Oh, it would have faded away by now.
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@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode@Sifr
Only the returning, full gleam of the spotlight above brought some semblance of life back to the arena as the dust settled. Silence hung all across the arena, with many who watched from above holding their breath with the tension of the battle's finale. As it reached its climax, the two competitors fading on the arena floor, only hushed whispers from the stands filled the area with meek echoes. Some guards and overseers watched on in baffled awe, clearly having borne witness to a battle with Ethos usage for the first time - professionals in their field, but many of them nevertheless seeing such things as above their paygrade to contend with. Valen beheld the entire spectacle from start to finish with an expression of utter neutrality, his eyes darting about with each significant movement of the two combatants throughout, curious as to their approaches to such a life-threatening battle. A poker face nevertheless plastered itself to him, even as those that gathered near him expressed an array of emotion from shock, to jealousy, to amusement.
The very moment that Ciara and Iraleth had each collapsed for longer than three seconds, the entire forest vanished in an instant as if it were all a mirage, leaving the grey slate beneath them. A swirl of arcane energies manifested near Iraleth's body, and in the next instant, it dissipated; in its place, Nicole crouched there, funneling healing spells and curative essences into the paladin. It wouldn't be sufficient to fully heal the girl, but it would be enough to prevent further deterioration of her prime essence beyond what Ciara had already damaged - and more importantly, to stabilize her enough to halt the impending threat of death that otherwise loomed over her.
The undermage made no move to treat Ciara in that moment, clearly and entirely prioritizing Iraleth's survival, shooting the occasional glance at the shadow mage's body as if paranoid that some fell power would awaken and wreak havoc from her near-corpse. Her right hand even hovered over a wand holstered at her hip as she healed Iraleth, showing no signs of trusting that what was shown was all Ciara had - all an Umbralist had, in her mind. Essence drain to that degree, on a living thing? Such an act was, to a survivor of the apocalypse, one step away from essence deletion, and from the decay that followed.
One step away from Seedspawn.
Despite this, and arriving to the scene seconds later, with no other staff arriving to Ciara's aid, a dark figure darted out from the entrance that she had initially emerged from. As the individual came in view of the spotlights above, the sprinting visage of Michael dashed and slid to Ciara's side. Reaching under his cloak, he withdrew a flask of crimson liquid and uncorked it, raising Ciara's head up for leverage. "Hey, hey! Stay with us, alright? Shit," he'd shout as he poured the potion into her mouth. A heal spell in liquid form coursed through her body in that moment, and while it wasn't as potent as the treatment Iraleth received, it would stop her from an otherwise inevitable death on the floor of the arena.
"Wasn't supposed to go this far. The hell'd you do?!" Michael punched the arena floor as he stared down at Ciara, who he hoped would start to regain her senses by this point as healing magic flowed through her. The expression on his face was masked by the dingy hood covering him, only seen by Ciara, were she to look, as one of mixed parts frustration and worry. His smirk was nowhere to be found, not a jape in sight - just disappointment and anxiety that remained clear as day. "Why did ya even bother to learn those spells earlier if you were just gonna try to kill the kid anyway?! And, even once she recovers..."
The janitor didn't finish the sentence, simply looking away towards the paladin. Lost prime essence couldn't be regained - all the scholars in all the world had tried and failed to find a method, desperate to regain lost potential and restore their bodies, and even the greatest arcmages retired from that goal as dejected husks. He didn't dare finish the thought on his mind. Who was he to speak, in the first place, of lost potential? After all...
He knelt there near Ciara, looking back between her, Iraleth and Nicole with no more words to say.
As all this happened, Valen stood out of his seat, looked to each side of him at his entourage, and made for the nearest exit. He'd pass by Otis on the way, looking over his shoulder at the Strigidae while a half-step above him. Not even an ember of excitement traced through his gaze as he slowly looked back at the arena one last time, and at the crumpled figures in its center.
"They did not even halfway surpass the low expectations I had set for them, as challengers. As they, and by extension you are now, it would be as torching a crumbling beehive on a winter's night. The Iris Record is not for your ilk. When they have recovered, encourage them to pursue different paths. This life does not suit them."
