westfallcorndog | Chat of Mythology

That slightest bit of encouragement is all Harrow needed to get him smiling. Since the calm tone seemed to work before he reins in his excitement and does his best to keep neutral yet supportive.

"That's the beauty of it, man! You don't have to be good, and there's no way you can be bad. It ain't gonna be an actual fight-fight. I'm not gonna hurt you, and you can't hurt me. It's gonna be actin'! Like a play, but with all sorts of flash-bang effects. We'll sorta be followin' a script, y'know? It'll be like... Like..."

Aha! He snaps his fingers at his bright idea and points at Viatorus. "It'll be just like in a dream! In a dream things might come at ya, but nothin' can really hurt ya right? Least, far as I've ever known. In a dream, you can always break free from traps or keep runnin' from the bad guy, and even if he catches you it ain't gonna hurt. This is like that!"

He puts his hands on his lap and nods to keep himself going on this line of thought.

"We'll make a script, like it's a play... And when the spells start comin' at ya, just remember it's all harmless, like in a dream. I can... Oh! I know! I could send some icicles at ya that turn into a big dome of ice to trap ya, but then you can crack it or melt it! And if you can't dispel it, just make some kinda gesture and I'll make the ice crack so it looks like you caused it. Then you gotta get a hit in on me, or at least try. Knock me down or send some kinda projectile at me, and I'll block it or take the hit. And we'll trade fake attacks a couple'a times like that. I send a spell at you, you make a gesture or do some flashy counter-spell, I'll dispel it before it hits, then you send somethin' at me. Finally you go in for the kill! But the kill's gonna be fake, too, right? All you gotta do is pretend you're usin' your dream magic on my mind to make me weak, and I'll fall down like I fainted, and you'll be the winner!

"And just in case you do get scared early and don't know what to do... Like if you freeze up or somethin'? I'll get straight to the faintin', and when I wake up I'll make up some story about how you went into a dream trance and scrambled my simple little mind. Deal?"

"Like a dream..." His eyes slide off into the distance as he listens to this strange plan unfold. The conversation certain seems surreal. Him talking about fighting one of his friends. Though it's not really fighting. It's like... "Like a dance. A performance. With magic."

A hand rubs at his chin and then his lower lip. Slowly, he's starting to relax into the idea. It wouldn't be bad practice, either. An excuse to stretch his magical muscles. "We'd... need to practice. Need to work out what would happen."

A dance, that's wise. Harrow nods encouragingly and finds himself continuing the motion as Viatorus lays out the plan going forward.

"That's a good idea. And it'd probably help if we knew what sorta magic the other's gonna cast. It wouldn't do if I'm expectin' projectile spells and you really do come after me with some mendbendin'."

He nudges V's shoulder with his own and smiles softly. "Tell me about your magic, bud. What schools do ya favor? How do you cast, and what do your spells look like? You could stand up and show me, if that's easier?"

Viatorus' head bobs as he nods his agreement. Plans, rational thinking, problem solving. These are all very calming, focusing things, dispelling what nerves remain and replacing them with thought, consideration.

He takes a breath and shuffles, thinking before he answers Harrowheart's question. "Most of my... my talents aren't very... they're not very duel oriented. I specialise in dreamwalking, astral projection, empathic magic, sleep magic and shielding. Other than that, water and air magic. I know arcane magic and a few other things like illusion, divination and a very small bit of healing, but... My favourite is dreamwalking." Pause and a sheepish smile. "Which you already know."

"Shields, water, air... Yeah, we can work with those just fine. Shields to stop projectiles, water to purify disease, wind to knock me around or make you look more agile. This is gonna be cake. I'm already gettin' ideas."

He pushes himself up off the ground and steps a few feet away from the blanket onto the grass. He stands with his legs shoulder width apart and checks the wraps at his wrists to be sure his hands are well-secured.

"I'll show you an example of a spell I can do that you could pretend to cleanse with water, okay? I'm gonna do it under my feet, but in the duel it'll be under yours. It might look scary, but I'm gonna have full control over it. I won't let it hurt you. The anti-violence field won't let it hurt you. Just remember that it's all an act."

He raises his right hand above his head, and with that gesture causes the ground beneath his feet to bubble and pop like gas escaping thick mud. It isn't mud, though, this vile, black mixture. It's something stringy and tar-like with the vomitous smell of rotting vegetation. The blight extends in a circle around his feet, popping and stretching upwards in ropey strands near his ankles. And then the living ooze forms together into something more solid – something that resembles skeletal hands on dripping, boney forearms. The blight hands grab at his feet, his calves... But as they slide back into the muck from where they came they don't seem to leave any damage in their wake. They disappear into the sludge from which they formed, then reform again elsewhere to blindly grasp at the air.

