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Xzar versus Sarion
Xzar stares at the opponent before him, an elf, an elf that holds the heart of his past love, an elf that once was an enemy.
Xzar’s cold red eyes stare at the elf, dilating then returning to normal as he stares him down, looking for a place
that seems to be open, a place to strike. Looking down at his hands Xzar clinches his gauntleted hand, opening and closing
it preparing his fingers for gripping his massive sword. The wind wipes through the hair, and his braid flows to the side,
rising and falling with the wind, rising and falling with Xzar’s breath. Watching the grass flow behind Sarion Xzar
rises his gauntleted hand into the air, feeling the breeze flow past his outstretched hand, lowering his hand behind him it
comes to rest on the great handle of his sword, the handle appears to be smooth and black, made of something that appears
to look like obsidian, wrapping his fingers around the sword he finds a comfortable place to rest his hand. Closing his eyes
he pulls the great ivory sword out of the sheath, the handle glistens in the sunlight, yet the sword does not sparkle, the
ivory does not shine. Bringing his other hand to rest on the handle of his sword he outstretches both hands, pointing the
sword at his opponent. Gazing from the hilt to the tip he remembers the night of his mother’s death, her brutal murder
by this very sword, this very demon that he holds in his hands. The ivory is very pale, the many deaths it has caused have
made it so, and the pain it’s caused has made it shun the light. His eyes soon rest upon the swords tip, sharp, deadly,
but beautiful, a true master piece of a weapon he thinks, yet he also thinks about what a horrible tool it is what a curse
it is upon him and the land. Looking up he notices his opponent once again, and smiles, cutting the air once with his sword
he dashes forward. Footfalls are heard in the grass and all around everything else is deathly quiet, as he runs his sword’s
tip and his white braid trail behind him blowing in the breeze, whipping the air. Closing in on the elf Xzar pulls his sword
forward, leaping into the air swinging the massive sword in an arc aimed towards the enemy.
Sarion walks into the Odd Shrine. Sarion’s sword made of mithril is hanging over his shoulder. The sound of his footsteps
against the cold, solid floor of the shrine echoes through the surroundings. Sarion’s pale, blue eyes now fall upon
his newfound foe, Xzar, a vampire which had once loved his love, once been an ach enemy. As the vampire runs forward Sarion
brings his rune-inscribed sword off his shoulder and points it at the ground. Seeing Xzar coming down upon his body Sarion
rolls to the right in one fluid motion his leather jacket’s sleeve and his skin are scraped. A deep cut is now shown
on the elf’s forearm, crimson blood spills out slowly. Putting his sword in his left hand Sarion takes his free hand
and puts it to his arm. A soft hue of blue flames appear and the wound is burned shut. Sarion now once again switches the
hand in which holds his sword. Standing up Sarion runs forward disappearing from left to right in his speed. Once in range
Sarion makes a swift swipe at the vampire’s stomach hoping to slice it and end the battle quickly.
Xzar watches his sword tear through the jacket of the elf and come to rest rather forcefully on the ground, jarring his
hands. Glancing up he sees the elf has seemed to disappear, only for an instant Xzar thinks the elf as left, yet glancing
around he sees the elf moving toward him with unnatural speed, darting left to right all the while drawing closer to him.
The sun shows brightly, glistening off the elf’s sword, a very beautiful sword Xzar ponders but knows the damage it
could cause also. Standing up Xzar attempts to pick up his massive sword, bringing the hilt to his side he waits for the elf
to draw near, this takes little time as the elf charges fast. So fast he appears to be a blur in the sunny landscape, before
Xzar has time to think the elf is on him, throwing his strength into an attack towards Xzar’s vital organs, attempting
to turn Xzar’s side is gruesomely slashed, his vampiric force weakens as his blood and psi run to the ground, turning
the ground black with blood, screaming a seem to be death cry Xzar swings his sword attempting to slice the elf’s back,
his red eyes grow and his braid whips the breeze flowing after the sword. Finishing his sword swing he falls to his knees,
not knowing if the mighty blow succeeded.
