Damn. If Iraleth was one more to the left, the entire center-front could be known as the...O-Zone.
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There was some lore about Rio and Davil sitting beside each other, close to the courtyard window too. But a map would be useful ye.
And yoted. See y'all next yearrrrr (unless holidays make for a faster round).
Esfir tensed up at the screeching call. Did it possess a sense of camaraderie? Was it calling for its kin to feast with it? Her grip tightened upon the spear, ears pricked up to hear accompanying wingflaps. But nothing had happened. The harpy only landed elsewhere. Closer to the tatzelwurm’s corpse, yet still not in range.
She settled back down.
The second screech, and this time, she understood. The shifting of blades of grass, the goosebumps rising over her flesh. That sudden movement, gaze locked onto where she was. It was a physiological ability, a skill built for a cowardly creature to detect where its predators were. To detect ambushes, just like this. She furrowed her brow. It knew where she was, so it must know what she was doing. The harpy may as well…
Wait, it wasn’t leaving?
Such an ability, and yet it didn’t have the sense to cut its own losses. Funny thing, that. The runt understood though, its behavior. She stepped further away as a result, settling down a greater distance from the corpse. The harpy was a scrawny thing, too small to fly while carrying a corpse with it. She could imagine it like the crows of her hometown. They would pick at garbage bags, at dropped food, but they would not fly away with an entire container in their beaks. She could take advantage of this.
The third screech sounded, the movement of the grass before her a clear indication that now, she had avoided that crying sound’s effective range. The harpy swooped down, wings stretched out to decelerate as it landed upon the corpse. Its claws were sharp, sharp enough to rip through scale as well. She’d have to watch out for that.
First though, she’d have to watch out for its voice.
The fourth screech sounded. It was cautious, but now, it had finally allowed itself to let its guard down. It bent down its head, focused on the ‘free’ food before it. Esfir laid her spear on the grass, hands slipping into her stomach-bag to retrieve the sharp-pointed remnants of the horns she had savaged in order to produce a spearhead. Breathe deep. Crouch down. Focus. Stalk forth. Close in.
Three.
Two.
One.
The retort of a gun only she could hear!
Esfir sprinted forwards, skinny arms pumping as her frame shot through the bushes, over the risen roots, between the forked trees. The harpy’s head snapped up, the flight instinct triggering as its wings spread wide open, as its leg muscles activated for take-off. But that behavior was something she understood, and she hurled the Jackalope points forwards, the horn-shards whistling as they flew towards the monster. Defensive instincts triggered, wings collapsing inwards to protect its face and body. The points struck bone and thick membrane, unable to pierce the wings, but her gambit had paid off: by the time the harpy could take-off, it was in range.
“Frost Arc.”
A storm surged out, a blizzard gale that buffeted the harpy. Its wings caught something that it had not been prepared for, and the creature slammed into a tree, dropping upon the ground. Grounded, but not stunned. Crimson light spilled out from its claws, the creature lashing out defensively as Esfir approached. A meaningless struggle though, when she held the advantage in range. Her hands raised up once more, and a second Frost Arc blanketed the harpy in close range. This time, it was channeled, and the runt could feel something drain out from her body, something exit out through her veins, through the skin of the palm of her hands.
Whatever it was, however, it was worth it.
The harpy could only cower and screech as ice formed over its wings, while Esfir advanced with the surging blizzard, no longer threatened by claw swipes that might open up an artery and cause her to bleed out within seconds. She drew out her rock, took aim at the prostrating creature, and cracked its head open.
…
It was unwieldy, perhaps, but the haft was thick enough to bear the weight.
After having lashed the tatzelwurm and the harpy on either end of her spear utilizing her remaining Mycellium Lashes, Esfir dispassionately hoisted up her kills upon her shoulders. It was well past noon now, and the weight of her game made travel somewhat of a hassle. Perhaps she had gotten greedy, gotten ambitious.
Perhaps that was a good thing.
Wiping the remnants of snow off her fingertips, Esfir let out a sigh, hummed a song, and returned to the place that wasn't yet her home.
@Zeroth
She settled back down.
