GR2011: Whisper vs Khayyam (R4)

---

Match Start: October 25th, 2011 @ 12:00 PM EST
Match End: November 25th, 2011 @ 12:00 PM EST
Post Response Limit: 4 days

Stage Description: Roaring Rock Theater

In the distance, a lone glass-like plateau rests amid the soil-ridden field hard rock plains, a stark contrast to the nearby glacial white peaks . Under the twilight sky a solitary spire rises nearly three hundred and fifty feet into the smoke filled air ending in a flat top that is about one hundred feet in diameter. Centered on the top of the landmark, tall pillars of carved stone surround a wasteland arena. Other than the contestants forced to visit this landmark the arena is lifeless. There are few clusters of large boulders and random spurts of crushed rock that litter the smooth stone floor that remain from the construction of the twelve pillars that stand roughly thirty feet high. Present thermal activity near Mount Alzipen in the fumarole fields surrounding Roaring Rock Theater are measured near 60 degrees Celsius (140 degrees Fahrenheit).
http://www.sdnhm.org/exhibits/shelton/i ... iprock.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/c ... pisano.JPG
http://web.mit.edu/edbert/Chile/FumaroleChimney.jpg

-------------

The rapidly sinking orb at his back elongated his shadow, making him seem taller than his meager five foot frame represented, pointing toward the desolate arena. Khayyam could barely hear the sound of his own excited gasp of wonderment, muffled amid the roaring hiss of steam and gasses created by the numerous hydro-thermal vent holes hundreds of feet below his arrival platform. Deep regular breaths slowly calmed his racing heart, awestruck in the presence of the majesty and raw power of the planet’s unique splendor. The mild acrid stench of brimstone that accompanied the moist heated air burned lightly at his nostrils and lungs at the increased intake.

The lengthy silhouette led the procession into the ring before his feet had crossed the barren threshold within the circle. With even graceful strides the veteran warrior watchfully made his way between two large pillars of stone. Khayyam’s eager brown eyes methodically searched the parched landscape for his opponent, lingering momentarily upon the random heaps of crushed stone that litter the smooth volcanic rock floor. Except for the pillars and the few clusters of boulders near the perimeter, there would be little to afford protection once the fight broke out on this lifeless battleground. His journey ended ten feet inside the southern arc of the circular eighty foot ring created by the recently constructed pillars of stone.

Khayyam was anxious to explore the strange new powers revealed to him during the out of body experience among the spirit animals. He now possessed knowledge of what he assumed to be a few key trigger phrases; shoot to kill, kusanagi, thunderbird, and of course the eight legged spider. The venture still seemed far too risky to employ at this point, but the thought had crossed his mind. Except for the vague ramblings of the spider and a few random clips of video footage he had little idea to their effects. To wildly call upon their talents gun given the nature of the turmoil surrounding his authority could have disastrous results.

A wicked smile curved his lips, relishing the possibilities as large beads of condensation rolled down the cooler flesh of his bare chest and arms. He wasn’t even sure what his opponent knew of the man Kei’Taro or if she had encountered him personally but if she had the mere sight of the stolen tattooed carcass even without the accompanying benefits could prove disturbing. One hand rested gamely upon the tattered leathered handgrip of the foreign bladed weapon Kusanagi , tucked within its wooden sheath behind the folds of the brilliant red cloth wrapped the slim waist. In the other resided Hafsa the Gatherer, its four foot length tightly coiled into a small buckler-like shield waiting to be released into action.

Appearing atop the far northern end of the plateau in a flash of light, the first thing that hit Whisper was the sheer heat. It was an oppressive and suffocating heat, thick with the stench of sulfur. The second was the view. It was a view that touched her almost as deeply as the forests of Sylixzan had. The sort of view that makes you breath catch in your throat as you lose yourself in the raw power and beauty laid before you.

“Lovely view, wouldn't you say?” she finally called lightly. “Almost a shame to stain the scenery with spilled blood,” she added with a brief frown. The heat had put a damper on her usual playfulness, as it was hard to really concentrate on much outside of feeling miserable, and already beads of sweat were beginning to form on her skin.

