Finally, a Test

Saravok didn’t presently have a destination in mind. His long strides took him down the road away from the nearby city, metal boots stirring up small clouds of dust as his footfalls landed in the dirt. Food would be nice, food would be very nice indeed at this point in time; it had been a few hours since he had eaten and he wasn’t entirely hungry but was strongly considering a take at the jerky in his belt pouch. He had been walking for a little ways now, quite far enough away from the city to even be in sight of it anymore, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the wilderness – the open space it afforded was something he had come to value.

His armor creaked softly as he moved, his weapon in one hand and rested back against his shoulder – the simple yet effective firearm that had served him quite well since he had traded in for it a few months ago. Not the best for hunting, but certainly good enough for what basic jobs he had been able to find thus far in his new location; a bit of vermin hunting, clearing a few wild animals from where they had no place being, sending a message to some rowdy hoodlums who seemed to think his place of residence a perfectly good place to loiter noisily outside of. His helmet hung from the strong belt loop at his hip, unused as of yet.

He looked up, the sun blazing in the sky and the trees in front of him pulling him out of lackadaisical musings on whether or not to consume the delicious jerky in his pouch. Trees meant cover, and bandits loved hiding right at the intersection between open ground and trees. Easy to ambush, easy to chase since your prey will run into the open ground, easy to find a body in an open field… prime archery territory is what it all made. He still wasn’t too worried; these roads were generally safe to his understanding, but caution had paid off and kept him alive so far throughout his life and he was not about to completely forsake that now.

He casually unclipped the helmet from his belt and fastened it over his head, completing his suit of armor. He was a fearsome looking opponent with it completed, the plates interlocking over their leather bindings designed to not rub Saravok’s skin off – a rather unpleasant feeling in the best of circumstances. His weapon came down into his other hand as well, though he assumed no combat stance nor readied a shot or spell. Precaution never hurt anyone, but paranoia was another matter that Saravok didn’t take the time to care for; if you spent your whole life looking for the knife in the back, you usually got stabbed in the front.

Step, step, pain. That wasn't usually how things worked in Saravok's memory, but then again it was where the trees met an open space. The lightning bolt crashed down onto him as he ate the entirety of the spell and felt it sap the mobility out of his muscles. He smiled inside his helmet. "Oh dear, oh my, that wasn’t smart at all.” (Intimidation level 5 activated) His voice breathed a quiet anger mixed with a certain excitement; combat, avoided where it could be but ultimately inevitable, brought out the virtues in you, and Saravok enjoyed the fight once it was begun in most situations. Having half expected a confrontation here, he aimed to show his attacker their mistake.

Saravok spun around, scanning the trees and their sparse growth. The lightning bolt had come from above him and the forest floor lacked the kind of serious vegetation needed to actually manage to hide someone well. The trees were the only real option for someone to be unseen at first, and even those weren’t a particularly good choice given the season. In a moment he saw a shape that did not belong in a tree; a piece of clothing, and out of it materialized an enemy. Not practiced in stealth then, Saravok thought to himself, works well enough for me.

He did not attack immediately, rather he straightened and looked at the small mage who had attacked him. “You there, little one, I don’t know your affiliation, but attacking me was a mistake.” His body began to shrink down to her size, his form changing and his armor following it. His figure grew slimmer, more feminine, and light blue hair dropped down out of his helmet to his shoulders. With one hand he reached up and removed his helm, revealing Iwamichi’s own face looking up at her, a trickle of blood running down one side of her face and a smile curling up at both ends.

Transformation magic; he wasn’t any kind of advanced at it, but he had found it an incredibly useful tool in his adventures already and planned to make use of it as much as he could to gain an advantage in whatever situation he thought it might assist him in. Upon seeing a mage so much younger than him, he thought this may well be such an instance – and indeed one where he likely needed to recover an advantage lost. Though his outfit and weapon stayed the same – he lacked the ability to copy the look of those – he took on her physical form just as exactly as he could see her. What he couldn’t see was speculation, but her face… that was what he needed most, and that was what he had.

“I’ve got scars you wouldn’t believe, little one; scars that run deep across my body from those who thought themselves above me, and scars linked to memories that have given my blood a certain capacity for violence. So let’s see if you hate yourself more than I hate you. You may have slowed my body, but my bullets are fast as ever!” he let fly a thunderous shot from his weapon (20 damage) right at where she was perched, the sound of the shell igniting ringing out in the open air. With that much foreshadowing Saravok didn’t figure it would be a hard shot to avoid, had she been paying attention, but it would at least get her out of her little niche.

Iwa requests that you don't post in this because she needs to fix stamina cost and such for the spells she's using. Just relaying a message