Duel:Shishi v Vexar, Match 14 of the 2020 Frostmaw Tournament
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner, and Titan Title! Judges: Orikahn, Lionel, and Karasu
Hidden Mountaintop Colosseum
Branching out from the lovely scent of the night blossoms, a secondary exit to the mines is found. However, it is an exit, and just that. Cut off from the frozen slopes that everyone knew as Frostmaw, a grand- and recently built coliseum has been erected. Roughly a hundred meters in diameter, and several stories high, none from inside could mistake this grand colossus for the structure for what it really was. The entrance sloped up, and was one of twelve- each gated off from a tunnel that lead to an even deeper, more complex network of tunnels underground. Amidst the dead center in the ring of combat, an acutely-shaped slice of rock rose heavenwards. From the stair-shaped seats that rounded twenty foot walls, one could simply note that it was a massive sundial, the gates being the hand of time it represented at the current moment. At the twelve-o-clock gate, a small booth stood out above the seats, seven chairs of importance standing firm. Naturally, a light cover of snowfall masked the blood-spattered and weapon torn field of battle. In passing by, none would ever figured the steep rocks of the mountain to house such a feat of architecture.. Although the occasional cry of death, or clang of sword could suggest otherwise.
Shishi is in the tunnel stretching and being antsy and stuff. He looks to one of the handlers that are there to tell him when he's about to be announced, "You think they're covering this in Gualon?"
Orikahn sits in the judges box with a bucket of oysters and a bottle of champagne. He pours himself a glass, grabs his shucking knife, and settles in for a good fight.
Iintahquohae is knitting a scarf. A blue one. Gotta make a cool gift for her best bud.
Kasyr, in any other circumstance, would have already left Frostmaw- there was research to be done, a statue to fix, some general violence to inflict. ..Probably some politics to peddle, but that was one bit of procrastination he wasn't in a hurry to bring to an end. Still, there was something which obliged him to shuffle into the stands of the Colosseum, and to find a spot somewhere within the proximity of his fledgling. A combination of irritation and fascination that saw him looking about for Vexar, to better study the elder- in an effort to place just who he is. It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that his hastily stitched arm still lies in a sling across his chest, constantly aching and nigh-useless...
Iintahquohae immediately hops out of her seat and moves to sit a bit closer to Kas, carrying her knitting basket along with her. Once she's resettled, she looks him over. "You're not dead. Good."
Kasyr draws his left hand up to his mouth to dryly cough, before slouching back into his seat, "Much to the misfortune of many, J'suppose. I miss anything good? Been trying to find hide nor hair of a dryad, druid or earth sort for a project- but, well." Whiskey certainly helped to numb the pain, and had made the time crunch a little bit worse. "Well, this didn't seem like the best place for that sort of thing. Been thinking of returning to Xalious." Yeah, maybe you can actually get some teaching done, too. Other than endless bits of homework and research assignments.
Vexar’s entrance into the arena is the enemy of pomp and circumstance. He simply emerges from the shadowed depths of the tunnel into the waning lights of dusk that are still being cast upon the crowd and contenders. He is well aware of the home-crowd favorite and has no ambitions of winning the adoration of the public. Simple boots, leather pants, and his dark cloth mantle are all that adorn the vampire today. The folds of linen draping from the shoulder mantle flap in the brisk, mountainous winds and reveal Vexar’s bare chest beneath as he strides to the center of the coliseum and props himself against the obelisk, awaiting his opponent’s grand introduction.
