Duel:Hildegarde v Seriis, Match 1 of the 2013 Frostmaw Tournament
Duelists: Hildegarde vs. Seriis. Duel: Traditional 3 posts each, with final defense. 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Autohit post. Advancement in the Titans of Winter Tournament 2013. Judges: Svilfon, & Satoshi
Frostmaw Arena
Satoshi sits in her personal seat at the head of the arena. The stands are filled with a chanting and cheering audience that ranges from enormous Frost Giants to tiny, sure-footed Hobbits, all crammed together to watch the opening match of the second Titans of Winter tournament. Strangely, the combatants are not to be found in the arena. Instead, the combat floor is empty, save for a ring of strange cuts of glass, large and rectangular in nature. Despite the queen of Frostmaw's small size, she has little trouble projecting her voice above the noise when she suddenly speaks, with thanks to the use of arcane amplifiers, "Ladies and gentlemen~! Welcome to the second annual Titans of Winter tournament! Today is our first match of what should prove a most bloody and glorious series of events. The brave knight Hildegarde will face off against the Secondboy of House Al'Reim, Seriis!" A match of unwavering honor versus deceptive cunning. As Satoshi rises from her seat then, she lifts a hand aglow with azure light and directs it toward the glass panels. With a shimmer of blue fire, the sheets of glass transform, no longer transparent panes, they've become windows. Windows that look in upon an immense subterranean, natural hot spring, each glass showing the location from a different angle and height. The views shift and change repeatedly to provide the audience a full view of the steam-filled room and its many levels of pools, ranging from flesh-meltingly hot to pleasantly warm. This is surely some means of scrying magic, projecting the happenings for all to see, while also displaying the arena audience for those in the hot springs: the knight Hildegarde and the drow Seriis. Here is the location of the opening match, an environment normally meant for comfort and relaxation, now functioning as a boiling battlefield for the dexterous. As a member of the audience, one can choose to remain in the stands and watch in comfort, or they can go to the location itself and try to find anything resembling 'safe seating' there. Satoshi turns her gaze then to one of the panels hovering close to the two combatants and offers them a small, feral smile, "Let the match begin~!"
Stepped Hot Springs
Dim shadows curl and crawl across the wet stone, and delicate cerulean flowers continue to flourish here in this warm underground pocket. Trails of moist steam coalesce into massive white plumes that drift and fade as they tumble through the open space, and the humid air tastes of minerals and heat. This wide cavern is home to a fascinating geological feature - a literal terrace of rocky pools whose waters spill endlessly over their rims and cascade into the next tier, with the highest being the smallest yet the largest source of heat. The lowest steppes are far cooler, transformed into an infinity pool of sorts as warm, murky water, thick and enriched with nutrients, stretches seamlessly out into a vast subterranean lake. The lakewater itself is far colder, touched by Frostmaw's bitter chill, but the hot springs are at a pleasant enough temperature to tempt one into taking a relaxing dip in the healing waters and revel in this secret haven of warmth buried under Hollow's most unforgiving region. Judging by the way the highest pool bubbles and gurgles so fervently, however, it might just be a little too hot for most to handle, better left for those with scales or a certain affinity for scalding heat. A narrow passageway twisting back upwards is the only exit from this secluded cavern.
Hildegarde had been told the location of her first duel - first official duel ever actually - by the Queen and hostess of the tournament, causing her to rush off there in a flurry of excitement and nervousness! Her new armour was an odd colour for her; no longer a shining light to portray her good nature and personality, now the blue iron that was customary to the people of Frostmaw. She looked like a true knight of Frostmaw in the gear, that much could be said! So here she stood, all six foot and three decided inches of her, waiting for her opponent to assemble here with her. Whim was already shaped into that of a halberd: ready for action. Once her opponent arrived, the Silver would offer him a polite enough smile and wave of her hand, "Seriis of house Al'Reim?" she inquired, hoping this truly was her opponent. "Hildegarde the Silver. I believe I'm your opponent for this battle!" with formalities out of the way and a moment waited for Seriis to gather himself or prepare himself for their fight, the Knight would offer him a very polite and courteous bow at the waist before her entire body just rolled forward; shaft of her halberd twirling to keep the axe-head away from him, as she swung the shaft to wallop at his legs. Her aim was to either break a leg or at least break his balance! But the Knight was swift to roll off to the side and back to her feet: having learned that waiting for an opponent was unwise, that staying low to the ground was not a tactic to be used constantly or for too long at that. Whim twirled in her hands; building speed as her body turned with it to add momentum in her swing, as this time the grappling end of her halberd made for his shoulders; hoping to catch onto the fabric of his apparel. Should her halberd catch him, she would jerk him forward and shove out her curled fist in an effort to punch him square in the face. The Knight was not playing games.
