Duel:Daath v Utamaga
Kelay Way
Duelists: Daath vs. Utamaga. Duel: Traditional 3 posts each, with final defense. 10 minute posting limit. Stakes: Auto-hit popost, corpse pet item, and 5k gold. Judges: Shen, Vexar, Iintahquohae
Daath dispises goblins as nothing more than packmules and fodder, and as such, when this arrogant one decides to mock him with its childish comments, the dark mage wastes no time in dealing out punishment. The drow's right hand is extended out, as without a word needed does the Xalious-wood Staff that was bestowed upon him by the Mage's Guild seemingly just appear into his grasp. Slender digits wrap about the highly magical catalyst, which now holds the amber stone left behind by the forsaken elf known as Knelltic, atop its crown. Words of occult magic pour forth from thin ebon lips, breathing life into the spell that is now unleashed upon the shaman. From the darkness erupts a series of howls, as in the darkness of the night, the faintest images of what is to come can be seen. Pointing the top of his staff towards Utamaga, Daath's voice calls out to his summoned servants. " Tear him limb from limb." Deep, powerful growls can be heard, preluding the attack of three hell hounds that now charge forth to do their master's bidding. These denziens of the abyss are vicious creatures that the dark elf has raised since they were pups, and trained them to be vicious killers who answer only to him. Each is easily larger than any normal breed of dog, or even wolf, and their frames have at least twice the muscle mass. Razor sharp claws, and a jaw full of teeth at least two to three inches long, these foul beasts are indeed a terrifying site to behold. They move with an unnatural affinity for the shadows, as each weaves in and out as it makes its way towards the shaman. Within moments they are upon the green skinned traveler, and his imp servant. The first lunges upon Snitch, ist claws aiming to render the smaller abyssal native in twine with a single swipe, while the other two continue on, charging forth now from the shadows to feast upon the unclean flesh of goblin-kind. If Utamaga is not quick to raise a defence, the shaman will find himself torn asunder by either these beast's terrible claws, or powerful jaws as they viciously attack like only barbaric creatures like this can. There is no style to it, there is no pattern save for the soul purpose of tearing limb from limb in the most painful manner possible. Daath watches on, a spell ready upon his lips should the need arise, a gleam of pride in his pets as he watches what he believes will be a bloodbath about to unfold in the wake of tonite's events.
Utamaga suddenly regains his serious countenance, as was demanded by Daath's attack. He sweeps his staff in a low arc, not one to cast spells just yet, but merely to scoop up the endangered imp. Snitch latches on to the skull atop his staff and niftily leaps to Utamaga's robes, where now he clings. As the hounds arrive from the shadows, he shakes his staff ruthlessly so that the skull is nodding furiously. In seconds the staff seems to have gained charge, and a blue flame glows in the skull's eyes and they glow in the night's contrasting shade. From his teency vocal chords, Utamaga shouts: "Ancestors give me strength!" And whether it was their obligation or his self-delusion being a placebo, he did suddenly seem empowered. He shot his staff straight up into the air, pulling him skyward as if he was weightless. Now he was in the lotus position spinning rapidly. From the earth came bursts of wind, repeatedly buffeting Daath's pets until the force knocked them backwards and away from him. But the radius of his wind bursts grew until they engulfed Daath as well. They were forceful, enough to knock a man from his feet, and this is what Utamaga anticipated. Suddenly the wind bursts were behind him, propelling him with great velocity to his foe; and he led his staff straight for him, the skull seemingly laughing all the while, its jaw bobbing. He weaved it over his head once and set it to strike at Daath's head, to concuss him.
Daath watches with those inquisitive scarlet eyes of his, scutinizing the shaman's unique spellcasting abilities and noting them as his pets are seemingly avoided with apparent ease. Indeed, the gusts whip about the necromancer with unparrallled force, and it is in this alone that Daath is saved for a possible deathly blow as his footing gives way just as the goblin turned projectile nears his mark. The skull, alight with some otherwordly flame, stikes the drow noble in the left shoulder causing necromancer and shaman to collide momentarily. The dark mage's lean frame is spun about by the force of the blow, the flames burning the ebon tinted flesh that is concealed by the black robes he wears. A howl of pain escapes him, but he is no stranger to pain and battle. Attempts upon his life are common place in his homeland, and as such Daath has accumulated enough experience to deal with such matters accordingly. As soon as Utamaga was passed him, possibly falling into the unforgiving earth some feet away, Daath unleashes his innate drow abilities to cast upon the battlefield a globe on impenetrable darkness that cloaks an area in a radius of 40 feet in a pitch black haze that elliminates the possibility of sight, natural or magical. Quickly following that, he touches his house insignia to call upon yet another one of his race's abilities granted to those of a noble birth. Levitation. With surprising celerity does the drow now rise into the air, well above the globe and his opponent who lies within. Once again do words of magic pour from his lips, followed by deft hand gestures as another spell is unleashed upon the unsuspecting goblin. From the crown of his staff erupts a black cloud of ethreal magic, which falls like a fog upon the area below the dark elf. Anything that comes into contact with this cloud, starts to decay at an incredible pace, so much that even one of the hell hounds falls victem to its power, and dies within moments. This black death sweeps over the battlefield, encompassing the area with its foul presence, while Daath waits to see his foes next move. With the strong scent any goblin gives off, Utamaga is still targeted by the two remaining hell hounds, who were pushed back past the globe of darkness, and the falling cloud of death. The beasts circle about, having witnessed the power of this spell before. They wait, ready to lunge upon their prey once more should he try to escape the globe, his scent giving away his position just as well as any sound will should he move. The goblin now faces a three fold threat, as he is flanked by two hell hounds on each side, with death in the form of a black cloud falling quickly upon him. Trapped within the globe of darkness, it will prove a challenge indeed for the shaman to escape without falling prey to the hounds, the cloud or leaving himself open to Daath, who awaits to strike like a coiled viper upon a trapped mouse. the goblin really should have just left when he had the chance..
