Enlightenment of the Combatant (Tristan/open)

[Cirkel]

It had only very recently become obvious to Cirkel just where he was, and more importantly, what it was the class of people he belonged to did. He was a mage. Noted that he was a somewhat... different kind of mage, but he was a mage none-the-less. What did mages do? Well, mages tended to come across particularly unnatural things. Things that invariably had to be defeated. In short, every mage had to be able to fight. And, as practice was available to the slightly more informationally enlightened Cirkel, he entered the training grounds.

Cirkel's specific ground of choice was a musky, foggy, smelly, mossy swamp. Quite a large one as well, complete with crocodiles, even.

Someone has quite the eye for detail.

As to be expected, very few used this training ground, as it was high class in danger (the swamp of the magical realm apparently contained many, many foul, strong creatures), and was ultimately just unappealing. Sufficed to say, it wasn't long before Cirkel was lost.

Looking for things in the swamp was apparently quite difficult. He had very quickly lost the main path along which one could find an exit, and was now trudging knee-deep in swamp slime, keeping a whether eye on anything that looked remotely man-built.

It wasn't long before he found a mossy, wooden hut of two story, both of which had foggy, litten windows. Cirkel ran up to it as fast as one could whilst bathing in crocodile snot, and soon opened the rusted door-knob with a slightly gooey hand. What he saw was actually appealing.

The hut was what one may have called a check point of sorts. It was where the jonesy mage, after a few hours of fighting whatever it was he fought, came to have a sit down and relax before heading back out. A bit of a road-side tavern kind of a place, oddly clean given the look of the outside, and with that warm, homey glow to it.

Cirkel found himself sitting on a stool at the main bar. The stools each had a design on the seat that looked like a frog. A more wise person would get the joke. Cirkel looked up at the happily smiling waitress. She had long black hair, almost to her hips, and was wearing a sweater, jeans and a blue and white striped apron. She was well endowed with a kind face, a curved figure and a busty middle. She looked down at him as sitting on the stool he was even smaller than usual and asked him in a very well-educated though still very welcoming kind of voice.

"May I get you anything?"

Cirkel took a second with his vocabulary before answering.

"Yes, please, is there anywhere I'd be able to look for someone to fight with?"

The bartender made a thoughtful look before she enlightened Cirkel with even more information. He was learning a lot today.

"Apologies, but you'd be at the wrong place. This is a real-world training grounds. A place for someone to fight the regular beasts around here. You're looking for the plateaus, those are student-against-student areas."

Cirkel sighed submissively. He didn't enjoy the mistakes that were happening fairly frequently recently, but, it was probably good for him. He spoke up again.

"Then can I please have a lemonade?"

She gave another cheery smile...

"Sorry, we're all out."

[Tristan Knightrhode]

OOC: hmm...how to reply to this one...Tristan probably wouldn't be in these types of areas as opposed to just going down to earth and hunting something thats been bothering people...

Tristan was out in some new area...or new to him, of the training grounds. He was used to just being on the plains out by the forefront of the grounds, by the trees, mountains, and some swamp thing. This place was probably connected to that swamp in any case. After kicking ass on some hapless creatures that looked like half assed croc summons, Tristan floated into the bar...Literally. He'd activated his flight and had been zooming around the area until he'd found this place.

When Cirkel walked in, Tristan was all the way in the back with a large glass filled with enchanted ice and a bottle of Irish Creme'. He looked up from his drink to see the rather small boy walk in. The man recognized him from that supposed class that turned into an idiocy fest. Not bothering to walk over and strike up conversation, Tristan looked back down to his drink. Igneus was napping near the decent sized oil lamp on the table, next to him, just off the table and leaning against the seat of the booth Tristan was in, was the commander of attack, Shireiutz.

The crusnik took a sip of his drink, wrapping his pinky around the bottom of the rocks glass to keep it from falling as he picked it up. After years and years of rarely taking off his armaments, such notions were mindless. His breath became visible in the presence of the ice which maintained themselves at a chilly twenty degrees fahrenheit.

[Cirkel]

(OOC: Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle slow on the uptake, XD)

It was closing in on one minute since Cirkel had been told he couldn't have a lemonade, which had further caused him to accept some of what was called "7 up". It was actually okay. It was what some people called lemonade, but it was far from the real thing.

