Duel:Satoshi v Whess
Location: Pale Moonlit Path Duelists: Whess, Satoshi Judges: Reece, Grae, Kris Stakes: Whess wagers his 'balls in a jar', Satoshi wagers her left ear Time limit/restrictions: 10 minute posts.
Preemtive Affairs:
Whess :: A bottle in each hand. A grin 'pon his scratched face. The pain was numbed by the booze. Duh. >> Anywho.
Whess stops next to a tree to take a big drink of schnapps and such.
Satoshi lounges on the stonework wall lining the street, an ear turned to catch the footsteps of passers-by. The treading of halfling feet is a unique sound and catches her immediate attention, arms pushing the feline up into a sitting position as she searches out the little fellow in the fog. Whess is found quickly and met with a crooked grin. "Y'know, those scratches should heal into fine scars. The ladies will swoon at the sight. Or somesuch." She's in a teasing mood, obviously.
Whess growls. It sounded odd coming from him, like metal scraping against metal or water running through a mill. Not pleasant irregardless. He sweeps a strand of hair from his face before words came from his mouth, "You lil git. I happened to like my face the way it was. You owe me." Per typical, especially with two bottles in either hand, the words were slurred and disheveled. Put together haphazardly; he takes a swig of schnapps and puffs out his chest all manly-man status: "You're just lucky you caught me off gaurd Sato, I could rip you a new arsehole where your mouth should be without even raising a hand."
Satoshi flicks an ear idly as the slightest twitch of her lips shows her amusement at the arrogance. "Could you? You've tangled with my tiefling before, as I recall, and faired badly. I've taken a fair number of pieces from him in spats myself. Care to try your luck, little man~?" There's a thick purr lacing through her voice, further evidence that she views this as more of a game than an actual threat to her well-being.
Whess bursts into laughter. "The tiefling, that was -- that was nothing." Laughter dwindled, "He caught me off guard too. I'll bet you me balls, in a jar, that I can beat your arse into oblivion." He nodded assuredly and leaned against his white staff, bottom blade etching onto the dirt below just a little bit. "And if I were to win -- I would want your ear. Your left ear. Yes. I think I like where this is going, Satoshi." He was humorless suddenly. Obviously angered over the future scars on his face. He had been so pretty! So pretty. At least the cuts were symetrical. "I think that sounds fair."
(Duel Start)
Satoshi tips her head to one side, attempting a thoughtful expression before she replies. "Hmm~. A neutering or an ear. Interesting. Shorty, you've got yourself a deal." In a fluid motion the cat slips off the wall and comes to a stand, a hand held out to Whess despite the distance separating them. Of course, this is no gesture meant to seal the terms but the silent start of a spell. Satoshi doesn't toy around, after all, once a challenge has been made, she's going to play. And today her playtoy is the fog enveloping the area, fog that answers an unheard call to begin condensing around Whess. In seconds the road's heavy blanket of mist collects where the halfling is last seen, the temperature of the tiny droplets plummeting with alarming speed. Harmless drops of water now bend to the snow mage's will, solidifying into minute crystals of ice, ice with razor edges. Not only skin and cloth is threatened by this once innocuous fog, as miniscule formations of jagged ice are easily breathed in to lungs just begging to be shredded. And Satoshi herself opts for no more precautionary defense aside from dropping into a crouch and focusing an alert gaze on the wispy deathtrap she's conjured.
Whess idly limps toward Satoshi, with a staff in one hand and a bottle of schnapps in the other. The staff is used for leverage, like a walking stick, dual bladed and sharper than hell. His gaze narrows upon his foe whilst he begins to hum quietly, one could feel the magical energies swirling around the halfling. Weak as they were, they accomplished the task at hand. A violin is strapped to the halflings back, encased in an oak wood cover and the halfling shrugs the case off his back and settles it on to the ground. Staff still in hand, the halfling points it in Satoshi's direction while his feet spread defensively. He listened to Satoshi's words for a moment, yet they seemed to be falling on deaf ears for as she spoke the halfling was already moving toward her. Until he noted the air around him cooling. Fear was placed 'pon his scratched face whilst he began moving quicker, limping as fast as he could away from the condensation. He could see where the fog would have consumed him and he was barely outside of that realm, only enough to have the sleeve of his left arm cut - a tiny droplet of blood freezing on to his skin. Another three feet to his right he moved until he was clear of her attack. His humming began to grow louder until it was echoing off the statues, the voice surprisingly high pitched. Irking even. Yet he did not unleash an attack upon Satoshi from the bardic standpoint, instead he calmly walked toward her and chucked a full bottle of schnapps at Sato's head. As the bottle neared her, he would unleash a loud screech and the bottle would shatter into many tiny pieces of shrapnel, about three feet away from her. Whilst that was occuring the halfling would then crouch down much like Satoshi and begin beating a hand against his leg to an odd rythmic beat. The beat would grow as magic swirled until the ground itself was shaking beneath their feet. In the hopes this would cause the Feline to lose her balance, the halfling rushes her as fast as he can and twirls the staff above his head with incredible speed and attempts to preemptively slice her left ear off.
Satoshi's ears quiver with the rise in the hum's volume, having met the danger's of this halfling's voice before. But, expecting a vocal assault, the feline is caught off guard by the sudden hucking of the bottle at her head. It's the reflexes of a cat that kick in as the bottle shatters, a hand rising as she hisses an arcane command. Alcohol, alcohol that does not freeze naturally, is thusly loosely frozen in the cryomancer's alarm, resulting in her being pelted by a veritable schnapps-snowball and a light rain of following glass. Minor cuts upon hand and face are hardly something she has to worry about however, as the earth begins to quake beneath her feet. Unfortunately for Whess, it takes no more than a widening of her crouched stance to steady her low level of gravity, leaving her well-prepared to meet his impromptu charge and subsequently bring her bracered left arm up in defense, enchanted metal and ice eager to take the bite of the staff's blade. The bracer's enchantments react with the impact, ice springing from it to wrap around the staff, locking it in place until the algid element can be broken. A hand he's made bleed is turned against him then, a string of words coaxing the blood to freeze around slender fingers and elongate into claws. Claws that immediately swipe out for the halfling's chest, hoping to tear his torso like she had his face, and stealthily feed her frigid magic into his open blood stream. Let hypothermia slow him down in time.
Whess was sweating despite the cold around him, feeling weakened after his last attack. It was obvious by the look on his face whilst bracer met blade that he was tiring himself out quickly. The staff was all but ripped out of his tiny hands, he let it go and fell on to his back to avoid Satoshi's claws. He used his legs to kick out at her while also trying to scoot back, his eyes wide with fear. Still a bit drunk, his choice was to roll on to his knees and flee from her, back to his violin. He did so at a wobbling pace, limp prevalent in his movements. Still with his back to her, the halfling kneels briefly and takes the insturment out - quickly - in the period of about two seconds. He turns, props insturment on to chin and begins playing sweet soothing notes, what was left of his energy going into a final bardic attack - a very strong one - that would put the feline to sleep. He began walking toward her, trying to intensify the effect until - a string broke. Fear re-entered his gaze whilst he stopped moving and began to play with the remaining three strings, less effectively. Words, echoing loud and thick with magical properties began flowing from his mouth. Deep and boisterous, they made up for what the missing string had lost. "Sing and sleep, sing and sleep, close your eyes don't say a peep!" He repeated this with every fourth note until his magical energies had been drained and he was exausted, sweat poured from his face which looked more haggard than usual. His gaze scans around Satoshi, the man prepared to retake staff in hand if need be to attack her again.
Satoshi remains in place as the halfling flees for his instrument. Predatory instinct drives the cat to give chase to the fleeing back of Whess, but she resists as hands scramble to gather the slush of schnapps caught in her hair. Grimacing briefly, the feline stuffs the snow into her ears, effectively plugging sensitive canals with frozen booze and locking out the worst of the bard's power. Still, even with makeshift earplugs, Satoshi feels herself falter as she begins moving toward the halfling, her steps heavy and words slurred as a spell is woven. The fog, once more called upon and once more obedient, rolls toward Whess and his violin with wispy claws of ice eager to grab onto flesh, cloth, musical item, anything, and begin a rabid bout of tearing and rending with clumsy movements. Satoshi doesn't quite reach Whess herself, dropping to a knee as eyelids flutter, fighting the bit of his spell that makes it passed earplugs. But she doesn't have to reach him, the fog can do its given task, shredding flesh and pouring icy magic into adreneline-pumped veins to freeze at vital joints.
Whess does not find it easy to dodge her attacks, what with his limp and all. Matter of fact, he finds it impossible. He was weary and tired, clumsily running from one ice claw, then another, until they all began trailing him from behind. It was then that the very, very last of his mana was called upon -a reserve really he had kept just in case. He stops, turns, and strikes a note high on the neck of the violin that the halfling then accentuates with his fingers, twisting the string until the screech is unbearable. Even to the halfling himself. Yet loud enough that the claws shatter in place. He falls to his knees, panting, violin discarded on the ground and groans at the ringing in his ears.
Satoshi is eternally grateful for those impromptu earmuffs in that last moment. Although they don't entirely block out the agonizing sound, they serve enough protection to keep the feline from going deaf. Nonetheless, hands clamp down upon her ears with the screech and the feline drops to her other knee, cringing in the pain that a mere voice can produce. It's hunched over like this the feline remains a moment, waiting for the ringing to stop before reaction is made by either.
Victor: Satoshi
Satoshi eventually returns to her feet, still off balance from the combined aftereffects of those songs, and sets her gaze on the panting Whess. "You missed claiming my ear... so I guess I get a try now too." Quietly the mage begins another spell, calling to the frigid magic coursing already through Whess' blood. Joints are ignored now, their new directive that oh-so-precious bit of anatomy the halfling was willing to wager. And so, rather than use a blade--which is just messy, and potentially deadly--Satoshi quite simply... freezes Whess' "boys" solid. And with a twitch of her finger she coaxes the magic to shift in a sudden sharp motion, a pair of loud 'crack's following the jerk. At least the halfling has the mixed blessing of being numbed by the cold to not feel anything. Yet. From there, Satoshi fishes a jar out of her satchel and rolls it to Whess. "Be a dear et package those for me, hmm?"
Satoshi gave 1 Glass Jar to Whess.
Whess rolls on to his side. Not the sort of 'oh I'm tired this sucks' kind of roll. The kind of roll that suggests his life was over. Completely over. Why live? He had no balls. He heard the crack a few moments before and his heart sank. The jar is eyed, and submissively the halfling manages enough strenght to place the frozen testicles into the jar for the Feline. That. Little. Git. Took. His. Precious'!!! He then passes out and such, on right there, balls be damned.
Satoshi reclaims the jar, lifting it to her face to eye her frozen trophy curiously. "Something tells me those won't make good decor in my home. How sad," the feline comments in cruel casuality, ignoring the unconscious halfling. With a shrug, the jar is stowed away and the cat begins wandering away--digging slushed schnapps out of her ears along the way.