Fantasy Ailan: War for Terra Eterna [main]

[koala]

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[koala]

[div class=base] [div class=banner][/div] [div class=text1]Maius 13, 1106[/div] [div class=text2]1245[/div] [/div] [class=banner] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/ankyTxQ.jpg); background-size: cover; height: 150px; width: 600px; margin: auto; [/class] [class=text1] text-align: center; font-size: 20px; [/class] [class=text2] text-align: center; font-size: 15px; [/class] [class=base] white-space: pre-line; [/class]

 

[koala]

[div class=container][div class=topimagecontainer][div class=topimage][/div][/div] [div class=header]PART I - First Encounters[/div][div class=maintext]The sounds of metal beating against hot iron, men and women shouting, and the anxious neighing from animals could be heard across the plains. On one side stood Gaul, it’s white, a symbol of unity, banners and tents painted across the green grass. Estelle’s could be seen on the opposite end of the land, red and gold flags waving flippantly with the wind as if to mock the enemy. Both countries were preparing for war, but both were also hesitant on making the first move. And then it happened. A charge from both sides. No one knows who made the first move. It all happened too quickly. [div class=subheader]Status[/div] [div class=maintext2]- Aeronwren (Unknown) koala - Emilia (Unknown) The Fluffiest Floof - Durai (Unknown) StaidFoal - Frei (Unknown) Pilgrim59 - Rojiah (Unknown) Plutoni - Silas (Unknown) MagicPenguin - Silver (Unknown) WillfulWren - Vet'r (Unknown) HighSanguinaryPriest [/div] [div class=subheader]Goals[/div] [div class=maintext2]- Introduce the main characters. - Establish the setting.[/div] [/div] [/div] [class=container] background-color:#F6F2EC; min-height:400px; max-width:1000px; margin:auto; overflow:hidden; white-space: pre-line; [/class] [class=topimagecontainer] height: 620px; max-width: 1000px; margin: auto!important; background-size:cover; line-height: 0px; [/class] [class=topimage] background: url(https://i.imgur.com/C9nk7rw.jpg); height: 100%; width: 100%; margin-top:20px; position:relative; z-index:2; background-size:cover; [/class] [class=header] font-size:28px; color: #333333; padding: 20px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=subheader] font-size:23px; color: #333333; padding: 5px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=maintext] font-size:15px; color:#333333; padding: 0px 20px 0px 20px; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=maintext2] font-size:15px; color:#333333; padding: 0px 20px 0px 20px; text-align: center; [/class]

 

[koala]

Aeronwren Tulipey​

[div class=base][div class=image][/div] Aeronwren stood at one end of the plains like the other Estellian soldiers, though she had made her place further back to avoid attention. She’d thought it’d take a lot of insisting to get the king’s permission to allow her to come, but he’d given it to her without a moment’s hesitation. The man was either considerate, a laughable thought in view of his conquest to obtain Gaul by sacrificing the lives of others, or it was because he expected her to die on the battlefield, a thought that made her smile almost. The humans truly had no understanding of Ieabin culture, so of course they didn’t know what an Imanea could do. They probably just thought she was the same as a traveling priest. She let out a deep sigh and shifted her body behind Eyolf’s shoulder blades on the strongest part of his back. The large wolf was obviously anxious for what was about to come with the way his breathing changed and his ears twitching back and forth. Aeronwren tried to comfort him by stroking his dark coat, but she knew that wasn’t doing anything because she felt nervous too. She had no intention of participating in Estelle’s drama, however, the thought of thousands dying on her watch made her stomach churn, Estellian or not. Though she knew that war was sometimes inevitable, she didn’t believe in it. Such violence had no place in her heart and even thinking about killing someone squeezed her very soul. Her chest began to ache when she noticed the group of soldiers that accompanied her and their expressions. Most of them were younger men, whose youthful expressions gave Aeronwren the impression that they'd never fought in a battle before. No scars painted their faces and she could see it in their eyes that they were afraid. Their faces glowed from the sweat forming on their hairlines and their fingers danced around the hilts of their swords with an uneasiness that everyone could feel. Aeronwren eyed them with sympathy before her light orbs moved onto the older men. These men were calloused in every way. Their faces were marked with a pain that only warriors could relate to. They stood with confidence, heads held high and shoulders back. It was the look in their eyes that really pained the half-elf, however. They all bore looks of excitement. As if the idea of piercing another man's neck with the tip of their swords was exhilarating. Aeronwren suddenly felt nauseous and Eyolf had sensed that as he lowered himself. Stand, Wren. The wolf said to her and only her, as bonded Hiennosusit are only understood by their partners. Though there are a few people who understand the thoughts of sentient creatures and there have been occasions when a Hiennosusit allows another to understand it. I told you we shouldn't have come. Why didn't you listen to me? Are my opinions not important? The young woman shook her head and grinned at her friend once her feet touched the ground, nuzzling his soft neck with her face. Nonsense, Eyolf. You know why we had to come. A few of the men that guarded her eyed the wordless conversation with curiosity but quickly turned their heads when Aeronwren looked over. She smiled at them before the sound of shouting filled her ears and the sensation of thousands of men, women, and beasts turned the earth beneath them into a drum. Everyone suddenly began charging towards Gaul, weapons drawn as they screamed at the top of their lungs. Her heart dropping, Aeronwren grabbed onto Eyolf's fur and hoisted herself up with ease. Her guards looked at her for instructions but she was already gone. Eyolf had launched himself off the ground, jumping over dozens of men and their horses. He sped through the thousands of soldiers like a tornado, skillfully dodging them as if they were the trees he and Aeronwren always ran through. To those that saw the two, they probably saw an easy target. The white-haired woman sitting on a large wolf stood out like a pool of blood on a fresh blanket of snow, but she didn't care. Standing out was nothing new and she didn't have time to deal with the gawking onlookers. Her main focus was the group of Gaul archers that were readying their bows and arrows. A light shown from Aeronwren as she and her companion stormed they way closer towards the front lines. Emerging from her hand was her staff, its intricate gold and blue decorations twinkling under the afternoon sun. The staff was a Celestial weapon that went by the name D'mira, the supposed weapon of an ancient goddess that once roamed the land. It served as a way for her to increase her power, giving her a few uses before needing to return to the realm it came from in order to recharge. When the arrows came, they came fast. Guiding by wind magic, they sped through the air and went a distance that was impossible normally. For a second, their shadows were cast over the plains as they made their way towards the Empire. There were so few light mages that the Empire had on their side, so Aeronwren knew what she had to do. She and Eyolf halted and she held up her staff as light pulsated from it, shooting up towards the sky and soon enveloping at least the front third of the soldiers with a large dome shield. As the arrows shot down and met the clear shield, they almost immediately disintegrated and sounded like sizzling meat on a fire. [/div] [class=base] background-color: #D4D4D6; color: black; height: 350px; min-width: 300px; max-width: 500px; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x: none; margin: auto; padding: 5px; white-space: pre-line; [/class] [class=image] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/cKbOaGv.jpg); background-size: cover; height: 350px; min-width: 300px; max-width: 500px; [/class]

 

[MagicPenguin]

Silas Blackthorne
Above Talys Plains

High in the sky, well above the tents and horses and neatly arranged soldiers that occupied the Talys Plains just West of the border between Gaul and Estelle, the Imperial Mage General, Silas Blackthorne, looked down with a bird's eye view at the battlefield 50 feet below him. He stood atop a see-through platform made of light magic, one created by the Zian monk who stood behind him. Standing beside him to his right were his two fellow high Imperial Generals, the Knight General and the Great General. The three of them were up here to make sure their own forces were in proper formation, as well as to note the make-up and positioning of units on the enemy's side. It would be much easier to see what was happening from so far up, and also to decide what the best move to make at any given moment was when the actual battle itself began. The three could see where strengths and weaknesses were as the fighting proceeded. They could decide to move units around, or order retreats, or call for charges, or whatever they needed to do. Then they would write those orders on a scroll and pass them to an imperial wyvern rider. The wyvern rider would then bring the generals' orders to their intended recipients and then Silas and the others could watch them carried out in real time. Honestly, the whole arrangement turned the bloody war into little more than a massive game of chess. If he was being honest with himself, despite how useful this idea was, it was a little disgusting to Silas how easily living, breathing people could be turned into pieces on a gameboard, to be used and sacrificed as they pleased for the sake of victory. He really didn't want to think about it, nor about the bloody carnage that was about to wrack the continent end to end from today onward.

So, he didn't.

Instead, he took a swig of whiskey from his flask and thought about magic and flight. Conventional wisdom was that magic couldn't be used to fly, yet here they all were 50 feet in the air with nothing supporting them. He'd known such things were possible ever since he studied with the monks in his youth, but it was a curiosity Silas never fully understood. Skilled light mages could stand on the shield barriers they created and move them around so that they could effectively fly short distances. A natural mage like Silas could make barriers out of solidified wind, and he could move them around with someone else standing on top, but he could not move a barrier of air that he himself was standing on top of. He could also wrap someone in threads of air and use those to move objects or people around, but similarly, he could not wrap himself in air and move his own body. One of his tutors had once explained the reason why, at least in theory, in the form of an analogy: you could lift someone else off the ground with your own two arms, if you were strong enough, but no matter how strong a person is, they will never be able to lift themselves off the ground. But then, Silas wondered not for the first time, why could light mages do it with their barriers? It just didn't seem fair.

“Blackthorne! Are you listening?” The Great General, the ostensible leader of the three of them, glared at his daydreaming colleague. “Sorry, what was that,” Silas responded absently. “I was just thinking about...uh...”

“I don't care, fool,” the man spat. “Pay attention. This is important. Imperial lives depend on what we do here. I will ask you again. Are you satisfied with how we've arranged things? Are there any last minute adjustments you think we should make?”

Silas brought his attention back to the battlefield. The Great General had asked about Silas's opinion on the overall setup, but what he was really asking was about whether the mages were correctly deployed; that's what he was supposed to be in charge of, after all. If he told the others that he thought the cavalry could be arranged better, or that there were not enough heavy infantry at the front, or that they did not need so many siege engines against a country that didn't have any cities or forts worth besieging, they would have been offended he'd decided to talk about things outside of his own expertise.

“The mages are where they're supposed to be,” he said simply. “I put them where they'd be most useful, at least for now. The bulk of them are split between the middle and the right flank, to combat the Magnolia cavalry and the Draco Dragon Riders. Those are the biggest threats, so hopefully we can use natural magic to our advantage to break those two factions quickly. The rest of the mages are spread out evenly among the rest of the forces, to combat any offensive magic from the opposing side.”

