Ingrid stands tall, gaze on the horizon even as she stands with her feet firmly on the ground rather than in Acis's stirrups. The view is certainly different down here but she is nothing if not determined and, sensing movement, she hefts her blessed lance high just as a sharp burst of pain in the form of wind magic hits her.
Ingrid smiles, a bead of blood trailing from her cut cheek to her lips; her friendly gesture hopefully not too dour with the addition, Ingrid wishes her opponent the best.
"Well done, Marianne! En garde, then."
[counter attack roll: 18, hit! -1.5 dmg.]
Ingrid runs up to the magic swordwoman, lance in hand, and lands a hit of her own. She manages not to wince in time with Marianne and focuses on her footwork once more. This was a valuable learning opportunity.
[initiating attack roll: 17, hit! -1.5 dmg. Ingrid's current HP: 4.5/6]
As Marianne stumbles back Ingrid uses the longer reach of her weapon to get in another hit. This time her expression is tight as she keeps the other girl within her line of sight.
“Er, thank — you?” Eyes grow wide as Ingrid’s lance swings. The first strike earns her a wince, the second a pained gasp as her knees buckle. It is nothing like a real battlefield. Here, they do not fight for their lives; they do not strike to kill. It’s not real. It’s not real. But the spike of fear that strikes her alongside the lance is as tangible as ever.
[ -1.5 DMG. -1.5 DMG. MARIANNE: 2/5 HP ]
Her sword swings wildly, without a care for what direction she aims it. The winds never miss their mark and all that Marianne wants is to get Ingrid away, that blessed — wretched, she thinks as she remembers her wounds, still stinging — lance as far away from her skin as possible.
[ COUNTER ROLL: 12, HIT! -1 DMG. ]
Scrambling to her feet, Marianne’s grip tightens upon the hilt of her sword. She jabs with her sword, another gust of wind swirling around her and pulling loose strands of blue hair from her braids before homing in on their target.
[ ROLL: 8, HIT! -1.5 DMG. ]
TAG ! @damegalantea
