@AThousandCurses@Sifr@Psyker LandsharkBRIDGE
The fight between Chloe and Iraleth would end as a rather sad display. The moment that Iraleth took to the skies once again, Chloe was like a deer in headlights. It was at that moment it was obvious the girl had no plans for those that claimed superiority of movement, or perhaps even that she was not accustomed to being challenged in her power at all. "Wait, that's not fair! Get down here and fight me on an even playing field, plebeian!"
Unfortunately, Chloe had no answer to the barrage of divine bolts that rained down upon her. Targeting her in nonlethal areas did not spare her the pain in the moment, attempting to conjure some kind of defensive spell to retaliate and coming up empty-handed. For a brief moment, a small shield of energy briefly came into being, but it quickly vanished entirely the moment that the first bolt struck her, the first singe of harm on her body causing her to scream out in agony, crumpling and making herself an easy target for the remaining blasts. "N-No, wait, I can't- Aghhhhh!"
As the last of the bolts landed, Chloe tumbled to the floor of the bridge, conscious but clearly too wounded to move very far. "Rio... hel-help me, I can't move... I need help now...! Get me up so I can go take that lowborn out, n-now...!"
The one she was looking and slowly crawling towards was preoccupied, however, seeming to take his opponent head on with his full attention. "Stance of Earth, grant me balance," Rio would mutter with a deep exhale as he observed Chunji's approach, digging his feet into the ground of the bridge. When the shield was tossed, he would give it a backhand, his strike seemingly reinforced beyond regular human means - there was no damage to his hand from such a strike, nor did he wince from the impact, and yet the shield would partially crack around the edge as it tumbled away.
In a move that would perhaps be seen as unwise if not outright psychotic, the boy would not attempt to dodge the swing at his legs - rather, he looked Chunji dead in the eyes as the strike was delivered, bleeding from the hit but remaining supernaturally stable on the ground. As Chunji went to deliver a strike to the shoulder, Rio seemed decisive in his next move: he was aiming for a direct fist straight to Chunji's chest. "Let's play a game of chicken, then."
Rio made no attempt to dodge, and both his stance and expression remained firm in this decision as his punch aimed towards Chunji's torso at the same time that a sword swing would be brought down upon him. Should the punch connect, the impact would be powerful enough to send Chunji backwards and, depending on how direct the hit was, potentially crack bone. The sword swing would strike true in Rio's shoulder should Chunji not pull away, cutting as intended - and yet Rio's limbs would not be disabled in the way that would normally be expected of one cut so precisely. It was as if his body was enduring these hits while maintaining maximum function, whether through magic or some other unforeseen method.
As that extreme violence broke out, Hildegunde's path ahead was relatively unobstructed. Many would cautiously attempt to circle around the chaotic battles before them, but only she would be so bold as to dash ahead so quickly. Rio would make no attempts to stop her, focused entirely on his duel, and his shield-wielding giant was similarly busy fending off other students while slowly being pushed back and overwhelmed by sheer numbers. As Hildegunde sprinted past Chloe's writhing body on the ground, she would see the desperate diva uttering a low, "Noooo, I was here to thin the herd... you're not worthy of going beyond this point, peasant...!" However, she was too slow. She would feebly reach out an arm to attempt to latch onto Hildegunde, but with the kind of speed that even the elderly could avoid at a leisurely pace. It wouldn't take an experienced war veteran to realize that this particular combatant was out of this race without proper healing or carrying.
Hildegunde would successfully advance to the end of the bridge and, by extension, the plaza; assuming, of course, that Iraleth did not have other plans at that moment. She would witness broken mannequins scattered about, a fountain cracked and leaking out water and with a partially broken statue in its center, and most notably, a wave of mannequins with various kitchenware that would run at her with the intent to harm.
@ERodePLAZA AND RIGHT WALKWAY
The lost, wingless boy chomped down hard on the candy with a sickening, loud
crunch, as if the boy were chewing on a rock. He fumbled after Otis, not quite keeping pace, but doing his best to at least maintain the same amount of steps taken. His breath would be ragged and uneven as he followed, but he let out a satisfied chuckle as he ran. The sigh of satisfaction would be enough to show that perhaps placebo was the strongest medicine, at least for this lost soul. "You're a miracle worker, my man! My fellow! My chosen chum! A real doctor in the rough, for real! Haha~!"
