Duel:Eirik v Orikahn, Match 5 of the 2018 Frostmaw Tournament

From HollowWiki
Duelists: Eirik vs Orikahn
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner.
Judges: Khitti, Lionel, and Leone

The Quelodian Outpost

Leone said, "Welcome to the seventh annual Titans of Winter Tournament! Here we gather at the Queoldian Outpost, where the tribe's shamans have been more than generous with their magics and preparations for tonight's fight! The merchants have been cleared out of the courtyard, and the massive centaur-built, circular clearing edged in spears. They all point inward at precise angles - just about where the base of the average human skull would be. A few feet inside of the spears is a concentric ring of percolating lava. Every now and again bubbles along its surface pop, spitting molten spatter into the air that then showers down upon the earthen buffer in front and behind. At the very center of the fighting ring is a continuous, thick, uniform sheet of ice. Good luck to both Eirik and Orikahn!"


Eirik is unyielding in his gaze to examine the area before him. This Queolodian outpost that’s filled with bubbling lava and a sheen of ice towards its center. The northman forgoes the ordinary and mundane greetings of everyday society, and instead, snatches a spear which he had impaled into the ground beside him. A centrally gripped, leather plied round shield within his left hand is brought before him and Eirik charges headlong towards his opponent Orikahn - knowing that this fight would take place in Frostmaw, his boots are prepared; carrying spikes upon its underside. The streams of lava and the smoke which billows from its fiery grasp are ignored as if it was nothing more than a backdrop to the scene before them. He clenches his teeth, and leaps, clearing the first pool with enthusiastic ease, but when he hits the sheet of ice those spikes dig it and grant him traction. Without thought, his shield is brought before him, his iron tipped spear is pulled up to the side and when he nears striking distance, the berserker puts plan into motion. The sharpened weapon is thrust towards the overgrown cat's midsection, but it's only a faint, one which he hops to capitalize on. That weapon is brought back into his defensive stance and Eirik lunges forward with a burst of speed - the broadside of his shield before him with the full intent to smash every ounce of his weight into his opponent and shove him backwards. Hopefully into the pits of liquid hot magma behind them. With a grunt Eirik lands upon his feet once more and comes to an abrupt halt - to only take a step back to prepare himself for any counterstrike coming from Orikahn.


Orikahn drinks deep of the arctic air, lungs pounding in anticipation as adrenaline, sweet ambrosial adrenaline speeds through his veins. Across the ring, they lycan snatches up a spear, but Kahn declines to worry with such things. In naught but trusty loincloth, stands the feline bare, coat gleaming in the lava's dusky glow. A charge is it? Never one to skip proactive measures, our hunter builds momentum of his own. Shrilly scrape his claws upon the frozen ground, throwing sprays of frost and snow behind him as he rushes headlong out to meet the lycan. His senses now afire, Kahn's predatory focus sends his pupils flaring wide, brings his wrinkling maw into a savage snarl. The feint! Kahn takes the cue and doesn't waste an instant; he dives headlong, wholly committed to his pounce, claws and fangs all glistening beneath the boreal stars. Every ounce of weight indeed! What terrible clamor may come when these rushing titans meet? If Kahn can, he'll wrap his arms fast around around the lycan and bring him to a grapple. Either way, the shield meets the sabercat's face, and the resultant clang will doubtless leave the feline seeing stars.


Eirik finds that his back pedal against such and oversized house cat is not enough, when his shield batters against Orikahns features during that leap. Never mind his defensive stance, with legs spread wide to help alleviate the assault from his opponent. Such normal measures are cast away in a clamor of noise as both beasts collide and Eiriks own eyes see stars for the briefest of moments. A resounding 'oof' of noise is the only audible sound to berate the battlefield as he his knocked over and grappled by the murder-cat. The cats claws reach out to attack, but through the shield and his armor, the Lycan ends up with mere flesh wounds. The berserker takes the sudden impact and reacts, going with the flow as any wrestler would, pushing the spiked end of his boot towards Orikahns thigh to keep his distance. He rolls by curling his back and finds himself on top of the headhunter. In this close range, a weapon with reach has no advantage, and instead, he drops it in favor of a hooked knife within his belt line. Its sharpened edge is thrust for his ribs, while the other free hand struggles for moments to press against his shoulder. The dual attack is used like a pry bar, while pushing away with all his might. There is no way, he'd wrestle with this beast, and Eirik has freed himself from the deadly jaws and scrambles away, pulling his last weapon - a sword.


