You Sunk My Battleship! (Closed)

A grim look crossed Rehtul’s face as he watched the torrential rain continue to fall, now coming in sheets, wiping the deck clean. This wasn’t just some normal arena where you could use the surrounding area to your advantage. He pushed himself up onto his feet, motioning for the young woman to move aside just enough so that he could have a little breathing room. Silence hung as she proclaimed that she was going to call an end to the match. The mystic of ice merely looked at her sideways with a half hearted smile.

He sank back on his legs and crossed them beneath him, breathing slowly in an out as he tried to get his mind straight. Things had not been going quite right since the beginning of this battle; that was for sure. First he’d defended then attacked, like any normal person would in these circumstances.

“Damn... this is not how I envisioned this battle going,” he said, barely suppressing a chuckle that the woman, who had been his opponent, his rival up until the lightning strike, had decided to have enough compassion to allow herself to call of the battle because she was worried about his well being. It was touching, at the very least.

The young man grabbed the burn mark on his shoulder tenderly and focused the energy of his light magic into the wound, alleviating the pain enough that he at least would be able to move his arm. With that small annoyance out of his senses, he smiled lightly and conjured a walking stick of ice from the water pooled around his legs. He pushed himself up and leaned upon the thing, struggling at this point to keep his balance after his entire system had been fried by the lightning.

“I can’t believe this,” he said as he ran a hand through his long white locks. Toward the back of his neck, however, his hand came to a screeching halt. The screeching, however, was issuing from Rehtul’s mouth, not from his hand. His hair felt burned, frayed, completely destroyed and covered in frizz, even through the leather glove he wore.

”What the hell happened to my hair?!”

The screech carried out around him, silencing even the howling winds around him. Light blue energy crept into his eyes, brightening them to the point where they almost seemed to glow with a supernatural energy. Silently, the man gripped the walking stick he had made more tightly, feeding his anger into the small ice construct as he stared at the sky with a look that would have frozen even his father in fear.

With a sigh, he turned toward the young woman and said, more for his benefit than hers, “If those monks can’t fix this...” He let the threat hang idly in the air.

Sighing, he finally brought his temper under control and resumed his mask of serenity as he looked at the young woman, Felicity.

“If you would like to call the battle off, young lady, that would be most kind of you. I fear I underestimated two things today, you and Mother Nature. I should learn to take the ladies a little more seriously, I suppose,” he said, laughing at his terrible joke.

“Thank you.”

Felicity didn't even catch the bad joke. She just smiled, "You'we wewcome."

In the pouring rain, she had to shout. "Monks! Stop the match! Take cawe of Owouge! Pwease?"

