Duel:Leoxander v Quintessa, Match 14 of the 2021 Titans of Winter Tournament
Duelists: Leoxander vs Quintessa Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit. Stakes: Standard, autohit delivered by winner with allowance for final reply. Judges: Mahri, Leone and Caltarok.
Hidden Mountaintop Colosseum
Branching out from the lovely scent of the night blossoms, a secondary exit to the mines is found. However, it is an exit, and just that. Cut off from the frozen slopes that everyone knew as Frostmaw, a grand- and recently built coliseum has been erected. Roughly a hundred meters in diameter, and several stories high, none from inside could mistake this grand colossus for the structure for what it really was. The entrance sloped up, and was one of twelve- each gated off from a tunnel that lead to an even deeper, more complex network of tunnels underground. Amidst the dead center in the ring of combat, an acutely-shaped slice of rock rose heavenwards. From the stair-shaped seats that rounded twenty foot walls, one could simply note that it was a massive sundial, the gates being the hand of time it represented at the current moment. At the twelve-o-clock gate, a small booth stood out above the seats, seven chairs of importance standing firm. Naturally, a light cover of snowfall masked the blood-spattered and weapon torn field of battle. In passing by, none would ever figured the steep rocks of the mountain to house such a feat of architecture.. Although the occasional cry of death, or clang of sword could suggest otherwise.
Caltarok stepping up to the judges table and nodding to his fellow judges. Waves his arms unneccessarily as he casts magic so his voice can be heard around the colosseum and in the private booths, "Welcome everyone to the hidden colosseum here in the mountains of Frostmaw. This is the final round for the Titans of Winter. A reminder to all you fans out there, the winner of this fight has the chance to face off against the famous Blue Demon, Shihshi for the title as Champion of Titans. So without further ado, let's meet our contestants. We have the lovely "Countess of the Dark Forest", Quintessa, a crowd favorite it seems based on that pre-match show. She will be going off against the ravenous Leoxander… Careful folks… He may bite. Nevertheless, the battle will begin when both contestants state that they are ready. Judging for you is Leone, Mahri, and myself." (ooc: Rounds will be held to twenty minutes per post)
Leoxander | For a rogue who was habitually late to a scene, it might surprise some of the spectators settling in that he had arrived early to wait, arms crossed in a lean against the wall of the colosseum while he watched the entertaining show. Some of that freshly fallen snow not yet stained with their blood had been scooped up off the ground and packed loosely into a ball, which would greet Quintessa the moment she stepped into view, a harmless throw that exploded a bit of the frozen stuff across her attire. Unless, of course, she was on alert to dodge it, which could very likely be the case. Either way, the pirate dressed over a half-grin with his face cover and drew his hood from the nape of his neck over his head as he stood and turned to face her. Compound bow across chest and shoulder, with an assortment of black fletched arrows, most definitely some hidden blades or throwing weapons concealed beneath leather, the other visible anomaly would be the sword scabbard strapped across his back with only some black leather binding visible on the grip, for now. “Where’s my theme song, then?” He murmured the joke behind the black fabric as the tread of his military laced boots impressed his path in the arena, toward the ‘Deceiver of Fools’.
Quintessa || As Kanna’s music slowly fades away, Quintessa makes her way out into the arena to take her place in her corner, filled with determination… That is until Leoxander pelts her with a snowball. Wiping the snow from her face, Quintessa shoots the werewolf a look of curiosity, a bit taken by surprise that someone would be bold enough to do that to her. “Cheeky bugger,” The tall woman says as she slowly stretches to limber up before her fight, her elastic, velour catsuit flexible enough to allow her full freedom of movement as she bends down to touch one foot and then the next. As the hexblade moves on to her next pose, both hands above her head, the magical fur-lined cloak she wears rides up to expose the changeling’s alchemy belt, flashing her opponent and the people gathered here the special items she brought for this fight; A trio of wicked iron balls and a pair of syringes filled with what looked to be blood of some kind. The warlock's unsung weapon- the Jubaku no Kijo, is also visible on her left hip, a weapon that rarely left her side. Finishing her warmup, Quintessa readjusts her belt and katana before pulling her tinted goggles over her mismatched eyes, obscuring where she was truly looking before turning to face her opponent. "Leo," Quintessa gives the lycan a smirk as she pantomimes a curtsy. "I hope you're ready for this- I'm going to turn up the heat tenfold of what it was the last time you and I fought." That bout on the beach would be a simple game in comparison to what Quintessa has planned for tonight, and already the three metallic spheres on her belt had been plucked off to swirl harmlessly in the palm of her right hand. "Well, shall we get started?"
