Dressing for the wintery Ophus weather was a welcome distraction, however, and Ezre was the least layered of the unlikely trio, far too used to the harsh, mountainous northern Kingdom of Hox to find mild Anaxas weather worth bundling up for. He listened while Lilanee described their would-be opponents, having already passed his own judgment on their capabilities as sorcerers. All talk and perhaps some natural talent, but not enough internal discipline to really make anything of themselves other than a nuisance. Admittedly, he knew nothing of the Hessean's and the Gioran's abilities other than what he could caprise in their fields,
"This is autumnn weather if Hox had a autumn. It does not." The tattooed boy offered in defense of his light wool coat, following the other two out of the Cafeteria and trudging quietly across campus with a quiet air of contemplation, strongly desiring to make sure that his motives were truly to honor the gods and not simply to trounce a couple of troublemakers. Ezre was mostly sure, at least, and that would just have to do. Setting others along the right path was the duty of the community, and if doing so happened to be through magical defeat in a duel, then both society and the Circle could be blessed by such an offering.
Greeted by a crowd, aware that over Winter Break there was very little other entertainment for the remaining students save that which they made for themselves, the Hoxian couldn't help but smirk at Marissa's impatience.
He at least managed to set his bag down before the first syllables of Monite were even uttered. Dueling in Anaxas was so informal, especially outside the bounds of League rules and regulations. Here on the Field if Practical Application, Brunnhold youths rarely had a sense of ritual or formality as if they were above it somehow. Freckstat students, Hoxians in general, would have been horrified. Ezre simply accepted it for what it was, adding it to the list of things he missed about home.
At first glance to the outside observer, it would have appeared that Ezre was taking his time on purpose, perhaps out of fear or hesitance, but instead he waited to further observe, feeling the shift of the various types of mona between Lilanee and Marissa, caprising Janse's field, caprising the fields of the other two students who'd joined their little group of bullies, and carefully gathering his own as if he was cultivating some precious garden.
He didn't waste time, however, stepping in between Lilanee's weak counterspell and returned Anesthetic, speaking his spellwork with an almost enviable air of calm, seeking to reach into the mind of Janse first and the others if he could manage, the Perceptive mona thick in his field washing over them like a frigid wind, biting through their fleshly outer shells and crawling into the inner recesses of their truest selves.
Even as he was casting, aware that effective Perceptive spells took time, Janse and a tow-headed lackey were bringing their counters, the taller ginger jumping straight into the student-favored Lashing and his shorter friend following Eirik's prediction of speaking that comfortable, familiar, single syllable for Push.
Muse: 2d6 = (5+3) = 8
Perhaps it was the other boy's chattering teeth or the freckled bully's total overconfidence, but his Monite seemed to thicken on his tongue and the mona obeyed sluggishly, strangely causing the taller Anaxi to immediately break into hives while everyone in their little circle of magical combat felt a brief, sharp lash-like sting crawl over their exposed skin without the normal tell-tale marks left behind in its wake. Ezre winced as he caught the brunt of the spell, deep red lines clawing into his forearms, willing himself to press through. The other boy's push seemed misdirected, thrown off course by the sudden sting, and the force of his Push tossed snow and chunks of dirt up at Ezre while he blinked, staggering backward and scrambling to finish his casting instead of brailing, having used their terrible spellcraft to gain a foothold in the minds of the two other boys and grip their thoughts.
He immediately quipped phrases of very direct, very focused bodily control, familiar with the workings of anatomy as parts of his admittedly morbid choice of study, placing imaginary pressure on Janse's bladder as if he'd forgotten to relieve himself all day while simply requesting to make the other boy lose total sensation in his tongue, severing subtle connection with nerves in order to keep him from casting.
Muse: 2d6 = (6+4) = 10
It was cruel and humiliating, that much was undeniable when the taller redhead lost control of his own body, unable to keep himself from wetting his own pants as a near-adult galdor there in front of the crowd. As far as Ezre was concerned, it was fitting for a young man who couldn't control their countenance to experience such consequences, and somewhere beneath his own emotionless countenance, it was also just a little funny, honestly. He couldn't help it—there were so few outlets for his impish sense of humor to find expression, after all.
The crowd of students in the cold erupted into giggles, chortles, boos, and harassment aimed at both Janse as well as the Hoxian. The blond boy wasn't sure whether to laugh or step away, however, his tongue no longer obeying his own direction in its sudden, overwhelming numbness.