Duel:Poell v Taeo

Arena

The scent of sweat mixed with blood wafts through the air, filling your nostrils with a stench so overpowering that you stop in your tracks. The flooring is made of a loose compound of crushed rock and sand, an easy mixture to make and cover up whatever horrors lie beneath it as you notice you walk up a slight incline every few feet. The high spiked walls surrounding this enclosed arena are stained with crimson, azure, and other various tones from all the diverse creatures that have met their death or lost a limb or two. Ragged clothing, blemished with drips of blood hang from a random spike as cowardly foes tried to escape, only to meet their end in a gruesome fashion from unruly crowds. A mysterious orb is locked within a crystal ball atop a single pillar to the extreme north, its effects known as you remember seeing a plaque upon your entrance: No Magic Allowed. In a cage to the north, you notice a creature gripping onto a barred door, eagerly waiting to escape though appearing as if he could do so at anytime. To the south lay a similar enclosure, but with a different monster letting out a repulsive cry as it waits for battle. This is the arena. Victors and losers are born here. Turn back, or step up to the challenge. A Large pulsing portal hovers in the centre of this arena.

Judges:

Allanon

Cormac

Jacklin

Decision: 3-0 (Taeo)

Rd/Time: 3rds/10 min

*Poell VS Taeo

Poell sizes up his opponent, literally so. The Gnome being the first opponent Poell had seen to be the same size, or at least close to. The Pintfolk lowers his goggles over his eyes, letting them go to produce a satisfying smacking sound against his face. His nostrils flare as he inhales the rancid smells of the arena, putrid filth and death. Nothing like it. He raises his chin slightly, staring through his goggles at the Gnome. His normally "u-shaped" mouth was set in a hard line. Hood laid back against his neck casually. His complacent stance however suddenly disrupts as Poell bursts into action. Reaching into his boot to fling one dagger, then two, which soon became four at his opponent. Anticipating their course he pulls two more, much finer daggers, black and smooth, from their sheaths into his palms. Holding the one in his right with the tip curving downwards, almost menacingly. He did this as he runs towards the duelist opposite him. The thrown daggers being a distraction, as Poell hoped the Gnome would evade them, making his way to the anticipated area in which his opponent would dodge. Sharp daggers ready to pierce soft flesh, as a dull knife longs to pierce butter.

Taeo stands a still form in the middle of the arena. A pair of goggles much like Poell's own already rest over beady eyes, slits at the moment from the narrowed concentration that took his mind. From anticipation of attack the short, heavy-set Gnome moved. Within his hands a hammer resided, large for him. A war hammer. A hammer not meant for smithing, for bending heated metals but for smashing skull and bone and it was obvious by his sudden motion that was exactly his intent. With eyes drawn toward his foe the first two daggers were easy to detect, shaded goggles not showing the anxiety that resided in his beady eyes. A lack of armor did provide some agility, the first dagger whizzed by his ear with a deft step to the side, the other deflected with the head of his hammer as it served a temporary shield of sorts. From there he barely had moments notice to avoid the other two. With centimeters to spare the third flew by his shoulder, cutting black shirt and the last actually made contact with flesh bringing forth blood and a loud shout from the short male. The hilt of the dagger was all that could be seen jutting from his thigh. Immidiately, movement came to a crawl, his advance on Poell ceased and instead of attacking he awaited the males move. Poell had anticipated his location, how he would move, his heart beat was pounding drums in his ears - fear of death, pain from wound. With all his might the gnome parryed the first of two slashing attacks from Poell's held daggers with the long handle of hammer, as soon as the male had thrown the attack back he lurched forward with the head. Blunt trauma would be his foes worst fear, hammer swooping down toward ribs in between the moment of parry and next attack, but the injury of his leg brought him stumbling forward in the gritty sand, hammer now more aimed toward gut.

Poell finds himself working frantically now. Though he had made a successful hit on his opponent already, he could see that this was doing nothing yet to slow him down. With a mighty swing of the hammer, having a head the size of Poell's own, Poell jumps, frantically trying to escape the force of such a blow. The strike, intended for his ribs, then for his stomach, came crashing down on the halfling's shin as he attempts to evade. The stumbling blow shredding skin and bruising bone. The connection of the forceful attack sent Poell's easeful jump into a fall. Thankful of his acrobatic heritage, Poell rolls to a stop from his flying endeavor, albeit somewhat wobbily due to his bruised shin. It was bleeding now, though Poell thought of them even now. Looking around, Poell spots something of interest, though he does not betray his thoughts just yet. He withdraws a few steps back towards the wall of the arena, one dagger tightly gripped within his mouth, the other in his right hand. Rope, with grappling hook in his left. He threw the dagger in his right hand violently with practiced precision, aiming for a crevice between the ribs, intending to puncture a lung. After this, seemingly unarmed, despite one dagger in his teeth, Poell begins to swing his grappling hook in wide arcs, waiting for the Gnome's next move.

