Yasha eyed the distance between her and her kobold opponent. She had the advantage of both reach and strength, but he was very fast and quite agile. Even now he danced away from the swipe of her staff, flashing a reptilian grin at her. She blocked his counter attack, and used the momentum to follow through with a second attack of her own. It was low and slow, however, and she was unsurprised to see him hop right over it. She was barely able to counter his next attack with the butt of her weapon as he dove in under her swing. Still, he was tiring faster than she was, his narrow shoulders heaving as he panted. If she could stay conservative in her attacks and vigilant in her defense, she would be able to score a final, decisive hit on him eventually.
He knew this too, however. Determined, he redoubled his attacks, striking first to the left, and then feinting to the right. His staff was shorter and lighter, made in proportion to his smaller frame, and thus was also faster. She kept up with his flurry of attacks at first, blocking them all, and the sharp crack of their contact echoed in the empty hall. She was fighting fully defensively now, forced backwards step-by-step as he pressed his attack. Sweating, she glanced backwards briefly, unsure in this unfamiliar place if she was being driven back into one of the hall's massive support pillars, or into one of the benches that lined its shadowed walls. A moment of distraction was all he needed. He feinted left and right this time, finally diving in on her off side. A moment before the blow landed, she realized she would not get the staff back around in time to block his attack.
She yelped as his staff smacked the back of her knee. It wasn't hard enough to bring her to the floor, but it was a painful blow in a tender spot.
"Ow. OK, Deekin. Your point," she admitted, leaning down to rub her stinging leg. "What's the score now?"
Deekin gave her a pleased, sharp-toothed grin before looking thoughtful for a moment. "Deekin thinks it is five to two now, Boss. You still winning."
She nodded and shifted the grip on her staff as she straightened once more. She preferred a long sword and shield to the quarterstaff, truth be told. She was also unused to fighting with no armor, as her smarting knee would attest to. The staff worked well enough for their practice, however, and it was good for her to keep up her skill in other weapons. Besides, she was very unsure of the drows' hospitality after her rather abrupt appearance in their midst yesterday, and didn't really feel comfortable asking around for practice swords.
Deekin tilted his head at her. "You wants to go again maybe? Deekin is ready if Boss is. You still got legs up on poor little Deekin."
"Not for long if you keep hitting me like that," she responded dryly. It wasn't too far from the truth. He was more suited to casting spells and using his crossbow, but he had been traveling with her in very dangerous quests, and his skills in combat were undeniable.
Deekin turned his head sharply and peered to their left, giving her a moment's notice before a slow, methodical clap broke into their conversation. Several figures emerged from the darkness shrouding one of the hall's main doorway. Yasha blinked at them for a moment, trying to identify them as they approached, and was momentarily annoyed, as she was sure the superior eyesight of both the drow and Deekin had her at a disadvantage in the dark room. As they approached, she thought she recognized the leader of the three, though she couldn't pull his name out of the jumbled and rushed introductions from the night before. She vaguely remembered him being an important soldier in the drow House allied with her erstwhile hostess, the Seer.
"I must say I am so very impressed with our new human heroine," he said with dry sarcasm as he approached. "She's able to defeat a mighty kobold five times out of seven."
None of the approaching drow wore armor, and they appeared to be unarmed, but Yasha had fought enough drow recently to know to treat them warily, even if they were supposed allies. These, of course, were allies of allies, and she was pretty sure that meant very little in the Underdark. Besides, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up as they approached and her paladin spirit sense reacted to their evil intent. Yasha and Deekin exchanged a cautious glance, and at her nod he fell back slightly as they approached.
"I'm glad you enjoyed our sparring," she replied, meeting his gaze evenly as he approached. "I do hope I haven't disrupted anything. We were just waiting for the Seer to arrive."
Her hopes that vague threats of the imminent arrival of the drow camp's leader would dissuade them were short lived. He sneered out her, then turned to his companions and made some caustic comment in the drow tongue. Yasha made a mental note to learn as much of the drow language as she could in the very near future as they dutifully laughed with him. One watched her with open glee, while the other had a more wary, but no less aggressive stance. She examined them more closely, and saw they all had a small short sword or dagger stashed unobtrusively but within easy reach.