“Hmph,” said the old Great General. “I agree that we need to take out the Magnolia and the Draco first. Yet, is it wise to dedicate almost all of our magic users to the task? It seems an all or nothing strategy. What of the enemy's own magic users? The Yodel shamans will be a problem if they attack us where we have few mages to fight back.”

“It's difficult to judge how the enemy is going to deploy its own magic users without more intelligence. I've sent my scout captain, Frei, out to spy on the enemy camp and determine what he can about how many mages they have and how they plan to use them. Once he gets back, I'll have more information about how to arrange our own forces defensively. If the battle starts before he does return, it'll be clear pretty quickly where the magical attacks are coming from and we can improvise a defense on the fly. For now, though, I've focused on offense.”

“I'll trust your judgment on the matter, then.” He turned back to the knight general on the other side of the platform to begin having a similar discussion with her about how the cavalry and infantry were arranged.

Silas sighed and looked back down at the field, content to go back to his musings on magic rather than focus on the battle to come. He began wondering about why the Draco didn't use mages on dragonback like the Empire did when something caught his eye.

“What the hell,” he muttered in disbelief. “What are those idiots doing?”

The entire left flank of the army was charging. “Who ordered them to do that?” the Great General roared. “All units have explicit orders to stand by! What the holy hell is going on down there?! Heads will roll for this, if the fools live long enough!”

Without any support from the middle and right, the left was going to be quickly surrounded and cut off from the rest of the army. If that happened, the Empire would lose one third of its fighting strength in a single stroke. It was possibly the stupidest way to lose a war that Silas could think of.

The Gaulic army responded to the charge with a line of Magnolia longbowmen set up on a high hill. There was no way anyone was getting up that hill to stop them with a simple charge, not without massive casualties. Any person with two brain cells could have seen that it was useless, yet the left side kept charging right into the hail of arrows raining down on them. What the hell was going on? Were they all suicidal or...?

Silas felt a massive surge of magical power. He looked to the source, behind the Gaulic longbowmen. It was a group of about 20 figures clad in the robes of the Yodel shamans. They were chanting in ancient druidic. Dark Magic. At once, Silas put together what had happened.

“Clever dogs,” he said with a note of admiration in his tone. “The Yodel Shamans are using some sort of spell to provoke the soldiers on the left. They're probably stoking their anger and fear and suppressing judgment and common sense. A simple enough trick for so large a group of them. When the mental assault became too much to bear, the left side charged, heedless of the danger. This was a smart gambit to lure our forces out and separate them so that the other tribes could finish them off quickly.”

The Great General spat off the side of the platform. “So what, then? We move a few of the Zian light mages over there to dispel the effect, right? Can they get there in time to save the charging fools from themselves?”

Silas nodded in agreement. “I don't know, but we have to try. We can't just leave them. We also need to move some natural mages over there. Look.”

The longbowmen fired their first volley of arrows. The glow of natural magic on them was plain for anyone to see. Some arrows went farther than they should have to hit what few mages the left flank had way behind the line. Some of the arrows ignited in flame and caused anything they hit to be burnt to cinders in an eyeblink.

“Light mages to counter the yodel shaman's curse on their minds and create barriers against the arrows. Natural mages to create air barriers, dispel the wind magic, and retaliate with fireballs,” Silas concluded. He quickly wrote out the order and threw it to one of the flying wyvern riders near the platform of light. “To the man in charge of the vanguard,” he told the flier. The vanguard was closest to the left and had plenty of mages of all disciplines. They could spare a few light and natural mages to deal with this crisis. He just hoped they'd arrive in time.

The Knight General threw orders of her own at another of the fliers, probably for the middle and right to charge as well in order to support the left before it was completely decimated. The war Silas had tried so hard to avoid these last several months was officially started now. He took another drink.

The Mage General was surprised again when a massive dome of light encompassed the helplessly charging army on the left. Magically infused arrows bounced off the shield as if it were a solid stone wall. Silas hadn't left enough light mages over there to produce so large a shield. So how was this happening...?

Then he saw her. The girl on the wolf. Aeronwren, her name was, if he remembered correctly. She was single-handedly creating that barrier with some kind of staff. Silas let out a low whistle, impressed by her strength. She was young to have so much power. It would normally take at least five light mages working together to create a barrier so large. What was she even doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be back in the capital with all the other snooty nobles?

“Did you guys know she could do that?” he asked the Zian monk who was maintaining the flying platform. The man merely shrugged, but he had a knowing smirk that told Silas he was not surprised.

“Well, whatever. Those mages better hurry to help her out, though. I don't care how strong she is. She can't keep that up forever.” Luck be with you, Princess, he thought to himself. Stand strong until your reinforcements arrive.

Silas downed his entire flask in one go. For luck, he thought.

Pilgrim59 koala

 

[StaidFoal]

Durai Windsor
In the ocean, south of Gaul​

On the waters south of Gaul, the salty scent of the ocean tickled the nostrils of pirate captain Durai Windsor. He stood at the bow, staring out into the open ocean, where some three ships appeared only as dotted silhouettes in the horizon. He glanced over to the rest of his five ship fleet. To any regular person, it would've seemed as if he were scowling. To those loyal since the beginning, though, they knew; he was thinking, planning, feeling the breeze and breathing a prayer to El and Ella. On the ships beside Durai's, the pirates were hungrily yapping like rabid dogs, eyeing the ships in the distance. No matter how much they wished to stop waiting around and charge over, they knew better than to speak or act against the captain. Some noticed the water around their ships change in tide, pushing them closer to the distant merchant ships. The two ships on each side were being steadily diverted away. The pirates at the wheels felt the tug of resistance, and one look at Durai told them to allow the tides to take control.

"Cap'n," his first mate, Regan Kala, croaked, "yer orders?" Durai extended his hands, sending the other ships off to the side until the ones at the wheel followed the set path. Throwing some more hand movements, their boat was suddenly rocked by a series of waves, and they were on the move. Regan no longer needed an answer, and she hopped on deck, shouting at the rest of the crew their plan. She'd been with him long enough to know what tactics he used for each situation.

Almost at once, they were upon the merchant vessels. The ships Durai had sent around cut off any possible escape, and the pirates watched as the hired guards came out on deck, weapons drawn. Some of the guards went around the back, where they shouted at each other, pointing at Durai and saying something along the lines of "It's The Maelstrom! We're going to die, but at least go down fighting!" Or so he liked to imagine. Durai stopped the boats with use of his water magic, and with a shout from Durai, the pirates jumped overboard much to the surprise of the rookie Imperial guards, who only heard of his crew and their techniques through rumors.

They quickly learned that it was no rumor, as the pirates were launched on board by bursts of water from the sea, raining down on the merchant vessels. Some unfortunate guards were used as landing pads, earning a sword to the throat as they were crushed. The Imperial guards at the back locked swords with the pirates. Durai watched from his ship; he's learned that his crew have become more than capable with dealing with the guards. He admired their will to fight, refusing to give in so easily. However, these particular guards fought with much more vigor, proving an even match with his blood-thirsty pirates.

Durai noticed how the ships were slowly moving forward again, and so he decided to test something. In front of the merchant vessels he began the rising of a wave, but it never fruitioned. The pirate smiled to himself. There must've been something valuable inside these merchant ships. Why else would they hire a natural mage as a guard?

"Regan," he called out. "Control the ship for me. I'm boarding." His second-in-command stared blankly before hurriedly obeying his order. The pirates gawked as Durai prepared his cutlass. It was rare for him to join a boarding, and they cheered as they joined Durai at the bow of their ship. The Imperial natural mage showed herself at the stern of the center ship, locking eyes with the smiling pirate captain. She had to use a staff to enforce her magic, unlike Durai who followed his tribe's tradition of hand movements. What would she do if she lost the staff? He chuckled to himself at the thought.

Durai nodded at Regan before his crew yelled, jumping into the ocean. The natural mage raised her staff, and whips of water had raised to try and stop the pirates. Durai pushed the columns down only halfway, allowing his crew to land on them before he released his hold on the columns, launching them onto the merchant vessel. They landed on the deck, where Imperial guards were waiting for them. The natural mage looked down on them, trying to direct tentacle-shaped water to latch onto the pirate ships or to at least grab and throw some of the boarders into the open sea. Durai, though, was holding her back, and the pirates locked blades.

Durai was unusually average with the sword, so when a clearly skilled Imperial guard cut down three of his crew members, the captain twisted off the cap of his flask. He sent the liquid out like a whip, entangling the water around the guard's sword and worming its way around his arm. He tried to break free, and was flailing wildly, but the water crawled closer to his face. Instead of stupidly flailing until he was drowned, he charged at Durai, who blocked the attack just barely. With a push of his hand, Durai directed the water around the guard's arm into his nose. Durai respected how he kept swinging at Durai, who was only seconds away from losing his hand or fingers to the guard. He squeezed his hand into a fist, and the guard put his hands over his stomach, vomiting out water before dropping dead.

Some other Imperial guards dared challenge Durai, and soon enough they were left with water draining from their nose and mouth. Durai climbed his way up to where the natural mage was. She was blonde and pretty, despite her awful scowl she faced him with. Not that looks mattered on the battlefield. She was about to spit something vile, no doubt, when Durai spun some hand movements behind him and caused the floor beneath her to burst, a pipe of water wrapping around her arms and forcing the staff free from her grip. This is the worst natural mage I have encountered, Durai decided. His crew had no use for her, and besides, any other natural mages would steal his spotlight at the village's hero. He chose not to go through the trouble of using water magic to drown her, instead using his sword to impale her neck, ending in what he believed to be a swift death.

One glance on the deck and the other two ships told him that it was a decisive victory. He shouted, "Offer any survivors a chance to join my crew. Slaughter those who refuse. Take everything you deem valuable!" The pirates gladly set to work, and Durai hastily searched for whatever valuable was on board the ship to lay his bloodied and soiled hands on.

 

[WillfulWren]

Silver Ferae - Battlefield​

This was quite possibly the worst task the Shifter had been given yet. Even before people started moving the clamour of metal on metal hurt her sensitive ears, and the smell of people crowded together stung at her nose and the worst thing of all? She wasn't even here to fight!

