Duel:Mathollak v Lita, Match 9 of the 2022 Vailkrin Tournament
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit. Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner Judges: Quintessa, Kanna, Kasyr
Dark Arena
The arena is filled with various corpses, both dead and undead alike. Several zombies seem to be carrying the corpses out of the arena, returning them to the masters they served. Many bodies here look disfigured and ill, clearly abominations constructed by necromancers to serve in the gladiator-like battles held here in the arena. Several of the other bodies though are completely normal, those of which were likely living participants that did not succeed in winning their matches. A battle must have recently gone on here, as the crowds of people step out of the entrance of the area. To the south is the way out, while to the north is a path leading to the back of the arena, and the castle beyond that.
Pre-duel Banter and Introduction
Quintessa sits in the commentary box, wearing an elegant black dress and silver tiara, a red crescent moon shaped gemstone serving as the focal point of the jewelry. Over her left eye she wears a black eyepatch, leaving only her lone blue eye to stare down at the crowd. Once Quintessa is satisfied with the amount of people seated in the stands, she rises to begin the ceremony, a hand activating her podium. “Welcome back ladies, gentlemen, and all those that lie betwixt. We return to Vailkrin for something quite unique, yes indeed. Something spectacular folks. Today marks the first match of the Vailkrin Blood Bowl semi-finals and we expect this fight to be one for the ages. Kanna, would you like to introduce our two contenders?”
Meri is here. Sorta. In a distracted, mobile, still unpacking sort of way. She hangs out near Val for the duration of this fite.
Kanna rises from the commentary box, wearing a wine red gown with soft green accents to represent the favored colors of the two contestants today. Brushing a lock of silver curls behind her ear, Kanna leans into the amplifying runes. "In this corner, he's the lover of your mother, Delisha's Dandy, possible two-time tournament conqueror, and a man any girl would be lucky to take on a Chartsendian vacation, give it up for Marvelous Mathollak!"
Mathollak doesn’t appear to be anywhere in this arena, which isn’t completely unusual for him before the beginning of his own duel. Though it is getting close to the mark… Even his ever-growing assortment of burgundy hood wearing fans seems to be unusually quiet. Nervous, even. Then there’s a loud roar from somewhere beyond the stadium’s limits. They know right away what’s happening. And anyone from his last duel might recognize the baleful roar that heralds the arrival of the axe of love. It’s Sugar Mama! Her silhouette slides past the move as she glides through the air, circling the bloody bleachers like a hungry shark. Each pass brings her nearer like she was being drawn into a whirlpool, until Mathollak is visible, dangling from one of her claws by a long chain. His hair is billowing gracefully behind him as he raises a pewter goblet to the crowds. “People of Vailkrin! Travelers! Delisha loves you, always remember that!” He downs the mysterious green liquid and slips his boot out of the loop formed at the bottom of the chain. Sugar Mama lets go, and he plummets probably forty feet down onto a pile of bones, crushing them. He dusts off his skin-tight white shirt colored with blood-red swans, and coils the chain diagonally across his body, then slides the piecemaker out of its loop on his back. His cleaver, crafted from celestial bronze, hangs from his golden championship belt, the one that enhances his already inhuman strength.
Kanna fans herself at the over-the-top entrance. "That boy should have been a bard." She murmurs out of earshot. Leaning in again, Kanna calls out, "And in this corner, you saw the prowess of a bona fide vampire in her face off against Mahri, you saw conquer the dragonblood maze like ogre conquering lands, show your tattoos in support for the Lovely Lita!"
Lita 's entrance in the arena is not ornately heralded or accompanied by fanfare, which is fine with her. She's dressed simply, in the usual affair of a little black sundress, the bone charm anklet Leo had salvaged after her last duel having been repaired and returned to adorn her ankle above bare feet. She wriggles her toes against the dirt, stretching her legs as she stands on her toes a moment, reaching her arms over head as she yawns a bit. It's a sleepy Saturday and truth be told, she'd rather be in a hammock on a beach. But here they were again. Looking out over the glorious ruin of strewn decay that is Vailkrin's arena, a soft smile on their faces... or was that just her? Raven curls have been pulled back into a loose braid, tied with a dark blue ribbon. Something about the possibility of getting hair stuck in caramel sauce suddenly a thing she might have to worry about. Though a reappearance of that candy-themed dragon is a pinch more appealing than the mirrors she and Mahri had faced in the arena. She links her fingers to crack her knuckles and shifts her weight from one foot to the other impatiently. The loud roar from overhead draws her attention and she looks up to see the familiar dragon and sighs. Still better than the mirrors, if only slightly. She rolls her eyes at the display though, lifting a hand to her hip as she eyes her opponent for the day. Awfully pretty, but that never did impress her much.