"Conjure water," Harrow suggests entirely too calmly for someone standing in a puddle of living rot. "Like a big ball, maybe? Let it crash down on the blight, and I'll stop my spell. It'll look real impressive, I promise."

When Harrowheart talks about casting some of his own magic, Viatorus shifts sit closer so that he can see better. Something he quickly regrets. Even with Harrowheart's warning, all Viatorus expected was some discoloured grass, or some ominous light display. What happens instead has him scrambling back and to his feet.

He doesn't hear Harrowheart, not at first. The grabbing arms are a terrifying sight straight out of a nightmare. He manages not to back away too far, but it takes effort for him to look at Harrowheart instead of keeping an eye at his feet. "What... What are they? Are they real?"

Harrow frowns deeply and leans back himself when he sees Viatorus' powerful reaction. Somehow he had expected, after the last few moments of calm and rationality, that Viatorus might not be afraid. But why wouldn't he be afraid? Harrow looks down at the hands as well, but it's as if his acknowledgement of them shames them out of being. The muck returns to simply being muck, though it can't help but bubble and pop from time to time.

"They're not real arms, if that's what you mean," he says quietly as he consider it. "It's called blight, or desecration, or defilement, or death and decay. Guess I... never realized how many names it's got 'til now. It's just death magic, a type a' shadow. It takes the life of livin' things that stand in it, and it redirects it to me to make me stronger. 'Cept right now it's just for show. Anti-violence field and all."

He shifts his mouth to the side thoughtfully.

"You... Wanna try and wash it away? I almost wonder if I won't have to dispel it at all. Maybe pure water'll cleanse it? I never did see it work in water and never tried it in the rain."

With the arms gone, Viatorus carefully edges closer to peer at it. It's partly an attempt to be brave so Harrowheart doesn't feel bad about being able to summon death. In hindsight, it makes sense. A death knight deals in death magic. He should have prepared for it really.

"I've... never seen magic like that before. I've read about it, but... I've never seen anything like it actually done. Not unless you could energy transfers." His comments are quiet, almost like he doesn't realise he's saying them aloud.

Taking a deep breath, he straightens, calms and readies himself. To buy him some time, he undoes his cuffs to roll up his sleeves and looks around. No large bodies of water right next to them. Tricky.

He stretches his arms and then holds out his hands in front of him, parallel to each other, but apart. With a flex of his fingers, water begins to gather. The air gets noticeably drier as the ball of water grows.

"Death magic. Shadow magic. Life absorption..." He mutters aloud to himself. "You're right. A dispel aspect would be a good idea." It certainly couldn't hurt.

He frowns as he focuses, the orb of water gaining an odd quality about it. It seems to wobble at the edges, shining more. Then, with a flick of his wrists and a few choice gestures, the water flies over to Harrowheart's feet. It flattens into a disc that spins as it splashes over the blight. There's a distinct edge of banishment magic that comes with it.

Harrow watches the magic unfold with a genuine sense of awe and entertainment... With a side of pride, of course. Logically he knows that Viatorus has been controlling magic all his life, but it's still so novel to actually see him casting. He can't help but smile.

He very nearly forgets to dodge the spell as it comes at him. It's at the last second that he thinks to step back and out of the blight that attempts to spread with his footsteps. Lucky for the grass it doesn't get far before Viatorus' water disc gets to work.

Every speck of water that hits the blight sets it sizzling. It writhes as it's dispelled, cleansed by the magical purification as much as the water itself. Arms that grasp at the air break in half and disappear into themselves like blades of dry grass burnt on both ends. The bulk of the sludge on the ground turns to flecks of ash and vapor that blow away with the faint summer breeze and utterly dissipate just seconds later. The water makes quick work of the muck, and in short order all that remains is the withered spot of grass where once it oozed. Even the foul smell is gone.

Harrow watches with raised eyebrows and parted lips, at once surprised and impressed. Suddenly he points at Viatorus, then at the dead grass where the blight was... And then he beams! What fun that was to see!

"Shoot, V, that was all you! I wondered what would happen... Guess all it takes is a little clean water and a touch of a dispel." He crosses his arms over his chest and spends a second or two quietly smiling at Viatorus.

Eventually he can't help but say it. "You did good, man."

Edited (Edited 'kid' to 'man' because V deserves that) 2016-06-24 03:01 (UTC)

It's only once he can feel the water slip out from his control that he stops concentrating so hard. Inching closer, he inspects it from a safe distance, curiosity luring him in. This isn't something he has any familiarity with it, so everything about Harrowheart's magic, and how his own magic interacts with it is new information. He almost doesn't notice Harrowheart smiling at him. Almost.

