Duel:Kasyr v Vexar, Match 13 of the 2020 Frostmaw Tournament
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner. If Vexar wins, Kasyr exposes that he is not a vampire. If Kasyr wins, Vexar must be his vassal. Judges: Orikahn, Lionel, and Magik
Food Storage
Shishi arrives a little early to the usual fanfare from the Frostmawian locals and traveling super fans. In stark contrast to the hiding in a snowbank he did last night to avoid providing autographs to frost giants, today the so-called Blue Demon puts on his best public face, is quickly swarmed, and finds himself in the center of a large circle of Titan fanatics. In short order he is wildly gesticulating while telling exaggerated fight stories from years past, flashing sweet fanged smiles, taking questions, and lifting his shirt sleeves to show scars obtained in Titan bouts. "Yeah, here. The guy bit me. Like what???"
Karasu has an expression matching that of someone stepping in a pile of dragon droppings. "I thought we were going on a cool secret mission. I've seen Kasyr fight a hundred times." Despite her grumblings, the half-feline looks simply adorable in a bright raspberry snow-coat with black fur trimmings. A hot mug of cider is cupped in her palms to keep the chill away. Slitted eyes trail to the frost giant and his gaggle of fans. Her expression quickly changes to that of a child seeing the patron of Yuletide for the first time, but she remains seated where she is.
Magik joins Karasu. In all black. With a warm fire in his palm, "Frozen kitty is grumpy kitty."
Vexar ’s arrival is heralded by the sound of a deep, dragon’s roar which pierces the castle walls and even shakes some rocky dust from the ceilings of the storeroom. Those still filing in to witness the final match would see, on cue, dragon and rider alike crescent over the horizon and come into view, screaming through the sky towards the fortress. As the ominous pair draw closer, Vexar can be seen adeptly straddling the nape of the beast’s neck. He is adorned in attire entirely unsuited for battle. Loose fitting leather pants keep him decent, and the ensorcelled bracers lent him by Nikola are again affixed to his wrists. Other than that, the vampire is completely bare; shirtless and bootless, white hair whipping in protest against the wind. The couple crashes down quite unceremoniously into the area, with the necromancer rolling from his undead mount upon impact. As he does so, the towering beast’s skull is dismembered; Vexar rises from the dusty shakeup, the dragonskull somehow now securely in place over the vampire’s own head, emerald eyes peering cryptically from beneath the once empty sockets. Upon his beheading, the dracolich had collapsed, its bones now melting into the ground below. The Harbinger of Death pays no heed to any spectators assembled as he strides through the castle to find Kasyr and the confrontation at hand. He winds through the throne room and adjacent hallways, a man on mission. Vexar is aware of the nature of the tournament; a fun spectacle to entertain the residents of Frostmaw and its neighboring towns. He has no intention of respecting that notion with formalities and restraint. He will push the kensai to his very brink, if necessary, to find what he is looking for. Upon finally reaching the food storage room he pauses, a bit intrigued by the locale, and sets his jaw as he scans the cavernous expanse for his elite vampiric counterpart.
Karasu looks up at the entrance of the first contender. "That's hot."
Quintessa is here because she couldn't stand to miss the final match. The hex blade has a very sour disposition about being a spectator though- it should have been her in this match! She'll get her revenge next tourney however, she's sure of it. For now she'll watch and take mental notes, formulating the perfect strategy to beat either of the two men fighting today. Quintessa already beat Vexar once, but Kasyr? The kensai was still able to thwart her dreams of fighting the Blue Demon for the title of Titan. Either way, the changeling is here wearing her typical combat gear and invisibility cloak, mismatched eyes scanning the crowd for friendly faces. Finding Magik and Karasu, the strange girl slides in behind them, catching the end of the half-feline's grumbling. "He'd better win. I won't accept the championship going to someone who I beat already."
Shishi is as much a pro at being adored as he is at fighting in organized gladiatorial matches. He's laughing at terrible jokes, dapping up fans, and keeping the war stories flowing. "Uh-huh. So we both get knocked off the cliff, right? But I can fly, he can't, he's just a wolf person. Tough break for that gentleman, you know?" The very perceptive will notice that every so often the vampire's eyes will wander, like he's looking for someone specific in the crowd, but that exercise ends with a momentary disappointed expression, that is quickly replaced with a fang-exposing smile and another Titan story.