"Care to try your skill against a true warrior?" their leader asked, drawing her eyes back to him, "Or do you only fight kobolds, or perhaps small children?"
Yasha gritted her teeth at his words. The insult had no teeth, and she knew they underestimated her or Deekin at their own peril. However, her little knowledge of drow society left her few delusions about the source of their animosity. If they saw her as weak, they saw her as prey. His challenge was not intended to be a friendly bout. While it had certainly not been HER idea to join forces with their House, she would not be the one to start any true violence if it could at all be avoided.
"You're suggesting a practice duel, then?" Hopefully her voice remained cool, but it was hard to tell. She felt pre-battle tension coil in her chest as the three drow moved casually to flank her and Deekin.
"Indeed. Something to liven up the morning and," he hesitated, and flashed a nasty grin at her, "get the blood flowing."
"Something to get the blood flowing? I've heard the drow do appreciate such things," she wryly noted. "I'm afraid we only have one staff suitable, unless you wish to borrow Deekin's."
"Keep your staff," the drow sneered. "I do not need it to defeat you."
Yasha pursed her lips and examined her apparently unarmed opponent. She smiled a bit to herself, unable to resist a bit of baiting. "You wish to fight me unarmed? I admit that I'm not familiar with drow dueling traditions, but that seems a little odd. Still, if that's what you prefer..."
Shrugging, she walked towards the center of the hall, and bowed slightly to her opponent, though it was truthfully barely more than a nod, and took up a defensive stance. He sauntered after her slowly with the wicked grin still on his face and a ruby glint in his eyes, eventually taking a position a few yards from her. His stance was relaxed, and completely open. Yasha waited warily.
"Boss!"
She sensed the movement even as Deekin cried out. She only half saw the attack, but between her journey into the Plane of Shadow and her recent battles through the Underdark, that was hardly a knew sensation. She twirled, catching the dagger of one of the dark elf's companions with her staff, and carrying the swing through to land a solid blow in the other's stomach as he came up on her other side. Even as she shifted her grip to bring her weapon back to bear on her two enemies, she heard the low, monotonous chanting of the drow still behind her, and felt the undeniable surge of magic from him.
She braced herself for some arcane onslaught, and was momentarily taken off guard when none came. Instead, she was forced to again concentrate on the two enemies before her as the both attempted to take advantage of her confusion. She again countered a quick slice from a dagger, and smacked the forearm of its wielder so hard the sound echoed off of the stones, followed quickly by his cry of pain. The one to her right, still breathless from the smack to his rib cage, was slower, and caught the butt of her staff on the chin. His eyes glazed over as his head snapped back, but even as he fell to the floor she heard the drone of another spell being cast behind her.
She snuck a quick glance in the spell caster's direction, but was only able to catch a glimpse of the coalescing magical energy before turning back to the remaining dagger wielding drow. This time he got in under her guard, but his injured arm betrayed his aim, and the blade sliced across her cheek instead of her jugular.
A third series of magical incantations echoed from behind her. She growled, and pressed forward in a reckless series of attacks; first left, then right, then in low behind his knees, duplicating the attack Deekin had so recently used against her. She put more power behind her blow, however, than Deekin did or ever could, and swept the dark elf off of his feet. He fell heavily to the floor, and lay unmoving beside his companion.
She indulged in a moment's wry amusement that she was using tactics learned from a kobold against drow. Drogan would have been proud. She had precious little time for musing, though, so she shook off those thoughts and turned to face her original opponent.
