He delighted in this, as chaos descended almost instantly on the battle. Saran'zol, overwhelmed by a barrage of attacks and the gembound, flirting in and out of his range, burning and infesting and tearing open his scales. A GOOD BATTLE!! At LAST.

The wave of force rippling out from the valkhound did not bother him in the slightest. He covered his face with his arms and took the hit, feeling himself thrown back, but quickly righted, feeling bruised and aching from the slam of force that had rattled his bones against his armor. He snarled and opened his jaws, intending on sending a jet of fire towards the enemy, instead of getting right in his face again.

THE CHAMPION,
UNBOUND

saran'zol

the unbound champion

160/300

▼BURNING ▼INFESTED ▼POISONED

The valkhound continued to whirl around, apparently paying no attention to the gembound that dodged his flurry of attacks. Fahl was lucky - while his wings managed to swing him out of the path of the staff, he was right in the path of the energy blast. Thankfully, Relic had been there to pull him out and he emerged without a scratch.

Saran'zol's head swiveled, right, left as strikes rained down from many sides, but none that made him flinch. He reared, more of his spikes and plates crushed under the force of the black hole behind him, black blood now beginning to seep down from his back. A blast of fire slammed into his chest and he reeled back from the burn and it seemed, for a moment, that he would lunge that way. But then a sharp sting got right under his plates and he snarled, the swordstaff suddenly arching to the side to swing towards the Bauxite.

The handle continued to blaze and burn, the smell of burning skin beginning to obfuscate the entire area. Yet the warrior seemed fearless, he seemed to feel little pain and simply whirled the staff to its next target - a close-by mage that had temporarily locked itself in place with its own ice. The wave of force had cracked the ice shell but spared Phelix from any damage. Yet now the other end of the bladestaff was slashing down right towards that weak point.

And it seemed Saran'zol wasn't done with the Bauxite, as the hand lashed out to snatch at it, the same flash of light blasting in its direction to blind it for the moment.

Meanwhile, the red sparks began to thicken and converge around it. Energy poured from its stone and, oddly, from the hood around his neck. Some of the energy formed into a thin veil of red-tinted energy around his body, others began to stitch themselves through his wounds. The blood stopped pouring from the wound on his leg and began to partially scar over before the gembound's eyes.

The Champion was far from being defeated.

RELIC 20/20	AZRAEL 12/20	SHRIKE 20/20
FAHL 20/20	GAHERIS 20/20	PHELIX 20/20
BAUXITE T-ONE 20/20	NIDHOGG 20/20	AUDLAND 12/20

[ ACTION LOG ]

> Saran'zol's blade cuts towards Bauxite T-One! Failure to dodge will inflict 15 points of damage.
> The other end of the blade cuts towards Phelix! Failure to dodge will inflict 7 points of damage.
> Bauxite T-One has been blinded! Any targeted attack next turn will miss.
> Saran'zol has cast Repel! The next attack to hit may rebound or have unexpected consequences...
> Saran'zol regenerates 15 HP!


> Saran'zol takes 4 damage from burning and 4 damage from infestation!
> Azrael hits Saran'zol with a blast of fire for 15 damage!
> Gaheris keeps up his event horizon for another 15 damage!
> Bauxite T-One stings Saran'zol for 18 damage and poisons him!
> Azrael and Audland take 8 damage from the vaccuum!
> Fahl dodges the blade, and Relic pushes him out of the way of the vaccuum!
> Shrike and Phelix dodge the vaccuum!

@Relic (Gaheris, Bauxite T-One) @Nidhogg (Shrike) @Fahl @Azrael @Phelix @Audland

With the blindness finally fading from Audland's eyes, he could now see what a pretty sitting—or more like laying duck he had made, with his back flat against the ground. He'd hit the back of his head on his way down, which might've passed him out for a few seconds, but it's not like he could've told. The aching, occasional stabbing feeling in his body suggested something might be broken, but with the amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins right now, Audland felt it was still fine to stand. One more hit like that and he might go down.

