Saifex Tsuchi: Fire On The Battlefield

Saifex Tsuchi: <*Pokes at Shirat's shoulder*>
Shirat: <*Swiftly turns to regard the poker-menace with an irritated expression.*> Whaddya want?
Saifex Tsuchi: The request earlier. I was hoping on your answer.
Shirat: <*Her face softens and she nods.*> Th'sparrin'? Uh, sure. Sounds good ta me. Where do ya wanna have a go at it?
Shirat: If ye don't have a place in mind, I do.
Saifex Tsuchi: Oh. That works..
Saifex Tsuchi: Lead the way.
Shirat: <*Marches off!*>
Within the span of an estimated hour or less, she arrived at the familiar spot; near where she fought the champion, where she fought Kyverian..it was a nice, memorable place. The landscape, filled with beautiful, snow-covered trees and rocks. The impressive stone structure to her south that she'd lived in for years now..

Shirat stopped taking in the wondrous scenery, turned around and silently awaited her opponents arrival.
(Shirat)

Saifex fell behind a few yards, but was not cleared of eyeshot. The venture was of decent distance, but even if it was long-- according to his own opinion, it was admirable nonetheless.

Not many trees nor rocks obstructed the battleground, leaving hardly even knolls and ditches between himself and Shirat. The surroundings were a sight to behold, one of many that encompassed the village of Frostvale. The winds, however, some distance away from the great walls that held them off, nipped away at him. His cape, was forced to flutter in it's wake, off to the side to reveal it's noble colors.

He brought his hands up to his face, prying back his hood to reveal his identity. Chocolate skin was exposed to the brisk cold of the frozen north, and emerald hues locked unto Shirat.

"Any rules in particular you wish to take up? Handicaps? Regulations?"
(Saifex Tsuchi)

"Three rounds, no mauling your opponent intentionally," Shirat spoke in a calm response to his question, a smile sent towards her fellow Nivis, "we'll begin whenever yer ready." The aging veteran took a few moments to loosen up her joints, addressing her armor to make sure it was nice and battle ready and drew forth her weapon.

She could only hope it would be nearly as exciting as her battle with Luminere was.
(Shirat)

Inhaling a sharp breath of cold, chilly air and exhaling it out in a fog, the warrior mentally prepared herself for what was to come. Though it were but a simple spar between soldier and soldier, it was hard to deny the excitable feelings within her about it, such that it caused the replacement of her smile with a grin.

"Hope ya can give me a good 'un, an' don't ya hold back!" she shouted out, and began the battle preparations; first, her manna slowly began to be pumped through to her arm muscles. Though not visible, her biceps bulged, the veins running criss cross alongst the pale skin, and the same was done to her leg muscles.

Following that, she focused on pouring taking portions of manna to enhance her eyes,. This had the most visible effect on her end, as the battlefield became clearer and crisper. It was as if she could see the world much better, as if she were a hawk in flight, and that was very much what she did next.

Spreading out her wings and bending at the knee, she took flight into the sky starting with an upward jump and flew around in place for a minute or two. The sky above was like home for her, much like Frostvale itself was. Another sharp intake of air, through the nose, and out the mouth and she was ready, her weapon levelled downward, towards her opponent and turned to a non-lethal side.

She was ready.
(Shirat)

 "No mauling. Should be relatively easy... I lack any tools to condone to the act, even in the case that I did have nefarious intentions in mind. Then again, you -did- mention intentional... Would be quite hard to do such, lest one resulted to his claws." He eased himself into a comfortable fighting stance.

Right foot slid forth to bend at an arch, whilst his left stretched out, extended to form a slanted horse stance. He pulled his arms up, hands balled into tight fists and risen to protect his face. It'd take only a mere glimpse to determine that he was using a casual boxer's stance, with his only weapon being the crimson gloves stressed at his knuckletips.

The air quivered, refracting heat in a constant matter to define it's imbution of the pyromantic affinity. A long inhale hissed through the air, puffing his chest out in a nigh immature, if not nervous matter. The extensive exhale, smogging up the atmosphere around his immediate visage, allowing a faint glimmer of tangerine illuminating from the crevices of the smog he manifested from his gaping maws.

