Lionel's Duels
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Lionel and Donovan versus Halycanos


Lionel takes both hands, and thrusts from the floor of the Starry Heavens, the shimmering Blade of Eternity. It shines with the light of the stars above, and his face is filled with a rather noticeable feverish glare, sapphire orbs fixated on the opposition. Sliding index finger upon the diamond encased in the hilt, his glare joins forces with an almost sinister grin. "For everything you've done, I am your executioner. For the death you have brought about, your finalization." With that, he slams his boots into the ground beneath him, legs swinging across the surface quickly. Chains slide with his haste across the floor, sending a shrill clanging noise across the location, and he lifts the sword of Valaria's diamond creation upward into the air. Gusts of wind seem to come with it, in his fast movement, and the former assassin brings his right foot forth roughly, sliding like his chains behind him to a slow halt. The clanging ceases, and with the raising of his blade, it begins to shine furthermore with the light atop. Eyes narrow, heartbeat racing as Lionel now leaps into the air, relying on his relatively lacking vampiric skills to bring his body some seven feet into the air, where he now chants a quick chant in a foreign tongue. Diamond upon the hilt gleams and resonates, and from the small hole at the base of the blade is fired a volley of sharp diamond shards -- some ten or twelve in quantity. Laced with a nearly uncurable poison of which only the edge's creator has the antidote, this shooting spree comes in with incredible speed for Halycanos' cranium and neck, and as gravity takes its stand, the young man falls to the floor, but swings upward again, this time in an arc. As he turns to the left, he slashes to the right, deadly blade's tip aimed squarely for the midsection of the demon's left side.
Donovan smiles grimly as Lionel launches the first blow against the demon which once dwelt in his core. Waiting until the initial assault is nearly upon Halycanos, Donovan drop-steps with his left foot, pointing Damian's Vengeance squarely at the spawn. Arcane phrases, only recently mastered, break from the spell blade's tongue as ebon flames roar to life, encasing the blade in a fiery rage. Donovan weaves the final lines of the well-practiced spell into the sword, and at once the inferno leaps from its housing in five distinct onyx tendrils. The flaming fingers dance their way around his ally Lionel en route to Halycanos, leaving the vampiric man unharmed, bottling the entirety of their malice until each finger is within an extremity, the fifth surging directly for demon's forehead, all intent on searing skin and bone alike.
Halycanos sets his legs deep into the ground with a snarl and a bit of a laugh. A snarling laugh. Whatever. He watched Lionel for action, and made sure to keep the Catalian's every motion in check. He had to. It was manditory for his very survival. Donovan, weak as his is, was generally useless in this battle. Lionel was the target. Donovan was the lap dog. "My Executor? Heh... honestly, Lionel, do you paint me as a fool? Or do you just like PISSING ME OFF?!" All those watching closely would see that the bloody red eyes watched Lionel with a sort of contempt. It was almost obsessive. The intention? Murder. Lifting Breath in his right, Burial in his left, Halycanos watched the man pound the ground below him as he ran, his fists curling tightly around the thin hilts. The diamond shards shoot forward, skidding at Halycanos. The ones aimed for the skull and neck, all save one, are missed. The one dings off of the helm as if it were nothing. Then, the upward slash. This, of course, was missed due to the fact that he had just left stepped. However, the other of the hits, the swing aimed for Halycanos' left side, hit perfectly. Knocking Halycanos to the side, he felt a shard dent pressing his side. It was this moment that the flames that Donovan sent forth smashed into The Malice King's face. Being shot back, His body lay limp for less than a moment. At about twenty five seconds, he stands, chuckling. "Now... that was stupid. Hitting me with fire. I slept in Hell-" he began to shout now. "-FIRE!" He then sighed, setting the blades back into place as he dived forth. His aim: Lionel. He got within punching distance of the Prince of Catal, swinging at his shoulder with Breath. As soon as the swing started, the demon's left half veered back and he stabbed the quartz blade in at Lionel's throat. One thing could be heard, and only by Lionel himself.
Lionel raises right brow and bolts back as two blades veer for him at different angles. Sliding Blade of Eternity up ahead of his chest as fast as possible, and to the point whereby the hilt is across from his face, the left half of the handle takes the powerful blow from Breath, and the emerald engraved within its steel shatters, as well as the piece of the sword, itself. Now shaped more like a modern-day rifle than anything, O'Connor simply blinks upon the devastation, sidestepping to the right swiftly. Unfortunately, the sidestepping isn't quite enough, and Burial of Rafina's aim is uncanny; in a last, rather desperate maneuver, Lionel kneels down to the floor, knees touching the cold surface. The sword comes up above him, and he scrambles both feet back, standing sharply once he's but two feet forward. The tip of Burial at once sends a tear through his white dress shirt, and an impalement through the left side of his chest. Blood is drawn, and Lionel screams in pain, but wastes no time -- lunging upward as the sword of his pain is still facing forth, he spirals with skill, twirling his body around like a cannonball, in the air, and stands atop Burial. Before Halycanos can thrown him off, he's already directly behind his opponent. "Walk the sword... or just... like... walk ON it." Back turned to the evil entity, he takes note of Donovan's tendrils for Haly's extremities undoubtedly doing their work, and veers quickly, turning around. Rather than touching the diamond, again, he instead opts to send a thrust toward his foe's nape of the neck. The uber-sharp edge of the blade tears through the air and comes in fast, and as it does, Lionel sends a kick from his left leg in toward Halycanos' lower back, hoping to knock him off balance as the tip makes contact.
Donovan tips his neck from side to side, sickening 'crack' sounds emitted as he does so. Grinning vindictively as his four tendrils begin to crawl their way up Halycanos's limbs, Donovan sets to work on his next move. Afforded the luxury of not being attacked, the man maintains his 'safe' distance from the spawn, and quickly weaves a second spell. On the surface, it seems to be identical to the first, as obsidian fires slowly begin to traipse about Donovan's blade. However, the spell blade's chant begins to grow more forceful, and lasts longer than the first. An almost evil grin playing itself across his face, Donovan thrusts the blade outward, the flames spring forth in a similar manner to the last time. As they float across toward Halycanos, however, the true intention is betrayed: the inferno parts upon reaching the demon, slowly encompassing him as they remain inches from contact. Upon almost completely surrounding the spawn, they surge inward, quite obviously disregarding the physical realm, but aiming to break Halycanos's spirit and will.
Halycanos blinks widely as he sees the assassin jump up ON his sword, his eyes rather bulged with surprise. And, as Lionel said, before he ever had the chance to throw him off, Lionel was behind him, seeing another two-part combo. The blade which was intended to impale his throat, and the kick, which would undoubtedly send him flying. Spinning quickly, the Blade of Eternity zips RIGHT in front of his eyes, which kinda spooks the man. And then, the kick! A sharp bash in the side from Lionel's heavy boots. As he predicted, the kick did indeed knock him for a loop, making him roll several feet long ways. Once he had stopped for several seconds, he got up onto his knees, looking onward. It was this second that he realized his body was surrounded by the tiny wisps of heat and fire. But... it seems as if they aren't even real. He can feel the heat, but they don't feel... right. A quick jolt to his feet was made as he slashed both arms out to throw off the little bastard lights. And then, in they came. Unavoidable. Nothing could escapes the tight formation. At least, nothing his size. As they all hit inwards, he felt his body be penetrated, his armor useless against the Ethereal flames. Being cut apart, he screams in horror. Which... is odd. Because all you folks can see is little sparks disappearing into his armor and tearing out the other side. No physical damage inflicted. Falling to his knees, his hands kept the blades in his palm, and he looked as though he was hurt. It did not, strangely, hinder his will, though. Rather, it burned it stronger. Made him want to kill them both all the more. When he was fully stood, he reached up, tearing his helm off, throwing it to the dirt. His mask was also discarded. Brandishing the blades with a sharp whistling tone, Halycanos walked calmly at Lionel, his eyes looking like pools of blood. "You know... at one point, I'd have respected you. But I must wonder..." He raised one hand, the one holding Breath, "...how will you fare in a closed space?" As this word tumbles free, walls of what appear to be glass that moves stretch from the ground to the clouds. All can see into it, but no one could get into it. As a matter of fact, that very second, a little field rat ran up to the field, seeing a nut by Lionel's foot. Wanting it, the rodent ran up, and upon contact with the wall, was diced into rat-bites. "And without the aid of your lapdog." It was now that he dashed up to Lionel, both blades crossing into an X, and then slashing outwards to either cut Lionel across the chest or scare him into the wall.
Lionel leaps back out of sheer fright, hoping to evade a deadly cross of swords aimed indubitably to destroy him. Cursing under his breath, he jumps backward, and with nothing but skin and white rags drenched with blood, he collides into it, quite hard, at that. A terrible cry escapes his lips, as a horrible shock is thrown into his body, and his flesh sizzles. Smoke is emitted from below his shoulders and outward from his sides, and his eyes fly back into their sockets, glowing blue gleams twitching painfully, looking up to the sea of stars. He immediately jettisons his arms into the air, the ends of his teeth shattering from constant collision with one-another. His entire body swells and pieces of his entity begin to shatter, and it does truly appear that all is lost for Lionel O'Connor, Holy Prince of Catal. "D-Damn... it..." He mutters, finally redirecting his eyes, and all-the-while trembling as his feet are at last freed from the wall. "...damn you, and everything you have done..." The faintest of smirks travels across his lips, as he forces his arms back down. "Forgive me, Valaria..." In a quick effort to end the suffering, he swings Blade of Eternity into the mass of power, and its ultra-sharp tip slices into it with the energy of a thousand diamonds. The glass-like substance begins to shatter from the area, but so, too, does the sword. Holding it back from his left arm only, he thrusts it further and further into the stream, as his back sizzles and a terrible agony overtakes him. It is now that he lets loose the weapon, and leaps forward, straight for Halycanos. Without his sword, and he can only hear from behind him as Blade of Eternity implodes, taking with it the endless wall of misery. Now standing before his sworn enemy with nothing but his fists, his smile grows, though his eyes bulge and parts of his skin are decimated. Wasting no time, the young man darts his right hand for the Blessed Bluerush, and swings it forth, clashing it with Breath and Burial. "Taste the spirit of Lydia Riamh... and taste my very own vengeance." Upon the clanging of soul-pressed steels, he rises into the air, a trail of smoke let off from his wounds. A quick twirl, and a sudden flip. He lands squarely to the very left side of Halycanos, and feels his weapon surging with a resonating light. Speaking words of a foreign tongue, he watches the blade grow a distinct blue in aura, and takes a step forth with his right leg. Kicking into the floor, Lionel spins all the way to the very edge, but stops just short of a terrible fall. With a sudden rush, bright beams of light flare from the sword, and move to hone in on and encase absolute evil, from all sides. They come in fast, and he comes in just behind them, slashing fiercely across from the top left to the bottom right, angling to rip the demon's neck from his shoulders.
Donovan glances tepidly as he watches the rat get obliterated by the seemingly inpenetrable forcefield tossed up around Lionel and Halycanos. His brow furrows as he realizes this forcefield is beyond his capabilities, but brightens considerably when the transparant box shatters! Donovan turns his body from the flying shards, several minute pieces lodging in his back, sanguine fluid trickling forth from each wound. Growling in a combination of pain and frustration, the spellblade relies on the simplest of tactics in response. Holding Damian's Vengeance aloft, the man charges Halycanos at full speed, stopping just short of the demon spawn. Donovan waits for Lionel's slash to bypass him before creating a tandem attack of sorts. Whilst one man's blade of light slices toward Halycanos's jugular, the other's is thrust upon the demon's midsection, the dark soul-power, crafted by Shogo just for a situation like this, intent on silencing the essence of Halycanos once and for all.
Halycanos watches and cackles as the Catalian slowly embraces defeat. The Holy Prince of a fallen kingdom. Soon, the last of the Catal would be dead, he thought just as something made him scream in anger. Blade of Eternity rushing in and destroying his wall. How!? The blade and the wall were soon nothing more than memories. And as all this comes into play, Lionel rushes up, slicing the wretched Blessed across his chest, tearing through all that beautiful black armor he forged for himself. Now, what Lionel wanted, to cut Halycanos' head off would not take place, but Lionel DID cut his chest wide open, blood sprying out in an almost unrealistic way. (see Kill Bill here) He stood, gasping for air as he feels a gust of air from Donovan. Both mortal warriors stood there now, and Halycanos just kinda laughed. "Well... Lionel. You did well. But, as usual, the lapdog didn't do so we-UGH!" He stopped, coughing from the chest wound. It was here that he screamed in anger. Curling his fists into themselves, he chucked the blades into the dirt on either side of him before spinning about to punch at Donovan. It was now that The spall blade's attack came into blissful play. The cut from Donovan's blade finally appears. As Halycanos turned, his lower half stayed in place. From the belly button up, he spun, slowing long before he could hit. Halycanos stared blankly for a moment, gasping. "How... God FRACKING DAMMIT! HOW?!" Here, his lower half spewed blood upwards, his upper half pouring out intestines and more blood. As Halycanos stood there, he readjusted himself to face Lionel. "...Catalian... Dog..." His body swelled minutely before combusting. Flames and screams of dark mana rushed out, and by the time it all settled, There was NO Halycanos. On one of Lionel's other sheaths, Hellfire glowed slightly as it's astranged master fell, his soul returning to it's prison.
Lionel collapses against the hilt of Blessed Bluerush, back seething with pain. The wound on his forehead seems minute compared to what he feels, now. His arm shakes vehemently as he nearly falls into the floor, but his gaze doesn't leave the flames. Speaking hoarsely, and with the smallest of faint laughs, the all-but-fallen former assassin arches his head up high enough to see Donovan, where he stands. "...and that's... what he gets... for being... so god... damned... stereo... typically... evil." With these whimpered words, O'Connor collapses, though he is still quite conscious.
Vash sighs and Bine blinks....Her evil vampire male..beaten...how.....Not possable...She growls softly.....Well Lionel might live to see his son be born yet....When and if Sab returns....Bine just glares....
Kristerl watches Lionel's disheveled form meet that of the ground below him, refraining from stepping forward as an instinctive want to assist presents itself in the former thoughts of her mind. Folding her arms neatly across her chest, she watches.
Valaria stands up in her spot, a smile spreading across her pale face.
Halycanos is so very dead. -shrug-
Kitian sits down on a rock and lights his pipe a bemused look on his face
Donovan manages a triumphant scowl as Halycanos whips around to see him. "As promised, demon. My blade, and my face. Be gone." Donovan is floored by the ensuing explosion, and groans involuntarily in pain. Grimacing as he turns to Valaria, he mumbles, "It's done...his avenging is complete." With those words, Donovan sighs, and drops his head to the floor, completely devoid of energy.
Lionel slams his left fist into the floor, and pushes himself up with braced digits, slamming his very wounded back behind him. Facing up, now, he keeps his eyes just open enough to glance upon the stars above him. "...bang."
Valaria very carefully moves through the battlefield over to Donovan. Hesitantly, she kneels down taking his hand in a kind gesture speaks quietly to him...almost in a whisper through watery eyes. "Thank you..."
Vash looks at Bine rolling his eyes.Bine gets up and looks at Lionel.."Well I will make sure to let Sab know your alive still....Even though she is gone from here She misses her clan aand her leader..not to mention her family...I'm sure she will be back soon..."*Bine turns to leave than stops and turns back. Congrats boys...I have to admit I am kind of surpirzed your both still alive....."Bine sighs and heads to the edge looking down.
Kristerl 's throat tightens with a minor flutter of anxiety as she watches the scene unfold before her, gaze flickering from Lionel to Donovan, to Valaria, and back to Lionel. Despite the fact that she does nothing to help the injured men, or console the grievous woman, Kristerl remains in place, should the need for assistance, arise.
Donovan has not the energy to respond to Valaria, but looks directly at her for a moment, almost as if sending her a message before closing his eyes.