Shishi steps into the arena as he is announced and the crowd collectively loses their minds. For the Frostmawians it has been a wait of over two years to see their champion fight here again and they let him know he’s been missed. Many in the audience have thin black banners attached to sticks that they are waving around, meant to resemble the shadows The Blue Demon typically controls in these fights. The returning Titan is a star that has expanded the reach of this tournament far and wide across Hollow. The Larketian Royals for example, unwelcome in Frostmaw, have sent a team of mages from the Magic Academy in the Hard City to set up a scrying party at Fort Freedom so the Prophet Prince can watch his favorite fighter attempt to defend his title. While he walks, Blue scans the crowd in a specific part of the stadium and sends a sweet smile, a wave, and a wink to his twin teenage children, flown in to catch this tremendous event. The assassin is dressed as he typically is for these bouts; white shirt, black tie, black pants, and as he goes to adjust the tie at his neck his eyes go through their accursed color change to a glowing red hue and every shadow cast around the arena sees an unnatural pulse move through it. The crowd is prepared and as soon as they see this, they start doing the wave from the front row to the back so that their dark banners mimic and join that surge of energy through the colosseum up into the cheap seats… He stops his progress, boots crunching on the ever frozen floor of the arena, not half way between the obelisk and the tunnel exit behind him. Fangs flash in a wicked smile towards Vexar and The Titan asks, simply, “Ready?”
Iintahquohae shrugs. “Nothing has happened yet. But if you're looking for a dryad, there's one around here. Somewhere. Wanders around in the forest out west, goes by Ghost.” She watches Vexar's entrance, then leans in close to Kasyr. “I'm traveling to the Underdark sometime in the near future to study abroad, I suppose. ...Not the wisest thing I have ever done, but. Maybe it'll help me with my problem. Bigger beasties equals bigger meals to get the thing out of me, right?”
Lionel says "Laddies and gentledragons, it's the fight of the century! Especially if you quantify each individual year as 100 years for no reason other than dramatic purposes! You asked for it, and Titans delivered, with a blistering-cold climax set in snowy July. It's Vexar. It's Shishi. It's challenger. It's champion. Can Vex break the hex and unravel the champion's reign? Or will Shishi, like a slumbering titan awoken, toss asunder this latest upstart before returning to the world of kingly dreams? Find out now on Dragon B... Hollow! Shishi, Vexar, will there be additional stakes involved? Who will go first?
Iintahquohae turns away from Kas for a moment to just lose her dang mind. Fist punching the air, chanting with the crowd. "Go Blue~!"
Iintahquohae dreamily sighs. "Now -that- is a finely dressed man. And a good dad. Just all around, best guy."
Vexar says "Gold and glory are enough for us. I'll get this part started.
Shishi says "Vex first. Stakes are auto-hit and Titan Title."
Kasyr pauses for a moment, observing as arms fling up around him with the motion of the crowd, and the shifting of shadows- and it's only with the dimming of the crowds din to some semblance of order that he finally starts to speak again, "Homicidal salad, ou non? I already had one bit of dryadic diplomacy break down." ...Was it -really- her fault, Kas? "...If there's an easy way to contact her, let me know. Daedria knows I'm sick of the cold." In regards to her other questions, the Kensai can't help but be a touch more somber. "I'd suggest organizing a hunting group if tu must. I'd rather -not- raise the ire of the ruling house there, if I can help it- but the warrior guild might be a solid avenue to pursue. Anything in particular you aiming to make a meal out of, enfin." Which is to say, he certainly agrees with her assessment- though, he's a little bit curious just how much she's researched this avenue.
Environmental Challenge
The lonely Mountaintop Colosseum stands packed and roaring among the jagged, forbidding mountain peaks. For tonight's fight, the bloodstained stones have been scoured clean and the weathered bones have been been swept away. There are no strange beasrs to greet you. The officials announce no surprise rules or restrictions. No strange magics or unexpexted disasters. The weather is fair, the sun is setting, and an enormous, red full moon is on the rise. Our champions meet on the most honorable and untampered field of battle. May winter's true titan win!
