[Solo] Might, Magic and Murder{Institute of Higher Learning}

[Sareth Nitrozian]

35th Day of Summer 511 A.V., The Grounds of The Institute OOCPost 1/3 Sareth entered a courtyard in The Grounds of The Institute with slow determined steps. His study here had been sporadical, he'd been kicked out at times for slacking, yet good money had been paid for his education. Pockets had been filled, others had been threatened to be emptied, and the family worked as it always did behind the scenes to give their own an advantage over others. It was just after noon, the sun was high and the patchy grass bright green. The courtyard was illuminated not only by the sun but by the reflection from a couple of pillars of the main building, the tall menacing wall and a single statue of what appeared to be a bronze wizard halfway into conjuring a sphere of fire. He found it a little amusing, perhaps he was placed to inspire but the old man was probably really just some fat maniac whose ability was to spend hours and hours staring into flames. Then again, perhaps that was how to master it. Sareth stopped in the middle of the courtyard, his long black jacket already feeling warm in the sun. He rolled his shoulders to free up his joints and then swung up the longsword he'd been carrying in his hands into the standard position; left hand lowest on the handle, pointing upwards from a position just below his abdomen in midair. The blade felt light now, but the familiar weight would feel like so much more in time. The silver etching of his family seal ran all the way up along the blade on both sides, meeting at the tip and at the widest part of the image. He turned the blade at a slight angle, the reflection of the sun lighting it up on a pillar further away. He almost felt like laughing - Wherever his heritage would be there to follow him. Might as well appreciate it. Shifting his poise by stepping a single foot backwards and turning his body to add weight, Sareth swung the sword upwards and to the side, only to bring it down again with greater force against an imaginary opponent. As the motion finished he followed through by stepping forward and a few steps to the side, lifting his sword to make an imaginary parry against an opponent behind him, crouching in his knees for stability. The sweep of his jacket made his motions look more fluid than they were, and even in his focus he felt a vain happiness for it. He started arching the blade in continuous attacks against an imaginary foe, no longer returning to the base position but striking with sufficient force from constantly shifting angles. He tried not to overextend or stretch himself in attacks, but keep the motion close and sharp, alternating between low and high blows as fast as he could. In a few minutes, his white linen shirt and dark hair was glistening with sweat. He suddenly broke his pattern just as he was pulling the blade back he shifted his elbow back and to the side, and thrusted the blade forward into his opponent. Sareth watched his inexistant eyes lose their focus and the man fall sideways down onto the dry ground with a dull thud, his sword touching the ground even before he started falling. He took a few deep breaths and walked the few steps over to the statue, taking his jacket off one arm at a time switching his blade to the free hand. Dropping the jacket nonchalantly and rudely onto the wizard's sphere, he let his sword hang in one hand to the side. Another imaginary man stepped forward, with an attack at his exposed chest. He stepped to the side of his swordhand and swept the blade up towards the extended arm, which was apparently dodged. His pattern switched - Sareth moved more, constantly circling his opponent. Attacks came in pairs of two, perhaps three alternating quick strikes only to start moving again in the opposite rotation. His hair was sweaty, he felt tired yet he forced himself to focus. Without concentration, he'd die. Suddenly, he dodged under an imaginary blow and made a sweeping strike. Blocking the counterswing from his opponent who apparently dodged, he stepped further to the side positioning himself with the sun in his back. Sidestepping another slash he swung his blade from above, yet as he finished the strike he knew he'd made too large and too wide a blow. Any man would've used the opening. He was dead. Still; he would succeed today. He'd practiced, and the theory was simple enough. Part two of the preparation could begin now. He ran a free hand through his sweaty hair, and then placed the sword on the ground next to him. He sat down with crossed legs, opposite the wizard in the shadows. He felt physically fatigued, which was good - This would tax him but getting too energetic too early could be his ruin.

[Sareth Nitrozian]