Lionel versus Tanek


Lionel is perched against the wall of Kelay Tavern, right leg folded at the knee to hold him up straight, and as the duel begins, his sapphire orbs float on over to the barrels of alcoholic beverage gathered around, undoubtedly going to Mesthak soon. He approaches one, investigates it, shakes his head, moves over to another, and opens its lid to reveal an empty wooden bucket, which he promptly pulls out, and carries it closer to Tanek with an expression of confidentiality joining forces with a sincerely-placed smirk. Nodding to his opponent and glancing about for signs of weakness, the young man soon places the bucket down in front of him, and sets himself to unsheathing the ornately-designed Blessed Bluerush from its encasing; the brand shimmers with a lovely, irradescent glow, as if reflecting white shades from the stars. Lionel's smirk suddenly disappears, as he takes two short steps back, and watches as his sword's gleam morphs into a blueish tint, and crystalline, tear-like particles drip into the bucket in front of him, gathering at a rapid pace until it is all but completely filled with the strange mixture. The weapon, held outward in the former assassin's right grip, now fully resonates with a pulsating energy of the same color sapphire as his eyes, and he lifts the bucket up from the ground with his free hand, starting to walk casually towards his foe. As he moves, he carefully ensures that he won't spill too much, but unfortunately droplets fall to the grass and dirt, and oddly enough, the grass freezes and shatters, and the dirt gains a thin sheet of ice. At once, the young man charges ahead at full speed, and when he makes it some eight meters from his opponent, he tosses the wooden bucket, and its contents flush through the air, paving their way quickly for Tanek's body. These particles are sometimes referred to as the 'lifeblood' of the sword, and they freeze material at the touch, and thaw out slightly to become shards capable of breaking through tougher substances, and upon touching skin and flesh, the same thing occurs, and they cut through with a life of their own to literally freeze someone from their insides out in seconds' time. The mixture glides through the air to strike Tanek, and Lionel at once charges the rest of the way toward the right, holding Blessed in both hands now, and then angling over to the man's right side, pulling the sword back and sending out a motion of impalement to cut from one side to the other. The tears of Blessed descend as Blessed itself maneuvers to carve through the body.
Tanek stands at the ready, examining Lionel with a keen eye, as he rummages through barrel after barrel of liquor, and wonders if he plans on getting drunk. As Lionel places the barrel down in front of him, he starts to feel a slight laugh slithering its way out of his mouth, and wonders when he is actually going to prepare to attack, but to his astonishment, he already had been doing so. He never takes his brown orbs off of him as he lifts the barrel into the air, and approaches him with it, but however, breaks his gaze away from the assassin, and looks down to the now freezing ground, and upon dropping his eyes back down onto him, he quarks a brow, and knows that whatever contents are in that barrel, he’ll want to avoid them. His eyes widen as Lionel chucks the barrel of below freezing liquid at him, and he looks around, before breaking into a back handspring, barely dodging the cold fluid. He grins out of contentment, but that grin is wiped from his light skinned face as the assassin comes at him with that blasted Blessed Blue Rush, and he rolls under the sword skillfully, or so he thought. He grins once more in approval as he seemingly dodged yet another of his attacks, fells a sharp sting, and looks to his shoulder, which froze over slightly. He starts to groan in pain, but slams a thick fist down onto his shoulder, shattering the ice, but screams in pain as he does, for he could’ve torn his shoulder apart. He now rolls backwards, over to a tree that he had made a trip to earlier, and pulls out an unidentifiable object wrapped in cloth. Once back to where he was planning to attack, he unwraps the object, revealing a great claymore, and he grips it by the gem encrusted handle, swinging it in a fluent motion, before narrowing his gaze down onto Lionel, and he gets into his battle stance, with both hands gripping the magnificent claymore, and his feet spread apart, facing opposite directions from each other, diagonally. He charges Lionel, a serious look on his face now, and as he stomps down the stone trodden road, he thinks of an area to strike at, and upon reaching the assassin, he rolls to the side, and ends up behind his opponent, and he rolls once more, finding himself on the other side of Lionel, and he quickly raises the blade into the air, and brings it down upon him, aiming solely for the back of his knee caps, swinging in a way that you would if swinging a gold club.
Lionel watches Tanek's display of nimble motion more nonchalantly than anything else, and blinks in sudden confusion as the opponent somehow manages to come up from behind him. A loud snapping sound through the cold night's air and a powerful swoosh from his foe's approximate location send the young man into a more heightened alert mode, and at once he lifts his right leg upward and arches his foot up so that it touches his lower back, and then in a rather bizarre display of leaping, he jumps no more than eight inches into the air with his remaining grounded leg, curving it temporarily to his back and looking down in this split second as the claymore rips across his previous location and strikes outward, away from below him. Immediately he falls back, and both of his knees collapse, slamming his lower legs into the ground. Strangely enough, the man's chin and jawbone slam into the cold steel of the opponent's weapon, and flesh is carved like turkey off of the left portion of his face. Screaming loudly and taking at once to spitting on the sword that caused him such agony, he leaps back, pulling his knees up so that he backwards grasshopper-jumps two meters back. Blood sprays onto the dirt, and Lionel wiggles his lips in a lackluster attempt to adjust to the onslaught. At once he hurls his body into the air, swinging Blessed frantically with both arms gripping powerfully, as if to bedazzle Tanek into delirium before he makes his true move. This fast flurry whips through the air, echoing loud snapping noises across the battlefield and swishing gusts of wind about the brand sharply. Slamming his soles into the ground he ceases this display, and, landing but three feet's length from the other combatant, O'Connor enters his traditional stance of right leg bent outward at the knee and left planted firmly into the ground, and lets go of the weapon with his right hand, pulling it back, closing the fisted gauntlet and slamming it ahead for Tanek's mouth, as if to unleash retribution for his injury. With Blessed held steady, he motions forward and thrusts to impale through the chest, and he slides his left leg forward, across grass and over to his foe's footing, to knock him off balance in a tripping motion so that his implanted Bluerush can skewer and hold whilst Tanek's face takes a beating.
Tanek finds himself taken aback as his true intention was not completed successfully, but smirks nonetheless as Lionel’s face smashes into the steel of the blade, causing him to bleed and scream in pain, which Tanek absolutely loves to see happen when he duels. Having gained a little more confidence after the seemingly accident of an assault, he now watches Lionel’s every move, his eager eye awaiting for his next brilliant attack, and stands in a defensive position, ready for whatever Lionel pitches his way, and plans to counter-attack what he can. His cold gaze is met by Lionel’s, as he approaches him swinging Blessed in a very skillful manner. And as Lionel swings a heavy fist at his face, he tries to step back, avoiding the fist altogether, but that plan is foiled as the assassin’s tripping motion goes through as planned, and he staggers backward, and the fist connects with full force, splitting both his top and bottom lip, knocking him to the ground, and the thrust from the magnificently crafted sword that is Blessed barely grazes the top of his skull, making him wince somewhat. He places a hand to his lip, and looks at the thick blood now dripping onto his exposed torso. He gets up as quickly as he can, before Lionel decides to attack him whilst he lies there, and rolls towards his claymore, which he had lost in the whole process, and reenters his battle stance, ready to attack yet again. He grips it with both hands, as he had done before, and glares down upon the assassin, before breaking into a sprint, and a storm of dust is left in his wake as his boots connect with the earth, and he comes closer and closer to Lionel, with an idea of an attack in mind. When coming close enough to behead the man, he jumps slightly, and before landing, he swings the butt-end of his claymore at the face of him, and attempts to land on the foot of Lionel, and whether or not he did so, he slashes diagonally, aiming to bring the shimmering blade deep down into the shoulder of the assassin, with that same, stern look on his face.
Lionel quickly closes his eyes as the hilt of his enemy's claymore veers in for him, and it slams into his terrible wound, and with a sickening snapping noise more pain seeps into his skull. Instinctively he pulls his cranium back in a cant and a tilt, and as the boyish man feels the handle brace against his neck, the stinging of his face is soon met with a powerful step on his foot. Cursing under bleeding breath, he gives his own blade's handle a deathgrip and stretches backwards, as far as he can and until he gives Blessed a powerful thrust tip-first into the dirt and hangs onto it like a pole with his entire body curved away. Reopening his eyes only now, he gazes almost thoughtfully into the stars, but a sword swing knocks him out of such a dreamy state, as the steel travels inward for his hip, still on its original trajectory course. Kicking swiftly with his free foot, he pulls back, and slides his nimble form away just in time to see the claymore swoosh yet again for his original position. Taking a deep breath, Lionel skids and soon executes a backflip, slender digits grasping the hilt of his sword as vitae falls from his cheek in the wake of his movement. His feet meet with the ground once more, and he draws Blessed from the dirt like Excalibur itself, and with a gleam, he holds it out straight, the tip aimed for Tanek's head. Stepping back slowly, he raises the blade up into the air, hanging it high above him. It shines brilliantly and calls forth clouds of grey, as O'Connor shouts inaudible chants. These clouds meet the dead of night and replace clear skies with mayhem, firing volleys of hail upon Tanek and Tanek alone. The sword's luster only increases, and its resonating greyish tones summon the beating water to form a cyclical nature, whereby it flows around and gathers momentum, surrounding the opponent like that of a small whirlpool. It thrashes dangerously about, but remains spread far enough apart as not to pull Tanek into its deadly currents, and at once Lionel leaps into these tides, spinning around crazily and pushing with all his might the sword through the encircling chaos. Pushing his head out through the waters, his enemy can make out from his stand what appears to be a rapidly-moving sword, coming around in constant three hundred and sixty degree turns, and when directly behind Tanek and in a fraction of a second, he moves to impale through the all-but-encased foe, pressing himself out of the water enough to do so with ease.
Tanek grins with satisfaction yet again as he makes contact with Lionel with his first two assaults, but curses under his breath, but doesn’t let his frustration show, and keeps his attention solely onto Lionel as he sticks his sword into the air, bringing massive amounts of hail. A few fall onto his head, making him look up, and a few hit him in they eye, leaving him clutching it, but drops it, however, when a colossal whirlpool surrounds him, leaving him stuck where he stands, and as Lionel jumps into the strong current of the whirlpool, he thinks that this man must be out of his damned mind, and a bad feeling swoops over him, leaving him knowing not what to expect next. As the assassin fights the tide with Blessed, and escapes, spinning in a full three hundred-sixty degree turns by the second, he doesn’t know what to do, he just stands there. And as Lionel creeps his way over to where he was positioned, he decides to use what room he has to keep behind Lionel, although not completely, for he doesn’t wish to be split into two. However, while following Lionel as they circle around the whirlpool, seemingly chasing each other, Tanek gets a little too close, and is struck in the right flank, though it doesn’t go through all of the way as he had pulled back as quickly as possible. Knowing not what to do, he finally obtains a scheme that just might go through as planned. Timing Lionel’s rotation with a careful eye, Tanek waits until the moment is right, and jumps out towards the assassin and lands successfully on the steel of his sword, spinning along right there with Lionel. Timing yet another jump, he crouches slightly as he spins, and decides to use the momentum to jump across the whirlpool. He times it right yet again, although upon landing, he falls onto his face, and is almost sucked right into the wrath of the blasted thing, and loses his black leather boots to it. He swears loudly, as those were his favorite boots. He thrusts himself to his feet, and regains his natural posture. When he was sure that he was altogether he bended over, letting out a loud groan of pain, as blood was still flowing freely from his side, but however, pulls a dagger from his pant leg. He lifts it up to his face, and gazes at the plain blade, then turns his gaze to Lionel, who is still in the middle of the whirlpool. With one swift motion, Tanek releases the dagger from his hand, and it flies out to Lionel, aiming to hit him wherever it hits him. Tanek stands up straight, awaiting to see what the assassin makes of this.
Lionel is surprised by the skill displayed by Tanek, someone who can throw a dagger through a raging whirlpool and somehow manage for it not to be lost in the current and become another spinning object. The knife flies through the water, splashing a deluge upon the acrobatic fighter's withered body, and of course the freezing temperatures slam into his cheek, sending another string of stinging sensations into the side of his face. Shouting some inaudible profanity, he bends at the aching knees, but the blade of the dagger falls from above him, and comes in for the back of his white dress shirt, stabbing into the nape of his tender neck and then sliding down his back. Blood trickles and gets pushed into the water, and he screams some more, falling down into the dirt -- the weapon had managed to carve down his spine, and though the cuts weren't deep, they were indeed painful. The knife stumbles with him to the ground, but soon enough his whirlpool begins to collapse, and so Lionel extends his hand into the current, immediately pulling his grounded body around and starting to spin it, as his frontside trudges effortlessly but agonizingly across the dirt. After two whole rotations, he gains the momentum to pull himself up, and so with his a roaring of adrenaline, he leaps backwards into the tides, pushes his head out through the other end, and kicks back and forth against the water to escape, gripping Blessed the whole time. As the steel of the glowing sword makes contact, at once the water crashes down and forms an enormous puddle, the likes of which he runs to escape from, and as the grey storm clouds subside, Lionel remains. Sheathing the Bluerush into its place of rest, he glances up tiredly, stretches, and nods, blood dripping down his back and staining his shirt crimson.
Movdon struts away from Vestialia with a small envelope clutched in his hand. Feeling like 'the big man' indeed, he makes his way to stand before the entire crowd gathered around the clearing outside the tavern. Taking a deep breath, he begins to speak. "Alright. A well-fought battle indeed. But there can only be one highlander!" He pauses for the drumroll heard throughout the forrest as he tears the seal and opens up the letter. With a slight widening of his eyes he reads alloud. "The winner of the duel is... is...a tie!" The orc pauses for a moment and looks back to Vestialia before rereading the letter. "Er... Wait. Nevermind. Lionel won."



