maskormenacelogs | I have a strong disrespect for authority and for rules. Including gravity.

Entry tags:

I have a strong disrespect for authority and for rules. Including gravity.

WHO: Hawke, D'Artagnan, Athos, Lucy
WHERE: The Farm, De Chima
WHEN: Sometime after the 6th
WHAT: In which D'Artagnan thinks he can fight a mage, complete with a peanut gallery on the sidelines.
WARNINGS: gravity vs musketeer

Ready?

[ Two reasons. Hawke was visiting the farm for two reasons. One, to pet horses. Two, to fight d'Artagnan. Not necessarily in that order, nor was the fight necessarily more than a sparring match, though she had the distinct feeling he didn't really know what he was getting himself into. In theory, he should. He's the only person up here who's actually seen her in action, though it could be he hasn't taken into account what the same forces she used against the walking dead could do the same -- if not worse -- damage to the living.

As such, she's gone ahead and taken her own precautions. The staff she brought with her isn't the intricate one she normally keeps at hand (partly due to still not having retrieved that one from a friend's safe-keeping). This one won't amplify anything. She can live with that. She also made a point to pick the overgrown field safely away from both the barn and the farmhouse for this, even if the uneven ground puts both of them on less than sure footing. She can live with that, too.

But back to the here and now, planning now put behind her, Hawke's taken to her end of the field, idly making sure the thick metal wiring she's wrapped around the ends of her stand-in staff are still secure while she waits. ]

Come on. [ She's the one who doesn't look ready, actually, the way she's fiddling with her weapon of choice like that. She didn't even turn up in anything even remotely protective, just her preferred tank-top, jeans, and a smile far too friendly to be trusted. ] We don't have all day, d'Artagnan.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ D'Artagnan has seen Hawke in action. More than that, he's been impressed by Hawke in action. It's for that reason that he already respects her as a soldier (though she would say she was not one) and already views her as someone worth sparring against at all.

Even given that, though, d'Artagnan is also a confident man. He goes into every battle thinking he's about to win, no matter how the odds are stacked, and he doesn't tend to worry for his own wellbeing. She asks if he's ready, and he only smiles, because of course it is.

D'Artagnan's weapon of choice remains his sword. As is general when he's sparring, he's foregone his doublet, and is left standing in his shirt. The time it takes to pull on a pair of leather clubs is all he's waiting for. His usual sword is at his side - his preferred weapon today, and on every day. As Hawke leads them out into the open space, a smiling d'Artagnan draws that sword, and lifts his eyebrow. ]

I would never keep a lady waiting.

Are you completely sure you want to do this outside? It's not as if the barn is small.

If I remember correctly, the last time we fought anything indoors, you became fairly upset.

[ Possibly because she was destabilizing an entire sewer tunnel. Even so, she would prefer not to destabilize an entire barn to go along with the sewer tunnel, if this at all follows as most of combat does with her, spar or no spar. Satisfied that the wire wrapping on the staff is going to stay put, she gives it a long-practiced twirl and plants one end of it against the ground.

She goes on to casually lean against it, other hand coming down to rest against one hip. ]

Come at me, then, or are you beginning to have second thoughts?

That was because of the undead.

[ He turns the sword in his hand, unnecessarily testing its weight. Hawke doesn't look remotely concerned, which kicks his anticipation up another notch. He's been looking forward to this. ]

I didn't think you'd feel the need to cause an earthquake in the barn. But, of course, if that's what you need to beat me...

[ His smirk curves up into a grin, and then he rushes her. As d'Artagnan always does, he rushes straight in, sword flashing up. That staff of hers will give her an advantage unless he gets close enough to prevent it. This is not a day for playing defensive. ]

Oh, no, an earthquake to beat you is a bit of an overkill.

[ Something a little smaller, though...

The staff will only give her an advantage should he get close to her, but on the matter of getting close in the first place, well. Hawke barely even moves, instead working out where d'Artagnan will be putting a foot next as he charges.

He will get about halfway before she does anything, at least.

However, what she does when she does something, it comes off as looking like nothing more than a shift in her own stance, a flick of her wrist, and a spell left just undone enough to only move a sizable rock up out of the ground -- rather than bodily fling it -- into the path of a foot he's about to bring forward in his next step. In short, careful there! Don't trip! ]

[ At first, he thinks she’s not even making an effort. That should have been warning enough, but then something solid connects with his boot, and he’d swear it wasn’t there a moment ago. He trips badly over it, unbalancing himself. He doesn’t quite fall, but the move to right himself throws his swing off completely. He looks up at Hawke with narrowed eyes. ]

Did you - ?

[ He kicks the rock aside. He really needs to get these fields cleared. Annoyed, he swings for her again, this time with one eye on his own feet. ]

Did I what?

