let's get down to business

[whattaprick]

Who: Nightrunners and whoever wants to make use of the training yard for whatever reason.
When: S2 D1-D5
Where: The Training Yard
What: Training, or pointing and laughing at people training.
Warnings: Explosions and swearing, probably.

Though it's never really been off-limits, once they're down off the moon, Lambert wastes little time informing the nightrunners he officially expects them to get back to training and getting in shape. They can make ample use of the training yard facilities to learn how to work with each other after their extended vacation, or just get to know their newer coworkers in an environment closer to what their actual working conditions will actually be like.

The yard, as usual, isn't limited solely to nightrunners. Anyone who wants to work on their physical or magical skills are welcome, as well as anyone from the other departments who have anything they might want to test out that requires a combatant, for some reason.

Lambert's generally a constant presence at the fringes, sometimes participating in exercise or sparring himself, but mostly just watching and making sure no one's about to put someone's eye out or break the equipment, because that would be bad for obvious reasons.

[ ooc; this is an open log, so bring your own toplevel! ]

Comments

[dressedtothe]

[It's the moment the sword slides off 9S' arm that he really realises this is totally different from fighting a machine. What does he have? Speed, pain tolerance, and a metal body. 9S typically keeps his distance when fighting. But like with Rita, he's starting to realise that for once, he's stronger than his opponent, not the reverse.

What does it take to sustain the fake? Does it actively drain him, or are the things set and forget? If the fakes just cause pain, even mental pain, then he can endure it. It will take something akin to impalement or limbs being torn off for pain to halt him. Then is there any reason to not ignore the fakes and go for the real target?

And all of Syrlya's attempts to cast magic have always been at a distance. Syrlya always makes some kind of movement in every instance magic he's cast. That means... if he can throw Syrlya onto the ground and pin his hands, then he can't cast... right? 9S isn't made for melee combat, but that might be what he needs.

Curling his legs under him, 9S pushes off the ground and leaps, rapidly covering a longer distance than one would expect from a humanoid, aiming to close the distance between him and Syrlya and grab him for a throwdown.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya is equally unused to fighting machines as lithe as 9S. He's quick, and although Syrlya steps back he's not quick enough on his feet to step out of the way before 9S tackles him, the magic fizzling out with failure to produce a second phantasm.

He lets out a pained cry as his head smacks against the ground, momentarily cross-eyed. But then he tips his head back, staring ahead at the space behind them--and teleports.

He's back on his feet, slightly unsteady, about ten feet away now. The existing phantasm makes its leap towards 9S again, while Syrlya adjusts his grip and stance with his off hand blade again.

9S is the stronger of the two by a long shot, but his real test is going to be catching Syrlya.]

[dressedtothe]

[9S can't resist letting out a growl of frustration. Damn it! He never realised how annoying it is fighting Syrlya. Is this a trait of all mesmers? Or just Syrlya?

9S sidesteps the phantasm, but as he returns his sword to his hand, the weapon's path cuts through where the phantasm is located. He recognises that stance. Is it a bluff?

9S frowns, before the ground around 9S' feet appears to distort slightly as he pulls his arm back, sword spinning horizontally above his hand. The light encircling his wrist appears to pulse before he throws his sword once again. But unlike the first time he threw it, the sword spirals around Syrlya in a wide circle, an attempt to cut off Syrlya's escape routes -- a frustrating endeavour it may be, given the guy can teleport -- as 9S rushes him again.]

[chronosynthesis]

[It's sort of a bluff.

The sword rips through the phantasm, incapable of dodging, and it shatters into glitter and shards. Syrlya steps back until 9S cuts off his back escape--and yes, he can teleport, but he doesn't.

Instead, when 9S rushes him, Syrlya holds his form. The only tell of his magic is around his left hand, and when 9S strikes him he's instead left with a clone in Syrlya's place while Syrlya is displaced a foot away, apparently unshaken.

And then it shatters, weakly and with minimal effect. And Syrlya is thrusting his blade forward to try and slam the tip of it into the side of 9S's head. Look out!]

[dressedtothe]

[Syrlya's sudden reappearance is far too close for 9S to avoid. The practice blade slams solidly into his head, the impact forcing him back a step with a pained gasp. A split second of static makes his vision flicker.

His instinct is to jump back, put distance between them again, but 9S stands his ground.]

What won't you stay still?

[His hand flexes, his sword whipping back towards Syrlya's back.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya gives 9S an incredulous look.] Why would I--

[And then 9S's sword slams into his back and with a pained wheeze Syrlya trips forward. He barely catches himself on his sword.]

That's why! [He waves his hand again to summon another sword welding phantasm to harass 9S.]

[dressedtothe]

[Wow he didn't expect that to distract Syrlya enough for him to nail the guy with his sword. It would just be fantastic if Syrlya continued to stay still long enough for 9S to hit him!!

If Syrlya was expecting him to back off or deal with the phantasm, 9S does the complete opposite; now that his sword is back in hand, 9S steps in and thrusts the scabbard covered weapon up towards Syrlya where the solar plexus would be located on a human.

Its an attack that would leave him completely open to the phantasm should he miss, but 9S figures if the strike lands -- in his mind, there's no doubt -- then Syrlya would have to yield.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya jerks up, thrusting the off hand blade down to parry as he twists to the side. His muscles can't compete with 9S' strength, so it still strikes against his side.

He teleports away again, putting a few feet between them as he staggers to recover himself. He has a feeling something's going to bruise later.]

[dressedtothe]

Augh!

[Frustrated at Syrlya teleporting away yet again, 9S throws his sword point down into the ground. Guess who doesn't spar very often? This guy. He's done.]

This is stupid! How are we supposed to know who wins?

[He can't pin down Syrlya when he keeps teleporting around like this and a lot of problems he's facing would seriously be solved if, you know, it wasn't a bad idea to cut up your co workers! And Syrlya obviously can't really hurt him with these practice weapons even if the weird mind magic is a right pain, so at this rate they'll be at a stalemate forever, in his mind.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya's admittedly not used to such a drawn out spar, either--not without it being a case of being equally matched. Here, though, it seems to be that neither of them are capable of overcoming each other's strong point--or exploiting a weakness.]

We spar until someone gives up? [He shrugs!] Call a forfeit. It isn't really about winning, anyway.

[dressedtothe]

[Oh, if only his hacking powers worked on living beings! It's such a pain being restricted to only using the weakest of his abilities in a fight.

9S wrinkles his face, dissatisfied.]

If it isn't really about winning, then you call a forfeit.

[Is he being a huge child about this? Yeah.]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya pauses, like he seems to consider that. And then he straightens his back, raising the blade not quite in a proper position for battle--but certainly not a surrender.]

Well, perhaps I am not yet at my limit.

[This is now a battle of attrition and pride.]

[dressedtothe]

[9S opens his mouth like he's about to protest, but then shakes his head.]

Well I don't want to keep doing this pointless dancing.

[He could go for longer, but it's not like he really enjoys fighting like this. Sure, he still enjoys fighting, but not fighting the way combat androids do!]

Fighting's not even my forte, anyway!

[chronosynthesis]

[Aha! This was, honestly, the only way Syrlya was going to claim victory in a fight of attrition, so he's a little pleased at that.]

Suit yourself. [Syrlya shrugs, lowering the blade.] I suppose I'll see you next time Lambert gathers the Nightrunners for training?

[Given There's only so many of the Nightrunners 9S can feasibly combat.]

[dressedtothe]

[9S groans dramatically. Is that answer enough? He doesn't want to keep sparring! Dismissively, he says--]

Yeah, yeah. I'll be there.

[Though, that said... He has to admit, he's never encountered anyone who fights quite like Syrlya.]

So, what's the deal with all the fake yous? Do you have a limit to the number you can project?

[chronosynthesis]

Illusions. [A gentle correction, although 'fake you' isn't entirely wrong.] I can create as many as I can maintain focus on, but controlling the magic is usually too difficult after about three.