Lionel versus Xaden
Death Duel


Lionel narrows his sapphire orbs, taking slower steps than his usual pace. Carefully, he examines his undead opponent, a hint of malice cast over his pale face. After a thorough look-over, he comes to a pause, no longer moving. Raising one lofty eyebrow, his eyes glowing with vigor, the young vampiric human slides his left hand down toward the large sheath and blue-and-white-toned handle of the Blessed Bluerush. With a swift motion, he pulls it from its encasement, his glare not leaving Xaden for even the shortest of moments. The shimmering blade does glow with what seems to be a great exuberance, soft tones charging up across its quite sharpened edge. Extending some four-and-one-half feet in length, it is truly a sight to behold. Drawing upon his inner spirits, the man holds it high, outward from himself with but only his left grip. It shines more and more vehemently, almost reaching a perfect hue of silver and white. Bringing his right hand to the case dangling loosely from a belt, he opens it and reveals for the first time his newest weapon. Touching firmly its hilt, carved from the purest of diamonds, and then tightening his hold on the handle, Lionel brings out a mesmerizing sword – Blade of Eternity. Upon this hilt are three encrusted gems – a sapphire, an emerald, and a shimmering diamond of the highest order. Swinging forward, he now holds the newly-reformed Blessed and Blade of Eternity chest length from one-another. Bending at the right knee, and kicking upward from the ground with his left foot, an alarmingly sudden charge begins. Fast approaching Xaden, Blessed reflects Lionel's burning passion and a blanket of sharpened ice covers it smoothly, leaving not a spot untouched. O'Connor slides a single finger upon the sapphire gem Blade of Eternity is equipped with, and a blindingly powerful white light shoots forth, cascading its white shades upon the undead adversary, covering him from viewability and rendering him most-likely unable to see. The crystalline ice shards erupt from Blessed and hone in on Xaden with proficiency, as the distance between the two combatants lessens. Lionel reaches his foe and crosses the blades together, the shine over Xaden only increasing, and the ice shards narrowing in on his chest. Lionel raises both blades into the air and over Xaden's head, slicing down with a piercing thrust that would bring both swords through his body at once, in their trajectory arc.
Xaden closes his eyes as the light around him intensifies with every moment. Clawed hands reach to his own chest and pull out several loose bones from his chest plate. The one who claims himself to be Death incarnate casts out his hands and lets loose the jagged fragments upon the immediate area as they spread out before him. Now with his arms outstretched, he waits. Seeming to pay little heed to the oncoming attack he merely stands there as if accepting the fate he would deal unto others as Lionel now bears down upon him. The pinnacle moment arrives, that one split second that grasps a man through his own personal eternity when overcome with a sense of battle as Xaden begins to move. He spins in a half circle as the cloak he wears is cast up into the air, meeting the first of the two blades. This cloak upon contact, wraps itself around the edges of the Blessed Blue Rush held in Lionels left hand as this counter clockwise motion continues. As if the cloth worn by Xaden held some life of its own, it presses against the sword, drawing it with the cloth to collide with its ally. The force of the two seems more astounding than what a simple cloak could accomplish as Lionel comes down to meet the clawed gauntlet of Xaden. He grasps at Lionels hair, pulling him close as from within the darkness of Xadens hood you hear a sharp scream. Xadens second hand comes around, now fully completing the spin as he rests it behind Lionels head. With one single jerk, Xaden pulls Lionels face close and opens his mouth wide, embracing his opponent in what looks to be a kiss of sorts. Xadens body suddenly stiffens as you can see a faint glow from within his hood, barely showing a feature or two of his face. The scream echoes again, sending birds from the surrounding forests to flee in terror as the glow intensifies and begins to run along the inside of lionels mouth, forcing open his jaw to enter. To one who has knowledge of the soul, it is plain to see that Xaden now bellows the soul of a single unnamed being into the form of Lionel, knowing full well the capacity of men upon their creation to carry but one soul. This glow is followed by a second shriek and a third as more come from the dark warrior in unison into Lionels frame. Like a leather wine sack pressed too full, they attempt to fill him quickly, ripping and stretching out within him to literally burst from within as Xaden keeps his lips locked firm with that of Lionels…
Lionel curses under his breath as Blessed is twisted about, gripping at the handle tightly, his face filled with frustration as if focusing on a single point. Blessed Bluerush is thrown loose from his hand, and begins to retaliate against the cloak's strike with a menacingly white glow. Blade of Eternity slams through thin air, and the opposite veers dangerously close to Lionel's side. The focused spiritual energy gathered within Blessed breaks through the cloak, causing an explosion of ice and water that destroys the apparel, and as the weapon begins to fall to the ground Lionel quickly grabs it back into his hold. Eyes wide with pure fear, his hair torn about and strands falling to the ground beside him, the leader lets out his own feral scream, as he kicks back and away from Xaden. Still the dark spirits find their way into him, and he struggles to and fro, sensations of his insides ripped apart evident in his petrifyingly shrill shouts. At once within him a figurative fire rages, as Halycanos angrily thrashes across from within, and he stumbles to the side, slamming the hilt of his newer of swords straight into Xaden's chest. Rolling with effort away from his opponent, he casts a fiery glare, and a new scream can be heard bellowing from the young man. His innards growing raw, he shakes profusely, his life drained from him. Halycanos at long last surges outward and casts these demons away, and Lionel leaps into the air as the darkness is expelled. Physically torn, welts appearing all across his paleish skin, he groans but does not falter. His own cape flowing with the wind, O'Connor comes back down, bending at both knees and crouching. Rubbing his right index finger across the diamond imbued upon Blade of Eternity, a visible small hole from the hilt screeches as slivers of diamond shoot from within, firing rapidly for Xaden's head with an ultra-sharp edge. Some fifty shards fly out, all of which narrowing in on the undead's cranium, intent on tearing through and out the other end all over his hidden face. Lunging once again, Lionel swings Blessed true, outward as beams of light energy form from its tip and join just behind the diamond slabs, slamming dead-ahead for Xaden's stomach. These beams burn flesh with their holy order, and the vampiric sets out to join his two-fold attack, holding Blade ahead perfectly, Blessed crossed ahead of his chest for defense. With a gallant charge he moves to impale Xaden's chest behind his multiplied onslaught, feet kicking the ground below them fiercely as he zooms into his opponent.
Xaden stumbles back a few steps as the butt of Lionels hilt hits him in the chest. Without any time to retaliate in defense, the diamond shards rain upon his body, ripping and tearing cloth, metal, and flesh. Xadens body jerks time after time as the shards penetrate him and yet he does not fall, he merely bends over as you can plainly see a thick, dark liquid pouring like honey from his wounds to collect upon the ground. The dirt seems to pop and sizzle at the touch of this mass as it collects about him. Xaden reaches down and places a single finger into it, bringing it to his mouth as he licks it once, his mouth letting out a slight groan. Not one accustomed to pain, but one similar to that of pleasure… Almost rapture. When the groan has left his throat, it is replaced by a new, more dark sounding tone as faint chuckling can be heard through several sputters. As the beams of holy light now come to pass, you look to see the bone shards that Xaden had cast beginning to move. Without warning, they shoot forth before Xaden, some in the way of each beam as the two collide. Like light shone from mirror to mirror they dance about from bone fragment to bone fragment, finally hitting the last one, tilted to where it reflects these collective beams back upon the blade that had cast them, connecting with the emerald as it surrounds it, shrinking about the gem as it concentrates upon blocking it. The bone fragments still hold their place as Xaden reaches to grasp a bowl, collecting a full sized amount of his own putrid blood. As Lionel comes forward, Xaden throws the bowl at Lionel, casting blood about as it looks to singe the body of Lionel as it has the very skin of Hollow…
Lionel is pushed back toward the ground as his beams of light strike Blade of Eternity true, tearing into the emerald of the hilt and cracking its hardened shell. He thrusts into the dirt with Blessed, to avoid falling on his back from the powers of his own abilities. A devastated glance from his welting face ensues, and he coughs up some of his own crimson nectar as he shakes vehemently, back and forth. Cursing once more in a low tone, Lionel's sapphire orbs narrow with anticipation as the dark liquid of Xaden's own lifeblood comes at him. Pushing his left hand down on the handle of his lowered sword, the young man leaps into the air vigorously, but this pool of pain slams into his stomach with significant tear through his breastplate. At once a steaming of smoke and skin rises from his abdomen, and a terrible cry of pain is let out for all to hear. Falling before he can rise up with his usual somersault-like blow, O'Connor hits the ground as his stomach's skin and flesh literally dissolves. Grasping with his free hand against it, its tear upon him finally ceasing, Lionel lets out a roar and stands tall once again. Spitting onto the ground where bits of his skin and muscle are flung about, he touches the tip of Blade of Eternity, and his left index finger draws blood immediately. Sinful smirk at the prowess of the sword, with his bleeding hand he pulls Blessed from the ground, and again with his two swords united, madly dashes for the undead. Blessed rages with white beams yet again, not stopped from the previous ill-fated attempt, and these energy pillars pave through the air toward Xaden's neck. Slicing into the air, Blade of Eternity's partially-shattered emerald still does the trick. The ground surrounding Xaden is hoisted upward, earth-based elementality engulfing him with a landslide of sorts. Risen ground collides, tumbling toward Xaden's head, and a fast dual slash ensues amidst the chaos, through the dirt. Tips of both swords pointed at the enemy's chest, he impales, hoping the marks tear through the flesh.
Xaden is finally forced to make significant movement as his body darts about, almost like the drunken stupor of a man in the throughs of music. Beam after beam tears past him to break upon the surrounding environment, cutting down any solid object in their path. The mass of earth however swallows the undead being as it crashes upon itself once more to rest. As Lionels blades dig deep into the ground, you see two arms rise up, hands grasp Lionel at the wound in his stomach. The pains of one seem to augment the pains of the other as Xadens blood continues to tear at Lionel when suddenly, Xadens hands clench. As the two share in their own sense of pain, it seems to connect them. At that very moment, Lionels mind is flooded with images. Horrid visages from eyes that are not his own. In one, two hands, obviously feminine and holding a rope perhaps reach between two legs to wrap around the throat of a newborn child. This choking continues until the child goes limp. In another, a young man clad in a fine garb is thrown atop a mound of garbage as he screams inaudibly. His mouth opens as an odd stink seems to hit Lionels nose. The shaft of a gnarled staff waves back and forth as the young mans mouth seems to fill with manure. These among many other disgusting feats lash out at Lionel, bringing visions of unspeakable horrors and yet in each, one thing is apparent. No demon, no entity seems to be in any of them. Only the bodies and viewpoints of men, mortal and quite the norm of any realm can be seen. As each revolting act bombards him, Xaden grins from his shallow grave. Showing him the true nature of man. Every warmongering action, every greedy attempt at anothers expense seems to overwhelm fond memory and hope as you begin to hear a muffled chuckle from beneath the ground…
Lionel falls back, all things he is so avidly against tainting his mind, as his stomach is damaged all the more profoundly. Biting his lip and drawing blood from it, the young man tries desperately to push himself from the images, as is clearly shown by the growing strain and frustration upon his wounded face. The terrible aromas and annihilative visions push him further and further from reality, and he falls to the ground, but holds onto his swords with all of his remaining force. Xaden's blood spewed across him, his flesh burns and tightens, contorts. Scream after scream is let out, from the horrible things cast within him, but he does not let go of his swords. “This is not real!” Declares the young man from his nearly-fallen consciousness, as he pulls away the blades at last from the risen ground, and jolts away from the makeshift grave. The ground crumbles at last, revealing Xaden's stance, as it bashes into the earth from whence it rose. The images, Lionel searches his heart to replace, his eyes darting rapidly as he ends his twitching and tries hard not to think of the pain in his stomach, more oozing and steaming from his abdomen. His wounded heart gives him what he needs, and Lionel focuses on the truth as a smirk plays upon his lips – the truth, that Xaden had essentially killed that child, though the burning truth that he himself is capable of such actions does not leave him and he swings both swords with might into the earth, his face filled with remorse, his body with the aches and pains of his battle. Turning away, he glances onward into nothingness, awaiting the judges' decision.
Valaria rises from her spot and faces the duelers after offering all the judges a warm smile. "Upon tallying the votes, it is determined that the winner is Lionel."
Lionel brings Shogo's scythe high up into the air. "I strike you with the weapon of the leader of Hand of the Chosen, because you have caused the clan of my allies so much grief and despair, it's only fitting. Every last one of them were poisoned with your evil, and I don't believe I've suffered as much you as they have. Shogo was tricked and deceived, Donovan's unborn child from Valaria, killed. By me? Depends on your viewpoint. By Halycanos? Depends on your viewpoint. But from every angle, you were the focus, the cause, of that heinus crime. Renai's unborn threatened by your marks of annihilative behavior, constantly. That said... this scythe will now be your end. Candles... I don't do candles. You know what I really like, though, Xaden? Chicken. Nice, fried chicken, with some taters, and a good, strong ale. That's what I like. Oh, and I most certainly do not like you. Chicken, Xaden. Chicken..." At once he thrusts the blade of Shogo's menacing scythe forward, cleaving clear and through the undead bastard's head, separating it from the now-lifeless corpse, once and for all.



