Duel: Jaxson v Mesdoram, Match 4 of the 2022 Titans of Winter Tournament

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

Deeper Into The Swamp

The air grows thick and heady along a path winding away from the main orc compound. The steady beat of war drums to the north is soon replaced by the clamor of local wildlife, serving to remind orc and human alike that they are never truly alone within the confines of the swamp. Footing begins to grow difficult as the path seemingly dissolves into the murky swamp waters; not even the twisted roots of the banyan trees can guarantee safe passage. The number of sinister creatures watching both from above and below suggests this area is neither well-traveled nor over-hunted. The lack of a clear trail intimates nothing further lies beyond, but then, in the distance, a low rhythmic murmur of chanting can be heard. The ominous intonation grows louder as the swamp waters level off into a clearing.


Meri :: Stepping stones have been provided when the hard ground begins to soften so that those who spectate today’s duel will not have to worry about dirtying their boots to get to the stands. As per the norm, two sets of stands have been built in the swamps. One for the commoners to seat themselves in and one that is far more comfortable. That seating area is reserved for a select few individuals, such a Balgruuf the Frostmaw Giant and Frostmaw’s reigning Champion. Though it is questionable if Shishi will even make an appearance given how much he loathes Gualon. Once Balgruuf has been informed that both contestants have arrived, the giant stands to announce today’s match. Except, there is a moment of confusion and he finds himself having to check his notes. Jaxson looked nothing like Seraye, the necromancer that Balgruuf had announced would be fighting Mesdoram at the opening ceremony. After clearing his throat, the giant speaks, “It seems that we have a last minute change to the lineup. The drow Mesdoram will be fighting the mysterious Jaxson. Let the best fighter win.”


Mesdoram navigates meticulously through the soften untraveled swampland, caring very little for the location of this skirmish. Already furious with the forfeiture of his original combatant, the drow’s new intention is to destroy this replacement fighter and make a statement today – avoid Mesdoram, and others will pay for your cowardice. The drow walks to his starting position already having his terrestrial brand held in his right-hand sans a shield of any kind; wearing his battle mage attire, drow chainmail covers most of his tiny frame accompanied by his heavy-enchanted piwafwi which flickers a pronounce purple aura which outlines his cloak. Around his sturdy belt also hold his twin-elemental dirks which he may or may not elect to use. His combination of light weight gear and powerful weaponry shouldn’t hinder the drow’s footwork in these muddy conditions; however, Mesdoram’s overzealousness cannot be underestimated in this fight. Mesdoram stares daggers at his taller foe, Jaxson, and mentally prepares for the task at hand. Should the drow fail in this test today, at least there are several bogs and marshes to bury the witnesses.


Jaxson finds himself somehow far away from the comforts of the Ravencroft manor and in the chosen field of battle that he was directed to just a few hours ago. Why did he ever volunteer for this tournament? He thinks to himself as he positions himself in a decent spot in preparation of the fight to come. Recollection of an official from the organization that runs this show comes to mind, the man having been looking for someone to replace a contestant that was unable to compete, and then it hits him… He volunteered the night after the charity auction held just a few nights past! He had to be thinking it would be a good way to bring attention to the plight the people of the port city were facing, or something along those lines surely, it’s just he just thought he’d be in some grand stadium, or anywhere else besides the taint of the realm that is the swamps of Gualon. But alas this is all beyond his control, and intense blue gaze flows from the packed seats to that of the impressive looking warrior who enters the chosen arena. A quick examination of his opponent follows before the thick cloak the wizard wore to fend off the bite of winter’s lingering chill is thrown back to reveal the man’s own battle attire. Twin bracers on each wrist have runes carved into the metallic plate that rests over the leather. A form fitting leather vest rests atop a long sleeve shirt, runes carved into this as well. A belt houses several pouches, and two daggers on each hip. With a nod to his foe, the wizard assumes a ready stance as he awaits the battle to begin, words of the arcane already swirling in his mind.