Quintessa || Saorsa joins them to serve as referee from her own, protected booth in the stands, her hand placed upon her podium. “Before we begin, have you both discussed any wagers, stakes, or special rules for this bout? If not we will default to standard rules (20 min post limit, autohit awarded to winner). Have the duelists agreed on who will be attacking first? If not, the hosts may decide for you. Judges please keep in contact with us during this match, if three judges have not been selected yet I will appoint people to fill the remaining slots.”
Meri cheers for Lita. She is not sorry, Math.
Kanna looks at Lita with them big ol' eyes. "She makes braids look as elegant as a dragon-scale crown." She swoons quietly. "It's no fair, I just look like a Larketian farmer when I wear them!"
Lita said, "Age before beauty," Lita smirks. "which I think means Math should go first."
Valrae arrives relatively on time and is trailed by her company of Cenril guardsmen, an annoyance she’d slowly become accustomed to. She’s in a foul mood, one that is only furthered by the creeping headache that accompanies the general exhaustion that is typical of a wine hangover. She’d bothered to slip on the golden crescent moon that carried her glamor, it hid the worst of the swollenness beneath her eyes and compensated for the unusual lack of dark kohled lashes. Her hair was a mess of golden waves, free of the more typical pins and care she usually took before going into public. She’d worn a simple black tunic several sizes too large, her soft cotton pants tucked into comfortable and short boots. She wedges herself in a seat next to Meri with a vague grunt before pulling her cigarette case and a silver flask from her oversized purse.
Quintessa || Saorsa hesitates slightly at Lita’s words. “O…kay… Well, If both duelists agree to and understand the rules, say ‘Ready,’ and the environmental hazard shall be introduced.”
Loravelle has the biggest poster shaped like one of Lita's pony stickers that she could possibly create rolled up under one arm as she follows Leo to find a place to sit. Once she unfurls it (it curls a little on the legs but she's trying her best here), the pony is revealed to be painted green with a magnificent black mane and tail, and 'L I T A !!!' with a huge heart is painted along the pony's side. They made it in time for Lita's name to be announced, and apparently Lora is still riding some high from successfully smashing a pinata the night before, so she's screaming and cheering with the others for the vampiress. “GO LITA!!”
Lita said, "Ready."
Mathollak would love to go first.
Meri steals one of Val's cigarettes the first chance she gets.
Mathollak wedges his axe into the ground as he ties his hair into a tight bun, only a few strands dangle in front of him. "Ready."
Kanna said, "Say the line, Bart!"
Environmental Challenge
Quintessa signals to the undead arena staff positioned around the stadium, giving the foreboding order to “Raise the Shadow Obelisks.” The workers immediately get to it, grabbing cranks and turning the handles until four, large, polished stone towers rise from portholes in the ground, each positioned equal distances apart in a circle around the edge of the arena. Two of them have red runes carved into them, the other two blue. The ground cracks and splits apart beneath Mathollak and Lita's feet, forcing them to pick a side as a small canyon spanning the length of the battlefield is created, leaving a ten foot gap to jump across if one can make it that far. The obelisks snap to life, activating in a burst of necromantic energy, manipulating the Black Tides to create two distinct areas. The western half flash-freezes in the blink of an eye, and black-violet ice creeps along the ground and falls from a blizzard that the two blue obelisks conjure. Within seconds, a slippery traverse littered with imposing stalagmite-like icicles form, their needle-sharp edges ready to impale, and the landscape's shadow ice threatens to inflict frostbite on those who touch it with exposed flesh. On the eastern half, deep black magma seeps through the cracks, shadow fire shooting up like geysers at unpredictable intervals. The stone floor glows orange with heat as intense heat emanates from the twin fire-towers, with black flames forming in a semicircle around the arena’s edge. The ground underneath threatens to burn the feet of even the most temperate red dragons if standing in one place for too long. These forms of shadow elements cannot be quelled with elements from the material plane. “A dark song of ice and fire. I hope you two enjoy it.”
