Duel:Quintessa v Vexar, Match 9 of the 2020 Frostmaw Tournament

Duelists: Quintessa vs Vexar
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner.
Judges: Thamalys, Mahri, and Orikahn

Forgotten War-Fields

The town, that silent, broken ruin, is left behind as the land changes here. It becomes flatter, yet no more beautiful for it. Ice coats everything in sight, making footing treacherous in places. Where ice cannot be seen, it is only because it is buried under mounds of snow. The white powder is layered everywhere, and the gusting wind carries the crystals to slap stingingly against the face of any traveller. In this featureless white, the eye is drawn to irregular mounds, odd humps under the blanket of snow. A cold, still hand sticks out of one such, a booted foot out of another. Could they be bodies? But why were they here, left to lie in this lonely wasteland? Where were their loved ones to bury them? And why were there so many dead? Bending to touch a hand only increases the suspicion that these poor bodies have been long since forgotten by any in the land of the living, and you can’t help but wonder, “Will my fate match theirs in this place?”. This area leads north, south, west, and east back towards the ruins.

Environmental Challenge

22:15:13
Orikahn :: An aurora snakes across the dusky, twilit sky. It casts an eerie emerald glow over the grisly, forgotten battlefield and reveals a strange, chilling sight. Roused by the northern lights, the frozen corpses have stirred up from their ancient graves and by rote have readied the field for war. Rusty swords lethargically clang against sunbleached shields in a skeleton-on-skeleton charade of endless battle. Trenches zig-zag hither and thither through the ice, some barren, some bristling with spearmen. Silent legions stand in tight squares, vigilant between tattered flags as they wait for the order to charge. Ghostly catapults hurl eldritch green fireballs back and forth in volleys that scatter and sizzle across the field. Duelists! You will begin on opposite sides of the ancient battle line. Navigate the chaos of war, gain the upper hand, and see your opponent counted among the casualties!

Optional Introduction

Quintessa stands at the ready in the center of the battlefield, her mismatched eyes of blue and hazel scanning the frigid wasteland before her. The icy wind tugs at the inactive invisibility cloak attached to the hex blade's shoulders, billowing behind her and reveling the equipment she had brought along with her. An alchemist's belt is snapped tightly against the waist of her leather catsuit, housing more than just vials of dragon's blood and alchemist's fire. It was specifically modified to be able to sheath Quintessa's trio of darksteel daggers as well her lucky mithril scalpel that she'd gotten from her teacher, Kasyr. But Vexar had managed to defeat her sensei, hadn't he? A delicate hand grips the hilt of the Catalian katana at her side as she pivots to face Vexar, her totally-not-spike-heeled boots pushing through the snow as she drifts with the wind. The look on the young spellcaster's face is one of determination, of a woman who knows that she is the underdog in this match but has a plan to topple the elite anyway. Pulling her runic goggles down over her eyes, the changeling's aura pulses in anticipation of their duel. Beating Vexar will require the hex blade to push the limits of her capabilities as both a mage and a warrior but Quintessa looks ready to put everything she has into this fight.

Vexar is eager for this encounter. The disposition is well displayed by the fact that he had arrived at the battlefield hours before the organizers and onlookers began to trickle in one by one. Not that due diligence was required; the grounds are absolutely baron and devoid of almost all interest. Yet another Frostmawian wonderland. Nonetheless, the vampire paces, etching a worn line into the tundra. It would appear he is deep in thought; or meditating; or perhaps just fending off the frigid air. Chain covered boots rattle a haunting melody on the ground as he patrols. The Harbinger’s other attire is familiar for the tournament: a similar chainmail vest, leather pants, and the unique pair of ensorcelled vambraces he’d donned the first round against Khitti. Discarded is the dragonskull helmet; he’d found it cumbersome and unwieldy against Kasyr. Too much trouble for a fight in which he’d abdicate...almost...all magic. Unfamiliar, though, is the ivory wand that twirls effortlessly between his slowly numbing fingers. As his opponent emerges he halts, and turns to regard her, keen to discover more about this ‘Baroness’. “Ah, Quintessa. I finally have a chance to introduce myself to the….genocidal do-gooder. I am Vexar Qu’isto; and I am appetent to find out if you’ve a backbone.”

