TRP is a post-Great War AU RWBY RP set in Mistral City and Haven Academy with no canons, no rank claims, no maidens, and no god interference. We offer a progression system and site-wide events that change the setting based on player actions.
Post by Argent Steele on Nov 6, 2019 15:54:36 GMT -5
I know you got hate in you. Most do. Trick is to use it, 'stead of it usin' you.
But you know this. Vengeance is a motivator, not the motive. Don't hunt 'em 'cause you been wronged. Hunt 'em 'cause what they did was wrong. There's a world of difference there, kid. One makes you selfish. The other makes you a hero.
And I see a hero in you.
It was all set up now.
For the past two weeks, Argent had been slowly getting used to life at Haven. He hadn't known what to expect going in, but he'd gotten a general idea from what Shin and Jade had told him. The two were from Beacon Academy over in Vale, but combat schools had enough in common that they could tell him the basics, more or less. Training that was going to be much harder than the rudimentary motions they'd put him through, and students who were likely going to be stronger, faster, and all around just better than him. The criteria for selection that Huntsman Academies had for their students were high, and just because the Fall had happened recently didn't mean that those standards would be dropped anywhere near a significant amount. The first part had proven true, with the training that he'd gotten from Professor Shadecloak tougher by several degrees than what he'd gone through from Shin and Jade's combined efforts. The second - well, apart from a few outstanding students, the rest seemed to be suffering as much as him under the lion Faunus' firm determination to keep pushing their limits.
And one of those outstanding students was one he would be facing today in the arena. There were no objectives to plan around, no environmental obstacles to rely on, and no teammates to help him out. Just him, and the other, with only their weapons and a flat expanse of concrete. If he fell here, there was no one to blame but himself.
It wasn't a bad way to train. Though more often than not he came away bruised and battered, the snake Faunus learnt more with every lesson. Whether it was in small team skirmishes, duels, or objective based matches, and regardless of who he went up against, Argent took away something from every opponent. Whether it was something benefit of their abilities that he could incorporate into his own arsenal, or an exploitable flaw that he could use against them and keep out of his own repertoire, or a fighting style that had principles and techniques that he could memorize, the young man had an ever growing list of mental reference material that he could call upon when fighting.
He'd need it for this round.
Across from him was one of the graduates from the vaunted Sanctum Academy. Located in Argus, and easily reachable by train - or would be, if the train wasn't currently out of commission and the city surrounded by bandits that made travelling far more difficult than it had to be. The combat school famous for turning neophytes into people worthy of being accepted at Haven, and churning out champions who would go on to become spectacular Huntsmen and Huntresses. The snake Faunus took a deep breath and gripped Subtle Calamity a little tighter, the weapon currently held in its bow form in his left hand as his opponent ascended platform to meet him.
That stiff greeting was all he could give before Shadecloak gave the go ahead for the duel to start, and he sank into a half crouch, lowering his center of gravity to better stabilize his aim and enhance his ability to react. The stance also minimized his profile, which was more important than the last fight he'd lost, since his opponent not only had ranged capabilities but was good at using them, and he really didn't want to be taken out by a cannonball this early into the fight. An arrow was nocked and fired off, and as he pulled the second from his quiver he started moving towards the right, preparing to fire again. He didn't expect to hit - these were ranging shots, and no doubt easily brushed aside given the twenty meter distance between them, but he could test her, at the very least, and glean from her reaction perhaps a slightly larger chance at victory.
WHISPER OF THE WYRM (SEMBLANCE): [RANK D]
SERPENT'S BENEDICTION: SPEED OF THE SCYLLA (SPEED) [RANK E] SERPENT'S BENEDICTION: DANCE OF THE DRAGON (AGILITY) [RANK F] SERPENT'S BENEDICTION: GLARE OF THE GORGON (MARKSMANSHIP) [RANK E] SERPENT’S BENEDICTION: WINGS OF THE WYVERN (ACROBATICS) [RANK F] SERPENT’S BENEDICTION: TALONS OF THE TARASQUE (MARTIAL ARTS)
Post by Kishka Burzanova on Dec 31, 2019 13:13:07 GMT -5
All told, she hadn't expected it to work.
She had asked Shadecloak a day or so ago if she would be willing to supervise a proper match between herself and another student, though she hadn't planned on getting a "yes." It was more of a formality, really- she was going to "try" and have the fight sanctioned, and when that inevitably failed, because what purpose would Shadecloak have had to fulfill her request, she would just make a venue for a public fight. Maybe in the student quad. That could have been fun.
