Do You Even Duel: Tournament 4 Finals- Brother Voodoo vs. Klarion the Witch-Boy

Klarion Featured Do You Even Duel

The winner of Do You Even Duel Tournament 4 has been decided! Read this narrative (Written by Sceritz) to reveal the victor between Brother Voodoo and Klarion!

“By the Bifrost”

He was in Haiti, journeying back from a long restless day of cleaning up after the political riots… and then he wasn’t.


Jericho Drumm scarcely maintained his footing after the sudden displacement. On the ground he could see the arcane glow of Asgardian script unwinding and dispelling beneath them. He rose to his feet to stare up at a figure. It towered over even the tallest of mortal men.


“Heimdall,” spoke Brother Voodoo as he leaned forward on the Staff of Legba, the eyeless sockets of the shrunken heads that dangled from them, seeming to stare clean through the Asgardian god. “I was busy on Earth.”


“You speak true, Brother Voodoo. You were busy, and patiently I waited until that business was done. Only after you retired from your task, did I summon you here.” Heimdall said his hands resting his hands on the upturned pommel of Hofund, the uru sword of legend.


“While I am always happy to convene with me brethren of the far realms, I must remind you that us mortals require sleep at some point…”


“Yes, yes, I have not forgotten how much you midgardians favor your rest. The boon I ask of you should be something that can be delivered with minimal effort for a man of your talent.”


“You speak of my knowledge of the occult arts. Is Loki not available?”


“The trickster tarries with his brother in Nifflehiem, in war against Cindyr.”


“And Stephen Strange?”


“In some dark corner of your galaxy, attempting to rediscover his link to the arcane.”


“Nico Minoru?”




“Alright my Asgardian brother, what is it?”


“There is a child.” Heimdall said.


“A child?”


“He seems like unto a demon with skin like the Vana-Kvisl. He’s been causing a ruckus to say the least, and he’s slippery. None of our men at arms seem capable of catching him, or his cat, besides.”


“I am no sitter of children.” Voodoo said as he began to raise his staff to summon a teleportation spell. “Perhaps, the teenage sorceress Nico Minoru would be the better choice for this task. Farewell, Heimdall I well be taking my-“


The words could not be finished for the air was snatched from his lungs as if by unseen thieves. He soared for a distance before he hit hard on the surface of the multi-colored bridge. His chest smoked with the acrid stench of dark magics.


Walking towards him down the Bifrost was the short form of a boy with a pale blue complexion, and horns not unlike some fel ram. He had an aloof expression as he strolled along, peering at the dwindling energy wisping from his fingertips. A small brown cat strolled alongside him “meowing” softly. “I thought they’d call someone fun for me to play with. I heard the Asgardians were among the strongest in this dimension. Gods they call themselves. I’d call them…” he turned his eyes and touched a finger to his bottom lip as if thinking. “Hmm…  unworthy.” The impish smirk on his face only grew when he finally laid eyes on Drumm.


Brother Voodoo was on his feet in an instant, bracing against the pain that coursed through all his limbs. “But you seem like somethin’ special, uncle. Name’s Klarion. I’m a witch-boy.”


“Boy or man, you are no brethren of mine, and your spirit reeks of something that is not of this dimension.”


“Yeah, yeah, yeah, too much talk, let’s play!” the Witch-Boy splayed his hands forward with particular precision in his fingers. A fuchsia colored hellflame raged towards Brother Voodoo.


But this time, the mystic master was prepared. Shutting his eyes, he let go of the Staff of Legba, letting it float before him as he entered a trance-like state. He clasped his hands together, fingers forming some mystic configuration. The flames then washed over him innocuously and then they were his. Swiftly, he fashioned it into the visage of some over-sized serpent. Without so much as moving a limb, Brother Voodoo commanded the snake to strike.


“Oh, screw you, taking my stuff!” Klarion cried as he swung his arms up to his chest in an “X.” A large fist, opaque and colored in a translucent blue, manifested and covered his body, thus protecting him from his own hellfire. “Why don’t you get your own toys!” Klarion said, giving Jericho the middle finger. The giant hand did the same. And then Klarion ran towards Brother Voodoo, and despite several yards still being between the two, threw a punch. The fist mimicked this motion and threw itself forward.


“I call upon the Barrier Crows of Legba!” shouted Voodoo as he took up his staff and slammed it into the bridge. A host of cawing crows flushed into existence in a plumage of black wing and feather, their combined strength blocking the oversized fist.