-
Kasyr is present, the Kensai having decided to use the glaciated shoulders of a long dead giant as his seat. He spares a moment to drop a mostly spent cigarette into the vacant skull of the carcass, before fetching a new smoke to start on.

Kasyr 's one correction to his current situation is a near unseen drawing of a blade, which makes quick work of the glaciated limbs of his frozen throne- removing it's capacity to play in macabre re-enactments of wargames long past.

Mahri hates the cold. Always had. Always would. Though, to support Tessa, the lycan will make the treck up north and do it grumbling the whole time. A figure atop a dead giant gets a side-eye and she might have joined Kasyr but for the fact that he's atop a frozen giant and Mahri would rather stand than sit on something frozen thank-you-very-much. She would probably choose to station herself somewhere close, however.
-

Duel

22:30:13
Quintessa Dragana considers herself a necromancer of some infamy, and after countless hours of research done on undead, vampires in particular, the young spellcaster feels confident that she has the prefect plan to defeat Vexar. The changeling knows the Harbinger is a powerhouse- a sheer force of destruction, and after he defeated both of her teachers in the earlier rounds, Quintessa decided to take this bout more seriously than she had the others. With her simple leather boots planted firmly in the snow, the young necromancer wastes no time on introductions as she lifts her delicate hands and contorts them into a sort of triangular signal and begins to chant. "Dywyll o fewn tywyllwch yn llyncu..." the hex blade utters, her incantations inspiring her aura to pulsate with a vibrant glow. A lime-green smoke sparkling with arcane energy billows around her, creating a mystical cyclone of necrotic power as she moves her right hand in a circular motion as if stirring her mana manually. Quintessa has many spells prepared especially for Vexar, but she would need time to see her strongest incantations brought to fruition. Using a chunk of the energy she has already channeled, the changeling begins to tug at the corpses all around her with long tendrils of her dark aura. "Gwneud cais..." Quintessa begins, mimicking the hand gestures written about in books borrowed from the Necromancer's Guild. One at a time the long frozen warriors fall under the hex blade's control, her green smoke enchanting them, their eyes burning with Quintessa's lime-colored flame. "Dal e!" She shouts, thrusting a pale hand in the vampire's direction as the ancient warriors of the Forgotten War-Fields charge once again to do battle, this time against the Harbinger of Death. Wielding broken longswords and cracked axes, a zombie retinue stumbles closer, their rusting chainmail clattering in the fierce wind as they place themselves between Vexar and their mistress. The goal of the undead was simple; do everything they could to bog the vampire down long enough for Quintessa to finish channeling her spell. If running the vampire through with a fractured sword or smashing his face with an old axe was possible, they'd try it, but they would sacrifice themselves before allowing Vexar to slip by uncontested.

-
Mahri 's smile is lazy and maybe a little proud of the Baroness. What she has to do with this particular bit of magic on display is none, but still. Mahri likes the kid.
-

22:47:52
Vexar unsheathes a fangy, sinister grin as the corpses reset, intent on replaying a battle long since decided. He had anticipated that the purveyors may yet again tempt him with such luscious fruit as a veritable army to command. The bone wand in his hand hisses in accordance to its master’s dark felicity. For but a brief moment, and only perhaps to the most keen of observers, there might have been perceived the most subtle notes of a pause in the two armies’ falling into rank; doubt, as though questioning their call to arms altogether. Whatever curt hesitation there was, however, dissipates as quickly as the ivory wand in the necromancer’s grasp. He knew, regardless of his decision to fight dispelled, that to command the entire army would be impossible. But he could not resist the urge to momentarily brandish his own prowess. His attention turns quickly to Quintessa’s own throng. “A necromancer as well? Just a jack of all trades, this one…”, he mumbles to no one in particular. In the stead of the wand, a shimmering glaive materializes out the same apparent void, onto which Vexar latches his grasp. The array of troops closed in, encroaching with ravenous pits for eyes. The Harbinger raises his weapon and charges as well. The moonblade cries through the cold air as it easily cuts down corpse after corpse. Like a hydra, though, each re-felled warrior seems to spawn two more. Eventually, zombie warriors encircle the vampire, backing him to the precipice of a trench. Vexar relents his hopeless task of ending an army, and rolls into the war tunnel. The path is difficult to navigate, but the encounters are much more easily dealt with. The persistent army follows him as he snakes through the maze, finally coming upon a spot just below the area his opponent has taken ground. With a shadowy, assassin’s haste, the Elder leaps from the trench and drives a booted heel towards the hopefully unsuspecting changeling’s back. Should he connect, the force would do well to knock Quintessa into the horde of undead she herself had conjured.

