Duel:Ulrugh v Kasyr-Odhranos

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Kasyr is alive! After his resurrection inside the Tower’s walls, Kasyr has banded together with the Ossian Order dissidents, and in the chaos of the battle they have managed to fight their way down from the upper levels, only to crash headfirst into the retreating Ossian frontline in the Mages Training Centre. Odhranos and Kasyr team up to turn the tide and unite the dissident Ossians with their Mages Guild comrades.

Location: The Mages Training Centre (Floor 5)
Duelists: Ulrugh (Ossian Order, NPCed by Ernest), Kasyr & Odhranos (Mages Guild)
Judges: Quintessa and Ashe
Stakes:  If Kasyr & Odhran win: The Ossian frontline collapses under the pincer of Guild and Dissident forces, paving the way for the Guild to establish a forward base in the Training Arena. Old friends from either side of the conflict are finally reunited and the Guild’s forces swell, ready for the final push.
If Ulrugh wins: The dissidents are rounded up and executed down to the last man and woman. The Guild’s forward momentum is stunted and the remaining members of the Ossian frontline escape to the upper floors, where they will undoubtedly find reinforcements.

Mages Training Centre

As you enter this large room, you notice you are standing behind a clear wall of magic. On the other side are numerous mages using every type of spell one can imagine: Firebolts and ice crystals fly all around, some even summoning great beasts of battle. None of the spells seem able to move outside the barely visible barrier, and you guess that is its main purpose. You see some of the mages are using quarterstaffs and pikes, trying to learn the art of combat to complement their mastery of the mystical. Others are very young, and this type of fighting is more to learn discipline, rather than excel their special abilities. This definitely must be the place people that come to actually practice and learn magic. Your only way to exit is down, or cross the barrier to the east.

Entrance Posts

The chaos of battle has yet to reach this far up the Tower, but it is not far away. From both above and below, shouts, explosions and the shuddering of arcane conflict slowly approach the Mages Training Centre, which has remained thus far a quiet haven away from the frontline. From the lower staircases, white-robed figures begin pouring up, out and across the sandy arena, many of them sporting burns and the markings of struggle on their pristine white uniforms. They stumble across the sand, dragging more comrades up from the staircases as they lean against pillars and walls where they can find space. Curses fill the air, epithets damning the forsaken Guild to hell, pleas to Haladavar to spare them from this unjust attack. As the last of the Forward Defence unit makes their way onto the arena floor, a cry goes up from some of the Ossians who have caught their breath. “Reinforcements!” The white-clad crowd turns their eyes to the slowly spiraling stairs that leaves the arena and the figures now descending towards them. A cheer echoes through the Ossian army, it is time to turn the tide.

Kasyr’s descent down the stairs is slowed when he first encounters this new wave of Ossians- a tired expression already beginning to take hold. He can’t even take any degree of satisfaction out of the look of surprise that’s beginning to take hold, either- as by this point, all the comedic value was played out several floors ago. “ Let’s see.” Instead, the Kensai’s focus is a bit more utilitarian, something which becomes immediately apparent in the moments after the stairwell is flooded with the scent of ozone, and the white robed figures find themselves simultaneously sliced apart in a flurry of lightning fast sword strokes. Admittedly, it’s not the most noble of endeavours, given Kasyr doesn't even wait for the bodies to begin cooling from the supernaturally swift slaying, before he goes about trying to “Merde. This is complete Bull-” One of the defectors behind him clears their throats, directing the swordsman's attention away from the corpses he’s attempting to loot for comfort's sake, and whatever Ossians may still reside within the arena. “...Right. Maybe whenever I meet up with them, they can have a spare set of clothes that actually fit me- and not these ...hand-me-downs.” Unwilling hand-me-downs, you magically inclined murder hobo.”At least I have my coat.” Admittedly, the fur trimmed trench coat doesn’t have as much punch when it’s layered over an apprentice's underclothes- but it’s still better than using a box of files to maintain a sense of decency, so he’s made strides. Arguably.

