Of Minds and Warfare.

The Arena of Beacon Academy was not overly populated today, or this evening, to better put it. This years' Frost Fall had been quite abundant, and many of the schools' personal, including students and professors, had decided to take the rest of the day off, and enjoy some time outside, in the city. However, a few students had opted out of leaving the Academy grounds, in favor of staying inside, in the warmth and protection of the schools' massive walls. One of these few students was a practitioner and disciple of the art of Battle Strategy, Hannibal Havazik, one of the most recent in the Havazik family blood line. He'd found himself, today, the lucky user of a completely empty training Arena. Now, at first, Hannibal had gone with the idea of reprogramming the Arena's computer, and instead of deploying training androids to fight him, he'd deploy around ten, and take control of five, only using those five to practice his knowledge of strategy, by pitting them against the other five androids. A sort of team on team duel, with Hannibal acting as the field Commander for his droid team.

Hannibal performed this form of mental training for a few rounds, with his android team winning each battle programed, and only suffering one loss during the training session. Several dozen bouts had gone by before Hannibal had begun to grow bored of it, so, once the final battle had finished, with his android team coming out on top, Hannibal re-set the Arena's main computer. The new setting? One on One. His opponent? If he was up to it, Hannibal had contacted, via Scroll message, his fellow team mate, Roland, in hopes that he'd be up for... A bit of a friendly spar.

"No.... No.... No..... Hmm... No...." Hannibal murmured, as he scrolled through the Arena's potential artificial field generations. Roland had not arrived yet, Hannibal had wanted to make sure they had some form of environmental challenge before they fought. Hand on the pommel of his cavalry saber, Vonolzo, Hannibal continued his browsing, hoping to find something to suit both their fancies. "The Emerald Forest? No, no, it's been done one too many times.... Desert Wastes?... Tempting, but too simple.... Snowflake Pines?.... I'll keep that one in mind..."

The doors in one of the Arena's many entryways open up, and through them strides a young man wearing a long red overcoat and a mask over his left eye. Five pommels poke out over his back as he walks up to the Faunus at the computer. "What's the occasion, Hannibal?" the man asks, voice drawling slightly. "Finally growing tired of leading packs of androids against each other?" The corner of the man's lips tug up into a smirk, amusement glittering in his eyes as he pokes fun at his leader.

Hannibal's right ear twitches slightly when Rolands drawn out question reaches his field of hearing. "Partially..." He responds, voice showing the faintest hint of mirth, as he spares a quick glance in Roland's direction, before going back to browsing for a good environmental setting, "The androids weren't the problem, their lack of voice and Oh so comical wit, however, was..." Hannibal stops for a moment, turning to look over his shoulder at Roland. "Something I knew you'd provide, perfectly...." Turning away get back to his browsing, Hannibal does his best to hide a small grin forming on his face, as well. "I was wondering if you'd like to partake in a bit of a duel.... Spending too much time fighting droids.... it's just no fun."

"You flatter me, truly," Roland says, managing to keep mirth out of his voice. "But we both know my typical insensitive civility is par for the course, and I'd find a way to harass you no matter what."

"Hmm, Indeed." Hannibal says, flicking his fingers across the Arena's environment control pad, eyes not leaving the screen. "We've been on the same team for three years now, Roland. You'd think I'd of learned to live with it..." Hannibal looks over his shoulder again, saying, "And I have learned; to live with it, that is.... Of course, I'm no stranger to a few harsh words and glares... I've had enough of it to last three life times...." Hannibal turns away once more, browsing continuing. "Does this place not have any good environmental challenges!? Lord, I must've gone through the list... Near on three times now...

"Here, let me see," Roland says, moving to stand next to Hannibal as he continues scrolling through. After a few moments, he pushes Hannibal's hand away from the controls, and points at the screen. "That one."

Hannibal, not at all taken back by the way Roland shoved his hands from the controls, merely stares at the screen. "That one?.... Really?" Hannibal crosses his arms over his chest, his armored vambraces scratching lightly against his chest plate. "It.... It looks like the level from that Scroll Game... The one that was released a while back.... Dust be damned, the name escapes me..." Hannibal shoots a look at Roland, "And don't go asking how I know about it, either..."

The Arena's load-out screen held the picture of what appeared to be a military base, locked in ice and a rather heavy blizzard, making sight and visibility very hard to attain.

