Duel:Ordox v Vuryal
Ordox vs. Vuryal duel
Stakes: Friendly/Awesomeness
Time Limits: 10 min
Judges: Kwen
Winner: Vuryal
Whiner: Ordox
Vuryal phases into view, the rift in time and space opening for but a brief moment allowing the fiend to slip through the zipper. Clasping staff in hand, the fiend peers upon the shape-shifter, eyes of burning fires scorching the distance between combatants. The deep shadows of the chronomancer's hooded cloak reveal little else about the creature, though a faint smirk would loft itself upon his cruel visage. With a mighty, solitude stamp of the staff's butt upon the arena's ground, the air in front of Vuryal begins to collapse upon itself, molecular bonds broken in rapid succession in a magnificent display of miniature fireworks. Tilting the amber stone topped device towards Ordox, the fireworks now take up into a wall shape, moving from side to side until a fence is formed between the two. Descending the angle just a bit further, the firestorm now begins to lurch towards his foe, collapsing atomic bonds in the process and growing to an immense height of at least three men. The heat is searing, as the ground turns black from the intensity. In addition, the particles collapsing are those tied in with the atmosphere, oxygen. One might worry about the heat, before their lungs collapse from the oxygen removal. Or one might worry about the ability to breath than be a barbeque. Regardless, the wall descends upon Ordox, wanting only to feast upon flesh and attempt to fill its unquenchable hunger.
Ordox had waited patiently for Vuryal to arrive, taking note of the arena visuals, his mind racing with what brutal battles must have taken place here. Arms crossed behind his back, the Shifter electing not to be completely reactionary to the first strike as they have already begun their transfiguration, slendering and elongating into the form of identical pallid blades. Though his body was pliable, the end points of these blades were nothing to be undaunted by. The pooling vortexes that are his pupils somehow seem to widen as The Parasite makes his entrance through the miasmic rift. The sneer of disdain paints his bleached face as Ordox charges him, not wanting to be an easy target. He makes it only a few strides before immediately halting, noting the massive wall of flames embarking in his direction. Eyes, if you could call them that, dart from side to side, searching for escape from this blazing barrier. The shifter had little to fear from the feel of the oxygen being swallowed from the arena, as a mass of what could only be described as dough has little to fear without lungs. The fast approaching holocaust was worrisome, though, as he had no natural defenses against the elements. His only option was to suffer the consequences with as little damage as possible. Staring dead into the fence, his mind begins to will his body into as intricate a pattern as possible, letting the bonds that hold his physique together fall apart, dividing into tiny cubes which slide off of each other. They fall to the floor, developing tiny appendages to be used as legs as they pick and choose their own holes to squeeze through. Minor burns and seared flesh can be smelled developing from the mini-Ordox’s as they come to the other side, though they do not stop their assault. Each miniature figure, ten in all had taken on a shape of their own, a tiny replica of the former shifter, each still brandishing their own blades. They make their charge for the chronomancer, surrounding him on all sides, diving for his ankles and leaping to strike at his body, not looking nor capable of a fatal blow, but most assuredly enough to maim their target.
Vuryal loses sight of the multiple midgets as the inferno laid waste to the arena's battlegrounds. At the last moment, a few of the miniatures are spotted, though only through the tickling of dead flesh they cause to the fiend's feet and legs. The chronomancer begins to stomp up and down, hoping to drive any or all that he can into the unforgiving ground beneath his foot. The next reaction, however, is what clears the creature of further damage from this army of toy soldiers. Pushing off skyward with his staff, Vuryal manipulates the gravity beneath him to allow for flight without wings, one might say. Hovering about ten feet from the battlefield, droplets of blackened blood begin to taint the ground, the corrupted vitae of the fiend sizzling as it spanks the scorched terrain. A thought races to the chronomancer's mind, quickly followed by action and deed. The stone once again erupts in a brilliant splendor of golden lights bursting forth onto the scene and causing the fallen blood of the fiend to begin go racing about the arena. The fiend's poisonous lifeforce now hurled towards each of the mini-Ordoxs, hoping to corrupt their own being and turn them into them each into a wraith… a mini-wraith.