As the last of the Ossian defenders clear the staircase, the sounds from below do not abate. A horrific cacophony of hissing and crunching echoes up the stairs as the Ossians scramble to ready themselves, before with an explosion of dust, light and battlecries, the Mages Guild breach the arena. Fire bolts sing through the air, ice and earth and water erupt from thin air, creating angry walls of swirling elements to push the Ossian line back further as the Guild members establish their foothold. Odhranos scrambles up the staircase after the vanguard break through and he sets to reinforcing the barricades and supporting the frontline. His attire has changed from a few hours previous. Blackened scorches trail across his sleeves, his face is smudged with dust, dirt and sweat and he is now encased in a bizarre dented halfplate, spliced together from three separate damaged chest plates, donated by some of the vanguard that broke through to the foyer, but were too injured to carry on. Odhranos’ voice is hoarse, he has barely spent a minute not talking or shouting since they landed in Xalious, but every ragged roar is important, if any live can be saved with some quick thinking and a well-timed order, it is worthwhile. As the back-and-forth of traded magic begins to settle into a stable rhythm between the Ossians and the Guild, Odhranos creases his eyebrows and lifts his head into the air. That smell, that sharp iron tang in the wind, it could only meet one thing. The terramancer bares his teeth in a grin when he realises what is coming. He pushes forward to the frontline and grabs the shoulder of one of the mages, a Provost by the name of Perindal. “You smell that, Peri?” They nod enthusiastically. “Of course I do. That lucky son of a - couldn’t hide his magic if he tried. From the looks of where he’s casting, he’s about to sandwich the Ossians between us and his band of dissidents in anything between a minute and five seconds. Get ready for the fireworks, Odh.”

The smell of ozone in the air and the sudden cries of dismay from the back of the line meant that Haladavar's defenders were about to be in a tough spot. Fortunately, Ulrugh Droghan was used to tough spots--growing up a magical orc was not the easiest of tasks. Using a trick of the light, he looked in both directions at once and quickly determined the leaders of each party. Then, throwing his arms wide and roaring a challenge to them both, a blazing wall of fire erupted in a narrow oblong shape, wrapping itself around Odhranos and Kasyr as well as Ulrugh himself. "To kill a desert worm," he intoned, his voice quiet and low but still as audible as thunder, even in the chaos of battle, "you sever fast its head." All sounds outside the temporary arena somehow found themselves muted, hidden away behind the roar of the blinding fire. Was it a gamble, locking himself away with the ones who were clearly in charge and thus likely very powerful? Absolutely. Would the sudden absence of leadership, even briefly, cause the rest of their teams to suffer? Very, very likely.

DUEL BEGINS

Odhranos' path is laid out, this corridor of flames that pincers his opponent between the terramancer and the Kensai. In an instant, Odhranos raises his foot and slams it down savagely on the sand-covered flagstones of the arena. In a great ripple, like the flick of a bullwhip, the carpet of stone buckles upward, a rolling wave of stone as wide as the flaming corridor that threatens to crush and bludgeon everything in its path while leaving unsteady ground in its wake that will deny any stable footing or break an ankle for anyone unable to float above it's shattered surface. No sooner has the wave been raised to roaring life than Odhranos tears a flagstone free from beneath his feet and drags it forward, surfing on the rear side of the wave as it carries him onward, its massive rolling bulk shielding him from view. He throws his arms wide as he crouches low on his flagstone surfboard and in response, twin gouts of hissing black dust fly out of the golden cage at his back. The iron filings sweep like a black swarm of flies into the flaming walls on either side and in an instant, the heat melts the filings to searing liquid iron, which Odhranos brandishes in two glowing whips of molten metal as he rides onwards. Watching for the signs of Ulrugh's footfalls in the ground, the wave is no obstruction to Odhranos' view and once he reaches the orc's position, the wave drives over and down, cresting and driving downward with the angry force of a landslide. Odhranos reigns his flagstone in and with a thrust of his hands, drives the wave onward ahead of him. The crest lands and becomes a rolling cylinder of destruction, barrelling onwards. Should the orc have chosen to brave the wave's maw, he would now find himself trapped within a maelstrom of sharp spinning rock, collapsing inward upon him with every revolution. Should he have remained outside however, he would find that the cylinder rampages on even faster, now free of the burden of tearing up new stone, it can roll on faster, steamrolling over everything in its path. Odhranos carries on in the cylinder's wake, brandishing his molten whips up, ready to strike should anyone appear over the top of the cylinder. Anyone who does will be met with no hesitation and a barrage of burning metal.