"Well, I guess I'm ready." He responded.

Oddly enough, as a member of the Tsuchi Clan, he did not take his Half-Shift form to battle another Drakanite on equal grounds. A handicap on his own part? It would contradict Shirat's request for him to not hold back for sure.
Though, something -was- taking it's shape upon Saifex. The air succumbed to a repetitive slow dance, weaving through his figure and bending his image from afar.

A faint maroon shaded it's hues throughout the immediate atmosphere, soon enough animated to encompass the linings of Saifex's Nivis Armor. Without further ado, it'd erect, raging about his person in the form of building flames.

He leaned forth, knealing as he done so with head remaining cocked for Shirat, refusing to bat an eye away.
Legs pried away from the earth, sending up chunks of the tundra in miniscule quantities, allowing himself to sprint forth, at a less-than-impressive pace for Shirat.

"Here I come!"
(Saifex Tsuchi)

She started the battle off with a simple, forward dash; her axe levelled at her opponent and the flying warrior sped in and successfully landed a strike that sounded a loud clang upon the opponents armor! After such a strike, the woman had landed several others in succession, first with the pommel of her axe, then with the flat side!

This was, of course, not without consequence, as even within the air, she felt the fiery flames scorch her from the ground itself, the heat slowing her down and obscuring her eye-sight at several points, causing many misdirected strikes and assaults that led into some damage being done to her armor, the heat getting to her and nipping parts of her wings.

Still, despite the nicks to her face and wings, with a final sweep inward, Shirat landed the final blow of the round upon her opponent, a kick to his abdominals that sent him off of his feet. Then, the flying warrior flew a few feet farther, turned around and came quickly back into view and set her eyes upon her opponent, hoping this was not all he had to offer.
(Shirat)

Saifex was downed, and he could feel the shame seeping in already. Battles thus far, only resulted in shame in failure, and this was going no differently. Defeat at the hands of Val, Kentayo, Vintaro, Izaya, and even Joseph...

Countless more could were burned into member, albeit their lack of affiliation with the Nivis. The insults... The failures.... The absolute disgrace he had become, it disgusted him, humiliated him.... Infuriated him.

He eased himself up somewhat to gaze back to his opponent with a facial expression of unadulterated fury. He had enough reason to simply surrender his place in the Nivis and take up a dishonorable discharge for his incompetence, his inability to live up to the capability of his many superiors and inferiorers in terms of rank-- For in displays in power, they've all proven superior.

If Seia were here, capable of witnessing what plagued his mind, to percieve the many losses he had commited to up until now, to see him in this stature of sinking defeat, he'd likely be stripped of the Tsuchi name, cape, and forced to live on with the disgraceful shame.

He eventually found his place on his feet, though he was somewhat wobbly. The air that quivered around his form seemed to succumb to the chill of Frostvale's harsh embrace. The flames died somewhat, as his will plummeted into the icy crypt of his pride. Even now, Vintaro's words haunted him...

"Get rid of your pride... It's disgusting."

The voices spoke to him now, haunting him, prodding away at his mental state and leaving him to test his sanity. The former quotation was only the prelude to the school of voices of all his past victors, shaming him in his defeat. As of now, it was no different, just not a voice from Shirat to add to the collective, not a qoute to shame him just yet, but such was no longer of the issue-- For there were countless substitutes.

He snarled his teeth, shuddering in place with the anger that driven him. "I... I've lost enough. I've had the liberty to experience, to indulge in, to wallow in the putrid cesspool of defeat. But no longer... No, Today it ends..." He spoke with a growl, practically snarling at his opponent.

"Today, I start the revolution of my progression. Today, I will not be made a mere mockery. Today, I prove I am no joke of the Tsuchi Bloodline, destined to be purged. Today, I awaken from this shell, this cocoon of past disgrace." The flames that swarmed around Saifex now seemed to rise once again, but slowly and not nearly as wrathful as his aggressive tone.

