Dreadlords Evaluation

[Kael]

While the most eyes went to the arena, Kael had been at a different track. He had killed the same ‘man’ six times, in six ways. Everytime he was given a new restriction. The Proctors took his knife after kill one, his lockpicks after kill two, told him he couldn’t shift into a bird after kill three, a snake after kill four. More ‘guards’ were added after kill five. A ward placed over his door after kill six. Though the ‘people’ were only facsimiles, complex familiars that resembled humans, the entire process was a gruesome affair. Kael could scarcely believe these fair-skinned apes thought Goblins the barbarous ones.

“Initiate Gavorn is finished. You’re up.” A Proctor informed Kael, before pulling a small lever. The door in front of him opened and Kael was off, exploring a newly renovated pre-fab environment.

Bark! Bark!

The sound of angry guard dogs rang through the air. A definite wrinkle, but one Kael was prepared for. The goblin shifted to shape of a Cortosi Shepard, and there was a distinct shift in the barks of the dogs. From anger and alerting to confusion. The beasts quieted down as Kael hugged a wall, trotting down and sniffing out his environment. He could smell the other dogs simply enough, which meant they were real. The arcane phantoms left no such evidence. Continuing to go down the wall he caught scent of a pork stew, seasoned with pepper and other spices. Did he smell squash as well? And a strong, bitter scent with a note of dark chocolate. Coffee perhaps? The scents culminated in a single location, probably whatever was set up as the kitchen.

Dog-Kael began making his way to the scent. Where there was food there was an access point to any location in a camp, provided Kael played his cards right.

 

[Saderzaine Vult]

"Catrina definitely has the upper hand here, but any sort of blunder is still fatal for either side." he agreed with a nod. "I'm thinking that Marcia is reading the timing of her blows, though. By this point, Catrina's efforts to keep her on the back foot could or maybe even should have become a pattern."

Working with a shield as a main weapon set a rather unique style, one that meant a person would expect themselves to get hit. Indeed, fighters who focused on counters and strengthening stamina to last until their golden opportunity were no joke.

Their last fight had been cut short rather dramatically, but since then Sader had always wondered whether he would have won. Well, there was always next time unless there wasn't. "I think that the easiest way to turn the tide would be dodging or parrying a heavy attack, something with weight behind it. Knock em' off balance and take the chance." he muttered, half to himself and half to Takoda.

Thinking about Takoda, Sader's attention momentarily blipped away from the fight at hand to focus on his own battle. Sader could use a bow but had forgotten it in favor of arriving with his spear, meaning range was an issue. The biggest problem other than that was the idea of gravity getting messed up, but not all was too terrible. If someone jumped up, they fell down.

It all operated on lines, and that was thankfully pretty predictable if his opponent decided to start flying or something like that.

Takoda

 

[Takoda]

Takoda was already shaking his head at Sader's observation, while he wasn't wrong he was assuming that Catrina was less competent than Marcia, which she wasn't.

"Yes, but it is unlikely, Catrina is well-trained and does not let herself fall into predictable patterns often. She isn't likely to throw herself off balance either. If she does then that would be perfect, but Marcia should also be prepared for no clear openings."

Such was the annoyance of hand-to-hand fighters. One usually did not go into such a fight without having real confidence and understanding of their body as a whole, so balance and skill was usually a strength. Of course, there were always the bruisers but Catrina did not strike him as such.

Similarly to his opponent, Takoda had already noticed Saderzaine's spear so it looked like they would be equally equipped. He knew the initiate's abilities had something to do with speed, so they were both skilled with mobility. It would be an interesting fight where Vult would like to have an advantage on the ground, but...Takoda did not plan on fighting there.

Saderzaine Vult

 

[Blake]

Blake snorted, both at her own inability to keep up the impression and at Colt's use of the term "date."
"If getting beaten up is your idea of a good time, by all means!" she called after him, a big, confident grin on her face.

She could overhear the conversation Colt had with the soldier. Ten minutes, huh? Time enough to get warmed up, she supposed. Blake began the process of going through her stretches, hyping herself up for the coming brawl as she did.

"So, Cowpoke," she addressed Colt as he returned, already a fan of the impromptu nickname she'd decided to give him. "We going kiddy gloves off for this? Or are we pulling punches for show?"

