What strange magic is this? (Scott) [10 post battle]

[Jason]

OoC: I'm going to try something new that I don't think the BA has ever seen before. I'm going to set limitations on the battle to ensure that it finishes. So, here are those limitations:

1. The battle can only be ten posts in total. This is the first post.
2. Each post cannot be over 1000 words in length.

I don't know what character you'll be using, but I'll be using Kyrias as always. Let's show the BA how to really put on a show! The battle begins on a ship, but should progress to the land about halfway through to make the battle more interesting.


IC:

Kyrias sat as his desk, mumbling to himself, listening to the creaking of the decaying wood. It was an old ship, but plenty durable. He didn’t need to think twice before deciding to use it cross the Scoratian Sea. Now, as the ship approached the Coprana docks, he inked the last few sentences on his most recent work. The crew was above deck, guiding the ship and performing routine maintenance, making sure that the ship’s structure was in proper shape, making sure that it was guided safely to the docks, not more than two nautical miles away. It was fitting that Kyrias’s writing end here. He put down his pen, shut off the lamp, and picked up his staff. The room remained as it was – he had no luggage save his own knapsack, and that carried everything he needed. He gripped his father’s flower, and mumbled to himself again.

His mind flashed back to the uprooted tiles against The Dome. What had happened then? He couldn’t remember. He saw Karaza – yes, he had seen Karaza, and they had fought. But now it was nothing. Not only had he been utterly humiliated, but the shame had driven him away from The Dome once more. “We have a vendetta against you,” Karaza had told him, “and although you were once a teacher, you’re clearly not worthy any longer. Stop assuming that you’re privelaged and show your former students respect. But show me,” he paused, “that you’re not an old man. Show me that creative soul I once knew as my teacher. Show me that you’re not all magic and strength. Show me something new, teacher, and I’ll show you my attention.”

Kyrias had left The Dome after that, but he lost the will to find more Cobalite. Karaza had even tossed him a few stones he’d found during Kyrias’s absence. Kyrias refused them all, and left. Now, across the Scoratian Sea, in the town of Coprana, lived an old woman who supposedly practiced a different form of magic. Through his travels, he had heard various stories. Some said that the magic called upon the force of an otherworldly spirit, master of a domain beyond Earth, yet resting next to it. Information mavens argued that her technology was rooted deeply in ancient Japanese arts, and that the key to learning the old woman’s secrets lay in the user’s brush strokes against paper. Even more radical theories suggested that the medium used for the brush strokes determined the strength of magic, as if it the brush strokes were the plates on a capacitor, and the paper the dielectric.

“Kyrias, get up here!” a crew member shouted, waving his arm at the door. But Kyrias could not see.

“I’m coming – stop badgering me, Kyle! You’ve interrupted my writing at least six times in the past hour,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as his hands pushed the cabin door open. “What’s the fuss?”

“Look for yourself,” he said, pointing towards some green in the distance, then handing Kyrias a telescope to look with. “We’re closing in on the land.” Kyrias smiled; the ship shifted left, then jolted to the right. “But from up here, you can tell that the water’s choppy. I think we’ll be able to dock just fine, so don’t worry too much about it.”

“Thanks, Kyle. You don’t know anything about the old woman, do you? I can’t get this out my head.” He put his staff behind his back, parallel to his shoulders, and rested his arms on both sides of the beam. “And for god’s sake, take that cigarette out of your mouth. It’s disgusting, and the soot is all over the telescope.”

“Hey, s’long as you don’t puke over here, I’ll smoke all I want.” He turned away and began scrubbing the deck. Clearly, Kyrias thought, the man was bored – there was little to do with the ship sailing smoother than normal and land coming nearer. It seemed like half the crew had taken a break. The sky was clear and blue, and the sun heated the water off the deck as quickly as the speckles of liquid fell upon the wood. Paradise, as long as one wore shoes.

Someone called from behind him – from the back of the ship. “Hey, Kyrias!”

The captain.

He waved with one hand and steered the ship with the other. “Howsabout conjuring up some wind with that magic of yours to make this thing go faster? I’m starving, and I’ve been driving this wooden mess all day and night. Spare me the time to go get myself a decent meal!” He scratched his face, blocked by his beard. Ash fell from his cigarette onto his beard. Most of the crew liked to smoke; Kyrias ignored it for the two days of the trip.

“Sure thing, captain. Just let me get in the right spot, and… Titan Wind!” A strong gust came from miles behind the ship, striking the sails, the crew, and the hull. The wood creaked incessantly, and the crew members began to complain. “Watch it with that thing!” they shouted. But with that gust, the ship propelled forward faster than ever before. Kyrias felt tired – he hadn’t done proper magic in a while, especially powerful wind-summoning magic. It was more taxing than he remembered.

Then, amidst the complaints, Kyrias heard a splash from the back of the ship, nearby the captain. “Man overboard!” a crewmember screamed.

Together, while the captain stabilized the ship, Kyrias and the crew lifted the drowning person out of the water. It was not a crew member, but a stranger – a stranger who, unbeknownst to Kyrias and the crew, had stowed away on that humble ship. As the net lifted the stranger out of the water, Kyrias saw the man’s face…