PV Duel Show Me Your Magic, Bring It On! closed

Avis was on her hands and knees as chaos ensued around her. Her wand had flown somewhere behind her and she had found herself still desperately searching for the damned thing, even with Maisie’s help.

She gasped as she felt a streak of heat fly over her, the ends up her hair singeing in its wake as the girl witnessed Saunder’s Incendio blasting towards her partner.

“Maisie! Look out!” she cried, momentarily distracted from searching as she watched the scene in front of her with short lived horror. Luckily, Maisie had either heard Avis or was simply ready for some kind of attack from Saunders and dodged out of the way last minute. Avis let out a breath of relief. That had been much too close and seeing as she was still without a wand, the girl couldn’t imagine the position they’d have been in if the spell hit home.

Returning to her search, Avis managed to catch a glimpse of a thin wooden rod on the other side of the piste and pushed herself off the ground, hastily making her way over to the wand. In her rush and with adrenaline still pumping through her shaky limbs, she tripped and with a stroke of bad luck, managed to kick her wand further away. Avis groaned. This was not going to plan whatsoever but at least the two Ravenclaws were still on their feet… for now.

@Maisie Gemmell

Offense had paused. Alyss might be down, but it seemed that so was their attacks. As Maisie stood, Avis was scrambling searching for her wand. Also Maisie had seen something that certainly looked like it, it appeared that it took a minute for Avis to see it—and to accidentally knock it farther away. Bad luck.

But Maisie didn't have time to try and direct her best friend further—not with a fireball hurling straight in her direction. “Maisie! Look out!” came Avis' warning just in time. Her eyes widened as she saw it, but she was able to move swiftly out of the way and the spell simply fizzled out against the wall at the end of the piste. "Thanks," she said slightly out of breath to Avis.

Despite getting hit hard at the very beginning of this match, Maisie was pretty pleased with herself for how she she was dodging now, when she paid attention to it. She just had to keep that focus through it all—there was no time for mistakes.

"Okay, I hope you all could stand on this piste for a little longer," Sere had said.

That was certainly the plan. But they had to knock Saunders off his pretty little pedestal. "How do you feel about that, Napier? Think you can stand it over there all by your lonesome self?" she tried to goad him despite knowing there was enough arrogance in that boy for the entire piste. Still, she could try to bring him down a peg or two. It might just be the difference between who remained up here and who didn't.

What a round with so little going on... After all the effort he had put in, and despite the flames erupting from his wand, Maisie chose to actively dodge. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Avis, meanwhile, was still looking for her wand. "Did I really throw it that far?" Saunders thought with a slight sense of pride. But pride would not save him. Well, without Alyss by his side now, he had no excuse to ignore this thoroughly grim reality.

The eagles, to be honest, were doing a pretty good job -- a fragment from the selection of truths that Saunders will not be willing to admit, at least not any time soon... They had manoeuvred with such precision that they emerged unscathed from a round where Saunders had held the upper hand. It was then that the Napier boy was struck by a memory: Uncle Gruffydd’s words, uttered by that indeed gruff, distant relative whose place in the family tree was as faint as his significance. The old man had often warned of the dangers posed by women The smile on Saunders' face when Maisie's words reached his ears somehow showed that the cantankerous old man might not have been "entirely" wrong.

"I feel like a knight, ma'am," replied Saunders teasefully, "attacked by two wicked witches." Though Alyss’s absence left him vulnerable in the duel, there was a peculiar relief in being able to engage in this verbal joust without fear of her reproach. For now, at least, words were his shield. Yet luckily, his sword was not only forged by words, the spells were still in his arsenal.

ROUND 7

Moderation :

Reducio

Team Ravenclaw

Maisie is actively dodging

Initial EVA = 7
Dodging Bonus = 5 + 7 × 25% = 6.75 + 2 (Maisie's MC) = 9 (rounded up)
New EVA = 7 + 9 = 16

Avis is searching for wand

Initial EVA = 6
Half of Dodging Bonus = 5 + 6 × 25% = 7 (rounded up) / 2 = 4 (rounded up)
New EVA = 6 + 4 = 10

Effects: Avis retreived her wand and will be able to cast spell on the next round.

Team Slytherin

Saunders casts Obscuro at Avis

WDC 10
Wisdom Check: d20[16] + 5 = 21
10 < 21 (success!)

