Round 4: Cyrus the Virus vs. Mage Hunter

[Atzar]

This round is open until 11:59 PM E.S.T. on May 30th. Good luck! Remember, the earlier you finish, the earlier your battle gets judged!

[Mage Hunter]

Drusilia groaned as she leaned against the wall. Another hunt, another unsatisfying outcome, It was grating to her. She could not kill her prey, and they always seemed to get away from her. Was she truly this weak? Could she truly not destroy her prey? The concept was as foreign to her as the land she stood in, and about as confusing. She had been taught that she had all the skills to be a Mage Hunter. Could they have lied?

It wasn't beyond them; after all she had been kicked out for political reasons.

As she slumped in the alleyway she closed her eyes as she fought the fatigue that gripped her. Her ribs hurt from where the last abomination had injured her. Even more was the feelings guilt and remorse. She couldn't do her job, it was no wonder she was kicked out, she had been cocksure and headstrong. She had thought herself at the pinnacle of her game, and here she was being taught she was nothing. All she would do would amount to nothing if she could not learn her lessons properly.

As she pushed off the wall she grumbled, "Usstan nauxahuu tlu natha houj, Usstan orn elendar." She refused to give into the self remorse. She would move on, and her next target would be dead by the end of the night. It would be this way, because that’s what she believed. Walking out of the alleyway she moved swiftly down the street trying to keep ahead of the guards who she had narrowly dodged following the fight with the catboy.

Walking down one of the main streets of Radasanth the nights chill bit at her. She ignored it as she had before, knowing how swiftly battle would turn the night from chilly to comfortable. As she moved down the street she scanned through the area trying to find her next victim. It would only be a matter of time before the hunt would begin again.

"Usstan nauxahuu tlu natha houj, Usstan orn elendar."

"I refuse to be a failure, I will endure."

[Cyrus the virus]

Luc Kraus walked the lonely road back toward the edge of town, steps slow and head held high. He had nothing to be proud of, but the curse of pride held him strong nevertheless. It was the price he paid for being such a powerful creature, though it could not have been so hefty a fine if he wasn’t aware of it being negative.

He was on his way to the Saucy Spoon, a wretched shack of a restaurant that charged too much gold for the slop they served. Luc had recalled mere moments ago the way he’d been treated there once, shunned by a woman who saw him for the rodent he was. Now everyone in the place would pay the price for her mistake.

The stench of magic rose from him like rot from a corpse, wafting in the air as he passed. A breeze picked up around him and lightly tussled his hair, then placed it perfectly back into its parted, messy style. Luc was unaware of the effect. The wind seemed to know what he wanted, to the extent that he needn’t even beckon it to aid him with such simple things.

The night was thin with fog and cool, soothing air. The Saucy Spoon’s brightest lanterns faded into view through the white, and Luc approached briskly, boots pounding on the three wooden steps that led up to the porch and swinging entrance door.

He entered, finding his memory had recalled the place well. A single, rectangular room filled with tables and chairs, each with a man or woman seated. Several customers were standing, eating their purchased meals against the auburn wall, their eyes jealously dissecting those who were early enough to snag a seat. It was dimly lit, and the faintest, slightest sound of music traveled over the roaring myriad of dialogue, spawned from the piano by the bar.

It brought a smile to Luc’s face, all of the destruction that would soon occur. His eyes stopped roaming and focused at the man at the other side of the bar. Luc hadn’t forgotten his face, the pudgy cheeks that grew red as he laughed – laughed at Luc’s expense, as the bar wench had turned him down so flatly. The mage felt himself grow hot with wrath, but he suppressed it for the moment.

He slid elegantly through the crowd, swerving about seats until he came to rest at the bar. With no stools open, he had to squeeze through two men who shot him irritated looks. The bartender was drinking through a metal mug filled with a black liquid Luc did not recognize. Looking at the new arrival, the pudgy-cheeked barkeep threw him a smile and a nod.

“Don’t recognize me, vermin?” Luc hissed, his anger evident from the get go. His eyes flashed, narrowed.

