RP: Ina Bookies During a Tragedy, and Kanna's Market Value Soars

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

Summary:The Titans Of Winter- Dramatic tourneys like this are -great- for cashing in. Not the safest thing,though.

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.

Xiem 100 Gold on Kanna Lora 4 k on Kanna 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 some rough and rocky terrain in comparison to those locations? The setup 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 armour set that hugs her plump figure, the bard tries to at least make the functional armour 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, and 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 demeanour, 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.

Ina's here- though it's not as herself. Today's guise is specifically suited to the frigid temperatures of the area, given that she appears to be a miniature polar bear- wearing a small placard around its neck stating, 'Place Bets Here'. In front of her, there's a small box for people to plant their donations. Weirder still, there's a solid array of merch adjacent to the Betting Bear Booth- in the form of glossy-looking flyers which display Kanna & Dyraxdiin clashing, as well as assorted musical sheets and assorted firestarters so people have something to light up during any impromptu performances. There's also a nifty little box of 6 winged dragon plushies- though, they all have googly eyes, and a floppy tongue. It must be for appeal factors. Xiembantointh is in the crowd somewhere leading cheers, jeers and battle calls with a rowdy group of guys. Wiping his beard free of the ale from his mug and clanking the mugs together with those around him. Maybe he should bet on his own kin, but that bard must have something up her sleeve and has placed a wager on her being the winner.

Leoxander had prowled that mountain terrain a time or two before, but it wasn’t the easiest hike to this most recent location made to serve as a tournament arena. Hopefully, the maidservant managed to keep up and not rile his impatience by causing him to pause along the way. His breath plumed visible as they got to the higher elevation and closer to frozen lands, more than it should by cause of a curse that ran the rogue’s blood hot. Finally reading the destination with his designated shadow, he motioned for Lora’ to choose their seats, he settled in right before he retrieved his flask from the usual pocket. Hood pushed from tousled, tawny blonde, he unscrewed the lid while surveying the match up of the ancient wyrm versus the doll of death. Leo couldn’t help but shake his head slightly to himself at the deranged combination, but he’d seen what both fighters were capable of. After a minute or two, he took out a weighted pouch of coin from his jacket pocket and leaned in to murmur something to Loravelle, handing it her way.

Meri is present in the stands, where does not really matter as she is not sitting next to anyone she knows. Meri slants a suspicious glance to the miniature polar bear, but Meri is savvy enough that she won't try and blow anyone's cover. Lora and Leo are greeted with a lazy salute, yet Meri does not move from her position so that she can sit next to the couple. The hello will suffice.

Ina doesn't just have stock geared towards the people strictly here for the fight, either. There's also a sheer black tray sitting on the booth, which bears a dense-looking chocolate cake in the center. Despite the cold, it seems to retain its warmth, permeating the nearby area with the scent of freshly baked sweets and something faintly spicy. And in front of the cake, there's a thick cut piece of paper with an 'L' marked on it- which seems to denote the intended recipient. And which people don't seem to really heed, given Ina-as-a-pint-sized Polar Bear has to swat at a few hungry hands. "Grr."

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.

Loravelle may be slower and less agile than Leo, but she didn't lag too far behind him. This was the path her group took to Frostmaw the year before. She's short of breath and rosy-cheeked from the cold by the time they do reach the fight and slumps into a seat, near Miss Terra coincidentally, grateful to be able to rest her weak legs. She pulls a face when Leo passes a pouch and whispers to her. A fun game, but really? She just sat down...But obedient as the maid was, she's on her feet again, headed for the...betting polar bear bookie? She deposits the pouch into the polar bear's box, and leans in to whisper to the bear, assuming it was some godsawful mystical thing. Then she parts, beelines for her seat next to the pirate rogue, and hugs her jacket tighter against her. She's cold.

Loravelle whispered to you, "Betting on the girl...bear? T-thanks."

Terra watched Lora get seated and then get up and then come back. Once she was back in the seat and seemed to be there for good, she’d lean towards her. “How was the party?”

