Soiled Soil [Closed]

The ground make a squishing sound under Talen's feet as he turned a full three-sixty degrees to survey the surrounds. The cold wet swamp he found himself in was capped off by the heavy rain that fell from the sky. In only a few second he had been in the forsaken arena he was already drenched head to toe. Bitterly the youth ran a hand through his hair and waited for his opponent to appear.

Outside the Citadel it had been a nice day. Talen had awoken with soft rays of light upon his skin, the sweet aroma of baking bread hovering in the air and just generally the mirth of summer. For a boy of thirteen it was a day to be be enjoyed. In fact, Talen had nearly decided to give the Citadel a miss and spend the day enjoying what mischief he could find. Instead the joke, and a cruel one at that, was on him. Now he had to battle it out in an arena that smelt like it had died in a pool of it's own waste. Even the sparsely spotted trees seemed to have given up on living in the putrid muck one might try and call soil.

Talen looked down at his shoes with slight disgust. Soon the pale youth's skin and cloths would be caked in mud and god knows what. Talen sighed, he had gone to the trouble of wearing his new cloths today, and now he was probably going to have to pay to have them cleaned. His pants were the standard black almost-rags that he always wore, but his top was a finer cut. The black material was tied tightly around his chest to allow for easier movement. While one much longer sleeve hung down over left hand, the right barely covered his shoulder. The boy placed his obscured hand against his waist and waited. For the moment the youth seemed weaponless.

There was something comforting about the heavy droplets of rain falling on his head that gave him an air of nostalgia. What memory the rain had triggered he couldn't tell, most likely it had something to do with Melancor, the water god whose body Sylvan now possessed and for the time being slept somewhere deep within his consciousnesses. And perhaps because of this Sylvan wasn't very sure what to make of his surroundings. Had he been any more naive he would have been ecstatic at his luck; weather conditions in the arena couldn't be any better for a Cryomancer. However the terrain itself was not very desirable, had he been some sort or lesser river creature, Sylvan would have been prepared for such a challenge. However the god was a prince of the ocean, where the dynamics happen to be different. And Sylvan knew not to be overconfident; overwhelming amounts of contaminated water could work to his disadvantage, a lesson he had learned the hard way after facing Elric. All things considered however, he would not be the only one affected by the terrain. His last defeat had left him sore, and with this surprising show of fortune with the weather, he felt empowered and ready to prove himself.

For a bit it had been hard to see very far in front of him. But behind the obscuring blanket of heavy rain, the distorted silhouette of his opponent stood. Perhaps to his disadvantage, Sylvan had made it a habit to enter last into a match. However this had allowed for very suspenseful moments, and this was one did not fall low on the meter. As he walked ever slower, but ever closer to his opponent, he could feel his body attune to his surroundings. Allowing his mind to relax he felt his body growing larger, spilling over the swamps, allowing him to feel the mud between his toes although his boots protected him from the mysterious mixture of soil. To his opponent however, he would appear to be a normal individual, save his mysterious demeanor. Reaching for his bow and knocking an arrow between his fingers he approached the figure, pointing his weapon to the floor in a defensive manner. Sylvan was after all, not one to begin a duel before formalities.

Struggling all the same through the thick swamp, he came to a safe distance of his opponent. And now seeing him more clearly his enthusiasm deflated. A boy perhaps no older than fifteen stood before him, with an air of confidence the boy seemed to have been expecting him.

Through the safety of his thick black hooded cloak Sylvan rose his voice t, "You're a child!"

“Well I sure ain't your grandma!” Talen spat the words at the familiar discrimination of being labelled a child. Sometimes being young worked in his favour, but when it didn't he easily allowed himself to feel insulted.

“I'll tell you what Gramps,” Said Talen as he narrowed his eyes, “You don't die in a horrible pool of you're own excrement and I won't tell anyone that you were bested by someone half your size... that is, unless you'd like to run home to your momma and cry?”

The youth smiled sweetly as cold vapour started to rise from his right arm. The youth's bare pale skin along his forearm turned a slight blue colour as he forced the very molecules in his limb to slow down. The resulting lack of energy caused his arm to turn very, very cold. Even the rain that had been dripping down his arm started to freeze; creating a thin sheet of ice across his skin.

The thrill of battle started to fill the youth as he exercised his power. The boy lifted his face up to the sky can caught more of the rain. The cold falling water felt exhilarating, perhaps a mere placebo compared to the ecstasy of a life and death battle. He wanted to taste victory, to see the man in front of him beg for death that he would delight in granting. Each second was like a year of anticipation. Only a small part of him voiced concern for the thick mud that would hinder his movement. For the moment he locked eyes on his opponent and waited.

