Dreadlords Applied Martial Spellcraft 301

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Evangeline

Pirian Proctor
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Character Biography
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"Alright, class!" Proctor D'Amour called out across the courtyard, a brimming, confident smile on her mien. "Fall in and listen well!"

Midmorning in Vel Anir had never felt so energetic. The sky above was only partly cloudy and the temperature actually bordered somewhere close to warm, a comfortable breeze finding its way through the gravel-laden outdoor area. A number of slightly depressed rings in the ground, each filled with sand, denoted the training circles that would be seeing extensive use this day. While Evangeline was the primary proctor standing tall and proud at the courtyard's center, others observed from cloisters along the sidelines.

In the aftermath of the graduation, more attention than usual was being paid to the safety and proper upbringing of the Academy's initiates, especially those who would be graduating next. Special care needed to be taken in ensuring no more disasters occurred, but that also meant ensuring that the generations that followed were of an even higher caliber than those that preceded them. What better way to aid such an endeavor than doing exactly what Evangeline had signed on to do: teach the students how to fight properly.

"For those that need a reminder, you are no longer fledglings. This is the advanced course. That means no more pulling punches, no holds barred. You will be paired off and you will fight as though your opponent intends to end you. I don't want to hear any complaints about pairings; in the field, your enemies will not care how 'unfair' you think the match-up is. They will show you no mercy." The proctor's voice carried and echoed through the courtyard as she stood at the front of the assembly of students, arms folded neatly behind her back. She looked over the students before her, regarding each of them in turn.

"You will be graded not only on your ability to overcome your opponent, but all aspects of your performance. A sloppy victory is a temporary one. I want to see each of you apply what you've learned so far. Remember to consider neither just your skills with your weapon nor your magical prowess, but how each compliment the other. Mastering the synergy between both is what makes us Dreadlords, a cut above all others!"

This may have been early into the school year for these initiates, but Evangeline held high expectations for them. Drills had, as ever, been a constant for the students in her class. Studying treatises was standard homework, and Eva had been very personal in trying to guide each of her students on how best to apply their magics to their combat skills. This would be their first practical exam.

"Don't fret about causing serious harm to or killing your opponent," Evangeline gestured to several arcane runes that had been inscribed along pillars placed throughout the courtyard, on walls at its edges, and upon the edges of the sparring rings as she continued her explanation. "The wards we've set up within this arena will prevent any serious harm from coming to any participants. If the enchantments detect a blow that would be overly debilitating or otherwise lethal, the attack will be absorbed by the wards and the recipient of that attack will experience a significant degree of numbness at the location of the attack. Collateral damage will also be absorbed by the boundaries of the sparring rings. Should any real injury occur, myself and several of our infirmary staff are here to insure you will face no lasting damage."

Now finished with both the introduction to the class as well as an assurance of their safety, Proctor D'Amour stood at attention and asked the all important question:
"Any questions, initiates?"
 
Delilah, as usual, had sauntered out onto the training ground at the last possible minute, and while she was (perhaps a bit begrudgingly) standing in line with the others, her slovenly posture and disinterested gaze bespoke anything but being even remotely at attention. Not that this was all that unusual; the tiny girl had a well-documented penchant for outward laziness and carelessness.

Now, at the proctor's query, she yawned delicately, covering her mouth languidly with one of her hands. The long violet nails on her hand click together softly, and as she lowers her hand, there is a faint smirk on her face, matched by the vaguely malicious twinkle in her single eye. "... s'pose our opponent is borin', though. Can we break in on another group's fun then? Once we finish with th' first one?" As she said it, Delilah's eye roved blandly over her fellow initiates before sliding back to Proctor D'Amour.
 
Standing as the foil to the small and disinterested Delilah, Maseno had arrived to the lesson early and with time to spare. He comported himself in a calm silence and took a seat on a wooden bench along the sidelines where he awaited the start of the class in a state of meditation. Hands planted firmly upon his knees, back straight and broad shoulders square, the Initiate sat with his eyes closed and his mind centered.

By the time the others began to arrive his focus was clear, as were his thoughts. Maseno's eyes slid open at the Proctor's opening statement, catching the light of the sun with a gleam of molten gold within the amber as he quietly listened to her words.

