Duel:Caedan v Isen

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Isen vs Caedan

With sports commentary by Zimri and Thea

  • When: Sat. - 9/13/2008 Trist’oth Arena, week 2 of UFC
  • Judges: Thea, Zimri, Keter
  • Venue: Trist'oth Arena - Saturday Night Fights: Week 2
  • Decision: Caedan wins, Split

Keter enters the center of the Arena, turning to address the crowd. “Greetings all and welcome to week two of House D’Artes Underdark Fighting Challenge. Tonight we have last weeks winner – Isen, the dangerous lycan squaring off against the young human Caedan who wishes to usurp the lycan’s short reign and lay claim to the hefty gold purse on the line tonight. We thank you all for coming and it’s sure to be a spirited battle, the after party will be held at the Trist’oth Tavern with free food and drink for all. “ With that, the Drow makes his way back to a high vantage point, ready to watch the carnage unfold before him.

Keter shouted, "Let The Battle, BEGIN !!!"

Caedan had come here earlier in the day, shadows bathing the walls and hard stone of the arena in a comforting darkness. There was no one around, and the necessity of stealth was dealt a winning hand. The psychic made quick work, two pits dug -- not without some help from a certain big red giant, and a bouncer stolen from the Corpse before the proverbial night fell in perpetual darkness of the Underdark. Her opponent, a lycan, a man who thrived on mayhem and madness almost as much as she did could not be underestimated -- but nor could he be irreversible damaged. To put it bluntly, Isen was family. Pack. But she'd give them a show. So when the teen ducks into the arena hours later, illuminated now by an eerie glow of arcane-rich light, which cast an equally eerie purple hue over the arena below both eager and apathetic spectators, she's wearing a lopsided smile and lugging around a simple stick that stands just a few feet taller than herself. Isen is observed in her periphery with a look of callous indifference, and booted feet crunch the sand and stone sediment underfoot as she paces towards him. With no magical abilities to speak of, she'll close the distance between them and seek to keep it at a minimum, knowing that many magical spells require distance to work effectively, or not harm the caster. The stick is set into a fluid spin, arcing on both sides of her, crossing in front of her, a whirl of bistre against the indigo of her sweater, sleeves long since pushed up and out of the way. She'll seek to drive him backwards, like a modern day Little Bo Peep, herding him towards a hole marked only by a bit of disturbed sand covering a thatch of straw woven together to conceal the pit, and made to break should any pressure press against it. If he retreats to concoct a spell -- she's keeping an eye on the runes painting his body -- he'll fall in, and if he stands his ground, he's going to have to deal with a stick that is weaving impossible patterns very quickly, and the probability of a broken nose, which she is fairly certain can be healed without too much fuss.

Zimri 's voice is clearly heard through the arena as he speaks, being agumented by his abilities "And as we start this off, Caeden advances upon Isen, showing a great deal of skill with a stick, lets see how our champion deals with this!"

Isen stands against the northern wall of the arena, near the exact place he'd been a week previously. The only visible difference this time is that the lycan's whole body is shrouded in a gray cloak, the folds of material giving off the faint sheen of fine silk, evidence of Isen's increased wealth. Only the left hand can be seen, bunching the cloth tightly at the neck, holding it closed. While Keter speaks, the lycan allows the cloak to hide his movement; his right arm shifts, dropping a small, iron dagger to the ground, and a shift of his foot buries it beneath the loose sand. He smiles rather wickedly, and waits for Keter to subside. Then, his hand looses, letting the cloak drop away from his form, his rasping voice murmuring a command. The red tattoos begin to light up with an eerie red glow, igniting in succession to give the appearance of trails of flame licking up his body. The display is enhanced even more by the brightly polished shield that the lycan quickly transfers from right- to left hand; a bronze base, embedded with finely cut gemstones. Aside from this, his garb is much the same as it usually is; leather pants, a black silk bandanna about his head, and a harness of leather straps holding the Disk of Writhing Stone to his chest. At his hip hangs a sword, which he now draws, revealing a blade of medium length, and coated with some dark ooze. He stands his ground as Caedan moves forward, golden eyes glittering dangerously in the dancing light. He steps forward to meet her, thinking to disrupt her attack, ducking behind his shield as he does so. The stick rings off of the metal, knocking one of the rocks loose from the cheaply-made armor. Dropping to a crouch, Isen allows the shield to cover him for a moment as he reaches out through the Disk, propelling the hidden dagger forward, leeping it underneath the sand. Traveling as fast as an arrow, the small missile jettisons out from its cover, practically beneath Caedan's feet. It heads only for the legs, however, rather than anywhere more deadly, though should it strike flesh it will surely do its fair share of damage.