Shishi makes a nod when Vexar makes his entrance and says to his crowd, "Come on. They're about to start." At his order his legion of fans begins to disperse and find their spectating spaces while he goes to whatever VIP area has been set up for him.
Karasu smirks as she holds her mug over Magik's little fire. "Go ahead and tease me, I'm not the one shaking like a leaf." Turning her head to look at Quintessa, she notes, "Just because you beat one and not the other doesn't mean Kasyr is a guaranteed win. Fighting style has a lot to do with it too." An idea strikes her and her smile only widens. "Next year, we should do a royal rumble. Have all contenders fight at once."
Kasyr can’t help the manner in which his breath puffs out, the chill of the room creeping into his lungs not long after he’s strode inside. “So much for the warm indoors, quand meme.” It makes him altogether grateful for the bulky fur trimmed trench coat he’s sporting, it’s bulk managing to do a fair bit towards staving off the frigid ambience- though not quite enough that he doesn’t feel obliged to tug his scarf over his mouth. That’s not the only form of preparation apparent- given that in his hands, he’s sporting a pair of crimson hued blades. Though, that word might not quite seem appropriate for the items, under closer scrutiny. Whilst they certainly had hilts- the resemblance ends there, given that where there ought to be blades- there’s instead a thicker chunk of some scarlet hued crystal- which almost looks as though it were hastily molded into the facsimile of a sword. Something which stands in stark contrast to the elegant wreath of Katanas which hang in the air about the Kensai, 13 in all. Considering the harbinger had already seen Kasyr’s floating sword trick a number of times during the tourney- there seemed to be no real point in keeping that underwraps. Speaking of which, “...You know, I never did remember to ask. Es this a personal grudge? Was there a cultist in the family I killed? Maybe you were one of the Parasites bootlickers?” This is the most tactful of ways to say hello, “If you sent me fan mail et I never got around to it, I’m not sorry.”
Shishi snorts, "Bootlickers..."
Quintessa crosses her arms and grumbles incoherently. How dare Karasu bring logic into this?
Magik offers Quintessa a little flame to hold, somehow. Or get burned. That's up to her. Regardless, a very Karen-like, "Shhh," can be heard.
Quintessa allows Magik's flame to hover above her outstretched palm for a moment before lighting a cigarette with it. "...Thanks, I guess," she says around her smoke.
Shishi stays in the VIP section for like... five seconds, instantly becoming bored of the company. So he wanders over to where Magik is and offers a purposely awkward wave, "Hey. So who's winning?" Due to their proximity to the hot guy Quintessa and Karasu are caught in the AoE of the greeting and question.
Karasu sighs at the grumblings. She would offer a mug of cider to the hexblade if she thought her new biology would allow for it. Instead, she sets her own mug aside and turns so she can prop her arms up on Quintessa's knees. "Tes. Sa. You can kick my ass again if it'll make you feel better. Who's the most powerful changeling in Lithrydel?"
Quintessa pouts, flicking her cigarette ashes on the ground. "I am," she says dejectedly, "I'm the most powerful changeling in Lithrydel..." The hex blade's mood raises as Shishi comes over, and her mismatched eyes light up as he asks his question. "Kasyr," Quintessa blurts out her prediction, "I already beat the other guy."
Shishi said to Magik, "Hmm. Weird. I already beat him last year though."
Karasu gives a smile and pats her knee. Looking over to Shishi, she admits, "I have no idea who the other guy is, so probably Kasyr."
Magik said to Shishi, "I wasn't there so..Or maybe I was..Was I?"
Shishi is charmed by Quintessa's saltiness. "Oh! I hope so too. Look at all those swords. That'll probably be fun."
Karasu looks away, then does a double-take to see who she addressed. Her pink eyes light up with awe.
Shishi brings a hand to his chin and thoughtfully replies to Karasu, "Aye... he's got a cool helmet though..."
Magik said to Shishi, "Well I surely don't know. Where am I? Are you still a vampire? Are you even a vampire?"
Shishi said to Magik, "Yeah. I eat people." he flashed his fangs and continued, "It's a whole thing."
Magik lays his head on Karasu's shoulder but then realizes what he'a doing. He quickly sits straight up then leans backwards into Tessa, "What the.." Perhaps leaning forward would be best, resting his elbows on his knees, but still holding a small fire in his palm.