He was ready for the task and the challenge of facing his fellow Initiates, but the same thing wandered through his mind as it likely did all the others: who, oh who, would he be facing today?
 
Vasha stood near the rightmost side of the group, arms folded as she listened carefully to Proctor D'Amour. Back straight. Posture stiff. Her expression remained neutral for most of the explanation, however her sulfur-yellow eyes had narrowed slightly by the end. Gaze following the Proctor's gestures toward the warded pillars, the pale girl exhaled slowly through her nostrils.

Master the synergy between both...? She tapped two fingers lightly against her arm and bit the inside of her cheek, frowning. Vasha hated having to utilize normal weaponry. As painful as the cost was to her magic, it was brutally effective at working in close quarters. Vasha had little direct need for swords or other weaponry, so to her, learning their use was required only as a precaution in the event she was caught in a null zone or while locked out of her ability to shift. Combining her magic with other tools just wasn't something that came up frequently. She wasn't able to cast lightning or fire like some of the others in her class. In fact, Vasha had nothing to work with at range- and her own magic superseded blades, axes, and the like. So how was she supposed to combine the two?

Her lip curled for a moment, and then she forced herself to steel her features. No... she'd only been exposed to small scale fights until now. Dreadlords were intended for war. For long, drawn out fights. Like a hard punch to break the line and shorten the conflict immensely. You ended a fight as quickly as you were able to, but even the term "quickly" could be months in the lifespan of a war.

Her fingers stopped tapping, and Vasha's eyes narrowed further. Kress's bloody shitstains... she remembered this being drilled into her in classes, but now that this came to the forefront, she realized she'd made an error. She hadn't accounted for this detail in her plans.

Oh well. Better late than never.
 
There were a lot of intense and downright murderous looks coming from many of the initiates as they prepared for class, which just seemed...overdramatic to Corvus.

It was just a freaking fighting class, get over yourself. Besides, just win and then everything would be fine right? He stood off to the side and was stretched with his spear behind his back. Cassi was also here and would be sparring, which meant that they both would have more control over their powers. She was scheduled to go on some kind of mission later that day. Corvus did not like the sound of that as he had requested to go with her and the others but had been turned down. The administration knew they were stronger together, so why do this?

Let's see, who would he talk to that would not outwardly growl at him? Not Vasha, Delilah would burn him, not growl. That left, oh yes, this would be fun.

"Hey, Maz, no hard feelings when I kick your ass today."
 
Lumen had also arrived early but did not interrupt Maz. When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she’d let herself stare at the lines of his face. Until others started arriving. Then she’d gone through some warm-up drills.

Golden hair was bound back into braids that were pinned up. The initiates deathly stares warmed for a moment when they fell upon her. There were uncertain waves and fist bumps.

Lumen smiled back. But they all knew she wouldn’t take it easy on them. Her hand did shoot up, waiting for the Proctor to call on her because rules were meant to be followed.

“When you’re fighting someone you know or have an emotional connection to, how do you, y’know, turn that off, so it doesn’t distract you?”
 
Ever apt at blending in and being neither seen nor heard, Zinnia fell in quietly and stood at attention as Proctor D'Amour made her announcement. Today would be unlike her recent forays into socialization; she was not here to be friendly and fit in, she was here to do her duty. Zinnia cared very much about her grades, and right now that meant fighting well and winning.

Inhale. Exhale. The nerves were still there, just much less than usual. To those that had started to get to know her, she'd seem the calmest she'd ever been.

Okay...let's do this...

With no questions of her own, Zinnia offered a tight salute and affixed a helmet. No accidents today.
 
... spose our opponent is borin, though. Can we break in on another groups fun then? Once we finish with th first one?

Evangeline stepped down the line to where Initiate Bryndel stood and eyed her carefully. She made a mental note to keep an eye on this one. Icy eyes fell upon the girl.

"Absolutely not, initiate. You will fight to completion in your own ring and then wait to receive your grade. There will be no simulation of the chaos of a warzone today." Her harsh stare wavered as her lips curled into a slightly smug smile. "That comes in a later class."

“When you’re fighting someone you know or have an emotional connection to, how do you, y’know, turn that off, so it doesn’t distract you?”

Back up the line. Initiate Adagio. Evangeline liked this one.