Thea chimes in with further commentary, "Indeed, Zimri..it does seem she is a girl who knows what to do with a stick. And Isen has just shown us how de-robing can throw your opponent off. Let's see where this one goes."

Zimri watches as he speaks "The blows seemed to be deflected rather nicely by Isen's shield, while a streak from the ground as a dagger is about all the indication we can get of a counter attack. Things seem to be getting more intense here!"

Thea nods affirmative to Zimri, "Ah, yes..and as we both know many men do not last long against such blows. I am on the edge of my seat here waiting to see how she reacts with that stick."

Caedan is too busy working out how to force a lycan into a hole by brute strength to notice the dagger poised dangerously close to her legs, and by the time she reads his intentions, it's too late. The blade is driven into her calf, tearing through sinewy muscle and tendon, and leaving a jagged, angry wound in its wake. She is momentarily deterred, inhaling a sharp, ragged breath. Focus. Her stick isn't going to do much good against a sword, but her big pit will. In keeping with her whole close quarters theory, she keeps as little space between she and the lycan as possible. The stick is casually stuck in the ground, and she pulls from her pocket a small pouch with a terrible stench -- well, to those of canine persuasion, anyway. As Isen remains crouched behind his shield, the psychic will adamantly attempt to force him back; he's positioned himself so dangerously close to the pit now. A few well-placed kicks might send him a few inches back, but it's not enough. So, she turns her back to him, shoving it against the shield and pushing with all her strength. Meanwhile, she opens the pouch and pours a bit of fine dust into her hand, which she'll dump over her shoulder, past the shield, and hopefully onto Isen, propelling him those few feet more to the precipice of his proposed entrapment. Wolf's bane -- not a deadly herb, but an uncomfortable one, and a bit of added strength when push comes to literal shove.

Zimri blinks as he looks on "Ouch, that has to hurt, as the blade lodges into the girls leg! I don't know what that susptance she's using is, but it doesn't seem to bode well for her opponent. While she ignores the pain she must be feeling and uses all her wieght and strength to, oddly though it seems, knock him back."

Isen willingly engages in the shoving match with the girl, confident in his superior strength. Then his nose twitches slightly, testing the air for the source of his irritation. A quick sneeze is soon followed by a second, and a third, and then his rasping voice cries out as the filthy powder flies toward him. It is as he scrabbles backward on hands and knees to escape that the ground gives way, sending him down a steep slope into a pit. Blinking the dust from his eyes, Isen retaliates as quickly as he can, once more using the Chaos weapon to save his hide. the side of the pit next to where Caedan stands loosens and falls, as though something had pulled the sand beneath out instantaneously. It is up this new slope that the sand-covered lycan charges, swinging his sword through the air, glancing it off the rim of the shield. Feral teeth bare again as the clash of metal on metal sends sparks sailing into the air, one or two of them hitting the bared blade in his hand. Instantly, the oily substance on the blade ignites, a bright burst of tall flame quickly dying down to a shorter, more slowly-burning inferno, encasing the metal in a garb of flickering light. With the fiery sword in one hand, the decorated shield in the other, and the runes still glowing on his skin, the lycan paints a truly terrifying portrait, at least to one fazed by such things. Tucking his head down, the gladiator bulls forward, changing his path to aim for Caedan, intent on slamming into his foe with the shield, hoping to unbalance her, or even knock her off her feet. Simultaneously, the sword whisks by in a hiss of flame, an upward cut aimed to the left of the girl, intending to distract her from the oncoming shield.

Zimri lets out a whislte "And it could all be over as Isen falls into a 'ole, but wait, astonishgly a new path opens from it, and out the lycan charges!! It seems that he has managed to set his weapon alight, and is now going full throtle for his foe, how shall she deal with this threat?!"

Thea gasps as Zimri's comments break her dazed state and turn attentions back on the fight at hand, "Oh Gods, what is this? Isen is down in a hole with Caedan? And where did those flames come from? Looks like his sword is on fire in this round, Zimri!"

Caedan said, "Oh, that can't be good." A second later, the ground is falling from under her, and her balance is lost as she tumbles down, nearly into her own trap. She uses Isen's own incline to escape, sprinting back onto to terra firma -- well, limping in a quick run, at any rate -- before he can catch her. The teen turns, still refusing to yield close proximity in favor of close combatancy, and is abruptly met with the picture of sword and shield charging towards her; it consumes her vision. She has little choice but take the full brunt of the shield, which knocks her off her feet and onto the sand; if any had paid especially close attention, they might have noticed her take the fall a half-second before impact, but the clatter of the thing slamming into her torso is impressive enough to astound ... and beguile any spectator. Isen's forward propulsion should carry him past her, and it takes her only a second to clamor into a crouch, facing him, though she is momentarily dizzied by the percussive blow of the shield. When worse comes to worse, goes for sharp pointy things. The two leather vambraces on her arms eject two daggers, which she palms easily while watching Isen move past her. These she launches with startling celerity, intending to catch him off guard if possible, maybe before he's even turned around. One's target rests at the tender, rune-covered flesh of the lycan's shoulder, while the other aims for his calf -- a bit of unspoken revenge, perhaps, an eye for an eye. Meanwhile, she's pulled herself into a rather unsteady stand, and is following close behind her pair of daggers, pulling her stick free of the sand as she goes, and seeking to jam it cleanly into the lycan's skull before he can get anymore ideas about using that flame-covered sword, which is searing her skin just by its close proximity.