Magik said to Shishi, "I don't do that anymore. *flashes a no longer fanged smile*"
Shishi said to Magik, "Lucky~!"
Quintessa giggles and twirls her hair. "Yeah, those swords are awesome! One time, Kasyr launched one straight through my torso!" She pulls the cloth clothing covering the skin above her collar bone over to show Shishi her scar. "And that was months before this tournament."
Shishi said to Quintessa, "No offense."
Karasu makes a face when she feels a weight on her shoulder. "When I said 'you could lean on me', I didn't mean literally."
Magik said to Shishi, "Maybe I can help? Let's have a chat soon."
Karasu releases her mug to smack Quintessa's thigh in warning. "Don't flirt with the celebrity." She hisses.
Magik said to Karasu, "Sorry. Sushi coma is-a-comin'"
Karasu gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder in sympathy. She had never heard of that happening with sushi. "Ah, that reminds me. Where did I put it." She starts digging through the alarming amount of pockets her winter clothes provide.
Shishi leans forward and narrows his stare on the scar being shown off, "Aye..." he nods and thoughtfully adds, "That guy can be a bit violent at times." Quintessa is being casual about the story of the scar, so Blue thinks it is ok for him not to act concerned about Kasyr's past attempt on this woman's life.
Shishi said to Magik, "I'll have my people call you."
Quintessa reaches out to pat Karasu's head, "Don't worry, Darling, I only have eyes for you." To Shishi the changeling gives a grin full of sharp teeth. "You could never offend me."
Orikahn :: The deciding match! Whoever wins will have their chance to move on and contest Frostmaw's reigning champion for the outrageously coveted Titan of Winter title. Spirits are high, and the festivities are growing ever more audacious. To please and appease the anticipated crowd, there was to be a lavish spread of sundries accompanying the fight. A small team of caterers had gone ahead to start setting up, but as the doors open and the fighters proceed in, they discover their pleasant feast is anything but! Mobs of vile vermusni--those nasty, gnawing northern rodents--have overrun the caterers. The harsh winter has driven the creatures to desperate extremes, and swarms of them writhe in and out of enormous layer cakes, sumptuous roasts, piles of pies, wheels upon wheels of cheese, open crates of fruit, and... fresh corpses!? Reeking as they were of delicious food, even the caterers have been devoured by the indiscriminate vermusni. Well! If you think the match is off, you're all mistaken; however, those rats look nasty, and you can tell they're still ravenously famished. Nearby, there's a loud groan and a splintering of wood. A crate weakened by gnawing vermusni gives way, toppling the pile of crates atop it, violently splashing some ten-gross jars of strawberry jam across the room. What a mess, and worse by the moment! Mind you don't step in the sausages or slip in the soup, or else, your goose is surely cooked.
Karasu gave Magik 1 heart-reading compass.
Magik said to Karasu, "What..?"
Karasu motions for him to open it, then opens her own, shifting so she's shoulder to shoulder with the Lyastri. A bright blue arrow points directly behind Karasu to Quintessa. "Heart-reading compass. Shows you what your heart wants even if you don't like what it shows." Her compass clicks shut. "My way of saying thanks for intervening with us." She says in a low voice while the hexblade talks to Shishi.
Karasu adds, "It'll be really helpful for deciding whether you should go for the firecracker Roc wings or the Redhale pudding next."
Quintessa said to Shishi, "It's okay. Violence is like a second language to me." The hex blade fixes her clothes, "I've got tons of other scars to prove it."
Magik suspiciously opens the compass while eyeing Karasu. It points to Vailkrin for a split second but before Magik looks back after Kara's explanation it's simply spinning. Sometimes erratic, other times slower. Regardless of speed, it never settles in any particular direction. The former vampire warmly smiles, "Thank you. I found that item I was looking for, by the way. It's in the, um, brewery. Yeah. The brewery where we will have a, beer, later."
Shishi stands up straight again after getting his fill of the scar show. He absentmindedly adjusts the tie at his collar. "Aye... same." He averts his eyes briefly towards the collapsing crates, "First language even... maybe."