"A fine question! While you will all likely have to find your own methods to achieve this, I have found that visualization is key. Visualize your opponent as a true enemy and consider the life-threatening consequences of hesitation! Remember what I've said already: your foe will not show you mercy, so show them none in return!"

With everything taken care of and no further questions, the initiates would be ushered by aids to their respective rings. The exams were about to begin!
 
Corvus bounced from foot to foot and shot Maz a grin as his name was called and his opponent. "Looks like you got lucky this time, Maz." He called out jokingly before jogging over to his specified ring.

As he entered the ring, he looked Lumen over and nodded.

"Don't worry Lu. I know you have a deep emotional connection with me, but you can hit me anyway." He said with a light grin, as he casually got into his fighting stance. No reason to take this all to seriously.

Corvus did not want to use his magic just yet, instead, he swung towards Lumen's left as soon as the fights began looking to just kick things off.

Lumen
 
Delilah didn't so much walk as saunter over to her own ring across from Zinnia, lazily sizing up her much larger opponent. "Oh, c'mon, I get you?" The younger girl's drily disinterested voice contrasted with the whining petulance of her words. Her lips—painted with a deep wine shade today—set themselves in a disappointed pout that would have been oddly adorable if not for the missing eye and hairline cracks running down the left side of her porcelain face. "You're definitely gonna be boring. I wanted th' lizard ... or maybe windy boy, he'd'a been fun."

Reaching down to her unarmored waist with her right hand, Delilah drew the only weapon she carried on her—a long stiletto with an unconventional and nasty arrowhead point at either end of the crossguard. The whole thing—blade, guard, grip, and pommel—was fashioned of a single conjoined piece of lusterless black metal that looked almost ashen.

Twirling the blade idly in her right hand, she beckoned laconically towards her opponent with her left, a faint wisp of violet smoke starting to rise from the empty hollow of her left eye even as violet light flickered almost hungrily in her right.
"C'mon, 'urry up already, let's get 'er over with ..."

Zinnia
 
Vasha strode warilly over to her pit with 'Maz' as Corvus called him. As cheery as the other boy was, she had no read on this one thus far other than sheer discipline. And that alone set her on edge.

Yet, that same sense of wary anticipation set her fingers itching. Good. I won't know what my opponent is capable of in a fight. This should be perfect practice. Vasha tried to quickly run through a few plans. Should she go at him suddenly, with little warning? Should she take her time and try to get a read first?

Settling on the latter (she could always ramp things up, but not down), Vasha drew a hand-and-a-half gripped bastardsword from its sheath, the familiar prickle of scales beginning to form under her skin.

Circling for all of three steps as the spars began around them, Vasha made the first move. Taking a step forward, she feinted as if to lunge, and then instead tried to close the gap on the taller boy rather than leave herself overextended, pressing early at his defenses to test his response.


Maseno Luana
 
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A thoughtful look to the Pirian Proctor as she listened. Lumen knew it was something she'd have to work on. No mercy.

Dont worry Lu. I know you have a deep emotional connection with me, but you can hit me anyway.

There was the famous arch of a singular golden brow as her tawny-gaze assessed him as an opponent. Instead of her typical armor, she wore more flexible but still sturdy leathers. The sword at her side. Her circular shield strapped to her back.

A mock kiss blown in his direction before her jaw-set in concentration. She was the opposite to his casual stance. She was the weapon the Academy had honed since they'd brought her in. Her sword was drawn with a whisper of its name.

And when he moved, she moved as well. Blade swatted the shaft of his spear away and she used that moment to lunge inside his range, sword tip going toward his gut. She was justice incarnate.
 
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Pairings were posted promptly, and Zinnia tried to keep her breathing steady as she read the name next to hers on the board:

Delilah Bryndel.

Two flowers among the field of chaos, she mused to herself. Unfortunately, this one happened to be a noxious, stinking, weed. Delilah's attitude problem was no secret even to a shut-in like Zinnia. This would be a trial in patience as much as one of skill.

Zinnia stepped into their respective ring and closed the visor of her sallet. Her armor was practical and well crafted, but light enough that it didn't restrict her movement. Her gold eyes gazed out at the strange violets of her opponent. Delilah, for her part, was already slinging taunts her way and flourishing that dextrous little blade of hers. Zinnia's armor would hopefully give her one more advantage in that regard.

