Duel:Mathollak v Jaxson, Match 11 of the 2023 Titans of Winter Tournament
Duelists: Mathollak vs Jaxson Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit. Stakes: Standard, autohit delivered by winner with allowance for final reply. Judges: Mahri, Callamyre, and Quintessa.
Kelay-Cenril Bridge
Meri :: No expense has been spared for the semi-finals and careful thought has been given to the seating arrangement given the precarious location of this round. To give the duelists plenty of space on the bridge to battle, and to keep the spectators safe, the seating for today has been set up on levitating stages that hover next to the sides of the bridge to try and give prime viewing from a secure distance. Smaller platforms glide smoothly through the air from land to the arranged seating so that spectators can come and leave with relative ease. Concession stands have been set up on the land side if guests wants purchase snacks before finding their seating, but individual merchants also walk the stages to peddle their foods during the fight. Meri arrives at some point, just in time to catch the introductions while she was trying to locate a seat. Today she is without the kid, which could be why she just made it here by a hair. In her scramble to get settled, Meri ends up in a spot somewhere amongst the crowd of spectators.
Valrae || The cold grip of winter had not yet completely loosened its grasp here between Cenril and Kelay. Still, while the wind that buffeted the bridge and howled through the impossibly deep chasm below carried the ice of long dark days, the sun that sank slowly in a clear blue sky promised the warmth of spring. The air was filled with the shouts of many spectators ready for one of the final fights of the season, mingling with the voices of merchants from both Kelay and Cenril as they peddled goods of warm food, cold ale, and cheap trinkets. Valrae sat in the private seating arrangement that had been fashioned on those floating platforms wrapped in a faux fur lined cloak threaded with enchantment. The majority of the soft velvet fabric was as white as freshly fallen snow, white the illusions threaded within made it appear as if she’d wrapped herself in a blizzard as fat flurries of snow seemed to spiral from her shoulders to her hilled, boot clad feet. The wind snapped the unbound waves of spun gold from her face as she stood to address the crowd. “Welcome to the semi-finals of the Titans of Winter!” Her magically enchanted voice calls above the noise. “This evening, we will witness the might of Cenril’s own! Jaxson Ravencroft!” While normally the witch would also announce the name of the next contestant, instead she smiled widely down at the fashioned arena below and awaited her co hosts to finish the formality.
Magikrios was aimlessly wandering around the various merchants while the crowd started to settle in. The Guardian of Sage was also doing his best to smile and wave to the familiar faces native to the Kelay-Sage area. A few elven men were given quick instructions not relating to today's event but with other projects closer to home. As Valrae's voice is heard loud and clear, he quickly takes to his smokey black cloud form and rushes to join the main event. The black smoke cloud does a quick lap above the bridge connecting Kelay and Sage then a quick swirl around the Larketian, Mathollak. Magikrios wastes no time in continuing the introductions, matching Val's volume and enthusiasm, "And opposite Jaxson, Larket's very own Axe of Love, Mathollak!!"
Mathollak :: Much like in his previous duel, strategically scattered cultists whisper into a life a deafening chorus that somehow seems only to emanate from the center of the fighting space. Only this time, the swirling lava-bubble doesn’t get much bigger than the space of a hand and a boot. Perfect! From somewhere else, Mathollak’s hand appears and grips the upper rim of the portal, and then so does his mithril spiked boot. With some effort, he manages to stretch the gash in space open, tearing it at the seams, and step through. Wist an elastic warbling, it slams shut behind him, erupting into a cascade of sparks that plumes upwards as he raises his axe high above his head, and somewhat higher than a massive spike that grows out of his single pauldron. “It’s been so long, my friends! Too long, since the might of her love was demonstrated here!” He’s outfitted similarly to his last outing. The belt of freedom glistening golden around his waist, promising him giant’s strength. Bare thighs, bare torso, radiating heat in the cold. A cloak of humbata fur hanging from the pauldron, its talons raking the surface of the floor. The piecemaker, held in a hand, its cracked stone head promising a similar fate to its victims. The difference is foremost in his chain, this time wrapped around an otherwise bare forearm, a celestial bronze cleaver swaying just below a leather palmed glove. The same hand that was burned in his previous outing, a watchful eye might notice. As the sparks from the portal die down, he produces a pewter goblet. It’s empty, for now. He raises it high and twirls his body, toasting everyone. “To my beloved!” Those with drinks raise theirs, the rest raise anything. Almost all cheer, loudly.