 

[Colt Pirian]

The Wind Rider returned to find a lively conversation on the Marcia Catrina fight, and his dance partner beginning to stretch. For an academy dedicated to making super soldiers, Blake was a bit more chipper than normal. It spoke to a detachment from the afterwards, the life they’d each live. Colt wondered if the mentality existed when his father was in the Academy. She asked a rather insightful question, how far to go. He, like most born to great houses, had been advised to never show his full power unless absolutely necessary. To let a true opponent know your limit could be deadly. Was that disrespectful to the girl? Colt decided that it was.

“No one wants to see eight seconds on a buckless bronco.” Colt replied. He then snapped his fingers and pointed his finger upwards. A visible gust would make his hair flow upwards, and eventually pull his hat off his head. Colt began moving his hands in patterns, the hat spinning, falling, and rising at his command. To the casual observer the routine might seem like a show, but to those with a trained eye it was an obvious exercise or warm up. The wind could blow any which way, and Colt preferred to be attuned to all of them.

The focus obviously shifted as his hat touched the ground. Colt’s eyes had wandered to spot Vittoria. She was kin if he remembered correctly. Yet at the same time a monster in the making. She was toying with Wylls, trying to display the differences between them. He oft wondered if she was fixable, but he didn’t know she’d look like if she were ‘fixed’. Let alone how such a thing would be done. In fact, foe the last year he’d been haunted by a dream of the both of them in mortal combat. It played out different ways, different venues, but the sentiment never changed.

Funny that he always woke just before one of them landed a killing blow. Funnier still that never remembered who it was about to strike.

Blake Vittoria Larrainth

 

[Marcia]

At a certain point, Marcia became unsure of Bletzin's strategy.

If she was trying to actively break her arm by striking her shield repeatedly, then they were going to be there for a long fucking time. Even longer if the other Initiate was actively seeing if she could actually use her fists to break through steel. There was no concentrated effort to disarm her or go around and strike her instead of the shield.

It was like Catrina wasn't trying to win.

Then the girl changed tactics, her skin no longer oozing mud but instead igniting into a blaze of violent flames. The switch was enough respite for Marcia to catch her breath, but the moment she pivoted to get her feet out of the mud, Bletzin was on her.

This time, the strikes were rapid, not focused on hitting hard but in an unrelenting torrent of fiery limbs, but still directed at her shield, which, on paper, was pointless.

In practice, Marcia faced two new problems. The first was the weight of her shield, the once wet, claggy mud being baked onto the buckler by the ferocious heat of her blows. The second was the aforementioned heat, the steel absorbing the blaze and gradually growing hotter to the touch. She was rendering both Marcia's offence and defence cumbersome and painful to wield, all the while showcasing her abilities to the spectators rather than straight victory.

Smart.

However, Marcia couldn't really stop to appreciate it, given that she was being rendered a beleaguered training dummy in the process. She would have to take a risk soon and go on an ill-advised offensive.

 

[Saderzaine Vult]

“Everyone here is well trained. The impetus for attack is still on Marcia, because Catrina will keep her current poise at this rate. However, I don't believe Marcia has even made use of her magic yet. A bit of a mistake, it seems. ” Sader replied, grinning a bit. He had never seen Marcia’s rumored magic in action, but so far it looked like an escape would have to be enacted on her own. By this point, it was evident Catrina was intending to take this time to show off, and if the boy remembered correctly, she had control over a lot more than the mud.

Suddenly Bletzin erupted into flames and picked up the pace, continuing to solely attack Marcia's shield. All her opponent seemed able to do is defend, and maybe even that would be off the table soon. Perhaps the plan was to force Marcia to drop the shield and end the fight effortlessly. That would be truly pathetic, but that wouldn't happen. He couldn't imagine everything going that cleanly between any notable initiates in the case of a fight. He glanced over to Takoda, eyes determined.

It certainly won't be that simple with me, friend.

Takoda

 

[Kael]

Life as a Cortosi Shepard with a brain was pretty advantageous. While he couldn’t smell the ‘men’ due to their familiar nature, he could smell any leather they happened to wear. Hear their footsteps. Smell their unwashed dogs. He couldn’t perfectly replicate the ability of every creature, Bats were especially frustrating, but as his knowledge of biology and physics grew so did the authenticity of his shifting. Right now he had imperfect but reliable knowledge of the patrols in the twenty or so meters around him. To the spectators eyes he might appear simply lucky, as he chose alleyways, paused, and doubled back just in time to avoid detection. Kael made his way to the back of the kitchen, with the first ‘man’ to find him being the cook.

