Duel:Gilwen v Lanara, Match 2 of the 2018 Frostmaw Tournament

Duelists: Gilwen vs Lanara
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner.
Judges: Celaeno, Hildegarde, and Josleen

Whistling Tunnel

Leone said, "Welcome to the seventh annual Titans of Winter Tournament! Here we gather in the Whistling Tunnel, where Frostmaw's priests, wise women, and shamans have taken great care to prepare tonight's venue. The northern end of the tunnel contains the ramshackle wooden risers, only just fit for spectator occupation, and barring the way to the altar beyond. The rest of the tunnel appears to have remained untouched, though upon secondary look, the runes are no longer yellow, but azure blue. It seems they've been tweaked into anti-magic purposes, not disallowing magic but instead punishing its use. Contestants who use spells, hexes, curses or enchantments will find that they are repaid with a mild shock, a facefull of snow, or many other myriad retributions. At the center of the tunnel, the wind has been corralled into a brutally whipping vortex. Good luck to both Gilwen and Lanara!"

Lanara enters the area, a determined look on her fair face, as her dark chocolate hues narrow on her fiery-haired opponent, at the opposite end of the tunnel. Her long chestnut locks have been pulled into a ballerina-style bun, which sits atop her cranium, so that her hair won’t become a hindrance during the duel. She is dressed in runed leggings, a moss-green tunic, and wears knee-high boots upon her feet. A utility belt is secured around her slender waist and contains several slots that house throwing knives, and a small pouch containing various gemstones. Around her neck she wears her pentacle, proudly, and shows all of the spectators that she has entered the tournament exactly as she is, a Witch. So, without further ado, she marches down the length of the tunnel, the blue glow from the runes lighting her way, as her near-silent footfalls bring her to her desired location. Lana does not address the crowd of those gathered, and she doesn’t delay the inevitable, as she half-smirks at the druidess, intent on unleashing an attack that she hopes will be unavoidable. “Goddess above, hear me now! Rattle this earth, this I vow. As above, and so below. Show me your power, as only you know!” The elf bends at the waist, and rests her palms upon the cold ground, beaming with pride as the earthen element heeds her plea. At first, one would feel a small tremble at the base of the tunnel, though as the seconds tick by, the rumbling intensifies and the entire area begins to shake. Dust kicks up as parts of the tunnel collapse, enshrouding the area behind Gilwen in shadows, as the interior of the tunnel transforms, vastly from the wreckage. Random shards of rock fall from the ceiling, needle sharp and heavy, intent on delivering a murderous gash should they hit their target, and the inner walls of the tunnel seem to buckle, narrowing in the center. However, the elf hadn’t counted on their being a whirling vortex in the center of the tunnel, and the runes that line the walls, hungrily eye the caster of the spell. Karma recoils against the woman as the wind violently hurls Lana backwards and she is roughly smacked against a large boulder, her hand immediately rubbing at her lower back as she howls in pain. Clearly, something was amiss with those azure runes. Had they issued a counter-attack of their own kind? The earthquake continues, as Lana regains her composure and darts behind one of the large stalagmites for cover, peeking from behind, as she watches Gilwen attempting to dodge all of the falling debris. Plucking a blackened throwing knife from her belt, Lana aims straight for the torso of her opponent, just above the navel. She uses the shadows to her advantage, hoping that the combination of the dark knife and the blackness of the area will aide her throw in meeting its mark. Her wrist snaps back, and in a fluid motion, her hand springs forward, and her fingers flick the projectile through the air. Another knife is readied, though this knife is aligned with the direction of Gilwen’s left thigh, and it soon glides through the air, mere seconds behind the first knife. “Wind, Wind, hear me true. Avoid the vortex, whatever you do. Deliver this shot, please do your best. If she dodges, I’ll handle the rest…” She stands, ready to defend herself, if need be, from a returned attack.

Gilwen hadn’t been back to the bank since nearly destroying it in a fight against Karstaas during the war for Frostmaw, and the restoration and reconstruction was admired in an attempts to stall the inevitable; Aetherial, Gilwen’s trusted confidant and constant shadow, was the only reason the elf was on time for her fight against Lanara, having bodily pushed her fiery headed friend down through the tunnels. “If you didn’t want to fight, why did you sign up for this?” The priestess grumbled at the petulant Gilwen, who only responded in kind with grumbles and grunts of her own. Prepared for the worst (and the cold), Gilwen wore thick leathers and fur that provided just enough defense without hampering her movement, and was armed with twin daggers worn at her hips, and two boot knives. As Aetherial took her seat in the stands, Gilwen stood across from Lanara, nodding her readiness while simultaneously surveying their arena. What were these runes? Before she could consider their uses however, the chant drew her attention back to the witch, and the subsequent, ominous rumbling spurred the elf into action. Immediately, Gilwen set her attentions on the falling rock and quivering tunnel as she pulled on the natural spirit of the earth with her own magical touches. She didn’t move from her position to cast her magic outward, but it could be felt regardless; it was a slow, pulsating caress, like gentle waves breaking against a shoreline. She easily coaxed the tunnel still again, and began to guide falling rocks away from her with no harm to herself… until the runes activated in the wake of her own magic. She took a snowball to the face, which shocked her from her task at hand and broke her concentration on the descending stalactites. She dove out of the way of a rather large rock on it’s way down, which ultimately saved her from being gutted by Lanara’s first knife attack, but the second knife sliced through the leather that encased her thigh, and nicked neatly through a quarter inch of flesh. Having assumed that the snowball was Lanara’s doing, Gilwen reached into a small pouch at her waist, withdrew a handful of seeds and dropped them casually onto the floor where they simply sat. For now. The twin daggers at her hips were unsheathed in the next moment, and the elf flew toward the stalagmite Lanara hid behind, intent on chasing the witch from her hiding spot with a few carefully aimed slashes at the girl’s face.

