Duel:Bathelemy v Rheven

Rheven vs Bathelemy

Judges: Melisandre, Myrall, Quoyie(Mid)

Winner: Rheven

Vailkrin Arena

Rheven stands eerily still across from Bathelemy, his left hand lifting slowly and tucking his thumb and forefinger back for a rather simple 'snap'. The infamous command gives view to the equally infamous staff, Oshikai, which is hastily snatched from the air before the mage and pointed directly at the opposing vampire...or is it pointing behind him, perhaps? This remains a mystery as the vampire lord begins a low chant, the skies seeming to darken, though no clouds gather at all - within moments it seems as if the sun has set in a matter of seconds, the pitch dark of night consuming the arena. Suddenly, the shadows smothering the stands seem to flicker a bit, as if moving, were that possible; and indeed, it appears to be the case. From the darkness comes several inky tendrils, snaking about and wrapping firmly around Bathelemy's wrists and ankles like living serpents. With a sickening slowness they begin to pull in opposite directions, not causing harm just yet, but having every intention of ripping Rheven's opponent limb from limb, much like a man inside a torture rack.

Bathelemy found himself staring face to face with none other than Rheven, the white-haired wonder that inspired his use of illusion to disguise his true hair color of black to a snow white. Bright crimson eyes observe what little could be told from the mage's stoic position across the field of battle as the vampire himself contemplates what sort of illusion would work best against a vampire that practices magic. His gaze becomes hateful upon the appearance of the staff, seeing as Bathe'lemy knew the anti-mage monk Cuki well enough to understand where such a fancified stick came from. Soon as direction is given to his weapon, the illusion is initiated as the sorcerous magics of the vampiric spellblade go to work. A double is created in his exact positon while his true body is hidden from sight and sense as best as it could be, walking off to the side in hopes that the attack will be absorbed by his mind so that a counterattack could be formed the next it was used. Lost within his own thoughts, the chants escape the illusionist's attention before it is grasped moments later by the shadow that had suddenly enveloped the entire arena. The double remained still as the tendrils wrapped around his ankles, only responding moments too late after its wrists had been caught within the shadow's dangerous snare. A physically based attack caused by manipulation of shadows was the best Bathe'lemy could describe the way they pulled apart his illusion with more ease than seemed possible. Of course, in order to instill as much fear as possible, another double was created out of thin air after the dispersion of the first, this one charging towards Rheven with one hand upon the hilt of the katana resting at his hip. Its speed would increase until a split second before it would come into contact with Rheven, suddenly disappearing as the real illusionist employed lightning to do his bidding. A sharp crack pierces the dark sky as a bolt of electricity escapes from the sky and descends upon Rheven's position. The point behind the attack was to catch the mage off guard rather than to inflict heavy damage, and as such, the bolt was a bit weaker than one might expect.

Rheven snorts as his vicious tendrils rip a mere illusion to shreds, the inky things dispersing as soon as their work is done. Noticing the incoming illusion, the vampiric mage withdraws into a defensive stance, staff held outward and more than ready to deflect any incoming blow - but then, the illusory Bathelemy dissapears, leaving only a somewhat confused Rheven standing on edge. Glancing up to the skies above, the Lord of Venturils is nearly blinded by the descending cord of electricity, throwing himself into an awkward leap to the right that leaves him rolling along the filthy ground, the strike of lightning merely blackening the area where he once stood. Rubbing his eyes with his free hand and grumbling incoherently, the mage makes his way to his feet, setting his now quite irritated gaze upon the true Bathelemy and beginning another harsh chant - lifting his staff, the vampire drives the dragon bone forged weapon into the earth with impossible force, the spell as well as the impact sending the earth itself into shudders of protest which quickly escalate into a quake-like rumble, disturbing the footing of any present. Struggling to maintain his own balance, Rheven points his staff at Bathelemy once again, the crown of the weapon seeming to stare into his soul as the vampire suddenly shouts! A crimson glow engulfs Oshikai before suddenly flaring quite literally, spitting flames forth in a mighty torrent. Just before reaching Bathelemy, the mass of flames drench the earth, speeding toward the opposing vampire in a nearly inescapable wall of hellish death - undoubtedly, the quaking of the earth will make the possibility of merely dodging the encroaching inferno that much harder.

