Duel:Jerralith v Kasyr
Jerralith vs Kasyr
- Judges: Keter, Thea, Tenebrae
- When: 10/5/08
- Stakes: 10K Gold and UFC Title
- Rd/time: 3 rd / 15 minutes
- Location: Trist’oth Arena, UFC week 5
- Decision: Jerralith unanimous
Jerralith wastes no time with taunts and the like, his hands snaking down to either side of his hips where the handles of his familiar twin axes lie in wait; with a swift motion, the sister weapons are torn free and brandished in a fluid manner, setting his feet apart in assumption of a stance befitting of battle as his cool grey eyes size up his appointed foe in the arena this eve. Nothing more than a quick grin spreads across the spell blade's scarred face before he sets into motion, breaking stance as he begins in a rather forward approach, simply running as fast as his legs will carry him - about halfway there, the brash youth leaps off of his feet and whispers a single arcane word into the wind, causing the runes upon his right-held axe to flare violently before erupting into flames that swim across the forged metal swiftly, though they obviously stop before they reach the haft. Coming to a graceful landing just before his opponent, Jerralith gives a quick swipe with the flameless axe for the the paladin's ankles before snapping back to an upright position, twisting the flaming companion weapon in his firm grasp before sending the heavy butt of the weapon for the bridge of the tiefling's nose, aiming to crush it with ruthless effeciency; not to mention, it's still on fire, and presents a possible blinding threat being so close his eyes. Not yet done, the crafty young warrior lifts his left leg in a swift kick for Kasyr's right side, seeking a jarring collision between his ribs and Jerralith's armored boot.
Kasyr , unlike the Arenas champion, did not take the time to assume any combat position or even draw a weapon- rather, the hybrid simply chose to persevere in wasting time leaning against one of the arena walls, in casual observance of his foes tactics. This fascimile of disinterest was maintained even as Jerralith breached the distance twixt' the two, the tiefling doing little more than scuffling his right foot over a bit with his left foot drawing up against the wall in a somewhat relaxed pose- maintained up until the point which the spell blade reached his direct vicinity. It was upon Jerraliths deft landing that the facade of laxness was cast aside, that foot propped against the wall swiftly kicking off it, serving to send Kasyr into a neatly angled dive to the side- serving to evade that initial axe swing nicely. By means of a quick press of his gloved right hand to the ground, the hybrid is able to use the remnants of his forward momentum to spin about in place- hence allowing him to at least see the axes flaming twins adjusted path towards his face. Unforunately guided by impulse and reflexes, ...and a touch of pride, the hybrid doesn't call upon his blade, but instead juts up his left hand - knocking the path of the axe askew at the cost of a rather agonising burn now formed on that hand- the ringed pattern of his gauntlets now burned into skin. Still, he was not bereft of sight- and thus he was more than capable of espying the final piece to this particular combo; his right hand finally coming up to awkwardly grasp at Jerraliths leg. The result would be painful to say the least, the action not halted but simply slowed so that instead of an armoured boot cracking something, there was merely a resounding thud. On the other hand, Kasyr now held the mans foot- and was already in the process of retaliating by abruptly yanking forth on that leg, one of the tieflings own feet slipping from underneath his crouched form in an awkward kick forward- endeavouring to land a full forced kick at the knee that would be supporting the entirety of the mans weight. From there, the hybrid would heave himself forward- endeavouring to tackle full force into Jerralith with full intent of pinning down a hopefully unbalanced foe to the ground by his arms- and preventing those damnable axes from being brought into play any further.
Jerralith grunts as his foot is caught by Kasyr, but instead of simply allowing the incoming foot to smash right into his knee, he kicks off of that leg and goes right with the harsh yanking motion - but alas, this merely ensures the success of his foe's tackle, sending him into the dirt below with a hard 'thud' coupled with a gasp...the wind knocked out of him, no doubt. With the opponent tying his arms down, the arrogant youth is too busy collecting his composure and breath to react, and by the time he does, his limbs are indeed neutralized; rather than simply accept this and give in though, he begins a low chant, just beneath his breath in hopes that his foe does not hear...though he cannot swing with the axes, a faint glow can be seen from either of them, likely from the power of the inscribed runes being brought into play once again. In the space between Kasyr's head and Jerralith's own, an orb of flame oozes into existence before promptly rushing out toward the paladin's face! Hoping this is enough to throw the tiefling off guard, the spell blade ceases his chanting and gathers all the strength in his arms and shoves up against Kasyr's trapping ones, kicking with all the effort in his legs as well to heave the likely blinded man right off of him; due to either a bad spell of luck on his foe's part or a good stroke of it on his own, a small pile of coffin nails lie in a pile of bones just to the side, undoubtedly right in the space where the tiefling will land if Jerralith is able to shove him off in that direction.
Kasyr was not exactly one to waste any time when he perceived some form of providence, most especially when it was related to a chance to inflict grievous harm on a perceived enemy. Thus, after his attempt to pin the man became succesful, he'd draw his head back and move to ram his forehead into Jerraliths nose- and consequently, whether or not contact had been made, find a flash of flame and heat manifest about his face. Though it's appearance was brief, it served its purpose admirably; Jerraliths grapple hurlng him aside - though not quite on the makeshift 'bed' of nails. The hybrid falls short, if only due to one fleeting moment of stubborness- that right hand which had evaded burning having managed to hold on until he'd impacted harshly into the ground. Even still, it did take Kasyr a few moments to gather his bearings but when he did, the as of now burned tiefling did so with a sort of feral alacrity- right hand shoving against the ground to flip him onto all fours, leading neatly into a low dash forward. It was during this forward motion that a sudden rush of sanguine and ebon energy would surge over the hybrids arm- quickly solidifying layer by layer into the shape of an angular gauntlet composed seemingly of scales. Gospel, the tieflings mutable weapon, which was poised to slam open palmed into Jerraliths forehead before he had time to recover; the situation to further complicate itself in the form of clawed digits clasping onto the mans skull so the Demi-incubus could simply drag him into a state of furthered disarray- grinding his face along sand, bone and other miscellaneous debris into a crash collision with a pile of skulls that had been jeered about earlier. The finale would of course with an abrupt relinquishment, the hybrid using the added mobility that would come when you weren't dragging someone to attempt to hop onto Jerralith- pick up a skull, and petulantly bash it over his face so that the remnants would remain like some mock crown.
