Duel:Kazuma-Nasurate v Reema-Zeneth

From HollowWiki

Part of the Rynvalian War Arc


Nasurate and Kazuma vs. Zeneth and Reema

SCENIC VIEW OF HOLLOW

This small path breaks out from the sparse trees and becomes an open area on this cliff. People come from all over Hollow to look off of this edge and the view is amazing. As you stand you become slightly dizzy from the great height. Such a sight your deprived eyes have never seen before. As you walk toward the edge of the cliff, you notice small signs of a great battle, an array of booted footprints here a spot of blood there. Stepping to the edge of the cliff, a great slab of stone has been ripped free of the ground, and where it had been, there is nothing but a hole in the earth sloping ever downward to the edge. Creeping out over the edge you can see a heap of shattered rocks and piled up earth at the bottom. Something powerful had devestated this rocky cliff face. tearing your eyes away from this destruction, you can gaze over the most of the land. Towards the south you can see the mountain path you've once traveled. So small it looks from here, yet your legs can tell you differently. To the east you can see a great forest of trees, obviously being Sage Forest, with the little town of Kelay deep within. Beyond the edge of Sage Forest you can see the mountains to the north, although the path to the small town of Larket is not visible from this vantagepoint. At the very edge of the horizon you can just make out the beginning of Milious Planes, and beyond that you know is the great city of Cenril. You take in the wondrous view and wonder what this place must look like at night under the canopy of stars, lights glowing from the towns below and east of here. To the west is where you came, a mountain path. A small cliff in the area seems to lead up to a hill.


Nasurate and Kazuma [The Fold] VS Reema and Zeneth [The Resurrected]

15 min rounds each

Judges, Rhian for Nas and Kazu, Arysel as mid, Satoshi for Reema and Zeneth

Posting order: Nas attack, Reema defend/attack, Kazu defend/attack, Zen defend/attack, Nas defend/attack, Reema final defend/attack, Kazu final defend/attack, Zen defend/attack, Nas final defense/attack, Zen final defense.

Winners: Split vote, Kazuma and Nasurate


Nasurate is quite annoyed, as is visible by the deep-set frown sitting firmly upon pale-peach lips. Zeneth holds little cause for alarm, but the insect-like female, whom keen elven gaze can only just discern, was an obvious supply of dismay. If confident to remain at such small size, there must be powerful magics at work. An arm moves to gently nudge against the elbow of the vampire at Nasurate's side, accompanied by a brief glance. "Leave the small one to me," The tree-born grumbles, tossing his head backwards to hold his chin aloft and lifting his left arm, clamped securely in the hand of which could be found the obsidian wand freshly plucked from its usual housing behind a pointed ear. Air is the first component to be subject to manipulation via the usual routine of leaking magical pulses to entwine with the atoms, and instantly is air gathered together, to be rolled, balled and compressed, forming an invisible sphere, although within the hollow middle of the ball could be seen dancing sparks, little cackles of mana threatening to burst from their cage. The golden tip of the obsidian wand is jabbed quickly in Reema's direction, and the hollow sphere of compressed gases suddenly thunders directly towards the pixie necromancer, as if on a path for direct collision. 'Tis not the case, however, for just as the contained energies come within range of the elf's chosen enemy Nasurate's slender wrist flicks upwards, sending the focus of the wand tip away from the sphere. Without the mage's steady magic flow to hold the air container in place it simply fizzles away, and the contained magics within are released with deadly force. A thunderous explosion, fire and heat blasting out in all directions, but specifically with aim to engulf Reema, and leave only ash remnants of what once was.

Reema stands quite firm -- feet planted hip width apart to perhaps make up for her diminutive stature. An alert, cerulean gaze peers onward, intent on the mage's course of action. She notes the ingredients to this spell -- air, mixed with what appears to be fire. A deadly combination if mixed, she decides as the swirling orb rolls forward, intent on her agile form. The defence would be simple. The tiny fae's wings arch away from her back with an audible snap, sending feathers of dead flesh floating into the air. The once magnificent things are obviously already ruined, though she does not require flight from them now. There is a gust of wind that announces the sudden onslaught of sparks, but that sudden push of air is all that is needed to dodge the oncoming attack. Wings outstretched, they catch the oxygen like a parachute, pushing the fae out and away from the fiery explosion before her. All the while she had been chanting -- soft, murmured words below the level of hearing. Around her, the ground seems to break as organisms wriggle from the surface. Bones of log deceased animals, perhaps the occasioned dead body wiggle their way through the top soil. For now, they proceed to grab at ankles, feet and calves when they are able. Those without completed hands or feet settle for poking or prodding, like spikes torn up from the earth to immobilize their opponents.