[ Yeah, d'Artagnan, what in the world did she do? But she must have done something, if her ongoing grin says anything. So maybe the field works better to her advantage after all, if it can hide her tricks, but most of them aren't quite as subtle as that one. It'll show soon enough.

However, for now, with his attention now divided between her and where he's stepping, she has little trouble picking up her staff and turning out of the way, only to come right back around during his downswing to lash out at his arm with her own weapon. ]

Ah - damn it!

[ D'Artagnan sees that blow coming a second too late, and he entirely expects to be cleaned out by it.

Then something stops it, as a large, glistening pilum appears in the air above their heads and rockets down to embed in the soil beside them. He looks at it, confounded, and then rapidly concludes that it came from his powers. That surge of frustration and consternation -

He snatches it, pulling it out of the ground and moving to cross it with his sword. ]

All right. Now let's see you.

[ He'll try to hold this feeling for as long as he can. ]

[ Hawke was not expecting that. Hawke's also pretty sure no one else was expecting that. Nonetheless, that happens, a magically appearing pilum landing point first in the dirt and getting in the way of her strike. She spins away again, enough to take her a good few steps away, and will spare a few seconds for a look of astonishment.

But only a few seconds, because then it's back to business. ]

See, now that's a javelin. My staff from before? Nothing like that.

[ Ooor first getting a few facts straight, then back to business. She tucks her staff back under one arm and, instead of coming after d'Artagnan again, she draws back an arm as if preparing to throw a punch, only when she releases it, it isn't with a fist. It's open palmed and should have been completely useless considering the distance she's put back between them, but that's where magic comes in again. D'Artagnan can be all the way over there and he'll still feel an invisible force slam into him, provided he doesn't have the sense to move. ]

[ D'Artagnan hefts the pilum in his left hand. It's weighty, and he's not sure he'll be able to manage both that and his sword, but given that he's never actually trained with a pilum before, it might not matter. At least it'll match the length of her staff, and the pointy end looks like it could do damage.

Meanwhile, she has bounced away, which he takes as an excellent sign that his powers are actually helping, for once. Regaining some composure, he grins. ]

I bet you didn't see that coming. Where are you going? Not afraid of an even -

[ He breaks off, because her hit slams into him with concussive force and gets in the way of his smugness. He falls back, startled and winded, and the pilum suddenly gets light in his hand. ]

No, no!

[ He grabs hold of it, concentrating on his anger again, and the pilum solidifies. The fact that she's just knocked all the wind from him definitely helps.

And he's not giving up yet. He pulls himself up, eyeing her, and then runs for her. Chest still aching, he throws the pilum, javelin-style, right towards her, and then shifts trajectory to come at her from the side.

Of course, this will all be for nothing if she has more of those concussive blasts up her sleeve, but he does what he can. ]

[ Tons, she has tons of concussive blasts up her sleeve, but d'Artagnan's forcing her to make a choice. Just as Hawke had previously split his attention, he's done the same, only a pilum launched at her is a bit more worrisome than a rock tripping someone up. On one hand, it looks like he's wising up fast on how to deal with a mage. On the other...

He threw a javelin at her! Really? Who does that?!

She's going to deal with that first. Not with more twisting out of the way, but instead standing her ground, making certain her feet are planted firmly on the ground at the same time, as if expecting an impact, and bringing her staff up into the grip of both hands. She raises it up fast, as if she means to block the pilum itself with a mere (albeit not weak) stick, but that isn't what happens. The point connects, sure enough, but a sharp eye will catch it isn't connecting with the staff at all. Light refracts around Hawke for a split second, in a semi-dome shape, brightest at where it had been struck. The javelin ricochets off, spinning away and landing point first in the dirt again, though not too far from its original mark.

Of course, in doing so, she's left herelf open at the side d'Artagnan is racing for. ]

[ That's an impressive light show. D'Artagnan's eyes are not on it, that being the only reason it doesn't blind him, but he's still aware of it.

He's also focused - enough so that in the same moment the pilum embeds itself in the earth, it also vanishes, leaving no trace it had ever existed. D'Artagnan's concentration is all on Hawke. Knowing that she was distracted, he doesn't strike with his sword. Instead, he strikes it outwards, aiming for her staff, to try and stop it from coming back around on him. HIs leg sweeps for hers at the same time. If he can throw her back to the ground, he'll do it.

If not, he's probably straight back into her line of fire. ]

[ It's a sound plan. One that should and would have worked, save for the unfortunate fact that d'Artagnan's opponent is a very particular kind of mage. When she stood waiting for an impact rather than moving out of the way, it hadn't been because of the pilum. Hawke had barely even felt that, deflected off a shield at the last second as it was.