Whisper's outfit, while entirely unintentional, would prove to be an asset in their heated surroundings. It had been designed for a dancer, but given the loosely fitted and breathable nature of the clothing, it would provide air flow and pockets of insulated air to better cool herself and minimize moisture loss. Even her boots were canvas in material and her sash had been removed and utilized as a makeshift headband and scarf to keep the sweat from her eyes and neck.

In such a heated environment, dehydration was a very real and potentially fatal concern, and she noted her opponents bared skin with an amused twitch of her lips. It was a common and dangerous mistake to strip away clothing to cool ones self. Exposed skin would greatly accelerate the dehydration process, and in such temperatures, once your body could no longer produce sweat, you would cook like an egg. Given this knowledge, Whisper noted that it was a good possibility that her opponent would begin to suffer the effects of dehydration and subsequent heat exhaustion before herself - so long as she could keep from over exerting herself more than him.

“Well, shall we?” she asked as she stood mirroring Khayyam's position across the arena.

As she awaited a response from her opponent, she seemed at ease and her posture displayed little sign of the soreness that lingered from the previous days ordeals. In her left hand was a pouch of crystals that she lightly twirled around one finger, and in her right hand was a small wand looking device that could almost have resembled a miniaturized spear if not for being only a foot in length.

.
“Nu’mar Sariyah Qahhar!”The warrior shouted in return.

Such was the nature of the thick cloud of insects that suddenly swarmed his opponent many potential viewers, depending on camera angle, may well have thought the Arab had instantaneously vaporized his target into a fine blood red spray. Whisper however, had a much different viewpoint as to the effects of the gypsy’s words, rapidly encompassed by a multitude of tiny flying ants. The initial effects of the dense bug cloud would limit visibility as well as provide mental distraction adding to the various factors already weighing upon focused concentration of his opponent. Left unattended the troublesome insect cloud would infest the woman’s loose clothing seeking the soft flesh, grabbing hold with their mandibles delivering a painful sting of burning discomfort.

The veteran Warrior had no delusions that such a simple magical attack would be sufficient to bring Whisper to her knees but it would mask his approach. Even if she was unable to fend off the swarm it would take numerous tiny bites to overcome the tiny woman. The attack would however serve as a significant diversion as he prepared to deliver a much more forceful means of dealing with the opposition. As he moved, the magical garment extended to cover the barren arms and chest after failing to stir any significant response from his opponent regarding the familiarity of the body art. A faint orange glow shrouded the protective garment in response to the desert dweller’s influence.

Mindful of his opponent’s hidden talent, Khayyam swiftly advanced circling to his left periodically keeping a wary eye toward the boulder pile stacked across the ring to the east. He had heard the rumors that Whisper was a telekinetic, though he had no idea as to the extent of her ability. He wasn’t about to fall into a trap by foolishly underestimating his opponent. She had after all defeated the Silvis to advance to the finals and delivered significant damage in the process.Nearing his mark, his right hand slipped behind the sword to grasp the hand grip of the stainless steel shears; the cloth shield held in high guard. The sweeping approach would carry the Arab warrior slightly outside the eighty foot ring formed by the five foot diameter pillars of stone cutting the physical distance between the two combatants in half to a mere thirty feet.

At Khayyam's shout, Whisper reacted instantly, diving to the right a pace. While she moved, she dropped her pouch of crystals so as to free her hands. As the pouch landed atop the rocky arena it spilled a scattering of crystals across the ground at her feet, about a dozen in total and all in varying shades of color.

She didn't rightly know what she was dodging, only that it was rarely wise to stand about in place when you're opponent was doing loud and suspicious behavior.

The reflexive evasive measures unfortunately wouldn't have much influence on the insect swarm that appeared around her as she moved. Rather than wasting energy flailing at the insects, when she came out of her tumble, she drew on the air. Creating a mini vortex of wind to gust around her form, the young telekinetic snatched up the insects and drew them away from her before they could do much harm.

The brief gusts of air that tugged at her clothing were a mild relief for her rising body temperature, but in these conditions, even the air was suffocatingly hot, and the reprieve minimal.

