Duel:Kurlurk v Sanlig (DD)

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The arena seems to be as it always was. The fighting sport of gladiators has not grown old with the people of Larket. In the many bleachers, various townsfolk sit and watch as the two gladiators in the arena fight on. One of them is fighting with a sword, while the other has a spear and shield. You watch for a moment as the two battle each other, only to end in a gory spectacle of blood. The winner lifts up the head of the defeated as the crowd cheers and roars. Some of the men toss gold in the arena as prize, while a small number of women throw flowers. With the match over, you decide to end your stay as well.



  • Judges: Satoshi, Rheven, Cyllarus
  • Winner: Sanlig, unanimous.

Kurlurk would enter the Arena, his band of Orc raiders waiting outside with the two shaman that often followed him as well should he have need of them after the battle. Kurlurk would find quickly that the magic of his eye and the magic inside his chest would not whither away like it did at that of the Gualon Arena, 'Maybe not gods that stop orc eye then,' he would think to himself as he looked about for the one that had killed the Orc in his homeland of Gualon. Kurlurk had upon his body not the remnants of old clothes as he was often seen wearing, but instead a newly purchased set of Mithril armour. The shiny but light and sturdy material had caught the Orc's eye and he easily traded some yellow rocks for it. Atop his head one would see a bandanna of sorts crafted from that of a Blue Dragon's hide, and on his face a single leather eye patch, what was left from an attack by the Bad luck mage in Gualon's Arena. Soon Kurlurk would spot the fool that challenged him, the eye beneath the eye patch glowing brightly, though it could not be seen. The Runic eye gave the Orc the gift of inner sight, A dragon or lycan, a feline or false images, none would hide from the Orc's eye for it was all revealed to him. The Orc tightened his fist quickly at seeing him, wanting nothing but to destroy him with a sudden and solid punch from the spiked knuckles he wore upon his hands. "You hurt Orc! Now Orc hurt you!" he would yell getting the human's attention as he would begin to charge from the other side of the Arena. Drawing quickly a single of his axe he would hurl it towards the human, trying to keep him occupied while he closed the distance. Then pulling the second of his axe as he would reach him and jump to the right he would also slice horizontally right to left in an attempt to possibly cleave him in half at the torso.

Sanlig| The arena seems to grow dark, suddenly filled with mist, through which unintelligible whispers echo eerily form unseen sources. It feels as though a wind starts up, swirling the mist about. It starts at a slow spin, forming into three tendrils as it begins to pick up speed, closing into appears to be a whirling cylinder of dense, concealing fog. Through the gaps between the tendrils, a figure can be seen. Tall, thin, and draped in fine black robes, the pale man appears to be a vampire. The staff held in his right hand is crossed at the top, forming a 'T'. The swirling mists recoil as the axe appears to cut through them to the mage inside, who simply stands, watching it come. When it arrives, it seems to simply bounce off with a metallic clink, disappearing into the mist where Sanlig spares it a simple spell; an illusion of invisibility to hide it from Kurlurk's sight. However, outside the illusion, Sanlig runs for his life, the axe grazing along his shoulders as he spins, running in desperation twenty feet away, the pain of the injury causing the illusion to blink - right as Kurlurk reaches Tovenaar, who disappears, reappearing in Sanlig's real position unharmed, leaving Kurlurk's second blow to slash through thin air, both in and out of the web of illusion. All this while, the mists seem to roil overhead and by now, they are a blur of speed. A keening wail sounds from the maelstrom, and an instant later the figure of the mage apears to hoist his staff into the air. The tendrils of mist react with the staff; heaving up, they hurtle through the air toward Kurlurk, one circling to each side, while the third flies straight forward. They seem to give off a frigid chill which worsens as they approach. Sanlig's illusion is intended to make the orc think that he is being picked up bodily by the mist - which in and of itself delivers a mind-numbing chill - and then hurled back to the ground, convincing the brawler's mind that he is battered and broken appropriately, perhaps cripplingly so.

