Duel:Elioyahazer v Larewen
Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc
Duelists:Elioyahazer vs Larewen
Duel:Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Auto-hit and 2k gold to the winner.
Judges: Dyraxdiin, Brennia, and Scandal
Pre-fight Roleplay at The Hanging Corpse Tavern
Elioyahazer sits at the bar near steadman, drinking a glass of elven bloodwine and tapping his fingers against the bar top. The fledgling, is once again, decked out in his black leather armors, a single sleeve of metal protecting the left arm. Beyond that, there is a bandolier of daggers around his chest and a well cleaned bastard sword propped against his own stool. Did she really put a bounty out on all vampires? She must be making her move; Eli needed to make his and use this excuse to get him closer to another house. To well…. Deal with them from the inside. How would he confront her over this?
Larewen steps into the establishment, but for once that dark aura doesn't precede her; no, she's dampened it. Especially because of the latest bounty she's placed. Clothed in dark leather boots, matching, skin-tight pants, and a loose verdant shirt, a black cloak's cowl obscures her face. It's simple, but it does the trick: the necromancer remains unbothered as she heads toward her destination. Knowing full well what her bounty entails, she spots Elioyahazer at the bar and, after a few moments appreciating his form, draws herself up alongside him. Larewen doesn't have to tell Steadmen her order by this point in time. Simply a look results in a glass of bloodwine being placed before her.
Elioyahazer takes a few moments to realize just who has perched up on the stool next to him. Larewen. No time like the present, he guesses. “Why?” The only word he needs to utter and he doesn't even look at her. Most likely because his visage would break and this whole thing would be blown wide open. He needed this to be real. As for his question, he's simply asking about the bounty and her reasonings. “I'm only worth two thousand?” The drink he has is finished and Eli licks his canines for just a moment - showing a mild sort of irritation.
Larewen rolls a shoulder upward in response to Elioyahazer, glancing sideways at him. Instead she's left looking at his profile as he refuses to look at her and for a moment, her lips purse. "Why not? I'm offering my wealth to those who take up arms against my enemies," she answers. 'I'm only worth two thousand?' The question hangs in the air for a few moments as the necromancer sips her bloodwine, gaze redirecting toward the wall in front of them. Steadmen, feeling tension, has thankfully moved further down the bar. "Would you prefer a raise the bounty on you specifically?" Her words are almost taunting, for the elf is certainly in a mood. It probably has something to do with her conversation with her ex-husband the night before. "What do you think you're worth?" This time, her tone is biting.
Elioyahazer brushes off her biting tone. “I want you to remember this moment Larewen.” He ignores all of her previous statements and questions. “When you wonder what happened to us, remember, it was you.” Elioyahazer turns to face her making direct eye contact - his gaze frigid. “That turned on me.” Steadman is paid for his drink and hers. “When you're done, I'll be outside waiting to kick your ass.” This is the last kindness he would do for her this evening. And though it is harsh, the other houses need to believe he's fallen out of favor with her. Whether he wins or loses. “And then I'll collect that bounty for besting you.” The sandman climbs off his stool and exits the tavern.
Larewen feels the frigidity in his stare, but does not turn her gaze toward him. If anything, the necromancer is disappointed. Elioyahazer should have seen it as a challenge, as it was meant to be. When he issues his challenge, the necromancer finally looks upon him once more, meeting his eyes. For every bit of coldness in his stare, there's madness in hers. Madness and that disappointment. "If that's how you see it, Elioyahazer," she replies finally. Her gaze slips past him, focusing on the exit. In one mouthful, she downs the rest of her wine. "If a fight's what you want, then so be it."
The Duel, Location Vailkrin City Road
Elioyahazer steps out onto the city road just beyond the Hanging Corpse Tavern with a scowl written over ashen features. Craning his head to one side and setting his mutated, piercing gaze on Larewen when she steps out. “Today, Lady Dragana, I'll best you, and drag your name through the mud.” Without further words, the lightly armored spellblade snakes a hand to the leather bound handle of his bastard sword and unsheathes it. The true steel blade hums in the air - thirsting for blood as he is. With a clenching of his jaw, Elioyahazer bounds forward, raising his left hand and muttering arcane words. The spell blade weaves through the gathered crowds and when a clear shot is available, he takes it. Mana bursts forth from his left hand in a fireball and when it draws near Larewen, Eli closes his fist. The effect? The swirling ball of orange blows up, throwing a quasar of fire in her direction to perhaps burn, scorch and ultimately blind her for his follow up. The sandman leaps at his target, raising his bastard sword high in an attempt to cleave her in two with a guillotine chop that could sunder hell itself. It seems that her fledgling means business.
Larewen follows Elioyahazer out of the Hanging Corpse, hands lifting to lower the cowl that cloaks her face. That should definitely stop the meandering crowd of nobles and lowlies for the moment. If not, Elioyahazer's exclamation certainly does. Room is made quickly for the lunging desert born as bystanders move aside. With an uttered word, the necromancer releases the dampening spell on her magic, flooding the area with dark energies. Energies she very much intends to turn against Elioyahazer. Inhaling deeply, she watches his approach with anticipation. When that fiery ball is thrown her way, the elf does the only thing she can think to do at so close a distance: she rolls and runs. The fire bursts, spiraling outward and catching the edge of her cloak as she does so. Quickly, a gloved hand raises to release it, allowing the burning cloth to fall to the ground as Elioyahazer's blade finds only air between it and the ground. Calling upon her magic once more, the elf's lips curl into a sneer. Verdant darkness gathers at her fingertips and then stretches outward, seeking to find purchase on Elioyahazer. It's a leeching spell, similar to one he's seen before. Only in this instance, it seeks to consume his energy and bring with it lethargy and slowness.