Magik sees how it is. Meri isn't sitting next to anyone? Fine. Magik is sitting right behind her then.

Terra is sitting catty-corner to Meri and by extension, Magik.

Loravelle tugs her headscarf down a bit to better cover her chilly ears as well as the top of her head. Terra's voice so close surprises her, but she's happy to see her. She smiles, casts a not-so-subtle glance at Leoxander. “Wonderful, Miss Terra.” Her eyes then catch a glimpse of the mushroom forest that has appeared on the battlefield, and those white spores and what they can do. She tugs a lower portion of her headscarf up and over her lips and nose. Just in case.

Meri wasn't sure Magik was really there! She makes up for it by moving to sit on Magik's lap and snuggling up. She also missed greeting Terra, the blonde vampire gets a wave from her lycan friend.

Leoxander raised his free hand to Meri, and gave Terra a familiar, slight raise of jaw in acknowledgement before taking a drink of the gut-burning liquid, then handing it Loravelle’s way. “It’ll help.” His focus was on the fight, but he sat up from his usual slouch and might just stun some of the crowd seated behind them when Leo moved an arm behind the maid’s upper back and cupped her opposite shoulder, scrubbing her sleeved bicep with his bandaged hand. To assist in recovering some warmth, so long as she didn’t lean and twist away or put the contact off.

Ina jingles the box, and with a surprising degree of accuracy, proceeds to produce a receipt for the amount that was deposited by the maid. Whose already left. Alright then. With a snort, the pint-sized bear steps over to the nearest person to her, bodily picks them up, and then deposits them in front of the booth, before emphatically tapping it. The person, a gruff-looking dwarf whose already two cups into his grog, looks a bit confused and moves to step away- only for Ina to pick him back up, draw a finger across her throat in a visible threat, and then set him back down in front of the booth with a quiet 'Grr'. And then she's off after Loravelle with her receipt. And the platter bearing the Chocolate Lava Cake & the 'L' note - though the latter items are due for her date.

Meri recalls that once a wedding happens, Shishi will be family. Don't ask Meri to recite how exactly Shi is related, the family tree too complicated. "That is Terra, Shishi's lady." To Terra, "And this is Magik, my fiancé." There. Introductions have been made.

Terra shifted her position, likely relaxed after the lingering guilt she had felt was relieved by Lora’s answer. It seemed she was not the only that adjusted their position to accommodate the lady. Now the blonde smirked, turning her head in time to catch Meri & Magik’s greeting. One she understood, the other made her twitch her nose in an over-exaggerated manner to be just as odd. Friends made, eyes back on the match, she would seize the moment to prod both Lora and Leo a little more. “Going to the snowflake soirée next?”

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 favoured breath attack - an act of foreboding to the heavily-armoured 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, spiralling 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 deafening 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.

Magik starts to make a motion to pick Meri's nose but ends up with a friendly wave to Terra, "Pleasure, Terra."

Loravelle isn't entirely used to all of this waving and acknowledging people, or knowing who people even are outside of her small bubble in Gualon. When Leoxander hands her his flask, she takes a drink. It burns, sure, but he's right. She'll feel warm eventually, and warmer still once his arm is around her. Trembling fingers grip tight on the flask for fear of dropping it. Her face is going to just remain a rosy pink for the duration of this fight. She spies Meri, and casts a glance at Leo. “She's...the one with the rock?” Miss Meri. She hasn't properly met Miss Meri yet, but she should. Soon. But then her attention is captured by the bookie bear on its way to them? Did she place the bet incorrectly? Just look away, the maid thinks to herself. It's fine. All fine... “N-no, I...Don't really want to go,” is her timid reply to Terra. “I think that was a one-time thing for me.”

Ina finishes lumbering over to Loravelle, and then looms. Except that, it's not really the -best- attempt at a loom, given that she's about shoulder height with the maid while she's sitting down. She squints, or at least- does the ursine equivalent, but the maid seems to be somehow oblivious to her presence. "Grrr." Nope, still looking the other way. Weird. "Grr?" Concluding that this is getting nowhere fast, the receipts instead planted on the platter, and Ina then proceeds to push -past- Lora, near sitting on her lap, so she can stick the dessert tray on Leo's lap, seemingly heedless of the fact that her claws have at this juncture torn through its black outer layer, and down to the grey material beneath.

