Duel:Grot v Satoshi
Duelists: Grot vs. Satoshi. Death Duel: Traditional 3 posts each, with final defense. 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Killing post. Judges (chosen by Grot): Thea (mid), Kasyr, Turel
[Kelay Tavern- The Invitation]
Grot said to Satoshi, "You look like the backend of a cow turned upside down born prematurely into a midden heap of human refuge. I demand a duel to the death, you snot mingling mother of a marsupial."
Thea pushes through the doors, satisfied grin plastered on her face as a free hand moves to sweep the sweat from her delicate brow. Evident by her disheveled locks and somewhat soiled gown, the Pixie has been hunting. Still exhilarated from the fight, her eyes glow softly to the revenant, "Rheven.." She winks to the Snow Queen and slides over to the board, giving a run down of the posts with an index finger.
Satoshi said to Grot, "I'm slightly occupied looking like both a marsupial and a cow, sorry. You can fight the weasel, though." She nods to the ermine on her shoulder. "He's kind of bored."
Grot said to Satoshi, "Yer smell like tern spirit."
Thea blinks and turns to Satoshi, scrupulous gaze scanning the petite frame of the vamp kit. She looked like neither a cow nor a marsupial from Thea's perspective, though her hips were a bit rounder than the Pixie recalled. She shrugs and moves closer to Rheven now.
Satoshi said to Grot, "That's nice. So, did you want rabies, or not? Otherwise, shove off, you're blocking my view of the shadow-loving ninnies."
Grot said to Satoshi, "I'll kick yer square in tah'balls laddy."
Grot blocks. The view.
Satoshi dutifully takes a look in her pants--just to be sure--before glancing back at Grot. "Good luck kicking what isn't there. I'll happily take yours, though. Add them to the collection~."
Grot said to Satoshi, "Er, yer a bitch?"
Satoshi said to Grot, "You're grasping, now."
Grot said to Satoshi, "I know."
Grot touchs Satoshi.
Grot said, "Yarp, yera'bitch alright."
Satoshi glances at Grot's hand, then his face, then that empty space between his legs, then back to his face all in rapid succession. "C'mon now, was that an impersonation of a butterfly landing?"
Thea 's ears perk towards the male speaking so harshly to the Snow Queen. She squeezes Rheven's hand, fighting her own urgency to tear him limb from limb for such a name.
Grot said, "Er. Yeah actually, yer'kinda smart."
Grot said, "Er'got tah'Grot before? Terks a few weeks an'lotsa ointment tah'get ridd'r but, once yer got it, yer ner'go back."
Grot sidles up close-like to Satoshi.
Satoshi said to Grot, "Tell ya what. I'm feeling charitable today. If you really want to die so badly, I suppose I can take a moment out of my busy day of people watching to oblige."
Satoshi sneezes. She's allergic to creepers.
Thea snickers as the Snow Queen handles it well, approving smile creeping over her features. "And people say we are not generous.."
Grot said to Satoshi, "Yer'kind'r ugly and...drink all mah'milk and eat all mah'fish, damn catfolk climbin' in mah windows'an snatchin'mah people up! I've had tah'hide mah kids, hide mah wife, AND hide mah husband cause yer' merlestin'errbody out der."
Satoshi has to dig down deep to muster up an imitation purr, since she's no longer a cat and can't properly do so anymore. "Aww, admit it, you -like- it~."
[Outside Kelay Tavern]
Grot waltzed out of the tavern with his weapon clutched tightly in one hand. Of simple construct, the flattened, sharpened rectancgle of steel resembled an over sized cleaver more than anything. Three and a half feet long of metal with a six inch hilt, by Kingsley's gait it appeared an extension of his very body while feet made the short footfalls it took to come within range of his target. With treasured blade held tightly in right hand, motion came to a halt and left hand quickly lowered to the belt that held up black leather pants. Attached to that belt were several small orbs, obvious remnants of the Prek'lek presence in Cenril judging by the odd, flowing script writ on the outside of each. While his feet were still sliding and back arced forward from the momentum of prior speed, one ball three inches in diameter was retrieved and tossed into the air. With a look of utter determination, with eye squinting and tongue jutting out of mouth, ball met against the flattened side of his really large cleaver which sent it whizzing through the air at Satoshi. It would land inaccurately in a tree near the kit-vampire, exploding as luck would have it against the neck of a branch - sending splinters, wooden shrapnel at her back side and threatened to have branch fall upon her. Soon after he was back in motion, attempting to close the gap between them.