Utamaga barrels into, and through the drow scraping at the ground with staff and nail to maintain footing. Subesquently, he whips his form around to meet Daath, recovering from the contact and facing him again. Unfortunately, he's thusly enveloped in a shroud of darkness with no end in sight. The goblin has not much experience with drow, and certainly not drow nobles. This decribes his preparation through experience, which is none. Suffice to say, he panics. His eyes dart around, his heart beats, and he's sure his death is imminent. But in the silence he's granted by his own indecision and hesitation, he's alerted to hushed tones. The familiar tones of one villain so recently met. He notes the source, and at their cessation he's begun to decay, and in the way it effects his body; to age. His skin wrinkles and liver spots erupt. Hair falls out and gums turn purple as teeth's roots loosen. But this he's prepared for; plague. As his life's breath shortens, he whispers powered syllables of his own; ones of cure. They took seconds to say, yet in that time he's become frail. But the process is halted. Helpless yelps from the hound go unanswered and soon fade. Now he's angry, and scared. The gods were testing him. They must be, why wouldn't they? This was his thought, and it inspired him. He was the instrument to their desires; their avatar! And with this he whirled his staff again leaping up to where the curse was heard from before. He gathers his strength and lurches his staff up again, and the winds flow from under and with great and continuing force. He balances off them, now beyond the sphere to bear witness to the murderous drow. As he gazes into the soulless eyes opposite him, clouds form above him. Suddenly he lifts his staff over his head. Lightning strikes it and is seemingly stored at its pinnacle. In a great flourish he shoots it straight for Daath, and the stored lightning bursts out of it to crash into him and shock life from his dark heart.
Daath can feel the weaving of magic below him, can sense the ethereal webs being spun about by an outside source. Such a sense has come from years, nay decades of dealing with magic in every facet of his life. So it is in this, that the drow can feel his opponent is preparing for something. Now if you would have said another straight forward bullrush, the necromancer would not have agreed. And he would have been wrong. Given the fact that Daath had risen a dozen or so feet above the globe, so he could have such an overview of the battlefield, he is granted a moment to prepare for the Goblin's attack. The collective energies now stored within the staff the shaman carries is noted, and with the pain in his left shoulder as a reminder, the greenskin's power in not to be underestimated. But lightning is impossibly fast. And even though, having dealt with the likes of Kasyr, and thus his affinity for such a raw and dangerous element, even Daath is unable to fully evade such a blow. Prepared wards, sigils and runes of protection are activated to create a shield spell about the dark magi. But the powerful elemental magic at play is stronger. Daath is knocked from the air by the concussive blast that echoes throughout kelay, his entire system is shocked as he is ravaged by the lightning's unforgiving currents. But, the shield spell managed to complete its task. Absorbed the majority of the blow. The roof of Kelay Tavern is where the necromancer lands in a most unpleasant manner, Daath twisting his lean frame about so he may land upon his already injured left side, thus not only is he burnt terribly, but his left shoulder is now dislocated, making the limb useless. Moments are taken to catch his breath, before the mage, by sheer force of will, rises up with the aid of the Xalious staff he has managed to clutch even during his fall. A cut above his left eye bleeds profusely, making sight reliant upon his right eye. But it is all he needs, as the master necromancer now has a target with little chance of escape. Aerial is not a goblin's expertise, and such, Dath raises his staff once more with grim determination and a wicked smile upon his bloodied lips as he shouts out verses of dark magic with masterful ease. From the crown of his staff erupts a barrage of necromantic spheres, much alike the magic missle spell, but a varietion suited for the darker arts. This barrage of stone sized spheres is sent forth towards the exposed goblin shaman, each spehere capable of dealing powerful physical force, but that is not the main threat. The dark energy that lies within is much like an enfeeblment spell. Meant to sap one of physical strength and stamina in such a manner that the fight is literally beaten out of you, leaving you a defeated shell of your former self, and easily disposed of. If such was to happen, Utamaga would fall from an impressive height, and in his bodies current aged and decayed state, would find it harder to brace for the earth's unforgiving nature. Goblin's are indeed a tough race, hardy and stout. But without the strength to stop his fall's momentum, and with his body in such condition, Utamaga will have a tough time walking away from such. Expecially if he happens to fall back into the globe of darkness, where the cloud of death still lingers, waiting to finish the job it started not moments ago. Will the goblin be a feast for the hounds that wait below? Will he fall into the black abyss of death, and rot away into nothing? Or will the gods help him escape to fight another day? Only time will tell if fate smiles upon Utamaga this day.