It was for what would come after.

As expected, she twists to strike at him with the staff, though not in a way where she'd need to move her feet. His sword stops it from ever reaching him and his leg sweep connects. That's where everything gets strange, because that connects and Hawke barely moves. Her feet may slide back in the dirt, but that's even less than an inch. Admittedly, her shins are going to be feeling that one for awhile, but what matters is she's still up.

Still up and completely unable to stop herself from grinning and giving d'Artagnan a wink. ]

Almost.

[ And then she swings her staff back around, landing one end of it in the dirt at her side. D'Artagnan may feel the air around them fill with an unseen energy, something to put one's hair on end, though not quite electric, and then it's gone just as fast when Hawke releases it with another gesture, similar to the one from before. It might be enough warning for him to roll out of the way, because the same spell that knocked him back before is about to happen all over again. ]

[ For a moment, d’Artagnan just stares with confusion. He’s far from the strongest man he knows, but he’s not weak. That hit should have hooked her to the ground, and instead it barely moved her. His brow furrows. For what might be the first time, he’s wondering if this was such a good idea.

Then her staff strikes, and the energy going through it is something else. D’Artagnan braces himself for it to sting, or at the very least throw him back, but all it does it give him goosebumps. As if the energy hasn’t been released, but is being stored for something else –

Damn.

He guesses what she’s about to do a second before she does, and without thinking, he drops and rolls behind her. Another hit like that will send him sprawling. He kicks upwards, aiming for her waist this time and mostly just trying to land the hit rather than fell her. Then, his sword aims for her staff. He’s got to try and stop that energy from building again. He gets to his knees and puts force behind it, trying to force her to use it as a direct weapon. He’s on a hiding to nothing when it comes to her magic, that much is clear. ]

[ The concussive blast does nothing more than blast through dirt and weeds, then, when d'Artagnan rolls out of the way. Hawke needs to turn fast to keep him in sight, but it's that moment when she's in motion that he kicks up at her. The blow lands and this time she can be moved, staggering a few steps to the side. She doesn't even try to hang onto the staff when the swing follows up after the kick, her grip on it having been tentative at the time. Of course, that leads to revealing his second mistake. She never needed the staff.

By that time, Hawke's already regained her balance and has turned to face him. From farther away this time, the swell of magic isn't as easily felt, but it's there, barely. She drops her hands, palms up, then immediately raises them back up, not unlike if she was gesturing for someone to keep lifting something up, up, and with that d'Artagnan will find a faint purple aura sparking to life around him.

A lesser version of the spell, thankfully, considering the worst one tends to break bones on occasion. If caught in it, he'll find his joints stiffening and soon enough he'll be stuck, suspended, in whatever awkward pose he may have gotten himself caught in. ]

[ There is the smallest, briefest moment of triumph when his sword connects, and hooks the staff away. D’Artagnan barely even has time to smile, before Hawke pivots, looking entirely unworried and raising her palms.

She’s raising energy, even without the staff. Wary, D’Artagnan dives and rolls again, not even waiting for what he assumes is another blast. He’s not smiling now. There’s purple light sparking all around him. He tries to scramble away from it, but it halts him mid-stride, freezing his joints and tightening his hand painfully around his sword.

His attempt to speak makes him realise his jaw has been wired shut, like everything else, so only his eyes register his disbelief – surprise wars with anger and frustration there. That’s a warning, if Hawke knows enough about his powers yet to recognise it. This time it’s not a pilum that appears, but a shower of musket balls that rains over her head. If those connect they’ll hurt. They seem to only irritate d’Artagnan more, since his eyes roll and pointedly seek out Athos’ on the sidelines. This power of his is more trouble than it’s worth. ]

Th-- [ Whereas she was going to say something, now that the spell has settled, but whatever that was going to be is lost when musket balls come pelting down on her like hail! There's just no quick trick up her sleeve to save her from something that unexpected. ] Ow... what-- ow! Hey!

[ She's left throwing her arms up to shelter her head from them, not wasting time with another shield. By the time she could have brought one up, they would have all already passed, either bouncing off her and then to the ground or simply landing wherever elsewhere it is they fall. Once they've stopped raining down, though, she'll shake her head and drop into a crouch to pluck one up out of the dirt. She rolls it around between her fingertips, wondering if it might not just vanish like the pilum did now that it's no longer of use.

By then, the spell keeping d'Artagnan at bay will be fizzling out, even without Hawke doing anything to dismiss it herself. ]

...little metal balls? [ Really. ] You may want to try a rain of swords next time.

Edited 2015-09-15 21:17 (UTC)

[ The musket balls stay where they are, for now, because d'Artagnan's frustration with the freeze frame spell is only growing. Eventually it starts to weaken, and feeling that, he wrenches at every joint to get free. The moment he falls face-first back to the ground is a moment filled with such relief that the musket balls finally do vanish, at long last.

