Halloween Bash - The Big Scare! Zhyriad vs. Desert Warrior; Antonius vs. Dullahan

The Nightmare of Christmas! Zhyriad vs. Desert Warrior; Antonius vs. Dullahan

Battle Setting: The final battle is to be determined within the confines of a massive labyrinth, located in the deeps of a forest. Many different paths lead throughout the maze, though there appears to be no way out as of yet. The outer most edges are completely sealed, now that both beings have entered it. The walls of the labyrinth are made from stone, but are rough, and crude, as though the formation of area was a spontaneous and accidental result of nature. Said walls stand well over twenty feet in height, and while it might seem possible to simply scale over them, there appears to be a force at work that keeps people from doing so. It also seems that there is a potent magical barrier that hugs tightly against the walls, preventing them from being shattered.

The battle begins at the center of the labyrinth, in a 30 by 30 foot space from where all of the pathways throughout the structure branch. Combatants are free to traverse the span of the maze as they battle. The maze will only give exit to the one who defeats their opponent, leaving the other to linger on within its walls.

After what had felt like ages of waling, Antonius finally arrived at the heart of the labyrinth, wherein he found himself utterly disappointed. “All that aggravation for nothing?” he spat out loud. He didn’t even need to take a look around to tell that it hadn’t been worth the effort or the time. There was absolutely nothing within the maze to have been had from everything. Nothing but a medium sized empty space, matted by countless leaves that had fallen in the autumn months. What made this emptiness even more disheartening was the fact that the people of the village nearby had told him that there was something of value to be had upon reaching the center. “Pfff. They probably tell that story to everyone who comes through their town.”

Stopping at the edge of the center space of the maze, he leaned back against the wall, and looked up to the sky in a forlorn expression. The sun was already down onto the horizon, leaving nothing but a dark blue, and black sky to see up above. The moon would be there soon, and considering that the entrance to the maze had sealed itself shut upon his entry, Antonius figured he’s be there then as well. “Gone!” he pouted. “Five hours, burnt out for no reason whatsoever. Five hours that I could have spent doing something productive with my life.” In a fury, he pulled out a sword, a broad sword at that, of medieval influences, and pouring out a flux of energy from its blade. With this, he stabbed the soft soil before him.

The blade pierced through the dirt, and through a fallen leaf. Almost instantly, the lead had shriveled and grayed, its remaining spiritual composition tarnished and scattered by the combined effect of the blade, and the overall simplicity of its own structure. More calmly, having let out his frustrations upon the ground, Antonius recalled his sword from its resting space, and held it back at his side. With his single free hand, he drew the hood of his cloak up over his head so that it blocked out the upper portion of his face. Then, with a long sigh of further disappointment, he began to walk out from his corner of the center space, towards the one opposite to him. “There has to be some way out of here.”​

((Sorry if this is inconvenient, but I'm heading out for the rest of the day/night. Hopefully we can get some fight in tomorrow)).

 

Reaching little more than half way across the center space, Antonius came to a dead halt. Standing precisely in the heart of the labyrinth, he fixed his gaze upon the path he had been walking towards. He needed no extraneous senses to tell him that he was no longer alone in its depths. From the opening leading into his desired way of travel he could make out the faint, yet recognizable sign of light emanating from beyond his vision. Someone from the village? was his first thought. It was likely that someone felt remorse for having sent him so far for so much of nothing; it was more than likely that the maze was a trap used to catch and kill questionable outsiders. Wouldn't be first instance I've heard of.

What he saw next was more than enough to both disconfirm both of his likelihoods, and unsettle him more than the latter of the two could have. Certainly, he could do away with a mere villager trying to do him in; but the sight of a blade engulfed by flames was not anything that he was particularly prepared for at the moment, much less so the need to fight whoever it was that wielded it. Again, the revelation of said wielded was more than sufficient cause for concern. Almost immediately he felt his heart sink, not into despair, but into further annoyance; the encounter ahead was one that he was hardly looking forward to, especially not after his daylong romp through the maze.

The being before him, if he could even be sure to rightly call it so, stood at least a full body above him in height. Its body was amassed of an almost purely black skin, or a substitute for skin. Those parts that weren’t black were exhausting a hellish inferno and raw heat. The beast-like stature of the creature on the whole, from the undead reminiscent head adorned with a Minotaur's horns, to the hardened build of muscles shook Antonius' spirit for a second. This, he knew, was a demon, and a true demon, not the one that people had always seen fit to see in him. And this demon, as his words and tone indicated, was everything that Antonius had come to understand its type to be.

"Funny," he said to the creature now standing hungrily before him. He drew up his own blade, which in size next to the demon's seemed inadequate. He held to the hilt just a bit more firmly, taking a two handed grip to solidify his hold. With a short jolt of from his spirit energy, he signaled to that within the blade. The energy both encased inside the blade and wrapping around it intensified until it was nearly visible as a faint purple matter flowing freely around the length of the blade. "I was just thinking the same thing." With that, he waited, almost invitingly, for the demon to lash out.​

 

Just as I had hoped for, Antonius mused as his foe struck. For all of his might, and all of his tough-talk, the demon had not fully calculated his first move. He thought enough to give his attack a somewhat layered effect, but that was where his wiles seemed to have come to naught. Both weapons would be in motion, but on the whole, Antonius had practically been handed his first duck from harm, for both were striking towards the demon’s front. The evasion was a simple one. With only as large a motion as necessary, Antonius sidestepped the demon’s attack, moving off to his whip side, feeling the heated flare it left in its wake burning passed him.