The compliment gets a bashful duck of the head and a smile. "Thank you. I'm glad it worked. It's always so hard to tell with new magic." He rubs his arm for a second and then hastens to return the compliment. "Your magic was impressive too! Scary... but impressive."

Harrow bunches up his shoulders and rolls his eyes in an attempt at light-hearted humility.

"Impressive is what we aim for, right? If Isidor has the same reaction to my spell that you did, she's gonna be double impressed when you clean it up. Which means you gotta ride that wave and follow up with a second spell that's gonna make you look quick on the draw and crafty. When you got the upper hand you always wanna keep the momentum goin'."

He rubs at his chin as he looks V over, but after a guilty shrug he says, "But I don't know exactly what you can do. Whaddya think you got for wind spells? Flyin'? Dust devils? Somethin' to knock me down?"

Viatorus rubs a thumb along his palm as he looks Harrowheart up and down. "You... look rather big to be knocked down very easily. Um. Sturdy. I... don't think it's worth even attempting that. Not with air magic, at least."

This is interesting. A puzzle. Like chess, but also like dancing. He starts to move, circling Harrowheart as he sizes up his friend properly for the first time. "No, I... I would normally use air magic to help me become faster, anyway. Nimble, and light. Which might work. You might be fast, but you don't look it all that much. I... guess I could use it to reposition... and then maybe send a force blast at you to knock you down... Or... maybe use it to confuse your sight, then reposition, and then send a force blast..."

Harrow listens to Viatorus think aloud and watches with a quietly amused expression. When he's being inspected he lifts his arms away from his sides just slightly so that his friend can get a proper measure of his dimensions, then lowers them again when the seed of a plan is being sowed. And, hey... It's not a bad plan at all!

"Now you're thinkin'! Speed yourself up for the wow factor, distract me, and unbalance me when I'm not lookin'. If you wanna get physical you could always forget the force blast and go for a kick to the back of my knee. The ol' deadleg. That'll knock a person off balance no matter how big they are. And if Isidor's a physical fighter, she might think it's a smart move on your part. Means you know how to assess an enemy's weakspots, same as goin' for cracks in armor.

"And before you say it, no, you don't gotta worry about hurtin' me. Besides, I'll have my mind on my next move. I can't let you kick my ass after just one spell, right? How 'bout... To counter your speed I'll conjure chains of ice around your ankles? The chains'll tighten up around you and probably knock you off balance, so keep up that air magic to make your landin' soft. When you hit the ground you don't wanna take damage, but you don't wanna make it look too much like a slowfall spell either. Seein' you fall down'll make Isidor real tense. It's gonna add a little anxiety to the fight, up the stakes. Good drama. Then I'll start comin' over like I'm gonna hurt ya, and that's when you'll pretend to do some dream magic on me and the fight ends. Got it?"

He rubs his palms together and looks V up and down. "Here," he says. "We'll try the chains and the wind magic, okay? You get yourself up to speed and unbalance me somehow, then prep yourself for the fall. I'll cast the chains, get back up, come at you, and that's when you land the final blow. Sound fair?"

The face he pulls at the idea of kicking Harrowheart isn't one he hides, but his friend is already reassuring him. His disapproval dims in the wake of their plan progressing. He nods along to most of it, agreeing to things he knows he can do. Has done for fun, even.

As they come to the mention of practice, Viatorus nods and then pauses, remembering his momentary dislike of the first suggestion. He looks at Harrowheart seriously. "But I'm not attacking you physically. It's not civilised."

He will take off his jacket, however, and start to roll up his sleeves in preparation.

"Ci– Civilized?..."

Harrow wipes his mouth with his hand, because it feels plain rude to laugh at that.

"You think duels gotta be civilized? Didn't you tell me Isidor broke someone's shoulder in a duel once? Does that mean your sister ain't civilized?..." He waits for V's answer with crossed arms and a poorly-concealed grin. He's gotta hear this.

Viatorus suspects, judging by Harrowheart's reaction, that he's said something silly. He shuffles on the spot.

"She's civilised... Most of the time." He rubs his arm, fidgeting to buy him time to form a response. "But... fighting physically, not with magic... It's... not... civilised."

Harrow's grin fades for quiet curiosity. "Can you explain why magic's more civilized than physical fightin', or is it that way just 'cause it is? Call me stupid, but it seems to me like it's no less civilized to punch a person 'til he dies than to conjure icicles that impale him."

He clears his throat and quickly adds, "Not that I've ever done either of those, and not that I'd ever do either to you. The point I'm tryin' to make is... If you hurt someone, does it really matter how you did it?"

