Post by Dirge on Apr 3, 2020 23:55:42 GMT
Challenge: Vincent Fiorelli vs Gwynvirr
Rules: aetherastate.boards.net/thread/290/compendium-based-combat-knowledge-guide
| Standard Rules.
| Standard Rules.
Time Limit: 48 hours.
Tier: Mid Powers - 5 to 7.
Gwynvirr introduction
Gɯყɳʋιɾɾ
The ground was slick with rain while the air smelled heavy of petrichor. The blue sky overhead churned with pale clouds that were relieved from their weight. The drumming of a hummingbird could be heard in the distance, and the only sound accompanying it was the slow beat of ocean waves from a mile out. All was well on the coast of Telarian land... at least for now.
Gwynvirr walked along the edge of the beach sands and the grassy topsoil that lead to a wide forest on her right. Both the sea and woods seemed to stretch on forever, and there was not an animal in sight. Though the draconian beauty seemed to be taking a midday stroll, she was at full alert. A crystalline Orign v23, black blade attached a golden hilt was gripped in her right hand while the other remained free. Situations like this reminded her of when Astris was alive and well; he would send her on missions to eliminate his threats despite his genuine dislike of her. Now, Gwynvirr was emboldened by her brother's love and the confidence of Nu Guardia. These facts made her soul feel light.
Vincent Fiorelli Introduction
Legends often speak of untold wonders across the expanse of the Multiverse and beyond…
They speak of stories that drive the youth of many a world to take up arms, to train endlessly day after day in order to explore their immediate surroundings and, if they are lucky, the many worlds scattered throughout the void of space. Some in particular spoke about empires, of massproduced runes instilled within the soldiers forming the ranks of their armies, and of heroes possessing unique sets of sigils enabling them to perform miraculous feats. It was stuff straight out of fairy tales and yet, in the Multiverse, fairy tales were very real. In fact, for every individual that existed within the realm that contained all realms, an equal number of universes were created and maintained until their inevitable demise. Limitless forms of magic, creatures transcending the veil between the living and the dead, planes of existence and non-existence, of creation and of destruction, of positive and negative energy... Anything that could be imagined was certain to belong to a specific universe.
For Vincent Fiorelli, knowledge was everything. When he became the guardian of The Secret Library of Hyades, a treasure trove containing data from an immense amount of Multiversal regions, he understood exactly how little he had witnessed in the past. From forgotten bestiaries to strange cookbooks, from sheets of papyrus detailing ancient magicks to blueprints depicting some of the most advanced technology in existence, Hyades was an astounding place for an individual like himself. Admission to this realm wasn't easy. The multiple datacenters the library was divided in - seven, to be exact - determined whether one was worthy. Worth was, generally, measured in the form of drive, mental and spiritual resilience, and probably the capacity to subsist in the open void of the Sea of Stars. Once someone was admitted into the massive contraption, Hyades picked out the kind of information they could access, and the more knowledge the fortunate few picked up, the greater the amount of data they were given permission to peruse. True wisdom, however, was seldom offered to the lucky traveler. The sentient realm hand-picked those with the most potential and revealed its secrets one at a time, testing the patience of the studious and the intelligence of the scholar.
Books weren't the only object the Red Magister learned from. Every encounter throughout the Multiverse was a new opportunity to learn something, and he could never pass up a chance to grow. An avid researcher into different arts of war, the wandering Fiorelli was quick to recognize patterns in his enemies, studying their abilities, and formulating countless strategies to refute his opponents' approaches. Every time he stumbled across something new and studied it, his physical, mental, and spiritual power grew exponentially only to be tempered by control, by self-imposed limitations and internal limiters. After all, power without shackles could run rampant through one's physical vessel, much like his counterpart currently roaming the fringes of the Multiverse. Regardless of the Red Magister's past, however, there was no denying he had been a rising figure in some universes through the years, and he had become a driving force in the study of magic, aetherial research and different forms of energy, and technological and magitechnical modifications. And yet, he was not the only one. The Red Magister had come up with a method to transfigure certain facets of his personality and knowledge into physical vessels possessing their own will. These vessels were christened "Aspects", and they were often sent into missions of espionage, into wars, and into universes where conflict was taking place in some way or form.
When he wasn't burying his head in books or treading the countless paths available to him, it was a known fact that the Fiorelli enjoyed a leisurely stroll throughout peaceful planets, peaceful planes, and peaceful universes.
Today was one of those days.
Standing tall at six feet and one inch, with muscles several times denser than that of a regular human being's and a spirit impossible to quantify, the Red Magister often preferred to maintain a frail exterior to the prying eyes of random onlookers. Upon his frame, he wore an ensemble reminiscent of a traveling coat graced by several black leather straps upon his right arm, which extended outward as though mimicking a pair of flaps to reveal his lower attire; a pair of red pants fastened by a black leather belt with a golden buckle, and a pair of layered combat boots. Although looking like leather, the entire attire was crafted out of an extraneous material he'd created through the precise alchemical combination of several metals and substances. Dubbing the creation Fiorellite was done following the method through which human scientists named their discoveries, a tiny amount of pride attached to it. Exuding overconfidence to the point the feeble minded would consider it arrogance, the fact he always kept a low profile by enshrouding the true perception of his power made it impossible to assess any of his physical, spiritual, or mental parameters and simultaneously sealed away the grand majority of his spiritual endowment. This was in part due to the Inner World and Outer World paradoxical border lining his silhouette at all times, something that had become second nature after practicing the art for so long. This particular paradoxical border conferred him natural protection against metaphysical assaults from a distance, prevented entry within his mind and spirit, and prevented several other common forms of manipulation of energy inside his being without the necessary steps being taken beforehand, though nobody really had to worry about this aspect of him. Chances are they wouldn't even notice it.
Currently, he was taking a momentary respite from the rain outside, opting to delve into one of his many pastimes: the picking of herbs and mushrooms. It was in a nearby rock formation that opened up into a network of caverns that the Red Magister found solace, glancing out from within as a hefty sack hung from his belt, filled to the brim with local plantlife. Hanging from his right hip, however, a singular sword crafted out of an extraneous azure material was found within its scabbard. A sizable ruby was encrusted upon the guard of the weapon, and though fancy to the eye, the tribal patterns running along the surface of both blade and scabbard were currently dormant, though they displayed a mystical golden color contrasting heavily with the shimmering azure. Vincent could feel the lifeblood of the astral body beneath his feet; the Lifestream coursing beneath the crust sent pulses of positive energy throughout its entire surface, allowing for life to flourish and providing a source of constant sustenance. It was a symbiotic relationship, really. The planet could not exist without the energy source and vice-versa; that's how most planets worked throughout the Multiverse, he'd found, at the very least. Closer inspection of such a phenomenon needed yet to be analyzed by the Red Magister, though he'd most likely look into it in due time. and yet his curiosity wasn't piqued by what was going beneath the surface of the astral body, but rather by the individual woman walking along the beach with a sword by her hip.
This remote location was excellent for an assassination attempt, something he was extremely fond of. Yet, he wondered... He wondered if there was anybody out there that would actually take his chances with him. He wondered if anyone would actually seek him out in such a desolate, remote place just to take his life. He wondered if this woman would actually employ that sword to defend herself if he opted to step out of the cavern to approach her. Chances were it wouldn't happen. It never did. Even if he wanted new opponents, someone to make his physical vessel's heart race and his thoughts to scramble, someone who actually posed a challenge besides those he had already known for a very long time... Perhaps it would. Perhaps it wouldn't. The only way to find out was to act upon it, and thus he waved the woman over from the entrance to the cavern. Even if there wasn't enough radiance illuminating his stalwart frame, the fact each and every single strand of his silver hair shimmered with an iridescent light would most likely end up catching her attention sooner or later. Worst case scenario, he'd simply have to shout at her.