Seriis is glad his bodyguards are watching at the arena and not here, because he just -knows- Avarn would be trying to push him into the pool. The young drow has moved to pace along the edge of one of them, careful and cautious, eyes fixed on his opponent. Once she enters the cavern, he focuses on nothing else. In stark comparison to Hildegarde, Seriis appears distinctly lacking in armour - and indeed even a weapon, but he is certainly carrying hidden blades. A drow does not give away all his secrets at once, after all, and he does not give the impression of being a mage. "I believe so." It is the extent of his formalities and he finishes as Hildegarde drops and rolls, the heavy shaft of her halberd is swinging out for his legs in what would be a devastating blow, were he stupid enough to allow it to connect. Seriis is not a fool, though, and evasion is one of his most effective weapons; he leaps back with the grace of a cat, slinking just out of reach, but his foot slips on the damp floor and he is unable to dodge the second thrust. The hem of his robe caught, Seriis finds himself jerked forward suddenly and stumbles, and he can't quite regain his footing as he's distracted by the fist that meets his face. A piteous shriek leaves him and he might have been thrown back from the force of it, but the drow's fingers have wrapped firmly round Hildegarde's halberd and he remains uncomfortably close to the Silver. His yell of pain has a more subtle effect to it, one that is far more damaging to the Silver in this cavernous place, and Seriis is hoping the echoes will cause her to lose focus - the sound reverberates off the smooth walls and intensifies painfully at first, but it's beginning to fade out after a few sparse seconds. A few seconds is all Seriis needs, though, to dart forward and lash out in an abrupt attack, unsheathing a knife from his belt and drawing his arm outward from his chest in a smooth arc, the vicious edge of his knife aiming to cut a scar into Hildegarde's pretty face.
Hildegarde noted that the drow was certainly graceful, what with the evasion of her first attack; one that could have left him at a severe disadvantage had it struck him. But alas, the battle was swiftly moving on and her first had made contact with his face! She half expected him to stagger back, but no, he was holding on to Whim; staying close to her for purposes - she could only imagine - would be to his advantage. The cavernous walls bounced his shriek around, ringing in her sensitive, scale-tipped ears; putting a little confusion in her world. Even more confusion when that knife sliced across her cheek! Unfortunately, the boy was not a vampire, or else she would be forcing her blood all over his face. Instead, she would need to come up with something different and him sticking so close to her was, perhaps, not so wise an idea. She took in a deep breath, waiting for the little 'click' in the back of her throat before she pulled her halberd swiftly to the side: aiming to bring him with it; to throw him off balance as her armoured knee rose and aimed for his gut, as concentrated frost billowed angrily from her mouth in search of his delicate flesh. The frost was cold enough to feel like fire and she wanted to see this boy burn, even if she would apologise for it later.
Seriis ' lips twist into a feral snarl, triumph glinting in his ruby eyes at the sight of the blood coating his steel. He sees the next attack before it comes, in a sense; the way Hildegarde's expression alters in just the slightest, as though she is concentrating on something, before she pulls and, once again, Seriis is hauled entirely off his feet. However, he does not release the halberd and allows himself to be dragged away to the left, attempting an awkward twist and roll of his body that would land him on his back on the ground, were he able to accomplish it. Unfortunately, not all goes to plan even for this sneaky little drow - he misjudges the amount of time he has and the knight's knee slams into his side before he can fully slip out of harm's way, partially knocking the breath out of him. And it gets worse than that, because Seriis can feel Winter's chill seeping in, invading the warm air of the cavern in a wholly unnatural way. Steam curls as if in protest to the temperature change and the Silver spits frost, and the scholar twitches, bringing an arm up as if to shield his face from the worst of the breath attack. While it does its job of sparing his face, that arm feels like it suffers the full, frigid extent of a Frostmaw blizzard, the skin numbing, stiff and painful, and Seriis knows he has to put some distance between them again. Without warning he brings that same arm back down, hoping to imbed his dagger deep in the leg that was driven into his side, as he releases the hilt and dives away from Hildegarde. The boy scrambles around and partially beneath her, ducking under her arm and whipping around as he straightens, wild eyes narrowed. From a holster at his side, he quickly draws a crossbow, already loaded, and fires it at the knight's legs, hissing in fury.
