Duel:Jaegar v Satoshi
Duelists: Jaegar vs. Satoshi. Duel: Traditional 3 posts each, with final defense. 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Auto-hit post and 20k gold. Judges: Thea, Tiphareth (mid), Rheven
Stage-Setting Post
Tiphareth turns on his heels and heads up the long staircase which leads to his favored seating area. Finally reaching his perch within the VIP area high above the venue floor, Tiphareth faces the arena and issues a clap of his hands; the sound echoing through the arena as the magical curtain suddenly descends from above, separating the crowd from the combatants to both protect those gathered and prevent interference. The Eldermage proceeds with a loud stentorian chant, waving his hands about in circular gesticulations as the wind begins to pickup within the battle area. His movements grow faster and more pronounced with each passing moment; the breeze now turning into a veritable tempest. Grains of sand, aggregate, rusty weapons and various other implements of bane or boon now become airborne within the blustery wind... visibility becomes an issue as the dusty haze obscures sight and stings the eyes. Once more, the Eldermage shouts aloud, his voice penetrating the whipping wind within the arena with stentorian power "Let the Battle Begin!"
Jaegar shifts a little further back, increasing the distance betwixt his eager prey. The Storm drake's humanoid form is not a proven fighting tool, in fact as the winds rise the drake begins to remove the red-scaled armor, dropping it to the sands with that same eerie smile. The last bit are his boots, tossed away like trash a with the last of their strings removed. The tempest has come into full force by this point, casting sand and other implements, including his own armor about. The drake's body twitches suddenly, spasming before he coughs, birthing from his lips a veritable cloud of sulfur. Spikes form along the ridge of his back, the blue and black iridescence of his scales becoming more apparent as he wheezes and coughs more smoke to be cast about his form it's like something from a horror story, that he simply splits open.. The 'skin' of his body giving way to show the massive dragon beneath. A nest of spikes cover the tip of his tail, a ridge of them run the ridge of his back to the crown of his massive head. The gaping, smiling maw which pours out further smoke. Jaegar moves, thunderous steps taken with a surprising agility as he closes that gap, nearing his foe. The pupils of his large eyes are covered by a protective film suddenly, the intake of his breath unlikely to be heard over the din of the wind and the continuation of his rather sneakily made attack comes to fruition with a heaving exhale. Azure flames blossom from the gaping mouth of the dragon and into the tempest, catching with the churned sand and dust, alighting with a mixture of implements and his previously harmless sulfur emission. The explosion is something like the resounding crack of a cannon, louder still it shakes the entirety of the arena even staggering the dragon as it shows his intent. To roast Satoshi alive within the gale before she might even begin to fight with this improvised explosive arena.
Satoshi's initial reaction to the rising winds is no more than a tugging down of her protective goggles and bringing up of her coat's hood, all the while watching the drake's transformation. Even as Jaegar rears out of his humanoid form, the kit is moving, darting forward and with winds at her back propelling her small form onward she's broguht to a point just before the dragon where she stoops low abruptly, retrieving what seems like a scrap of paper pinned beneath half a corpse and lifting it before her in time to face the gout of flames belched by Jaegar. A burst of light escapes the petite vampire as she's engulfed by the fires and the explosion ensues around her. When the smoke clears, Jaegar's attack appears successful, no sign of Satoshi remaining where she had just been, only the bit of paper, runes glowing white-hot as its torn away by the winds. It's only when a heap of blackened earth moves between Jaegar's foretalons that the kit reveals, charred and battered by the explosion that's landed her here, but far from dead with the aid of the Fire Ward. And she's in a prime spot, Jaegar's blind-spot that is, to retaliate with a swiftly whistled ditty. The tune dances away with the gusts, bringing her magic with it and weaving the melody through the air, urging the sands melted by the dragon's flames to rapidly chill and forcing them into her own brand of explosion. One consisting of splintered, wind-hurled glass intending to shred Jaegar's delicate wings and eyes, and most certainly his mouth if he dares to try another fiery breath on her. As if the deadly chill being inflicted on the cold-blooded beast won't be enough to cripple him.