Silver huffed in annoyance. The noise and smell and crowd could have been acceptable if it meant she got to rip open a few stomachs and eat some hearts but no, she was here to protect some princess. She wasn't really sure what a princess was, but she knew one thing: if she was someone who Ravena wanted to protect, Silver would happily watch her die. Or better yet, kill her herself. Unfortunately, this was the task she had been set and any attempt to deviate from it would likely result in a punishment, and after last time, Silver had no intention of angering her mistress. Just the thought was enough to make her shudder, ears flattening to her head before pricking up again at movement from the assembled troops.

Finally, something was happening! Silver, who had been in cat form a short distance away from Aeronwren and her massive wolf - close enough to keep a close eye on them but not close enough to be obvious, shifted back into her more familiar self - just in time too, as a second later a charging soldier cursed and shoved her out the way to continue his charge. She hissed, rounding on him before choosing to let it drop - stretching out her libs briefly before another flicker - a sleek mountain lioness joining the fray. She dodged through the crowd of people, using the backs of a few unlucky soldiers as springboards as she fought to keep up with the woman she had been charged to protect, despite the wolf's longer strides outpacing her.

Seriously, why did that princess even need Silver to protect her when she had a massive wolf?! Thankfully, the pair halted and the shapeshifter managed to catch up, barely having a second to rest and admire the golden shield stretching over their heads when the Gaul footsoldiers descended upon them. The princess had gotten close enough to the front lines for them to be in the thick of the battle almost immediately, the world around them turning to bloody, screaming chaos.

For a few moments, Silver was in her element. The scent and taste of blood clouded the air, dying screams and clashing weapons drowned out all other sounds - the air felt electric and her fur stood on end. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

And then from the corner of her eye, she saw a Gaul soldier running at the princess and her wolf and without even thinking about it, the Shifter moved. Leaping onto the poor man, claws seeking the weak points in his armour before there was a wet squelch as something important ruptured. She was just trying to figure out how to open the tin can that was his armour to get at the meat inside when someone else attacked - this time, gunning right for her.

The first few kills seemed easy enough as to make her wonder why this was such an important job - once you figured out how to get through armour, it was easy! - but after the third attack she had to fend off there was an uncomfortable burn in the Shifter's muscles and her chest heaved with the effort of continuing to fight.

Nope, turns out this really was the worst job yet after all.

koala​

 

[StaidFoal]

Durai Windsor
Talys Plains​

Durai's fleet crashed against the shores of Gaul, and he and his crew stepped onto the land. He felt a tinge of regret heeding that wyvern messenger and docking his fleet, but money was money, despite how evident it was that his pirates were far better suited on a wavy ship rather than the still earth. Regan Kala barely trudged beside Durai, who scaled rocky edges since he was a teenager back in his tribe. He wondered how they were doing, especially Neha. Neha. Memories of his previous visit resurfaced, causing Durai's scowl to soften a bit. Regan noticed, asking in her broken tongue if he was all right, to which he nodded. Soon enough, the Gaulic command post came into view. The guards recognized him, even from afar, allowing passage. for the crew. They avoided eye contact with any of the pirates, especially Regan's one eye, grey and chill as a winter sea. She was hideous. A terrible scar ran down her face from forehead to jaw, making it look like a portrait that had been furiously crossed out. Her mouth was wrenched sideways in a permanent sneer and her nose was a smashed stump. Not even Durai knew much about her, just that she came from a slave transport ship and was a loyal fighter ever since.

The soldiers stopped all they were doing to catch a glimpse of the elusive Maelstrom. They muttered things such as, "How did they bring The Maelstrom?" and, "With The Maelstrom on our side, the Imperials stand no chance." Durai instructed his crew to wait outside the big tent and its guards, where the Gaul's generals resided.

"Maelstrom!" He turned to face the Gaulic general who called his name. He and two other generals sat up from their plans and waltzed over to Durai as if they were old friends. "I'm afraid we will have to skip the pleasantries. Those Imperial mages pose a threat to our forces, and you are one of the best mages in Gaul. Take care of them, and you will be paid in due time."

Durai stared at them blankly. "I have no interest in your war; it's reserved for my own cause. Know that this alliance is as temporary as it can get." The pirate walked past the generals, observing their plans and swiping one's drink, sipping it as one of the generals stuck his hand out before refraining. "You stick to your end of the deal; I take care of the Imperial mages, you give me the money I desire. I expect fulfillment."

The four stepped outside, and Durai looked in the air and pointed at the floating command center. "That yours? Bah, who am I kidding. Looks too fancy to be Gaul." He stared at the general in charge of the wyverns. "Why don't you fly your beasts up to the Imperial commanders?" The general began rambling on about different excuses and barrier this, magic that, when Durai hushed him. "Fret not, I'll simply deal with it myself." The generals watched Durai leave and the pirate crew follow their captain out of the command post. Some walking later, he knelt to the floor, putting his hand over the dirt. He could feel the water running below the earth, and with a sniff the humidity of the air. The crew stood back, ready to draw their swords for the incoming attack.

Durai jolted up, squeezing his hands, showing its veins and vibrating them intensely. To the amazement of his crew, muddy water began to seep from the ground. Droplets formed from the thin, humid air like magic to them. Their captain took a deep breath, concentrating the water into one large drop. He stretched his arms out, as if he were thinning out a spear, eyes blissfully shut. The water had morphed into a sort of spear, and with one hand, he launched it. However, it shattered against a wind barrier, failing to damage the command post itself. He clicked his tongue. He should've known better.

"Spread out. Cover yourselves with foliage, ready your slings if you have any. For those that don't, climb the trees and be ready to unsheathe your swords. Having them out will glint in the sun and reveal your position. Go!" The crew dispersed, leaving The Maelstrom to wait for the incoming skirmish.

MagicPenguin

 

[MagicPenguin]

Silas Blackthrone
Above Talys Plains

The Imperial Three had been carefully watching the battle unfold for hours now, relaying orders as needed via wyvern. Things were going relatively smoothly, Silas thought. The middle was enduring the Magnolia cavalry and the mages, archers, and fliers on the right were keeping the dragon riders at bay, at least for now. The middle was slowly pushing its way forward, and though the Gaulic line still held, signs that it would soon buckle began to show. If they could just keep this pace up, then this battle would be over before--

A huge crash a few feet away from the command platform took Silas's feet out from under him. He was on his knees, though he righted himself quickly to determine what had just happened. His eardrums felt shattered from the loud sound of the water spear that had just collided with his wind barrier, though Silas was sure it hadn't actually been that loud. It was merely the shock of it.

The suddenness of the spear of water smashing into Silas's wind barrier certainly was a shock, though not an entirely unexpected one. High up as this platform was, it was an enticing target with all of the Imperial Three in one place, even if it was protected by flying units and far enough in the back to be out of range of most mages and archers. It apparently wasn't out of the range of all the mages, though. That water shot had some distance, and boy did it hit with some power. Silas had felt the impact in his bones. He was reminded of the old fable of the spear that could pierce anything meeting against the shield that could block any strike. Whoever threw that had some serious magical power.

"Blackthorne!" the Great General barked. "What was that?! Do something, you fool!"

"I've got it," Silas replied, eyes fixed in concentration, looking for the direction from which the spear came so he could pinpoint its source.

For now, though, they were safe. Silas reinforced the barrier, made it even stronger than before in anticipation of more attacks. He wasn't disappointed. More water spears came in short order, each more powerful than the last. A few of them had even shattered his wind shield, though Silas made new ones in short order with relative ease. The Mage General still could not quite figure out exactly where the attacks were coming from. Somewhere in the middle, directly ahead, beside the middle of the armies clashing, but he just couldn't get an exact enough location to retaliate yet.

The platform of light rumbled again as another water spear collided with his latest shield. The effort of keeping the shield up in the face of such force nearly brought Silas to his knees, but he held it together. Silas's eyes widened, however, when he saw that this time, the water spear did not shatter on contact with his shield. This time, the spearhead turned into a spinning drill-like piece, pushing its way into the invisible wall Silas had created. No matter how tough Silas made the wall, if the water was drilling through it, it would do no good. It was devilishly clever; just who was he dealing with here? No ordinary magic user, of that he was certain.

Silas tried to tap the water element to dispel the effect on the water drill, to sever the connection between the water and the caster having an effect on it, but his attempt was rebuffed; Silas was somewhat shocked. For a mage of Silas's power level, it should have been relatively easy to snap the thread that connected mage and water, but it was almost like the thread had just been too thick for him to sever, like trying to cut a thick rope with a pair of scissors too small. He tapped water and tried again, this time putting more power behind his attempt, and was successful, but too late.

The water spear drilled its way through the wall and went on to the occupants of the platform with no loss of momentum, speed, or force, as if it had not just collided head first with a solid wall. Silas's dispelling of the caster's magic took effect only after it had already speared the Great General through the throat, and then went on to take out the light mage standing behind him who had been maintaining the platform they were standing on. Only then did the water drill collapse into an amorphous blob of water droplets, falling to the ground like a gentle red rainstorm. Silas' eyes widened at the gaping hole in the Great General's neck, at the man uselessly clawing at the bloody ruin, gasping and choking, his eyes boring first into him and then into Emilia, as if trying to tell them something. He looked terrified, an emotion that Silas had almost convinced himself the old bull wasn't capable of feeling. But that was foolish. Of course he felt fear. Of course he did. What soldier wouldn't feel fear at the moment of their death, especially a death as sudden and unexpected as what this man just faced?

With one last weak, bubbling croak, the Great General's eyes took on a glassy, faraway gaze and his breathing stopped for good. The old bull, the genuine pain in the ass that he was--always on Silas's ass about his drinking, about being a better role model for the men, about proper etiquette at court, about using his talents more proactively for the good of the empire--he was gone. He'd never nag the Mage General ever again. Silas felt a great sorrow well up from somewhere deep within him, one he felt before whenever a comrade died on the field of battle. He'd butt heads with the man enough times, didn't particularly like him as a person, but he was still a soldier, Silas's brother-in-arms, and now he was dead. Silas felt a burning at the corners of his eyes, but suppressed the tears. The only time a soldier could cry was when the battle was finally over.

Silas had no more time to mourn. The platform beneath them had vanished with the light mage who constructed it dead. They were falling. He heard distant shouting, as if from a long tunnel, and it pulled him from his ruminations. Emilia, maybe? He couldn't tell. He peeled his eyes from the Great General's corpse--part of Silas still didn't believe he was gone, still expected him to turn around start chewing Silas out for bad posture or some minor infraction while they were falling to their deaths--and tapped the wind element again, not to make a shield this time, but simply to slow their fall. He could not make them fly as a light mage could, but he could at least create a soft cushion of air so they wouldn't go splat when they landed.