Valrae grins at Meri as she plucks a cigarette from her case. Casual Meri time was a nice hangover and bad mood cure.
Leoxander is there. Of all the days to actually sleep in the pirate could have used that one. But with his future wife screaming for Lita just over his shoulder, there wasn’t much option of a nap during that duel. Having brought along a thermos of whiskey spiked coffee, he pours himself a cupful into the lid and slouches forward to brace his weight on his arms, across the tops of his legs, squinted eyes fixed down toward the Arena.
Mesdoram shouted, "LET'S GO MATHOLLAK!! AXE YOUR OPPONENT TO DEATH! AXE HER A QUESTION!!! YOU ARE THE ANSWER!"
Loravelle half lowers that pony poster at the sight of the arena changing and looks, predictably, frightened by what she sees. Thank goodness the poster is big enough for her to shield her eyes if it gets too scary. Her entire frame can be hidden, really, which might be good for Leo too if he's hidden from view by it. Thick-ish paper can act as a sound barrier, right?
Kasyr is here, surprisingly enough, though he's less inclined to take a spot amongst the bleachers this time around. It's a toss up whether it's due to the potential anxiety his presence might elicit after his last display, or the disquieting pang which needles at the back of his head and core of his gut when he draws near. In any case, he's taken up a discreet position, the flats of his myriad floating swords serving as an impromptu platform. A shambled nest so he can better observe those at hand, those his purview may be a bit narrower than most.
Leoxander drew Loravelle’s poster out of his line of sight when she accidentally lowered it in range to block his view, watching the elemental changes break out across either half of the arena floor. Whatever noise she made was nothing compared to the drow in the stands, and he afford Mesdoram a sidelong glance before his attention returned to focus on Lita.
Quintessa stands in the commentary box with her hands folded behind her back. There is a distinct air of confidence that rolls off of her that was not present the last time she hosted a duel. When she spots first Valrae and then Kasyr, she cannot help but betray this arrogance with a smirk before returning her attention to the fight below.
Meri stares at Quintessa for a long moment before finally waving at her with the hand that is holding that cig.
Kanna furrows her brows at Valrae's simple choice of dress for today and how she couldn't seem to wait to sit down before taking out a cigarette. Turning her head to Quintessa, she catches the changeling's smile. 'Oh good, they're still friends! I knew Quintessa wouldn't be truly working against us!' The malice behind the warlock's expression is lost on the bard, who excuses herself to go to Meri and Valrae's side. "Do you like the obelisks? I got to etch in the shadow ice runes myself!" She greets them with a smile to mask the concern.
The Duel
Mathollak can only watch in wonder as the obelisks burst out of the ground. What is about to happen? Half glow red, half glow blue, and then the arena splits in half. Were they going to play tennis? If so he knew what team he would pick. Red, every time. He scurries toward the red obelisks as the fissure opens between them. It turns out to be the right choice, lava was much cooler than ice, ironically. He starts to smoke and even get giddy, but maybe excitement wasn’t the only reason for those dance moves? Probably it was the heat of the floor too. Suddenly he grabs the shaft of his axe and starts dragging it as he starts to sprint toward the ravine. He’s mindful of his boot placements, he doesn’t want to step on one of the cracks oozing lava. But his axe? It carves a jagged, wet line behind him, and by the time he’s reached the edge, it has collected ladelfulls on its crest and hammer. With a ballerina leap (enhanced by the strength of his belt) he leaps easily and gracefully across the gap, chopping the air in front of him with his axe, toward Lita. The shadowy globs of magma splay out in an arc of hailing superheated liquid stone, And he’s not far behind. Once he lands, he lowers himself into a warrior’s baseball slide, and crosses a fair bit of distance, the end of it stopped by a direct downward chop, designed to not only stop her from breathing, but to stop him from sliding into an icicle behind her.
Quintessa waves back at Meri, giving her a little wiggle of her fingers. The smile that she receives is a bit more genuine than the one she offered to Kas and Val.
