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Valarus vs Dergious
Judged Duel
Valarus
grins wickedly at the dwarf before him. His wretched axe, forged from the fallen god, is held within both pallid hands. He
lifts it up and lies the twin blades between himself and Dergious before speaking in a cold, wicked voice, “No more
words, dwarf. This will speak for me now.” The dreaded weapon begins to drip blood onto the hands of Valarus, it pours
down his arms before staining his white shirt. Ignoring the sanguine fluid, the spell-blade lifts the axe above his head and
screams into the night sky; it is a wordless noise, fill of hatred and a savage want for revenge. Then, like lightning, Valarus
erupts into movement. Both feet send eerie thuds into the darkened street as they carry him towards the priest. Upon reaching
him, the bloodied weapon of Kaizer arcs from left to right with untold velocity, sending a spray of sanguine in its wake.
The wild slash is aimed for the neck of the dwarf and from both the axe and the axeman comes twisted laughter, full of reckless
pride and wicked hatred.
Dergious eyes his opponent, as his axe drips blood and seems calm in the face of the obvious danger.
As the vampire charges the dwarf sets himself, raising his own sentient weapon before him and then brings it forward to counter
the man’s attack. As the weapons clash a tremendous clang of metal on metal sounds. The dwarf, unable to meet the strength
of the attack with but a single arm, is thrown backwards nearly a dozen feet, landing with a solid sounding crunch of armor
and and explosion of curses. He stands, and glares at Valarus. The wicked, stained axe erupts with tainted flames sending
thick, acrid smoke bellowing into the clear night sky above. The ringing of the unbreakable, barbed mithril chain running
from the weapon to the stub of his lost arm, which still remains hidden beneath the rune inscribed cloak, cuts through the
relative quiet of the windless night. The supposed priest swings the axe with his remaining arm, and from the dual-bladed
weapon comes burning crescents of that disgusting, oily fire that whip unmercifully between the combatants. One strikes the
earth at Valarus’s feet, and immediately spreads towards him like fire on grease. Two others take wide arcs outward,
only to curve inwards, where they will meet behind the man and explode outwards. As they move towards the spellblade birds
fall, diseased and baking even before they touch the ground. Then, with a pump of a strong dwarven
arm, the axe itself fires straight at him, the wicked chain following but not hindering the weapon’s flight. As the
axe approaches, it spirals sending the nasty tail of barbed mithril into a great loop that goes over Valarus’s head,
intent upon cutting him in half should he try to leap upwards to avoid any of the strikes.
Valarus eyes the fires as they race towards his pale form. Kaizer’s gift is once
more lowered and from it drips blood at an ever-increasing rate. Soon the duel blades are pouring out the liquid, causing
quite a large puddle to soak the dirt at Valarus’s feet. As the fires reach this large pool of sanguine, they stop.
The twin powers seem to face off in an invisible battle: Red retreats, then advances, but never enough to overly trouble the
spell-blade. The axe, though, is not seen. The barbed mithril catches the back of the vampire’s head, sending an explosion
of his own blood to join that of his master’s. A grunt is uttered, though not heard, before Valarus points his axe of
flesh and bone at Dergious. From the twin blades comes hellacious power. It flies
forward but a few feet and congregates there; azure hued, though tendrils of black lace through it every so often. For a few
seconds this energy stays stagnant, then, without action or command, it explodes forwards. A shriek rings out into the night,
as the air seems to cry its pain. Onwards it goes, towards the dwarf, and if it connects it will rip him to shreds with chaotic
energies; no form, no life, just a twisted shell of what he once was.
Dergious watches the
building power of the hideous axe, and knows he cannot bear it unaided. He awakens his dormant psionic energy, and begins
agitating the very air before him, building a wall of chaos of his own to bear. He pours more and more energy into his barrier
as the opposing power builds. It is not enough. As Valarus’s power explodes forward, the dwarf sends his own in response.
