Duel:Nemisis v Smyth
Duelists: Nemisis vs Smyth . Stakes: Unstated. Judges: {{User:Thea|Thea]], Leigh, Rheven.
Kelay Way
Smyth stares upon the draconian standing across from him upon this makeshift battle scene, the trained cobalt eyes of the assassin never wavering as nimble hands go to his back. There, digits slip about the hilt of a hidden, diminutive crossbow, the weapon soon brought to life and bearing its deadly gaze upon its prey. "Manners, dear sir, are to be kept," flows like a river from the mouth of the gentleman before a snug force is given upon the trigger of the launcher. Howling forth from its slumber, the bolt pierces through the air at break-neck speeds, seizing in pure rhapsody at the temptations being offered to its fine, steel tip, laced with treacherous liquids. Peculiar enough, a string traces the route taken by the projectile, almost invisible to the naked eye though it is firmly grasped by the end of the weapon. Now, without hesitating, the spy contorts his body into a twisting motion, left knee drawn across right before landing vigorously upon the ground, both arms following suit with cruel device in hand. The spider silk tugs in the opposite direction from the heralding arrow, quickly sent into shards of miniature size, exploding as it takes on too much force from the reverse pressure. The arrow, it seems, is not the preference for this assault. Nay, it is instead the poisons that are laced within its shaft, producing a rain of neuro-inhibiting toxins that flare out, misting in front of Nemisis in the malicious hopes of rendering him into a frozen statue should any of it touch flesh.
Nemisis stood out in front of the tavern having accepted Smyth’s challenge. His blood colored eyes would scan the perverted human from head to toe, scrutinizing to no end. He wished to fight? So be it. The wind would pick up as the mood of the scene intensified accompanied by the dead silence of a crowd. As the draconian waited for his opponent to make his move, he is seen stretching. Rotating his shoulders, tilting his neck from side to side, and a stretching of his leg muscles would bring forth a symphony of cracks and creaks. A mere inflation of the chest would be seen before he eased his feet out and took a fighting stance, bracing him. Everything around him except his opponent would be invisible upon concentration. The battle finally begun as the spy spoke more ignorance to him and revealed a crossbow in hand. A stolid facial expression accompanied by silence would greet the oncoming arrows that were hence sent forth to his body at hellish speeds. Nemisis would waste no time in his offense. Concentrating on the war within him, the chaos was itching come out. He would not delay its plea no further as the air became heavy and a crimson aura became present around his body. Chaotic eyes would catch the assassin pulling an acrobatic move as he tugged at something. The demi’s air would twitch only to hear the masked assault of needles. With little time to spare, he struck the ground with a glowing hand, releasing the raw energy upon the field. Giant crystalline shards would reach for the sky in all directions, intercepting the would be deadly attack. However, the attack was yet to be sprung until the man places both palms on the shards, sending them slicing towards the man before him. As they rapidly closed in distance, he would snap his fingers, causing the great obelisk to shatter and herald a tsunami of chaotic shards Smyth’s way.
Smyth catches a fair glimpse upon the obelisk with taught eyes, only to cringe at the suddenness of its departure as tiny shards come screaming towards him. Laying the crossbow upon the ground, as it had served its purpose, the assassin's hands lay flat upon the ground. Then, kicking his right leg skyward, a roll is afforded the man, legs tucking tightly in hopes of speeding up the process. A few of the chaotic pieces, however, manage to slice his legs during such motions as they pierce the soft skin, drawing lines of crimson that are quickly soaked up by the tattered remains of the man's pants. A look of horror soon gives way to a placated face, the pain attempting to be ignored for the moment as adrenaline pulses through the spy. Coming to a standing position rather quickly, steps are forced, one after the other, in the direction of the draconian. Pieces of material flutter in the wind from the black pants as the trained killer is rather nimble upon his feet, traversing the distance between combatants in an abrupt manner, diminishing to nil as the wrists of Smyth flick, twin daggers produced from the hidden recesses of the chained sleeves. Left handed steel moves forward before it plunges into the ground, the human sent hurtling into the air in a perpendicular fashion to the earth, feet first, deadly spikes upon those boots willing to render whatever damage they may to the upper chest and neck of Nemisis.