Sarion smirks knowing his sword struck. Hearing the horrid scream caused by Xzar Sarion steps forward a few steps. Sarion
now sees the pale sword swipe through the air. The sword hits the middle of his spine although not cutting too far into his
flesh. As the elf grits his teeth in pain he jumps onto a lone pedestal in the middle of the shrine. The elf’s eyes
now have flames in them. These flames are the same blue flames as of those that were surrounding his hand earlier. The elf
now leaps high into the are and makes a swipe to rip the vampire into halves, or so it seems. As the elf nears his opponent
he moves his sword to the side and swipes at Xzar’s right arm hoping to sever it.
Xzar holds his head down, clutching his side, agonizing pain shoots through his body, tears well up in his eyes, watching
a tear fall to the ground he looks up, seeing the elf pounce yet again. Still kneeling unsure of his strength, unsure if he
is able to stand, all he can do is gaze at the elf, ever drawing near. Blue flames clash with the red eyes of the vampire
as he watches the sword come around moving quickly towards his right, looking down at his right hand he gazes at his ivory
gauntlet, throwing it up his arm is struck with the runic blade; he feels his wrist bones snap sending waves of pain up his
arm. Not knowing what to do Xzar swings his sword, slightly dragging it across the ground aiming towards the bottom of Sarion’s
legs he shrieks pain, aguish, anger, and determination echoes throughout the land.
Sarion sees the pain his foe, Xzar, is enduring and smirks at the thought that he may win this battle after all. From the
start and up until now, Sarion thought he would surely die in battle but now he thinks he will win. Looking down at his foe
Sarion lets Xzar’s ivory sword slice through his boot not even looking back to notice it had also cut some flesh and
a crimson river of blood is flowing out. Sarion now swings his sword one last time at Xzar’s arm hoping that the battle
will be over.
Xzar glances, realizing that he can no longer kneel here and wait for defeat. Attempting to get up pain racks his body,
he falls, burying his face in the ground he once again attempts to rise. Wearily standing Xzar glances at the charging elf
Xzar raises his sword, it slowly and unsteadily goes up, the weight is massive in one arm. Staring up, piercing the air with
now angry eyes, eyes so red they make the tears flowing down his face to be blood he stares through his enemy. Sarion soon
reaches him, but a second too late, Xzar collapses to the side attempting to cut the enemy into halves with all of his remaining
strength, tears flow down his face, blood flows to the ground and Xzar passes out, not seeing his blow land, not seeing himself
hit the ground.
Xzar versus Immanuel
Xzar focuses his red hues on the mage that stands before him. The faintly lit fountain seems to softly glow and the crimson
liquid that is held within fills the vampire's nostrils, putrid yet pleasant and beautiful. Reaching up he outstrenches his
pale, lithe fingers, bonelike and appearing similar to the hand of death itself reaching out towards the sick and suffering.
His hand travels behind his head and the assassin pulls his sword from it's sheath, the soft 'click' seems to drown out all
other noise, filling the senses with an ever present foreboding of what is to come. The vampire pulls his sword forward, its
color as deathlike as the hand that holds it. Red hues light up as the assassin studies his fellow vampire, his ashen lips
speak not a word as his footfalls are wisped away with the night breeze. He nears Immanuel and reaches to the side with his
sword, his hips shift as he leaps into the air, the white khopesh leaves a flash of pale hatred in the air behind it. The
sword, like a single claw follows a single path, aimed toward the center of the mages back, Xzar can almost picture the blood
seeping from in between the slash.
Immanuel watches Xzar run at him with a bored smile on his face. “Now really, your wife is at stake, I expected more.”