The usually timid girl hefted a kite shield in one hand and an odd-looking war hammer in the other. The hammer had a long, sturdy handle, atop which was mounted a sphere that looked to be made of cloudy glass. The hammer's face seemed to wrap around the sphere somehow, as did the large, chisel-like fin that stuck off the back side. Zinnia found her footing, tightened her grip on her armaments, and offered a simple retort:
"Y-your stance is sloppy."

Shield up, Zinnia rushed forward--fast. Surprisingly fast. She closed the gap like lightning, and as she stepped in to take a swing a burst of cold, blue energy surged from her hands to her gauntlet, then channeled up the handle of her hammer and into the glassy sphere. A sharp sound like a chime rung out as the sphere burst into a ball of pure cold, the hammer now infused with ice. Freezing crystals sprouted from the hammer's face and the backside became enveloped in a formation that resembled an icy scythe.

Zinnia aimed for center of mass first. A body blow backed by the frozen magics she channeled was the opening gambit she'd stake the match on. Delilah wouldn't long mistake Zinnia for being "boring."
 
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Zinnia aimed for center of mass first. A body blow backed by the frozen magics she channeled was the opening gambit shed stake the match on. Delilah wouldnt long mistake Zinnia for being boring.
Considering the admitted sloppiness her opponent had so bluntly called out, the one-eyed girl swept into motion with startling alacrity—but not into a dodge. No, Delilah simply shifted her stance, moving to take the brunt of the blow not upon her body, but rather along her outstretched left arm. As the hammer fell, she turned her arm at an angle, deflecting the majority of the crushing force and instead letting the crystalline shards of the ice rake along her arm like so many countless tiny knives rending through her ashen skin.

The wounds the ice left did not bleed. Rather, gouts and swirls of deep violet flame unfurled forth in the places where Delilah's skin cracked open. The skin at the edges of the wounds flaked away like motes of ash amidst spreading hairline cracks as the fire wreathed her arm in an unholy light, showering forth over the ground and dotting the ring with pockets of fire that all-too-clearly hungered to spread. As the hammer's momentum carried it past and away from its target, yet more of those same tongues of fire clung to its head, burning away at even the very ice.

For her part, the smaller girl let the force of the impact carry her a few feet further away, visibly staggering slightly; even after deflecting the strike, that had been no meager blow. But as she stood and straightened, keeping her distance for the moment on the other side of one of the larger patches of flame, it was not pain but a cocky smirk that twisted her lips as that same hellish fire began to roil and churn to life in the hollow of her missing eye, sending streaks of violet light running up and down the cracks that lined her face and neck.

"Oh, nice toy you got there! Every girl needs some nice toys to play with." The sing-song baby-talk cadence to Delilah's voice was made all the more infuriating by the fact that she was the youngest recruit in the class by more than a year. "Here, let me have a turn with it!"

A sudden uncanny shudder—pain? rapture? something else?—seemed to run through Delilah's body as she spoke, and the flame in her missing "eye" suddenly erupted into a seething swirl, arcs of fire leaping out to the limn the now-gleaming violet nails that tipped her fingers and joining the flames running up over her left hand and (now slightly crooked) lower arm. Casually swiping the blade of her stiletto across her palm, the girl crouched slightly into a more openly defensive stance, twirling the now-flaming blade idly in her right hand as she extended her left towards Zinnia's weapon. The fire atop the hammer's head flared with new vigor as it began to slowly, inexorably creep down the haft towards its wielder.
 
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The rivalry with Corvus was well-founded and met with calm amusement. Maseno had seen Corvus in action on more than one occasion and greatly respected him. While he would have gladly met him as today's opponent, and meant to comment as much, it seemed that was not in the cards. Unfortunate, but he was not disappointed with his match.

Vasha was more or less a bit of an anomaly for him as much as he was for her. He'd seen her in classes but had never shared a mission with the girl. As it was, her full lethal potential remained an unknown and a welcome challenge to face.

He arrived at their sparring ring in a quiet and collected manner where at the edge he set his rucksack aside and doffed his cloak atop it. The various weapons upon his person, strapped in neat and tidy fashion across his leather armor, gleamed within the patchy light of the sun that shone through clouds in the sky.