10% auto-dodge on 19-20 (Avis' EM) = d20[15] = no auto-dodge

Saunders' Accuracy: d20[3] + 9 = 12
Avis' Evasion: d20[7] + 10 = 17
12 < 17 (miss!)

Effects: Avis evades Saunders' Obscuro.

Duel Information

Reducio

1. No Deadline. Please send your team's actions respectively to the moderator (Sere Nade) so that I can proceed the moderation.
2. Minimal words for RP are 200 words.
3. Please owl me ASAP if you believe any mistake or something you don't understand in my moderation.
4. The trunk is not locked since this is an unofficial duel. You are allowed to add spells to your trunk during the match.
5. Here are some useful links. Duelling System, Duelling Spells, and The Newest Patch.
6. Have fun!

Dice Rolls

Reducio

rolls for WIS, auto dodge, ACC, and EVA

Date	:	December 17th, 2024
Color code	:	Written|Thought|Said

Ravenclaw chose the same action as the previous round. Maisie and Avis, both chose to maintain their positions slightly below the lonesome Slytherin. Defensive moves were again taken by Maisie, while Avis was still trying to find her wand and... "Oh! Avis retrieved her wand!" Sere exclaimed when she realized the mayhaw wood was finally back in the Ravenclaw's grip.

Saunders tried to show his prodigal side once again. He casted another second year spell, The Blindfolding Spell, one of Sere's favorite, and managed to do it very well, seen from a cloth that suddenly appeared from behind Avis' head and tried to blindfold her. "Again, Impressive." Sere muttered while nodding, acknowledging it. Unfortunately, Avis was able to swiftly avoid it so that the cloth disappeared without successfully covering her eyes. Maybe because Avis' focus was only on getting her wand back, so she had a higher awareness of her surroundings compared to when she had to concentrate, casted a spell, and avoid another spell came to her at the same time. Once again Sere thought that under normal conditions, Saunders would have successfully aimed and hit his opponent with the Obscuro.

The last two rounds seemed like a short break after the fall of one of the duellists. Sere hoped that in the next rounds there would be more interesting dynamics between the duelists. What kind of strategy that they prepared? She became the most anticipating spectator right now.

Scrambling to the other side of the piste, Avis finally managed to snatch up her rogue wand, feeling uncomfortably exposed as her back was towards their Slytherin opponent. Wand in hand, she turned around to rejoin the fight and suddenly came face to face with a black piece of floating cloth. Realizing what it was, Avis hastily ducked under it and the cloth disappeared with a poof after unsuccessfully trying to tie itself around her head. She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing she had been lucky to turn around when she had.

Avis stepped forward to regain her earlier position and eyed Saunders with a narrow gaze. In the back of her mind, she wondered what other prodigal spells the Slytherin had in his toolbox, just grateful that neither had seemed to make its mark. He was slippery and talented, that one, but it seemed this duel was requiring more than just skill.

Luck was playing a heavy role and Avis just hoped hers wouldn’t run out any time soon, especially with Maisie looking a bit worse for wear next to her.

Regardless, Avis gave her an encouraging nod.

“Just a few more rounds, Mace. Let’s finish this,” she said with a determined grin.

She held strong, waiting. A childhood in Glasgow's street had taught little Margaret Gemmell how to duck and sprint when you needed to, and recent moments had seemed like she need to.

But nothing came, except Saunders' taunt: "I feel like a knight, ma'am, attacked by two wicked witches."

Her eyes narrowed. Just like a man. There was something on the tip on her tongue when she noticed Avis finally had wand in hand—just in time to duck an unfriendly spell. Yet again, she didn't recognize it. He really was talented (Sere, too, seemed impressed), even if that talented was nurtured by privilege. "Your private tutor's fancy spells won't save you, Napier!" she called back, again trying to goat him. Of course, she didn't know that he had a private tutor, but normal people just didn't talk the way he talked or act the way he talked. But money wasn't everything.

That much she knew, especially with Avis next to her. Returning her best friend's nod, she knew she had to focus. "You're right, Av," she said, taking long breaths underneath the pain. There were, what, two rounds left? "Let's finish this! And Napier, you're looking at the daughters of the witches you couldn't burn!"

And even if she did fall down in a tumble of Incendio'd flames, she would go down fighting. For now, though, they had to stay up on their feet, alert and ready to go.

Bah, humbug! -- straight into that impertinent face of Lady Fortuna. Saunders, rather justifiably, was now experiencing a moment perfectly ripe for empathising with his fortieth-generation pagan ancestors who had blasphemed against a deity who refused to smile on them. Bah, humbug!