The two waves of power meet, and the dwarf’s proves weaker. His barrier shatters and the power that caused it overwhelms
the dwarf with substantial, but lessened power. The dwarf is lifted and shook, his teeth strike each other over and over.
Abrasions and tears in both his armor and himself appear and blood falls to the ground below. He falls again. Then, with the
resiliency of his race, the dwarf springs to his feet, bleeding and battered but by no means done. He roars through heavy
beard and dry, cracked lips and digs deep within his center, from the source of his psionic power. He musters massive amounts
of energy and, straining against the immense forces he is trying to control, shapes them to his will. Like a smith at a hot
forge, the squat figure sweats and strains. Before him the air wavers and ripples, the longer the man works the more distorted
his figure appears to his opponent. Without warning, the mans ebon steed Adumbral leaps so quickly as to appear a blur, bringing
its sharp, wicked hoofs down over and over, trying to split Valarus’s skull or anything else it hits. The dwarf knows
it is time to strike, and does so. Mentally commanding his sentient axe to turn ever tightening circles about his opponent while trailing the barbed chain behind, he releases the building mental energy in the form of dozens
of pale blue shards of energy, each only a single molecule wide, slicing towards both man and Nightmare. The shards are capable
of slicing through nearly any solid object, save for mithril. As the shards and chains approach, the nightmare loses form,
becoming a shadow of darkness that simply drifts away to safety.
Valarus ducks and weaves against the horse’s feet as time
and time again they seek to crush his pale body. Never leaving the circle of blood, for outside fires still rage, Valarus
is quickly fighting a losing battle. Then, like so many times before, he explodes towards the horse in a reckless charge.
A hoof connects wickedly against his shoulder, causing that arm to lose hold on his weapon, but the other stays laced around
the handle, and with terrible force the axe is swung. It connects with the neck of the horse and, without halting, cleaves
easily through, killing the animal and coating an already bloodied tyrant in more sanguine. Then, without warning for him,
sharp pain enters the spell-blade’s entire body. Small wounds appear almost everywhere, though none are big enough to
even leak blood, as the power is only the size of a molecule. Even though his wounds are small, they still fill the vampire
with more lust. He spins on his heel and trailing in his wake comes the wretched gift from Kaizer. It strikes true Dergious’
axe, sending the weapon into its own flames. Eyes that once shone silver, burn now with black fires. A look of complete anger
surges onto Valarus’ face, and another wordless scream is heard, coming
from the very depths of his being. Once more the axe is sent slicing through the air. This time, where it cleaves a thin line
of red appears, almost as if the weapon has cut through dimensions, which is, of course, what it has done! From the tiny crease
in reality comes a burning fire. It explodes in every direction, burning with ease anything it can touch. Protected by his
axe, Valarus bends his knees to stand defensively, his now ebon eyes scanning the area for his opponent’s next attack.
Dergious
sees the hated axe and the flames, and knows fear. While his own axe affords protection from fire as well, it is weakened
with distance! Having no choice, he runs towards the flying axe and the eruption of flames. The axe of Kaizer rips through
his armor, tearing away flesh and slicing bone at his side, but the dwarf still moves forward towards the flames that follow.
The conflagration engulfs him and still he moves forward. The flames burning his skin but cauterizing the torn flesh both
at his side and the numerous ones from the bastard’s previous wall of chaos. The blaze burns less and less as he approaches,
and then grabs the weapon from the ground. Now fully protected, but hurt and sizzling, he uses the flames as camouflage while
still running forward. As the dwarf exits the flames only a few feet from the vampire, he flings his burned, runed cloak aside,
revealing silvered and clawed metal arm, fashioned for him the previous night, that flashes brightly even in the darkness
of this night. The mithril chain running from the nasty axe runs to an armband of the same material. The dwarf charges at
the hated spellblade before him. The tainted, burning axe in his left arm, and the silvered arm flung wide. As the dwarf closes,
he releases the axe altogether and the sentient weapon rushes forward, as if hungry to taste flesh. The dwarf then moves his
good arm to the silvered appendage, pressing a gem upon it. With a ringing sound blades lance out
from each finger, each eight inches long. As the axe rises and then descends with an over the top strike, the chain flies
low and left, coming at him from opposite the now swiping blades of the priest’s new appendage. As the bladed fingertips
near the vampire’s side, they extend yet again, now a full 12 inches. The dwarf obviously hopes the man will have misjudged
the distance and time he would have to block the attack.
