Zesty (Quinn - Italian Dueling championship 2022)

The two hour break did more to settle Mimosa down than anything else could have done. While her hair and make up were promptly fixed, someone gave her a type of juice to drink which the girl couldn't identify but which nonetheless ran through her veins, warming up her body in a way no other juice could. In fact, the drink almost made her want to laugh, which she supposed was a good thing since there was still one event left. After her experience in the exploding cage, the child was certain she wouldn't feel hopeful or optimistic again but she must have been wrong because not half an hour later, there was a sparkle in her eye and a bounce in her step.

The nine year old returned to the seating area after the break a much happier child then she'd left it, grinning excitedly as she skipped over to Quinn. Even the Spanish model didn't seem so annoying now as all eight remaining constants stood there with their models, ready for the final challenge of the day.

"You'd better win this!" the child cheered perhaps a little too loudly before breaking out into a small chant of "USA! USA! USA!". The others may have looked at her a bit oddly but Mimosa was unconcerned, she had a really good feeling about the next round. She was silenced however, when the announcements began, once again in several languages. This time it was a lot harder to focus somehow but she put it down to the announcer being inept.

This round was going to split all eight constants into two teams of four, from what Mimosa could gather. It would test the combatants on their team work so individual glory wasn't going to be enough to win. If you wanted to make it to the final round tomorrow, you had to make sure your entire team survived. The terrain was laid out like a traditional dueling stage with eight points of entry. Team members would be starting from different points with the aim to reach the center. When all four members of a team reached the center, the round would be over.

The models were once again relegated to the viewing balcony with the aim to shout cheers and encouragements at their contestants, something Mimosa could definitely do. "Good luck!" she squealed right into the short wizard's ear before hopping of to the balcony.

They must have given the girl a babbling beverage, or maybe a gilly water given how she was acting Quinn thought to himself. The girl was more.......extra as the urban youth wild say than she had been moments before. She was back to her annoying self that was for sure.

As her chanting stared he stood and began to walk away giving her an awkward look with one eyebrow raised. At her screech, well it was time to go before he said something to put her back to catatonic. He held his shirt in one hand, and stood at the entrance. It had been a bit of a walk back to the tourney area, though it had been cleared from the original free for all. All the contestants stood at their doors, though they had been bewitched. It was impossible to know who was on your team until they stepped through the door triggering an involuntary apparate to stand with their three team mates.

Looking around he would smile and shrug before taking his shirt and waving his wand over it. It’s colors would quickly transform to red white and blue, and shortened to be a bandana. Tying it to his head that’s how he would enter the door to the chagrin of some, the angst of others, and the groan of even more.

The voice of the announcer boomed over the contestants, and with that each crossed through the doorway. In a flash they were each in their station, a magical ribbon flitting between the two teams. Looking to his left he saw the Mexican champion, to the right the Canadian, and further the African. “Damn....it’s gonna suck having to beat you guys after we win this.” Was all he got out before the ribbon changed it’s shape to that of a 9....8....7.......6 and so on until with a bang the match started.

Maybe it was just the current excited mood she was in, or maybe it was the music in the background but the duel that unfolded almost looked like a dance to Mimosa, a dance where each team knew all the steps and was keeping as close to the choreography as possible. Right from the beginning, it was obvious that Quinn was on the winning team. Though the teammates entered from different places, they just seem to know where they were supposed to go. The other team also seemed to know they were at a big disadvantage so they kept close together, fighting with their backs to their own teammates which unfortunately made them a much easier target.

The duel didn't even last fifteen minutes. Mimosa and her group of models had barely started cheering when it was all over.the Spanish girl had transformed the stage into a knot of deadly vines while the large black male kept everyone else at bay. The Canadian wizard maintained a steady shield around his team and Quinn... well, as far as Mimosa could tell, he did nothing really. One moment he was there and the next he disappeared. The girl did not connect the dots between his disappearance and the taking down of an opponent and simply assumed he must have hidden again. It was a tried and true strategy in the blond American's case.