Ulrugh stood firm before the pair of incoming mages, his attention still somehow on both. As the flagstones rolled up in a wave, he jumped--the movement was augmented with the sound of a small explosion as the orc propelled himself upwards and back at tremendous velocity with nothing but pure arcane force, riding on an invisible board generated with his mana. It wasn't until the cylinder had crested and become a rolling maelstrom that his feet touched the floor again, and when they did his arms reached out wide to his sides, then slapped his palms together, arms up, fingers pointing towards the ceiling. He spun--and suddenly there were two of him, mirror images, each in the same pose, one facing Odhranos, one facing Kasyr. The illusion power in his soulcage served him well, and his phantasm did more than simply duplicate himself. It also speared at the minds of his opponents, channeling the power of the illusionist in his soul cage into a simple, yet incredibly subtle phantasm that added to the doppelganger trick: he attacked their sense of proprioception. Should their minds not be shielded from such an underhanded illusion, he attempted to flip their sense of right and left. For anyone who might be mid-movement--as one should always be in combat--this sudden confusion might be temporarily debilitating, giving him the perfect opening to strike. His arms--all four of them--snapped down in an overhead swing, and just as he'd created an invisible barrier for riding, so too did he create them to attack. Impossibly sharp, completely transparent and as unbreakable as his stubborn orc will, the force blades slammed down, neatly bisecting the incoming cylinder and also slashing towards Kasyr. With that motion completed, the mirror twins began to execute completely different movements. The one facing towards Odhranos turned his palms upward and thrust forward, and his invisible blade unfolded like a book and raced along the floor, intending to take control of the terrain away from the terramancer--and sight, if that blindfold meant anything. What he didn't telegraph with his hand motions was the vicious array of razor-sharp spines that jutted out and upward from this attack, silent killers intent on impaling the archmage with extreme prejudice. Kasyr's Ulrugh chose a different approach--his arms snapped upward again, wrists crossed. The blade that he'd sent crashing down towards the kensai splintered into myriad invisible fragments that scattered and smeared themselves all across the arena, spinning rapidly--a nightmare maze of liquid swords that rushed towards Kasyr like a wall of blenders.

Kasyr doesn't even get to wave to Odhranos before things go to hell. Instead, the ambient pulse of electricity that so often hangs about the swordsman intensifies- signaling the drastic measure by which the swordsmans sense of perception and overall motions are hastened. Yet, , he doesn't intercede, in part due to his normal habit of searching for openings. ...But mostly to avoid a crossfire involving the enemy & Odhranos' rocky revolutions.

It's this point the Ossian mage tips his hand. Illusions. "Calice." That meant- even the flashy display in front of them could very well be a shell game. Thankfully, accelerated perception meant he wasted no time in using his innate empathic talents- in order to seek out the mass of emotions alien to himself and Odhranos.

At least- until Odh's rocky rolling pin begins to shear apart in tandem with the Ossian image's pantomimes. "Not Just illusions." Thankfully, his defensive preperations meant he's already poised to side step the devastation. Only, even with his supernatural haste , and every bit of practice that ought to make the motion feel natural- there's an acutely off feeling, akin to being an outside observer. But he's not allowed to process it.

Adjacent, he can feel the ground begin to slip into the new crater, and before him, the Ossian continues to Gesture. In fact, there's barely time to issue forth a cantrip before intuition screams at him to move.

His first step may as well be a thunderclap- the Swordsman's body surging forward in a streak of electrical energy, outright outpacing the manifestation of the invisible mine field. More pressingly, it sends his lightning quick self -straight- towards where his empathic senses detect Ulrugh. Before the dust from his footfall even has time to settle, the Kensai's sword has cleared his sheathe, threatening to bisect the ossian in passing. And then the cantrip kicks in. A wind spell, copiously overcharged to the point that the manifestation of a wind blade forcibly vacuums in the ambient air and creates a suffocating void around the Ossian mage. One so utterly complete that within moments of the Kensai's passing, it violently implode due to the air rushing back in to replace it.

Unfortunately, Kasyr isn't spared. His perceptions remain skewed, and that violent yank is enough to rob him of his footing and send him sprawling in a rolling heap, to smolder near the flame barrier.

