Duel:Heyx v Kurlurk (DD)
Format: Death Duel
- 3 posts each + final defense.
- 15 min limit
The scent of sweat mixed with blood wafts through the air, filling your nostrils with a stench so overpowering that you stop in your tracks. The flooring is made of a loose compound of crushed rock and sand, an easy mixture to make and cover up whatever horrors lie beneath it as you notice you walk up a slight incline every few feet. The high spiked walls surrounding this enclosed arena are stained with crimson, azure, and other various tones from all the diverse creatures that have met their death or lost a limb or two. Ragged clothing, blemished with drips of blood hang from a random spike as cowardly foes tried to escape, only to meet their end in a gruesome fashion from unruly crowds. A mysterious orb is locked within a crystal ball atop a single pillar to the extreme north, its effects known as you remember seeing a plaque upon your entrance: No Magic Allowed. In a cage to the north, you notice a creature gripping onto a barred door, eagerly waiting to escape though appearing as if he could do so at anytime. To the south lay a similar enclosure, but with a different monster letting out a repulsive cry as it waits for battle. This is the arena. Victors and losers are born here. Turn back, or step up to the challenge. A Large pulsing portal hovers in the centre of this arena. A Dead Preklek is here. A Dead Preklek is here.
Kurlurk stood in the arena, the one who had fought him before would be here as well. Here she would taste defeat along with the others that the great Orc had subdued. A light wind would blow towards the Orc whipping about his torn and matted clothing that was once sure to have been fine in every sense of the word. The orc had upon him three weapons and was sure that once his enemy arrived he would begin with the sound of the War Horn that was often used to declare the start of a match to the death. This was what Kurlurk lived for, to smash those cocky enough to belittle him outside of his city when within it he was a match for any fool that challenge him. Suddenly the being would appear, Heyx, the one who had used so much magic before would need a new plan of action. To the far north, outside of the arena, stood the tower with the crystal ball that would disable all magics even here at the arena. This made the arena perfect for the battle hardened Orcs that lived in the city adjacent to it. Suddenly the battle horn would blow, and the orc would take no time drawing from each side two Axe’s. Each had been crafted by the dwarves, very hard steel thanks to their centuries of experience in steel crafting. Now he would race for Heyx, charging across the battle field breathing through his mouth with each step so as to not loose his breath, the heavy footfalls throwing up steady whirlwinds of dust from the dry but blood stained ground of the arena. Now reaching close range he would slash in a arch like motion with his right hand from right to left horizontally and continue through with the momentum to turn and use the same motion with his left hand after completing a three sixty spin. The brutish orc was used to this style of combat, and even more so since he had joined the Larket Fighting Association, a group of the fiercest melee warriors. Another small detail hexy would have to deal with would be the stench coming from the poor hygiene of the Orc, a strong enough smell would send any animal running in the other direction for fear of what they may discover.
Heyx cluthced her shoulders gently, a slight shiver flowing through the body of the teenaged girl as she realized that she could no longer feel her connection to the mana fields around her. She glanced about, searching for the source of such an intrusion, but could spot none. Instead, she was greeted by the man she had been instructed to kill. This dirty, foul smelling fungoid beast was running at her, actually running at her with an axe. She stared hard at the beast, her lithe digits playing across a small pouch in her dress, her other hand set upon the handle of a saw. When Kurlurk was close enough, suddenly a whoosh as the Drow spun, drawing forth a small gris-gris and tossing it up at him, her saw slicing deep into the pouch and igniting the explosive mixture within. With this, the gris-gris grenade would literally explode in Kurlurk's face, causing a massive ammount of damage due to the shear force of the weapon and of course, due to the fact that the gris-gris has been packed with nails. After the explosion, even if Kurlurk was still able to continue his attack, the drow would crouch down quickly, causing the swing to flow above her head, but of course, causing her to be knocked in the face by the Orc's knee before she stood back up, ready for the filthy beast's next move.
Kurlurk was ready for anything she may attempt, except maybe a primitive grenade. The speed she used to cut the sack and ignite the two mixtures together was uncanny to the orc. The mixture exploded as she had most likely intended, the shrapnel inside exploding outwards, covering the field with nails and other such items. Kurlurk’s face would take the most damage here, the burns were only the beginning to the pain any other person would feel. Nails and other pieces of strange metals stuck from his skin, and his right eye which seemed to be scorched beyond repair. The explosion had blanketed the right of his face, he had turned his head just in time to avoid both sides. Upon his face the thick and pungent form of his congealed blood would ooze down the side of his face slowly. The woman would need to be cautious now; the blood was poisonous to most races, though her Drow heritage may protect her in that regard. Kurlurk stumbled backwards after the explosion dropping one of his large brutish axes to the earth behind them and clamping his hand to his face. “Fine, no hand more hand t’ hand! We fight foot t’ face!” he would declare removing his hand finally and drawing with it his falchion from his back. A smirk would reveal itself on his face now as he saw the woman, the pain in his head was enormous, a massive headache would terrorize the orc for hours to come surely. Now the orc added, quickly he would throw his axe for the woman, though more as a distraction, and take the few large steps for her before slashing in an outward motion from left diagonally downward in hopes of keeping the woman in view with his good eye, still he would continue his attack as he would now kick with his Orc strength in tow hoping that she may not have seen an attack without his sword coming, though he knew it was doubtful. Kurlurk was ready for whatever else she may have; the exploding pouches were surely a limited luxury. In his head he was already deciding his next series of attacks.
