Duel:Bradyn v Pyde
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Duelists: Bradyn, Pyde Judges: Khitti, Larewen, Lionel Stakes: None. Victor: Bradyn
Dark Arena
The arena is filled with various killed and undead as well. Several Zombies seem to be carrying corpses out of the arena, returning them to the masters they served. Many bodies here look disfigured and ill, clearly abominations constructed by Necromancers to serve in the gladiator like battles held here. Several of the other bodies though are completely normal. A battle must have recently gone on here, as the crowds of people step out of the entrance of the area. To your south is the way out, to your north is a path leading to the back of the arena.
Bradyn was visible within the center of the arena, as distinguishable as the darkness of Vailkrin would allow him to be given that the Maharan male is prone to black when selecting his outfits. In more normal circumstances, the vampire's attire would be far more refined and presentable but there was no use in wearing his expensive clothing when one was about to partake in a battle, magical variety or not. That being said, Bradyn is a necromancer through and through, if there is any weaponry on him he has it concealed well and it would be nothing more than a measly little poking stick (aka a dagger). Bradyn was not stationary, there was some impatient pacing back and forth as he waits for his opponent to show up. This impatience was bred from the fact that does not have the slightest idea of who Pyde is, or what this person looks like, how formidable they may or may not be. The Maharan male was normally quite adept at keeping emotions in check, but there were too many questions banging around his skull for him to keep them sufficiently bottled up. And so he waits..
Pyde scampers into the arena, he sits on his haunches sniff at the air, the scent of the dead and undead makes the Fermin grin. Since getting his letter he was excited to finally puts his arts to use, and for the potential to gain a higher rank. He quickly deposits a lifesize, for him, bundle at the door, then scampers into the Arena main area where he sees a lone figure standing. The tattoos around his eyes glow a faint violet indicating the necro-magic in the area due to the undead shuffling around him. He stands at his full height and gives a bow to the figure standing across from him. "Ah hello, I take it you are going to be my opponent. Well I look forward to it, good sir."
Bradyn at first did not think much of Pyde's appearance, surely a rat was not going to be his partner in this endeavor? Pyde soon proves Bradyn wrong by bowing and then addressing him. A slight lift of the brow but Bradyn finds his manners and meet Pyde with a stiff bow of his own. "Shall we." Social pleasantries and small talk often escaped the Maharan male, who was going to take a rather down to business approach to this battle. The carnage soiling the ground of the arena is evidence that a battle must have taken place within the arena earlier that day, so much that the smell of blood and death is heavy in the air for those in tune with such things. Bradyn was sensitive to these things. A younger vampire the scent of blood might have been maddening, but he seems to keep his composure despite this and fully intends to harness the prior bloodshed, bending it to his advantage before he even rises from his bow. Blood that soaked into the sand of the arena, still not yet dry from the butchery that occurred earlier that day, begins to bubble and boil, seeping up and out of the earth until it forms puddles that sit on the surface of the sand. The sanguine liquid soon shifts in color, changing from that rich red to a deep and disgusting black ooze. Ooze that slithers across the earth toward Pyde, attempting to ensnare the fermin's feet within the thick-substance. It is at this point that Bradyn rises from his bow, for he is not above distraction and cheap tricks even with a double-guild-mate. It beyond obvious that avoiding this bloody puddle will probably be in Pyde's best interest but if he fails to, he will find that this blood has been thickened to the point that it almost resembles tar, it is quite sticky and it would be quite annoying to try and step out of. It's also surprisingly hot, prolonged contact will cause burns. Even a splattering from the boiling blood will not feel pleasant, but should be no worse than getting hit by hot bacon grease.
Pyde reaches inside his coat as he rises up throwing out his favorite puppets, The Butcher, The Baker, and The Candlestick Maker. The Fermin's ears alert him to the gurgling sound the foul blood made, and then the putrid smell of it turning made him cast a glance around. While doing so he waves his hands and the three puppets grow in size to the height of the Vampire. With a shout of a command word, and quick movements of his fingers the three start moving while Pyde scampers over to the Baker to stay above ground level and ride his shoulder. The Butcher chargers at Bradyn with a gleaming cleaver, while the Candlestick Maker sets his cauldron down and flings hot wax at the tar on the ground.
The hot wax that is thrown upon the thickened, blackened substance that was once blood before it was tainted and corrupted by Brady's dark magics, is temporarily put a halt to by the hot wax. The wax does not seem to cool enough to fully encase the tar-like gunk that Bradyn has manifested and it soon mixes and melds with the ooze. The Candlestick Maker thus is still right in harm's way, for the icky bloody puddle is now inching across the ground straight for the puppet to entrap it. If contact is made with this puppet, the ooze will cool and harden so that the Candlestick maker is rendered useless. What aid could the puppet offer if it could not even move? The Butcher that is charging straight at Bradyn and brandishing a cleaver is not dealt with directly by Bradyn himself. The Necromancer is not the sort to appreciate close-contact battle. He does not retreat from the Butcher though, he would not want to risk looking the coward in front of a new face -- pride is something that Bradyn does have. In order to fend off the attack of the Butcher, the undead of the arena are ensnared by his knowledge of the necromantic arts and forced to do his bidding. The butcher is charging toward him while the zombies seem to come rushing to Bradyn's aid. Their assistance is not enlisted with enough time that Bradyn avoids injury all together, the tip of the butcher's cleaver manages to make contact with Bradyn's torso just as a small group of zombies grab the puppet from behind, yanking the Butcher away from their current 'master' and trying to tear the puppet limb from limb. The mindless creatures will give no thought to the cleaver the butcher wields and have no concern over the risk of losing limbs. The Butcher is not the only puppet that will have to deal with the zombie-workers of the arena. Two lurch their way over to the Candlestick Maker, is if that puppet does not have enough to deal with, and another small grouping will be giving chase to Pyde and the Baker. Pyde probably looks like a very tasty little chew toy to the zombies...nomnomnomratbrains.