Speaking of things that are down and things that are not, this stupid gay dragon centaur thing was still upright and moving. Curse its longevity. From what Audland could tell from a cursory analysis, some of those beautiful wounds were beginning to close up on their own. Now that was just not fair. (Author's note: Shaking my head as I write my piss baby loser to show I disagree with him.)

Audland needed to do something with this accursed vision of his. The fungi had taken root; Audland should probably give them more time to feed before blowing them up completely. He needed distance if he wanted to avoid those wicked blades and any other stupid secret compartment on the valkhound's body. Maybe he could take some vengeance for the last round of combat? But taking Saran'zol's sight wasn't doing enough damage.

What happens when you rapidly change elevation? Audland knew from climbing that ridiculously tall mountain in Ursa once or twice. Anything with blood and lungs and a multitude of other body parts tended to dislike it when the air suddenly got thinner. Maybe Audland could accomplish something of that nature here, in a radius encircling the Unbound Champion's head.

Audland would aim his focus the area Saran'zol's head was occupying. The black tendrils of chaos would attempt to rob that region of its air density, and if it worked, Saran'zol would know what it was like for the cruelly-named blobfish when it was forced to rapidly ascended from the depths. Well, maybe it would be more like if Saran'zol was suddenly transported to a nice mountain peak vacation. Better pop your ears if you have 'em, buddy.

Explanation: Sudden lack of pressure (usually due to high elevations) can cause breathing to become more difficult and may disorient / interrupt the sense of balance. Some people start to have nose bleeds. The attempt is to disorient Saran'zol, and possibly induce a greater level of exhaustion due to less available oxygen.

Wholly focused on Saran'zol now, Azrael charged to the side, this time towards the armless side that hadn't yet been hit. He didn't want to get in the way of those dual blades, but with how the champion was wielding it, the proficiency in which he swung the weapon around, he figured there wasn't a single place that was safe from it.

Unsure what the energy barrier was, and without particularly caring, Azrael opened his jaws to blast another jet of flames - more places to burn and singe and damage the fighter. Unfortunately, though, the fire didn't come. He stopped moving, feeling it stick in his throat. He coughed a few embers out, snarling with frustration.

Nidhogg had made a sort of career out of cowardice. He could sneak with the best of them, come up with distractions, disguises, and dirty tricks. But sometimes, being the chaos noodle that he was, the urge to bite subsumed him.

This was one of those times.

He was slithering around the edges of the battle, avoiding Saran'zol's ire. The moment he was (in his mind) well-placed, he darted in from behind, jaws aiming for a snapping bite and tear at the back of one of the centaur-hound's rear legs. Maybe a hamstring! Maybe he'd miss entirely! Maybe a secret third thing, like the Repel spell the Champion had applied, without Nidhogg's knowing!

If it were just a miss, Nidhogg would retreat again, genius (coward) that he was, and circle back for a different opportunity. Or the same one, again.

Shrike turned, eyed up the chaotic mini-battlefield, and decided to try a hit into Saran'zol's side. If she could swoop down low enough, maybe she could sweep the leg... s. Some of them. One of them? She didn't know, but putting it off-balance for the others to take the brunt of seemed smart.

She folded her wings and dove down, spreading them nearer to the dirt, hoping to flick out her tail to lash it into the Unbound Champion's legs as she did a fly-by.

She was as unaware of the Repel spell as Nidhogg had been.

It has to be true

Perhaps he lacked a bit of foresight. The ice shell DID protect him from the terrifying shockwave of energy- but it also left him a sitting duck, something he abruptly realized as one end of Saran'zol's swordstaff went careening right towards him.

He'd abandon the remains of the icy shield, slipping away just as the blade slammed into the space he previously occupied. He scuttled awkwardly raised up on his tentacles, like a scared spider, as he tried to dodge the stomping feet of the other combatants.