The only consolation the Napier boy had was a gaze of appreciation for his spells, which he saw clearly on Sere's face and vaguely on the eagle pair's. But admiration does not feed one, nor does it win him a duel. The optimum thing to say in its defence is that it's better than nothing, and every phenomenon in the world is, of course, better than "nothing", by basic semantics. We have inadvertently lied to the reader, though; Saunders' only consolation was not that. He was also enjoying a verbal duel that was going on in parallel with the main one, which, since there was no one to moderate it and no one, since those distant centuries when human beings began to name objects, had been given such a mandate, could go on for infinite rounds, and that was, too, a joy to his heart.

But private tutors? Really? For both of the spells Saunders performed in this duel, Expelliarmus and Obscuro, he had sweated for hours in the DADA classroom. He had not been taught by a tutor hired by his father, whom he had never seen perform any of his actions with any real hint of mindfulness, maybe, but not probably, except swinging in a hammock. Nor had his mother ordered a wise sorcerer in a distant land, say Corsica, who knew as many spells as there were hairs in his beard, to write a specula principum and make him read it to his son every mid-evening. By Merlin's absurdly shiny cloak! "What does Maisie think I am," thought Saunders, "a feudal lord in the stories of Beedle the Bard?" If he were, a cavalcade of troubadours would've appeared after the duel was over, singing odes to Saunders' glory if he won, and laments for his name if he lost. Having said that, his parents may not have hired him a tutor, but Saunders would have been happy to hire such an artful crew.

(In parallel with all this, it has to be emphasised, Saunders also thought: Why hadn't his parents, who had provided him with even a few lessons on how to walk, hired a tutor to teach him such spells? Probably because it sounded so logical. Logic has always been regarded with fierce hostility among English upper classes and this has long since taken its illustrious place in the codex of tradition).

The daughters of the witches you couldn't burn? Upon hearing that Saunders became quite convinced that Maisie's perception of himself was deeply troubled. "Why on earth would I want to burn witches? Gee, she has to decide whether I'm a typical privileged and pampered pureblood or a bloodthirsty Muggle brute for whom the mere mention of magic is enough to drive him into a torch..."

"We're not in Salem, eaglet," Saunders responded, "don't be that dramatic now."

ROUND 8

Moderation :

Reducio

Team Ravenclaw

Maisie casts Tarantallegra at Saunders

WDC 9
Wisdom Check: d20[10] + 7 = 17
9 < 17 (success!)

Maisie's Accuracy: d20[13] + 8 = 21
Saunders' Evasion: d20[10] + 5 = 15
21 > 15 (hit!)

Damage: 50 + 4 (Maisie's ARC) × 8 = 82 - 4.1 (5% × 82) = 78 (rounded up)
Duration: 1d3[1] = 1 round

Effects: Saunders is hit by Maisie's Tarantallegra, -78 HP, and will suffer –1 ACC & –2 EVA for 1 round.

Avis casts Flipendo at Saunders

WDC 9
Wisdom Check: d20[16] + 7 = 23
9 < 23 (success!)

Avis' Accuracy: d20[13] + 7 = 20
Saunders' Evasion: d20[18] + 5 = 23
20 < 23 (miss!)

Effects: Saunders evades Avis' Flipendo.

Team Slytherin

Saunders casts Flipendo at Maisie

WDC 9
Wisdom Check: d20[17] + 5 = 22
9 < 22 (success!)

Saunders' Accuracy: d20[16] + 9 = 25
Maisie's Evasion: d20[2] + 7 = 9
25 > 9 (hit!)

Damage: 100 + 7 (Saunders' ARC) × 15 = 205

Effects: Maisie is hit by Saunders' Flipendo, -205 HP.

Duel Information

Reducio

1. No Deadline. Please send your team's actions respectively to the moderator (Sere Nade) so that I can proceed the moderation.
2. Minimal words for RP are 200 words.
3. Please owl me ASAP if you believe any mistake or something you don't understand in my moderation.
4. The trunk is not locked since this is an unofficial duel. You are allowed to add spells to your trunk during the match.
5. Here are some useful links. Duelling System, Duelling Spells, and The Newest Patch.
6. Have fun!

