Duel:Knelltic v Lirithen
Duelists: Knelltic vs. Lirithen Duel: Traditional 3 posts each, with final defense. 10 minute posting limit Stakes: Autohit for winner. Judges: Tiphareth, Satoshi (mid), Sophie
Knelltic inclines his head to his master.
Satoshi and her feathered companion are simply loitering on a nearby fence, in hopes of playing audience to one of those many fights that take place outside the Tavern. Today might be her lucky day~.
Knelltic Daeion walks with confident steps out of the infamous Kelay Tavern, the grace within his steps known only to those of elven kind, and evident within every movement as the forsaken makes his way towards the center of Kelay's Town Sqaure. Without hesitation does the apprentice to the eldermage lose himself in his castings, arcane words of power pouring from his lips with natural ease as his right hand is extended forth, raising the staff made from the wood of the Xalious Tree itself so that the crown of the magical instrument points directly at the foolish ranger's arrogant frame. A collection of mystical power can be seen collecting within the amber stone that rests atop this magical catalyst, the mystical forces gathering with incredible celerity until the spell reaches it's climax, the result being that the power is unleashed in the form of a crackling lightning bolt. The dangerous element is sent forth towards Lirithen's lithe frame, the power of the raw element enough to cause severe damage if it even manages to graze it's intended target. But even as this unfolds, Knelltic utters a quick incantation that breathes newfound life into the protective wards he always has in place, the defensive barrier able to withstand most magic, and even provide a good stand off distance between him and his well known acrobatic foe. But the real focus of these wards are simply, the words of his master ringing in his ears still. As the electrical bolt nears Lirithen, a devious smirk forms upon his gaunt elven visage, as if he knew something his advisory did not...
Lirithen wasted not a moment, the ranger's agile form immediately discarding the walking cane he had previously carried and launching himself into a fast-paced sprint toward the chanting necromancer, the rogue reaching for his own meagre magic reserves to prepared an enchanting shot. The energy was directed and forced into the ebony boots that adorning the lithe male's feet, runes of bright crimson flaring upon along the sole in indication of enchantment's readiness to be activated, and it was done so the moment Knelltic's spell burst from the end of his archaic staff. Lirithen rocketed upwards into the air, legs lifting into his chest in a tight tuck of his form as the lightning bolt thundered a hairs breadth from his body, evasion clean yet just barely achieved. On the wings of the expulsion of springing force cast from the enchanted boots the tree-born continued to sail forwards, fair hands darting within the depths of the armoured coat that fluttered in the wake of the dark blur that was Lirolae's form in retrieval of the elf's favoured paired weapons. The sickles came forward, the rune-crafted mithril of each blade inlaid with golden symbols that spiralled along the length of each of the hungry hand-weapons, allowing the conversion of another burst of magic into the enchanted blades into a manifestation of orange flame that enveloped the length of each in the blink of an eye. The tree-born's path came to its zenith, the point of impact with his destination; directly into Knelltic himself. The collision of Lirithen's travelling momentum should be enough to knock the Forsaken from his feet while the fiery blades came forward, each angled in a diagonal slash from shoulder to hip in enaction of an X shaped wound across the torso.
Knelltic watches as the elf manages to avoid death's grasp with a slightly impressive display of acrobatic skill, a scowl contorting the forsaken's smirk as he has grown tired of such self-righteous champions always being a disappointment. The foolish headlong charge is easily forseen, the magical weapons a known factor. Confident in his mastery of his own spells, the dark magii channels a quick spell through his staff just as the treeborn reaches within twenty meters of him, causing the ground about the combatants to shift from a solid foundation to a slippery slope of ice that spreads across the immediate area with a haste most unnatural. This should cause the clever ranger to lose that precious footing, especially travelling at such a high rate of speed. Nontheless, he does make it past the magical wards, or within rather, to land a rather solid blow. One sickle slashing open newly purchased robes, yet again, to bite deep into pale flesh. Precious vitae flows forth, staining the ice-covered earth below crimson, a yell of pain escaping the mage as he flings his staff in a quick parry to counter the dangerous second blow. The flames cause the wound to seal, though the burnt flesh leaves a lingering sensation that is hard to ignore. Bit by sheer force of will does Knelltic continue, quickly bringing forth another spell to loose upon this hated foe. From his free hand comes a barrage of magical missiles, numbering roughly twenty or so. These arcane projectiles are unleashed towards Lirithen's, now hopefully, unbalanced form in hopes of pummeling the fool into a bloody pulp. His clever acrobatics will prove hard indeed to do, as without a solid platform to launch himself with, he will be hard pressed to evade the assault as easily he did the blast of lightning...