Nemisis would watch as his attacked rained upon Smyth with success. A small grin would be present as a reward, that his until his nature took over. The new amount of chaotic energy he had absorbed in order to save his comrades still required an amount of time to get used to. His stolid personality would suddenly break out into a maniacal high pitched laugh of bloodlust. Ruby eyes turned glassy and the symbiotic energy now was present. As he feverishly watched Smyth charge towards him, he would greet the oncoming with sprint of his own. Sound and air alike stood at attention as he burst forth with ungodly speed, tail spikes open and hands stretched out to catch the oncoming feet. The blades were almost welcomed as they made a sickening gush through his palms as they met. Blood oozing out both sides of the hand, the chaotic one only laughed more saying, “Woooo! Nice blades ya got there! I hope you won’t mind loosing them!” Smyth was dangerously close to the bipolar Nemisis. Using monstrous strength to try and grip the opponent, a strange phenomenon began to take place. The oozing blood stopped and began to crystallize in the wrath of the chaos. Not alone that by the entire area around him. With a smile only the devil could love, the process sped up, traveling towards Smyth’s boot and heading for the rest of him. If he did not find some way to get slip out those shoes, he will be a living statue.
Smyth struggles for a moment against the supreme strength of the draconian, the crystallization of blood firmly held by the man's gaze. The last resort is taken as both of the daggers held in each hand race to the tops of the boots. In seconds, they are split down their sides, wide enough that it causes the assassin to fall away from the ill-seeking enchantment. Now shoeless, Smyth scampers upon the ground, furthering rendering his pants into oblivion though now firmly away from the psychotic beast. Dirt mixing to blood now as the bleeding has stopped due to this phenomenon, the blonde haired man ducks into a roll that is quickly righted into a springing handstand, though landing upon his feet rather than the norm. "I will expect payment for new pants," he mutters, looking squarely into the eyes of the bipolar creature as daggers remain firmly gripped in each hand. Then, waiting not a moment longer, each of the pieces of steel are hurled with deadly precision at Nemisis. No parlor tricks this time, as instead, each fatal kiss of metal have a selected mark upon the foe, one skyrocketing towards the neck, the other to the groin, the speed of both feverish as trained assassin looks on.
Nemisis was still laughing as Smyth pulled a lucky escape from what he thought was surely his doom. The boots would crush in his hands as they were split open, crystallizing into two giant spiky rocks that overcame both the clothing and limbs. Deadly eyes falling to watch the man try to escape, he would hurl a spiked tail his way only to barely miss the man and plummet into the dirt, “Oh! Don’t run now! What happened to that lesson huh!? What about my manners!?” Another roar of laughter would erupt from his lungs as he lifted his tail out and watched as more acrobatic fetes were taken in order to hurl twin daggers his way. With matching precision, he shot both of the monstrous crystal rocks off his hands in order to overtake the daggers and charge straight for Smyth. However, the spy would not get off that easy with just trying to dodge the boulders. Nemisis would vanish into the air with bruised palms extended outward. Red orbs of light would gather in the center of each increasing immensely in size over seconds. The two orbs of energy would easily paint the sky red and cover his limbs. They radiated with an extra hint of death, churning the stomachs of anyone with the slightly bit of sensitivity to energy. Like a hawk stalking its prey, he would wait for Smyth to dodge the first attack only to hurl the two behemoths of energy at him in two separate shots. His plan was not only to hit his opponent, but level the battlefield.
Smyth watches as his daggers are soon enveloped by the outrageous stones and come screeching toward him with evil intentions. Escape? Retreat? These were things that rattled inside the caged man's head as a rather putrid smell begins to churn his stomach. "Must have been that shellfish..." the man mutters before he puts his arms up in an X-pattern before him, bracing for the inevitable impact. And, boy, was it an impact! The human is struck with vicious force, hurtling him into the tavern's walls, bursting through them as he lets out a horrendous groan as his body is mangled. Luckily, however, brilliant lights of crimson flare into the area where he once was, eyes noticing it before they suddenly roll back into his head. Consciousness. That would be nice. But the man seems to have lost it at the moment.
Winner:Smyth