Valrae typically does her best impression of blindness for Quintessa at these events. She isn’t sure what makes her look up in time to see the smirk that crosses the other woman’s lips. Her first instinct is to smile back, the last time they’d seen each other had been friendly enough, and so she does. It was a little hopeful, but the smile drops from her lips as she cranes around in her seat to pass Kasyr a look. She hadn’t needed to have seen him before to know where he’d seated himself and found him easily. She isn’t sure exactly what the answer she wanted from the revenant was, but the look she gives him is one of clear question. Regardless, she turns herself back around to watch the duel. The witch even manages to muster a small cheer for Math, even though it causes the pain in her temples to throb. Her smile is replaced as Kanna nears, and Valrae is trying to fan the smoke away from the bard. “Hey!” She says, though it lacks the usual chirping excitement. “You did amazing, as always.” She answers honestly.
Meri said to Kanna, "I love them. I am excited to see how the fighters hold up against them."
Mesdoram glances up at the press box where Quintessa and Kanna are - the two lovely ladies of the tournament. The drow takes another swig or 5, and shouts. "WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?!" He has been drunk since last month. After awaiting the appropriate amount of silence to settle, he interupts the first lady to start to answer. "... OR SHOULD I JUST CALL YOU MINE?!" It would appear that Mesdoram high fives himself.. that devilish and charm drow...
Meri said to Mesdoram, "I will kill you where you stand."
Leoxander might have been the reason a stone was pelted in Medoram’s direction, but he seemed focused on the fight should anyone look his way.
Kanna leans in to get a good look at Valrae, giving an inquisitive hum while she does so. Without regard for her personal space, Kanna lifts a hand to Val's forehead as if to check for a temperature. "Ah, I knew it. I'm diagnosing you with a case of exhaustion. Prognosis, retail therapy." Was... was this her way of asking Val on a date? Glancing over at Mesdoram, Kanna dials up the bardic acting to eleven. "Kanna. No last name unless you'd like to give me yours." She says with a smile and a wink.
Kasyr s' answer comes in the stone-like posture he retains- and the pointed manner in which he avoids returning even Valrae's querying glance. Today, he's on the clock- and time is running out.
Quintessa shouts down at Mesdoram. "Why don't you come up here and find out my name yourself."
Lita watches with interest as the obelisks are raised on command. No telling what this could lead to and there's been no lack of imagination with these surprised elements in this tournament. On impulse as the ground cracks apart beneath them, Lita chooses the side with the blue-runed obelisks. And it doesn't seem like such a bad option at first. She's used to walking through Frostmaw barefoot. The small amount of magic in that anklet keeping her bare feet safe from a variety of terrain (a necessity when you abhore shoes). But the necromantic energy in the black-violet expanse of ice is far stronger than the magic that jewelry carried and it doesn't take long to realize the smart move is just to keep moving. Why did all of these things involve so much running!? She should get Orange to teach her how to make giant bone mounts! Probably not best to be letting her thoughts wander as she almost misses Pretty Boy's flying leap over that ravine and the hurling spits of magma that accompany him. She scurries to a clumsy stop with her shoulder against one of those icicles, turning barely in time to put it between them, the magma sizzling it against them, water dripping into a puddle before trying to refreeze on the ground around the formation. She keeps moving, or tries to, and her foot slips in some of the water, sending herself to her right knee as she catches herself with her palms. She winces at the sudden tingling in her hands, gritting her teeth against the pain, but it turns out to be a blessing as the man's axe sends the icicle behind her to pieces. It's almost pretty as it shatters. And she reaches for the sharpened tip of it, which has landed within arms' reach, snatching it from the ground as she pulls herself back to her feet and turns to face him. She hurls the impromptu weapon at him and rushes towards him, hoping that icicle might distract him as she draws her dagger from its sheath at her thigh and she can close enough despite that axe to slice the blade into the meat of his forearm. Dipped in a poisoned numbing agent, it might at least separate him from that weapon to give her a bit more of a chance here.
Loravelle uses that poster for Lita to conceal her laugh at the nonsense Mesdoram is shouting about. She looks at Leo. "If you ever said something like that to me..."
Valrae feels a twinge of pity for the obviously inebriated drow, and for the two he’d been catcalling. It takes her only a moment of internal moral agonizing before deciding she would just nod with Meri. “She’ll do it.” She agrees, before Kanna is pressing a hand to her forehead. She blinks, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Kanna-” But then she offers to take her shopping. The witch lights up, a happy gleam in her dark eyes. “You’re absolutely correct,” She agreed quickly. Before she could harass the bard with diving into details for the when or where, Kanna is flirting with Mesdoram and Valrae is blushing.