Lirithen , being currently airborne, suffered no penalty to his direction until the moment his feet his the ground in the wake of Knelltic's wound and evasion, and was instantly sent kidding along on a pre-determined icy path. Foreseeing this his arms were already spread upon his contact with the ground, calculated flails steadying the male enough to be able to pivot on his heel and rotate to face his foe as his momentum dragged him further away, bringing the magii into clear view. Arms remained outstretched, heels tensed and digging into the ground in effort to slow his movements as the familiar casting gesture of extending the hand was perceived, and suddenly the nimble male was faced with a barrage of light and power in seemingly inescapable numbers! Recognising the futility of elaborate evasion the acrobatic Lirolae threw himself into the only movement that may grant him some hope of weathering the barrage un-pummelled; that is, his right leg suddenly swung forward, deliberately upsetting the fair-haired tree-born's delicate balance and sending him flying backwards onto his arse. Emerald eyes clamped tightly shut to save the elf the blinding dazzle of the bright missiles flying overhead, opening again when the last 'whoosh' of air and magic had left his ears. Knowing that he could never climb to his feet in time Lirithen's hand, now void of the discarded sickle, dove into the pocket of his coat in retrieval of a fist-sized bottle, in width and height, containing a sickly green vapour that swirled menacingly within the containers confines. The hand thrust forward, a mental command releasing the elemental air spirit bound to the bracer clamped tightly to his wrist, sending the Sacred Winds thundering forwards toward the Forsaken elf, carrying the bottle in rotating sphere of strong wind. The Winds climbed upwards, hovering for a split-second above the necromancer's head before suddenly driving downwards, forcing and crushing the bottle against the floor to release the fast-spreading poisonous vapour contained within. The poison was extremely fast-acting, and unlike most predicted numbing effects created a crippling pain, the sensation as if one's very blood were aflame. The Winds quickly dissipated for fear of spreading the vapour too thin, and Lirithen set about swinging his legs around and precariously flipping into a standing position, ready to receive a second burst of the Sacred Winds to rotate around his head and keep him from breathing in his own airborne venom.
Knelltic watches as the Sacred Winds are unleashed, the noted artifact still somewhat of a mystery to the necromancer, until the poisonous trap is revealed. A clever move, but one easily remedied as the magus inahles a deep breath to save himself from inhaling the toxin that now surrounds him. Lifting his staff above his head, the focus of the arcane steward's attack now becomes the thick layer of ice left before the two duelist, a wicked smirk twisting into existence upon the elf's visage as Lirithen now falls prey to the trap that has been laid before him. Unlike before, when the words of arcane magic were spoken in tones almost a whisper, they are now expelled by a powerful shout as the forsaken slams the butt of his staff into the frozen ground before him, unleashing a tremendous blast of magical energy that quite literally shatters the ground before him. The expulsion of power sends forth shards of ice and stone into the air at tremendous speed towards the ranger, the sheer force from the blast having enough power to send even a giant airborn, as well as disperse the poisonous cloud that lingers above him. His opponent now faces a serious threat, as he is assaulted not only by the powerful blast, but also by the debris it sends forth at incredible speed towards him in the form of razor sharp shards of ice and chucks of stone the size of a normal man's head. All this unfolds as the forsaken watches, seemingly calm within the heart of the chaos that plays out before him, his left held across his still bleeding midsection as he awaits to see the outcome of this exchange...