Dergious versus Lionel


Dergious closes his eyes, and in the darkness finds his center. The darkness he took with him from that hungering vastness tries to burst forth, but he quells it… again. Putting aside the doubts and fears of one day failing to keep that force at bay, he drinks deeply of his stored power. The same power he honed through centuries of endless night, and the same power that allowed him to survive and, eventually escape that hungering void. His senses sharpen, and the rush of touching that which he fears yet desires makes his ever-wounded soul burn with remembrance. His eyes open, and are now cold and dead. He has become the power, and the power is evident as it rushes outwards. The air about the squat dwarf wavers, almost vibrates, cocooning him within its embrace. The chaos of his supressed fear becomes a strength awakened. The apparent priest examines his foe through bushy, black eyebrows. He has the strength advantage, but speed will come into play as well. He smiles through his great flowing beard. Here, in this place of darkness, where the spider goddess demands subservience and terror, his fear… and therefore his power, is magnified. For this goddess respects chaos, and she dearly loves power. He speaks in a deep gravelly voice, “Yer power in dis place be a handicap, for divinity can no be existin here. Da Queen of Spiders will no be allowin it.” The dwarf suddenly seems more fluid now as he moves, as if his body has become a living weapon. His Axe moves easier even though he is no expert in its use, and his footing more sure. He moves forward, ever forward as dwarves often do. His muscles tense and he rolls to Lionel’s left, relying upon his own formidable momentum to carry him behind the assassin’s defenses, and comes up on two sturdy legs. His magnificent axe flares, erupting in a cool blue flame that pierces the darkness of the chamber, drawing the eyes of the many priestesses gathered. The axe moves almost faster than the eye can follow, behind it a wave of cool azure force builds, almost humming with potency. The weapon takes a swift, sidelong path driven by the spinning body of the squat form, inexorably towards Lionel’s midsection. The power behind it takes on a life of it’s own, eagerly following the weapon, ready to detonate with enough power to shake the chamber to its very foundations, and send pieces of the assassin’s body splattering across the ceiling and walls.
Lionel narrows his sapphire orbs as he quickly scans his opponent for strength and weakness alike. The short, scruffy dwarven figure is something he's never before dealt with in battle, and as such, he's not entirely sure what to make of Dergious' fighting techniques. Slowly, the young man places his left clutch upon the black dragon wing handle of that infamous sword that has caused so much mayhem upon its recent awakening. Drawing it from its entrapment, the resonating pulse of the blade seems to beat like an unholy heart that yearns for annihilation. He glances around the dark cavern. Clearly this will make the battle that much more difficult, but it's only once the seemingly powered-up dwarf utters his words that Lionel realizes just how very handicapped he could potentially be. Nevertheless, he uses his free hand to grasp the sturdy handle of the Blessed Blue Rush, its heavenly shimmer intensifying, almost as if to reflect from light that so obviously isn't quite around its wielder. Bringing his right foot forward and bending at the knee, this oh-so-recognizable stance of the former assassin's is taken once more. "Sounds fair, Dergious. In that case, I'll simply have to rely more heavily on the other half of my power. Halycanos, come unto me!" He roars loudly in his words, and the priestesses gathered tilt their heads in response to the sharpness of his tongue. At once, Hellfire ignites with a blaze of significant proportion. It billows and heaves, as if it has a mind of its own, and wraps the great sword with its evil aura. Lionel feels the prowess of the Dark Emperor Halycanos entering his veins, and corrupting his body, though he allows this, rather than fighting its tendencies. Holding Blessed as it swells with a sheet of ice, though resisting the urge to allow any light-related elementality, the leader of Eternal Chain raises it quickly to his side, in an effort to deflect the mighty swing. A loud crash echoes through the expansive arena as blue flame-based steel meets icy metal. Lionel immediately feels himself being weakened by the tremendous strength his dwarven enemy is letting out, and widens his glowing blue eyes in pain as his right arm gives in. It flails a few times, but suddenly the blue energy cast upon Dergious' weapon implodes upon Blessed. Shards of crystalline ice from Lionel's holier of swords are thrust forward and toward his opponent, and they rip through the short space between the two warriors on a collision course with Dergious' chest. Yet this energy sends Lionel flying back, and it is only once he crosses his blades that he manages to regain his footing. Nearly sliding off and losing balance from this slippery floor, his awkward movements in escaping the detonation bring him some distance away. As his two blades come upon one-another in an arc, Hellfire's flames leave their birthplace and extend outward like a whip. Noticing this, his eyes reverting a fiery red at this time, Lionel, now noticeably overcomed by his awakened evil, swings forth, so that these flames rip through the air between him and Dergious and join the crystalline shards, though this time the fire that is thrown upon the dwarf sets itself close to his head. It's thrown from Hellfire and makes its way to the dwarven cranium, and Lionel stands now with both swords held high, his right arm suffering from a loss of power.
Dergious hears first the almost musical shattering of ice, and then the harsh clang of metal on metal as the weapons meet. He grunts with the force of the defense, surprised that the blade did not give way entirely. The shredding ice shards replace the surprise almost immediately as they rip through the seams of his armor into dense dwarven flesh. Instinctively rolling away from the source of anguish, the psionicist fully erects the inertial barrier he had set only a moment ago. The trailing ice shards slow and halt inches from his still rolling form and then fall to the floor, all momentum lost, and the hellfire skims harmlessly off the now visible cocoon of protection. The dwarf, now hurt and bleeding, seems to lose himself for a moment but then quickly recovers. He vows not to underestimate the “mere” human before him again. He forces himself to ignore the pain, stubbornly refusing to let it register. He grips the haft of his magnificent, sentient axe in one strong hand, and draws his elemental hammer with the other. He holds them out to the side, and he glances at the heavy hammer. He sends wave upon wave of his precious psionic energy into its head, which begins to vibrate and hum, softly at first, then louder and deeper. He lowers it to the ground before him, and with little pressure the agitated molecules of the weapon’s head tear into the cold, hard stone. He raises it again then brings axe and hammer together with a resounding crash that sends the dwarf flying backwards some twenty feet where he lands nimbly, for a dwarf, managing to land hard on his backside. His purpose was done, however, resulting in a massive release of chaotic, destructive waves surging forth from the point of contact, growing as it closes in on Lionel. It soon goes deep into the earth between them turning the hard floor of the cavern to dust, yet still it moves forward, A massive, moving wall that towers over Lionel.
Lionel allows the most evident of smirks to crease his lips, as his shards of ice are flung forth into the armor and flesh of this enemy. Raising once again the Blessed Blue Rush into the air and forward from his chest, he bears witness to the spectacle of red hues as the entirety of his fiery strike is overwhelmed and diminished. Both blades crossed, the young man narrows his focus into making a note of the colossal damage inflicted upon the floor, and as Dergious spirals back as gracefully as a dwarf could hope to spiral back, he braces himself for what might come next. Firmly planting his feet on the ground, Lionel can only blink as that smooth ground beneath him rises up ahead of him, like a dry tsunami of pure terror. Shaking his head in disbelief, the human prepares for the worst. His white wings are thrust from the surgically-opened holes in his back, but are stained with blood and soaking with the crimson nectar of life, distinguishing the fact that Halycanos has overriden much of the boy's conscience. They flap at a terrific pace in the stillness of the partially-collapsing cavern, and hoist O'Connor up from where he stands. Swords still crossed, a black arc forms where they meet, directed by the evil of Hellfire to embrace the chaos that will soon otherwise devour him. Upon reaching the highest point in the battleground, Lionel's faintly glowing eyes flare up with a vengeance. The powerful blast strikes full-force into the swords, but his own defensive maneuvering and ability to deflect things of a vile nature with a vile nature of his own, allow him to tear straight through the wave of destruction. Still, parts around him slam into his unguarded sides, and his breastplate collapses under the pressure. It literally falls to pieces, exposing the man's bare chest. This energy still persists as it passes through him, and he clenches his teeth as it rips the skin of his sides from his body. The last darkness comes straight through his front, but a certain demon eye-collar ignites from the strength of the carnage, and saves Lionel from the terrible wrath of dark burden coarsing into him and causing him to die instantaneously. Swinging both swords back toward the passing wave, the human executes a dangerous midair flip while slashing, and kicks from the seemingly-liquid beams over and about, to find himself directly above it. Safely up from its path, his sword-slicing with the aura of tainted spirit and soul manages to redirect the flow, so that it may return to where it was born and slam into Dergious. Not confident that this would best the dwarf for good, however, he motions back and uses his wings to glide like a falling angel diagonally, sending both crossed blades toward the opponent. Uncrossing at the very last possible moment, he cleaves inward from both sides, a second surge of fire and ice spreading across the legendary weapons as they move in around the hammer and axe, seeking the flesh of the dwarf once more. As this pincer cleave ensues, Lionel kicks from the ground and flips with his wings and significant lower-body strength over to the other side of Dergious, fairly sure that his scissor-slice will do the trick, and moving out of the way of the returning black waves. He stands behind the dwarf, his arms held backwards as they narrow in on the victim.