-
Thamalys channels his utter disdain for the morbid phalanx of the undead by blinking twice (unprecedented!) while casually incinerating the closest two or three zombies with some lush tongues of blue fire - nobody is bound to take notice, as the (in)famous Frostmawian quiet is quite challenged already by the ongoing clash…
-

23:04:09
Quintessa does her best to maintain concentration as mismatched eyes lose track of Vexar in the chaos of battle. She doesn't let this distract her, however, assuming she can defeat him if she manages to get her necromantic spell off in time. The spellcaster is so focused on this task that Vexar is able to get the drop on her, sneaking up and kicking her into the group of warriors gathered before her. As they turn to react a broken sword accidently impales Quintessa, the jagged edge cutting through her midsection due to the power behind Vexar's kick.A smirk crosses her pale face as blood spills from her wound, staining the fresh snow a dark crimson color as the changeling struggles to remain standing. She has taken a serious blow but the sacrifice means that her spell was complete. Sucking in a ragged breath Quintessa pulls both hands downward before she says the last word of her hex. "Felltith." As the word passes the young spellcaster's lips all of the energy she had channeled pours into the ground, the wicked magic carving a black sigil resembling a large eye with black sclera and a burning green iris into the tundra around them. "Amsugno!" Quintessa coughs out, blood and saliva spattering into the cold air as she shouts a new command, causing all of the necrotic energy in the 20-foot radius around the cursed eye to pull inward like a vacuum. The spell latches onto anything it can, robbing the animated dead of the energies that kept them moving, crumbling them to dust as their power is absorbed and added to the pool of mana reserved in the changeling's sigil. The curse even targets Quintessa, dissolving the necromantic implements put in place to make her seem more like an authentic vampire. Other than this the hex blade would suffer no more ill effects, the spell specifically designed to target the very undead and very vampiric Vexar, to drain him of the supernatural strength and speed the elder possessed. In the same moment her draining curse becomes active Quintessa spins closer to the Harbinger of Death with the broken sword still stuck in her side, lithe digits intentionally pressing into her wound to gather blood on her fingertips. The hex blade winces as she brings her hand up, attempting to draw a simple rune on Vaxar's chain armor, to curse it with embrittlement in preparation for her next attack. The changeling just has to survive long enough to pull it off, which is becoming a greater challenge the more and more Quintessa bleeds out.

-
Kasyr sets his still smouldering cigarette to rest atop his carcass-y cushion, his attention briefly falling onto Mahri- as he tries to get a gauge on the lycan. Was it simply curiosity that had brought her here, or some bit of pending business with the changeling that had brought her here? Whatever the case, the Kensai's attention is drawn back to the fight when there's a profane ripple that winds it's way through the battlefield- the likes of which seems to cause his seat to quiver for a few disconcerting seconds. " . . . Mmm. A show of strength or was there. . .?" In any case, the Kensai collects his cigarette again and resumes smoking, his eyes flicking after Vexar, the sound of his blade against bone providing a solid indicator of his presence, even when he dips down into the trench. Really, the only attention the Kensai spares for Quintessa in that moment would be a brief gesture down towards those dug out paths, just in case she gets sidetracked.

Kasyr supposes it may have turned out to be something like a downward gesture, before it becomes a wince. At least, she wasn't -dead-. That said, she had about as profound a reckless streak as he did.

