Duel:Baraneth v. Lanlan

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Location: Drow Military Camp
Duelists: Baraneth (Surface Allies), Lanlan (Drow Allies)
Judges: Leone, Lyros
Stakes:  Baraneth wins, the giants break into the camp and drive the drow back underground + one auto hit against Lanlan. Lanlan wins, the drow successfully defend the camp, Frostmaw retreats to the woods in Larket, set up camp to regroup, + one auto hit against Baraneth.

Drow Military Camp

This small patch of land has witnessed the destruction and resurrection of major forces. Notably, the elves lived here first in a thriving, peaceful community before being decimated by the duergars. During their occupation of this land, the deep dwarves lay waste to the land and built a dark tower and spiked walls with only one entrance: a stone door weighing many tons. What happened to the duergars is not known, but today the drow military occupies this space. Tents and stables have been erected, sentry posted to the tower and walls. Various flags mark the tents belonging to the different houses of Trist’oth that have supplied soldiers to the coalition invasion of the surface. Drow magic blots out the sun by casting an orb of darkness around the fortified camp. There is no way to move over the uneven terrain without a light source or infravision.

Entrance Posts

Lanlan acts as Patron of his house when Laezila is indisposed, as she is now. It was his people standing at the vanguard of this fight. They were all abominations; some lycans and vampires, but much more were drow that simply had their blood muddied. There was only a few things that bound them together; first and foremost was hatred of elves. There was another reason though. Sunlight was the most easily exploitable weakness of the drow, and these folks had the burden diluted. Of course, it was night anyways. As the new patron, Lanlan was here to gain the trust of his subjects, as well as keep the ember of hatred alive and well. The tower was being rebuilt since being wrecked, surprisingly, by employed members of the drow community. Laezila has traditionally not kept slaves among her house.

Baraneth marches at the front of the army she leads, crossing through the terrain in Sage with ease that can only be attained by one who has knowledge of this place since birth. Scores of elves and giants are behind her, the latter beings leaving a soft quiver that shakes the ground in their wake, doubtlessly leaving their approach rather obvious to the drow camp. The elven mage is certainly nervous, as evidenced by a sharp chill that runs up her spine; after all, this is quite a responsibility and task, and the potential reward here is invaluable to her people. Nevertheless, Baraneth grows more confident in each step of her approach, knowing she cannot allow the burden upon her shoulders to weigh her down. The dying light of dusk slowly gives way to a more unnatural and consuming darkness as they near the camp, but it appears the elves are ready; in the rear there are more mages reading a single incantation, leaving a sphere of light forming above that accompanies their every step. With one orb of darkness and one orb of light, there will only be just enough here to illuminate the coming battle…and undoubtedly, only one will stand at the end of the evening.

Lanlan, along with the rest of his brothers and sisters, felt the vibrations for some time, and marked as they grew closer and more. Even before this, there was a conclusive report from a lycan scout. By smell the lycan could sense the approach of elves and giants, along with an entire army. Lanlan nodded approvingly to his underling, and the order was given to mobilize. Lanlan approached the foreman of his workers, instructing her. "Keep them working," he said, "If any attempt to flee...?" He cast one more glance to the commoners before returning to the foreman, "Kill them." Lanlan descended the tower and erupted suddenly to the outside the globe of darkness, apparently alone, waiting for the enemy commander. Of course there was no telling what lie just beyond the black threshold. He narrowed his eyes as the coming globe of light approached, expecting a civil meeting.

Baraneth knows with certainty that the drow camp lays only steps away. Feeling that tingly sensation crawl of her skin once more, the elven mage breathes a sigh and shakes her head, dismissing any doubtful thoughts from her mind as she steps forth with her army to encroach upon the camp proper. She appears first, as any leader rightfully would, staring coldly out at Lanlan. “This camp has been a cancer upon Sage for far too long…” She begins, silently summoning a twisted staff of wood that falls easily into her grasp. “…Today it will be excised for good. I know it is useless to reason with you, but I’ll give you chance to evacuate now. Bloodshed is not necessary, but we’ll not hesitate a moment if you should refuse.” Behind her, many warriors bear blades, rangers ready their bows and mages prepare their minds for spellcasting of a most violent nature.

Lanlan glanced to either side of the forest lazily. "It has been cared for, as promised. It is your presence now that endangers the flora and the fauna." As the orbs meld, Lanlan turns and returns to the ranks of his people. Among them now, a civil stare is replaced by a cold one conveying threat, and his elongated eyebrows quiver with an unseen force. He snaps his wrist and instantly a glass wand appears in his hand, from his sleeve perhaps. He utters one word: "Go." And his comrades rush with bloodlust toward their enemy, as Lanlan is faced with the general. Sensing a particular danger about her, he carefully avoids other engagements, and dedicates himself to the glory of her dispatch.