Once their feet were back on solid ground, Silas wasted no time. Someone was going to pay for this. He was going to make sure of it. He'd gotten a good look at where the drill came from this time. He was going to go after the mage who made it. It wasn't the smart play, not the play the Great General would have wanted, but Silas had to do it. He reached into his pocket for his flask of whiskey, his second one after downing the flask earlier, only to find it missing. He let out a nasty curse. Must've dropped it in the fall. Just his bloody luck.

"Knight General," he said to Emilia with a growl. "Take the old bull's body back to the command tents. Find a way to make it clear to the men that we're still alive." Two of us, anyway. "Figure out a way to keep relaying orders so the army doesn't fall into complete chaos in our absence." He turned his eyes on her, death and vengeance screaming from their deepest depths, a look somewhat out of character from the usually detached Mage General. "You take control of the battlefield. I'm going to go kill the son of a bitch who did this."

With that, he left Emilia and ran to the nearest reserve soldier he could find to appropriate his horse. The man made some sounds of protest, but Silas turned that death glare on him and the fellow was suddenly all too happy to lend his steed. With as much speed as he could muster, Silas rode through the squares of fighting men, over the corpses of the already fallen. Several enemies tried to take swipes at him, only to find themselves bound in threads of air, unable to move any part of their body as another soldier appeared to slit their throats while they were immobilized.

He rode all the way to the line of trees from which he'd determined the water spears had come. There, he found an older man with gray hair, tanned, leathery skin, the uniform of a high ranking Maritia pirate captain, and a solid, sturdy bearing about him in command of a small squadron of men. Arrows and stones from slings came flying at Silas from the trees, but he batted them aside with air. Silas then tapped Fire and Earth. The ground beneath the feet of the men standing behind the powerful natural mage in command exploded in a spray of molten rock and hot lava, sending body parts in all directions. He tapped Earth again and the limbs of the trees in which the men with bows and slings were hiding reached out and wrapped around the necks of their occupants. Bows and slings dropped uselessly to the ground as men struggled with the branches around their necks, their legs dangling helplessly as they slowly suffocated. Now that the peanut gallery was taken care of, it was time for the main act.

Silas tapped Earth and Fire, and the ground beneath the older commander's feet began to rumble and turn red hot. He would do to this man what he'd just done to all his former subordinates standing behind him that were now in pieces strewn about the forest and plains.

The Fluffiest Floof StaidFoal

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Emilia Lightstark


Emilia had been relaying orders to the men. God how she hated to be up there on that platform. She couldn´t stand being so retreated, holed up in a position while down there, men fought and died for the cause. HER cause. Her place was down there, fighting. But, of course, that was just how she felt. Not what her task consisted of. It was because of that, that she accepted this. For now, at least, it was important that she relayed the orders from the command center.

The Aegis ignored, as the Great General went to bash Silas again, verbally that was. That was a regular occurance, the two men just never seemed to get along. Emilia herself never had any issues with the great general. He wasn´t the most sympathetic guy, but he did his job well and that was all that really mattered. Emilia shook her head, she had already wasted too much time thinking about that right now. Her mind was needed for the battle.

She was just giving out yet another set of orders, when she felt the command center shake. She had no idea what was going on, but it seemed they were under attack. "urgh! I told you we were just sitting ducks up here!", she complained to the Great General. She wasn´t currently looking at him. but she did turn to do so when a gurgling sound was all she got for a reply. And she saw, that the Great General was not in a condition to deal with complaints at the moment. "It... seems you agree.", she said, in shock at seeing the General die before her just like that. He had fear in his eyes. She understood it. She too was a bit afraid now. Dying here... Without making an impact. No... That´d be failure.

Emilia turned to Silas, who seemed just as shocked. She yelled his name, trying to get his attention. Before the platform beneath them gave out. They were falling, Emilia knew she would die, just like that, without any chance to die for her kingdom, but by falling to the floor like a retarded bird that forgot how to fly. And she did what was the most reasonable thing to do. Scream "aaaaaah" as she fell. But luckily, Silas did come to his senses. When she realized that, she stopped screaming. She knew he could save them and she relied on it. Trusted it.

Her trust was not failed, as their landing was pillowed, her landing kneeling, somewhat leaning onto her blade. She rose and pulled the sword from the ground. Silas came over to her, telling her what to do. In a more lax environment, she´d contest that, but there was neither time nor place for that. She simply nodded and ordered two soldiers over to her. "Get the bodies somewhere safe. Bring the two fastest riders to the left flank. I´ll be heading there. They will carry out orders, so make sure they know how to ride fast and ride safe. The royal guard is to converge on my position as well. The mages are tasked to deal with the dracoriders and the magnolia cavalry on the right and middle. That guides the advance on those fronts."

The soldiers she had instructed hurried to carry out her orders, one caring for the bodies while the other ran to their horse and rode away, Emilia approached the fight. Now, she was in her element. The soldiers around her took little time to recognize their general and the morale was audibly immediatly stronger, as "For Estelle" and "For the Emperor" shouts started to be heard throughout the battlefied. Emilia spun the sword in her hand, before engaging in combat herself. With a strong overhead strike, she attacked the soldier immediatly in front of her, who barely managed to block it, breaking down before her. She turned her blade and stabbed the man, making sure he didnt rise again. Though there was no time to rest, as the next opponent charged with his blade. Emilia put the second hand on her edge, gripping it safely as she used the blade between her hande to guide the strike off to the side. With the man now out of position, she quickly ripped her arms backwards, giving the soldier a pommel to the face and probably a concussion. He stumbled backwards, which gave Emilia the time to strike him down. With no immediate opponent, she rose her sword to the sky and yelled "For the Emperor!", before seeking out the next unlucky enemy to taste her dedication.

 

[Plutoni]

ROJIAH

LOCATION: The Talys Bluffs
TAGS: ✵

“Look at them, Ishim. How they scurry.”

Sunlight glittered off metal across the plains. Like so many silver ants on the march, these tiny beads of mercury crawled across the great rolling tapestry of Talys, grass and stone transformed by the sun’s hazy witchcraft into green velvet and fool’s gold from the heights of the distant cliffs. Even there the echoes of the preparations of war could be heard, faint cries rising with the eagles amongst the thermal currents.

A creature sat upon a ledge high above the scree and crumbling stone of the foot of the mountain, tiny against the rock face but impossibly bright. The very outline of this luminous, white-gold beast seemed unreal, gently rippling like the liquid incandescence of burning alcohol. It was tall and hunched, the slender, almost cheetah-like body too long for it’s legs as it bowed it’s great arched neck and birdlike face to watch the armies gather leagues below. It’s crest burned with a silent black fire, not a wisp of smoke to trail into the air between the two towering wings, folded with the slope of its shoulders down towards the ground, elegant tips brushing the sky many metres above its head. Ishim did not reply. He simply twitched his tail, curled neatly around all four great clawed feet.

Rojiah glanced up at his djinni from where he sat, leant back on his hands to dangle his legs off the edge into the gentle breeze of the void below, and a wry half-smile curled his lip. He snorted, turning his head back towards the battlefront.
“Not much of a chatty one, are you?” he mused to the open air.

They watched the wyverns dancing in the sky to the west in an almost entranced silence, man and spirit both held in the powerful grip of the same curiosity, all four golden eyes sharp and near unblinking in their focus. Rojiah missed nothing. No matter how spellbinding the landscape, he was not simply here to sightsee. He’d come to spectate this little war game, to see these great powers of the other side of the mountains for himself, to learn - he cared not for the victor. Such petty things mattered little to him. It was the Estellian Empire against the tribes of Gaul, or so he’d heard on his passage through the heartland of the kingdom. He’d cut his time in Esse pitifully short once he’d caught wind of the conflict. He’d left his homeland at just the right moment, it seemed. Perhaps they were, perhaps they weren’t, but little coincidences such as these all seemed to have the elusive markings of a sign about them. The ghost of a smile crossed his face like the wisps of cloud cast shadows across the land, and Rojiah sighed indulgently. He liked this feeling up here. One day soon, one such army would even be his.

Movement broke him immediately from his fantasies, pushing himself upright as he saw a sudden roaring flood of soldiers break from the leftmost Estellian flank. He almost gave a bark of laughter, eyes widening with mirth and mild disbelief. These kui were not only soft, but they were also tragic fools. He’d already sought out their leaders, seeing the specks of their forms floating high above the masses, and the impulsive, arrogant feelings of kinship he’d felt for these almost-peers of his were now rapidly dissolving into a sense of vague and smiling scorn. Whether it was by command or they had simply lost control of their soldiers, the display of incompetence delighted him. Perhaps the dynasty he‘d soon create wouldn’t even need to be held back behind the mountains; if this was how the people of these lands fought, maybe the Vazirim could afford to expand their back garden.

Faraway blossoms of magic and fire reflected in his eyes as he stared, rapt, in the strange quiet of the distant carnage. Birds mewed above them. It was almost peaceful up there. Far from the heat of blood and iron, they watched on like two idle gods lacking only popcorn for their entertainment. But, as always, all good things must come to an end - as he watched the commanders of Estelle fall like comets from their throne in the sky, Rojiah got to his feet, yawn wide and sharp as he stood at the lip of the precipice for a moment to stretch in the light. He’d seen what he’d wanted to see, and now he was bored. He had things to be doing. He turned back to where Ishim waited patiently, already risen to his full height with wings shaken out, twisting a hand into the eerie fire of his mane and swinging himself up over his back. He pulled his headscarf back up around the lower half of his face from where it had been left to pool around his neck as the creature took three elegant steps towards the edge and, ever so quietly, dropped. The world blurred. Rojiah was sure that Ishim did it just to screw with him sometimes. He banked to the right, buffeted by the mild upcurrents away from the battlefield and back towards the capital of Esse from whence they’d came. He’d be back this way soon enough. For now, though, he had a hunt to begin. He already felt the distant heralding cries.

 

[HighSanguinaryPriest]

Vet'r Silverhands ​

The ringing of steel filled the air, as the Silverhands hammered steel, all under the instruction of their brother and unit leader Vet'r as he carefully carved runes into the icy steel his people were famous for. There was a tension in the air, as the young recruits and the hardened veterans waited anxiously for the battle to begin. It had never been a matter of if there would be a battle, but when it would happen. The Frost were no strangers to conflict, it was a part of who they are as a people, but as Vet'r looked about at the fresh faces of green recruits, the fear was palpable. He knew many would not survive this day.

