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Doctor Strange      Today, a small crowd of brave spectators has turned up to the Shrine's simulated arena, eager to see a battle between two of the Multiverse's most formidable wizards. Seating has been provided for them, wards put in place to redirect errant attacks safely away. They'd probably just find some way to sneak back in, if they were thrown out.

     The murmur of the crowd dies down as one of the competitors makes his entrance, heralded by the sound of piano and guitar which seems to permeate the air itself. The mysterious music swells slightly in volume as a ring of sparks burns into the air, facing downward.

(Music: https://youtu.be/-Wtj59opWKg?t=38 )

     The Sorcerer Supreme slowly descends from the portal, Cloak of Levitation concealing his form, arms crossed over his chest with his hands forming mystic signs. The music cuts off as his wrapped boots touch the ground.

     "Lezard Valeth, Sorcerer of Midgard," Strange says with a respectful nod of his head.
Lezard Valeth Once Strange has made his arrival, it is time for his opposition.

On the other side of the arena, a circle draws itself into the ground, spiraling arcane sigils of spatial control painted in light.

(Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMUM-sXcYVk)

A different music plays as a shape fades into existence, billowing cape and arms crossed. The currents of power surge around him like wind as he reaches into a fold in space, pulling out a nameless tome and flicking it open dramatically. Lezard smiles to Strange then.

"Stephen Strange, Sorceror Supreme." He nods back to the man... And then pauses for a moment. "I had just realized how alliterative that is. Quite catchy." He smiles to himself. "Still, it seems to be time for us to test each other's skill. Frankly, I am simply surprised it had not come sooner."
Doctor Strange      Strange dismisses the portal with a swipe of his hand, setting the Cloak to billowing behind him and revealing his deep blue tunic. "Yeah," he says with a nod. "Me too." The sorcerer adopts a martial stance, legs spread out, and his hands move as if parrying strikes from an unseen opponent. Two brightly glowing orange mandalas burst into appearance, one for each hand, slow rings of glyphs rotating around the exterior of each.

     The Cloak of Levitation billows out behind him like a crimson set of wings, and he takes to the air. Strange presses his palms together, drawing them out slowly. Strands of that same orange energy spread between his fingertips. A flick of the wrist 'aims' the spell at Lezard's position.

     From the space between those strands of energy, burning daggers of flame fly out, the strands vibrating with the passing of each like the string of an archer's bow.
Lezard Valeth Lezard looks up, following the motions of the Sorceror Supreme as he floats and prepares his attack. "Oh? An unusual style." The light of the magic reflects in his glasses as he lowers his gaze slightly, his grin becoming wider. "I will test it."

The dramatic barrage of flames come striking out at Lezard, and he flicks a hand. A torrent of pages from the tome flash into the air, intercepting the first few flame daggers like they were made of steel. Others, however, punch past the wave of clearly enchanted paper and splash over Lezard himself, bathing him in flames. He staggers back a step as the fire roars over his body, threatening to consume him, but he snaps a finger and the flames extinguish themselves. He is left intact, but scorched lightly.

"A promising beginning... But let us see if you are prepared!" He hurls out a hand, the power aroudn him focusing and taking form as it flows through the tome before him. "ICICLE EDGE!" The air around Strange promptly drops to freezing as a small blizzard buffets the area, grazing the defensive shields on the spectator area. Amidst the annoying sleet, a dozen thick ice crystal spikes form and slash in from multiple directions, attempting to shred through Strange's own defenses!
Doctor Strange      Having previously seen Lezard's handiwork, Strange knows better than to use the wait-and-see approach. He's already in the midst of preparing another attack when Lezard's couter-strike comes. His hands tremble even more than their usual amount, visibly distorting the orange strands of energy. The sleet heaps upon him, clinging to his clothes and soaking through.

     As it turns out, there is no defense to cut through. The sorcerer flies circles around the arena, attempting to delay the inevitable, but the ice spikes can cut him with near impunity. The blizzard's snow is visibly stained in spots with scarlet. The wounds freeze over painfully, Strange's arms in particular having taken the brunt of the assault. The spell matrix he weaves nearly fizzles from the strain of concentrating, but he improvises.

     Right before he loses the spell, Strange 'pulls' the energy through the mandala on one hand, then over his arm. It shimmers with a visible, shimmering lattice like the scales of some mystical dragon. The sorcerer halts his flight, extends the palm of his glimmering arm towards Lezard, and thrusts the opposite palm across its length as if striking an opponent in the chest.

