🤺🤺🤺 ☕☕☕ 🤺🤺🤺 ☕☕☕ 🤺🤺🤺 ☕☕☕

🤺🤺🤺 ☕☕☕ 🤺🤺🤺 ☕☕☕ 🤺🤺🤺 ☕☕☕

𝕱𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖆

TEAMS

INDIGO @Arno Dorian @Valeriy Viktorovna Reznikov @Magnus Blackwood @Remedy Norden-Alptraum @Ivan Baskakova

MAROON @Liliya Starkova @Alexios Katsaros @Viktoriya Petrovskaya @Vasilius Nighthawk @Boram Borisova

The fencing competition created a charged atmosphere. The students who had been a part of the fencing course would finally have the chance to prove their skills today in the open air of the fields behind Durmstrang. For now, the quidditch field was vacant and instead replaced with mats on which the fencing would take place. There were enough mats that the students would fence all at once and the winning team would be decided by three judges, who would determine not only what team won, but also who was the better teacher between the headmaster and his special friend. Whoever won would of course be the one paying for the food and party that occurred afterwards, but either way, Emery had already purchased medals for the winning team.

As this special friend of his was indeed already a fencing instructor, the equipment had been blessedly provided to the students through him, and no cost had occurred to create this competion. However, Emery wondered if he could convince the other to let the school keep the equipment afterwards. Perhaps, he could convince the other with a kiss and what ensues after.

There was a strange child that wanted to join as well, but was too young to join the festivities. So, Emery allowed the child to observe and strange cartwheels and staring ensued. Emery does not know who this child is and does not want to know.

RULES & AVAILABLE ACTIONS

1. There will be 6 moderated rounds, each round will have two moderation posts. Each moderation will happen after a dead line of 72 hours from previous post. To participate one must owl or discord Emery Albrecht your action.
2. Before the rounds begin, a dice will be rolled to decide which team will be offensive first, and which team will be defensive.
3. There are three available defensive actions and three available offensive actions.
4. DEFENSIVE: Parry (Deflect other person's sword, StrDC), Dodge (Evasion move with body, EvaDC), Cross Step (Force other to change angles, WisDC) If Defensive action succeeds, there will be an automatic opportunity to Attack (AccDC). Dodge automatically occurs in each round, but if you choose your action to be Dodge, then you will have 2 points added to your evasion stats.
5. OFFENSIVE: Lunge (A simple one foot advance and hit, StrDC), Fleche (Running forward thrust, AccDC), Feint (Deception then attack, WisDC). If you hit, then you will have an automatic opportunity to Remise (Double hit, WisDC).
6. Each person's stamina determines the length of their fencing. STA*100 is the beginning statistic. Whoever hits 10 times in a row, or makes their opponent stamina zero wins. Damage is STR*10.
7. Please post your trunk stats in your first post, along with every post after, so that it can lock for this event.
8. Please remember that the same rules as the rest of the site applies, posts must be at least 200 words, no godmodding, and no cheating allowed.

MODERATION RULES

1. First Year ( PARRY - StrDC 10, DODGE - EvaDC 10, CROSS-STEP - WisDC 10, DEFENSIVE ATTACK - AccDC - 12) + 2 for every year.
2. First Year (LUNGE - StrDC 11, FLECHE - AccDC 11, FEINT - WisDC 11, REMISE - WisDC 13) +2 every year

EPEE Description
Epee is the type of fencing that is most similar to actual sword fighting as both fencers may win a point. There are no right-of-way rules and legal targets include the entire body, including the head. Out of character, the rules have been played with in order to ease moderation, however, in character, please write as if it is real Epee. The course that I mentioned in character started in March, so it has been 8 weeks of fencing lessons, specifically in Epee. If you are Maroon, you were taught by Emery and if you are Indigo, you were taught by the mysterious suitor.

POST DEADLINE
May 1st, 2026
OFFENSIVE TEAM
Indigo
DEFENSIVE TEAM
Maroon

To say Boram was looking forward to the competition since the first lecture on fencing would have been an understatement.