The bartender balked, seemed to consider things, then shook his head no. “My apologies, mate, lots of folk come ‘round here this time of the year. What’s got you so rigid, though? Get yerself a drink to calm those nerves.”

He raised his cup as if in toast, proceeding to take a sip of his drink. It was the last thing he’d ever do.

To his horror, the metal of the bartender’s cup melted around his fingers, his mouth, his throat. He tried to pull his hand away, but it would not work, fused together was his flesh as if it was a part of the cup itself.

Luc didn’t take the time to watch the man die, as much as he would have enjoyed it. He whirled from the bar, a strong, rough gust of wind spawning from his body to throw the men on either side of him away. One crashed into the piano, ending the soothing music. The other hit the far wall. He drew Slykrit’s Blade, a blaze erupting around the steel. He heard people scream, grinned wider, and swung the sword, releasing an arc of hungry flames upon the room.

[Mage Hunter]

It seemed fate was kind to her tonight. While she could not complete her destiny, she was given ample opportunities to do so. As she happened to walk into the more mercantile district she saw something that set off her senses like no other. Where as the other beings had only faintly shown of their magical prowess, their light was but a mere match to the bonfire this man's aura gave off. Magic was not his weapon, it was him.

Nearly blinded by the aura of magic she saw an opportunity and quickly freed her bow from her shoulder, and arrow from quiver. There was no need for audacity yet. No, now it would be time for stealth. Quietly she whispered her judgment of the man, "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."

The rite of execution spoken she sped her arrow forward, not in a killing blow. No, she had to stop him from harming innocents, and the only way to do that, would be to hit his arm to force him to lose contact with that flaming sword. She despised magic of any kind, and so when she had shot the arrow she pulled out her null stone. Its unique talents would be needed now more than ever. This man was far more potent in the realm of magic than any she had encountered before. It was not an aberration, no, they were mutants, monstrosities.

This man was a Monster.

It was her job to kill these magical maladies. Perhaps the others had been spared, for the effort to kill them and hide would be far more strenuous than if she were to kill this man, who seemed to threaten the very world about him. Knocking another arrow she took aim as she muttered casually, "Xal l' phraktos belbau dos ninta ka'lith, Usstan shlu'ta'naut."

"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."

"By the power invested in me by the Aberration Hunters of Ettermire I have condemned you to death for your blatant disregard of natural order. There can be no salvation for the witch, the mutant, or the heretic, and it is with this fact that I condemn you. May the gods have mercy upon your soul."

"Xal l' phraktos belbau dos ninta ka'lith, Usstan shlu'ta'naut."

May the Gods show you their mercy, I cannot."

[Cyrus the virus]

Like insatiable beasts the flames roared forward, consuming chairs, tables, and humanoids that were unfortunate enough to be in close proximity to the mage. He cackled softly, inaudible over the screams of the burning and the fleeing.

Snatched away was his glee, however, as a missile cut through the air and took him in the forearm, breaking clear through the flesh and in between the radius and ulna bones, impaling his arm. The Slykrit Blade fell from his grasp, though the flames remained, leaving a surprised Luc more shocked than hurt at that moment. He growled and looked toward the entrance, where a drow was speaking her silly language.

Flames from the Slykrit Blade leapt up from the fallen sword, incinerating the arrow in a second. Luc’s eyes never left the newcomer, who was nocking another arrow.

The mage disliked dealing with bow-users more than just about anything. His reflexes were good, but not good enough to create a wind current to deal with an arrow shot from so close. He spoke three words and was enveloped in the green aura of Stoneskin, which would protect him from three strikes. Luc didn’t think it would have to.

Standing with an arrow pointed at him, his arm bleeding profusely over the magical green glow, Luc couldn’t suppress an amused smirk. He spoke two archaic words and Blessed Speech took him over, allowing him to speak and understand the drow language.

“You caught me by surprise, little chicken, but I like my foul cooked thoroughly. This is bad news for you, because I’ve dedicated myself to uprooting the ashes of this building and showering Radasanth with it. Death will not be swift for you, charcoal bitch.”

