Duel:Sanlig v Silex
Judges: Leigh, Satoshi, Jaegar
Location: Larket Arena
Winner: Sanlig, 3-0
Sanlig appears in what looks and feels like a whirlwind. Dust seems to fly in a blurring circle, too fast for the eye to follow. In the midst of this, a figure appears. Tall and thin, draped in silk robes of dead, flat black, the pale face of Tovenaar peeks out from under the dark cowl. In his hand he holds a plain, pitted staff of black wood, crossed at the top to form a 'T'. Could one see beneath the illusions, however, a black-robed human stands in place of the vampire, and the heavy staff is replaced by one of alder wood, carved intricately with arcane signs, and topped with a glowing gem. As the real Sanlig moves forward, so does Tovenaar, appearing to step out from the swirling cloud at a stately pace, staff carried vertically. A slight smile spreads over the illusion's face as he, without warning, swings his weapon in an abrupt arc, appearing to strike the ground with an audible thud. At once, the maelstrom behind him seems to rise from its current spiral and dart toward Silex, the particles clumping together into thin rays, which then begin to glow until, upon reaching their target, they seem to be beams of pure white light, which appear to carve holes through the Terramancer, separating his skin and flesh like liquid. Wholly illusion, the attack is intended to convince Silex that he is, in fact, being torn apart, along with all the agony associated with such a dilemma.
Silex reels backwards as he is assaulted by the lights dancing about in his psyche, ripping his flesh asunder as muscle and sinew quickly become exposed with each passing moment. Hurriedly, the terramancer reaches backwards, unlashing the blackened staff from its slumber upon his back and brings it before his chest with a rapid pace and agony riding upon his weathered visage. Words fill the arena as the mage tries to find some defense against the brilliant beams assaulting his very being, rivulets of blood streaming from open wounds that litter his body. Without hesitating any longer, forcing himself to react, Silex pushes out the staff, allowing it to droop ever so slightly before it becomes parallel to the ground and perpendicular to the man. Reacting, the very floor of the arena erupts, ripples of hard earthen layers now cascading towards the vampiric foe, brazenly standing before the earth mage with a cocky smirk. The waves grow until they reach ten to twelve feet in height, their hardness now blocking the beams of light and stopping the agonizing assault while at the same time moving in to crush the enemy combatant before the waves suddenly disappear. Gone? Hardly. In seconds, the ground fiercely erupts about Tovenaar/Sanlig, intent on forming an earthen dome high overhead, encompassing the foe before gravity takes hold of the displaced stone, sending it now crashing towards the illusionist in all directions while in reality, Silex’s nose begins to bleed as the inner psyche of the man has come under quite the attack.
Sanlig beats a hasty retreat as the earth heaves up, his feet churning to put distance between himself and the waves. As they disappear, however, he stops, crouched and ready, while the image of Tovenaar does much the same. Suspicious, he clutches the amulet of protection about his neck, grasping it just as the world seems to explode. With determination, the illusionist plows toward the wall of the dome, chanting softly, as the whole affair begins to crash down. A second dome appears above Sanlig; a soft blue glow of magic. The smaller bits of debris simply bounce off this shield as the mage runs forward, protecting him from a severe beating. However, just as he is nearly free, a large chunk of rock hurtles down, penetrating the shield and slamming into the human from behind. He is bowled over, tumbling head over heels until he hits the far wall. Slowly he struggles to his feet, his left leg dragging, nearly useless. But his own might is not forgotten for, while the true illusionist fled, he maintained his illusion. Tovenaar, rather than suffering, seems to thrive under the hail of earth, the rocks appearing to simply avoid him, the downfall cloaking the wavering image as the rock strikes home. So, when the dust settles, the figure of the vampire stands still, dusty but unharmed, and still smiling cruelly. With a laugh, Tovenaar appears to raise his staff, pointing it directly at the Teramancer. At once, three spheres of energy seem to appear, dark green in color. These zoom off to three places on the arena wall behind Silex, where they strike with deafening thunderclaps. From the points of impact, tendrils of pulsating light spider up the walls like mystical vines, seeming to twine themselves around each stone until, upon reaching the top, the whole structure appears to simply shatter outward. A hail of rock seems to fly out and then, caught by gravity, plummet toward the mages below. Naturally, the rocks are not truly falling, and the illusions of falling stone are not susceptible to Silex’s spells, perhaps a crushing blow to the Terramancer's hope.