Mahri 's smile turns to a deep frown. The scent of blood reaching the wolf's nose causing the nostrils to twitch. She can feel the pull of Tessa's spell as it passes and though she's not undead her druidic magics recoil in response. Glancing up at Kasyr, Mahri grunts in reply to a question not directed at her. "Your girl's gonna need healing." that's all and her attention goes back to the fight, lines of concern radiating from the corners of her eyes and in brackets on either side of her mouth.

Thamalys casts a quick look at the onlookers, from the tobacco enthusiasts to the wolfish ladies. Why, he might even consider to offer some form of salutation, were if not for a very evident case of first blood on the field - to which a grunt and a grin will swiftly follow. The rather medieval, old fashioned impaling blow rarely goes out of fashion, apparently - a solid challenge for a Healer, and yet the Blue suspects that his services might not be necessary after all. Not yet…

Kasyr takes in a drag from his smoke, his expression remaining impassive, "She's against a monstrous foe- the sort of durability that you'd expect from one of Vuryals miscreations, enfin. If it took anything less than her risking everything, I'd have been surprised."
-

23:23:03
Vexar chortles his pleasure as the baroness plunges into the frosty grave of so many before her. Entirely unphased by the prospect of socializing with the undead, the vampire prepares to leap in after her and finish the job. His intent is interrupted, however, by the enormous insignia taking shape below him. Immediately the magic is recognized, though at great discourse. Why would a vampire expose herself to such circumstance? Regardless, he must find an escape route before the sapping enchantment cripples him entirely. In his turning, scrambling, discombobulated effort at egress, he pays no heed to Quintessa’s harmless encroachment. Alas, the runic symbol is placed. Vexar gasps as he stumbles from the perimeter of the curse, as though surfacing from a riptide that had struck him of air. He regains his composure and turns to face the tricky assailant with defiance, eager to re-engage. Cryptic fingers tighten their grasp expectantly about the glaive, Nyx, but she does not react. Where he would normally expect her chaotic aura to begin wrapping in many convolutions about the staff, there is no life. The drain had impacted him more than he thought. Regardless, he continues his assault. The now neutralized vampire sprints onward through the snow and ice, charging his opponent. He heaves forward with one final, vigorous lunge. With one leg extended forward, the other tucked beneath, and his leather-clad keister now kissing the ice, he begins to slide. Surprisingly, almost no momentum is sacrificed as he steals the remainder of the distance to his target. The steel of the moonblade glitters into a razor’s edge, spitting as it cuts through the separation twixt Tessa and Vexar. The horizontal swipe would cleft the girl at her knees. Should she be so deft as to jump, the ensuing about-face and vertical swipe would cut her hip to clavicle.

-
Mahri said to Kasyr, "I'd rather not think about Vuryal, thanks. I doubt she's one of -his-. Kid's gonna get herself killed one of these days, the way she's goin'."

Kasyr said to Mahri, "Oh, I meant the vampire. He's got a nasty bone to pick with moi, enfin. Rather personal, but I'd never met him until recently. I wouldn't be surprised if he was some discarded left over."

Mahri said to Kasyr, "She's still gonna get killed one of these days."
-

23:40:02
Quintessa was slowed down by the hunk of metal in her side but she could still fight. Her still bloody hand swiftly reaches for the hilt of her katana, gripping it as tightly as she can prepared to deflect an attack with drawing strike before counter-attacking with what she hopes will be her coup de grace. When Nyx splits into two blades Quintessa is forced to quickly reconsider this. Knowing that she only has the speed to block one strike she backpedals to mitigate the damage taken from the attack left uncontested. The hex blade quickly draws her blade, choosing to absorb the the vertical swipe with her weapon as the glittering blade slices through her lower thighs right above the knees. Quintessa cries out, doing her best to maintain a sword-lock with Vexar as she is slowly forced to her knees. "Llanw du!" Quintessa calls out under the strain, the necrotic energy collected in her sigil quickly raising to the metal of her mundane katana as a dark sheen that stains it as black as the void. "Fflamau cysgodol!!" The hex blade continues, her sword already filled to the brim so much with mana that it hums loudly before bursting into ebon flames, a talent just learned from her teacher, Khitti; the Black Tides. The snow melts around them under the extreme heat of her necromantic fire as Quintessa sidesteps, letting the blade of Nyx meet the earth before aiming with all her strength at the midsection of Vexar. The necrotic flames burst with every bit of magic the changeling had collected as the blade arcs to meet his midsection. If everything went as planned this would shatter his chainmail before setting him ablaze.