Duel

Baraneth expected such a refusal and gives a sweeping gesture that instantly sends her forces rushing out to meet the drow and their allies, allowing them to pass around her to engage their hated rivals in heated battle. The leader of the army stays back, though not out of cowardice; instead she closes her eyes, silencing the din of war forming around her to fall into deep concentration, afforded relative safety in her spellcasting by elven allies around her. An icy incantation leaves the lips of the mage, bringing the temperature in the immediate area dropping rapidly; before Baraneth, a pale blue light bursts into existence and begins to take the shape of a vaguely humanoid being. Streaks of white begin to lace themselves into the formation of light, giving this conjuration a frigid structure and skin that rapidly forms into a sort of frost elemental. Sleeker than most conjured creatures but no less lethal, it floats upon the air, creation completed as the eyes of Baraneth snap open, revealing a deathly cold stare that singles out Lanlan in the distance. Raising the staff at her side, she urges the elemental to fly forth, and so it does! It slices the air between herself and her adversary with frightening speed, opening its mouth to give way to a superchilled cone of arctic air; the effects are noticed when a stray drow slave makes the unfortunate decision of jumping in the way. Frost speads over his skin and leaves him a sort of frozen sculpture before he is even afforded the chance to shout in surprise or terror. Of course, the magical breath continues on, descending upon Lanlan with nefarious intentions. Regardless of success, the elemental bears down upon the gray elf and brings its jagged claws to bear, swiping once at legs and then again at his neck; surely any wound incurred is capable of inducing rapid frostbite as well as ripping and tearing flesh.

Lanlan starts walking toward Baraneth as the cold creature comes forward, minding his compatriots around him as they continue to clash. As one of them nears, Lanlan yanks him by the cloak and shoves him toward the elemental, ordering, "Attack!" The fool does, and as we know, he's almost instantly frozen. Lanlan minds the sacrifice of he who apparently saved his life, and uses this diversion to dash into a sprint toward Baraneth, beginning to recite a spell, and putting distance between he and the elemental. Only inches before approaching, he apparently dissipates into a thousand dusty moths that spread out before Baraneth to obscure her view. Assuming she can't see, he steps delicately behind her brandishing a sharpened knife, and attempts to stab under her ribs and into her heart. He continues to be mindful of the elemental however, and intentionally places Baraneth before it. It might risk friendly fire if it's too aggressive...

Baraneth raises her staff defensively as Lanlan approaches, ordering her allies in the immediate surroundings to assist the others. In the midst of preparing some quick defensive spell, Baraneth retreats a step as Lanlan encroaches, only to be met by a faceful of dusty moths! She sputters in confusion – and because moths – rapidly turning aside with the intention of finding her apparently vanished assailant. By sheer luck she notices Lanlan’s delicate approach out of her corner of her eye, although too late to avoid the ambush entirely. She attempts to bring her staff to intercept the knife, but it only awkwardly redirects the dagger so that it shallowly sheathes itself in the skin of her side. Crying out in anguish, Baraneth shoves Lanlan away and in doing so removes the tip of the weapon from her flesh, grasping at it instantly; it’s not a terribly deep wound, but rivulets of blood seep through her fingers and stain her once brilliantly blue robes a darker shade. Not eager to trade blows with the gray elf in melee combat, the eleven mage retreats a step and lifts her staff, leveling at her gray elf opponent. In what must be one of the most basic spells imaginable – and therefore requiring little mental exertion or focus – arcane magic forms at her and takes the shape of nasty pointed projectiles, seeming to sense Lanlan’s presence as they streak toward him. One falls too low in its path and makes an explosive impact upon the earth, casting out a spray of dirt that assails Lanlan’s vision inadvertently, hopefully making any evasion terribly difficult.

Lanlan flares his nostrils as the staff redirects his blade into her side, and grins as he pulls back the saturated knife. She pushes him away in what he expects is terror, and only becomes more confident of his own abilities. His eyes have the look of a predator and Baraneth is his cornered prey. He braces himself for her futile attempts at escape or offense, and utters a simple spell as well. As the floating spires form out of thin air, Lanlan's form becomes hazy as he visually begins to melt into the background behind him. Colors mix and match, soon he's a complete blur. As the spikes are cast, one of them plunks into the dirt before him and a swarm of dirt obscures his vision. Having no ability to dodge, he raises his arms in defense of his head and chest. Many of them miss, no doubt to his blurriness, But one sticks in his arm, and another sticks in his stomach, instantly drawing blood. When he removes his arms from his view, his eyes are burning with rage. As if to match him, the illusive swarm of moths fluttering about her take instantly to burning. They writhe and smolder with the color of a sunset, and begin to harass Baraneth, forming a circle around her. As seconds tick, they form a tightening tube of fire that Lanlan hopes will convince her to burn with them.

