Duel:The Crimson Mantis v Mathollak, Round 3, 2020 Hero of Freedom Championship
Duelists: The Crimson Mantis vs Mathollak Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 15 minute posting limit. Stakes: Auto-hit to the winner. Judges: Meri, Lionel, and Mahri
Larket Arena
This marble colosseum stands as a testament to Larket's military power and marble wealth. Gladiatorial games are very popular among the citizens of Larket. The building is rarely, if ever, empty. The floor is stone, covered with sand, that is replaced regularly to rid the area of the blood-soaked clumps that mark where a fighter has died. The gladiators seem to come in from doors that lead down, into barracks, while spectators file in from both north and south, moving along huge walkways that exit into the stands. The banner of Larket hangs over the arena, where the glory of the city is displayed daily.
Introduction Round
Mathollak :: Bards march into the arena two by two, alternating between trumpeters, drummers, and luters. 'We are the Victors' by Frederick Hermes is what they play, and they carry billowing flags showing a beer stein with a jolly smile to honor the Steel Reserve, or a Lark to honor the Hard City. There well into the song by the time Mathollak emerges, draped in a massive fur lined cloak with his symbol on it. The Axe of Love! A bleeding heart in front of a double bladed axe on a gold shimmering background. He bows deeply, throwing his torso forward so forefully that the cloak flops over his head comically, screening him from view temporarily. An accident? No! A magic trick! He suddenly straightens up and takes a big step forward throwing his arms wide in a 'V', in one hand holding his double bladed axe, and the other holding a stone mug. "To my fans! The people of Larket! To my clansmen in the Steel Reserve! And to my Beloved! DELISHA!" He downs the mysterious blessed brew in one gulp. "Salty today," he notes to himself, then chokes, "and spicy holy smokes..."
Quintessa || Like the last time the Crimson Mantis came to the Larket Arena, the masked woman stands in the crowd, signing autographs on her merch. Crimson Mantis T-Shirts, Crimson Mantis hats, authentic Crimson Mantis goggles, and official Crimson Mantis foam claws are for sale at your local vendor. She seems happy to indulge her adoring fans, signing her name in red ink and blowing kisses to them. When it’s time to duel, she heads to the edge of the arena to stand upon the railing, arms crossed and her carmine cape billowing in the wind. Like last time, the crimson-clad woman wears red-tinted leather armor, corseted to show off her feminine form, with a utility belt snapped firmly around her waist containing various vials and satchels of unknown substances. A mithril sickle rests against each of her hips, attached to this belt, and upon her head she has equipped her famous leather cap, elongated in the front to conceal her identity behind a half-mask, the eyes fitted with dark-tinted bubbled lenses. When the entourage of Mathollak enters the area, the woman gets serious, the friendly smile on her fade evaporating as she takes her place inside of the arena proper. The Deathknight doesn’t even earn a second glance as she limbers up, reaching down to touch each of her toes as she awaits the special environmental factor.
Environmental Challenge
The combatants are ushered to stand on opposite sides of the circular arena. The sandy floor is bare with no clues as to what the environmental challenge will be. An emcee dressed in a dandy brown and emerald paisley suit addresses the crowd. “Welcome ladies and gentlemen of freedom!” The crowd cheers. “Before we begin, a brief warning. Tonight’s environmental challenge harkens back to a dark period in Larket’s recent history. What you are about to witness may unnerve you, but good citizens and guests of Larket I assure you that what you are about to witness is part of the theater of the tournament and you are in no way in any danger. As we posted on the public boards and just outside the arena, we strongly advise that parents stay close to their young children to answer any questions that may arise from what you are about to witness. Without further ado, let’s have a good and fair fight in the spirit of sportsmanly combat. Soon Larket will have its next Hero of Freedom!!!” The crowd roars with applause. Spectators stomp their feet on the marble floor and bang their metal beer mugs on railings for a solid five minutes until their throats and palms and legs ache. The emcee bangs the gong and shouts “Fight!” The earth beneath the combatants’ feet begins to rumble. A chorus of haunted women’s voices can be heard invoking the power of ‘the goddess’. The earth cracks and a long, deep diagonal fault line splits the arena in twain. A circle of women in dark robes encircling a cauldron float up out of the 4-foot wide chasm. Their bodies are ethereal but their eyes dart around the arena to watch the combatants. Aftershocks of the earthquake will be targeted on the combatants at random once per minute, lasting just two seconds. But each aftershock is powerful enough to fell a giant. This was such a terrible chapter in Larket’s history, one that only the true Hero of Freedom can overcome.
