ABRAXAS MODS (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abraxasmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxasooc2022-01-20 09:31 am
abraxasmods) wrote in abraxasooc2022-01-20 09:31 am
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME #5
TEST DRIVE MEME
Welcome to the fifth test drive meme for Abraxas! This meme is run a little bit differently than most in that you'll be asked to choose one of the three different arrival scenarios below for your character to take. If you have any questions about this mechanic or anything else related to the TDM, please take a look at the questions below or ask one of your own under the Questions header below. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.
Our Setting pages are full of information on the world of Abraxas, and an overview of the story so far can be found on our Game History page! Anything on that page - including information about the Horizon and the Singularity - can be assumed to be told to newcomers after they arrive, no matter which faction they are received in. For more information on Ambrose and the apprentice mages, Marlo, and Rowan, please see our NPCs page.
You can also find answers to questions asked on previous TDMs in their respective questions threads— 1, 2, 3, and 4.
Arrival
You awaken suspended in the abyss, silent darkness stretching out in all directions. If you try to yell, you'll find that the sound doesn't carry. If you try to move, you'll find it's impossible to tell whether or not you're actually getting anywhere. If you reach for an item you were carrying last time you remember being awake, your hand will only touch bare skin.
You're naked and floating helplessly through the void, and what little air you have in your lungs is running out.
There's a pinprick of light that almost looks like a faraway star but as it grows it becomes clear that it's actually quite close. Through the opening you can see a bright room, but it's hard to make out any individual objects, as if you're looking from beneath rippling water.
Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne
A hand plunges through and you realize water is just what it is. Whether you take hold of the hand or not it will grab you and yank you up through the surface, lifting you out until you're sprawled on solid ground. Once you catch your breath, you can get a better look at the surroundings: tall trees and even taller stone pillars surround the platform you're laying on. Behind you is an ornate fountain, the base of which is so deep and so dark you might be compelled to scramble away from it lest it suck you back in to that endless abyss. Ahead of you are the walls of a large castle with several tall towers reaching up towards the sky.
If you had any powers, they feel unusually weak. Attempts to use magic or enhanced strength or powers of any sort fizzle out without any effect, but they don't feel completely gone, either.
Set into an indent on a marble slab behind the fountain is a card bearing the image of one of the arcana.
An apprentice mage - the one whose hand lifted you out of the fountain - brushes the water off on their robes and runs back to join a group of three others, who all stare intently at a mage with highly decorated robes and a large, heavy book. He peers up at you for a moment and starts flipping through the book.
"One moment," he says, not bothering to look up from the tome. He looks tired. "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. We’ll explain everything in a moment, but for now, please calm down. You’re completely fine."
Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the pages, until he stops on one specific passage, stares at it for a moment, and then sighs with relief:
"Finally!"
Ambrose's expression brightens, relief visible across his features. He waves one of the apprentices over with a fine silk tunic, pants, and some basic sandals and with a wave of his hand they reshape to fit you perfectly.
"Oh, thank heavens," he says, closing the book and approaching you with a sort of worn-out relief. “I was beginning to believe we’d never get it exactly right.”
Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem to visibly relax, and the one that handed you the tunic stops to take the tarot card down from the marble slab. If you show any curiosity about the card, they'll let you take a longer look, but won't let you touch it.
"Please, come with me," he says, motioning for you to follow him towards the castle. "As promised, my pupils will explain your current situation. And, ah - if you had any magic of your own, or other special abilities you can't access right now, fear not, they'll return within the week. The summoning takes a lot out of you."
One of the apprentices steps forward and rattles on and on about the castle, Thorne itself, the names of a bunch of royals and nobles, and of course, your reason for being here. The Kingdom and the world itself is in great peril, and tales of your exploits have reached far and wide across universes. If asked about these exploits, the apprentice will simply smile and shrug. The High Mage was happy to see you and that's good enough.
Once inside the castle you're taken to the North Wing, which has been set up as living quarters for you and your fellow newcomers. There are four people to a room, but each generously-sized bed has opaque curtains that can be drawn around it. You can meet your roommates here and discuss your shared situation (those who were previously brought in may have a great deal of information to tell you), or you can wander around and meet the others.
There's also a dining hall stocked with a rotating 24/7 buffet in celebration of the new honored guests. Somehow, your very favorite food is part of the rotation (or at least an attempted recreation of it given the limited technology available to the Thorneans). The town surrounding the castle is all abuzz as well, with most shops and services willing to give free samples of their wares to the new arrivals.