Mesdoram feels love at first sight with both Kanna and Quintessa and feels love's arrow strike his head... or maybe that was Leo's rock. Either way, he will have to calculate his next move carefully to avoided getting love sick... or further concussed.
Leoxander gave Lora a flat look. He would never be that drunk.
Xiembantointh had gotten here earlier, but isn’t with the rowdy crowd he usually brings with him. He’s been watching the match with intense focus on Lita as these environmental hazards continue to set him on edge. With a drink in hand, he leans over the railing separating the spectators from the match and his jaw tenses under the cover of his short silvery beard. The dragon in man form has made many easy friends and some people do approach the guy to say hi! He is his usual warm and welcoming self, but he doesn’t stand about to talk their ear off like he would any other day. His vampire is putting her life on the line again and he needs to know she will make it through this okay. If she wins he will be ecstatic and proud of her, but if she loses - he doesn’t have to worry so much anymore and he won’t be any less proud of her. Azure eyes barrow on Lita and he does periodically let out a shout of encouragement, but he’s not all painted up like last time with a band of rowdy spectators surrounding the infectiously joyous Xiem.
Loravelle sticks her tongue out at Leo, then sits down beside him. She can hold that poster up some more later but she'd like to actually see what's happening instead of missing most of it. She rolls up her paper pony and wedges it between herself and whoever is sitting on the side opposite of her where Leo isn't sitting, so she doesn't crowd him. "Nap after this?"
Kanna giggles, pointing at Quintessa. "Why don't you go get her name, little turtleduck?" Knowing Quintessa, they absolutely have something planned. Turning back to Valrae, she's glad to see her immediately light up at the prospect of shopping.
Leoxander noticed the dragon and the concern and attention afforded to the duel that recaptured his own focus amidst a drink from that makeshift cup. At some point he would offer a raised hand or upward tilt of jaw toward Meri and Valrae, but only if he caught a look in return.
Valrae lifts her own flask and gives both Leo and Lora a small smile.
Leoxander nodded vaguely to Loravelle. It was rare for the rogue to reveal that behavior to suggest he wasn’t on his guard and ready for whatever, but one look at him and some might know he wasn’t feeling in top condition. Maybe too much birthday cake.
Xiembantointh feels eyes on him and looks over his shoulder towards Leo and Lora, giving them a warm grin with the raise of his pint before returning his gaze to the match.
Mesdoram weighs his options, but looked up too quickly when judging the distance between him and the climb up to Quintessa. He looked up so quickly, that his vision becomes all Dolly Zoom and forces his perspective off kilter. Not wanting to climb a mountain just yet, Mes shakes his head at Kanna's proposal. "Ah, you won't get rid of me that easily, Cannon. What a lovely name... were you named after a weapon of war used mainly in naval battles?" Drunken Mesdoram remembers his naval equipment, but not the flirty woman's name... battle ship about to be sunk.
Valrae , turning back to Kanna, asks her to wait just a moment before she fishes some loose paper out of her purse. It was a longer struggle to find her writing quill, but eventually she found that as well. She writes down a loose note about her schedule, and the address to the Mayor’s home even though she was sure enough she’d be able to find it, before passing it to the bard. “I can’t wait. As soon as we’re both free? I would love to spend more time with you.”
Mathollak crashes his axe through the icicle and into the ground, wedging it deep. Finally, he feels his devilish brew take hold of him, and a crisp and clean white aura of steam seems to form around him. It quickly darkens. Now a savory smelling cloud of billowy smoke radiates out a few feet away from him, hovering just under his upper body it seems, allowing him to see clearly. You can almost hear his physiology warping beneath the smoke, as his fingernails become talons and his skin becomes a leathery, barbed hide, up to his sleeves at least. The soft green glow that sometimes pierces the smoky veil hints at their power and source. But he barely has time to enjoy the come up as he misses Lita with his attacks, and she counter attacks quickly. He can hardly maneuver on this icy ground, except by pulling himself away using his ground-stuck axe as leverage. Not ideal. He catches the icicle in the shoulder as he attempts to pull himself away, and then the knife into his forearm. He leaves his axe standing for now. But can she stop her forward momentum on this ice? He hopes not, and he lowers his gravity as she stabs him and tries to plunge his free, unstabbed arm into her abdomen to lift her up like one would a figure skater, one handed. From there, he would let gravity do most of the work for him; he intends to lob her over into a jagged, treacherous bloom of needle like icicles. And then his axe follow in a blurring rotation behind her.