Duel
Vexar’s stoic gaze fixes itself on the heralded champion as Shishi enters the sands. The echoing cries of encouragement from the Blue Demon’s supporters do little to quell the Harbinger’s fortification. The simple introductory question incites Vexar’s excitement, and he pushes himself from the pillar before responding in kind. “Always.” On cue, the form of the moonblade ‘Nyx’ swirls to life at the Harbinger’s side. The ornate runes carved into the length of the staff radiate an emerald glow, the light of which grows to encircle Vexar’s hand as he grasps the glaive. The aura creeps up his arm and crawls across his body before soon enough completing encompassing the Elder, casting his silhouette out in an eerie display against the shadows of Shishi. He drives the balls of his feet into the ground and propels himself towards the Titan, his speed now boosted by the chaotic energy leeching from Nyx into his being. In his wake, the jade aura leaves a streaking green tracer marking his path, which is more jagged than straight line so as to introduce some discourse to his course. Upon achieving striking distance of the blue demon, Vexar thrusts the glaive in a spear-like fashion; the lunge misses, of course. The counter-Elder is fast, perhaps as fast as Vexar himself, and he is counting on this. As the tip of the arced blade sails past its mark, so does the tantalizing tassel of red cloths affixed to the blade’s base. They flutter wildly, very easily drawing attention and perhaps even becoming entangled in the current Titan’s face. At this moment, the Harbinger looses his real blow. The guard onto which he is grasping firm on the hilt of Nyx is sturdy steel, and with this in hand he ‘punches’ for Shishi’s face, a powerful blow aided by pseudo-brass knuckles; if it lands, it could dizzy or perhaps even disable Frostmaw’s champion in an early ‘KO’.
Shishi heard where this title match was going to be and was pretty excited for it. A giant sundial is a particularly awesome place for The Blue Demon to be fighting, and he intends to make the best of it. Vexar makes the first move and the assassin starts sprinting counter-clockwise around the large ring, running perpendicularly away from Vexar and attempting to make it to the correct spot on the clock where the shadows, extra long in the setting sun, can be utilized. One o’clock, midnight, the other vampire is catching up, eleven, ten, he’s getting close now, nine, eight o’clock. Shishi steps into the shadow with the harbinger hot on his heels and time begins to reverse, or rather the darkness moves along the ground with them, turning back the clock as the long hour hand of this timetable begins to distort and condense towards Shishi as he slows his pace, the shadows swirling up around his ankles as he turns towards his opponent finally and raises his hands defensively for the first strike that misses purposely. The assassin side steps for no reason and the cloths fly up into his face. He’s effectively blinded and attempts another dodge instantly, but he’s too early, Vexar has time to adjust and deliver a solid blow to The Blue Demon’s left cheek with a satisfying crunch. Instantly Shishi’s mouth is filled with the taste of his own stolen blood and he is knocked off his feet, careening backwards for less than a moment before he stops in mid air, the shadows previously curling around his ankles taking tangible form as black tendrils and yanking him back down to the ground and whipping him around like a rag doll faster than he could ever possibly move on his own. He is taken in a tight circle around Vexar once, twice, three times and more, increasing in speed with each revolution until it looks as if the harbinger is caught in a vortex composed of a single man, and that is when the shadowy daggers start flying from The Blue Demon’s hands, created from the darkness of the sundial they fly towards Vexar like viscous shrapnel in a black tornado.
Vexar allows his fangs to shimmer in a toothy grin as the early success triggers his own bloodlust. He eagerly takes in Shishi’s response, content to let his opponent weave his own attack to the full extent of its potential. Finally, with the flight of the daggers introducing danger to the equation, the necromancer responds. A guttural shout from the Harbinger summons his demon bone armor from the earth below, individual tibias and fibulas springing to intercept the imposing daggers. They succeed in parrying for a moment, but Vexar simply does not have enough ammo to combat the relentless onslaught. Eventually, several steel blades strike home and once one finds itself hilt deep in his abdomen, the necromancer abandons this strategy. With a painful grunt and a mighty heave, Vexar hurls Nyx towards the perimeter of the Shish-cyclone with all the javelin-tossing ability of a night king. Oddly enough, he does not watch his projectile but rather chases after it as the glaive screams through the air towards its target, which would appear to be the towering sundial center and not actually his opponent. The tip of the moonblade meets the obelisk in violent opposition, introduced by a deafening ‘crack’ ringing through the arena. As usual, though, chaos wins this confrontation and the blade imbeds itself comfortably within the stony belly of the center pillar. Vexar, still in pursuit, escapes his encirclement and leaps upon the hilt of Nyx, now jutting from the rocky face and parallel to the ground, and uses the ‘platform’ to springboard himself into the dusk and shadow-stricken sky. From above, he disappears in the glare of the setting sun. What goes up must come down, though, and as he does so the demon bones re-assemble into a shield at his front. He’s mutated himself into a meteor and crashes down upon Shishi, hopefully impossible to identify against the backdrop of fiery sunset.
