Duel:Barvalone and Hemlock v Pahn

Barvalone and Hemlock versus Pahn

Hemlock starts into a run at Pahn before quickly bounding into the air. His sword arcs upward over his back and with a square kick to the do-gooders chest, he kicks himself backwards in an instant retreat. Mid-propulsion, the assassin's blade slices downward with the instantaneity of a snapping mechanism, singing as it aims to lacerate Pahn's face.

Barvalone releases his cantrip at the moment Hemlock moves forth, as if their minds mechanize. With a quick shout in the words of the abyss, forth comes a circle of spines, shimmering along the edges with metallic brilliance. Controlled with precision, they streak forth, darting between Hemlock's limbs, narrowly missing his brother in their charge for the fool, Pahn.

Pahn holds his ground, unaware of what Hemlock is doing. Seeing the drows attack, Pahn readies himself for a defense. An easy one, it seems. But a flick of the wrist and the attack would be blocked. However, just as Pahn readies himself in a guarding position, Hemlock leaps back ward, greatly confusing the gnome. However, he quickening regains his composer and within moments a blade is making its way towards Pahns face. Thinking face, the gnome reacts by guarding his face with the daggers; however it is not good enough. The blade deflects but at a cost. Pahn feels it shimmy to the left, taking out of chunk of Pahns left shoulder. The pain is there, however, Pahn manages to ignore it for the most part. Reacting on instinct, Pahn leaps onto a table and then into the air, putting himself above Hemlock. Chanting a few words of a song, Pahn increases the strength of his next attack. With the accuracy only a thief (and a gnome at that) posses, he lets fly his twin daggers. The twins seek a pair of locations, Hemlocks neck for one and torso for the other.

Hemlock's knees bend almost completely as he falls backwards to avoid the approaching dagger. Whilst the projectile whizzes over his head, he jams his sword's point downward, using its steel frame to support himself before pushing back to his feet with an unphased grin. Barvalone thrusts one palm outward, tossing debris and chairs from his direct path with ease. The force jets forward with whipping force and a great howl. Falling down to the planks, the unseen force slips beneath the heels of the youngest dark elf brother, volting him up and outward towards the arrogant gnome.

Hemlock's feet perform a slow, aerial walk as he is easily lifted from his vantage and sent soaring towards Pahn. Letting out a ferocious cry, the assassin then proceeds to collide forcefully against him, his jagged brand poised in such a way as to impale the thief in the motion. As a precaution, he leans somewhat to the right, aiming to twist his opponent's stance into an open target for Barvalone. Barvalone's legs give out purposefully, dropping him onto his belly like a sleek, black worm. Shooting out like a black dart, the battlemage's hand throws forth a great cloud of powdered sulfer, along with motes of fire ruby. Twisting his tongue delicately to call out in the melodic tongue of the drow, the sulfur reacts, exploding into a great conflagration that speeds just above the floor, hitting Pahn low as his brother hits high.

Pahn lets loose a smile of pride with his toss of the daggers. However, the smile does not last long as he realizes what little it did to Hemlock. Pahn feels a hint of fear for a moment but, it was only for a moment. For at that moment, he realized Hemlock would not act alone, for his brother would shortly join them. Still in the air, Pahn sees (what he thought to be uncomposed) Hemlock make is way toward Pahn. Completely defenseless, the gnome has little options. Suddenly, a chant comes to mind. It is only moments before Hemlock hits his target, however, that is all the time Pahn needed. The chant comes off of the bards lips like water in a stream. The defensive song is meant to grant the user a sort of magical shield for but a moment. It is enough for him to block Hemlock (mostly) but not enough to block Barvalone. The force of Hemlock still sent the gnome backward through the air, making him think he had avoided all danger. However, there was an attack he didn’t expect, Barvalone. But moments after Hemlock hit his target, the sweeping substance of Barvalones combination of components overwhelms Pahn. The gnome is sent in a flipping motion for brief seconds only to land face down on the floor (and shattering a chair in the process.) He cannot help but take the time to rest, a rest that would last but a moment. A moment Pahn knew he didn’t have. Raising to his feet as quick and agile as a cat. Pahn quickly withdraws a small, harp from the floor near where he was sitting. Pahn takes advantage of the skill he was recently taught, the skill of a bard. Letting his fingers do their work, Pahn puts full trust into his harp. The melody overwhelms all those around. It is an intoxicating song that leaves most sedated and feeling a deep sorrow. However, it is short lived, for you can see the music and the notes float from the harp. At first, you are not sure if it is you imagination or truly there. However, the notes explode at the touch of another object, or person. All around, there are explosions, most being set off in the direction of Hemlock and Barvalone.