I wonder if I will go against Arnie... Her iridescent eyes would look around the group of students who she assumed to also be in waiting for the competition and match pairings. The wind blew across the open field, calm like the waters of the open sea. She'd hum softly as she swept her hair off her face, practically smelling the salty air, her heart beat rhythmically to the waves along tall stone.

Adrenaline seeped through her flesh, smooth with a touch of red.

The art of fencing was not unfamiliar to the girl of burning hair, contrary to the softness of a kiss beneath the fallen night; battles always seemed to carry a sense of spark to her. Even when silks and suedes draped over her, chaos followed like sunflowers did the sun.

Or she sought it. Craving destruction that only seemed to be whispered in the Bermuda Triangle.

Quite the forbidden desire for a girl who lacked common sense, yet lived plagued with the sting of her rage that ignited to the sparks of metals clashing and echoed words.

I will win... Even if it meant having to go against Arno, it was just a competition after all... not a matter of life or death... right? As if confirming her own statement, she would nod before doing her hair into a neat bun, careful to keep her hair out of her way.

For she hated having things in her way.

Magnus Blackwood!
DURMSTRANG | SECOND | OUTFIT | HEX
Russian/French | 04.15.2026 | WC 498

Sports were a complicating topic for Vasilius; they were categorized into only two categories, one being the 'I like it' category and the other being 'I loathe it.' He just found most sports too wild for him, a blatant excuse for his disdain for anything that tired him out, but if there were anyone sport that involved his precious sweat from falling other than broom racing? It was fencing. A game that wasn't just of sheer strength and reckless moves, but rather one of calculation and precision, something that Vas favoured.

When he'd heard of the fencing match to be held, he found himself instantly signing up for it. It was the sole reminder of the true him, whom he had buried in the depths of his soul, guarded by the tremendous walls that had risen inside him.

He made his way to where the match was to be held, with Magnus, a rather unforeseen companion for the game who'd joined it the moment Vasilius had mentioned the game. A rather strange action by the usually cutely fiery-tempered idiot who'd go to great heights to instead make fun of Vas and his hobbies.

But then again, Magnus was acting like a whole new person after the ball, not in a bad way, just different. Constantly interrupting Vasilius's routines that involved drowning himself in his stacks of books and social isolation. It had been annoying at first, but as time seemed to glide, his once-annoying presence began to blend into his routine, almost comforting.

"I find that one need not enjoy the blade to understand it," Vas muttered as he obsessively smoothed down his hair, which seemed to be acting up on the cold winds of the ice-covered land. "I see it rather as a study of restraint, timing, and intellect. An art that highlights the beauty in the integration of human concentration and strength alike", he added, as he finally glanced at Magnus, a peaceful expression on his face, a gentle smile forming on his face.

Tossed into the fire of the fencing championship, the absence of Liliya’s opponent not only provided her ample time to prepare, but also ample time to overthink.

Stepping up to her position on the piste, icy blue eyes surveyed the assembled attendees with uncharacteristic coldness and the ferocity of a warrior in preparation. Amongst the five already gathered, three were strangers, and it was those particular three that caught her straying attention. Magnus and Vasilius she had acknowledged and dismissed, just another two of Noel’s little friends, a group of rowdy boys she was both intimidated of and amused by. From the dark-haired youth to his bright ginger counterpart, silence weaved itself across their stances as anticipation crept into their bodies, yet her flitting gaze stayed on none of them. Instead, it hovered just over one particular figure. Nameless, to her, yet as that hint of determination glinted under the high-hanging sun of the Laplands, it stirred something in Liliya — as if she finally found the audience she was performing for.

She squinted at the girl she did not know, and if she were to look in her direction, if their eyes were to catch each other, she would offer her a bare wink and nothing more, just enough elusiveness to spark interest. It was her own, quiet form of respect, for somebody who might range anywhere from infuriation to companion. Gathering her hair into a bun, she straightened herself, and twirled her sabre between her fingers, feeling her heart skip a beat. She could not quite tell if it was because of excitement, anxiety, or something else entirely.

When her opponent would inevitably arrive, she would offer a brisk introduction for the sake of politeness, before smirking. “Liliya… don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

That was a bluff, but that was also a lie. To be a lover, one must first be a fighter.

stamina. 10 | evasion. 10 | strength. 1 | wisdom. 7 | arcpower. 7 | accuracy. 10

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

x-

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

TERRIBLE PRESENCE [AFFECTS ALL] | PERFECTIONIST | BINDING MARK [BORAM]

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Arno awoke with an entirely different headspace, he didn't believe in coincidence, not on days like this.