Satoshi balances on the balls of her feet while she waits for the strange human across the road from her. Cautious eyes regard the retrieved ball, uncertain of what it is or what it is capable of, and all the more wary when Grot sends it hurtling towards her. Instinct sends the kit diving toward the ground, letting the mis-aimed missile sail over her as she breaths a sigh of relief at avoiding whatever dangers it contained. Up until the tell-tale sign of a miniature explosion and splintering wood informs Satoshi of her error. "Hellfire," the magus murmurs dully from her position on the ground, twisting around in time to greet a blinding shower of wood fragments and a swiftly following branch crashing down upon her right side. The foxkin snarls in pain as she pulls her shoulder free, the joint protesting with violent cracks and pops, and scrambles to her feet. Satoshi's left hand fumbles for the end of the offending branch while eyes blink rapidly in a futile attempt to clear up her vision, only vulpine ears informing her of Grot's quick approach with the sound of boots on gravel. Grunting with effort, the kit-vampire throws her full weight and strength into the held branch, heaving it up like a makeshift club and swinging it out in a wild arc, intending to bash aside the man's approach, send him sprawling long enough for her to shake off the last of the splinters. And long enough for her to begin whistling a deceptively cheerful tune, the weavings of a spell just beginning...
Grot was traveling toward the Kit-vampire at a well enough speed for a human, blindly travsering dusty path until he came in range with Reaver at the ready. The blade was held between himself at the Kit on approach, her wild swing of branch turned club lead the an inevitable forward slash that had steel meeting leaf and wood, and Kingsley spiraling forward several more feet before skidding to an abrupt halt. It took but a moments notice for him to whip around and see where his foe had left off to. Senses perked at the keen sound of whistling from lips, which had a bandit unaccustomed smirking beneath forming beads of sweat. Back in motion again, only a very short moment had passed since his charge had been thwarted and now loud footfalls were once again bringing him on the heels of Satoshi. Idle switching of blade to blade, the thrill of the chase on: Rather than swing with Reaver, the human used the thing to sling-shot himself at the vampire. Blunt top of blade met against dirt, hilt passing between groin to back-side before he let go and flailed himself at the woman with every intent on pinning her down, and pummeling the back of her head with a flurry of fists to the cranium.
Satoshi's confident that her branch is enough to leave Grot fumbling a moment and doesn't immediately turn to face him, focusing upon bringing her spell to fruitation. The kit isn't alone in her fight, however, for that little ermine she'd earlier invited the human to fight with is still stubbornly present, buried beneath the kit's hair and watchful of his companion's back. A high-pitched squeak from Aeron is all the warning Satoshi needs, and she turns to face the man in time to see him vaulting toward her... and in time for her spell to be given a slight tweak by means of a brief trill. Grot succeeds in colliding with and pinning the foxkin, yes, but any intentions of successful 'pummeling' fall short, for the cryomancer's spell is one woven into her skin, what was once planned as a weapon now becomes a defense as the blood beneath her flesh freezes. Grot's fist may as well be pounding into an iron mask, for all the harm it does to Satoshi, grinning back at him beneath the frozen facade as she is. The magic does not linger purely in her face either, an unnatural chill creeping along her form Grot's only warning that the spell is spreading to where he's seated upon Satoshi. A simple hum from the frigid magus is all it takes to her glaciated blood to respond, jutting out from her torn flesh in a series of crimson spikes eager to impale the human pinning her.
Grot has a face flush red with adrenaline, breath heavy and eyes gazing down on the Kit below. He'd come to rest it turns out directly against her upper thighs, and flush face soon ripened into a wince, neglect in concentration leaving the knuckles of both hands scraped and bleeding lightly. With eyes wide and 'feck me' muttered below breath, Kingsley catapulted himself upward immidiately on sight of Satoshi's cruel grin, legs fully extending with such speed it had him sputtering backward a few steps. Luck wouldn't land the bandit safe it seems, impalement taking form against right shoulder. Brute strength lead a fisted left hand smashing into a thin part of the jagged ice spear, severing it from what was extruding from Satoshi. A scream of pain left his mouth, he fell hard on his left side and rolled from his gut to his knees, to his feet with a right arm limp and blood seeping from a large wound. Concentration came quickly in this situation, fear for life evident in posture and more-so obvious by the sudden drop he took to knees: Fluid motion and strain, a precision of sorts had him coming back to feet with a rock thrice as wide as his head - barely supported between his skull, left shoulder, and left hand. Eyes grew wide in that split second before he made his move, hoping to catch Satoshi still on the ground after his quick recovery. Rock was haphazardly tossed at the frozen skinned foe before him, its progression slow and heavy and as it neared the Ice Queen, his muscular left leg would raise to waist-height. At just the right moment, bottom of foot met with top of rock and began contributing to the downward force, hoping to more than shatter the protective ice around the queen but also smash the rock squarely into the middle of her gut, knocking the wind out of her.