You may also notice that your sign is embroidered on your tunic: the same image you saw on the card from before with the name of the sign itself beneath it. If you ask the castle residents, they'll tell you a little bit about your sign (and will mostly stick to the positives, although some might point out the negatives).
Last (and, if you ask anyone else in the castle, least) there is a worn stone staircase leading underground to the dungeon. You can go there, if you wish, but all powers are restricted in the dungeons and most of the cells stand empty.
Scenario Two: Welcome to Cadens
You find yourself pulled from the water by a pair of strong hands. Dry warmth hits you at once as you're set on a warm hard floor. As your senses return you realize you're on dull ruddy stone and surrounded by strangers. Men and women in unfamiliar uniforms of brown and red leather stand in a semi-circle around a small pool of water. The very pool you were just pulled from. The water is still now, rimmed in pale gold tiles with odd symbols etched into them. Across it on the far side is a raised pedestal with a card propped on it. The card bears an arcana symbol.
You feel weak. Drained. Any abilities or magical powers you have seem far away and impossible to access. You're in what looks like a cave lit by dozens and dozens of torches set into the wall. There's no furniture or decoration to be seen besides the pool. It's almost uncomfortably warm and there's the sound of rushing wind somewhere in the distance. Flickering shadows obscure the faces of the guards. A robed woman stands off to the side, looking at you anxiously and then to the authoritative woman standing before you. She's grinning, dressed in a fancier uniform than the others. There's a sword at her hip. A guard covers you with a blanket and returns to their place in the semi-circle.
The woman with the sword gives a nod of approval and smiles warmly.
"Sorry about the circumstances."
She gives you a good hard look before standing again.
"Take a minute, catch your breath, you've had quite a shock. Take it nice and easy. I'm Prime Minister Marlo Reiner and you're in The Free Cities. That nice lady over there will explain everything to you and get you settled." A nod to the robed woman off to the side.
Marlo Reiner steps back and the robed mage approaches to help you up.
"Come with me, please." She brings you out of the cave through a corridor that angles upwards until you emerge in what looks like some kind of storage facility. Shelves of wooden boxes and cloth bags line them, unidentifiable parts of what might be machines are tucked into corners and propped against shelving units. "This is one of the Free Cities' outposts," the mage explains as she leads you. "We're honored to have you with us, I'm sure you have many questions but please save them. You need to recover!"
You'll learn you're in the Cadens Desert Outpost 003, a military outpost on the outskirts of Cadens city. You're brought to a room in the barracks that's been prepared. Each barracks room is rather sparse and utilitarian. Six simple beds set against the wall, three on each side of the room, each with a trunk at the foot of it. You're told the world is in a delicate and dangerous times and you're needed to help. You're important, you're told, and they're very grateful you're here.
You're asked to stay close for the time being, but to make yourself at home. The outpost is more a proper military base than the name implies, with full facilities. The barracks have a communal bathing room at the end of the hall, with curtains that can be pulled around the individual raised round tubs for privacy. There's a mess hall that has food available from sun up till a few hours after sundown. You're even encouraged to make use of the training grounds, if you'd like, with non-lethal training weapons available for use and obstacle courses set up. And the city of Cadens is only a couple of hours away by wagon - though you're asked initially to please be back at the outpost within a few hours of the sun going down.
For your own safety.
Scenario Three: Welcome to Solvunn
The feeling of floating is the first sense that comes to you as the edges of unconsciousness start to ebb. Sunlight filters through the rippling water as you open your eyes, making you squint. Before you have the chance to panic and inhale, firm hands grasp your arms and pull you to the surface of the water. Moments later, soft warmth is wrapped around your shoulders as you're guided on unsteady legs out of a pool of water. You're lowered to the soft grass. Men and women in simple garments with lavish embroidery stand by, waiting with bated breath, glancing seriously at an old man in an ornate robe. He holds an old leather-bound book in one hand and in the other is a card bearing an arcana symbol. His eyes move quickly over the page, and he mumbles idly to himself.
Any strength you may have possessed feels as though it has slipped through your fingers. Any abilities or magical powers you have don't come to the surface no matter how hard you try. You're in a grassy clearing in the midst of a circle of large stone slabs stacked to look like doorways. In the middle is the same glimmering pool you were just pulled from. A gentle breeze blows through, carrying the scent of flowers and herbs from an ornately decorated altar set off in front of one of the stone doorways. The mage closes his book and steps out of the water, addressing a matronly old woman. Behind her are two younger people, a rough-looking man, and a meek young girl, both of whom are also watching the mage.
