Inimicus

[Vindicant 642]

Spoiler

 

 

 

The wheat of the fields outside Sutica gave the air a heavy allure, one of soil and season. A cold, biting wind blew through the field, the cloak of the Demoness, Glineth, wavering vivaciously in the wind. She stood across from Karyssmov Faroe, clad in the regalia of the Itharel of old, standing battle-hardened, with a steeled resolve. Behind each side stood two men, and not far off, a strange and unnamed dark elf bore witness to the fight that was to ensue. Ser Gray Kellian the Third, Knight of Sutica, Cleric of Tahariae, and Luna Lyeis, Guardsman of the same nation, stood at Karyssmov’s back, arms crossed and looking expectantly to the fight that was to occur.

 

“I do not pretend to be an eloquent man, Glineth. If you came expecting a zealous speech, you will be disappointed. One on one. No magics.”

 

The Temptress fluttered a drawn gasp, breathing out her words airily from beneath the cover of her shield, sauntering forth with precision and finesse.

 

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, I am not one for foreplay either.”

 

The Cleric comments not, tapping the flanged mace against the breadth of his kite shield, inviting Glineth to try her luck in the fight to come.

 

A flurry of steel meets the two, mace clashing against shield, blade scraping against steel… until the Demonette stuns the Exemplar with a deft strike to his head, before cleaving upwards in a duelist’s swipe, the blade catching on the tip of the visor and de-helming the Cleric; revealing grimacing scowl in strain.

 

"Let me see that face of yours…", she had taunted with a cheshire grin, the words having incited the Cleric as he steps forth, on a warpath. His mace pierces the air in anger and smashes downwards, sequeled by one of the horns atop the woman’s head cleaving in twain and into bits, crushed and broken.

 

A cackle of surprise, a faint mewl of pain, a hiss through her sharpened fangs; all heard as she withdrew with steps as light as a feather with her shield and blade poised for retaliation, cunning with devilry, though still giggling with the obvious intent of unnerving the Cleric.

 

Karyssmov Faroe rebuking one of Glineth’s Forms

------
 

Helmeted or not, the Cleric charges onwards. A slamming of the kiteshield to the abdomen of the Temptress forces the agitated palm of her ilk, a certain Fjarriauga stepping forth and around to feign surveillance over the brawl, though in reality, the deceitful woman searched for weaknesses in the Cleric’s stance, her eyes eventually settling on Karyssmov’s head.

 

Unheard by most during the ordeal, the Frost Witch had sung a melody. The word “Keto...” was reverberated across the surface of the sea, and from the briny depths rose an ancient work of Thallassos, bristling with fangs and scales, eager to rend. It skulked at the edge of the sea for now, though it gained leverage quicker than one could imagine against the crashing waves of the Sutican waters...

 

Ser Gray Kellian rises from his seated stance, giving a glare towards the Fjarriuga for an instant, before the two return to their seats. Both factions draw their arsenals, and promptly, a jagged shard of ice lay in the Fjarriauga’s grip, and two reverberating Orbs of Light on the Cleric’s.

 

A multitude of serrated slashes and cracked bones marred their forms and doused them in sweat, inflicted through either arcanium blade or flanged mace. A mutual respect gained, the two offer each other a nod of approval before returning to their stances. The Prince of Sutica regains his breath first, stepping forth and embedding the spike through the leathersome clothing Glineth adorned, a loud gasp heard as the Courtly Princess cannot muster laughs laden with venom, but instead, an agonized growl.

 

Suddenly, a large shard of ice flies forth at Ser Gray, fired off from the Fjarriauga. She implores Glineth to flee, though the shard fired is impacted mid-air from one of Gray’s orbs. Karyssmov, enraged by this interruption and dishonorable action, wrenches the spike from the Zar’akal’s chest, followed by the very same succumbing to her knees and gripping at the wound; reeling in agony, about to break.

 

A barked order from the Frost Witch to the dark elf who had so taciturnly stood; a snarl gesturing of pact to be upheld. The man sprung into action, leaping at Ser Gray as the final orb sails forth, impacting the ‘Ker in the chest, though hardly slows the charge. He draws a fetid old dagger from his side as he leaps over, attempting to restrain Ser Gray with his flexible grip...