Closing in on the end of his minute, Cirkel gave the tavern a quick look-over. In his short time, already the few people in the building had left, though Cirkel did notice two people. One was wearing a brown sweater, and seemed to be alone in the presence of the swamp. The fact that he was currently digesting the contents of a book made him look like he was jsut in a regular cozy cafe somewhere in the country... Not quite the situation at hand.

The next Cirkel noticed was actually two. He noticed the large man sitting at the table away from people, almost in a corner, but Cirkel also saw the figure of what one could only describe as a mutated lizard. Apparently Cirkel's folklore wasn't up to date.

It took only a second for Cirkel to remember the big fellow, though he could never remember the lizard (as he never saw it before). Sadly, one had never caught the big guy's name, though now seemed as good a time as any. So, Cirkel strode (as much as one could with his small stature) up to Tristan's table. If one remembered he was quite the battle-ready person, so maybe he'd be up for a bout?

"'scuse me, sir. You probably don't remember me; I'm Cirkel. I was wondering if you would be up for a bit of a fight? I know ti may seem blunt, it's just that I feel learning through combat in a school that trains it's students for mainly that purpose seems reasonable."

[Tristan Knightrhode]

Tristan had drained his glass to the smallest irretrievable sips. The smoothness of the creme' still coated his tounge in a pleasant manner. Only the back of his throat burned slightly as the stout bottle with the long neck was tipped to the glass, pouring waves of a greyish liquid that had the slightest tint of a yellowy red. The hunter heard the soft footsteps as easily as any vampire would, but still didn't look up. After all, the boy could just be walking past...to the bathroom or something.

Only when he spoke up did Tristan peer up from his drink that was slowly trickling from the bottle. Igneus too looked up, before looking back down. The dragon had been in the class, but he'd taken cover behind the bar when the possibility of a non-mage being in the area became apparent. "Yeah, I remember you. That kid who got wasted in Tran's 'class'." He put the slightest angst on the word 'class', as class that was not.

"Sure, always up for a few rounds." Before tipping back his head with the glass and draining it. He plopped the glass on the table before reaching into his coat and pulling out an american hundred dollar bill and sliding it under the glass, folded in half. He screwed the top back on the bottle and left it there, picking up his sword, and sliding out from the booth. His full height became apparent as the pillar of a man stood, holding that massive sword which, in and of itsself, was bigger than Cirkel, "Tristan Knightrhode." He said, extending his right armored hand.

Igneus stood, and took off, landing quickly on his partners right shoulder. "Igneus." He said to the audible plane, dipping his head slightly, both to get the boy's attention and greet him in just about the only way a dragon could. After the hand would be shaken, Tristan used it and the other to swing his blade over his back, adjusting the dragon hide strap as it came onto his left shoulder. "Let's go then. Should be a dry patch around here somewhere." Walking past Cirkel and out the door in a decent pace.

The stench of the bog hit Tristan again, though it didn't really phase him, and he waited for the kid to come out before jumping forward, landing on a large enbankment a few dozen feet ahead. This area was a good fifty by fifty, give or take its round edges and protrusions, so it would be fine for intents and purposes. It wasn't like Tristan couldn't evaporate some mud if they needed more space any way.

OOC: makes me wonder what they use for currency.

[Cirkel]

Cirkel gave Tristan a smile with a hint of what could only be placed as eagerness. One could not over-state his lack of lust when it came to combat, though he did have a bit of a lust for exceling. It was most definitely one of his personal weakness. Ambition, as he had read, did very little for the good. Napoleon was a decent example.

Cirkel watched without change to his expression, only the slightest bit surprised with Tristan's size when he stood. He was quite a big person, and to the small Cirkel, he was even larger. Seeing Tristan before was probably what had kept him from shock when he stood.

He was quick to follow the large man, needing to take many quick steps to Tristan's long jump. Cirkel could see already that he was physically a bit behind, so he hoped his magic could lessen the gap to some extent. In the end, he could only try, right?

When Cirkel arrived, he saw what one could only imagine was the fighting field. They had, essentially, about fifty feet around of plateau. Beyond that, there was a whole lot of swamp goo. Cirkel looked to his footing and realized what would be an issue in the fight. The stray shrapnels of swamp goo would provide less-than-decent footing, for sure. One could only hope that there would be little need to move. Not hope a lot, but still, hope.

"So, um, do I start?"

Cirkel still had that ever-present smile across his lips, and was looking straight into Tristan's eyes. There was about twenty feet between the two combatants, and Cirkel wished that would be enough. Out of tristan's sight, Cirkel discreetly, and what apparently seemed to be without movement to even the trained eye, he pricked his finger with that small metal needle in preperation of the events.