The remaining four flags were raised high once again as the victors going on tot eh final rounds tomorrow were announced bu the announcement was followed by a somber declaration that Italy had failed to represent in the finals. A special note of gratitude was extended to the "famiglia di Blackthorn" for attending and sponsoring much of the event.

When it was finally over, Mimosa ran up to Quinn. "Make sure to get enough sleep tonight. If you lose tomorrow, you'll really suck." The child giggled, clearly still a bit too cheery from her dressing room session. She reached out to hug the little wizard before skipping off to join Clara who was waiting for her in the sidelines. Mimosa couldn't wait to tell her Godmother what had happened today.

Stepping out of the arena, Quinn would remove his headband and with a flick it would swirl to wrap around him, replacing his absent shirt, though it maintained the red white and blue coloring. All in all, it had been relatively boring. The random draw almost felt rigged to him. For all he knew it was to try and get the strongest duelists in the end. Though why even waste the time with the formality.

No quicker had the announcement been name to some family he had never heard off a little bundle of waisted energy ran up to him. Her tone was so high pitched he couldn’t even make out what she said. The awkward forced hug occurred and then she was skipping off. His face couldn’t hide the confusion and unpleasantness of the entire affair. Watching the girl go he would see her meet up with another female. Making eye contact for just a second he would wink before turning and walking the opposite way.

Shortly after a hard smack caused him to stumble as the African hit his back in congratulations. “Yea thanks.....” he’d say rotating his shoulder checking for a dislocation. “See you tomorrow, don’t drink to much!” He’d shout. Now that it was the finals however, the close knit camaraderie seemed to die down just a touch. Friends in arms they might be, but in the end each of them knew that winning was what mattered.

The rest of the evening went by without much of anything. While a small party was thrown, Quinn opted to skip. His side was on fire now that the adrenaline of the event had burned out, and while he had originally started this thing as a refresher, the finish line actually seemed in reach. Not the grandest of stages, nor the one he would have selected, but an international win was still that, a win. It was as he considered these things he found himself walking toward an actual sauna and not one magicked by him. With towel wrapped tight he was approached by a dark Sicilian looking man in a fine suit that Quinn was quite sure he’d never be able to afford. The entire interaction lasted for only a moment, and Quinn found himself in the possession of an invitation for some sort of meeting after the tournament with an ominous condition that he won.

Sitting in the sauna rereading the letter he couldn’t help but think that this was peculiar, but laying his head back and letting the heat wash away some of the pain, he couldn’t help but say out loud, Italians........

The rest of the night passed without much interest.  He had stayed away from the party, and retreated back to his room after the sauna.  The pain in his side was searing, to much activity and not enough time given.  Looking down he could see the mottled flesh in a deep purple, almost like darkened flames rippling over his skin.  Laying in bed his breaths were shallow, trying to not make any of it mouth to little avail.  

Sleep didn’t come easy, but with the help of some......supplements it did come.  Waking the pain had dulled, but only slightly.  Reaching into a nap sack he took out a beat up bottle.  Cracking it open on the side of the table shacking hands clawed out all dregs of salv that remained.  Going as far as to take the broken pieces of bottle rubbing them on his side and around his back.  A couple minor scratches and nicks were worth the relief it brought.  Taking out several more supplements he popped them down and washed them with some whiskey.  

Taking a deep breath he dressed quickly.  A set of traditional dueling robes had been provided.  The contestants would then be allowed to transfigure them to their liking for the actual match.  The Black However was not his style and a quick wave changed them to resemble the star spangled banner itself.  

The full effect was on, and as such he couldn’t even feel his side, even if a subconscious limp was still noticeable to a keen eye.  Making his way to the field, for the first time he was the first to arrive.  Amazing what sleep and actual preparation led to.  Standing he saw as the other champions arrived and then the models.  His little counterpart seemed to be lacking her dapper demeanor, and as such he couldn’t help himself.  “Hey there Mimo!”  He would call loudly, ruffling and ruining her hair as she got next to him.  