Leoxander heard the introductions being made behind him, but until the pint-sized creature arrived to pass a plate and paper her way, he gave a slight arch of brow at Ina’s choice of glamour, this round. The expression lingered as he noticed the dessert offered’, and his eyes returned to the bear with some scrutiny, just as it he was forced to catch it quickly on his lap before it toppled off his leg. Good thing she had his flask in hand. Trying to return his focus to the fight, he was distracted with the maid’s question and turned his head to follow her gaze to Meri. “Oh, right. Nearly forgot about that. Thought you mett’er at the J.R…” Terra earned herself a hard look over his shoulder for the question regarding the Soiree, even if it wasn’t directed his way. “She can be a pain to chase down. Might be able to catch her after this, but tends to disappear.” He picked the receipt out of the frosting with a grimace.

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 favour, 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.

Leoxander bared his teeth a bit as Kanna's sharp whistle caused his hearing to muffle and ring, letting go of Lora to rub at the inside of an ear for a moment. "Does every bloody fight gotta blow my g'damn ears out??" The pirate complained loudly through a growl.

Meri was about to sass off to Leoxander about how she's really not -that- hard to find, if need be. Except, no thanks to Kanna, Meri ends up cringing from pain and is momentarily hard of hearing due to some intense ringing in her ears. Ina adjusts the earplugs she made for her adorable ears. She learned her lesson after Dryxadiin's last showing. Loravelle heard that polar bear's grr. Each one of them, and Dii's roar, and before she can even think to get up and leave, it's -on- her. Cowardly and skittish she may be, but this girl doesn't scream. She rarely raises her voice past its quieter pitch. The maid just sits, stunned, free hand pressed flat against the opening of Leo's flask to prevent it from spilling in her trembling hand. Perhaps if she stays perfectly still, the polar bear will just go away and not sink its claws into her. But then that shrill whistle from Kanna. Her hands fly to her ears, flask hand pressing the flask flat against that ear while her empty hand does the same to the other. Her ears are ringing now, and her hands lower with some caution once she assumes the whistle is finished. Then, probably against better judgment, Lora takes a long pull from that flask before offering it back to Leo. Her belly is going to hate her.

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 forgoes thought in favour 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 its 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.

Ina is probably the only person in the immediate vicinity who- wasn't affected by the sound? ...Why didn't she also sell earplugs, and heavy-duty earmuffs. "Grr." But there's more pressing business to do, like finishing getting out of Loravelle's way, so she can saunter off to back to the booth. It also means she's nowhere near Leo for when he digs into her patented Chili Chocolate Lava Cake. Because they were -supposed- to be messy, and so she decided to make it as loaded with chocolate as possible. Albeit alchemically- so now there's the problem that once the Chocolate shell is broken and the interior oxidizes, its molten chocolate interior will begin to expand several fold. There's no way she can let that touch her luxurious white fur. Nu-uh. No how.

Leoxander managed to knock a crack into the cake for his flinch from the sound, and it took a moment to notice the pouring of chocolate that was running across his thigh and down a leg of his pants. “Sonuva’...” He didn’t finish the curse as he hastily set the cake down on the empty space beside him on the bench, having noticed the reason for it. Annoying as that was. He considered just depositing the dessert on the ground, but it was already making a mess. Admittedly, the chili scent in the chocolate was tempting to a man who loved things that burned his tongue and stomach. Including the liquor he took a drink of before screwing on the lid to replace it inside his unbuttoned coat, distracted from the duel yet again as his hands raised in helpless frustration on what he was going to do about that chocolate without getting the rest of himself covered in it. Oh, she was going to pay a price for that little stunt.