The mage waits until Xzar leaps forward, before he decides it is time to do something. He pushes forwards and upwards with
his strong legs, but alas! He is too slow. Xzar’s blade slices the skin on his back, blood spews forth causing Immanuel
to falter for just a moment. Quickly he regains his composure, and spreads his wings. They begin to beat rhythmically, and
quickly carry him high above the fountain of blood. The wound that is on his back makes flying difficult, but Immanuel manages
it. Looking down at Xzar, he flashes him a quick sadistic grin before starting to chant in a language obviously not made for
the human throat. The words rip themselves free, each one said clearly, and strongly. As the chant continues, the blood in
the fountain begins to bubble. After a few moments of this, the blood explodes upwards, and from within the sanguine waters,
a dark being shoots upwards. His speed is uncanny, as he makes his way towards his master. “I serve you Immanuel, in
death as I did in life.” Seemingly satisfied by this the mage points towards Xzar. “Then rip his black heart out
and feed it to me!” The beast wastes no time, he launches himself forwards. Though no wings decorate his back, the being
has little trouble in defying gravity. His features are hard to make out, as light does not seem to reflect of him at all
and what light does reflect, is tainted by the crimson liquid that is all over him. As he reaches the assassin, a black blade
materializes in his hand. It is instantly whipped up, and swung at Xzar’s midsection, then before you know it, it has
swung back, this time for Xzar’s neck! The sound of battle is suddenly drowned out by the insane laughter of Immanuel,
as he watches his being play with rare pride…
Xzar is slightly thrown of center from his own attack, he footfalls heavy as he clumsily stumbles, gaining his balance
his crimson eyes gaze up at the rising fluid, a fluid that very nearly matches the color of his vampiric orbs. The blood rises
up, small droplets land upon the assassin's face staining it with tiny blotches. A figure collects itself, the liquid taking
shape, it soon speeds toward him. Leather like wings become taunt expanding fully they send a gust towards the figure, and
leaping from the ground a blade tip scathes the delicate chest yet that is the least of worries as it returns. Blunt force
slams the assassin's head to the side forcing him to drop his blade. It falls into the now empty fountain with a 'clang' that
in no way matches the ringing in his ears. In a burst of speed the vampire rushes into the air, dodging other swipes by the
animation, soaring near Immanuel, unsure as if he indeed sees his foe. Ashen fingers dig into Xzar's pocket and he pulls an
item from it's concealment. His gleaming stiletto is revealed, ancient scripts seem to run up and down the blade itself, truly
a belle of a weapon. The blade is quite long in length, nearing the dimension of a short sword, yet unlike any other sword
the sides are blunt as this weapon is simply fro piercing flesh directly, burying deep hole in flesh. The vampire flies above
his foe and in a swooping motion hooks the blade, adding force as it nears the mages shoulder, aiming to tear valuable muscles
and ligaments rendering the arm useless.
Immanuel curses at the speed of Xzar, his own pet not quick enough to really mark the flesh of the assassin. As Xzar reaches
him, the mage, simply stops beating his wings. With all his upward force gone, Immanuel neatly drops out of the sky. The graceful
landing marred only by the blood that taints his shoes and the small swirling of dust granules that are rudely unsettled.
Looking back up he notices his pet has gone in for another round, it’s blade is once more a blur as it slashes and stabs
at Xzar’s vitals. With a slight shake of his head, Immanuel begins another chant. This one is slow and wordy, as his
pet distracts the vampire above him hopefully for long enough! The moment the last word is ripped free, black magicks surround
Immanuel. Faces can be seen within the now swirling power, and hideous, tortured screams issue forth. Grinning at it, he speaks
mockingly to those who are trapped within. “Bring me his soul, and I might free yours!” The power instantly obeys,
it streams upwards towards Xzar, the screams within get louder and louder, as they all hunger for the soul of Xzar. Though
this magic is quite damaging to physical objects as the foolish undead crow the flies into it finds out. An explosion of feathers
is all that is seen, before the soul of the bird, small as it may be, is added to this, most vile of collections.
Xzar dodges swings from the blood servant, blood leaks from small wounds that were causes by swings to well placed to dodge,
the fight continues above as an unfamiliar creature approaches. A white majestic being approaches, soft thumps are heard,
gravel is crushed under it's long extremities. Appearing as a ghost, ghastly, pale and unidentifiable is strides under the
battle. Rose colored eyes glow, illuminating the ground in front of the figure, making the blood that soaks the ground light
up, and appear almost beautiful. The eyes gaze toward the winged fighters, sadness and suffering seem to be absorbed into
the massive creature as it gazes toward the sky.... Xzar faintly hears the screams of the damned below, feeling his ears with
anger, hatred.. and a thirst for his life-force. Tossing his only weapon to the ground he arcs and turns in order to avoid
blows. Abruptly the vampire is forced downward, souls dart and glide around his body, surrounding his and causing unspeakable
pain and horror. Quickly engulfed all that is seen is a dark swirling mass in the night sky... Suddenly and unexpectantly
white light illuminates the shadow covered area, the brightness burning into sockets causing momentary blindness and confusion.