As this happened the announcer began to speak in many languages at once.  Finally......standard dueling practices.  International rules, a little more boring, but safer and less likely to cause falling outs.  There were four matches left.  The semi finals, followed by the third place match and then the championship round.  One and two then three and four.  

“Good luck Logan!”  He’d shout as he clapped the Canadian hard on the back making his way to the viewing area.   It was made up of two couches, to which Quinn plopped into, probably not leaving enough room for Mimo.  Next to them Mpho sat down unintentionally taking up the entire couch, leaving the mode to drape herself over the arm.  

“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, OUR FIRST MATCH, ALEJANDRA OF MEXICO VS LOGAN OF CANADA!”  At the mentions of their names they would each step foot into the starting circle.  Their models next to them, handing them water and otherwise helping them prepare as they both waved their wands taking on preferential dueling attire.  On the screen a brief biography and rundown of their resumes played, excellent work Quinn thought.  Some intern probably spent hours on each.  

At the conclusion the models stepped away towards boxes opposite and the referee stepped out.  An explanation of international rules were given before he stepped off behind a barrier.  Center court a gold ribbon appeared as it ticked down once again.  9....8......7......6......5.....4......3......2........1. BANG, it explodes in gold sparks and the match began.

“Watch this Mimo, this is why you always want to go second so you get a sneak at the winner.  “If you make it...”. Mpho said chuckling his deep voice booming even in whisper.

“Yea yea...”. Quinn would say dismissively saving a hand.  “Logan is a tough cookie, his defense is incredible, he’s even done work with the ministry I believe.  Some international stuff resting to natural disasters I think.  His offense and maneuvering though, meh could use some work.  As for Alejandra........”

At this Mpho cut in, “She’s a ruthless bitch.” Both men would laugh at this, and the match went into full swing.  For those who had not seen professional trained duelists, those of magic that specifically trained in combat......it would be quite the spectacle.

Mimosa didn't know what the challenge was, just that Quinn wasn't part of it. As he and the tall dark duelist were told to head up to thr viewing area with their models, Mimosa followed mutely. The hair Quinn had mussed up in greeting fell back into straight shining strands the moment his hand left them, the real magic of foreboding. Squishing ehr to the side of the sofa, he spread out on it, eagerly watching the first two contestants take their places.

In a way, she was glad Quinn was taking so much room, that way it wouldn't look so suspicious if she leaned her head on his arm and closed her eyes for a minute. But just as her eyelashes began to tremble, her contestant spoke again, something about going second or winning or... With a great effort, the little model opened her eyes to see the stage.

The man was dressed in shining black trousers and a similar black fitted turtleneck. The only sign of his affiliations was the maple leaf thing that was on Canada's flag. The sign was red and white and emblazoned over his torso, the only patch of color in all all black costume. But it was the lady's outfit that actually jolted Mimosa into sitting up, her knees banging against Quinn's sturdy leg and sending a shot of pain up her own knee.

At first, it looked like the Mexican girl wasn't wearing anything at all except shiny red, white and green sneakers. Against all odds, Mimosa opened her eyes further. How can the lady not wear anything? A close up of the contestant revealed however that she was clothed in a skin colored one piece ensemble that hugged her so closely, she could pass for undressed at first glance. Mimosa's cheeks pinked slightly as her eyes landed on the girl's ample chest before moving to her long snake like ponytail, trailing down to her hips.

The child wasn't sure what she'd expected even if the two duelings seated near her were already making bets. Certainly she had expected more than what was actually happening. The earsplitting bangs and shouts and whistles that had signaled the beginning of the fight and sent Mimosa wincing back into her seat and hiding her head behind Quinn had given way to... a really anti climactic stand off.