Dergious watches as the apparent angelic demon takes flight, and then sighs as the beast fights valiantly through the torrid power of the wall of destruction, and somehow manages to redirect it back towards him. Concentrating upon this threat, the short, bearded man climbs to his feet, and motions as if pulling a cloak closer about him to ward off the cold. The cocoon around the dwarf pulls in tight against him, and as the wall threatens to overrun the man he somehow senses the approaching Lionel. Knowing he cannot go backwards, he instead suddenly surges forward, propelled by powerful churning legs into the maelstrom before him, raising his great axe defensively to his side, the axe flares as it meets the iced sword intent on cutting him in half. The other, burning blade hits home however, cutting through his powerfully enchanted robes and deep into his side. The wound, cauterized by the punishing hellfire, nearly paralyzes him, and it is momentum alone that carries him through the wall, the powerful blade tearing free from his side. The cocoon takes the brunt of the wall’s fury, but the dwarf is still rattled violently. The dwarf somehow grins through the pain in his side and rolls forward away from the assassin, realizing that the wounds are deep and possibly lethal. He regains his feet with some distance between them, and signals to the watching priestesses of Spider Queen. As one they call to their goddess, beseeching her to drive this abomination from this place, HER sacred pyramid. Hoarsely he addresses his opponent, “Why de ye think I be chosin dis of all places? The spider bitches an me gots ourselves an arrangement!” Somewhere a hideously tortured scream sounds, doubtless from a pre-arranged drow ceremonial sacrifice. The Goddess responds to her minion’s plea in the form of a great shadow, the shape of a black widow spider. It almost oozes out of the top of the pyramid of Llolth, and falls down upon the chamber. As the darkness descends, the lights in the chamber are engulfed and consumed one by one, leaving total, impenetrable darkness in its wake. The dwarf, very used to such conditions and expecting it, uses it to his advantage. His dwarven sight not enough in the preternatural blackness, he sends gentle waves of his power outward. Using it like radar, he feels the waves return to him, and knows exactly where his rival stands. He hefts his heavy hammer, imbued with the power of the elements, and lofts it above where his target stands. Unseen to all but the dwarf, it arcs to the ceiling of the cavern where it strikes hard, sending tons of rock plummeting down towards the blinded assassin. The hammer ricochets down, landing some twenty feet behind the hapless Lionel. As it strikes the earth erupts around it, sending a shockwave of earth and stone outward in all directions, including that of the dwarf’s foe. As the wave rumbles it gains momentum, and is approaching twenty feet high as it towers over the hopefully dead human. Sure his foe knows death is fast approaching from behind, the dwarf hefts his sentient axe, and bids it to hunt the neck of the assassin before him. The axe, finally unleashed, flares unseen in the darkness in a sickening, impure flame and launches itself forward, whipping through the air, faster even than the wave and deadly silent in the cacophony of sound and fury that is the collapsing ceiling.
Lionel tilts his head far enough back toward the opponent to make out Blessed Blue Rush's counter. The claymore-like sword clashes into the axe, and as quickly as he brought it inward, Lionel pulls it back beside him. Hellfire, however, has made its cut, but is pulled away just as quickly, as there's only so long a man's arms can remain in such an odd position. Now readjusting his stance so that he is facing Dergious head-on, he watches the dwarven foe move further away from him, and hears his words, raising a lofty brow. At once a spider-shaped apparition befalls upon the tattered floors, and Lionel instinctively raises his weapons up higher for defense. This void wraps itself around the entirety of the already-dim field of war, and in its wake, is left nothing but a pitch black atmosphere around everyone occupying the scene. Dangerously overwhelmed by the loss of a sense, now, the young man knows there is only one thing left he can possibly hope to accomplish, to turn the tide. His passively glowing red eyes at once flare, so that two small orbs of fire can be seen in the darkness. They beam and glisten, like small spheres of unwelcome life cast upon a place devoid of anything but fear. Halycanos was indeed mighty during his reign, and one of the dark magician's greatest abilities was the mastery of nocturnal vision, via the usage of one's closeness with the world around them. To literally feel one's surroundings gave one the edge in such situations, and allowed them to sense movement, and solid object. That said, Lionel gives into the overwhelming urge to allow his curse to take over, and at once, his wounded body seems to erupt with a fierce passion. A temporary nirvana consumes him, and he feels reborn, anew, though he is not truly himself, any longer. Sensing immediately the grave and extreme chaos soon to ensue, the one who could now be called Lionel or Halycanos fidgets and leaps backward, sliding across patches of both ruined and intact floor, skidding away from the tumbling stones that descend to his previous location. The rocks fall violently all over, however, and some crash into the man's sides, some into his swords where even fewer still incinerate within what has suddenly grown into a devastatingly powerful inferno that has engulfed Hellfire, and increased its width three-fold. Inadvertently, the man collides with the thrown hammer, but it crashes into the Blessed Blue Rush. His sight respectable but not completely reliable, the Blue Rush falls to the floor with the hammer, and Lionel quickly moves to grasp the handle of the immensely large fire-elemental blade. Yet this hammer that had fallen to the ground unleashes a twenty-foot high wave of incredible power. Flapping his wings as fast as he can to escape this new oblivion, they meet with the energy and their tips disintegrate and whittle away. Halycanos-influenced O'Connor flies upward and ahead to meet with a devastating axe of tainted fire. He quickly hoists Hellfire to deflect it, and the longsword manages to accomplish its single greatest contribution to the countless duels the former Dark Emperor once reigned -- manipulation and absorption of that which shares similar traits with its own twisted identity. The flames of the axe are cast into the raging fire, and only serve to increase its validity. The axe itself bashes into the inner steel of the side edge, and falls beneath Lionel like a wounded victim. These flames soon escape the core, and branch off into two directions behind the crimson-winged young man, feeding into the abyssmal wrath behind him and guiding it to become one. The fire consumes the darkness, and takes in its 'nutrients' to enhance its ever-resourceful mechanics. Once they have quelled the black anguish with their own, both streams of rapidly-flowing flame ascend to the torn ceiling of the Spider Goddess' haven, and spread out with a sense of infinite might to wrap the very walls of the cavern with their prowess. Soon, the room is fully-lit with red, orange, and black spiritual energy of vindictive force. All flames dive inward, and seem to whisper out but one word -- 'Dergious, Dergious... Dergious, Dergious...' They seem to call to the dwarf with a chilling portrayal of the infliction of fear, and at once they glide through the area, homing in on their prey, ready to tear him apart limb by limb as they rip through his flesh and devour his skin and soul. The most demonic and sinister of grins is emitted from Lionel's lips, and seizing the moment, he thrusts his entire body into one last move, hoping to only further add to the undoubtedly hellish moment that Dergious must be experiencing. The final flames of Hellfire revert and become an ice-cold, black-tinted fire. This fire is the same as the one that Immanuel had nearly taken Lionel's soul with, and the attack, which had been countered by the Hellfire Longsword, was essentially partially learned at that point. The steel's new coating rips into the air, aimed for the dwarf's battered chest, hoping to slice through his skin and consume, destroy his helpless soul while the flames pave their way into his burning carcus.
Dergious steps forward again, for this is all he knows how to do. “Always… always be goin forward!” he thinks, nearly delirious. He falters and stumbles, going down hard. Still he pushes himself off the stone, gets to one knee, and then stands. He reaches back and pulls forth his third weapon, an axe very similar to his lost hammer and holds it with numb fingers. The priest looks down at his hands to be sure they are equal to the task of holding the weapon. He nods appreciably when he sees that they indeed are, and then strides forward. His knee buckles but does not give, then straightens and holds firm. He takes another step and it too holds. This truly is dwarven stamina; the utter will to push the body beyond what it should be capable of. The eyes clear and the back straighten, and he bellows at the world! He rages at the weakness in his form! He cries out to the nothingness he was a part of for so very… very long. Tears flow from his angry eyes, and fall down ashen cheeks into his beard that only now seems too, too heavy. Yet he moves forward, ever forward. He will not fall while there is life in this body, he will not relent! Too tired, he absently releases the axe with one hand, and flips buckles that let his armor fall away, and with each item that falls away, he takes another shuddering anguished step forward. He knows he has fallen far from his center, his source. The black abyss beckons to him, welcoming him home. He ignores it, however and again takes another step. Each step is a journey, each foot forward a battle won. Suddenly the Darkness recedes, replaced by the fires of what he first believes are the forge fires of the dwarven gods. “Could it be?” he muses in that near-dream state, “Have I escaped me fate, escaped He Who is The Dark?” He hesitates, then clarity dawns in his beleaguered mind. “No! I no be dead yet!” He bellows again, “Ye hear me? Ye can NO be havin me dis day!” To whom he is speaking to there is no way to tell, but his fear is now anger, his acceptance has become defiance! He looks down at his wounded side, and sees blistered, charred flesh. He moves the no longer dead hands to the wound and thrusts his fingers inside and yanks up, tearing away flesh sending indescribably horrid pain lancing through the synapses of his mind. The dwarf bellows again, this time at his hated foe with palpable hatred, spittle flying outward and then falling into his beard. There is no reasoning within him any more. There is no attack, no defense… only pure, distilled defiance. To the crazed mind of the dwarf this man, this being known as Lionel, has become that which he once but no longer fears. He stands, nearly naked, and this is his stand. The rage radiates outward from the broken form, the hatred calls to its own. The sentience within his lost axe hears this call, and responds. It rises, as did the dwarf, and moves itself to the dwarf’s hand. Now armed with both weapons the priest’s animal instinct for survival takes over. The burning, tainted axe rises above his bald head, dragging the hand holding it along for the ride, and still the man’s eyes start at Lionel. It is through the axe that the dwarf, in an ultimate act of defiance, grabs hold of the blackness within him. the blackness he had to become a part of to escape the long centuries of imprisonment in that black void while his soul was slowly consumed. The blackness he had merged with his own soul in order to become as close to whole he will ever be. He takes it, and rips it from his body and sends it through the upraised axe. Directly above it, a dark hole appears, a vacuum that hungers. It begins to inhale all that is around it and all that approaches. Torrential winds are caused by the suction, guiding the flames, both cold and hot, into the void within the aperture. Long moments pass, and never do the dwarves hate filled eyes ever leave the assassins. As the attack drains away and eventually ends, the dwarf still stares defiantly. No longer able to hold it together, the darkness leaps through the axe, back into the man, latching again and merging with what is left of his soul, and the dwarf falls.



