Duel:Valrae v Alex, Match 1 of the 2024 Titans of Winter Tournament
Duelists: Valrae vs Alex Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit. Stakes: Standard, autohit delivered by winner with allowance for final reply. Judges: Meri, Daisy, and Magikrios.
Along The Cliff
The cliff is narrow and slick, ranging only three feet wide with a sold stone surface to your back and a straight down fall to your south. Should you lose your footing one would certainly find death or extreme injury below. Moving very carefully, you can see the cliff edge moves to the east and west of this location, both areas seem safer than this one.
Environmental
The Environmental Challenge for today: As duelists step out onto their battlefield, they are greeted with twelve discs of ice that have a radius of about two feet to them and are currently levitating a meager six inches off the ground. The twelve discs form the shape of the circle, almost like a clock. One disc for each hour. The duelists are instructed to stand on the discs, but directly across from one another. Once both feet of each duelist are flat on the ice disc, the distance between the ground and the disc grows at a steady rate. Their upwards movement is not so fast that the duelists should be thrown off balance and fall, but it won’t take them longer to get to their new levitating height of about fifteen feet up off the ground. “Don’t fall,” is the only instruction they are given and why is going to be clear – spikes of ice have magically formed beneath them. The fall is going to hurt. The floating discs seem sturdy and balanced, like there is not significant danger of tipping. Just…slipping.
Valrae || Arrived by way of broom, without the usual guard accompaniment or carriages, and prepared herself by way of several stretches. Her men and women were stretched thin enough after they’d taken Larket and ended the war, she’d not wanted to spare them for this. Her long hair was plaited, her face free of all but the dark smoky kohl that lined her wide eyes and dusted her lashes. Her scaled pauldron of celestial bronze feathers covered her right shoulder. The dress she wore today was a gift from Khitti, modified only slightly, and the lightweight mithril sandwiched between silk made the two piece ensemble not only lightweight for quick and unhindered movement while still being protective but also quite stylish. Iintahquohae had designed it after all. The corset’s neckline reached the hollow of her throat but left her arms bare, the high waisted skirt was light and long with an opening running toward midthigh on either side. Bronze constellations shimmered over the white silk, matching the owl armlet that was clasped over her left arm. The intricate, celestial metal was enchanted for all manner of defense but for this fight the witch had added a second charm of weather resistance. There was no way of knowing what dangers other than her opponent the tournament might bring, or if she’d be fighting for a victory in the snow, and she’d wanted to be ready. She’d belted her tassets at her waist, the plated metal boasting the image of Vaalane in all her phases that added another layer of protection. Her boots were the knee high, celestial bronze plated ones of her normal battling armor. The emerald skull was grinning ominously from the holster to one side, her ashwand ready at the other, along with something new. A small cloth drawstring bag of sanguine red hung alongside the wand, surely filled with a trick or two for the witch to use and clearly underneath a charm as the broom she’d arrived on seemed to fit within it without any struggle at all.
Alex staggers towards his starting position in a messy stupor. His legs shake wildly as his feet struggle to settle on any piece of ground for longer than a few seconds before he's forced to realign himself again and again. The often extravagantly dressed man is nearly unrecognizable in his current state. Mounted on his right hand is a clean and freshly sharpened claw and gripped in his palm is a seemingly freshly emptied bottle of ale. His body is covered in a thick wolf fur cloak that shields the rest of gear from view, but a sharp ping can be heard with every step he takes indicating there's something hiding under there. Ocean blue eyes peer out from clouded goggles that protect his sight from the elements, and he groans as he spots his opponent across the way and suddenly feels quite underdressed, but a shining smile still plasters itself across his face. "Right then. They want the two beautiful contestents to off each other first, eh? Is that is?" He mumbles something about ratings and reviews before providing a thumbs up to indicate his ready state with a final cry towards Valrae, "Let's just agree to not go for the face, yeah? Our good looks may be all we have left after this." He smirks with another stumble and steels himself for the start of the battle.
