duel against dornar

It was time.

The call for the challenge was made, and the call for the challenge was answered - for while the new High Lord expected it to go contested, with people trying to put their claim within the announcement that Basil has made.. it surprised him little that it would be one of the followers of Basten.

Here, where he walks, he adorns the arm-ring of the High Lord Shar; the last arm-ring of the true, independent Rhoynish- adorning the tapestry that was not seen for almost a hundred years. With the visage that befits the High Lord, he addresses the man clad in dark armor.

"Dornar."

"You challenge me - and here I am."

Yet, it doesn't seem that he's all too amused by this. It doesn't seem as if he truly finds himself entertained by the accusations in his address.. no, not even one bit. Already the cosmic starlight begins to flutter about his form, threatening to spill over into something much greater.

"You accuse me that I've never helped Ilburg, or only had done so out of Basten's pocket."

"Never had I asked for rewards. Never had I taken payment for protecting my home - or even taking my second family into such. Never had I asked even once to be rewarded for anything that I've done for this place."

"And even as Pariah bestowed Chiron upon Basten, even as I lost my hand defending this place from Nethradin horde - I have not said a word."

"It appears that I should have, if history is going to be skewed against me in such manner."

Already, the weapon is raised. Both of them know where this would be coming. Both of them know where this is going - and there's no denying the words that were spoken.

"According to the Rhoynish tradition, the duel for the title of High Lord is to the death."

"Step forward, then, Dornar - and follow through with your challenge."

"If you dare."
(Basil)

It felt like Dornar had been waiting for this time to come, for almost as long as he had been alive. Which was an impressive thirty-three years. Considering his lifestyle, one would have assumed that to be way beyond his expectancy, to say the least.

The feeling of a battle, was slowly starting to sink into the Black Bandit's demeanour. Some excitement was filling him, it had been a while since he had a worth while battle-- Hell, the last one was against Asta after the incident with Basten all those months ago.

Basil, was going to be quite the warrior. Dornar already expected this much.

"The fact that the 'High Lord' has to travel from his home, to the place he's supposedly in charge of-- Speaks volumes. Does it not?"

A fair point, it was an interesting situation. Basil was Rhoynish and had a blood claim to the land, yet to most people-- He was the outsider looking to force his way in. Despite Dornar truly being the outsider.

"Let's not sit here and lie, Basil.

We both know that you have taken money from Basten, from Ilburg in order to help our war efforts. To help us defend our lands. Let's not play stupid, own it. You're a pretender. You're pretending to care for this place, and that's something I can't stand at all." The black bandit slowly moved towards his feet, rubbing at his shoulders through his metal plating.

"Just fucking own it."

Moments later, Fortuna was removed from his back. Slammed into the ground nearby. Causing the cobbled ground to crack around the impact. It seemed, this was going to be a fun time to say the least.

"We both know I dare."

Simple statement, and thus-- It began.
(Dornar)

How quaint..

Yet these accusations follow, but the Rhoynur doesn't seem to waver outside of frowning to such; in the end, it remains the conviction of each warrior, and unless the bloodshed occurs to prove either side right.. there's no stopping it. There's no seeing eye to eye until one of them falls.

"I will not own it."

"Because it never happened. Pariah has offered money to us, so did Basten - we have never taken either."

"If you do not trust me, then trust the Dayndros with his word."

Regardless, already he begins to move over- to the deserts. There's but a brief gesture for Dornar to follow along - both of them know of what will be happening. And.. it's rather clear that the members of Alabastre are staying aside.

They know that Basil told them it's his fight.
They know that he will stand alone for this.

"I can talk here all day about all that I've done."

"I can provide evidence, but we're not here to talk about that, or for me to do that. We're here because you challenged me."

"Now, come. Fighting in the middle of city is not the way for this. We should not cause further destruction to our home."

He walks off to the reasonable area of combat, expecting Dornar to follow.
(Basil)

It was quite simple,

The pair were never going to see eye to eye. Dornar knew to the coin how much Basten paid this man to help in the first assault from Myllenoris on Ilburg. That wasn't something he could overlook, a supposed marauder demanding coins to protect the place he is suddenly so interested in.

liar

"Whatever, you can spout your lies to everyone else. I couldn't care less. If you can't be honest with yourself, that's a you problem. All of Ilburg know it's the truth, so there's little point in arguing the point."