Lionel versus Keryth


Lionel stretches, tilting his neck sideways just a tad. His gleaming blue eyes fasten themselves onto the attraction that is Keryth -- the lycan opponent that wished for a fight, is about to get one. Lionel wraps one fist around the illustrious, black dragon wing handle of the now-infamous Hellfire, and gallantly pulls the shimmering silver blade out slowly from the scabbard. In a precise outward hold, the former assassin now grips with both fists, to sustain the mighty weight of the weapon. "It is an honor to duel you," he speaks. Perhaps the words are just a filler for the moment, as Lionel quickly debates what to begin this task with. Not wanting to hurt his foe too terribly much with the true powers of the sword, he decides to start with a rudimentary attack, and of course, resists the urge to allow the demon spirit Hellfire itself take over his consciousness, or else all hell would truly break loose. Observing the various pieces of armor --strong, sturdy armor -- that Keryth seems to be wearing, Lionel smirks, almost devilishly. He brings one foot out ahead of him, and with both hands raising the blade up so that its tip is pointed to the sky, and it's in full defense of the front of the man's body. His smirk vanishes at once, and the fierce foreigner closes his eyes for but a single moment as a beam of raw energy shoots off into the clouds. Letting that be for now, he brings the sword back so that the tip is pointed at Keryth now, and in a fast rush toward the opposition, Lionel swings forth, from the upper left to the lower right, hoping to score a gruesome blow into the shoulder and cut through the armor to the bottom of the lycan's side. As he swings, Lionel watches with expected pride as flames ricochet from the silvery blade across and toward the enemy.
Keryth looks closely at his human opponet, his gray stare savoring the flesh it spots through flaws in his opponets armor. Fixing his snout into the scent of Lionel, he also affixes pricks his ears up, making sure all his senses are on the man in front of him. The somber theif, having no weapon of his own, needlessly just folds his arms in front of him, the armor he has seems to fit him tightly with many weak looking bonds, making him appear as he has no skill as a fighter at all. As the lycan continues his concentration he decides he won't risk underestimating his opponet. Just as quick as he makes his decision, he sees the man fly off after his brief words and attempt to strike the lycan down, but near expecting this, he quickly sidesteps the horizontal attack, but in his attempt takes a gruesome blow on the shoulder, the sword dents his armor, and slides off to a side and grazes a strap holding the armor on, cutting the weak leather effortlessly. The plate falls to the ground with a loud metallic clang and mixes Keryth's senses, quickly startled, he lets out his secret, he jolts back quickly stricken from his close call, and howls loudly, his face and body begins to change shape, into a were-wolf,if you will. The tight leather straps undo themselves to reveal some ripped and tattered under garments of his armor. The mere fingernails on his hand change into massive black razor-sharp claws, connected to bony arm and paw. just as quickly as this transformation happens, he attempts to strike the man, he rears back his huge paw and throws a slash at his neck, teeth beared and claws fully extended.
Lionel keeps his gaze fixated on his rather ordinary-looking opponent as he goes in with his slash. Watching with a relatively well-deserved but all-too-cocky second smirk as the enemy takes some of the impact, Lionel grits his teeth together, viewing the fall of armor. As Keryth moves away, Lionel begins to plan his next course of action, but when the completely unexpected transformation into a full-fledged werewolf of sorts takes place, and the rather ornate armor is replaced with a bed of fur and grizzly fangs, the young man is rather shaken. Quickly as can be, his years of assassin training kicking in, O'Connor instinctively bows down about two feet and then jumps back effortlessly, in an attempt to evade the well-aimed incoming strike. This, however, only brings the enemy's paw toward the side of Lionel's neck, and in a slightly disturbing moment of action, a small bit of blood literally shoots out from the man's neck and to the ground. The cut isn't enough to cause serious damage but it stuns the leader to a point where his thoughts are temporarily clouded. Blinking fast, Lionel glances upward at the beam of light above him, then back down toward the werewolfish Keryth. Grinning widely as the pain seeps further into his mind, Lionel slices upward, aiming now right for the beast's heart, bringing Hellfire to a place where he thrusts in between the werewolf arms, letting the claws come closer to him in an all-or-nothing of sorts. Another, larger pillar of flames descends from the sword, and flies into the ground, surrounding Keryth from both sides, and rising up almost biblically.
Keryth remains impassive as his claws meets with the human flesh of O'Conner--the only thought in his mind being the thought of a nice meal. . . He bears his gashes his large fangs as the silver sword comes from below. Moving his claws in a quick fluid motion, he moves them down to meet the sword. gritting his teeth hoping not to make an error in his quick block, he finds the sword entangled in his claws, inches before its target, keeping the sword well below his waist, the lycan grins and bears his teeth, and lunges over the sword to try and take a large bite out of The mans shoulder! sudden pains shoot from his finger tips into his blood stream, the silver burns like fire into the nails, knowing that the claws won't hold out long, he hastens his manuver and it becomes sketchy, as he lobs to the side, the pillars of flame to his sides catches his back with a painful burn.
Lionel shakes himself repeatedly, slamming the hilt of the Hellfire Longsword toward Keryth's body. As he does, however, Lionel feels a surge of pain skyrocket from his shoulder up his already-injured neck and into his cranium. His eyes roll temporarily back into his head as he screams out in a furious whimper. Feeling a part of his shoulder being taken from him, and watching the small piece of flesh enter the mouth of his enemy, Lionel grows enraged. Shaking more profusely, now, he pulls away from Keryth entirely, and swings his sword up straight so that its tip is once again directed at the equally wrathful foe, some feet away. The pillars of flame climb higher from the ground, as they trickle against Keryth's back, burning fur like a wildfire. Biting his own lip hard enough to draw one more spot of blood, Lionel tastes it. Salty... a little too salty, perhaps. At once, those now somewhat-familiar angel wings push out from the young man's back, and lift him from the ground up a few inches. He stands like the demi-angelspawn he is, as his towers of fire reach even greater heights, and raises Hellfire back so that the tip points upward into the sky again, such as he did at the very beginning of the battle. Closing his more noticeably glowing eyes briefly, Lionel speaks, blood still dropping to the ground below him. "Omenous peace, bring about a vengeful destruction! Flare Cross!" The white light up above shoots down, bursting and becoming its own pillar; a pillar of light. It rises up to the height of the two fires and becomes a third pillar, and the three tops converge from up above Keryth's head. A triangle of red and white energy is formed, and as Lionel reopens his eyes, they glow a petrifyingly crimson red for the shortest of seconds before returning to their usual sapphire luster. The triangle of pure force implodes upon itself, the fires slamming toward the enemy at breakneck speed, and the white beams that joined them, doing the same.
Keryth rolls his eyes, savoring the taste of the blood, then a quick thrust of the sword hilt bashes into his chest, hanging on tightly to the meat, he meets another more frantic strike, he grunts and releases his jaw. licking some trickels of blood from his lips, he stares at the man once more, wanting more. . . But then takes a more defensive stance, seeing a magnifiscant sight as the wings sprout from the mans body. Somehow feeling divine to be in his presence, he snaps from this train of thought and takes a more expirenced motion to jesture, and shields his eyes from the light. As the forceful attack comes to his range he finds no way to aviod it and steps up to it bravely, seconds before impact, he rears back and lets out a massive howl, his pitch has a bold sound to it, almost fearless. Suddenly engulfed in flames, you hear a small cry of pain from the blinding light, and another. As the light fades away, you find the lycan standing almost exactly where he was before, his dark fur Chared and his body badly beaten, he still stands. The wolf falls to his knees and regains some strength from the earth below him. Steping back up, he growls fiercely at Lionel, and runs on all fours toward him, every bit of anger welled up inside of him. As the furious lycan speeds toward the divine figure, the wolf barks loudly, but the sound ripples the air creates a powerful sound force, he barks several more times, with the same force, and follows up with a large jump, he wells up all the strength he can muster into one strike, this one, not meant to kill but to simply attempt to knock his opponet out. . . For he still is a theif. . .
Lionel watches with a slightly surprised look at the sturdy upkeep of the werewolf, but a small sigh of relief takes place as he draws a breath, glad to see that Keryth isn't fatally injured. Expecting nothing less than a full strike from the beast, Lionel starts to motion back ever-so-lightly. As the fierce howling begins, he can feel popping in his ears; the loud, bellowing behemoth coming toward him faster than ever with a vicious growl that would wake anyone. Watching Keryth's leap toward him, Lionel has little time to react. As an assassin, he's fast enough -- but a pouncing lycan could be his match. Keeping himself as steady as can be, Lionel keeps his eyes rained on the werewolf as it jumps at his body. Keeping his sword still in front of him in hopes of completely deflecting the attack, he begins to point it more but there isn't enough time, and the claws dig into O'Connor's skin -- his chest and sides burn as wounds appear. Yet it doesn't take much before the angel wings glow a shade of yellow, away from the pure white -- and when they do, the cuts are sustained. Not healed by any means, but major gashing that would lead to fainting and a potentially far more serious problem are prevented, with relative ease. Lionel simply smiles as he watches the lycan's hold intensify, and at once drops to the ground, his wings returning to his back. As pain reverberates throughout his tattered body, he pulls away, and pushes with the hilt until the claws are forced to come out from their entries. The smile remains for a few seconds, then fades, as gashes all across Lionel swell up.



