Vuryal versus Donovan: Seal RP

Vuryal walks nonchalantly about the tavern, bare feet falling within the treads from cart paths upon the road while scarlet gaze falls intently upon Donovan, the rest of the gathered fading from his sight. His staff twirls meticulously in his right hand, turning end over end as it glimmers in the dim light of the moon above, radiating an eerie pattern of amber and purple within its frame. A smirk comes out from the stoic visage of Vuryal as an utterance of archaic phrases pour forth from pursed lips, lightning striking above from an almost cloudless night. Beckoning to the call of the chronomancer, five miniature orbs of ash form before him, dangling free from the bounds of gravity as they float effortlessly. Feverishly, the vampire’s staff rushes forward, paralleling the ground as a final command is given to this spell, the spheres soar at Donovan at break-neck speeds, though curiously enough failing to strike him. Their intent is hidden, gravitating about this human, speed decreasing until they stop completely, one near each major limb of the paladin. A grin dances upon the darkened face of Vuryal as one lasting word is spoken, the enchantment’s finality soon revealed as each ball implodes, gravity reversed drastically. As each second elapses, the strength of each multiplies rapidly, a dreary ending for the seal holder as he is pulled into five differing directions while vampiric cackling fills the stagnant night air.

Donovan draws a protracted breath, digging booted toes into the earth as he crouches his form in preparation for Vuryal’s assault. Tired azures trail their focus across the chronomancer’s form, drifting to the orbs which bear upon his own position no sooner than they’re cast out of his opponent’s hand. Even before their approach is completed Keane breaks into prayerful song, reverent pleas for aid from those he serves against the unknown intent of Vuryal. Melodic lyrics dance from his tongue, azure shimmers subtlely gleaming from the quintet of contacted places on the paladin’s body as the spheres connect. Donovan remains calm as the orbs pull at him from all sides, song continuing despite wrenching pain threatening to tear him asunder as he verbally yields himself to his keeper’s will. Three orbs – on his feet and head - are broken by the power of Alyna, whose entity now swirls about the paladin’s burly frame in aim to dispel the others. Popping of joints proclaim that such a task is not easily done, Donovan’s shoulders stretched beyond what they can manage and loosening nearly to the point of dislocation, but they are eradicated before such can take place. Gingerly he rolls the strained joints, groaning as their pain is made known to him again. Instead of launching a bladed reprise he turns once more to the spirit he serves, whose sister now enters the fray at his behest. Alyna and Uriana, devoid of Alexander for the present, gently begin to blow about the area, swirling dust from the road and sludge from the tavern steps into a tight tornadic spire. Sister spirits render the maelstrom in Vuryal’s direction, where it will surely devour even his strong form should its suction prove sufficient.

Vuryal raises one furrowed brow upon the entrance of the twins, inquisitive gaze soon transforming into a look of amazement as the sweeping winds begin to swirl before him. Head of the chronomancer flares backwards, mouth agape and crying out, not out of pain or agony, but elation as a pair of obsidian wings erupts upon his back, vampire now becoming winged beast. Taking flight abruptly, Vuryal manages to avoid the direct assault of the furious tornado, instead thrown against the tavern with a resounding thud as he is driven back to the unforgiving earth. Shaking his head as he rises from the sudden impact, Vuryal’s grip remains tout upon the staff in his grip. Speaking another forgotten phrase of old, the item materializes into something else, a glorious sword of almost translucent qualities, the edge of which looks ripe for use. Smirking, the vampire begins his short trek towards the paladin, sword blazing through an X-pattern before his frame, minor cuts and drips of blood forming upon his unblemished skin as he advances forth. Once within a few feet of Donovan, he lunges, feet taken off the ground as a thunderous beat is heard, wings sprouting to life, propelling the creature at the paladin with feverish force, tip ready to skewer the human in the chest as the weight of Vuryal prepares to assail as well, should the strike miss.

Donovan retains the intent azure stare locked upon Vuryal’s form as the foe’s thrown against the tavern façade with brutal force, focusing even more closely on the vampire as he emerges none the worse for wear from the encounter. Despite unuttered agonized screams slowly taking shape within his eyes, the paladin grits his teeth in preparation of what’s to come, defiant jut in his jaw bearing witness that he’s expecting to defend with his dying breath – if need be - the seals which now spring to empower his staunch stance. Coral hue of peace and viridian of hope swirl about the wounded warrior, seeping into his frame at points undeterminable even as Donovan averts Vuryal’s approach with the most basic of defenses: a simple yet painful roll to his left. Not even the semblance of agonized reaction evokes itself from the paladin’s lungs, however, all focus rendered to the qualities of peace and hope which now spur him beyond what he might otherwise be able. Alyna is stayed in reserve as Keane remains at a knee, head bowed in deference to the lordship of xalious as the mage god’s wrath is called into servitude. By no other act than one divine, the cross borne ‘round Donovan’s neck removes itself from about its resting place, chain following suit as it hovers above the paladin’s knelt, prayerful form. Whilst the knight of faith remains in silent, imploring reverie xalious answers the servant, the cross’ use only now becoming clear. With but a glance of Donovan toward Vuryal, the relic’s purpose is enacted: it speeds toward Vuryal, trailing a streak of luminescent ivory with which it enshrouds the vampire as it swirls about his form more times than the paladin can count. Presumably obscured from Vuryal’s view, the sharp-footed trinket passes unharmed through the purging veil of xalious, seeking out the vampire’s undead heart as any holy stake would.

