Fight:Desparrow v Diryon Outside the Tavern

Kelay Way

Desparrow was on his way between Cenril and the forest, having been busy the last few days. Outside the tavern, seems like he has been passing it all too many times lately, mine as well take a break. Yesterday he had watched his son spar with Pilar, and the girl was outdone by a four year old with a magic wand. Then he had met with Linn and the same night he met a woman that wandered into his territory and broke her mentality to the point she had been shattered. Just another adventure each and every day, what would come this night.

Diryon steps out of the tavern at a rather opportune moment, the very second Desparrow happens to be passing through Cenril and Sage. He grins when he spots the lycan, hopping off of the steps to the tavern so his form is properly illuminated by the moonlight above. "Funny that we cross paths yet again, wolfman. How goes your ambitious plans?" The mage stuffs his hands in his pockets, tilting his head aside while he waits for the man's answer.

Desparrow sniffed on the air a scent that had become a bit familiar compared to the regulars that he passed daily. "Well well.. The young mage with his head above the clouds. Fancy seeing you, again." he turned to face the other, a cocky grin forming on his lips. "My plans are going quite well, however I'm holding off on making a move before I get some sort of.. signal that the threat is still real. Regardless I am going to work on the side and get a few things accomplished here and there. Things that aren't worth discussing in public, or in private to anyone but those involved."

Diryon nods, gently tapping the front of his boot along the dirt ground beneath him. "That makes sense. I'm glad to see you've realized it's probably not best to discuss the more intimate details of your plans in person." A short lived smirk appears, "What else, then? I assume you aren't content with just sitting around planning things. I mean, you're not unlike me in the sense that such things would just bore the piss out of you after a time. The only difference is..." He makes a vague gesture with his hands, "...Your idea of amusement is probably a bit more nefarious than mine."

Desparrow shrugged, "Yeah, I'm not much of a politician, and when it comes down to it I want to be in the thick of battle. I also am not one for shadow ops but when there are options to use tools that would be untraceable its better to not be known, especially when such actions could be counter-productive to my plans, yet to my benefit in the grander scheme." he chuckled, turning his back to the mage, fingers twiddling. Magic flowed from his hands, one hand channeling while one performed a secondary, underlying spell within the primary. Seconds would pass and in his hands formed a spectral blade with a bit more heft than you'd expect from something that wasn't made of metal. No this weapon was solid magic, as sharp as a razor, and carried the weight of a regular double edged sword. Shining a bright blue he threw it at the mage, though Des had worked in a trick. When the blade struck a barrier it would continue to push, fighting against the defense but a dispel instead would make it shatter into sharp fragments in every direction instead of dissolving entirely; failsafes as he couldn't think of how else to counter the tricky mage. "You are definitely right though, I do get bored watching everyone else have fun!"

Diryon is a bit suspicious, to say the least, when Desparrow turns his back and begins working on some sort of spell. Being a mage for as long as he has, he can sense some sort of magic at work, although the nature and identity of the spell at hand isn't readily apparent. Fortunately for the mage, he sees the bright blue light before the man turns about to throw the thing at him. Rather than relying on a barrier, the mage throws himself to the side, narrowly avoiding being impaled. So narrowly, in fact, that when the mage stands, it becomes clear he didn't dodge it compeltely. There's a tear in his robe, and a thin trickle of blood staining the shredded fabric. Despite this, the young man smiles. "Well, that's quite rude. Fortunately, you aren't the only one with new tricks." Beginning a quick chant of ancient arcane words, the mage's hands move in complex gestures to aid the incoming spell. The ground immediately surrounding Desparrow begins to quake lightly, a portend to the coming threat. A pillar of earth sprouts behind the lycan, a large slab containing several surprisingly intact minerals. Propelled by magic but seeming out of their own volition, the fragments that comprise this thing begin to break apart quite violently. A cloud of of choking debris assails Desparrow first, then a volley of razor edge fragments of earth and rock. Strangely, they seem attracted to his presence...perhaps to avoid being a threat to anyone else that may pass by.

Desparrow watches his sword pass through, good thing because the underlying nature of the spell would probably surprise the mage. "It isn't a new trick, you just haven't seen them all runt." When the ground began to rumble he took a few steps away, not prepared for the result of Diryon's chanting to turn up behind him then explode outwards. Similar to somethign he had done to another. Interesting, but still he had no counter for it. He was battered, armor and flesh giving way to the edges of the stone while he was blinded by the cloud. He refused to breath it in but for some reason it stayed around him for an unnaturally long time. The cloud then drew itself towards the front of Desparrow, drawn there by force into a sphere. Blood oozed from wounds on his back and from his sides in between the material of his lighter armor, injuries phasing him only a bit, nothing new to what he dealt with last time. Taking that swirling sphere of dust he hurled it Diryon's way in the form of a small cyclone just large enough to overtake the mage. At the same time the sword had come back to move around him waiting for another command. "Ready for the next one?"