Barvalone cannot surpress a slight chortle at the sight of the gnome, seeking solace amidst battle in the notes of music. Boldly, with a haughty air, he strides forward, fingers dancing in gestures of the arcane and archaic. Foolishly, the mage steps right into a floating note, taking an explosion to his chest that winds him and burns already charred skin from a previous battle. Already caught in the barrage, Barvalone turns and focuses upon his younger brother, tossing out a few metallic sheets that expand and stretch before the assassin as a shield against the melodic massacre. Een as more sound assaults his physical being, Barvalone slips a carefully crafted crossbow, small enough for his hand, out from beneath the fold of his piwafwi. With one click, the bolt shatters the melody by snapping each string in unison. Still, the explosions about him tear in and pummel the drow relentlessly.

Hemlock grins wildly as he watches the remaining few explosions rock and shudder the adamant barrier of Barvalone's gracious conuration. His crimson eyes narrow as he looks through the magical shield, a bellicose whip finding its place in his grip and unfastening from his belt. The peripheral image of his brother being thrown to ground, however, shatters the amusement written over his countenance, transforming his expression into one of vengeful rage. Bending his knees in preparation, the drow takes a bold leap into the air, coming up above the top rim of the magical shield only to let his coiled instrument lash out at Pahn. The long tendril of well-tanned leather snaps loudly before coiling about and squeezing Pahn's throat. Hemlock strongly pulls back on the handle of the whip as he lands once more behind the protection of Barvalone, hoping to take the gnome off of its feet.

Barvalone rolls onto his back with a grunt, badly charred and bruised by the assault. A bit too fatigued for further spellcasting, the battlemage gives a shrill, cold whistle that resounds throught the tavern. Immediately, rising up like a hellish assassin, Alabaster, the shadow familiar summoned earlier in the day, wafts from between the floorboards. Where eyes should be there is pure abyss, almost nauseatingly dark. With no more sound than a light wind, the shadow curls forth, snaking about Pahn's ankles and up, twisting round and round. With as much physical force it can muster, the beast shoves from behind the gnome, attempting to force him into Hemlock's whip-lash. Each tendril of darkness that reaches out for Pahn is imbrued with pure frost, capable of halting the flow of a mortal creatures blood. Hemlock grins maliciously, firmly setting one foot against the ground and leaning backwards to support his constant tug against the whip. With his free hand, he reaches deep into the satchel at his side and takes hold of some dozen shurikens, setting them quickly between his fingers in preparation for whatever assault he is imagining. By honing in on the ingrained abilities and sixth sense of an assassin, Hemlock lobs the deadly stars skyward, watching sadistically as they rise and then fall down towards the other end of the shield wall, toward the spot where he has calculated Pahn to be. The metallic shards glint with candle light as they spin and heavily fall over the sno doubt preoccupied gnome.

Pahn feels the strings of his harp slowly come apart but does not stop playing. Not until the last string was severed did the gnome consider dropping the harp to the floor. This was foolish and he should have known better. He sees the succession of his spell as the chared Barvalone lay before him. However, where was Hemlock? Looking around Pahn caught out of the corner of his eye, the younger of the drow, whip in hand. Turning forth, it was too late. Lashes strike the gnome on his armor less arms and some skimming his face. Blood splashed all around the tavern, Pahns blood. He could do all he could to out maneuver the whips and was quite successful. For some time, he dodged the blows. For but a moment, he stopped to rest and gain his breath. It was at this moment he felt something attack him form behind. The shadow demon sent the gnome flying forward, causing the blows of Hemlocks whip to be much more effective. Staggering back, the gnome is dazed with confusion and fear and a wild rush of excitement. However, he managed to harness his fear, making it serve him and not the other way around. It was in doing this that he managed to stay on his feet. However, this was short lived. Half blinded by the lash that struck his eye, the gnome did not see what came at him next, a half dozen shurikens, hell-bent on taking the gnome out. Falling to the floor, he managed to avoid most of them. However, four of them pierced the gnomes small body just as he was getting back to his feet. They sent him though the air a few feet, sending him though a chair on his way back to the floor. Half nailed to the floor, Pahn could do nothing. The drow brothers had won and he could do nothing about it at this point. Blood poured from the gnome like a steam. At first glance, you would think him to be dead (and wouldn’t be to far from the truth.) Pahn lay there, defeated. Blood matted a large area of the tavern. He could do nothing by lay there and await death. A death he did not fear. A death he awaited like a old man awaiting the bus. So callous he was, one would think he didn’t know what was going on. He slowly fell into a deep, intoxication sleep of unconsciousness.

Magik blinks at Pahn then rushes to his side. He places a hand on Pahn's shoulder as a bright, blue light begins to flow from it.

Barvalone rests on his back, groaning slightly from the burns and aches in his body.