Duel:Kanna v Syrri, Match 10 of the 2018 Frostmaw Tournament
Duelists: Kanna the bard vs Syrri the axe-slinging warrior Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Standard, no autohit delivered Judges: Lionel, Leone and Celaeno.
Frozen Graveyard
The area is uncomfortable and chilled, not only physically but spiritually. As you find your feet stepping off of a dirt path, it leads directly into this graveyard. Each grave is old, and many of plaques or tombstones are decayed and unreadable, as well as several of the stone head pieces are simply rumble along the ground. You do however notice some of these graves are empty, and the caskets have been torn open from the inside out, while the frozen dirt was pushed away, and something or someone made their way out of this place. You can see a small dirt path leading to the north, and to the east.
Leone said, "Welcome to the third round of the (seventh) Titans of Winter Tournament! Here we gather at the Frozen Graveyard, where the shamans have dutifully bent nature and magic together in an impressive and terrifying amalgam. Surprisingly, the graveyard seems to have been repaired. The opened graves are now neatly packed down. The tombstones have been cleaned, repaired, and inscribed anew. Then the ground heaves, buckles, and a bony hand pushes its way through. Other portions of the permafrost also being to bulge, speaking to several more undead ready to claw their way back to life - and they're hungry. Good luck to both Kanna and Syrri!"
Round One:
Kanna has been dreading this fight. Not just because of the grisly results of her last fights, but because she is in a place sure to take a toll on her sanity the longer she stays. Cornflower eyes dart back and forth between the repaired headstones and the plots where empty caskets once rested. She keeps herself balanced on top of a headstone, her shamisen at her back by a leather strap, and the pipes from the bard's guild in the pockets of her colorful snow coat. Walnut curls are pulled back into a tight bun, showing her rounded face tinged pink by the cold. Despite her neutral expression, the trembling of hands at her side indicate that the presence of the half-rotted limbs beginning to claw their way out has her unnerved. "The undead will not feel pain if I have to push them away, correct?" She asks as a confirmation to the referee standing at a safe distance from the field. A deep breath, and the pipes are withdrawn from her coat. She lifts the pipes as if to play in the same place, before she sings with the instrument at her lips. "Somebody tell me, why don't we know--" The withered trees crackle from the weight of the snow built up on them and bend to the ground, where she quickly steps on a branch. "-- the good by far, in any case though." The branches lift, taking pieces of undead fingers that have grasped desperately around them. A sharp whistle erupts from the pipes once she is sure she is at a safe height, and the sound magic activates. Around her, the air shifts and distorts with vibrations as the sharp note played begins to amplify. Those undead closest to her collapse from the force of the violent vibrations, and the tombstones begin to rattle. The attack echoes all around the field with little in its way to halt it, as sound often does.
Syrri had been through the wringer for this tournament already, but by the time the three-foot-and-some-change halfling arrived at the graveyard, she was ready to dive right in. Fate and Luck, her trusty if not chipped and old dwarven-made axes, were each strapped to a wrist, her hands flexing in giddy anticipation, and Syrri was certain she could both feel and hear her own heart pounding in her chest and ears. The silver strands that covered half her head were twisted in a series of herringbone braids to keep the shoulder-length locks subdued, and dichromatic eyes shifted left, right, all around to take in the eerie scene. Kanna was easily spotted, especially as she lifted herself up while … singing? The halfling knew her opponent to be a bard, but seeing it in action was another thing entirely. Making a face that clearly betrayed her confusion, Syrri began picking up her pace as she crossed the graveyard, dodging out of the way of grasping phalanges, undead suddenly shrieking in a cacophony of noise as a result of Kanna’s sonic blast. Confused even more by their reaction to the bard’s singing - she wasn’t really -that- bad, was she? - Syrri decided not to waste any more time trying to figure out the theme of today’s challenge, and began racing directly toward Kanna. Fate was loosed from her left hand, spinning head over heel toward the deadened branches holding Kanna aloft, while Syrri made her way to the base of the makeshift podium. Luck was gripped tight in her right hand, and she swung it outward toward a passing ghoul as it struggled toward her, sending bones rattling in a spray away from her. She had little respect for this undead army, it would seem, but her sights were firmly set on her main opponent. With Fate the harbinger of her arrival, Syrri began hacking away at the plants Kanna manipulated, Luck digging into them with unrelenting vigor. If she couldn’t get to Kanna directly, she’d make the bard come down to her. All around them, undead either tried to claw their way away from the sonic assault, or tried to climb up the opposite side of Kanna’s tree, and as they grew closer, Syrri took her eyes away from her task only long enough to break some bones apart, grisly tendons flying and piling on the ground at her feet.
Round Two:
Kanna holds onto a branch with one hand at the first swing of the axe. Her eyebrows go down in alarm. The axe-wielder hadn't even flinched at the air magic variation making contact! The whisperings around the tavern must have been true, then. The bardess, almost completely inept at physical combat, could not rely on her bard's magic to let her fight from a distance. Around her, frozen corpses cling to the trees as Luck strikes it to bring her down. A hand rises from the cover of dead leaves and wraps around her ankle. With a startled gasp, she pulls herself up with the hand that holds the branch and yields the unbound leg to kick the undead out from her perch and hopefully onto the warrior below. These creatures would surely be the death of her...! No, she shook her head violently and sang again, although her voice trembled. "Your heart knows, wherever your life turns out, you'll begin to turn." The song does not bring her reinforcements in time though, as the tree she hides in begins to tilt forward. Clutching the polished pipes tight in her hands, she runs out onto the branch and leaps to safety. The undead immediately change direction. With a deep breath, she blows another high pitched note. Another wave of soundwave magic erupts. The living dead are struck by the vibrations and are thrown back directly in the warrior's path by the dozens.