-
Kasyr said to Mahri, "I didn't deny that."

Mahri said to Kasyr, "Aught to lock her up at the Hanging Corpse. Got some empty cells could use filling" is mostly grumbled under her breath, "Remind me to tell her what a reckless fool she is while fixin' her up, yeah?"

Kasyr can't help but snort, his expression markedly bemused despite the situation, "I'm sure I won't need to remind you, enfin. Nor do I think it would do much to curb her. She's not a scholar content to be hidden away in books, cherie. I'd think that's more than apparent."

Thamalys seems to have just heard a “no guts no glory, sis!” coming from the foul-ish mouth of a bystander, who’s now regretting his poor choice of words in light of the gaze of the Avian, squarely set on the burly shapes of the man as if the Blue intended to eat his face for a brunch. Not so far from the truth…

Mahri crosses her arms with a soft hrumpf. Kasyr's right and she'll still chastise Tessa for being so reckless. "No, but it'll make me feel better."
-

23:59:24
Vexar has no moment to laud his landed strike this time. The cursed energy coursing through Quintessa’s katana was not shy as it manifested itself, and it is all the man can muster to sweep his armored wrist to his side to parry the mighty blow. He does well to arrest the blade from cleaving him in two, but the accompanying power is not so easily dispelled. Indeed, the shockwave blasts his tainted armor to bits, sending metallic shrapnel in all directions. The cursed fires erupt and the force tosses him waylong into the battlefield’s “no-man’s-land”. His displacement luckily relieves him from the burning punishment of the demon fire...for now. A stray fireball from an ill-trained trebuchet crashes to the ground in an eruption of fire and ice, mere meters from Vexar...a close call, to be sure...not close enough. The ensuing inferno completely envelops four engaged corpse soldiers, turning them to dust in an instant. The fiery green din cast by the explosion reflects ominously against the crazed emerald of the Harbinger’s eyes. Two more projectiles follow their leader, and the Elder would make sure this couplet strikes true. In a kamikaze fit, Vexar firmly implants himself in the missile’s path, bracing himself from the impending immolation merely by raising his forearms in front. Oddly, one wrist is catawampus in comparison to the other when held juxtaposed...Tessa’s strike must have broken it. He intended to shield the catapult’s blow with Nikola’s bracers. The first of the two chaotic comets lands, driving the man back against the protest of his chained boots, but failing to crush his resolve. The second impacts, doubling the effort. The vambraces burst to life, resonating furiously as they attempt to absorb the meteoric impact. The implements have limits, though, and they are quickly found as the detonation occurs nonetheless and sends Vexar cascading into yet another smoldering, barreling heap of snow and flames. The Harbinger is dizzied, burned, but unwavering. As he collects himself and rises from the pummeling, the wrist guards emanate with a pulsing radiance. The man with a death wish locks eyes with his adversary and again finds a smile. She is standing on the very spot he had paced for hours earlier, clearly marked by the warn path he had traced; underneath which a team of undead minions had been digging a chasm. He simply removes his supercharged vanguards and tosses them at her feet, where they detonate with their stored power and crumble the very ground beneath her. The minions waiting below her should she fall would not show mercy.