Leoxander met Quintessa at a distance, no weapon in hand just yet, as seemed to be his approach. “I was bettin’ on that.” His head tilted to the side with a crack of vertebrae audible to the feisty contender. “You’ve got balls.” He added in as he looked toward Mr. Emcee and raised his jaw enough in a signal of ‘ready’. (May just get banned before the battle starts.)
Round One:
Quintessa grins at Leoxander’s words as she shifts the trio of orbs resting in her right hand to straightly align, offering no words in her response. With a quick spark of magic her left hand moves swiftly with an enchanted flame forming in the center of her palm to light the wicks of her bombs. Mismatched eyes focus on her foe as the changeling flings the metal balls into the space between her and Leoxander, the poison-maker pulling a filtered piece of cloth up over her mouth and nose to help her resist falling victim to her own strategy. The wicks burn up quickly, the sparks eating away at the sting and shrinking into the iron castings that contain Quintessa's special alchemical compound; Rynvalian chili powder mixed with sulfur dust. The fighting pit is soon covered in a thick, deep, carmine cloud of burning smog within seconds, the weaponized mixture specifically designed by Quintessa to affect nasal membranes, tear ducts, and other parts of the body in an effort to render holding your breath ineffective against this inhaled toxin. As the scorching smokescreen creates a veil to hide Quintessa's scent and visage, she steps backwards away from it, both hands waving in intricate symbolism to evoke her dark powers as lips part to utter the phrase that would complete her spell. "Synnwyr... Tywyll..." Slowly, like ripples on a still pond, Quintessa's shadow expands upon the ground around her, reaching out and feeling for Leoxander's imprint among the thick cloud of burning smoke. The hexblade wastes no time in locating him quickly, drawing dual syringes, silver-tipped needles glinting in the low light of the evening moons as she takes aim. Like weighted darts, Quintessa propels one syringe at the lycan and then the other, attempting to inject him with the sinister liquid contained within; Vampire blood. Having extensively studied the feral lycans of her homeland, Quintessa knows not only how to injure a werewolf but also how to kill them, and while her goal might not be to kill Leoxander she'll use everything in her repertoire to defeat him. The Countess of the Dark Forest means business.
Leoxander made a move the moment she sparked that flame. With trained speed, he had the compound bow in hand, and with knowledge of various, subtle differences in the fletching, found his selection in hand, on string, nocked. He’d spot Quintessa’s form just before that cloud of toxic smoke rose and spread between them, an arrow let loose in the split of a second and splicing through the space between them at a speed invisible to typical optics. Whether it struck her or not would be in question as his view was assaulted by the tears in his eyes, but flesh or ground, it sparked with a burst of light that would silhouette her movement in the foggy space. If only he’d brought those goggles along with him, that day. Fortunately, Dal’ken’s submission to a shared soul allowed the lycanthrope a certain degree of vision in the form of heat and movement, sharp ears hearing those heeled boots in the snow. An arm raised in a matter of instinct and his lady luck’s blessing to catch the first syringe against his armored sleeve, the poisonous dart sticking into the hidden shield against his inked arm. The other found a mark in the front of his shoulder, but unless it was weighed in by her grip, he’d manage to immediately break it off with the needle still in his arm, and the tiniest bit of venomous blood introduced into his system, weakening some of the muscles in his bicep at once. Ambidextrous, it wouldn’t stop a returned assault. The face cover he wore did enough to keep him from inhaling those toxic particles, and relying on those wolf-sharp ears, he took hold of a trio of his own. Three shurikens laced with belladonna. A beautiful lady for a beautiful lady, he threw his arm in Quintessa’s direction, each aimed in a slightly altered direction meant to strike whatever direction she attempted to dodge. The neurotoxins would do their work in return should they even scrape a bit of skin, cause for imbalance and hallucinations to a woman who created some very real nightmares on her own.