Elioyahazer almost mentally chastises himself - such brute force hardly ever works to end a fight right out of the gate and now he finds himself within that area of terror that Larewen so loves, but no matter. Having grown more and more accustomed to it over their last few days of fighting he presses onwards - darting to the side where her spell only clatters off the armor of his arm and nearly knocks him off balance, but sapping his strength it does not. Damn fiend, he thinks to himself and grips his blade even harder. The sandman is suddenly in his element, close range combat and he lunges for her once more. This time he drops to a knee and spins like a dancer upon it. A runeword is called out turning his blade into a thing of fire while it swings in a low arc for Larewens legs. The sandman pulls free a dagger with his left hand whilst he rises, and throws it for Larewens throat. Eli is not a nice man.
Larewen knows this dance, but not from the receiving end. Drawing her hands together, the necromancer releases a burst of magic, thickening the air between the pair forcefully and throwing herself backwards. She doesn't land as gracefully as she expects, but perhaps that is fortunate: the blade meant for her throat flies harmlessly over her head. Rolling again, the elf finds herself crouched. Her mismatched stare simmers with madness as her gaze fixes itself upon the spell blade once more. Disappointed by the fact her spell rolled harmlessly off her armor, Larewen quickly searches the repertoire in her mind for another--one that will hopefully be more effective against Elioyahazer. This time, when she speaks those archaic words, it is the ground beneath their feet that rumbles in response. Bones from the fallen dig their way to the surface, rising into the air. They splinter, sharp edges turning toward the desert born. A moment later, Larewen releases the barrage and the projectiles are flung toward Elioyahazer, seeking to pierce his armor. That wasn't all, though: the shards of bone are enchanted by her magic, and when they do connect with anything, they shatter, sending slivers of osseous matter deeper into their mark.
Elioyahazer sneers as his attack forces her back, growing hungry for her blood with each passing moment. The devilish look upon his visage might be troublesome to others as he literally stares down her spikey attack. Despite his outward appearance he begins to feel the bite of battle, muscles growing sore, but his mind is far from hazy. The desert born reacts with a move most foul, diving away from the area of attack in a very ungraceful manner. Rolling to his feet he feels the sting of the very first spike dig into his thigh and break apart. He wants to cry out in agony but refused and instead yanks a helpless bystander in her attacks path. He knows he must do something, especially with his impromptu meat shield. Thusly, he bites his own lips through the coming pain and steps forward hurling the carcass at her with vicious fervor. Elioyahazer uses everything that he has to once again bring hell down upon this woman by moving towards her and leaping. Let's be honest, his jump doesn't go very high. However the flames on his sword die out - when he lands and winces the blade strikes the ground before her. “Devour,” at those words a semi circle of fire envelopes the area before him, catching other Innocents in it's wake as well.
Larewen doesn't seem concerned by the innocent bystanders caught in her attack, nor does she show any remorse for the meatshield, which results in a rather painful death. When the corpse is thrown at her, she moves to dodge it--and fails. The body collides with her, sending her to the ground and briefly immobilizing her. If Elioyahazer's attack hadn't fallen short initially, it undoubtedly would have found its mark. Fortunately, it does. When the flames come, Larewen twists upon the ground, hurrying to her feet and directly charging Elioyahazer. After all, it's the shortest way through the fire! Flames lick at her body, singing armor, flesh, and hair. The stench of charred meat follows, permeating the area around the fight. This time, Larewen does remove the glove and reaches out, decaying fingers seeking to curl around his throat. An expulsion of magic ensues as she twists the curse, using it to her advantage. If her hand lands where it intends to, it will further seed corruption upon the desert born. Her face twists into a scowl, jaw tightening in a grimace against the pain of the fire.
Elioyahazer gloats over the fact that the innocent bystander made a wonderful projectile and that his last fire attack had actually landed - he relished in these thoughts. But it becomes all too clear that the fight is not over as Larewens vampiric form dashes through the fiery hell he had just used. It is in this same moment that Elioyahazer scrambles to react to her mad rush. Twisting away, sending a jolt of pain up his thigh. The desert borns attempt is barely successful as Larewens grip grabs hold of his jerkin, ripping pieces of it open. The spell blade however, only dodged as the pain from his leg made him collapse to the ground. With a huff of air, Elioyahazer rises to shaky legs...
Winner: Elioyahazer
Autohit Stakes
Elioyahazer pulls upon the last vestiges of his inhuman strength to deal with Larewen, who presumably moved only a few more feet. Eli balls up his fist and slams it mercilessly into the side of her head. When she falls to his brutality, his sword points to her chest as if confirming the results. His left hand juts forward “My bounty for besting a member of Dragana.” When Larewen pays up, her fledgling turns and begins to limp away. He was done with her.
Larewen gives Elioyahazer 2000 gold
Larewen falls to the ground, stunned. It's more than the humiliation of being bested by her own fledgling that damages her pride; it's the fact that it is public. Members of other Houses are present, and she swears she can hear their sneers. Her gaze lifts, blurred by the sheer force of the blow, to find Elioyahazer's blade pointed at her chest. It's not the first time the elf has found herself at the end of a blade: Trajek bested her time and time again. For a moment, she expects him to plunge it into her, but when he demands his reward, the necromancer slips a hand into her pocket to withdraw a small satchel of coins. Two thousand of them, that's her worth, and tosses it up at him. A low growl echoes from the depths of her throat, rage filling those mismatched eyes. "Get. Away." Not that she needs to tell him: the fledgling has already taken his coin and turned away from her. Larewen seethes as she rises to her feet.