Once again Drusilia was left to watch everything in slow motion. There was nothing she could do as yet another competitor put themselves in between her and the mage she had been fighting. Citing friends wronged by the Tiefling, Drusilia could understand the revenge motive even as the gunshots rang through the arena. Her eyebrow raised at the technology that was in this particular chamber having passing knowledge of the weapons. When Alerar was falling behind in the magic race they had turned to technology to keep up, only to find Raiaera was ahead of them in that regard, having set up what the Kyorl termed the Tech Barrier.
To see a gun used within the Cell shocked her to say the least, even Alerar had problems mass producing firearms. She was not however gun-shy as she had at least fired a rifle and pistol once or twice and been accustomed to the noise they made. She preferred the bow for the simplicity of design, the ease of access, and the silence that accompanied the shots. There was one fact she could not deny, and that was the brutal efficiency of a firearm, and watching the warlock’s reaction she knew the man was boned the second the girl opened fire. The fact she could be so accurate the Drow owed to the fact that her opponent had tried to dodge and so the shots that would have gone astray if he had stood still slammed home into him.
In one last bit of spite he shoved out a wall of energy and she only had time to curse before it hit her, “Shu!”
The Drow word for shit didn't help her one wit as she rebounded off the walls of the arena and promptly began a new vomiting fit even as the shurikens and walls raced towards her opponent. Drusilia hated dry heaving but was thankful she didn't have to taste hard tack yet again in this fight. Recovering came slowly as she pushed herself to her feet even as she tried to suppress follow up heaves, forcing her stomach to calm down despite the contact with magic. It was one of the more horrid aspects of having progressed so far down the path of the Hunter, dealing with magic now actually violently made her ill.
Standing over the mage she sneered, “That all you have? A few flesh wounds like that and you’re done?”
"Tell you what, luv," he growled, he then managed to get on his feet slowly even as the Drow took up a ready stance. He continued, words slurred, "'ow about we shoot you a few times, see 'ow you 'old up!"
She raised an eyebrow appreciatively as she brought her sword in for a standard slash testing his reflexes. He seemed slower but still managed to keep up even as she continued to press her advantage against him. It was no longer the test of skill it had begun as. He could fight, but was slowed and seemed to be running out of steam, “This is pathetic! I wanted a challenge not a practice dummy. I swear to the Thayne above if you let me down in the next chamber I will have your balls for a trophy!”
"Ha! I like you, sweetness. Maybe after this, I'll give you my balls, and my entire prick to go with 'em," he tried to wink, but it became more of a wince.
They continued to go at it but it was obvious the mage was done for. He just didn't have his tricks anymore. Frustration reared its ugly head as she brought in a kick to his chest that saw him go down in a grunt of pain. She towered over him growling lowly, “This isn't even fun anymore, it feels like finishing off a child.”
"Finish off kids a lot, do you?" he laughed, a small trickle of blood worming from the corner of his mouth as he went for a stab with his remaining knife.
“No, I finish off smarmy mages who think they have what it takes to upset the natural order of this plane,” Drusilia said even as she batted away the slash contemptuously. At least he was fighting to the end. She had to give him that much. She sighed as she started reciting the final rite of execution, "A l' yorn belbaunin ulu uns'aa a l' Silinrai d' Ettermire, Usstan sarn'elgg dos xuil elghinn. Gaer shlu'ta tlu nau ka'lith whol l' og'elend, l' c'nros, l' og'elend. Xuil Nindol Aster Usstan sarn'elgg dos. Xal l' phraktos inbal ka'lith pholor dosst quortek."
"I am not," he snarled, mustering up enough will power to launch one final attempt at dousing the arrogant bitch in Hellfire, "a pikin' mage!!"
Seeing the attempt she sent out a backhand, the inhalation being a sure sign of his attempt to breath flames upon her. Knocking his mouth askew the blaze was deflected safely away as she snorted, “Mage, whatever the hell you are, it makes no difference to me, you’re just a dead magical abomination now.”
“Oh, you 'ave no idea what kind of abomination I am," he smirked through the pain and humiliation of defeat. His eyes lit up with inspiration as she brought the sword ready for a piecing stab to finish off the would be mage.
“I don’t care, there’s a difference.”
He smiled, blackened blood coating his teeth before he spat at her. Instinctively she covered her face, in worry that his blood might be acidic only to find it was not. Lowering her hand she looked down to see his blade lodged deeply in his throat, a broad grin etched in his features. His choking gasps resounded through the dome as a wet chuckle echoing in her mind. A sigh of disgust crossed her face as she looked at the last opponent in the arena, aware she may have taken too long finishing off the not-mage.
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