The cook, despite being made predominantly of a purple glow, had significant character. A bushy mustache, portly belly, and a pony tail off his neck despite a receding hairline. The fellow on seeing Kael picked up a wooden cylinder as a bat and began to chase. Dog-Kael dashed as the cook gave chase, and used his tail to knock over a can of lard. The cook tripped, and Kael pivoted backwards on top of the man. Arm wrapped around the man’s neck and flexed, before the light purple body went limp. Form shifted from man or orc, or half-orc rather as Kael picked up the portly body and stuffed it in a nearby garbage dump. The familiar disappeared from view as the maintainer decided the cook wouldn’t be found in that location. It was notably awkward, but an allowance for the strain the familiar-creator took throughout the day. Kael was on his seventh scenario, and wasn’t the only assassin in training that hadn’t been eliminated yet.

Kael then went from his large muscular orcish shape to mimic the similarly large yet un-muscular cook. The now portly Kael picked up the can of lard before putting it on the shelf, then made his way to the pork stew. Ladle came out of the pot and to his lips. Kael winced.

It needed a lot of things, but Kael would start with more salt.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

As soon as the dust thinned out and Eliza saw Vittoria's form, she lashed out, afraid that Vittoria would take her up on her word and strike.

But before she could pelt another slate at Larrainth, the earth rumbled. It did not let up even as the slate collided into Vittoria's side and broke a couple of ribs. Vittoria fell to her hands and knees, smiling despite the pain. Her hands flexed, fingers digging into the dirt. The smile disappeared into something more determined; a focus pulled to the forefront as she bared her teeth with the extreme effort of calling her power from the lower depths of her pools.

The earth between her hands began to crack, began to shoot forwards towards Eliza Wylls, the Initiate foolishly looking around to see who may just be wielding the earth like this.

Vittoria's breath came out ragged, a smile of excitement stretching her face as her ocean hued eyes honed in on her opponent.

This was no easy match.

This was no fair fight, or at least it would not as Vittoria was glad to be without the cuffs that nulled her magic to only remnants.

Eliza Wylls wanted to make an example out of her, and the Unmaker wanted to display to all that she could be untouched.

The dirt covered ground split, cracked, and a great amount of that sandy substance began to fill in the fissure created by Vittoria. She was undoing the foundations of nature, tearing apart and finding the weaknesses in the ground to exploit them. If there was no road for weakness to be found, Vittoria's magic forced a path.

Eliza's head whipped back to Vittoria, saw the satisfactory and feral smile on the girl's lips. Words did not make it past her own lips before a startled yelp escaped her, her boot falling a foot below the ground level.

 

[Blake]

“No one wants to see eight seconds on a buckless bronco.”

Blake blinked, her expression blank, and eased up on her stretches for a moment.
"Uhhh..."

Then the cowboy started up a trick with his hat and wind magic, and she believed the analogy now clicked.

"Right, all out it is then," she said, raising a hand up with an open palm. As she did, shadows began to whirl around her wrist and course like a flame up past her fingers. She suddenly clenched her fist shut and the darkness dispersed in a plume. Not nearly as flashy of a show as Colt's, but a sample for a sample nonetheless.

"Let the best fighter win, huh?" she said with a confident grin.

 

[Pawel Wilhart]

Pawel might have been willing to talk to a scarecrow if it meant not having to watch the children fight one another for the eyes of wealth and influence, but as luck would have it, Liliana Lorel was much better than a scarecrow.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Lorel," he replied, indeed not sure what to do with her raised hand bar shake it (which felt undeniably wrong, so he just stood there holding his sandwich).

Mercifully, she filled in the blanks of her place within Anirian nobility so he didn't stand there looking at her like a dog bamboozled by the old disappearing treat trick. There were so many names and faces, and those names and faces were arranged to be married, creating a new myriad of names and faces to the point that family trees became rainforests of confusion and cousin marriage.

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear! Don't you agree that the hands that create Anirian prosperity deserve fair comfort?" Pawel asked, testing the waters of her opinion, or at the very least, the waters of faking an opinion.

The grumbling in the row behind him increased by a decibel or two, his stocky frame blocking the view. He floundered somewhat, gesturing at the open seat next to him before sitting down himself. "Join me, please. I'd appreciate some company during this, it's..."