Emery had stripped the quidditch field and reduced it for a more local construction. A linear structure of a fencing arena had now been imposed upon a space that previously enjoyed theatrics of flight and noise, one Arno was quite fond of. He hoped it'd back to it's natural state sooner rather than later.

Stepping down onto the grounds, his pace remained measured as he glanced over the already present gathering of students. There was no need to rush. Time, for all it's restraints, made for an equally efficient test of someone's mettle. It did not reward impatience, and yet, eternity was torture as well.

And Arno, for all his faults was nothing if not aware. All actions, all entities, all ideas, they all required moderation. His hood remained drawn, shadowing his expression and that too out of all dramatic inclinations. There were several bodies between him and the piste. Obstacles if you had to give them a narrative. Irrelevancies if you were to deem them unimportant.

His gaze passed over them one by one, Boram, while her presence didn't alter his pace, her presence was noticed and if she stood in his path. She would be addressed accordingly. Until then, she remained a variable he had yet to discern.

Another boy came into his vision, a familiar face? perhaps no, but he'd seen him in passing, accompanied by another, enough to suggest relation but nothing that required Arno dwelling on it.

The next figure was nothing more than an unfamiliar face, an unremarkable one at that as well.

and then the mutt from Koldov. Arno had seen enough of his kind before. Brash, loud, reactive and utterly stupid individuals who depended on brute force rather than any form of refinement. Disposable in all sense.

Arno moved past the rest of crowd with no pause, and was at last, greeted with something worth his attention. Liliya Starkova. Arno reached up with his fingers, pulling back the hood of his cloak down in a single motion.

She spoke first. "Liliya... don't worry, I'll go easy on you." Arno held her gaze for a fraction. "Arno." A slight nod. "I'd rather you didn't." His voice was even, absent of challenge and entirely dismissive of sentiment. At his side, rested his blade and at his, remained a dagger sheathed.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Wide eyes fill with a combination of nerves and excitement as the young child heads to the dedicated venue. Recently, Valeriya is starting to break out of their shell a bit, trying lots of new things, including visiting the foreign school of Hogwarts without their brother. They still don’t have the extensive confidence and competitive nature that most Durmstrang students seem to possess, but they’re working on it, and that’s got to be good enough for the time being.

Similarly unlike many Durmstrang students, fighting isn’t Valera’s thing. It never has been. Violence is something they are firmly against. But fencing? Fencing isn’t violence, is it? Nobody’s going to get hurt — there’s protective gear. It could be a way for Lera to ease themself into the militaristic culture of Durmstrang without the risk of causing any actual harm. So, here they are, participating in this little competition, even if it wouldn’t be the first activity they’d think of filling their time with.

Besides, isn’t it kind of like dancing? A thrust here, a parry there, footwork… they’re learnable steps, and maybe if Valeriy can find the rhythm of it all and lean into that flow, it’ll come as naturally to them as dancing in the forest at home. That doesn’t sound so hard, does it? The comparison soothes them and reinforces that this will be a positive experience — it’s just like a new style of dance.

The equipment feels rather unfamiliar, though, and they don’t particularly like the mask. It’s a barrier between them and their surroundings, which, while good for protection, isn’t something that Valeriya would want in ordinary life. Their hair turns silver, complementing their weapon, as if their body is fighting to try to maintain the deeper connection with their environment. They’re accustomed to experiencing the world around them with all their senses in tune, and to have that be somewhat impaired by the dark mask that’s already slightly weighing their head down makes them a little uncomfortable. The épée is a bit heavier than they expected, too.

Nevertheless, the mix of determination and rising adrenaline spurs them on, and they’re bright-eyed by the time they get into position, ready to accept the challenge and give this their best shot. A little smile graces their lips without them even realising it. Whether their opponent can see it or not is of no concern to them. It’s not for him, nor is it an indication of cockiness; it’s simply a manifestation of their satisfaction with the moment and their hope for what is to come.