Lanara sees Gilwen come for her, and she immediately gives into the game of cat-and-mouse, darting this way and that through the tunnel. However, as she used the power of the wind to guide those knives to their intended target, she finds that a handful of pebbles fall onto her head. Karma. The witch knew all about it, and she’d agree, it was a bitch. She flinches, as one of the heavier pebbles whacks her in the temple, though it doesn’t throw her off of her game. The red-head slinks close behind, and Lana drops to the ground into a forward roll, as she rises, she pulls a hidden dirk dagger from her boot. Rising steadily, she engages in the knife fight, narrowly avoiding having her flawless face sliced into from the druidess. Thankfully, her face goes unmarred, though she takes a deep puncture wound to her right shoulder. “OUCH!” She scowls, her eyes darting wildly, meeting the woman, swipe for swipe, at each consecutive attack. Her opponent was agile, and good with knives, that is for sure. Lana, however, does have a good six inches of height over the petite woman, and she uses this to her advantage, by spinning out of the way and aiming to slash Gilwen in her right forearm with the tip of her freshly-sharpened dagger. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a cylindrical stalactite hanging from the ceiling, and she heads for it, leaping into the air and latching on, using her upper body strength to pull up as high on the rock as she can get. Her long legs wrap around the hard rock, as though it were a pole, and this was another of her naughty dance classes. Hey, those dance classes gave her the agility and stamina that she’d need right now! So using the newfound height to her advantage, she waits for the right moment to strike, and tests the speed of the wind, knowing she’d need its guidance. As the wind continues to howl, and Gilwen nears, she hurls herself down, knowing the combination of her weight and the aide of the wind have would her flying straight at Gilwen’s form, her hand outstretched, as she aims to stab the druid in the back.

Gilwen pursued Lanara, chasing her, -herding- her, in the direction of her choosing, and all the while, she maintained a close enough distance that a swipe of her blade would endanger the witch if her opponent weren’t careful. The seeds that had been scattered just seconds ago worked their way into the craggy openings of the floor and walls, dashed aside by winds that whipped through the tunnel, and nestled in their new beds, they immediately began to sprout rapidly, bred for maturation speed and strength. Soon, a network a vines stretched just beneath the ground, and up through the walls, out of sight, and lying in wait for Gilwen’s next command. The druidic magic that made this unseen foliage growth possible had met her with a rain of rocks as well, and she took them in stride, grunting as they battered against her shoulders and head. Bruises and knots, to be dealt with later. As she swiped again at Lanara, landing a lucky blow to the woman’s shoulder, Gilwen didn’t stop, but pushed forward, throwing the entire weight of her body behind a follow up strike- which was met with punishment from her opponent. She immediately drew her right arm back with a hiss of startled pain, quickly judged the severity of the gash -not life threatening-, and turned to pursue Lanara once again. However, the witch had set her sights on the stalactite, and deftly climbed it; useful skill, that. Unfortunately for Lanara, as soon as she threw herself down from her pole-perch, those vines that had grown thick within the walls sprung forth, called to life by Gilwen, and in a shower of earth, they lashed out at Lanara, aiming to sweep her up, away from Gilwen, and throw her toward the vortex of wind. In retaliation to her magic, those runes activated again, sending a quick, strong gust of wind toward her to shove her ever closer to the dangers that lingered in the center of the arena. It succeeded in grounding the elf, and she barely managed to spear a dagger blade into the craggy opening of split flooring before being sucked into the whirlwind herself.

