Duel:Heyx v Reema
Duel Info
- Mages Tournament: 1st Round
- Judges: Novak, Kundera (mid), Dalamar
- Rds/time: 3 rounds, 10 minutes
- Venue: Larket Arena
- Winner: Heyx
Duel
Heyx stepped cautiously into the small arena Larket offered for any folk looking for a ravishing bout. And indeed, this battle today would be such a fight, as it was the opening duel of the Mage's tournament. Blue optics laced with the gleam of madness gently caress the brown, dirt field that lay before her. Orange curls bob gently in the night breeze, her grey skin surrounded by darkness. Spotting her opponent, or what she believed to be her opponent, the young Hexenmeister prepared herself. Cool, deep breathes were taken, calming her rapidly beating heart as her mind once more seeped into the battle mentality. Convincing herself this tiny fay would be a danger, she allowed the rage to settle in, fueling her next actions. Lips part, fingers twirl, and her feet shuffle gently to caress the waves of mana that emit from her being, flowing through the dirt at her feet, creating a thick layer of magicarus beneath the earth. It spreads and spread, a forbidding warmth encasing the night-set ground. Temperature raises, furiously, imediatelly, before thick bursts of mana explode beneath the ground, creating a thick torrent of jagged rocks and sharp bits of dirt, undoubtly lethal to the tiny pixie. It continues, bursting upwards around the pixie, each bit of rock and dirt soaring for her flesh.
Reema 's hair is tied back away from her emerald-hued face by a silken band to allow her cerulean gaze more freedom to look upon her foe and her surroundings. Her look is calm and focused as if to make up for diminutive stature. Optics stare, unblinking as the torrent of rushing earth nears her -- no energy will be wasted here, for her body has very little of it. At two feet away, her knees bend. One foot away, her arms lower. Just as it seems she is about be rendered by the torn earth, the tiny pix would leap into the air -- wings unfolding nimbly into the the chill night. Only then does it become apparent as to why she had waited so long. Her wings are mangled, decrepit things by way of a former injury. Flakes of dead skin peel away and float to the ground like feathers in the chill breeze. They keep her afloat, but barely; like a chicken wanting to fly she hops awkwardly to avoid the worst of the blows and allows the smaller ones to take their course.. A rock jarrs her ankle, another cracks her elbow and it becomes apparent that she cannot fight herself. The ground is now shaken, loose, and fresh for her intentions. The fae lands on her feet and immediatly the lids of her eyes cover that piercing gaze. She hums, deep and resonant, like a choir singing a funeral dirge. The ground below starts to shift and quake again, this time at the necromancer's bidding. Bone and mangled flesh begin to puncture the ground, reaching up from the depths of hell -- fallen warriors ressurected to fight where Reema herself could not. They are not whole. A man's leg piercings the dry soil in a place, a head, half a torso. As they begin to assemble, the dirge continues. There is a monstrosity in the making.
Heyx's gaze flutters widly over the combat field, frantically searching for her diminutive foe, hidden by the ensemble of rock and dust that flows through the night. Upon spotting her, Heyx's ears are assaulted by a dreadful tune that sends a shiver up her spine. The short girl, deciding to approach the Pixie, does so cautiously. She figures that one proficient in music would not be quite as dangerous up close as her gris-gris grenades could be. A lithe, grey appendage is lowered into the sides of Hey'x white dress, as the ground at her feet begins to apart. Baleful moans escape, followed closely by grey tinged flesh and the rotting stench of decay. Heyx screams out in surprise, a high pitched squeel that peirces the night air like an arrow, as the Drow furiously dodges a swiping rotting hand, which nearly breaks itself off upon missing the girl's leg and striking a small rock. Heyx, wanting to mark another attack upon Reema, but yet else wanting to do away with these noisome intruders, decides on her ealier nearly-executed tactic. A hand withdraws a small gris-gris, something akin to a tiny sack resembling a doll, bulging with unknown contents. Bringing the gris-gris up in one hand, the girl tosses it forwards towards the pixie, aiming it just low enough that it could strike the ground at her feet. Of course, upon hitting the ground, the cloth holding the gris-gris together would tear, letting in oxygen, which would set off a vile explosive substant. Upon detonation, the blast would be something to reckon with. But of course, Heyx has also packed the gris-gris grenade with sharp, iron nails. Truly something befitting of the Bad-Luck mage, courtesy of Kaval and his brilliant services.
Reema continues the funeral hum. It rings deep and true as it echoes throughout the arena. The severed limbs of fallen heroes still bend to it's beck and call, pushing up through the mangled soil and reaching toward the sky for a new chance at life, feeble though it may be. When their bones fully break the surface, they crawl, rolls, and claw towards the necromancer's feet piling one on top of the other, connecting in awkward, unnatural places. A femur is attatched to an eye socket, a foot finds its missing toe in a rib. Slowly, the monstrosity grows; a grotesque mockery of the human form. In some places, decaying flesh still remains; muscles crawl with feasting white maggots. As the assembly continues, the pix would feel a small package land before her. The momentary blindness of her closed eyes causes her to dismiss the parcel as another rock being tossed in her direction -- an aftermath of the previous attack. That was, until the cloth tore away and the thin hiss of oxygen penetrated her accute senses. It was all the warning she had before jumping back, aided by a flutter of diseased wings. Once again thin peels of skin fly out about her form, but the explosion turns them almost instantly to ash. The woman hurself is thrown backwards to fall on her back as heated fire licks at her armor. Boils form under her thick boots and gauntlets -- wings are singed at the tips, blackened by ash and soot. The new being, however, presses forward as if completely independent of Reema, though only a thin strand connects their minds now. The biological heathen steps lumbers forward on legs that aren't truly legs, weilding a particularly large, solid bone as a cudgel with the intention to destroy the Drow.
