Duel:Svilfon v Tiphareth
Background
Svilfon challenges Tiphareth on a matter of honour regarding the death of his friend and former captain, Leoxander Achilles.
They meet at the Xalious Tree to resolve the issue.
OOC Details
Stakes: Svilfon said, "ooc I'll explain the stakes: If I win, I get an auto-round in which I destroy Tiph's body, under the agreement he can return at any time due to his phylactery. - If Tiphareth wins, he gets an auto-hit in which he can do basically anything, including a spell we talked about which may cost Svil his hand, or at least some fingers. Basically, a brutal auto-hit.
Post Limit: 10 Minutes, Tiphareth with first attack, final defense.
Time: Evening of September 20
Judges: Kirien, Valentin, Sophie (Mid)
Setting
Before you is an enormous tree like none you have ever seen. It stands towering some three hundred feet into the air and stretching outward nearly as wide and the soft glow of its enchanted boughs radiates a metamagical aura of soothing sapphire light. The leaves are of a rich golden color with each vein therein shining in brilliant silver contrast; each one having the striking resemblance to a large human hand. You notice that they seem to move of their own volition, facing and reaching in all different directions to get the best angle of the sun. The bark of this tree near the base is a rich charcoal black, taking on a deep brown hue as it extends upward into the canopy. The mighty Xalious Tree, which appeared when the Archmage Xalious died and ascended to assume the divine role as God of Magic, standing in majestic beauty as an eternal symbol of the mortal's ascension. As you look closer into the tree you see an inscription carved deep into the bark. There is nothing else here but a field of carefully kept grass and some travelers who have come to bask in this sacred tree's presence. To the west appears to be a nice merchant's shop. To the north is the town well.
Sorcery erupts before the Xalious Tree
Tiphareth comes upon the area, burning glare scanning the vicinity for the damned traitor apprentice. His fiery gaze lands upon the wizard, the pointy hat and unmistakable visage standing out like a sore thumb as he awaits the Lichdrow beneath the tree, as promised. He wondered how much time the wizard had spent beneath the tree in anticipation for this battle, curious what traps and devious machinations could lay in wait for the Eldermage. His apprentice was certainly a far cry from the timid man he'd encountered within the tavern, it seemed like only yesterday as he witnessed the awe and fear within Svilfon's eyes in the presence of Tiphareth's displays of arcane prowess... yet now the very same iniquitous glare that shone from the Drow's eyes also seems to grace that of the broken-toothed wizard. No moments are wasted, no words of warning offered, merely the procession of his attack as he begins wide circles of arcane manipulation through use of his decaying arms. Boney appendages move in deft flowing motions as if molding a giant ball of clay in symphony with the sweeping motions. Whispers slip through the decrepit lips of the Eldermage, though they emerge more close akin to gravely tones of a sickening timbre. The mystic verse accompanying his movements brings forth the curious effects of his magical casting as a massive ball of scintillating light begins forming about the entire venue. Some 70 feet in diameter and encompassing both of the duelists within its arcane confines, the massive orb's walls begin to permeate outward. Air begins rushing out from the sphere, quickly drawing all available oxygen from the venue and leaving a devastating vacuum in its place. What moisture is left within the Lichdrow's flesh begins oozing to the surface within the powerful void, as he stares upon his foe, hoping his ensorcelled sphere will serve to suffocate the man or rend blood from inside out within his ominous spell's confines.
