its hidden blades had been coated was sure to make an impression if it made contact with the body of the avian. Arien moved then, with the swiftness and agility born of over a century of combat experience; her every sense honed in on the last known position of her opponent. A soft word activated the aura of divine protection around her form that would hopefully provide some level of protection from the inevitable dangers she would face coming into melee range with the Parasite, and then there was no time to think. She drew back suddenly with the staff, swinging first with a dual gripped strike for the exposed side of the torso of the male, targeting sensitive inner organs. As the staff powered home, she made the adjustment that released the lethal dual blades from their sheath, poison laced edges seeking to bite into flesh and release a flow of paralyzing toxins into the blood stream of her opponent. A swift and almost seamless transition would then take place, as the maneuver to withdraw the staff from the initial strike becomes a twirling secondary strike, the blade on the opposite end of the staff powered through the air and brought down over the wrist that bears the band the Parasite uses to repel magical attacks. If the second strike is successful, this defensive device would be severed from his person along with the hand on which it was attached.

Vuryal grins with a cruelness unbecoming of any paladin, but quite common upon this device of chaos. His eyes focus upon the weapon wielded by the warrior who dares oppose his authority, a delightful pause coming to his conscious as his attention is betwixt the woman and her assault. As the true cruelty of the dual bladed stave is realized with the emergence of the poisoned steel, the chronomancer now makes a motion in defense, breaking away from his doldrums. As wings of black unfurl to their extreme, a bending of the knees ensues in parallel time, the stored potential energy now reversing its course and thrusting the dark avian into the air as the resounding thumping of those extra limbs cracks onto the scene. The first blow narrowly misses its mark, coming within centimeters of its intended target while the finale has its dire bite herald into silence. The Emperor now mashes his right fingers together mid-flight before landing calmly some distance away. In seconds, the staff of the time mage appears, tightly clasped onto by the taut right hand digits of coal. Tilting the amber stone downwards to squarely aim upon Arien, a flurry of uttered words break from the pursed lips of Vuryal, the gemstone radiating with golden tones as the sound of gurgling water begins to rise to one's ears. The nearby stream runs free, but in a moment, large bubbles begin to appear before one bursts, steam escaping from its confined locale. Fog begins to overtake this place as the brook turns into a spewing volcano of steam, the temperature increasing drastically at the beckoning call of the chronomancer. And just then, a line of crimson orbs make way towards the leader of the Fold, each one bursting in succession as the atomic structure of molecules collapses, giving way to the radiating energy within. It now draws nigh upon Arien, circling about her as if toying with the woman before, all at once, a line of twenty or so atoms burst, sending their vomit of heat, radiation, and fires upon the woman, the power of the atom brought upon the woman.

Arien hissed softly in frustration as the avian took flight. "Coward.." she snapped, "Face me like a man.." And it appeared he would. The temperature began to rise, steam and fog misting in environs to cloud the vision of the guardian as he launched his assault. Again, the elfess weaved in harmony with the essence of nature-the gift of the Ascendi she serves- reads the disruption in the balance of the atmosphere and prepares her defense. Whirling away from the oncoming explosion of energy, she curls into the fetal position, a sharp cry to the earth in elven tongue summoning a great barrier of granite and stone to surge upwards between her person and the oncoming barrage. The singing heat of atomic release does swirl around the female, causing inflammation of skin into angry welts, but she is spared the worst of the blast before leaping to her feet again and emerging from behind shelter with fury in her glare.Arien's emerald gaze dropped with focused attention to the band upon the wrist of the dark avian. She had seen its power, and it had thus far dictated her battle strategy as she limited the use of her magics against a foe on whom they would apparently have little effect. Still, it would be useful to put the toy through its paces-to test the limits of what it could and could not do. Flame tressed head is angled slightly toward the page lurking on the outskirts of the battle field and a single phrase uttered. "The bow, lad." A pale hand extends to the shaggy haired youth who skitters forward with the weapon, even as Arien kept her gaze locked upon her enemy. Long fingers curl around the polished smoothness of the wood and the elfess permitted herself the liberty of a smile. "Shall we dance another set dearest?" The murmur is thrown Vuryal's way as the guardian circled a pale wrist in the air at her side, murmuring the words of the spell that would bring the atmosphere to life. Immediately, the (describe debris and location) lifted and began to dance in the familiar pattern of a whirlwind. The wind funnel was already snaking its way towards avian under the elfess' direction when Arien turned, and in a series of seamless movements, reached over her shoulder to remove the first of several arrows which she fitted into the bow and released- one by one- not at the avian, but into the whirling wind. Another spoken word, and the arrows ignited into magical flames, an enchantment of fire that burned but did not consume. Now the whirling wind was a blazing tower of spinning debris that threatened to slam a lethal rain of steel tipped fire into the body of the avian that stood in its path if he did not find a way to defend himself from its onrushing advance. It was entirely possible that he could find a way reduce or limit the impact of the firestorm, but if he was able to repel every element of the attack, Arien would have a better picture of the extent of the power wielded by the artifact the avian wore.