Heyx took a step back, watching and listening to the strange way the man spoke. Then, he threw his axe at her. The drow threw herself to the left, sliding across the dirt after having only barely dodged the steel weapon. She crawled to her knees, looking up at the orc as he swing his Falchion at her. She gave a shriek, pulling herself up to her feet, catching a nip at the tip of her forehead, which sliced a thin sliver from her face. Heyx pulled her head back, the maniacal and hysterical giggles of the drow penetrating the darkness like an arrow piercing flesh. The drow twisted herself around, swinging her saw with both hands wildly at the Orc. Although not formally trained with the weapon, Heyx was small, thin and fast, and could unleash a flurry of chops which, with the saw's heavily serrated edge, could easily grind and tear through his flesh. Having wasted alot of her energy from the swinging, the drow stepped back after her attack, watching and putting a little distance between herself and her advisary.
Kurlurk’ grin had dissipated like a mighty troll’s fart in the wind. He had every intention of tenderizing his meal before eating it. The slashes he had done at her proved to be mostly waited time but he did not care, for she had gained the courage to finally attack him, and with a saw at that. The Orc debated on what to do and while doing so he would block with his falchion, feeling little pieces of metal stick into his feet from the remnants of the previous explosion as he allowed her to push him back. He blocked each attack aside for one or two, but grew tired of this quickly as it was getting him no where, and so with a gut churning roar he hoped to surprise her before her barrage of attacks ended and whether or not she was stunned he would throw his falchion to the side and rush the poor girl. The beast of creature gripping each hand into a tight fist as he would attempt and pound at her, using the surprise she may have by him taking at least one or more saw cuts to his legs. Rage filled the beast, she had hurt him more than he should have allowed. Adrenaline rushed, pushing his own tolerance for pain even further above what it was naturally at. His right eye was clamped shut but still his barrage of punches would continue. At any time should she get to far away a duck and roll towards her would be enough to close the distance once more. The Arena Brawler would not let up, and to finally finish his attack he would attempt a hard kick with his right leg as if she were a small ball and he was aiming for a goal over the horizon. Kurlurk was done with games and foolish tricks, he wanted this match to end, the woman’s head to be his.
Heyx 's chest heaved with the effort she had put out, but she wasn't done yet. She knew that she could prove to herself that this opponent could be beaten not with magic or blade, but with intellect and cunning, which she had plenty of, and Kurlurk was probably lacking quite severly in. To compensate for her lack of energy and ability to use her magic, she decided to turn tail and run from the Orc, being lighter and faster, she didn't have much difficult evading the berserking creature. However, she was growing tired and Kurlurk was showing no signs of exhaustion. Blood trailing down her beautiful face, Heyx led the Orc to the edge of the arena, before she turned, drawing a braided bullwhip as she did so. Having practiced with this particular object on Ydna, Heyx knew what she was doing. Pulling back the weapon as Kurlurk raised his leg to kick her, a loud crack echoed out as the whip snapped forward, aiming to grab the Orc's leg, where he would be lifted up into the air and then thrown onto his back, thus allowing Heyx to get atop him and hack him to death with her saw.
Kurlurk was in a berserker state, feelings didn’t affect the way he was acting now, not even pain. If anything the pain he felt fueled that rage. But all that would end when the woman would easily outsmart the Orc whose intelligence level wasn’t even worth mentioning. The whip reacted quickly and Kurlurk would find himself upon the earth before he would understand why. Behind him were the remnants of only one Preklek scout, he knew there were two before and wondered where it might be, The scouts body was stabbed utop a nearby stake which was used to skewer cowards should they try and flee their opponents in battle, the orc had just missed two of these. He lay there now, his senses coming back to him, what little bit of senses he actually had, the pain became more apparent as his adrenaline slowed and disappeared. He had many slashes already upon his legs, the side of face was burnt badly and the shrapnel from the gris gris was still lodged in his face, as was some in his feet that he trecked over during the battle. Now the Orc would sit up, debating what to do next, did he have the energy to finish her, the lonely woman that had somehow in someway made him loose his footing, or should he lay there and take whatever was to come to him? His slow mind debated..
Kurlurk would stand finally and grin as he thought of how best to finish this. It crossed his mind to simply sit on her skull and eat what may pop out her brains as if a delectable treat. But instead he would grab one of the many wooden stakes around the edge of the arena’s perimeter and brake it off with a good solid kick, though it pained him to do so. Walking over to Heyx where she would lay exhausted he would hold the stake over her as if a sword and smash it downward into her skull, killing the woman. Then as if debating what to do next he would pull the stake most of the way out and force it into her body again, though this time it would be forced down her throat and out the “other end.” “She worth wait, cook over big fire!” he would exclaim and the other Orcs about him would shout and yell in their native tongue as Kurlurk ignored the man who had spoken and exited the arena.