Duel: Kanna v Dyraxdiin, Match 8 of the 2022 Titans of Winter Tournament
Duelists: Kanna 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: Arlyeon, Jaxson, and Meri.
Northern Highlands
The Northern Highlands is what the rangers of the Sage Forest call this region. This is the place you hear so much about, and that it is some of the roughest terrain in all of Hollow. Its still south far enough to prevent the frost or snow that you see further north of here, but the air is chill and crisp. Great peaks adorn the horizon, and strange things have been heard to live there among the cold and snow. Bears, larger than any seen to the south, and strange buildings of death and magic are just some of the tales told about this wondrous land. To the north there seems to be a range, and beyond it some say an estate made of ice or crystal. You have also heard the tales of the castle of a great and powerful mage, although those could be just myths, and wives tales. To the south is a path which leads off in many directions, while to the east is a small castle or building of sorts.
Meri :: As far as the battlegrounds go, today’s location is relatively normal. There is no danger of being thrown into lava or tar, nor bridges collapsing. What is a some rough and rocky terrain in comparison to those locations? The set up for the stands remains the same, one is for the average spectator while the other is for Balgruuf and the reigning Champion, should Shishi make an appearance. Only once it is known to Balgruuf that both duelists are present does the Frostmaw Giant rise to make the announcements. “Fighting for our entertainment today will be the lovely bard Kanna and the fierce dragon Dyraxdiin. This battle will determine who will move forward to the final round and who will have the chance to claim the title of Titan of Winter for themselves.”
Kanna tries to revisit how it is she got to this point. Flirt with the tournament organizers to ultimately test the state of your physical and magical decay? Check. Fake your way through fights by being ridiculously adorable and avoiding taking a punch to the face with necromancy? Check. Agree to a fight with a giant grey wyrm that could easily crush her with one claw? Not check. Kanna uses the end of her Ya-Te-Veo staff as a cane, leaning on it with both arms as she awaits the arrival of her opponent. Dressed in a white and iridescent dragon-scale armor set that hugs her plump figure, the bard tries to at least make the functional armor fashionable by wearing a pink peplum blouse beneath that billows out like a skirt around her hips. Her hair is pulled back as well with a similarly pink ribbon. Wrapped around her waist is a cloth with runic markings, a cotton bow keeping whatever magic is contained inside from activating. Once she spots Dyraxdiin, Kanna gives a hum, tilting her head to the side with a coy smile. She makes no move to descend the rough terrain to get closer to him. “You know, a little kitty told me that you’re pretty handsome for your age up close. Are you -sure- you wouldn’t rather come have tea with me in Valkrin?” Insert outraged spellblade noises from the audience stands. Despite her relaxed demeanor, Kanna’s eyes never stray from her opponent, and her smile refuses to waver. Her fingers curl in on themselves, ready to grab her weapon at any moment. If she still had a heart, it would be racing.
Dyraxdiin descends down upon the northern highlands in slow, sweeping circles. His wing is whole, yet weak and the few scales he lost have only begun their long process of regrowing, but he isn't one to back down from a fight. Besides, magical healing can only go so far. He can breathe easily enough, and has tested his voice ample times within the range of Xalious to know that he is ready and able. The great wyrm, a long shadow cast upon the hills, eventually comes to neat landing, just opposite of the person he assumes is Kanna. In response to her words, the gray says nothing. Instead, he rises up to his full towering height, extending all six wings out in a demonstration of preparedness, before relaxing into the otherwise cool, calculating magemind that lurks within. Bristling in naught but ancient claw, scale, horn and teeth, the great wyrm waits.
Round One:
Kanna awaits the signal for the duel to begin and moves quickly the moment it begins, her smile falling. “If you can’t charm them, maim them.” The bardess plucks the cotton string around her waist with her right hand, allowing the runic cloth to fall away and disappear into the breeze. Iridescent runic stones form a belt with the universal symbolism for Vakmatharas between each component of the spell, their magic activating with a soft glow once the sunlight falls upon them. Thank goodness for the aid of her fellow necromancers. Though its full reading would be nigh impossible to discern with a quick glance, the most prominent letter is that of ‘protection’. This battlefield was far too vast and open for her liking; it desperately needed a change of scenery. With her left hand, Kanna reaches into her pocket and withdraws a handful of what seems to be spores and seedlings. “Vakmatharas or Alithyk Caluss, whichever of you is more vested in my survival, guide the way for my creations.” Opening her hand palm-side up, the winds carry the spores and seeds forth. Every bit that touches the grasslands begins its transformation almost instantaneously; beckoning mycelium to interconnect and grow. Long stalks of fungus start their reach as Kanna weaves between her creations, never taking her eyes off of Dyraxdiin all the while. It takes no more than ten seconds for the beginnings of the fungal forest to grow around the battlefield, taking every bit of nutrient and decay in the ground available to them. Large bulbs grow from the ends of the stalks, some a powdery white, some a sickly purple. From her vantage point between the stalks, Kanna watches to see how he’ll react to the encroaching fungus. In the moments that the forest remains standing, an unwitting crow perches upon one of the violet mushrooms. Slime erupts forth, causing the crow’s feet to decay rapidly. It screeches and flaps its wings wildly, which only serves to hasten the effects of the unholy necrotic magic. As that happens, Kanna presses a hand to one of the powdery stalks, coaxing one of the puffballs to open and release similarly necrotic spores that cause another passing bird to fall once breathed in. The spores continue their journey, being carried by the fierce winds towards Dyraxdiin. Not needing to breathe and already being completely necrotic, neither of these serve as imminently dangerous to Kanna, but the high and unstable winds and the need to touch the ground eventually may prove otherwise for the elder wyrm. One could only imagine the horrors that would be brought forth if a fool tried to torch or wash away the fungal forest.