Mimosa must have remained hidden for at least five minutes but when she finally mustered up the courage to emerge, it looked like there was no change. The two duelists still stood where they had from the start, they still eyed each other and for a moment, it looked like they were having a staring contest. That was until Mimosa began to see clearly.

An almost transparent sphere enveloped the Canadian contestant, its upkeep clearly demanding great concentration as the man's eyes were closed, all his senses engaged in maintaining the sheild which - Mimosa realized with a start - was under attack every few seconds. But the attacks came so quickly, she could only see them in the slow motion vision showing to one side. The child heard something thunk off the almost invisible shield and turned her eyes to the slow mo viewer, realizing something had sprung up from the ground like a cobra and struck the shield. The clash was what she'd heard.

At first, the young woman experimented with terrain, seeing if the shield could withstand rocks and bits of ground, then she moved on to her own creations, the noises became more noticeable and, a distorted bit of light revealed itself to be a dent in the Canadian's shield. Slowly but surely, she was breaking through to him. As each thing hurled itself at the shield, the witch moved closer, moving so slowly and strategically that Mimosa hadn't even realized she was closing the distance until she was five feet away from the Canadian who still had his eyes shut tight.

It was then that her final move came. A volley of vines and trees and boulders and greenery grew from the ground all around the Canadian's shield, squeezing it like a balloon. The sounds were horrendous but Mimosa was too terrified to move. She could hear the shield cracking with a sick crunch underneath the flora and a satisfied grin began on the Mexican's lips.

Only for her personal made forest to erupt into a thousand pieces, a bit of it catching her on the cheek and leaving a cut that began to bleed. The woman spoke a word that was bleeped out for the audience as the announcer explained that instead of maintaining his shield against the external pressure, the Canadian had exploded it, using the impact to blow away her attack.

If only he'd been further away.

The crowd had begun to cheer for Canada when it happened. The Mexican duelist turned with an angry snarl to to her opponent, blood running down her check and the next thing anyone knew, there was another sickening crunch as the Canadian's neck was twisted on his shoulder.

By the five foot long ponytail that had sprung into action the moment his shield was down.

The match was called for Mexico, with the Canadian being rushed off to emergency in hopes of saving his life.

“Aye!!!” Quinn would shout standing up abruptly. No regards for the model as in the moment he felt a wave of anger course through him. Mpho stood as well shouting in his native language curses just as foul. “Fuckin bitch.......no fuckin class.” He would say shacking his head. Some countries had more vicious duels than others, but it was standard sportsmanship to not do such on the international stage.

The medi-wizards encased Logan in a gold bubble and rushed him away. The injury had seemed severe, however it had been mostly physical force from what Quinn had seen. If he lived, he’d probably recover quickly. Physical injuries healed much nicer than magical ones, and as he thought this he felt his hand touch his side absentmindedly.

Alejandra would walk in to a chorus of boos and hisses though she acted with an air that she couldn’t hear them. Sitting next to Mimosa she would cross her legs. A medi-witch would rush up and begin to clean the wound she had sustained, and to Quinn’s pleasure he saw that it wasn’t healing as easy as it should have been. “Ready to show them how it is supposed to go?” He would say to Mpho, who’s dark eyes started daggers into the Mexican victor. He simply grunted as he pushed past. The arrogant model was nearly bowled over, his pride gaining probably the biggest bruise from the bulk of the African duelist. To add insult the stoic female model performed the same sending the wry boy down again.

“Come on Mimo....”. Quinn would simply say helping her up. Moving back and out he would take his position in the circle. Taking a bottle of water he would take a drink. On the over head Mpho’s intro would be shown showing multiple matches and accomplishments. It also revealed him to be part of the African ministry, a high rank in fact.

