Duel:Ayras v Desparrow, Match 11 of the 2016 Frostmaw Tournament
Duelists: Ayras vs Desparrow Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner Judges: Hildegarde, Kasyr, and Xzavior
Tattered Frozen Bridge
The bridge here is made of old thick rope, measuring four inches in a circle. The old wooden platforms beneath your feet are ancient and many are broken, however with careful movements, you find that you can cross the bridge, and with hope, cross back should you need to. The extremely thick ice that covers this bridge may make it slick, but perhaps is the only reason, it does not fall from under you. The bridge leads north and south, halfway among the bridge, it is linked to a small platform that heads west.
Balder steps forward, his hand waving in the air to call for silence before it settles down on the pommel of his sword. It seems the crowd is wise, and as the various spectators and gamblers begin to quiet down, the young giant takes a stance at the centre of the fighting pit; from which the fight is viewed via giant icy like mirrors that are undoubtedly powered by magic. The mouth piece is a towering young man, an arrogant giant whose hair and beard retain a youthful blond that is still reminiscent of his father’s. His voice is growling and severe as he booms out to those present, "Welcome to the eleventh round of the Titans of Winter Tournament! Today's match is held upon the tattered frozen bridge, with the beast Desparrow against the wicked Hildegarde-loving Ayras!-" Boos hiss through the air at the mention of the vampire, "battle honorably in this sacred tournament!" Once the signal to begin is given, the crowd steps back out of the way to allow both combatants to do their worst, and Balder fades into the jumble of frost giants collected at one end of the fighting area. "Good luck to you both, you’ll need it!" It’s clear the fighters will need the luck, given the howling wind and snow that plagues the city this day. An ice storm that surely harms the visibility and hearing of combatants. But it’s not just the whipping sound of wind that the duelists contend with… there is devilish laughter on the wind. A pair of devils no doubt waiting to spring upon these fighters.
Desparrow right on cue was in movement when the voice of Balder stated the fight was to begin. In a fully transformed state he stood as a thirteen foot mass of ebon-furred muscle and animalistic vampire-hating fury though being that Des is a being of exceptional willpower he was granted a measure of control in this form even, especially over his inherent magical powers which currently were manifesting themselves as many ribbons of ether that curled about his form undulating wildly in the wind but not leaving his body. In each hand was a bottle of precious contents which he was quick to shatter and allow to soak his hands and most importantly his claws and anyone that could sniff it out would find that he had just soaked his main weapons in dragon blood which to a vampire was a mild acid to their flesh. In a rush he broke forward across the bridge towards his opponent unhindered as of yet by the wind and cold other than the fact that he was not able to rely heavily on scent or hearing and Ayras was little more than a shadow in the distance. Closing that distance proved to be just as difficult though when out of nowhere something managed to strike his back and send him skidding forward and even straight off the bridge where some boards had given way. His descent was quick but on silent command he was able to bring himself to a halt and then shoot upwards on a solid platform created with his magic which then propelled him upwards until he managed to gain footing back on the bridge only a couple meters from Ayras whom he charged on sight. Bearing down on the man a flurry of blows were made towards flesh and armor, each strike a crushing attack with the capability of rending through leather, cloth and flesh leaving behind traces of the dragon’s blood which had now frozen on his claws in the wounds to continue to damage his opponent after a hit had landed.
The chill of the air bothered the vampire not at all as he stood there and listened to Balder's wind-muffled speech, even despite the fact that the spellblade was, as was his habit, without a breastplate or any other form of covering on his chest. Silver eyes were set straight ahead at the shadow of the gargantuan figure that was his opponent, even after the call for the fight to begin was given. Where Desparrow charged, Ayras moved lazily, stepping forward and drawing his sword without haste. Each step was taken with care, the ice on the less-than-sturdy bridge underfoot making a rush foolhardy. It was, perhaps, a good thing, too, for soon enough the looming figure of the werewolf was before him with those powerful arms of his batting away. Ayras twisted and turned, ducked and weaved through those strikes, the only strike landing being a glancing blow to his left, unarmored shoulder. The burning sensation left behind, however, allowed Ayras to quickly learn of the dragon's blood on the wolf's hands, and with a hiss and a snarl he leapt back a few feet. Electricity charged over Ayras body, charged until his form was covered in the blinding light of it - a light made all the worse for the reflections off the falling snow. Forward he went, a living lightning bolt, body and sword working in concert to send a twirling, stabbing onslaught Desparrow's way.