He looks up, spitting dry grass out of his mouth, and clambering back to his feet. ]

If I had that amount of control, I'd use it.

[ He snatches his sword back off the ground, breathing hard. ]

What in God's name was that thing?!

[ The musket ball she'd been holding vanishes the same as the rest, much to her astonishment. It had felt entirely real, weight and all, and then nothing. ]

Constructs. Can you only create simple ones?

[ Of course. He just said he had no control, didn't he? Well, since what Hawke was investigating has vanished into thin air, she rises back up to her feet, hands coming up to rest on her hips once she does. ]

And there's no need to be so upset. That was only a prison spell. Not even a full one, at that.

[ Constructs? D’Artagnan looks sharply at her. He hadn’t known there was a name for what he did, he only knows the results. Results like swords and daggers, dropping from thin air. A pilum that embeds beside him. Musket balls that appear out of nothing. He brushes dust off his arms. ]

A prison spell. It’s effective.

[ And terrifying, actually. Total restriction, and she says it had only been a partial spell. God, she’s powerful. It makes his ‘constructs’ look ridiculous. He gestures at where the musket balls had been. ]

I can make weapons. Any weapon, in theory, but I can’t always control it. I’ve been trying for shot since Athos asked the Network for it. It happens when I’m angry, and when I lose the feeling they disappear.

[ He shrugs. ]

The spear worked better.

And short-lived.

[ Hawke will at least add that, as if trying to head off any fear of it. It's not that she knows d'Artagnan thinks it terrifying in particular, only that she's used to people fearing magic, some spells more than others. ]

The shot... was for your guns, is that right? [ She's seen bullets, modern ones. Clearly these weren't them, but the concept isn't any different. She purses her lips into a small, thoughtful frown, casting her gaze down and bringing a hand to her chin. Thinking. ] Hmm. No, making shot for everyone is useless.

[ Thinking out loud, at that. ]

Don't waste your time on that one, not unless you can create one already loaded and ready to fire.

[ D'Artagnan shrugs, accepting that. Personally, he's glad it was short-lived. that's about the best thing he can say about it.

Her words make him approach with interest, though. Making shot for everyone hadn't even crossed his mind, since he hasn't even been able to manage it effectively for one. But he has to admit, she's right. He'd have to hold the musket ball in existence for long enough to prep the gun, never mind maintaining it while it was shot. He wipes his sword off against his leg, his expression thoughtful. ]

I don't know if I can. I've never tried; I've never been able to command this well at all.

I'd like to. It would be useful for more reason than one. I don't know where to start.

[ Looks like the match is over. Maybe just on hold. Who knows. Perhaps that's for the best, though, lest Hawke actually end up skewered by a real, actual unintentional rain of swords, because, really, that could be effective at stopping her. ]

No one commands any sort of power well when they first start out.

[ And what the Porter hands out isn't unlike the grab-bag of abilities that Hedge Mages develop, back home. Something that can be worked on, even if it's unconventional. ]

Have you tried attaching a memory to an emotion, one you can call up whenever you want to summon something? That may be easier to hold in mind over whatever else you're feeling at the time.

A memory.

[ From the tone of his voice it's clear that he hasn't. Mostly, he has been doing what d'Artagnan does best; reacting to what happens around him, generally with anger, and then letting it fuel him for as long as it can. The only difference is that now it's fuelling his magical weapons, too. ]

I haven't. You think that would work? Is that how you control your -

[ He gestures, making a vague and very bad imitation of the movements she'd made to cast that prison spell. ]

- thing?

[ The bad imitation earns a chuckle. ]

No. Not anymore.

[ Hawke finally moves on, dropping her hand back to her side and turning to go over and retrieve her staff. She may as well hold onto it, seeing how using her real one against someone like d'Artagnan would never truly be fair. At least, not until he figured out how to best a mage.

Then she might go all out, but only then. ]

Magic's as easy as breathing to me. [ She turns back towards him, resting the staff against a shoulder as she does. ] But that's because I've been at it for twenty-four years now. A particularly strong emotion can fuel how powerful something I cast is, although that's poor practice for a mage.

Edited (words) 2015-09-19 19:34 (UTC)

[ Twenty four years. That’s as long as d’Artagnan has been alive; needless to say, he doesn’t want to have to take that long to get comfortable with his powers. He looks thoughtful. ]

My powers are based on feeling. I’ve always known that; the other one is even more so.

Is that what you’d recommend, fixing on a memory instead of something I feel now? I won’t lie, I want to control this, Hawke. It would help both Athos and I if we could rely on what I summon.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject