Duel:Sevian v Vuryal
Sevian gazes upon Vuryal's new diminutive form with the ever present mocking, smug grin while his silken clad hand, previously hanging lightly at his side, silently withdraws a stone from the depths of his pocket. Twin burning hues filled with ever tempestuous flames bore into the mage's while those deft digits undergo brief episodes of paroxysms in a clear form of eagerness. With little outward preamble, the tainted elf depresses on taut muscles while his hands correspondingly point outward, the face of the rune in a perfect alignment with the gnome's visage. With raspy tones, elven verses flow forth from ashen lips in a mockery of the very language with their discordant and sharp tones rising at inopportune crescendos. Oddly enough, those flames resting in the elf's eyes flicker and mirror the words, rising. Sevian ends the incantation with a rudimentary slap of his hands, the left hand meeting with the right resulting in bright sparks and a magnificent rush and roar of crimson flame expel in a great rush, feed by the abundance of air on a straight path towards the mage.
The shadows about the gnome begin to collect, their overabundance in this place all to willing to do the bidding of the shadow creature. As the fires torch their path towards Vuryal, the density of the blackened shade increases drastically until an almost mist-like concoction has formed about the diminutive form of the beast. As the burning incantation assaults his position, the chronomancer creeps beneath it, the shadows dissipating his form and allowing him to move about freely in the area without showing his position. Nary more than a few beads of sweat lace themselves to the forehead of the caller of shadows as the counter retort of the chronomancer begins, the eerily familiar voice of Vuryal lifted into the air though an epicenter comes not, rather the booming tone echoes from about the elven bard. The dense atmosphere about Sevian grows warm, the very molecules that make up the air itself beginning to collide upon one another, their gravity reversed and their boundaries now chaotic. Miniature bursts of searing atomic energy explode about the shadowed forest before one enormous eruption assails from behind Sevian, the intensity of this single event hundreds of times more significant than the previous displays. The maniacal cackling of the chronomancer can be heard, his voice the only indication that he even resides here, the slinking form at one with the shadows of the Eternal Forest. Cruel, malicious cackling...
Sevian has his entire attention focused atop the beautiful luster of the unearthly flame, and with the booming sound of Vuryal’s sound, he snaps out of his reverie and visibly pales as he realizes two things; One, he can’t find the minute gnome, and two, he’s lost whatever semblance of control he had over the called flame. The pure deluge of power increases at a steady rise, the diameter of the torrent expanding exponentially. From the size of a clenched fist, the twirling lateral column represent more of a geyser’s outburst as with his current state of chaotic disrepair, Sevian focuses his entire thought on quelling the growth much less vanquishing it entirely when the imploding air and the accumulated force strikes his back. The pain barely pierces his mind, a bare sliver to the uncontrollable energy springing like a well from his hands. So great the energy in comparison, the molecular strike leaves a visible gaping hole in his back, searing the pallid skin. The sheer force causes the elf to lurches forward, the sheer force sending him a few paces forward as with a stumble, he falls. When the torrent of fire meets the ground, instantly it bursts to the side as Sevian’s minimal weight pales in comparison while he’s forcibly flipped onto his seared back with his arms still clenched and now sending erratic torrents in a wide arc from the base of his feet to the canopies above and the shadows below. One advantageous aspect of the fire is the fact that it sheds an unearthly illumination through to the very crevices of the looming trees, inescapably on the path to meet Vuryal in an effort to sate it’s uncontrollable thirst.
Vuryal howls as the shadows begin to dissipate, unbeknownst to the fire wielder that his source of energy is derived from the ability to move freely about without any hesitation. The creature falls out of the darkness, thrust into the open area as smoldering clothing is seen donned upon the diminutive form, standing a mere four feet tall. Throwing off the shroud that is little more than a blackened shell of what it once was, the luminescent lights that make up the staff of the chronomancer is revealed, thrust forward with such a foreboding motion that the sheer radiance of the lights twinkle about the forest, dazzling display of the mystical composite of such a thing. A flurry of archaic, nearly extinct syllables assail the battlefield, the ground opening up at the feet of the lord of space that soon splits out in a huge chasm towards the fallen elf, curiously enough splitting again at the last moment to race in a circle about him. One step forward is taken by the gnome, the staff dancing a pirouette with its wielder until a full turn is made, the last of the spell now coming to fruition as the ground opens up to swallow Sevian as gravity begins to duplicate, nay ten fold at the minimum, above the lithe creature, force upon him surely enough to aid in the descent into the pit yearning to taste elf.
Sevian, in his state, flat on his back with a tower of flames spluttering flickers and embers in a typhoon of manna can do little else than watch through a haze of perpetual fire in grim satisfaction when Vuryal falls from his perch amidst. The amusement quickly turns to anger as, through gritted bared teeth, he attempts to rise. With wobbling movements, he manages to lurch on his knees while the ethereal flames continue to eat away at whatever group of misfortunate trees it happens to focus, when at that exact moment, two events correspond; the gaping abyss splits open at his feet as well as the limited amount of magical energy found within the elf finally begins to wane, the fire responding in equal flickering and reddening state. With a hoarse shout, he falls, deep into the limitless chasm with a waning fire serving as a beacon. In an epitome of sheer determination, Sevian shouts out a single near incomprehensible word in a desperate frame of mind. The particular verse, in combination with the previous, binds his essential life force to the flame as with a great roar, the tainted elf releases the proverbial floodgates. A crimson tint encircles the mouth of the chasm when a second later, along with a great rumbling, Sevian bursts out, riding the wings of his fatal nonexistent spell, out high above the clear sky. In due course, he bears the apex of the ascent as with nary a sound two separate objects fall in perpendicular archs. One being the elf, and the other, the miniscule, burnt rune on a straight trajectory towards the gnome. With a great bone crunching thud, Sevian lands on the mossy ground in an eagle spread position, the simple springy nature of the soil saving whatever thin grasp on life he has. When the corresponding rune is a few meters away from the gnome, it shines an odd, malevolent crimson hue, as with a resounding crack, it finally succumbs to the extraneous force applied and sends shards of searing shrapnel on erroneous courses to find some solace.
Grimacing behind the faceless mask, the chronomancer can do nothing more than speak with extreme hasty as the barrage of flames lick his clothed and unclothed flesh. The spell, to the delight of the gnome, comes quickly as the gravity about the mage reverses, anti-gravity now expanding out from Vuryal. The fires die down, but not before the scarred creature has been slightly barbequed, gnome a-la-flambe', but manages to control the anti-grav orb before him, bending it to begin the next phase. A cruel, vindictive smirk now firmly affixes itself to the hidden visage of the creature as the chronomancer's metaphysical staff is pushed forward, right arm fully extending as both weapon and limb operate as one. The sphere, with the fires racing about its boundaries, now pushes on towards Sevian, but not before expanding rapidly. The trees begin to wax and wane away from the force of the spell, the breeze flowing over it creating an inferno upon its skin as the bubble draws closer to the elf. Quickly, both staff and arm are retracted back towards the side of Vuryal, the orb mimicking such a motion as it abruptly draws in upon itself, the collision of gravity and anti-gravity particles in full display before the fallen foe. A pit of abysmal repercussions cracks into view, the rip in time and space drawing in everything nearby: trees, rocks, animals, bones, it matters not. The force of such a pull multiplies by the second, its belly empty, wishing to fill its appetite with whatever unfortunate item, creature, or source of life can quench its unquenchable hunger as the mage of shadows sulks back towards the shade behind him, unaffected by his own choice of spell.
Sevian can do nothing more than watch in agony at the impending contradiction of the very forces of nature. Lying on the floor with his head poised to view the gnomes antics, the elf can do nothing more close his lifeless, empty eyes and burrow scarred, burnt flesh into the ground, offering little resistance to the growing attraction of the metaphysical chasm. With Pained, haggard breathes, he stretches out an arm and repeatedly finds a weak grip on the ground, thinking to somehow outrace the approaching chasm. Already it pulls at the untethered legs of the elf, aligning him in a parallel path when, slowly, his fingers clench nothing more than clumps of earthy soil in their barren grip. Suddenly, he finds himself dragged forcibly across the ground when he frantically searches for an alternative means of escape. Out of the peripherals of his newly devoid gaze, he finds spots the gaping earth bound chasm created by Vuryal a few feet off to the side and a ways before the gravitational manifestation. With a renewed vigor, the elf scrambles to the side in a crab’s movement with screaming muscles cry out in frustration to align himself to the abyss. With the ever increased gravitational force, Sevian relinquishes hold and hovers above the ground in a limp, lifeless fashion when suddenly, his feet loose grip over the gaping hole. The earth’s natural gravity then takes effect, dragging him a few precious inches down when he bodily crashes into the side of the hole, his fingers grappling to find purchase on the cliff’s edge. Unless through a multiplication of force the magical chasm absorbs the earth in it’s expanding grip, Sevian’s safe with the gravity combating against the earth to draw him in.
Winner is: SEVIAN