I'm counting on you
To be my wings and my eyes

Wings formed purely of light could only last for so long, especially when conjured out of desperate need rather than for a more deliberate purpose. As swift as the spike of magic which had crafted them, the glowing feathers comprising these ethereal appendages flickered, the energy to power them already depleted, and they dissolved into wisping trails of stardust. Though it'd performed admirably in preventing his being impaled, nothing could save him now from the second source of doom approaching him as a rippling wave of force.

At least that'd been his resigned belief, staring out at the incoming danger, until a gentle pressure clamped around his body. Preemptively tensed against the powerful blow he'd expected to hit, this sudden sensation didn't relax his muscles an iota. However, the lack of crunching bones provided a small measure of assurance, even as Relic's fleeing whipped up a breeze that smacked against his face.

That tiniest hint of relief evaporated upon being tossed into a somersault. His limp position, hefted by the torso, worsened. His perspective spun during the flip while dangling limbs and head shook about. Then came the impact against the ground, a massive jolt to the system. Rattled as he was, Fahl couldn't tell apart the immense clattering surrounding him from that of his teeth when his jaws collided. Alive and released, but potentially concussed, he heaved himself, stumbling, to his feet.

"I—" He hesitated and swallowed. "I think—I'm fine. Thank you."

He had to be, even if his legs threatened to slip out beneath him while he spoke. An unconscious body on the battlefield would be useless at best and trampled at worst.

Speaking of which, the series of close calls made it clear to him: an extra layer of protection wouldn't be amiss to employ. Although a blade would likely still cleave through magic-grown armor, at least it might cushion him from another less than ideal landing. And if their opponent was just as capable of torching him as he had done, perhaps the flammability of bark could be manipulated to his advantage by returning the favor with flaming whips.

The pressure taken off of him for a moment, maximum effort could be invested into distributing magic along his back, underbelly, and the top of his head. At each point he concentrated this power, pale bark crept out from scales, merging into rough plates, unbroken except where the thorns adorning his hide poked through. Fahl exhaled once he felt the spell fully take root and observed the fight, tail lashing over the arena floor. Though he desired to stand on the tips of his claws, ready to spring into evasive action should another hazard be flung his way, nausea kept his feet planted on the ground. So recently battered, preparing to launch into a run threatened to topple the iguana into a pathetic sprawl.

@Relic (for visibility)

Try not to die, Bauxite. It would very embarrassing to do that in front of your mother.

He'd been overconfident, closing the distance too soon. No, he should've waited until the champion was weaker, then he could've closed in and face no retaliation, stinging and ripping and shredding - the blade flashed towards him.

He squealed, an awful sound - he could see nothing, only feel, unable to keep the Champion from cutting through him. In a single swift movement the Bauxite's blue blood was spattered in a line, soaking into the gravel. The cut was long, bone deep, starting dangerously close to his throat and curving into his shoulder and side.

The good news is that it wasn't instant fatal - but left untreated for just a few more minutes, it would be.

realised after posting that there's literally no chance he's getting saved because 1. everybody's posted now and 2. he sucks so i edited in the damage after the fact

Gaheris had stayed a safe distance away from Saran'zol, letting her magic do the work. But she watched as he threw the larger combatants like they were nothing, scraps of fur and muscle, and she began to consider pressing forward herself. She did not have bulk on her side, but it was clear this wasn't a fight won by sheer mass alone. Perhaps this shrimpy little wyvern stood a better chance than she'd assumed.

He saw his opportunity with the energy shimmering over the Champions hide. Perhaps they shared an element, if only partially? Worth investigation. And if he was using the spell he assumed he was... Well. Let's see what happens.

She did not have the benefit of age or experience, but she still managed to mirror Saran'zol's spell of choice, surging forward to deliver it and bracing for catastrophic impact if she'd misjudged.