Dyraxdiin sends his gaze this way and that, taking in the sweeping landscape of the northern highlands and filing away information for later use... like that boulder there, or that pile of scree over there and even that rocky outcropping off to the side. Really, there is not much to use as far as magic goes, save for terramancy and possibly druidic magic, though the nature of the rocky terrain might prove challenging on that front. Sadly, the dragon is not well-versed in terramancy and he is no druid. Regardless, he refocuses his attention on his opponent. Twin aegean eyes find her own, and his maw opens wide, as if in bated anticipation of his favored breath attack - an act of foreboding to the heavily-armored Kanna, perhaps. Dyraxdiin has fought countless individuals, in this current life as an ancient of Lithrydel and his previous as a young, foolhardy gray. He is prepared. Her movements are watched, casting magic via the belt and sending spores, seeds and the like into the wind... A druid? Perhaps something else. On high alert, Dyraxdiin takes a few steps back, waiting to see what exactly it is the woman intends to do with the spontaneous plant growth. Birds, as most know, are keen observers of danger and thus, when the ravens begin to rot upon touching the flora, Dyraxdiin is quick to respond, not about to sit around and wait for himself to become a relic of the distant past. While he is unsure of her exact specialty, the great wyrm is well-versed in magic. And overwhelming force. Aided by his massive wings, Dyraxdiin calls upon the wind via saurian strength and raw arcane might. The wind opposing him collides with that which he generates. They clash, spiraling together in a building force of terrible power. Mushrooms, stalks, flowers and all the like this woman has just recently planted is soon sucked up into the vortex as the tornado grows ever larger. Dyraxdiin digs his claws into the earth, if only to further amplify the amount of mana he dumps by the boatload into the mounting storm. Anything that is not bolted down in the middle of the arena is soon sucked up. He would turn her own attack against her. Storm wrought, now he ends it. His maw opens wide in grisly display and out roars a defeaning sound from deep within the breast of the great wyrm. The vibrations ripple across the highlands, disturbing what little remains not swept up by the winds. It collides with the tornado, and Kanna should she too be swept up, and everything is sent reeling away from him by the veritable force of the gray's voice.
Round Two:
Kanna is giddy at first as the spores are released in clouds upon clouds from the force of the wyrm’s wings beating together. Even a small amount would begin the process of damaging any tender flesh beneath his scales. But the flapping continues until Kanna is lifted from the ground, along with that of all of her creations. Hanging onto a stalk, Kanna digs her fingers into the plant matter until she is sure that her own fingernails have been ripped clean from the force. “Come to me.” Even in the force of the mighty winds, Kanna wracks her mind for ideas. When a torrent of the pure violet poison sticks two stalks together, it comes to her. While Dyraxdiin continues the torrent, the necrobotanist makes the slightest of movements to attempt to coax the plant matter into merging as one. With every rotation of the tornado, the ball of fungus grows larger and larger. Just as she begins to think of a means of using the amalgamation’s weight in her favor, a burst of sonic magic cleaves the tornado, and her creation, in two. As Kanna is flung further and further away, she reaches for the old Bard’s Guild pipe beneath her shirt. A sharp whistle reverberates across the highlands, forcing many of the onlookers in the stands to cover their ears. It was one of her oldest tricks, but one that always seemed to pay off. The sonic blast connects, not with Dyraxdiin, but with half of the mushroom ball. As if hitting a baseball in the air with sonic magic, the glob of necrotic poison that is now nearly half of Dyraxdiin’s size is sent reeling back at the wyrm at high speed. The opposing force of the blast prevents Kanna and the second half from sailing out of bounds from the battlefield, though re-entry with the shattered ground would prove tenacious. As she falls, the wooden Ya-Te-Veo staff is unclipped from her side and thrown forth. With its separation from its master comes the Ya-Te-Veo’s bloodthirsty form. It disappears into the ground as cleanly as a diver enters waters, where it snakes its way through the barren earth, seeking to thrust itself out like a solid wood lance wherever the wyrm’s vulnerabilities were. Kanna’s creation hits the ground first with a wet smack, and the bardess follows, disappearing into the glob of concentrated poisons completely. Instead of emerging from her hiding place, Kanna clasps her hands together to begin her communion while the wyrm fends off the incoming counter.
