"Dude, he teleported!" Felicity shouted in awe. As the blue glow of pure magic caused him to disappear, only to reappear several feet away again, Felicity's eyes glowed in curious fascination.

He seemed agile and quick. His form was still unrecognized by Ashla, but everything about him screamed of ages of experience. A smirk crossed the ice mage's face. He was unpredictable. She liked unpredictable. After he motioned the group to attempt another attack, Ashla pulled her sword into a lowered side guard. She was now leading the offensive. Her feet light above the grains of sand, the half-elf darted ahead of her younger companion, "Remember your form."

Even if Felicity was no longer her student, Ashla was always watching her back. Keeping her in check. Felicity was still young, like herself, and Ashla had the feeling that this humbly dressed opponent was far more experienced than the young redhead. Her pale face was serious from ages of war. As her mismatched eyes glared into simple brown, the Eiskaltian Executioner of the Wicked made her move. If this opponent was capable of teleportation, the ultimate speed, the girls would need to play it dirty.

The sweat coated Icebreaker's movement's were simple and clean. As she dashed up to her opponent, Ashla dug her steel plated boot into the sand. Kicking it up, she hoped it would get into his eyes as she aimed a simple upper cut at his chest.

The dry desert was empty and burnt. Acting in turn to turn movement, if this attack failed, Ashla would step aside for the sturdier Felicity to take over. While Ashla was capable of being much more agile and even faster, the peredhel knew very well that energy was to be preserved in this dry lake of yellow. The waves of sand lightly tossed and turned as the storm of three duelists continued.

You can go, Duffy.