With that, the red noble would ascend the stairs to the exit just above Otis, funneling out alongside the rest of his group. For Otis' part, observing security, the surface level security he'd undoubtedly uncover with enough observation would be the wards against detection and divination magic, rotating cameras scattered all throughout, and essence dispersers - thin metallic rods stuck to the walls that would, effectively, de-cluster essence and create a fog only perceivable with essence or magic enhanced sight.
The intent of a disperser is to act as a magnet for lingering nama and rupa, and to draw in the manipulated essence of others, rendering controlled location-based spells and manipulation near worthless. For example, were someone to try to pinpoint the prime essence of an individual that dwelled within a location riddled with essence dispersers, any attempts that would normally result in pinpoint accuracy would instead generalize to the entire area within.
Notably, security within the tower contained no Mannekin, to Otis' perception, other than the occasional doll that would have been seen carrying luggage or hauling boxes back when he was wandering through the halls to get here. Any individual ready to enforce the law within these walls was a person, to perhaps varying degrees of competence that couldn't be gauged with a simple look.
@AThousandCurses
The chaos brought forth by Chunji's rush did indeed cause a comical misunderstanding, to where the guards assumed he was but another classmate here to spectate the duel, out of a combination of convenient timing and his status as a fellow student of Compact 3. In the minds of those out front, he was surely rushing due to tardiness, and he needed to be escorted to the stands to witness the battle with all haste! A man dressed in the typical attire of an Iris Record guard - black suit, steel baton, Rekordian clockwork pistol - escorted him through the halls of the tower and ever closer towards the spectator seats. He side-eyed Chunji as the boy tapped away on his Adapa, but gave it no mind. He was almost off shift, after all, so it wasn't his problem if the kid would rather be nose deep in a screen instead of stopping to smell the roses. Kids these days just wanted to play around on their leylights and their Adapa, and nobody ever just went to the park to play baseball anymore.
The middle-aged guard would simply grumble such things to himself as he turned corner after corner, ensuring Chunji was following. "We're almost there, son. From what I hear, it's already started, so if it's over by the time we get there, you have no one to blame but yourself," he'd chuckle, tipping up his aviators and slicking back his hair. Blissfully ignorant of Chunji's actions, unless he were to make it obvious with the incanting of a spell or activation of his Ethos.
IRIS RECORD, ARENA
Only the returning, full gleam of the spotlight above brought some semblance of life back to the arena as the dust settled. Silence hung all across the arena, with many who watched from above holding their breath with the tension of the battle's finale. As it reached its climax, the two competitors fading on the arena floor, only hushed whispers from the stands filled the area with meek echoes. Some guards and overseers watched on in baffled awe, clearly having borne witness to a battle with Ethos usage for the first time - professionals in their field, but many of them nevertheless seeing such things as above their paygrade to contend with. Valen beheld the entire spectacle from start to finish with an expression of utter neutrality, his eyes darting about with each significant movement of the two combatants throughout, curious as to their approaches to such a life-threatening battle. A poker face nevertheless plastered itself to him, even as those that gathered near him expressed an array of emotion from shock, to jealousy, to amusement.
The very moment that Ciara and Iraleth had each collapsed for longer than three seconds, the entire forest vanished in an instant as if it were all a mirage, leaving the grey slate beneath them. A swirl of arcane energies manifested near Iraleth's body, and in the next instant, it dissipated; in its place, Nicole crouched there, funneling healing spells and curative essences into the paladin. It wouldn't be sufficient to fully heal the girl, but it would be enough to prevent further deterioration of her prime essence beyond what Ciara had already damaged - and more importantly, to stabilize her enough to halt the impending threat of death that otherwise loomed over her.
The undermage made no move to treat Ciara in that moment, clearly and entirely prioritizing Iraleth's survival, shooting the occasional glance at the shadow mage's body as if paranoid that some fell power would awaken and wreak havoc from her near-corpse. Her right hand even hovered over a wand holstered at her hip as she healed Iraleth, showing no signs of trusting that what was shown was all Ciara had - all an Umbralist had, in her mind. Essence drain to that degree, on a living thing? Such an act was, to a survivor of the apocalypse, one step away from essence deletion, and from the decay that followed.