[Tristan Knightrhode]

Tristan walked out toward his chosen spot, off center of the....arena, for lack of a better term. The way the two were standing once Cirkel took his place made the dry patch in the bog look as though it were a diagram for the elliptical orbit of a planet. Cracking his neck one way, Tristan listened to Cirkel's inquiry. "Usually," He pushed his jaw the other way, releasing the tension of the other side of his neck, "Challenger goes first."

He then removed his sword in its holster as Igneus hopped to the ground. Stabbing his blade into the ground with one hand, the hunter undid his coat with the other. Sliding the black dragon hide article off, he placed it on what one might call the hilt of his sword. It was far from a typical sword, and as such, didn't have a typical cross guard, rather just the width of the blade meeting the thinner width of the handle. "But I'm feeling kind of frisky today." And before the tail end of his coat had settled, Tristan was bouncing back and forth, surprisingly nimbly in those boots, and in an instant, was off at full speed.

If he'd used one of his favorite abilities, he'd already be upon Cirkel, but he hadn't used magic just yet. The hunters hands were prone in a rather typical martial artists stance, one hand chambered, the palm side of the fist pointing toward the sky, the other hand up, and sort of across his chest. Ninjutsu practitioner inside him taking hold, Tristan's somewhat analytical mind began making notations as to what his opponent was capable of. [Small, likely quick, rather skinny, so probably not very strong. Magic is his strong point.] Basic notes. As for the notes themselves, when magic is the strong point of the opponent, combat it with physical prowess. Attack the weak points and the rest will fall.

Tristan was a very balanced fighter, as well as very powerful. Each of his aspects could be better at the sake of another, but as said, he is a balanced combatant. As such he can take on just about any one and come out on top by utilizing the above assessment. As soon as he came in close to his opponent, Tristan whirled himself onto his left hand and shot both of his feet out in a side ways mule kick to the lower chest area of the boy. He was short, so attacks involving the hands were going to be mostly out of the question.

[Cirkel]

Cirkel heard Tristan's answer fairly shortly. He was to start, apparently. One didn't quite dis-like that, though it did make him a bit uncomfortable. Cirkel found it easier to counter-attack of defend than to throw straight out. Defense was a reasonable tactic, though offence presented weaknesses. Openings. Well, if proper etiquette said...

Tristan soon added onto his former answer. It seemed quite a choice of words. From the large man, the word "frisky" was quite... intriguing. Somewhere inside, Cirkel was chuckling, though he didn't do it openly. Even the optomist realized what was appropriate and where, and one definitely didn't want to offend.

Tristan was quite fast for his large size. He cleared the twenty feet very easily, and Cirkel could note that he was faster even than one's own self. That was a bit dis-heartening. The teenager had prided himself if not a small bit in his speed, and seeing somebody faster than him straight off was a bit discouraging. However, Cirkel quickly got over it. After all, it wasn't really the time to be worrying about things like that.

The large man was quick to change his stance to a low one, pushing his left hand into the ground and letting his legs thrust out. He was undoubtedly quick, however, the movement was a technical and drawn out when one compared it to most regular (and slightly more practical moves). Cirkel was quick to side-step to his left, moving in a bit as he did. Briefly, before Tristan would undoubtedly find his footing again, one was to his back. It was now one would note that the move was quite impractical. After all, without the use of magic, no matter how strong someone was, the momentum of the kick would force them to take a modified crouch after the kick. It was a bit suicidal in that regard, because if it missed, one was quite open to counter-attack.

Cirkel, undoubtedly, would take the time to capitalize. His attack was simple. All he did was give a quick flick with his middle finger, several drops of blood from his pricked wound flying towards Tristan's exposed back. Tristan was unlikely to see the blood, let alone counter-attack the simple movement.

From there, Cirkel took a quick step backwards and then gave a backwards roll, returning to his feet. He was still smiling. Not confidently or wryly. Just sincerely.

OOCL: My first PVP fight, so if there are any problems, don't hesitate to PM.

[Tristan Knightrhode]

OOC: no problem >_<

Cirkel's ideas of a suicide attack were correct. Or at least they would have been if he was dealing with a human. But not only was Tristan not human, but he was an incredibly skilled martial artist. Instead of returning straight to his feet, when Tristan missed, as was to be rather expected, he bent his left elbow, and rocketed himself skyward, using the slightest wind manipulation to bring himself to a vertical stand point...or rather flight point.