As the cylinder of stone rumbles past, the chaos of its passing and Ulrugh’s cleaving attacks throw an immense cloud of dust into the air. Strangely, this dust lingers, even floating higher instead, hiding Odhranos in its choking midst. Odhranos cannot depend on hearing and hunches, and his sight is entirely gone, so instead he must resort to terramancy. As Ulrugh descends to summon his illusionary copies, Odhranos doesn’t ignore them persay: he isn’t even aware they are there. As the dust cloud fills their narrow battlefield, the true Ulrugh appears as a void in the cloud, an orc-shaped hole while the sand just passes through the illusions that Odhranos cannot see. He throws his hands forward and the twin molten whips slash through the dust, swinging from either side to cross where the orc hides. Before the motion completes itself however, Odhranos’ senses betray him. His momentary lapse in concentration causes the whips to splay wide, scattering into a cloud of superheated metal above and to the sides of the orc. This proves fortuitous as when Kasyr’s windblade tears a void in the air and causes a sudden implosion, the metal goes with it. Like a stinging burning swarm, the metal flies in from every direction towards the orc, a second barrage to follow up the Kensai’s attack. While this happens, Odhranos is confused and disorientated. Time seems to crawl by and as Ulrugh unleashes his ground-hugging blade, Odhranos cannot tell which direction it comes from. There is no left and right, no up and down. To him, the world is only Earth and Not-Earth. As the spiney blade rushes through the dust, Odhranos decides to give himself over to the Not-Earth. Tendrils of sand explode from his cage and thrust toward the ground, tossing Odhranos into the air. He throws his arms wide as he climbs into the air and drags most the dust cloud up after him, keeping the rest centred on Ulrugh’s silhouette, as an unearthly piercing whine sounds out. The dust cloud vibrates, swirling chaotically as crackles of angry light swirl in its midst, a static storm preparing to release its charge. The whine reaches a fever pitch before, with a wrenching shriek, the charge grounds itself as a colossal bolt of lightning, unerringly seeking the tallest earthing rod in the arena, the proud and stately orc, sparing the shorter kensai from the storm’s wrath.

No user of barrier magic would be complete without mastering a defensive barrier, and as Kasyr races towards the true Ulrugh's position the orc has already deployed powerful shields to deflect a physical attack. What the Ossian mage wasn't counting on was the sudden vacuum effect following in the Kensai's wake. Gasping, eyes bulging, he tried to pull in air that wasn't--and then the implosion slammed into him from all sides, the hot metal that accompanied it searing his skin. He was knocked backward, mind whirling in an attempt to find his balance. The whine of the vibrating dust in the air brought him back to his senses--having lived so close to the Nameless Desert growing up, he was familiar enough with sandstorms and the lightning they could generate. He climbed to his feet--or at least, appeared to. In reality, he flattened himself out as best he could against the stone of the floor. What rose instead was a combination of illusion and force--an Ulrugh that even held a shape, the barriers that formed it tuned to be conductive. The blast of lightning, while powerful and shocking, shot through his doppelganger, burned his side, but left him very much alive. "Ulrugh" collapsed, but maintained its shape; Ulrugh himself knew his opponents wouldn't be fooled or stalled for long. He got up and ran towards the antimagic dome in the center of the arena, flinging a pair of attacks in his wake. First, to Kasyr, he felt the Kensai had performed a neat trick with the air, and decided the mage should get a taste of his own medicine. He made a swirling gesture with his wrist and surrounded the dissident with a close, air-tight bubble--and then expanded it rapidly, swiftly pulling away any air he might have had to breathe. At the same moment, he flung a phantasm at Odhranos--the scent of flour, the sound of a spark igniting, then followed by a colossal, earth-shattering KABOOM and rush of intense heat. Dust suspended in the air, if flammable, could detonate with extremely powerful force, and transmutation magic wasn't unheard of. The idea that sand could be turned to flour would be a simple one to implant in a person's mind. In order to sell it--sure, the fake dust explosion itself might be enough to knock some men out cold, but this was the archmage we're talking about here--he aimed the rapid expansion of the field he'd placed around Kasyr squarely at Odhranos, intending to simultaneously clear away the dust, suffocate the Kensai, and convince the terramancer that he'd just been nuked with his own cloud of sand by knocking him out of the sky regardless of what his terramancy senses told him.