Loravelle has an idea to help resolve Leo's chocolate problem, but it involves breaking decorum. Thankfully she has that jacket he tossed her way a year ago and it's hooded. So she draws the hood up, then works to remove the headscarf beneath it in as smooth of a switcharoo as she can so her hair isn't let loose in public. Cleaning is her gig. She stands to squeeze past the rogue, and with headscarf in hand, she scrapes as much of the cake off of that strange 'plate' so he can grab it, and she wads up her headscarf to keep as much of the expanding mess contained as possible. Good thing there's an empty seat maybe four or five spaces away. She drops her chocolate scarf time bomb over there because throwing it into a crowd just seemed a little too mean, then returns to her seat, grimacing at the chocolate sticking to her fingers.

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.

Ina gets back to her booth, her ursine features allowing her to pantomime a look of cherubic innocence. Which also makes it a bit disquieting when she picks up the dwarf who was watching over the stand, stuffs a Kanna poster, and a bit of sheet music into his arms, and then hucks him back into the crowd, now that he's not needed anymore. "Grr." Back to the duel.

Leoxander squinted his eyes and raised the fabric around his throat as some of the air was tainted by the explosion of spores, not lethal at that distance from the fight but definitely irritating to his nose. Safe to say that between that, the mess of chocolate sauce on a leg and lap, hearing finally coming back in from the whistles and roars - the rogue was starting to get a bit… irritable. Still grumbling while Loravelle went about doing what she did best, he used the back of his hand to brush and fling some of the molten chocolate off the top of his leg, using the handkerchief he’d been given in the dust-covered Enchantment to wipe off most of the rest, though he did draw his mask down briefly to lick some off his knuckles so long as it didn’t reek of traceable poison. That would defeat the purpose of their meeting, he figured, though he would be hard-pressed not to throw her into a choke hold the next time they met.

Ina actually takes a fair bit of pride in her cooking- so that Lava Cake is in fact quite edible. it's just...also still leaking chocolate, and probably beginning to pool over towards the next persons' seat at this point. Which, really- who doesn't like a copious amount of sweets? It was a lot of work to make a chocolate reduction that dense.

Loravelle lifts her skirt just enough to wipe her fingers clean of most of the chocolate sticking to them, then lets it drop back to the floor. Her ears are still ringing, and she tugs the hood of her jacket down as much as she can. Can't have any loose strands of hair visible. Casting a wary glance at Leo, she sighs. They're near Frostmaw. There's a cave up there they can visit later if needed.

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.

Leoxander retrieved the large scale once the goop was cleaned off his hand as best at he could, leaving Lora’s handkerchief more or less as ruined as his mood. Second time he’d been distracted from nearly the whole brawl he’d come to spectate, championship round, no less.. and the wolf wasn’t too pleased about that. He met Loravelle’s eyes with a glare not directed at her, holding the scale in both hands since he hadn’t brought his satchel, only a black iron blade wrapped and strapped to his back. Finally, he was able to return his attention to a heated moment in the fight. For a moment there, Leo thought the dragon might just kill the girl.

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.

Loravelle knew the glare shot her way wasn't for her, but that doesn't stop her from frowning. Hesitantly, her hands extend to take the scale for Leo if he didn't want to carry it himself. She's missed a fair bit of the fight as well, but when she does join him in looking, her heart nearly sinks at what she sees. C'mon, Kanna...

Leoxander forfeits the item to Loravelle gladly. A joke for a joke, he figured, but he would still be glaring daggers at the ever-changing bookie on the way out. The rogue stood with his arms folding over his chest for a moment as he awaited the announcement with a troubled knot in his brow. A little of it eased when he heard the results and his head tilted to one side to audibly crack some tension from his neck.

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?

Meri said to Magik, "Should we grab Kanna and then head home? It seems mean for us to just leave her here..."

Ina will have to get rich quick some other way. LIKE ALL THIS MUCH MORE VALUABLE KANNA MERCH NOW THAT SHE'S WON. "Grr." The tiny bear gestures at posters displaying the necrobotanical bard. "Grrr." The sheathes of song music are planted forward, Polar Ina producing a small note that states 'For signatures'. "GRRRR." A 50% off marker is placed near the googly-eyed Diin plushies. Ina plants her hands on her hips, and waits.