Shishi can hardly tell when his shadowy weapons start to find their mark while he is being swung around with so much angular momentum. Vexar hurls his weapon and rushes out after it, and the assassin takes a swipe at the other vampire with a shadow-enhanced clawed hand, but just barely misses him as they zip by each other. Shishi’s spinning is slowed and he is released by the dark tentacles at his ankles. He wobbles for a half a second, a bit dizzy and disoriented while Vexar lands atop his weapon and springs into the air. His opponent is dive bombing him with, Shishi squints those glowing red eyes, is that a shield? The other vampire is coming to him on a very straight trajectory. This is great. There is no attempt to dodge, instead shadows wrap around his legs again, this time the other ends of those black tentacles dig into the frozen ground like tent spikes and anchor The Blue Demon in place while the remainder of the darkness coalesces around the southpaw’s left hand which curls into a fist before it is engulfed in a massive amount of shadow. His entire left arm transforms into an impressively hard, black piston-like instrument that is almost the size of Shishi himself, and he turns his body so that he can swing with as much momentum as possible towards the descending enemy. The impact seems inevitable between the shield and shadow enhanced punch, and it is. The impact is tremendously loud, the ground trembles beneath Shishi, the bone shield cracks, the shadows crack, and the two combatants are suspended for a moment as a shockwave pushes through the arena...
Vexar is stunned. Coming into the match, he knew his speed was almost unmatchable, and was confident his strength would at least rival the other Elder. None of his preparation could anticipate the force with which his asteroid assault is countered, and he sprawls unceremoniously from the collision ‘ground zero’, tumbling away with the shockwave only to have his momentum mercilessly ceased by the arena walls. As he slowly recovers, a cracked and bloodied crater marks his point of impact with wall. The Harbinger glances down at his wounds, taking a moment to rip the still embedded dagger from his abdomen. Vitae spews across the sands. “Okay,” he opines. “No more physicality…” The necromancer very simply withdraws his death-white wand from the waistband of his trousers. He twirls the ivory baton in his grasp, the instrument flipping down each of his fingers with practiced grace until it comes to rest again in what might be described as an ‘inverted’ grip. He assumes a fighter’s stance, as though planning to engage in melee combat with a wand as a weapon, and takes a moment to quip more to the crowd than the champion, “You are worthy, Titan. But that’s not good enough!” As the Frostmawians gathered rain down their collective disagreement in a hailstorm of ‘boos’, the necromancer’s mouth opens again, and the sound that escapes as he does so is different and cursed. Though soft, the unrecognizable hiss of tongue casts its low volume across the arena, an auditory assault of bass tones rippling out from Vexar’s person into the sea of the crowd gathered; it induces a hushed regard for the imminent action. As the incantation fades, in its wake rises a new sound; this one a churning, bubbling, and ominous grumble emanating from the arena grounds, as though the battlefield itself is on the cusp of vomiting. Freshly dead gladiators, still buried just below the sands’ surface, were being called back into the fray. Suddenly, the Harbinger crouches and twirls, his robes fluttering about in a whirlwind of darkness as he does so. After completing two revolutions the vampire launches himself skyward, trained legs propelling his wand-wielding fist into a violent uppercut, though he is nowhere near within melee range of his foe. The seemingly misplaced strike does not want for results long, though. In immediate response, and much closer to the reigning Titan, a towering spear of undead components manifests from the ground and explodes upward, culminating in a deadly tip of splintered bone. Not long after the first necrotic spike appears, a second, third, and innumerable successors begin to shoot forth, erupting randomly across the battle plane. One wanton bone spear lurches dangerously close to Vexar, inciting a sidelong glance of concern from the necromancer which might betray that he is not entirely in control of the precise location from whence these weapons are emerging. Vexar has turned the coliseum into a morbid game of Whack-a-Mole’s revenge, with cryptic stalagmite’s bursting continuously from the ground. If the blue demon takes one misstep, he’ll be made into a Shish-kabob.