Kasyr is still rolling back and forth to put out the creeping tongues of fire on his trenchcoat. Unfortunately, he can't afford the time to thoroughly finish the job, since they still had a foe to contend with. Battered, bruised, and baking- the swordsman raises to his feet, his grip upon his sword tightening. There's no cold-blooded retort, though, given this is about the point the air about him is drawn out- sending a searing ache into his lungs. Really, the only consolation prize here is that it completely smothers the licks of flame about his person. Which is when he allows the Cantrip around his Katana to weaken. After all, he'd caused that earlier implosion by effectively -stockpiling- a condensed mass of air around his sword for a later attack. But it readily doubles as an impromptu oxygen supply, in a pinch. Which means there's nothing distracting him from Ulrugh's desperate flight towards the central barrier. Briefly, he considers tapping into his lightning enhanced speeds- but even with the indignant sensations that come from fresh bruises, he can't risk making another mistake. Instead, he shunts off the residual electrical energy from his form, only to direct that concentrated charge over to Odhranos, in a sparking orb. Which leaves Kasyr to focus on the nigh automatic motions of a breakneck dash- relying on practice and the speed lent to him by a lifetime of rigorous physical activity. It's disconcerting, surely- yet his empathic senses serve to orient him, rending the distance between himself and the Ossian mage. Though poised to overtake Ulrugh, he briefly hesitates. Just long enough for the man to make contact with the magic suppressing field. Almost immediately, the Kensai's empathic senses lose track of the Ossian, signaling the exact moment to lurch that final step forward into the barrier. Thankfully, It's more than enough to dispel's the Ossian's Mental muddling, yet Kasyr fails to move forward. Instead, his arm takes hold of Ulrughs collar, to sharply wrench the Orc backwards. From there, his foot lashes out to sweep the man's legs and leave him sprawled half in, and half out of the barrier- which ought to reduce him from a mage to just a man. The coup de grace is the Katana poised to impale Ulrugh through the gut and leave him pinned to the ground through flesh & fabric.

Odhranos had already begun falling out of the air when his dust storm released its lightning so when the perceived explosion of flour-ignition and the very real explosion of barrier-compressed air hits him full on, he is batted from his downward trajectory and into a low-angle flight, towards the shattered stone of the arena floor. Odhranos’ golden cage ejects gouts of sand, which envelop him like a cushion, before he hits the broken flagstones and keeps on going, the earth simply opening to admit him. The earth’s embrace is soft and forgiving, and Odhranos’ landing is relatively cushioned, allowing him to survive the impact unscathed. As Kasyr’s lightning orb floats gracefully down the corridor, Odhranos feels its energetic buzzing through the remaining dust in the air and he realises the Kensai’s plan. No sooner than he realises this, Ulrugh passes through the antimagic field of the dome and Odhranos’ mind is free of the orc's disruption. The golden cage roars into activity once more and as the terramancer erupts from the ground, he is bedecked in a bizarre metal contraption. A metal catcher's mitt encases his hands, connected with heavy cables to twin large steel discs, hovering behind his back. The lightning orb meets catcher's mitt and the electricity courses through the cables, setting Odhranos’ hair tingling as the capacitor plates gather the charge and store it, sparks dancing between the twin discs of steel. No sooner has the lightning been stored than Odhranos tears the mitt in half and wills more metal from the cage, forming two long spars of steel. As Kasyr harries Ulrugh on the barrier’s border, Odhranos aims the twin spars at the pair, dragging a final tool from the cage, a long iron rod, which hovers between the spars, trained on the orc. As a last touch to try to secure his shot, the shattered ground on the barrier's border spikes upward, seeking the orc's ankles or wrists to grasp and bind him in place. Odhranos grabs the end of the spars with his mitts and the electricity discharges, racing along the metal with a shriek. The lightning’s path causes a violent magnetic burst to surge along the spars and the iron rod flies forward like an arrow, faster than one can blink, aimed squarely at the antimagic forcefield and the orc within, neither of which would slow the blisteringly fast mass of metal.