Sareth took a deep breath and looked at the palms of his hands as he sat and prepared himself abit mentally in what could be called meditation. He tried clearing his mind, picturing the Rhes he used and feeling for the surge of Djed within him. There could be no failure in this project. The spell would be succesful, and he'd finally gain recognition. He could almost envision his father's look of surprise and pride as he heard about what he had created. His teachers wouldn't expect it - No-one would. He would no longer blend in as a middle son without any particular talents or gifts, a black spot in a great city. They'd come to respect and fear him, not just his family name but him, Sareth. He could feel the urge, the need and the will to create Rhes crawl under his skin, deep within him and in his mind. It was there, just outside of existence and in his conscience. All people felt it differently, the physical feeling for him was like a fluid, waiting to burst forward and out of him. He raised his hands, and focused on the palms, directing the inner stream of his Djed towards them. He was no gifted talent, it didn't come quickly to him, but with focus and determination he willed the djed turned Rhes to surface slowly on his hands, so far still separate. The warmup with physical excercise had loosened him up both physically and mentally. Sareth moved his hands in small, deliberate and slow circles in front of each other. Focusing on the stream of Djed, what appeared like ethereal strands of dark smoke moved from the palm of his hands towards each other in the middle, slowly converging in two small streams. He crouched low over his casting, breathing slowly as he focused on making the two strands of Rhes meet each other and intertwine in a sphere, an orb of black smoke twisting and turning in the palm of his hands. He murmured a single word - Fire - And slowly the outer layers of the orb ignit, the red and orange flames crawling their chaotic way across the small orb inbetween his hands. It ate away quickly at the Rhes, and he smiled as the heat sent drops of sweat trickling down his face from his hair onto his brow and over his nose. It reflected in his eyes, and creating it felt good and fulfilling in a way nothing else could. A deep hum emitted unwillingly from deep within his chest as his hands danced around the increasingly warm, bright and raging fiery orb. He felt in control, empowered by holding this his creation within his hands, like a child to his chest. Hissing, he realised that already now he was growing too wild, too erratic and too affected. He couldn't achieve anything if he went into overgiving or lost control. It felt wrong, unfulfilling and painful, yet using both hands he let the orb flow down into the ground in front of him and dissolve into dancing and jumping flames, scourging the ground in a small circle in front of him. A few of the flames danced close to him, yet he paid them no heed busy was he was chiding himself for losing his control - But at least not his focus. He refused to accept that he was only capable of such small things and then lose control, as if he wasn't capable of ruling his own body. Mind over Matter, there was no way he could afford to fail. Too long had he been standing in the shadows of others, he would make something of himself. The old people thought too rigid, too close minded and locked. He'd bring new blood and skill into the open. Lifting the sword up from the ground, he smiled a disturbing, happy and arrogant smile all at the same time. Today, he would create a spellsword.

[Sareth Nitrozian]

He felt confident now. He raised the sword in front of him in one hand, took a steady stand with spread legs lifting his other hand over the handle of the blade. He felt everything had gone as it should. He'd warmed up physically for the swordsmanship and to warm up, he'd prepared his Djed and gotten into the spirit and the state of mind for spellcasting. Looking down on the sword, he smiled as he imagined how he'd weave fire around the blade, a controlled way of casting Reimancy that'd allow him to defend himself from physical attacks while using his magic. In theory, anyway. He'd never done it before, the idea seemed simple enough but whether it could actually work remained a mystery. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt for the stream of Djed, much more present and easy to mold than before, as if the practice had pulled it out of him and closer to reality. His breath was heavy as he forced the same wisps of black smoke as before to emerge from the palm of his hand above the broad flat side of the blade. His eyes were locked upon the sigil of his family - His burden and his blessing, and he willed the Rhes to follow the pattern all the way up along the blade. The smoke crawled slowly but securely along it, parts of the pattern acting as a fuller as well as ornament, but now for smoke instead of blood. For now, it was a eerie yet pretty sight, the Rhes was covering the entire pattern and flowing around the blade in a everchanging vortex. With a sigh, he raised the blade up into chest height and pulled his hand back, focusing on keeping the Rhes stable in it's fixed movements. He'd chosen this place for it's tranquility, a small courtyard where no-one came at this hour. He steadied his breath and focused on keeping a trail of Rhes connected to the blade, keeping it under control. His muscles tightened and his veins stood clear on pale skin as he gripped the blade hard; he swept his off-hand along the blade and the Rhes ignit, fire rushing up along the blade with a roaring sound. He stared at the blade with deep intensity, a wild smile growing across his face as the fire flickered and licked like the tongues of nightmarish creatures around the blade. He lifted it slowly, and swung it carefully at first, feeding the fire in deep concentration - And then he grinned, a wild twisted smile. The joy of his success and the beauty of it all made him dance, the blade flying erratically and fast through the air. It as difficult, keeping the fire under control, yet he didn't fear it and tore it violently through the air, each turn of the blade sending flames dancing after it. Suddenly, his laughter froze as he swung the blade in one might heave and the fire exploded forward - And backwards, crawling up along his arm like the claws of a thousand imps. He watched in horror for part of a second, and then tore his hand backwards in a pained, terrified scream. He'd lost control, time stopped as he realised his error; he felt no pain but stared in panic, and then tore through the courtyard with screams of agony. The shock of the pain caused him to stop feeding the flame immediately, yet magical flames were still dancing in a few places on his arm and in his clothes, second and third degree burns spreading across his arm, hand all the way up to his shoulder. He ran towards the great black door into the institute were he could find aid, terror gripping him so completely he missed the ironic, mad smile of the statue laughing at him as he went.

[Verilian]

Sareth Nitrozian +2 Longsword +1 Meditation +2 Reimancy You Question My Logic? : I think the xp is pretty self explanatory. Lores: Proper Sword Form (Basic), Being Killed by an Imaginary Foe, Almost Overgiving, The Dangers of Ambition Unchecked Notes: Okay, so I liked the thread and it was very well written. Just a quick note, be careful with this trick. Really, what you are trying to accomplish is reserved for expert or master level skill, being that maintaining the res in the way you are doing would be very difficult. Not saying this to discourage you, just letting you know it is going to be difficult. An idea to ease the difficulty though might be to try glyphing. Put glyphs on the blade to help control the flow of magic and take some of the strain off your body. Anyway... that's my two cents. It was a great thread. Keep up the good work!