Svilfon eyes the eldermage as he moves to stand before the Xalious Tree. The wizard offers no smile and no tip of his hat. This was for vengeance; for the fallen captain. As Tiphareth summons forth his mighty magicks, Svilfon redies himself for the ominious spell, knowing full well the depths of malice the lichdrow is capable of. Eyes glare against the coming light, but its effects are not quite what the fallen dark elf would have expected. The lack of air means nothing to Svilfon, and in a betrayal of his secret he flashes a grin at the drow, showing two pearly fangs resting easily within his gap-toothed mouth. Sired in Frostmaw by the revenant Kasyr, he has come prepared. Tiphareth is not the only one who can dance with death. But the terrible vacuum is not so easily avoided. The wizard feels it pulling on his blood, seeking to tear free the precious vitae that fuels his deceased body. Old wounds tear open, causing a cry of agony to come from the vampire. But it is cut short; he would not waste his remaining air. With blood pouring from his body, Svilfon summons his Xalious wand, even though he swore he wouldn't. The command is a word known only to him, and within moments the engraved wood has found home in the vampire's rugged hand. With a shout of defiance that rings through the village, taking the last of his breath, Svilfon takes his wand in both his hands and lifts it over his head like he is about to drive it into the ground. But he pauses for long enough to enact his teleportation spell. Mastered now after many months of failing, the only betrayal to his intentions is a twisting tendril of fire that twirls up from the ground but is almost instantly snuffed out within the vacuum, before the wizard vanishes in a cloud of smoke. He is torn but a short distance through Hollow, and when he reappears he has begun the strike started on the ground. For behind the drow he bursts into existence, his strike bringing the sharp tip of his wand down at the back of Tiphareth's head in an attempt to test the lichdrow's might against the combined force of vampiric strength and Xalious power - to drive the wood through rotting flesh and undead bones, and destroy the essence of life that fuels the monster the Eldermage has become...
Tiphareth scowls slightly upon seeing the newly acquired fangs of his foe, though this transformation would have to have been recent, his power would certainly be limited. A mere moment passes before the undead nature of the vampire is not only noted visually but metaphysically as well, the Lichdrow picking up upon the vampire's essence as the blood begins spurting from open lacerations. The wizard appears to be succumbing to the spell before his mystic shout suddenly pierces the vacuum, pulling him from the vicinity to appear in melee range behind the Eldermage. This was not his first date with teleportation magics, and though he could not anticipate the location of his foe he did feel a general presence of undead within his aura to the rear. No time is given to plan a suitable reaction, though he attempts to move away from his foe and spin around with as much speed as the Lich can summon within his undead frame. The Xalious wand comes crashing down, not upon it's intended mark but rather on the left shoulder of the Eldermage, penetrating his robes and flesh with a sickening rip. Though immediately upon the penetration of his wand, the Lichdrow snickers, as he had crafted the wand personally. He knew it's essence as well as any and a mere flick of his wrist sends his own Xalious wood staff appearing within his grasp. The tip is leveled at the Xalious Tree as a shout erupts from him sending a blast of the sapphire aura outward from the metamagical arbor to the Eldermage's chosen implement. Though he acts as a mere conduit while the power is directed in a channel through him into the wand itself, coursing in a backwards path to explode outward upon the wizard's grip, and outward with a blast rivaling that of any explosive within the land.
Svilfon feels a savage, primal joy as his wand tears into the disgusting flesh of the lichdrow, but his enjoyment of the attack is short lived. That snicker, filled as it it with sadistic delight, steals his fleeting feeling of success and fills him with dread. As the explosion rings out Svilfon is sent hurling backwards, shattering through the light sphere of Tiphareth's earlier spell, until he lands on the ground in a smouldering, burning heap. A cry is torn from his throat, drowning in agony, his wand seemingly lost; either still within the drow's shoulder or sent flying far away. But he would not be bested so easily. With groan he pulls himself to his feet, his face a burned mass of bubbling wounds,robes all but destroyed, the only thing seemingly uneffected is his hat, which sits upon his head proudly as ever. On swaying feet he stares with undisguised hatred at the drow, before drawing in a ragged breath and screaming out a series of convoluted words in an arcane tongue; each syllable rich with barely contained archaic might. The remnants of the wizard's hands begin to move through concentric circles that cross in front of his bleeding body, thin tendrils of crimson light left in their wake. After many a moment this gives life to a formidable spell: A shimmering field of scarlet energy that burns into a fiery existence right before the chanting spell-caster. Brighter and brighter it glows, until the wizard gives a final flourish which drives the power towards the lichdrow. It streaks through the air, its intent twofold: It is a spell of binding usually used to trap the life force within a summoned fire-golem. It would seeks to envelope the Eldermage in its bright light; to incarcerate him in a burning prison that would try to separate the life-force of the lich from his phylactery, and also to consume his flesh with flames so hot they snap at the air like a ravening, roaring beast...