Like that, the entire setting disintegrated like vastly melted snow. For a moment, it was all black. A soaked Felicity shivered as she remained on her knees. Seconds later, the light came back...

~~~

Felicity had been thoroughly dried and cured of the cold. She had a case of frostbite. It had been nothing the wonderful monks couldn't handle. They also mended her now bandaged cheek. Now, a refreshed Felicity was sitting next to the bed where her former opponent lay. The cage flashed again in her mind, as well as the smile he gave her when she asked if she could call the match.

She was confused. There had been moments where she had seen good in him, yet, she had to be honest. The cage had frightened her. She knew he had not known of her fear, so if it was anyone's fault for her freaking out...

.... it was herself.

Felicity wanted to be strong. She knew she certainly had skill and strength. However, how good was it if she lost control like that? She sighed. Yes, she was strong, but she was still a student. How would Ashla have replied to her giving into fear like that? She never saw her brave mentor get pulled into fright like that. Felicity sighed, had she let her teacher down?

Felicity's flew up again when she heard Orlouge move.

Rehtul looked up from the bed, finally waking from the magically induced sleep that the monks had put him under. He groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting position. The old men had done their job, however, and fixed everything physically wrong with him. He sighed as he pulled his hair over his shoulder and looked down at the ends. They were split.

Rolling his eyes, he at least thanked the Thayne that they’d been able to save a majority of his hair from the same fate that his ends had suffered. He reached out to the end table next to him and grabbed up one of his gloves. He slipped it on and concentrated on the very minimal amount of water in the room, particularly the wash basin on the other side of the room. It flew through the air and into his hands, coalescing into a very familiar shape, that of a straight razor.

The young man started humming to himself as he began to cut the dead ends off of his hair, a chore that had become second nature to him as his hair had continued to extend further and further down his back over the past few months since the last hair cut he’d been talked into. A smile crossed his lips as he lovingly caressed the silken tresses that graced his head, the single greatest source of pride in his physical appearance.

As he turned to pull another piece of his hair to his lap for the razor treatment, he caught a flash of red in his peripheral vision. He jumped nearly high enough to smash his head on the fourteen foot high ceiling and collapsed back onto the bed, the razor flying to the other side of the room and shattering on the large wooden door across from him.

“Thayne preserve me,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard. He looked over and discovered that it was indeed Felicity sitting next to him, in a small wooden chair often reserved for visitors to the monks’ medical wing. He smiled as he lay back on the bed and looked at her.

“You’re still here, then?” he asked. “I’d have thought you’d move on to greener pastures after being patched up. Our battle certainly wasn’t satisfying or fun... for either of us.” He could feel the young woman had been worried about him, but the monks had never once failed to revive someone who had been killed on Citadel grounds before. His own injuries were meaningless by comparison.

Why had she stayed?

"Uh... wew..."Felicity stammered in her seat for a moment, both amused and nervous about watching Orlouge after he woke up. The kid sighed, "I shouwdn't of fweaked out wike that. I'm sowwy."

She was referencing the cage. She shuddered, remembering the chill of the entire arena. "The battwe? 'Ife is fuw of wet downs." She looked back at Orlouge with one of her confident smirks, "Stiw, nice match."

Her smirk faded again, she still had questions about the ice. In fact...

"You'we diffewent than my mento'. She just goes fuw bwast destoying evewything, but you... you had pwetty ice there. How did you achieve it?"

Felicity had worked hard, training and practicing her skills by both reading books and slaying dummies. She gained the ability to become stronger every time blood was drawn from her skin. Ashla had taken a tremendous part in that, guiding her towards finding the power within herself. Felicity indeed had raw power, like her mentor before her, but delicate skill like that? Felicity was hardly a girly girl, but seeing such beauty in a learned skill caught her interest. This man obviously knew enough that he had a reason to underestimate her - still not a good reason, but a reason none the less.

Rehtul smiled at the young woman. The longer he spent in her company, the more he began to understand her strange lisp. He could tell that she was truly a good person at heart, which further confused him as to why she had decided to come to the Citadel. Was there something worth fighting for, something that she would give her life for, or something that she had to train for?

Sighing, he pushed himself up in the bed just enough to sit up and look the young woman in the eye as she asked her questions. It seemed that the person she called her mentor used a type of ice magic similar to his own, but one with much more ferocity, less control, and more outright offensive capabilities. The young man thought about his response and closed his eyes.