One step away from Seedspawn.
Despite this, and arriving to the scene seconds later, with no other staff arriving to Ciara's aid, a dark figure darted out from the entrance that she had initially emerged from. As the individual came in view of the spotlights above, the sprinting visage of Michael dashed and slid to Ciara's side. Reaching under his cloak, he withdrew a flask of crimson liquid and uncorked it, raising Ciara's head up for leverage. "Hey, hey! Stay with us, alright? Shit," he'd shout as he poured the potion into her mouth. A heal spell in liquid form coursed through her body in that moment, and while it wasn't as potent as the treatment Iraleth received, it would stop her from an otherwise inevitable death on the floor of the arena.
"Wasn't supposed to go this far. The hell'd you do?!" Michael punched the arena floor as he stared down at Ciara, who he hoped would start to regain her senses by this point as healing magic flowed through her. The expression on his face was masked by the dingy hood covering him, only seen by Ciara, were she to look, as one of mixed parts frustration and worry. His smirk was nowhere to be found, not a jape in sight - just disappointment and anxiety that remained clear as day. "Why did ya even bother to learn those spells earlier if you were just gonna try to kill the kid anyway?! And, even once she recovers..."
The janitor didn't finish the sentence, simply looking away towards the paladin. Lost prime essence couldn't be regained - all the scholars in all the world had tried and failed to find a method, desperate to regain lost potential and restore their bodies, and even the greatest arcmages retired from that goal as dejected husks. He didn't dare finish the thought on his mind. Who was he to speak, in the first place, of lost potential? After all...
He knelt there near Ciara, looking back between her, Iraleth and Nicole with no more words to say.
As all this happened, Valen stood out of his seat, looked to each side of him at his entourage, and made for the nearest exit. He'd pass by Otis on the way, looking over his shoulder at the Strigidae while a half-step above him. Not even an ember of excitement traced through his gaze as he slowly looked back at the arena one last time, and at the crumpled figures in its center.
"They did not even halfway surpass the low expectations I had set for them, as challengers. As they, and by extension you are now, it would be as torching a crumbling beehive on a winter's night. The Iris Record is not for your ilk. When they have recovered, encourage them to pursue different paths. This life does not suit them."
With that, the red noble would ascend the stairs to the exit just above Otis, funneling out alongside the rest of his group. For Otis' part, observing security, the surface level security he'd undoubtedly uncover with enough observation would be the wards against detection and divination magic, rotating cameras scattered all throughout, and essence dispersers - thin metallic rods stuck to the walls that would, effectively, de-cluster essence and create a fog only perceivable with essence or magic enhanced sight.
The intent of a disperser is to act as a magnet for lingering nama and rupa, and to draw in the manipulated essence of others, rendering controlled location-based spells and manipulation near worthless. For example, were someone to try to pinpoint the prime essence of an individual that dwelled within a location riddled with essence dispersers, any attempts that would normally result in pinpoint accuracy would instead generalize to the entire area within.
Notably, security within the tower contained no Mannekin, to Otis' perception, other than the occasional doll that would have been seen carrying luggage or hauling boxes back when he was wandering through the halls to get here. Any individual ready to enforce the law within these walls was a person, to perhaps varying degrees of competence that couldn't be gauged with a simple look.
@AThousandCurses
IRIS RECORD, 1F, HALLS
The chaos brought forth by Chunji's rush did indeed cause a comical misunderstanding, to where the guards assumed he was but another classmate here to spectate the duel, out of a combination of convenient timing and his status as a fellow student of Compact 3. In the minds of those out front, he was surely rushing due to tardiness, and he needed to be escorted to the stands to witness the battle with all haste! A man dressed in the typical attire of an Iris Record guard - black suit, steel baton, Rekordian clockwork pistol - escorted him through the halls of the tower and ever closer towards the spectator seats. He side-eyed Chunji as the boy tapped away on his Adapa, but gave it no mind. He was almost off shift, after all, so it wasn't his problem if the kid would rather be nose deep in a screen instead of stopping to smell the roses. Kids these days just wanted to play around on their leylights and their Adapa, and nobody ever just went to the park to play baseball anymore.