The second screech, and this time, she understood. The shifting of blades of grass, the goosebumps rising over her flesh. That sudden movement, gaze locked onto where she was. It was a physiological ability, a skill built for a cowardly creature to detect where its predators were. To detect ambushes, just like this. She furrowed her brow. It knew where she was, so it must know what she was doing. The harpy may as well…
Wait, it wasn’t leaving?
Such an ability, and yet it didn’t have the sense to cut its own losses. Funny thing, that. The runt understood though, its behavior. She stepped further away as a result, settling down a greater distance from the corpse. The harpy was a scrawny thing, too small to fly while carrying a corpse with it. She could imagine it like the crows of her hometown. They would pick at garbage bags, at dropped food, but they would not fly away with an entire container in their beaks. She could take advantage of this.
The third screech sounded, the movement of the grass before her a clear indication that now, she had avoided that crying sound’s effective range. The harpy swooped down, wings stretched out to decelerate as it landed upon the corpse. Its claws were sharp, sharp enough to rip through scale as well. She’d have to watch out for that.
First though, she’d have to watch out for its voice.
The fourth screech sounded. It was cautious, but now, it had finally allowed itself to let its guard down. It bent down its head, focused on the ‘free’ food before it. Esfir laid her spear on the grass, hands slipping into her stomach-bag to retrieve the sharp-pointed remnants of the horns she had savaged in order to produce a spearhead. Breathe deep. Crouch down. Focus. Stalk forth. Close in.
Three.
Two.
One.
The retort of a gun only she could hear!
Esfir sprinted forwards, skinny arms pumping as her frame shot through the bushes, over the risen roots, between the forked trees. The harpy’s head snapped up, the flight instinct triggering as its wings spread wide open, as its leg muscles activated for take-off. But that behavior was something she understood, and she hurled the Jackalope points forwards, the horn-shards whistling as they flew towards the monster. Defensive instincts triggered, wings collapsing inwards to protect its face and body. The points struck bone and thick membrane, unable to pierce the wings, but her gambit had paid off: by the time the harpy could take-off, it was in range.
“Frost Arc.”
A storm surged out, a blizzard gale that buffeted the harpy. Its wings caught something that it had not been prepared for, and the creature slammed into a tree, dropping upon the ground. Grounded, but not stunned. Crimson light spilled out from its claws, the creature lashing out defensively as Esfir approached. A meaningless struggle though, when she held the advantage in range. Her hands raised up once more, and a second Frost Arc blanketed the harpy in close range. This time, it was channeled, and the runt could feel something drain out from her body, something exit out through her veins, through the skin of the palm of her hands.
Whatever it was, however, it was worth it.
The harpy could only cower and screech as ice formed over its wings, while Esfir advanced with the surging blizzard, no longer threatened by claw swipes that might open up an artery and cause her to bleed out within seconds. She drew out her rock, took aim at the prostrating creature, and cracked its head open.
…
It was unwieldy, perhaps, but the haft was thick enough to bear the weight.
After having lashed the tatzelwurm and the harpy on either end of her spear utilizing her remaining Mycellium Lashes, Esfir dispassionately hoisted up her kills upon her shoulders. It was well past noon now, and the weight of her game made travel somewhat of a hassle. Perhaps she had gotten greedy, gotten ambitious.
Perhaps that was a good thing.
Wiping the remnants of snow off her fingertips, Esfir let out a sigh, hummed a song, and returned to the place that wasn't yet her home.
@Zeroth
//Day 2 | Location: Nameless Forest - Lakeside
@Vertigo@baraquiel
His fist struck wood and ran right through, leaving a fist-sized hole in the trunk. It was an unimaginable level of force to be generating, but the tree itself still stood strong, supported by a network of roots that ran much, much deeper. Stray twigs scattered down, leaves pinwheeling as they were shook off with each mighty blow. His knuckles didn't hurt, and even now, Duncan couldn't feel the refreshment that came with physical activity.
Somehow, he had become so strong that he was limited by his visualization, rather than by his physique.