Jaxson Ravencroft walks up to the designated place this battle will unfold and into the eyes of the public for the first time since his duel with the minuscule terror known as Kreekitaka nearly a month ago. The Cenril noble’s frame is covered by a thick (and now slightly tattered) cloak that is lined with fur about the neck and shoulders. Dragging behind him as he takes his position across from Delisha’s champion, the warlock’s blue gaze falls upon his foe for several moments. Looking far more grizzled than before, in contrast to his usual clean-cut self, one could possibly see a difference in the man if they paid enough attention to him. He seems focused, more in control, and ready for what is to come. Slipping off the thick cloak and tossing it side and out of the way, Jax’s new equipment can be seen fully now. A custom-made tunic bearing the Ravencroft crest etched upon the back covers his muscular frame. Upon each hip a weapon, a short sword rests within its scabbard, and a whip fashioned from mysterious leathery materials. While his opponent plays into the crowd, Jaxson nods and offers a silent wave, and he once more returns his focus to the matters at hand and readies himself for the unveiling of today’s unknown environmental challenge.
Meri :: After the both duelists have take their location on what is presumably toward the center of the bridge, their challenge for today is lead out into view. Two men each appear on the bridge, each leading a saddled and semi-translucent ice moose behind them, both of which are saddled. While the men leading these fine ice creatures both have a decent amount of height to them, the beasts that they lead easily tower over them. From tip to tip, the antlers of both of the moose easily reach six feet in width. Unsurprising, these are clearly enchanted creatures. Go big or go home. One man comes to a halt in front of Mathollak and the other comes to stop in front of Jaxon, both beckon each duelists to get right up on their mounts for this battle. Riding a moose into battle upon a bridge might sound like a grand time, perhaps slightly intimidating as there is that risk of the creature stampeding right off the edge. Except, these moose are not exactly the most well-behaved steads in existence. They are both prone to random bouts of bucking, trying to remove their own rider from their back. And if successful? That just makes the grounded duelist a target for both moose and the opposing combatant.
Round One
Mathollak strolls up to his frosty mount, mirroring it’s gaze. “You’re not gonna give me any trouble are ya?” The beast snorts menacingly. “Haha! That’s what I expected. Don’t worry, bub. They won’t tame me, neither.” Then he climbs on top, using much more effort to get astride the big bully than would show with his athleticism. “Let’s just hope you fare better than Horse the Third. Let’s ride, Babe.” The last part wasn’t for the moose, it was for someone else, someone who’s always watching. And moments later, tendrils of red light snake their way through the cold air and into his goblet, which he tips up into his mouth. He barely had time to swallow when the beasts patience wears out completely, and charges into a sprint. He regains his balance atop the elemental moose mid-gallop, and prepares to engage his enemy. Already the effects of his boon seem to be taking effect, as the steam coagulating off his bare chest seems to coagulate into a dull red mist. A smoky aura that chases close behind him and his steed. As he nears, he releases some slack from the chain wrapped around his forearm and begins spinning it over his head like a flail, but one charged for divine purpose. Every revolution dips the blade into his trailing aura and seems to feed it, as dark bloody red protrusions grow toward the latter part of the chain and the blade socketed in the end. Suddenly the moose starts snorting, exhaling icicles. “No, not yet! Not yet!” It doesn’t heed him. It starts raising up its front legs, standing near straight up as Mathollak starts sliding off the back. He seems to tumble clear off the beast as he would be passing Jaxson, and for a moment, the other might see no sign of him. Then he would appear just under his bucking beast’s belly, aiming to sling his chain-blade just ahead of where the warlock sat in his saddle. As the blade nears Jaxson, it brings with it a burst of acrid smoke. To the uninitiated, it would clog the eyes and blind. But that wasn’t the real danger, the real danger was in the blade in the chain. Should they catch the rider, he could be pulled straight from his steed, tangled up, and dragged behind a raging ice elemental and its malicious rider.