Diryon snorts at Desparrow's taunt. "Neither have you seen all of my work yet, my friend. I loathe to reveal my best spells for mere sport, but lets see what you have in store." The mage falls silent when he witnesses the cloud being shaped and worked into a sort of sphere, studying the possibilities intently. The small whirlwind whips through the space between them and envelopes Diryon quite readily, making him sputter and cover his eyes from the whipping winds and coarse bits of sand and earth. Tears appear here and there in his robes, straining and occasionally tearing the flesh beneath, but all while Diryon is not quite passive. His lips move to the tune of another spell, although it cannot be so easily heard considering the air whipping about him. The wind does not cease as the mage's spell progresses, but rather it intensifies. It blows into the area and sweeps the cloud away from the young mage, expelling the minute bits of dust and dirt to assume a more threatening form: that of an air elemental. It's a wispy sort of thing, hardly an intimidating presence, but a blade forms within the thing's 'hands', as one would call them. This sword is composed of a ripping, howling wind contained within the shape of a weapon, and it is with this weapon that the elemental advances on Desparrow. The effects of such a weapon are noticed when the air elemental swipes at what's left of the pillar en route to the lycan; the sheer intensity of that specially contained wind carves through the earthy pillar with wicked ease, and the next swing comes at Desparrow's body. It howls harrowingly as it draws near, threatening armor, flesh, and anything else that may come within its devastating path. body. It howls harrowingly as it draws near, threatening armor, flesh, and anything else that may come within its devastating path.

Desparrow watches with an apparent vague interest at least until the conjured creature appeared. Knowing how air worked his hands started to glow opposing colors one red and the other ice blue. Magic was circulating through him, surging in his blood, it was him since he 'died' the last time. Magic had infused with his flesh to the point that he was mostly comprised of it at this point, and any fight with an anti mage would most likely be a fatal mistake. The abilities of the air elemental were noted though he was not impressed; eyes narrowed when the pillar was demolished with ease under the power of the creature but as it swung out towards him he released imperceptible lances of heat and cold on intersecting paths that'd cause them to clash explosively at the central point of the air elemental. It would rip through the air and disperse it but the result would be its winds would batter him opening new wounds on his form and sloughing away the top layers of his armor leaving them in tatters on the ground. "That? That was your best? You have yet to learn my friend. Though I won't forgive such a deadly magic!" anger was in the last sentence, rising to a shout at the end. At this point if the airs coalesced to reform the elemental it would be of no matter to the Lycan. The warlock took a grounded stance, anchoring his lower body to the earth while his arms were stuck straight forward hands open palms facing one another and fingers splayed but bent at the knuckles like an imperfect cage though no physical contact between them. Tendrils of ether burst from his body with no physical wounds apparent, simply exiting his pores as a collected source from multiple origin points headings towards the emptiness of space between the lycan's hands. The moment it reached the center they swirled together like a whirlpool in the air, coalescing into a sphere of darkness. That wasn't all however, something was off as the light around it was distorted and everything around seemed to be drawn towards it no, all loose debris -was- drawn towards it. Dust, pebbles, air and loose articles gravitated towards this force that expanded but when it got dangerously large Des flexed his hands forcing it back to a single point. "Oblivion!" electricity sparked between his fingertips, sweat forming on his brow and sliding down the temple. Blood that had oozed from his wounds pulled away in micro-drops that formed streams from his flesh into this absence of space, all of it absorbed into the vacuum. The pull became so strong it started to dissolve the top layers of Des' flesh, pulling away in streams of matter and breaking down to base molecules and atomic particles. The pull would only grow, even forcing Des to fight it as it made him lean just a bit forward. "I can release this, but I'm going to give you one moment here. Let me explain this, I commend you for your skill, you are a good magic user but you -can't- beat me, I won't allow it. I alter reality. This is but a small pocket, though the possibilities are endless. What say you before I release my spell?"

Diryon 's gaze steels at the sight of this new magic - perhaps some sort of antimatter, or something close to that - and silently begins gathering large amounts of latent magic that rests in this place, especially considering the fact that this deadly spell threatens to rip even its caster apart. "That's where you are wrong, my friend. You strain to believe you would best me, as if you would not allow it...but I know I would defeat you, were I especially committed to doing so. However, you are succumbing to foolishness by threatening to unleash such a force. Consider the conequences of such." He gives a sweeping gesture of his hand, "You might even kill yourself by unleashing something that uncontrolled...if you're so committed to proving yourself superior to me, so be it. I will match what you have summoned...but you really should save such a display for a time when it actually matters...when things are actually at stake. Right now, it is nothing more than your fragile ego."

Desparrow couldn't help but laugh even as his body was being torn apart at the rate a slug moves. "Incorrect Diryon. My ego isn't on the line, and this isn't the pinnacle of my magic. I'm developing new arts all the time, this is merely a lesson." As his skin dissolved he felt no pain, for it was broken down on levels that bypassed neural response, it was more of a loss of sensation, the gradual realization that pieces of him were missing. The armor he had on the ground was lifted by the gravitational pull and as soon as they made contact they vanished from view entirely having been ripped apart and absorbed into the void instantly. "Its just the tip of an immeasurable, irresistable power. Something I've been toying with, reaching into the deep reaches of the beyond and commanding cosmic forces!" More energy sparked between his fingers and he forced the growing sphere back into a compact form. "Release!" The sphere upon command distorted space and where it was once a force that crushed material to its most base forms now expelled its contents, acting as a repulsing force. He shaped it into a funnel and aimed it towards the sky and in seconds it fired off like a continuous shower of confetting a bright light which was a mixture of all the matter and even the light it had stolen and trapped within. As it dispersed the sphere shrank until it too collapsed into nonexistence. Des hands were devastated, the top layers missing and thin areas of skin such as over the knuckles were gone completely down to the bone in patches. "We can have a true match up where we can unleash such devastation in a setting that is less harmful to civilian existence. For fun."