A single drop did hit Tristan's back, ever so slightly tainting the upper-mid part of his body armor. The armor's enchantment was kind of a smart ward. It had a speed meter, not physical of course, and it also had a sort of danger meter. The speedometer, so to speak, stopped any thing moving at speeds of bullets or greater, the danger meter, detected slow moving, but dangerous assaults, such as a grenade or a low velocity explosion. Blood, however, fell under neither of these categories, and there fore hit home, though Tristan had moved away so quickly that only one of the several droplets actually made contact before he was a small handful of yards in the air.

Of course, this was unbeknownst to Tristan, but then again, what did he need to know that something such as blood hit him for? Then again he didn't know what Cirkel was capable of, so combat would ensue as normal. Tristan's body spun around in a quick three-sixty and his arm swung out to the side, seemingly toward Cirkel...only nothing happened. Or did it? Tristan's power was exceeding so as to not have to verbalize most of his spells, though the louder he boomed a spells name, the more powerful it was able to be.

Four nigh invisible blades of solid wind were what actually shot from Tristan's swinging arm. Even to the trained eye they were very hard to see, even if you were looking for them. To those of low or normal perception it would be almost impossible to see them coming. To be quite honest, the only effective way to 'see' them coming was to have extremely acute hearing, or be able to sense the mana controlling them and giving them form.

The four blades sailed at speeds to easily surpass Tristan's, coming into a formation that would form a six by six box around Cirkel. The very instant before they struck the ground around the boy, Tristan's fire element would kick in and all four blades would explode, each with force to rival a block buster. For those of you who don't know, a block buster is a half stick of dynamite used as a fire cracker. Dangerous? Understatement. Basically the airborne hunter, who would then begin to descend of gravity's volition, had just pounded his opponent with two sticks of dynamite setting off three feet from his body.

The hunters wind element moved him back and away from the explosion, where he would land, more or less the same distance whence they began. As for the explosions themselves, the blades and their motion created a shape charge effect, and most of the actual blast would head straight into the ground, though any sort of explosion taking place that close was a bit discerning.

[Cirkel]

Without a doubt, Cirkel was surprised to see Tristan's reaction. The move that would have been a suicide attack was expertly maneuvered by the large man into what one could only describe as a rocket-like technique, sending him up into the air. The moment that followed was kind of surreal. One of those things that just stays in your head due to the oddity of it.

For the rest of his life, Cirkel would remember that moment when that large man, seemingly held up by invisible strings, twisted his body around, facing him, and letting his arm rotate with his self. One had no other choice than to look at his hand, as in the midst of it that seemed the only place of which his attention could accumulate. His eyes noticed just the slightest thing. The smallest of events. It was merely a wave. The most minuscule of blurs, like a distortion. Cirkel could easily dismiss it as the haste of Tristan's movement, though something about it seemed... unnatural. Only when the transparent waves surrounded did one get even a bit of an idea of what they were.

Another small enlightenment.

The next events memories found hazy at best. The waves that Cirkel could not even decide were real or not seemed to instantly light. There was this surreal glow about them, and one had only a minuscule moment of realization before the haze covered his eyes, his temples seemed to throb, and his ears began to buzz. All around his body he stung, and the force caused him to fall back to his rear.

There was about five seconds of dust. The slime had evaporated on touch with the explosions, leaving an even more putrid smell in the air, though truth be told, it was probably the only thing that had kept Cirkel on his toes. Of rather, on his butt.

The dust and dirt would soon float away, revealing Cirkel on one knee, looking straight-foreward at Tristan, that smile still present on his face. Psychologically, Cirkel had long-since become comfortable with explosions. Considering his entire magic revolved around such things, he was pretty much forced too. Even so, he could never get over the sensations of the dust in his nose and buzzing in his ears. It left him a little bit dizzy for a moment, thought that time of disorientation had shortened over time to but a blink of an eye.

Cirkel was very soon to stand up, his footstep wavering for an instant before becoming quite solid. He could now notice the slight chill across his right shoulder-blade, the explosion apparently drawing that area's cloth quite thin. Cirkel gave a silent sigh, meanwhile weighing his options. He chose to simply give a comment.

"That was a very nice explosion. I don't think I could have done much better myself!"