Ulrugh could hear the approaching-yet-hesitant footsteps of the Kensai behind him, and knew he was going to have to play his hand with more risk than he might have otherwise. He stepped through the barrier, but only just--as Kasyr's arm reached out to grab hold of Ulrugh's collar, the orc was already stopping short himself, and in fact reversed his direction as his own fingers sought to wrap around Kasyr's forearm and wrist. A leg swept towards him, so he shifted his stance and shoved towards his opponent, intending to use that moment of leg motion to throw him off balance with a hip-check, and then he HEAVED with both hands in an attempt to drag Kasyr all the way up and over his shoulder and slam him back-first against the ground, fully-inside the magic circle. As he did so, he pushed backward--effectively intending to reverse their positions, leaving the Kensai inside the antimagic bubble and himself outside of it. Should he accomplish this, he'd clench a fist and summon a dome of force an inch or so outside the magic-nullifying zone, intending to make it as much of a physical barrier as a magical one, sealing Kasyr inside to deal with later, after he'd handled the archmage. Speaking of which, all of these judo shenanigans left his attention primarily focused on his immediate surroundings, and he didn't see Odhranos building up power until it was almost too late. He tried to move--his feet were stuck to the ground, trapped in a sudden buildup of stone. Ulrugh felt a twinge of fear--was he doomed to fall before a spear and fail utterly? No. Not today. Instead, he channeled his force magic within his own body, and waited. The missile struck him in the side and knocked him off his feet, sending him careening backwards into the wall of flames, off of which he bounced and fell to the ground--and lay still for a moment, a blasted hole seared into his robes and body. However, watching him--or sensing his body on the stone--one might detect that he was now vibrating. All that force, all the kinetic power of the shot had been collected inside his own body, and as he lay there he was amplifying it, shooting it through feedback loops of mana within himself. It was a risky maneuver, and it could leave him permanently debilitated after this fight, but with the way his opponents fought he knew if he didn't pull out all the stops he'd be dead. In a blink, he FLEW at Odhranos, propelling himself towards the archmage with the same velocity as he'd just been impaled, fist aimed squarely at the man's solar plexus.

Kasyr's brief inability to use his empathic senses means he's unable to detect whatever trepidation might have accompanied Ulrugh's gambit. Certainly, he didn't expect the eagerness in which the ossian mage's grasp curls about his arm, nor the ensuing attempting at an over the shoulder throw. Attempt being the keyword here, given that the Orc clearly missed the message on a key element of the swordsman's (still-smouldering) brand of Trench Coat. Namely, it’s prodigious weight courtesy of the preklek plating and mithril mesh that serves as its core. More than once It’s saved Kasyr’s life- and even now, the sheer dead weight serves to turn what could have been a smooth shoulder throw into an ungainly heave- that more than likely threatens to strain the muscles of his aggressors. More importantly, It buys the Kensai time- enough that he’s able to relinquish his sword on the way up, and loop his free arm about Ulrugh’s neck. It’s an important detail, really- since it means that when the ossian orc finally does get the Kensai over his shoulder, it doesn’t quite go according to plan. For one thing, the way the Kensai has braced himself is apt to put an incredible amount of strain on his opponents neck, with his cumulative weight more than enough to potentially send Ulrugh lurching into the floor face first. And that’s without considering the more important element in this matter. Ulrugh’s endeavour to get the Kensai through the magical barrier -is- ultimately a success, which means there’s absolutely nothing preventing Kasyr from once more tapping into his innate electrical affinity. And Sure, The orcs position does provide him an intrinsic defense from being simply electrocuted by virtue of proximity. But it doesn’t do a thing to halt the swordsman from augmenting his own downward momentum towards the ground. Whilst the sheer attempt at this maneuver does leave Kasyr both sprawled, and with the wind knocked out of him- there’s a distinct hope that it will outright snap the ossian mage’s neck, or at least leave him concussed, should he manage to wander out and engage odhranos as he’d initially planned.