The white light reaches all, even the back of your eyes seem alit. The fountain rapidly becomes dark, but a soft glow is seen
above, a brilliant white long sword is extended in mid air... Now strangely freed of the soul created prison the assassin
impulsively rushes to the alien sword and wraps his thin fingers around the hilt, a soft whisper is heard as Xzar speaks,
"Thank you Meier.". Diving towards the ground the vampire lets out a shriek, a scream to match that of a banshee. Swinging
the blade towards the mage, a gust is felt as he passes. Doubling back his flies in a straight line, his sword grasped by
both hands as he attempts to drive it through Immanuel as he crashes into the fellow vampire.
Immanuel can only shake his head as Xzar runs at him with yet another new weapon. The mage quickly spreads the wings that
decorate his back, but the speed of the assassin is too much. Pain erupts in Immanuel’s stomach as the new blade of
Xzar finds itself a new home in the pallid flesh of the vampire. The force of the blow, plus the added weight of the assassin
sends the mage flying of his feet, his wings now dangle uselessly, and offer no cushion to the hard ground below. All the
air is slammed out him and the horrible wound in his stomach spews more precious blood. As his senses reel, his pet shimmers,
and then vanishes. So too does the collection of souls. Unable now to even pull himself up, Immanuel lies very still. Breathing
has become very hard, as he fights for life. Without warning the thoughts of hatred, of lust and of sadistic joy are pushed
out of his head, to be replaced by thoughts of Alexia. Holding onto the memory of his beloved, the mage stands slowly and
glares at Xzar. “Is that all you got?!” Lifting one hand of his wound, he points it at Xzar, and a small blue
fireball appears there. Struggling to keep consciousness, Immanuel pours all he has into this azure ball. The powers that
linger inside are different, no dark magic is present, as this power is different, more divine. Letting go of his hold over
the sphere, it floats almost lazily over to Xzar. At that moment Immanuel once more collapses on to the ground. He can not
even watch as the ball, suddenly rips itself in tow, then four, then eight! All of the spheres spiral around the assassin,
their movements are slow and deliberate. As if by an un-worded command, they all suddenly rush in at Xzar, each one going
for a different spot on his body, and each one charged, to rip the miserable flesh of his tainted body…
Xzar tumbles into Immanuel, dust raises from the ground enveloping both fingures. The assassin leapts back, his wings pushing
against the currants of the wind, pulling him away from the enemy. Wearly his huefigures to Immanuel, almost sad, almost fearful.
Azure orbs encircle, carefully yielding to the slim, weak looking being imprisoned by them. Without a sound they cease movement
for only a second before they sink into the vampire's body burning horribly, draining strength from all his being, damage
is faintly seen on the outside yet inside he feels as though each muscle is being torn from the bone, snapping and shredding,
slowly killing. The vampire sinks to his knees, his breathing heavy and labored. Heaving he coughs, blood speckles his lips,
adding, if not slightly, some color, a tiny sign that his is indeed alive. Raising his head and a single hand he removes the
mask from his face, crimson eyes stare at the opponent. A single tear is shed, it falls to the ground in silence. The assassin
gazes at each person gathered, a sight that could be his last, in his mind he wishes his love was present, his last vision
would then be perfect.
Kaethil steps forward, "The victory goes to Immy."
Xzar versus Vyrick
Death Duel
Xzar remains unseen, hushed whispers echo and sound from the dead walls. A faint glow reveals very little of the library,
the candles illuminating the room flicker, casting obscure shadows across the faces of those gathered. Light foot steps are
heard and a small being approaches Vyrick. The figure appears to be that of a child, a female around the age of seven, long
trusses of blanched sunflower hair fall upon her shoulders and curl around her elegant face. The child looks cheerful, a radiant
glow seems to gather about her. Big glossy eyes, enchanting in a way that only a child’s can be, gaze up at the death
knight. A gay laugh exits the child’s lips and her sweet voice fills the halls, “Ring around the rosy…”
The poem begins and a flood of souls, ghastly and moon struck in color, sweep toward the man. Dropping from the shadows and
followed by a looming and mysterious shadow a beautiful masque, perfectly white in color, wraps itself in the horde of the
apparitions. Framed in the twisted faces of the damned, the crimson tears pouring from its eyes seem to shriek in utter agony.