It was at about that cue that the blood drop on Tristan's back, now dried, would explode. Cirkel considered himself a fairly good judge, and Tristan's wear seemed quite sturdy, as did the man himself. Cirkel didn't bother sparing him too far from max power in the release. In that regard, the attack would have been equivalent to about two hand-grenades exploding at the same time. Given that the liquid was absorbed into Tristan's first layer would also mean that if that particular item was quite durable, it would still not be taking all of the impact that the explosion had released. The next layers would also be taking a hit.

[Tristan Knightrhode]

Cirkels assessment wasn't entirely correct. Tristan's vest would be taking a highly substantial hit, but the enchantment was part of the vest, through out every fiber of its physical being. As such, unless the blood was on Tristan, totally beneath the vest, the barrier would still protect the hunter. And being that the magic was done by a master enchanter, few peoples magics could penetrate the ward.

What did happen however, was that Tristan went flying. There was still a transfer of energy, and the close on two hundred and forty pound man was no where near heavy enough or strong enough to resist an impact of that caliber. Even if it had just hit the surface of the barrier around his torso, he would have still gone flying as, when utilized, the barrier was solid for several inches around Tristan's body, from the starting fibers that were touching the T-shirt underneath.

The man soared high and fast, well past Cirkel, and past the edge of the more solid ground that they were fighting on. Tristan's feet created gashing wakes of force against the mud. Being a supernatural hunter had Tristan being experienced in this sort of force, though it wasn't too common. As such, he was able to twist himself through the air and land skidding back wards. Tristan's face was contorted into temporary rage as a trickle of dark red blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Despite the barrier, the surface of his vest had be scorched off and a few lower back ribs were probably broken.

Would that stop Tristan? Not in a million years. Tristan boomed a massive roar and as his mouth opened to its limits, an insanely huge blast of white, blue, and purple flames incinerated the ground in front of him and sailed with tremendous speed right toward the hunters opponent. Tristan's magic and instinct gave the blast form. His constant mental contact with a dragon and Japanese heritage gave rise to a raging dragon being the form of his attack. The blast could likely be seen for miles as the luminosity of this gratuitous blast would surpass the brightest star on a scaled value.

The temperatures too would surpass the earth sun if it was the size and shape of this blast. It would surpass it with ease, seeing as the sun was only a yellow star, and Tristan's flames were the hottest known to man. In an instant, this hunter had just become the worlds largest plasma torch as the surrounding air was incinerated by the ridiculous heat levels. The total time for this blasts existence from the roar to the last trickles of flame was almost exactly four seconds. In that time, the surrounding ground had boiled, evaporated, and nigh roasted into the fourth elemental state, plasma. In fact, the purple flames of Tristan's near all out attack were in essence pure plasma.

Fortunately for Cirkel, the plasma acts as a shielding agent in that it the electric charge within the surrounding matter is repelled. As such, he would survive, but it would be likely for he to be in a somewhat critical condition unless he had his own means of defense against the insanely strong attack. As for Tristan, he was standing out in the now dried and no longer steaming earth. The intensity of the attack was such that not only did the water in the ground instantly become gas and move away extremely quickly, but particles of earth did the same, consequently the ground now resembled cooling lava.

Almost entirely drained, Tristan was breathing heavily, the blood that had trickled from his mouth was dried onto his jaw. Extricating his boots from the earth was the next step, and was done exhaustingly so. Tristan's dragon hide clothing resisted melting down to nothing, and so the man slowly made his way toward the area where Cirkel had just been. Whether he was still there, or even still alive, was to be seen.

[Cirkel]

Somewhere inside, Cirkel gave a sigh. It never reached the light of day, but he could feel it in his mind. Undoubtedly the young teen didn't want to kill the man, even if the explosion had seemed as such. Still, one was a bit disappointed that more damage hadn't been done. Then again, he had gone quite far from the explosion. A fair ways into the slime that surrounded them, in-fact. Cirkel had simply given him a smile as he passed. Was that why he got so mad?

For sure, he looked angry.

He moved so quickly that a glance was all Cirkel got, but that was enough. The big man had seemed to have dis-liked him. Was that another reason he had sighed. he certainly didn't enjoy being dis-liked. It gave him a kind of sick feeling in his stomach. Maybe he really had given too much power in the explosion...


Cirkel was forced back into reality quite abruptly. It had taken only a moment for his brain to register the light suddenly blinding him. It was purple, so the color was no help, though the way it moved had quickly told him. Fire. And given the path it scorched along the ground it didn't touch, it was quite a hot one. Cirkel need to react quite quickly... so he did.