Satoshi is quick to begin calling back the ice in her veins once Grot is removed, eager to be back on her feet before the human can come at her again. Unfortunately, the human's quicker than she anticipates, already returning and now armed with more than a blade before she's fully thawed herself out. The magus can only meet the rock with a grimace as it descends--aided by the damnable man. Unable to move fast enough with ice-laden limbs and not nearly as protected as she was moments ago, she's left to endure it crashing into her stomach to the sound of a strangled gasp and the shattering of ice. The pain's enough to leave the kit dizzy and wanting nothing more than to curl up on the ground for the rest of the day, but she's already given Grot too many chances to make his moves while she lagged. Satoshi has no intention of giving him the opportunity to kick her while she's down now and out of pure stubbornness--and a touch of vampiric strength--does she force the rock off her before stumbling back to her feet, hissing breath shifting from unsteady to... rhythmic. Almost musical. Hurriedly the minstrel works her spell as she falls into a wordless song, left hand extended toward Grot's injured arm as if reaching for a departing loved one. The vampire sings a song to the human's blood, coaxing obedience from the spilling liquid, willing it to rear up from the arm that harbored it and adopt the form of a crimson cobra coiled tightly about the limb. With a hiss echoed by Satoshi, the snake lunges for Grot's face in a serious of strikes, fangs carrying the 'venom' of Satoshi: a bone-numbing chill designed to lock muscles in place, freeze joints, and... if left unchecked, halt the heart's own steady dance.
Grot so much as he could in a state of exaustion was working on not falling atop the very rock he'd just allowed to depart from shoulder, a few woozy, stumbling steps foward in trail of Satoshi as she scrambled afoot. While the Kit-Vampire's breath was turning rythmic, Kingsley's was tired and forced. Beads of sweat dotted every crevice of his older face and it was them first that he began to feel grow cold. A shout of surprise echoed outside the Kelay Tavern, eyes broadened by the mere fact a solid ice serpent was wildy striking face, razor-sharp frozen fangs finding home in cheek, jaw, lips, nose. Frantically stumbling about, spinning, the bandit's only good arm rose with as much speed as could be mustered in his current condition; the snake got five or six viper-fast bites in before the bandit managed to -- with a great scream of pain -- pull the thing free from the wound on his arm and throw the serpine object several feet away. In a rush of panic, fear, exaustion and adrenaline he made one off-handed rush at Satoshi, one final blow. The gap between them was small, but luck struck twice in the bandit's favor: Between himself at the ice queen was his blade, laying on the ground. His gait was a quick limp, eyes wild with anticipation and he bent quickly without pausing the approach to retrieve it into left hand. What came next was a suicidal flurry of strikes at her person, most off kilter and missing but a few close enough to cut deep, and cut hard with just a little more luck. From his mouth every moment the charge began was a continuing, wild scream of fury and fear, eyes ever-wide and blood seeping from every strike that spell-driven serpent had made. He looked a madman gone madder.
Winner: Satoshi, unanimous.
Satoshi falters at Grot's wild approach, for even a confident predator thinks twice when the prey turns with teeth bared. It's this hesitation that earns her the first slice across her face, narrowly missing her eye by fortune of a reflexive flinch, but with that cut comes back the kit's resolve. And righteous indignity. How -dare- he cut her face? Eyes bright with rage, Satoshi meets Grot's approach, rather than retreat away from the flurry of attacks, heedless of the glancing blows and deep gashes riddling her form, spilling half-frozen blood. How -dare- he? She'll make him pay the piper. After all, she did promise him earlier, didn't she? There's a perfectly feral grin on the kit's features once she's pressed past Grot's flailing and to him, fangs inches from his throat. She knows nothing of the man, but she can assume he's like most males and will still a moment when a female's abruptly against him. That's all the pause she needs, a simple distraction so that her still-functioning hand can creep up the front of the human's pants... and latch onto his only true beloved with deadly ferocity. Claws easily slice through fabric, and soon after, flesh. A touch of icy magic and a sharp motion from the kit is all it takes to part the man from what makes him... well, a man. A kick to a kneecap all that's needed to drop the maddened man into a kneel. Satoshi doesn't waste time letting Grot process her actions, swiftly lifting her hand then and returning to him what she's just stolen by means of a far from gentle force-feeding. A softly crooned elegy follows the action, willing Grot's mouth to freeze and seal shut. With the elation of a hunter, the grinning kit ensures Grot doesn't part from his 'treasures', all throughout his struggle to breathe, up until he's suffocated, and even after he's collapsed in death.