Kazuma 's eyes widen in surprised at the fae's attack, the spellblade himself not having much experience dealing with necromancers. Nonetheless, this had to be stopped. Doing his best to weave in and out of the reach of the rising hands, his own gauntlet clad left hand reaching up towards his back, fingers wrapping around the end of the stave. Forcefully and quickly the Runic Chaos Stave is drawn, pure chaos energy crackling about the stave like lightning as the vampire takes the stave into both hands, one hand gripping towards the bottom, the other gripping towards the top. Grunting in surprise as a hand grabs his calf and attempts to lure him to the ground, the first response of the pyromancer naturally would be to raise the stave well above his head, and forcefully and with a loud audible smack, bring it upon the hand that had grabbed his calf. "Stupid...necromancers..." mutters the vampire as violent blood red eyes gaze upon the avian and pixie combo. Pale lips curl into a smirk as the vampire channels his mana into the stave as well as any source of heat energy that would be nearby. Be it heat energy from the setting sun, nearby animals or passers-by, even his own partner and the pair before him, as well as the natural heat particles in the air. All of it would be channelled towards the tip of the stave, the end result being a slight decrease in temperature in the air whilst a small orb of bright orange flame erupts to life along the tip of the stave. "Tell me....." he begins in an icy, yet firm tone. "Have any of you ever experienced true fear?" His smirk grows ever wider as the stave is forcefully swung towards the ground, releasing two wild streams of orange flames towards the opposing forces, the flames themselves moving in a snakelike pattern on the ground, the one headed for Reema immediately shooting upward in a pillar like moment once it reaches her, while the flame headed for Zeneth threatens to engulf her form unless she should dodge the deadly assault.

Zeneth offers a small smile to both opponents, though an almost guilty expression forms upon delicate features as a cool breeze whispers against the female’s ethereal skin. “I suppose I should hold nothing back…” she murmurs to the wind, allowing her eyes to close for a brief second and leaning backwards to take in a deep, slow breath. When eyes reopen, the darkened pupils swimming in pools of glittering amethyst and carmine are slitted in a catlike manner, and the female gives a feral grin. The scent of battle fills the air and, with a burst of augmented magic to her legs, the spell blade is darting off across the sparse grasses which grow atop the cliff, dancing by Nasurate’s spell. “A parlour trick?” She giggles teasingly at the male, before her voice is drowned out by the resulting explosion from said ‘trick’. A red-hot flare streaks in the Avian’s wake, nipping at heavily-spiked boots like an angry dog and burning the backs of her legs as it does so - yelping in pain the woman ups her dose of agility-amplifying magic and speeds to safety. A glint of metal is the only warning given to Kazuma before a thick line of ice-encrusted chain is thrust in his direction, links clinking forlornly and ready to strike with deadly intent. However, not all goes completely to plan at first, for it is then that Zeneth spots the flame headed her way; the grin widens to reveal sharpened teeth and she shakes her head disdainfully at the vampire, swinging the frosty chain back toward her. “Fear? Of course I’ve experienced it - I have Vuryal constantly within 100 or so feet of me~!” Her right arm is thrown up to meet the fiery snake and an odd sound reverberates through the air; a series of clicks and whirrs occurs and a reflection of the fire flares in Zeneth’s mismatched eyes, before being swiftly blocked out by an enormous tower shield which unfolds rapidly from a small box on the female’s arm and swallows the flames up into the chaos crystal in its middle. A simple defence, to say the least. Within a second the Avian is off once again, rushing about Kazuma’s form and humming a joyous tune - the frozen chain is cast out in an attempt to wrap about the pryomancer’s body, hopefully locking him in place while jagged spiked barbs and razor sharp icicles penetrate and slice his long-dead skin.

Nasurate brings his right hand forward, lifting the blackwood staff which previously rested against the tree-born's side, simultaneously stowing the small wand away within a robe pocket. In both hands the blackwood pole is firmly held, and robed arms bring it upwards, curved-prong tail facing the earth beneath, which cracks in the wake of pale appendages grabbing for white-runed leggings. Bony, clawed fingers clasp tightly around a calf, biting into robes and flesh alike, baiting Nasurate to bring his staff down to collide hard with the floor. A focused push of magic through the tail of the staff striking the floor, and a sudden outward blast of fire drives rotten limbs and eroding bone quite far away, simultaneously sending a firm blast of air beneath the mage's boots to rocket the small male airborne. Air gathers beneath his feet, compressing and shaping into a round plate upon which Nasurate is able to float, with emerald gaze fixed on the battle below. Pixie now lost from view at such distance attentions focus on Zeneth, and it is towards the illusionist that the star-shaped head of the blackwood staff now trains upon. From the crimson set into the centre of the star-head comes a sudden burst of orange fire, searing flames which spread quickly outwards to cover the five points of the symbolic head. From within the very depths of the staff stems a blood-curdling roar. Nasurate's arm jerks backwards with the recoil from a forceful blast of flames, a thick blaze which thunders down upon the avian below. The flames split at the head, shaping into two sharp points; a beaked jaw, lined with razor-sharp flaming teeth. Snake-like body lashes out wildly behind the mammoth maw of the Fire Wyrm, neck craning to swoop down upon the ground foe, Zeneth, and engulf her between broad upper and lower jaw, ready for the rest of its elongated form to collapse upon the avian in a display of utter hellfire.