Valarus swings his axe upwards and blocks
the flaming axe of Dergious. Flesh and metal collide once more, this time a sound akin to the torturing of a cat is heard
by all who watch this dark duel. A grin forms on Valarus’ lips as he begins to counter, but that grin is soon burned
off his face by an explosion of pain that rips through the arrogant slave, causing him to drop to his knees among
the blood and chaos. A large wound drips more blood onto the floor, his white shirt has been easily torn to shreds by the
dwarf’s twisted arm. A cough sounds out, drowned instantly by vomit, that pours easily from the vampire’s thin
lips and coats the burning, bloodied and much trodden upon ground. Slowly, and with much pain, Valarus stands before the dwarf.
His eyes shine once more silvery, and his face contorts into a puke stained grin, “Words now, dwarf, my axe has spoken
enough…”
Valarus vs Siolad
Judged Duel
Winner: Valarus
Valarus
steps back from where Kristerl once stood. He spins on his heel, causing a small crevice in the dirt at his feet. His left
hand snakes down and pallid fingers lace around the handle of his weightless axe. Fluidly he draws it from his chain-leggings,
and with a subtle twist of his wrist, he spins it around, watching as the twin blades catch the moonlight and reflect it almost
perfectly. Twisting his head around, the spell-blade lays his silver-hued gaze upon Siolad. He offers the man a mock bow,
a crooked grin and then he explodes forwards. Dust granules swirl in his dark wake and soft thuds come from his boots as they
connect with the dirt road. As he reaches his opponent, his axe is lifted high into the night sky, then with a dark curse
and a wicked prayer he slams it down towards the drow, clean blades aimed to split the man clean in half, from head to groin.
Siolad cocks a grin, his hands opening and closing as Valarus rushes
him. Oh how Siolad enjoys crude attacks like this. Without much more then a thought, Siolad lets some arcane words leave his
mouth. His magical energies fill the air and quickly take effect as something shimmers infront of him. It happens to be some
type of shield. Siolad quickly grabs it and lifts it, letting Valarus' axe slam into the magical metal. Though the shield
bends, as thought it was mear paper. It doesn't go all the way though, as Siolad pushes off with his feet, finding the time
the shield has given him enough to escape. Siolad finds himself a good distance away from Valarus, as that is how he likes
to battle. He waves his hands, and lets more magical energies fill the air. Purple smoke seems to start to swirl from under
Siolad's robe. It spreads before him and collects right infront of the illusionist. It forms a monkey, the color purple evident.
It pops into exsistance, with a chirp and a howl. It doesn't stop there as it once again pops, and splits, magically creating
two. Those two split and we can all figure what is going on. Many monkeys are made, and they all quickly crap right there.
The smell fills the air, which isn't to plesent, and Siolad waves a finger. "Alight!" Suddenly, the poo catches fire, and
each monkey grabs up its own. "Fire!" Siolad yells out, and each monkey takes its turn in throwing the flaming pile of poo.
Not only does it stink, flaming poo might burn on the skin.
Valarus
lets forth dark curses as his blade’s hunger is not filled. As the monkeys appear, Valarus casts a curious grin at them.