He falters as he looks for an explanation. That wasn't something he'd ever questioned before. He'd never had any reason or desire to question it. Violence was pretty abhorrent in any context, but magic had always been said to be more civilised.

"It's... I... I don't know. It's more sophisticated." He shrugs. "Not as brutish, or thuggish. It requires thought and strategy and skill."

"Ahhh. I see, I see," he says, nodding as he does, once more back to grinning just a hair. "So the way you fight is noble and needs strategy and skill, and the way other folks fight ain't any of that."

He claps his hands together once and tilts his chin upward. "Then show me how you fight. Whip up a little wind, get up to speed, and knock me down." Harrow beckons V over with a wave of his hands.

Despite Harrowheart's nodding, Viatorus feels like he's said something silly without fully understanding what it is. Still, he's not about to go prodding to find out what it might be. No, they have something else to focus on. Besides, air magic is fun.

He nods and rolls his wrists and arms, loosening them up before they do anything. He gives one last look at Harrowheart to make sure his friend is ready, and then... It's a sudden swipe of his hand that gets the air moving. Not a small breeze, either. It ramps up with ridiculous speed, rushing straight for Harrowheart as if trying to knock him down. It's not. Not really. It is bringing dust, dirt and debris along with it though. Hopefully enough to distract his friend as he darts behind him with light footed hops. Once he's repositioned, the gale stops and Viatorus goes to strike the agreed upon blow... but he hesitates, stopping himself before he summons the magic.

The blast of air and all that comes with it hits Harrowheart as if he truly hadn't expected it. He digs his feet into the dirt to get a little leverage against it. With a bent arm he blocks the wind and dust from his eyes, leaving him perfectly unwitting as Viatorus takes his position behind him.

The sudden absence of the wind doesn't go unnoticed, though, and his first instinct is to look around for the mage. He isn't hard to find – Harrow knew where he'd be, after all. What he doesn't expect is Viatorus' hesitation. His own right hand is already glowing faintly blue with the magic he's about to conjure.

It's strike or be struck, V!

They had planned it, agreed it, but standing behind his friend he suddenly can't find the will to summon his magic. Not against Harrowheart. Not like this. Not an aggressive spell.

Attacking might not come naturally to him, but panicking certainly does. He jumps when Harrowheart turns around, snapping out of his hesitation. Instead of attacking, however, he flinches at the first sign of magic, throwing up his arms and a magical shield.

The chain spell Harrow was casting is over almost instantly. He doesn't even have time to register the shield that's been summoned by the time the shackles are being conjured. They rise up from ground level and already move to wrap around Viatorus' ankles before they're fully formed. The chains don't get far before they hit the shield, each link disappearing into it in time as the spell fizzles, blocked.

And Harrow only stands there. He stands and waits and watches, as if he expects the shield might go away in time. The lights of his eyes flicker to and fro with thoughts, but otherwise he appears totally expressionless.

Suddenly, "Hey!" he shouts. His right hand goes for one of his runeblades and draws it from the holster at his hip. "Don't get scared! I just wanna see if I can break it! I won't hurt you!"

Really, all he wants to do is strike the shield. There's nothing to be afraid of. Which is all well and good to say until he's leaping after V with a glowing ruenblade held high like a maniac axe murderer. He goes for a downward strike from the top of the shield first, and if that doesn't break it readies himself for a horizontal bisecting cut.

Edited 2016-07-03 14:10 (UTC)

Words mean very little in the face of a weapon being drawn and someone lunging themselves at you. Viatorus' eyes widen and he goes pale before flinching and putting even more power into his shield.

Meanwhile, Lyall has let a lot pass, but that doesn't mean he isn't listening and watching with great care. The normally stoic guard must consider Harrowheart's last move the last straw, as pulling the runeblade out immediately sets him running towards the death knight. When he lunges at Harrowheart, he's covered head to toe in a glowing blue grid. His aim is to knock the other away, preferably to pin him down, but he pulls his gun out the first chance he gets. "Drop your weapon and back down."

Well Harrowheart certainly didn't see that coming. Seems like Lyall's finally been pushed out of mind, as a good body guard ought to be. He isn't at all prepared to be knocked over, so it's easy to get him off his feet and onto the ground. His runeblade falls from his hand in the process, but it doesn't fall with a normal sense of gravity. Like a cat twisting to fall on its feet it does an unexpected roll and lands very softly on its side in the grass. The lights of the runes pulsate slowly as long as Lyall remains on top of Harrowheart.

Harrow spends a few seconds staring in surprise at Lyall. Then he looks him up and down, and, like an idiot, asks with a laugh, "What're you gonna do, shoot me?"

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Last words of man shot to death