Round One:

Mesdoram studies the groundwork thoroughly of this environmental battle area, deciding what the precise course of action to execute for his opening assault. Prying his eyes away from the protruding tree roots and swamp-soaked groundwork, the drow briefly dials his gaze back to his opponent Jaxson scanning for any readily apparent weakness to exploit. Splitting his attention between the many considerations to be concerned about, Mesdoram determines battling in close proximity will be the easiest route of victory to pursue. Satisfied with his assessment, the battle mage flings his enchanted piwafwi with his vacant hand; with this simple motion, Mesdoram’s cloak appears to hover perpendicular to the ground as if a gust of wind were forcing the fabric upright. With this magik released from his piwafwi, Mesdoram feels much more agile and nimble; without another seconds thought, the drow starts taking large unswerving strides directly to Jaxson. With every step, light footprints barely disturb the soften ground as only tiny impressions into the swampland are altered by the tiny drow’s weight. Closing within 10-feet of his opponent, Mesdoram’s right foot finds a strong root and powerfully propels himself at head level to Jaxson; simultaneously, the battle mage grips his weapon and attempts a vicious sideways swipe in the vicinity of the Jaxson’s neck. Should this deadly blow connect, Mesdoram would surely have an early victory and the newly severed head of Jaxson as a trophy.


Jaxson‘s eyes never left the dark elf as soon as they had settled upon him earlier, the magi dissecting his advisory with each passing second as his mind forms a plan of action to deal with the threat that will obviously be at hand. His heart begins to beat rapidly as the moments pass, his breath starting to match its pace as nerves try to unravel at the worst possible moment. But then he recalls why he was here, and what he was fighting for, and the Cenrillian is quickly able to regain his composure just as Mesdoram begins his advance upon him, the murderous intent obviously seen in the drow’s wicked looking gaze. It is here that the wizard’s own experience comes into play. Years spent wandering as a mercenary has embedded within him the necessary drive to answer such an imposing threat, though the absolute determination to dominate almost radiates off his opponent like a tangible aura you cold swear you could touch. Time seems to slow as the drow lunges forth, Jax quickly shifting his feet in anticipation of the incoming blow. But was he idle as his foe began the advance just moments ago? Of course not. Arcane verses pour forth from his lips with practiced ease as his hands weave about to coax the mystical energies of magic to do his bidding at the precise moment Mesdoram would make his leap. The air about the two competitors drops almost instantaneously to below freezing temperatures, causing the earth below each of their feet to become a thick sheet of ice, while Jaxson’s hands continues to contort in rapid formations as the magi continues to shape and twist the aether of magic still. Flames erupt forth from Jax’s hands just as the drow’s blade comes in for its killing blow. Craning his neck as he rotates his left shoulder back allows the man to avoid his head from being removed from his shoulders as the dark elf had intended, but it does not save him fully as a deep gash sprays forth a trail of blood from his cheek as the razor sharp edge of his opponent’s blade travels past in blinding speed. The wizard’s life flashes, almost literally due to the light of the flames reflecting off Mesodram’s sword, before his eyes before he quuckly drops down just enough as he thrusts his hands behind him and unleashes a torrent of flame that propels his forward at startling speed. His feet slide across now frozen swampland, creating life saving distance between the dark elf and the spellcaster. Using the flames of his spell to control his movement Jax glides across the ice smoothly, like an ice skater, before he stops himself just enough to cast a quick spell. Time to go on the offensive. As the dark elf falls to the now frozen ground beneath him, Jaxson uses his magic to create a sheet of circular ice to rise from the ground. He Holding it in the air with one hand, the wizard makes with the other a spinning motion that causes the ice to begin to spin rapidly. With careful aim the magi then launches it towards his opponent with tremendous force in hopes the disk cleaves the dark elf in two.


Round Two:

