Duel:Lirithen v Tiphareth (DD)
Duel Info
- Judges: Aristion (mid), Vexar, Fadje
- Stakes: Death Duel
- Rd/time: 3rds / 10 min
- Date: 8/3/11
- Location: Kelay Way
- Decision: Tiphareth, unanimous
Venue
Kelay Way
Tiphareth vs Lirithen DD
Tiphareth paces out into the street, a crowd seems to have gathered to watch the two face off; it was no surprise... this war had stirred quite the uproar. Narrowed eyes are focused toward Lirithen, burning with hatred toward his natural foe as he takes a battle stance. The Drow had already gotten a glimpse at the elf's skills a few days previous, but this time there would be no running... this time the ranger would die. Taking a firm battle stance, the Drow voices a single callous taunt toward the elf, "Prepare yourself for the afterlife." A strange sight proceeds immediately as the Drow begins sprinting toward the elf while voicing a soft chant in his native tongue, it was bizarre indeed as the Eldermage was rather slow and known to be rather weak as a melee fighter. The energy grew within him as he chanted, filling his form with enormous arcane force channeled adeptly by the venerable Drow. Attempting to meet the enemies movements the Eldermage continues his progression until mere moments from contact with the elven foe, then suddenly, without notice the Magus appears to be swallowed up by the earth, sinking into a column of soil which had presented itself within his path and closes behind him just as quickly. What remains in his former place is the immediate release of his gathered force, exploding outward with an astounding blast, shockwaves radiating outward to shake the very foundations of the buildings surrounding this battle weary venue. With any luck the blast would tear his opponent limb from limb and leave nothing but a bloodied mass of flesh behind.
Lirithen wastes no time in taunt or retort, the gleaming silver moonblade having already left its ornate sheath and brandished in preparation for an exhausting battle. Tiphareth's form does not need to do much in match of the ranger's movements, for Lirolae responds to the oncoming Drow form in kind, rushing head on to meet the Eldermage, a defiant yell stemming from lips pulled tightly back. It is a scream mimicked by the sentient sword, Ilithuel's glow heightening as the sword's crystalline handle grows warm beneath Lirithen's touch. Terrible magic is suspected right from the moment that Drowic tongue sprouts arcane gibberish, and thus had Ilithuel drawn from her own capability to repel the occult, emerging as a glowing sphere that originates from the blade's base, traveling up the length of the silver blade to peak near its point, just as the tree-born swordsman brings the sword forward in a mighty swing. Tiphareth's spell comes to fruition, his dark form disappearing before the blade can tear flesh from bone, though the Drow's attempted assault is not quite as intended. The glowing sphere suddenly bursts as the moonblade discerns the release of magic energy, blinding Lirithen momentarily and forcing stumbling retreat. The arcane-repelling sphere has the effect of reversing what Tiphareth intended; instead of sending a terrible blast outward from the earth, the earth itself ruptures as the force of the spell instead travels down, blowing a crater into the ground which Lirithen dives to avoid, but hopefully the submerged Eldermage shall be unable to escape from.
Tiphareth notes the small orb building at the sword's tip, feeling it's mass of power as his approach finalizes, though the uncanny release of the blades power in opposition to his own surprises the Eldermage. Surely he had underestimated the power of the Moon Blade's magic. Just as the Drow begins sinking into the hole, it appears as though his blast was met in kind and redirected toward his coarse. The venerable mage fell deeply into the vast column, utilizing his natural levitative ability to feather his fall , though rapidly he comes to understand the unfortunate nature of his magic's affect. A blast forces it's way down toward him, surging rapidly as debris and dust fill his eyes. Palms are faced upward as he fires a rapid torrent of flame into it's path, the passage luckily sealed as the earth was melted to a semicoagulant state. Falling the remainder of the holes depth rather unceremoniously, the drow's anger bubbles within him. A chant begins forming, arcane verses spilling forth rapidly as he moves with as much fluid movement as is possible within the cramped tunnel, though he was obviously used to casting in such confined quarters. The earth beneath the venue begins churning about, breaking into craggy rocks as a mass of corrosive gas spills forth from the earth. Thick choking clouds cause the entire venue to become a veritable sea of caustic death as the billowing vapor seeks to overtake the accursed elven enemy.
Lirithen emerges from the evasive roll enacted as his diving form hit the floor bearing scratches and dirt on his face, and dashes forward to retrieve the dropped moonblade from where it had slipped from his hand. Bending to take hold of the sword the ranger is made aware of the earth beginning to shift beneath his feet, and deftly hops to avoid getting caught in a fissure onto one of the larger chunks of rock nearby, managing to retain hold of the powerful sword. The elf's form drops as the thick vapours begin to spill from the cracks in the earth, a hand coming to cup his nose and mouth in suspicious of poison. But as the skin on his hand begins to tingle and sting the true nature of the assault is discovered, and Lirithen wastes not a moment more. His form darts lithely to the next rocky platform large enough to stand upon, and the next, weaving a zig-zag pattern from rock to rock as he moves speedily toward where Tiphareth lays buried in the ground. Layers of skin begin to peel from his hands and face, handfuls of silvery hair fluttering to the ground as the scalp starts to disintegrate. Ilithuel is again the instrument of retaliation, though now it is much more direct. As the ranger reaches his intended point the sword is plunged, hilt-deep, into the floor, the blade expelling an unnatural heat to melt the ground into mud where it pierces the floor. This radiation of heat continues as the sword pumps pulse after pulse of its own considerable power into the ground, layers of earth melting into mud so molten as to become watery, wishing to drown the Eldermage in a solution that would sear his flesh into nothingness.