Thea winces as she watches the teen work with the blades, "Seems the little lady knows how to stash a knife or two as well, Zimri..and there is that stick again. Oh dear, she seeks to make him a kabob, using all three tools on him at once even. I do hope he can walk after this one."

Zimri winces before he speaks "And the girl takes a fall, landing hard, will she be able to get back up? Yes, yes she does! And now twin blades are aimed at our champion while his back is turned! (we never said anything about fair combat did we?) And following that up is another attempt with the wood to beat the lycan sensless, will he be able to respond in time, or will we have a new champion?!"

Thea rouses the crowd, "Don't be afraid to cheer them on, folks. They are working hard for this one..let them hear you!"

Isen , too, is left a bit stunned from the encounter, giving the thrown daggers ample time to find their marks. His mouth gapes open as the blades hit, one slicing a shallow gash along his left calf, while the other delves solidly into his right shoulder, the pain forcing him to drop his sword, the flaming metal falling point-first to extinguish itself in the sand. The shield, too, is tossed, allowing the slightly battle-crazed lycan complete freedom of movement. The pain from the knife wounds, in combination with his last usage of the disk, causes conflicting Chaos magic from the Thorn tattoo on his shoulder to make its presence known; the familiar pangs of swift and abrupt transformation begin to shoot through his body, tearing a howl from his throat as his entire frame shifts in size and shape, the eerie rise and fall of his voice undercut by the sound of his pants splitting at their seams, and the metallic pinging sound of the harness' buckles as they snap under the strain of straps suddenly too tight for the body they contain. The lean lycan, now beastly in form and covered in a thick coat of gray fur, grapples for his prey with his left arm, the right now cradled protectively against his side. His clawed hand sweeps the staff out of the way as if swatting a fly, while elongated teeth snap toward her shoulder, mindful, even in this mental state, of the bond of clan.

Zimri gets to his feet "And now we see his animal side come out folks! And one 'airy bloke it is too! Thinks seem to be getting wild around this place as Isen tries to sink his long canine teeth into the assuerdly tender flesh of Caedan, can she avoid this, or will she become a snack?!"

Thea takes on an airy stance to gain better view of the pair, "Oh it looks like he may just eat her, Zimri

Caedan slows to a halt, watching through matted locks of her hair, which she pushes out of the way with a bloodied hand. She's attempting to catch her breath, and is becoming wildly aware of the breathtaking pain in her calf, and a new sensation of unadulterated agony in her ribcage, which makes those gasping breaths almost unbearable. The lycan's transformation is regarded with an increasingly widening stare, until she shakes free of her momentary paralysis and quickly scoops a handful of leftover dust from the pouch and begins to rub it over her body. There isn't enough time; he's charging now, and she can practically feel his teeth snapping, drool dripping. In desperation, she throws it upward, letting it coat her in a thin sheen of irritating wolf's bane, just before his teeth sink into her shoulder. She gasps in pain, then scissors her jaw shut, teeth clenched, fists curled, breath held. With any luck, the herb will be enough to convince him to let go of her in due time, but she isn't sure she even got any on her at all, let alone concentrated in her left shoulder. Eventually, she'll try and wedge her uninjured leg between herself and the lycan as leverage to pry him off, grumbling a muffled, terse, "Gerr'off."

Zimri gasps before his voice again fills the room "And after trying to bathe in the herbs from earlier, the young woman takes a nasty bite to the shoulder! We can only hope that she will be alright, as the wolf is pried off her. It is lucky that we have at least one talented healer around so the combantants may be tended to after the fight is over."

Thea said, "Oh we have several in the arena, Zimri, and a good thing too."

Keter makes his way downward into the arena, applauding the combatants along the way. Nearing the clan-mates, Keter approaches Caedan. "It seems as though we have a new champion this eve, the young Caedan with her wily traps and clever herb use has defeated the dangerous Lycan." Keter sets the large bag of jingling coins he has in tow down in front of Caedan. "And for your victory Caedan, 10,000 gold"


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