Once again he brought his power fully to bear upon the only significant source of water in the room, the wash bin next to the entry door. The water, clear and clean, rose from the bin and glided gently across the room to the young man’s outstretched hand and slowly wrapped itself into his palm before growing out. A small, ornate handle, with the appearance of a spiral column, stretched down from his clenched hand, and another, larger piece of the water flew out from the other side of his closed palm, wrapping around itself in an oval shape, decorated with waves and a small, clear pearl of the purest ice on top. A flat sheet of ice ran through the center of the oval, making for a highly polished reflective surface.

Rehtul held the mirror in front of the young girl’s face, allowing her to see her own reflection and see the intricate work he had put into the piece. He wrapped the creation in a towel and laid it down on the bed next to him.

“To answer your question, I trained for years to gain this level of mastery, since my fifteenth birthday, around your age, I’d wager. As an Orlouge, it was deemed my responsibility to become great at something, so I chose the world of elemental magics, following roughly the same path that my own father had before me.”

One corner of his mouth rose high enough to almost touch his ear as he chuckled darkly.

“I doubt I’ll ever match the man, though. He helped design many of the magical systems in use within this very building.”

He looked at the woman and handed her the mirror, still wrapped in its protective towel, and frowned.

“The fact of the matter is, I was trained to treat every magic delicately, like a sculptor working with fine marble, or a painter applying the brush to his canvas. Everything I do has a touch of the artistic to it, because I find aesthetics pleasing. It’s also good practice for developing a fine-tuned control of one’s magic, where you could...”

With a wry grin, he pulled droplets of water from the air itself and formed it into a long, thin needle, which he shot at the door. In moments, it landed in the lock on the door and began pulling more moisture from the air, and took the shape of a slightly ornate key. With a flick of his wrist, the young Orlouge turned the lock in the handle and then formed the ice around the handle before having it jiggle up and down, demonstrating that it was locked.

Chuckling, he unlocked the door once more and turned to the woman.

“Do not be confused... Ice has a multitude of uses beyond brute force. For those who think, it can be a weapon of unlimited variety.”

Felicity stared at the ice mirror, wrapped up in a cloth. She had never seen something like this before. She looked up at Orlouge uncertainty shining in her eyes.

"Ashwa has aways towd me about postuwe and timing, but... this is honestwy new." the apprentice had chuckled lightly in these words, "She aways tews me that if I focus within mysewf, I wiw find evewything I need."

She leaned back in her chair, thinking back, "I guess... I'm the type of person who just weans on power awone." Felicity crossed her arms, "Avwough... I'm just stawting to twain."

Felicity considered, this young started a year later than her. Did it really take that long for him to get this good? Her chair moaned as she sat up again, hands on her bare knees. The Orlouge family, she had never heard of. The fact that this guy came from such a fanciful family tree was intriguing. The quiet room, only enlightened by their two voices and the ice magic, was a perfect class room.

And Orlouge was today's teacher.

"Ashwa sent me hewe to leawn," Felicity commented, "And I guess I have..."

Rehtul listened to the young woman explain her reasons for actually being here. It was closer to his assumptions about the girl than he had at first expected. Apparently, she was still quite new to the art of battle, and had only just recently started honing her own technique under this “Ashla” person, whom Rehtul had never heard of. Unless, of course the young woman was talking about Ashla Icebreaker of Eiskalt. Word of the unease in that particular country didn’t always fall on deaf ears in the other regions.

Nah, she couldn’t mean that woman, he thought. Silently, he ran his hand through his long, silken hair and frowned, thinking of the possibilities that someone who had been renowned as something of a hero had sent someone who was little more than a child to the Citadel. Rehtul did not doubt the young lady’s abilities, but the thought of sending someone who hadn’t reached majority by any country’s standards into a battlefield willingly, even for training...

That thought struck a nerve with him that he did not particularly like.

He continued to brush his hair with his fingers as he thought of the reasons a person would have to train someone to defend themselves, especially in so harsh a manner. Sighing, he brought his hands down to rest on his lap as he looked at the young woman, his blue eyes meeting her own deep green and smiled lightly. Whatever the reasons for her being in the Citadel, she had come of her own volition, and that is what was most important. No one could be forced to fight in the Citadel against their will. It was simply against the policy of the monks. Whatever else had transpired to bring the young woman here, nothing could override that simple fact.

“You did the best you could in the face of danger, and for that I commend you. Wouldn’t exactly go out of my way to pick that arena again, but... I’ve been studying the Citadel, learning what there is to know about what goes on here, and why it is so popular. I’m still learning, but I’m beginning to piece together exactly what it is about the place where you can die and yet still live that makes this place as popular as it is. I just need to figure out a few more things before I decide whether I want to continue coming here or not.”

The look on his face said that he was more interested in returning here and fighting than he would openly admit. A passive, almost emotionless look passed over his face as he considered his next words carefully.

“So, this Ashla... Is she the one called Ashla Icebreaker, of Eiskalt?” he asked.