 

“Better to kill a dishonorable enemy than an honorable one.” Karyssmov mutters as he passes. Ashen-White Flames begin to erupt from the Cleric’s left hand as he skulks past the fallen Zar’akal, stunned silent from her agony, and riling. All she could muster was a choking snarl, “Do not-- pity me.” The Exemplar’s eyes are set upon Svette, the Fjarriauga who had interrupted the honour duel. With a stalk forth, the Cleric raises his mace as he throws himself at the enemy, aggressive and bloodthirsty.

 

She backpedals at an awry strike from the Cleric’s mace, before she falls to her rump. Karyssmov points his palm down, an inferno of Ashen-White Flames of Reckoning jettisoning towards Svette, before she is promptly engulfed in the flames, throwing herself about in rolls to put herself out, screaming in agony as she is practically broiled alive.

 

Luna Lyeis’s rendition of the Frost Witch being burned.

------

 

Glineth, snapping out of her stupor after the screams of her comrade fill her ears, quickly leaps into action. Her wound coagulated through her furling Maleus, leaving naught but a scabs in their wake. She sprinted quadruped to rescue her compatriot and put out the flames that had seared her flesh so keenly. The Fjarriauga could hardly move; naught but a faint murmur heard as she attempts to speak, unable. The Zar’akal quickly hefts her up by her maw biting into the clothes around her nape, dragging her into the forest; the promise of safety…

 

Karyssmov had long ago turned about to assist Ser Gray with the ‘ker, though Ser Gray had already burned away the tainted dark elf’s face off in a macabre display. However, looming about the entire time, was the priorly summoned Sea Serpent, finally having shown it’s aggression in a savage attack towards Luna Lyeis, who so far had been idle. She quickly took shelter within the nearby woods, gathering it’s attention as Gray fired orbs and Flames at the beast. It roared in agony, setting its sights upon Gray as it snatched him up in his jaws, though Gray manages to save himself by searing the throat of the beast with the voidal flames summoned from the enchanted gauntlet upon him, forcing the colossal beast to throw him into the trees, before retreating in both weakness, and a calling from elsewhere, a singing much akin to the before.

 

‘The Aforementioned Keto’

------

 

 

The Exemplar, with a faint look of amusement, turns about to only discover one left from Glineth’s entourage left there. A man, dressed in noble black clothes, glared up at the comparatively towering Cleric.

 

“You saw what happened to the rest, yet you stand. Admittedly, I’m impressed...but you don’t want to suffer what you beloved Frost Witch friend has, do you?” Karyssmov questions.

 

“I do not bow to you. You are a fool, a Godslave to the core, and human as you are, time will consume you before I have to lift a finger. You will die.” the Nobleman drones in a cold, terse tone to the impressment of the Cleric. He draws a short sword from his side, laughable in its usefulness against the full plated Cleric bearing down upon him.

 

“Least you got some stones to you. You can run if you wish, you know. Your buddies are doing so.” the Exemplar states. To the nobleman’s due process, he did not flee, merely raised the blade. Karyssmov chuckles, before raising the mace, sending it down -- but just before the strike lands, the Zar’akal had tackled the Nobleman out of harm’s way, and fled to the woods with him.

 

“Quaint.” said Karyssmov. “Let what happened here be a reminder to you, Glineth!” he calls as her entourage retreat to the woods beyond.

 

“... And that you are not allowed to bring friends to the next ‘meeting’ we have.”

 

“So be it. Be ready.” A voice boomed from within the forest, that of the Zar’akal, distorted to meld many voices, and many emotions; fear, anger, delight, sensuality, all in one musing. In time, silence dawns, only the crashing waves and panting of Clerics filling the once tense atmosphere.

 

A duel had come to a close, yet instilled in them all was the thought that the confrontation was far from over.

 

A final shot of the sea, illustrated by the brave Luna Lyeis afterwards.

Spoiler

Thanks to Jelonny and Greekbro33 for their courteous work, and thanks especially to Jello-boy for the good damn RP!

 

[Greekbro33 105]

[!] The grumbles of the Metal Cleric echo around the sutican Cave

 

"Stupid Sea serpents! do you know how hard it is to fix Wyvern scale? its nearly impossible!"

more grumbles as he tries his best to reshape the scales. to fix the many small puncture wounds

 

"Keto.. Keto.. I will take your scales to make my own, to repair this armor you damaged."

even more grumbles are heard as the scared tourists run from the cave, fearing it to be a lurking monster

[Ducklingator 795]

Great read!

[Chorale__ 2147]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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