Mesdoram scowls an unsatisfied smirk having seen his human foe survive his initial attacks. However, his disappointment would be short-lived with subzero alterations of normally humid swap nosedive the surround temperatures. His lightweight armory and manipulated weight offer a miniscule amount of resistance as his figure is flung across the newly installed ice rink slides the tiny drow approximately 20 feet from said opponent Jaxson. Coming to an abrupt stop, Mesdoram momentarily begins manifesting his next elemental blitz as his ego believes Jaxson’s frozen pond trick was the best a human could conjure. Gripping both his hands tightly around the ebony elemental hilt, the drow’s pulsating ring begins shinning brightly and begins manipulating the surrounding temperature of his steel. The scorching temperature rapidly begins melting some of the adjacent ice and instantly begins cooling the drow to a more manageable warmth. It is in this moment the twisted drow is upheaved skyward from Jaxson originally intention – the manifested ice-pillar stabs Mesdoram through his left battle boot and dangles the devilish drow like a drunken Christmas-tree star that wasn’t properly installed. A loud noticeable YELP resounds the not so merry-winter-wonderland as the shouts of desperate drow drowns the participants’ and onlookers’ ears. Franticly, Mesdoram takes a massive vertical slice from an upside-down position; with the massive slice along with the scorching temperatures from his elemental brand, the battle mage slices the crest of Jaxson’s icy pillar. With enough wherewithal, Mesdoram takes his un-impaled foot and kicks over the newly frozen missile sideways, and creates enough momentum to project himself and newly formed icicle downwards below to Jaxson waiting below. With one last action to save himself, Mesdoram slices off the tip which still had the drow trapped and attached to this missile. The drow successfully slices and frees himself from Jaxson’s attack which is now gaining speed to crush the human with his own creation. Though the drow will be sadden that Jaxson cannot be pierced with his own magic, Mesdoram finds comfort that this makeshift solid piece of ice has enough mass and speed to completely splat Jaxson with ease… should the foolish human choose not to get out of the way.


Jaxson runs his right hand across his still bleeding left cheek and holds his breath as he uses the flames of his spell to cauterize the wound. The searing pain causes his eyes to flash openly widely and his teeth to clench, but he soldiers though as his flesh chars. Hopefully that doesn’t scar too badly, but now is not the time to ponder upon the thoughts of scars as the magi watches Mesdoram rag doll about as he was somehow launched from the earth by a pillar of ice, causing his to avoid being sliced in half by the wizard’s rotational disk that was previously thrown. Magic can be a fickle mistress though, as Jax notes this is perhaps due to the fact he is far from a master of these elements. His control is not absolute and, as with any spell, things can and often will go awry due to the unstable, and often chaotic, forces that are used when manipulating the mystical forces. Either way, a massive pillar now threatens the mage’s person, and little time is left for this to respond to such a large threat as the ice formed earlier has already melted past the point that his sliding trick from before wouldn’t save him. The magi sees only one option as time acts against him, though he knows it will be dangerous. The battlefield is a swamp, natural occurring gases can easily be found, such as methane. These become the focus of the wizard’s next spell as he uses his command of the arcane to pull forth a natural geyser of gas from the swamp itself right below the center mass of the giant pillar. The gas rises rapidly and just as quickly does Jax launch for the flames that he still commands forth in a directional blast that results in an explosion that shatters the giant pillar and sends forth a powerful blast of force towards Mesodram, as well as numerous shards and chucks of ice, to pummel his person. The resulting explosion also sends Jax hurling back to slam into one of those banyan trees just as the top half of the ice pillar crashes where he once stood. A sickening crack can be heard as sure something breaks within the wizard, causing his body to be ravaged by the pain. Breathing comes in ragged gasps, pain flows through the entire left side of his being. Yup, something was definitely broken, but hopefully he got the job done.


Round Three:

Mesdoram || Not seeing if his previous attack lands properly, Mesdoram lands softly on the icy swampland with the aid of his ‘light as a feather’ enchantment - though with a piece of ice lodged in the drow’s ankle, his landing was far from a graceful one. Crumbling to the ground momentarily, Mesdoram shrieks in pain and immediately goes to grab the foreign object to pull it out of his foot; however, instead of grabbing a solid piece of ice, he finds instead an amalgamation of swamp-water dripping from his still empty hand. Scanning around to see what magic Jaxson conjured off screen to see rapid gaseous vapors polluting the battle area and returning the swamp to normalcy. Perplexed as to why the human elects to release this new terrestrial torrent, the amount of blood loss from his ankle injury distorts his immediate rational judgement and does not recognize the perilous threat of searing geyser spray and poisonings mists threating his life. With that said, Mesdoram grips the ebony hilt of his blade tightly with both hands as he glares evilly towards Jaxson. Maneuvering his earthly brand vertically, the drow carefully brings his sword near his mouth and starts whispering archaic words into the steel. Almost instantaneously, a brilliant beryl burns brightly as the earthly incantation envelopes Mesdoram’s earthly elemental weapon; twisting his grip like cracking fresh pepper, the spell blade begins manipulating the myriad of twisted roots populating the swampland. The brittle foundations of the damaged wood crackle unnaturally and begin splintering apart from one another, transforming one solid piece of gnarled root into a multiple of potential body piercing missiles. As Mesdoram’s spell begins to become clear of its intention, a massive spray from the surrounding geyser sprays scorching swamp water on Mesdoram’s back and hamstrings. Upon impact, a pulsating lavender from Mesdoram’s piwafwi offers little protection as the searing temperature burns through the drow’s chainmail. Acting ever faithfully, Mesdoram’s charmed piwafwi activates counter measures and pumps pure magic into the devilish drow’s body – though his 3rd degree burns wreaked havoc on his skin, this adrenaline like protections begins to block the pain receptors allowing Mesdoram to concentrate long enough. Satisfied with the amount of manipulated treeroots, Mesdoram theatrically slices a horizontal swipe parallel to the ground as he releases his incantation upon Jaxson. Instantly, a swarm of dagger-size skewers and blocks of shattered chucks of ice soars swiftly towards Jaxson’s entire being. As much as Mesdoram would love to watch the impact of his clever manipulation, the drow begins to feel lightheaded from the methane gas accumulating around him. Protecting him again, the possess piwafwi carries the drow skyward which leaves him vulnerable to counterattacks… but offers an excellent view of the hopefully skewered Jaxson scattered all over the landscape.


Jaxson watches from a crouched position as the explosion of his previous attack causes the area to become covered in shards of ice and swamp water, all of which falls about the battlefield like a winter’s rain, drenching everything in sight and leaving the smell of the swamp to linger in one’s nose stronger than ever. Ironically enough bits of flame still burn from the spot that the gas rose, lighting up the area that seems considerably warmer than when they started now. This is mainly due to Mesdoram’s own manipulation of the temperature in conjunction with Jaxson’s, but the fiery eruption of the wizard’s earlier spell took this and dialed it up to eleven. The pain in his side, as well as his cheek, pulsate with growing intensity and threaten to cripple him it damn well feels like every time he tries to move certain ways. But the jobs not done, and he was here to win it all so he could help the people of Cenril. So, with that in mind Jaxson Ravencroft rises once more to his feet, pushing through the intense pain so he can once more meet his foe. Too bad his backside was no soaked, and he’d have a serious case of swamp butt to deal with on top of the internal injuries, but that was all put aside to focus on the task at hand as cerulean eyes fall upon his foe who rises once more regardless of what is thrown at him. The occult power of the dark elf seems to turn the very swamp against the magi, as twisting roots contort and moan against the dominating will of Mesdoram’s own magic before erupting into the cloud of shards that now seek to impale the Ravencroft heir like a pincushion. The dark elf’s ascension is noted, but the onslaught of wooden projectiles become Jax’s main focus as his magic and own physical reflexes are brought to bare in a mad attempt to save his life once more. A nearby chuck of ice is brought up, reshaped and used as an impromptu shield in one hand as the lingering flame mentioned earlier is used to try to reduce as many of the wooden missile to ashes before the reach their mark. Torrents of flame and bits of ice and wood fly about as Jaxson tries valiantly to deflect as many of the shards as possible. It was a damn good effort, and maybe if he wasn’t as injured as he was, he could have made it, but he was very much injured and the pain of it cripples his movement now matter how hard he tries to will himself on. A split second and one, two and then three shards of wood find a mark in his body. One slashes his left, one one lands squarely in his hip causing him to fully fall to one knee before the last lands in hi upper left shoulder. From his new vantage point in the air Mesdoram would see Jax fall, and the crowd may think the wizard done, a victim of the drow’s determination and desire to send a message. But you should never count a Ravencroft out, not while they still draw breath. As his consciousness starts to wane due to blood loss and pain, Jaxson calls upon the last bit of his arcane reserves to manipulate the energies about them all once more. The rise in temperature has caused the air that the dark elf now resides into become rapidly heated, creating the perfect conditions for Jax to mold into his next, and perhaps final, spell. The clouds above them all bellow and groan in protest, before letting out a tremendous roar of thunder that leaves only a split second for Mesdoram to realize what he now faces. Raising his right hand up into the air, Jaxson clenches those elemental energies and does a slamming motion as he commands a bolt of earth splitting lightning to fall from the heavens straight towards his opponent. The melting ice and the explosion from earlier having hopefully drenched the drow enough so that not only does the metal armor he wears attract the lightning directly towards him, but his soaked form makes it so every inch of the spell blade will feel the effects of this electrical blast that comes for him. The flash of light erupts, illuminating the area brilliantly in the small amount of time this all happens. Though, to Mesdoram and Jaxson, this all happens in slow motion as the climax of this battle may very well be at hand.