Tiphareth lies waiting within the earthen confines, though his curiosity grows with each passing moment. The Drow was downright giddy with the prospect of witnessing his opponent's flesh fall from bone and he could no longer resist the urge. A short incantation to return him to the surface spills from his snickering lips, though not soon enough it seems as the Moon Blades destructive power once again seeks out the Eldermage with the fiery torment from above. Drips of molten rock fall upon his enchanted skin, thought the stone-skin wards are no match for the extreme temperatures of the magma. Screams of pain interrupt his casting as he attempts to hurry through the previously started spell. Another drop lands, this time searing his shoulder, one luckily lands on the ensorcelled Mind flayer skull about his head, burning it through though leaving the Mage's cranium intact. The finality of his sorcery take affect just in time as a veritable flood of molten lava descends upon his form while he vaporizes from view. Appearing some 10 feet above Lirithen's position, the Eldermage immediately begins levitating upward. He knew the vast range of the wood elves leaps and wished to vacate such distance as quickly as possible. Reaching a height safe enough to finally unleash vocal verbiage, the Drow initiates a series of impressive somatic movements, archaic formulations dance from his fingertips in adept fashion as four large tentacles of mystic force begin growing forth silently from the air at his opponents rear. A solitary shout is issued by the Eldermage sending the tendrils of arcane energy, emerging curiously from the musty night air to snake outward with malice, surging forth toward Lirithen's limbs. Each of the tentacles speed forward with ensorcelled power in attempt to ensnare the elven opponent, before suddenly acting with precognant force to immediately pull outward should they succeed in gripping any two points of the ranger's body. Offering a gruesome attempt to quarter his adversary with a midair display of grizzly destruction.
Lirithen :: Ilithuel wrenches itself out of the ground on sensing the movements of the Eldermage, having Lirithen fall backward onto the cracked and ruined earth as the last of the corrosive vapours vanish. The spell had been interrupted just in time, though the markings left by the incantation are plain for all to see. Large patches of blackened scalp are visible where chunks of hair had burned from the skin, the skin around his eyes seemed less deeply inset and the cheekbones more defined where peeling skin had highlighted the sharper elven features. Burned lips are parted in pant for air, but the battle is far from done. It is the forceful nudgings of the moonblade that drag Lirolae to his feet, and green eyes watering and flecked with red turn to view the elevated Drow male. Then it is again the mental prompt of Ilithuel that wrenches the ranger's attention to what occurs behind him, with the moonblade careening forward in a wide swing to meet the tentacles as they dart for the ranger's limbs. The sword swathes through that which seeks to grapple the wrist of the right, sword-wielding arm, then plunges into the arcane limb that wraps around his right ankle. The remaining arms immediately begin to pull his left limbs, but it is a few well-calculated moments before Ilithuel slices through that which had grip of his left leg. Absent the opposing force that had prevented the arm-pulling tentacle from lifting Lirithen into the air, the elf is suddenly rocketed upward, the sword dragging behind to cut through the last remaining arcane limb and leaving the ranger's form temporarily unbound by the pull of force. Toward the airborne Eldermage, the lithe swordsman careens, Ilithuel utilized in a final assault. The arm that wields the blade whips upward, the silver blade aligned to go between the Drow's legs, and cleave his form in twain 'fore leaving Lirithen to face his long tumble toward the oncoming floor.
Tiphareth snickers in delights as he witnesses the flesh dripping from his vile enemy's bones. The tangled limbs of his arcane summonation, however, leave more to be desired as the ensorcelled blade seems to slice the mystic tendrils with ease, and with a surprising turn actually cast the damned elf upward toward a direct intercept vector with the Eldermage. Little time is given to react as he flourishes long ebon digits to send the Xalious Wood Stave suddenly appearing within his firm grasp. The wooden implement is directed to an intercept path with the oncoming sword. The blade and stave meet with uncanny power, the Moonblade already at what seems to be it's height of power when it contacts the metamagical implement in a blinding flash. The stave absorbs the brunt of the damage, though a shocking revelation is left in it's wake as the Xalious-wood stave as been split in two. Bursting forth from the destruction of the divine implement, a wake of power throws the two combatants with unrelenting force, rocketing them away from the torrential blast.
Autohit kill post
Tiphareth is cast about from the fierce release of mystic energy, slamming into the wall of a nearby building with a sickening thud before tumbling onto the ground. The wizard instinctively flourishes his hand as he oft does to call forth his favored implement to aid him in standing, not even realizing that the object's destruction was the cause of this concussive force. A grimace of both pain and anger was evident on his visage as he used the wall to aid his weary body to an upright stance. Wiping the grit from his eyes, the Eldermage seeks out the foe through the wake of destruction, his crumpled form is noted at the base of the tavern's southern wall, lying unconscious as he'd suffered a similar blow from the arcane blast. Slowly the Drow pulls forth a blood lust dagger from his side, bending down as he slices aggressively at the rangers wrists. A river of previous vitae spurts from the severed arteries as he continues cutting, the magically enhanced blade doing the majority of work while it's fed by the enemies blood. Finally dislodging the left hand, Tiphareth moves to the right, sawing and cutting with all his might until the second appendage is freed from its former home. Tiphareth grins an evil sadistic smile as he plunges the blade once more into his victim near the center of his throat, jerking and pulling downward the wizard revels in splaying the mans chest and abdomen open for all to see. Blood and intestines flow out of the man's abdominal cavity while the Eldermage simply picks up the two hands, motions for his entourage to gather the man's belongings, and limps his way into the tavern for much needed rest.