There wasn't really much more point in the pair talking. Basil had his own intentions and so did Dornar, they were destined to fight one another for the mantle. It was that simple, in all honesty.

Basil would not have been happy seeing Dornar sat there, and Dornar would not be happy seeing Basil seated there.

However, the pair did agree on one thing.
"Yeah. Fighting in the city isn't gonna benefit either of us. No point in ruining our city, is there." he'd comment. In truth, it meant a lot more to Dornar that the fight took place elsewhere. Mainly due to the fact that Basten paid for all of this...

...He couldn't go round breaking everything. So with that, they head to a reasonable area.
(Dornar)

Basil has engaged Dornar in Dangerous combat, with a capture roll of 6

The brilliance.

The blessings of the star become apparent upon his frame when he calls upon the name of Alph, the Star of Judgment- with the arm-ring of the High Lord Shar over his own, as well as the tapestry that covers his frame in such manner, he truly does look as if he were a High Lord..

But some require proof, first.
Some require a testament.

"If you will not believe my words.."

"Then perhaps you will believe my might."

Here, it the light comes off as something truly great. As rosegold particles threaten to cover the entirety of existence in the manner that could overwhelm everyone standing nearby- the charge of the celestial body above giving him the necessary mana to overcome this.

To persevere,
to walk to victory.

"Come at me, then."

"And I'll show you why I should be the High Lord."

But.. whether Dornar is ready forthis or not? It seems that the steady engage already occurs.. and he would have mere moments before the clash of the warriors happens.

He asked for this. He came here for this.

And Basil would not disappoint.
(Basil)

Dornar has been defeated by Basil! They're unable to continue fighting.

{RP BATTLE} You have WON round 1!

Blood versus starlight.
Crimson versus rosegold.

Already Dornar is shown the full might of what the Rhoynur is capable of- for while they fought and clashed their weapons all this time ago, the truth is, Basil never stopped improving. And while he attempts to tackle upon Basil, to swing the mighty weapon that would no doubt bring him down the moment it's close..

He weaves and dodges.
Burning him in turn.

Here, already the cosmic starlight begins to spread out- this was far from over. So, so very far.. but he could tell that much, could he not?

"Yield."

"Or perish."
(Basil)


Large amounts of bloodclots and pools began to litter the battlefield. From both his own attacks, and the damage he had taken from Basil.

Cosmic magic, was always a difficult one. He wasn't used to battling them at all. They were, surprisingly rare. Especially ones who were in fact on the level of Basil. Dornar knew this coming into the battle. He knew the Rhoynur was not easy opponent to say the least, yet the Black Bandit had to stick to what he believed in.

After taking quite a beating from the magics of Basil, an annoyed voice replied.
"Guess you're gonna have to make me perish then-- Aren't you."

An odd response, was he mad?
(Dornar)

Dornar has been defeated by Basil! They're unable to continue fighting.

{RP BATTLE} You have WON round 2!

Little by little..
Piece by piece..

He'll take back what's been taken from him- the way how ever since his youthful ears, he's been meant to be someone working on the outside - and yet, now he's blamed for it, as if he did not contribute to Ilburg as a whole. But.. to say that it's not taking any toll on Basil?

It would be wrong.

Drip.. drip.. drip..

The trail of blood. Of all people, Dornar makes him bleed- but the starlight only resurges more with the impossible warmth; as if the Rhoynur could become the overheated supernova that collapses upon this plane.. that shows itself as the brilliant light.

Here to reap Dornar.

"You made your choice."

An inhale. The wounds are steaming with impossible warmth.. searing themselves shut.

"Now, face the consequences."
(Basil)

Alas,

The battle continued. Dornar had made his choice, this was going to end in one of their deaths. If the pretender won? Well, Ilburg would surely suffer. Least, that was the Black Bandit's opinion. Most of there people, were already making moves towards new locations.

Hell, it'd likely just become Basil and his friends. Something which Dornar didn't want to see happen, hence why he was fighting. Fighting for Ilburg.

More and more blood, covered the desert. It was hard to distinguish if it was Dornar's or Basil's, however with the battle roaring on. It was clear that sooner or later one would fall. Judging by the prolonged damage Dornar had been suffering, he was likely the one to be falling.

Although, this didn't change his drive. Nor his determination.

"You're talking too much....Ngh.." he'd grumble, perhaps showing signs of his weakness. Yet, his confidence knew no bounds.