The atmosphere bent to his will, leaving air to curl in and about the immediate area, but not at nature's volition. The super-heated air was forced to ascend, blasting up for the heavens to construct a pillar of light. The beam of pyromatic energy left the immediate scene buffeted with a warming breeze.

Saifex's apparel flared in the generated breeze within his aura, losing it's color and definition to devolve him into a standing silhouette midst the tangerine haze. A risen arm was erected for Shirat, beckoning her with the taunting wave of unified fingers. The display of power, was enough to force the tundra within close proximity into a thick outgoing fog.
(Saifex Tsuchi)

The beginning of the bout was spent in shame, as the aged Eques rushed forward, headlong, into several gouts of fire bursting from the boy's direction. Whether from hand or mouth she could not tell, but it did the job regardless. Her face became something of an unnatural shade, burn marks dotting the landscape of her facial skin.

Moments were taken to mend this aspect of her face, reversing the field around her to before they occured, an act that took precious time and ended with her taking more- - but somewhat lesser damage towardsh er lower extremities. Nicks to her feet, her armor, as bent out of shape as it was, took on a blacker color, and such enraged her.

First, the woman flew as far out of range of his wretched flames as she could get, then focused upon the Tsuchi's own personal field, and slowed his movements to but a crawl compared to her own.

Shirat then rushed into excitedly exploit these weaknesses with successive strikes along the chest area with the pommel of her blade, and eventually ended the combination of attacks with a sound hit with the flade side to his cheek, after which she retreated a few feet from the assault.

The boy was unrelenting, and damaged her still more, even as the flying warrior came in for the final strike of the round. Flames nicked at her face, but she powered through and soundedly threw the boy to the ground with a thunderous, forward hit with her head, directly in his chest cavity.

It wasn't without its' consequences, unfortunately; her own head and ears began to ring painfully, and she retreated back and stood on the hard ground, rubbing her damaged cranium with plated hand, muttering curses under foggy breaths.
(Shirat)

Flames scattered about, leaving the very tundra to suffer the discomfort and unleveling potence it sustained. The ice cracked, bented and tore away, sending chunks into the skies. It was all the results of intensifying one's flames, all in an attempt to finally prove himself superior over an opponent, to finally sieze victory. Albeit, bringing cease to the string of losses seemed to be far less simple as one predicted.

Even with everything he could fathom within his arsenal of knowledge and experience, the training he had built up upon, and the power he had amassed, he could never bring himself to provide an equal for a magi warrior of any combative division. Perhaps, he was to surrender to Kentayo's words and resign? To give up the Tsuchi name, and drown himself into the masses of Valmasia without a trace to link him back to his lineage?

The thought left him petrified, though he was constantly flickered back into reality from his brief haitus crafted when he somehow managed to make Shirat willingly move outside of his firing range. The silence of his surroundings, disrupted of it's focus and definition and honed only on internal thought was silenced.

An axe to the chest wasn't exactly the first thing he had imagined that would smite him from upholding thought, but it wasn't to be unexpectant considering the battle's progress thus far. Rather than forced to hack into his chest, it swiped past, leaving engravements in it's path. Each lashing left him to backpedal, finally slapped to realization with the axe's blunt end. He stumbled backwards in recoil from the blow, cheek bruising up almost immediately.

His mouth drew agape, unveiling flames of unrelenting force to crawl into the air in a lazy spout, spreading out to knick even slightly at his opponent, but even now, it was not enough. He was losing this confrontation, and he knew it all too well. From the mastodon of flames, she arose, planting her cranium into the chestal plate of his armor, providing the final blow to the bout, leaving him grounded once more.

He couldn't help, but to wince, cringing at the results and battered with scratches and ashes of the terrain incinerated in the process. He grunted as he rose, for a final time, teeth gritted in a desperate facade. At this point, it was impossible to win, but he was willing to make a final impression. At the very least, he could try until the end.
(Saifex Tsuchi)

 Instead of taking to the air this time, the older woman stuck to the ground. Prowling around her opponent, much like a predator sizing up its' prey, she watched and waited for her opponents move, her leftmost hand keeping tight grip upon the leathery grip of her axe.