Shishi winces at the impact and the shadows begin to abandon him as the red moon rises and darkness around the arena becomes more prominent. The dark piston covering his left arm melts away and the coils around his legs slither off him and towards the center of the colosseum. The Blue Demon is left bare, with nothing to defend himself aside from his elusiveness. The glow in his eyes becomes more vibrant and red mist starts to rise from them like he’s weeping crimson vapor. Vexar begins his magical chant and Shishi remains alert, feeling the rumble beneath his feet milliseconds before the first bony spear shoots up from the ground, which sees The Titan just barely diving out of the way. The people’s champion is sprinting now after an acrobatic tumble springs him back onto his feet. The second spire comes up and he narrowly sidesteps it. He’s buying time. Every single shadow in the stadium is pulled away from where it rightfully belongs, leaving the entire place strangely illuminated by the virtue of shadows abandoning their natural posts. A black pool forms around the base of the obelisk and the ground there begins to crack. The massive spire shakes, tilting slightly as it begins to be loosened from the floor of the ring. Every time a new necromantic assault flies out of the ground it brings new shadows that immediately start to flow towards the obelisk. One missed step and Shishi is sent flying in a tumble to the ground, shards of bone stuck in his left leg. The shadows at the spire take shape, a gargantuan, disembodied black hand that wraps around the obelisk and pulls it free, floating in the air menacingly. Shishi rolls on the ground and bounces back on his feet one more time, just missing catching the next large bone spear in his gut. The black hand moves silently and the assassin is caught by the next spire, blood splattering on the icy ground from his side, his white shirt blooming with red liquid from the wound. The next spire misses thanks to a wicked juke by the lithe assassin and the obelisk closes in on the airborne Vexar. The Blue Demon continues to cover lots of ground in his avoidance of this onslaught, skillfully moving about safely as he begins to get the cadence of the attack down pat. At the same exact moment that Shishi dives out of the way of the next spire the black hand swings, with malicious intent, the centerpiece of the sundial down towards Vexar like a rolled up newspaper meant to destroy a housefly...
Vexar flutters gracefully down, forest eyes darting to and fro to track each malicious spike as it thrusts home. His greed to witness more pain inflection is only just parried by his innate interest in the now levitating obelisk, which is remarkably more imposing once it’s forced from the its ancient bed. They say an iceberg is much larger beneath the water; apparently the same is true for sun dials. Reasonably distracted by the impending doom of the stone marionette, manipulated by a shadowy puppet-master, Vexar begins to strafe. First left; the doomsday device follows. Then right; the meteor stays trained true. Finally, he relents his prior attack and desperately entices any and all undead matter to fly to his aide. The demon bones; the undead gladiator spikes; the shark tooth necklaces that the teenage spectators wear around their necks. All manipulatable implements within seemingly miles respond and coalesce above the Harbinger to attempt to absorb the terror of a hundred thousand pound blow. The impromptu shield recruitment is impressive, but is it enough? Vexar braces for impact beneath the macabre canopy.
Winner: Vexar
But wait...There's a twist!