Vexar ’s head lilts to the side, a resounding ‘crack’ from his neck popping through the castle’s storage room as a result. From the dragon’s maw, his voice reprises Kasyr’s inquisition. “It is nothing personal, swordmaster. I simply wish to imbibe upon you the difference between power earned and power given.” The stomach lurching affair twixt rodent and servant paints a twisted, jelly portrait on the canvas of the makeshift battlefield; an obstacle that phases Vexar little. Even with an army of rats encroaching on him, he stands stoic, reaching for the ivory wand that listlessly hangs from his trouser pocket. Upon touching the long-dead bone, the skeleton head atop the necromancer’s own jumps to life, not unlike it had when Vexar faced Mathollak in the prior round. It lurches from it’s master’s skull, its path an unrelenting torrent destined for the Kensai. As it flies, a ghastly apparition of a full grown dragon forms behind it, completing the tempestuous display. The bulk of the monstrosity is, of course, an illusion; not dissimilar from what Vexar had conjured for all to see once before. So similar, in fact, it would be easy to dismiss the entire charade as a weak façade. However, the dragon skull itself, with gnashing teeth and bone crushing maw, is entirely real; it aims to plunge into Kasyr’s chest and feast on the vampire’s dead heart, a ravishing that would pale the vermusni’s gory, glutenous display thus far in comparison.
Iintahquohae snoops in.
Shishi said to Iintahquohae, "Up jump tha boogie."
Quintessa is still watching Shishi was he adjusts his tie, her mouth twisting up into a mischievous smirk. "Then perhaps I'll get my change to add my own scars after the tourney? We might run into each other in Vailkrin- I'd be surprised if we didn't. And it's such a violent city. Anything could happen."
Iintahquohae said to Shishi, "Hey Friend."
Shishi winks to Inks, "Hey."
Iintahquohae winks at Blue
Karasu gives a hum in consideration as Vexar's worn skull springs to life. The arrow's temporary pause in the direction of Vailkrin is lost on the halfling. "Oh? Could have sworn I checked there. You'll have to show me where later." A vermusni squeaks at her feet and she kicks it away. "Ew."
Shishi 's oceanic blue eyes widen at Quintessa's mafiosa style threat, "Aye... It is..." His voice trembles just a bit and he takes half a step back, but that could just be an act given who we are talking about here. "You live in Vailkrin then, huh?"
Quintessa nods her head enthusiastically, "Sure do! You are looking at none other than Quintessa Dragana, heir and current leader of House Dragana." Her dangerous and mischievous attitude seems to have evaporated as quickly as it came. "You should pay me a visit some time. I'd be honored to entertain the Blue Demon at my manor."
Iintahquohae 's attention perks up at the name Dragana. She looks over at Quintessa with interest, but says nothing.
Kasyr is still trying his best to put on an air of practiced indifference, but it’s a bit hard when the smell of overripe corpses and catering have mingled into a repugnant pot-pourri. Honestly, Kasyri is a little bit grateful that he showed up after Vexar, if only because it meant he’d been spared the need to navigate around the squirming piles of jam coated grub. Spared of that dilemma, he waits, one of the blades he’s clutching resting tip first against the ground, the other held in a loose ready stance. “...That wouldn’t explain that rage of yours, mon ami.” There’s no further retort from the Kensai, his voice giving way instead to a soft hum and a focused stare which seems to lock onto the boney ballistic sent his way. Even as the skull begins to gather mass, it’s skeletal form expanding outwards to retake it’s terrible glory- the Kensai doesn’t falter, the sole indication that he’s perturbed at all being the manner in which his knuckles clench down on the hilts of his weapons, his humming growing more intense still. Yet, before the skull can impact into his flesh proper, it finds itself intercepted, Kasyr exerting his will through that wreathe of floating swords he’d already prepared. With the impact comes an ear splitting wail of bone grinding against blades, as the skull finds itself ensconced by the floating weapons. It’s at this point that the Kensais prayers, espoused in the form of a tune, finally begin to take form- as Daedria’s divine energy begins to pour into the weapons. The immediate intention is simple enough, as they’re meant to splinter or damage the skull until it’s no longer an issue or Vexar calls it back, but there’s a secondary purpose to it all. The true reason that the Kensai had coaxed all those swords into being was simply so he could then will them outwards- to plant themselves into the various shelves across the room if only so the room could be fully immersed in a miasma of holy energy. Really, it’s a roughshod attempt at consecrating the grounds, to play against Vexars unhallowed nature, ebb away at his strength - and to deny him the means of drawing the dead into the fray. Here’s hoping he doesn’t need Daedria’s might for anything else.