Dice Rolls

Reducio

rolls for WIS, ACC, and EVA
roll for Tarantallegra duration

Date	:	December 17th, 2024
Color code	:	Written|Thought|Said

As soon as the Salem Witch Trials were mentioned, Sere, who suddenly got some chills -she hated History of Magic- spoke up, "Alright, alright all. Now watch your words. You are violating the purity of this piste." Oh, what did she just say? She didn't even understand. She was just trying to keep the tension stable and prevent any unwanted physical fights and potential scuffles outside the piste. But Maisie's words somehow worked to make Saunders heated up and casting his Knockback Jinx, intending to kick Maisie off the piste, and guess what? He succeeded.

On the Ravenclaw side, Avis still hadn't got her accuracy up to par after crawling and looking for her wand in the previous two rounds, the Flipendo she casted at Saunders missed. As for Maisie, the girl managed to cast the Dancing-Feet Spell and the spell hit squarely. Okay, a pretty good last effort. Sere reminded Saunders before turning to look for a help, "You can do that tap dance, but please don't move here and there wildly. Don't step on her." The match was stopped once again, naturally.

Sere saw the same students, who she had asked to bring Alyss, had just re-entered the Duelling Club. The Gryffindor girl called them over again, "I'm really sorry, but I need your help to take someone else to the Hospital Wings." Sere heard some huffs, but the students did as she asked, "Thank you so much!" Sere exclaimed while waving, "Make sure she gets there safely!"

Sere turned around to the remaining duellists and was a little bit surprised, "O-owh right, I almost forgot you were still dancing." The girl explained to Avis, "Your friend will be fine." She let out a breath and said, "Let's proceed to the next round. Ninth round, start!"

After cursing herself for another miss and watching Maisie’s Tarantellegra hit the girls’ opponent with a satisfying flash of purple, bad luck struck the Ravenclaw side at last and Maisie flew backwards from Saunder’s Flipendo with a sickening thud. The girl did not get up.

Despite the comforting words from Sere, Avis watched helplessly as her best friend (and unfortunately her dueling partner) was carted off by the same group of helpful students from earlier. She felt terrible for not helping the girl herself but the Ravenclaw had a duel to finish and she knew Maisie would want her to stick it out regardless.

Tearing her gaze away from the unconscious form of her friend, Avis’ eyes were immediately met with the ridiculous form of Saunders, whose legs were currently engrossed in a rather lively waltz it seemed. She cocked her head. Or was it a samba? No way to tell for sure, seeing as she wasn’t exactly a dancing expert.

With Maisie no longer present, it seemed Avis would have to do all the taunting herself, which she frankly did not mind. Her mouth had a habit of running away with her.

“Right then. Just you and me now, Napier,” she chirped, her Irish accent ringing out across the piste. She gave the boy a short laugh.

“Let’s dance.”

So long, Maisie! May you be swiftly healed as your tired body, which you have never been afraid to use to display threatening postures regardless of its actual size, is patted with Pepperup Potion. As you are taken to the Hospital Wing by Gryffindors who the Duelling Club, as an inanimate entity, has apparently enslaved, we respectfully wave our hankies that are not wet with our tears, while secretly wishing you gone. We, the narrators of Saunders' story, acknowledge that our protagonist did not meet you under the most harmonious lights of fortune, and we look forward to the day when the next act will be played with both of you in the cast. A feeling of respect for you and the zealous attitude that shines in your eyes is growing in us, but the day will come when it will be put on the page when the hands of the skilful healers will tenderly heal your wounds. So, assure us that you'll show the same zeal in healing that you have shown in fighting, O the mighty eagle with her little satchel!

Well, getting back to the Napier boy's duel...

Now there was only Avis to face. Not only were they number-wise equal, but in terms of physical condition they seemed to be in no particular difference from each other. They looked equally tired and equally spry. If we are so kind as to forget for a moment that Saunders was engaged in a frantic dance. Saunders was pleased with his performance throughout the duel, equally delighted to witness that his unexpectedly solid opponents had pushed him considerably hard. But why, why did all the ridiculous spells have to hit him? Wasn't it enough that he had been in a sneezing fit for several rounds, and now he was dancing around like a lunatic who should be locked up in an asylum? Merlin, grow up and use proper spells! What would be Greymond's next move, a spell that would cause Saunders' trousers to drop?

Saunders was now standing in front of Avis, puffing out his chest to appear several times bigger and more dangerous than he actually was, as if his feet weren't busy dancing senselessly, like someone who falls on the road but stands up proudly as if the very act of falling doesn't exist.

The spider of fate was ready to tie the last knots in its web.