Duel:Mesdoram v Mahri, Match 2 of the 2024 Titans of Winter Tournament

Duelists: Mesdoram vs Mahri
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Standard, autohit delivered by winner with allowance for final reply.
Judges: Meri, Daisy, and Kang.

Into The Woods

The area is covered in trees and frozen bushes as you move into the wooded path. Your vision is slightly hindered by the drifting snow that blows from the treetops above, and the only place to travel from this location is to the south, where the trees fade, or north, where they thicken even more.

Environmental

Along the perimeter of the dedicated fighting space, four oversized slingshots have been set up low to the ground. Surrounding those oversized slingshots are numerous blocks of ice that are about three feet high by three feet wide. For your average individual, it would be near impossible to get these blocks of ice positioned in the slingshots alone. For the Frostmawian giants that are manning the slingshots, they hardly break a sweat. Periodically the giants will send these blocks of ice sliding across the battlefield and toward the duelists. Dodging would be a wise course of action, but a clever duelist might find a way to use these blocks of ice to their advantage. If nothing else, the ice blocks will careen their way across the battlefield only to be collected by one of the Frostmawian giants so that it can be reloaded into a slingshot…and the process will repeat until the fight ends.

Round One

Mahri makes her way to the forest entrance with caution, eyeing the catapults and frost giants in turn before focusing on her opponent for this round of the tournament. Brushing against a tangle of brush sends hollow ice tubes tinkling to the ground. Her only visible weapon is the dagger strapped to her thigh and the belt around her waist with four vials held securely by leather loops. Her hair is pulled back and tied off with a strip of leather with a couple of tendrils escaping to be tucked behind her ears. The first baritone twang of a catapult announces the first flight of ice boulders, this one heading the lycan’s way just as she plants her feet to spring forward, palming the dagger to fling it towards Mesodram, seeking an open space in any armor he may be wearing, specifically the knee to slow him down. The boulder narrowly missing crushing Mahri. It’s close enough she can feel the chill of it tracing down her back. That’s only the first of many and she keeps moving, trying to predict where the next one will come from as the giants retrieve them and reload.

Mesdoram shows fierce composure as he enters yet another hostile environment; the devilish drow thrives on the chaos and the naysayers wanting nothing more than one of these giants to crush him with, from his stature, makeshift icebergs. Regardless of the result of this match, Mesdoram has deadly purposes to fulfill in the coming months. Cocky as ever, the drow feigns boredom as he witnesses the lycan woman successfully evading the first of what will be many icy projectiles launched into the evergreen forestry. “These giants are bigger oafs than they –“ (thft!) Completely ignoring the fact Mahri skillfully throw her dagger at him, the lycan hits her intended target – splitting a few links near his right chest drowmail… the enchanted armory does its job in protecting Mes’ vital organs; however, ruining the psychotic drow’s favorite chain-link wear begins filling the tiny man’s head with violent thoughts. Suddenly, a loud thud quakes the forest floor behind Mesdoram as another giant boulder is flung at the battle combatants – making a straight perilous path to claim the drow’s life. Literally thinking on his feet, Mesdoram propels himself in an acrobatic backflip over said ice rock. While in midair, Mesdoram produces both his elemental dirks bestowed upon him by Princess Thea many moons ago – with his left dirk, he firmly implants the metal like Excalibur and goes for an impromptu ride towards Mahri; with his right dirk, he waits… finds his opening as his makeshift vehicle grinds against the roots and trees of the forest until quite comically… the boulder stops 5 feet infront of Mahri. There is an awkward pause as the combatants just start at each other for a moment. “Erm… this was suppose to be more dramatic. I was gonna –“ Hoping Mahri will be too distracted by a ‘evil do’er getting caught in a monologue’ cliché, Mesdoram hurls his right dirk directly at Mahri’s right thigh – with hopes to hobble her mobility for the rest of the match.