His free hand laces upwards and finds home on the handle of his axe. Expecting an all out attack he shifts his feet to be
standing defensively. As the poo appears, Valarus lowers his weapon, raises his eyes to the night sky and lets forth a wicked
laughter. Though Siolad’s words quickly snap his silver gaze back upon the monkeys, he is a little too late. Flaming
poo lands just in front of him, its smell enough to make the spell-blade dry retch, and cause a look of complete disgust to
form on his pallid features. Quickly he begins to step backwards, side-stepping left and right as poo flies towards him, though
he is a little too slow, or too disgusted, and some of the poo lands upon his white shirt, catching the fabric alight and
burning wickedly the skin beneath. A pain-filled scream tears itself free from the vampire and he changes tactic. No longer
leaping backwards, he once again charges towards his opponent. Feints left and right stop more of the poo from marring the
rest of his clothes, and as he passes the monkeys his weapon snakes out, removing one’s head, and the arm from another.
This is ignored, though, he leaves the purple monkeys in his wake and once again leaps towards Siolad, his axe this time he
swings upwards, single handed, his free arm swings from the other side in an awkwardly thrown punch, aimed for the man’s
head.
Siolad eyes go wide, stunned at Valarus' way of
dealing with this attack. Siolad takes a step back as his opponent passes them, and with that, each one becomes the smoke
they once were. The illusionist twists, still not accustomed to fighting armed opponents like this to dodge the axe, which
he bearly does. A nice slice in his robe though is apperent, but what Siolad doesn't stop is the punch. It collides with his
face and the illusionist flies backwords. He lands with a heavy thump. Though that doesn't seem to stop Siolad as he fights,
weakly, to his feet. Breathing heavily, Siolad starts to chant. A red hat appears on his head and a parchment appears in the
air before him. "Thats it! I'll change my stats to make me a fighter!" With that, Siolad starts to manipulate the paper. Siolad
fully believes this is a stat page, which his many strengths and weaknesses. Siolad swings his hand out widely and smiles,
"Ah ha!" The paper starts to glow, "Watch me become ultimate!!" Something happens, but it isn't to the extent Siolad thought.
Above us all, a gigantic apple pie floats. Siolad looks up and starts to curse, "Damn it, that was my apple pie recipie, not
my.." It was apperent that the apple pie was changed into a massive, freshly baked pie. It is apperent that Siolad's magical
energies are doing this. He meekly looks down, his eyes wide as another curse leaves his lips, though it flooded out as the
bottom of the giant pie breaks away, and the very hot sticky middle of the pie comes out of the sky, like some sort of hot
sticky waterfall. Now if anybody knows anything about pies, they know they are extreamly hot, and with the alterations that
magic has done on it, there is a extream amount, and it is filling Kelay way. Siolad is smart, and starting to scramble up
the tavern wall, trying to make his way to the roof, but what of Valarus.
Valarus returns his weightless axe to the loop in his leggings as Siolad makes his somewhat
unsuccessful attempts at spell casting. From the other side he draws forth a weapon gifted to him, as the sealing of his bargain,
buy Lord Kaizer. A wretched weapon made from the very flesh and bone of the fallen god. Into both hands this weapon lies,
and from the twin blades eternal blood drips onto the poo covered road. Then, from seemingly nowhere, the pie forms. Unable
to comprehend really what is happening, Valarus simply stands there and stares at this nice looking gigantic treat. Then,
as the bottem collapses and burning hot pie falls, Valarus snaps back to attention and begins a fever pitched charge towards
the same tavern Siolad has climbed upon. The vampire bends his knees mid run, and using all his power launches himself high
into the night sky. Sadly, his leap is ill timed and his legs become covered in the burning sticky goo that makes what can
only be a nice tasting pie. He lands upon the building, and instantly collapses under the burning pain. His axe, still held
within his pale grasp, he points the darkened sky. “No more games! No more clans! Death stalks you now!” The weapon
of Valarus is lowered down in stark contrast to his words. Slowly it is leveled until the twin blades lie parallel with the
roof. Without command seen by any, power begins to erupt from the wicked axe. It pours into the night sky, colored deep azure,
and pulsing with what can only be tremendous energy. It surges into the night, swirling prettily until it has formed around
the drow a wall of power. The blade of Kaizer is suddenly slammed into the rustic roof and from all sides the energies come.