Tiphareth stares with the flaming eyes, burning within his emptied sockets as the vampire is thrust outward, penetrating his arcane barrier and landing unceremoniously upon the ground. A readied stance is taken as Svilfon pulls himself back to his feet, immediately starting with a counter assault. Remaining within his barrier, he attempts to ascertain the nature of the wizards attack, though it's movements and semantics are two rapid to be discerned. Standing in preparation for anything, the blast suddenly surges forward at the Lichdrow, pummeling through the barrier as it rushes with an intercept course. A palm is placed downward with his free hand before the Eldermage suddenly thrusts upward, the earth at his feat yielding to his venerable commands as it forms a dome about the mage. Within his makeshift bunker, the arcane flames lick turbulently upon it's surface sending the inside temperature skyrocketing within mere moment, though even more odious is the fierce pull upon his life force the spell is providing. A snicker goes unseen upon his lips as he decides to assume a more dominant position within the venue; the pointy hat wizard was not the only one with knowledge of teleportation, and the Eldermage exacts such a spell with precision as he blinks from view within the bunker and away from the spells intended area of effect, instead appearing some one hundred feet high within the branches of the Xalious Tree itself. His undead aura would be desiccating a lesser tree, though this was no average structure, serving as a direct link between this world and that of arcane force. The Eldermage utilizes his lofty position and knowledge of the tree's mysteries to begin drawing upon it's near limitless power. Blue light begin pulsating around him, permeating his being as he allows his body to become a direct conduit for the tree's power, it's mystic might tearing his flesh asunder with it's massive force as it builds within him. Ancient verses begin pouring from him once more as he begins molding the energies upon his foe, the very air around his foe taking on a thick hazy appearance as magic begins forming an ominous attack. Crackles of force blast this way and that, bolting outward from the ground, flashing across the sky and in all directions. Each passing moment sees the tapestry of force building into a circular wall about his enemy before with a shout the blast releases it's force simultaneously upon his intended target, seeking out the very nature of his vampiric blood as mystic force attempts to sear his flesh from bones.
Svilfon stands on shaking feet as his opponent teleports within the branches of the Xalious Tree. The wizard continues to watch as his spell consumes the stony barrior the Eldermage created, until his chanting forces the vampire's eyes upwards. There, nestled amongst the branches of that tree is the lichdrow. One step is taken towards him, before the air around Svilfon begins to crackle and snap with the pernicious release of mighty magicks. He snarls in primal rage, fangs bared against the coming onslaught, before the powerful energy explodes inwards, driving into his flesh with a burning power unseen in Hollow for a long, long time. The wizard, so newly turned, cannot stand against this magic. He feels his skin peeling back, his blood almost coming to boil within his deceased body, and in a moment of panic surrenders himself to corrupted malevolence of Colton Black's sins; feed to him in a dark ceremony in the depths of Vailkrin by the Lady Tenebrae. Eyes that are usually a pale blue shift hue to become a deep sanguine as his face twists into grimace of hatred. It turns the mutilated vampire into an almost demonic force; evil undiluted, pure in its most disgusting form, flows in tangible waves from his deceased flesh. In a voice that is not his own the vampiric wizard lets out a terrible scream. From his cavernous mouth pours forth a torrent of pitch blackness; a twisting shadow that silently cries its hatred for everything in Hollow. It twists around Svilfon's body, offering protection from the continuing searing power for just a moment, before the wizard raises his hand and points at his odious opponent. With this command, the darkness surges forward like a grotesque dancer; twisting itself through the branches of the Xalious Tree until it reaches Tiphareth. Only then would its true intentions be revealed - it stretches out like fabric, before seeking to wrap around the lichdrow and feed upon his own dark nature. If it was not stopped it would grow in strength with every dark deed stolen from the ancient patron of Trist'Oth, until it was strong enough to consume his very unlife, his personality, and leave nothing but a hollow shell in its wake... Svilfon, on his knees now, uses the remnants of his magic to once again teleport. It barely takes him outside the influence of malicous energy, depositing him once more in a smoking, twisted lump of desecrated flesh and there he remains, unmoving.