Jaxson eyes the men as they lead out the massive creatures which will now serve as mandatory mounts for this fight-turned-joust. A clever twist upon the old contests between knights, the noble’s history buff activates enough to recall lessons taught about the early days of kingdoms holding events for weeks where competitors came to compete upon magnificent horses. Cenril’s own Lore, Arcknight turned God, was one such historical figure, with whom rumor was he had never been unhorsed. Quite the legacy to live up to now, given the Ravencroft heir now serves as one of the faces of Cenril during this tournament. Still, Jax’s gaze quickly shifts back to the Delishian warrior, before daring a quick peek at Valrae as she sits in the stands. It is just a fleeting moment that the pair exchange glances, but all the man needs to channel his focus upon the task at hand. Mounting his designated steed, the warlock is given little time to even properly adjust before the animal starts to become agitated and aggressive with its new rider. The moose is absolutely massive compared to the horses he is used to but given his upbringing riding is almost second nature to him, which will come in handy as within moments Jax’s eyes catch sight of Mathollak erupting into action! The presence of another bull causes his own steed’s body to tense in anticipation of a clash for dominance. It seems not only are Math and Jax fighting, but these two beasts have decided they were going to have at it as well! Quicker off the jump than he is, the Delishian warrior’s strange ritual is noted as it begins, clearly, nothing good for Jax will come of it. But before he can even process the situation, his own mount lets out a bellowing roar and then charges forth with startling power and speed! The two opposing riders seen meet in the middle of the battlefield, with the warlock watching every moment of his foe’s strange antics that lead up to the swirling mass of red-tinted mist, only to have his attention drawn to his foe’s own mount rearing up to buck and attack as only a moose can, its massive girth easily hiding Mathollak’s form from sight and aiding his attempt to attack from below! The twin fold attack is only evaded due to Jaxson’s own mount not stopping its own charge as it barrels it antlers towards the now exposed underbelly of its rival bull with the full force of its charge, the resulting impact causing a collision of quite some magnitude! The result? Jaxson is sent hurling off his own mount, just barely escaping the bladed chain that was intended to grapple him, toppling over the mass of beast and man to fall unceremoniously at the other side in a clump of pain riddle mess, while Math is left with the worst end of it all. Having chosen to go under his beast, the Delishian warrior now faces the threat of being crushed by the combined weight of the two enchanted creatures. Quick to his feet, Jaxson can feel his body was impacted by his own graceless fall, but pushes aside the pain to quickly rush father to the other side of the bridge, creating much needed space as he starts to channel the power bestowed upon him by his patron for his next spell…
Round Two
Mathollak sees the madness of the other moose glowing in its resentful eyes, and makes a quick adjustment before impact: he lets go of his chain, leaving it tethered by nothing. “Damn psycho-moose,” he says as he flattens himself against the side, and braces a hand against his moose’s antler. Then it’s the crash; the sudden stop does nothing for his inertia, and he’s flung from his moose and its saddle, clinging only just to the upward rising spikes of the beasts horn. He spins around and somehow lands right back where he started. The only difference? It isn’t his moose. Even the fore-moose seems confused as it eyes him on the back of another, as if angry that he should reveal himself to be a two-timer so soon. Mathollak can’t take the guilt, and reaches off from his new mount to shove his hand into his old moose’s face, giving his new moose the oomph it needs to completely topple the other one onto its back. His new moose continues running, not at all curious enough to wonder why its new target is its old rider. The beast bucks, and this time Mathollak’s ready for it. He springs off its back, using its rioting to increase his own momentum, sending him high into the air. Suddenly as if he’s caught by his his own dingy red smoke, he seems suspended in it, almost like he’s waiting to see how Jaxson avoids the charging moose. Then he’s blasted down like a missile straight toward Jaxson. In the second it takes to reach Jaxson, Mathollak’s humbata fur cloak seems to have evolved into a strange and gnarly third arm. It stretches out ahead of Mathollak with claws blackened by Delisha’s magic, seemingly designed only to rend flesh.