Round Two

Mahri’s disappointed she didn’t do more damage that just put a few chinks in that armor, but it would be enough. She’s only slightly impressed with the hitch hiking on the ice boulder and less when both come skidding to a halt. She’s not even short of breath from her burst of speed. Well aware of the double threat of those daggers, the l ycan isn’t about to stay still just because the drow and ice had. The ground shakes when another lands to her right, and rather than letting Mesodram have the high ground all to himself, she darts to her right, taking a leap of faith and scramble-slipping to the uneven surface of the top. The move didn’t save her entirely from the dagger strike, slicing through the leather of her pants and cutting into flesh and muscle. Warm blood flowed down her leg. Gritting her teeth against the burning pain, Mahri focuses her concentration between her exposed finger tips, drawing heat into a snap that sends a shot of flames towards Mesodram and the ice boulder before one of the frost giants picks it up to settle into it’s catapult for another go at the pair. Hopefully the fire warms up the drow or melts the ice enough that when it refreezes he gets stuck in it should he not dismount quickly enough. As for herself, Mahri is already moving, not wanting to become part of a projectile. And no, she was not impressed with the long-winded monologue. But, she does smirk a little at the time and breath he had wasted.

Mesdoram’s knack for always underestimating his opponents and overvaluing his own skills may comeback to haunt him in this match – if Hawkeye were still alive, the drow’s smarter and calmer self would be giving him a literal beating for always having to be flamboyant and over the top with everything. With the shaking quakes from the third boulder knocking Mesdoram off balance a bit, he does not even see where Mahri has evaded to nor if first attack was successful. “Boy, is it hot in here, or… oh no. It’s just me…” Mesdoram calmly says in a panic as Mahri’s fireblast sends his body’s temperature skyrocketing like a thermometer’s mercury about to boil out of it containment. He doesn’t skillfully fall off the bolder, but more so falls off with the combination of icy conditions quickly melting and watery streams of hot steam sending him into a looney toon fit – there are many, many non-manly squeals leaving the drow’s mouth as he cycles between stopping, dropping, and rolling. After able to compose himself a bit, he tries to stand up but finds his backside is refrozen to the forest floor new permafrost trail left behind – almost like a improvised glacier leaving frozen slosh as it travels to create new canyons. “Well… this isn’t my worst Saturday night.” Just stop it Mes, he hears Hawk say inside his head. Finally regaining enough sanity and seriously, Mesdoram quickly scans to locate the hidden Mahri… but fails as he was flailing too much to concentrate on her pathway. So, in a moment of desperation, Mesdoram grips the hilt of his earthly elemental blade but does not release it from its ebony scabbard; instead, a green aura begins pulsating through his right palm and channels its terrain magic throughout the forest floor. Roots begin to crack, trees start to silhouette with the same emerald hue from Mes’ weapon, and animals are unceremoniously evicted from their homes. The maniac of a drow mutters one word: ‘kill.’ Without delay, the random trees imbued with his powerful spell implode and shoot many log-size splinters in a 360 degree radius – it is quite possible due to the randomization of this spell that Mahri is completely out of harms way; but should she not respond quickly enough to the chaotic warning signs, she could become Mes’ next trophy for his house he doesn’t own…

Round Three

Mahri ignores the words spewing from that dirty drow’s mouth, lips curling in distaste even while she is zig-zagging and trying to avoid bein crushed by them ice boulders, almost misjudging the landing of one to have it knock against her already injured right leg and sending her stumbling just in time to miss the biggest chunks of trunks flying around. A spear of wood did make it’s way through her side mid-fall, it’s velocity sending it through and through leaving a hole through both shirt and flesh, just skimming past her kidney. Mesodram might hear her yell in pain, the sound itself not quite human as the wolf stirs to life. He wants to play like this, eh? The lycan druid can give as good as she got. Looking up from the ground just in time to see the underside of a boulder, the she-wolf rolls to her left before she became one with the frozen tundra beneath. Gasp for breath and trying to block out the pain in both side and leg, Mahri presses her hands into the ground, digging finger tips through the lay of permafrost, and closes her eyes. If Mesodram doesn’t unstuck himself in them, he’s going to find find the ground heaving up beneath him and thick, ink-ish green vines with thorns the size of simitars dripping a paralyzing toxin pushing through to wrap around him, each one stabbing and digging for other weaknesses in the damaged armor.