Hildegarde 's body went rigid as she realised the little drow was attempting to escape, but relief came to her as her knee made contact with him. The boy was so lithe and small in comparison to her, it was a struggle to keep a good grip on him! As she sees the chill of her breath meet his arm, part of her wants to yank and break it; like her halberd had smashed Pridak's frozen arm to pieces, yet the drow was already striking out at her again. That knife that had sliced her pallid cheek was now attempting to burrow into her leg, but was hindered by the thick blue iron she wore, courtesy or Master Gilak, who she would be sure to thank again after this! With the blade left in her leg, she looked up at Seriis and offered him a challenging snarl, one that was more dragon than woman! Hilde decided that tactics employed with Svilfon would be of use; after all, a dragon's strength was in fighting up close and personal, not at a distance. So, the knight charged in his direction; regardless of him firing crossbow bolts, unwilling to allow them to halt her as she charged straight for him. Her hand twirled her halberd, body spinning with it again for momentum and power before she reached him; but her axe-head did not go for him! Instead, her booted leg snapped out to kick him in the gut with a snarling sound of saurian pride, as her halberd shaft jutted upwards to snap under his chin; upon which the knight could compress against his throat, should she so wish and the situation allow for it.
Seriis is not one to hang around when large beasts charge him. He is simply not suited to the knights style of combat, with their hacking and slashing, their brute force and fearsome power; he is simply too small for that sort of fighting, and his power lies in other strategies. Backing away from the oncoming Silver, snarling, he makes to dodge left but the move is made out to be a feint, as he tries to leap to the right instead and clear her path. A stab of pain in his injured torso has him faltering and it seems, due to her unyielding resolve, that Hildegarde is not fooled by his trickery and so Seriis is forced to try using his crossbow as an impromptu shield against her damned leg. Metal and wood take the brunt of the blow but the weapon is also forced against Seriis' already tender stomach - luckily, at least, he doubles over from the force of the attack and manages to avoids the halberd aiming for his neck. With his crossbow crushed between his body and Hildegarde's leg, and his left arm mostly useless, the young drow is forced to call upon his innate abilities to save him; and instantly a globe of impenetrable darkness engulfs the two fighters, turning a scant six feet of their battlefield into an eerie world of perpetual night and whispering phantoms of steam. Momentarily invisible, Seriis throws himself to the side and slips under Hildegarde again, aiming a vicious jab with his right elbow at her side as he passes, before he musters all of his remaining strength into one final blow and wrenches his body around to face her, pouring the force of that momentum into a wild swing that sends his unloaded crossbow hurtling for the back of the knight's knees. If he's lucky, he might just knock her straight off her feet.
Hildegarde would have been surprised if anyone so agile had hung about while something or someone charged at them! She half-expected to meet with the wall, rather than to land a blow of any kind, but it is a pleasant surprise and relief when her leg makes contact with the boy. At the sight of the crossbow, she snarled, halberd pushed tight against it in an effort to prevent him from firing any bolts at her at such close-quarters; that simply would not do! But alas, their world was plunged into darkness - and the audience were denied the chance to view the events! - as Seriis employed his drowish talents to escape her grasp. A grunt was offered, as well as a step to the side as she felt the elbow meet her armour - no doubt, the flesh would be a tad tender soon - and she closed her eyes to completely cut off her vision. If her eyes remained open and searching for a scrap of light, her other senses may not be as receptive and she relied on her sensitive hearing at the moment! But she hears movement that is close to her; movement that she can safely assume is threatening, and with one so cunning, she can hazard a guess that it'll be at her side or her back! Her halberd twirled around her in a defensive manner; spiralling across her neck in a move that was labelled fanciful and tactically useless for an attack, but as a means of moving swiftly it could have its uses! As it spiralled around her neck, her hand pulled it down to shield her back, in the hopes that it was speedy enough to shield a portion of her back. But the crossbow was wider than her halberd and it was likely that it would at least bump against her halberd, doing less than intended but still causing a shooting pain in the dragon's back.
Winner: Hildegarde
Autohit Post
Hildegarde had grunted once the crossbow struck against her back and halberd, now using their closeness to -her- advantage. She let go of her weapon and twirled; gloved hands gripping at Seriis. Muscles flexed under her armour as she hoisted him up and off the ground; stepping out of that bubble of darkness he had engineered, "You..." she near hissed out, almost threateningly, before she shoved him up against the wall with powerful arms, "You fought well and bravely, Seriis of House Al'Reim," she now offered him a friendly smile, even though their circumstances should have had her acting differently! "A very brave combatant, indeed. You do not seem to have any open wounds, young Master," she said almost with concern, "but I would still like to take you to the nearest medic, if you are agreeable." That said, she lifted him off the wall and gently put him down onto his feet.