They fly with untold velocity at the drow, seeking to remove him and his odd powers from this much troubled land.
Siolad bearly manages
to make it to the roof, apperently spent when he hears the shouting of Valarus. Siolad quickly turns and eyes this new foe,
actually not knowing anything about the axe or the power. The hair on the back of Siolad's neck starts to raise as the energies
start to fly. With as much energy as he can muster, Siolad starts to raise up some sort of magical defence, a barrier between
him and the energies. But, of course, this barrier pales to the energy that is released by the axe, and is quickly shattered,
though it is apperent that at least some of the force was suck up by the small spell, something that might save his life..
Siolad is struck, and you hear screams of pain from from the illusionist. Though, Siolad starts to fight forward, using everything
to move towards his opponent. The illusions fail, and the drow visage die away. Even the robe disappears and a naked, scared,
old human battles his way towards Valarus. Though the illusions seem to fight to come back, the visage of a drow forming once
again, and his robe. Siolad somehow makes his way, right infront of Valarus as he pulls something from somewhere. More illusions.
"Rabbit... of... doom.." Siolad holds out the chard and blistered hand and a small furry rabbit is held out. It is apperent
that it isn't effected by the energy by the blade. It starts to vibrate, madly. Siolad closes his eyes, and lets a peaceful
smile fill his lips. An explosion rips between Valarus and Siolad, flinging the illusionist from the roof and roughly onto
the ground below. A cry of pain is hurt and Siolad opens his eyes, trying to focus his eyesight, to find out exactly what
has happened to his opponent.
Valarus
glares with cold hatred at the man who pretends to be a drow. He opens his mouth to speak, but words are silenced at the appearance
of a rabbit. Completely unsure what to do, Valarus brings his axe around, stopping its flow of power. He places the twin blades
between himself and the rabbit just as the explosion rips out. His flesh seems to erupt with the power, wounds form upon his
face, his arms and his legs, though his chest fine, defended by his weapon. The force of the power sends the spell-blade off
his feet, he sails through the air, misses the roof, and falls down upon the road. Another scream of pain comes from his thin
lips as the still burning, and rather sticky pie mixture engulfs his. Burning his burns, filling his wounds and even some
manages to make its way into his screaming mouth, replacing the wordless cry with a moan of almost pleasure, “Damn,
that is good pie..” A small chuckle finds itself free of the vampire, before his eyes close and pain once more forms
on his face.
Valarus vs Alexander
Judged Duel
Winner: Alexander
Valarus
turns from the Kirsterl and allows his silver-hued eyes to fall on the lord of hope, “Well met, Alexander.” A
small smirk contorts his thin lips, before they open and from deep within comes an arcane chant; it flows like all his words
do, seemingly mixing with all other sounds in the area. Around the body of the vampire, scarlet light starts to pour. It mixes
with the sanguine hued liquid already bathing the spell-blade, causing him to once more appear almost demonic. With a subtle
twist of his wrist he brings up his wretched weapon; a gift from Kaizer, an axe forged from the flesh and blood of the fallen
god. Then, in a blur of movement he erupts forward, his axe trailing in his wake. As he nears the lord of hope, the light
around his body seems to explode; a wave of burning energy flying in all directions. Following now quickly in its wake, Valarus
comes, his axe held high above his head. As he reaches Alexander, he leaps to the left, and brings his tainted weapon around
from the right, aimed for the neck of the paladin.
Alexander remains standing still as he watches Valarus with a keen precision.
Runeblade begins to glow with a divine light, responding for the first time in many months to the power of Kaizer. As Valarus
bears his axe upon him, Alexander falls to one knee, narrowly escaping the executioner styled strike as his grounded leg presses
forward, sending the Knight of Hope past Valarus' side, thrusting out with Runeblade as he does. The tip of the sword barely
touches its target before Alexander pulls back his blow, landing a few feet behind his opponent as his boots scrape to a halt.