Vasha drew her sword. Maseno drew a black swordstaff from his back. With a single twirl of the staff at his side, he brought his weapon into a guarded ready stance and gave himself a moment to draw a deep, balancing breath into his lungs which was just enough time for Vasha to decide to make the first move.

Circling for all of three steps as the spars began around them, Vasha made the first move. Taking a step forward, she feinted as if to lunge, and then instead tried to close the gap on the taller boy rather than leave herself overextended, pressing early at his defenses to test his response.

Mase visually tracked her progress, noting the girl's agility as she moved to feign a lunge and then rebound. He met her advance with a swift and strong counter-strike of his pole, catching her blade and smoothly turning from ball of foot to heel in a half turn before shunting her off with her own momentum and the additional force of his push.

His movements followed through in a fluid motion, the pole circuiting in a smooth diagonal before coming to rest in a broad ready stance again. His amber gaze leveled quietly upon her.

  1. Each pair will choose an odd number, preferably 3 or 5. That's the number of rounds your characters will do battle.
  2. "Rounds" being back and forth posts.
  3. Before each round you will reach roll a d100.
  4. The lower your roll, the better your performance. The closer you roll to each other, the closer that round was. The lower roll has "won" that round.
  5. By the final round, whoever has more wins than the other wins the match.
  6. Coordinate with each other and come to with cool ways to describe what the dice are narrating for you.
  7. One caveat: if the dice give one person the majority of the round wins all in a row, I suggest coordinating with your partner on making the coming loss feel close c:
 
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So he was able to match her in close combat despite having a weapon that favored range. And he was covered in other weapons by the look of the various glints and shines she caught sight of against his armor. An offensive natured mage then, even if he hid it, Vasha guessed.

Eyes narrowing slightly, she circled again with steady paces about the perimeter. However, this time, each step was progressively heavier- Vasha's eyes dilating slightly as between each breath, her body rapidly began to change.

Her skin paled and stretched, moisture sucked away from it and falling in scraps from the larger form beneath. Her nose flattened and her jaw lengthened, flat teeth sharpening into knife-like points. Her head went from round, to angular- long, wicked horns rising from just above and beside her brows toward the back of her skull. Her shoulders broadened and strengthened. Her wrists near quadrupled in width and her fingers sprouted claws, the hand and a half broadsword becoming a proportionate one-handed broadsword. Bones cracked and shifted as she rose up onto her toes, her spine lengthening and extending into a tail that ended with various flat and sharp scales more useful as a secondary blade than a club.

Every inch of her was coated in flat, pale scales ranging from skin-toned around the belly, to white around the back. However, starting from the middle of her brow, a mane of sharp, bony scales spread down her neck and across her shoulders, and then down her spine toward her tail.

But even more important than the fact she was now covered in armor, the previously 5'6" girl stood a towering 6'5" over Maseno, and as such had the added reach of her height. The sand crunched and creaked under her steps, compacted under the force of nearly three hundred pounds. He would have noticed that her attack before was surprisingly heavy for a girl her size- and now he would see why.

Let's see how he handles pressure.

Swiveling on her foot, Vasha lashed out at Maseno again- performing a much more complex series of attacks than the simple feint from before.
 
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Maybe Corvus was careless, no saying that would be unfair to Lumen's skill. She was quick and exact in her movements and her sword was already aimed at his gut when his spear was knocked out of the way. The runes did their job, ensuring Corvus was not skewered, but the sword still felt like a sharp punch to the gut.

Corvus fell back, his knee hitting the ground, but he quickly rolled to his feet before more harm could be done. He still kept his relaxed and loose posture, but the lackadaisical grin on his face was gone, getting spiked in the chest did that to you.

"Nice shot...I guess the emotional connection did not do too much to protect me."


Alright, he needed to focus before he got smacked again, that shit hurt.

Corvus was not a fan of defensively fighting, and lunged back in to regain his momentum, but this time using far more sharp and precise spear attacks. His style often put him on the attack, as Corvus would swiftly switch from using the spear like a spear to using it more like a staff.

Lumen
 
Not good. Very, very not good. Zinnia had miscalculated. She'd hoped that the ice she'd infused into her hammer would help snuff out what she knew of Delilah's powers, that being her fire. Unfortunately, there was something starkly off about that "fire." Zinnia was all too familiar with what real fire felt like on skin. On her skin, at least. It was the element she'd likely absorbed most in her time practicing with her magic. Delilah's...wasn't that...