Immanuel versus Lionel


Immanuel sends a quick grin towards Lionel, before drawing from his back a huge battle-axe. He eyes the weapon for a moment, finding his lack of shadow rather amusing. Though he doesn't linger on these small details, his crimson-hued eyes lift from the weapon and once more fall on his opponent, "Time to see if this will work, my friend." Dark words of power stream from his thin, pale lips. The weapon before him begins to change. The blades, which shone so cleanly, grow dull. The shaft of the weapon begins to shine and within moments it has shifted from a cloudy gray, to a bright sanguine. Twin spirals of power begin to lace themselves around the weapon eventually forming omplicated runes on each dull blade. Immanuel grins brightly, before leaping forwards. Soft 'thuds' are heard as his feet carry him quickly towards the human and small storms of dust swirl angrily in his wake. Upon reaching his ill-fated opponent, Immanuel feints to the right, before leaping quickly to the left. As his feet leave the ground two more words of power leave his lips and his familiar black flames roar into life, though oddly they hold no heat on this realm. The almost sentient fire doesn't linger around the vampire like usual, instead they spring towards Lionel, intent on burning his soul from his body. In their fiery wake Immanuel comes, his axe being swung in a deadly arc from left to right, aiming to destroy the body, while the fires burn the soul….
Lionel begins this fight with a similar movement as the last. Bringing one foot forward to obtain a better sense of balance, the young man places his left fist on the intricately-carved black dragon wing handle, and as he does, a red glow eminates from the sheath. Smiling at the sensation of his own power, Lionel, still fairly new to these parts but well-trained with his estranged style, tightens his grip and begins to pull out the sword. Yet before he can even so much as wield it in its traditional position before him, Immanuel has already begun his offensive. Widening his eyes as the mage comes at him, and helplessly staring at the majestic appeal of opponent's transformed combat material, the cocky young man lets a small smirk pierce his lips at the sight of such a situation. Black flames flow toward O'Connor with a vehement fury, and the axe charges forth. Bringing Hellfire up as quickly as possible to deflect the opposite blade, he raises it just in time, the silvery blade and its reddish aura stopping the monsterous weapon ahead of it, before Lionel's body is mauled. The flames, however, manage to come through nevertheless, as the axe is instinctually blocked. Reaching for his soul, Lionel feels a sweat overcome him, perspiration drenching his face as he tries to find some way to latch onto that which makes him who he is. Absurd. The flames strike his armor, but the Hellfire Longsword has a demon of its own. An intense surge of pain nearly overcomes Lionel and his previous wounds from the former fight come alive from a twisted sense of mercilessness befalling him, but Hellfire's own flames spring to life, and devastate Immanuel's first strike before a soul can be taken. Wrapping around the soulstealing move, flames then redirect themselves toward the enemy, and Lionel jumps away, feeling his back beginning to itch. Slamming his sword toward Immanuel's side as he moves back, a firestorm of intense heat gathers around the mage with intense speed.
Immanuel lets forth dark curses as his axe is stopped. At this moment the flames of Lionel surge forth. The burn violently around Immanuel, though the mage doesn't seem bothered at all. What does bother him is the sword. Quickly the mage tries to bring down his axe, but his obvious lack of skill with such weapons leads him into being way to slow. The sword slams full force into his robes, though oddly the material doesn't break. Instead it seems to liquefy and quickly streams down the sword's blade. As this odd robe reaches the weapons hand-guard, it stops and begins to let off an odd smell which assaults the noses off all whom are close. A few spectators who are closer to the action begin to faint as the smell increases. Its power is instantly known, it drives away consciousness, leaving the person quite open to any attack. Immanuel leaps back, unaffected by the smell and still unaffected by the fires. He shakes his head towards his human opponent, "Only in your dreams would fire effect me. I am Immanuel! You give me no respect!" The last word is little more than a scream; a scream full of hate. As if this were a summoning, the ground below the human begins to shake violently. On either side of Lionel the ground erupts! It destroys the road that was so nicely placed through Kelay, and rains down on him rocks both small and large. Quickly Immy lifts his hand and the fires of Lionel leap forth, following his command like his own flames would. The launch into the storm of rocks and instantly melt them. From the sky now comes a deadly storm of lava, aimed all at the one called Lionel.
Lionel lets his smirk become a fuller one when he realizes that the axe was stopped swiftly and skillfully, but as the blade comes into contact with Immanuel's robes, undoubtedly, things become quite sour for Lionel, both in sense of thought, and sense of smell! The putrid stench is almost a taste in his nose -- a taste of literal disgust. Allowing Hellfire Halycanos to take over willingly for this part, Lionel blinks, and as soon as his eyes are opened again, all can see a kind of crimson red eyes that glows with such a passion, none could mistake them for the kind that seems to be all over the place these days. Hearing the mage's taunt, the awakened demon spirit shows a smirk quite like the kind Lionel tends to use, anyway. The ground begins to erupt all-too-abruptly, and Halycanos/Lionel nearly loses all balance, but the Hellfire Longsword is swung with such precision skill that nearly all of the rocks are broken, melting to the fiery creations that now streak across the shining blade. Melting as though they were nothing but pebbles to begin with -- a few stray rocks, however, one of which quite large in size, slam into the young man turned ancient emperor, and the large one just happens to hit where the wound on his neck from earlier came about. Screeching in pain, and sending a loud 'thump' into the ground as he kicks it whilst it opens, the pain returns. The flames, however -- those which are already bringing down most rocks around the area, anyway -- head straight for the wielder of the cursed longsword. The lava approaches from all sides, but Lionel stands gallantly, brave and determined. "And you, Immanuel, insult me..." He speaks under his breath, as the entire place erupts around them. "Do you honestly believe that very element that I tried to burn you with, would effect me? Arrogance... pure arrogance... I am fire!!" With a deadly scream, Lionel leaps into the air, and swings Hellfire all around him. The flames -- the sky of lava that rushes toward the warrior -- at once, the entire scenario is pulled into the sword like a fierce hurricane. Even other things -- rocks, tree limbs... sucked into a sword like flies into a cyclone. The sword can be seen bringing all of this raw energy into itself, but each and every last pull forces that mass to disappear within it. This continues until there is almost nothing coming at O'Connor, at which point, as small flickers strike him and almost force him to laugh, he turns to Immanuel, shaking his head. Angel wings sprout from his back, but this time, they are by no means angelic. Instead, tattered, torn and fleshy-looking disgraces come out from within him, and cause yet another vehement surge of pain to echo within him. Letting out a cry, Lionel slashes Hellfire ahead of him, but now holds it with one arm only. Drawing the second of his pair of longswords -- the strength needed to wield one with but one arm coming to him from the sheer immortality of a demon. The two blades crash into one-another after Lionel draws the Blessed Blue Rush for the first time since Griff Morivan's death, and the two shimmering blades form a glow that shoots off a deadly 'x' which mimics the collision. The 'x' slice aims for Immanuel, and should it succeed in hitting him, the force would be identical to both blades colliding with his flesh. Keeping the swords crossed, Lionel leaps into the air, and the wings take him up. "My sense of elements may be different than yours... even a mage might have a problem. Even you." A second 'x' slice volleys off, and quickly catches up with the first, as they both, filled with light and darkness alike, make their way for the enemy. Lastly, Lionel throws himself into the path, determined to land a gruesome blow. He begins to slash Hellfire and the Blessed Blue Rush wildly but with enough control to keep them before him, and he literally flies right for Immanuel's head with the blades.
Immanuel watches the transformation with a bored arrogance. When finished Immanaul grins wickedly and begins to chant. As the demon defends his attack, Immanuel prepares himself. By the time the 'x' is sent his way the mage is more than ready. He raises his hand and lets the power slam full force into it. It seems to bend around his outstretched limb and, with a horrible sound, explodes around him. Lots of smaller 'x's fly towards the demon, but they don't make it. They slam full force into the second 'x' and cause a mammoth explosion. This hurls Immanuel backwards, he closes both eyes shut and braces himself for impact. A loud 'thud' resounds throughout the area as Immanuel's back slams into the ground's un-caring hand. Catching him without remorse and sending him grinding to a halt. As crimson eyes open again, Immy sees Lionel. Sadly for the demon he has slashed the spot where Immanuel was, which is rather close to that large explosion. Immanuel pulls himself painfully to his feet and screams in both rage and hate. He lets one of his bloodied hands drop free from the weapon and it stretches out before him. From the depths of Imrryr comes his only true friend in this land.. It shimmers into existence beside the mage. Pallid fingers wrap around its crimson shaft and they draw his staff towards his body. The axe held in his other hand is dropped to the ground. Oddly it makes no sound as it hits. With yet another dark curse, Immy raises his staff above his head and in one smooth motion sends his weapon down to shatter the axe before him. As the mighty weapon shatters the bright light that decorated its blades explodes outwards. It sends Immanuel soaring off his feet, to land quite rudely at the door of the tavern. Blood streams from wounds all over his body. He lies there in a pool of his own sanguine vitae, unable to stand and barely able to breath, the results of two explosions way to much for even the powerful body of this much trained mage. The rest of the power surges outwards at every angle. It flies at both his opponent and the spectators. In its wake little is left aside from death and destruction: it is the soul of Vadmc. As the fallen vampire opens his eyes it is seen that no longer do they burn with such emotions. The power freed by Immanuel has not only all but destroyed his body, it almost destroyed his soul aswell...
Lionel crashes down upon the ground where Immanuel previously stood, only to find himself landing in a flurry of small and large explosions, caused by his own weapon. The crimson wings begin to bleed profusely, and a sharp cracking noise can be heard from within the explosions, whilst Immanuel brings about the soul of Vadmc and deals with his own problems. As the wings bleed, veins can be seen, starting to burst. The demon boy holds his breath, bringing both swords into a loud clash. With this, the charm on Lionel's necklace glows in much the same way as it has done on two occassions thus far -- and with the glow, an azure rapture surrounds and protects the body. Lionel blinks and his eyes return to a sapphire blue. The devastatingly grotesque wings meld their way back into the assassin's spinal cord and send immense pain into him, but at once the wings reappear, now as bright a shade of white as ever, the almost stereotypical feathers flying in the explosion, unharmed. The azure beam continues as Lionel, now back to his true self, catapults out of the mess and rises above it. As the last implosions within explosions echo a sound so loud it could wake people near Xalious, O'Connor finally notices the soul of Vadmc, coming at him. Only a brief moment to glance beyond and to the quite injured Immanuel, Lionel now has a restless entity chasing after him as well as those that would watch the intense battle. The necklace charm shining the same shimmer as the swords, the azure rapture dissipating, a trio of silvery light can be seen from up above. Confident that he can make the strike, Lionel begins something both risky and never before done by him. Taking Hellfire and holding it like a bow, he places Blessed, which shines stronger against its brother edge, and wields it like an arrow. Aiming straight for the distressed soul which would soon tear him limb for limb, Lionel keeps his aim, and focuses like he may never have focused before. "Archers... gotta love 'em." Talking as matter-of-factly as one can get, Atropos' husband flings Blessed back like its weight is of absolutely on consequence to the tired arms, and the charm shoots a beam into the sword. The beam grows larger -- a beam of completely pure and almost angelic soft light -- as it hastens itself on Blessed. Hellfire now glows a deep fuchsia, and wraps Blessed with a divine flame of protection. The fully-charged longsword-arrow at once shoots so fast it can't be seen but as though it were a shooting star, straight for the head of the ravaging spirit. Lionel stands with Hellfire still, and grasps it with his other arm, flying up above like the demi-angelspawn he is, as a disturbing cross between Cupid's Arrow, and holy hell incarnate, flings to the opposition.
Immanuel watches Lionel through eyes which burn with deep and complete pain. As the demon blocks his attack and once again transforms, Immanuel can only sit there and watch. When Lionel, or the demi-angelspawn, launches himself at the mage, he can't do anything. The sword strikes true. It rips a massive hole in the body of Immanuel and sends him once again flying through the air. He doesn't land though, his staff begins to glow a darker shade of crimson and this light envelops the mage. It covers his body like a lover's embrace and leaves him flying above the ground, though he is still unmoving within. Slowly it drops to the ground and the light once again fades. Immanuel lies still, his body is now more blood than anything else. His eyes stay shut and only the soft raising and falling of his chest let anyone know he has survived, albeit barely. The staff decorated with a skull slams itself into the ground beside its wounded master and simply sits there, the orbless sockets seem to glare into everyone, almost daring them to attack the injured vampire. This though is all lost to Immanuel. His mind has fled the pain and is blissfully unaware of any happenings in this vile realm…