Round Two:
Quintessa knows better than to discount Leoxander's abilities by comparing him to one of the ferals from the Dark Forest, but she isn’t fast enough to respond to the arrow that parts the clouds on the way to her. A low growl escapes her throat as the arrowhead sinks deep into her left shoulder, her hand moving up to snap the shaft from the arrow reflexively. It was a flesh wound, but it would slow her spellcasting speed by precocious seconds. With both hands free, Quintessa tosses the shaft aside and makes a gesture as if she is pulling something back, the shadows that were once used as a sort of radar to surmise the werewolf's location coalescing in response to her movements, pouring in and surrounding the changeling like pool of black ichor. Especially with her wound, commanding the Black Tides is time consuming, and the changeling was creating a very convenient opening for her foe to capitalize on. This ruse of carelessness was a trap however, and her body the bait. All three of the projectiles lodge themselves into her unarmored flesh as she allows them to hit and transmit Leoxander’s poison to her bloodstream. Not a moment after Leoxander had let loose his shurikens, the trap activates, swirling darkness surging up like spikes to mimic the hungry maw of the wolf she was combating. Sharp, solid shadow snaps up in an attempt to ensnare the lycan, to tear his legs apart and cripple him to rob him of his superior speed. These artificial fangs were more dangerous than they appeared, Quintessa's necrotic energy laced with a curse like a viper's bite was laced with venom. If Leoxander falls victim to this curse, he'll learn that this enzymetic venom affects general tissues, potentially causing intense pain and necrosis to any bits of flesh that came in contact with the dark fae's unique brand of unhallowed magic. Even if her poisonous snare fails the offensive continues, Quintessa’s delicate hands clapping together as she utters the word “Gwactod.” Responding to her magic, the air in the arena experiences a sudden influx, drawing in all the dissipating smoke from her bombs to create a dome around Leoxander, trying to suffocate him in an incinerating prison as it closes in all around him. There is a moment of hesitation in Quintessa’s movements as the pain emanating from the wounds delivered by the shurikens started causing a familiar dizziness. “Essence of nightshade,” the poisoner whispers, shaking her head to resist the effects. “I should have expected something like this.” Working with poisons provided Quintessa with increased natural resistances against poison, but there was only so much one person could take.
Leoxander already had a hand on the leather bound hilt of a weapon not normally seen in the rogue’s grip. A snick of steel brought the cursed blade into play, a trace of faintly glowing blue runes creating a spell as foreign as the words uttered by the hexblade. The shadowed maw of the necromancer’s beast erupted around him, and although he doubted the sword would do much against the void-shaped magic, he struck it down hard against the ground in an attempt to dissipate shadows with an explosion of his own, one the spellrogue had dubbed ‘Daylight’. Quintessa was not the only one prepared to deal with the means of an opponents’ nature. He felt a slice across the skin of his leg and heard a tear of leather, and stumbled on a step as he managed to put some distance between them, eyes still clouded by the poisonous fog that abruptly surrounded him and left him at a point of fight of fall. Breath literally held, tension creeping through his limbs, particularly in the shoulder where that sliver of silver still pricked, his eyes bled into a shade of gold no one would see. But rather than rip out of his armor and into fur, flickers of red began sparking and dancing in that toxic bubble, growing brighter and attempting to steal some of that unhallowed darkness away in the dominance of… yes, hellfire. An element of chaos that he had never had much control over, and leave it to Winter to bring it out of him. A beast of his own, vaguely representing the beast of his burden, dressed in infernal flame, burst through the dome of her creation to charge her at a speed worthy of fire in wild winds with intention to pounce and pool her in hell’s scorching misery. Which would only be enhanced by the nightshade creeping through her blood in return for the vampiric silver lacing his own, should she struggle with a retreat. The blinding vision could only aid any crazed visions working their way toward Quintessa’s mind, and whether or not it ate up the infected air in it’s path, the brand on Leo’s left, injured arm had burned through the fingerless glove on his palm as he stepped forward with a growl, cursed blade gripped in right as he hunted his challenger at a patient pace. The skin on his leg started to rot and blacken away but he wasn’t showing the pain physically just yet, despite that he was nearly blinded and relying on a wolf’s sixth sense to track her position.
Round Three:
Quintessa‘s vision is starting to get blurry, an effect of the Belladonna extract, so the necromancer knows she has only a little while longer before it renders her unconscious. Luckily for her the tinted goggles she equipped at start of the match protects her from the bright flash of the sunlight spell, but as she refocuses her gaze on her opponent her form visibly deflates when she comes face to face with burning death charging right at her. “Son of a-” Dizziness causes her to stumble backwards as the magical flames startle her, the girl’s cushioned bottom hitting the ground hard as she frantically attempts to get out of the way of this new attack, knowing full well it would finish her if it landed. “Cysgod arbed fi!” The hexblade shouts, summoning mystical darkness to her to help her shadow-step away, her form sinking into the pool of umbra that shields her. As Quintessa narrowly escapes the flames, the trio of smoke bombs reach the end of their lives and the crimson smoke ceases to pour forth from them, but this signals something more devastating than the burning cloud. At the bottom of the iron castings lies a pocket of silver shrapnel and black powder primed to explode when the fire reaches them. One by one they combust, raining down silver confetti and iron bits as Quintessa descends into her shadows to also avoid falling victim to the explosions herself. Once the arena has been shelled, the warlock that provided the fireworks silently raises out of the darkness from behind the lycan, both hands already gripped to her sword as she prepares to free the dangerous blade from its lacquered sheath. In the ancient sylvan elf sword style of Iaijutsu, Quintessa attacks with a combative quick-draw technique, enough force behind the Jubaku no Kijo to slice a lesser man in half at the waist. Leoxander wasn't a lesser man, though, so Quintessa pushes herself and continues her assault, ignoring the ache in her left shoulder. She thrusts quickly, a simple attack meant to keep the werewolf from advancing as she springs backwards and spins her blade in a flourish, bringing the weapon above her head. In the jodan-no-kamae stance, or upper level stance, Quintessa is able to bring the sword down in a powerful swing, even one-handed, committing the last of her strength into this finisher. The Jubaku no Kijo's ghroundium core adds weight to the attack, providing much needed force while the mithril and adamantite alloy blade's sharpness could cut steel plate mail like butter. Together these properties were devastating, forcing Leoxander to think fast if he wanted to end this duel in one piece. As her left arm dangles lifeless at her side, it is clear Quintessa has gone all in on this final gambit.