“I detect no ill will from the gods, it seems we've been blessed with success.” Those that had gathered all breathe a sigh of relief and now seem pleased.
The old woman smiles and steps forward, offering to take your hands and help you stand. “Any gift the gods give us is one we will happily take. I'm certain you have many questions, and they will all be answered in time. For now, rest and know you will be taken care of.”
She pats the top of your hand and steps away with a serene smile, letting one of the others come forward with some clothes that seem to fit you perfectly. The rough-looking man from before steps forward once you're decent and motions with his head outside of the stone circle. His speech is informal, his consonants harsh.
“Hold your horses, I can see all those questions coming about! Rowan March, at your service. I'm one of the council members of Solvunn. There's a lot to discuss, but it's best talked about over a hot meal.” He leads you to a horse-drawn carriage and helps you up into the back. He talks the entire ride to the settlement.
You find out you are in the Primary Settlement, the first of three that make up Solvunn's great territory. The settlement is situated between two lakes and is humming with life. You're brought to the center of town and escorted to an apartment above one of the establishments in town. Rowan explains that the living conditions are temporary if you'd like them to be, that local families would also be happy to host you in their home. That there are others like you who have also taken up residence within the three settlements. You're told that the world hangs upon the brink of disaster and that there are those in this world that are happy to see it fall to ruin with their meddling.
You're important. The gods have graced them with your presence. They're delighted you're here. Welcome to Solvunn.
Everything you need has been provided in this humble apartment, and if it hasn't, there are shops that line the streets and a marketplace in the center of town. Owners of some establishments or stalls are more than happy to give out samples or barter with your time for their goods. Babysitting can be a very lucrative business. You're told of the other settlements, that they'd like you to stay here for now, but if you can find a family to host you, the secondary and tertiary settlements are best to get to with an escort.
There are tales of travelers visiting the secondary settlement without invitation disappearing without a trace. The gods are as hungry as they are protective, young traveler.
You’ll find that there are more than enough activities to throw yourself into to better settle into your new life in Solvunn. Work is done in the first part of the day so that families can spend the rest of it together in leisure and work on their crafts - whatever those may be. For those children who are not of school age, they need nannies or storytellers, and there’s always a gaggle of them running about unsupervised. Families with livestock can always take a spare hand, especially since farms are so spread out, they have a tendency to wander. Whatever skills you may possess can always be of use to the community or to honor the gods.
If any of these options are no good for your lifestyle, the main roads between settlements can always use a bit of monster clean-up… just make sure you don’t go alone.
How many slots are open?
Currently, there are 23 slots open for new players. We will process activity check before opening applications, so we will have a better idea of the exact count then. Existing players can apply for a second character without restriction.
How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Which faction your character is drawn into has nothing to do with their personal morality, beliefs, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into any one of the situations.
Can I try out more than one scenario?
You can! But please keep in mind that only the one you eventually choose can be game canon, if you decide to keep any of your TDM threads.
What happens if my character refuses to comply with the NPCs?
They will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and the faction leaders will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, they will be warned once that everyone is willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight they will make good on that promise.
My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the cities, murdering the NPCs, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other NPCs would be thrown back in the well (which will mean drowning in the void, not returning home). Brawling with other PCs and causing minor damage is fine and will be greeted with a cranky attitude and intervention from various NPC guards, and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Abraxans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.
I want to wildcard a prompt or use one of the prompts from an earlier TDM that isn't on this one (eg. the library), can I do that?
Yes, in terms of the settings. As Thorne is no longer imprisoning any newcomers, that option is no longer applicable.
Is the power loss for characters permanent?
No, but it does take a week or so for their powers to be back in full, and certain powers (determined on a case-by-case basis) may require nerfs. If your character has world-breaking powers, please discuss with the mods what modifications may be necessary.
Can my character leave the bounds of the faction?
In Thorne, characters can leave the castle but not the city. In Cadens, they can take a trip from the outpost to the city. In Solvunn, they can explore the entirety of the Primary Settlement.
Can my character eventually change factions?
Yes. While the faction borders are currently closed, there will opportunities in the future for characters to relocate. For the time being, they are stuck where they are.