Jaxson can feel pain shooting through his left shoulder due to the impact of his landing, hinting at a possible dislocation. The limb is almost useless now, leaving the heir of house Ravencroft hard pressed to find the much-needed concentration for his spell. Still the man presses on, experience allowing him to guess correctly that his opponent would not be undone by such an attack. Using the precious few moments he has due to the distance he created previously, Jax’s mind finds itself invaded by the alluring voice of his patron, the primordial of the sea, Queen of the Depths, and constant pain in his ass. She speaks to him softly to where only he can hear, her voice laced with promises of power, hinting at a new spell more than capable of defeating his foes, so long as he promises to always be hers. Those with magical capabilities may even see a shrouded feminine figure wrapping itself about the nobleman, though it could just be a trick of the battlefield. Still, the battle continues and Jax’s eyes snap open wide just as Mathollak rises from the mass of moose mayhem once more the only difference is he now rides atop his former steed, the Delishian opting to leave his own in a defeated slump an choosing to ride upon the clear victor of the exchange. It can never be simple, can it? Still, there seems to be more than man v man and moose v moose, as Delisha’s champion seems to be wrapped in her love, so too does Jaxon seem enveloped in the presence of his patron. These two opposing forces fill the immediate area with a strange mixture of both divine and eldritch power, as both are now being unleashed as the battle continues. Math’s charge is noted, the leap seen, and the immediate threat of a rampaging moose is –very- clear. It is a well layered attack, but one the warlock only smirks at. With Mathollak’s heavenly leap into the sky, Jaxson channels the built up magic he has been focusing to create a dimensional door spell. It rises from the stones of the bridge as the moose nears, and the door swing open wide to allow the barreling monstrosity to pass right inside, but Jaxson isn’t done yet, for with a quick follow up he summons another door right behind Math who is airborne, another door swinging open to release a very confused, still pissed off charging moose right towards the champion of Delisha! This of course only leaves Jax a moment to see the incoming paladin’s decent! Here comes into play the ring in which the man wears upon his right hand’s thumb, panic almost making him misuse the stored spell within as his foe’s attacks fall down upon him! Those dark claws swipe viciously across Jax’s exposed back –just- as the thunderstep spell goes off, causing the warlock’s form to dissipate in a dark storm cloud that leaves behind a deafening blast of thunder in its wake! Reappearing nearly forty yards away now, Jax’s form slumps forward and blood spills out upon the bridge as a pain filled cry of agony escapes him. As he deals with that, He can only hope the falling moose lands upon the damned madman he faces, hoping the thunderous boom and dark storm clouds he left in his wake are more than enough to conceal the fact of what is about to fall on Math in any moment.