     The glowing energy sloughs off of him, in the form of a swarm of brightly glowing white motes which explode like firecrackers!
Lezard Valeth Strange has a good idea of what he's dealing with, and his strategy pays off. Lezard is in the middle of bombarding Strange with magical ice when the counterattack comes, Strange sacrificing some of his defense to push through and hit Lezard when he seems most vulnerable. The swarm of firecracker-like detonations doesn't seem all that impressive at first, but his timing and efforts mean Lezard is unable to ward them off in the way he normally would. The blasts begin to strike, relentlessly piercing his defenses and driving him back with a yell of indignant pain, dropping him to one knee for a moment. The quick, decisive strike seems to have hurt Lezard's pride as much as his body. His teeth are gritted in pain, and the attacks seem to have opened wounds along his body, judging from the condition of his clothing and the trickle running along his scalp. "A palpable hit." Lezard grimaces, almost grudgingly acknowledging it. "But this has only begun, Sorcerer Supreme!"

Forcing himself straight again, he yells as he begins dragging power in around him at an ever-increasing pace, cycling it over and over as he compounds it. Certainly, less dynamic than Strange, but the raw energy speaks for itself. Lightning crackles around him, scorching the ground and walls as he forms it into an even greater spell.

    "As the harmoniums of Asgard sound,
        their very melody stirs the ancient lightning to wake!"

The air above the arena tears open, revealing a great, cloudy vastness, crackling with thunder and stormfront. Large chunks of stone and earth hang in the air, and amidst it all a grear dark sphere compounds, sizzling as the energy gathers. Within, a great white-blue dragon of Eastern appearance writhes, roaring as it lunges down to crash through Strange and discharge a colossal amount of electrical power into the man!

                               "DRAGON BOLT!"                              
Doctor Strange      Indeed it has. Strange's brow furrows with concern. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up, as Lezard draws in more and more power. Ancient lightning? That doesn't sound fun. The air before him shimmers for a moment as he casts a spell aimed... nowhere near Lezard. If the Sorcerer of Midgard were way up in the air, though, it'd probably have looked pretty impressive. There is an excited series of cries from the spectators as the dragon appears.

     It tears right through Strange, its electical power shattering his physical form into... shards of broken glass. They disperse into fireflies, which slowly drift upwards and begin to congeal. The mass of glowing light condenses into a small golden pyramid, emitting a radiant sphere of matching golden light. The pyramid seems to spit forth two more of its number, each identical, paradoxically sliding out of it in defiance of known laws of space.

     "I'd feel left out if I didn't say the name of a spell or two," says Strange from above the arena. "This one's called the Grace of Hoggoth." Strange crosses his arms over his chest, and the three pyramids turn towards Lezard, orienting themselves in a vertical line. They race towards him, only for Strange to make an underhand swipe, as if turning an opponent's blow aside.

     As his hand moves, seven pale blue rings form around his body, stacked vertically. "And this one's the Seven Rings of Raggador." Both palms thrust outward, banishing the rings with a brilliant blue pillar of energy that collides with the pyramids, thrusting them further towards the other sorcerer! They blink threateningly the closer they get to solid matter, like some sort of arcane proximity mine.
Lezard Valeth Lezard grimaces as he sees that Strange was able to displace himself out of the way of the attack. Another blow to his ego, it seems, to not have been able to track such a maneuver... Or perhaps it is more a credit to Strange's skill to subtly sweep his self aside. Either way, the moment he sees Strange's image shatter, he's looking for where he actually is... And sees the Sorcerer hanging in the air above. "There is much to appreciate about the Multiverse." Lezard says as he observes the unfamiliar spell. "Fascinating."

His fascination, however, ends as the pyramids are sent flying towards him. Lezard raises a hand, and the pyrmaids strike a magical barrier. The first blast is stopped at the barrier, but the next breaks through the guard and blasts Lezard backwards, rebounding him off of the wall and sending him collapsing to the floor, sizzling.

"No... No, no, no!" Lezard grates as he drags himself upwards, staggering to his feet. "It seems you are worthy of your title, Doctor Strange. Few are the people who have pushed me this far." He steps forward, still firmly on the ground as he simply moves to take up the center of the arena, letting Strange hang in the air and do that jaunty flying thing.

This time, he begins to gather power again, funnelling another colossal amount of energy into another spell. The difference in technique is obvious: While Strange operates in a nimble, dynamic effort, Lezard is very much a walking magical artillery engine. As long as Strange can keep from getting tagged, he'll push through... But how long can he avoid the escalation?

Lezard's next spell sends through the air innumerable... feathers. Wait. Feathers?