Kurlurk watched and reacted, the beings ability to disappear bewildered the orcs mind. He was once warned of this style of Magic by the Shaman of his homeland. He could not remember what they had called it, but they had said he could stand any battle with them, trusting the Shaman he would continue, the magic of his eye making each of the illusions appear as a faded picture over laying the real world. The Blue dragon scales he wore upon his head helped to ward against such attacks as well, their natural ability to counter psychological attacks would help to repel the illusions. And the last of his magical ability would come to bare fruit next. The rune that covered that of his chest would flare to life beneath his Mithril breastplate. A sphere of magical resistance would appear around the orc, though only a foot or two from his body. The trickster's abilities would normally be devastating to that of the orc mind, but his weakness was well guarded, attacks of the mind were useless, and thats what illusions were. Seeing through each of them he spotted the real being after a moment of figuring faded image from real life, drawing from his back the falchion that he has always carried to Arena battles he would rush for him again, this time he would not spare his foe. Slashing wildly several times he attempted to cut at his head, then as if gaining a sense of knowledge he would turn on one heal and chamber his right leg upwards before releasing a powerful side kick to his opponent, aimed for the torso.

Sanlig's curl into a frown, his brows drawing down as the orc seems to avoid his magic altogether. The moment he takes to consider his next plan is nearly the end of him, for he barely has the time to grasp the amulet of protection around his neck, stirring to life its warding power. A dome of blue light surrounds the illusionist just in time, catching the falchion in its path, stopping it before it can reach Sanlig's flesh, and then shoving back with equal force in an attempt to disarm the orc. However, this leaves the illusionist's side open for the kick, which bowls him over, cracking a rib or two in the process. As quickly as possible, Sanlig struggles to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff - which he then swings full force at Kurlurk's face, in hopes of blinding both the magical eye and the mundane. Regardless of the outcome, the mage is quick to cast fur threads of illusion, causing the wood of Tovenaar's weapon to appear to glow brightly, almost painfully so, illuminating the entire arena. Then, with a sound like a thunderclap, Tovenaar seems to point the staff at his enemy, launching a blast of raw magical energy which seems to strip the ground of any dirt and debris in its path. As the massive, fiercely-glowing sphere nears the orc, Sanlig adds new details to his web of illusion, causing Kurlurk's skin to appear to fray off in shreds, hopefully fooling the mind into feeling the associated pain, as the brawler's flesh seems to dissolve before his very eyes leaving nothing but bone left, while the intensity of the brilliant, white light seems to engulf everything in a blinding display of magic, perhaps even disorienting to the orc's magical sight. Under the cover of this, Sanlig hobbles away again, putting as much distance between himself and his foe as possible.

Kurlurk would not understand himself, his falchion was well aimed, and on each hurl or wild slash he would miss, even though narrowly. The throw of the falchion back helped him to turn and land the kick upon his foe. It was now that the staff would come flying for him, and surely it hit him, knocking him off balance and to the ground, however the staff had struck the side of his head. Should he had been any other race this may have been a deadly blow, but the strength of the Orc Skull was second only to those of Dragons and Giants. The blow would disorient him for moments before his vision would return and he would attempt and stand only to fail a single time. Once standing the magic would take hold, the sphere he used was up constantly, the rune reacting to the magic in the air, the blue bandanna he wore slipped off slightly and looked as though another hit would dislodge it completely. Kurlurk began to feel a sudden bit of pain, not much as the illusion was lessened by that of his sphere and the scales on his head. But it was enough to make the Orc enter the battle rage that most of his foes have died from. Picking his falchion up from the ground as he felt the pain upon his arms though he could not see it due to the eye, the shaman blessed orc would rush for his foe and once reaching him he would not slow, jumping skyward and bringing his feet forward he would attempt to drop kick the tricky human. If the attack worked or not he would continue his attack, rolling to the side quickly to dodge any number of possible attacks he would finally stand and with an arched swing attempt and behead the creature that had tricked his mind.