Utamaga smiles in triumphant victory and as the winds hefting him high falter and lower him, the decrepit and changed voice of his imp rings out in a weak whisper. He too was injured by Daath's curse, and he too was saved by Utamaga's cleansing. "Watch out marsa…he's not finished yet!" The winds return with strength to save him for precious moments longer from the vicious snarling dogs below. Spheres of dark energy speed toward him with intent at his life, and he frees his staff from his grasp, hodling it only in spirit now. It levitates before him, and through careful manipulation, Utamaga rotates it like a helicopter's blades to deflect. As dark death balls bounce away, he's sure he's escaped a sudden end to his journey. Perhaps it was such thoughts that pervaded his mind and drew his focus, that would be his excuse should he live to tell. But two black balls (haha) miss his staff and pulverize him in his shoulder and hand. He's sent spinning like a Frisbee away, and crashes first into a bushy leaved tree, and through the subsequent branches until at last one is stable enough to withstand his weight. It is this one he clings too. His staff left to fall into the dirt, useless. He lays on the branch; the last dedication of his will to balance on it. From another branch, he sees lofted, a bees nest. Honey comb well formed and labored over for several months. He's more than asthmatic now, breathing as if through a straw. He holds out his hand, the last of his power seems to wiggle the staff left lodged far away. So instead he creates more, or rather saps more, from his beloved sister nature. From the bee's hive, teal blue smoke is sucked through his nostrils as it turns gray and flaky. This same smoke seems to gag him. Utamaga suddenly starts coughing, perhaps a result of his rapid decay. After a few unsuccessful hacks, he finally coughs up the obstruction. 5 squishy white maggots buried in clumps of yellow goo…apparently. They writhe and grow exponentially in size, evolving all the while until it's clear what they are. Bees. Giant behemoth, dog sized honeybees, twitching and buzzing with stingers as long and pointy as death's dirk. Wings shake to relinquish the mucus that held them down, vulnerable. They hover to flight, the fabulous five and beeline (haha) to Daath! mandibles in constant flux and abdomens pulsating with the intent urge to thrust the only enemy they'd ever have. But its not sufficient for them to merely sting, as was the goblin, so too are they; coughing. Hacking up the substance that named them. Thick golden honey, hurled from their throats to sputter in 3 foot aqueous orbs; one after another, purposed like a net to snare wicked Daath. Miss or hit, they each take a side, forming a five pointed star of anaphylactic death and poised to impale. Their life's mission and dauntless in the effort, they charge in twos to puncture a drow's body as follows: one in the groin, one through the eye, and three crowding Daath's abdomen with stings.
Winner: Daath
Daath watches as the goblin plummets to the earth, lost for a moment as he is swallowed up in the canopy of the ancient trees of Sage Forest. These moments give Daath precious time, for he is not one to stand by and wait to be attacked, he is a dark elf of action and preventive measures. He is injured, his left arm useless and his sight hindered. Mabey a broken rib or two from his fall, but he still has that will ti fight till the end if need be. Ha indeed! The loug hacking is a sign that his foe is indeed alive, and as such the necromancer goes about to prepare for another assault. He closes his eyes, and waves the xalious staff about as he chants verses of powerful dark magic. The hell hounds bellow out in pain as their essence is absorbed as fuel for this next spell. The vibrations of giant wings prelude the arrival of the giant insects summoned forth by the shaman. But as the bees leave the concealment of the canopy, Daath's spell is already in effect. Seven runes of power are etched into the earth about him in a circle, these dark sigils burn with ominous power the demands the necromancer's full focus and the remainder of his power this eve. The honey-spewn trap lands all about the drow, seemingly sealing him in place. And all seems lost for the former apprentice of the eldermage. Almost. The bees lunge forth to impale the dark magi with their elongated stingers, but they enter the area now dominated by the powerful seals of necrotic magic. Opening his eyes at the last minute, Daath raises the Xalious staff as he shouts words of arcane power, and thus slams the blessed instrument of magic into the center of epicenter of his spell. Without warning, a giant blast of pure dark magic erupts from below, surrounding Daath who lies within the eye of the storm, safe from the utter chaos that ensues just a foot or so away. Everything within the area dominated by those sigils is obliterated. Trees, animals, and even the five enormous bees conjured up by the goblin seemingly vanish is a giant blast of dark green light that leaves nothing in its wake. Several moments pass, before Daath is revealed, standing in the center of the eruption, the area about him smoldering, smoke rising and the aftermath of this clash is exposed. His strength taxed beyond his means, his mana reserves used up, and his wounds taking a tole upon him, the drow collapses upon the ground. This was indeed quite the event, leaving the necromancer lying upon the ground, and the shaman clinging to a tree's branch half rotting away.