Magik said to Meri, "We'll grab her and steal Diin's treasure stash.."

Lanara wants a googly eyes Diin plushie.

Meri high-fives Magik and then the pair of them do just that. You know, provided the armless-Kanna wants to be kidnapped and taken to safety while she mends up.

Loravelle held tight to the scale once it's handed to her, standing shortly after Leo did with it in her arms. The announcement of the winner brightens her face a bit. “Hǎo.” Good for her. The receipt Leo hands over to her is pinched between two fingers while she holds onto the scale. She returns to the polar bear bookie and presents the receipt to...it? She wasn't about to check its gender. "Grr," she growl...whispers? Lora doesn't speak bear.

Ina is more than happy to unload a googly-eyed Diin plushie on Lanara & Joan. Unfortunately, there's no Kanna plushies, given her wardrobe's a fair bit of work for mass production. That said, the bear does make gestures at a Glossy Titan Of Winter Poster, to commemorate the occasion. (It's not free).

You Grr's approvingly at Loravelle as she passes over the bag of gold. Good instincts this time around.

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.

Loravelle felt silly for growling back at the bear, but...everything in her life has been unusual as of late. She pockets the bag of gold, grrs again at the bear, then returns to Leo with the assumption they'll split it later instead of counting out coins then and there. If he wants to take the coins however, she jerks her chin down to the pocket in her skirt where she stowed their winnings away. He can reach in and take it if he wants to.

Xiembantointh feels the stillness within the spectators stands as the great wyrm peacefully takes his final rests. Tears threaten Xiem’s rim of his eyelids and he nearly feels an envy for the place his spirit is headed. Quietly, he mumbles something in dragonspeak to wish Dyraxdiin’s soul a safe journey to the beyond.

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..."

Leoxander watched the necrobotanist’s recovery in the center of the ‘ring’ as she looked completely miserable for her victory, while Loravelle went to collect the profit he’d made on it. There would be no counting gold, just yet. His expression was stoic, almost solemn as he observed the ribs and chest of the wyrm to still. He wasn’t a stranger to blood on his hands (although today it seemed to be chocolate), but it was a heavy reminder that lives -could- be lost in that sport, and all the more powerful that this was an ancient who had lived as long as he had. Death’s flower girl was going to have quite a load on her shoulders. Without a word, his arms uncrossed, and he turned to head toward the path, assuming the maidservant would follow.

Ina actually stops what she's doing to remove her earplugs, and it's only that then she becomes acutely aware of the noise in the air- subtle, yet disconcerting, but still familiar. A death rattle, but on a draconic scale. It's enough that she nearly breaks character, but she holds back the sputter by snapping her jaws shut sharply. She was increasingly grateful she'd resisted the urge to join this years tourney for whatever small boost it could have provided to her business. Doing her best to ignore the noise, she begins to collect her merchandise- squirreling it away into a small pouch. From there, she simply makes her way forward, to join those morbid gawkers, and the few afflicted- in order to get a better look at the freshly departed creature. "Grr."

Loravelle had never witnessed the death of a dragon before. Her feelings are mixed, but she swallows them, expression turning solemn. If only she realized what she was carrying. She turns to follow Leo after a final glance toward Kanna.

Ina might slowly be shuffling to the side and out of sight from people, so that she can somehow, (bear claws and all), thumb through a book on magical creatures and their uses for alchemy and enchanting. We're talking like a side-shimmy until she's got Diin's carcass between herself and those gathered here today, type deal. ...Man, where was Lanlan when you needed him. He'd know stuff.

Ina can't wait for the gathered crowd to finish dispersing. This'll be materials fer -days-. Though, it will take a bit of doing. It's on that note that Ina snaps the book shut, and begins to hustle off to see if she can't find a way to wire a notice over to Lanlan. There was so much work to be done. Preferably in a less visible guise then Polar Ina.