Sanlig stops, waiting for the orc to near. At the last possible second, he drops and rolls toward Kurlurk, allowing the kick to pass over his body. Again he struggles to his feet, but too slowly to avoid his foe's second attack; the falchion slams into the silver headband around Sanlig's head, severing it and cutting a gash along the mage's head, the blow not fatal only because of the weakened power of the amulet. The illusionist stumbles back, pressing forward with his illusions, not caring, in his dazed state, that the orc seems to resist them for the most part. Inside the web, Tovenaar's face twists with cruelty, his smile truly horrible to see. He swings his heavy staff above his head, the thrumming sound it produces swelling louder and louder, beyond what such an action might cause. The noise is harsh on the ears, perhaps even frightening. But more frightening are the images that appear around the figure of the vampiric mage: five blades of what seem to be pure flame suddenly 'pop' into existence, spinning furiously with the roar of bonfires. With a shout, the illusion thrusts his staff forward, the action seeming to cause the blades to soar toward Kurlurk, spreading out to head toward, respectively, the orc's head, chest, stomach, and either side. These, should the orc be convinced, pierce in from all sides, the fire burning wildly as it spreads over the brawler, bringing the agonizing feeling of fire, while the blades might seem to spit through Kurlurk as though he were made of butter. The psychological damage inflicted here might well put the orc in a coma, if he cannot fight the illusion entirely. At the end of this, too, Sanlig adds one of the few real, non-illusion spells he knows: a simple bolt of fire sent at astronomical speed at his enemy, capable of roasting the orc alive, should it hit; a weak and desperate attempt by the mage at a spell out of his school.

Kurlurk would smile, as much as an Orc could, at the sight of the blood on his blade even though his original attack had failed. The orc would turn once more to face his enemy, only to see instead five blades of fire hovering in the air. Standing legs apart and flachion at the ready he prepared for the magical attack, although to him the faded image may be real now, the magic of the runes draining the orc's physical body more and more for he was not use to the use of such extensive magic. The blades would launch towards him, and the orc would step towards them to close the distance and raise his falchion to begin to deflect the daggers, however, as they would approach the Orc would suddenly go blind in that of his right eye as the rune on his chest sucked the last of his magical ability to deal with the coming attacks. The red light that came from his chest could be seen through the outer edges of his breastplate. The sphere that surrounded him would strengthen and the blades would dispel upon hitting the sphere leaving the Orc dumbfounded as he still did not fully understand what it was that happened. Quickly he would remove his eye patch revealing to all the eye with the rune on it that no longer glowed. Now for the final attack that hurled towards him he only saw due to the light that flickered as it was created, once hurled towards him he lost track of it raising his Flachion in a last hope to defend the Sphere would catch the Mage's last bit of hope and slow it as well as weaken it. But then the sphere would shatter, not wanting to use anymore of its host's strength, and continue for the orc landing squarely upon the Falchion where it would cut through as if a torch. Upon hitting the Orc would turn trying to divert the blaze away from him and only succeeded slightly as it blazed past the falchion and across the side of his Mithril breastplate, cutting through it like paper, and only narrowly missing the Orc's smelly hide.


Kill post:

Sanlig, clutching his staff wiht both hands, summons all his power, using every last shred to put into one last spell. A spear of darkness shoots out toward Kurlurk, who is powerless to see through it without his magical eye. It enters through his mouth, sinking into his body. At once, spikes seem to shoot out from inside the orc, blood spraying as they force through flesh and skin alike. Though just illusions, Kurlurk takes them as reality, the panic actually stopping his heart. The massive creature collapses, dead, with no actual mark on his body telling how he died. Sanlig, barely able to stand, limps over to his foe. Taking the falchion, he removes the head, the process gruesome and slow. Finally, he severs the last tendon. First, he digs out the magic eye and squashes it, then holds the head on high, the image of Tovenaar still wrapped around him like a cloak. "Queen of Larket! I have your foe, and I demand the bounty!"