Dyraxdiin still unsure who or what exactly it is he fights, is rather surprised by her ability to counter so hastily and manage to remain intact after being wracked by the vibrational frequency he unleashed upon her - mayhaps she is skilled in sound as well? No matter, the wyrm forgos thought in favor of responding to the new threat mounting. A ball of noxious flora. While he may be large, he is not slow. The great wyrm utilizes his tail in a similar manner that Kanna used her own whistle; he inhales sharply, then smacks the fungi-ball before it can connect with his breast - he is keen to avoid getting hit there again. As would be expected, the ball mostly disintegrates upon contact, sending a plume of deadly spores every which way in a dangerous cloud of unholy magic. Dyraxdiin lifts off from the ground to clear the area, using his feet to propel himself forward, he quickly hums. Deep and rumbling, his voice echoes within his breast. His scales clatter together as he purges the deadly compound from his tail, scales and body by disintegrating the compound through vibration. That is to say, he does not escaped unscathed. The acid-like makeup of the magic managed to do it's work, eating away some of his scales and further damaging his hide beneath - he is lucky that he is a dragon protected by scale, otherwise that could've been deadly. He continues to move, half-flying, half-bouncing until he scoops up a nearby boulder and, without cessation of movement, uses this momentum to fling the large rock at Kanna - this mage's version of terramancy, if you will. The boulder, to serve a purpose as simple distraction, barrels towards her as a very real threat. Then Dyraxdiin truly ascends, soaring up into the sky. Here, the mage barks in that rough, saurian tongue, "Living Light." His horns immediately glow an ominous hue of pale blue... the dragon's own kinetic energy building up therein. The audience may feel the hairs at the back of their neck stand on end, as the static energy reaches a boiling point. He unleashes the pent up energy from his horns, heralding an onslaught of lightning which arcs out with terrifying speed. It violently strikes the ground in rapid succession around Kanna, intent upon frazzling her nerves, or shocking her into submission. The great wyrm, a vision of an angry thunderhead of glistening scale, ferocious tooth and claw, is determined to exact the price this woman must pay to challenge him.
Round Three:
Kanna rises from the pile of poisonous slime, looking more like a swamp creature than a beautiful ghoul when she feels the ground vibrate from the force of his movement. Kanna beckons her hands outwards, calling her Ya-Te-Veo back home to her, the obedient weapon seeming to have missed its opportunity to strike at Dyraxdiin’s weakened scales. Never one to be dexterous, even in her human form, there is not much she can do when her eyes land on the boulder being hefted by the saurian. The runic belt, however, glows alight as its magic senses the imminent danger. A veil of light bursts forth to deflect the projectile, but having been weakened by Kanna’s time in the air, it only changes its trajectory slightly. The boulder connects as Kanna tries to dodge left, tearing off both her right arm and right leg. The runic belt, having served its purpose as best as it could, grows dim. Kanna is sent to the ground, almost powerless to stop the bolts of lightning dancing around her prone form. All she can do is pray. Finalizing her communion from before, Kanna begs, “The two beings that call themselves gods before me, I must request your aid once again. Be it holy or unholy, I call upon thee to inflict a blight upon this creature who yearns to defy both death and undeath. Smite him if you believe I am worthy of being saved here to further your purpose in this world!” Kanna calls forth her prayer. She had to know… no, she -needed- to know if there was a higher purpose for the infliction of her curse, even if she was defeated here. The skies darken with a sinister and unholy aura, though no clouds litter the skies; it is as if the very sun dims. From the skies descends a thick, black miasma, coalescing towards the great wyrm. From the unholy fog come blood-curdling screams only the wyrm will be able to hear, a cacophony of generations of genocides, pleas for mercy and salvation, perhaps voices he himself will recognize if the wyrm stays too close to the encroaching miasma that is centered on Dyraxdiin alone. A bolt of lightning strikes clean at Kanna’s torso, cleaving a scorched hole clean through her abdomen as the workings of her bardic, druidic, and necromantic studies culminate on this battlefield. “I’m not dead yet.” Her lips move of their own accord despite her senses being temporarily blinded and deafened by the bolts.