Luc threw his good hand forward, stirring up a mildly powerful gust that followed the fleeing humans, casting aside chairs and tables. Within it, though, flew dozens of foot-length, green blades of air that shattered as they struck debris and flesh, mowing down citizens. The flames danced with the wind, though it longed to fight against it and lean toward Luc, the fire’s deity.

[Mage Hunter]

"Do not defile our language with your tongue heathen! I will cut your tongue out and wear it as a warning to the next filthy abomination who thinks they can use the winds of magic to speak our tongue," Drusilia spat her accent thick as she assaulted him in his own tongue. She refused to speak Drow around someone who could understand it, not wishing to defile one of her holy bastions by using it to converse with this, thing.

As she saw him reach forward with his hand she took another shot, aimed to pierce a lung. He seemed to use a verbal form of power to use his magic, and she needed to remove the ability to do so. A killing blow with a bow was not possible, she had to use something else. However, as she fired, she realized the folly of her mistake as Luc released an attack that did not have a verbal cue. As the blades and debris sped forward she found herself wide eyes as the attack came at her. As a reflex she pushed out with her will...

...and probably saved her life.

A flash occurred through the room as the attack continued the blades of air hitting and piercing her skin before shattering. As the debris knocked her off her feet she groaned laying on the floor. Numerous cuts and wounds covered her body as her shirt was torn. Only her pants were left intact as she carefully checked herself for lasting damage. The cuts would bleed and scab over, nothing she could not endure. Instead she hunched and groaned as one of her hands went to the hilt of a blade of her sword.

She had only one chance. Humans were arrogant creatures, much like the cat, they would play with their prey. Taunt and gloat over their superior position, while moving in to draw out the deathblow. Because of this she relied on this to occur with the man. He would move into strike range, and she would act, striking as the coiled viper. Her bite was the sting of her blade, and as she groaned once more, she continued her act. She was relying on his arrogance, and she could only hope he was like every human she had ever heard of.

If he wasn't, she was toast.

Use of Null Magic in effect, used the wind blades from your previous profile. Please correct if wrong Matt.

[Cyrus the virus]

((All is well))

Luc winced as the arrow shot past him, blown astray by the current of wind between Drusilia and her target. The blades accomplished what he wanted them to, leaving the drow slashed to ribbons and a half-dozen humans writhing on the ground between them. The blades should have been more effective on the lithe figure, but Luc figured she had some form of protection placed on her.

“In a way, I’m thankful you’re here,” he yelled over the roaring flames, most of which had moved to the walls to begin consuming the wood there. His right arm dangled at his side, for he didn’t want to jar it – Slykrit had hovered over to his left and was clutched tightly, still enflamed. “I’ve always wondered what drow women feel like, so my first order of business after being healed is to molest your corpse. Then I’ll head to your homeland, to that lovely library I hear so much about, and find a good healing spell to teach myself. Then I’ll burn the place to the ground. What a useful twit you turned out to be.”

He began to approach, went beyond the ring of fire that had resulted from Slykrit’s attack, but stopped long before he reached Drusilia. Her hand had gone to her sword, and she lay seemingly defenseless on the floor. How she expected to hide such a blatant ploy, Luc didn’t know. More intriguing was the sense of enchantment he felt coming from her, something he could not pinpoint just yet.

“How silly,” he mused aloud. The last of the bar’s occupants were fleeing from the front door as he watched.

Drusilia, he decided, would not get her chance to escape. He focused on the earth below the floor, bidding it to follow his commands. In one quick, sudden moment in time, a series of narrow, pointed stakes broke through the wooden floor and blocked the doorway.

“Get up and dance with me, bitch.”

[Mage Hunter]

It spoke, the words were deliberate. They seemed to force their way into her skull, demanding immediate attention. As she remained crouched the blood trickled over her skin as a reminder of her injuries. The bluff had been called; she left nothing more to the game. She had but one quick maneuver to end this, and hopefully free herself from the prison he had erected around her. The fires began to rage the roar of them engulfing her hearing, as the smoke began to sting her eyes. The tavern was going to collapse. She needed to buy herself time.