Shishi , if he wasn't dead already, would have gone pale as hell at the name drop Quintessa executes here. "Dragana..." The theatrical fearful act is gone now, instantly replaced with a confused, flustered, and stupefied look. "-Your- manor? I-..." He's completely lost. "Wai-... Uh..." He puffs out his cheeks and adopts a determined look before leaning in again, getting another, better look at this woman. He takes the word 'heir' to mean that Larewen is the one that turned her. 'What is Green doing!?" He thinks to himself. Is he supposed to be able to recognize vampires spawned by his accursed bloodline? He doesn't get any sense of that from Quintessa right now... "What..? Lar turned you?" He a bit close now, close enough for Quintessa to see a swirl of red infiltrating the deep blue in his irises...
Vexar scoffs as his target intercepts the undead missile with a crashing wave of magical implements. The crystalline prison crashes to the chamber floor, the dracolich head its prisoner. The elder does not yet know the purpose of the barrier-formation in which remaining swords encircle the arena, but he continues to coax and antagonize Kasyr with his putrid gaze, hoping to entice the vampire to rage. However, his peripheral does not discount the gift that the vermusni have bestowed upon him. And, though predictable, the early fianchetto offered by the myriad caterer corpses the ravenous rodents left behind will not be passed up. Vexar adeptly sweeps the ivory wand in his grasp and, obediently, the freshly deceased castle attendants jump to life. However, and much to his chagrin, the vampire finds the corpses sluggish and adamantly opposed to venture anywhere in the vicinity of the holy source of energy emitted by the Kensai’s blades. The prevailing logic is quick to draw Vexar to a conclusion. A wave of guttural shouts in undecipherable tongues entice several of the corpses to leap upon the swords, sacrificial lambs to lesson the effect. In effect, two bodies manage to writhe free of the undead dampening circumference and leap towards Kasyr. Even if their punishing blows and biting teeth couldn’t injure the man, the array of rats that were still feasting on the corpses would coincidentally find the still living meat of the swordsman much more enticing.
Quintessa || The changeling's pale lips press into a tight line as Shishi draws near, her mismatched eyes of blue and hazel narrowing slightly. Perhaps Quintessa has said too much already. "Yes," she says coldly, "-My- manor, and for the safety and security of Vailkrin at large, it's better it stays that way." The changeling purposely avoids saying who did or didn't turn her. "Lest our homeland fall into a civil war once more."
Shishi 's expression is flat. The Lyastri present probably knows that it usually takes quite a bit to upset The Blue Demon, but 'Dragana' is certainly one of his trigger words. The House he gave rise to so long ago has always been a touchy subject. He isn't particularly knowledgeable about how vampire bloodlines are meant to work and what he should or shouldn't be able to sense from his sirelings and grandsirelings as it were, so he doesn't push further on that front. Instead he takes in an unnecessary breath and lets out a sigh, momentarily regaining his calm, "Aye." His voice is forceful, having lost the usual playfulness of the Titan of Winter celebrity persona. "I'm sure I'll pay you a visit once the tournament is over. Have a good evening." That last bit is said with some venom and the assassin turns and abruptly makes his way back to the VIP area, stomping angrily of course.
Kasyr manages a pleasant wriggle of his fingers in Vexars direction when his arcane coaxings briefly hit a dead end, unable to suppress the smug grin that slips across his lips. It’s only when the harbinger manages to muster minions that the Kensai regains his composure. As the vermin ridden corpses shamble in his direction, the Kensai begins to lean more heavily upon the weapon he’d placed point first upon the ground- something which becomes eminently important once they reach near arms length. “Rhew.” The amount of magic used would be barely passable as a cantrip- but effect is clear, as it coaxes forth a gradually expanding path of ice with each tap. Defensively, this meant that the already unco-ordinated movements of a shambling corpse were going to have a bit of trouble in dealing their load of voracious Vermusni to the Kensai’s current location. It also provided Kasyr a more offensive opportunity, as he places one foot to the wall behind him, and promptly kicks off against it- allowing him a quick burst of momentum as he skates forward. It works, only, a bit too well- given that there’s barely time given for the corpses to trip themselves up before Kasyr’s slid by, a bit of haste which results in some of the rodents jumping ship from their unstable hosts, and frantically scurrying across the Kensai in search of a way into his coat, “Would yo-oh?” That said, a cantrips worth of magic also means that also path reaches a fairly abrupt halt, ice giving way to jam, and sending the swordsman into a stuttering step towards the harbinger. On one hand, this throws some of the rodents off of him, on the other hand- a particularly stubborn one decides to chomp down on his cheek in an effort to keep it’s place. “FF.” With a start, he manages to right himself- before seguing into a sloppy looking swing with the more upright of the crystalline weapons he was clutching. Whilst there’s certainly a fair bit of force behind it, there’s a decidedly fatal seeming flaw in the strike- if only because it comes up short. Anyway you’d look at it- the weapons arc wouldn’t be able to reach Vexar. On it’s own, anyways. Mid swing, a secondary spell is voiced- one which imbues the armament with a decidedly excessive amount of magic that the slide lacked. Specifically, a bubble of condensed wind forms about the blade- or rather, around the blade which serves as the core of the weapon, forcibly breaking apart the frozen dragons blood which had ensconced the weapon until that moment. Caught within that arcane gale, the Kensais swing abruptly gains a fair degree of length with which to reach the necromancer, and a fairly deadly addition to ensure the damage is far from negligible should he find himself struck by the swirling shards of ‘ice’.