The middle-aged guard would simply grumble such things to himself as he turned corner after corner, ensuring Chunji was following. "We're almost there, son. From what I hear, it's already started, so if it's over by the time we get there, you have no one to blame but yourself," he'd chuckle, tipping up his aviators and slicking back his hair. Blissfully ignorant of Chunji's actions, unless he were to make it obvious with the incanting of a spell or activation of his Ethos.
And thus, Chunji has also caught up! We were doing some DM solos due to the POV shift.
I was actually gonna say that as of each of your next posts, I won't need to post rounds for a bit, so go nuts as long as the fight is available for public reading and spectator shenanigans!
@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode@Sifr
As the competitors entered into the arena on opposing sides, there was a measure of bleakness to the affair. For such a grand stadium, the silence was deafening, the spotlights bringing the only true measure of light in comparison to the dim glows that surrounded the spectator stands circling the outskirts. The janitor had just finished sweeping the arena right as they arrived, and slung his broom over his shoulder as he began walking away. He moved in the direction Ciara had emerged from, passing her by. He would look to her briefly while walking past her, and whisper, "Good luck," with a pat on the shoulder before continuing on his path out towards the exit. The smile he wore on his face was plastic as he hobbled into the unceremonious, shadowy hallway.
The arena itself began to mold as both competitors stepped upon it. In the middle was Raja herself, arms crossed, looking sternly at Ciara and Iraleth both as the grey slate beneath her shifted into vibrant greenery. Grass sprouted forth and overtook the entire floor of the arena, hurtling towards each fighter until the entirety of both sides was covered in fresh vegetation. The principal would nod at this, seemingly relieved, as if she wasn't sure it would work. "Still ironing out the kinks," she would mutter, then chop the air downwards with her hand. Directly down the middle of the arena, the grass would char away, leaving a small dividing line of scorched earth across.
"On either side of this dividing line, you may position yourselves to your own preference. This isn't like the capital's skirmish tournaments where we force you to start far away, but we aren't going to ask you both to touch noses either. Each side of the arena you're on will encompass twenty meters of range, but you may not venture beyond this middle line before the match has begun."
Looking once more to each side, Raja would put her hands on her hips and sigh. "This will be a fight until surrender, unconsciousness for a span of more than three seconds, or death. Having reviewed the context behind this duel, I would encourage each of you to try to avoid the last. If a killing blow is attempted after one of the other two win conditions have already been met, an official will step in to prevent it."
Raja would begin to walk away from the arena, leaving towards Iraleth's side. As she did so, she would remark, "Say your last words to each other, if any, within the next ten seconds. After that, the arena will become covered in greenery, and the forming of the wall around the arena will signal the start."
The principal would walk by Iraleth without so much as a glance, a scowl clear on her face as she retreated into the halls of the Iris Record, elsewhere.
After Ciara and Iraleth had exchanged words, or even a lack thereof, the entire arena would become overrun with trees, bushes and various plant life. It was dense enough to block line of sight between the two were they to start on opposite sides, though there was also a 6 meter radius clearing around the central dividing line, were they to both meet there without trickery. A solid yet clear wall of energy would surround the arena and connect at the top to form a perfect cage for the two contestants - from this point on, neither would leave without surrender or defeat.
IRIS RECORD, ARENA
As the competitors entered into the arena on opposing sides, there was a measure of bleakness to the affair. For such a grand stadium, the silence was deafening, the spotlights bringing the only true measure of light in comparison to the dim glows that surrounded the spectator stands circling the outskirts. The janitor had just finished sweeping the arena right as they arrived, and slung his broom over his shoulder as he began walking away. He moved in the direction Ciara had emerged from, passing her by. He would look to her briefly while walking past her, and whisper, "Good luck," with a pat on the shoulder before continuing on his path out towards the exit. The smile he wore on his face was plastic as he hobbled into the unceremonious, shadowy hallway.
