Combat Exam #5

[The Designer]

Truth be told, the Exams are a very huge thing in the Academy. As oppose to the SAT or CAT, the Combat Exams were more like a huge sports event if anything. While one can go to the arena to watch some regular fights, the Combat Exams provided the best fighters and were highly enjoyable to all. Both a academic and economic move for the Academy, the High Ups decided to try three relatively around the same time, this being one of them.

The Higher Ups chose Syril and Jason to be examined for the Combat Exam.

While one seemed like a newbie and the other a seasoned pro, this fight would still be interesting as the Newbie was rumored to be wielding a powerful magic style into the fray, something no one would want to miss. Right now, the exam is being held in the Arena, with the two combatants in their respective locker rooms opposite of each other. In the middle stood the Headmaster, the legendary Maedallus with a huge grin across his face.

The judge's stand was filled with 4 individuals, Halsephea, Professor Alter Mann, Raenari Aremond and Felodar Kindfang. They all were eager for the fight, as Maedallus patiently awaited for the fighters to show....

It was going to be one hell of a match.

[Syril Ænari]

An excellent way to celebrate the beginning of a new life; with the clashing of arms and with thundering applause. Syril couldn't have asked for a better introduction, and he smiled to himself as he stood in the shower, letting the cool water relax him as he basked in the glory of the muffled reveling permeating the locker room from the nearby arena.

It was a fascinating twist of fate, actually; merely a day ago, Syril had arrived at this Arcane Academy via teleporter, accompanied by his few worldly possessions. After being suitably impressed at the concept of a floating island, he had managed to find a directory, and found his way to the office where he presented his letter and application. They had been accepted so quickly that Syril formed the impression that most new students didn't bother with the process at all; curious, that students should express so little concern for due process. This was supposed to be a school, was it not? But it was no matter.

Almost before he knew what had happened, Syril was escorted to a new dormitory and handed a key, which he accepted, thanking his guide. Little over an hour afterward, he had moved in completely; and immediately after that, he had received a knock on his door. It was opened to reveal a tall man, blond haired, sporting a patch over his left eye. Syril would learn shortly that this figure was in fact Rommel Maedallus, Headmaster of the Academy, and that the reason for his visit was to request Syril's participation in the upcoming combat exams. Evidently, he had expressed interest in Syril's fighting style, which he had learned of via the document Syril had presented. Syril would be honored to accept the invitation.

Finishing his shower, Syril turned off the water with a deft flick and grabbed a towel, beginning to dry himself off. It was now the day of the exams, and he was preparing himself to meet his opponent on the field of battle, a mere two days since his arrival at the Academy. Syril thanked Sylph for his luck; few things brought the slim, green-eyed boy of nineteen more joy than the game of combat. The higher the stakes, the better. The satisfied smile only widened as Syril dressed himself, pulling the ceremonial Sylphist battle-robe over his head and tightening the cross-belts; he intended to enjoy this upcoming game to its fullest. Slipping the emerald cord around his long black hair and tying it back, Syril approached the large double-doors leading out into the arena, the applause growing louder with every step.

It wasn't a very dramatic entrance; no kicking the door down or blasting it open with the force of his magic, just a discreet push as Syril slipped outside, even going to the trouble of closing the door behind him. The crowd roared at his appearance, and Syril greeted them with a with a wave and that endearing you're-too-kind expression that was impossible to replicate without honest humility. That same man who had visited earlier stood now in the center of the arena, greeting him with a grin to match his own. Syril approached quickly, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet before coming to a halt a few feet away and bowing respectfully. This was, after all, the headmaster of Arcane Academy, and Syril knew enough of etiquette to respect his elders and betters. Isana had taught him well.

All that remained now was for Syril's opponent to arrive. Syril hoped he was good; boring fights weren't nearly as much fun as difficult ones. But regardless, Syril intended to make sure that this day would be a day to remember. It made him grin in anticipation just thinking about it.

