Fight:Jolie and Kuzial Get Nasty

Joliette Thorne and Patron Kuzial Stavret once more express undying mistrust and general malevolence toward each other.

Outside the Hanging Corpse

Jolie has been stalking Kuzial, and act which she justifies by the fact she does not trust him at all, and that observing one’s potential foe is always wise. Keeping her gaze firmly on his rear, she is but a shadow fleeting among the alleyways, now and then behind a cart should she suspect his dark-adjusted eyes and natural paranoia might serve her obfuscation ill. The necromancer is feeling a bit clever, having gained upon the drow with no sign of his noting her presence, and feeling too rather confident – in fact, brash would be the word for it. She draws from a multiple-sheath, which doubles for her belt, one of a series of small daggers kept there. The toxin that tips its blade is not deadly, but a sea-bed creature’s poison that will produce a swift paralysis in those who have not taken steps toward homeopathic immunity, and it is this cheeky dagger that flies toward him. If it snicks his flesh, he will be at her mercy, and oh – what then?

Kuzial was in a foul mood; which is, in fact, one of his more bright moods. He knew in this city he was always watched, but eyes in the shadows are a way of life for the dark elves - he would be insulted if Joliette ever trusted him enough not to have him spied on, and knowing Kuzial, he'd probably kill her for being stupid enough to let down her guard. So when the sneaky Jolie decides it is time to throw her weapon, the drow, as paranoid as any of his race, reacts with a vicious speed to a threat he could have only sensed. In one movement he spins while drawing out his Penzance Sabre. It flashes upwards, deflecting the dagger high over his shoulder, before the drow sets his crimson gaze on the lady Tenebrae. "You missed." There is an ominous wealth of rage in those two words, before Kuzial steps quickly forward, drawing forth one of his own daggers as he does. He wastes no time with further formalities; instead when he is close to Jolie he steps off to the left, before spinning like a dancer. His Penzance Sabre snaps out through a series of dizzying strikes and slashes, while his poisoned dagger remains in close. He relentlessly drives forward, in perpetual motion both left and right, before abruptly dropping to a knee. His sabre snaps across in a horizontal strike aimed at her legs, while his dagger is held just for a moment to see where she evades to, before it's hurled with vicious accuracy at the woman's throat in and underhanded throw. Kuzial does not play nice.

Jolie is well aware of how the drow play, and this drow in particular. She has no desire to see him dead – immediately. However, knowing full well how blood excites him she is fully prepared for the steely onslaught to ensue, and as the Penzance sabre flashes she already has her hand upon the linked chain worn, nearly scarf-like, about her slender throat. And it is this chain which proves not only a nicely gothic accessory, but her saving grace from the streak of metal that is his dagger, the blade striking the links hard but shearing off to one side to clatter to stone,. while she backs away from that awful flurry of sword-strikes - rapidly enough to evade being slivered by it, not rapidly enough to avoid that stroke which slashes across her leg inches above the knee. Blood drips. She smiles through her wince of pain, knowing it and the blood both will enrage him. The chain is drawn fully from her throat, its links falling free before she throws it high, sends it spinning in a blur of metal that is cast out, bola-like, to entangle the oncoming sword, her designs on the drow to yank the Penzance heirloom from his grasp and possibly send him sprawling toward her feet, a humiliating state of affairs. Jolie knows the ways to hurt a man are many.

Kuzial snarls as his blade draws blood, though his anger at the thrown dagger failing to slice open her throat is somewhat mollified by the fact she wasn't going to die easily. That taste of killing Cornelius quickly has never quite left his mouth. Her flashed smile is either ignored, or more like pissing in the ocean of his rage - nothing more than a small drop in that immeasurable pool of hatred. The moment she hurls the chain, he steps left; it wraps around his sword, and though he could have fought against the change in momentum, he instead lets the blade fly out of his hand, thus freeing him from any further entanglement from the chain. It bruises his arm as it flashes past, but such things are ignored during such a conflict. A pernicious grin is seen just briefly, before the dark elf drops a globe of darkness over both of them. Immediately devoiding himself from the need for sight, the Patron of House Stavret tears free two small daggers from his belt and on silent feet he takes a step to the left, before pushing himself into a forward roll over his right shoulder. With hidden languid grace he pushes off from the ground by arcing his back, coming into a horrific strike with both his daggers - each aimed for a different shoulder of Jolie to immobilize her... permanently... so he can drag her back to her own dungeon and teach her the folly of befriending a drow...