The arena itself began to mold as both competitors stepped upon it. In the middle was Raja herself, arms crossed, looking sternly at Ciara and Iraleth both as the grey slate beneath her shifted into vibrant greenery. Grass sprouted forth and overtook the entire floor of the arena, hurtling towards each fighter until the entirety of both sides was covered in fresh vegetation. The principal would nod at this, seemingly relieved, as if she wasn't sure it would work. "Still ironing out the kinks," she would mutter, then chop the air downwards with her hand. Directly down the middle of the arena, the grass would char away, leaving a small dividing line of scorched earth across.
"On either side of this dividing line, you may position yourselves to your own preference. This isn't like the capital's skirmish tournaments where we force you to start far away, but we aren't going to ask you both to touch noses either. Each side of the arena you're on will encompass twenty meters of range, but you may not venture beyond this middle line before the match has begun."
Looking once more to each side, Raja would put her hands on her hips and sigh. "This will be a fight until surrender, unconsciousness for a span of more than three seconds, or death. Having reviewed the context behind this duel, I would encourage each of you to try to avoid the last. If a killing blow is attempted after one of the other two win conditions have already been met, an official will step in to prevent it."
Raja would begin to walk away from the arena, leaving towards Iraleth's side. As she did so, she would remark, "Say your last words to each other, if any, within the next ten seconds. After that, the arena will become covered in greenery, and the forming of the wall around the arena will signal the start."
The principal would walk by Iraleth without so much as a glance, a scowl clear on her face as she retreated into the halls of the Iris Record, elsewhere.
After Ciara and Iraleth had exchanged words, or even a lack thereof, the entire arena would become overrun with trees, bushes and various plant life. It was dense enough to block line of sight between the two were they to start on opposite sides, though there was also a 6 meter radius clearing around the central dividing line, were they to both meet there without trickery. A solid yet clear wall of energy would surround the arena and connect at the top to form a perfect cage for the two contestants - from this point on, neither would leave without surrender or defeat.
Alright! Next round tomorrow.
And done! Weirdly satisfying when an important post gets the top of a new page.
@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode@Sifr
IRIS RECORD
As the sun slowly retreated over the hills, tension filled the air around the campus. It wasn't known to the common rabble within the halls of the academy or the streets of the town, but a breaking point between opposites was to be reached tonight. A declaration that couldn't be revoked, an oath to the safety of the people, or simply personal grudges from two who had gotten along so poorly in such a short bracket of time? Regardless of the reasons of those who now resolved themselves to this battle, there was no fleeing from it. A cool wind blew through the plains around Wingram, bringing relief from a long and warm March day, and with it, the sobering chill of bloodshed for those who knew what was to happen.
As the clock struck 5:45 PM, the participants and any who wished to view the duel would be allowed entry in single file through the doors of the Iris Record. The two guards at the front would each bear tense faces, concerned that a dispute between students had already escalated to the extent that the arena would be required. Despite these reservations, they allowed the competitors through all the same, guided towards waiting rooms by Principal Raja herself; while a separate individual would guide the spectators to their seating around the arena. These spectators would be the first to see the arena itself, which was for its part, a rather unremarkable grey square roughly forty meters in length and width. Spotlights beamed on it from above, and a brown-cloaked man was near its center, sweeping away dust with his broom in the final minutes before the confrontation. Among the seated spectators was Valen Leuvalt, who leaned back in a corner chair - a few of his entourage on either side of him muttering amongst themselves. He looked down at the arena with disdain plain as day on his face, with the slightest glimmer, perhaps, of curiosity intermingled. Various guards also wandered and hovered near the entrances, keeping their eyes out for spectators not normally allowed entrance to this place, all in the hopes of preventing them from wandering anywhere unrelated to the arena itself.
The waiting rooms for the two competitors were separate small lounge areas on opposite sides of the arena that contained various refreshments of food and drink to enjoy with the ten minutes they were provided to prepare themselves. There was also a guard posted to each of their rooms just outside, to ensure they didn't wander into places unauthorized. Each of the two competitors, finally, would have been emailed a small poll with a single question, asking them if they preferred the company of calming woods or damp caverns in times of conflict.
All was set, and the competitors and spectators alike need only make their final preparations and await the beginning of Wingram's first duel.
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