Jaegar reaction comes to the churning of earth betwixt his fore-claws it's a wealth of knowledge summed from years of dealing with the handicap that arises as a result to his breathing the deadly blue flames. The sixty-something odd feet of dragon shying away from the frost songstress with that uncanny agility, churning the changing floor into more shattered glass before finding the hot earth that remains just below. The semi-clear membranes incapable of retracting due to the constant churning sand save the drake from any smaller bits of glass and it is with a short growl of pain that he catches on to the rest of the attack from the Ice Queen. A few smaller shards simply shatter upon his hardened scales, but a few more lucky such implements graze tender flesh at the drake's stomach, neck, piercing and grazing here and there along those special wings, drawing bits of blood. But the angry cry from the dragon is brought by a piece of glass the size of a small boulder which pries away a scale to drive into the flesh of the saurian's right shoulder. Enraged, Jaegar moves with more purpose than previously displayed, the dragon removing the implement in a spurt of fluid that sprays over the sands before spitting the glass to the ground below. He closes on the shape of the songstress a bit more slowly than normal but it does little to change the pounding of the ground below his churning claws or the momentum which he uses to twist, suddenly veering his maw away from her, as well his body, with a maneuver he's used before when hunting smaller prey, using the muscles of his tail and the fury of his changed forward motion to whip the massive spiked tail at the target with every intention to drive those arm-length spines into her chest cavity. The drake is unaware as to the additional implement he uses as dragged by one of those rigid spikes is the knotted throwing net also hurled at Satoshi's diminutive frame.
Satoshi's neither thrilled nor off-put by the dragon moving away from her, freeing her of the hassle of doing the talon-dodge dance. However, a beast this large is never at a safe range and Satoshi, being a dragon-slayer by hobby, is all too familiar with the dangers of proximity -and- distance. The magus hunkers down against the shaking earth and buffeting wind, eyes locked on Jaegar's retreat and a wordless tune on her lips as she waits--the temperature ever dropping as she sings. And there it is, that bunching of muscles that preludes a dragon's rapid change of direction, the mark that forewarns her that his tail is swiftly approaching. Too swiftly, in fact, for the foxkin's underestimated Jaegar's uncanny speed and one of those spikes impales her thigh as she attempts an acrobatic dive over the tail. Her leap is halted mid-flight and it's all Satoshi can do to not be flung, her only working hand clinging to the net entangled upon Jaegar's tail. With stubborn determination the minstrel keeps her grip and rights herself, finding uncertain footing as she races up the tail, every other step an agony that fuels her charge toward Jaegar's spiked back, net in hand. A sharp whistle, intending to catch the dragon's attention and trigger her spell, comes from Satoshi as she reaches the niche between his wings and whips around suddenly, releasing the net in a wide swing and sending it sailing outward to tangle around his jaws. Following in the net's wake is her own blood, pulled from her gaping wound, frozen by her music, and sharpened into a barrage of spears aimed for Jaegar's vulnerable neck.
Jaegar feels fully the throbbing ache set upon him by the wound in his shoulder, the small stinging sensations that consume the minuscule cuts and marred flesh of his larger form aided more so by the chilling air around him. The arena cooling, there is no true sky above and the dragon's pondering for the very solution to his pains are halted with the sensation he's known only once before, footsteps, on his body. The scales shift slightly and the spikes along his back tense his entire head lurching about to find the whistle. It's a possibly fatal action, the drake's spiked crown deflecting the first of the flying spears even as the net drops catching the top of his head and twisting it earthwards. The very aid of the net is a miracle no doubt, a few of those sanguine implements impacting into the earth or clattering off his scales; two do as the magus has wished, one narrowly avoiding the drake's left eye and burying into the soft fleshy bit of the skin just beside it, and the other finds an awkward angle in his throat, cutting short a bugle that comes due to the first of the implement's success. Jaegar's enraged body tears free of the net with no show of skill, but raw ferocity, shredding the fibers with quick action of his claws. The dragon spins towards his presumably retreating foe with a heavy breath and a slight limp to his gait. This doesn't seem a great hindrance as he extends those massive wings, despite the ache and upon catching the turbulent winds does the drake of storms give a mighty push. The flex and flap of those wings is not enough to get the dragon airborne but it whips the winds about him channeling them into a blast of more shrapnel as he manages to propel a few miscellaneous items towards the kit vampire and reveal others to the drake. It's rage over clear thought for the dragon now, half-blinded already his aim and even his sight is further skewed due to blood and pain from the attack of the Ice Queen. His maw is used like another hand as he hefts a fearsome and rusted trident from the earth agitating his wounds as he ends his chase with the settling of spikes upon his back. The charged particles around them from the tempest creating the electric charge to which the elemental drake cries. The trident becomes his focus, sizzling against his maw and sending small visible tracers of electricity over his form and dancing to the spikes to be channeled further. It's with a roar previously unheard that Jaegar releases his attack, a furious explosion of lighting that dances from the very tips of the trident, three large bolts of lighting straying through the maelstrom of energy-primed sand The dragon's remaining good eye relieved of it's membrane so he might focus clearly as he can upon the target willing it with his tired form towards the Queen of Frostmaw.