A metallic streak, catching the candlelight, shatters the darkness momentarily as the vampire’s long katana edges toward
the enemy’s chest… As quick as they came the spirits disappear, forming bodies of vapor in the room… the
mask is nowhere in sight… Once again in the safety of the shadows Xzar waits to see if his attack was indeed successful
yet his purple tinted orbs wander toward the child below…
Vyrick looks on as the apparitions appear, a wide grin forming on his face as the Soulcutter axe begins to shriek out, wishing
a blow to come in that it may claim yet more of that it seeks. Vyrick pays little heed to the child dancing around him until
a pinnacle moment where the katana bears upon him. With the reflexes inherent to his vampiric heritage, he grasps the child
by the throat, making one simple step to the side as he raises the Childs form to take the place of where he once stood. The
Katana pierces through the child as Vyrick releases his hold and waves his hand out towards the decorative skulls that line
the library. Each begins to shiver slightly as their jaws open, almost as if to give out a howl from beyond the grave yet
in the place of sound comes a lightly gray mist. They each waft out over the library giving no quarter to any breeze that
may pass by as they snake out along the room, seeking their intended prey. Suddenly, a single line of mist is broken, touching
the unseen form of Xzar as the skull it is connected to shrieks out horribly, alerting the others. Responding to this call,
the other lines of mist coalesce upon that spot, wrapping around Xzar and hoisting him into view from the shadows. Vyrick
bears his fangs as a slight hiss escapes his lips as he points his open hand towards the assassin, closing it slowly. As he
does this, you begin to notice several areas of his skin beginning to open. Soon you can plainly see each pore of his skin
expanding well beyond its physical nature as sweat and oils leak from them. The more they open, the closer they come to breaking
the vessels of blood that hide underneath them as Xzars own body becomes the tool of his own supposed demise. The tendrils
of mist coil around tighter and tighter, lifting any weaponry tucked away and casting them aside as they continue their own
pursuits upon him. Yet all this time, one thing has not changed… The grin that first appeared on the face of Vyrick.
Xzar feels his lengthy blade slide through… air? Indeed as the child, as real as she appears, is merely an apparition.
The little fiend disappears as the weapon passes through her imaginary flesh. Grinning mischievously as she materializes once
more, the little girl skips merrily about, her poem continues, “Pocket full of posy…” Above the assassin
has twists and tumbles, his weapons slide from hidden compartments in his shadow like robes and two charred twin daggers fall
to the ground, closely followed by a jeweled ritual blade… Footfalls are heard from the northern reading room, the sounds
hasty and clumsy. Shadowing the reverberations, a charcoal skinned figure approaches, his speed uncanny for the awkward size
of giant crucifix shaped sword he carries. Speckled golden hues match the aura that surrounds the approaching figure and the
unknown man swings the cross toward the vampire king. If contact is made the elder could likely be halved by the brilliant
emanation gathered by the seemingly holy, archaic torture device. Above Xzar’s azure orbs widen in fright… the
man below, the drow… That being is he who haunts the vampire’s dreams…
Vyrick raises his axe to meet the sword as suddenly a thudding sound echoes from above. The area where the ladder would meet
the open air crumbles as the scaled snout of a black dragon is seen coming down towards the ancient vampire, opening its maw
to bear elongated teeth and a forked tongue. Vyrick lowers his axe and allows himself to be taken into the maw as the sword
collides with the dragons lower lip, bouncing off harmlessly as you hear a faint chuckling from within the dragons mouth.
The nostrils of the giant beast inhale hard, setting the figure off balance before issuing two twin jets of a thickened air,
sending the figure into a nearby bookshelf hard. The air permeates the area in a nearly invisible hue that stinks of eggs
left in the sun for an extended amount of time. Above the figure, books begin to fall from the shelves, burying it deeply
when one specific book you notice falls free from the others, It clangs upon the floor, giving off the knowledge that it is
bound in a metallic casing. The dragons lips close shut, encasing its master in a protective area as the book clashes the
floor, giving off one faint spark. The spark immediately erupts the air that was billowed forth as the entire library is encased
in a massive inferno, leaving none free from its wake save the one encased in his own dragons mouth.