Vuryal growls with utter contempt for that damnable earthen shelter wench and her little sidekick pippy. Nonetheless, her next actions are followed with extreme care, eyes of ruby fluidly watching each motion done by the adroit paladin. The whirlwind is quite the unanticipated event to the chronomancer, his wings ruffling a bit at its fury, hair tussled about as well. The arrows bursting into magic, however, are something rather common, though somewhat unique in this instance, as they are aided by the maelstrom of wind. Thrusting the staff into a directly line with the onslaught of arrows, a reckoning, is brought before the chronomancer, a wall of gravity erecting itself to protect its caller. The invisible barrier is quick to erect itself, sending the debris directly into the air as if shot from a cannon into the heavens, the anti-gravity having its way with the rubbish. Tossing his head back to laugh at the dismal performance from Arien, Vuryal has a momentary lapse of concentration, resulting in a single arrow breaking its way through the blockade. The chronomancer is struck! Propelled to the ground with a THUD upon impact, the dark avian grimaces in a slight singe of pain as his left shoulder shows quite extensive damage from the magically laced arrow, the smell of burnt skin rising to flood the area with its pungent odor. Upon realizing his folly, the anti-grav obstacle is reinforced, ensuring nothing else slips past. Slowly rising to his feet, aided by the amber stoned staff and his extra winged limbs, Vuryal glares with a look to kill upon Arien and her stable boy. "Let's get it on..." And with the last syllable still hanging in the air, the anti-gravitational fortification releases itself, though not dissipating, but rather pushed towards the paladin. First in its way, the wind funnel, soon forced skyward with a renewed vigor from the chronomancer. Then, the earthen layer, shattered into pieces upon such an impact with the magic of space before Vuryal lowers the gemstone stick towards the woman. Out from the heavens come now the pieces of the shelter, natural gravity adding to their velocity as they look to squash not only the foe but her pupil. To make matters worse, each rather large particle begins to glow brightly, the molecules of each rock beginning to heat up and expand. As one rock strikes the ground, it blows up! From its debris, molten lava comes pour out, the innards of the stone super-heated so much that the molecular bonds have broken, causing what was once solid to become liquid. "I told you that you had a choice. Rare, or extra-crispy. Extra-crispy it is."

Arien spoke but one word to the child. "Run…" This was not his battle to fight. And so she had her answer, though why parasite would think she would stay around to take a bath in his rain of fire, she was not sure. Eyes to the heavens the elfess scampers in a zig zagging pattern across the field of combat, her intention to avoid a direct hit from any of the massive incoming projectiles. Her attention to the larger details however, leaves scant time for evasive maneuvers to be made to avoid the scattering lava heated shrapnel as they explode upon impact, and so she is peppered, time and again by the fine debris that either causes her armor to heat up to quite uncomfortable temperatures, or otherwise adds to the already distinctive patterns of burns and welts upon her body. She was growing weary, and it was becoming ever more difficult to ignore the pain. And yet, she must try once more to breech that secure area around the person of the parasite, for only within melee range could she truly have any hope of doing significant damage. As the steaming lava released moisture into the air with soft threatening hisses, Arien allowed her gaze to wing once more to the avian who was once more coming into range. Gods. She wanted to hurt him. Once more, a murmured prayer to Lauria was uttered, craving the blessing of the Ascendi for what must be done. Arien's spirit reached out to access to the magics of water, and emerald gaze was replaced in an instant by one that flickered and swirled in shades of the grey of thunderclouds and the chill clarity of ice itself. A subtle movement of hand, and the molecules of water in the air around the battling pair began to condense and congeal into a fog so thick it was almost impossible to see. Arien moved to take advantage of any momentary blindness the Parasite might experience before he repelled the magic with which she was generating her fog screen. She darted within his range again, drawing her twin daggers from their home on her hips. A whispered spell would find each blade enchanted, one with the element of fire, the other with frost. Should either of these blades find its home in his flesh, the Parasite would be consumed by the sensation of either burning, or mind numbing cold. She attempted to slip her right leg between his own, hooking with a sweep that was targeted at the back of his knees, hoping to destabilize him. If the sweep made contact and he began to fall, she would strike out towards his torso with her daggers, arms crossed at the wrists, sweeping with a reverse scissor movement attempting to slice the exposed area of his neck as he fell.

Vuryal smirks, per norm, as the intense fog begins to envelope the entire field of battle. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he mocks into the foray. Then, without warning, he is tripped by the sweeping leg action of the paladin, sending his winged frame hard into the ground below. The first dagger sweeps across his chest, gashing it open though without the desired intent of the woman as the magic resistant sphere deflects the effects of the fiery hell. The second narrowly misses its mark, but the wound from the previous one allows for a deep blue blood to come pouring forth and over the chest of the dark avian. Lying there for a moment in a daze from the blunt force to the back of his head, Vuryal's left hand goes now to clasp onto the leather pouch about his neck, the shooting pains from the previous attack virtually ignored while the fingers complete their task. In one fluid motion, the sands of time are tossed upwards, their rapid aging effect surely coming into play as the right leg that was swept out from under him hooks upon the nearest leg of Arien. With her body so close to his, the chronomaner also sends his left leg to fish for her right leg, hoping to clasp upon it as well and drag her down on top of him and through the time-altering powder as both of his arms go up to cause a bear hug, should all of this craziness succeed in a moment that might be lost in time... literally.

Arien felt him fall, in almost the same instant that she felt his own tug upon her ankles and its resultant destabilization of her body. She noted the tell tale movement of the hand of the avian to the area of his neck. She had seen the action once before, right before he had attempted to shower Trekia with some particles clearly intended to harm. The defense she had used to protect him had worked once, hopefully it would do so again. Immediately the elementalist leashed once more the power of the air, this time pulsing a weave of her defensive mana into the very molecular structure of the air particles. She focused her spell cast on her own body as she fell, attempting to cloak her form with a tight shield of compressed air that would repel the finest of particles as they bombarded it. Should her defense be successful she would attempt to twist her way into a violent roll that would hopefully shake her free of the dread avian's embrace.

Vuryal chooses his prisoner.

Vuryal holds tight upon his newly captured woman, which seems to be a recurring theme with this chronomancer. "Get back here!" he yells, clasping onto her completely with arms and legs. And with her firmly secured, the two disappear, the dark avian clearly having made his choice for a prisoner.