Baraneth raises her eyes keenly as the moths that still flutter about her begin to burn, instantly causing the elf’s guard to rise and giving her cause to summon a new spell. She doesn’t panic even as the fiery insects form a fiery circle around her, heaving a sigh and raising her staff as her eyes close once more. Another elemental spell is soon given birth, and not a second too late; the flames around her are growing hotter and beginning to singe her skin and hair even if they aren’t yet touching her robes or flesh yet. A jet of cooled fluid – which is perhaps something as simple as water – emerges from the crown of her staff and takes the shape of a sleek, limbless serpent of sorts. It spirals around Baraneth and readily consumes the flaming moths immediately surrounding the woman, giving harsh hisses of air that leave harsh steam in their wake, which is enough to cause the mage to cry out in pain when they come too close to boiling her skin. Soon they are vanquished, however, and Baraneth lies crouched in this prison of rapidly dissipating mist. Seeing that Lanlan is still not vanquished, the mage again gives call to her elemental, which earlier missed its swipes at the gray elf and neglected to give chase, since it follows her command alone. Raising her staff defensively before her, the blonde mage begins a strikingly similar incantation to the one she spoke earlier, though the tone and select words are decidedly different. These subtle changes are enough to make the result quite apparent; the elemental lurking nearby in the air above the battleground sees those some laces of blue and white run through it, but now they add mass and more weight to the conjured being. Soon too heavy to float by the winded mage’s command alone, it drops to the earth and forms into a shapeless sphere, rolling forth by a final mystic command. The uneven terrain here is not enough to stop it, and anyone foolish enough to stand in the way is swiftly crushed. As one might expect, it seeks out Lanlan, barreling toward the gray elf and seeking to grind him into oblivion. Baraneth, on the other hand, falls to a single knee, heaving a heavy breath.

Lanlan despises Baraneth for not giving in, gritting his teeth and dispelling his illusive moths and blurring effect. They dissolve into nothing and are no more. The idle elemental returns to the fray, and again puts its will to its sole purpose: killing Lanlan. An efficient creature, indubitably, but stupid. The effort of his magic and the pain in his wounds, his belly especially, induce him. He'll not combat the tumbling creature, as he wouldn't know where to begin. Shedding only a slight look to Baraneth, he sees she's doubled over on her knee, before returning to the immediate problem and clutching something tentatively in his pocket and bracing his forearm against the open wound in his stomach. He rehearses something in monotone, and with great effort, leaps into the air. The magic of his enchanted drow House insignia carries him much further and higher than he could ever normally jump on his own, provided the lift off his sufficient. It is only just, and as the death ball tumbles toward him, he's able to tuck his knees and barely skate over the top of it. As the magic carries him, the elemental follows, and he glides over Baraneth, predictably leading the ball barreling back at her.

Baraneth glowers at Lanlan when he levitates just enough to avoid being smashed by the frozen elemental. She perhaps expects his next move, careful eyes watching him levitate above her in an attempt to turn her own magic against her. Very fortunately, the summoned elemental obeys Baraneth’s command alone, but the sheer speed of the incoming icy sphere of death is enough to nearly cause her to panic. Just as it nears her body, the elven mage cries out in a frantic yet focused command; the elemental obeys and ceases its pursuit, losing form and deconstructing itself as it veers off course, narrowly avoiding a disaster for Baraneth. The summoned being breaks apart and reduces itself to chunks of rapidly melting ice upon the earth, leaving the elf panting for breath and grasping tightly at that still trickling wound at her side.

Baraneth turns when the elemental falls apart at her side, having narrowly avoided death by her own conjured construct. The mage’s eyes turn to the levitating gray elf above, narrowing to slits as her staff is raised once more. Her body aches, the wound at her side pulses in agony and her heavy spellcasting has taken its toll…but she is unwilling to succumb here in her home. Calling upon some of the last reserves of her magic, tendrils burst forth from the crown of the staff and swiftly ensnare Lanlan, rendering him unable to make any significant movement. Struggling to her feet, Baraneth grunts and makes a great heaving motion with her twisted staff, turning and casting the entangled gray elf through the air at a terrifying speed; he is only stopped by the stone door, smashing against it with a sickening crack. Though Lanlan is not dead – saved by some combination of unholy grace and luck, perhaps – he is certainly unconscious. Meanwhile, the mage’s eyes turn toward the battle raging around them: with the fall of their camp leader, the less spirited slaves and more cowardly drow break into retreat, while the more spirited ones continue their resistance. Such struggle proves futile, however; the giants led by Beorn were held back for a time, but no longer. Like a powerful surge breaking through a rotted and weakened dam, the giants burst into the camp en masse and wreak true havoc. Some drow are crushed by their feet alone while others are ridden with arrows from elven archers as they attempt to fall back. Any dark elves that stand to fight are bludgeoned, slashed apart, crushed and otherwise disposed of; the rest break into an all-out retreat, a panicked evacuation the sends them abandoning the tower and fleeing underground. Baraneth can only watch this rout with tears of joy streaming down her face, rejoicing in the victory of the day. The war may not be over for good, but finally the drow have been driven back and the camp has been reclaimed for the elves. Those who fell in battle here and all over Sage have not sacrificed themselves in vain.

Winner: Baraneth (Surface Allies)