Duel:Cresente v Nortengaal, Match 9 of the 2023 Titans of Winter Tournament

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Duelists: Cresente vs Nortengaal
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Standard, autohit delivered by winner with allowance for final reply.
Judges: Callamyre, Mahri, and Quintessa.


Sage’s Archery Range

Meri :: As is customary for every tournament event, a number of wooden benches have been set up along the perimeter of the archery range so that spectators can watch in relative comfort and from a safe distance. Hopefully. The area between spectators and duelists is separated by rope and the understanding that it is against the rules for the audience to try and interfere from the duel. Both Meri and Magikrios can be found sitting on those very same benches, having opted to not select anything overly extravagant for themselves. Once it seems like the crowd has trickled in and after Magikrios has been informed that both duelists are present, the very tall elf stands to make the obligatory announcements. His black, fiery gaze sweeps across the crowd as he declares, “Fighting today we have Cresente…who I admittedly do not know much about…Cresente has been pitted against one of my fellow guildmates, Nortengaal.” ooc: Will both duelists please post their entrance posts.


Cresente emerges from the thick brush, dressed in armor that reflects no sunlight as far as what can be seen beneath his cloak. The large avian man makes a gesture with his arms to greet his opponent today, crossing his left fist over his right over his heart. Perhaps this was some form of avian greeting in the past, or perhaps it is a threat. "Let this be an honorable fight." His baritone rings out.

Nortengaal hasnt been in this area of the land in quite some time. He used to hang around nearby, but these days find him more ocean-side. Still, it’s a lovely area, and as he walks into the clearing to take up his place across his opponent ruby tinted eyes roam around, taking everything in. At his side is Escher, his ever faithful and oldest companion, and the big man reaches down to scratch the hellhound behind the ear affectionately. Once Nort has settled into his place, Escher circles him a couple times before stepping into his shadow and disappearing from sight. With a wave to the gathered crowd and a nod towards his opponent he stands at ease, waiting to see what fresh hell the tourney organizers have set up for the two combatants today. “Good luck, and lets have some fun eh?”


Meri :: Magikrios speaks one more word to the crowd and it is said only once the duelists have managed to position themselves in their dedicated battle area. “Begin,” and with that, Guardian of Sage lowers himself back into a seated position next to his wife. It is at that precise moment that elven archers who are camouflaged high in the treetops surrounding the clearing make their presence somewhat known. There are about six archers in total hidden in the surrounding canopy. The archers’ themselves are near impossible to spot, using the knowledge of their region and the tactics passed down through generations. The arrows that they shoot are plenty visible, even to the untrained eye. To mark the start of the duel, all six archers fire blunted arrows down upon Cresente and Nortengaal and then moving forward the shots they take will be more unpredictable and perhaps not all in unison. The duelists should not be excited about the arrows having blunted tips. They might not draw blood, but every impact an arrow makes will cause it to explode into a flurry of snow that will temporarily hinder the duelists view. Even worse, if one of these enchanted frost arrows makes contact with one of the duelists then they will suffer through a paralyzing wave of cold that could lead to frostbite or hypothermia.

Round One

Cresente changes as soon as the duel begins, his leisurely and nonchalant posture coiling into that of the trained mercenary. He extends his wings out as though about to take flight, when three of the six blunted arrows strike, two on either apex of his wings, and one at the center of his back. Cresente's expression darkens as the flurry takes immediate hold. A thin veneer of ice can be seen spreading over his wings and over the back of his cloak, rendering his wings partially immobile for now. The only silver lining in this pre-emptive strike is that the angle of his wings prevents the snow flurry from blinding him. The avian instead takes the crossbow in his left hand, his shortsword in his right hand, and charges straight forward towards Nortengaal with his frozen wings outstretched. As he approaches, he raises his right arm as though indicating that he means to slice clean at the therianthrope's midsection. Only a longsword's distance away, though, the avian leaps upward, using his frozen wings to glide high out of reach over his opponent, and evade another blunted arrow from the trees. In the short time it takes to make that jump, Cresente swings the shortsword downward and across where Nortengaal's back should be, and unloads the first of what is shaping up to be several crossbow bolts. The first bolt, with etchings of a magical nature, aims not for a vital point, but for Nortengaal's feet, where it will burst with a flash and a bang meant to disorient. Only able to remain in the air for so long like this, Cresente will be forced to land several meters away from his opponent’s starting position.