Tiphareth awaits his foe's response from on high within the boughs of the ancient tree as the malevolent force rushes upwards to overtake the Lichdrow where he stands. Tiphareth senses the most evil nature of the corrupted tapestry as it grows closer to his aura of tenebrous darkness. The Eldermage proceeds to lift his staff, though as the sheet of evil energy descends upon him, his grip releases upon the stave, it's length send tumbling down the branch as the Eldermage's power is ceremoniously drained from him by the accursed summonation from his former apprentice. Though his power is slowly siphoned, the Patron still resists, focusing his power which seems to be drawn away as quickly as he summons it. The ancient mind searches through indexes of spells which blur through him in the turbulent mental state, it's razor sharp precision no longer hampered by the confines of a human brain as it settles upon a particular incantation taken directly from the Forsaken Book of the Dead itself, the veritable bible of necromantic magic serves him well on this evening as he begins to recall a the intended spell from it's confines. Spilling forth with dark and eerie croaks, it stirs the entire venue, the Xalious Tree itself swaying side to side in response to the ancient and dark magics as he begins fighting for dominance with the wizards spell. The Lichdrow begins drawing upon the very energy cast upon him, pulling it tight as it surrounds his being. All flesh is instantly eaten away under the sheer power of death as he is left a mere skeleton among the trees, covered in the dark tapestry of pure evil as if wearing it as a cloak. A few more passing moments of turbulent activity send the tapestry of darkness bonding eternally to his very form, as if his very nature was now a vacuum of darkness.
Sophie oox Svilfon is the winner unanimous vote. Both of you were brilliant. Thank you.
Svilfon draws in a ragged breath from his spot upon the ground. Blood pours from his desecrated flesh, flowing into the grass beneath him, and all he wants is the constant agony to end... to end... He focuses on his fallen captain. Leoxander, the one who named him Sparkles, who gave him home upon his ship. This was for him; it was all for him... So with a gurgled groan that spits blood from his mouth down his chin, the wizard gets to his feet. He stands there, unfocused; the release of Colton's Sins, the combined forces of the drow, he is destroyed - his unlife held on by his stubborn unwillingness to give way to that cold bastard Death. Eyes that barely see slowly lift to watch Tiphareth combine his own darkness with the released power of Colton Black's malevolence. The wizard knew he did not have long for both lich and torturer to seal themselves eternally together, so he reacts with a power born of his stubborn loyalty. He focuses on himself, on the twirling power that surges deep within and feeds his own magic. And from that he draws; clawing at his own soul with desperate fingers that need its power. Around his swaying form waves of fire burn into existence. They snap at the air like a hungry snake - feeding upon it to grow higher and higher. Within the conflageration Svilfon feels the tattered strands of his flesh that were peeled back begin to smoulder. But he does not relent, he would not. More and more of the power he draws upon himself until the light was so bright it burns over the Xalious village, alighting the entire town. And only when the deceased wizard feels himself almost consumed within his own magic does he react. He snaps off the word of his teleportation spell, the noise lost in the hideous roaring of his flames. It takes him and the flames to behind where Tiphareth stands in the branches. The wizard's bleeding arms wrap around the Lichdrow and with a screamed word, "Vengeance!" he frees himself into the void of magic that houses his spells. He teleports from the area, coming to rest in a steaming pile of snow somewhere in Frostmaw. But in his wake, the added magic of his usually combustable spell, mixed with the roaring fires, erupts into an explosion so powerful the leaves of the Xalious tree that were at all close are consumed in the fires. It brightens up the entire Xalious ranges and rings throughout the land - a booming noise that would have deafened anyone foolish enough to witness this battle of mages. As the light finally fades, and the remaining fires burn themselves out, nothing is left within the branches of the tree. The lichdrow's body, abandoned by his essence back to its phylactery, is no more. What he took back with him isn't known, and the wizard truly does not care. All he knows is he did what he set out to do.. not that it will mean much to him now...