It's true, the mage was rather heavier than Ulrugh had anticipated, but the Droghan was still an orc, and he hadn't neglected his physical training to pursue magical power. As he felt the arm loop around his neck, he realized that he was going to have to act fast to avoid being dragged face-first into the dirt. As Kasyr accelerated in his RKO attempt, the orc tucked his head low and simultaneously pushed off with his feet, using the electrified dissident's momentum to help accelerate him into a front flip that would help him wriggle out of his foe's grip. As much as he would have liked, however, he wasn't quite able to stick the landing--he landed hard on his butt and grimaced as the shock of that impact traveled up his spine. If he was lucky, he'd have landed on Kasyr himself, but since he hadn't been totally ready for the spin and landed as hard as he did, he didn't have the presence of mind to make sure of that--after all, he'd had to come up with the reaction in the split-second it took for his neck to be grabbed in the first place. Thus, shaken, a little stirred, but not concussed, he stepped out of the barrier to proceed with his plans against Odhranos…

To Odhranos' grim satisfaction, the bolt of metal spears through the orc before burying itself in the ground with a bassy thunderclap. He sees Ulrugh's body collapse, but his senses tell him this is far from over. As the angry vibrations of the orc's body thrum through the floor, Odhranos pulls his metal contraption apart for one last line of defence. The spars each morph into circular steel plates like the capacitor and all four metal discs interpose themselves between Odhranos and Ulrugh, lined up like the lenses of a telescope along the orc’s path as Odhranos begins heaving the stone floor up behind him. In an instant, Ulrugh's vibration reaches its peak and as he leaves the floor, Odhranos shoves the discs forward, four man-sized plates of thick steel, one behind the other, flying to meet the supersonic orc. KLANGGGG, The first plate meets orc-fist face-on and shatters surprisingly easily, spitting metal out to all sides as Ulrugh's flight continues, only slowed slightly from the impact. A second earth-shaking blow follows a split second later, another steel disc shatters, further taxing speed and force from the orc. The third disc holds for a split instant, creasing before it breaks, revealing Odhranos' final disc. The time bought by the prior three was invaluable, giving Odhranos time to bolster his last line of defence. The final disc is backed by an immense wedge of stone, heaved out of the ground, baring it's steel-capped face at the orc's oncoming fist, while the terramancer is encased within, pouring all his energy into stabilizing his battering ram, so it will not flinch from Ulrugh’s attack. The three prior discs aimed to deceive, to commit the orc to his play, to make him think his force was so immense, not even steel could withstand it! It is at this point that physics will reassert itself, as the force of Ulrugh's flight would meet three inches thick of unmoving steel, braced against the very floor of the arena and all of the force of his explosive charge would have nowhere else to go except back through the orc’s own hand. Ulrugh’s stored energy would find itself in a feedback loop, multiplying tenfold within his body, and the only release it would find would be through tearing his own body asunder. A messy and brutal end to be certain.

Winner: Kasyr and Odhranos (Mages Guild)

Ulrugh’s flight ends suddenly and fatally. The force of a meteor hits the steel plating only to be rebuffed, with nowhere to go but back upon its wielder. A visceral crunch echoes around the arena as the fiery wall dissipates, its caster now crumpled and contorted with his head twisted at a sickening angle. Odhranos wastes no time leaping on top of his barricade and driving his fist into the air. “Xalious!” he roars, his voice raw and ragged with anger and the cry is taken up by the Mage’s Guild, who turn to the Ossians with a renewed vigour. Haladavar’s forward troops now find themselves pincered between two groups, the Guild from the front and the dissidents from the rear and along the shaken Ossian line, mages begin lifting their arms and dropping to their knees in surrender as they find themselves outnumbered and surrounded. Once he sees that the battle has begun reaching its conclusion, Odhranos pulls his barricade aside and stands over Ulrugh’s corpse, his face a mask of disappointment. “Why did it come to this, Ul? For Sven’s sake.” He mumbles quietly, before he crouches to retrieve something from the orc’s body. A small orb, no larger than a clenched fist that shimmers and warps even as he holds it, while a pinpoint of light blooms from within; the soulcage that Ulrugh had been granted. “I’m sorry we took so long, Zeph. You’re safe now. I promise you’ll be free soon.” Odhranos speaks to the orb, lifting it to his forehead as he hears the quiet shaky voice of one of his students from within. A sad smile tugs at his lips at the relief of the soul caged apprentice as Odhranos mutters some parting words, then tucks the orb safely into his pocket. He looks across at Kasyr and smiles wryly. “Some reunion, aye?”