Nortengaal raises an eyebrow as the first volley comes almost lazily down towards the two combatants. “Arrows eh? Thats not too -” The thought is cut off when the first arrow lands near the mans feet and promptly bursts into a snow flurry, followed shortly by the rest that were aimed his way. He takes a step back, then a few more, backpeddling as the arrows land where he had been standing and throw up blinding flurries, completely obscuring his view of his opponent. “Perhaps i spoke too soon.” he thinks, squinting to try and see through towards the other man, whom he can hear approaching. The snow bursts dissipate in time for the werebear to see Cresente leaping over him, and he instantly dives forward through whats left of the initial volleys effects into a roll helps him avoid both the sword strike and the effects of the flash brought on by the crossbow bolt, though the ‘bang’ still gets him and he rises in a crouch, shaking his head to try and clear the ringing in his ears. Spotting the avian’s landing, from his crouch he dashes forward, quickly reaching in to a pouch at his belt to extract none other than his custom yo-yos, which he slips on in a well practiced motion while pressing a switch on the sides of them. As soon as he’s in range of Cresente, he tucks into another dodge roll to avoid a shot from the trees and comes up swinging, the heavier-than-average ‘toys’ whipping forwards, one aimed at the man’s crossbow holding hand, the other aimed in an upward arc to hopefully catch him on the chin.


Round Two

Cresente is just regaining movement in his wings when the footfalls of Nortengaal approach. Alas, he had no way to tell him that he had also underestimated the power of these blunted arrows, at least, not until after the duel concludes. The avian man throws his sword straight upward into the air, using the respite of not having both hands occupied to quickly reload his crossbow with a push of a lever that loads another bolt into the chamber from a hollow nook inside the structure. Cresente sees the flash of the unique weapons as he finishes the reload, and turns on his heel abruptly, forcing one wing downwards at his own detriment. The first of the two yo-yo’s catches on the icy patch of his left wing, and as he continues the turn, the second yo-yo grazes his jaw, but shatters the other patch of ice, both sending bits of frostbite-inducing shrapnel back downwards towards Nortengaal. As Cresente completes the turn, his wings now freed, he catches the sword in mid-air, and takes two steps forward towards the werebear. Irisless eyes never leave his opponent as he raises the crossbow at close range with his left hand, and his right hand flicking the sword in ways that two more arrows from the trees are deflected by the blade, only to release their blinding flurry around both men. Before the flurry can completely obscure, Cresente aims the crossbow at close range, nearly grappling range, at Nortengaal’s head, and fires a burning bolt squarely at his unscarred eye. In the cover of the flurry, Cresente continues to weave around the werebear in a way that the archers cannot tell where figures begin and end. He unhooks his coat and throws it in Nortengaal’s direction to either force him to bat the cloth away while he rears up for another strike, or to further bait the archers into taking aim at him now that he is hopefully wounded, stunned, or both. The mercenary spoke of an honorable fight, but seems to be not above doing whatever underhanded methods are needed to gain his boon.


Nortengaal grins as the yo-yos are deemed dangerous enough by his opponent to warrant a painful looking block and turn, though his satisfaction is short lived as one of the strikes sends icy shrapnel his way. Too committed to his attack to dodge, bits of the ice stick into his vest and the exposed flesh of his chest. He grimaces in pain as a flash of concentration crosses his features, a red aura appearing around his body concentrated in the area the shrapnel has pierced him. Heat explodes out of him in that area, melting the ice and preventing further damage from it. It also serves as another purpose, preventing some of the obscuring arrows from reaching the two men and keeping the visibility up, for better or worse. As his opponent brings up the crossbow at near point blank range, Nort simply drops to his knees to avoid being brutally slain, and the bolt goes harmlessly over his head. Before he can move, his view is suddenly blocked even further by the other man’s coat, and he clumsily rolls to the side to avoid being covered, unfortunately leaving him open to the archers attacks, and an arrow strikes him in the back as he comes to a stop. Luckily, his vest keeps the cold from reaching his skin directly, and the hot red aura slides over from his front to his back to keep him from having to remove the vest to be safe. While the aura moves, he lashes out with the yo-yos again, this time aiming low for the other man’s knee and ankle, hoping to gain a bit of distance to recover enough to press his attack