Jerralith , instead of allowing the headbutt to crash into his nose, closes his eyes and tosses his head foreward so that the two of their skulls connect with a dizzying collision, opening a cut on the outermost side of his forehead. With blood trickling down and his mind almost on dream street, the youth struggles to his feet, still holding either axe as his attempt to toss Kasyr off was indeed successful; as Gospel comes to slam into his already lacerated forehead, the spell blade swipes a swift strike with his right-held axe to keep parry it away, though the demi-incubus' hand is not avoided...it catches hold of the youth's head and scalp, sending his already scarred face grinding roughly against the coarse sand which scrapes his flesh raw, a sliver of bone imbedding itself into the side of his cheek as well. Just then, when it seems all is over, the bleached skull of some unlucky bastard comes crashing right into Jerralith's own, spintering the makeshift bludgegoning instrument into hundreds of shards and sending the spell blade right onto his back, seemingly unconscious...and he is, indeed! A few moments pass, then a minute, then two...and it seems Kasyr has prevailed...but that is not to be just yet. The limbs of Jerralith stir, and gradually the once arrogant, now battered warrior pulls himself to his feet, his eyelids snapping open to reveal green eyes...green? A certain aura of wickedness seems to emanate from the spell sword, undoubtedly the source of the once unknown, dormant spirit that was now pulling him like a puppet on strings, willing him to fight against his will. Though his face is battered and bloodied, it doesn't seem to effect the possessed man just yet, evidenced by him rushing forward with an axe in either hand, as usual - with the distance closed between the tiefling and himself, the right held axe -- which is no longer on fire -- is suddenly swung forward in a strike aimed to split the paladin's head in two like an over-ripe melon; still propelled by this nefarious spirit within, Jerralith's right leg comes up in a dangerous arc, on a direct collision course with the tiefling's temple, aiming for a swift knock out.
Kasyr , when he sensed the man become senseless, shifted in demeanour once more. That odd sort of feralness that had overtaken him was shucked aside; forced down for the moment so as to allow the return of the hybrids careless mannerisms. Indeed, the threat apparently eliminated, the hybrid would simply spin upon his heels and started to walk, hands settling neatly in his pocket. In was in this nonchalant manner that the hybrid began to meander away 'victorious', at least until a particular shifting of bones & palpable malignance caused the hybrid to shoot a half interested look back. What he wouldn't give for a curse word. Just one moment for the muteness to end and... And the hybrid fell into an abrupt backpedal, reacting to the threat that the axe offered by taking away the threat that the blade itself offered at the cost of a vicious blow to his skull. One that sends him reeling off to the side, and sends him stumbling dangerously to the side- unable to weave out of the path of the kick. Again, it's those cat-like reflexes which spare him from a rather painful finale- barely managing to jut his right arm into the kicks path. What follows is agonising, for both the sound it makes and the damage caused, as the kick lands squarely upon a Gauntlet in the process of forming; indeed it is the sound of bone cracking as a limb not fully protected is subjegated to the full force of Jerraliths blow. The hybrid lurchs almost drunkenly, weaving first to one side, then to the other; his right arm falling limply to his side in the wake of the assault. And yet, whether it's willpower, resilience, or sheer stubbornness... Kasyr refuses to fall, instead swaggering back so that he'd crash into Jerralith- his left hand grasping with a desperate strength for his foes shoulder. Immediately upon that contact, the tiefling would sway forward, allowing the ground to rush forward- intent on dragging Jerralith to the ground- an abrupt mule kick to his knee to ensure he was hefted over the tieflings shoulders and sent crashing to the ground- where the coup de grace would come in a simple act of vindictive aggression. A simple exercise in excess, the empathic Demi-incubus pulling upon what ambient emotions he could from the area, the crowd, the fighters themselves- and releasing them all in the simplest form of a touch; a release of all that energy manifested into a raw kinetic push. Which, if one was pressed to the ground, would result in a likely lethal amount of crushing force. Really, the tiefling could be damned if he passed out having accomplished that task.
Jerralith gives an inhuman cry of pain, undoubtedly from the spirit working its way into even the youth's vocal cords as the pain wracks at his worn body, fresh blood streaming down his forehead to cloud his vision below, staining his possessed gaze red. Though the spirit -- placed within his body so many years ago by that damnable matron -- wishes to continue the fight until the bitter end, he cannot cause the spell blade to resist the last ditch effort by the tiefling; his shoulders are indeed grasped with a vise-like grip, the crude mule kick sending his knee wobbling before the entireity of the youth's resistant weight finally caves, being launched over Kasyr's own shoulders. The ambient emotions that form such a violent surge of force upon Jerralith's body are not stopped ,and they send him speeding toward the ground at a lethal speed...however, the axes, which are still within his grasp, save him, in some strange way - the blades pulse suddenly, leeching mana from whatever pool may be nearby and offer a resistant force of their own against it, though their blades cleave into the dirt as Jerralith meets the ground with a harsh thud, crimson pooling onto the dirt near his face. Whether he is truly conscious is indeed doubtful after all of that...for even the spirit within cannot will a body beyond mortal limits.
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