"Ha!" Sylvan couldn't help but cackle. It wasn't often that he ran into sassy teenagers. "I'll hold you to that, kid."

Sylvan returned his smile, but he knew it was beguiling; former matches had helped him understand that underestimating an opponent was a mistake. But at that point he understood what the boys self-awareness resided. He watched slowly as the boy began preparing some sort of spell around his arm, directing his gaze to the heavens almost as if preparing himself for battle. But by the time the boy returned his gaze Sylvan was already two steps ahead of him; he could feel the water around him, his body now extending beyond his human form into an uneven mass of water that stretched throughout the field. Sylvan fell from the heavens, looked up into the skies from puddles and laid deeply beneath the soil... ice slowly rising from the depts.

"I don't take pleasure on hurting the young, regardless of how strong you may be. Children, however, need to be taught their manners!"

Tightening his grip he swiftly rose his arrow aiming for his enemies neck. For a second the apparent innocence of his target reminded him of deer he had hunted in better days. He did not hesitate however, and with the thud of a stop he release the arrow. Allowing for a trap of ice with the strength of iron to suddenly rise from beneath his opponent with the potential to both pierce through his footwear and immobilize him in place.

This was a stag he was not willing to let go.

The heavy rain falling into the youth's face caused him to squint at his opponent. Talen squatted slightly to lower his centre of gravity and sprung forward and to the left as the arrow was released. The youth's arms cut through the air as he started to run and for a second everything seemed fine. It was in the next second, when Talen's feet failed to move, that things went south. Unceremoniously the boy tumbled forwards and slid into the mud, his feet encased in ice.

Talen swore at himself and at his predicament. Face down in the mud he pushed himself up with his right hand and lifted his left towards his ice wielding opponent. What had been hidden by his long sleeve in his left hand was now revealed as his one of his zodiac weapons, the Snake Bearer Pistol. Without hesitation the youth discharged the weapon; sending a burst of dark shadow energy towards Sylvan.

Angry, cornered and muddy Talen snarled. He had chosen his moves too early and had been forced to reveal his hand. In a burst of fiery rage he reversed his previous ability and sped up the matter in his arms and both erupted into balls of fire; obliterating his single sleeve. With boy flipped onto his back and grabbed the incapacitating ice around his feet. It fled from his burning touch and the youth was free. In a second he was back on his feet with the gun lifted towards his opponent. The flames along his arms dulled at the touch of rain and the air was filled with sound of its sizzling touch. Had his gun used actual gun powder he would have been in trouble, but the magical pistol was unfazed by the flames. Now revealed, the mark of Hromagh on his left arm glowed brightly, a sign of the youth's favour with the god of strength. Talen lifted back his right arm as he gathered his nefarious energy for his next move.

Sylvan had a few seconds after his enemies weapon and intent was revealed to avoid the mysterious discharge of energy. Flying by his right shoulder Sylvan moved to his left and forward, almost as if to mirror his opponents agility in dodging projectiles. Sylvan was taken aback. Obviously he was not the only one with an ace under his sleeve. In fact his enemies had managed to burn his sleeve completely off! Fortunately his own ace had thwarted the boys advance and had brought him to the ground face first, now he had an advantage.

He had seen long range attacks would prove weak against his enemy, making a snap judgement he continued his charge against the boy. This was a battle he would have to fight up close. That pistol however was his main concern; he had taken note of the markings, and although his focus in battle hadn't allowed him to remember the context, he knew shadowmancy was a nasty weapon. Noticing the location enemies weapon Sylvan had moved to his enemies opposite flank decreasing his chances of coming into contact with the pisstol. Since before the battle had begun the boy had been changeling something, being hit by it at close range could prove fatal. But Sylvan was confident, more than he'd ever been about any combat decisions before, that he could reach him.

Before long the boy was back up in his feet, Sylvan had more than folded the distance by then. wielding an arrow as a knife, he continued his charge undaunted. Confident he had gained the focus of his enemy, who now raised his dangerous arm, two thin water tentacles rose from the soil behind his opponent. One tightening around Talon's left ankle with the strength of Sylvan's own grip, and another around his left shoulder being mindful of the ability of his flames . Sylvan knew his Ice was no match for the fire of his enemy, in the past it had not fared very well against pyromancers, however it was his amazing control over water that had made him a difficult foe in the past.

The Sound of splashing water thundered through the swamp as his fast sprint hit only solid surfaces of water. To any other warrior a swamp would be terrible for mobility, however, the richness of the soil in water allowed him to create a solid path at will. Such a daring maneuver was a reckless one to make so early in the game. But he understood now, that whatever his enemy was focusing would be beyond his control, he had to strike him now! Against all hope he propelled his charge charge, using the water around his feet to push his forward with each step his speed increased tremendously, reaching him withinn seconds, the two where almost shoulder to shoulder. He glanced at the boys weapon and for a second his eyes flinched, his armed hand fell towards the boy's neck. He had to do it. He had to catch him now!