Mesdoram’s vantage point is still severely compromised from the third boulder obstructing his view with also him being essentially glued to the forest floor from the iciness. “Well, talk about being stuck between a rock and a –“ His joke is interrupted by the painful yelp of Mahri… which brings him a primal satisfactory feeling that viciously courses through his evil countenance – even his eyes appear to change color as they often due to reflect his many personas… but this time.. they glow a sinister red as if he’s about to be sent into a bloodlust frenzy. Speaking of blood, the drow begins bleeding from his wrists and under his battle boots – Mahri’s equally impressive earthly prowess violently take hold of Mesdoram in his compromised seating arrangement. Thorns bigger than his small fingers grind and embed themselves in to the drow’s miniature frame almost anchoring him further into the ground… but the drow’s faux adrenaline-laced blood speaks to his psyche. “Get up.” Obeying faithfully, Mesdoram inexplicitly gets to his feet and rips the twisted thorns out of his wrists – his wrist guards complete give way as Mahri’s gnarled barbs tear off checks of flesh out of Mes’ arm. “End this.” Mes hears the superior voice in his head speak again and nods – that is when, blood dripping thoroughly from his arm unto the forest floor, that the last boulder hurls towards the participants lands parallel with him. Now with two boulders at his disposal, Mesdoram finally unsheathes his earthly brand with his severely injured arm. Firstly, he cuts the base of his green ankle shackles so that he does not lose anymore blood; secondly, his newfound eyes burning brighter as they command his fallen blood to travel unto both icy boulders Last but not least – he closes his eyes and internally ignites his liquid. Like fireworks, both icy mountains implode away from Mesdoram as he sends his own rocky assault everywhere – the bloodlust Mesdoram does not care who he hits now: Mahri, a couple ice giants, spectators, he’ll take them all. Regardless, if one of these mini-boulders is not properly evaded by anyone in their path, the sheer force from this attack would easily remove anyone’s head with little resistance.

Final Defense

Mahri’s head swims as blood drips from open wounds and the stain beneath her spreads in the frost covering. She can feel the pressure of Mesodram’s magic against the ice blocks, can hear them groan and crack just before they explode. She had barely seconds to avoid being hit by another projectile and her arms trembled when she tried to push herself up to her feet, nearly causing the wolf to collapse. Up until now she hadn’t reached for any of the vials on her belt and Mahri debated, wasting time, if she should. Making the decision not to likely saved her a massive headache, because instead, the she wolf dropped and rolled as quickly as she could just as a chunk of jagged ice landed where her head should have been while, unfortunately she couldn’t avoid one that landed directly on her knee.

Winner: Mesdoram

Auto Hit

Mesdoram || Something is different in Mes’ demeanor. Sure, he is the showmanship type and loves to be the center of attention, but this Mes… this Mes hasn’t been seen in quite sometime. Glowing ever red, his eyes lock onto the wounded Mahri’ pathetic posture. “Some wolf you are, lycan.” Mesdoram mutters to himself as he meticulously steps over roots, boulders, blood, dead evicted animals, and permafrost. After methodically taking his time, he stands over the kneeling Mahri before lowering himself to her level. “Tck tck tck.” Escapes his devilish mouth as he takes his wounded wrists upto her face – smearing all of the blood that has accumulated in his palm during now being pressed firmly into Mahri’s face. After the makeup job is satisfactory to Mes’ wicked standards, the drow violently gut-punches Mahri in the stomach with enough vigor to expel any and all air from the woman’s lungs. Full anticipating Mahri’s body to contort forwards towards the forest floor, Mesdoram’s same wounded hand instinctually catches Mahri’s throat halting her downward trajectory… for now. Gripping her and pulling towards his own face, Mesdoram whispers softly and menacingly into Mahri’s ear. “Sin catches up with us all.” With that dire warning spoken, Mesdoram releases his hold of the woman and walks away – not caring if she catches herself or faceplants onto the cold forest ground.

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