A faint trail of light seems to shine from the tip of his sword, trailing back to the very spot it touched Valarus when suddenly,
you see several similar strands break away from that point, almost as if the very air around him were webbing outwards. Alexander
remains in place with back turned to his opponent while these strands of light soon enclose Valarus, making his form seem
as if made of cracked glass. The moment the last strand connects this webbing fully, Alexander pulls forwards on his blade
with all the strength he can summon. As the tether pulls tight, it also begins tugging on the lines surrounding Valarus, not
only seeking to entrap his body, but to cut it to shreds as easily as a fishing line pulled too tightly around a finger.
Valarus
swears as Runeblade tastes his pallid flesh through the armor that offers little protection against such a weapon. Then, as
he feels himself incarcerated within the tendrils of light, his cursing dies out. The axe forged from Kaizer is quickly bought
into motion. The spell-blade begins cutting at the lines, severing each one touched with ease. The sheer amount of lines is
too much, though, and as the lord of hope pulls his blade down, terrible pain erupts through the vampire’s body. His
armor fails once again to protect him, the webbing slices through it with as much ease as the axe, and all over his pallid
form crimson lines appear. Though none sever his body, the pain causes his face to warp into a twisted mask of agony. Unable
to shake the feeling, Valarus can only act. He once more speaks ancient words of power. Clouds appear in the night sky, and
wicked thunder erupts around the area, though no lightening is seen. The axe of Valarus begins to rain down blood all upon
the much trodden road. And from each drop a small tendril of smoke starts to pour into the night sky, almost as if this land
was once again rejecting the influence of Lord Kaizer. Unnoticed to the spell-blade all this is, he continues to weave his
words, causing more clouds to appear and block out all stars in the sky. Then, like a terrible explosion, thunder erupts once
more. The strength of the blast is enough to cause small trails of blood to pour from the ears of Valarus, but this is hardly
known as the slave is already covered in his lord’s sweet vitae. Behind the wave of sound, he comes once more. Another
trail of sanguine is noticed, as this time the weapon is swung directly down, towards the back of his opponent, aimed at splitting
the man clean in half.
Alexander 's nose wrinkles as he recalls the smell of such ichor.
His eyes turn to the strand of light that grasps at the tip of his weapon as it starts to dip down, plainly showing that Valarus
is still mobile behind him. He closes his eyes as his lips begin moving slightly, as if whispering some silent prayer. As
the strike comes down, Alexander raises Runeblade to defend as the two collide with such a sound, that the land trembles,
remembering well when the two powers of Evil God, and Mortal Man collided last at this very spot. Alexander Tries to heave
the axe up slightly before diving to the ground in front of him in a roll, yet he spirals out halfway, ending on his side
as you see several green colored feathers swaying back and forth to the ground, showing plainly that the axe had indeed tasted
his flesh. He rises up slowly, yet you notice his left wing now dangles behind him as several longer feathers brush the road.
He winces in obvious pain, yet focuses himself to his opponent as his eyes erupt in their customary green spiritual flame.
Nis neck dips backward as his mouth opens and from his throat, a high pitched call is heard. Much like that of common birds,
it bellows out as above, a small place in the clouds opens. From within this small gap in the darkness, a single light shines
forth, to luminous to be that of sun or moonlight. When it has come an estimated thirty feet from the ground, this light seems
to reverberate upon Alexanders voice as it breaks apart, shattering into many smaller parts as they join the rain in this
downpour. Each fragment of this heavenly light showers down upon the area, causing the surrounding onslaught of blood to bubble
and crackle. As light mixes with darkness, the blood from the ground is suddenly heaved towards Valarus, taking with it these
shards of light as it has become apparent that the two powers that had clashed so many times, now come together in a mix of
energy upon the vampire. One carrying the wrath of Kaizer, the other the power of Alexander in this hail of good and evil
combined.