Arcane power now cloaked the drow in a nimbus of eerie green light. His once ebon skin was coated color of granite, and no doubt had the hardness of it as well. In his hand was a short sword, sickly ichor dripping from the blade. Yasha barely had time to curse her inability to have stopped his casting before he leapt to the attack, cutting off further consideration. Her staff caught his blade, which hissed and smoked as it bit deeply into the wood. She used all of her greater mass and strength to push him backwards, throwing him and his blade bodily away from her unarmored body. Dolefully, she looked down at her smoldering staff. Whatever caustic substance covered that blade had eaten a large chunk out of the stout oak in the single exchange. She eyed her opponent as he circled and turned to keep him in front of her. As she shifted her footing, she let the smooth wood slip through her fingers, until she held the staff near the end farthest from the damage, and let the other end rest against the floor. She spared a brief glance behind her to where her kobold companion circled them both.
"Deekin! Duty!" From the corner of her eye, she saw him looked at her doubtfully, then at the blade he had drawn and at the ready. Hopping about a moment in indecision, he finally shook his head turned and ran as swiftly as his legs could carry him towards a side door of the hall.
"It appears your kobold lackey is not eager to fulfill his duty," the dark elf gloated.
Yasha turned back to him, struggling to hold an emotionless expression. "It appears that way, doesn't it?"
He glanced aside once more as the side door slammed closed behind the running kobold, and Yasha took the opportunity. She surged forward, wielding the staff like a huge club, and brought the still smoking end against the drow's hip. He didn't bother to dodge. His protective spells made his skin and tissue as hard as stone, and the blow jarred her arms all the way to her shoulders while sending only a flicker through the protective barrier. The already weakened end of her staff snapped like a twig.She might has well have attacked one of the massive pillars of the hall.
He laughed, turning as her momentum carried her behind him. Scowling, she shifted her grip on her weapon, and twirled, wielding its shortened length as if it were a long sword. He parried one blow after another, his hungry blade sizzling along the length of her impromptu one. They parted again, her weapon smoking like a firebrand. His protective magic cocooned him still.
"I hope there is no more question in your mind, kivvil, who is the superior."
Yasha licked her lips, tasting the coppery blood from her injured cheek. Time was her only ally if she was to survive this little encounter, and somehow she needed to gain more of it. "Superior? Already? Oh my, I did have a question, then." She relaxed her stance, and her eyes swept over the still motionless body of the drow's two companions.. "I'm not familiar with drow dueling rules. Do those two count as two points or no?"
His jaw dropped, and he blinked at her for a moment. "What?"
She savored his reaction, but struggled to maintain a wide-eyed expression of curiosity.
"These two," she said motioning at the two drow on the floor, as if there might have been some doubt as to what she referred to. She frowned at the smoking remains of her staff and waved it a couple more times to try and end the hissing disintegration. Watching his body language for clues as to his reaction, she shrugged, perhaps over-dramatically for her purposes. "If they count," she continued innocently, "then I'm two points up. Otherwise, we're still tied. At least by my calculation."
He titled his head slightly, regarding her as if she were mad. "What kind of fool are you?"
Yasha raised her eyebrows at him. "How many kinds are there?"
He growled at her, his stance shifting suddenly as he charged in insulted fury. Yasha struggled to maintain her focus as the hissing, hungry blade danced through the air around her. Her quickly weakening weapon could not bare much more direct contact, and so she dodged instead, trying to keep herself wholly out of range. The doors to the hall opened once more, and she was unable to resist a glance. Several figures lurked in the gloom by the entrance of the hall, but her stolen glance came at a steep price. She felt the blade tear through her tunic even as she jumped back. Then came the fierce slicing then burning pain as the blade cut across her stomach.
Cradling her abdomen, she gritted her teeth against the pain. It was not deep, but it hurt like all the nine hells. She hoped the acrid smoke that wafted up was more from her tunic than her skin. She couldn't be sure if the returning figures would aid her or not, and she didn't have the luxury of looking more closely to be sure. Worry only had a moment to nag her, however, and she was able to smile briefly when she noticed the figure she most hoped to see over her opponent's shoulder. The dark elf caught her smile, and started to turn, but she charged him again. No longer did she spare her makeshift blade, but attacked him in full fury. He backed a few steps, surprised, but as she suspected the oak finally gave in to the caustic blade. Yasha used her final blow's momentum to carry the wood in a powerful undercut blow. Despite his protective spells, he blinked as the weakened staff splintered in his face. Yasha did not allow the staff to die in vain. She sidestepped around the drow, and held out her hand expectantly.