"I'll make sure to put that on your grave."
(Dornar)

Fury and flames.

It is something that has been always in Basil's blood; it is something that Dornar would have to come face to face against in this deathmatch- for only one man would stand after this duel. Only one man would come out alive..

And Basil fought his best to make sure that it would be him.

There's so much blood.. but it isn't only the Rhoynur's. As the time goes on, Dornar finds himself overwhelmed with flames- so much so that the lot of them become explosive, infused with the starlight to the point that could prove itself to be detrimental to anyone's existence - even his own. It almost takes a toll upon Basil, and he almost falls..

But the worst comes about to Dornar.

The worst comes to him with the wave of destruction- the fury of engulfing starlight that eviscerates his flesh to the point of profusely bleeding. Here, the blood magi finds himself in the best element - the crimson colors covering him whole to the point that the dark armor almost becomes red in color..

Yet, he's weakened, beaten to the point that he cannot fight back.

"Do not stand in the way of me becoming High Lord."

"For you know not what you speak of."

A singular blast, with the beauty of starlight hidden behind it - yet, the lethality of a thousand suns, all eager to eviscerate Dornar where he stands; only by a miracle does he survive, leaving enough breath to remain laid on the ground.. but if it wasn't for any immediate help, perhaps he would perish from the wounds alone.

Where the singed, steaming hulk of a man is brought down upon the ground, Basil firmly plants his foot over the chestplate armor, standing above Dornar.

He is victorious.

"I am Basil, the Son of Ilburg."

"Today, I stand as King of Alabastre - and tomorrow, I will stand as High Lord of the Rhoynur as well."

"None shall accuse me falsely anymore. None shall try to rob me of my birthright."

And today... it may be Dornar's last day, as he witnesses the future High Lord above him; the foot remains planted over his chestplate, holding him firm..

Almost squeezing the air out of his lungs, yet enough to utter words.

"Dornar."

"You have lost the duel."

"Acknowledge your new High Lord."
(Basil)

As the battle raged forth, both people knew exactly what they were getting in for. This was a death match, how it should be. Something which would be seen from the intensity which the pair went at one another, the clashing of Fortuna against the cosmic energies of Basil.

The reckless nature of Dornar, the belief he could simply walk through absolutely everything thrown his way, was ultimately going to be his downfall. Something which was predicted all those years ago, by none other than Dun Task.

Figures, the old man was right. What a pity, Dornar hated when he was right.

The quantities of blood which occupied the sands of Ilburg, was immeasurable. The majority of it most certainly being Dornar's yet-- He continued, perhaps beyond a point where even a blood magi could.

Through the tearing's of his armour, the flesh exposed-- Though coated in blood, appeared pale beyond belief. He was all but out of blood, truly giving every ounce of his being for this fight.

For this cause.

In his weakened, exposed state. Dornar fell victim to something which he had no chance of walking through, not anymore. Not in his current state. Starlight waves, seemingly rip through his being. Chunks of the Nyeshk armour is seen being tossed around, from each and every impact against the frame of the Black Bandit.

...And yet, he still stood.

Until Basil unleashed a final blast towards Dornar, beyond lethal, which caused the now frail looking bandit to fall down to his knees, before dropping onto his back.

The sound of Dornar's spluttering and inability to heal his wounds, showed that this was to be his end. Yet, Basil placed his boot upon what remained of Dornar's chestpiece, which in reality-- Wasn't much in the slightest.

Dornar's helmet, embedded in the sand next to him. Which he peered towards. Thinking upon everything, that had lead him to this moment. His time now, was short-- He was about to pass on. There was but time for one parting comment.

Turning towards Basil, the purple haired bandit. Friend of all of Ilburg had one thing to say.

"...Y...Yo...You ain't shit."
Perhaps Basil would lash out in anger and end him, but regardless. Dornar was on that path.
(Dornar)

How is he supposed to feel about this? For while security of his position as High Lord mattered a lot.. truthfully, there was still mercy for Dornar, even at the hour such as this. But now, when he would refuse to acknowledge Basil as the new High Lord, where he would spit upon his name in such manner..

There's only a frown.

Surprisingly, despite the rosegold starlight that permeated across his frame, there was no rage, no lashing out against the Black Bandit; for even to lose this duel would not mean death to Dornar immediately.. but instead, it would be the test to see whether he would bother even attempting to adjust to this.