Meanwhile, the runic enchantments along the length of the wand like device activated to expand the weapon to its full length of five feet. Dropping into a guarded crouch, she angled the weapon behind her, holding it at its mid point. Positioned as she was, it would be hard to predict a plan of attack, as she could easily adjust her stance to utilize a variety of jobs, parries, or swings.

“What, no foreplay?” Whisper replied with a light tut of disapproval.

As the fight began to get underway, the salty sweat that ran down her back left her scrapes stinging painfully, and she was thankful of having had the forethought to utilize her sash to keep the salty sweat from her eyes.

Remaining in a defensive stance, Whisper began to channel her psionic reserves into the center most focus crystal of her circlet. Khayyam was still a good twenty-five feet off, may as well utilize the time to power her crystals rather than run about overheating herself.

“That was foreplay.” Khayyam mused silently.

Much information was gleaned as a result of the simple ineffective outreach. The first revelation revealed was that his opponent sprung into action at the boisterous sound of his voice. It was reminiscent of a skittish creature much like that of the long eared hares back home, a mannerism he would test further momentarily. The defensive maneuver also revealed indispensible insight into the fleet reflexes and fluid natural agility and grace as she completed the evasion coming out of the controlled roll brandishing a five foot pole to stave off her attacker. Khayyam smiled at the comparative thought of the rabbit stamping its feet in protest an intrusion.

Large beads of sweat poured from his forehead beneath the saturated cloth band that held his lightweight covering in place. The salty liquid was channeled naturally away from his eyes by the thick black brow following the sharp chiseled features of his face but still proved to be a nuisance. "Mu’izz Nasmah Nouf!” He shouted in hopes the sudden intense volume of his words would once again send his opponent into flight. This time however, there would be no rapidly manifesting effect to haunt her. The words were meant to soothe his increasing irritation, rapidly cooling the abundance of dampened cloth by forty degrees Fahrenheit. The magical effect was designed to keep an object or liquid cool for an hour’s time, more than enough time to complete his commitment within the Roaring Rock Theater.

Khayyam caught a brief glimpse of a glint from the center gem of the circlet, it could be nothing or it could be a precursor of things to come. In any event, the Arabian telekinetic had already begun to weave the invisible fingers through the medium-length hair during the activity of the summoned bugs and the young telekinesic’s gust of air that claimed their segmented bodies and whisked them away. The commotion would have likely masked the psychic’s delicate manipulation of the filamentous biomaterial allowing him to capture more and more of the individual strands under his control. Unlike his previous encounter with the dragon slayer Aves and the coarse unkempt mane, the fine silver white hair made the intrusive task all the easier to hide.

"Badi al Zamar Sibaal" The gypsy spell slinger bellowed an additional set of commands.

The words from this incantation brought a rapid increase of growth upon the dancing warrior, magically stimulating Whisper’s body hair to almost instantaneously both thicken and lengthen. The two inch growth spurt not only affected the fine follicles that covered her scalp but arm hair, eye brows, lashes, nasal hair, just to name a few, turning the young beauty into a hairy were-like beast. The sudden influx of hair would likely be disorienting and a cause of great discomfort in the moist sweltering heat taking its toll upon the body’s natural cooling mechanism as well as adding an unnatural scratchy feeling with the added mass rubbing against the loose clothing that she wore. As the hair continued to grow the lightweight warrior would find it increasingly more difficult to perform the graceful, athletic movement she was accustomed to, not to mention the additional bio material in which Khayyam would have to manipulate. He would quietly continue to establish control of her body one piece at a time.

Caught up in the vortex of air, the insect swarm was rapidly decimated. Smashed against one other they were rendered useless before the winds began to die down. It would take a few moments for the air to return to complete stillness though.

While Khayyam was musing, Whisper locked her eyes on his, a light smile playing at the corners of her lips. The expression was largely an act, given that the heat of the arena was proving suffocating and miserable to say the least. Each choking breath of heated air cost her more as her body temperature was on the rise. It was a situation that would need to be soon remedied before it debilitated her.