As Otis barraged the boy with question after question, the Strigidae would almost smell smoke cooking behind him. If he were to so much as glance, he'd see the wing-booted boy with drool dripping out of his mouth in confusion and sensory overload, smoke seemingly coming out of his ears - his mind overclocking simply to comprehend all of Otis' inquiries in full. "Uhhhhh... ummm, uhhh, grrrrhhhh," he would struggle and strain, all of the wrinkles of the poor boy's brain shifting and burning at one hundred percent capacity. "Your words are funny and strange, chum. I do not know how to respond to them," he would blurt out after a moment with half-hearted commitment, pondering something deeper.
It was as they would flee to the opposite side of the plaza and round the corner to another walkway that the flightless birdbrain would snap his fingers as if coming to a realization. "
Oh! Yes, of course, you want to know what my superhero powers are, right? Of course, of coooourse, I'm so dumb," he would chuckle to himself, smacking himself in the forehead as the duo came to what seemed to be a courtyard. Within eyesight immediately, a building to their left labeled "Cafeteria" above the door would stand out, as would a small bridge downward to their right with a sign at the entrance reading "Playground". Finally, a path straight ahead would lead down what looked reminiscent of a city street, clusters of buildings off in the distance.
As the boy stops to catch his breath while looking across these different paths, he'd sigh and compose himself, the smoke of thought dissipating. "Well, I'm Davil. I'm going to be a hero for the Union and finally unite Mirris and the Union in a time of ultimate peace where good guys can all rise above the sins of the past! And, uh, as for my other stuff..." He would trail off at that, finger to chin, reluctantly keeping up with Otis should he choose his given path by this point, completely breezing by the casual insult to his elite status. "My shoes are just to help me control my Ethos. In truth, my Ethos lets me fly for thirty seconds per day!"
With pride he'd give a thumbs up, though his brow would furrow soon after. "Well, kind of. See, it takes some building up, so the first ten seconds are take-off. Then landing safely usually takes me another ten. Then if we account for the time it takes me to gain control after the initial burst of speed... it's more like my Ethos allows me to fly where I want for five seconds per day! I'd like to think it's pretty powerful - my mum always tells me so, anyway."
Continuing to follow Otis down his chosen path should he choose one, he'd follow up. "I don't know my prime essence's codeword yet, but the activation phrase of my Ethos is 'Linearic Liner,' even though I reckon I don't fully know what it means. Not that it'll work now that I've used up all my juice for the day, so I guess I'm stuck running to the finish line with my new best friend, ahaha!"
@EstylwenMAIN BUILDING
As Ciara observed the janitor's aura, the oddest thing would happen. For a brief moment, as if briefer than a blink, Ciara and her inner mental observers would feel the slightest flicker of something that could only be described as... elderly and foreign, peering back from beyond a veil of unknown distance. As the janitor minded his own business and Ciara tried to gauge his aura, it's as if something stared back at her as well - and though it wasn't apparent what, she did feel one thing gently shudder through her bones in that moment: hatred. The instinctual, natural-born hatred of a lifetime of scorn against a fated enemy, rippling through Ciara's body and, for a moment, peering into her own essence. It was as if she was by the ocean, the crashing of waves and the roaring of a distant beast ringing in her mind. This feeling would recede quickly, as quick as a single blink, but in a single moment it would have almost felt as if minutes of wordless grudges were exchanged upon a simple brushing of essence on essence. The janitor would not seem to react to this at all, simply staring into the moving clouds above, presumably dreaming of better days.
She would hear a chuckle from the man, as she prepared to enter the building. "Fitting name. I'm Michael, the janitor. I'll see ya around, kiddo. Hope you're one of the good ones," he'd utter as he pulled out a cigarette and began to light it. "It'd be nice if ya were."
Upon entering through the doors, Ciara would be met with an area that resembled a foyer, with a receptionist desk a few feet away as she stepped inside. Hallways would stretch on to the left and right, and stairs behind the left and right of the receptionist desk would each converge into one stairway going to the second floor. A mannequin would be planted in the chair of the receptionist desk, looking right at Ciara despite its featureless face. Slowly emerging from around the corners leading to the hallways on either side, more Mannekin would appear - these ones wearing long black flowing overcoats and carrying baseball bats. "Came to the wrong school, fool," Ciara would hear over what sounded like a loudspeaker echoing through the building. It was the nasally, whiny voice of a boy who sounded as if he had already won a game that nobody else was competing in. "Turn back now and the Mannekin given to me will not destroy you so mercilessly! I'm a merciful god, so I'd rather not have to thrash you, you see."
Would Ciara decide to stand her ground, the Mannekin would each rush her with their bats, closing the distance with speed faster than the chefs outside.
