1.6
You raise your practice blade, and your mentor does the same. The two of you have sparred before, but not like this. You have no idea how magic relates to swinging a sword around, but you focus your senses on the well of sunlight within you and trust that it will see you through. Ivo steps forward, faster than you've ever seen him. Superhumanly fast, like the vampires, you'd faced earlier. The sunlight sings to you, and the world slows down.
Ivo's stance has changed from the one you're used to in subtle ways. You can feel the whispers of power in his movements, you can feel something pushing back against them and you understand that he is using magic. His strike comes at you, and it is such a perfect blow that no mortal woman could have withstood it. You step into the blow, supernatural skill and strength allowing you to deflect it. His eyes widen as you move with speed equal to his own, and skill greater than his.
Your counterstrike is simple, and yet perfect. Your previous block has manoeuvred your mentor into a position where he can only choose how badly he will be hit. He tries to move with the blow, lessen the force, and you feel that he is oddly resilient as you practice blade slams into him. Then you feel the pulse of golden energy send him flying, and he slams into the wall of a nearby building pressed so tightly against his that there is no real gap to fall down. He seems to skid in the air, slowing significantly and softening his landing.
"Now that is an improvement since our last sparring session. I can see that not even Awakened swordplay will let me past that guard of yours. Let's see how you handle this!" He shouts and swings his sword through the air. A crescent beam of silver energy flys towards you, and you abandon your instinct to leap out of the way. The whispers deep in your soul, in that vast reservoir of sunlight that powers you, tell you that your blade will turn aside all blows. The magics of this fallen age are no exception.
You stand your ground, your sword glowing a soft gold, and strike the beam. It splits apart, leaving you unharmed, and you simply smile at your teacher.
"Fancy light show. Have you got something a little more impressive?" you ask, though privately you would really like to learn how to fire sword-beams at people. You've imagined doing that ever since you discovered anime, and the fact that people can really do that is just plain cool.
You prepare for your mentor's next test. He doesn't use more magical martial arts, fire off a hadouken at you, or even simply charge at you. He disappears, and you step back in shock. Then, you hear a slight shifting of gravel. The sunlight whispers to move your blade, and so you do. Your practice blade clashes with Ivo's, and as he reappears he launches more attacks against you, but they struggle to penetrate your defence. He steps back from the onslaught, and you strike once more. You are deflected once, but that opening is enough. Ivo's practice sword goes spinning out of his hands, and you catch it without looking away from your mentor.
"Well, I've learnt one thing from that - I have no fucking clue what you are," Ivo said, as you hand him back the practice sword.
"Aren't you meant to be, like, a real wizard? How do you not know?" you reply, a little confused. You're not sure how what he did was all that different to what you could do.
"Most of the supernatural world likes keeping their secrets... well secret. People who look too deeply into old lore or obscure history tend to walk into a dimly lit alley one day not walk out again. Mostly, though, you're just really weird. You're not a mage - you don't have to deal with paradox. You're not some sort of static magician either, though that was my first thought. But whatever power you're using, I've never seen it before,"
"Paradox? Static magician? I think we've established that I never went to Hogwarts," you reply, feeling a little out of your depth. The Harry Potter jokes would probably annoy the wizards, you realised, but they could learn to deal with it.
"Right, I'm sorry. The basics are that reality is defined by the consensus of humanity - and magic that doesn't fit that consensus is harder and more unpredictable when it's observed. But that doesn't seem to apply to you. Or, at least in the way that it doesn't apply to other supernatural creatures," Ivo says, looking at you oddly.
"That's... that's some weird shit. How come I can just go full golden superwoman without caring about that?"
"I'm sure the answer to that is something quite a few mages would kill for. Luckily, you seem to have the same sort of innate resistance to magic as vampires and the like. It's not that powerful right now, but you could work to improve it,"
"Huh. Did I mention that I can parry bullets now?" you ask, though you know you haven't brought it up yet.
"No, and that is concerning. I've never seen that done by one of the night folk other than a mage. And even then, it's rare. Much simpler to create a bulletproof shirt or deflect them slightly," Ivo says.
The two of you talk a little while longer, circling around the strangeness of your powers. Ivo doesn't know what they are, but he agrees with what you've been doing with them. Soon enough you're going through the comfortable motions of teaching the children's class, itching to call on the sunlight within you enhance yourself. Even though you know it would only be a waste of energy, you're drawn to the idea of showing them just how far ahead of them you are. Drawn to the idea of training them the way you taught countless mortals across the face of creation.
Your reflections come to a grinding halt. That was not your thought. It was a fragment, a flash, of something... someone else. There was no other presence in your mind, no threat. And yet you shivered as you put away the mats. You know, somehow, that what you felt was old. Old in a way that no marble statue or time-worn monument could be. There was a time gods and monsters ruled the Earth, you are certain, and not the consensus of men. Then the moment passes, and you are alone.
The day is half done, and the night fast approaches. You will fight again, as you will every night, until either you or the vampires that rule this city are destroyed. You turn to find Ivo and decide upon your next move.
Elsewhere, in dimly lit conference rooms and data analysis centres, something unusual is noticed. A clock that goes tock, and not tick. A cog slightly out of place, a note played slightly out of time. A behemoth of lies and cutouts and smoke-filled rooms turns its gaze ever so slowly onto this new breed of reality deviants. Two, popping up in the same city? Each in the sway of one local faction, urging them to war? Other concerns reign supreme for the moment - the red star that grows ever brighter to the enlightened telescopes of the Void Engineers, the rumblings of war and apocalypse that every source in every half baked collection of reality deviants is reporting on, and the disruption on Autochtonia.
So they will not turn their full and mighty gaze onto this odd little war just yet. A young field agent, with a capable team and some less subtle backup, should be more than enough to half the situation before it gets too public.
Melbourne is on the brink of supernatural war between the scattered mages of the Traditions and the more organised Camarilla. On the first night of the conflict, who struck first? Who drew the attention of an unremarkable man, recently arrived, with orders to investigate and contain the situation?
[x] The Mages, now knowing that war for the city was unavoidable, struck first. They attacked the Camarilla's places of power during the day, trying to drive them from their shelters.
[x] The Camarilla, long unwilling to attack willworkers in their dens, knew they now had no choice. They gathered their remaining forces, hopefully that it would be enough to defeat whatever preparations the mages have made.
End arc one.