Reema did stand rather far away from the goings on in body. In her injured state, she thought that was for the best. However, a small ball of her conscience seeped into every undead structure that surrounded the field. It was a difficult feat, to be sure, and her tiny knees sagged with the effort of controlling so many at once. It was for this reason that a pointed wince skipped across the necromancer's face as Nasurate's fiery explosion sent pieces of mangled flesh, bone, and limbs flying outward, away from her intended targets. Some of her creation were rendered completely useless -- sinew melted away to ashes, the marrow singed black with fire. Yet some had prevailed. A few merged together to create grotesque images, a true mockery of nature. Other shambled on. Skeletons of woodland creatures and a few mismatched people made for a scene straight of Snow White's nightmare. Only after her renovation was completed did the tiny pixie feel heat pricking away at her boots. With a yelp, only a yelp (the woman was not one for arrogant banter) the necromancer jumped up out of the way. Alas, she had been a split second too late. Tendrils of fire snake upward over the metal of her armoured boot causing the flesh beneath to blister and burn. Anger bubbled up over the pix's once calm visage at the physical intrusion. Her minions, as if reflecting her anger, increased their efforts double time. Disfigured feet pounded the ground in Nasurate's direction, undead hands reaching up toward his levitated form. Great, rotting maws snapping at him. He had to come down sometimes, Reema thought through the blinding pain of her new wound, and when he did, they would be waiting.

Kazuma closes his eyes as Zeneth's chain nears him, channeling a great amount of the heat energy he had gathered previously into his armor, mainly the chaos pieces. Screams of pain echo throughout the land as icicles and barbs find weak points in his armor, piercing the cold flesh beneath the steel. Crimson blood seeps down from the cracks in the armor as the rest of the icicles and barbs lodge themselves in the armor. Finally! Something had gone according to plan..for once in a battle this vampire fought. Despite the pain the vampire soon begins to laugh, the reason being his armor began to glow red hot as it heats up, with Zeneth's spiked chain lodged into it. Icicles soon melt as the sound of steel shattering emits from the breaking barbs and shattering chain. Now free from the attack the vampire catches Reema's monster heading towards Nasurate and immediately raises his stave towards Nasurate, shooting a crimson bolt towards the wood elf. The crimson bolt rapidly shoots towards Nasurate, and once within range, forms Kazuma's spirit field, the shield surrounding the wood elf's body. Hoping it was enough, the vampire turns his attention to Zeneth and resheathes his stave and draws his sword from its sheath on his left hip. This is it, thinks the vampire as he channels the remaining heat energy into the blade, the blade itself glowing red hot as Nasurate's wyrm emerges, ready to engulf Zeneth. It was now or never for this attack. Using the full effect of vampiric speed, the vampiric pyromancer dashes towards the avian, blade raised high into the air, crimson opitcs narrowed into a fierce death glare. Smirking as he comes within range of the avian, he rapidly thrusts the red hot blade towards the woman's chest, simultaneously releasing eight sword shaped flames from the blade, each aimed for one of the nine vital points of the woman's body (head, neck, shoulder, shoulder, chest, stomach, leg, leg, groin). Combined with the fire wyrm, this attack should prove more than enough for the Avian.