Duel
Quintessa || The Crimson Mantis stretches her throwing arm in preparation for her first attack, strolling to one side of the fault line as the tall woman watches Mathollak's stance coolly from under her goggled mask. She pulls up a filtered sheet of red cloth over her nose, a vicious smirk visible just before it was hidden behind her shroud. Delicate fingers grip tightly around a bundle of fabric bags attached to her belt, each stuffed full of Rynvalian chili powder, before she tugs them off and launches them up into the air between her and her new target. With a quick flick of her wrists and the word "Ventus!" shouted, a razor sharp gale of wind impacts and rips through the trio of bags just as a tremor knocks the spellblade to her knees, engulfing the center of the arena in a thick, carmine cloud of burning dust. Designed by Quintessa to affect nasal membranes, tear ducts, and other parts of the body, the deathknight would quickly discover that holding one’s breath is ineffective against this inhaled poison. The Mantis doesn't waste time trying to recover, scrambling back to her feet as she draws her weapons to take advantage of her irritating smokescreen, twin sickles brought out level at her sides, mithril blades glimmering like the twin moons as the changeling begins to channel electrical energy into them. Crimson sparks skip around the spellblade as she looks ahead, keeping an eye on Mathollak as she joins her shocking aura in an elaborate dance. Quintessa wants to start off this fight by hitting him with something big- something that will hurt as revenge for knocking Karasu out last round. "Fulgur..." She growls under her breath, both crescent moons extended out to one side, cradling a growing orb of scarlet lightning between them like giant tongs. "Maiorem!" The changeling shouts, bringing her weapons around as swiftly as she can as her evocation finally takes form, a deafening crack of thunder echoing through the battleground, battering the walls and stands with sonic waves as an apogee of bright red lightning pierces through the roar of the crowd and races right for the body of Mathollak, seeking out the conductive properties of his metallic armor.
Mathollak waits for something to happen to the arena. It always does before one of these things...was it chance or was this place just extremely unlucky? The announcer clears that up for him. It's not the place. He's the unlucky one. Witches rise in the center and start brewing trouble, soon after, there's a rumble in the arena. He stumbles but regains his balance as he begins to feel the effects of the Dark God's blessing. He's gripped by rage, a burning fury that leaks a hot dark liquid out of his eyes. And he's touched by something else, too, but he can't name it yet. His hand grows monstrous, incorporating his armored gauntlet into its chitinous form becoming a red insectoid claw. His aura changes, noticeably. Even to people who can't normally see auras! It becomes hot and heavy (for lack of a better word), dark and red. Appearing close to dripping off him at times. Quintessa moves first, not as tricked by the tremors as he was, and walls off the middle of the arena in a red dust. On principle, he decides to avoid breathing it in, and tears off his heavy golden cloak. As the edge of it approaches him, he waves the cloak in a massive arc and blows gusts of it the other way. Then he decides to wait for her to come to him. She does, like he knew she would. On her way, he decides to pretend to stumble again, throwing his arms to one side for 'balance' and tempting Quintessa to attack him to his open flank. His goddess was a temptress, and he sometimes tried to emulate her. This time it worked, he was much more ready than he appeared to be, and he regains his stance, and presses the head of his axe forward in time to catch both blades of her sickle on the upper crest of his axe. He shoves both hooked blades up, and as the electricity snakes down the shaft of his axe, his dark and fluid aura shifts to meet it, dulling the taze to a dull tickle. Then he pulls one hand off his axe, his clawed hand, and coils it under his armpit. The same dark aura grows dense around it, and then his arm snaps out like a snake-head, fangs and all, to plunge into Quintessa's ribs and out the other side. The dark aura would seek to spread into her, making slight wounds grievous, or even opening up recent ones.