Round Three
Mathollak sees the angry bull moose charge into a portal and vanish, only a jiffy before Mathollak plunges toward the ground to puncture his opponent. He’s hardly able to relish his small hint of victory, as the electricity emitted in Jaxson’s escape attempt courses through his body, causing him first to seize up and convulse, and then suddenly expend the energy stored in his muscles as Jaxson poofs away and appears elsewhere. Its only by the luck of his cloak’s divine power that he’s able to be saved from falling off the side of the bridge. As his muscles expand from the shock, he accidentally convulses himself off the side, and clings only by those dark and divine talons. He swings himself back up, only space and one limping moose between himself and Jaxson. Then he hears the other one crash and shatter into a million pieces behind him. He lowers his frame and breaks into a sprint, accompanied by his degenerate aura. His cloak, still a functioning third, boneless arm, holds his axe for him, dragging it behind. The gesture causes a shower of sparks to trail behind him as he slams his hands into the still confused moose dawdling in the middle of the arena. Now the tables have turned, and he’s carrying it. He seems to lose almost no speed as his giant’s strength allows him to force the creature off the ground with little trouble, its feet flailing up in the air like it could run on the sky. Finally he hurls it along the ground, sliding it like a curler. It spins along the ground toward Jaxson with nought but confusion in its eyes, the aggression all dissipated now. Mathollak expects Jaxson to do something to get out of its way of course, and then he’ll be ready with his axe. His cloak would fling it out, with range extended due to its elastic nature, in a wide arc meant to bisect Jaxson. And the sparks its been generating would be revealed to be no ordinary aspect of friction; they would accompany the axe, extending its arc, and attempt to perforate Jaxson like a hundred burning needles.
Jaxson feels the flow of blood down his back, feels the torn flesh that gnarled limb of his foe sliced through, the Ravencroft crest that was expertly sewn upon his tunic now ripped to shreds and stained with his own precious vitae. His left shoulder still sends jolts of agony through him, a clear sign the wound still lingers, and his strength wanes with every passing moment due to such injuries. His breath comes in heavy pulls as the man tries to steady himself for the rest of this battle. He needs to end this and end this fast lest he finds himself passing out from the strain on his body and the blood loss. Just as this thought crosses his mind the voice of his patron returns. She’s back and continues promising a spell that will see him victorious so long as he agrees to do a little favor for her in return. This inner dialogue between warlock and primordial of course goes unnoticed to all present, but Jaxson knows a price must be paid for the powers he wields. And as he can clearly see Mathollak refuses to go down easy, Jax begrudgingly agrees to the terms of the pact. The immediate area starts to fill with a very old sense of power as the warlock is gifted his boon. The energy filling the battlefield is eldritch in nature for those sensitive to such matters, and as knowledge flows into Jax’s mind he cannot help but recoil at such a revelation of the nature of his patron’s domain. Little time is given to fathom what he has just done, as his foe is back on the attack, sending forth the last remaining moose like it’s a child’s plaything across the ground towards him. Once more does experience come into play, the obvious distraction is dealt with by the warlock by a simple spell that creates a sheet of ice upon the bridge that quickly swerves up and right, causing the poor creature’s projection to have it fly off the bridge and fall down into the jagged canyon below. This leaves the true threat of Mathollak’s attack to become Jax’s focus, and it is with a newfound power that he calls forth from the aether the tident gifted to him so long ago. The weapon is brought forth to answer the paladin’s axe wing the collision of the two causing a ‘clang!” of metal and a flash of sparks. The projectiles behind the axe though are another matter, and by a saving grace is that the warlock’s new spell is unleashed upon the world. Just as those sparks turned needles would find their mark, a massive wave of darkness descends upon the battlefield, swallowing the two combatants up within its depth. “What is this?” You wonder? It’s a spell that replicates the domain of the sea primordial. Mathollak and Jaxson have now been plunged into a space that mimics the very realm in which the primordial resides. As dark as the lightless ocean floor, the two warriors will find themselves subject to an environment hostile to most mortal life. Not only is the darkness able to limit sight, but it also feels like they are trapped in the sea itself, the sting of saltwater filling the open wounds of the warlock proves its very much as real as can be. But whats worse? The pair are