"Quench that steel Mjol, kill the heat to the forge gunjar." Vet'r barked as he finished carving and imbuing the last rune on the axe that had been requested. Looking up, he spied his brothers and sisters carrying out his orders, the temperature in the hot forge dropping rapidly.

Vet'r was about to tell his brothers and sisters to take the rest of the day off and prepare, when the horns of the Gaul trumpeted alertering them that the imperials were charging. Growling in annoyance, Vet'r went into officer mode. "Arm yourselves, get your asses to the border of the camp! I want glacial defenses in place. Hilgrun, Sven, you two are with me."

The team gave a HUA and ran out of the forge to perform their duties. As it turned out, Vet'r wasn't the only one to get the same idea, as sections of icy walls formed around the camp, large lenses forming on top to focus the Ray's of the sun upon their imperial foes. When the frost was spotted by the others, cheers went up at the sight of their champion as Vet'r Silverhands charged out to join the fray, his legendary gauntlets glowing with runic power as he and his people channeled their innate power bring with them a blizzard as they charged.

 

[koala]

Aeronwren Tulipey​

[div class=base][div class=image][/div] Location: Left flank Beads of sweat were forming along Aeronwren’s hairline. Her body felt uncontrollably hot underneath the spring sun and her white cloak. It was getting more difficult to breathe by the second. Slender arm trembling from holding up her staff, she could feel her magic falter and light rippled across the golden dome above. She gritted her teeth and forced herself passed the scorching flames coursing through her veins long enough to stabilize the barrier for reinforcements to arrive and take over. The sight of fellow light mages made her release a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “Princess!” Ah, that title again. It was a title she’d loathed as soon as she entered Esse. Her? A princess? Had she known she’d be chained to the empire, she would’ve never let her curiosity get the best of her. She would’ve continued on with her journey. However, it wasn’t the time nor the situation to correct the men. They’d learn how to address her properly soon enough. Even if… Even if… Release it, Aeronwren. Eyolf said warningly, more aware of Aeronwren’s limitation than she was. His words broke whatever spell she was under. Her arm dropped, staff resting on the large wolf as she gave him a small smile. Her face had paled somewhat, but her rosy tint soon returned as she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she began, patting her companion on the side. “You know I have to do everything I can when I can.” Eyolf growled, as if he were annoyed with her response. “Yes, but you know what being a mixed child means. You can not use your full magic like others.” And she knew he was right. A half-elf and half-human had a 50% chance of being completely healthy. Aeronwren happened to fall on the other end of the spectrum. She became tired much more quickly than others and had even broken out in terrible fevers from surpassing her limits in the past. “You can scold me later, you giant pup.” Aeronwren had opened her mouth to say something else, but she’d noticed a man near some rocks that had been struck. The woman immediately hopped onto the ground and rushed over, staff in hand and Eyolf in tow. When she arrived, she knelt down and wrapped the three of them under a shielded dome. “Hello,” she greeted as softly as she could, lifting the man’s body with all her strength so he could rest his back against the boulder. “I’m Aeronwren, what’s your name?” As the man spoke, she tore straps of her cloak to wrap around his waist and thigh. “Okay, I’m going to heal you. You know how healing works, don’t you?” The man nodded his head and Aeronwren smiled, placing both of her hands over the wounds. A gold light shone from her hands and the man screamed in blood curdling agony as his bones, muscles, and skin appeared to heal. It made her stomach churn and she could feel her heart No amount of experience could ever rid her of the empathy she felt for those she helped. The pain was only temporary though, and the color quickly returned to the soldiers face as she continued with her duty. She was so focused on helping the man that she hadn't even noticed the puffs of steam coming from her mouth and the growing goosebumps on her skin. Eyolf, at some point, had left the safety of the barrier and out onto the battlefield. Men were swarming towards them in all directions. He’d taken a defensive stance at first, legs apart, shoulders high, and head low with a drooling snarl. His green eyes were dark with protective rage and his low growl was powerful, as if it could shake the very ground beneath him. The soldiers surrounded him, spears and shields in their hands. They had fear in the eyes, fear from never seeing such a beast before. Eyolf lunged at them warningly whiling snarling. They jumped back but then pushed forwards, and that was when the onyx wolf attacked. The first man screamed as Eyolf jumped onto him, ripping off his head like a thin twig off a tree. Blood sprayed across the ground and coated Eyolf’s fur, making it sticky and warm. He turned towards the other men, head in his mouth before he let it drop to the ground. The eyes rolled backwards while bits of flesh got caught in the grass. Who’s next? Eyolf asked, even though Aeronwren was the only one who could understand him. Blood dripped from his razor sharp canines as he slowly made his way over, and it seemed as though he were smiling. [/div] [class=base] background-color: #D4D4D6; color: black; height: 350px; min-width: 300px; max-width: 500px; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x: none; margin: auto; padding: 5px; white-space: pre-line; [/class] [class=image] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/cKbOaGv.jpg); background-size: cover; height: 350px; min-width: 300px; max-width: 500px; [/class]

 

[StaidFoal]

Durai Windsor and Silas Blackthorne
Talys Plains
(Written by both me and MagicPenguin )​

"Steady, hold your slings..." The last water spear had worked wonders, dropping the command center from the air. Then, one of the Imperials from said center appeared in the distance. From the look of it, he was a high-ranking general, and a natural mage at that. Durai pulled some more water from the ground, preparing to defend himself when his crew fired against his orders. Before the captain could shout at them, the ground beneath his crew blew open with magma. He watched his crew members be blown apart before his very eyes. The archers in the trees were strangled by its branches, but before he lost anymore men he sliced the branches with water and pushed his men away from the erupting lava.

"Cap'n!" he heard Regan yell as she roughly shoved him away. Another burst of lava, erupting from where he stood only seconds ago, followed by the pained screams of his first mate.

"Regan!" Durai shouted, hurriedly running over to her. Her right arm was missing, and she was groaning and writhing in pain. He applied his water magic to her wounds, sliding her to the surviving crew members "Get back to the ship and aid from the healers! I'll deal with this mage myself!"

The fellow on the horse tsked. "Not so fast," he muttered, then used his magic again to do...something. The trees into which the crew tried to retreat suddenly bent and moved their limbs to grab people off the ground, and bar the path of any wounded trying to escape. Next, a flurry of fireballs went rushing right past Durai, headed straight for the backs of his retreating wounded who were penned in by the trees and unable to move anywhere to escape. This guy was not content to simply let them run with their lives.

The captain gritted his teeth as his crew was stopped in their tracks and attacked. Among the bloodbath and carnage of his crew, he spotted Regan Kala amongst the dead, making him grimace. She appeared indignant, as if death was only for the feeble-minded and weak, and that she did not belong anywhere near them. "And here I thought the Imperials were honorable."

"Honor is a myth," the guy responded as he approached at a casual canter and readied another fireball in one hand. "War is never honorable. Just kill or be killed. A fact of life that the Great General of the Empire, whom you just killed, knew well." He launched the fireball straight at Durai.

With not a second to waste, Durai jumped back and drew a wall of water; some from underground, the air, and most from the surrounding trees which caused them to shatter into splinters. The fireball exploded against the wall, sending drops of boiling water everywhere. Durai burst forward, sending forth two snake-like bodies of water surging at Silas from each side. At the same time, he placed his flask of water near a scathing fire.

The exploding trees allowed the survivors of the fireballs among the crew earlier to make a hasty escape. Durai's opponent may have made another attempt to stop them if he had not had to deal with the attacks coming at him from his left and his right. He could either attack the crew, or defend himself. "Very clever," the man stated almost appreciatively.

With a tsk, the man gestured and the earth beneath his horse rippled. Two natural walls of rock, grass, and dirt abruptly jumped up on both sides, between him and the oncoming snakes of water.

The man must have thought himself safe behind his walls, because he made no further move to defend himself. He simply examined Durai and seemed to be preparing another attack of some kind. A mistake.

The two snakes of water colliding with the earthen walls split into two smaller snakes each and sneaked around each wall in two directions, then reformed back into two snakes on the other side and moved onward. The man only noticed what had happened a second before one of them would have gone right through his heart. As it was, he dodged just in the nick of time and it only went cleanly through his side. He fell from his horse, which itself had been impaled through the head and fell lifelessly in the opposite direction with a frightened scream.

The fellow hobbled to his feet in jerking motions, face contorted in pain. "The amount of control it must have taken to manipulate the water that way, the power of that drill of water earlier, the way you destroyed those trees using only water...not just any mage could have done those things. And you make no move to use any other element. A powerful natural mage who taps only Water and wears the uniform of a Maritia captain...you can only be the so-called Maelstrom, Durai Windsor, 'scourge' of the imperial navy. Is that right?"

Durai made no change of face, using this time to consider his next plan of action as he spoke with the general. "Correct, and considering that the Great General has perished and the Knight General is a woman, you must be none other than Silas Blackthorne, Imperial Mage General. My first mate, Regan Kala, spoke... lowly of you all. Anyone would after seeing the conditions your Imperial nobles' slave ships. I'm considered a hero by many, and to me, you are nothing more than a griffon who believed killing a wyvern's cubs was a grand idea."

Voice tense with pain, Silas responded. "Heh. I'll cry salty tears into my pillow tonight for your low opinion of me. I'm simply heartbroken." With a grunt, the man struggled to stand straight, still holding his hand to his side. When he removed it, it became clear that he had been stalling for time just as Durai had been. The wound, previously bleeding profusely, was burnt over and closed. Must hurt like hell, but better than bleeding out.

"Shall we get back to it, 'Maelstrom'?" Silas uttered the title with noticeable sarcastic derision as he threw two more fireballs in Durai's direction.

Durai clicked his tongue, having grabbed the flask of water—hot to the touch—he had cast near the open flames earlier, the pirate shot his arms up. The ground beneath him rumbled when a small geyser shot Durai into the air, but the fireballs traveled faster than he anticipated. His arms became singed, and he scowled at his rookie mistake. Using the time he had in the air, he threw the flask of boiling water over Silas' head. With a small pull, the flask's contents reached out like a multi-fingered hand, aiming to grasp onto the general.

Surprised by Durai's sudden propulsion into the air, it apparently took Silas a moment to figure out what to do about it. Too slow. "Gah!" The Mage General cried out as the boiling water from the flask went over his head, into his eyes. Almost a knee-jerk reaction, Silas blindly shot his hand up and, suddenly, out of a clear blue sky, a bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens and into the spot Silas had last seen Durai before boiling water forced him to close his eyes.