Round Three

Cresente dips out of the snow flurry once the sound of six rushing arrows registers to his ears, reloading his crossbolt for a final time. The same cover that granted him advantage to let Nortengaal take the brunt of the archers’ force costs him, though, and the projectiles that come out from the fog come too soon for him to properly dodge. A thousand shocks suddenly course through his system as he takes a yo-yo to the knee. The metal of his knee-guard bends and cracks, and though he knows it is not fractured, it is more damage than he expected from a being that he considers lesser just for not being a fellow avian. Putting his full weight on his right leg now, Cresente drops the sword and crossbow and extends his wings fully. Diving forward with a launch on his one good leg, Cresente takes aim to grapple Nortengaal head-on and lock his arms to his sides to keep those blasted projectiles away from him. With the flurry clearing, it should not be hard to miss Nortengaal, and should he make the grapple, his wings will beat loudly and ferociously on the ground to lift them both five, then ten, then fifty meters into the air. If not, he will spin around and try, try again, his intent with this line of action clear to be something that involves Nortengaal reuniting with the ground at mach speed.


Nortengaal ’s yo-yo satisfaction returns with the successful strike to the knee. A flick of the wrist returns the tool to his hand, as he quickly stands up and prepares to throw them out again, only to be caught up in a grapple attack by the avian. Given the bearman’s size, this tactic comes as a surprise to him, as most people try and avoid getting in grappling range with him. A wide grin spreads over his features, even as the two of them start a skyward ascent - which is also surprising, this avian must have powerful back muscles indeed. As they slowly make their way upwards, Nort’s red aura fades and a yellow one takes it’s place, growing in intensity until small sparks start to shoot off of him, culminating in a several large blasts of electricity that engulf the two men. Nort is unaffected by the display, but Cresente should definitely be feeling the effects, covered in metal as he is. Should this be enough to cause the avian to drop him - which is the hope really - the therian will land in a rough crouch, grimacing a bit as his knee slams into the ground. The electric bolts still shooting off of him should hopefully be a deterrent should the other man try and stick with his grapple-and-drop plan. The archers take this opportunity to rain some more arrows down on the man, who barely manages to avoid being directly struck, but is engulfed in a deeply unpleasant snow flurry for his troubles.


Final Defense

00:52:50Cresente makes some sort of grumbling comment about wild magic shenanigans as he forces the therian upwards. Each pulse of electricity rumbles around his armor, cumulatively weakening his grip on him. Despite his armor being made of a black-coated titanium, it is not entirely nonconductive. Cresente finally shouts in frustration as the shockwaves force his arms into a seizure, sending Nortengaal plummeting to the ground from a measly height of the tops of the ancient trees. He remains like that in the air for a moment, vulnerable and stilted from the shocks, and one of the archers takes the mark. A blunted arrow hits the avian squarely in the chest, nearly causing his heart to stop from the shock of cold. Instinct takes over, and the mercenary coils his wings around his form like a feathery sphere. The tips of his ebon wings jut outwards like spikes, taking the brunt of other arrows aimed his way as he follows Nortengaal to the ground. With the tips of his wings icing over, the impact of landing could send the iced feathers outwards like shrapnel, or turn inwards on their owner if struck by Nortengaal’s electric aura again…

Winner: Cresente


Auto Hit:

Cresente regains his wits before he hits the ground, and turns so that he lands on his one good knee. Loose feathers covered in frostbite-inducing ice are sent outwards like the expert marksman arrows from above. Nortengaal is not spared the brunt of this attack, and as Cresente reaches for his sword to prop himself back onto his feet, he takes note of the Sage archers falling from their treetop posts as their magic is reflected back on them. As the therianthrope does not also rise from his crouch, Cresente leans down to realize that Nortengaal’s coat has been frozen stiff, rendering the bearman frozen stiff as well. “Well. That’s about enough of that.” The avian man muses, using the blunt end of his sword to nudge Nortengaal until he falls onto his side in that same crouching position to thaw out. Raising his fist, Cresente calls out, “Glory be to the avians.”


Nortengaal :: “Oh mother fu-” the rest of his colorful language is lost as he frosts over, closing his eyes just in time to avoid them being directly affected by the frost. If he felt embarrassment like the average person, he’d be very embarrassed by his current situation. As it stands, he’s just annoyed, helpless to stop from being tipped over like a vandalized statue. A brief moment of panic sets in as his air is cut off, but he gets himself under control and after a moment, that hot red aura from earlier covers his body, freeing him from his icy prison. He stands, stretching mightily, and turns to Mahri who has come to make sure he’s alright. “Welp, that was indeed some fun that was had. Time for drinks.”





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