She wasn't sure how to tackle something from this angle; normally, her view was of a birds, watching its prey safely above. Now, she was on the ground, her heavy steps making the snow beneath them crunch with every movement, and her eyes could see many of the little flakes lightly falling.

A sharp intake of air was taken through the nose and then exhaled outward. Though her head still ached from the strike made earlier, the pain seemed second to the fight that yet lay ahead of her.

This was to be the final round and though she had downed him twice, the Eques hoped he would make a good final showing.
(Shirat)

The ice about was reducing to mush, leaving the grounds hard to tread. The forestry that idled close was conquered by flame, and rocks about stained of ashes of said trees. The ice was no longer solid, soaked with puddles and inches of snow.

Laden across the landscape, unsoaked by the many puddles was layers of Saifex's own mana, placed down in raw form and resting upon the frozen terrain. Albeit, it was invisible from the commoner's gaze, for it was the fuel source for the flames that burned great, towering greater than any sole man.

The fires locked them bother into an arena, crawling low at their footing, threatening to bite at their flesh even further without the magi's volition taken into effect.

In a final burst of wrath, Saifex managed to terraform a section of the scene, into one comparible to the envisionments of a burning Atmos. The Drakanites were within close proximity, and Saifex panted heavily in a bent position, arms hanging for the ground.

His mouth was left open, leaving breath, no longer frosted by soaked with the generated humidity. Sweat beaded upon his flesh, reddened from the artistry invoked upon the scenery about. It was destructive, consuming, yet... Natural;
"This...." Saifex started, in an exhausted tone, speaking through his tired breath.
"Is dragon's art..." He fell to his left knee, supporting himself with his right arm, and crossing his left upon his bent knee.

"This... Is a masterpiece... Not a mere magic trick." He persisted, as though attempting to prove something to someone whom denied his opinion.
"Do not... Under.... ESTIMATE ME!" He exclaimed at the top of his lungs, baring pressure down to start a sprint through the mirage inducing atmosphere, quivering at the mere images of those within. He sprinted blindly through the smog, reeling back his right fist intertwined with spiralling pyrokinetic energy, nigh explosive on impact!

In time, the heatdome fabricated to ensnare them both only for a limited amount of time, would reveal the location of both combatants to one another. Though, in the Tsuchi's rage, he honed his fiery casting upon Shirat's vessel. Not to burn upon her skin, but to superheat was lied beneath armor and flesh-- Down to the muscular and internal level. No longer was this placed around the idea of fire, but heat manipulation itself!

Overheating one's internal system would, induce confusion in muscular memory, allowing him with the opportunity to close the distance with rapid time. The right hand, harbor spiralling flames, opened up to invite the spiraling mass conjoin and manifest a presence of solidified potence. As condoned to prior, the construct of the pyromantic artistry, could be percieved as a harpoon-- A Javelin of light within his grasp; A final resort he practiced and took up for only the second time during the scuffle.

"This..."
In this particular moment, as reality fell slow, losing it's own concept of time, he was allowed to make the parting words to the sparring session. He was dangerously low on mana, and thus, the creation of this final construct would mean depletion on his part, but if he could atleast leave a mark... Perhaps it could mean... Something.... Progress....

"IS ART"
He heaved forth, launching the javelin into Shirat's abdomen and forcefully bringing her to embrace it's touch, carrying her in a beautiful ascension for the horizon. A tree, would be the end to her short-ranged trek. Sudden pause, mean't impact with the fiery construct, and inevitiably.... Explosion.

A dome of pyrokinetic energy erupted, consuming at the tundra, and vaporizing the tree that Shirat smashed into. The ice that would surround the former tree, reduced to steam, rising from a decently sized crater. However, unlike Saifex, Shirat was more than likely to be conscious. The Tsuchi had brought himself to his limit, no longer capable of sustaining combat.
(Saifex Tsuchi)

(...and then thou went afketh, giving in to what I assume to be, narcolepsy.... that stuff's contagious, yo.)