A sharp intake of air, the youth had made a mistake and allowed himself to be caught again. Talen resisted the urge to turn his gaze to the wet hands that had gripped his shoulder and ankle. Instead the youth looked through the raindrops at his incredibly fast opponent. The dark energy gathered in Talen's hand travelled up through his body and condensed at his mouth. With a jut of his head the youth launched a torrent of thick black liquid towards Sylvan. Talen lifted his free hand just below the black oil, the few flickering flames on his arms touched the spell and ignited it instantly. The youth had to once again resign himself to the fact that his fiery abilities were going to be less useful than normal, but he could not think of any other option.

The fiery torrent of liquid erupting from his mouth, the youth turned his pistol to his ankle. With a blast of showy energy the youth shattered the water hand easily. The boy lowered his stance and whipped his left arm out into the remaining watery tendril. The meeting of fire and water sent a hiss of steam into the air, and granted freedom once more.

The youth leapt backwards as soon as he was free, his feet twisted in the wet mud of the swamp and youth broke into a sprint. The boy leapt up into the air and caught the branch of one of the near by trees. With the agility of a cat he bounded from branch to branch until he was perched several metres from the ground. The youth did not want to fall such easy prey again. The heat from his arms died to a stop, the rain had nearly halved the time he could keep the spell going. Things had not gone in the youth's favour this battle.

He failed. Already being so close to his opponent, the sudden burst of flame had caught him off guard, and without much leverage to avoid the attack Sylvan was hit with the brunt of it. Suddenly the momentum that had carried his attack transformed him into a meteor flying through the marsh. Loosing his balance Sylvan fell into the ground, the soft wet soil gradually stopping the crash as he tumbled in the mud. Immediately water rose from the soil like a beast, relaxiing over Sylvan to put out the remainder of the fire. While still in the ground Sylvan took a moment to assess the damage, and after realizing he was more or less okay he rose back to his knees. He looked at his arms, his gloves had been scorched pretty badly as he'd raised his hands to defend his face, however most of the damage had been superficial. His clothes where scorched, his cloak mostly gone and his hair now turned into a blackened mess was mostly burnt off on the right side. He could feel a spot on his forehead where his skin had been melted off, it was then he realized the fall had also broken one of his fingers, and his shoulder had almost become dislocated.

Sylvan had been lucky. Thanks to the rain and his fall into the wet soil the damage of the flames had been rather moderate. He had hoped too much from his attack and he'd been fortunate given the circumstances. He blamed himself for being so foolish, but that only angered them all the more. Sylvan finally stood up, a scorched mess he was forced to raise his gaze onto a tree where his opponent stood, now looking down on him. Realizing he still held to his decoy weapon, feeling rather foolish, he discarded the arrow and let out an angered howl which echoed like thunder throughout the marsh. "DAMN IT!" Sylvan returned his enemies gaze now with the intensity of an enraged animal.

"You will stay!" Sylvan vociferated, almost as if to command fate itself. Sylvan focused his energy and prepared for his next battle strategy bound to be even more reckless than the last. Energy began flowing into Sylvan's body as he mustered what energy he could after the fall, slowly his eyes began to shimmer with flickers of light and his breathing became forceful, but steady . He gazed into the sky, the heavy downpour had blocked the view of any celestial bodies but he could feel it in his bones, twilight was upon them.

He would have his plan followed through, even if he had to bring the boy to him.

Talen watched the anguish his opponent displayed with a small smile. With care to keep it dry; Talen reached into the pocket of what remained of his drenched shirt and pulled a cigarette from it's case. The boy lit it with a fiery finger and inhaled deeply. At once he felt the familiar pulse of energy course through his body; the tingling in his limbs.

The unique cigarette case produced a single cigarette, capable of greatly increasing his speed. The boy had used it many times before and it had not failed to turn the tied of a close battle. Bitterly though it had also on some occasions failed to change anything at all. The tattoo of the Thayne of Strength that adorned his arm had been earned in a crushing defeat at the hands of the giant god.

Immortal beings aside, the youth's mind was focused on the present. His blue eyes watched with intent as his opponent started to glow with energy. All Talen could think of was his next move, his reaction to the man's attack. For the moment though there was a reprieve, albeit short from the relentless attacks the water user threw so quickly. Talen too stood still, his mind working fast to map a course for his counter. Energy within the youth simmered, quietened from the raging inferno he had mistakenly led with. With his free hand over his cigarette, and his other arm wrapped around one of the branches he simply watched and waited.