Vexar winces as the onyx sledgehammer crushes into his ivory barrier. The battling forces spit and grind and crush in protest, with the necromancer’s resolve dissolving along with the stone and bone interaction above him. Eventually, the sun dial statue cracks and splits in twine, the bone fortress only just piercing through the colossal meteor before disintegrating itself. The ordeal leaves Vexar completely exhausted, but his opponent is only meters away, pierced and bloodied, ready for defeat. The Harbinger of Death wastes no time leaping to action. Two of the bone splinters fly to his wrists, irons to magnets, and the impending haymaker upon Shishi should undoubtedly cleave the punishment of surrender upon the reigning Titan. However, from the corner of his eye, Vexar spots a figure in the stands. The man, had Shishi not stolen the shadows from all corners of the arena, should have been hidden. But there Mesdoram was, in the open, and returned. Vexar smiles, and a twinkle in his eye meets with his lost brother; he pulls the punch, and is left defenseless.
Shishi starts pulling the shards of bone out from his leg as he walks forward after the crash, the crimson mist seeping from his eyes beginning to thicken and stain his face as he moves through the cold Frostmawian evening towards the exploded pillar and cracked piles upon piles of bone. Blood trails down his side, dampening his pant leg, but he presses forward. The crowd is silenced after exploding over and over again with each blow in the battle, now nervously waiting the outcome as the two vampires slowly approach one another. There is a wind flick of The Blue Demon’s wrist and out of nothing The Wand of Mordant Flame appears in his left hand, black fire blazing at its tip. Shishi moves too slowly to meet the blow that was meant to finish him off, but Vexar pulls the punch, literally. There is no such hesitation from The Titan, fangs scrape against each other as he grits his teeth and the crowd roars at the emergence of their favorite fighter’s best weapon. Shishi spits out blood and shadow and the darkness snaps to Vexar’s wrists with wicked force, knocking him off balance and pinning him to the ground. Another pair of wisps of darkness do likewise to the distracted harbinger’s ankles. The shadows thicken and apply more and more force, keeping the elder vampire in place while the monstrosity that is the Blue Demon stands over him and sneers, The Black Flame Wand pointed directly down at Vexar’s face. Absolute silence for just a moment and then something akin to ten banshees’ wails heralds a cone of pitch black fire that erupts from the tip of the chaotic wand and engulfs Vexar’s entire upper half. He will feel no heat and suffer no physical burns as this dark fire feeds off of magic alone. The magic burns to fiercely and so quickly that Vexar will feel every ounce of his power being reduced to nothing in the pair of seconds that the fires rage over him. He will feel what it is like to lose everything for that blink of an eye, not even the blood of Eilan is safe from this inferno and it can not tether Vexar’s soul to this plane and he visits hell for an instant, or maybe that was just a vision. The burst of flame abruptly stops and the harbinger is left incapacitated, his magic will slowly return over the next day or two, but that feeling should haunt him for a little longer… The crowd absolutely loses their minds.
Iintahquohae says to Quintessa, "Did you see that?! Did you see that. Blue's the champ. The madman. An absolute -legend-."
Quintessa says to Iintahquohae, "I-I did. I can't believe my eyes."
Vexar gasps for air, a reflexive response, as the inferno blankets and suffocates his being. The hatred of the flame pierces his being and for a man that has visited hell, such reminders are particularly endearing. Flashes of the being Lejiath, to whom he is tethered, bark into his face as he fights the binding power. He momentarily regrets his decision, but the crippling visions and pain subside. He lays stagnant on the arena sands, ‘defeated’ for the crowd and quite literally incapable of responding should he want to. But now he is free to pursue his soon-to-be-renewed relationship with Mesdoram under the radar of the prying eyes that a Titan of Winter is so inclined to invite. He again locks eyes with the deadly drow and falls into a dazed rest.
Iintahquohae is chanting Blue, Blue, Blue, Blue and seems to have lost all sense of propriety that she usually has. Now this is fighting games.
Shishi stares into the flames as the blowback whips his tie up over his shoulder and pushes his dark hair back and up. Once Vexar poses no further threat the dark wand disappears into thin air as quickly as it came and the cursed eyes of Blue’s family fade back to their calm oceanic blue shade. He looks for someone in the crowd, but his vision is hazy and he’s lost his sense of direction. He puffs out his cheeks and frowns, stepping away from Vexar and dropping to his knees, stolen blood instantly starting to form a puddle around him.