Bathelemy considered his trickery to be an art, and thus was rather disappointed when his bolt of lightning failed to strike its target. Within the confines of his mind, there was obviously a factor in the equation of deceit missing. Perhaps this one knew what was an illusion and what was not? The vampire scoffed at the thought out loud, as such only made it more difficult to attain his goal: eradication of this newest foe. Not that the quake that shook the arena made this any easier. Even given the spellblade's innate balance and reflex due to his being a vampire, it was still not enough to maintain his footing on the crumbling earth. With a soft thud, the man landed straight on his back before lifting his head to obtain a clear view of Rheven. A curse is uttered from the vampire's lips as great amounts of fire spew forth from the head of that staff that Bathe'lemy had come to despise. Stumbling to his feet as he continued to backpedal, the blazing wall continued its advance. Fortunately enough, however, Bathe'lemy understood what fire required to maintain its power, and one of the key ingredients was the air itself. The retreat continues as a hand extends towards the ever-approaching barrier of flames before massive bolts of lightning scatter from his fingertips, striking the ground just before the inferno as the wall was enveloped in a cloud of dirt that sprang up from the arena floor after such a tremendous strike. Soon after the fire was denied its supply of air, it remained little more than ashes scattered with the blackened area of the lightning's strikes. However, these bolts continued to erupt from Bathe'lemy's hand and sail into the cloud of dust in search of a new target: the weilder of that accursed staff, Rheven.

Rheven growls in frustration as Bathelemy once again evades death, driving his staff into the ground once more, causing the violent quakes to cease abruptly. Stepping forward, the mage is again nearly blinded by the incoming electric bolts, tossing his hand up over his eyes to shield his vision - this proves to be somewhat foolhardy though, as the miniature strikes of lightning rain upon him. Many miss, hitting the earth instead, but one manages to strike his staff and course through the weapon and into the vampire's flesh, sending a nasty jolt through his entire body; the shock sends Rheven into a fit of shaking for a moment before it finally finishes its journey, tiny tendrils of smoke rising from his now singed flesh. Staring at the ground, the vampire lord's lips slowly spread into a wicked grin before he tilts his head up, staring at Bathelemy with a nefarious smile. Shaken but unbeaten, the vampire again points his staff at the shadows of the arena, which still smother and consume the area, darkening further once again and leaving visibility quite low as the two foes continue their clash. Again the tendrils slither with serpentine grace, gathering around Bathelemy and twitching slightly, as if to recognize their prey. Perhaps contrary to what some may expect, they don't lunge in at the illusionist - instead, they coil around each other like threads of fine ribbon, gathering and collecting into a small dome around Bathelemy. The blackened tendrils shut together quite tightly, denying air to enter the incarceration as the prison slowly begins to shrink upon the trapped vampire, threatening to crush him, if he should not run out of oxygen first.

Bathelemy would regain his footing almost as soon as the ground's quaking ceased, coming back to his full composure as he erected his stance in an effort to appear more imposing. However, he finds that he cannot see his opponent when he is finished standing upright. The eerie silence unsettles the vampire for a moment before he breaks it with his voice, perhaps to ensure that he can still hear, "My vision, gone." This lent him a bit of sanity as he attempted to gather what was occurring. Suddenly, he realized what was happening as the shadows only came closer in contrast to what he expected: Less shadow due to the immense amount of light that was created. This time, the vampire was not about to let anything hold him back. Once again, the lightning was coaxed into performing the vampire's will through his sorcerous energies. With a loud crash, a large bolt pierces the edge of his dark cell, causing the other shadowy tendrils to wither away and, ultimately, disappear as the lightbore down on the shadows it did not directly strike. Visibility was returned soon after, and for this the vampire was thankful, but the battle was far from over: he had yet to register a strong attack upon his foe. With the quakes gone, the vampire found it easier to bolt across the Dark Arena's dirt floor towards Rheven. Quick fingers dived into the pocket of the spellblade's leather pants to bring out a set of steel knuckles, which was donned immediately after. He was so close to Rheven now, the lust for a solid strike was unbearable. Infusing a measure of his electric power into the knuckles as he was mere feet away from Rheven, his speed only increased as the vampire aimed to use the momentum to his advantage in his attack. The goal was a simple one that concided with his will: Seriously injure the mage so as to disrupt his spellcasting abilities that had caused him to use his own near their limit. The fist bearing the knuckles rears back and, in a magnificent haymaker punch, aims for Rheven's right shoulder. Should this attack hit, the vampire thought, a good amount of spin may cause extra damage if the mage's face happened to strike the floor. Even without the magic infused within the knuckles, it would no doubt be a powerful physical blow.

Rheven shakes his head slowly as Bathelemy yet again escapes, standing still as Bathelemy begins his mad dash. The mage bears witness to the knuckles, as well as the electricity coursing through them that somehow do not harm the opposing vampire, despite being set into a clear conductor. The vampire lord knows the strike is coming, and swings his staff forward instantly, clashing with the incoming fist with a deafening 'clang' that echoes across the arena. The slight shock again travels through Oshikai and into Rheven, coursing through his body and offering a grotesque look at his skeletal structure as it travels through. When it is surely done, Rheven stands even now, his staff against the steel covered fist of Bathelemy, features set into a mask of nothing more than irritance and slight pain.