"I wonder how it got in here...."

Roland shrugs, deciding to not comment on Hannibal's tangent. "You said you wanted an environmental challenge, here it is. Don't worry, I made sure I picked something you'd still have a few advantages in," he says after a moment, smirk firmly in place.

Hannibal's response toward Roland was a short, low, throaty growl, with the air passing between his slightly more canine-like teeth adding a bit of a hissing noise. "Hhrrm... We'll see; a warrior's advantages needn't be many in order for them to win, hm?" With that, Hannibal keyed in the needed codes for the arena to work. Once that was done, he turned and began walking toward the leftmost steps that lead up onto the raised combat platform.

Roland chuckles briefly at Hannibal's response, following him up the stairs. "Very true," the masked swordsman answers. "Yet it's still possible to attain victory with almost every logistical disadvantage levied against oneself, as well," he counters.

"Very true, Roland.... Very true..." Hannibal said, conceding to Rolands statement. "Tell me, is that a bit of your own wisdom? Or did you pick that up from a history book?" He added, as a bit of a last second quip, as he continued walking to the other side of the arena platform. Once there, Hannibal turned on the spot, his long dress coat flourishing behind him, as he looked at his fellow team mate. "Whenever you're ready, Roland." He said, a friendly grin just visible.

Roland rolls his eyes as he walks to the other side of the platform, deciding to not retaliate to Hannibal's verbal jab. He feels the Arena's artificial wind start to pick up, and sweeps his right hand to draw all five of his swords as his coat starts whipping about behind him. He settles into a low, balanced stance, right hand held up behind him while Gale's blades levitate further back, bobbing up and down in synchrony with his breathing.

"Arena, set." Hannibal says, slipping his left hand further down his swords sheath. "Begin program, start!" And just like that, the arena building stops being what it was, and becomes something else entirely. The winds picks up considerably, and the blinding white flash of snow quickly filters in, slightly robbing the two of their vision. "Maybe the best man win....." Hannibal said, just as his voice became drowned out by the wind, and the snow wiping him from sight.

With a quick, greatly practiced movement, Hannibal reaches over with right right hand, and pull his cavalry saber, Vonalzo, from its sheath, holding it much like a professional fencer, but with the blade angled down.

Roland's eyes narrow as he tries to keep sight of Hannibal, but he soon gives it up as a lost cause, knowing the Faunus' choice of color in his attire would only serve to further camouflage him in the inclement weather. Instead, he sheathes three of his blades while calling the remaining two to his hand. Holding them in a reverse grip, Roland starts pacing off at an angle to where he last saw Hannibal, carefully measuring each step, and training his senses on the wind, occasionally probing out with his Semblance for larger disturbances in the air currents.

Hannibal, like Roland, takes his steps carefully, measured and silent. But, instead of approaching him, Hannibal begins rounding on the man, almost like he's circling around. In a way, Hannibal's vision and hearing isn't as hampered as his team mates. Faunus lineage often grants enhanced senses, in this case, Hannibal's allowed him to see Roland. Not clearly, but his hearing and sight combined allowed him to see a sort of echoing, reverberating outline. It would pulsate every once in a while, and offer Hannibal a small peek at where Roland was, but never where he would be.

From Hannibal's position, the young Faunus was already partially beside the swordsman, at about 40 feet away. On impulse, Hannibal drove his swords blade into the snow, and pulled up and out, slinging a bit of snow at Roland. A little joke never hurt.

A few clumps of snow contrary to the wind strike Roland, and he quickly draws one of the three blades on his back before launching it in the direction the snow came from. He then dashes after it, keeping the blades in his hands ready to strike or defend at a moment's notice.

He can't keep the grin off his face, knowing he's in for a fight.

Hannibal's ears perk up as straight as a lighting rod, his hearing picking up the faint whistle of a thrown blade. On instinct, Hannibal turns sideways, and leans back about four inches. His eyes catch the blurred sight of one of Roland's thrown blades, just as it passes before his eyes. With a quiet, feral growl, Hannibal turns again, sword at the ready. He brings Vonalzo up and points it at, presumably, Roland, just before making a rather long, forceful lunge, taking a few quick steps forward in the process, hoping to catch his team mate by surprise.