Zeneth is given two choices, and takes but a moment to choose. One is to jump Kazuma’s way and so escape the majority of the fire wyrm‘s blast, and the other is to be devoured the maw of the beast. Oddly, she steps back from Kazuma’s attack, fluid lines of brilliant, shining mana erupting out all over her body as, in one swift gulp, the flaming snake devours her whole, its fanged jaws snapping shut and encasing her within a fiery coffin. Or so the pyromancer’s may assume. A thick layer of her own bright magic covers the entirety of Zeneth’s body, effectively shielding her from being burned alive; the fiery swords thrust her way by Kazuma are simply blocked or consumed by the fire wyrm’s body while the Avian prepares her escape. The wyrm’s midsection begins to expand in a rather strange manner, as if pushed outwards from within, and Zeneth’s voice can be heard chanting rhymes to herself as she spins the remains of her whip rapidly within the creature, ignorant of the burns she is receiving despite her shield. Powerful pulses of her mana are sent spiralling out with the spinning whip, crashing against the inside of the snake and slowly parting the flames. When a large enough space has been created the woman quite literally throws her entire body against the wall of the fire wyrm, her magical defence also aiding her escape by forcing the fire yet further apart. Eyes watering from the heat, the one-winged woman lands upon the cliff, panting. With a narrowing of eyes and an irritated growl Zeneth returns her mostly-useless whip to its holster upon her hip, darting around the wyrm. The next weapon brought into play is, well…invisible, perhaps? Nothing, it seems, is held within the woman’s hands as once again, she bounds Kazuma‘s direction, sparks of white-fyre mana trailing in her wake. Less than two feet from her foe the Avian finally reveals the blades she intends to quite forcefully impale Kazuma’s chest with - a blazing aura of radiant white magic explodes outwards from the female’s palms, taking on the shape of two wickedly-curved swords. Now obviously visible -- the unveiling of such blades likely causing a brief moment of blindness to the other -- the weapons are rather swiftly thrust toward the vampire’s chest, intent on driving right through his body and releasing a lethal shock of pure magic into his system.

Nasurate continually blasts fireball after strong gust after fireball upon the mutated corpses reaching for him, sweat beginning to drip from the bridge of a curved nose. The oncoming stream of undead seemed incomprehensible, and it was quite a drain upon waning magic reserves to continually blast them from his person -and- keep himself hovering quite a fair distance from the ground. The tail of the blackwood staff repeatedly jabs in direction of the latest creature to be fried, when suddenly the solidified spirit field encompasses the mage's vision, clouding him with shielding. A brow arches in surprise, although there is only one direction from which the field may have came. Intent on returning the favour the blackwood staff angles now, again, towards the behemoth flame wyrm, whom had been resting quite listless without magical guidance. A wide sweep of the staff steers the wyrm's bulk towards Zeneth and Kazuma, and it drives directly between the two, blocking cleanly the oncoming blades of the single-winged avian, slicing instead deep into the belly of the blaze creature. Nasurate's hold struggles, and efforts are renewed as the staff steers the wyrm now towards the remnants of the undead that reach to drag Nasurate through the soil disturbed by their waking. The hapless things are swatted aside by the fiery beast's bulk, and finally now the tree-born releases his grasp upon the ailing creature, allowing it to fade into invisible wisps of magic, as is the eventual fate of all spells. Attentions now focus on Zeneth. The invisible air disk upon which the mage stands begins to lower, carrying Nasurate towards his pray. The staff is allowed to fall and clatter upon the earth, in favour of the blackwood wand drawn again from within pristine white robes. Towards Zeneth's right leg the golden tip is angled, and a lightning-quick burst of internal energies shoots to entwine with the air around the avian's leg, gathering heaps of gases and compressing them together, shaping them to form a thick, tight cast around said right leg. Then the wand veers off towards the cliff-edge, and the pull of the manipulated air would also attempt to drag Zeneth in the wand's wake, to be deposited over the edge and left to fall to her death.

Zeneth gives a rather high-pitched squeak of surprise as her body is suddenly hurled backwards away from the fading flames of the fire wyrm, and her undead prey. The cliff edge rises up to meet her feet and the woman tries desperately to stop herself, spiked boots screeching sharply upon solid stone in futile attempts to latch on to the rock. Sparks fly as metal meets granite, the magical lasso about the Avian’s leg rubbing agonizingly against the burns she has received and at last Zeneth begins to feel the pain properly - a whimper escapes the woman before tearing free into a cry of mixed delight and fear as she is tossed roughly off the edge of the precipice. The fear is quickly overcome by excitement and, throwing her arms wide, the one-winged woman allows the remaining reserves of magic to flow free from her fingertips; she stops quite suddenly about twenty-five feet down the cliff, hovering in midair before, with a blast of that ever-radiant magic, the Whistling Chaos is leaping back to safety. Invisible, yet sparkling platforms of mana lead her on a spiralling staircase back to the battle and Zeneth hopes that her comrade Reema has been spared a fiery death. Quite suddenly she reappears, landing delicately upon the scarred rock and throwing a grin in the direction of the Pixie. A relieved sigh -- albeit a slightly pained one -- escapes the female’s crimson lips and she looks to the elf and vampire nearby, quite ready to defend herself, although both magic and stamina are running on empty now.