Quintessa || The Mantis can scarcely see more than the silhouette of her opponent even with the goggles designed specifically to deal with the obscuring mist of her poisonous grenade and the changeling growls with discontentment when Mathollak's attack becomes apparent, the horrific claw visible even in the dusty arena. The hooked blades of her weapons are quickly brought up defensively, dual pulses of mana intertwining into the coupled sickles as she braces herself for impact. "Mico," she hisses, low enough to be masked by the ambient sounds of the arena as the blade in her right hand begins to glow with the energy of her sunburst spell, shining like a beacon and set to go off at the first impact of something. The scarlet spellblade is fighting a war of attrition, relying on sabotage to blind, choke, and beguile the Delishian Deathknight until a decisive blow could be landed. The Crimson Mantis would not wait patiently for this opening, however, she would bring the fight directly to the man before her. Utilizing her acrobatics and agility, the dark fae moves to engage in the familiar sword-dance she had employed in the fights before, booted feet carrying her swiftly as her twin crescents shimmer with arcane energy. With a twirl to build momentum, Quintessa feints with her trapped weapon first, the enchantment set to ignite into a brilliant flash of blinding light when the easy-to-parry attack connects with Mathollak’s seemingly exposed flank. This maneuver was merely a ruse however, for a devastating attack, as the clawed Delishian brings his double-headed ax down into her blades. As per the spell’s design, a blinding flash erupts on impact, Quintessa’s tinted lenses shielding her eyes as the gauntleted claw comes swiftly down to impale her. Luck being on her side, another seismic wave shakes the arena floor and forces her to stumble backwards, the sharp talons only slicing through her side instead of impaling her body. Her body shudders as the Mathollack’s aura sinks deep, cursing her wound to split open further as she groans in agony. The Crimson Mantis won't be intimidated by this dire ability though as she ducks low, dropping below Mathollak's arm to pirouette around him before attempting to hook both crescentic weapons on the back of his gorget in order to slam him on the ground. Once he was prone the Crimson Mantis would show no mercy even as the injury hinders her agility, shouting the words "Ignis tempesta!" as she attempts to bring a flaming strike directly down upon him, her plan to burn him to a crisp where he lies.
Mathollak stumbles as the ground roils again beneath him, a sensational herald of what was to come no doubt. He was off balance now, against an opponent that bounced around him like a dancer. He noted quietly to himself, that he could dance too if it wasn't for this armor. And then a sunburst explodes in his face at the end of his axe, blinding him. He spins his axe wildly, aggressively, in a manner that was truly only meant to be defensive. But it was an axe, all he could hope was to intimidate and trust in his plate. It may have succeeded in guarding his front, but she snags him from behind, and pulls him down. Instinctively, he guards himself, but not well. He pushes the shaft of his axe in front of his chest but she goes along side it, burning a hole into his armor and piercing his gut. The trembling earth beneath them cracks, separates, and the very slab he lies on does a backflip and dumps him into mystery. The witches have done their job, and the rumbling stops. A beat of silence. It begins again! Cracks spread toward Quintessa, snaking around her, cutting off her retreat, before erupting in a fissure of dark ooze. And from the new burning seams, dripping servants of Delisha claw their way to the surface, little gray imps covered in hot sludge. They swarm her, try to jump on her, hold her to the ground. And then the slab that ate Mathollak bursts, and he climbs from it. While his (and his love's) minions attempt to wrangle the Crimson Mantis, Mathollak heaves his axe over his head with one nasty claw, and flings it spinning, aiming right for the center of her mass.
Quintessa || The Crimson Mantis feels fatigue sweep through her body, the wicked aura of Mathollak leaving a lingering effect on her as her blood runs down her body, pooling at her feet as her breathing becomes ragged and irregular. Quintessa realizes that Mathollak too was playing her game, using sabotage to weaken the woman until she was open for a finishing blow. The Crimson Mantis makes one costly mistake, however, forgetting about the earthquakes that continue to split the earth beneath her heels, the ground falling away from her before she can escape. With a desperate leap that further aggravates the slit in her side, she hooks both blades into the ridge of the fissure, the woman whimpering in pain as she dangles by a thread. The spellblade looks down into the darkness that awaits her should she fall, a pang of fear causing the pain to be negligible for a moment as her heeled boots dig into the wall of the chasm, aiding her as she hoists herself out of the pit. Quintessa rolls to her feet as quickly as possible only to be met by a host of horrible imps, the Mantis growling as her sickles frost over with glacial magic. Wordlessly the spellblade arcs her weapons in a wide swath as she holds her ground, cutting into the summoned foes and freezing them solid in the wake of her mystic intentions. Her can feel the activity wearing on her however, and she knows she still has the actual deathknight to finish off before she can think about being declared victor. With a smirk hidden by her mask, Quintessa forms a quick idea to use both the latent mana stored in her weapons and the fissors that were opening up all around them. “Glacies agri-” The Mantis hisses against the pain coursing through her body, a low swing of one of her sickles creating a thick sheet of ice under Mathollak’s feet, a long, snaking pathway of frozen glaze leading right into the four-foot wide chasm opened up by the spectral witches at the start of the match. Quintessa races forward swiftly, her movements slowed by the dizzying pain but still quick enough to put momentum behind her. Bending low, Quintessa attempts to slam her shoulder into Mathollak, her aim to send him sliding down her road of ice and straight into the looming abyss she almost fell victim too.