[Jason]

Jason woke up early with a grin on his face. Today was his fort arranged battle in the training grounds. An arena with many students watching. Jason never really went into battle with alot of people watching so this was pretty new to him.

He got to his locker and the put on the red armour he had recently repaired from his first battle with the Dragoon gang. He left the long cloak behind as he didn't need to hide it and he clipped the metal cylinder to his belt then clenched his fist seeing the blade pop out from his right guantlet and then clenched the fist again bringing the blade back in.

He walked out calmly as could be and saw his opponent and one of the teachers. He headed that way and stopped about ten feet from his arranged foe giving a smile and a nod.
"Alright then. What rules are set?" He asked.

[Syril Ænari]

Syril had only a short time to wait before his to-be-opponent showed his face, approaching from the opposite side of the arena to the further elation of the surrounding audience. He seemed an interesting character, a blonde-haired boy roughly Syril's age, sporting a suit of crimson armor, and walking with the utmost poise and confidence across the dusty ground. Clearly shown signs of experience, indicating a student of higher rank, perchance? A cold shiver came over him at the prospect of fighting one of greater power than his own--not of fear, but of excitement. Losing odds were the most fun of all, because they were so much more gratifying when you beat them.

Apparently the boy's position of superiority did not begrudge any respect, however; upon his arrival at the center of the arena, Syril was greeted with a nod and a friendly smile, which were gladly returned. It never hurt to show one's opponent kindness prior to battle; it was the first step in making amends for the physical harm you are about to inflict upon one another. Syril would introduce himself properly, as soon as the follow-up query was answered. It was an excellent question, and one which Syril too had been cogitating upon--regarding the rules of conduct under which the upcoming exam would be carried out. Syril eagerly awaited the Headmaster's reply.

[The Designer]

"The rules are quite simple" Rommel said calmly, his face calm as usual, yet his voice commanding and regal. "Simply put, not killing shots, no cheap shots, and stop when you're told to, otherwise.... Prepare for the Exam."

With that, Maedallus smiled as he quickly teleported himself to the Judge's stand, standing right behind Halsephea as he raised his hand into the air, letting his white glove shine out a bit, the audience cheering loudly in the background.

"BEGIN" He let out, his voice overcoming the entire audience...

[Jason]

So no different than any of my other training sessions. Works for me. He thought with a smile. He looked back to Syril.
"Well I look forward to the challenge." He said then tensed keeping the smile eager for this test of skill.

Once the word "Begin" Was said Jason was already in action. He jumped back and raised his left hand with his fingers point strait out aimed for Syril's right shoulder and four narrow beams shot out and would cover the distance in a little under two seconds. He had slowed the fireing rate and avoided aiming for a vital shot because he was wanting to see how Syril would react and if the guy didn't move quick enough he didn't want to bring him down quickly. he was wary and had already focused his energies into his other hand ready to raise his shield if needed.

[Syril Ænari]

Syril nodded in appreciation as the terms of the battle were explained; it was always good to know the rules of the game in advance, lest they be broken by mistake. At Jason's words, Syril turned back to his opponent returning the eager smile in kind; "As do I. Let the best man win!" And with that came the call for the fight to begin.

Both contestants sprang into motion simultaneously. As Jason leaped back, presumably to prepare a long range attack, Syril crouched down low to the ground, and his two hands came up in an X across his chest, the middle and index fingers of each extended. The contented smile widened upon Syril's face as he allowed the mana to flow, the tips of his fingers glowing with crackling green energy. With a muttered word, the arms uncrossed in twin emerald arcs, coming to rest angled downwards and outwards from Syril's body.

"Valdi."

Rather than a direct attack as one might have expected, the twin points of energy abruptly dissipated, as mana flowed through the air surrounding Syril's poised form. Syril's field of influence was now activated, and complete control of the nearby air established. The smile became a grin as a faint green glow began to emanate from Syril's body, visual evidence of the mana continuing to leave his body. Now the fight had truly begun.

