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The wheat fields blowing in the wind was such a picturesque scene it was almost comical. That great moment when the hero of the story wondered about all of his life choices as the impending battle was likely to be his last. Somehow looking at the blowing waves of wheat he found self contemplation and resolve to do what must be done. In battle the hero would be successful, and his great quest over he would return to the family he had left behind with those golden fields. The comical bit was how unrealistic that was.

Vincent looked over the same fields that everyone else did, though he alone seemed to realize the severity of society. These guild spars over homes and territory were not only useless, but even detrimental to the situation he and others of his particular physical state found themselves in. It's all in good fun. He'd been told that once and couldn't help but cast away the person as a fool among many. If it was all in good fun there wouldn't be fights over who has a roof over their head and who gets to eat something more than a paltry piece of chicken or half rotten vegetables for the week. Though in many cases the world wasn't so spiteful that this held true Vincent found himself to be a pessimist and a realist and never expected anything good to come from no effort.

Today brought all of these thoughts to the forefront of his mind as he watched over the wheat field nearby, turning away anyone that wished to disturb his reflection. Unlike those great hero's Vincent knew he would not take a loss today and that there was no where for him to return to after the fact unless they won. Even in that case it was a new home, and one that would need to be constantly defended because of its luxury.

Time waned thin when Vincent rose from his solitary seat. Garbed in leather boots, a tight fitting t-shirt and armed with an assault rifle slung over his left shoulder the man looked like a guerrilla fighter more than a mage, but as his left hand pressed down on the air, calming the wind, it was evident he was both. It was nearly time to begin and so Vincent found himself alongside the water and other air mages.

“Lets get on with it then.” He mused to a close friend whom he often fought beside. The other man was smaller than him, somewhat fat and always in a good mood. He contradicted nearly everything Vincent believed in, but the man knew where he stood and refused to move which made Vincent respect him even if they disagreed on matters.

Cecil sighed as he listened to the others get up. Though still blind, his hand shot out in front of Castor and his eyes met the fire mage's, the dim and nearly pupil-less blue shades meeting an equally unsettling shade of light green adorned with a black slit. "Castor," Cecil said, his smile replaced with a stony expression so very unlike his normally upbeat nature. "I know I don't need to remind you again, but I will. You make sure Jo stays in one piece, got it?" Without waiting for a reply, Cecil stood, hoodie in one hand and the bone from his second leg of chicken in the other and made his way to the front of his guild, next to Abaloft. "Well old man? Isn't it about time we started?" He asked with a sly smirk as he draped the tattered cloth back over his shoulders.

Briar’s expression behind the mask turned grim, as the mage made quick work of his assault.
The projectile that did manage to hit him only managed to push him to the back of the room, and now after a disturbing sequence of flickering lights and shadows moving like limbs; a powerful jump had Briar’s foe standing right in front of him, fully armored in something that reminded one of chitin. While the projectiles were initially to gauge his opponent, he had still hoped they would’ve had more effect than they did.

It wasn’t over yet though, he still had enough materials to work with.There was water in abundance, the space around him rapidly dropped in temperature, and the clear, cold mist drifting off only served in expanding that area. His foe seemed to disregard all of that however, as he seemingly tried to intimidate him by bending a rifle, and that within arms reach. Why would he though? Two projectiles were still at his side after all. Did his enemy regard himself as victor already? If so, he was in for a surprise.

While Harper had posed himself to strike with his sword at anytime, Briar stood perfectly still, in anticipation of his foe’s move. “I’ll make you regret underestimating me” was what he thought to himself. Right when the sword came thrusting towards him, a sculpture of Briar, an exact replica made out of ice, lunged forward, intercepting the sword with it’s body, while he himself hopped back to the left. He could see how the sculpture was pierced effortlessly. It shattered in a dozen pieces, that flew in all directions, temporarily concealing himself from Harper. Using his powers, he willed ice to form on the floor behind Harper, which grew at an explosive rate, angled at his back. At the same time, one of two remaining ice projectiles was launched straight at his face.