Gwynvirr Post 1
[uc]Gɯყɳʋιɾɾ
It wasn't long before Gwynvirr stumbled upon a web of caverns on the forested side of the fields at around nine meters away. She knew the network well, as she did Nu Guardia as a whole. It was on this Telarian beach that Saint King Solar Dawn raised his army, and they both lead their people into battle against corrupted giants. Those porous, carved out rocks used to be a tall mountain named Yvennah, where the first giant fell to it's knees and shattered it. Time, wind, and water had done the rest to the structure. Although there was no network of energy coursing through the planet to keep it thriving, Nu Guardia seemed to be carved by a patient god who fell for their muse; it was the embodiment of nature's finest work and it'd make any native proud.
Immediately, a stranger waved to her while he crouched from within a small cove, plucking plants and mushrooms that were in the low and dark crevaces of the cavern floor. It was a small structure in which he stood, only about six by six feet with enough height to allow a man to erect his stance. When she saw him, she recognized there was too much...nothing. There was no substance add to his form. Surely from the Ebb and Flow vision she would be able to see something more than just his image, anything. The man had made himself a white dot on a black sheet of paper. Gwynvirr did also notice that while a bag was on one hip, an ornate sword poked out from the rock wall side as he picked those mushrooms. No doubt, this was the man she was looking for. {C}
The crystalline raven blade of v23 lashed out, extending towards his center of mass without so much as a twitch from Gwynvirr. It would attempt to hit from his side, which was the most visible and facing her. The blackness barreled out at supersonic speeds, flecks of v23 spraying the ground between them as it traveled. Those flecks began to propagate and propagate again, spreading like a black plague in a rapid frenzy, consuming all it touched and converting the material into more of itself. If the crystal were to hit it's target, it would begin to envelop him in its inky blackness and covert his entire being into itself. Seeing as how his sword rested plainly in its sheathe on the unattacked side and his body crouched picking up foliage, the mage wondered how he would defend against this silent but deadly maneuver. In moments, the space between them would be overrun by a sea of sable crystal that's only wish was to expand.{E}
Vincent Post 1
It looked like there wouldn't be any shouting today. The woman had managed to catch his silhouette against the sable backdrop of the cavern, and in the few seconds she'd sized him up, the Red Magister was already planning for the worst. He was no stranger to encounters of this sort. Anyone with a weapon could be considered hostile, even if they had no actual reason to be. His shadow twitched with anticipation as it meshed effortlessly with the shade of the craggy ground beneath the soles of his layered boots. It was in that selfsame moment that his piercing golden irises as well as his hefty mental map caught wind of the raven blade's immediate elongation. Breaking the barrier of sound with natural speed was something the Red Magister was accustomed to, especially after his early years were spent around a band of ragtag swordsmen who happened to enjoy celerity over strength. One, after all, beget the other when it came down to employing bladed weapons.
This was a tried and true principle that he was about to demonstrate in the blink of an eye.
You see, as the crystalline raven blade elongated and darted toward the Red Magister, a simple kick of his right foot onto the floor saw his frame becoming a blur of silver, crimson, and azure via one of the four speed techniques found within the magic school he had adopted as his own. There was nothing hindering his movements, given that he'd been standing in the shade of the cavern and glancing out from within. He could have always relied on the techniques belonging to the swordsmanship schools he had managed to pick up through the years, but this was a far more straightforward method that carried with it several risks of its own. The trajectory of his sudden dash was a perfectly straight line parallel to that of the weapon, careful not to graze the object or the tiny flecks emanating from it; his movements were swift enough to avoid the sudden impalement, and regardless of how celeritous his approach was, his mind could always keep up with these speeds.
Before the first raven fleck descending from the woman's sword could touch the sand around her feet, the Red Magister was already facing her left side, with his left hand hovering over the handle of his sword. The art of drawing the weapon in the scabbard and slashing in the same motion was as old as time, a style that had spanned a myriad schools of swordsmanship throughout the ages. In this selfsame manner, economy of motion was of the utmost importance when one delved in close quarters combat, and from his hip, the sword was drawn nigh-immediately in an abrupt slash toward the woman's midsection. From left to right, the obscenely sharp blade bisected the air as the n-waves associated with the wake of his dash enunciated themselves in their proximity. If the cold steel did not manage to bite the woman's abdomen, the n-waves were certain to cause a tremendous impact against her.