Lanara lands on the ground with a grunt, blood seeping into her tunic and splashing onto her palms, as she breaks her fall. She had missed her target. Dammit! Her leggings are tattered, from the rock’s hard surface, and she knows she harbors several superficial wounds to her inner thighs from that hold on the stalactite. At the exact time that she pushes her palms against the earth and aims to rise to her feet, she finds that she has yet to face another opponent! The witch hadn’t expected that her opponent would be able to conjure plant life, as they were underground. The catacombs, to her knowledge, were void of any sort of living foliage, though as those herbs are brought into play, it all makes perfect sense. The Sage Forest dweller proves herself to be a worthy competitor, as she uses any and all resources to her advantage. Lana is filled with pure hatred at this point, as Gilwen is pulling out all the stops, all in an effort to advance in the tournament. Well. This witch was not going down without a fight! So as the vines slither to meet her and viciously whip at her, she slips her fingertips into the pouch attached to her belt, grasping a black stone. She clutches the crystal for dear life, as the head of the vine punctures her right hip, leeching blood from the opening of the wound that had dug angrily into her silken flesh. She cries out, doubles over, and inches nearer to the vortex, speaking in Sylvan, muttering beneath her breath, and her eyes glance at the runes on the wall, knowing that they would meet her in kind, after her next plan of action. And so, as the vines pursue her, and her speed is somewhat slower than before, she grinds her heels into the dirt, the ice cold wind at her back, and the whirlwind of air swirls, beckoning her nearer. “Great Spirits! I call upon your aide. Destroy, envelope, and enflame that which seeks me harm!” Her knuckles turn a milky white as she clenches the stone, her dark hues narrowing in intimidation at the vines that lurk dangerously near. Just in the nick of time, as that vine licks at her boot, the spirit answers her call, and a formation of molten magma is summoned to the area. The fiery tips reach out, beckoning for the vines, aiming for its target, and within seconds, Gilwen’s precious pets are nothing more than ash and cinder. As fast as it was called to the makeshift circle, the magma spirit dissolves, and the blue runes blindingly flash, before a large snowball pelts the brunette in the center of her chest. Lana is pushed back, and she ends up flying backwards, into the vortex, which tosses her violently from side to side, in the center of the tunnel. Using this to her advantage, she mutters an incantation and the wind responds to her whisper, catapulting her towards Gilwen. Her magic doesn’t go unnoticed, and as a heavy rock falls, nearly smashing into her skull, she catches it in both hands, and aims to deliver a deadly blow to the cranium of the red head, upon her descent.

Gilwen hadn’t expected her summoned plant-life to be so slow in its answer to her call, but perhaps it was the lack of sunlight that dulled their speed; back to the drawing board with this batch of seeds. She didn’t linger long on the malfunctions of the foliage, and hadn’t looked for ways to immediately improve upon their current growth conditions, because the incantation and the sudden appearance of molten rock chased away thoughts of future experimentation and replaced them with a need to get up and away from the fire that destroyed the vines that she had called from the walls. Gathering her feet beneath her, and climbing over the rubble of their arena, Gilwen sought for higher ground of fear of that magma, but it had died away almost as quickly as it had appeared, and she was left standing atop a pile of rocks, staring dumbly at the place where Lanara had once stood. It took her a few seconds to realize where the witch had gone, and it was only by sheer luck that Gilwen witnessed her opponent flying from the vortex, her attack heralded by the flash of runic activity on the walls. Immediately, the vines that had burrowed beneath the ground, and had narrowly avoided burning beneath Lanara’s call of fire, lashed forward to hook around Gilwen’s legs and whip her -toward- the whirlwind the witch had just escaped. These arms of vegetation were much quicker in answering the elf’s call, and she was drug along the ground beneath her opponent before she could take the rock aimed at her skull. As she slipped beneath Lanara, Gilwen threw both of her daggers upwards, end over hilt, to pierce through the abdomen of the witch while she was sucked into the vortex. She didn’t escape her punishment however, and a bolt of electricity shot from one of the runes on the wall and zapped her smartly in the chest.

Lanara drops the rock, though as it hits the ground, she immediately realizes that she had not hit her target. Disappointment is present in her chocolate hues, as she realizes that her magma spirit hadn’t destroyed the entirety of the vines. Never before had her magic failed in this manner, and it nags at the back of her mind, as she’s unsure how some of the plant life had managed to survive the fiery onslaught. Gilwen is pulled to safety by her deadly fauna, though as she slips between those long legs, Lana spies the silver glint of the daggers, at just the right moment. Thankfully, all that time as a cheerleading coach in Schezerade, had prepared her for this situation. The witch raises both arms out to her sides, ducks her upper half into a crouch, and lifts both of her legs, into a perfect toe touch. She lands back on the soles of her boots, just in time to see the red head be shot with a bolt of electricity to her chest. Karma could either be your friend or your foe; it was all in how you used your magic. Perhaps it would be a lesson learned to both parties? The witch will ponder that later though, as her head is pounding, and all she really wants to go is head home and go to sleep. The light cast from the blue runes continues to blare from the sides of the tunnel, and the vortex in the center continues to whirl, menacingly. Lana stumbles back, exhausted from the excessive use of her magic, the constant barrage of attacks that her lithe form had to endure, and the extent of blood loss from the hole in her hip. She had lost all resolve to remaining standing, and so she collapses at the rear of the tunnel, landing in a heap on the frozen floor. A chill runs through her figure, causing her to shudder from head to toe, as her head lolls to the side, and she loses consciousness.

Auto-Hit By Gilwen :: Just after throwing her twin daggers upward at Lanara, and before being sucked into the whirling vortex of wind or being zapped by the punishing lightning, Gilwen managed to loose one of the boot knives she had brought with her. A quick flick of her wrist sent the blade flying towards her witchy opponent just as Lanara toe-touched over her daggers. While the final attack was intentional, the targeted area had not been; that poor, perfect derrier of Lanara's was turned into a pin cushion for that boot knife, and the three inch blade sunk easily into the cushioned right cheek of her rear. Poor girl.

Winner: Gilwen