Round One
Valrae had stepped up on the round disk of ice and scowled, quickly pulling the ashwand from her hip. She’d taken the time to grin back at Alex, “No promises,” She calls from her place across from him as the ice begins to rise and suppresses a shudder from both cold and fear. To one side of the icey clock, there was only a narrow strip of land on the cliff rise now covered in jagged ice, the other a drop that would surely end her life. Wasting no more time, the witch murmurs a spell and mana springs to the frigid air around her, the emerald skull at her hip gleaming meanly, but this magic was not for Alex. Instead, she rises one boot at a time behind her to tap the tip of her wand. They glow softly with a shimmering cerulean light as short spikes of pure magic form from the soles of both boots to aid her in moving across this new hazard. It had only taken a moment, and she’d kept her dark eyes on Alex, but now they were further in the air and it left the bard an opening that she couldn’t afford if she wanted to keep her feet… So she moved. Luckily, the disks weren’t so far that she couldn’t risk the leap it took her to move from her original place across from him to the next. Still, she landed clumsily and too near the edge. Her arms flailed wildly as she struggled to keep herself from tipping back toward the open air. “Fu-” Whatever word Valrae had chosen to turn the air blue was torn away with the howling wind as she right herself and took a quick, panicked step toward the middle of her new disk. In a quick turn, she looks again toward Alex. Even if he’d moved in the time she’d struggled with her jump, she’d flick her wrist toward him and unleash a knockback jinx. The magic erupted from her wand, the bolt of emerald light straight and true but not clever enough to follow her opponent if he’d continue to move. She follows this with another spell, this one a more insidious curse. She pulls her arm back and waves the wand again, her free hand brushing against the top of the emerald skulls she does so to draw in more power. This time, she would aim at whatever disk happened to be beneath his feet as fire of pure white unfurled in the shape of a great serpent, perdere bent on slamming its flaming fangs into the ice to shatter it beneath him. If he happened to be caught by the fire, well, so be it.
Alex grumbled and groaned as he approached his designated disk and lobbed himself on top of it with one big jump forward causing him to land on his belly like a beached whale. Those with sharp hearing would make out his cursing towards himself as he desperately digs his claw into the surface to give himself some form of security as he begins his ascent. While Valrae works on preparing her first attack and has her own battle of balance, Alex is busy sloppily regaining his proper posture and then seems to be dedicated to sucking out whatever tiny drop of liquid may remain in his emptied beverage bottle. However, once the edge of the bottle reaches his lips, instead of tilting up and back to try and consume what remains, the bard exhales instead with a soft whistle that begins, pauses, begins, pauses, and then begins again to play a simple and soft shanty style tune not unlike those heard down by the Cenril docks. At first it seems as though he's forgotten his current predicament, but closer inspection would reveal a faint glow of blue mist leaking from beneath the bard's goggles indicating his magic at work. As the bottle seemingly begins to hum on its own, the bard pulls a tuft of fur from his cloak and forces it into the opening on the bottle just as he hears the unfortunate sound of first jinx being cast. His eyes widen and he turns to make a leap to the next disk but his leg is hit by the impact of the knockback causing him to spin wildly upon landing with the desperate digging of the claw catching his weight and steadying him yet again. He's just gotten back on his feet when the flaming viper appears with a sizzling hiss forcing him to leap yet again, though it appears things are a bit too close as his cloak is suddenly caught with a few embers quickly spreading across the entirety of the garment. "Oh! Come on! I've barely had time to perform!" he whines as he whips the cloak from around his body revealing a fine set of tightly bound leather armor covering the majority of his body with fine mithril pauldrons and knee pads as well as a small buckler, an additional claw, and three empty bottles. He pulls back his arm with the flaming cloak and brings it forward with a quick toss towards his opponent which is sped up by the force of a quick shout from the bard's lips that pierces the still air around the cliff. As the smouldering cloak flies towards Valrae in hopes of blinding her, he also finally releases the small bottle of ale he's been clinching since the beginning with the target being the base of her own platform. Upon contact, the bottle would shatter and emit an amplified cry of the bard's banshee screech, causing the glass to explode outward with great force. Every motion is done with extreme dexterity and focused accuracy, clearly betraying the man's 'drunkard' act.