    "Ye must desire respite from thy empty existence.
                        Thou shalt have it!"

A moment later, the feathers coalesce together, the angelic plumes melting into sparks of light that form into golden halos of energy. Each one collapses into a beam of devastating light that rains down, saturation-bombing the area and attempting to deny Strange any escape this time!

                             "CELESTIAL STAR!"                              
Doctor Strange      "And you of yours, Lezard Valeth," says Strange from his position in the air. He utters it without his usual deadpan, or the air of deprecation usually present in his voice. "Few could stand against the pure, brute magical strength you wield." Lezard's next spell sets him on edge, as any sorcerer should be wary of something that isn't immediately obvious.

     "So I won't try."

     A startled gasp erupts from the onlookers as the earth seemingly shifts upside down, as if someone had dropped whatever lunchbox it was being carried in down the stairs. Lezard is able to remain on even footing, yet paradoxically, Strange falls. The Cloak of Levitation billows out behind him, accelerating his descent. He tries to race behind the halos before the attack, but he's not fast enough. A portal appears in his flight path, another Strange on the other side. He flies through it to safety. The earth beneath Lezard splits in half and rotates, turning right-side up again and exposing an open void below that appears to mirror the empty sky above. The pillars of light fall into this seemingly empty void...

     Until an array of Strange's burning portals, called forth by the Sorcerer Supreme and his future self, open beneath them. Their counterparts open, pointed at the platform upon which Lezard stands, and the fading remnants of his own attack fly through them to buffet the ground around him!
Lezard Valeth Lezard is, again, too busy channelling into the Great Magic to deal with Strange's massive spatial manipulations and time-cheatery. Once he sees how the man is trying to turn his own power against him, however, he cuts the spell early, the blazing lasers dying out... But not before the opened portals blast Lezard in a radial strike, putting him at the center of his own attack. Even prepared for it, he can't hold it all back, and he is left sagging, his situation dire compared to the clean-cut Sorceror Supreme.

"I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS! NOT LIKE THIS!" Lezard yells, now enraged as his pride is pushed to its limits... And moments later, so is his magic. Lezard erupts in light as he greedily draws deep, the magical currents of the area swirling towards him like a black hole drains light...

"ENOUGH OF YOUR GAMES, SORCEROR SUPREME!" Lezard yells, reaching into space and withdrawing a twisted, blackened staff tipped with a dark metal. The thing resonantes with dark power, as Lezard swings the heavy-looking staff about. "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE SO GIFTED?" The metal-clad end of the Catalyst surges with power, before Lezard simply turns and hammers it into the ground, cleaving a line of energy into it. And then another, and another, forming a large Nordic symbol. "AND NOW... BREAK!" A fourth strike is put into the ground, sending a huge pulse of power through it.

There is no subtlety. There is no nice, neat attempt at unravelling the delicate spatial and temporal weaves that Strange has built up over the course of the battle. No, this is Lezard simply attempting to use a massive amount of energy to collapse the space-tricks right around Strange and catch him in the fallout.
Doctor Strange      Does he think he's the only one so gifted? Well... Strange frowns slightly, holding both palms up and inclining his head towards Lezard, shaking his head. The look is unmistakbly 'I hate to say it, but yeah.' Sure, the staff is powerful. He can feel it even from here. At this point, the fight seems squarely in his hands, and the way it's been going, Lezard's probably just gonna throw out another haymaker he can sidestep. Wait...

     "Break?"

     The gatway into the Mirror Dimension shatters with a deafening chorus of shattering glass. No matter where one stands, it's as if a gothic stained-glass cathedral window were perpetually shattering over and over. Even the spectators in the audience grimace and plug their ears, for all the good it seems to do. The reality within the Shrine makes an inaudible roar that vibrates the bones of all within it, and takes out its rage upon the Sorcerer Supreme.

     As the surroundings are yanked back to reality, a ghastly, invisible ill wind rushes over Strange, knocking him from the sky and lacerating his body like a swarm of deadly killer bees. It passes him and crashes against the spectators' protective barrier with a sound like a delayed thundercrack, persisting for a few seconds, even after the Cloak of Levitation narrowly stops the sorcerer from hitting the ground.

     His vision swims and his ears ring, his robes now dark and damp in many spots with blood from a litany of new injuries. He sucks in a ragged breath, and nods ever so slightly to Lezard. "I'm wrong on... rare occasions. One sec." Hands across his chest, dragging them across one another, fingers mimicking the opening of an eye. The amulet upon his chest opens and bathes him in emerald energy. Strange vanishes, traveling to the past to provide his former self with a portal to escape Lezard's carpet-bombing spell. He reappears in the same instant.

