You just defeated your opponent (The post above) And now he’s barely standing on his feet. Perform your finishing move on him for daring to challenge you in combat, and claim your victory!
(Note: Generally speaking, Talraea isn’t very vindictive. If she does this to you, you must’ve really worked to make her hate you. Or you killed her mom. That’s what the last guy did.)
After disarming Sigehr and slashing his hands to prevent him from casting, Talraea calls a pair of Void-infused shadow clones to grip his arms and force him to his knees. She plants her palm on his forehead and focuses her will on him. The power of the Void swirls around her hand and the Blood Elf’s head, and soon he can hear the whispers too… only they’re not whispers for long.
The voices build, incoherent, growing louder and more frantic with every heartbeat. Soon the low susurrus as become a violent cacophony of screams. It overwhelms the warlock’s own thoughts until nothing exists but the mad screaming of the Void, and still it keeps building.
Eventually there isn’t enough room in his head for it all. Cracks start to form across the skull, glowing with baleful, violet light, spreading across his head until finally, mercifully, the Void is silenced. All it cost was Sigehr’s life, as his headless body attests.
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Zyamara would summon tenctacles of pure living darkness, so cold, they are hot like a heart of a blazing star, to grab the ankles and wrist of her opponent, while one grabs the head
Then she would reach out with her mind, to dig deep in the soul and mind of her opponent, slowly and painfully destroying her memories, the most precious moments of her life
With every hatred and bitternes that built up in her, since she was forced te leave Argus behind, she would watch as the hungry Void consumes the memories, life and tought of her opponent, childhood, friends, loves, happy moments and sads… she would flay her defeated opponent’s mind and soul, until with tears on her face, she would let out a painfull psyhic scream, ending the tortureous moments , leaving just enoug of the collasping opponent’s ‘self’ and awareness, to look up her from the ground, to watch as she rises one of her hooved feet then with a powerful stomp, she would crush the skull of the other… ending her miseries
The body would be disposed in to the silent nothingess between the start
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"You are all psychos.
I would stomp on his face and end him there and then.
There are still more Humans and Night Elves in the world, and so there is no time to waste on vain ritual killing.
And Dwarves, oh dear, I need to find a timeslot for those too somehow… " Goes to check his calendar.
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(Obviously the Atomic Leg Drop and then hold my hand around my ear, pointing it to the crowd just before I start flexing my muscles and call everyone my brother)
Mauro here would give him the coup de grace by the way of slicing his jugular atteries, but only if he couldn’t capture his enemy. Not really font of killing another, he would choose to be done with it quickly.
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He was certainly an interesting fight for Thuldrell. But certainly nothing the sergeant couldn’t handle. But with the crowd gazing at the Nightborne, he couldn’t miss the oppurtunity to gloat!
He plunges his gladius deep within the paladin’s chest, and while the human tries to pull it out in vain, Thuldrell screams to the crowd in sadistic glee. Arms spread
as if to say “Come at me!”
“CAN I GET A REAL CHALLENGE?!? HAHAHA!”
He laughs the whole way back to the poor man, and a swift decapitation is all it takes to put the paladin out of his misery.
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Through some contrivance of fate, Mari has to fight and kill this poor guy in a spectacular, showboating fashion that goes against her general reluctance and sense of practicality. Maybe she is being coerced to do so? Regardless, she may be a stereotypically suffering artist but also a warlock that won’t mess around. In typical mortal kombat fatality style she does one of two things:
Having Aelwena restrain the warrior to a kneeling state with the succubus’ whip about his hands or neck, Marinya gently traces the prone warrior’s face with her fingertips and harshly pulls back, her fingers closed around something, dragging a wisp of green along with her clenched fist. The trailing green mist unwinds like a spool of thread from Thuldrell and gathers as an orb in the centre of Mari’s palm, glowing brighter by the second as her victim’s body withers and dries up until it’s inapable of supporting the weight of his armour and crumbles into dust. Mari flicks her wrist to dismiss the remaining glow from her hand, letting Thuldrell’s lifeforce fade away as the glow falters.
Or…
A much too drained warrior can no longer put up a fight, weighed down by exhaustion, curses and other vile magics. He struggles to stand and raise his sword in an attempt to defy his fate but every limb feels as if it’s filled with lead. The blade slips from his fingers as Mari gestures to summon forth Aelwena. Quietly, Mari gestures to a tiny scratch on her cheek that Thuldrell inflicted during the fight and the sight of Mistress being so horrifyingly mutilated sends the fiercely overprotective/clingy succubus into a rage that Mari does nothing to discourage, instead playing up the theatrics of being so gravely injured by this thoughtless savage. Aelwena Unleashed™ does terrible, terrible things to him and the crowd goes wild.
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As her foe falls to their feet in defeat before her, Mahli’ficia Darkstar turns around to face her two servants; a towering, 6 armed shivarra warrioress and a grinning Succubus.
She then holds up two straws in her hand, and smiles.
“So which one of you two will be the lucky one tonight?”
…
She then cocks her head to glare down towards a tiny imp dancing at their feet.
“And no, you are still disqualified after the last city-fire, Zit.”
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This does feel fun!
As an Orc who felt himself cheated by being risen as a monstrous killing machine, Orig would not dare spend the last of his Warrior’s honour by striking down an enemy whilst she is barely standing.
Despite the use of her demons and magicks, she is still worth a proper death, and offers her the chance to gather a second wind. On that instance, his move would be to make equal grounds with her again; by slaying demon or countering her spells with his own foul ability, only to deliver a final blow worthy of any contender who has chosen to fight.
Partly also because if he is outdone by the opponent, it would be a true honour to finally sleep without resorting to the shameful second option.
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