While a rapidly growing pillar threatened to impact from behind, and a projectile from the front,
Briar didn’t leave it at that. With a slide, he had manoeuvred himself at Harper’s right flank, where he would expand his last projectile to five times it’s original size. It was so heavy that he could no longer hold it suspended in the air with just his mind, so he had to pose as if his hands carrying something, just to support it’s mass. With another motion of the hands, the sixteen hundred pound ball of solid ice was shot towards Harper with such force, the recoil threw Briar backwards, which in turn allowed him to slide further away from the man, to the point were his target had to leap again to close the gap. He wouldn’t let that happen so easily again though, and to counter that, he froze water around the underside of his boots till they formed a blade of ice under each sole; much akin to figure skates. Seeing no sense in standing in one spot, he made sure to stay in constant motion. He shouldn’t assume his attack did anything significant, but he sure hoped it did.

As Harper's blade came closer to his target he could no longer keep himself from following through. Even with his augmented strength stopping his momentum dropped away from being an option. Though it was no surprise that the mage dashed away from the attack. He was not in the same range as Harper and it was easy to see that he commanded more power from range then up close. However as the copy shattered, Harper lost vision of his target and he could no follow as the shattered form scattered over his armored form.

At this point he half expected a rebuttal from somewhere else off his flank, only to be met with another of those same spheres that came parading through the shattered ice and connecting with the edge of his head. Had he not been augmented at that moment, there was a good chance the impact could really do serious damage. But the strain of his body kept his faculties in place and his body from feeling the full impact. Though he could feel that a twinge was now apparent in his face, circling around the center of his nose and that was followed by the warm glide of blood coming from his one nostril.

The impact only caused him to recoil slightly back onto his heel, as well making him bring his arms back into a defensive position and the sound of ice forming causes him to react. Spinning around and using his elbow to shatter the leading edge of the approaching pillar. But at that moment he was too late to see the other threat, coming ironically from his flank as his head was beginning to turn.

His opponent had skill enough to generate a massive orb of ice and throw it reliably.
For all intensive purposes he was flat footed and could not really dodge from his position and was forces to stand his ground against the onslaught of ice. A feat that he had done similarly in the past, but he was not malnourished and deprived of his own powers for over a year prior in those days as well. So with a grimace behind his mask he clasp his hands before him and extends his armor to a point ahead of him right before impact and he is pressed against the wall by its sheer mass and force.

As the sphere pressed him into making contact with the wall, he narrowed the end of his projection and widened its base around him. Causing the ice to split like a log. Though the impact was great and his armor absorbed a portion, he could feel the impact take effect inside of him as his body was put on a considerable amount of strain. He was however in better shape then the rest of the room, pipes and wires were suffering from the intense cold generated and the impact now caused a large fissure to appear across the ceiling and floor in parallel to one another.

Harper let his power go for a moment, the wedge he generated was holding the ice in place and with it gone the two halves fell to each side. Rolling on each half end and crashing into containers all around the edge of the room as he stood to look at his opponent. Wiping the small trickle of blood from his nose he smirks for a moment.. "I see..You do have some skill." The lights began to flicker and sputter as the wracking chaos around them brought the filament inside to a strain. Then in that moment the lights cut out with a last whining snap through the air and then the emergency lights turned on. The room became flush with a low tone red aura, as if it was slowly coming to a boil.

Harper can see a steady stream of dust and debris pouring from the crack in the ceiling and a small smile slid across his face as he looked on. "But all things must come to an end.. eventually." He placed an open palm ahead of him and extended his arm towards the ice mage. A small disk of dark mas was forming on the flat of his hand and began to expand rapidly, its coverage becoming a large black wall that blocked the view of most of Harper's edge of the room. Not giving much time to reaction he slams his other hand against the back of the wall and causes a rather spry reaction. Several dozen points formed on the side of the wall and began to sprout out, growing as if like wild vines with a mix of crazed thrashing on the side. An attack that he would have rather used closer to his target, but this was not entirely meant to hit off the bat.