Instead of anything going how she'd hoped, she'd just enabled Delilah's own strategy. Damn it all! Zinnia had to leap back to escape the flames that were now enveloping her opponent's body, but the damage had already been done. She let out a growl of frustration at the younger girl's taunting and gave a slightly panicked glance at her hammer. The weapon itself would be fine--it was designed to channel and conduct magic and wouldn't be easily consumed; if it spread down to Zinnia, though, that would be bad...

Water. Water infused with her own magical essence would douse this, surely, she just had to use enough of it. A muffled *crack* sounded as the essence of waves surged from Zinnia's hand, up the handle of her hammer and began to pulse within the sphere atop it. All for naught. Delilah's fire consumed it like it was nothing, steam now enveloping the hammer and Zinnia both. No choices left. Until later, her war hammer was to be considered a loss.

"You like it? Take it!"

With a grunt, she hurled the hammer back in Delilah's direction, still wreathed in both now boiling water and the girl's violet fire. Whether or not this would have any effect remained to be seen; the hammer was not balanced to be a throwing weapon, and Zinnia was simply trying to make it have some semblance of use as she tossed it away. Now she was limited to her bow, sidearm, and shield, and that was certainly going to be an issue.
 
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A small sheen of sweat was forming on her brow as she brought her sword back in.

Nice shot...I guess the emotional connection did not do too much to protect me.

"We can get coffee after this, I promise," the corner of her mouth curved upward for a moment. But from her facial expression, it was clear she was in-the-zone. A focused warrior. Eyes watching him like one of Proctor McGruffin's training falcon's. Watching his movements. Weighing them in her mind and trying to anticipate where he would go.

For as much as she teased him back, Corvus was strong. Like all of them, he was a deadly weapon.

That first strike of his staff slipped passed her guard and swiped against the leather padding of her shoulder. She grunted and tipped her weight back on the balls of her feet. Wrists twisted and her sword parried one of his strikes. And another. With honed movements of years of practice and overtime practice, she found an opening and brought her sword in to cleave from hip-bone to opposite shoulder.
 
The silence between them was a curious touch. Maseno had gotten used to the other Initiates being boastful and proud, much like Corvus. Always a great deal to say, and while Maz often found the banter amusing, he disliked partaking. That Vasha had yet to say a word was a welcome spin on a sometimes repetitive exercise.

The Initiate squared up to his opponent, his stance fluid and shifting to match her movements as she ranged through her bodily transformations. It was impressive, to say the least, and the raise of his brows as he watched would be hard to miss. They were all weapons of war, but Vasha's ... power? Ability? Took the adage literally. She was fearsome, for certain, and he hoped that he might have a chance to watch her spar with others so that he could spent more time focusing on her and how she moved.

But now wasn't the time to get distracted. For certain only a blink of an eye could equate the loss of a limb, or worse.

Vasha proved this in spades as she surged forward a second time. He met her first few strikes with quick and direct parries using his swordstaff, and then upon a momentary break in pressure gestured forward and up with a single hand. This motion ripped one of the sideline benches off the ground and sent it sailing through the air at the monstrous girl to which he used the distraction to foist himself airbound, upwards and over her with a flip to land at the far corner of their court.
 
Corvus grit his teeth in pain at the sword strike, as the runes, limited the injuries, but they did not limit the pain as much. None of the strikes would have killed him, yet, but in a real fight, they would have been seriously debilitating.

Corvus was not one for exact or precise fighting, this back-and-forth was not good for him, he needed to change the rhythm. His magic began to move as he called the winds. An armor of wind pushed out from his giving a semblance of defense.

He took a moment to gather himself and then began to swing his spear in a staff-like fashion, but this time the spear was followed by a strong wind wall. If Lumen was better with precision, then he would simply use force.

Lumen
 
Pausing at Maseno's strange gesture and expecting something to come from him directly, Vasha staggered as the bench slammed into her from behind and shattered against the jagged spikes covering her shoulders and spine, allowing her opponent to flip over her in the same moment and slip out of her reach.