How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will determine where your character initially lives as well as the bias of the information they receive from NPCs (although other PCs can and most likely will give it to them a bit more straight). This decision - and every other major decision you make in game! - will also be used to flavor some mod surprises that will be coming down the line.
Don't get too anxious about this choice, though; this is just one choice you'll get to make in a game that has a lot of them, and every character in every scenario can work their way towards many, many individual goals and outcomes. You're not locking yourself out of anything in the future via the choice you made on the TDM. It will primarily impact the immediate future with the far-reaching effects being up to each player.
Are TDM threads mandatory for my application?
No, you may use other samples, but we encourage you to post to the TDM and get a feel for this game and its mechanics before you join. If you do not have a TDM thread you will still need to choose one of the three scenarios on your application.
What if I haven't settled on a sign yet?
You can ignore sign-related prompts if you're undecided (or try out different signs in different threads).
Can my character go to the Horizon?
First time visitors to the Horizon must be taken there by other characters, through either shared meditation or a physical journey to the Singularity, and all first-timers experience memory loss. For the purposes of the TDM, we suggest against using the Horizon.
What about making use of the network?
Much like Horizon they would need to be introduced to it by another PC, as no NPCs would be aware of the network or be able to access it. Because of this we would advise against using this mechanic for TDM top-levels.
return to main navigation
cadens; wildcard / fite nite
He'd say he felt sick, and yeah. That's not wrong. But it was something else too. A coldness that suddenly washes over him- a tensing of every muscle in his body to the point where they ache and it hurts- every hair seemingly standing on end, and a blankness that seemed to permeate everything.
And his head. Fuck, his head. It's a sharp pain. A throbbing pain- as if shards of glass are embedded into his skull, poking and prodding and piercing and-
He'd walked where his legs had taken him. Sloped, actually. Half dragged himself, his head fixed between both hands, his mouth only opening to leak out vague, small utterances- some pained, some rambling, but all nonsensical. Some of the soldiers stationed within, as he'd walked and walked, limped and stumbled, had called out to him. They yelled something about a restricted area- some even asking if he was alright- but he'd ignored each of them.
They weren't important.
The only important thing was-
He's taken down quickly enough. Of course, the soldiers that had spotted him had communicated with others. Before he can even reach the building designated for the summonings, he's stopped, and sharply- his vision turning black and the pain finally, finally ceasing.
But it'd started once again as soon as he regained consciousness.
Lighter, yes. He must have been further away. That's all but signaled by an urge- an implacable urge to follow.
And follow he does.
Fortunately, his interrogation doesn't last long. Some assumption about some kind of alcohol smuggled in from Cadens seems to be the first and only reasoning behind a grunt, an unremarkable one at that, finding his way there, mumbling something about his mother, and apparently, resisting detainment.
He's dressed down, that's for sure. He's released back to his squadron, and into some (A lot of) yelling from his drill sergeant. The squadron itself is punished with a series of petty little punishments. Waking up early (earlier) to provide breakfast. Tidying up after. Drills and tasks and-
They're sore. He knows that, from the way they're looking at him as the list is added to and added to.
But he doesn't care.
That afternoon, he's snuck from the barracks. He's out, and he's on his way to Cadens.
The only thing that mattered was following.]
here we GO
Sephiroth stands amongst a small group viewing the entertainment provided by a street performer: feats of dexterity and agility that would be impressive he wasn’t a SOLDIER, likely. But though his gaze does not wander, his mind is elsewhere, ripped away from the present to—
Something else.
Something he had once felt like a shadow following him, quietly dogging his heels. A feeling of awareness, knowing of an existence that isn’t his own, somehow stirring in his own waking consciousness. It had remained far away, so much that he considered it a strange side-effect of being relocated to a new world so suddenly, so brazenly. But now?
It’s nearer. It’s converging. It scratches at the back of his skull in a way he cannot ignore, and finally, when it becomes far too distracting than he knows what to do with, he turns to look over his shoulder.
At a distance, a blond man is walking his way. Recognition flickers dully, contrasted stark against this connection that feels too much like a tether. Who is that? Is he the cause? What kind of magic is he wielding?
He has no reason to do much more than wait and see. For now.]
sorry for the delay! busier than expected weekend ;;
...That is, until now.
He's staring at Sephiroth, most certainly. The streets, the people, none of it means anything. It's all in the way, it's all background, irritating little disturbances that threaten to command his attention. Yet all of the noise, all of the activity, all of the public forums in session on this very street, all of the performances that line it, clamouring with music and shocked gasps and rushed applause from spectators, does not command any inch of it.