"You pitiful man."

"I gave you sight, yet you do not see."

But that's the end of it for him, isn't it? For while the foot of the Rhoynur remains pressed onto Dornar's chest, already the starlight gathers around the frame of Basil. This time, however, the intent isn't to battle him..

No, not at all..
It carries lethal intent.

"You could've lived."

"You could've seen what beautiful future awaits Ilburg. Of all the glory, all the Wonders, all the good that is made for us. But.."

The starlight gathers upon the frame of Dornar. Already it begins to sear him- yet, as much as his skin is already steaming with the overbearing heat, surprisingly, it's almost as if it feels.. painless.

Almost as if he feels nothing but the pull of the stars that try to claim his soul.

"But the purpose defines us."

"The purpose drives us. The purpose gives us meaning. And if your purpose is only to stand in my way.."

"Then you no longer have place here."

A snap. It's almost as if the last cord of lifeforce is torn- the starlight seeping deep within his body and effectively botching the internal processes. His eyesight, his sense of smell, of touch, they all begin to go one by one as the body begins to die out, piece by piece. Until..

"Goodbye, Dornar."

His hearing is gone too. And so is his life, with the final heartbeat produced by his body. This was his last battle. This was his final stand.

And today, his soul flees to the stars.
(Basil)

Despite everything, the Arborea doesn't close or avert his eyes and instead, watches every single one of his friend's last moments. They weren't the smartest, never were, but they were still to be respected for sticking to what they believed in, were they right or wrong.

He doesn't even blink as the starlight finally claims there life nor does he shed a tear for another death.

With a soft sigh, he drops down from the ledge and lands on the sands. His intent being to wait on the side to collect his friend's remains if they were not tended to. He planned on giving them the burial he felt they deserved.
(Cayden Arborea)

Zion laid eyes on the lifeless man. His eyes held no hue of color. He seemed like an empty shell. It reminded him of the look in the eyes of many people. How their grayish pupils held no memory of them although their features stayed.

He drank the bottle again emptying it.

"What do you people plan to do with his body, if you don't take I will bury it near Illburg."
(Zion Cai)

Courage, honest... True. A mere fraction of what thought the man to be and maybe it was luckily for him that the short exchange of words had between them?

Allowed him just solely the sight of that alone, no banditry or underhanded deeds.

Just an honest man, fighting for what he believed in.

Left now only with a short-lived, but impactful pain in his chest. Maybe due to the sight of death, having to enact the mans last will. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, he wasn't really able to process it all.

Looking over at his master for a moment as they talked. Only to look back in direction of, basil. "Hey! The black bandit helmet. You better make sure someone worthy wears it! It was a promise he asked us to do."

Not expecting to have the helmet handed over, he didn't care so much for the item as much as the value it had for the man who'd now passed away. But even so? Dead men told no tales, but breathing souls; keep promises.
(Endiku)

It's never pleasant.

But some things just have to be done, and much like expected in this scenario, it is something that the newly made High Lord of the Rhoynur had to perform. Truthfully, as much as Dornar challenged him in such manner.. he never planned to kill him. It was always his intention to give him a chance..

To let him repent and acknowledge Basil as the High Lord.

Yet, he didn't. Even in his final moments, Dornar was defying, refusing to acknowledge such chance- whether the man is to be praised or admonished for it, however, remains a wholly different ordeal.

"...It's over."

There seems to be a thoughtful expression upon his face where he witnesses the lifeless body of Dornar before him. But.. soon enough, his gaze turns towards those that once called him their family.

"I do not intend to do anything with the body."

"You can bury him. He issued an honor challenge to the death, as per Rhoynish tradition - and he lost it."

"But this does not make him any less. He lost with honor, and he may receive appropriate burial."

He had no interest to try and besmirch the name of Dornar; even though he opposed him, he could see why he's done so.. albeit, his notions were founded on false accusations - on the accusations that could be easily disproved.

By Dayndros himself, no less. But.. he was too far gone among the lies, wasn't he?

"His helmet is a worthy relic."

"It will join the rest of the relics I retrieved from Osrona, lost during Conquest of Rhoynur, in service of our people and in service of battle when called upon."

"None that are unworthy would wear it. That much I can promise."

At the very least..

He can do that for someone who died sticking for their own ideal.
(Basil)