Knuckles against wood once more, the pulp of the tree coming away as he drew back his fist. Dimly, he could understand that he was 'chopping down wood'. If he thought about it a bit more, he'd realized that even this, even his ability to tear apart living trees with his hands alone, was still entirely inefficient compared to the blades that Rin could draw in the air itself. But it mustn't have mattered, not if he continued to punch through wood once more. It was the action, not the result, that mattered. His fist finally punched through to the other side, the length of his entire arm inside the tree. Still, it did not collapse. It was just a fist-sized hole, after all.
"That serves no purpose."
A voice sounded behind him. Rin. He could choose to ignore it, but he couldn't choose to not hear it.
"I'm going to build a tower," she continued, matter-of-factually. "And you can either do nothing, or you can help me."
//Day 2 | Location: Nameless Forest - Forest Trails
@Yankee@Nakushita
It was perhaps the prospect of going anywhere alone with Ayana, with Oros, that proved to be the ultimate deterrent for any other volunteers. There were a couple, Ayane for one, who looked as if they were considering joining, but what was she going to do out in the wilds anyways? Nothing, that was what. And the big game that Masato planned on hunting wasn't anything that the more cat-like of the Ito twins cared to handle anyways. In the end, it was only Hana who approached the duo, handing a rudimentary spear over to the student council president. It'd have just been a nice gesture, if not for the fang-knife affixed to one end.
"I'll keep this brief," she began, glancing between the two before her gaze settled upon Masato. "Humans are naturally clumsy and have a habit of moving too evenly. On the approach, move as slowly as possible, stopping if you ever make noise. Be conscious of the direction of the wind at all times. If it's blowing from you to your quarry, reposition yourself. Move at an irregular pace upon approach, mimicking the movements of prey from one bush to another. And keep track of where you've gone. It's too easy to get lost, and..." Hana pulled out her phone from her pocket. It was still at 80% battery, perhaps because she had shut it off immediately and only turned it on when necessary. Predictably, there was no reception and the time was wrong. However, the Compass app that she had pulled out also was also running haywire. The electronic needle spun in meaningless directions. "...you'll have to trailblaze to find your way back."
That was all she said, and outside of Mayumi telling Masato that she'd try to keep the rest of the students all together in his absence, the duo parted with relatively little fanfare.
It wasn't an arduous trek, but it was a quiet one. Their enhanced senses picked up the sounds of wildlife in the distance, but only in the distance. On occasion, the two came upon bushes with bright berries, mushrooms with vibrant caps, but they weren't there to forage, and it was impossible to tell which was poisonous and which were edible. Could they recover from neurotoxins? It wasn't worth finding out, especially when one wasn't trusting enough to risk being vulnerable in the presence of the other.
Their clipped pace carried them through brush and dirt, between disorderly trees whom competed with each other for light, until finally, the two Awakened happened upon something that gave them pause, something that promised more than just meaningless meandering through the woods.
A pungent smell lingered closed to a rotted trunk, the smell of an animal's urine. Faint indentations in the tall grass indicated that a creature must have passed nearby, slipping through the vegetation to head elsewhere. The dampness was still visible; it must not have been too long again.
And yet, in another direction, they could spot curious marks upon the bark of the trees, perhaps ten meters up. Grooves, evenly spaced, marked where a creature, or perhaps a group of creatures, traversed overhead, bounding from one tree to another like monkeys or squirrels. Though there would have to be something done about the height at which those creatures lived, following the marks would be easier than tracking through the tall grass...especially if the tall grass disappeared.
There were options there, certainly.
But perhaps, in the eyes of Oros, there was only one Truth.
Considering the harpy's current distance, is it within range of Frost Arc?
Ah, regular reasons then.
Suna too remembered when money wasn’t ever much of a problem.
“Vandalism and theft?” She laughed dryly. “It’s striking back against unjust systems! Like I said, that claw machine has eaten up way more money that the value of the toys it holds. If you think about it that way, well…”
The girl curled one of her biceps. It was impossible to see her musculature through her jacket though.
“When laws don’t protect the weak, I do. That’s my magical girl way.”
She smiled. It was impossible too, to understand just how many meanings there were beneath that expression.