Felicity smiled as he spoke, he talked of the magics of the Citadel. Felicity's green eyes blinked in confusion, why would one be so worried about the Citadel? What puzzled her even more was when he asked for the identity of her mentor.

Felicity smiled and nodded, "Who ewse? Ashwa is amazing!" She rocked back into her chair, getting carried away talking in her hyper nature. "She picked me up when I faiwed to join the Cowone Wanga's. Said she saw potential they didn't." Felicity chuckled, looking back at their early sparing sessions, "I was compwete junk at first, but Ashwa guided me up! It's thanks to hew I know evewything I do. She gave me guidwines and wet me find my unique stywe." Felicity looked at Orlouge with a smirk, "And 'I wet you know, I'm unique."

A chuckle escaped her, more memories of her bumpy start taking over. "When she towd me to twy the Citadel out, I could hawdy wait! I enjoy the rush of battwe and the action, 'ya know!" the apprentice shrugged, "It wets me wewease my steam."

Felicity looked at the wrapped mirror again. She hoped she could find elegance like that in her fighting style someday, even if she was more straight and destructive in her preferred style. She planned on asking Icebreaker back home.

Felicity admired that mirror. The innocent teen wondered, would even a total stranger let her maybe borrow such a beautiful object? What would it take to get it? Felicity was always quite snappy and a bit weird in her communication, but she knew how to be polite. She would wait for a good time to ask about it. Meanwhile, her gaze went back up to Orlouge as he replied her.

(OOC: Bunny approved by Flamebird)

The young man shook his head at Felicity’s response, especially about being unable to wait to jump into combat within the Citadel. Something about the way that she pursued the activities to be found within with such gusto threw him for a loop, however. Sighing, he stood up and slipped himself off of the bed. As his bare feet touched the cold stone floor, he smiled and stretched his arms over his head before allowing them to fall to either side.

“I must admit, it feels pretty good to be able to get up and stroll out of here after even something like that happens,” he said easily. He sat down on the foot of the bed, his back turned to the young girl as he considered carefully his next words. He had been schooled and taught by, and had even ended up being forced to fight many of the more experienced members of his family in mock battles and even some not-so-mock battles. He knew how it was to be pushed into training, to be forcefully given lessons in how to control your power, or even in how to learn to fight. He could feel the young woman wanted nothing more than to impress the woman, Ashla.

Sighing, he admitted silently to himself that he had never met the woman, Ashla, before. There were rumors floating around that some really screwy things had been happening in that country, but without substantiated proof, the young man didn’t even know what to think on the matter. He touched the spot on his robe where the burn mark had been and frowned. He had been struck by lightning and could easily walk away. If the magic contained within this facility were made available to people the world over, there could be so much in the world that could be fixed, just from a humanitarian standpoint.

He chuckled at the thought and turned back to face the young woman.

“Your teacher must have a lot of faith in your abilities to send you out here like that. The ability to fight any opponent you want, to grow your skills, to become better than you’ve ever thought possible... That is what this place allows for, and if that is why you are here, you are obviously in the exact right place. Allow yourself to learn from each battle, consider each opponent a teacher, and you will go far,” he said. His eyes narrowed as his voice fell to a much deeper tone, barely audible.

“Never stop learning. There is no limit to the amount of knowledge you can gain. I could live a million lifetimes and never know everything there is to know about magic, and that’s a fact.”

He stood up, arched his back just enough for it to pop satisfyingly a number of times, and turned toward the door.

“I’ll walk you out. I think the next time we fight, we should do so on solid land. Whaddya say?” he asked, winking at the young girl as he opened the large wooden door. He patted the stone bricks of the wall with one hand before slipping out.

“You can keep the mirror by the way,” he said simply as the young woman walked along only a step behind him. “It won’t melt unless I will it to.”

Felicity's eyes lit up as she was told to keep the mirror without even asking. Size grabbed the mirror, still wrapped up in its yellow cloth, and raced out after Orlouge. The hyper teen saluted him, grinning from ear to ear. She hadn't caught his discomfort over her mentor at all, "I wiw twain, siw!" She dropped her salute a bit more militaristic, "I wiw twain."

Even with the one or two people in the crowded hall who looked at her funny, she smiled. She was young, but she was strong. A history of abuse made her stronger, immune to the pain. At Orlouge's suggestion, she would grow even better than before. Final line, she liked Orlouge a lot now. He actually taught her a lot. As they walked side by side to the exit through fanciful, stone halls; she smirked, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'w beat you fo' suwe next time."

She stopped, grabbing the mirror with both hands. As people came and went, the sounds of many footsteps and voices coming, Felicity gave her former opponent a much more earnest expression. "Thank you."

Felicity fixed the cool haired Orlouge with another smile. She then realized that even She through the cloth, the mirror felt cold. Her smile dropped into a childish frown, she looked up at him again. "Shouwd I get a handew?"