00:15:31
Quintessa does not have much magic left and even less strength. Her knees buckle at the pain in her legs and the wound in her side still leaves her bleeding on the already soiled and melting snow. As she struggles to even hold her sword, her left hand still manages to draw symbols in the air and channel whatever mana was left in her. "Rhew..." she coughs weakly, her aura pushing all of the heat out of the air suddenly as she prepares to cast ice-magic. It sputters as she retreats away from Vexar and the deadly volley of catapults. Bits of shattered ice and frozen dirt pelt Quintessa as she retraces the hand motions for her spell. "Rh-" The spellcaster is interrupted by another blast, this one directed at the escaping girl by the Harbinger of Death himself. Quintessa curses as she finds herself falling into pit full of undead, not something she had in mind for this fight. "Rhew mawr!" Quintessa screams out in desperation, her magic reacting to the emotion behind her words as a sphere of ice materializes around her, crushing many of the zombies that lie in wait. Many more survive and begin to pound and break apart Quintessa's only protection from them. "Elazul's bite..." she mutters before an idea strikes her and she smirks smugly. "Chwalwch!" the changeling shouts, placing a bloody hand against her cracking ice before a strong magical pulse shatters her shield and send jagged bits of ice into the remain undead. Cut open and bleeding, Quintessa climbs over the chucks of ice and crawls out of her pit, not ready to give up just yet. Mismatched eyes gaze up at Vexar, the changeling still on her knees as she reaches for the sword on the ground between them. The hex blade had enough stamina for one last attack, but would she have the agility to land the finishing blow before Vexar could?

Winner: Quintessa

Auto-hit Stake

Quintessa forces herself to her feet by using her katana as a sort of cane, her maleficent aura sparking with a previously untapped bit of potential magic. Connecting with her Night Hag heritage, Quintessa's body surges with her bloodline magic, the lingering supernatural talent for placing curses activating in this moment of desperation. "Lladd ef..." Quintessa murmurs, her dark aura leaving her body to seek out Vexar to place a curse on him. "This is for beating Khitti," the changeling begins, weakly pointing a finger in his direction as a large, evil-looking eye materializes above Vexar, glaring down at him, pushing onto him with an oppressive presence. "And this is for beating Kasyr- Ymosod!" As she shouts the final word of her curse it begins to make a loud, burbling sound, the energies of the Evil Eye hex beginning to draw in the remaining undead to become enraged and specifically target the Harbinger of Death. Brought together in a momentary armistice, both armies turn their attention to the cursed Vexar. "Good luck," Quintessa says as the undead charge from both sides, pulling her cloak around her body before activating her invisibility cloak and sneaking away from the chaos. Vexar could handle a few zombies, right?

-
Thamalys sighs, a low-pitched whisper barely escaping those cracked, grey lips. More work for the Guild, it would appear - not that he expects anything different, but still. Slowly, the Winged Beast would amble toward what does remain of the contenders. No words needed, as the crest of the Healers shines in all his silvery glory upon the silky robe covering much of the Avian’s inked skin. All around the Blue, rotten bones and rusty blades still find each other in an ancient, absurd cacophony. The Spellblade cares not, as he, barefooted as always, walks the icy grounds, immolating undeads into roaring torches of blue fire if and when needed - while sparing a thoughtful gaze for the one battered duelist who is visible still.

Quintessa collapses somewhere on the peripherals of the battlefield, succumbing to her wounds as the invisibility spell fades away. Certainly someone would find her there, be it Kasyr, Mahri, or a member of the Healer's Guild, she'd recover from these injuries and live to fight another day.
-

Vexar heaves deep breaths, expelling wisps of crisp air through his gaping lips as the exhaustion of the physical encounter overtakes him. He gazes on the wreckage he’d created with longing interest. When a hand reaches over the edge of the chasm, he is shocked to find it is not that of an undead, but rather Quintessa’s. He grins, shakes his head, and falls to a knee. The curse had utterly drained him, and the effort spent sapping the catapult’s firebolt in preparation for this last assault left him completely wanting. He knew her escape meant the fight’s end. “You’ve got spunk kid,” he retorts, that arrogant air failing to abandon him even in defeat. The necromancer’s eyes rise to the omen overhead, then fall to the obedient forces cast upon his form. “But you’ve still got lots to learn.” The ivory wand he’d neglected so far in the tournament materializes in his grasp as he issues his last statement. He collapses and the throng envelopes his body, gory bodies piling onto each other high atop him in a towering, macabre display. After some time the army begins to dissipate, likely to return to their post-battle slumber, and at the bottom of the heap is revealed to be merely an imprint of a Harbinger’s body in the snow with no other trace to be found.

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