Roland twists himself sharply to bat Hannibal's sudden thrust aside, before using his other blade in a backhand swipe at his midsection, hoping to catch the Faunus with the swift counter.

Hannibal, in turn, also twists himself to the side, almost spinning to avoid Roland's backhanded strike. He feels the blade slide across his plate body armor, just along the lower back. No injury, just dented, scratched steel. Coming back around from his spin, long coat a flurry of movement, Hannibal pulls his blade back in, before striking out with a horizontal slash to Roland's abdomen.

Roland retreats from Hannibal's attack, continuing along the path that his launched sword took, hoping to bait Hannibal along until he can use all of Gale's blades at once.

Hannibal, not immediately aware of Roland's plan, goes after the Swordsman. Running up him, Hannibal makes a bit of a leap, and comes down, throwing a downward slash at Roland's neck area.

Roland brings an arm up to deflect Hannibal's strike, letting the Faunus' blade skitter off his own as he continues retreating. He checks behind himself with his Semblance briefly, and determines he only has a few more steps before he can bring back the blade he launched and begin a counter-offensive.

Regaining his footing, and not missing a beat, Hannibal presses his attack further, and sends forward a lunging jab. If deflected, he'd follow up with a number of vertical and horizontal slashes. Each attack, Hannibal would take a step closer. Although, movement seems to get a bit difficult, the snow here is deeper than it was behind them.

"Retreat? Roland, I didn't expect this; although, I think the chill I'm getting is just the wind!" Hannibal says, just a bit of a taunt as he presses forward.

Roland sidesteps Hannibal's lunge, and quickly traps the Faunus' blade with his two, using the guards to try locking the offending weapon. "As I understand it, Hannibal, winds in this kind of weather can be rather... biting..." he says as he summons a few sharp winds from the sides, aiming them to try forcing the Faunus further forward.

Hannibal stifles a grunt as the winds suddenly pick up, chilling him as they push him forward a foot, getting closer to a slightly disturbed pile of snow. Moving quickly, Hannibal switches hands, gripping his swords hilt with his left hand instead, and shifting the hold into a revers style. With a hard yank, Hannibal pulls his sword back and up, but only a few inches because of the hold Roland has. Suddenly, Hannibal takes another step forward, using the winds to assist him as he attemps to punch Roland's gut, using his cup hilt hand guard to increase the weight of the blow.

Roland takes the hit, releasing the lock he has on Hannibal's blade and using the reflexive tense in his abs to attempt to deliver a powerful headbutt to the Faunus' nose. As he does this, he also stumbles back slightly, playing up the severity of Hannibal's strike to gain a little more distance. He quickly checks for his launched blade once more, and detects it nearby.

Hannibal let's out a low growl, lowering his head so, instead of his nose, Roland's head but connects with Hannibal's fore head. The impact sends Hannibal back as well, but with a sore head instead of a broken nose. "Ah!... That's a bit low, Roland... Good use of your head, though." He says with a grin, taking a few steps back in order to switch sword hands, grasping his weapon with his right hand once more, in a traditional hold. Fanning Vonalzo over to his left side, Hannibal throws an upward, diagonal slash at Roland's chest.

Ducking away from Hannibal's slash, Roland drops the swords in his hands before he reaches out toward the blade he launched earlier, then quickly spins with his arms outstretched, all five blades coming out to revolve around him for a few moments, hopefully getting in a strike on Hannibal or getting him to back away slightly.

"And he pulls out the tricks!" Hannibal says, almost like he was waiting for this. Reacting with stiff, practiced movements, Hannibal raises Vonalzo's blade to deflect a few of Roland's hovering, spinning blades. A few are blocked or deflected, but the speed at which they're moving causes Hannibal to take a few steps back. He manages to parry a third blade, before catching a slick patch of snow, and falling backward. Hannibal let's out a hard grunt and he rolls down a bit of a snow bank, before sending Vonalzo's blade into the snow, stopping his decent. Without warning, Hannibal reaches behind his back, and pulls out his revolver, Villam. He takes aim at Roland, and fires three rounds at him.

As Roland sees Hannibal draw Villam, he dives to the side, Gale's blades returning to a passive upright position behind him. Feeling more cautious, Roland begins circling Hannibal, adjusting two blades to be more ready for a quick defense or retaliation. The middle blade of the other three rises above Roland, poised like a scorpion's stinger and ready for a quick strike.