Quinn’s followed and he proclamation of their names boomed out. It showed his rise, labeling him old to get into the scene and novice victories sky rocketing his success. His winning the American championship, and then his injury leaving the ending with the question of how he was going to come back. “You ok?” He would say to Mimosa as he waved his wand. His robes transformed into a shorter pair of athletic shorts in a charcoal color, his shirt forming a long sleeved but tight athletic material in the colors of red white and blue.

The end of the duel had came so suddenly, and with appropriate censorship for younger audiences, that Mimosa didn't even know how the pretty Mexican lady had taken out the Canadian. All she knew was Quinn and Mo-Pho (at least that's what everyone called the tall black man) were on their feet, and not cheering. They were using word she wasn't supposed to or Clara wouldn't let her have Candy for a week.

The Canada man was taken away somewhere but the winner came to join them in the balcony. Mimosa's head hurt with all the cheers or boos or shouts, she couldn't discern them anymore. People should be cheering at a winner but it sure sounded like they were mad. Maybe everyone just liked Canada more than Mexico? She'd heard there were lots of For-e-ners in Mexico. She'd also heard fo-e-ners weren't good for some reason.

As the pretty lady came to sit next to her, taking up Quinn's vacated spot fluidly, the short wizard snatched her off the couch. Apparently he didn't like Mexicans either, and didn't want Mimosa to talk to one. The child cheered up slightly when Quinn, Mo-Pho and Mo-Pho's model all ran over the Spanish boy hurrying to his partner's side with ice and gauze.

Quinn seemed to know she would need help because for the first time in this tournament, he was willingly holding her hand and lifting her up to the stage before climbing up himself. As they approached their starting position, the announcements began once more. This time however, the child let out a soft sigh of relief because the voices were not as blaring. It seemed they were under the shield that protected the audience from the effects of dueling and even the sound from outside was filtering through at a gentle rate.

The brunette closed her eyes, leaning against Quinn and focusing on the words. Apparently this was not Quinn and Mo-Pho's first fight. They had both defeated each other twice before in various tournaments but the announcer was mean, saying that while Quinn too a long holiday, Maphistomati has only refined his game. The girl opened her eyes indignantly. There was nothing wrong with holidays!

When Quinn asked her if she was okay, the girl almost burst into tears, shaking her head at the dull pain still holding true behind her eyelids. "My head hurts," she managed, just short of actually crying on stage. "I don't know why. Yesterday they gave me a special juice to make me brave and then I went to sleep and since I woke up, it feels like my head is going to go boom." Looking up at the blonde with unshed tears clinging to her lashes, she added "I want us to win but can you please duel quietly? I don't think it would look very good if my head went boom on stage."

Looking with some concern for the girl Quinn finished the trasfiguration of his robes to a more appropriate dueling uniform. "Sorry twerp.........." He would say tapping her between the eyes with his wand as it glowed red. "That just ain't in our wheelhouse........" The spell he used would dull the pain. He was no accomplished healer, but he knew a few of the basics. It was a spell he used during duels at times to help get the rest of the way through when needed. It would only last maybe an hour, but it would get the girl through. As for understanding what was wrong with her, he had no idea. Perhaps she had never had a babbling beverage before. More likely she had talked herself to a migraine, probably going to be a chronic problem in her life no doubt.

With that he would turn around, to face the Ox of an opponent. Reaching up with both hands his knuckles would be placed right behind his ears. In quick succession cracks could be heard as all his knuckles popped. "Wish me luck kiddo." Would be the last words he spoke to her as she was ushered off to the viewing area. For the first time she would not get a filtered view of the duel. In fact the seating area would have two screens, and perhaps by an oversight they had forgotten to filter the views. The main screen pierced the bubble of protection and was the live action of the fight. The second smaller screen was set in a bowl of placid water, however instead of a reflection it showed the duel. On the side several runes were placed, with the ability to slow the action, rewind, and pause what was going on so they could get a more accurate view of what was going on. If they listened they would also be able to hear the proper audio of what was going on. Though she didn't know it, this was newer technology for the dueling circuit, with eventual hopes to include a point for coaches to be able to speak to the participants, though that feature was not included in these just yet.