Round Two
Valrae || If the witch felt any pity for the bard and his seemingly drunken state, she’d yet to show it. She could feel the magic as much as see it as his whistling song summoned a sort blue light around his goggles but she had little time to consider the significance of this spell. His cloak had caught fire and he’d promptly sent it directly at her face, which they were supposed to have promised not to aim for, even as he lept from the disk her magical fire serpent promptly destroyed. She didn’t see her knockback land or his clumsy fall because of it, instead she was leaping wildly backward and slipping again despite the charm upon her boots. There was another stream of profanity from the mayor as she nearly tipped over, whether she would have landed among the spikes or fell free through the air was unknown lucky as she regained traction and kept her place. As she struggled, she lifted her arm again and the owl armlet charm was activated with a small spell tumbling from her lips. The magic sprung free of the celestial metal with the rustle of wings and a large barn owl, bright as sunlight and shimmering translucently, placed its unusually large wingspan between the witch and the cloak sped toward her. The cloak smoldered between them for a moment and Valrae started to raise her wand again, to direct the coiling fire back toward the bard, when his bottles shattered at her feet. Aided with bardic magic as they were, there was still the bite of pain as broken glass bounced from the disk of ice and drew blood from the parts of her arms and legs left exposed. Still, the summoned mana shield managed to protect her from the worst of it as she throws herself forward again, onto the smoldering cloak now. The serpent of fire she’d summoned turns slowly, moving through the frigid air of frostmaw as if it were at home there as it followed her wand and, with another word, she commanded the beast of white fire to target his disk again. She didn’t stop there though, even as the smoke from his cloak caused her eyes to water and her visibility to worsen, and the witch reached into her small bag of tricks to pull forward what seemed to be a handful of dirt. Bringing her hand to her lips, she whispers a spell and it flies from her as if it had been caught in a tempest, the shimmering brown soil flying directly toward Alex. This was graveyard soil and dark magic, designed to linger on the air around those unlucky enough to find themselves under her curse and keep them as silent as the grave… If it landed, she’d have little to worry about regarding that deadly voice.
Alex had a difficult time comprehending the light show that was playing out before him due to the speed and complexity of its execution. It was true that he had his own gifts of with magic, but they paled in comparison to the displays of power currently flourishing from the goddess before him. He worried, if only for a moment, as he dug deep and swallowed hard the heavy lump that formed in his throat. He was steadfast in his stance to prevent his balance from failing as he reached to collect the buckler from his back and quickly gripped it with his left hand, securing the new defensive piece just in time to hear the forceful hiss of the serpent once again. He snapped his head backwards just in time to see the coiled strike impact his platform which promptly melted away sending him tumbling down towards the glass like shards below. He extends the buckler towards the ground and squints his eyes tightly shut as a low and deep rumble lurches to life from his throat causing the ground to splinter and separate from his baritone quake which in turn destroys the immediate spikes beneath him. The bard slams into the now less lethal ground with a heavy thud and the source of the satisfying snap that follows is made apparent as he manages to stagger back to his feet his buckler arm with the newly seperated pieces of forearm bone piercing straight out of his skin. His usual pale complexion somehow manages to drain color even further as he sees this, though he wastes little time reacting. He jumps up into the air and releases another screech towards the ground to propel him back towards the rings wings and he manages to just clear the surface and secures his landing with the help of his only good arm at the claw now. He looks towards Valrae with tears welling in his eyes and parts his lips to cry out again in hopes of knocking her from her platform... but nothing comes out. He tries again and feels the catch in his throat... during his second ascension the bard has failed to notice the forsaken soil and was now left to handle the rest of this fight without it... Oh well, time to provde Aramoth proud then! The bard snatches the tightly wound string that holds the remaining four empty bottles to his hip and spins it over his head multiple times, the sweet sound similar to windchimes as the bottles begin to glow faintly, the interior of the home made bombs seemingly loaded before the battle. Releasing the string, the bottles fly towards Valrae's feet like a set of bolas aiming to wrap her ankles and immobilize her before following up with more explosions but Alex doesn't wait to see if they'll make their mark, instead, he leaps foward, broken arm flailing mindlessly behind him as he lunges himself towards her with his claw outstretched, hoping like hell he catches something and is able to bring the two of them together onto a single platform where he would strike for any openings in her armor.