Iintahquohae decides she's done blatantly eavesdropping and looking at Quintessa after Blue stomps off. She had made a promise long ago to assist House Dragana, Larewen specifically, but supposed this promise went down to the heir. "We should chat sometime," she says.
Quintessa sits frozen in her seat on the bench, holding her breath as she awaits Shishi's response. It isn't until he turns around to stomp away that the changeling dares to let go of that breath she's holding onto and slink down to rest her forehead upon of Karasu's cranium. "Welp," she begins, wishing she had never spoken up, "He's going to try to kill me." Quintessa turns her head as Inks speaks to her, her eyes flickering up to the tall woman. The changeling cracks a wary smile at the seamstress, "Of course. I hope our chat goes a little better than my last one." Quintessa cannot help but glance back at Shishi in the VIP section as she lifts her head up and extends a lithe hand out to Iintahquohae. "Quintessa Dragana, and you are Miss...?"
Shishi starts yelling like an angry hockey fan who's been maximizing his craft beer consumption for two and a half periods, "Lets goooooo! Kill him!" It is unclear who he is rooting for. It doesn't matter. "Lets f-" a seagull caws loudly, "goooo!"
Vexar ’s eyes dart to and fro, jade optics scanning fervently to follow his opponent’s ungainly series of offenses. The rats, the ice, the blade; the very lack of distinguished tactic mars Vexar’s respect to a level of child’s play. Indeed, the icicles are completely disregarded; they cut and puncture but do not notably impact the Harbinger’s dichotomy. Such arrogance is also present when considering the blade, which is unfortunate. As the blade cuts an inconsequential rivet into his shoulder, the poison tainted edge is quickly realized. The strategy enrages the Elder. “Dragon’s blood?!” he screams. “Have you no pride?!” Vexar’s chest heaves rhythmically, the tainted blood already introducing its decrepifying effects. Beads of perspiration begin to form, dripping from his neck and tracing a winding course through the crevices of muscle and scars that define his chest and abdomen. The stories those scars could tell. His lips curl into a smirk, a stark contradiction to his prior exclamation, and reveal razor canines now inflamed to thrice the length they were at the beginning of the bout. “No more games, Kasyr”, he quips darkly, a tinge of pure anger pushing the tone of the word ‘games’. “Show me the revenant!” A barrage of actions, all actuated in practiced sync, is then initiated. The vampire’s eyes first glaze, then become engulfed in a shadowy blackness, drowning the emerald irises that had shone so prominently just prior. His hand is simultaneously extended to his side, calloused digits wrapping taught about the hilt of his chaotic glaive which has just materialized from a swirling, ebon void. Then, at the beckon of the newly appeared weapon, the store room plunges into darkness. All the light is seemingly claimed by a sudden crackle of electricity from above, spreading in branching webs throughout the icy ceiling; the effects of which are a brief, azure glow that falls upon the combatants. The streaking cacophony of energy accumulates into a single, powerful bolt which crashes from a central point above the Elder vampire into the tip of his newly brandished moon-blade. An explosive shockwave rides the lightning from the ceiling to the source and detonates outward, sending a circle of vermusni and raspberry jam bursting out and showering upon the unfortunate spectators. In the chaos of the detonation, Vexar explodes towards Kasyr. The speed makes it impossible to ascertain if the man is running, flying, or simply teleported. In a blink, the man is beyond Kasyr’s position, the hellish glaive “Nyx” having been swung in a torrential, cleaving, chaotic slice of pure power where the alleged revenant was standing.