The opponent's rebuttal was quick to come, in the form of four identical beams projected from Jason's fingers on one hand. At this distance, it was impossible to tell what their nature was, but the attack didn't seem spiritual in nature, so it was probably safe to assume that the beams' purpose was to inflict physical damage. Likely easily dealt with, but this was a higher level student he was dealing with, so it wouldn't hurt to take extra precautions. Rather than simply wait as the beams approached--remarkably slowly--Syril launched himself forward, dashing headlong toward the incoming strike, his hair and the sleeves and bottom of his traditional garment flowing out behind him. An early offensive was important when one was constricted to a deadly time limit. And at this point, it was impossible not to notice the dramatic increase in Syril's physical speed since the Valdi's activation.

Ira Atri: The first art, air movement. Control over the surrounding air granted Syril the power to manipulate that air's pressure at will, and by doing so in such a fashion that pressure was greater behind him and less in front, Syril could move his own body at great speeds without the use of his pathetic muscles. This is how such a weak body has survived on the battlefield for so long; by using energy in the place of physical power. At this point, Syril and the beams had each covered roughly half the distance between Jason and Syril's former position, and a collision was inevitable; but as the beams came within a meter of Syril's shoulder, something odd happened.

At precisely the point at which each beam entered the field, a small portion of air shimmered and coalesced, forming tiny droplets precisely the width of the beams. With a bang the two forces came in contact, the points of air dissipating the instant the beams were deflected, causing slight ripples to extend outward from the point of contact. A function much like a barrier, but much more efficient and precise. This was Ira Lyndi: The second art, air barrier.

With the Valdi came the power to rearrange air molecules at will, and doing so in such a way that the normally drifting molecules of a gas were arranged into the grid-like structure of a solid, Syril could selectively change the state of matter of air. After this, it was a simple matter of aligning that solidified air correctly, and Syril was rendered impervious to low-level physical strikes. Syril was a little bit confused about one thing, however; his forward progress hadn't even been slowed. He had expected to have had to work much harder to block the strike; it was as if the attack had lacked will and power, as if his opponent was intentionally holding back. Surely he jested...

It had all happened very quickly, but now Syril was approaching his opponent directly, and it was his turn for offense. Sweeping low to the ground, Syril's right arm was pulled back, trailing out behind him with the middle and index fingers still extended. The instant he was within striking distance, The air around those fingers would shimmer, forming into a foot long triangular knife-blade. This was Ira Sinda: the seventh art, air blade; air molecules arranged into a roughly linear sequence to separate the molecular bonds of other substances, forming a handheld cutting edge used in melee combat.

Hand and blade were thrust forward, carrying the momentum and speed of Syril's charge behind it. The target appeared to be Jason's left shoulder, but an instant before contact, the blade would dip downward to strike at Jason's thigh in an attempt to hinder his movement. Syril's eyes were narrowed though, and his teeth gritted for a moment; in addition to activating the Valdi, he had used three of the air arts within the space of roughly five seconds, and the strain was immense. Ah well, at least the crowd would enjoy the spectacle.

[Jason]

Has some control over air in some way. Mabey solidifying it somehow. Jason thought seeing what happend to his beam attack. And then his foe was coming at him. he nocticed the weapon forming confirming his suspicions. He saw a stab coming in but something seemed off. He raised his shield spell and it covered the lower part of his body as with his armor attacking his uppr body was almost pointless unless the attack was rather powerful. he felt the attack slam against his shield and he attempted a move used before against another fighter. he let himself fall back and a large burst of his energy from his rocket spell that allowed him flight expelled with enough force to blast Syril back and leave light burns. Only enough to leave the skin red.

Jason used the momentum to flip back and drifted to a stop while touching down with his shield spell still at the ready and an eager smile on his face.