Her injuries had healed overnight, but the public onsen had closed before she could bath herself. So, of course, while 'students' were still stuck in school, 'runaways' like herself were free to enjoy all the rights that came with someone who could go where they wished, when they wished. It had taken her a bit to find her way back onto the main road, and there were a couple of policemen in bikes that she avoided by ducking down side streets, but after all that, she stood before a humble little establishment: Otsuake-Ryu.
This early in the day, the large communal baths themselves would still be closed off for cleaning, but showers and saunas ran regardless, and she slipped in with a small plastic bucket that held all her maidenly hygiene products. A nice little afternoon break, then some roadside work to scrounge up some change, before a visit to the convenience store for sandwich ingredients and maybe a discounted bento. She'd have to find a day to visit the laundromat again, of course, but that could be considered next week.
For now though?
Suna crouched beneath a showerhead, humming a cheery little tune as the warm water began to run.
So she didn't want to lose, and would strive to win by any means necessary, but now, hours before the duel began, she was now feeling anxious about it? Otis stared at Ciara, at the emotional turmoil, the chaotic essence that swirled within her like moon-pulled tides against an underground cove. He wondered, briefly, what there was to do about it. If she lost this duel, would that mean that their transaction later that night would become void? Or did such dark emotions serve as a finer fuel than the 'determination to win' when it came to manifesting her Umbralist magics? There were plenty of questions, but in the end...
"If you're going to be sick, then stay sick."
He wasn't the sympathetic sort.
"Just because you can't lose, doesn't mean you must win."
With that, Otis opened the door and stepped in.
It was a bright room, warmed by the sunlight that illuminated it. From his understanding of the layout of the building, the courtyard was adjacent to Compact 3, serving as an excellent distraction for students who had no intention of being students. Fools they were, to not appreciate the sheer gravity of the essence that flowed through this room. Back in Rekordia, he had to travel to the outskirts just to get a lick of an arcane conduit, had accomplished most of his arcane studies through pure theory and visualizations. Here? There were ritual rooms in Vaal Shakta that paled in comparison to the fluctuations he had sensed. The hairs on his arms rose up, even beneath the thick sleeves of his overcoat, as Otis scanned the room. If this was what was afforded for one of many classrooms, what could he expect from the proving grounds?
What could he accomplish, with free access to just this room? Otis chewed on his thumbnail, his brow furrowing, going over all the experimentations, all the demonstrations, all the conjurations. It wouldn't provide an advantage in combat, necessary, for it would amplify any employment of essence, but if one only wanted to accomplish something grand? It would be wonderful!
Which meant, of course, that he had to secure the optimal spot.
Rapid steps brought him to the middle of the front row, the Strigidae not even glancing at the notes stuck upon the desks. Position mattered, not name. It didn't even matter really that he closed in on the same desk that someone else did. A half-elf. The pink-haired one that had practically been carried through the entire entrance examination by the shield-surfer. Whatever injuries she had received that rendered her useless were gone now, but Otis didn't care either way. There were greater incompetents out there amongst the student population that still reached the auditorium with their own two feet, regardless of the Mannekins or Valen's grandstanding. To be lesser than them?
"I do not recognize you," he said, pulling the sticky note off the desk. "So you must be Chloe Steeler. Here's your note. We will swap desks." There were only a handful of students, a handful of desks. He could calculate where his desk ought to be at a glance. "Mine is at the back, beside the courtyard windows. I am certain someone like you would prefer this arrangement as well."
Seating arrangements may have been set by the professor, of course, but that was another bridge to cross at another time. If it came down to it, after all, Otis was wholly fine with simply having his work accredited to Chloe when it came to in-class assignments and participation.
Wait....
Chloe Steeler...
Joey Wheeler...
Huh.......
Anyways, posting in a bit.
Chloe Steeler...
Joey Wheeler...
Huh.......
Anyways, posting in a bit.
Hmm, unless @AThousandCurses wants to go a couple of rounds more, it may be appropriate for you to respond pronto with Ciara, @Estylwen, and then Nanaya can yeet us all into the class with their next post.
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