For the moment though, as before, the sharp bark of Khayyam's voice had Whisper in motion - though not in the same manner as earlier. To follow the same path would make her movements predictable and that could be dangerous. Rather than darting to her side again, she instead sprung forward, flitting towards her opponent while maintaining eye contact.

As she closed the space between them by another three paces, it would become apparent that Khayyam's efforts to capture and manipulate the very hair that grew upon her body had not gone unnoticed. Despite Khayyam's belief that his intrusions would be concealed, Whisper was aware of her surroundings beyond her five basic senses. Her sixth sense was well tuned and the insertion of something foreign and metaphysical to her body would not easily go undetected. While she couldn't feel what he was doing, what should have been invisible was clearly etched within her minds eye.

Fortunately for Whisper, while Khayyam may have been aware of Whisper's telekinetic nature, it was very unlikely he would have uncovered her empathic nature, or the nature of what she could do via physical contact.

Now normally, such an assault of the magnitude she was about to unleash would require her to get her hands on her opponent, but Khayyam's actions had opened a door too tempting to overlook. A direct link to his psyche.

Having taken the time to cast a preliminary spell to cool himself afforded Whisper the time to respond to the intrusion before he could utilize it with his second spell.

Not wishing to squander her opening, Whisper abruptly drove a mental spike deep into Khayyam's mind, using his own metaphysical manipulation to trace it directly to its source. The result even under normal circumstances would have been an explosion of mental stimulation designed to disorient and confuse. In this situation however, the raw access and extended exposure to her form would give the normally broad rending attack the precision and bite of a barbed arrow that would be driven deep into his psyche to hook deep.

Simultaneous to the attack, she released the two charges from her center most focus crystal to add further potency to the already debilitating nature of the assault. After all, she was prepared for at least some measure of resistance from a fellow psychic. However, with two charges to back her attack and given the abrupt backlash style of the response, it would be a feat unto itself to hastily erect a means to keep her out now that the attack was underway – such was the nature of metaphysical battles. Without defenses and fortifications placed ahead of time, most victims of such an assault would be felled before they had the chance to realize an attack was imminent, let alone process and form an adequate response.

The psychic spike, if left unhindered would be debilitating and disrupt Khayyam's ability to function on a coherent level - outside of the recognition of pain that seemed to assault all of his senses at once. For as long as his metaphysical contact with her body was maintained the intensity would go unabated until unconsciousness resulted. Furthermore, even once her doorway was removed the effects would linger in the form of disorientation and confusion alongside a splitting migraine.

However, could Khayyam thwart the attack, or manage to retain a coherent state of mind through the assault to have gotten his incantation off, then he could continue his intentions to try and manipulate the hair follicles of her skin to increase growth. However, maintaining his manipulation of her form would allow her to likewise continue her assault upon his psyche unabated.

On the chance that Khayyam wasn't felled, Whisper held her left hand out to her side. The black crystal behind her jerked into motion and flew into her open palm to await her uses. She couldn't erect a psychic shield while maintaining the assault without disrupting her own efforts, but a physical one she could do. Her passive warding of mental intrusions would have to suffice. However, at the first sign of her attack faltering she was prepared to sever contact if need be.

Act, don't react. It was a familiar and ever present thought that filled her head in the heat of battle and it had her planning her imminent shield even before a retaliatory attack was mounted by her opponent. Unfortunately, though her psionic prowess was formidable, her physical body could handle only so much, so fast. Even if she could plan three steps ahead in the heat of the moment, her body still required time to catch up.

.
” Badi al Zam…. “

The words of his incantation dropped off mid mantra consciously aware that something was not right. He had experience a similar sensation a day earlier during his encounter with the synthetic, Aiyanna. This time however the incoming pulse that piggybacked upon his mental marionette strings carried a strange signature. It was not a technological stop measure but an invasive psychic attack carrying with it great energy.