Satoshi's descent off the dragon is less grace and more a barely controlled fall of narrow misses with other spikes. Still, the kit does manage to reach the ground in relatively one piece, albeit that eternally unworking arm and now a leg that loudly protests against her weight. Crouched where she is, Satoshi is left to endure the strike of wind and tempest-borne items set upon her by the drake, only able to curl in on herself to reduce the size of target she makes and lessen just how many items tear and bludgeon her. Jaegar's abandoned breastplate is one of these objects, plowing into the kit and, in an ironic twist of fate, enveloping her tiny frame beneath its protective surface, sparing Satoshi further assault and giving her a chance to gather her wits. The crackle of building electricity is felt by her, a sensation she's familiar with and far from fond of, awakening that old fear of the element enough to make her curl further in on herself. Poised as she is, Satoshi spies a glass bottle and pouch beside her hand and a moment taken to skim their labels just before Jaegar's lightning trio strikes the breastplate-turned shield. For the most part, the electricity arcs off the armor, repelled by the dragonscales Jaegar chooses to wear. But there is still metal beneath those scales, enough to coax some of the lightning down to deliver a series of mind-numbing shocks to the hidden foxkin. Snarling in pain and fear, Satoshi rears up, hurling the breastplate away before stooping to take hold of an improvised weapon: a simple mop, still wet from its last job. With words from the cryomancer, the mop's head freezes solid and Satoshi smirks up at the hovering dragon. "Open wide, Scales~," the magus calls, twirling the mop handle as she gives it a swing, its frozen tendrils striking the waiting vessels at Satoshi's feet and sending them barreling through the air toward Jaegar's maw. A sharp word from the kit orders the contents of the bottle to erupt, glass shredding the accompanying pouch in the process, and thus... the drake will have to deal with a dose of Love Potion as well as a hefty cloud of Pixie Dust as they explode in the air above his head.
Jaegar sagged in sight to the rather poor effect of the last of his elemental magics, finding them almost disheartening. He is resolved to fight on despite his flagging frame as it were and as Satoshi wields her weapon does the drake release the Trident from his mouth, a desperate plan of defense in his mind. The colder climates, his secondary enemy, aided by the raging tempest he once used as a friend makes him shiver, shortening the breath which he attempts to take in at the attack from the kit, his roared flame missing the mark due to his body's desire to protect the remainder of his eyesight, blinding him to the small implements. Thus the dragon finds himself warmed briefly if only before having his skull doused in the fluids of the love potion and not but seconds after, showered in pixie dust.
Winner: Satoshi
Satoshi's not eating crow, turkey, and most definitely not dragon, but that doesn't mean she abandons the opening she's just been given by Jaegar's potion-and-dust-induced pause. The mop is readily abandoned in favor of a warhorn that tumbles, wind-blown, along the ground at her shaky feet. Another whistle escapes the kit, catching the befuddled dragon's devoted attention as she takes a deep breath and raises the horn to her lips. A blast of noise erupts from the horn then, the ice magic laced into the sound almost tangible as it rolls toward Jaegar, calling into action the blood and chill beneath his scales all at once in a single, violent pulse. With a jerk, the drake collapses in a thunderous heap, muscles locked and brain stunned into unconsciousness by the assault upon his system by... well, his own system. With that, Satoshi simply slumps to her good knee, finally giving into her injuries.