Duel: Beldur v Dyraxdiin, Match 2 of the 2022 Titans of Winter Tournament

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Duelists: Beldur vs Dyraxdiin 
Duel: Traditional 3 rounds with final defense, 20 minute posting limit.
Stakes: Standard, autohit delivered by winner with allowance for final reply.
Judges: Kanna, Meri, and Quintessa.

Worm Holes

Straight and seemingly endless, this earthen tunnel stretches in both directions without a change in gradient or angle, unmarked either by branching passages or unnatural decoration. The only remarkable feature are the thousands of worms which seem to coat the walls and ceiling all around, writhing slowly and making no sound as they crawl atop one another for purchase on the packed dirt they call home. The worms seem to glow a pale yet baleful green, giving the tunnel its own natural radiance without the aid of another light source.


Meri :: Another Titans of Winter Duel, another battle taking place in a cave-like area. The green glow that is naturally given off by the worms that plague this particular terrain is not the only light that is being utilized. The darkness of the cave is further beaten back by a few sparse torches. Two sets of stands have been built within the cave, one is nothing more than the bare bones seating that most of the commoners can use. The other has been built for the elite of Frostmaw and the current reigning champion and is equipped with cushioned seating and a private snackbar. Once it is clear that both duelists have arrived, the Frost Giant known as Balgruuf stands from his comfy and cushioned seat to make one brief announcement. “Welcome to the second match for the Titans of Winter tournament. Today we will be witnessing Beldur and Dyraxdiin battle it out. Best of luck to both contenders. It is sure to be an entertaining performance.”


Beldur would arrive via magic. Being told he would meet his opponent in the tournament here. He honestly hated the spell. Feeling sick for a moment as his drake would climb onto his head. Her head swerving to and for as her blue and white scales contrasted the dark walls. Her wings folded tightly against her as she patted his head. Thankfully mithril was between her claws and his flesh giving a soft tapping to echo in the silent cave. The warrior would lift his head and regain his composure. Raising his shield to prepare for combat. But he would salute if given the chance. Shela made her own preparations. Moving down the heavily muscular arm to hide behind his shield. Readying herself for the usual combat style they shared. Peeking her head out to wait for the opportune time to strike.


Dyraxdiin stands with an easy air about him opposite the chosen field of battle from Beldur and his drake, only recently arrived. He wears his typical half-robes and mithril plate, hands folded neatly behind his back while his gaze drifts from one side of the cave to the other. He won't be fighting Beldur in this form, no. Instead, he has chosen to grant this man a fight with a real dragon - since awakening from his recent slumber, the great wyrm prefers to keep to his natural form. But alas, this cave will not do... some renovations to be made, perhaps. At any rate, he looks back to Beldur and offers a nod in respect to the fellow combatant. (01:14:12)

Round One:

Beldur sighs as he smiles. Shela's tail smacking the visor down. Showing her annoyance at her master. The pair eager to fight, other than the winter wolves of Frostmaw, he didn't have a chance to flex his muscles. The Frostmaw stands to the side allowed him to show his skills before Frostmaw nobility. To show his bravery before . . . A dragon. Shela chirped as she would be first to notice. Her head dipping further behind his shield. Her senses warning her danger. But that wouldn't deter the Knight Errant. He would wait for the call to start before charging. His shield raised to hide his body, weapon and, more importantly, Shela. His first attack being a shield bash in hopes to disorient his opponent before he could shift. Shela would hesitate a moment, given this would be their first dragon they fought, before poking her head out to breath her frost breath at the dragon. Trying to freeze his elbow if she was able to before ducking back behind his shield.


Dyraxdiin tilts his head, if only a little, upon the brash approach of Beldur. The great wyrm is well-known in these lands as a mage of considerable power, but let us not forget his heritage - a strength in and of itself that a wise individual would, or perhaps should, 'poke' with due caution. Dyraxdiin moves his arms, fingertips manipulating the unseen arcane in a telltale sign that magic assuredly follows. Beldur's shield strikes naught but air, as the mage recoils back and into the air as if drawn by some unseen force. The frost was not anticipated, for the drake hides intelligently behind the barrier of Beldur's shield and thus manages to reach him atop his new perch within the air. It strikes his breastplate and splatters to his shoulder, but while the cold is... well, rather cold, the mithril plate he wears is heavily enchanted and serves its purpose to diffuse the otherwise bite of frost. Dyraxdiin clenches his teeth, fully intent on making this duel a real show. And to the end, his form shimmers and is released, revealing the colossal identity of the great wyrm. Six wings surge with profound force as the levitation spell ends and he lands with a resounding quake of earth. Then his voice follows - the breath of the gray. A defeaning concussion of sonic power erupts forth, shattering the cave overhead and in the direction of Beldur. This sends rocks and skree flying up and into the sky above, turning this duel once relatively calm duel into that of pure and utter chaos. Dyraxdiin rises to his true height, towering down over those who watch - but his gaze, a glowing aegean rests solely on his opponent Beldur to see how he fares.