While he had already disabled the pain receptors in that earlier encounter that would dull the effect any feedback would supply, the sheer magnitude of the incoming burst had him questioning whether the earlier countermeasure would be insignificant in this case. There was no way he could put up an adequate psychic wall as added support. There simply was not enough time. The reward to continue with his proposed manipulation was far outweighed by the risks and Khayyam chose to simply relinquish the reigns he had formed. With contact broken from his end before the surge had completed its run the dehabilitating attack would simply fall short of its mark. Or so he thought.

The sensual fruits of the tree had been handled and the disorienting effects they carried continue to wash over his mind in a wave of activity. In the psychic exchange Khayyam had barely recognized the fact that his agile opponent has furthered her approach, standing a mere twenty feet from his position. As much as Khayyam tried to hold it together he lacked focus. The cloth shield, once in high guard slowly lowered ill-equipped to his side as the gypsy psychic momentarily found himself engaged within the spiritual animal debate.

An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu presented, standing among them as the sequence of events repeated itself, only this time there was another figure present. He watched in silence as a black crystal from the fallen satchel jerked into her outstretch palm with nigh a glance from its summoner. It was a contradiction in visions, the past memory melding with present events. The female figures reception would render the two handed spear poised above her head largely ineffective taking away much of the power, speed and precision from any jab, parry or sweep of the weapon.


“Muzzammil spider!” He shouted over the roaring hiss of the theater in a strange combination of his native tongue and common.

Utilizing the moment of confusion in her enemy, Whisper broke off her mental assault and erupted into a burst of speed - the gap between the pair closing in the blink of an eye. As she moved she shed her physical form, both she and her gear taking on the appearance of a wispy ethereal apparition that only vaguely resembled its former self. It would seem set to collide with Khayyam, but at the last moment, Whisper abruptly dropped into a skid to slide between his legs.

Provided she came out from behind him as intended, Whisper twisted in place, discarding her black crystal which clattered to the ground solid now that she no longer maintained its ethereal state. While keeping her spear angled behind her still, she thrust an open palm forward towards Khayyan's lower back. Should the blow connect, given her rather incorporeal state, it would simply pass through his form. Though it was unlikely her opponent would know that for sure.

If she hadn't come out in her intended location, provided she was within melee range, she would instead twist in place while rising (still discarding the black crystal). Drawing the spear out and up from behind her back as she moved, she would assume a two-handed grip, thrusting the weapon in a piercing motion for Khayyam's nearest foot. It wasn't the most accurate of blows, but then again, the weapon was ethereal and would pass through him regardless. Though it was unlikely her opponent would know that and maybe she could keep him on the move.

However, should she have failed to get into any sort of melee range at all, she would instead discharge the black crystal, drawing on the stored energy to pool with her own. Utilizing the merged energy and the crystal's natural protective properties she would erect an intangible telekinetic barrier around herself. Simple, but effective. Once discharged, the depleted crystal would be discarded.

The ethereal form Whisper had assumed had granted her a pointed reprieve from the heat. Without a physical form of flesh and blood, she no longer suffered the risks of dehydration or heat stroke, but it did leave her largely unable to physically harm her opponent.

The battle was invigorating, filling Whisper with a rush of euphoria. This was why she had come here, why she had registered for the tournament. The thrill of danger and the thought that if she slipped up she might at last fall. It was a dance of passion and of fire. A dance that demanded form and expression. Free of the suffocating heat that left her miserable, she was now free to enjoy it and lead it to its conclusion. Though the conclusion itself did not matter. No, it was the thrill of the dance itself that drove her like a moth to flame. If the dance demanded it, she would follow it even to her own death.

Coming out of the cloud of confusion it seemed as if his mind were still playing tricks upon him. The humanoid figure broke toward him only to take on the wispy ethereal spirit form much akin to those animals that were present in his dreams. “Protect!” Khayyam issued the hasty mental command to his companion as he desperately tried to regain a focused grasp upon reality.

It seemed as though the flyweight fighter was intent to collide with the diminutive man, all changed in the last moment as she abruptly dropped into a skid to slide. Despite the slide, the magical cloth had already shot forth expelling itself from the Gypsy seamster stretching upon warp and weft to create a large encompassing net from the arena floor to extending several feet to either side of the girl. The Protector’s stop measure however, had little effect as the ten foot square net passed straight through the intangible form without hesitation, landing in a heap near her departed position even as she completed the skid slid.

