Duels were supposed to be illegal but students at the Templar's college always had a knack for causing the worst sorts of trouble.  Mammoth sized explosions were infrequent but not rare in the compound.  Nearing on a year ago there was even a minor demon that was summoned through a group ritual, causing general mayhem.  Death was common enough that while it evoked great sadness, it was usually not dwelled over long in favor of getting the students back to their studies as quickly as possible.  Despite the regulations, duels were still common enough - though they were always off of the grounds: two bitter foes squaring off against each other because of an actual or perceived slight, willing the other into submission or else unconsciousness.  A duel to the death was near unheard of.

This time, that was not the case.

These two, Elliott Strange and Mariana Bordeaux were not bitter foes - or at least they had not always been.  One could even say they were great friends... at one time.  Elliott, long the whipping boy of the unkindest of the professors and certainly the least capable student in the class, had once been mentored by the much more skilled Mariana.  Her dedication had been unwavering despite his lack of promise and their bond had seemed intractable.  But what friendship is made over time and trust is fragile; it is broken with a single act, a single word, even a thought.  And so was the case with these two, what was once trust and peace and love and been shattered in a moment.  With no warning, Mariana changed.  Her jovial and easy personality vanished, replaced instead with a skittish and emotionally explosive ghost.  She retreated from friends, at intervals screamed and cried for no reason.  The worst was when she saw Elliott unprepared.  There was no test to her vocal chords or the eardrums of bystanders like a chance encounter between the two.  Elliott, who had once seemed kind and tranquil did not back down from argument.  He once shoved her to the ground mid-scream, knocking the wind out of her, her lungs gasping for air as they drowned in hatred.  That was the second to last time they saw each other.

And such was the case for their last encounter: Mariana alone walking in the darkness of an oppressive summer night around the lake and near the southern forests.  Elliott chatted boisterously with a few newfound friends from the Hall of Bishops wandering aimlessly to get a respite from the stagnant castle air.  At first the former attempting to avoid the other, though when the conflict seemed unavoidable each holding their ground like lemmings with no leader.  At first, Elliot's company seems uncomfortable, their surprise at the meeting seems plain, though their leader tone is practiced and jovial, a murmur of comments evaporating into a boisterous laugh.

Mariana expression is ice.  At one hundred yards all had seemed normal until now.  But a shriek rises over the oppression of the wet summer air - a woman's voice.  "That. Was. Not. Love."  At a closer distance one could spy the head-sized ball of clay and earth conjured just above the woman's hand.  It took no interpretation whatsoever to see that conjured earth soar toward the group but off course, colliding with the thick branch of a lakeside tree and shattering the limb to splinters.  Nor did it take much imagination to see the second missile conjured in hand - just as massive and deadly as the first.

"Watch yourself, love."  Despite his attempt at calm, Elliott's voice was now elevated, afraid.  His words clear where they had been muddied; he was strung like a bow.  "Never."  Her eyes burned hatred and fire where there had once been calm waters.  "Call me love."  Again, the projectile misses, this time within inches of its target before it splashes off harmlessly in the lake, sending a foot high ripple to the ends of the waters.

Miss me once, shame on you.  Miss me twice shame on me... it is this saying perhaps that ignites Elliott who has no will to die.

"Maxima Fuego" He shouts as sprouting flames catch at his feet and erupt skywards, bursting several paces forward and in all directions.  Mariana is the center of the blaze, her whole body immediately obscured by the dancing fires up to her face.

Screaming.  Heat spews from the center of the fire as the flames lick higher and the few near bystanders cover their faces from the immense, bellowing furnace.  In a moment the scream stops and the figure emerges, encased in flames, headed not for the lake but directly at her foe.  She grabs at his robes, her hair engulfed in flame as she scorches the material of his clothing.  Elliott's face now is all fear, anger and shock as he does the only thing he can think, what he has done before.  He shoves her to the ground.  The phoenix does not rise again, but writhes among the grass.

The brief moment of shock seems to have passed as the others in the group use various skills at their disposal to try and stem the flames - one levitating the lake water to the flames, another creating dirt atop to fall on the fires and douse the fuel, the last destroying the very air with a tiny 'pop'ing noises in an attempt to suffocate the blaze.  Elliott himself seems only capable of staring into the blaze, his soul lost in the flickering light.  At first the others seem to be only able to stem the spread of the magical blaze with the fires fighting back as it continues to consume everything within its bounds.  It is perhaps only the better part of a minute however, before the flames are beaten back and extinguished, the earth beneath their spread scorched bare though it is soaked by the repeated dousing of lake water.  The only remnants of Mariana a sodden pile of ash, ankle high and spreading outward at the fringe - the very tips running in trickling streams back to the lake.  One of the group, horrified, flees to the flees to the safety of the castle walls.

Nearly a half of a mile away, Brother Loke lets his curtain fall as he steps back from his window, a hint of smile on his lips.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:07, Fri 02 Dec 2016.