Desparrow did not wait around for Ayras to come forward with his assault but on his shoulder he felt something whisk by and as he was about to turn something lashed across his snout drawing blood and illiciting a howl into the storm but to no avail as the assault was not over. Attempting to focu on his opponent he took a step back as Ayras did forward though the vampire had caught up in no time to the lycanthrope and had begun lashing out. Des had no weapons on him, no armor and so protection from the attacks was reduced to attempting to dodge where he could though the best he could manage was turn most attacks into glancing blows which sent a shocking pain through that part of his body while instilling a numbness in him all over which quickly brought him to his knees the more strikes that landed. Blood froze shortly after it had leaked from each of his wounds and he seemed to have given up until another blow slashed across his brow and blood leaked into his left eye which caused him to close it and to his fault ended up with it being frozen shut which reminded him the urgency of this fight; assaulted by an electrified vampire and invisible assailants he couldn't find. His right arm shot out, flat handed and towards the chest of his opponent, his magic formulated a spectral overlay on his hand giving his hand more puncturing power to break through weaker armors, flesh and even bone so that he may plung his dragon blood drenched claws right into the rib cage while his other hand shot out to grab at Ayras' sword arm to yank him in for a destructive curse-delivering bite that would clash with his vampiric virus and wreak havoc at the point of infliction, but to what degree was unknown as research had not been done.
At such close quarters, the scent of fresh blood was far from hard to smell. It urged the vampire on, prompted him to keep the assault up. However, with Desparrow's hand reaching for his chest, Ayras was forced to grab with his free hand to push and hold that arm at bay, all while his sword arm was suddenly pulled forward. There was a deadlock for a split moment as Ayras pulled back on his sword arm, a quick battle of sheer, brute strength in that moment, two superhuman beings warring for the upper hand. Desparrow might just have won that contest with the bite that was aimed for the vampire's arm - armored though it may have been - until something whizzed in and slammed into the vampire's back. A roar of pain ripped from the vampire as he was violently shoved bodily forward into Desparrow. Gritting through the pain, Ayras was forced to accept the momentum provided by the ice devil, and with a growl of effort he went about an effort to shove Desparrow back down one of the holes in the bridge.
Desparrow was not giving in just yet, blind in one eye and still under attack he felt he could come back. As he was being pushed back he was quick to brace himself but the icy boards offered little traction even under the strength of his claws and Ayras got what he wanted when something slashed the back of his leg as he was indeed nearing a gap in the bridge causing him to yelp and give under the force of his opponent's weight and strength, releasing Ayras' arm and falling but not for long as he swung out to grab the ropes on one side of the bridge. Struggling to pull himself up he was only met with further tribulation when the razor cut of claws ran across his fingers though perhaps unexpected the more dangerous a situation go the more the lycanthrope in Desparrow kicked in and his own will over this form receded. In a blind rage he pushed through the pain and got to a stand only to charge Ayras one more time, lunging first for a bite to lock on the shoulder before delivering a furious flurry of shredding blows empowered by primal survival instinct and hatred. In this tunnel vision where Ayras was the only target the blows here and there from the devil that nagged him were little more than a nuisance to be dealt with later and he would push on, and push back agianst the vampire with full intent that he would give under the lycan's onslaught.
In the reprieve offered by the dangling Desparrow, Ayras took the time to collect the electrical magic that had been coursing about him to collect into his left, mithril hand to form into a sword, a trick that Balder out in the audience would recognize from the events at the carnival in Xalious. Much like Desparrow, though, the devils soon sought to hassle the vampire, so when the wolf-man came back to the bridge he'd be greeted by an already spinning and slashing foe and the sight of streaks of blood flying through the air around the redhead. Soon the two primal forces were clashed against each other again, vampire and lycanthrope meeting strike for strike. Desparrow struck, and Ayras parried. Ayras struck and his blows were cast aside. In the end, rather than strike high at the vital points of the werewolf, the vampire instead began to strike low; knees, shins, thighs, even the groin were not safe from Ayras' attacks.
Desparrow was weakening against the onslaught, the cold biting into his wounds along with the remnants of the previous electrical assault on his body. As the vampire lashed out again with his lightning he knew what was coming but continued on with almost reckless abandon, charging forward with head lowered and body hunched to take the blows but when he felt the bite into his leg again and a tug on his foot he slipped to his knees and proceeded to take the beating while covering himself with his arms as he curled into a protective ball so that he may survive until the moment he could attack once more even as his body caved under the electricity damaging nerves while inflicting pain which was followed by longstanding numbness.
Desparrow wins.
Desparrow waited until the attacking had ceased and quickly uncurled only to stand and swing out in rage with a flat handed blow towards the neck of the vampire and under his strength render the man unconscious. Against all odds the lycanthrope proved to be the better and declared his victory with a howl into the storm before charging off.