Lionel versus Azryelle


Lionel places his hand on the angel wing-shaped handle of the Blessed Blue Rush lowly, as he takes his traditional battle stance. Sending his right foot forward and bending that particular knee, the young man keeps his familiar, sapphire blue gaze on the one called Azyrelle. As he carefully unsheathes Blessed from its resting place, Lionel lets his lips form a slight smile, the shimmering silver cascading the non-existent light and reflecting hues of white that do not even encompass the surrounding area. It shines with such a fierce desire to be used for good, unlike its damnable brother sword, Hellfire. Gripping Blessed below the hilt in both hands, the former assassin, now slayer of Immanuel by a hair, keeps his glance steady, but resists a glare. "Be prepared." The words slip from Lionel's mouth like a soft utterance of warning, and immediately, he brings his left foot ahead of his right and carries the heavy blade in front of him, its tip facing Azryelle's chest, in a valiant sprint for his enemy. He continues this mad dance to the opponent until he is but six feet away, and at this time he raises the Blessed Blue Rush slightly higher, keeping the aim of the tip straightforward. A short beam of pure energy -- its color as brilliant a shade of white as the luminescence the sword brings forth -- volleys to Azryelle. As this occurs, and the beam hones its way in on the body, Lionel takes the opportunity and slashes forth, hoping to bring the blade across the chest.
Azryelle widens his eyes, though hinders a simple smile upon his pale lips. HIs body like the wind varies with his poise. Soon to vanish, yet appear only a few more feet away from lionel. Azryelle quiently parts his cloak to reveal his lithe figure. Dressed within a shirt of chainmail bristlling with a shine, and glimmer. THough his figure so thing and petite, nearly like a female, though contrair to his figure his body toned to the peak of any moral. Holding the cloak within his left hand, he discardes it like trash. Though pulling forth a simple red rose, holding it forth inbetween his fingers. Soon enough with the help of the wind, his body engulfed it'se withint he pettals of the rose. A crimson erray of blades covered the man, though once cleared, the dazling gleam of a new armor crafted from but rose pettals. THough within his hands now appeared a raper of somesort, the throsn digging into thehis leathered hands, as the clasp of the wepaon wrapped around his fist, emminating a blade forth from such an abscure form on mastery. Azryelle stepped foward, covered within his new armour and leathers, grasping the blade tightly, though lacking the ussual warriors grip upon it. "COme once again." His soft voice claimed his words fiercly.
Lionel fails to land the strike as Azryelle vanishes and reappears several feet away, though he can't help but grin even if only slightly, since the beam of energy was not destroyed during the escapism. He watches with a surprised expression filling his facial features as he notes the wide array of armor this man has protecting him. As Azryelle draws his blade, Lionel raises a brow at his words, noting that his foe has not attacked, nor defeated Blessed's projectile. With both matters fresh in his mind, the warrior shrugs the first off for overconfidence, but watches with a growing smirk as the honing force thrusts back toward the victim it had initially set out for, and comes in quick. Hoping for it to land its blow, this time, Lionel decides that leaving such a moment with only this would be inappropriate. Coming forth again, this time swinging his huge sword toward the much smaller rapier Azryelle wields, the former mercenary narrows his eyes on the man who has something chasing him, as well as a bigger weapon than his to deal with. "If you insist," he speaks lowly, and at once leaps up into the air, swinging forward in a cleaving motion. Bringing the blade up in both arms, pointed toward the heavens above, then slamming down hard as he comes down, Lionel makes the leap with the sword slicing down exactly where the illusionist stands.
Azryelle Extending both his arm and rapier, in the direction of lionel and his blast. The young boys eyes fixtured upont he raging blast, though the playful smile of a boy came to his lips, as his hand overcome witht he rose petals. They began to spine viciously, creating a wild suction. Upon contact the blast simply sucked in and vanished with the leaves of the rose. Though Akurei's grin came to LIonel. LIonels cleanve was felt like his blade had colioded with a wall. Felt deeply within Azryelle's power this rapier was also of no mortal sorts. HIs frail smile came to a devious grin, pivoting himself to redirect lionel's force, shoving the blade into the ground. Quirking his elbow,aimed towared lionel, The young boy drafted his speed once again, to thrust his limb at Lionel.
Lionel watches with a confused look as his honing beam is all but completely obliterated through the the power of the roses. Bearing little time to regain proper thoughts as he witnesses the rather unexpectedly strong abilities the enemy's rapier possesses, Lionel bites down on his tongue, as two blades clash. Though Blessed by look and design, anyone would assume could crush Akurei's choice, in truth this rapier did indeed possess great potential and this becomes clear as the young man's grip is inadvertently loosened and he fumbles to the ground before Azryelle. "What the..!?" Lionel mutters uncontrollably, raising his eyes back to his opponent and pulling the Blessed Blue Rush up into the air ahead of him, guarding his chest as he stands. Yet before he can bring the blade back up fully, he finds an elbow coming in fast. "Eh..." Lionel swings upward from below the limb toward this undoubtedly horrendous onslaught the elbow of doom might cast forth, in high hopes of saving his dear life from what everybody knows is the greatest attack of all -- elbow strike. As he swings upward, Lionel pivots forward and from the ground behind Azryelle, a surge of white light begins to brighten the green grass. It then wraps its way around both combatants, forming a circle, before shooting upward into the air from all sides, encasing them. With Blessed deflecting a limb and coming in toward the enemy's body once more, this holy rapture moves in and closes in on both combatants. Within it is the strength to cause a great deal of pain to one's muscles, rendering them unable to move for an extended period of time, as well as what can only be described as random bleeding from all over the victim's body. Lionel feels the light pass through him, and through his demi-angelic lineage, is able to withstand and thrive off of this kind of power. Yet as the lights move in toward Azryelle, who still has a sword coming in fast, one can only wonder what such a strongly pure form of magic might do...
Azryelle cringed at lionels blade, haveing just enough time to dodgethe blade, yet it still had skimmed his side, doing little damage. Azryelle stood paralyzed by the bright light, at loss of what to do. He looked nervously around, yet before LIonel would have time to attack once more, Azryelle's body seeped it's blood onto the floor. HIs body thined and his skin paled with blood pouring onto the floor.
It sparked with lighting as Azryelle's lips rendered bt a spell. Soon a crimson glow ecompassed Azryelle, his body began to radiate with such power that could only be relenquished within a blast. As so it did. Hence for this body vanished within a white light of power, sending such a tremendous force, that could even through lionel back. Once Azreylle's onslought cleared, the boy was found decimated, his armour in shreds, though the blast had even struck his eyes, they now burned with the same flame of energy released from his blooed. Two dragonic wings scythed from his back, painting with blood, with the small seconds lionel had to recover from such a counter attack, Azryelle's blade was ready. Conjuring his blinding speed, The boy's wings took to flight. Azryelle's dazzling speed unmatched, by the time lionel had blinked, he would find his opponents blade hurling at him.
Lionel is thrown back onto the ground behind him, and widens his eyes at his opponent, who is clearly in peril. Yet before he can speak, Lionel sees the dragon-like wings appear from the boy's back. Such a grotesque display, but a sign that Azryelle was not too terribly injured would be a good thing to Lionel, who didn't wish to fight too roughly. Still, as the illusionist rises and comes at him for his final attack, the leader of Eternal Chain knows he'll have to defend with a good deal of his abilities whether he wants to battle with all of his strength or not. Bringing Blessed up ahead of him he quickly scampers to his feet, readjusting his balance in the nic of time. In this shortest second's passing, where Azryelle in flight would go from coming up from the earth to slicing full-throttle into Lionel's body, the Human sprouts those infamous angelic wings of his own, and just as the Blessed Blue Rush slams into contact with the vicious rapier Azryelle possesses, Lionel quite literally leaps upward with his white wings of salvation, resulting in a flight from bottom to top, where the young man stands some feet above the floating boy, looking down. "I hope you had fun and that I didn't hurt you too badly. I was holding back a great deal of acquired might." He speaks from above, as the strike his opponent intended to dish significant damage with is all but avoided in absolute totality.



Lionel versus Tookie


Lionel narrows his eyes on the one called Tookie, stepping away from the wall he was perched up against for some time, now. Keeping a cold glance directed in the vampire's general line of sight, the assassin steps forward until there is but twenty-odd feet between the enemy and himself. Placing one hand on his left sheath, the other on his right, the young man's sapphire blue eyes -- now both to their standardized colors as Vyrick's soul has left him for good -- take quick note of what the foe has going for him. It doesn't seem like much, armor-wise. As such, he raises a brow, but knowing full-well the strongest surprises come from some of the weakest appearances, Lionel doesn't allow himself to become too terribly cocky. Instead, he takes his traditional battle stance with pride. "All right, then..." Mutters the lad, letting his fists come into contact with the light blue handle of the leftmost sword, and the black dragon wing handle of the right. Pulling both blades from their casings, two shimmering silver edges can be seen, reflecting light that doesn't even seem to come from anywhere in particular. Both longswords are of decent length, but Lionel unsheathes them in unison with relative ease, and holds them out before him as his right leg bends at the knee, giving him added balance. The left sword, the Blessed Blue Rush, immediately shines with a field of ice, whereas to the right, the Hellfire Longsword at once is blanketed in a ravaging inferno of flames, from tip to hilt. Keeping a determined facial expression intact, Lionel suddenly rushes forth, his feet carrying him as fast as they can given all of the weight his forearms need to move. Surprisingly fast given the situation, Lionel lunges once he's a few feet from Tookie, and slices Blessed first toward the enemy. The sheet of ice breaks off and flies in the direction of the foe's face, and the sword slices inward for his chest, craving blood. Quickly pulling Blessed away, Hellfire is slashed forth, an intense burning undoubtedly felt for the vampire as the hellish flames make heir way over his body in all directions. The mighty sword too swings, cleaving in the direction of Tookie's waist.
Tookie's murky hues dither upon his foe for a few moments, taking him in as a whole. The assassin before him wouldn't be a challenge. Not to a blade such as himself. Breaking in a rush, the assassin makes his move. Surprisingly light of foot, especially with duel swords drawn, he slices toward the vampire. Tookie can only grin at his foe, his feet sliding into a defensive position. Without warning, Lionel lunges, the sheet of ice almost decapitating the vampire where he stands. He seems to dance about, around the first wave. But then he screams, a fire raging upon him. The hellfire's flames scorched his body horribly, the stench of burning skin lining the street. With a roll, the vampire scurries out of the path of the remaining blade. Saving himself from three adept attacks, he knew he'd severely underestimated his foe. He grinned, the ragged garments dangling from his singed skin as if he were simply a rag doll, caught in a fire. And then, he made his move. Without warning the vampire's legs tensed as he brought himself painfully into an all out charge. Feet pounded against the street, mounds of dust raising in his wake. He would not be made a fool of. Deptly, five lengthy digits trail his side, finding his belt, and their home. Circling their blade, he makes his move. With a powerful lunge, the vampire withdraws his blade. An orange streak can be seen passing the man's abdomen, legs, and right arm before the vampire pulls himself into a roll, bringing himself upright behind the human. Winking to the croud, he turns to his opponent, a crimson liquid dripping from the blade.
Lionel smirks calmly as his fiery oblivion crosses paths with the opponent, watching intently as it burns his skin and chars his body. Unable to land either swordstrike, however, both Blessed and Hellfire brush into the ground ahead of them, whilst Tookie makes his counterattack quick and precise. Before the assassin can manage to take his weapons back to him defensively, the foe is already heading for him. In a surprised gasp, Lionel feels several carefully-placed slices, in varying parts of his body, as the stunningly fast Tookie makes his way across him with his blade, only to be found behind him, leaving the young man open to another deadly barrage. Blood falls from Lionel's stomach, and his legs are partially slit, his chainmail leggings now rendered useless. His right arm, already heavily-damaged from the previous evening's death duel, is badly wounded, and in a shocking blow to Lionel's ability to fight, the Hellfire Longsword is dropped to the ground, the forearm just not able to take it anymore. Bellowing a loud war cry in pain, Lionel abruptly turns around, making no bother to skillfully roll or flip. Instead, he swings the might Blessed Blue Rush toward Tookie's skull, and as he does, those damned angelic wings burst open from his spine, waving into the air like the heavenly contraptions they are. The sword thrust is continued with the man drawn up a few feet, so that the blade will collide if not evaded with the cranium from up above. Several light beams are emitted from the wings, as Lionel soars above his opponent, and flash as they come around to the vampire's sides, their burning sensations slamming hard into the scorched flesh and as they collide, they seemingly self-destruct for even further carnage. Lionel swings down with all the force in his left arm, hoping to cleave Tookie where he stands.
Tookie grins as Lionel's scream reaches his ears, his eyes only making his pleasure that much more grand, Lionel's blade having dropped from his weakened limb. Without warning, the Vampire makes his move. His entire body is brought aloft as he swings the mighty blue rush toward the vampire, light shone forth through his wings. The light, however, seems to seek out the wounds within. The vampire brings his blade above, bringing his left hand up to brace the blade. The blue rush slams into it with untold ferocity, cutting deep into Tookie's left hand, and at the same time, the light energy slams into his body. All air seems to be drained from the vampire as everything seems to go black, momentarily, he loses all control. The pain was overwhelming. For a second, just a second, he blacked out. But that was enough. His legs gave way and his blade fell, the blue rush slicing deep into his chest, the light burning through too, it scarred him even moreso than the blade ever could, though it did manage to seal the wound instantaneously. Waking, dazed, and powerless, the vampire looks up at the assassin, cold, stormy eyes glaring at him. He would not be defeated. He had one last trick up his sleeve. Managing, somehow, to pull himself back up after that onslaught, after such an incredible attack, he surely wouldn't be able to manage another attack. Or would he. His eyes close, and his blade raises into the air. A chilling breeze rushes through the area as his blade dances in the night's sky. A reddened trail follows the blade, as the vampire draws a symbol into the air. Falling lifeless, his final spell was complete. Rifts of time and space seem to part the land as the air stands still. Something was coming. Suddenly, the ink began spinning, forming into a small orb. Then, shooting forth, strands of violet wrap around the human's body. The orb pulls itself to him, trapping him in its vines. Pushing into his chest, it hopes to crush his will and destroy his soul.
Lionel is impressed with the significant amount of damage he is able to cause with his attack. As the beams puncture Tookie's sides, and the blade brings injury to left hand and chest alike. The young man, despite being a warrior of the light, grins almost sadistically at the onslaught, and observes with untold pride as the vampire nearly gives out entirely. He pulls the Blessed Blue Rush back in a defensive maneuver, his wings swaying with the wind, Lionel seems ready for anything that comes at him, though he still bleeds profusely and his right arm is in undoubtable peril. As Tookie's blade rises above him, it is now that the assassin begins to feel a strangeness overwhelming him. He forces his vision to readjust properly as he sees what appears to be many ripples around him, shifting and parting the land and the air itself. In a state of confusion, O'Connor is that much more helpless to what comes next. The small orb appearing before him, violet strands of vine wrapping around him, the winged swordwielder is brought into this deadly encaging trap with ease. He swings Blessed back and forth with his one arm as fast as he can, trying to break free of the vines of energy before it's too late. The orb slams into his chest and at once Lionel feels the same fear as both times that Immanuel tried to steal his soul. His angelic wings shine a blindingly white light and move quickly in an attempt to pull him out of this life-or-death mess, and he quickly guts into the vines, slicing forth and thrusting. The shimmering silver of Blessed's blade emits energy of its own, and the violet begins to melt, though the orb presses into the assassin's flesh, leaving no skin as it tears through his fullplate. It sears into his flesh, and he screams again in agony, but the wings thrust like the sword and Lionel O'Connor is at long last free. He is catapulted backwards into the ground, the vines torn asunder and the orb remaining where it stood as it nearly devastated the young man.

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