now at the mercy of the sheer crushing weight of these abyssal depths, as well as a watery environment. For all intents and purposes the two are now at the bottom of the ocean itself! Mortal beings are not meant to dwell within such a place, and as if to cement this fact Mathollak and Jaxson will find themselves assaulted by the lost at sea. Dead sailors, pirates and just poor lost souls who were lost to the waves now rise at the primordials command, digging their bloated and rotten appendages up at the Delishian warrior in an attempt to further drag him down with them into the utter void that is the cursed realm. Jaxson? He is given a reprieve as the chosen of the primordial. But he is left to watch as Mathollak is left at the mercy of the depths itself, with countless dead rising to assault the paladin of love with the intent of adding to their number…
Final Defense
Mathollak can’t believe the callousness in which one of nature’s (?) majestic beasts-turned-weapons is tossed off the side of a bridge to its doom. But even more unbelievable is the place that he now finds himself. Trapped in an abyssal trench of ocean-water, the crushing depths of a million tons of water and darkness his only friends. But even that isn’t true, as Davy Jones' locker opens up and the profane dead spill out of it. He fights them off valiantly at first, but soon he’s weighed down by them and they drag him deeper. The bubbles escaping his mouth dwindle down, smaller, fewer, as he disappears further into the nothingness. But the light of his flesh doesn’t, and it even seems to glow, as the Dark Mother simply wouldn’t let her beloved die, not to this abomination. Its his own blessed cleaver that provides the lifeline, as it seems to be caught up in the spell with him. It sinks, divinely, toward him and he’s able to clutch it. It sings through the water in his hands, cutting not just through the clawing hands of the ghostly dead, but through the spell itself, it seems. Each slice through the darkness creates a new gash through which air and light is let in, and water let out. He’s able to take a breath, and his fight continues, miraculously. Through one of these lacerations in the primordial’s realm, he can see his own, and he tears a deep cut straight below him. He’s flushed through, appearing again on the bridge among the crowd, soaking wet, choking up sea water and shaking off dismembered limbs.
Winner: Mathollak
Auto Hit:
Mathollak rises to his feet and grips his cleaver with both hands. No all THREE hands, even the makeshift cloak infused by Delisha’s divinity reaches over, funneling her power into the blade. The bronze color is quickly overtaken by dripping red darkness, and the blade is crusted over by a blackened chitin, shimmering red. He plunges it deep into the black abyss floating above his head, and channels Her power into the terrible place. Before long, the sea water is replaced by tar, and the whole thing collapses. The thick sludge crashes into the bridge and splashes over the sides, falling almost infinitely until finally there’s only a thin layer left. Jaxson is in the middle of it all, completely dazed by the ordeal. To make his point, Mathollak swings the chain and crashes the corrupted blade down by the side of Jaxson’s head. He doesn’t need to do anything else.
Jaxson is left in a swirling mass of blackness, helpless as his foe escapes the primordial's domain to be left with not only the fac he was thwarted but also his patron's wrath. She's pissed he's failed again, and was about to exact her own pound of flesh from her chosen when the warped reality about his is once more changed by outside power. Sea water becomes a think sludge, and Jax is left in a heap of absolute mess. His wounds taken their toll, his energy spent, he is helpless as Math's blow comes in and strikes him across the head. The impact is perhaps greater than intended, leaving the helpless man struck terribly by the blow, a gaping wound having split down to almost exposing a bit of skull right above the left temple. The sickening attack leaves the Ravencroft heir a helpless slump of blood, tar and pain, as he is knocked out by the force of the Delishian warriors final blow, the threat of his wounds still being open and the newer headwound raises alarm throughout the crowd. Mathollak's victory is cemented in Jaxson's ruin.
Mathollak sees the frightening wound opened up on Jaxson’s head and flinches. “Oh that…was an accident.” He looks down at his blade, thinking he’s getting a very satisfied vibe from it, before the crust cracks and falls away into nothingness. “We may need some help. A little HELP please?” He can’t help, his magic isn’t good at that type of thing. “This was an accident,” he says to the doctors that find their way onto the bridge, getting sticky tar all over their boots and pants. Miraculously, he stays clean. “Babe, you didn’t have to do him like that.” But Mathollak doesn’t understand the animosity between Gods and Primordials, nor the relationship they have with their chosen. But he surely would find out.
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