...a hard watch.

He left it unsaid, knowing better than to besmirch the good name of traditional martial violence in relatively unknown company.

 

[Colt Pirian]

Colt smiled at Blake.

“May the best fighter win.” He reciprocated. He clapped his hands, and a small twister formed under his hat, bringing it to hands. He wrapped his fingers around the hat’s crown and pushed it firmly upon his head. As someone whose niche was wind magic he put a premium on a right fit. The pair were soon joined by a guardsmen.

“Pirian?” He asked, to which Colt tipped his hat. “Arena Three’s getting cleared out. Time to take your places.” Colt nodded and looked up at the stands, spotting his cousin, the Virak heir, and . . . was that Elspeth Sirl? He’d heard tale if her striking red hair, but had never met her. Seemed the audience was growing.

“See you on the dance floor.” He said to Blake, and made his way to the arena.

 

[Liliana]

Liliana lowered her hand, keeping her mask and not sneering at the ignorance of the insult he had just given her. "Of course they do."

The Lady agreed, though did not share her opinion that her families hands had been what created Vel Anir. Not some paltry peasant digging out barnacles from the side of a ship. "I talked to Cousins Elise about it myself."

She hadn't. Thinking the whole thing a waste of time.

"Quite something." Liliana finished the man's sentence for him, more than able to read the hesitation that drew across his features.

Often she forgot how strange this was to the average Anirian, even some of the nobility. Vel Anir had a reputation for being militaristic, but for most that meant joining the Guard at eighteen. Fair few realized that children were being made to fight with such brutality.

For Liliana, it was utterly normal. She had grown up in this system after all, before the Revolution had come and made it so much 'better'.

"I would love to join you." The Lady Lorel said as she shifted her dress and made a move to have a seat. "I think it is...easy, for us Dreadlords to forget just how strange this is."

She said with a gentle gesture towards the fighting grounds. "But I can say with some confidence, Minister, things are much better than they once were."

Liliana continued, slowly drawing the man in on his innocence. Painting herself with the sympathetic brush of a maltreated Initiate. "When I still trained here, before the Revolution, these exhibitions were much worse."

A smile flashed towards him.

"The march of progress is slow." She said wistfully, glancing at him. "You know that better than most, I suspect."

Pawel Wilhart

 

[Blake]

"Arena threeee!" Blake whooped and broke into a jog towards her destination.

She was blind to the crowds for the most part, uncaring for whatever nobility had postured themselves among the audience above. Blake wasn't here to entertain or impress, she was hear to push herself, and hopefully to have some fun along the way.

To her wit she couldn't recall ever having sparred against Colt in the past. Aeromancers weren't terribly rare, and even Cat could conjure some powerful winds into her strikes when she felt like it, but Colt seemed to carry his magic a bit more confidently and naturally than most. Just knowing that much got Blake excited.

As she approached the ring she pulled her wraps snug around her wrists and up to her knuckles. She rolled her head and felt her neck crack, then bounced on her heels and threw a few practice punches at the air.

She spotted another guard nearby the arena and assumed he was playing the part of referee or something, and threw up a hand to get his attention.
"Oi! Initiate Blake Farrand, ready and waiting!" she called out, standing by the arena's side.

 

[Marcia]

In desperate need of a counterattack, Marcia stepped forward into the blows, shunting the buckler forward into the rapid strikes and trying to catch Bletzin off balance. The spikes had been nullified, the heat-baked mud now covering them completely. However, the point wasn't to attack but to put her opponent on the defence and provide her an opportunity to change strategy.

It was exhausting, the extra weight in tandem with all the shock Marcia's arm had been absorbing, making every shove a little more tiring than the last. She could feel the heat in her gloves, threatening to melt and merge leather with flesh.

One well-timed shove pushed Catrina back for enough time to swap from the hand grip to the arm strap, changing how she wielded the shield, but it also changed how Bletzin attacked.

Marcia caught it too late, trying to parry away the next strike out of fighting instinct more than awareness, the other girl's hand a battering ram of unforgiving metal as a sheen of silver wrapped around her hands and feet. It made her strikes slower, but her body's conditioning shone through, impressive musculature flexing as a heavy palm met the buckler in a resounding blow.

The dried mud shattered and crumbled instantly as Catrina's reinforced hand dented steel and sent Marcia staggering off to the side, barely keeping her balance as the blow sent painful reverberations up her arm.