     "Okay, now... where were we. Oh, yeah." Again, Strange begins weaving a spell, this time knitting the strands of energy into something solid. He creates a wizardly staff of his own, this one looking more at home in the hands of a wandering Buddhist monk than a Norse armory. It's bright orange, clearly a construct, the top bearing several rings which jingle as it moves. He lifts it up...

     And disappears into a portal placed beneath him, falling through only to leap up into Lezard's personal space. Rather than cast any more spells, Strange seeks to end the fight quickly. He makes a flurry of staff strikes, attacking the other sorcerer's feet to try and keep him off balance, before planting it in the ground and twirling around it to aim a kick at his stomach!
Lezard Valeth Lezard finally lands a solid strike, attacking the Sorceror Supreme indirectly. Something in him clearly rallies at seeing the way Strange bleeds... But he doesn't let his guard down. Not yet. This becomes obvious as he watches the way the man opens that amulet. "A lovely bauble, that." Lezard says. "I will have to keep that in mind."

But Strange comes in after him with a staff. Far from being surprised, Lezard looks... /pleased/. "COME, SORCERER SUPREME! LET US DO BATTLE!" He yells as he lunges forward... Right into where Strange is coming up from below with a clever portal trick. The first strike punches through his guard and suddenly he's being comboed, blood flying everywhere as Strange capitalizes on the opening. Hit after hit after hit strikes into him, crushing damage ripping into his body and sending him staggering back... But just before Strange lands the launch, ther is a THUD as Strange impacts not Lezard's gut, but the book that has been floating around Lezard the entire time. It's like kicking a wall.

Lezard looks up, a blood-flecked smile across his face. "My turn." He says, moments before a large black-colored broadsword drops out of space next to him. He grips it, spinning it in his hand as he twists around, raking low with the Manus Catalyst and slashing out with the dark blade.

The moment that passes, there is a flash of blackness, a dozen tiny fuzzy balls of some kind of heavy, deadly-looking darkness forming. Each has a pair of little eyes as they orient on strange and explode outwards in a wave of seeking murderous flesh-dissolving force.

But Lezard isn't done. He rolls forward through the cloud, the blade flashing with gleaming crystal as the weapon gains an enchanted edge, carving out with an afterimage of sorcery-enhanced force beofre he spins back around, lashing out with a shotgun-like blast of dark spheres that rush outwards with crushing force.
Doctor Strange      Strange's wrapped boot hits the book, knocking him off-balance. His back hits the ground as Lezard summons his broadsword. The Sorcerer Supreme sucks in a pained breath as the wounds from the Break spell flare up in protest, but he quickly regains his footing with an agile kip-up. He rises to meet Lezard's sword, rather than the attack that follows it, and this proves a costly mistake.

     As Strange rears his staff back for a counterattack, he is wide open to the magically corrosive conjuration. The creatures strike his main hand, eating away at the flesh with such painful abandon as to disarm him. His conjured staff strikes the ground and dissipates. Warm amber light radiates from the opposite hand, trying to contain the damage that it might be reversed.

     Lezard's blunt-force followup strikes him dead center, exactly in the fashion he'd meant to strike the Midgardian. The wind escapes him, he's knocked flat on his back, and this time, he doesn't get back up. A cheer erupts from the crowd for a hard-fought victory on Lezard's part, while Strange busies himself with numbing the pain until the Shrine works its own magic.

     He sits up in the lotus position, the Cloak of Levitation raising him off the ground. The Sorcerer Supreme hovers over to Lezard and offers a scarred, trembling hand to shake. "An enlightening engagement, Lezard Valeth. It seems I underestimated you."
Lezard Valeth Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. Once Strange is down and staying down, Lezard finally slumps, too fatigued to push any farther. He is bloodied, bruised, and burned all over, looking like he's been through a warzone and feeling the same. He plants the Catalyst and returns Almasy's gift to the fold of space he keeps most of his toys in, leaning on it as he reaches out and takes the man's hand. "You are a formidable opponent. I can see you earned your title fairly." Lezard says, apparently feeling magnanimous at the moment. "Had I not spent so long in Lordran, you likely would have overwhelmed me." People don't fight clean in Lordran.

Then he pulls back, sighing. "I will have to pay attention to what you are up to in the future. Farewell, Doctor Strange. We shall meet again soon enough."

At that, he turns, and makes his way from the arena, using what remains of his strength to walk away until he can collapse someplace no one is watching.