Round Three
Valrae doesn’t rejoice in seeing the bard hurtle toward the ground, in fact for a moment she forgets entirely that this is a battle and they were opponents in a tournament. She rushes toward the edge of her disk just in time to hear and see his fall. He had been clever enough to avoid the spikes but the impact was loud and the damage clear even from her height on the raised ice. She winces and starts to call down to him when his recovery reminds her there is still a fight to be had. A blush stains her cheeks rosy as she moves back, realizing her mistake, and leaping more easily now, finding clean platform away from him. The serpent and the magic she’d used to summon it were forgotten, it had simmered and been pulled away by the frozen winds as little more than black smoke now. She readied herself as he pulled himself back onto the ice with that claw by flicking her wand again, sending another bolt of magic his way. This spell was summoned forth with a flourish of deeply blue night, the mana running like paint in water as it spread out around him. Truly, it was little more than a party trick as it shimmered with light before mirrored images of Valrae herself appeared in magic. It was a simple illusion, though the spell was woven well and the three separate images of Valrae all seemed to leap and move in different directions around him. The one closest to him seemed to be running and jumping over the ice intent on plowing right into him and taking them both down again. Another was working on a spell, the flourish of her wand calling forth more of that dazzling light show in shades of sunset orange that bolted toward him once, then twice, and then a third time. The last Valrae, who happened to be the true Valrae that he’d aimed at before her mirrors, took those strange bardic bombs directly on. They wrapped around her boots and seemed to root her to the ice disk as she let out an embarrassingly girlish cry of frustration. She couldn’t afford to bother with them though, if her illusions didn’t stop Alex from joining her on her ice disk, she would be ready. She reached into her red bag again, revealing the wickedly sharp athame she’d kept there and moved best she could to a defensive position as the harmless orange bolts of light flew through the air. Her breath hissed out in a plume of smoke, the cold still warded away from her charms but unable to stop the ache in her lungs as she labored to breathe at such heights. On his lunge, she uses the wand instead of the athame to swing upward, sending a wave of blue-green holy light out in an orbish punch aimed directly at his gut. If she could stop him mid leap, he’d go falling back toward the ground. If not, she’d be following it up with a quick and practiced strike with the athame toward his already injured arm.
Alex was terrified of the fun house of horror that he'd suddenly found himself in. So much so, that the bard dealt with it the best way he knew how... by closing his eyes and pretending it wasn't there. His initial attack advanced just as he'd expected and he does in fact end up making contact with Valrae, at least, kind of. He thought for sure the sudden impact against his stomach was just his light armor colliding with her own but the momentum that followed indicated that it was indeed something far more forceful. The holy light contrasts exquisitely against the obsidian haired man's frame as it connects with him just before he's able to tackle her down, so close that the athame almost makes contact with the intended target of mangled meat that gushed crimson like a fountain in the forsaken city. Alex doesn't have much time to decipher what's happening as he feels gravity yanking him down again, he makes a desperate attempt to grab hold of the platform as he drops down past it, his claw catching the very edge just before he's sent tumbling towards his immediate doom. Let's be honest, this man is getting brutalized out here. There's no sound as he gasps desperately for the air that has been freshly vacated from his lungs and his good wrist is starting to give out from the harsh pushes and pulls it's hard from catching his entire weight twice now. Tears cascade down his cheeks in a silent sob as the ringing in his head probably indicates some sort of trauma he'll have to deal with later. But for now as he dangles for dear life, he gazes out over the crowd and in the blurred mess he manages to make out a very familiar frame in the crowd, his recently returned queen. It's his turn to shine bright in the cheeks as he feels a burning desire to avoid failure at all costs... to make his queen proud and represent Frostmaw appropriately in the opening fight of this year's games... So he musters all of his strength, grips the claw tightly, and tosses his body weight back and forth several times to gain momentum until he is able to swing outward while pulling up and flip himself back onto the platform by releasing his claw in the process. As he comes swinging over the edge, he leads with extended legs to try and push Valrae back if she'd approached the edge, and then with a quick spin of knees and heels, the bard adjusts from a laying position to a crouched one in a breakdance motion and is suddenly swinging his freshly snapped arm with all the force he has towards the agreed no-blow zone - Valrae's face.