Final Defense:

Mesdoram desperately collects deep breathes of oxygen from his new vantage point to the point of hyperventilating; his inflated ego and underestimation for a human opponent has almost cost him his life. As the tunnel vision subsides, the still elevated drow loosens his grip of his elemental sword and starts questioning his battle tactics and many mistakes; if only stubbornness and relentless grit offered perfect protection – Mesdoram would be invincible. As the maniacal narcissist gets loss in his own hubris, he peers down from his height to witness Jaxson raise his fist in a very deliberate motion towards the earth. “… Is he asking me to come down?” Mesdoram momentarily mutters to himself. As quickly as the thought enters his egotistical mind, the foolish drow is immediately struck towards his backside once more by a vicious bolt of power flash of lightning. His poor possessed piwafwi has had enough of its master’s kamikaze methodology and offers minimal resistance to Jaxson’s impeccable attack. Sure enough, through the mixture of metal on water on metal saturation, Mesdoram’s entire body tenses rapid as every muscle fiber contracts congruently. Losing all mental concentration to keep himself afloat, the drow sways back and forth carefully to the ground – again being ragged dolled due to his piwafwi’s natural enchantment. Burned, shocked, and bloody embarrassed by his reckless blunders, Mesdoram’s lands softly faced down into some awaiting solid swampland. While there is a calmness in the drow’s presentation, Mesdoram is having a mental breakdown inside his head – too overcome with humiliation to care at the moment…


Winner: Jaxson


Auto Hit:

Jaxson is momentarily deafened by the eruption of elemental power that comes from his spell, eyes squinting as the brilliant flash lights up the area as the display of the might of the elements is put on full display. He had landed a direct hit and watched on in slight horror at what he had done as the drow’s body twists and contorts in abnormal manners as the lightning courses through his frame. Luckily enough the lingering magic the spell blade had didn’t add in a deadly fall from such height. Mustering what strength, he has left, and that is damn little, Jax stalks over to his opponent who smells like burnt ozone and swamp water. The two beaten up and looking a lot worse for wear, the wizard finds that he doesn’t have it in him to be malicious enough as to hit a man when he is down. But he doesn’t let the drow know this, as he points towards the spell blade with two fingers as it he is about to unleash a final deadly spell at close range. He doesn’t. The Ravencroft heir simply “boops” the spell blade in the forehead, saying in ragged breaths. “Damn good show.” Before he continues out of the swamp and hopefully towards whatever healer is nearby. Of course, of Mes would try to attack him while he has his back turned, he’d face a nasty surprise. But, given the dumbfounded look of shock and shame on his opponent’s face, Jax thinks he is safe enough for now. It was a tournament, not a war. All contestants knew this, and while death can be part of it all, Jax is here to help save lives, not end any needlessly. And so, the wizard takes out a cigarette, thanking the Gods that his pack wasn’t crushed or soaked, and lights up one of those clove sticks and takes in long, and gods damn painful, drag as he says. “I wonder if that Baines woman will hear about this...” Before he exits the swamp and makes his way towards a healer.

Mesdoram || Better days this drow has seen… lying face down in pure disappointment and too tired to muster up any form of resistance. Perhaps now his twisted existence will end, and too all beings a human? Mesdoram deserves the death blow Jaxson surely will take upon the defeated drow. Looking to face his fate with some form of dignity, Mesdoram props his body with elbows to look upon the man who has defeated him in combat. Staring at the human with a ‘do your worst’ expression, Mesdoram is ‘booped’ on his forehead… the drow has no idea what just happened and peers to audience for some semblance of why? Many laugh at the human’s gesture which fills Mesdoram with shame and grief… he promptly elects to collapse on the ground again, with thankfully tears being shielded by his muddying hair… The crowd would leave, leaving a morally drained Mesdoram to ponder his life decisions.

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