As the lashing tendrils thrashed their way across the body of the room, they mulched and destroyed nearly everything that came over their path. The walls, ceiling and floor suffered the same treatment as well as the wiping barbs did their best to destroy everything in the room.

“Send in reinforcements, i can’t handle this guy on my own. ” He said as he undid the clasps of his helmet. He did not wait to hear the response coming from the built in headset, for he had already pulled it off his head, and thrown it to the side. It would only get in the way after all.
The icy cold, and water cascading upon his head was a welcome sensation after the stuffy helmet.

The situation he found himself in was dire. Black tendrils wrecked through the fundamentals as they steadily made their way along the room. Even through the dim red light and rain, dust particles could be seen falling from the ceiling. Briar raked a shaky hand through his rain-slicked hair. The idea that he had to deal with both the the tendrils and falling debris had his heart rate increase.

“No time to waste, let’s get to it.” Briar gave himself a mental slap in the face. He had no time to waste as his next move would take long enough. Exhaling, he tried to relax his body as best he could. When he inhaled again, he didn’t just take a breath. The mist, that had covered a bit more than half the room, started to roil, steadily floated towards where he stood, and entered his body through his mouth. The mist, the ice, even the cold was drawn in; all in one lengthy inhalation.

The temperature in the room rose in conjunction with how much mist was left, until everything reached a pleasant temperature yet again, except for Briar, whom now embodied absolute cold in that wide space. Time hadn’t stood still however, the tendrils had come uncomfortably close, and pieces of concrete fell from the ceiling. It was high time he’d tackle the root of the problem again.

He willed the cold, spread throughout his body, to the centre of his body, and molded it into a sphere. He drew from that sphere, and with a shout, a gale of unearthly cold raced through the room, freezing the tendrils and all the water, from the droplets in mid-air, to the now ankle high water on the ground solid, as it passed along. Harper and his wall were left untouched. More debris came falling down in increasingly shorter intervals.

Inhaling exaggeratedly once more, the sphere; a translucent, ghost like blue, rose from his stomach towards the back of his throat. It was now or never. With a roar, that same eerie blue; now a continuous, focused beam of cold, came crashing into the wall, trying to break through.
It made an awful sound, as if screaming like a banshee. It reverberated throughout the whole room and the icicles it had shaped along it’s path. Water no longer cascaded from the ceiling for even the sprinklers were frozen. The only rain that fell was debris, thick and heavy. He had to break through, before he’d get buried underneath it. He had to, and fast.

Harper felt as the temperature on the other side of the wall began to plummet, even going so far as the extend from the wall itself and he could feel the water on his forearms solidify into ice crystals. Giving a moment to breath he could feel the warm wet slide of blood over his bottom lip and in that instant he started to hate the idea of staying. Being deprived of strength and sustenance for the year prior was not his ideal way to start a jail break.

Even now he was still drawing more strength from the growing paleness of the room, but that was being spent as soon as he could draw it in. He felt a pressure on his shoulder as Kohska materialized once again. "I believe its time we take our leave of this puppet and be gone of this place.. like was planned." He gave her a quick nod, despite the fact that such a transaction between the two of them was unnecessary and even though it strained his power he acted on the decision.

The wall shrank drastically before a group of four tendrils erupted from its surface, not heading for the mage ahead but up and embedding into the stonework of the ceiling. He stepped back on a single foot gave a grunting heave as he pulled on the dark raven like cords and pulled the fissure in the ceiling wide.

Like a flood unleashed, tons of debris came pouring through the opening. Sections of stonework, boxes, portions of bedding.
It seemed there was a berthing over head, all complete with the walling from bathroom stalls and trashcans.

Koshka herself was taking matters into her own hands and extending a small dome from her arm, using it to swat away bricks that would otherwise endanger her and Harper as the room collapsed inward. Harper exchanged looks with the opposing mage before a section of wall blocked his vision.