"Well, tie breaker round..........overtime.............kick off.............Sports metaphore...." Quinn would shout over to Mpho as the ribbon began to tick down. The much larger man laughed a hearty and deep laugh likened to a landslide as he took up almost a boxer stance with his wand in his rear hand, his feet in a staggered stance. It almost looked like the man was prepping to take a hit. As for Quinn his wand was placed in a holster on his hip, and his stance took up a very relaxed and casual stance. "You know I'm going to be faster..." His voice would be quite, and Mimo would just barely be able to hear it over the ticking down of the clock, as for Mpho he would smile as he read the American's lips.

As the ribbon hit zero and the cannon fire sounded a lash of fire would smack into the bubble that surrounded Mimo. It would even provide a slight give as the wizards maintaining barriers groaned and placed more into it. They hadn't been looking forward to this match. As for Mpho, his body was forced back smacking into the bubble by a second explosion in front of him. His robes slightly torn, and patting off a smoldering section over his shoulder. His flesh however seemed unaffected. "Nice try, but not quick enough..." Quinn would say in a sing song voice. The same deep hearty laugh could be heard as Mpho used his wand to patch back his robes. Quinn seemed to be in the same spot that the match had started in, same stance, same holstered wand.

The announcer overhead would call what had happened, and more than one audience member if they had the omniocculars would rewind to see what had happened. The African man's wand flowed over his left arm causing it to transfigure. It took on a hard rock appearance, and grew his smile widening. While the rest of his body didn't transfigure it's shape, it all became a hard gray scaly appearance. As for Quinn, he merely drew his wand, though this would be one of the first times that he did so prior to just initiating an attack.

A sigh, and then the explosions occurred, it had been lucky Quinn had tapped Mimo at this point. The stadium underwent several shudders as collisions of magic would occur. It was quickly apparent that the fighting styles of the two men were at complete odds. As for Quinn, it was nearly impossible to keep up with his movements. Well, it would have been if it wasn't for the massive explosions that occurred wherever he appeared. Taking a leaf out of the earlier challenges, several places along the arena began to freeze, while others seemed to have heat waves radiating off of them.

As for Mpho, his body seemed to be made of living rock, taking each hit and shrugging it off with ease. This far exceeded any dueling lesson at school, and was even different from dueling most had seen. The classical approach of two people standing and hurling spells at one another was so........boring. The scene had shifted in recent years, Quinn one of the foremost athletes to speak to it, comparing the old way to redcoats standing in a field, which might explain his low popularity in the English scene.

Despite Mpho having taken half a dozen direct hits he was still moving strong, Quinn however had several gashes over various parts of his body. The larger man while not outwardly injured, was breathing heavy with a fair amount of labor. His attacks hit like a truck, and several of the shield wizards and witches had had to trade off when his attacks hit. He attacked both with lashing crimson flames, and smashes with his left hand.

As for Quinn he stuck with what he knew , apparating around the field leaving explosions and frozen patches behind him. This went on for nearly 10 minutes, which in dueling terms was a decent amount of time to pass without a victor being presented. At this point, both men paused, looking a little worse for the ware.

It was the African that moved first, his feet hitting hard, taking him at a speed that was at odds with his size. The rock fist rushing forward to hit Quinn, who appeared behind the man, though only to be met with rushing flames. Quinn's own wand snapped up a sheath of water flowing out hitting the flames instantly transforming into a steam shield that obscurered the view of anyone watching.

The explosion that followed sent the steam bellowing away, but kicking up dust and rock shards that belabored the barrier in over ten dozen spots. All the time the announcer had shouted a play by play as quickly as he could. The silence that followed as the dust settled though......seemed to indicate that a winner had been chosen, now it was just a matter of seeing who it was.