Kanna nods, her eyes lighting up. "It's been forever since I got something new that wasn't just illusioned onto my actual clothes." Kanna drags a line with her finger over the red gown, revealing a shimmering distortion that shows the plain green skirt beneath. "I can't wait!"
Valrae grins at Kanna, though it faulters a bit as she mentions she hadn’t bought anything in quite some time. “Well, we will fix that soon enough!” Pleased, Valrae sits back in her seat to enjoy the match and her drink. She ignores whatever sense of resolve she can feel coming from behind her, unwilling to pick it apart after having been so recently critiqued for being naive and soft. “Woo!” She cheers instead, pretending to enjoy the violent show.
Lita has little to no traction on the ice as she slides into him. Her dagger had hit its mark, it would seem, but she hadn't really thought about what would come after. There's not even time to make sense of whatever smoke-and-mirror magic she's just thrown herself into the midst of before he's reaching for her and yanking her into the air like a rag doll. She flails a bit, because that seems like an appropriate reaction, glancing backwards over her shoulder to see the patch of sharpened icicles waiting beneath her trajectory like the jaws of some great beast waiting for its meal. Probably not good. Until she notices his axe sailing after her, which is far heavier than she is. Which might have been a bad thing if she were human and didn't have quick reflexes and a bad streak of impulsive recklessness. Instead, she reaches for the handle of his axe mid-air and curls her body into a ball until the axe is beneath her feet and she pushes down with as much force as she can muster, sending the axe crashing into the icicles and clearing a haphazard path for her to follow. It isn't exactly a graceful landing, or any sort of pleasant. She rolls a few times before stopping with a brunt thud against the base of one of the icicles against her left ribs, groaning as she draws herself to her feet again. The axe is a few feet away and she stomps over to it, grumbling under her breath. "You son of a --" The last bit of that complaint might have been masked by the effort of shoving her foot against the heavy weapon to send it sliding across the ice towards the stretch of chasm in the middle of the arena. And hopefully lost for now. "Throwing people is rude!" She calls out as she turns back towards the icicle she'd hit. She crouches to smash her elbow near the base of it, breaking it in one larger chunk. Hefting it up over her right shoulder, she hurls it towards him like a spear as she heads back towards him. And she'll do the same with a few more icicles she passes as she attempts to close that distance again.
Kanna inches herself and Valrae away from Magik, Meri, and Mesdoram. She really doesn't need to get blood on her right now.
Meri blinks when Mes tells Magik to back off. "He will kill you were you stand."
Mesdoram is not afraid of the wife of Meri.
Valrae is happy to move over just a touch with Kanna. She was wearing black but that didn’t mean she wanted to have to clean blood off of herself. "You should consider sobriety." She tells Mesdoram gently.
Meri said to Valrae, "Him? Sober? I. What?"
Valrae nods seriously to Meri, her face full of concern. “He might need an intervention.”
Mesdoram softly sighs at the thought of an intervention... "This is an intervention... the voices will become louder if I'm sober..." A sign of vulnerability? Only for a brief second before hitting on some random elven spectators. "Hey ladies..."
Kanna has had enough. "Alright, little turtleduck, come here." Kanna rises, batting her eyelashes at him as she takes out a lipstick. With the angle, Valrae, Meri, and Magik can see that the container reads, "Sleeping Beauty" and a skull and crossbones before Kanna applies it over her own lipstick. Kanna taps Mesdoram on the shoulder.