Leoxander couldn’t predict a shadow doused maneuver, but he did anticipate a dodge of some sort. His pace slightly quickened and brought about a limp as the muscle in his calf literally begins to disintegrate, and for all his attempt to catch her as silver ammo peaks, he would be just lucky enough to catch hold of the cape that fluttered behind her in his grip before she disappeared into the darkness in retreat. Wasn’t there some rule about the weakness of heroes falling to the fashion of cloaks? In all likeliness, it would easily tear from her shoulders or throat, and although it would not prevent the metallic rainfall from piercing his skin in several places, it was drawn over his head in reflex, feeling the bite of that lethal element in his shoulders and back, bleeding into his nervous and circulatory system at a pace that would give him mere moments to contest a loss. Quintessa might easily spring back into action, so near, and Leo anticipated it with a quick turn. Hopefully before she realizes that simultaneous to her stab, the sword in the lycan’s hand has punctured through the cape between them aimed for her stomach at that very same moment, which could result in a blade… for a blade. Harmonious, really, to their type. No more advance necessary should they share similar wounds. He held his ground but would not press forward so long as his weapon dripped with her blood as hers did with his, both of which carried the toxic disbarment of lethal poisons. Either way, the bout was drawn to an end and his blurred vision fixed upon hers, too stubborn to lose his footing. He tossed her punctured commodity back in her direction.
Final Defense:
Quintessa lets the Jubaku no Kijo slip from her fingers as she steps backwards, trying to give herself a little extra space to work with to avoid Leoxander’s final attack through her own cloak, the Raven seal that held it to her shoulders snapping off to allow her to escape. She is weakened, poisoned, and her consciousness is fading, but Quintessa was not ready to lie down and give up. “Rhew-” Comes the spellcaster's voice, her magic aura reacting to the word and causing the temperature around her to suddenly drop to sub-zero numbers. With her right hand clenched tightly in a fist, she raises it up as if she plans on using her forearm to block the oncoming stab, but the swirling mass of snowflakes that conjure behind this motion hint as something more practical than her fleshy arm. Ice manifests to encase her good arm, spreading out like an improvised buckler as the blade’s tip bites into the defensive implement. “Wal iâ!” Quintessa continues to shout, a second and final burst of mana expanding to form a veritable wall of ice to separate the two combatants, potentially swallowing and freezing Leozander’s weapon much like her arm was. Mismatched eyes peering through the translucent ice she keeps her eyes on the werewolf, waiting for her opportunity to either land the final blow against him or flinch as he finally takes her down. After this intense of a fight it could really go either way.
Winner:Leoxander
Auto Hit:
Leoxander might have lost that cursed sword in mysterious ice. He’d have to retrieve it, cursed, or not. Already empty handed with a cloak thrown between them, the lycanthrope approached and picked the pierced cape up from the snow. “Soon as we’re healed, we start.” He said quietly, directly to the woman who had suffered their second match as greatly as he’d suffered her display - and learned from it. So this was the final strike, but it just wasn’t necessary for the pirate and rarely had been against someone who was not necessarily his enemy. He draped the wartorn garment over her shoulder like a queen of her own rite. “Well fought.” Leo’s words were pain stricken for the silver coursing through his body. “But don’t you ever try to kill me again, Tess.” He added for her ears alone before he retrieved his - not his - another’s cursed blade from ice or ground. “Let’s go.” A couple of words added as he intended to walk out of the arena with his shrike, but there was a moment he turned his head to look directly toward Shishi in the stands, and gave him a click of tongue and a finger pistol for kicks. Wolf comin' for you, Demon.