Jolie would, had she time to think, have been mildly disappointed by the drow’s use of darkness against her, Tenebrae, the very thing for which she is named. The swelling globe of blackness envelops her, as intended, but the Mistress of the dark sweeps her arms and gathers it like an exotic performer snatching a veil from the air. The globe elongates, shreds, becomes a whip of lightlessness in her hand, so that the Patron’s motion are in scant revealed. She catches his lithe and upward arc from the corner of one wide, green eye and swivels on her steely heel so that only one of the daggers strikes – through flesh, at such an angle that it must snag through layers of skin before tearing loose, the other left to stream through empty air. But not for long – she deftly kicks, a high leg-lift bringing one of those deadly heals up to smack the second blade loose from Kuzial’s hand. The motion is followed through by her making the turn complete, the knife in her shoulder’s skin ripping away as she lunges, snapping short, white fangs at his throat, lycan strength grasping at his knife-hand to keep him from stabbing her, which would quite spoil the joy of tearing into his throat.

Kuzial seems to take his darkness being controlled entirely in stride - or at least the dark scowl on his face doesn't change. Nor does the primal growl coming from his throat. As her leg brutally lifts to kick away his dagger, he pushes his arm more forward, awkward for just a moment to take the strike fully on his forearm. It hurts like a bitch, even drawing blood from the growing bruise, but he doesn't release his weapon. He had given up one this day, he would not release another. At his side he feels the pernicious calling of his other more wicked weapon, but he has no wish to use it. It would not relent until it destroyed Tenebrae, and that was a pleasure Kuzial wanted for himself. As his other dagger rips into her shoulder, before being torn free in a movement that pushes him off balance, he cannot help but let the smallest of dark smiles form on his lips. He was far from beaten in this strike; his favoured weapon was the dagger; which could become brutally clear as he allows her own momentum to push him forward, enhancing the odious strike of his free-handed dagger with snaps up to meet her fangs with its viciously sharp edge, in a move that could carve deeply in her face, and were she to carry on with her bite, drive the blade far into her head. It perhaps lacks some of his usual finesse, the spreading bruise on his arm taking some of its power. But with her own momentum aiding his strike, he is confident it has enough strength.

In Tenebrae’s hand, darkness becomes a living thing. It is not for nothing that she is Thanatos Domina – and in her hand, the drow-spun magical dark quails to her indomitable will. In Kuzial’s moment of unsteadiness, his own shadowy dark is sent wending and treacherous, in a ribbony motion that ought to, while he regains balance, loosely weave about his legs. The knife is unexpected – Jolie swerves her head away, fangs snapping at nothing, but receives a slash to her cheek that will leave a new scar to bear with her own perverse mixture of chagrin and untamed pride. The ribbons of solidifying blackness wind suddenly tight, manipulated to pull the drow’s legs together like a bug in a spider’s web, while she grabs his shoulder, spattering him in her own bright sanguine, using that grip and his own forward motion to aid her in pulling the Patron down with her, where the shadow would swarm him like an obedient serpent, preventing further strikes, hopefully, causing something of an awkward stalemate.

Kuzial is caught by his own darkness as it wraps around his legs. When Jolie snatches her hand out to grab him, he ponders just briefly using one of his fine daggers to cut the limb off, but instead he waits to see what she plans. As the shadows cause him to fall forward, and she falls down with him, his shadows seeking to ensnare him tightly, he releases his concentration on the spell of darkness he cast, hoping it would fade, and if not he enacts the power of his faerie fire; a bright light that causes a wince of pain to come from the bruised drow as the fires burn into life around his body - containing no heat, merely light. But it would serve well enough to ensure he wasn't locked in place by the shadows; his daggers held back by the reserves of his will-power. Oh, how he wanted to drive them into her face. But he did not. Instead he offers an altogether different threat. "I'm going to... impale you... for that."

Jolie said, "Promises, Patron..." She would have grinned, but for the slash to her cheek that denied her such an expression. Maybe he'd see it in her eyes. "But perhaps the middle of Hemlock Way is not the best place for such an... act."

Kuzial snorts, "Why do you think us drow can cast those globes of darkness you can control? You think anyone in this town would be foolish enough to enter it?" It seems he is quite keen on not moving from this spot.

Jolie can only relinquish to his infallible drow logic.