Haze was quite sick of it. Quite sick of it indeed. Such ugly, ugly movements... matched with such ugly colours. The Goddess, Eminence P. Haze, had grown quite tired of the aesthetics so many of the students clung to. In the case of some, most, it was simply that their clothes were... well frankly basic. Jackets with plain shirts beneath them, a set of jeans and some trainers. These infants had clearly never watched a Vytal festival, they clearly didn't understand the individuals they were competing with... if any of those teams had ever came to Syne they would likely style all over them. Perhaps not in terms of fighting prowess... but shear appearance, shear fashion sense. Not to mention the style with which they fought.
Haze slouched behind her podium in the lecture hall, rows of seats and desks before her. Todays class was supposed to be about trap setting and ambush tactics... but...
Haze, straightening her tiara and gently spinning her sceptre between her fingers, had decided this class would instead focus on combat fashion and style. After all; there was some strategy to such a thing, to dazzle the opponent and to catch them unawares. Preparation for a fight, picking the clothes you wear... it was almost like setting a trap. The style you chose in battle determines how your opponent sees you, thus garbing yourself well suggests proficiency one may sorely lack... though equally dressing poorly would make for a good underhanded tactic, making oneself look poorly or homeless. There is however no tactical advantage to dressing plainly.
Haze's eyes widened, a smirk formed at yet another realisation; makeup could be used to falsely impart ideas... false wounds were the simplest example but... but...
The Goddess simply could not wait for students to pour in. The time was nigh, the class was to begin at noon sharp.
Haze slouched behind her podium in the lecture hall, rows of seats and desks before her. Todays class was supposed to be about trap setting and ambush tactics... but...
Haze, straightening her tiara and gently spinning her sceptre between her fingers, had decided this class would instead focus on combat fashion and style. After all; there was some strategy to such a thing, to dazzle the opponent and to catch them unawares. Preparation for a fight, picking the clothes you wear... it was almost like setting a trap. The style you chose in battle determines how your opponent sees you, thus garbing yourself well suggests proficiency one may sorely lack... though equally dressing poorly would make for a good underhanded tactic, making oneself look poorly or homeless. There is however no tactical advantage to dressing plainly.
Haze's eyes widened, a smirk formed at yet another realisation; makeup could be used to falsely impart ideas... false wounds were the simplest example but... but...
The Goddess simply could not wait for students to pour in. The time was nigh, the class was to begin at noon sharp.