She came at her again, pivoting into a roundhouse kick that, for the first time, wasn't aimed at Marcia's shield but at her head on the opposite side. It forced her to duck, lest her head got knocked clean fucking off, something that Bletzin anticipated as she let the heavy momentum carry her all the way around and into a downward hammer blow with both fists.

All Marcia could do was raise the buckler and brace for impact.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

The dirt covered ground split, cracked, and a great amount of that sandy substance began to fill in the fissure created by Vittoria. She was undoing the foundations of nature, tearing apart and finding the weaknesses in the ground to exploit them. If there was no road for weakness to be found, Vittoria's magic forced a path.

Eliza's head whipped back to Vittoria, saw the satisfactory and feral smile on the girl's lips. Words did not make it past her own lips before a startled yelp escaped her, her boot falling a foot below the ground level.

She was sure she heard something crack, and by the way Eliza fell to the ground, writhing and trying to dislodge her foot from the crevice in the earth, Vittoria knew she had struck true.

"Your first mistake was to think you knew my strength, Wylls." Vittoria called out across the distance. "That you could, after all this time, think to defeat me when I had not shown all my cards yet. I must thank you for being the fool in this demonstration."

She could feel eyes on her, and Vittoria gave a nonchalant glance to the stands. Many looked horrified that a pretty, young girl managed to break her classmates ankle, and many others looked as if they were waiting for her to finish Wylls off. A small smile curved on her lips, but the imitation of delight was void from her facade.

"Well, now. I think that concludes this demonstration, unless you would like me to exercise just how far I can push the envelope without truly killing you."

Vittoria could count on one hand how many of her classmates' bones she had broken, the last being Sabrina. The girl had been pathetic, but her ire against Vittoria was something to be commended. It had provided her with much entertainment while on their mission.

 

[Takoda]

Takoda's eyes shot from one fight to another trying to take in all of the various fighting styles of his classmates. He was well aware that his starting later than the others put him at a disadvantage when it came to information. The only thing that would destroy that bane was time, persistence, and diligence.

Vittoria, as usual, would definitely make a great actor or orator if this Dreadlord life did not work out for her. She had a talent for looking down on people and making people feel as if her words came from the heavens above like thunderbolts sent from the Great Bird. Takoda did not share such innate fears of the girl as some of his other classmates, but he was willing to acknowledge that might be because of ignorance since he only knew her for a short time.

Marcia was preparing to counterattack if she could get a moment to breathe. At least, that was the only reason Takoda could think of for switching up her hand position for her shield.

As for the Blake and Colt fight, there are two differing sets of magic that many might like to pick Blake to win with, but Takoda knew the dangers of the winds better than most.

All of these thoughts shot through his own mind so quickly, that he did not even notice the growing tension of his own opponent. A fight was only worth worrying about at the moment, and that time had not yet come.

"Well, one of the arenas opened up Vult. Shall we go?"

He was asking just to be polite as Takoda was already walking off to the open venue.

Saderzaine Vult

 

[Colt Pirian]

Colt walked into the arena and glanced over at the guard Blake had talked to. He didn’t give his name formally to the man, but looked over at his opponent and took of his hat, put it on his heart, and leaned in a bow that lowered his head but kept his eyes locked with Farand’s. The hat went back on his head, the guard announced the match, and a dust storm erupted in the arena. Curiously, the dust storm only existed in a two meter radius around his competitor.

Three cards flew out of his sleeves, and Blake would notice little pockets open in the storm as the cards went towards her. If they hit her they’d rip clothes, draw blood, but not do any overwhelming damage. Colt had to keep something up his sleeve for the midgame after all.

 

[Blake]

Blake followed suit with Colt, entering the arena before pressing a fist to an open palm and bowing in return.

The fight erupted quickly. Colt's control over his magic was impressive, to say the least. The stirring dust around Blake was easy enough to spot, and the cards he flung as projectiles gave Blake a good idea of what to expect. She'd need to close the distance and make him fight on her terms.

As the cards approached, time seemed to stretch for Blake as she made a series of decisions. The first was to try to deflect a card by hand, with an open palm. She made to swat it away and felt the sting of her flesh opening as it the thing, bladed by wind, sliced through her wraps and into her palm. She banked that knowledge (no direct contact) and stepped to deal with the next card.

