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Snippet #2675953

located in The Wasteland, a part of The Age of Gifted, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Wasteland

An apocalyptic landscape, most of it is covered by ash, earning the nickname "The Ashland"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seth Ghysels Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
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"To recall our previous lesson, the true bane of a teleporter is predictability." "For those that lack perception, the unknown is a blight of terror. For those who exist in the space that watches the outside world, a power such as that is an opening." He pointed skyward. "Above" The finger joined the other three, while his thumb pushed backwards. "Behind." "Left, Or right." "Very few expect their opponent to dissipate, then draw themselves together in the same place."

"This is a fake, and if used correctly, will make your movements unpredictable. Such action will result in possible anxiety of your enemy, giving you the edge, beyond this however." He gestured to the numerous hitting backs scattered around the room. "If you apply this feeling of anxiety to a wide group, flitting in and out of their perception, what was the affliction of one could become hysteria to a group. Bleeding the beast."

The hitting bags carried various gashes consistent with wounds received from a hatchet. Short, deep, and viciously applied. "Even with a minute wound, the slow throb of what you've left them with will remind them you are always there."

"Now, in a larger scale battle it is important to pick a point, removed from the conflict, to observe and aid our allies when possible. This can be done by guiding them away from enemy efforts, or putting your enemies in the way of these efforts."

"Remember that traps will be lain out, with the expectation you will do these things, by skilled adversaries. Any patterns in your movement will be noted and exploited."

The older males hair was tied back into a short ponytail, save a few thick strands that fell free on the left side of his face. Behind him was a clothing rack, and on it were several articles of his trademark clothing, complete with a wide brimmed hat, which was perched safely at the top. His gym wear was simple, a pair of shorts that stopped mid thigh, and a loose undervest, that left the sides of his chest, and rib-cage exposed.

"First, land a grievous blow on ten bags, then engage me before my blade is thrown to the target, if you fail to do so, you must teleport yourself, and the target before my blade makes contact. If you succeed, you are allowed to use your power thrice during the tenure of our fight."

"Ready yourself Seth."

Montana hand wrapped around the hilt of his thrown knife, snugly sheathed in it's thigh strap.

"Start!"