Round Two:

Beldur cursed under his breath. He hated fighting mages without support. But then, he wasn't alone. Shela hid behind his shield once more. And seeing how the dragon didn't anticipate his drake, he smiles in his helm. The chaos of the rocks that flew towards him, he knew he wouldn't be able to deflect them all. Instead doing what he was trained to. As the rocks came at him, he took a deep breath. Shela rushed to the bottom of the shield. Hoping the new vantage point will throw the dragon off balance. With a war cry worthy of Frostmaw's hearty warriors, he would charge. He had no magic of his own. The mithril armor that protected him would allow the smaller rocks to bounce off without causing him to slow. The larger rocks, however, would be his challenge. His shield before him, he would raise it. Leaving his flanks exposed, but ultimately trying to hide his attack. Rather than aiming low, he would aim high. Trying to leave a mark on the great beast with the longsword. Shela would pop out from the other side. Aiming her frost breath once more, this time at the dragon's neck. Hoping to prevent him from possibly using his own breath weapon if he had one, or to freeze his vocal cords to prevent more spells. The risk of being knocked off course was great. But that didn't deter the warrior from backing down.

Dyraxdiin can appreciate the courage that the knight demonstrates, as a lesser man would likely turn and flee. Alas, while he may respect Beldur, he is not going to give him any leeway. This is a duel. The great wyrm begins to speak in that ancient tongue of his kin, rough and unforgiving, followed by several flaps of his wings. His immense wingspan provides ample gusts of wind, but he aids them even further with the use of his saurian tongue. Magic spawns forth, turning the gusts into hurricane force winds. While Beldur may still remain true to his charge, the blow of the sword will be vastly lessened when fighting such a force. The rest, he leaves to the strength of his scales. A drake's breath attack is trivial in his mind when compared to the size of him, let alone the surety of his natural armor - needless to say, if the drake's own breath attack isn't sent back at the pair instead. Dyraxdiin decides to test the man's resolve and lashes out with his serpentine tail, intent on sweeping his legs out from behind him. Furthermore, the mage summons a well of power within his mouth... akin to a brightly glowing sphere, crackling with a veritable force of raw might. He unleashes this power, this ancient saurian magic, and it rails out towards Beldur several times before depleting. In their wake, should they miss and strike the ground, they'll splash like lava to add further hazard to the field.


Round Three:

Beldur didn't seem to mind the fact his blade didn't do much. Shela on the other hand ducked back behind his shield. Her claws digging into the back of the shield as if angered her attack didn't do more. "Climb!" Would be his only order. Shela perked her head up before rushing up his arm. Proof as to why he hated fighting mages came with the multiple attacks. Shela's chirp warning him of the tail, granting him time to jump over it before he threw his shield to the new attack. Allowing him to grip the longsword in both hands. His thick arms flexing, straining the leather that held the mithril plates on his upper arm. His training granting him great strength as he turned the sword around to pin the dragon's tail. If his shield hit the lava ball, he hoped it would scatter the attack to his opponent. Focused solely on the combat as Shela took a more supportive role. Watching out for incoming surprise attacks in the ear it was coming from. Her ice breath didn't slow the man. His homeland being the frigid north, so while it hurt, it wouldn't slow his offensive.

Dyraxdiin action : , again having ignored the drake, mis-calculated it's multiple capabilites as that of an offensive or even defensive boon. And then he's stabbed! Or rather, a needle is lodged into his interlocked slate-gray scales. Were it somewhere else, where his scales are larger and hardier, it likely would've shattered the blade save if it's magically hardened. Most knights run around with such weapons, right? Regardless, Dyraxdiin quickly recoils his tail, hoping to disarm the man - or pull him along outright. After which, he continues the onslaught with more magic - the minor wound to his tail doing little to slow him. Words spew forth, their sound akin to gravel grinding and churning beneath a great weight. A very great weight. The density of the air grows in volume around Beldur, until it's as sturdy as the stones around... and then he drops it. He won't kill the man, simply pin him so to speak, for the shape of the hardened air is concave, much like a shell or... well, a cage. Perhaps the drake won't notice. Regardless, he provides another distraction by reaching out, intent on simply grappling the slippery Beldur with his hand.


Final Defense:

Beldur would be pulled along with his sword. Shela's panicked chirping in his ears, caused him to glance about. The air would be hard to tell if it was moving or not. So, he would let go of the blade. Trying to avoid the cage before it closed around him. Though the air explosion would rupture his eardrums. He was powerful, but still ultimately human. Shela's head buried in his furred shoulder coverings. Trying to numb the pain as the blade would possibly have fallen from the tail without the pressure of his weight to hold it in. Recovering the blade, he would hold it at the ready in both hands. His ears bleeding, his head swimming, but he had his pride. He stood at the ready, at least till someone stood before him and waved him to stop. The curse of helmets being that they narrowed his view.

Meri :: As he did with the start of the duel, Balgruuf stands from his very comfortable chair so that he can use his booming voice to announce the victor. Both duelists gave it their all, Beldur was very brave in even trying to fight a dragon, but these are not details that the Frost Giant shares with the crowd. His announcement is kept short and sweet for the duel is not formally over as of yet, someone is still entitled to take the last strike. “The winner of this duel is the dragon, Dyraxdiin.”


Winner: Dyraxdiin


Auto Hit:

Dyraxdiin bows his saurian head to Balgruuf and then directs his attention back to Beldur. The man fought very well indeed. Perhaps this was deserving of a just reward. "You fight with the spirit of a dragon, so I will grant you a boon instead of drawing your blood further." The great wyrm inhales deeply, and while he does, a shimmering light begins to shroud his massive frame. This light begins to depart from him - snaking like diaphanous tendrils of mana - and wraps itself tightly around Beldur. "I wore this armor since the age of the Saurian Empire. Might it serve you better than it has it's predecessors." Beldur's own mithril plate changes form, to mirror that of Dyraxdiin's own sleek, geometric armor that he is so well-known for. Were one keen of eye, they would see that Dyraxdiin's name has been added to the list of Arbiters who wore it first alongside the left breast. "Be careful with it."