Deekin, still panting from his run, threw his burden at her.
She caught it in mid-air, grabbing the still sheathed sword by its hilt. She turned just in time to awkwardly parry another blow from her opponent. He frowned first at her hand then at Deekin, and then backed off several paces. Yasha looked down and huffed as a tell-tale bit of smoke wafted up.
"Hey! That's my favorite scabbard, I'll have you know." She gripped smoking scabbard with her left hand, and started to unsheathe her sword with her right.
The dark elf hissed some drow phrase at her. Instead of lifting his blade at her as she expected, he lifted is free hand and gestured towards her. Panic stopped her heart for a moment as the world turned black. For one breathless second, she was gripped by the irrational fear that he had somehow teleported her to the Plane of Shadow. She paused, confusion and heart pounding fear fighting for dominance. Ironically, her opponent's nimbus of magic saved her. His glowing form lit up the darkness as came in for the kill, and she reflexively pulled back from his swing. For a moment, she smelled the foul stench of the acid of his blade, and felt droplets from the blade splatter and eat at her skin on her shoulder. She breathed again even as he disappeared once more into the blackness, shaking her head roughly and gripping the hilt of her blade like a lifeline. She was still in the hall, as was he. It was merely some darkness spell.
"Well done," she growled as soon as she could speak. She strained her senses, hoping to hear or see if he approached again as she pulled her blade free and held it before her. Honey gold light flashed along its surface, followed immediately by a fierce white flame. "I see the drow appreciate the advantage of surprise in battle, so I'm sure you'll appreciate this. Let me introduce you to Duty."
The sword flashed brilliantly in response to her will. Instantly the darkness around her gave way. Her opponent certainly looked surprised, though he didn't seem to appreciate it all that much.
In her hand, her holy sword pulsed of its own accord, its metallic voice sounding like a clear, tolling bell with every surge of light. Yasha savored the familiar feel of divine magic flowing through her. Though, as always, it was hard to tell if it traveled from her sword or to it. It mattered little, and she breathed deeply as the pain in her stomach faded.
Deekin began to charge forward and she waved him away with her sword. He skidded to a surprised stop, and she spared him a single, grateful smile, and shook her head once. The watchers still waited just outside of her range of vision. They may well think it a free for all if he joined in. If those watchers wished her to prove herself, then that's what she would do. The kobold frowned at her but stayed where he was.
She then turned her grin on the drow before her, slowly twining the sword belt around the forearm of her off hand. "What do you say? Should we call the points even now? Next point takes the duel?" She kept her voice light, but she felt her smile turn grim. "I imagine you generally find the phrase 'sudden death' somewhat appealing, though perhaps not so appealing now as before."
He glanced around him and seemed panicked for a moment at what he saw. Throwing caution to the wind he snarled and charged her. She parried, and parried again, her long sword intercepting the smaller before it came close, the blade so eager in her hand that the smaller blade's speed was out-matched. They met with a ferocious sizzle, as the holy fire burned away the acidic poison as quickly as the dire blade could make it. Yasha focused on her enemy, countering his movements with tight, controlled swings. She held the sword belt and scabbard still in her offhand; though out of the way and behind her to keep it out from beneath their feet.
Blood pounded through Yasha's veins as the tide turned. Her audience made no move to interfere, and she resented being forced to battle in this manner. She switched from defense to offense, slamming her blade hard against his smaller sword and willing power into her holy blade. Again, Duty responded to her will with a brilliant flare of light, and as it swept over her opponent, it washed away the green nimbus of magic and the rocky cast of his skin. Even his blade's acidic glow recoiled under the wave for a moment. His eyes widened in alarm as he realized what had happened.