Or perhaps more importantly, she needed to delay him.

The suicidal thought bounced around her head as she rose pulling one of her swords from its sheath. She had a course, but to stay on it would get her killed. She wasn't sure if she liked that idea, for if they tried to resurrect her, she surely would decline if she could. It was one thing to die by magic, quite another to be a slave to it by being alive because of it. As she gripped her sword she thought of another action she could do as the fires continued to eat away quickly at the Tavern.

She sighed as she clutched the null stone a bit more tightly before it dawned on her. The stones behind her were magical constructs as was the mages attacks. Smiling softly she looked Kraus in the eyes as she said firmly, "Find someone else to rape pig. You'll not get such enjoyment from me."

Tightening her grip on the stone she mentally activated it, causing a pulse of pure white light to flash through the area taking with it the enchantments and magicks that held everything about her aloft. As she finished she quickly reversed grip on her sword before she threw it point first at the Geomancer. Using the throw as a distraction she rushed through the burning wreckage to jumped crashing through the flaming shutters of a window. Hitting the street she groaned as she felt a bit more pain from aggravated wounds and the sting form a few new burns.

[Cyrus the virus]

The pain was starting to grow more severe. Luc’s impaled forearm was red with blood and was continuing to drip, each new droplet of crimson fluid, each beat of his heart, bringing a horrible swelling pain. The mage was too focused to let it harm him yet, though he did find that focusing was growing more difficult; he was getting weary.

Through no force of will on his part, the flames seemed to move away from him, as if fearful. Luc, so used to using his magic to accomplish such things, was unaware that he hadn’t commanded the fire to create a path for him. He passed through, approaching the fallen Drusilia as she clutched her stone. Something in the air unnerved Luc, and though he could detect the rock, it did not tickle his mind the way a typical organic item would.

Then the null stone’s effect was created. Slykrit’s fire extinguished, leaving Luc holding a red blade that was still hot. He couldn’t sense it, but Stoneskin was weakened as well, though not completely removed from his body. The earthen claws blocking the doorway remained, however, as did the flames that were chewing away at the Saucy Spoon – since Luc’s manipulation of them had ended, they were once again fully organic and not being influenced by magic.

The moment of confusion Luc had toward Slykrit’s extinguishing gave Drusilia a clear strike. Though the blade’s point struck Luc square in the chest, it bounced harmlessly off of his body and tumbled to the embers on the floor. To his surprise, Luc discovered the green glow leaving him. Suddenly he understood what the stone was, a form of anti-magic he’d only read about in one ancient scroll. The moment of shock held him in place while Drusilia made way for the window, where she broke out into the night. The mage sneered, ignited the blade once more, and went toward the door, bidding the earthen cage to crumble before him.

Smoke rushed out of the swinging door, washing around an injured, wrathful Luc as he stepped back into the night. He descended the stairs quickly, wincing as he took the final step a bit too hard and jostled his arm. Whirling around the corner of the Saucy Spoon, he could not see Drusilia anywhere. He cast Truesight upon himself, granting him vision in the dark, but still he could not find her.

She holds that stone, I don’t like that, he thought, and turned back.

There was nobody in sight, no bar patrons had stuck around to watch the blaze. So Luc spent a moment in admiration of his handiwork, watching the flames as they climbed. It took only a minute for the Saucy Spoon to begin collapsing, and it was then that he decided to take his leave.

I should find healing quickly enough, and then I’ve my word to keep. Ankhas should have information on a good healing spell. Perhaps such usefulness shouldn’t be burned after all.

With that, Luc transformed into wind and was off to the only all-night healer he knew.

[AdventWings]

Mage Hunter's style of writing is fairly simplistic, though seemingly rushed and odd. Her character reaction was strong, but that was about it.

Luc had better writing, persona development and coherency.

Cyrus the Virus wins and moves on to the Finals.

Cyrus the Virus receives 2363 EXP and 100 GP.

Mage Hunter receives 675 EXP and 100 GP.