The expulsion of the garment inadvertently pushed the Arab warrior, who was mildly unprepared for the forces exerted upon his body readying for the incoming charge himself. The effect sent him stumbling backward several feet, no longer in the location the sliding spirit girl had predicted. Regardless of the shortfall, the incoming warrior promptly popped up from the smooth glass surface. The black crystal clattered to the ground as it left her hand to accommodate the two handed weapon, regaining its solid form as it fell from the twisting ethereal form.

“That could become problematic.” He rationalized to the sudden change in the crystal's solidity, regaining his balance even as the pointed weapon hastily poked toward his right foot. The notion whether the intangible weapon would pass harmlessly through one’s foot was largely irrelevant if the object could immediately revert to a solid outside her influence. Instinctively the foot withdrew, naturally pulling away as he reversed his stance to launch an attack of his own.

The retracted foot touched down offering a brace and the left arm containing the cloth buckler lashed across his body snapping Hafsa upward in a whip-like fashion. The forceful motion of the arm uncoiled the fabric rope, sending it speeding toward the apparition’s right clavicle. Given the outcome of Shaisma’s efforts, Khayyam was well aware that the weighty knot at the end of the magic cloth slung shot would have no effect upon the being in its current form. His intent however was not to strike his opponent but to create enough momentum to carry the forty foot length of the rope in a continuous serpentine motion through the ethereal form over and over again. He was counting on the fact the elusive girl would have to return to her physical form at some point and when she final did materialize it would be in the midst of the magical dancing lasso. The effect would skewer her upon the rope that solidified within her body.

While she would likely no longer suffer the risks of dehydration or heat stroke without a physical form, she would not reap the benefits of the loose fitting clothing or the body’s natural cooling system that protected her against the intense heat either. Science would dictate the transfer of the torrid ambient heat from the atmosphere would quickly pass its effects to the gaseous state of her new form far more readily than her previous physical state. It was already likely that by the time she became corporeal once more her core temperature would be far greater than the body could efficiently dissipate and simply shut down. The rope trick was implemented to ensure that the alteration was delayed as long as possible to ensure the theorized outcome.

Not placing his trust in chance Khayyam began to fortify his mind against another mental intrusion. Just because she couldn’t reach out physically from this state didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t able to draw upon her telekinetic prowess.

The dancing rope that circulated through the ethereal form had bought him some time. Time he could put to good use eliminating potentially valuable assets of the elusive spirit before her return. Crystals seemed to be used as a focal point for her ability. The subtle glint of the central stone before the assault on his mind had alluded to that aspect but to what extend he did not know. The bag she dropped during the infancy of their engagement contained a large assortment of crystals she could bring into play.

“Shaisma return.” Khayyam issued the silent instruction to his faithful companion.

Whisper had specifically gathered the black stone to carry with her during her assault only to drop it at her feet as she took her current form. Such a development, though informative of the many dangers that could present themselves during a sudden shift in form, complicated things further and the additional threat did not sit well with Khayyam. Reaching out with his mind he forcibly pushed the questionable black gem from beneath her feet back towards the dozen or so crystals scattered near the fallen pouch. The male telekinetic’s strong sweeping force gathered with it the haphazardly strewn collection of focus crystals, in their various hues of reds, blues, greens, yellow, purple and orange, along with the companion black gem, carrying the lot outside the carved stone ring and over the edge of the platform.

The right hand that had been hovering near the stainless steel shears eagerly pulled at the bladed weapon removing it from the sash at his waist. It was likely the Gypsy seamster would have little time to waste to put up a defense when the vaporous figure did become corporal once more and the additional option would be useful.The left hand continued to skillfully maneuver the forty foot length of the rope with little effort, in its serpentine motion through the central mass of the ethereal form over and over again. His feet adjusted slightly as he settled, evenly distributing his weight on the balls of his feet. Knees bent softly to allow for movement and power when the time came.