Dyraxdiin watches the chaos unfold, reserved within his throne in the sky, as it were. And thus, it is in these moments of clarity of mind that the voices first assault his ears, or moreover, his mind. The woman must have studied him at great length to know something like this would bring about tragedy for the dragon. Unholy magic, mixed with the sheer fact that he has lived a tormented life surrounding by nigh unending throngs of fallen family, friends and foes. All that has come before and fallen by the wayside, if only to be buried by time and earth, taunts him now. He releases a roar, wings to cease, and falls as though wounded by some unseen force. The ground quakes as he collides with little grace, writhing and grasping at the phantoms that seek to break his mind. The sickening pop of wings as they break against his weight, scales to grind horribly against the earth, and the shouts of a dragon lost to the battles he lived so long ago culminate into the imagery displayed before all present at this duel for the Titan of Winter. But... where Kanna may have studied at length this great wyrm's weakness, it is a true tragedy then, that she knows little of the war having been fought within his mind before his last slumber. The war all ancient beings must face, many to fall to. Brynhilde, his sister-in-law, succumbed to this madness, before Dyraxdiin felled her with his own hand. He too was nearly defeated by this Rage... and it is on the coattails of this recent victory over the mind, that Dyraxdiin... fails. The great wyrm suddenly rises up, wings limp at his side, he sets his sights upon first creature he sees. Kanna. A roar of simple savagary erupts from his maw, glistening with salivation, his stomach lurches with need. With wild hunger. The great wyrm descends as any predator, springing forward and relying on his mass and natural strength to try to rip apart his quarrel. And just then, he regains his senses, before any damage can be done. Instead, he opts to try to press down upon her with his hand alone, while he quickly attempts to take stock of his mental faculties. So close to having completely lost. This fight is dangerous.
Final Defense:
Kanna watches as the miasma continues to descend, though nowhere nearly as quickly as the great beast’s fall. As she does, something pushes against the hand that is still connected to her undead body. Her floral companion has slunk across the battlefield like a snake to return to Kanna’s side upon her beckoning. “You’re the only one that always comes back to me.” She murmurs with a touch of bitterness in her tone. Kanna only knew as much as her companions who shared his guild had told her, and so she wonders what it was about the miasma that forced his retreat so quickly. The earth shakes as the wyrm quickly closes the gap between them, and Kanna recoils, holding her lone arm up with her staff in her fist. As if reacting to her will, the interwoven vines of the staff unfurl to create a wooden cage over her form. With the last of the torn mushrooms and poisons clinging to her body, she wills the flora to cover the cage so that his claw will hopefully come down on her with the force of a feather pillow. Though neither of them spoke it aloud, Kanna internally echoed the same sentiment: This was far too dangerous.
Winner: Kanna
Auto Hit:
Kanna shuts her eyes as the weight of the dragon presses down upon her cradle… Then the pressure is gone again. Kanna tries to will her staff and the flora to part, but nothing happens. Lying on the ground soaked in poisons and dirt, the bardess laments her luck. She could not gauge her stamina the way a mortal could; any further and she would have been truly powerless. Carefully, Kanna pries the wooden net from the ground, where it then resumes its resting shape of a large staff. The dragon lies next to her, groaning as the miasma has caught up to him and has resumed its torment, both mental and physical. Scales curdle away and fall to the ground. Kanna didn’t want this, that’s not what she wanted, right…? “Stop, please.” She begs to the unholy force. To this, the fog recoils from the dragon immediately and hovers over the undead woman. Although she was the one who summoned it, fear is struck into her heart from the way it closes in around her. “You are my Harbinger of Undeath. Do not cross me again.” A voice of sharp scrapes and hisses reverberates in her mind before the black mist fades away. Kanna reaches her left arm out, barely able to move, until her hand is on one of the unconscious dragon’s claws. What had she done?
Dyraxdiin's breathing slows, lying there upon the northern highlands. The wind buffets at his broken, battered wings and the wounds that litter his limp frame. The great wyrm doesn't seem to mind this. No, he finds a strange sense of peace he hasn't before, washing over his mind and stilling the echoing cries that tormented him so. He continues to lie there, trying to grasp at this serenity that inundates him. How could he have been so blind? He breathes his final breath, the magic that bound him to this world in flesh, bone and scale to expel once and for all. He was so very tired... stricken with loss, guilt and pang of unimaginable proportions. But now, he can truly be at peace. He can finally be with Ovicelas, his wife for whom he never stopped longing... he can see his children again, and remark on their growth, their strength and laugh with pride when they come upon their first real challenge. Dyraxdiin's spirit departs, to be at peace at long last.
Kanna watches as Dyraxdiin's breathing slows, then stops completely, her eyes going wide in horror. "Medic? Medic! We need a medic!!!" Kanna screams out from her prone position on the battlefield, unable to move. She looks out to the stands where there are several members of the Mage's Guild who came to show their support, her sister included who stares at them both with a horrified expression as Meri and Magik try to rouse her thousand-yard stare. "What have I done..."
- Back to Titans of Winter Tournament 2022