His first attempt was quick and apparently unnecessary. He had very suddenly flicked his wrist with charged blood in order to explode it in-front of the fire and thus stop it's movement. However, that was quite in vain, as the blood had evaporated before it could release it's energy. So, he switched to plan B.

Cirkel quickly twisted his body around and jumped up, putting his knees to his chest and holding them against him. His clothing along his back very suddenly shredded apart, leaving his back exposed. The purple flame collided with him instantly as he was still in the peak of his leap. It continued along it's course, apparently unaffected, before eventually ceasing to exist. One would very soon notice along the scorched ground that there was no body. Cirkel seemed to have up and disappeared. Well... disappeared at least.

It was about a full ten seconds before his head burst violently from the slime, opposite side of the plateau to where Tristan had fallen. He gave a quick, heavy gasp for air before gritting his teeth. His eyelids squished together and his nose scrunched as he cringed from pain. It was hard to see at the moment, as Cirkel was pretty much covered in swamp slime, but he had burns all along his shoulders, back, and rear, as well as a small patch on the outside of either thigh.

The Teen would soon return to the plateau, taking his time and climbing up. His burn wounds very quickly seemed to become exposed from beneath the layer of slime, and one could see the odd shape on his back. It looked kind of like a lop-sided target, the burns missing the small of his back entirely, and going from reasonable to bad the further they got from that central point.

One could also now see more of Cirkel's body than had before. Much more, in-fact. True, he was now completely naked. The shield (which had only lessened the attack) that he had put up, as well as the fire, had not only destroyed the back of his shirt, and thus made it fall off, but had also gotten rid of half of the band and a fair bit of the rest of his pants and underwear, thus making them fall off. All that remained in-tact was his socks and shoes. The air was cold.

Cirkel smiled before beginning to speak. Though unseen beneath the slime that still covered his body, he was sweating quite a bit. His muscles were sore, his bones ached, and fatigue in general had set in. Not to mention he was literally out on his skins.

"My apologies, sir, but I am quite tired and sore, and my back is fairly burnt, not to mention my lack of attire. So, may we please rain check this for a later date?"

[Tristan Knightrhode]

Tristan's T-shirt was practically ash where the sleeves poked out of the vest, though the vest itself was untouched by the flame for the most part. He trudged over the lava like ground until he came to the spot where his opponent had just been standing. Looking around, he saw absolutely no remains. "Damn...I gotta stop over doing some of these spells." Igneus had even taken cover behind the diamond and titanium blade which was glowing slightly from the intense heat.

As tired as he now was, ears as or even more sensitive than a vampires picked up on Cirkel popping out of the gunk. Tristan's eyes scanned up to see the boy climbing out of the filth, but he didn't much care to pursue. That feeling was amplified by the fact that he seemed to be as or more exhausted as Tristan. He looked relatively intact and Tristan remembered the little tidbit about plasma. While it was insanely hot, you could almost never touch it because of the pure repelling force of it.

When the boy spoke up, Tristan chuckled a bit. "A draw, then. I'm as tired as you are....That blast used up alot of energy." He then began walking over to his equipment which he drew up rather painfully, but didn't bother putting them on since he'd need to take them off in a minute once he got to the med wing to get his ribs healed. It really was time to get a healing spell besides soul fire. Perhaps he'd look into the healing touch, a style that would use Tristan's chakra.

Igneus burst into his medium form with a bang and some black smoke. "Get on, Igneus can teleport." He called out to Cirkel, who would also need healing...as well as cleaning apparently. Once all parties were on board, Igneus went between into the utter nothingness of his teleportation and they would almost instantly be in the recovery wing. Unfortunately for Cirkel...that utter nothingness was just that...nothingness. If absolute zero were an actual possibility, thats what they would be in during the teleportation, even if only for a millisecond.

[Cirkel]

Cirkel was a little bit wary for a moment. The large transforming lizard didn't seem the softest of things, and he was less than in proper wear. Heck, his current state didn't even classify as "in wear". More like "in flesh". Not to mention that he had some bad burns on his buttocks. It would not be a fun ride...

Despite his uncomfortable feelings, the young teen soon found himself aboard the creature. For the most part, it seemed humanly intelligent. He debated whether or not to try and speak to it, though very quickly he was answered. They had arrived at the medical wing, and one could give a new symptom. Cirkel was quite chilly. Then again, he was naked, covered in slime, and had just passed through nothingness (though he wasn't very sure about that). He surely would be aloud the feeling of cold temperatures.

(OOC: Hmm... a short one!)