The abrupt strike of lightning completely threw Durai off focus. He fell on his back with a small groan, far from a graceful landing. "So that's why you're the 'Storm General', I'd figured those were just boastful nicknames." Regan taught him to never leave the smallest of seconds for the enemy to recover, and Durai made sure that he followed through. He brought up a melon-sized ball of water, attempting to stick it over Silas' head. At the same time, Durai put a meter thick body of water three feet above his head.

The ball descended on the still-blinded Silas, but he must have known it was there somehow, because he dodged in a roll at the last second. When he got back on his feet, his clothes were bone dry and his eyes were open and, if a little red and irritated, clear of any hot water to obstruct his sight. He must've used water magic to instantly dry himself; that was a trick Durai was certainly familiar with himself.

Two more bolts of lightning came flying out of the sky at the speed of light, and this time Silas could see exactly where Durai was standing.

The first lightning bolt struck the roof of water Durai set up earlier, but the next struck the damaged barrier immediately after. The barrier still held strong, but Silas didn't let up. Another bolt hit the shield, then another, and another, and another, each more powerful than the last. Silas hammered away at the barrier of water with lightning bolts as a blacksmith might batter away at metal on his anvil. Durai could not move from beneath the shield, pinned down by the massively powerful lightning strikes. Between each bolt, Silas let out an enraged cry.

"You've been raiding the southern coast for years, innocent people put out of their homes or killed or worse..."

Another bolt hit his shield.

"You've stolen goods from merchant ships, leaving people penniless and stranded without any remorse for your actions!"

Another bolt.

"You've ended more innocent lives than you can probably even remember, all for nothing but a bloody profit!"

Another bolt.

"You killed my colleague, a good man, a great soldier..."

Another bolt.

"And...you made me DROP MY WHISKEY! Raaaah!"

One last bolt. The shield of water finally gave way and cracked. Some of the electricity penetrated the body of water, striking the pirate captain. It was less powerful than it could've been, but it caused the water Durai was controlling to fall into the ground and for him to drop on a knee, trying to control his erratic breathing as his heart skipped a beat. He scowled once more, clenching his fist. "I've still given more than all of your corrupt nobles combined!" A gray hue was noticeably being cast over them; fog. It became so humid that they could feel the moistness enter their nostrils, and soon Durai disappeared into the fog. Somewhere around Silas, the pirate captain began to create a series of water spears, surrounding the general. The only downside to this method was that Durai couldn't see him either.

"Tch," he heard Silas say from somewhere within the fog ahead of him. "You can run, Maelstrom, but you can't hide from me."

The Earth beneath Durai gave a little rumble. The pirate had only a second's notice, a faint crackle in the air around him for warning, before a bolt came crashing down right where he would have been had he not jumped out of the way by instinct. After another second, another small ripple could be felt in the ground beneath him. As before, seconds after the ripple, another crackle in the air followed by another narrowly dodged thunderbolt. This same sequence seemed to occur again in again in that order: ripple in the ground, then lightning bolt. It quickly became clear what Silas was doing: sending waves through the ground with Earth magic to pinpoint where Durai was standing, then sending a blast of lightning where he felt the ripple in the ground stop. With each rumble in the earth, Silas would get a better idea of where Durai was hiding. The Storm General would find him soon. As Silas told him, he could not hide in the fog forever.

Having realized how Silas was finding him, Durai launched several geysers around the area. Only one of them had he flung himself on. He flew above the fog, and, though his magic sensing capabilities have proven to be a bit below average, the pirate could feel the source of the magic. Durai formed a sharp water snake around his arm, dropping to where Silas cast his magic from. Many thoughts came and went, like how the Gaulic generals were probably pillaging his ships after this, or if his beloved Neha's light magic could possibly... No, they were all dead, including Regan. Having a pitiful amount of surviving crew left, Durai used his anger to thrust the water snake in between Silas' neck and shoulder with all the energy he could muster.

Silas looked up and all he got out before the tendril of water penetrated his skin was a shocked, "what?!" When the fog cleared, no longer held in place by magic, Durai stood over a kneeling Silas, a sharp snake of water protruding from Durai's arm and drilling into Silas' innards from its place of entry. The Storm General coughed up a nasty red spittle onto the floor, a sign of the massive damage that had been done to him.

"Well, damn," he muttered. "Can't believe you...actually got me. Can't believe I'm going to die here in this stupid field...with not a drop of alcohol to send me on the way. Ugh..."

He fell onto his stomach with a groan and stopped moving, though his eyes were still open. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing and his eyes were glassy with the last remnants of life he could manage to cling to.

The snake of water was now stemmed to a body of the liquid that engulfed Durai's hand, crawling up his arm. He fed more water to it, extending the blade further in, a blank, stateless countenance overtaking the pirate. "Let us hope Regan holds back in her revenge spree, down there."

With another cough of blood, Silas barked a weak laugh. "Hah. Guess you'll just have to come with me to set the poor girl straight."

Silas' hand reached up and clutched at the snake of water still drilling its way further into his internal organs. A crackle of electricity surrounded his hand. The water spit and fizzed as it conducted the current Silas was sending into it with his last breath. Durai saw what was happening and attempted to retract the water tendril, but he was not faster than the speed of lightning: the powerful current travelled through the snake that wounded Silas and engulfed Durai in a torrent of hot, burning pain everywhere on his body, all at once. A searing heat felt as though it was burning his internal organs to cinders. His consciousness quickly faded and his body fell to rest beside Silas, his skin smoking, blood leaking from his nose and mouth from his own internal damage.

The two lifeless natural mages lay sprawled on the battlefield beside one another, unnoticed and undisturbed by the chaos of warfare all around them, just two more corpses among an ever-growing pile.

Oddly, however, when the dead were gathered and counted after the battle was finished, neither man's body lay where it had fallen during the battle.

It was as if neither mage had ever been there.

 

[koala]

[div class=container][div class=header]EVENT[/div] [div class=maintext]All main characters, regardless of location, suddenly feel a queasiness in their gut. Their eyesight blurs as their heads pound with an incredible pain, one they've never experienced before. As their legs go limp, gravity sucks them to the earth. Before they feel the soft grass against their skin, however, everything goes black. ** Please find a good stopping point. ** StaidFoal Pilgrim59 Plutoni MagicPenguin WillfulWren HighSanguinaryPriest The Fluffiest Floof * What is an "event"? - Events will occur randomly. I like to think they add spice to the story and help keep things moving along. For example, if there's a major twist, I may write it as an event; or in this case, the event acts as a catalyst. When an event occurs, you can include it however you want.[/div][/div] [class=container] white-space: pre-line; min-height: 100px; min-width: 350px; width: 800px; margin: auto; [/class] [class=header] font-size:28px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=maintext] font-size:15px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 20px; text-align: justify; [/class]

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Emilia Lightstark

The battle was fierce, but it looked good for the left flank. Soon after Emilia had engaged, she could see her loyal unit, the imperial guard, arriving. The red and silver armor, the ornamented shields and the silver spears shone bright. Emilia was faithful. The left flank would be able to push back enemy forces now, overwhelm them even, maybe. Though her own battle was not over yet.

She impaled a man in ront of her with her blade, before pushing him off by his shoulder. Though then, she found herself in a bit of a pickle. Three soldiers had decided to join their attacks, trying to strike down the general once and for all. They attacked in unison, a blade coming at her from three angles. Luckily, all were at least somewhat in front of her, making the warrior able to block all three strikes with her blade at once. The blades locked and she used that to deliver a quick headbutt to one of the soldiers, who was not wearing a helmet. Then man staggered back, dropping his weapon and with that, resolving the stalemate of swords.

With her now free blade, Emilia quickly perfomed a stab, finding the throat of the second soldier, before ripping her sword free in a long swipe, surprising the third. His surprised expression remained on his head, as it rolled off his shoulders. The first, who had been demonstrated why Emilia was called headstrong sometimes, had stumbled over and was now sitting there, holding his forehead in pain. Emilia lost no time finish the job, releaving him off the pain she had caused.

just as she though she could take a breather for a moment, she felt a sharp pain in her back. It took a second for her to understand what had happened. still unbelieving, she guided a hand to her back, where she knew a small weak spot in her armor was, as two parts connected. But as she guided her hand there, she felt it grasp a hold of something sticking out of that spot. It felt wooden and it was quite long. "I did it!", she heard a voice shout. "I killed the knight commander!" Emilia´s hand tightly grasped the spear that had been planted in her body. With one quick motion, she pulled it out, turning around to face the unarmed man. His happy shouts soon drowned and his expression turned to one of terror. "What... that cant be! You... You´re not a human! You´re a monster!", he exclaimed in fear, backing away. The aegis, now her blade in one, a bloody spear in the other hand, had a face of stone. No expression what so ever. Neither did she at all seem bothered by pain. She slowly walked towards the man, who soon tripped and fell. "M-monster...", he stuttered out again, before Emilia used the very same spear he had to end him.

Of course, Emilia was in incredible pain. While the attack had not been deep enough to hit anything vital, it was still quite the wound. But the the pure amount of dedication to fight for her empire was what made Emilia barely realize her own condition. She continued her fight, the royal guard soon closing the last distance and fighting right at her side. As these elite soldiers pushed back the enemies in her area, Emilia soon did feel pain. Her vision got blurry, her whole body was burning, from her torso to her head. She stumbled backwards, before her legs soon gave out under her. Was this how she died? Emilia smiled to herself. She served her empire till the very last breath. Then, everything went black.

 

[WillfulWren]

Silver Ferae - Left flank​

No matter how tired she was, she couldn't stop. Even as numerous small wounds began to take their toll, even as her paws began to feel as though they had been turned to lead she had to keep moving. She had no choice - even if she tried to rest, the compulsion laid upon her led her to attack any enemy who came close to the princess. Thankfully, there was a respite as the wolf left the princess's side to fully join the fray and Silver heaved a sigh of relief. If there was any who didn't run afoul of his jaws she was sure to get them. She wasn't used to such sustained fighting, being an ambush predator - she would hide or pose as something innocent until her prey got close and then attack, wounding them before playing one of her games and killing them. It was rare that they were actually decent fighters and rarer still that any managed to injure her, and she had never had to keep fighting for so long before.

Every inch of her body was trembling, though not from fear. Some activities were easy to keep up for hours, but apparently fighting was not one of them. Already, her breath came in short, sharp pants even as she looked around for the next person to fight, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of queasiness in her stomach.