Kasyr’s immediate reaction in the aftermath of the swing, is to draw his arm back, and smack his wrist against the raging rodent rider. Which does, in fact, dislodge the Vermusni, albeit after it takes a fresh mouthful of meat along for the trip. Still, it’s not quite enough to prevent him from mouthing off as Vexar becomes consumed by rage, “You’re not worth the- “ As the room is plunged into darkness, the Kensai feels his hair standing on end, the familiar scent of ozone that accompanied electricity serving to give him some hint as to what was about to occur, “-Eff.” Maybe there was more that accompanied that exclamation- but the Kensai can’t really hear any longer, as he finds himself riding out the startling familiarity of a thunderclap, albeit as someone on the peripheral. There’s a dull ringing in his ears, and a steady flow of blood oozing out - but he manages to avoid his legs buckling, even as the sheer kinetic force shoves him back across the slick but sticky floor. When Vexar launches forward a moment after, the Kensai finds himself instinctively reaching into himself, tapping into that raw source of elemental lightning- if only so that he can accelerate his sense of perception and make sense of the catastrophe rushing towards his position. He barely has time to blink before he’s forced to make a decision- allowing that primal energy to begin cannibalizing his body. Arcs of electrical energy web over his flesh, scouring away patches of flesh and leaving raw musculature underneath, and still, he can’t seem to force his body clear of the blades arc. And thus- a grim determination sets in, his body twisting to get the crux of it clear, even as the sword shrouded in dragons blood is hewn towards Vexars guts. The Kensai doesn’t have time to see if he manages to drive the weapon into the elders guts, using the combination of his forward momentum, and the Kensais own accelerated motions. No, almost immediately after the decision is made, he finds himself spinning- a sense of delirious lightness overtaking him as he’s sent spinning off to the side, and careening to the ground, albeit without his right arm. It takes a few staggered moments for the pain to set in, the first choking gasps of pain and anger wracking his throat, even as the wound cooks it’s way closed.
Shishi has smoke coming out of his ears, figuratively of course. His attention is equally divided between the fight and looking across towards Quintessa -Dragana-. He has blood wine served to him and spills half of it while bouncing around screaming at the fighters. "Smash his face in, damn it! Lets go!"
Iintahquohae nods. Her hand settles back into her lap after shaking the changeling's. "We never fully set in stone what I could do to provide support, but the support is there, should you need i-" Hand muffles the beginning of a cough while she turns her head away just a bit to be polite. From a pocket, she retrieves a handkerchief - monogrammed with her initials, of course -, and coughs into it. Once the fit subsides, she turns her head back to Quintessa, balling the now stained handkerchief in her hand. Not as much black sludge this time, thankfully. "Pardon me. As I was saying, you have my support."
Vexar twirls synonymously with Kasyr; the absolute violence, speed, and grace with which the duo interacts is indicative of the experience both bring to the bout. In what might have looked a passing glance to the crowd at hand, there actually presided a cryptic interaction that only the contestants could appreciate. Vexar had imparted a maiming blow, the brutal blade of Nyx striking true; the same could be said of Kasyr. The tainted sword had grasped at straws, a hip shot launched in desperation by a seasoned marshall, and lurched true into the Elder’s waist as he careened past. A spattering of blood and sinew rained down as the vampire clutched at his opened hip, the physical damage of less concern than the acrid contaminant. Vexar glances from the wound, where his hand clutches at an unreasonable torrent of blood, to his opponent, who’d finally shown him the flash of vigor he’d hoped to witness, unsure of how to react.
Iintahquohae said to Shishi, "Don't spill that on your clothes! It might stain..."
Shishi said to Iintahquohae, "You get your clothes for free when you're rich. Ain't it funny?"
Iintahquohae said to Shishi, "You should still take care of them. I'll make you some new ones."