But it seemed she had underestimated her professor's willingness to use a one-on-one fight as a classroom learning experience (something she would see a few more times in the coming weeks, of course. Hey, it was effective.)
It worked out nicely for her, at least. She got to have the fight she wanted, with the person she wanted to fight, in a venue best suited for it. Just the two of them and a level concrete battleground. She wasn't going to hold back, and if he knew what was good for him, then neither would he.
And she knew he knew better. They'd been training for days now. Well. Training was a word for it. A better word might be boot camp. Her pupil was a quick learner, but that didn't mean shit when she practically had to teach him how to fucking walk and talk before they could get to any real shit. He said he'd trained with Huntsmen, but with his sloppy-ass technique, she was hard-pressed to believe him. The next time his family saw him, they'd have something worth looking at, by the time she was done with him. You wanna make a better, stronger, sharper, sword, first you have to melt down the shitty blade, before you mold it and forge it into a worthy weapon.
And today, she was melting down her sword.
Standing across from her was a pitiful specimen of a Huntsman trainee. Arguably, he was average, at worst, objectively speaking, but average didn't graduate from Huntsman Academies. Average made it a year or two and dropped out because of the pressure. Average ended up stuffing their faces with doughnuts in a police force, or under-utilizing their top-of-the-line training in a construction site. The better ones weaseled their way into Combat School teaching gigs, the worst ended up on the streets and became bandits and thugs.
That's why he wasn't allowed to be average. Kishka had taken a personal interest in his success. He was her sword now, whether he liked it or not, and mediocrity was unforgivable.
And the first step towards being halfway competent was breaking him down into tiny pieces in front of all of their peers.
It wasn't even like this was going to make her look good- she wasn't doing it for that, he was too weak and pathetic to actually pose a threat. She'd kicked his ass in their training sessions every time they sparred. Doing it for real was, much like asking Shadecloak to sanction the fight, largely a formality. Beating him behind closed doors wouldn't force a change- the shame and embarrassment of public humiliation was necessary here, and she was going to provide that for him, in a way that only she could.
A cool, confident smile spread across her face and she stretched, holding Lucky 13 behind her head.
This was going to be way too easy.
She stared down at him, over her nose, despite their noticeable height difference. It's a skill one picks up from being the best- you don't actually need to be taller than the other person to glower over them, you just need a tall enough pedestal to put yourself on. "Argent. Hope you're ready, Golden-Eyes." Shade started the fight, and Kishka didn't seem to move at all, as Argent flew into position. It would be over very soon, but what kind of a predator would she be if she didn't humor her prey a little?
He crouched, making himself smaller. Predictable, but a good move; he knew about her ranged capabilities, of course, and was capitalizing on that. What he didn't know as much about was her skill at melee range, which was a calculated move on her part, as she was avoiding revealing that trump card until the Vytal Festival. But even without her better skillset, she was going to soundly wipe the floor with him.
The first arrow flew at her, but he had already made his first mistake in taking too long to aim, and more importantly, in staring her down as he did so- he was telegraphing his shot hardcore, and as the arrow flew at her, it was child's play to tilt her body just far enough away to avoid being hit. She would repeat that with the next arrow, and the next, as he went about testing the waters. After enough times, though she finally brought her weapon down from the back of her head, with a shoulder roll and a crack of her back. Another arrow whizzed towards her, and instead of dodging, this time she simply swatted it down with her hefty umbrella. Damn thing was in terrible need of a tune-up, but she didn't need it functioning flawlessly for this.
Beaming her brightest, most merciless grin his direction, she swung the umbrella out, aiming at him, and pulled the trigger, in one fluid, well-practiced motion.
The lead ball shot out, ripping through the air at the faunus, as she called out to him, loud enough for him to hear, but not so that the rest of the class could listen in. "I can see your shots coming from ten miles away. And even if I couldn't you're not putting any power into them- give me something to work with, Solid."
Or at least something different- if she wanted to dodge projectiles the whole fight, she'd have just gone to the batting cage in the training rooms.
Hopefully he could entertain her, while she taught him exactly how much better than him she was.
Notes// f l a s h b a c k | Tagged// @snake?snake!?SNAAAAAAAKE | WC// 1032 | TWC// 1032