And then her vision started to blur. The large feline shook her head, blinking to dispel the apparition but nothing seemed to help. With a flicker, she returned to her almost-human form, still trying to blink away the spots when the pain struck. The only thing she could liken it to was the pain Ravena dished out when Silver failed to comply perfectly with an instruction, and so before her legs gave out Silver's last action was to glance around for Aeronwren. Had she failed? Was that why this was happening? But before she could figure out the cause of her suffering, everything went black.

 

[koala]

[div class=base] [div class=banner][/div] [div class=text1]Date ???[/div] [div class=text2]Time ???[/div] [/div] [class=banner] background: linear-gradient(45deg, black, white, black, white, black); height: 150px; width: 600px; margin: auto; [/class] [class=text1] text-align: center; font-size: 20px; [/class] [class=text2] text-align: center; font-size: 15px; [/class] [class=base] white-space: pre-line; [/class]

 

[koala]

[div class=container][div class=topimagecontainer][div class=topimage][/div][/div]

​

[div class=header]PART I - The Prophecy[/div][div class=maintext]A damp cave that was cold to the touch was where eight individuals found themselves. Streams of water were embedded into the hard rock like works of art, as if someone had carved them themselves. The cave was illuminated by glowing blue stones and fluttering blue insects. There was a low hum that bounced from wall to wall, as if wind was trying to escape from the cold and into the cave's protective walls. [div class=subheader]Status[/div] [div class=maintext2]- Aeronwren (Mildly Injured) koala - Emilia (Moderately Injured) The Fluffiest Floof - Durai (Critically Injured) StaidFoal - Frei (Unknown) Pilgrim59 - Rojiah (OK) Plutoni - Silas (Critically Injured) MagicPenguin - Silver (Mildly Injured) WillfulWren - Vet'r (Unknown) HighSanguinaryPriest [/div] [div class=subheader]Goals[/div] [div class=maintext2]- Establish the setting. - Discuss the prophecy. - Receive the group quest.[/div] [div class=subheader]Due Date[/div] [div class=maintext2]January 18th (tentative)[/div] [/div] [/div] [class=container] background-color:#F6F2EC; min-height:400px; max-width:1000px; margin:auto; overflow:hidden; white-space: pre-line; [/class] [class=topimagecontainer] height: 620px; max-width: 1000px; margin: auto!important; background-size:cover; line-height: 0px; [/class] [class=topimage] background: url(https://i.imgur.com/lTTsRZA.jpg); background-position: -300px 0px; height: 100%; width: 100%; margin-top:20px; position:relative; z-index:2; background-size:cover; [/class] [class=header] font-size:28px; color: #333333; padding: 20px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=subheader] font-size:23px; color: #333333; padding: 5px; text-align: center; [/class] [class=maintext] font-size:15px; color:#333333; padding: 0px 20px 0px 20px; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=maintext2] font-size:15px; color:#333333; padding: 0px 20px 0px 20px; text-align: center; [/class]

 

[koala]

Aeronwren Tulipey​

[div class=base][div class=image][/div]Location: A cave Tags: Plutoni , MagicPenguin Aeronwren shivered awake, waves of pain crashing onto her body as she struggled to move. Her back felt cold as it rested against the bumpy wall and her side burned uncomfortably. She reached under her tattered and bloodied cloak and winced as her fingers met an open gash. When she retracted her fingers, she saw that she had indeed been struck. But how? There was a sharp pain in her head and her memory was hazy. She could only vaguely recall trying to defend herself from a soldiers attacks. That must've been when she'd gotten hurt. The woman blinked, suddenly realizing that she could no longer hear the yelling and battle cries of war. Instead, there was only the soft rush of water, the fluttering of tiny wings, and an eerie whistle that made the hair on the back of her neck stand. It looked like she was in some kind of cave that was dimly lit with blue stones. While attempting to turn her head to get a better look at her surroundings, her face brushed against something soft. Delicate hand reaching for it, she felt lips, a nose, a sharp jaw, and a full head of hair. A man?! Aeronwren thought alarmingly, magically being able to push herself away from both the wall and the stranger she was laying with. She eyed the unconscious person suspiciously, squinting to help adjust herself to the dimness. The man was tall, dark, and wore clothing that matched the culture of the desert people. His use of excessive accessories told her that he was probably someone important. Before she could examine any further, the sound of deep whining tore her attention to her right. Immediately recognizing them as Eyolf's cries, Aeronwren rushed over and knelt beside her old friend. Her hands ran over his fur, smearing massive amounts of blood that she prayed wasn't his. "Eyolf?" Her voice was soft, filled with worry and a hint of fear. "Are you hurt?" The wolf only grunted and stood up, giving his body a good shake to assure he hadn't been injured. Aeronwren sighed in relief. I smell others, He groaned as he lifted his snout to give the air a good sniff, and blood. A lot of blood. He saw the flicker of worry in Aeronwren's eyes and pointed his snout the direction he smelled it. Go. I know you want to help them. Nodding, Aeronwren picked up her staff and rushed over. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by then so she could see where she was going. Thankfully, she was always on the more light-footed side so she could maneuver across the bumpy terrain rather easily. It wasn't until she saw the first body that she nearly lost her balance because it was none other than the Mage General. She was amazed that he was still even breathing with how critical his wound appeared to be. "General?" Aeronwren asked as she removed her cloak to create a small pillow for his head. "Can you hear me?" She pressed her head against his chest to listen for heartbeat, feeling his chest rise up and down as she did so. The thumps in her ear were faint and slow. He didn't have long, which meant she needed to work quickly. Hovering her hands above Silas's body, she enveloped him in a warm, golden light. Slowly, his wounds began to close but he'd already lost a lot of blood. It was difficult to tell if he'd wake up at all ,or if he'd even make it through the next few hours. [/div] [class=base] background-color: #D4D4D6; color: black; height: 350px; min-width: 300px; max-width: 500px; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x: none; margin: auto; padding: 5px; white-space: pre-line; [/class] [class=image] background-image: url(https://i.imgur.com/cKbOaGv.jpg); background-size: cover; height: 350px; min-width: 300px; max-width: 500px; [/class]

 

[The Fluffiest Floof]

Emilia Lightstark

When she awoke, Emilia groaned. For a moment, she thought she was in afterlife. Heaven, hell, whatever it might be, she was certain she had found out. THen, however, she felt pain. A lot of it, coming from her back. With her hand, she looked for the source. Only to find the wound from the battle. No, this couldn´t be afterlife. She was alive... But where was she? How did she get here? Who dared to rip her away from battle?

Blade in hand, once more pushing through the pain, ignoring the wound, she slowly, carefully walked through the cave. She had to look for the reason she was here. As she walked, she soon found a lightmage. The woman had fought for the empire, Emilia remembered her, but she did not remember her name. The mage seemed to be healing a body, that laid on the floor without motion. But when Emilia approached, she realized who it was. Silas, the mage general.

Careless now, Emilia ran over to the two, dropping her blade when she reached them, dropping to her knees herself. Silas seemed unconcious... or worse. She could see the blood on his clothing. He must´ve been badly injured. Was he alive? Would he wake? Emilia didnt know, but her hand shakily reached for his face. The light mage would probably recognize Emilia at least from sight. And she´d be able to see the knight commanders wound, that didnt seem to bother the knight at all.

Slowly, Emilia carressed Silas face. "Don´t do this to me Silas... Wake up... Please...", she muttered, on the verge of tears. "Who´s gonna tell me i have to take breaks... I´d overwork myself to death! And whos going to help me in the council... I´m no good in politics, you know that..." Soon, a lone tear did role down her cheek. "Please Silas... I need you... Please wake up..." More tears followed. She cared deeply for the general, that much was obvious. "Please...", she repeated.

 

[HighSanguinaryPriest]

Vet'r Silverhands
​

The Frost woke with a groan clutching the right side of his head as he sat up, slowly taking in his surroundings. As he spoke quietly to himself. "Ugh... My head feels like father's forge... that someone threw up in... how the hells did I end up here?" he said getting to his feet.

Living below ground most his life, Vet'r quickly adjusted to the lower light levels, the the soft glowing blue Beryl helping a little. Hefting his blade off the stone floor, the Frost quickly started taking in his surroundings. Realizing he was indeed not back in the mountains he and his people call home, name due to the abundance of the crystals, but also the lack of carvings telling him where the surface lies.

Taking a slow breath in, he exhaled, calming himself further. His first order of business being to find survivors and then getting home. With that plan made, Vet'r listened to the caves, trying to pick up any sound of the outside or and scent of fresh air. After a few moments, he began to hear quiet sobbing. Picking that direction, the Elite Soldier made towards the source, Northwind in his hand and at the ready in the case the being proved hostile.

After slowly trekking through the caverns, feeling completely at home, the quiet sobbing became clearer with each step. It was has he turned the bend in the natural tunnels, that he spied an imperial woman crying over the body of what looked to be a high ranking mage. Observing her further, it clicked who she was. The knight commander, a large wolf, and two a high ranking targets. Slowly and quietly he crept over until he was almost on top of her, lightly pressing the tip of the icy cold blade to the back of her neck.

"Any sudden moves, and I'll take your head. Now hands off the mage... slowly..." Vet'r instructed, keeping the blade on the woman as he came around to her front. Giving a quick glance at both the mage and the commander, he saw they were both in no shape to fight. Your friend here is pretty banged up. And yourself are in no condition to fight. Cooperate and I'll patch you both up... don't, and I'll be taking both your corpses back to Tal'norsa. And neither of you ladies are in any shape to fight. Even with that large wolf..." not waiting for a response, he quickly bound their hands in dense ice before doing the same for the wounded mage general.

Satisfied, Vet'r began to patch up the greater prize first after quickly drawing a Null rune on the man's forehead with the mages blood. Couldn't have him torching him.

The Fluffiest Floof koala MagicPenguin

 

[MagicPenguin]

Silas Blackthorne
Unknown Location

Cold blackness.

Silas was in a deep, empty void, floating aimlessly. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. Ordinarily, he might have felt panicked, or at least curious, but Silas couldn't really muster any emotion at the moment other than a feeling of calm docility. It felt so nice, just to float here. He felt as though he could stay here forever, like he'd been called home and he never wanted to leave again.