Heyx is taken aback by the presence of this beast. Never before had she witnessed such a monstrous lack of disregard for the dearly departed. . The girl stepped back slowly, watching the beast carefully. It had seemed unaffected by her grenade, but that may have been expected. Nail and fire were not very workful on diseased, rotting flesh and bone. Oddly enough, this being seemed a great deal like Vornir. Big, wielding a massive weapon, and lumbering towards her. Visions of that fight flickered through her vision. Then, she had the idea. The thing was slow and strong. Its strength didn't matter if it didn't touch Heyx. With a vague idea of how this creature had been summoned, Heyx begins to approach it. Slowly at first, before she breaks off into a sprint, intent closing the distance quickly to give herself the short time required for this next spell. She rushes the beast, its great, spindly boned arm raised, clutching the weapon before it was brought down upon Heyx. Nearly a success! Both arms are raised before her face, a massive burst of mana timed nearly perfectly in sync with the crashing of the blunt object. It slams forecully onto the small, thick circular shield of magicarus that encases the girl's wrist. Thick shards and sparkles of raw energy explode in each direction, along with bits of marrow and dirt-stained bone as the makeshift weapon is nearly shattered. Bruises form on the Drow's arms as she released the shield, rushing between the creature's legs as it recoils from its parried attack. Gasping for breath, and searching once again wildly for her opponent, Heyx has difficult spotting the little woman. Finally, she does so. Heyx is at panicking point here as the great beast behind her begins to turn. She has to attack quickly and then move out of the way. Arms extend, digits parting and lips flowing over arcane lyrics as thick, coldness forms over the girl's hands. Then, a shout, and a thick stream of liquid frost is released widely towards the pixie. The widened cone of frost gives the pixie less room to dodge, although it also significantly lowers the damage that could be done. However, Heyx had to release the attack, and now she had. She runs blindly to her left, avoiding the undead as it turns for her.
Reema had been laying on the ground, nails partially inserted in her armor, some cutting deep enough to tear flesh. Her wings are pierced in several places; singed along the edges. Dead skin accompanied by fresh, black soot spouts into the air as the necromancer gets to her feet. She is weak, and stumbles, but still feels the thin, yet hearty connection between the creation and her own mind. As its attack is deflected, a swift tremor rakes her own body causing her to wince yet again in pain, dulled somewhat by the presence of the other conscienceness. After the ache subsides, she feels a chill. A fever perhaps? Nay. As the woman raises her gaze to glance at the battlefield, the onrushing cone of cold fills her vision. It swirls -- blue and white with flecks of brown dirt mixed in. Sheer terror coats the pixie's emerald visage before she has a chance to subdue it. Adrenaline flexes her thin veins as her muddled brain goes double time. Think. Warmth. Think. Hide. Simple words slide through her skull, fouled by her injuries. Eyes dart uneasily over the ground. She licks her lips. Before her there is a hole dug out of the earth -- a track made by an escaping limb, or perhaps by one of Heyx's shattering attacks. Without thinking she dives in, doubled over with her head between her legs to wait out the impending blizzard. It comes in waves, first rippling the cloth on her back, then throwing small rocks and pebbles around. They pelt her visible back. It seems her makeshift bunker has fended off the worst of the attack, yet she can still feel frost creeping up over the back of her exposed neck. She waits there, knowing full well that this pit may very well be her grave.
Heyx turns, unaware of the Pixie's action as her lurid gaze swallows up the dead beast before her. Its massive frame comes lumbering for the Drow, damaged weapon raised loosely as a low moan escapes past flesh-lacking lips. The drow cants her head, her shattered, chaotic mind barely comprehending why this creature would try the same unispired attack twice. She watches as it flows above her head, before tossing herself onto her stomach, a great blast of dust kicking up as club slams into the earth she stood on seconds ago. Using her knees and arms to push herself up, Heyx leaps to her feet and runs forward, a plan formulating within her head as she glances over her shoulder to eye the thing chasing her. Easily half the Drow's speed, the undead only had one advantage. It would never get tired. Heyx was. Although she hadn't really sustained damage in the fight, her casting of spells and constant moving was beginning to wear her out. She turned one last time, as the club came down upon her. It struck the dirt behind her once more, although more of the club shattered upon a thick rock jutting from the ground. Shards of bone fly about in a burst, a thick sliver slicing into the girl's leg and spilling crimson across the dirt. Gasping in pain, she makes her way over a shallow hole in the ground and watches as the undead behemoth approaches her once more. This time, when it nears, its foot sinks into the hole and it falls forward, landing with a shattered crash and nearly destroying the young Drow. She hops out of the way, immense agony burning through her leg as a tendon is pulled in the feat of weak physical prowess. The undead now down, and probably not capable of getting up, Heyx is free to sit there, biting down to keep from screaming from the burning pain erupting throughout her leg. Though, she got off lucky. While she had one leg damaged, she could only assume Reema was in worse condition, having taken the brunt of two full attacks. Her gaze set across the field, looking for the pixie. She didn't see her. She didn't care.
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