Mathollak smacks the old icicle out of his shoulder, the same one with his poisoned wound. Though already, his bolstered blood is working to pump the numbing agent out of his system. It bubbles up on the surface of his forearm in a milky white pus as his weak fingers twitch, regaining some of their movements. And he can hardly understand what he’s seeing over there where Lita and his axe landed. One thing is for sure, Lita helped him make a big mess. And she isn’t done! The first icicle comes flying toward him, and he ducks under it, squatting to all four like a sprinter as it sails over his head. His divinely blessed talons puncture the icy floor and he pulls himself toward an especially beautiful patch of icey stalagmites to gain cover and set an ambush. The smoky aura he created is withdrawn with a deep breath. So clean and pure he can see himself reflected in them. As she approaches, hurling her spears, it becomes hard to tell exactly where he is. His reflection appears in many of them. One more crashes through an icey protrusion it seemed like he was crouched behind, only to see the mirror shatter. In that moment, Mathollak expels all the smoke of his concentrated aura in a wide cone toward her, and the heat of it quickly wittles her next icicle spear into a pebble. But he also wants it to blind her, because he’s leaping in after her. Once close, he slams his numb arm toward her ankles in an attempt to sweep her off her feet, where once minutely airborne, he would unshackle his celestial bronze cleaver and attempt to slam it-and her, into the ground at his feet.
Kasyr is trying his best to ignore the circus below him, or the fact that Mesdoram is apparently all but poised to receive a kiss he didn't have to pay for. At least, if consequences aren't counted.
Valrae doesn’t have time to dwell on Mes’s mention of hearing voices, she’s too busy trying not to choke out a laugh as Kanna taps him on his shoulder for a… Sleepy kiss?
Mesdoram sways back and forth as he (in his own head) is winning over his elven ladies (who left the moment he uttered a single syllable). Standing up, he feels the soft taps on his left shoulder. "Oh, another adoring fan of mine, eh?" The drow thinks to himself and turns with grand anticipation to the lucky lady... to see Kanna? Mesdoram tilts his head sideways a bit, but lightly shrugs and says. "Well well... you've had your eye on me for a long time..." Would be a cool thing to say sober, but the words just sound like gibberish as he waits for Kanna's response.
Kanna loses her smile, her acting mask slipping for a second to show a tinge of disgust for the inebriated man. Grabbing Mesdoram by the collar, Kanna pulls him in, planting the poisonous lipstick on wherever she reaches. The lipstick mark goes from a deep burgundy to a slight purple as it's activated and seeps into skin. Kanna lets go, smiling again. "You have such a way with words." Mesdoram has only a few minutes, if that, before the sleeping nightshade takes effect, not to any lethal degree, just enough to quell him so a fight doesn't break out.
Lita manages a few more unladylike curse words as her makeshift spear shatters a reflection of him instead of the real thing. But that's what happened when you let anger guide your reactions. She was so sick of mirrors though. She lifts her right arm and turns her head at an angle when he expells that smoke and heat towards her, forcing her a step or two back as she tries to see through it. It's a little hard to tell his footsteps apart from the sound of cracking ice around them. And all at once she feels his arm against her feet and she's on her back again, the wind knocked from her lungs with a groan. She shoves her hand sideways, her palm slamming against one of those icicles with enough force to propel her a foot or two sideways, his cleaver narrowly missing the bulk of her braid, a few raven wisps of hair left in the air where she'd been only an instance before. "You- litle-" The words are a whisper of ire, dark eyes widening up at him with the realization that he'd almost chopped off her hair! There was a line. Her bare shoulders are already sticking a little to the ice, which will be fun later, but will be later's problem as she pushes the pain from the forefront of her mind. Steadying her hands at her sides, she leans her weight towards her hip and kicks her opposite leg across her body, aiming for the elbow of his arm with that cleaver. What was it with boys and their oversized toys!? If that kick hit its mark, she'd pull her knee towards her chest next and aim her foot upwards and square for his jaw.
Mesdoram doesn't have an opportunity to respond... what a potent combination of such obvious love... and poison. The drow collapses almost instantaneously and is now face up spread over several empty rows that face the arena. This man will sleep here tonight and only be awaken by his true love... or Khitt's fist tomorrow. Win win for all parties considering.
Loravelle was quietly watching alongside Leo, stealing sips from his spiked coffee now and then. Her reaction at the sight of Lita's hair nearly being cut off is visceral. “He can't just -do- that!” She's actually yelling – actually angry. It isn't even her hair that's being threatened. She's up on her feet again, hollering some foul language very likely learned from the pirate captain she's betrothed to. “GET HIM, LITA!”
Quintessa said, "This is a good time to mention that today's match has been sponsored in part by the Black Pond Cosmetics branch of Black Pond Boutiques. Now introducing our new lipstick Sleeping Beauty. Knock 'em dead with your sheer beauty… and our special nightshade blend."