Vuryal struggles against the tightening bounds of the holy assailant, rips of flesh from its chain erupting upon his frame, sanguine fluid cascading to the ground. Shouting unrecognizable syllables, the pouch around the neck of the chronomancer falls towards the solid earth, spilling forth its contents upon impact. The sands within hold the answer to the vampire’s plight, the time of this realm slowing, but not enough to avoid this assault from Donovan. The trinket strikes, though not upon its true path as the undead beast has thrashed around enough to subject his abdomen to this perilous strike. Shrieking out from his dire pain, Vuryal’s voice booms throughout, echoing off the wooden establishment nearby, quickly dying out and turning into an eerie silence. Shaking off the loosened chain now, the vampiric mage walks towards Donovan, a slight limp from numerous cuts visible upon his entirety, sword still grasped within his stout right hand. He walks with intent towards the paladin; shaft and blade tip are now pointed parallel to the ground, directly towards the human as if it is marking its target. However, instead of approaching further the object is thrown, its strange properties evident as it becomes a new weapon, two large, spiked balls with a chain connecting them. In a moment, it is upon the man, wrapping about his frame as the distance between the pair of deadly spheres close in around him, their circular motion increasing in both speed and strength, soon to be felt by their target as the vampire watches with his fiery eyes.

Donovan hunches his shoulders at Vuryal’s bellow of pain, the action prompting a rival howl from the paladin’s tongue as the loosened joints as he attempts to cover his ears, to no avail. Struggling to his feet, Alyna’s servant wearily trails cobalt orbs over the oncoming strike, concern nowhere to be found on his countenance despite its ominous appearance. Instead he draws a sharp breath, drooping both eyes closed as lips part in a reverent incantation met with swift answer from his protector, though too late for salvation for the paladin – or so it would appear. The chain uses Donovan as a fulcrum much like string would a stake, wrapping about his form from either direction as it squeezes the paladin’s remaining breath from his lungs, both spiked orbs only serve to deliver apparent crushing finality to the knight of faith. What goes unnoticed as Donovan breathes his last is a barely detectable azure hue, swirling about the broken paladin in wide swaths as Alyna works to revive her champion, hero of mortality. After a moment’s pause Keane’s eyes slit open, his guiding spirit’s power still working to restore him in full as his breath draws in protest of the binding chains. Alyna’s power is rendered to him in totality as with a great heave Donovan inhales fully, power of the divine shattering his bonds and leaving him standing, fighting fit and very much alive though his shoulders still remain weak. Drawing gingerly the blades on either hip, Keane approaches Vuryal with malicious intent despite all that’s battered him, searing pain shoved from the mind by the very entities he battles to protect – hope and peace. Approach complete, Donovan laboriously strikes thrice with each blade in a criss-cross fashion, sure to shred the vampire into miniscule Vuryal-bits if he’s stood in awe of the knight’s great escape.

Vuryal’s mouth drops slightly, attack once more futile and useless, the great paladin breaking free from all binds and remaining unscathed. Cherry toned hues fall upon the encroaching attacker, glints of the steel flirting with the watchful gaze of the chronomancer, motionless and still in awe of what has taken place this day. Reacting, though with the laggardness of a drunk, Vuryal brings up his arms, crisscrossing them before his face in defense, his limbs soon splayed as pieces of his own body begin to spray upon the ground. His wings take hold of his frame, vehemently beating upon his back, thrusting him away from the ghastly position before the warrior’s blows. Landing some distance away, the figure of the vampire collapses on the terra, exhausted, arms tainted crimson from the sheer amount of fluid draining from them, pooling at his feet along with the other gashes throughout his frame from the earlier offensive. His weary look upon his foe comes to fruition, a look of fatigue riding towards the oceanic orbs of Donovan before his head drops, accounting for the next course of action for his beaten body.

Back to The World Called Hollow Homepage
Back to Vuryal's Homepage
Back to Donovan's Homepage
Back to Duels Information Page

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License.