He was, to his understanding, in the clear. The whip, as useful as it was, would have to be retracted in order to be used properly to another effect. If he knew anything of swordplay, which he fancied himself as knowing, to carry through the trust into a slash crossing arms, as the demon’s posture would be after his initial strike, would be somewhat impractical, at least if he wanted a good cut out of it. For what Antonius could gather then, he was essentially in the clear, unless the whip or the sword were enchanted in such a manner that negated his mental rundown of the situation.

Once in that clear, and at the tail end of the demon’s assault, he released his hand opposite the demon from the grip of his sword. His focus on the flow of energy through that particular part of his body in the forefront of his mind, he turned slightly to face his foe. With his free hand, he pushed forward, splaying out his palm. His focus of spirit energy upon the hand was released in this motion, and a small, softball sized blast pushed out at the demon’s hulking form. Antonius saw no way it could miss, albeit that it might hit the thing where he wanted it. Regardless of its point of impact, unless the beast was ill equipped for such an attack, it would feel, at most, a sharp stinging sensation.​

((For the record, he's using the attack labeled 'Surculus' in his character sheet)).

 

Not terribly impressive, if I do say so myself. Lowering his posture, returning to a more casual stance. His sword remained in a firm grip, though again held down at his side. His free hand, however, remained extended out in front of his body, opened bearing its palm as an assurance. If the need struck him, he’d be able to expel another blast of energy. He could only hope against the odds that he wouldn’t need to do it a second time. But still… get up. There’s no way you can be that weak. No demon like you is that weak!

In that moment, the demon came back to his feet. Antonius cracked a smile underneath his hood, and took a few steps forward. “I was worried you wouldn’t hold up on your end.” Whether or not the demon had registered with what he had said, he neither knew, nor cared. “What’s this?” His eyes were drawn to the ground, wherein the ghastly visages of limbs, then full figures, manifested from beyond their earthly graves. So he’s wise to the ways of necromancy? Falling back to the side of caution, he took step away from the demon and his fortification of spirits.

“Uh…” his grunt then became bloodcurdling screams of pain that fell hollow into the labyrinth's depths. The small space around his body had been spontaneously enveloped in a torrent of flames. Yet there was more to these flames than mere combustion. The burning sensation that was pulsing through his skin, was threatening to envelope his soul along with it. The entire fabric of his being would be left charred. But he had his answer.

Fighting, willing his way through the hellfire’s burning, he forced out another concentration of spirit energy, forming it into a thick aura around every last length of his body. His robes, now set aflame, were of no use, and were quickly discarded, left crumpled upon the ground in the fires, and leaving a more battle appropriate attire exposed underneath. Protected and unencumbered, he drew his blade back up, glaring at the demon in a joyous contempt. “Come now.”​

 

So suddenly, everything had turned to naught but darkness. The light... it seemed to have simply been swallowed by the demon's power. Not even the light of the fires, or the little light let off by his shield provided Antonius more than a few inches of vision; and at best, those few inches were nothing to be held onto for hope, being only slightly brighter than the surrounding space. For Antonius, this would be a blind battle. But then...

True vision will be granted only to those that cannot see. His eyes were useless then, that much he knew; but he was far from handicapped. Calmly, he closed his eyes, leaving his sight to fall by the wayside, and his true senses of his surroundings take a firmer root. All around him, he could feel the energies, whether big or small, or somewhere in between. Some stuck out more than others, some as simply larger concentrations, or otherwise, different feels all together. It was on these concentrations that stood out amongst the others that he focused on.

Giving his body a small, flux of strength, he he hopped lightly back, more horizontally than vertically. He'd land just outside of the flames, which was all he needed. In his hang time he dispersed his shield, not merely scattering the energy, but letting it loose from its compacted form in a series of small blasts. Each one was aimed, albeit only ballparked in terms of destination, at its own target, selected from amongst the various energies he felt in the area. These, he believed were the demon's spirits. Under any guise of luck, his blasts would be at least enough to make them turn tail.​

 

Antonius reared back, landing soldily upon his feet, left proper behind the right as a support crutch. With this landing, pulled off, he was able to keep stance with little stumble (not tha he was performing any serious acrobatics yet of course). He used his short window of opportunity for what little calculation he he could squeeze in, but it proved to count for little as the situation changed to his misfortune. The demon had gotten back into his own, and the malicious spirits at his beck had swelled in rank.

Quickly, he rethought his plans. The fact was, as he realized, that*to*take*on*the spirits and demon head on would only complicate matters against his favor. For the time being, he was on the defensive, and would be until he could make a legitimate breakthrough. In this realization, he fell forward, planting his left knee to the ground, and compressing his body into as much of a fidal position as he could. With his sword, he stabbed into the ground; the grass within a small radius of him whithered instantly.

He then focused on his spiritual energy, forcing it out under a different format. Now, rather than pump out blasts or streams, he let off a series of 'pulses,' waves of spirit energy, pushing out from his body in a half sphere. It's output was reserved, and far from devestating in power; it's primary function was to ward off the spirits until he could effectively muster the necessary power finish the battle with little concern of depletion. And once he successfully bridged himself to the Spiritverse, this necessity would be met.​