Duel:Syrri v Velali, Match 1 of the 2018 Frostmaw Tournament

Duelists: Syrri vs Velali
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner.
Judges: Alvina, Hildegarde, and Lionel

The Bone Cleaver

Leone said, "Welcome to the seventh annual Titans of Winter Tournament! Here we gather at the Bone Cleaver, where Ezajul has been so kind to host the first fight of the first round. Precautions have been taken to ensure the building against collapse or other destroying mishaps, though he's very clear on one point: All of the weapons are available for use...and purchase. Risers line the western and eastern walls of the shop for spectators, leaving the floor open and free. Various tables, cabinets, and stands are left as obstacles at the center. At the far southern end of the shop, Ezajul has packed the upper furnace with kindling to support a roaring fire, while the lower furnace flickers and flashes with the legendary Frostmaw cold flames. Ice stretches out over the hearth in front of the frozen fire. Good luck to Syrri and Velali!"

Velali shrugs a shoulder beneath light Rosfjorian plate, feeling the reassuring weight and flexibility of her joints. She is garbed as is typical of the man-hunter, light plate and leathers that offer enough protection, while not sacrificing too much where dexterity is concerned. The Hjertjeger stands just outside of the sanctioned makeshift arena, gray eyes ubiquitously surveying the odds and ends of weaponry and environment to make use of later, or avoid. Her right hand holds her favored choice of weapon, a thin spear of remarkable craftsmanship, while her left forearm weilds a light shield. For those keen of eye, one might notice that behind the shield lies a shortsword, strapped along left forearm, meant for close quarter skirmishes. Velali steps forward on long legs, gracefully choosing her footing while maintaining a look of regal authority - red lips draw up in a smile both delighted and amused, whilst she flips braided stark white hair over her shoulder. She retreives her helmet, otherwise strapped at her left hip, and places it over her head to proclaim her intent to do battle. Syrri is regarded with a look of determination from beyond the visor of Velali's helmet, as the northwoman hunkers down low into a well-practiced stance. She stiffens her back and inhales deeply, clearing her mind of all save for the opposite challenger. And thusly, does she step forward into a rapid charge towards Syrri, no exclamation of ferocity, no further adiue. Approaching the Axeling, Velali decides to test her opponent with three rapid strikes; the left shoulder and right thigh with spear, finishing with a brutish shield-bash towards Syrri's face. Her intent, while perhaps unclear in delivery, is to see just how much she can push the other, so as to make use of the haphazard arena 'decorations'.

Syrri had prepped for the day by twisting her long, mercurial locks into many braids that she scratched at as she slinked into the smithy. Dressed in the same Nightstone leathers some might recognize from last year’s tournament, her left hand gripped the pommel of Fate while Luck dangled from the strap around the same wrist as dichromatic eyes swept around the room, taking in the sight of the towering Ezajul and the collection of weapons that were usually meant for bigger folk. A few caught her eye, but there was little time to examine them as already her opponent was making herself known. As Velali donned her helm, Syrri switched Fate into her right hand, and dashed toward the center of the improvised ring. Her boots dug into the ground of the smithy with ease, propelling her forward as both hands reached forward to sink the bills of either axe into one of the crates, pulling herself up atop its surface and taking away some of their height difference. Velali’s spear just barely grazed her left shoulder, knocking her off-balance but Fate remained embedded in the crate and kept her upright. Luck, wielded still in her left hand, swung wildly as the halfling struggled to dodge the ensuing thrusts, catching the spear in its second attempt and, diverting it away with a clockwise twist of the axe. The shield was descending quickly toward her head though, but Syrri was not about to repeat past mistakes. With a yank, Fate was dislodged from the crate and she pulled it back in time to parry the bash, the chipped bill of the axe deflecting against the shield. Syrri didn’t have much strength compared to Velali, and relied on her size - crouching down behind the shield and making her as small as possible, she took the opportunity to jump down from the crate, half-hidden by a cabinet that had also been pushed to the center of the area. With her weight gone from behind the shield it was likely to lead Velali down with its momentum, but either way Syrri was already preparing her next move. Using Fate to pull herself up on another surface - a cabinet this time - Syrri kicked off it with a leap, both axes raised high to come down over the shield toward the northwoman’s helmet.

Velali shows no sign of easing up her pursuit of Syrri, undeterred by her opponent's skillful evasion - such is to be expected from a Halfling. Instead of following through with the momentum of the shield-bash, Velali thrusts her spear into the crate that was previously occupied by the Axeling, and uses it as a pivot point to swing herself around to face the approaching attack. Furthermore, the Hjertjeger cunningly uses this changing momentum to forecfully pull down the crate and provide an obstacle between Velali's head and axes otherwise meant to cleave it. With this obstruction stopping the intended attack and possibly delaying Syrri, the hunter takes a moment to draw her spear back in an age-old indication of throwing it. It howl's forth, alike the Rosfjorian winds travelled the world over, and bridges the short distance between the pair. Without cessation, Velali draws forth her secondary weapon, the shortsword and prepares to defend herself further.

