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((What is this?
Combat ability is an important aspect of many characters, but why it's easy to toss NPCs around like nothing, PvP can get much more tricky. Combat can also be helpful in determining how powerful your character is compared to others, so you can better determine what changes you might need to make.

Some players use long-set systems or impromptu rules to decide whose attack hits and how bad it is, while others try to verbally out-maneuver each other while keeping reasonable, and others still plan things out OOC and are just trying to make it look good IC. I consider myself among those who could use more practice in making combat clear, accurate, and interesting - and since I imagine others might like to work on that too, I figured a sort of combat arena/sparring zone where characters can just duke it out might be good.

I suggest defining your system for win/loss upfront. Personally, I've almost never used dice, but I'm open to any system that doesn't require me to learn a bunch of strange/complex rules.))

The place sure was big enough: numerous fights could easily be going on at once without interfering with each other. It smelled of dust and wood, sweat, and sanitizing chemicals - the last of which Kyra found a tad unpleasant. As she passed by the arena's little emergency clinic, the hisses and grumbles of those too "tough" to further express pain temporarily joined the faint echoes of combat elsewhere. As one more accustomed to shanty towns and fringe cities, the Sand Elf was impressed enough to let out a whistle.

She passed by training rooms and indoor sparring zones. Something outdoors was more to her taste, preferably in a nice, familiar sand pit. Then again, if she got too picky, she might miss out on actually getting a fight. It'd been awhile since she'd had a good fight, and the thought of it now brought a self-satisfied smirk to her deeply tanned face.
There always came the time where he needed to put away the staff and abandon his talents for a good physical conditioning. Over the months he had become too reliant on his magic, using it for the most simplest of things like tidying up his room when he had a book to his nose, or merely out of his lack of effort to move anymore. The wizard was anything but stationary, however, he hardly got around on his feet. He supposed visiting this place, banned from magic, would possibly raise his awareness much more about being physically active. Not that the man hasn't fought in a hand to hand spar, but he was losing his spark every passing day he decided to let his magic be his slave.

There were many rooms to choose from, and having to choose was proving to be a bit of a nuisance for him. They had simulation rooms, others that were flat surfaced that contrasted with the ones that held obstacles, and then there was the sand. He was sure those weren't the only categories, the arena was quite large after all.

His golden eyes drifted to the sand, an outside extension of the place, and he mused a second or two.. Or three. Sparring in sand would be difficult; having to lift your feet higher than usual, and if not, you drag. He loathed the grainy substance that he knew would feel discomforting under his feet therefore this would be his choice. He didn't come to do things that he enjoyed, only seeking a rise in the skill.
When she finally found a nice sandpit, she noted that, conveniently enough, she wasn't the only one in its vicinity. Even better, the guy she spotted looked like he should be capable enough in a fight. The elf hopped into the sandpit and waved with a shout of, "Yah!"

The sand that slipped into her sandals felt strangely cool, and for a moment, she had an urge to kick it for its transgression. Realizing how ridiculous that would be, she softly chuckled to herself.

Focusing her attention back on the stranger, she called out with a smirk, "You lookin' for a real workout? I'll even disarm of yer afraid a' gettin' cut."

So maybe she was a bit eager. It'd been long enough, hadn't it?
((Sorry for the extensive absence. During the time I was gone I was very busy.))

"That won't be necessary," his English accent was thick on his tongue, but not hard enough to be considered distasteful to the ear. She, on the other hand, had an accent of her own that he would not mention due to it being rude in his eyes. There was no need to talk long considering she was eager to get in a good, fair fight.

In all honestly, Nelìs was afraid of getting cut. Pain, besides the ones that come emotionally, was not anything he was accustomed to for one who uses magic avoid even a touch. In this spar he wouldn't be untouchable as usual as he would be with his magic, but instead he'd be rather vulnerable. There was no shame in it. He wasn't entirely hopeless without a staff clutched in his hand.

"You might just beat me, but I don't mind," he returned her smirk with a grin before his hands came up to tie back his hair that may be a cause of distraction.