This time she dodged, twisting her body sharply to get out of harm's way. The card's arc curved towards her and she felt the wind blow across her side, close, but not close enough to cut. (Good tracking, but not perfect.)

Then came the third card. She loosed a quick kick at it, wreathing her shin in shadow magic to keep it from making direct contact with her. The kick connected with the card and rent it apart, but neither her pants nor skin felt the sting of a wound. (Solidifying my magic works!)

In all, about three or four seconds had transpired in the time she'd taken to evaluate the initial attack. She smiled as she came back to a guarded stance.

"My turn!" she shouted, and began to bolt right towards Colt, waves of inky black surging up around her with each step.

 

[Saderzaine Vult]

Many things were going on around Sader at the moment, but this time unlike many times he chose to still. To just...stop. There was no conversation going on, so it felt like the most appropriate time to do so. Thinking realistically, the fight ahead was going to be one worth planning for. Takoda was chosen for the showcase because of his talent (most likely...?) meaning they were at the very least the same level. Plus, though Sader was aware of what his new opponent's magic was generally, Takoda had kept the more specific mechanics hidden.

He was flying blind, which was always awesome. He grinned a little to himself at the sarcasm, figuring it would be best not to worry more than necessary. What was it he had said to Marcia all that time ago? With all he had to deal with in everyday life, the memory had already faded. Odd. Ah, no, there it was! My inability to be rattled is an asset. Though the statement was the kind of haughty pronouncement he knew was unbecoming of anyone looking to be bearable, he nodded at it anyway to psych himself up.

A sort of confidence came over him and he felt settled in his thoughts. This was more than doable. There was undoubtedly plenty (and then some) the boy he was facing could throw at him, but nothing he could not adapt to just as quickly. By sheer luck, he fell out of his little mind bubble around the time Takoda began to address him. Upon absorbing what was said, the sounds slightly farther away as they went signifying his opponent was not quite searching for an answer that could be given with words, Sader shrugged and followed.

This was going to be great.

Takoda

 

[Takoda]

As their names were called into the arena the wall of sound and excitement hit Takoda's chest like a hammer. Some may have been thrilled and even envigorated by all of those eyes looking down on them expectantly, but for Takoda it felt like nothing more than an animal being stared at through a cage.

He could hear the thoughts already.

What is he doing here? How is he at the Academy? A barbarian will surely lose. Did he betray his people?

It certainly felt like he had, even if he was in this place for their sake. Doing his best to block out such thoughts as he walked to his side of the arena. Koda moved silently and with purpose, taking his spear and drawing a ring in the sand that surrounded him.

Then kneeling down, he pressed his palms into the rough course of earth beneath him as he offered a prayer to the spirits and ancestors, any that would venture so far into these lands.

"As I take flight, be my wings. May I soar, but remain grounded." He whispered under his breath, the same prayer he had been taught as a young child by the Medicine Woman of their tribe.

Rising back to his feet, Takoda now grasped his spear firmly as his eyes hardened in response to the surrounded environment. He held no ill will to the other initiates, at least not directly, but he would not allow himself to be some kind of spectacle for them to laugh at. This was a battle for the reputation of himself and his people.

Saderzaine Vult

 

[Saderzaine Vult]

Upon hearing his name called, Sader stepped out and strode quickly through the initial explosion of sound and activity. The peanut gallery were all just a part of the game, and Sader simply kept a steady pace and refused to play the crowd. It just wasn't his style, and just piled on even more pressure anyway. Noting Takoda, a slight frown appeared on his face as he realized the boy seemed a bit out of his element. Well, no use worrying about it now. They both sought the same glory from this gladiatorial showcase, so Sader figured he would sharpen up when the real battle began.

He had no sort of ritual except perhaps excessively thinking, and he had already done that, so he watched as Takoda drew a circle in the sand and began praying, greenish eyes shining with interest. See, He had recalled that Takoda was some kind of "guest" to the kingdom, which in a place like the Academy practically meant prisoner. He was just lucky to be one with magic, and skilled with his power. The crowd around them looked at Takoda as this occurred and Sader grimaced, disgusted with the crowd.

He was Anirian, but moments like these still reminded him how much an initiate was akin to an animal to those in the upper echelon. "Don't mind them, friend. Aniria is not quite the friendliest place for those from outside of it." he said, spear still by his side. Finally getting into stance, he decided there could be no holding back. Something he liked to do was test the waters by fighting without magic, but a little birdie told him that their audience wouldn't allow something so passive.