All that he has is the pull.
This pull, of something he doesn't know, something he doesn't understand- fashioned by his mind into vengeance. Of finishing something that should have been ended long ago- of making something right. For that was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that made the feeling make sense.
Perhaps in another place, another time, he would have people- trusted friends- to ground him. Their presences would be ones he would feel he would have to protect. Even without their words, their better ideas, the fear of something happening to them would have him do this another way.
But they're not here.
The only thing, to him, is him and Sephiroth.
His walk, brisk- had turned into a run. And his standard-issue sword- a singlehanded, flimsy thing, is pulled from its holster. There's a faint scream, far behind him, as he finds himself running at the SOLDIER- and he doesn't know if the scream is from someone in the crowd who saw him, or the scream is his own.]
no worries at all!
The crowd parts like a wave, confused and panicked. They make room for the stranger barreling forward with an unknown rage, and the performers behind Sephiroth stop mid-act and stumble away from what appears to be a collision bound to happen. The SOLDIER, of course, pays attention to none of that; his focus is just as surefire sharp as the man coming towards him, heightened by some strange connective tissue that he still cannot ignore.
He can read his attack. It's clear as day, and he's already raising his blade to meet it. (A blade that is too short, too strangely balanced, unsatisfactory, but it will have to do.) The distance shortens between them in a breadth of a moment. The world itself truncates to allow the space and consciousness of two people -- himself and who?
He knows him. With each passing millisecond, he grows more certain of it. A flash of memory squeezed in-between these two blistering moments: that same head of hair, that same facial structure, yet gone a little sharper with the passage of time. A young grunt with his helmet practically plastered to his head. How? Why?
The command comes easy despite knowing that it'll get lost in the storm. He holds his ground, ready and certain that he can take the oncoming force with a block or a parry of his own steel.]
Stand down!
no subject
It doesn't matter people are running. It doesn't matter who gets in the way.
This is bigger than all of that.
It's bigger than this city. It's bigger than this world to him, bigger than anything- it's opportunity. He can end it.
Iron meets iron in a loud clang, and Sephiroth, maybe, would be surprised. The blow is one struck with Cloud's favoured arm, his right- but it's not one that is skillful even in the slightest. The power behind it though, concentrated into his blade would be comparable to being hit by a truck. Enough, more than likely, in Sephiroth's weakened state, to force him to the left.
Perhaps he'd be more surprised by the fact he might not even be able to see where the next blow was coming from, Cloud's arm moves that quickly. ]
...You killed everyone!
[More, and more, and more blows come, for the SOLDIER to parry or deflect but more than likely lose ground to. The ferocity of which should not come from anyone- least of all the soft-spoken infantryman he may or may not remember from Nibelheim.]
no subject
So it shouldn’t be surprising that his apparent opponent’s strikes affect him, shifting his center of mass when it used to be unmovable, made of stone. But the force behind it, even if they weren’t bolstered by rage, is like being struck by a moving vehicle. It staggers him this way and that despite Sephiroth’s precision-quick parries, technique and experience keeping him from outright being cut in two. How? As another swing is blocked at his side, shaking every bone in his arm, he has to take a two-handed stance to bolster his steel and balance both. This isn’t the strength of an infantryman; this cannot be the same man he knows—Strife, that was his name—who never showed so much fire. This is the strength of a SOLDIER, and a SOLDIER he was not.
But in the flurry, he catches a closer look at the expression he wears. Twisted with the haze of anger; and those eyes.
It isn’t possible. Maybe he made a mistake. Maybe this isn’t the man he thought it was.]
You’re talking nonsense.
[During a fight, where his focus leans heavily into keeping pace with the other, he cannot bother to yell, only to speak in a cold, commanding tone, which may be all the more frustrating. Wires have been crossed. Identities have been mistaken. He hasn’t killed “everyone” unless that “everyone” encompassed those who fought against him in the Wutai War years ago, and why would that—
Thoughts do not have time to connect. The crowd has chiefly given them a wide berth, but a few stragglers remain confused by the two men with steel ringing out between them, and run wherever their feet take them. A terrified man gets too close to a sword swing, and he lashes out an arm and pushes him away. Cloud’s gotten in far too tight as a result, and Sephiroth opts to whip around with his elbow, to buy him interruption and time.]
no subject
Even three to one, it was an onslaught. Sephiroth was unmoved as he'd hit him. But it seemed something else. Both there and at the edge of creation, it seemed Sephiroth knew every move he'd take before he'd even thought it as if he were a cat playing with prey before he would tire and destroy it. Which, needless to say, is a marked difference from the man's only capabilities here being to parry and be batted around.