The crows then dashed in a spiral towards Klarion who formed a last-minute shield which they beat upon without effect. “You’re gonna need to try harder than that, Uncle Brother!”


As if to answer that challenge, Voodoo thrust his staff forward. “Then let us see if your dark magics understand the Language of Null!” At once Klarion’s shield shattered like glass. “Bolts of Balthakk!” Voodoo followed up with an emerald blast of eldritch energy that missed by a fraction of a second as Klarion’s body seemed to dematerialize and reform some distance away.


“Enough! Teekl, let’s finish this!” The Witch-boy shouted as he bathed his small brown cat with dark energy. Quickly, Teekl grew into something far larger and more ferocious- at least the size of a large grizzly. It pounced.


Brother Voodoo barely managed to dodge the attack, but Teekl was swift. Another swipe sent him reeling and left him with a nasty three-pronged crimson gash in his left arm. The beast’s eyes were mad with an otherworldly hunger as it stalked towards it’s injured prey, the scent of its blood driving its lust.


“Lesson number one, Uncle Brother. Never come to a fight alone.” Klarion said. With a snap of his fingers Teekl burst into a sprint.


Brother Voodoo eyed the beast on approach. “You are mistaken, Klarion.” As Teekl leapt in for the killing maul, suddenly a ghostly form appeared, and intercepted her. Upon impact the form seemed to disappear inside of the overgrown feline, and she was tossed back several feet to land near Klarion.


Klarion took a bewildered step back as Teekl rose to her feet again, and now eyed him with that unruly hunger. “Wait… Teekl?”


A voice sounded over the telepathic airways, coming from Teekl, with dialect none too different from Jericho himself. “I am with my brother, always.” And Teekl leapt towards Klarion.


Acting quick with his magics The Witch-boy reverted his cat to her former, less ferocious self and pointed and accusatory finger at Brother Voodoo. “Dude, you friggin’ suck! Stop stealing my stuff!”


At that same moment the ghastly form of a man exited Teekl’s body and smiled with a shrug. “That one was on me, man.” His accent just as thick with the islands as Jericho’s.


“Thank you, me brother.” Brother Voodoo said with a smile as the spirit of Daniel Drumm returned to his side.


“No matter what, you always put your self in a bind that you need me help for. I’m used to it.”


Klarion stamped on the ground “What is this, a family reunion? We aren’t done!” His body suddenly became ablaze with an aura of dark mystic energy.


“Boy! You know not the true forces that you meddle with.” Voodoo’s voice boomed as a dark tenebrous smoke plumed about him and the bridge, moving to overtake Klarion. The ubiquitous thrum of a drum began to sound nowhere and everywhere at once, as if to punctuate his words. “You stand before the Speaker of the Loa, from the bloodline that begat the ancestral Hougan Supreme. My soul has been cleansed with the Darkest of Fires. I am a carrier of Legacy of the Voudon, Master of the Dark Occult. And you… have no place here…”


Within the smoke the air became thick and humid. The ground a murky marsh. Voodoo was muttering something in an unknown tongue as Klarion turned about unsure from where the attack would come. “This battle is over Witch-Boy. You now stand in the Bayou of the Agwe Loch.”


And then, from the watery depths of the marsh that seemed only feet deep, came a giant reptilian maw, easily several meters in height, flanked with rows of serrated teeth.


It burst upwards, right beneath not Klarion… but Teekl. It snapped closed around the tiny cat and landed back into the marsh with an explosive splash, disappearing.


“Teekl!!!” Klarion’s face was twisted in horror, his hands pulling and gripping the ends of his hair. “No, no, no!” And at that instant… he seemingly blinked from existence.


The drums stopped, the marsh dissipated, and the smoke cleared, leaving Brother Voodoo standing alone.


“Impressive.” Came the voice of Heimdall from behind him. “But if you didn’t defeat the boy…”


“There are rules when traveling beyond one’s own multiverse with dark magics.” Brother Voodoo said. “The cat was his familiar, and the only thing keeping him anchored to this realm.”


“I see…” Heimdall said with a new understanding. “And that is why my eyes often fall to Midgard. You humans thoroughly amaze me.”

Winner: Brother Voodoo!

Voodoo Card Do You Even Duel

Stay tuned in for the next tournament coming soon!

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AKA Sceritz, AKA Ophan Black Panther. A cosmic obliterator of the IVth Wall and breaker of chains of the hordes of fandoms scattered throughout the multiverse. Architect of and Creator of

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