Final Defense
Valrae action : watches as her holy spell meets its mark and sends the bard over the edge again. She didn’t have time to worry if he’d fallen completely off however, because those ropes that held her in place now began their explosive finale. Thanks, Alex. There was a scream of pain as the first one ignited, fire catching on the white leather of her boot and breaking the ice disk nearly in half. But it also freed her. The searing but familiar burning of her flesh worked against her speed as she threw herself toward the other side of the disk, sliding with the crunch of ice under her bespelled and burning boots. It happened that it brought her closer to Alex, who was still holding on with that claw of his, and away from the second explosion. Her wand and magic was quickly put to use snuffing the fire out as the witch hissed in pain, and when that had finished she focused again on Alex. Or, the claw which was all that she could still see of the bard. Her body had begun to ache from the effort of the fight, the minor injuries of his first bottle dripping blood onto the fine dress Khitti had let her borrow. There was annoyance there, for having been burned again, for having to worry about dealing with cleaning her clothes and repairing her boots. She could walk over and be done with Alex with a quick stomp of her heel… Valrae hesitated, letting the wind push back the errant strands of gold that had slipped from her braid as she caught her breath. Seemingly just as he made his own choice to push through and pull himself up, the witch made her choice. It was too far now to leap backward to another disk, his bombs had destroyed the other half of the one they currently shared, and so she could only go forward. Just as she begins to leap again, over the bard instead of on top of him, he swings up. She has only a heartbeat to defend herself from the impact, his mangled arm first, and it meets her own forearm with a sickening thud, his blood hot and sticky as it splashed across her face. The coppery tang of blood filled her senses. The force knocks her back, sending her sliding over to where the ice ended in a jagged line, and she’s momentarily stunned and out of breath as she begins to tip over, toward the ground far below. Panicking, she throws a wave of her wand behind her and breathlessly casts a spell. Her feet find the air much like they might find the ground, lighting up with that same holy blue-green glow, and she stumbled back over the open sky without careening toward the ground. Looking very surprised to find that it worked, she quickly focused back to Alex and raised her wand toward him again. “You aimed at my face!”
Winner: Alex
Auto Hit
Alex screams silently in absolute agony as his blow connects and he successfully paints Valrae's image in his gore. He winces and grabs his busted arm to try and give it some relief but, uh, yeah, that isn't happening and thanks to the good witches black thumb, the bard can't recite his healing hymn... Still he doesn't have much time to think about his injury before he spots Valrae aiming that damned wand his way again. In a fit of desperation, he pulls all of his energy into his legs and leaps out towards her, taking hold of her wrist and twirling around her with a hefty tug to pull her back onto the platform where she lands on her back. He quickly snatches her wrist against and pushes it down until she's disarmed at which point he finally gets a good long look at her. The pain in his body is almost unbearable as he tries to fight the urge to black out, but the pain in his heart of damaging such a perfect looking person was even greater. He still can't speak, which, y'know maybe that's for the best. But he does immediately begin mouthing "I'm so sorry" in reply to her accusation. He loosens his grip on her wrist and tries to wipe away from of the blood on her face but only smears it with his thumb. He frowns and winces when he sees the glass shards burrowed in the small gaps of her armor. He plucks a few of them out to try and help before working himself back to his feet where he then helps Valrae to her feet and then urges her to take a bow with him. The bard of Frostmaw had successfully made his city proud... and now he needed two things - a healer, urgently, and a reservation for two to try and make things right with the mayor as soon as possible.
Valrae could only watch with cold fury and a little buried pity as Alex winces, holding onto the horrible injury of his arm. Her wand wavers for a moment as the battle for her bloodlust and her mercy begins again. She wasn’t ready for him to move again so quickly, so when he leaps for her its all she can do to cry out again as he spins her and tosses her to the ground. Spots blur her vision as her head meets the ice. He’d pinned her down, her wand wrist still trapped in his iron grasp. Using the free arm up to cover her face again, she blinked as his form wavered in her vision as he loomed over and reached out. She closes her eyes and waits for the pain but none follows. Instead, she can feel his thumb on her cheek and her eyes open again. She just catches his whispered apology and is left speechless and feeling a little dumb. “Ouch!” She yelps, as he pulls free a broken piece of glass from her arm. More confusion crossed her face, “What are you-” But before she can finish, he’s pulling her up and leading them both in a bow. She follows slowly, fighting a wave of nausea as she dips into the bow with him and pain from her head sears to her eyes. “You’re very strong for a bard…” She accuses him, finally pulling her arm free. She had to collect her wand, which thankfully hadn’t been lost to the abyss below when he’d thrown her, and was more than ready to find her feet back on solid ground when the magical ice finally descended enough so that she might make her way over toward where healers were waiting. More would surge around Alex, that fall had been nasty and his arm needed it, but she was sure to murmur the counter spell to her silence of the grave spell so that he might speak again even as she was led away from the tournament area. She looked back only once before a healer pulled her away.
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