He nimbly danced free of her blade, and broke off his attack. The holy sword's eager calls filled the hall, the only sound besides the shuffle of their feet on the obsidian floor. She forced herself to remember: ally of my ally. The sword thrummed with building power, and it was more of a battle to keep it in check than to keep on the attack, and she had to repeat the refrain in her head. Ally of my ally. She broke off her attack and stepped back in a relaxed, defensive stance. The drow's breaths came quick and shallow now, and he circled her warily. She turned slowly to follow him as he stalked about her, sizing her up once again. Ally of my ally, she reminded herself once more. His eyes focused behind her, and he snarled once more.
"We finish this now!"
He raised his hands, forming a pattern for the start of a spell she had seen too often in her adventuring career. Fiery death it was, but it was also a complicated spell. She smiled. There was one more surprise for him, after all. Her eager sword fairly pulled her across the space separating them. To his credit, his chanting continued non-stop, even as he flawlessly wove the deflection of her blade in with the casting of his spell. He was not, however, prepared when her scabbard followed after her blade and slammed in under his ribs.
He staggered back, gasping, and the magical energies around him dissipated. She waited for a moment for him to recover so his staggering would stop, and lunged in again. She beat back his feeble counter, finally smacking his sword out of his hands, and Duty touched his throat before the clatter of his weapon hitting the ground filled the hall. For a moment they stood still, her arm cocked back and ready to drive the blade forward. She stared at him over the pulsing light of her blade, waiting for his eyes to reflect the recognition of his defeat.
"I do hope you'll concede my point, now." His eyes flashed angrily at her words, but they also reflected bitter resignation at his defeat.
"And what point did you hope to make, Yasha, Paladin of Torm?"
Yasha pulled her blade and turned at the words, though she was careful to keep the beaten opponent within sight. Much to her chagrin, she recognized the lilting voice as that of her hostess.
"Why, the winning point of the duel of course, Seer." She replied, stepping a step or two back to position the still kneeling attacker between the her and the priestess.
She laughed, a light joyful sound like of the surface elves she had known, and so unlike what she had come to expect from any drow, let alone a priestess. "Oh?" the Seer replied. "I thought it might be the entire point of the duel you wished him to concede."
The dark elf Yasha had been fighting had a sudden sour look on his face, which did wonders for Yasha's mood. Bowing to the Seer, he thanked Yasha for the honor of a friendly duel, begged the Seer's pardon, and fairly fled from the hall. Relieved, the paladin watched him go, happy that they had both survived the encounter, although perhaps a bit more happy about her survival than his.
"Boss? Deekin thinks you need a new shirt now."
Yasha turned towards the kobold in surprise, and then looked down at her tunic. A gaping hole spread all the way across its front, and parts of it still smoldered even as she watched. The skin underneath was still pink from the recent healing of the holy magic, but she certainly had no magic that would similarly repair the gray fabric, nor wash her freshly spilled blood from it.
"I just bought this tunic in Waterdeep, too," she said mournfully. "They guaranteed the workmanship for years." Then, unable to keep her sad face, she smiled down at him. She leaned down so her quiet voice would reach him. "Well done, Deekin, on getting Duty so fast. You saved my hide."
Deekin bared his teeth in a wide smile, his dark eyes glittering in the low light. She then motioned him to follow as she approached the Seer.
The Seer's eyes flicked between Yasha's tunic and her face as she approached. "Are you injured?"
Blinking, Yasha recalled the cut on her cheek, and absently brushed it with her hand. Her fingers came away covered blood, though the shallow cut had also healed. "No longer," she replied.
"Good. However, I would appreciate it if you refrained from fighting in the main hall, if you could. We do treat it as holy ground of Eilistraee."
Yasha slid her sword back into its sheath, silencing its metallic call with a firm snap. She held the sword within its sheath before her, parallel to the floor, and formally bowed to the drow priestess. "Please believe I meant no disrespect to you, Seer, or to your goddess."
The Seer nodded her head slightly and accepted the apology with a brief smile. "No lasting harm done, I think," she said, turning to walk to the head of the hall. The paladin fell in behind the Seer, awkwardly trying to strap on her sword belt as she did so. She planned not to be without Duty again while she walked the halls of the drow.