Orikahn wrenches his arms tight, squeezing blindly through the starry haze. Bit by bit, his senses coalesce again, and he can feel sweet purchase, the telltale, living trickle warm upon his feral claws. Daring not to waste a single breath, savage Kahn readies to squeeze the life from Eirik's body when, "GRAAH!" a knife bites him cruelly, parting flesh from flesh with dev'lish ease. Despite his lethal plans, Kahn cannot maintain his hold against the pain, and Eirik is soon free as ever he was. A hasty pluck, the knife comes free, and warm blood follows after, steamy in the frigid air. He'll waste no time, will give to chance for his strength to diminish, for his fury to subside! Against his lifeblood's clock, Kahn rushes in again, feet pounding upon the ice with blistering force, with sheer accelerating as he leaps again. Arms spread, but this time they are for balance. Will Eirik spot the difference? Midair, Kahn twists, and his hind limbs shoot out, claws spread in hopes to rake across the lycan's gut, a blow to disembowl if only it could!


Eirik presses on, despite the protest of muscles beginning to feel exhaustion. No matter the tax upon his lungs and breathing, he continues the fight because this is what he lives for. There is no display of a devilish smirk upon his scarred features at the sight of blood. Kahns press for attack is just that, and Eirik takes one final inhale of air to react and turn, to sidestep the flurry of claws which scream through the air. But to no avail, for this attack is disguised and he does not have the mental prowess to foresee it, in its' entirety. Those hind legs rend through the fur, wool and leather armor upon his abdomen, mid sidestep. A wave of blood splatters to the ice and he is reeling from the attack. Those natural weapons are no doubt coated in blood, but thankfully for quick foot work, there are no guts upon display. The berserker grits through the pain, despite those waves of agony which grip his nerves. The lava nearby burst, throwing massive spurts of molten rock onto the battle field to litter the sheet of ice. He only has enough time to react and jump out of the way, but the cat himself might find the same boulder landing before him - where Eirik once stood. The Lycan hops over that outer ring of lava again, and switches his sword hand so that he may pull free another spear from the outer ring. This effect has hopefully put an environmental barrier between them. He struggles for a moment, twists his gaze to Orikahn, and launches the weapon at his opponent to hopefully impale the headhunter with practiced brutality.


Orikahn give no shout of glee, but the look of hungry interest on his face reveals too plainly what exhilaration courses through him at the feel again of rending flesh. Without his feet to land on, sly Orikahn must tumble past, skidding quickly to a halt upon his outspread limbs, braking hard upon frost with outstretched claws and fighting fast for sure control of his own self. And not a second too soon. No sooner than he skids full to a halt, Orikahn can feel his ears aquiver with some queer prognostication, and on instinct, he contorts. When the dust clears, Kahn lays in a perfect "C" around the spear, still wobbling as it stands embedded in the permafrost. Too close! There's a chipping, scrabbling sound as Kahn scurries to his feet. He wobbles once, twice, his blood feeling a little thin as he waits for it to return to his head. Can't wait too long, though! With any luck, Eirik's feeling likewise woozy, because it's quite the longshot when Kahn plucks the spear up, grunts, and hurls it back from whence it came. The rest is up to the gods.


Eirik is feeling the bite of stinging muscles and ragged breaths, but his herbal remedy is enough to push him onwards despite the wound upon his abdomen. When the dust settles from the center of their battle field and Orikahns defense has presented itself, he moves once more. He nearly growls in the agony which riddles his ashen flesh. Every step, brings him closer to his target. The returned spear, from the fellow titans attack sails through the air, but Eirik ducks low, to attempt at sliding on his knee. The issue is that during his haste, his foot work falters, and he comes to a roll instead - rather ungracefully; head over heels. The weapon grazes the top of his shoulder this act, scything through armor and cutting through the connecting joint. It's another mark which will become trophy after this fight. However, the spear impales itself into the ground behind him, and he can feel the surface beneath him begin tremble once again. His advance has come to a skidding halt, and Eirik takes a sharp inhale of frustrated air, snorting in response while still upon the ground.


Winner: Orikahn