[Syril Ænari]

With the clang of solid upon solid, Syril discovered that his opponent had already anticipated the feint, and had evidently reacted accordingly. Syril's eyes danced as he considered the implications; Not only had Jason proven himself excellent at reading his opponents' movements, the method he had employed in his defense was quite interesting; a conjured shield, of the same nature as the four beams Syril had intercepted earlier. Not only that, but the strength of said shield was easily great enough to defend against a basic lunge with a pointy object.

This style... it did not conform to any of the traditional schools of elementalism, nor any other method of conjuring a physical change that Syril had previously encountered. Truly fascinating; if Syril was unable to figure it out throughout the course of the battle, he would have to ask Jason personally afterwords. That was, presuming both of them were capable of coherent speech. One could never predict what the outcome of battle would be, which was in part what made it so much fun.

But now he was digressing. It was not wise to lose concentration while engaged in combat. Jason had succeeded in defending, and was now in an excellent position to respond with a counter-offensive of his own; however, Syril had a few more tricks up his flared sleeve before he would allow Jason to take away his advantage. As the Ira Sinda blade skittered off of the emerald barrier, the angle at which it had been thrust caused it to deflect downward, thrusting itself into the soft earth below. Analyzing the situation and coming up with a split-second means to utilize this turn of events in his favor, Syril allowed the deflection to take place, and then took advantage of his own forward momentum to carry him up and over the planted arm, directing a vicious kick at Jason's exposed face.

It was, however, at this point that all did not go according to plan; even as the follow-up was being launched, Jason allowed himself to topple over backward, in such a way that his feet were in prime position to direct a blast of that green magic at the spot where Syril's chest had been a moment earlier. Not the most graceful of maneuvers, but most definitely effective; Syril hadn't any time to react before his supporting arm was blasted out from under him, breaking his concentration and dissipating the blade of air, and causing light burning and possibly some bruising. Syril winced, but it wasn't too serious, and probably wouldn't detract from its use.

In addition, there was one other way in which the counter hadn't had the effect its instigator had intended; due to his relatively removed position and the momentum of his previous kick, the blast and subsequent removal of Syril's support did not knock him backward, but rather caused him to topple forward. At this point, Jason had utilized the force of his blast to catapult himself into the air. In the position Jason was currently in, The lower portion on Jason's body protruded into the portion of air which lay within the sphere extending 1.5 meters from Syril's upside-down form.

In that instant, before Syril had even struck the ground, a portion of his mana was directed into the air situated directly above and below Jason's , severely increasing the pressure of the former and decreasing that of the latter. To equalize itself, the pressurized air would attempt to take the most direct route to its de-pressurized counterpart, namely through Jason. Since air particles are not, in fact, generally capable of penetrating a solid object unless arranged in a particular sequence, the result would be one of concussive force, analogous to a wrecking ball colliding with Jason's stomach and shoving him back to the ground while also hurting considerably. Ira Hindi; the fourth art, air strike. The abdomen was also an excellent target, Syril realized after the fact, because it happened not to be protected by armor.

Following Jason's immediate grounding, Syril would turn a graceful flip, landing crouched and right-side-up, prepared to make a quick dash and reform the Ira Sinda before slashing down at the nearest exposed limb, be it leg or arm. Years of experience had taught Syril that the best way to disable an opponent without seriously injuring them was to take out their means of moving and/or dealing damage; hence, he would continue to target Jason's limbs until either it yielded results or became obviously futile.

[Jason]

Jason felt the blast and gasped as he fell to the ground but was able to get his feet under him landing in a crouch and his metal cylinder was in hand while a green blade appeared from one end. He rose as Syril came in and his arm swung outwards in an incredibly swift slash. the goal was not actually to hit Syril but instead to make him back off. But if he managed to hit him so much the better. A grin appeared on his face as he swung. Jason knew this person would be a challenge.