Seriis stiffens visibly and attempts to escape again, but he can only slip away a certain number of times. Now he finds himself caught and at the Silver's mercy; a truly frightening predicament to find himself in considering the difference in size and power. Still, the boy does not allow it to show in his expression as he glowers back at the woman, even while pinned against his will to the nearest wall and expecting the words. A crack forms in that glare when she does not throw another punch, nor kick him again, nor offer any further violent attacks. "...Not yet, at least," he mutters after an extended pause, a little lost for words. "But I would appreciate having my feet on the floor." A request she complies with, it seems, and Seriis hesitantly brushes at his clothes and straightens his robe. He edges out from between Hildegarde and the wall, being careful not to move his left arm. "You froze my arm." He's frowning at it. "If it falls off..." He leaves it at that, the threat open-ended - that way he can do anything, should it indeed fall off."
Satoshi, with a snap of her fingers, severs the ties of magic fueling the scrying panels. The match is over, and so it's time for the audience to disperse--some after they've bickered over bets lost and won. The magus remains behind until the stadium is empty, lost in thought.
Hildegarde smiled warmly, offering him a hearty pat on the back, "Your arm shall not fall off, you can even steep it in the waters here before having it tended to, it should help." She said, in such a friendly tone it was difficult to believe she still had a knife in her leg.
Seriis’ bodyguards waste no time in bursting onto the scene. They’d scouted the place beforehand with their charge then been forced to the colosseum to watch from afar, and now Avarn is storming in headstrong and snarling, his sword unsheathed and levelled threateningly at Hildegarde’s throat. Given no time to respond to Hildegarde, Seriis turns to blink at the warrior. “Dragon bitch,” Avarn hisses, “if you want to live long enough to remove that knife from your leg, step back -now-.” Before the two can descend into another fight, however, the scholar pipes up, his tone distinctly sullen but authoritative all the same; “Avarn, -stop it-.” His pride has taken a tough blow today, and he’s not in the mood to deal with Avarn’s rage. “She was offering help.” Though he does not sound happy about that, either.
Hildegarde was only smiles and politeness to Seriis, ready to explain that she was sorry if she had hurt him; which she had obviously had done. But then a sword was levelled at her throat and she gently lifted her hand from Seriis, falling silent. She even took a step back, "He is your charge, I assume, so I will do as you ask," she smiled at him politely. "But he really ought to warm his arm in that water."
“She just tried to kill you,” Avarn shoots back. He does not lower his blade, even as Hildegarde complies with his demands and puts some space between herself and the nonplussed scholar. Said scholar simply shakes his head in exasperation and, in a clear sign he is getting really sick of Avarn really fast, makes a jerky hand signal at Reyik. The mage responds to the silent by grabbing the other drow from behind, forcing him to lower his arms despite his angry cursing and protests. Frowning between the pair and Hildegarde, Seriis finally turns away and approaches the lowest of the three pools, where he bends to his knees and lowers his injured arm, carefully, into the warm water. “I told you this tournament was a bad idea,” growls Avarn, and Seriis snarls at him and throws one of his shoes. “Just shut up. And -you-.” His gaze shifts to Hilde again. “I want my knife back.” There are other things he does not say, but the frustration is evident in his face.
Hildegarde watched the scene unfold with decreasing amusement and decreasing patience. Her compassion for the boy had quickly failed her, causing her to grasp the knife in her leg and tug it out with a stifled cry. She flicked it down, allowing it to embed in the ground near him. "Once you have warmed your arm, take it to a healer, boy." She said, before she nodded and made off to leave.
Seriis retrieves the knife and makes sure it is stored securely where it belongs, in his belt sash, before he addresses Hilde’s back as she begins to leave. His voice is drawn and tight but he at least has the humility to be polite and sincere in one respect. “You fought well, Hildegarde the Silver.” His final remark could mean many things, but he does not elaborate on it; perhaps he enjoys the uncertainties of it all, or just does not want to admit to what he truly refers to. “I will remember that.”
[An earsplitting crack of thunder and its swiftly following arc of lightning momentarily dominate Frostmaw's skyscape. The flash of light briefly washes the heavy, black cloud-cover a blinding white, and once the light dims, a thick snowfall begins. The last storm of Winter has begun in Frostmaw, mere moments after the tournament's first match concluded. Distant, gleeful roars of wyverns, drakes, and dragons can be heard echoing from the Hunting Grounds, as the hibernating beasts awaken to greet the storm and soar among its towers of clouds.]