Pyde takes a shiny silver medallion out of his shirt, under the bright moonlight above the arena, the trinket sparkles like a disco ball for a moment, if any beam of light hits his pursuers in the face it would dazzle them allowing for a spell to kick in and he goes invisible to the viewer. After this the fermin starts dropping rat skeletons from a pouch on his belt, he commands the baker to travel erratically and avoid the tar puddle that follows them. The Pyde puts a paw on his flute hidden under his coat. The butcher protrudes bone cleavers from his arm stumps after the horde pulled that off his hands, and turns himself into a whirling dervish mowing the surrounding deads to pieces. The Candlestick Maker furiously stirs his cauldron and the wax withing bubbles more and more violently until a dragon head of wax emerges from the pot to gobble to tar ooze.
Bradyn was dazzled, very temporarily, by this spell of Pyde's, just long enough for the fermin to manage to make himself invisible. It it is a good thing that Bradyn himself was currently in no immediate danger, for the zombies of the arena are dealing with the puppets that are under Pyde's control. Or they were, up until that spell distracted Bradyn and broke his concentration on his own spell causing the zombies to fall out from under his control. The zombies that have not been decimated abandon their assault on the three life-sized puppets and resume their normal regime of hauling the dead and dismembered off of the battle field. Some of Pyde's dropped skeletal rats somehow do seem to count as 'dead and dismembered' by the definition of some of the zombies -- they are such mindless beasts, what do you expect? That is how a few of the dead rats are taken off of the field. As for the rest? Bradyn himself is a necromancer as well, who just subjected a small group of zombies to do his bidding. Surely he must have some means or measures to manipulate these beings to his will as well, no? Probably, but that is not the route that Bradyn is going to take. He has no interest is toying with a horde of skeletal rats. Words, foreign in language, are muttered at a volume that is barely above a whisper, uttering a spell at a rapid rate over and over again. Perhaps if Pyde is lucky he might be able to distract Bradyn again but by the looks of things those little rat skeletons that Pyde has been littering across the arena are beginning to crumble and disintegrate before exploding into a cloud of dust. Except there is something a bit funky about this low hanging dust, it does not seem to settle to the earth as one might anticipate. It lingers and hovers. With as many rats as Pyde is dropping, if Bradyn is not distracted, then the immediately surrounding area will be covered in these odd particles of done dust, which will not feel good to breath in nor would it feel pleasant upon the eyes.
It wasn't missed that the Fermin's skeletal rats had exploded into dust. He just smiles and tosses out a large satchel of Dragon bone dust adding it to the mix in the air. The Mini-Necromancer coughs up blood and feels weakened immediately after. He pulls the flute up to his lips and the hidden dark Aether within Pyde channels through the flute shaking the air and the arena itself. He wills the song of his people into the magic and the dragon dust begins forming the skeletal remains of a Dragon the last Titan had slain himself. A roars lets out as the magics seeped into the bones hardening them, and the Dragon looms over Bradyn leering at him with hollow empty sockets. Pyde coughs again more fiercely shooting blood through the flute. The illusion of Pyde fell to the ground and fell apart to reveal it was also just a corpse, but over by the door you see a radiant ultraviolet light, inside the light a feeble figure stands waving his arms around and playing the dragon as a giant puppet with magical strings. The Dragon opens its giant mouth and goes in for a swipe of its claws and head bash on the other Necromancer.
Bradyn clearly is being haunted by Dave the Dragon. Who is Dave? Don't ask, it's a long story that involves a dragon, an angry momma dragon, and one really bad case of gas. Close combat was not for Bradyn this time he would not stay stationary in the face of danger, nor would he summon some undead foe to his aid. No. Bradyn would step backwards away from the dragon just as a portal of darkness opens immediately behind him, allowing him to step through and closing just in time for Bradyn to narrowly avoid being beaten over the head by an undead dragon. But where did he go? Surely he did not run from the battlefield? That would most likely mean immediate victory for Pyde and Bradyn is a vampire, they are creatures full of so much pride and arrogance. The ultraviolet light had caught Bradyn's attention just before he had disappeared within the darkness, and so it is immediately behind his feeble figure that Bradyn appears with dagger in hand though he had no assault in mind. He just stands behind Pyde, confident that the piper will not play the dragon in his direction. "Now put your friend away," comes Bradyn's command.
Pyde waves his hands through the air and the dragon turns to dust in an instant just to appear looming over the two Necromancers. "I think I deserve this win. Whether I cause a draw by ending us both or I win, I will give my all for more power."
Bradyn does not see fit as to justify these statement with a response. Rather than entertaining the notion of engaging Pyde in another round of battle, Bradyn opts for a trick with Pyde has already seen. One moment the vampire is there and the next he has been consumed by darkness, leaving Pyde there with his puppets and pet skeleton dragon.