Taeo comes to a stumbling halt on knees and a hand after shredding Poell's hand. The inertia of the stumble, the attack had him there for a few moments which gave Poell more than enough time to advance to the Arena's far wall, but by the time he'd reached it and procured grappling hook, the male was already rising back to his feet. His eyes never left Poell for long, as a slow limping step brought him closer to his foe. His hammer was drug through the Arena sand, heavy breaths taking him, pain evident on his visage. Again he expected Poell's attack, watched with panic as he threw the dagger right at him. Perhaps fifteen feet away now, a shout was what answered the dagger mid-flight, a shout that emphasized how much effort it took to swing the hammer, to deflect the dagger and send it skewering off into the distance. It brought him to his back, the momentum of the oft-handed deflection, and scrambling to his feet. Limp resumed, ten feet now. With a sly, if pained smirk on his lips Poell may find himself noticing the large stone that now resides in his right hand, hammer in left, still dragging. With more speed than you could have expected, as reserves of adrenaline were pulled the rock was tossed into the air and less than a moment later hit with hammer - the result, a hurtling stone, capable of knocking the male unconscious. It was sent at the speed one would expect, a high amount, but again the hammer's weight and inertia brought him to the ground, sand now marring cheek as he quickly came back up on his feet, favoring his uninjured leg. Bleeding, breath heavy, he spit on the ground.

Poell is thoroughly surprised as his current plan washed away in an instance, in the form of a massive rock hurtling towards him at speeds Poell wasn't sure he'd seen a rock go before. Though, Poell doesn't allow himself to ponder this further. Quite honestly, because he didn't have time. The boulder having already reached him. Nearly dropping his grappling hook, Poell assumes a limp position, relaxing every muscle in his body. Falling to the arena floor, though the rock managed to clip him in the back, and, going as fast as it was, slamming his face into the mulch before him. He raises his face, spitting dirt and grass and other things that liquified off the battlefield into his saliva. Blood, ochre and other such things. Poell wipes the back of his hand over his lips, which had now gone pale. Poell wasn't sure what to do at this point, his former plan having been foiled by the rotten little gnome's excellent display of strength. With a dagger in his teeth, Poell charges, using one hand to swing the rope with grappling hook. Its slack having been tied in wide circles to a pin in his flexible armor. Once he got close he swung the grappling hook to the left, in a wide swooping arc that would wrap around the Gnome's body. Acting quickly, Poell pulls his fishing rod from his back, doing the same with his fishing rod as his grappling hook. Though, he lets the line go to wrap around a leg to trip the Gnome. Being a master fisherman by race. Poell hoped his plan would work. Then, as the two ropes with hooks attached, reached the desired point, Poell leapt at the man, a new dagger revealed from its hidden place in his vambrace. His intention, being to trip the Gnome then, with his guard down, leap on top of him, his hammer off to one said hoping to regain balance as Poell would pounce on him, dagger to the throat. Though not to kill, but as a final judgment of his efforts in this duel.

Taeo was heaving for breath. Every passing moment the dagger in his leg grew less painful, shock setting in, blood beginning to coagulate, tightening control blood flow. It made movement a crawl, it made sweat bead on his forehead, and so with hammer's head set in sand he waiting, watched grappling hook swing toward him - wrap around him, seize him, and allowed fishing hook to do the same. It took a measure of control to keep from releasing a painful shout as hook on fishing line set into skin, and the hook on the grapple set against rope and tore against flesh. But he awaited, didn't move and therefore wasn't tripped. He watched the few moments it took for his resilient foe to approach, and a few moments after he begun his encroachment the male began using the grappling rope against him. Hammer rose, both hands used now to begin wrapping the rope again handle of hammer like fork to spaghetti. The tricky move found Poell quickly as trapped as he, except with his rapid approach and Taeo's equally rapid encircling of rope around hammer he was dead set for momentum to bring that hammer's head directly into his chin long before that dagger would ever meet against throat. It was a measure of war, spear versus sword, he had the advantage of distance and was using it. It was unfortunate to say though, that with them both tangled as they were if his attack was in fact successful it would send both flying, Poell back and Taeo forward. Grunts, shouts accentuated every motion in the effort it took, goggles nearly dusted over by now with a thin layer dusty sand.

Poell is surprised as it is he, instead of his opponent who is being reeled in. Rapidly in fact. Poell stumbling to keep his feet under him. Though, that was the trick, Poell realized. Poell let himself trip falling to the ground. A slight pain in his head now, though a sacrifice for a broken jaw. Instead of quickly reeling into the hammer, Poell slides to the Gnome's feet. Unceremoniously, as at the speeds in which he was going he crashed into the legs of the gnome. Poell started flailing madly, throwing punches, and little kicks. Getting himself out away from the Gnome. Knowing he was much stronger if this ended in hand to hand. Upon escaping Poell steps back several feet. Bleeding in a few places, bruised everywhere else. He sucks in huge breaths of air. Realizing he no longer had any weapons. He concedes the fight and sits upon the sandy earth. Blood of his own and his opponent's mixed there with previous warriors.