Beginning simply, he started to walk forward, subconsciously letting his magic flow throughout his body.

Takoda

 

[Takoda]

"Don't mind them, friend. Aniria is not quite the friendliest place for those from outside of it."

Takoda's grey eyes dug into Saderzaine with a neutral expression, better than any poker face he had been able to create at Poker Night. Was he trying to get under his skin? Was he making fun of him? Of course, Takoda knew that, better than most here.

Either way, he was not about to let any mind games hamper his judgment or his skills.

The fight began disappointingly in Koda's opinion, this was too slow. There was no need for feeling each other out, they had fought with each other on missions and in the Academy. The fight would come down to the hidden tricks, so let's get this started.

With only the slightest push, Tokoda hopped into the air before he paused in mid-air for only milliseconds, before he shot forward towards Saderzaine, his spear leading the way.

While Takoda's abilities were very straightforward, literally, his trained sense of balance and flex ability along with some creative thinking had broadened his options in the air. In fact, Takoda had not even completely explained to the Proctors what his abilities were limited to. They just thought he was a quick flyer with trouble-stopping.

Saderzaine Vult

 

[Saderzaine Vult]

Sader became a bit more alert as his opponent leaped into the air, stopping his walk in order to better react. A good thing too, because Takoda then turned mid-air as if able to walk on nothing. Well, that was some interesting information to factor in, but honestly predictable. Now faced with the imminent threat of a spear to the teeth, he waited until the last moment and dodged, realizing he might not have time to experiment all that much.

Well then, time to get truly serious.

The boy didn't consider "going all out" to solely mean going one hundred percent two seconds from zero. In a fight against enemies, one used all available power they could to survive or die trying. That was the expectation, or perhaps even the law. In this case, that definition wasn't useful to him. Revealing his entire hand, even if not for the sake of showboating, would not win him any points with those who truly mattered, those who would decide his future place.

Sader, despite their environment, saw each and every one of his fellow initiates at the very least as challenges and at most allies. This situation called for a shift to that mindset, though, and he let go of any thoughts of sympathy. Normally, this shift was awkward, but the roar of the crowd certainly helped silence any last doubts. Whatever happened on the field of battle would happen, and the loser might come to class the next day more bruised than usual.

Set in his choice, he began allowing his magic just enough leeway to flood to his arm and hand, from there moving into a defensive stance. Hopefully, close proximity and a bit of fate would afford him the chance to grasp and exploit Takoda's braids.

Takoda

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

She was sure she heard something crack, and by the way Eliza fell to the ground, writhing and trying to dislodge her foot from the crevice in the earth, Vittoria knew she had struck true.

"Your first mistake was to think you knew my strength, Wylls." Vittoria called out across the distance. "That you could, after all this time, think to defeat me when I had not shown all my cards yet. I must thank you for being the fool in this demonstration."

She could feel eyes on her, and Vittoria gave a nonchalant glance to the stands. Many looked horrified that a pretty, young girl managed to break her classmates ankle, and many others looked as if they were waiting for her to finish Wylls off. A small smile curved on her lips, but the imitation of delight was void from her facade.

"Well, now. I think that concludes this demonstration, unless you would like me to exercise just how far I can push the envelope without truly killing you."

Vittoria could count on one hand how many of her classmates' bones she had broken, the last being Sabrina. The girl had been pathetic, but her ire against Vittoria was something to be commended. It had provided her with much entertainment while on their mission.

"YOU BITCH!"

Wylls screeched, and a number of profanities left her lips as pain was unable to be helped. Vittoria watched on in quiet delight, fueled by the rage that slowly made it's way onto Eliza Wylls' face.

"LET ME OUT!"

"Can you not lift the earth with your magic, Eliza Wylls? Have you been rendered so useless you cannot use your telekinesis to lift a patch of dirt to free yourself" Vittoria cooed, amused at the display her opponent was making. In front of all these people too. Eliza was always prone to freezing up when instinct should take over.

A dark thought lingered at the frays of her mind, snap her neck, let it be done. Vittoria could break another bone. It was not outlawed for Evaluations, surely, as Wylls will still have her life and Proctor Urahil would be able to fix a broken bone good as new. She had the ability to be cruel, to make Wylls suffer and show the crowd what Vittoria Larrainth could do.

She would make House Virak proud to being a lethal daughter.