Mathollak knows what it is now. The feeling imparted to him by Delisha's blessing. It was rage, but something else. Something beneath the rage. Sadness. Pain. Delisha was hurt! Mathollak didn't know this, but many of Delisha's children were duped into being killed, serving the yuppy god of undeath, and then being killed again! And he felt it too, not as strongly, but it tormented him. He dusted himself off while his aura waxed and waned. Burned like fire and dripped like tears. Slender tendrils wrapped around his waist and into his wound, holding him tight, protecting one of her last beloved children. Dark ooze funneled into the wound created by her blade and soothed it with love...and divine power. Suddenly Quintessa freezes the ground at his feet, and every attempt to step off the slippery path is wasted energy, and all he can do is keep balance. But he thinks of an alternate solution. As Quintessa rushes toward him, he holds his ground, lowers his stance. Even when Quintessa is inches away from him, he keeps still. She hits him, and his aura rises over him and takes the shape of a woman composed of a deep blackish red. It looms over Mathollak and bends over Delisha, before attempting to shove its long clawed, shadowy hands into Quintessa's back as she hits him. Then Mathollak goes flying toward the chasm, but he's heavy in his armor, and he has time to bend over and scrape at the ice. When he approaches the chasm, he's had time to bend his knees and spring them straight. With his wounds, he would've fallen, but Delisha cradles him to the edge and helps him hang by his ugly claw.
Quintessa || The Crimson Mantis tries to shake the razor sharp claws from the flesh of her back, her frantic movements to escape causing the tips to dig deeper, the world becoming fuzzy as blood loss begins to become a major issue. She has to think up a way to preserve her life soon or she’s finished. The cold energy fades away from her weapons as Quintessa brings them up into a symbolic pose, the earth around her trembling as she channels terramancy to stabilize the ground on which she slides, the rock breaking through the ice to wrap around her ankles, holding her stationary. “Goddess, as a fellow daughter, hear my plea... “ The Mantis whispers, the ghosts of the murdered witches taking notice as the hag-borne woman speaks to their deity. Like Mathollak, Quintessa is attempting to tap into divine intervention before his curse causes her to expire, the tremors of the earth caused by the specters vengeful feelings shifting away from the pair of duelist as the Crimson Mantis finally frees herself from his grip, aided by the stone that anchors her to the ground. “...leniret terrae… lenient terrae…” she chants over and over, the ghosts of the witches moving to join her in a circle around the spellblade as they sing along with her incantations. Slowly the earth stops rumbling and the earthquakes subside, Quintessa’s rare show of piety easing the rage of the tortured spirits, cursing the same magic that aggravated the faultlines to mitigate the magnitude of the tremors. Only when the ground beneath her stopped moving and the arena stopped crumbling would the woman stop chanting, the spirits around her departing as her spell fades away. Lenses eyes look forward to lock upon Mathollak, ready for one last charge, but which one would have the strength to act first? As the Mantis pants in agony, she’s unsure if she has one last charge in her or not…
Winner: Mathollak
Auto-hit Stakes
Mathollak rakes his claw against the fractured ground to pull himself up. It's a struggle, but with Delisha's spicy love, he's strong enough to find his feet. He leaps back to the other side, four feet doesn't seem so long when you have sure footing, and lands kneeling. Inches before he meets her again, he throws his armored hand against the Red Mantis's sickles, knocking them away while he winds up a haymaker. He slams his ugly fist into her stomach, while Delisha reaches around from the same side and slaps her in the face. It's the new one two. The Red Mantis falls in a heap while Mathollak throws up his arms, and the bards begin to play again. "Firebolt."
Quintessa || The Crimson Mantis is glued to the ground as Mathollak approaches, her grip weakening as she tries to maintain focus. Her sickles rise to defend herself but far too slowly, and the Deathknight knocks them from her hands before delivering a serious blow to her midsection, knocking the air from her lungs and causing her to crumple to the ground in pain, the earthen bonds finally crumbling as she wraps her arms around her body. “C-congradulations, cutie,” she struggles to say, her facemask falling away from her mouth. “Delisha is very proud this day…” And with that the runner-up collapses back onto the ground in unconsciousness, Mathollak’s curse and her savage wounds finally getting the best of her.