Quintessa watches Inks cough into a handkerchief and the gears immediately start turning in the young necromancer's head. She makes no show of her curiosity though as Shishi's enraged voice echoes from the VIP seats. "No pardon necessary," she says, trying to smile politely. Almost on cue a raven bearing a note tied around its leg lands on her shoulder, and Quintessa knows what this means even before she reads the letter. Lithe hands quickly unfurl the note and the bird flies off, leaving Quintessa to slowly stand as she reads. "Elazul's Bite," Quintessa looks up at the fight, then down to her companions before she gives Inks a frown. "I'm terribly sorry but I must be going." She leans down to plant a peck on Karasu's head before tapping Magik's shoulder. "I'll catch up with you two later." And then she hurries for the southern exit, already late for an important engagement.
Vexar assesses the wound at his side with careful integrity. Again, his balance between rage and logic is teetering; the dragon blood fueled gash must be attended to. However, he’s no greater opportunity than now to compel Kasyr to release the power he’s so yearned to see. Passion wins. The Elder charges for the Kensai, adroit speed resulting and a swift and efficient tackle. He pins his victim to the ground, powerful hands wrapped taught about Kasyr’s neck, the pulse of his foe beating relentlessly against Vexar’s palm in the strength of his grip. Then it clicks. The lack of ascension, the passivity, the magic...the pulse. As Vexar aims to squeeze the life from Kasyr, a realization arrests his motive. “Revenant....” he orates, loud enough for all witnesses to hear. “You are no revenant....the dragons blood that taints your blade would not even affect you. You are a farce.” Here, the Elder relinquishes his grasp and stands to address the gathered. “This man is no kin to Elazul. Do not succumb to his charm or persuasion. And know this, if any others claim false ties to my proud race...I’ll find you.”
Magik 's jaw drops, "What just happened.."
Shishi blinks. "Wha... What the heck? Is anyone a vampire anymore!?" He pokes at his top right fang with his tongue, "What!?"
Kasyr is not having a good day. First, he finds himself figuratively disarmed- and then moments later he finds himself subjected to an impromptu bit of strangling that sees him desperately scrabbling to try and pry away Vexars fingers before he can cause the Kensai to black out. There's a sort of grim humour inherant to the idea of dying at yet another Titans of Winter event- a bitter joke Kasyr deseperately struggles against the punchline of. Surprise and relief are intermingled when Vexar pulls away, as he pulls in long gulping gasps of air. What's worse, however, is that with his hearing still blown out, he's not even really able to make much sense of what Vexar is doing. His lips are flapping, sure- but the Kensai can't make heads or tails of what he's doing- other than that the man seems to be emanating a sense of dissapointment, and something less discernible. To be fair, the swordsman is prioritizing trying to figure out how to make coherant words again, between gasps. "Me- Medi- c."
Iintahquohae said to you, "Not a medic, but...I can probably patch you up."
Dyraxdiin is here, somewhere in the crowd… His form nigh indistinguishable from any other peasant who happened to acquire enough coin to purchase a ticket to this event. A spontaneous trip into Frostmaw from his retreat atop the highest peak in Xalious would have him learn that Kasyr was dueling. While he didn’t manage to witness the bout, he is relatively certain of how it turned out. Both are alive and that is enough for him – Dyraxdiin makes to excuse himself from the area. In passing, he notices a few members of the Mage’s Guild, and offers a kind smile to them were their eyes to meet, but otherwise keeps to himself. That is to say, until Vexar’s final act. He stops in his tracks. Waiting. Sensing.
Kasyr is still trying to get his bearings together when Vexar decides to one up his already rough treatment, and cram a handful of fragmented dragons blood into the Kensais mouth. Suffice to say- it's not really a great taste, which is probably why the vast majority of it winds up spat up in the face of the elder not moments after his demonstration. It also helps to give a better sense of what he'd been spouting about moments prior, though it still leaves the Kensai at a loss for what the mans motivation is. Frankly, there's a lot that the Kensai is going to need to process- but he simply can't in the moment. Instead, he allows his attention to drift towards where he can feel something familiar, only to lock eyes with Iintahquohae. Well, sort of, given he can't really focus his gaze for long, and the uneven dilation of his pupils makes it a mess of an attempt. Still, he can at least recognize the sense of concern- though less so the attempt at communicating. His head nods back, and then forward, as he wrestles with his questionable state of consciousness- finally managing to lift up a hand up to tap at his pointed ears. Which works for all of a few seconds before the lack of support from that same hand being up results in him flopping back in a bed of sanguine stained strawberry jam. Well, in any case, she had seemed like she'd wanted to help, "...Over. here. S'il te plait." Eff today. That's definitely what the Kensai is settling on.
Winner: Vexar