If he had any idea what he was doing, other than attempting to take him out, he'd notice. But his rage is far too strong, his anger blinding him. Each parry earns Sephiroth nothing more but a harder, more vicious strike from another direction- and should he not have noticed that Cloud had the strength of a SOLDIER, he certainly had the endurance of one.
The blows are crushing, even from such a light sword. Every one seems harder, quicker, and he shows absolutely no sign of slowing- even when the aforementioned man comes far too close, and almost has his head removed from his shoulders courtesy of a particular backswing from Cloud. Fortunately, Sephiroth's shove averts it- and Cloud sees it. Yet he lunges forward once more, undeterred, his blade meeting Sephiroth's as he pushes against it.
Now, more than likely, Sephiroth would be able to view him properly. He's short, most certainly. His features should be about the same as the grunt from Nibelheim- a fair complexion, a nose and a mouth that border on delicate- but there are differences. He looks... gaunt, almost. Whereas that recruit was barely even an adult and the angles of his face were soft, rounded, this man appears older simply by that being removed. Far removed.
And his eyes. Other than the obvious mako halo entwined within his iris, they're not showing even a hint of the reticence, the ...sadness(?) that seemed to come from that recruit without him even realizing it. Instead they're sharp. Hateful.
And as for what comes out of his mouth-]
Nonsense?! You bastard...! You torched my village! You murdered my entire hometown as they ran from the flames! That's nonsense to you?!
[He's pushing now. Really pushing, and Sephiroth might want to do something about that. For in terms of raw strength at least, Cloud currently outmatches him.
And then there's that elbow. It's not enough to stagger him, but it's enough to make him lose his balance, briefly.]
no subject
The scope of relevant experience from which he can draw from is thin. Maybe as a child he knew this feeling in the earliest days of his training, but those memories are distant; gone hazy because Sephiroth so rarely thinks back on them. Even that would be useless, now — here, he needs to rely on quick-thinking, and creativity born from a lifetime of training.
Later, when his strength has returned, he’d likely appreciate the challenge if not for the accusations constantly flung his way. Torched a village? Murdered an entire hometown? He would have remembered that, he isn’t that kind of man despite the fear some have of him. It’s motivation enough to end this quickly for the sake of silencing the slander, and Sephiroth does not bother to reply.
Another parry, another stretch of lost ground. His elbow had connected and it does not stagger, but it shows him that unbalancing his new enemy is possible. It’ll have to be his new approach, turning an advantage into a weakness. If he can manage it.
He does little more than parry and fall back in the next few seconds. Each swing blocked is heavy and he feels pain running up and down each arm, but he keeps the fight moving back until they are only yards away from a great stone building, directly behind him.
Until another swing crosses his blade, and he halts there, momentarily. Coldly—]
You’re not strong enough to break my guard.
[With that, Sephiroth disengages with a backward step, but doesn’t follow through with an attack. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. He’s thrown out the bait, and with any luck, Strife(?) will take it. He needs but a second to use the other’s own ferocious momentum against him.]
no subject
He doesn't care for the fact he's using the weapon wrong. Nor the fact he's become blinkered. All that matters to him- all that still matters to him is hitting him hard enough to break his guard, break his parry, and to force his blade through him the moment he's unguarded.]
Shut up!
[A flare of wilder, deeper anger flares- mostly at Sephiroth's lack of comment on his alleged crimes. It's enough to have him twist the blade away from its current stalemate against the others, for him to twist his arm to have it directed toward the other- point forward- and to have him thrust at what he perceives to be an open area harshly- thoughtlessly- more or less following up as soon as the other takes that single step backward.
And Sephiroth has his second.]
sephiroth's most graceless win ever
Not all of his SOLDIER training has informed his fluid style of swordplay; some of it was baser, less graceful, but effective regardless. The foundational nitty-gritty in which to build the rest of his skills, embedded in him for years now: which is why he doesn’t think twice about kicking out a boot to gracelessly send Cloud straight into the wall, knocking into his legs with any success.
Assuming he is successful, his next move is easy. A shoulder-check right into his back, to guarantee his face meets that stone wall right behind them both.]