Shaking herself vigorously for a moment as she felt the wards' tingling numbness spread over her, Vasha let out a displeased growl that throbbed in her chest as she turned to eye her opponent on the opposite end of the ring. The wards were more of a distraction than anything- the transformation that came over her had the added benefit of dulling her sense of pain even despite a blow that would likely have left the back of her ribs and shoulders cracked, and her movements showed it. However, that little trick had taught her two valuable bits of information about her opponent.

He relied on defense almost exclusively in close range. And he was either a telekinetic or able to manipulate wood. Though her bet was on the telekinesis, given the presence of so many blades on his person. Quite the potent combination. Against most anyone else in the class, that bench would have decked them and put them out of commission. She could see why he had developed those skillsets to buy time and then take out an opponent with a good hit. Now how to get around them...

Tailtip twitching, Vasha considered her options for a moment, and then narrowed her gaze. He was highly observant, and his movements matched his observation skills. She needed to limit that capability.

Dimly, Vasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, and her own ragged breathing. It was rare when she got to push herself like this. It was almost fun.

Taking a step forward, Vasha paused and looked at her foot as she heard the crunch of sand beneath her claws. There was her answer. A slight trill warbling in her throat, the draconic figure's tail lashed out to kick up the sand in their ring into a dust cloud, her body whirling as she ensured the cloud would be thick and palpable for the next few moments. A boon to her offensive capabilities and defense alike.

Tongue flickering out as her eyes closed, Vasha lowered her stance and charged toward his side of the ring, tailing him by scent and sound instead of sight. And as soon as she got close, Vasha pulled a similar trick as she did at the start of the fight, but with a twist. A loud feint- dragging her sword slightly against the sand to draw his attention. And then a silent sideswipe with her tail toward him.

It wasn't a clean attack. But she didn't need to be clean to be effective.
 
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She was not prepared for the power behind her sword connection with his spear as it swung like a staff. Anyone not as disciplined as her. Had not had as many hours on the practice field. Who didn't practically sleep with the sword, would've dropped their sword.

She managed to hang on even as the strike jarred her arm, slid down her sword and slammed into her shoulder. A stumbling step back and then another. Without the runes, she would've either had a broken arm or a dislocated shoulder. Perhaps both.

Like most of her fellow initiates, she wasn't a stranger to pain and the endurance through it.

So, she recovered quickly. If he wanted to play with magic, she would to. Gaze flickered to his shoes even as she stepped forward and swung at his torso with her sword. The shoes he wore would suddenly heat up as she jacked up the temperature to burning levels.
 
When Corvus started using his powers much of his fighting was using the momentum of the winds. Once they started moving, it was difficult to stop them. It was all about the rhythm and the strength that his magic brought to him. It was wild and intoxicating. He could smell it. Wait, smell it? Was that smoke?

"Aagh!"

The pain hit him quickly, as the runes may have kept his feet from physically burning that did not stop the sensation of his feet cooking. They say burning alive was the worst way to go, and Corvus could certainly believe that.

He jumped back and released a large burst of wind from his feet completely shredding his boots apart, which were already starting to melt. He hopped from foot to foot, while also trying to maintain a fighting stance. Each step made the winds whip up more around them, before closing in around them, shrinking the arena even more. In one final push, Corvus brought the blanket of wind down on the both of them, fealing like a blurry of punches against the both of them, although a little rougher on Lumen.
 
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For the tiniest moment, she felt a little bad. Instead of charging in to finish of the attack, she hesitated. And she'd remember this moment. A moment she better dagum not repeat in real life. It was hard enough to keep her footing as the wind-whipped around the runed-in-space.

It was a good thing she'd pinned her hair firmly back before this exercise.

And even though she kept her center-of-gravity as low as she could, she felt the threat of being physically picked up and blow off her feet as she tried to move. But that moment of hesitation? The wind? By that time it was too late.

Wind pressed all around her. Down on her. She didn't have time to get the shield strapped off her back as a blow hit her across her leathered armor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the protective runes get ripped off with the wind. A part of her wondered if the proctors had made them weak on purpose or if they hadn't taken into account the power of Corvus' wind.

Fuk.

Was her only thought as the pummeling and pain made her face-up looking toward the sky.

To her credit, she still gripped the sword. Even as she felt some cracked ribs as she drew in a ragged breath.