Valarus watches the wave of death come down on him with a horrified look. The spell-blade
spews words that are pathetic and weak. “Help me, Lord. Help me…” The sound is washed out by the waves of
sanguine mixed with terrible light. As they reach the stagnant vampire the blood seems to weave away from his body, turning
slowly to miss the slave of Kaizer. Though pathetically powerful his words were, they were not powerful enough and some of
the mixed energies land upon his shattered armor, burning it and him with terrible malice and divine retribution. Another
pain-filled scream is heard, even over the waves, and the once mighty slave master drops to his knees. His scream changes
as he does, though, unable even to look at Alexander he screams the words of his spell directly into the twin blades of his
axe. The power of the slave and Master mix and for a moment little happens. Then, like the heralding of destruction, another
scream comes from the thin lips of Valarus; though this one is pure hate. His eyes shine brightly, no longer silver, glowing
now with fires directly from the Hell that he is forced to call home. A voice explodes throughout the night, though its words
are not understood by any who dwell away from Hollow’s dormant hell. The road below begins to violently shake and rumble.
Millions of tiny dust granules fly upwards into the air, forming together a mighty storm, which challenges the sky with its
might. Within this field of dust, the axe of Valarus is pointed directly at the lord of hope. A
whispered word is heard by a few, before ebon power comes forth. Unhindered by the physical restraints in this land, it has
no effect on the storms of dust. It flies straight and true towards Alexander, moving as he moves to evade evasion. Its dark
tip distorts for a moment into a face wearing a mask of complete malice and from the open mouth comes a scream, before the
power reaches Alexander, attempting in its cruelty to drag the lord of hope back to Hell, where he will feed the slaves of
Kaizer for an eternity.
Alexander 's eyes open
widely as the area responds to the display of power. He brings Runeblade to ready as Valarus points the hellish axe at him
as the emerald flames in his eyes flare tremendously from between his eyelids to flow like liquid around his body, encompassing
it in the same fires that display in a minor fashion the being that Alexander is behind the mortal skin. He thrusts Runeblade
towards his opponent in the distance as the Sword of Hope beckons forth a similar bolt of power, ivory in color with a spiraling
green flame around it, showing distinctly the almost symbiotic connection of Alexander and Uriana, the angelic spirit that
resides within Runeblade. The two collide as both combatants now lock themselves into this assault,
neither willing to give any quarter to the other when suddenly, the center of this shimmering white and green display opens,
as a mere hole forms. The outer ring is pushed out as it overlaps the dark power of Valarus, each display of raw energy now
free of the other to strike out at their intended targets. Alexanders eyes close tightly as he raises his free hand out, as
if he could block this power, yet sadly enough, it tears into him, fighting back the immortal flame that surrounds Alexander
as armor, cloth, metal and flesh are ripped at. Slightly at first, then in seconds Alexander falls to his knees, no longer
being able to keep himself upright as all he can now focus on is fighting back this evil force that gnaws at him. The now
circular beam of light that hollowed out comes to bear upon Valarus in the same manner, threatening to do the same to him
that befalls Alexander at this very moment.
Valarus keeps his hands locked on the handle of his mighty axe.
His eyes still burn with hellish fires, and these lock upon the power coming at him with untold velocity. Afraid to move his
axe for fear of breaking the power, Valarus mearly lowers his head a little and takes the full impact of Runeblade’s
divine power. It tears at his flesh. His armor, already destroyed beyond repair is shattered completely, leaving the former
slave master completely naked. His pallid body erupts in a wicked tapestry of wounds. Blood pours from everywhere, coating
what was not already sanguine, and covering even Kaizer’s blood. He keeps his axe held straight
for as long as possible, before turning it in his hands and placing the twin blades between his body and the power. For an
instant time seems to stop, then like so many times in the past, it starts once more with a terrible explosion. This rips
the tattered remnants of Valarus off his knees and sends him flying quickly through the air, stopping only when his back has
slammed against the tavern wall with a viscous sound; bones breaking, flesh ripping and a muffled cry of pain…
Alexander is declared the winner.
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Valarus vs Dergious (Judged)
Valarus vs Siolad (Judged)
Valarus vs Alexander (Judged)
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