Xzar eyes the holy figure fearfully, its cross, striking the dragon’s maw explodes in a metallic shimmer and disappears,
taking with it the drow. The dark figure no absent Xzar begins to laugh maliciously, his purple orbs sparkling as a wicked
smile spreads across ashen lips. Perhaps he expected this? The flames race toward the assassin and gentle words fall from
his lips, the whispers, similar to those earlier, trace the walls, echoing throughout the bookcases. Runes begin to encircle
the vampire, and with a gentle snap of thumb and forefinger the symbols turn into tiny lights. Intermingling with the fire
and tinting the tongues blue. The lights disappear, leaving the fire now in Xzar’s control… Azure flames waltz
among the shelves and caress the spines of each dust ridden spellbook. The holocaust elevates, the purple hues, matching those
of the assassin’s eyes sheen and blaze. A twisted chasm of unknown intent shows upon the ashen face of the dark robed
figure… Why would anyone allow their beloved books and studies to burn? For Cielle, for a love matching nothing but
a vast and hidden void, unknown to mortals and the living… Yes, perhaps this is it, as his face shows not a single remorse.
The flames spread throughout the room with a single ambition, to encase Vyrick’s dragon, his shell, for this fire burns
cold you see, something the creature may not like… Still standing in the same spot as before, the little girl continues
her chant in a cheerful singsong voice, “Ashes, Ashes…”
Vyrick’s dragon makes little movement as its snout is encased in the cold flame. Resisting the urge to raise itself
up by the will of its master, it holds true as its mouth opens once more, allowing Vyrick to merely walk out into view. The
flames lash out at the vampire yet not one strikes his body, each clashing against the spirit energy that surrounds him. He
looks back to the child, still making her chant as he walks over to her, bringing out his axe once more as he stands before
her. He raises it above his head as he looks down at her and speaks the words “ We all fall down… “ As he
brings the soulcutter upon the child. It passes through her and yet it seems to tug at her form, pulling at it tightly as
the blade begins to draw the visage into it. As the metal clangs upon the floor, you see Xzars pores finally rip open at his
flesh, spilling several streams of blood from each. As the form of the child leaves view, being pulled fully into the hellish
weapon, a single spire shoots forth from the floor between Xzars legs, As it rises, the tip bears ever closer to the lower
tip of his spine, seeking to impale the assassin fully as the full barrage upon his body continues. The snout of the dragon
leaves from the gaping hole it had made in the ceiling, whipping about slightly to shake off the numbing cold it feels as
Vyrick looks on at what he has wrought upon his opponent, his features plainly showing enjoyment in his work…
Xzar smirks slightly to see Vyrick once more, his brow matted with sweat and his raven hair platted upon his death like
forehead. His azure eyes shimmer softly as the axe engulfs the little girl and knowing full well that it cannot touch her
the vampire snickers… In fact the child has very likely been awoken from her slumber and will forget this event like
a horrid and suppressed nightmare. Laughing softly, the assassin stands erect, a bit of discomfort shown by a large gasp leaving
his blanched lips, his magics seeming to have taken quite a toll upon his fragile body. Purple hues, tiny slits of malice,
never waver in their gaze upon the elder… Thinking the battle is over proves to be foolish as Xzar’s lifeforce
suddenly pours from his skin, gaping holes in his slender flesh. Footing slightly wavering the vampire glances down as a tendril
bursts from the flooring catching the man’s bleeding side and pulling him from the ground. The spike wavers and evaporates
and the assassin plummets to the floor, his glass mask shattering, the shards digging into his flesh… And indeed…
We all fall down…
Nyterath stands up to address both of the fighters, his cold blue eyes fall upon them casually. “The duel was well
fought, and the vote is unanimous. Vyrick is the champion of this duel.”
Vyrick raises the Soulcutter to the air and lets out a roar in victory as the axe reverberates in his hand.
Vyrick walks to stand near Xzar as he begins to chuckle wickedly. Without a word said, he pulls his weapon arm back and thrusts
the Soulcutter directly into the chest of the Assassin, pulling his soul out of his own back. As it spirals to be locked within
the weapon, it calls out in satisfaction as Vyrick pulls it free once more. As the last remnants of his soul disappears into
the forged metal, His body collapses in a mass to lie upon the floor, devoid of any life.
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