Syrri swung again and again with Luck, while Fate, caught up in the branches above her near the target but obviously not hitting her after all, was shook free and nearly bonked the halfling on the head. It was only the onslaught of hungry undead all around her that had her looking over a shoulder at just the right time, and her left hand whipped out to catch the nightstone-bound pommel. Although a sizeable chunk of the tree’s trunk had been hewn away by the chipped bill of Luck, Syrri had to abandon her efforts in favor of defending herself against outstretched arms, bony digits clutching at her leather armor. Both axes were gripped tight and swung crosswise, down and away from her, then up again, one in front of the other, as she pushed her way through exposed kneecaps and decomposed legs; at least the undead were easier to disable without the aid of metal armor, and they crumpled around her before clawing around in her wake. With the zombie horde flying toward her like discarded ragdolls in the wake of another sonic blast, Luck and Fate were both utilized with a swift, unerring efficiency to rend limb from limb, skeletons crumpling left and right as their tendons were torn, decomposed bodies climbed over as Syrri pushed on. Her determination to defeat Kanna was untempered, and as she cleared a path through the legs of the undead mob, she followed the sounds of her voice and instrument to advance upon her at last. This time it was Luck she launched at Kanna, its honed edge aiming for her head as the halfling leapt toward a tombstone, kicking off it to throw herself at the bard. Fate was held high over her head as she descended, swinging it downward to join its partner in lobotomizing her unfortunate foe. All around them, zombies advanced en masse, groaning and closing in on them as the pint-sized warrior brought down her blade with all her might.
Round Three:
Kanna takes the momentary reprieve of the undead that Syrri destroys to trade her pipes for her shamisen. She knows not yet what good it will do, yet it seems to be her only line of defense now. Mittened hands yank at the leather strap to tear the instrument off her body, and she swings the unfortunate conduit like a poor man's mace. It flies from her hands and strikes Luck squarely at the blade, knocking its trajectory off-course. However, the power of a halfling's throw is superior to a human by any standards; the blunt end instead connects with her abdomen, sending her out of the way of the second attack. The bardess gasps to regain her breath, lifting herself up onto the demolished tree. That is when she realizes something else. "Yet the spring will come again in the golden afternoon. We are free." No instrument played when she sings this, yet the frozen foliage around her reacts. The stump of the tree shudders before disappearing into the ground, as well as the remains of the branches and bark flayed by the halfling's blades. The earth, loosened from the undead's uprising, shudders beneath the two. A tree's root is thrust up from beneath the earth close to the halfling, the ends twisted to form a point clearly meant to impale the target. It is soon joined by others, rising out in rapid succession and disappearing back into the ground to re-calibrate. The undead by now have mostly fallen away from the force of the duo's attacks, yet Kanna remains vigilant. Any stragglers are easily side stepped.
Syrri stumbled a step or two when she came down in the space Kanna had once occupied rather than on top of the bard, but she was quick to reassess the situation, spinning around on the cleated heel of her boot. Fate was passed from one hand to the other as she leveled a stare toward Kanna, and she thought to make a dash for Luck, discarded at Kanna’s feet after it connected with her abdomen, but thought better of it. Of course, there was no time for some mad leaps of daring as spikes of earth began shooting upward, and deja vu hit the halfling like the rebuff of an insulted friend. A dance took hold of Syrri, her steps light as she dodged out of the way of rumbling earth and stalagmite-like stalks, and it was this maneuvering that took her nearer the abandoned axe. One of the formations caught her off-guard just as she wrapped a hand around Luck’s handle though, tearing a nasty hole through her right forearm. The halfling yowled in pain and she dropped the axe as a result, and she curled her other arm around the manipulated structure to hoist herself up and carefully remove herself from its impalement. Her right arm was useless to her now, and she clutched it to her stomach, her left hand curling fiercely around Fate’s pommel. Kanna was in her sights now, and she darted around another eruption of earth before lunging at a third. She used this formation to gain some height before kicking off of it toward the bard, Fate swung in a wide, horizontal arc that swooped upward toward the girl’s soft midsection.
Final Defense:
Kanna holds her focus on the alternating spikes, continuing the song under her breath to keep the foliage moving. With continual glances around her, she weaves around the grave markers and scattered mausoleums to evade the undead. The howl of pain makes her jump in alarm, and she stumbles backwards over a marker, landing on a pair of outstretched arms that dig into her bruised sides. She lets out her own shriek, realizing in that moment that the hit from Fate must have broken her ribs. The uncontrolled magic however, causes an involuntary burst of the crude spikes around her, promptly freeing her from the clutches. Bloody holes along the ruined garment seep over the once-vivid colors. In the distance, she can see the warrior freeing herself from impalement, one axe still in her grip. Kanna looks around desperately for some sort of defense, and her eyes fall on a mausoleum. The doors sit open to show the empty casket where light falls inside between branches of the trees around it. Syrri takes hold of the third root, and Kanna flees to its safety, stumbling over discarded bits of frozen gore. "Hind and Lauria, please protect me!" She holds the last word at a high G note as the trees around the mausoleum shudder and lurch forward, perhaps in time to stop the halfling's weapon before she is cleaved. Kanna steps into the mausoleum and turns to shut the stone doors.
Winner: Syrri