Syrri ‘s axes hacked into the crate now in her path, and it pulled her down with it. Landing on its damaged surface as it toppled to the ground, Syrri was an easy target for the spear - where it had missed her earlier, it now sank into the halfling’s side, causing a stream of colorful curses to leave her mouth on the wake of a pained yowl. Mouth agape she stared down at it like “SERIOUSLY?!” and her train of thought was thrown off. It would need to be dealt with quickly, her azure-and-chest quick toward Velali as she dropped both axes - they were left to dangle from their wrist straps as, with both hands gripping the shaft, she pulled it out with a sickeningly wet sound and threw it aside. Her breathing was labored, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow as she flicked her wrists and took hold of Fate and Luck again. Blood stained her Nightstone leather cuirass as she jumped down off the crate, behind it and leaving it between her and Velali. Using them to her advantage hadn’t worked out as planned but thankfully the petite warrior was resourceful, if nothing else. With Velali now advancing with her shield and shortsword, Syrri circled slowly around the crate, staring up at the taller warrior as she flexed her hands around the weapons. With an adrenaline-streaked yell, she lunged around the box, throwing Luck to whistle through the air head-over-heel toward the woman’s sword-wielding hand with unerring precision; meanwhile, Syrri took Fate back behind her and swung it forward the trunk of Velali’s leg like a Lilliputian lumberjack.

Velali 's ever-calculating mind quickly decides to sacrifice her sword arm - her shoulder feeling stiff already from the surprising weight of the crate she pulled down a moment ago. Luck collides with her right hand, cracking a knuckle and cutting into the flesh beneath leathered hands. The sword is knocked free, just as Velali manages to lower her shield in time to accomodate the height Fate, which would have otherwise swept her off her feet. The loud 'crack' of sharpend metal to small shield echoes within the forge chambers, jarring her left arm as well. At this point, Velali opts to gain some distance from the ever-resourceful Syrri, and pulls a chain off of the wall in her backpedalling retreat. With both arms feeling weak, and her right hand bloodied and stiff, this weapon will suit her just fine - enabling her to use both hands to swing what would otherwise be used one handed. And use it she does, for she brings it above her head, tracing it in a circle, which rapidly begins to build up momentum. The Hjerteger advances again and swings the chain at Syrri's waist, hoping to wrap her up and pull her in to complete the journey of shield-bash to face. If not, she aims to push the Axeling back towards the icy sheet at the foot of the blue-fire forge.

Syrri pulled Fate back after the jarring meeting with the shield, her right arm aching under the duress but nothing compared to the sharp pain radiating in her left side. Holding her left hand to the wound, her eyes snapped around to keenly survey the scene - but Velali wasn’t where she’d last seen her, and she didn’t see Luck as it lie forgotten on the ground half-hidden by some of the furniture forming the makeshift pyre kindling in the center of the smithy. Although at a disadvantage and bleeding still, she began making her way toward one of the outer walls, but her path was interrupted by the chain smacking against her. It was just the tail-end, doing little to round the halfling’s narrow hips as she scrambled out of its path - and as Velali’s luck would have it, back toward the southern end of the room. Her boots were the finest halfling boots in all of Frostmaw (or so she told herself) and she was grateful for investing in them during last year’s tourney for they suited her well, their cleated soles gave her some leverage but she found herself cornered nevertheless. She spotted the handle of Luck, but it was too far away so she braced herself, one hand gripping Fate with resolve while her other hand blindly searched behind her for some weapon or tool that could aid her defense. She could feel the flames of the ice-fire behind her, as well as the warmth of the blazing furnace, the hot-cold contrast doing little to assuage her insecurities. Fate would have to do for now, and with the space between them closing rapidly in Velali’s advance, she pulled the axe back and threw it forward with all of her strength, aiming for her joined hands around the chain. At last, her left hand wrapped around something - a hammer? It was unwieldy and required both of her hands to hold it up and swing it toward the northwoman’s body.

Velali 's face is that of a determined warrior - her face now covered in a gloss of sweat and a few stray strands of white hair which managed to pull themselves free of the braid. She grimaces beneath visored helmet, when yet again another axe is sent arcing her way. With fatigue at hand, instinct overrides thought, and the Hjertjeger slides her hands apart, catching the axe by the haft with the chain. However, given the circumstances of narrowly avoiding her head being cleaved a second time, she does not anticipate the newly acquired hammer. The resounding 'crunch' that follows the blow is sickening enough, sure, but so is the blood that sprays out in triumphant crimson glory - her breastplate buckled beneath the force and pierced her skin beneath leather. Velali staggers back, dropping the chain and clutching at her side as she involuntarily inhales, gasping for air. All is not lost, for she manages to regain some semblance of dignity, and stands up as straight as she can muster beneath the weight of fractured rib and armor, her only weapon that buckler strapped to forearm now.

Winner: Syrri

Syrri felt the force of her blow sink into Velali’s ribs and both eyes widened with surprise. As blood squirted out at her, mixing with her own in splattered droplets across her cuirass, Syrri gripped the hammer even tighter with both hands, grunting with her exertion as she pulled the unwieldy weapon back, resting it against her shoulder a moment. Pain flared in her side, dimming her vision a moment - made worse by the heat emanating off the forge as sweat further blurred her stare. A moment later the head of the hammer dropped off her shoulder, and using its weight for leverage, she brought it back around her right side, and with as much strength as the halfling could muster, the hammer was arced back and then forward again. Its aim was true as it slammed forcefully into Velali’s already-dented breastplate, ribs snapping like twigs beneath the solid metal. It was all that Syrri Darkfoot had left in her however, and after the hammer’s use was expended, it fell from her trembling hands as she fell to a knee, hugging her side as blood spilled over her fingers