Valrae winces, not just for the knockout kiss Mes received, but in the way of a woman who felt sympathy pains for Lita’s hair. She was here to support Mathollak but she couldn’t cheer for that.
Mathollak was mostly disappointed by the lack of blood, but also inspired by the strands of hair that float freely in the frigid air. This is how all haircuts should take place! He might even get one if they did. Or become a barber. But she was nimble, and he had no time to think of venues. As she slides away from him, he draws the holy meat cutter back toward him and braces himself for her next move. Though she aims for the elbow of his cleaving arm, he shifts it just out of the way, and instead her foot hits him in the abdomen. That same arm she aims for loops under her ankle. He twists slightly to keep it under his armpit, hopefully trapped in a lock. A brazen trade, leaving him nearly breathless. The divine ambrosia that courses through his veins may numb much of the pain he feels (or even turn it into something he can appreciate for a time), it can’t stop the effects of pummeling an organ. As soon as he catches it, he attempts to drag her backward with him, hopefully forcing her to balance on the slippery surface rather than beating him some more. Maybe it’ll give him the seconds he needs to recover his breath.
After Duel/Wrap-up
Quintessa said, "My my, what a heated and chilling match-up this has been… While we give our judges a moment to think about it, how about we all give our contestants a round of applause. Please clap."
Mathollak doesn't hear any clapping wow
Mesdoram can't clap - paralyzed with fear... or whatever was in that kiss.
Magik claps his hands to the beat. Everybody just clap your hands to the beat.
Meri claps off beat. Because she can.
Quintessa said, "After much deliberation and discussing back and forth, we have finally come to a conclusion by a truly narrow margin. The winner of this match and our first finalist is… Lita! Congratulations Lita, you may end this duel. Commiserations to the Axe of Love. Pray to Delisha that Lita is gentle with you."
Lita is getting really pissed off at being dragged around like a rag doll today. Not that she has much choice in the matter as Pretty Boy's got her ankle pinned in his armpit- eww, first of all. Bare shoulders drag across the frozen ground as he steps backwards, dragging her with him, and she lets out a cry of pain before biting at her lower lip to stifle it. She curls upwards, using her trapped foot as leverage and reaches up to grasp at the front of his shirt, fingers curling against the fabric before finally finding purchase on that chain he'd draped around himself and she draws herself closer to him. She wraps her free leg up and over his shoulder, around his neck and twists sideways in a sharp and violent motion, driving him into the ice beneath her. The knee of her once trapped leg has angled itself into the hollow of his throat and she leans her weight against it, until satisfying little gurgle noises bubble past his lips and she leans to reach for the cleaver in his hand, ripping it from his fingers. She lifts it towards his face and uses it to cut one of the stray wisps of his hair at his temple, a good six inches in length. Her last match, she'd left Mahri with a memento. Now she was taking one. It would be merciful to let him keep the cleaver. It would be more to character to toss it into the chasm. But with the lock of his hair in her palm, she'd already avenged the near chopping off of her own braid. And his Axe had unintentionally aided to save her life. So. All that considered, she lifts the cleaver over her head and hurls it towards one of the icicles, burying it into the side of the ice. "Fetch." She says, with a little encouraging slap of her palm against Math's cheek as she stands to make a sore but triumphant exit from the arena.
Valrae cheers quietly for Lita, even if her chosen victor hadn’t taken home the win this time. It pained her a little to see that she’d chosen to cut his hair right back, but fair was fair.
Loravelle entirely explodes with cheers and whistling and praise for Lita's victory. Poor Leo's ears... “YES! YOU DID IT! AHHH-” And she cut -his- hair?! Amazing. She aspires to be as swift and clever as Lita one day. And tough. She turns to nudge Leo's boot with her foot. “Did you SEE that, bunny?!”
Mathollak attempts to fight back, but is surprised by her strength and she gets the better of his center of gravity, pinning him against the frigid ice. He chokes out one last poof of smoke before ultimately succumbing to her will. All he can do is gurgle his submission as she rips the cleaver from his hands. His eyes widen in terror and then close suddenly, expecting to have his head split. Instead, she avenges her own lost hair strands and takes some of his. He opens his eyes again as she pats his cheek. "Wait!" He calls to her as he peels himself off the icy floor. "You have to win the whole thing now. That's what this means, you know."
Quintessa gave 5000 gold to Lita.
Quintessa gave 5000 gold to Mathollak.