[Syril Ænari]

OOC: I'm presuming you're holding the sword in your left hand, since that was the one from which you fired the beams; please correct me if I'm wrong.^^

Syril's eyes registered surprise at Jason's recovery, but it was only faint, and utterly eclipsed by the manic grin spread across Syril's own face. There was no reason for him to be surprised by the prowess exhibited by a student of higher rank; Syril slapped himself mentally for forgetting this inherent difference in power. Ah well, Syril would just have to face the consequences of his own actions, and reap the penalty.

Those consequences came in the form of a blindingly fast horizontal strike, delivered by a blade of identical green energy which had just formed from the metal cylinder in Jason's left hand. Jason had already proved himself to be a far better hand-to-hand combatant than Syril, and Syril had the burns on his right arm to prove it; this slash was no exception, and came far too fast for Syril to have any chance of dodging or defending it. That left only one option.

Syril sighed mentally; he hadn't wanted to reveal this until later, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Syril focused, and his eyes closed. The faint emerald glow surrounding his body suddenly intensified; and Syril's course did not change, even as the sword slashed through his chest.

It was only after the fact that Jason would notice that something was desperately wrong; there was no blood. Furthermore, there was no wound. The sword had passed straight through Syril's body without inflicting any damage, as if he had suddenly become immaterial at the point of contact. In truth, the nature of the technique was slightly different; at the point of contact, a sliver of flesh had been transmuted into air molecules, coalescing the instant the sword had passed through them. This was Hilva Myndi, or demi-form: a special technique which Syril had designed himself, derived from the greatest Sylphist technique of all time. Suddenly, however, Syril winced in pain.

As a matter of fact, there was a little blood, and there was a little wound; a slight trickle stemming from Syril's left side, where the sword had first struck him. Syril's timing had been off, and the sword had struck his body before the spell had been activated. Syril smiled wryly; every now and then, he was presented with further proof that his fighting style still wasn't complete. Ah well, that was why he was here. And Syril had still accomplished his task; getting him past Jason's ward. Furthermore, it had taken far less time than dodging or deflecting would have, even in a more skilled combatant.

In that instant, Syril's left hand--the unburned one--locked on to Jason's sword arm, which was now extended in the follow-up of the strike. Normally, Syril's grip was exceedingly weak, but an increase of pressure in the air surrounding Syril's fingers gave him a grip like iron. Ira Styrsa: The fifth art, air strength. Jason was far from unarmed without the use of his sword; Syril had already discovered that in via the four beams which had earlier been directed at his shoulder. Syril could hope, however, that the shock factor of said sword slashing through Syril without killing him would stun Jason long enough for Syril to take him by surprise.

Syril's eyes flicked over Jason's armor, seeking chinks in that crimson barrier through which damage could be inflicted, and settled upon the upper right arm. The Ira Sinda re-formed in Syril's right hand, and slashed downward. To clarify, this was not the arm that was holding the energy sword, but the one through which Jason had channeled his shield spell; if Syril could disable this, it would greatly improve his chances. However. In the position he was in, Syril was quite unprepared for whatever counterattack Jason saw fit to pull off. As such, this would likely turn out to be an eye for an eye situation, as each succeeded in wounding the other. Besides, Syril was rapidly running out of energy; and use of the Hilva Myndi had not improved that situation in the least.

Time remaining: 18 posts

[The Designer]

OoC: Since Jason hasn't posted in a Ridiculous amount of time... It's time to end it:

"Exam Over!" Maedallus yelled, his roar consuming the Stadium.

With that, he soon casted a freezing spell, keeping both participants immobilize in order to remove the fury of the fight. In this meanwhile, the four judges, Halsephea, Alter Mann, Raenari Aremond and Felodar Kindfang, quickly conversed among themselves to decide who would recieve what as a grade. After magically tell the Headmaster, said master walked between the two, but suddenly raised Syril's hand.

"And the Winner is Syril" Maedallus said. "He has received... An A on the Exam. His opponent, Jason, however received a C"

"Congratulations you two for passing the exam!"

REWARDS:

Syril: 4 EXP + Victory Belt ( +3 Energy)

Jason: 3 EXP