Lirithen gingerly fingered a throbbing bruise on the back of his head from where his falling form had impacted the solid ground, but his focus quickly reverted to the magus as the blood-curdling archaic shriek resounded throughout the tree-born's keen ears. The Winds spread to encompass his whole form in a heartbeat, quickening their rotatory pace to a hurricane-like state as the collection of debris exploded forth to batter Lirolae's agile yet fragile body. Stone and ice thundered past and around him, well-timed blasts of air from the sentient elemental serving to knock the majority of the makeshift projectiles away from the wood-elf's person, yet shards of sharp ice can be felt scraping and shattering against the strong yet lightweight mithril plates adorning the ranger's overcoat, yelps of pain emanating as some cut through the tender flesh of his face, slicing straight-edged stinging cuts along his fair flesh. But, not content with simple scars the Necromancer's spell would also have him tossed high into the air amidst the collection of rock and icy shrapnel, only to plummet down to the ground in their wake. An outward blast of the Sacred Winds softened his fall, preventing sprained or broken limbs, but the impact was still enough to crack some of the plates on his coat, Lirolae feeling his ribs bruise beneath the chainmail vest hidden beneath his shirt. No time to moan or complain, and a burst of adrenaline flooded the lithe males veins, giving him the strength to rise without incident and sprint again for his Forsaken foe. Lithe steps easily traverse the uneven ground, the ranger upon the mage in seconds to jump upwards, feet coming forward to land lashed blows upon Knelltic's form. One foot attempted to plant against the caster's chest while the other rose to gain a foothold on his shoulder, a forceful kick sending Lirithen into a backwards airborne jump and hopefully causing the staff-wielding elf to stumble backwards. Nimble hands came forward to grace the sheaths on either of Lirithen's legs, each hand plucking a sharp throwing dagger from its holster and sending the projectiles launching forward, one aimed to pierce the flesh covering the necromancer's abdomen while the other followed on a different course, intended to puncture Knelltic's face right between the eyes. Lirithen landed in a crouch, panting in fatigue.
Knelltic watches as the Sacred Winds save his foe time and time again, his magic seeming unable to best the elemental, no matter how he try. Lirithen's first kick lands, buckling the mage over so that his head dips low, causing the ranger's second attack to miss it's mark. But what Lirithen was foolishly so careless to not think about, were the protective wards placed upon the necromancer. These magical defences come into play by causing a powerful shock of negative energy to flood across whatever limb was to touch those obsidian garments, perhaps the feeling does not come into effect until the ranger lands, but this does not matter, for the threat of the throwing daggers comes into play now, Knelltic quickly uttering a spell that causes the projectiles to turn into sands, which falls harmlessly upon the forsaken's lithe frame as he stands at the ready across from his opponent. A stand-off if you will, with the necromancer's slate-grey eyes peering into the ranger's emerald optics with a malign hatred brewing in the air...
Winner: Knelltic, split vote.
Autohit Victory Post:
Knelltic is done with this ordeal, done playing games with this arrogant fool. He commands his undead servant, the reanimated troll that sits idly by, into action now. The lumbering beast stalks towards Lirithen, the charred bits of flesh still visable from the day before. It is a horrow to behold, as no eyes fill the empty sockets that rest within it's skull, no, but magical flames dance about as the beast's mawl opens wide to allows a sinister snarl to erupt before it's prey. Without hesitation does the beast unleash a vicious and powerful barrage of blows upon the ranger, it's steel plated knuckles sent forth with the power of the troll race, pummeling the treeborne with blow after terrible blow. The sounds of bone breaking can be heard, though it is drowned out by Lirithen's cries of pain as the undead troll finishes it's assault with one last blow to the elf's left cheek, causing the frail woodland rogue's facial structure to shatter in responce. At it's master demands Knelltic order his pet away, and moves with a regal grace to stand above his fallen foe as he says. " Learn your place fool, or your life will be forfeit next time."