Ordox’s multiple manipulated miniatures cry out in rage and terror, as they dip, dive and attempt dodging the powerful footfalls of their attacker. A few feel the boots connect as they are smashed into the ground. Once flattened, they do not stay pancaked, however. Slowly their bodies begin their disfigurement, slinking into the earth, perhaps never to be seen again. The remaining bodies of the shifter immediately leap toward each other coalescing back into a full, somewhat smaller having missing portions of their body, figure. The reunited shifter glares at Vuryal who has levitated above, showering down upon the arena his rain of tainted fluids. Though his body is injured and by the fires unable to completely manipulate, Ordox does still have plenty of ‘flesh’ to mold. He raises his arms to the sky, one of which quickly morphs and folds into itself, forming a sort of umbrella-shield to provide some shelter. The sound of sizzling and bubbling body parts can be heard as the droplets make contact, the blackened flesh melting off and dying onto the dirt beneath him. Wincing to act now, filled with pain, Ordox allows the remaining healthy digits on his free hand to begin modeling themselves into razored blades. With a thrust of his arm, as if throwing a fast ball the fingers detach and become deadly projectiles, aimed to drop their foe from the sky.
Vuryal grins with utmost delight as his poisoned concoction of fluids rains down upon the shifter. However, that sign of pleasantry is soon dissolved as the razors howl through the sky in search of their prey: him. Twisting his body to meet the blades flush, the staff also dips and alights itself. Before the chonomancer, gravity shifts, corrupting the paths of the projectiles as most go sailing fruitlessly by. A pair, however, strike the fiend in his left bicep, a stream of pitch colored blood leaking and falling helplessly to the ground to join its already lost brethren. Feeling no pain, the creature of time and space continues his assault upon Ordox, easing himself back to the ground to stand upon the tainted field of battle. "Prepare your prologue, beast," mutters Vuryal, the voice hissing with cruel and raspy tones. The stone dazzles as it roars to life yet again, this time the ground quaking amongst the entire arena. The sand and stone now begin to forcefully unite, conglomerating into a sheet of glass. With a single stamp, the fiend's staff cracks the new floor, sending pieces of it scattering throughout, aimed at dicing his foe as the footing is surely tricky upon the frictionless surface now encompassing this playing field.
Ordox, already critically wounded and miss-morphed, can do nothing to react to the assailing crystal fragments which are discharging all around him. Moaning, not in pain, but in severe discomfort as the sheeted plates hit their mark, slicing and dicing through his body. They effortlessly pierce the shifter’s playdough figure and emerge on the opposite side, clean cutting his body into minced portions. Sliding to the earth, they completely disunite his limbs and body, letting all to see as they fall to the floor. One might think that The Parasite has succeeded once more in dispatching another opponent. Though, this was not the case. Onlookers might have been able to see the healthy portions of his body hungrily swimming back together. At the same time, the ground upon which the chronomancer had infected and now stands upon was encountering its own upheaval. The forgotten mini-Ordox’s which had dissolved into the ground had reemerged from their dormant hibernation. While underneath the arena grounds they had once more morphed into the form of snake-like vines. They are quick to act as they ensnare themselves around Vuryal’s ankles, hoping to hold the fiend into place. Those digits which were cast into the air, as if acting on their own will begin their decent. Screaming through the air downward, their aim is a killing blow, targeting Vuryal’s head and facial area.
Vuryal lets out a mighty "umph" as he is grasped by the vines around his ankles. Contorting his face upward as he senses the oncoming blades piercing through the gravity of Hollow, the fiend glares at those cruel projectiles with beady red eyes. Squirming as best he can, the chronomancer is unable to free himself from the bindings about his legs, leaving him with little option at this point. The amber stone glints once last time, this time as it is brought into contact with the fiend's own body. Doing so immediately begins to distort the creature's very molecular structure, allowing Vuryal to bend in ways only seen by Keanu Reeves in The Matrix, if one were to have a DVD player and TV set in Hollow. However, not known for such maneuvers, the TimeLord is unable to dodge all the projectiles; instead one pierces into his left shoulder, wedging itself into the fiendish flesh and muscle strewn there. The black blood of Vuryal begins to pour freely, scattering itself upon the glassy surface as it reaches to and fro, littering this field of battle with even more of the creature than what it first had.