Silex watches with supreme concentration as his spell is evaded by the vampire, the man’s body still riddled with crimson streams that flow from the inside out. The tri-beams flash past him, his head swiveling around with breakneck speed to watch the chaos unfurl nearby. Holding his right arm up, the staff now overhead, chocolate orbs keep their gaze upon the skyward driven stones, gravity soon catching them as well. Coming to his senses, in a manner of speaking, Silex drops the obsidian magical item to the arena’s floor, the tip resting momentarily in the gravel and debris at his feet. Quickly concocting the next scheme, the terramancer begins to speak in a flurry, syllables taken to flight into the open scene of battle. Seconds soon pass before the earthen mage’s enchantment comes to light. Hastily, a dome of solid rock weaves itself about its caller, droplets of sweat now forming upon Silex’s brow as the stones high above close rapidly upon his position. The cage solidifies just as the impact is made, rock upon rock. A few pieces of rocky debris sprinkle upon the dusty mop of the mage as he is safe, for the moment. Though, with this safety comes complete isolation from the world around, and the man knows this. Hoisting both hands now upward towards the peak of this makeshift prison, it is quickly dispelled, rocks erupting to let the terramancer free from his own device. Now glaring upon the vampire and taking a step towards the fiend, Silex speaks a few more choice words, the ground near Tovenaar answer the message. A giant stone hand explodes onto the scene, a monstrous slap of epic proportions now flailing itself at the vampire as the mage drops to his knees, energy quickly fading as the blood loss begins to mount. Outside the illusion, Silex mimics the dropping to his knees as his precious life continues to seep out of his nose, its flow becoming more rampant than previously.
Sanlig, now knowing the measure of his foe, begins moving even as Silex forms his shelter. He hobbles toward a clump of debris, the largest remnant of the dome that had nearly crushed him. As he reaches it, the stone hand appears, so that it is but a simple motion to duck behind the wreckage. All the same, when the blow connects, the pile of rock is sent flying, flattening the illusionist in the process. Again, the ensuing chaos masks the flicker in the web of illusion so that, while the true illusionist lies, temporarily paralyzed and trapped beneath a slab of stone, the form of Tovenaar still stands, infuriatingly unharmed. The illusion seems to raise his staff once more, harsh words in an unknown tongue pouring from his mouth as a blast of pitch darkness appears to erupt outward, rushing forth with a sound like howling winter winds. To Silex, if he is unable to fight the weakening illusion, the walls of the arena seem to vanish, the crowds and floor too, as if the Terramancer has ceased to exist in the world he knew. Nothingness surrounds him, along with the feeling of falling at a great speed, as if plummeting some endless abyss. To this, too, Sanlig attempts to add the feeling of terror and hopelessness, perhaps in hopes of snapping Silex’s sanity altogether. Under the cover of this distraction, then, the illusionist feebly attempts to free himself from the heap of rock and dirt, his body broken and battered.
Silex looses all sight of what was once Larket arena, the entire area now completely pitch black from the illusionist’s next attack. Then, the pit of his stomach is soon given up to a forced upheaval, both inside and outside this mystical illusion. The feeling of falling overwhelms the mage, now flailing his arms about as if that would stop anything. Sanity lost, insanity beginning to fill the vacant void… Tremors of complete depression cascade through his being, intertwining with the already extreme emotions in his damaged psyche as he begins to laugh uncontrollably. Left with little else than a desperate attempt at what might be impossible, Silex begins to scream… nay SHOUT… in hopes of finding a floor to this apparently endless abyss of pitch black. Not knowing whether it will succeed or not, the mage swings the black staff wildly, creating a soft breeze that slightly ruffles the man’s hair. As he continues to plummet in his mind, the earth outside of this hopeless image begins to quake with feverish tremors. In seconds, stone pillars shoot up all around the terramancer, as if called to try and reach up to the “falling man” in hopes of providing him a floor to land upon. These pillars are large, three feet by three feet earthen masses that spring up out of random locations and at random times. Anyone in the area would be surely sent flailing about, should one of these suddenly give out under their feet. The very arena begins to tremor as pieces of debris, small and large alike, thrashing about to and fro causing just as much damage as the pillars themselves. The terramancer, now wildly swinging his staff about with vacant eyes, appears to be unharmed, aside from his loss of total sanity and endlessly trapped in this dire vision.
Sanlig is positioned on the side of one of these pillars as they spring up, immobilized by his injuries and unable to dodge. As the one beneath him erupts, it forces him free from his prison, dislocating his left arm in the process. He is sent spinning, rolling over and over through the dirt and stone until he slams against another column. There he rests, in shock, until he can push himself up into a sitting position. With his good arm, he grasps his staff tightly, his voice hoarse as he chants a final spell. The image of Tovenaar fades, along with the darkness, while the illusionist simply creates the illusion of...not being there. Thus, Silex is left in the arena, apparently alone, with only his own dangerous pillars to threaten him. Beneath his illusion, Sanlig's head sinks onto his chest, saving his energy for what will be a painful, slow exit.