Eventually, the endless blackness was illuminated by a warm, glowing, golden light that seemed to surround him and enter him. The cold of the void was replaced by a comforting warmth and the inner calmness Silas felt doubled. He felt so at peace. He was more comfortable than he could ever remember being, though he could not remember much of anything at all, in truth. Silas decided that a nap was in order. He'd just close his eyes for a little while, let the warm, comforting light envelop him while he slept the day away...

Don´t do this to me Silas... Wake up... Please...

Silas' eyes shot open. A voice intruded on the all-consuming silence surrounding him. "Just five more minutes," he mumbled plaintively. He just needed a quick nap that was all. Then he'd be ready to leave this place and face...whatever it was he needed to face...once he got up.

Who´s gonna tell me i have to take breaks... I´d overwork myself to death! And whos going to help me in the council... I´m no good in politics, you know that...

That voice again. A woman, it sounded like. Why was she talking about councils and politics? That stuff didn't matter...all that mattered was the warm glow inside of and all around him. The endless void that stretched out in all direction. This feeling of calmness that enveloped him. He was so tired. He closed his eyes again. Just a quick nap. No one would miss him for just a few minutes.

Please Silas... I need you... Please wake up...

She was crying now, whoever she was. Silas opened his eyes and sighed. He hated to make a lady cry, unless it was in joy. It went against his principles.

The golden light around him seemed to grow even brighter, and Silas felt himself begin to swell with energy again. Nothing for it, he thought. He was going to have to get out of here and go console that poor maiden. He'd have to find a way to make her smile again. He began to shift and struggle against the unseen force that kept him floating here in the void.

"Just hang on," he yelled out. He looked around, tried to find a way out, but there was nothing. How was he going to...?

---

Silas woke in the dark cave with a sudden cough, spitting up blood as he did, followed by a sharp intake of breath as if he'd just come up from underwater and inhaled for the first time in a very long while. He sat up in a moment of panic and grimaced at the sharp pain in his shoulder and side that accompanied the sudden movement. Everything came back to him. He remembered the battle on Talys Plains, the Great General dying, fighting with Durai, his last desperate attempt to take the pirate with him, and then...nothing. Now he was here. Kneeling over him was Aeronwren, her hands and his body glowing with the same dull golden light. It was a healing spell, he knew. She'd saved his life. He was alive and stable now, if still in some amount of pain, so she retracted her light magic and the glow around them both ceased. As the light of the healing spell faded, Aeronwren's features were swallowed in darkness, illuminated only by the soft blue glow of the luminous rocks and moss on the cave walls surrounding them. What were they doing in a cave? What had happened with the battle?

"Ugh," he moaned as he managed to get his breathing under control. "Anyone get the name of the horse that just ran me over...?" To Aeronwren he said, "Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one. I'll buy you a drink at the tavern later, whaddya say?"

Illuminated by the same faint blue light was the Knight General, Emilia, also kneeling over him. She'd been crying. He recognized the voice from earlier in the void now as hers. She'd been the one to pull him back from the brink.

"Hey, Emilia. What's with the water works, kid? You know I hate to see a pretty lady cry." He reached up to wipe her tears with a finger, only to find his hands encased in a virtual block of ice.

"What in the name of...?" He looked again at Emilia in confusion and saw then the blade at her throat. Looking down, he saw her hands also coated in ice, as his were. "Oh, hell..." he spat.

It was hard to make out in the dim blue light, but he followed the sword with his eyes up to the figure that held it, a big-figured guy with some kind of mohawk. It was hard to tell, but Silas thought his skin might be blue. Hands in ice, a big blue guy, waking up in some kind of cave...Silas' muddled brain tried to put all these things together to come up with some sort of explanation for what was happening right now.

"One of the Frost...? Are we in a cave in Gora Mountains, then?" But no, that couldn't be. They were just on Talys Plains. They couldn't have traveled so many leagues in so short a time. Unless it hadn't been a short time? Just how long had he been unconscious he wondered?

In any event, he figured he had to do something about this unpleasant situation, if he could. Silas tried to tap Fire to release his and Emilia's hands, but quickly found himself blocked from using his magical power. He could harness the magic, but he couldn't make it do anything. It was a sensation not unfamiliar to him. He'd been blocked by Dark Magic. There was probably a rune somewhere on his body, one preventing him from touching the world with magic. He furrowed his brow in thought and felt something sticky stretch with the lines of his forehead. Well, speak of the devil. That must be the rune.

Hastily, he used the ice in which his hands were encased and wiped at the writing on his forehead. The blood was drying, but not too difficult to wipe away. As soon as it was gone, he reached for the Fire element and was happy to find his magic could again manipulate the elements. The ice around his and Emilia's hands evaporated in a sudden gout of flame like dew under the morning sun.

She was free to use her sword again. Beside them, Aeronwren's wolf growled at the threat to its master aggressively. Silas tapped Air and batted the sword away from Emilia's neck with a small gust of wind, leaving her free to move as she pleased. Next, he wrapped the man's limbs in threads of air, pinning his arms to his sides in invisible ropes. He pushed the fellow to his knees with a blow with wind to the back of his knees, leaving him kneeling, immobile, and surrounded by three of his former prisoners, plus a very angry giant wolf.

"Well, this little hostage attempt wasn't very well thought out, was it?" he asked the big fellow sardonically as he rose slowly to his feet, still feeling pain in his shoulder and side where he'd been gored by Durai. "Would you care to explain just what is going on here? Have you taken us to the Gora Mountains? Is that where this is?"

With a thought, Silas tapped Fire and created a bright ball of light in the air, illuminating the rest of the cave around the small group. He saw then that he, the two ladies, the wolf, and the big Frost man were not the only ones here. There were several unconscious bodies littering the floor of the cave, some of them men and women he'd never met before, but a few notable faces.

First was Frei. Last time Silas saw his scout captain was before the battle. He'd been sent behind enemy lines to spy and gain valuable intelligence on the enemy's plans, make up of its forces, and the layout of their camp.

The other face he recognized was that of Durai Windsor, the man who almost killed him. By the look of it, Silas's last ditch effort had worked. The man was breathing, but barely. It was a miracle he'd lived at all, having been electrocuted as he was. He probably had some valuable intelligence stored away in that head of his, but he was incredibly dangerous and unpredictable. Silas briefly wondered whether it was more prudent to heal him and keep him alive for interrogation and a trial or simply let him perish. In any event, he stored that conundrum away for later. First, he wanted to get a little more information from his and his comrades' apparent kidnapper.

"Well?" he asked the Frost trussed up in air. "Care to explain just what in the seven hells is going on here?"

HighSanguinaryPriest koala The Fluffiest Floof

 

[Plutoni]

ROJIAH

LOCATION: ???
TAGS: koala The Fluffiest Floof HighSanguinaryPriest MagicPenguin

He had barely set foot upon the slick cobblestones of Esse when the first wave hit. Only just having slid from Ishim’s side, Rojiah stumbled - face frozen, breath hitched, and upon the second bolt of pain the floodgates of adrenaline burst. His hand shot to his neck, dragged furiously across to check for a dart, anything, movements already growing clumsy from the honeyed numbness spreading throughout his limbs. He spun, searching, casting about to find the person, people, thing responsible, but the narrow, slate-grey street was as deserted as when he first came. Who?- He overbalanced. Falling to one knee, he fought in indignant fury against the weakness, the irresistible blossoming of darkness across his vision as the pavement quickly rose to wall off half the fading sky. Even the last blurring thoughts of how, no - who? who would- faded away as he finally slipped under, buckling silently into nothingness under the final glimmer of clarity that echoed with vengeful absolution across his mind.

I’ll rip their fucking throat out.

✵​

Ishim was lost. He’d flinched away the very second Rojiah had fallen, instantly crouched, belly low to the ground, twisting about in circles in the same confusion as his master, throat rumbling in alarm until the very moment Rojiah simply, well - disappeared.

He sat down there for quite some time, suddenly patient and utterly still. It was strange for a djinni to be alone, but with a surety born of simple, innate instinct the creature knew that stranger things had been put suddenly into motion. Things beyond his understanding. At last, he looked to the heavens as the wind began to catch at the very edges of his form, pulling away liquid, gossamer threads like spidersilk, dissolving the bindings of light that held him, gradually floating their way on the breeze back into the slash of deep blue sky above. He whickered as he turned, finally nothing more than a few bright wisps of gold, melting away into nothingness, unseen in the quiet edge of the city. The emptiness finally retuned, undisturbed.

✵​

Rojiah dreamed in the darkness of the cave. Visions of small golden runes twisted and dripped into infinity past his view of the flat black dreamscape he revolved in, neither hot nor cold, neither breathing nor choking. He was trapped in a white circle, endlessly rebounding off the walls with the echoing chink of crystal against crystal, great glowing symbols wrapped in ribbons of magic across his body slipping infinitely over themselves as his coils wound round and round, great looping patterns that never found their end, tail held in his vast jaws as he spun and spun and finally, finally, woke.

Sensation snapped back into his body. Survival instinct acted before thought, slowing his breath, eyes shut, perfectly still as he listened to the voices intertwining against the soft, unearthly resonance of the cave, shuddering slightly at the chill seeping into his back. The black behind his eyelids was suffused faintly with blue. He could already tell that this was the kind of dark that belonged only beneath the earth, not needing vision to feel the cool damp of the air brush against his skin, not eyes to sense the ancient, crushing weight of stone above him, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It was unnatural. His god had never touched this place, and it left an ill taste in his mouth.

Silently, he did his checks. He was unhurt, unbound, perhaps literally untouched - but what? It was far, far too strange. He counted three others to be moving, one even crying over a ‘Silas’ as she spoke, replaced with the voice of another man who Rojiah listened to intently as he counted. So. There was four. Plus a wolf, apparently. Who kidnaps wolves? But perhaps they’d all already asked themselves this question - the more he listened, the clearer it became that not a single one of them had a clue. But the darkness was suddenly burnt away. It was all he could do not to wince. His vision lit up with a firelike glow, and he paused, lip quirked. Magic upon magic. How about that. His fingers flexed once, arms folding unhurriedly across his chest, and Rojiah’s eyes finally flicked open.

How he loved the goddamn light.

His gaze traced briefly over the cavern, counting three more slumped figures silhouetted in softly flickering shadow before returning to focus steadily upon the four before him. He watched them for a while. Two men, two women, three bloody, one not, and one rendered immobile upon his knees before the rest. What a quaint little picture they all painted.

“I’d have to laugh if it was just him behind all this.”

His voice broke in before the kneeling man had a chance to speak, the mocking amusement ringing clear across the cavern, accent strange and slight. He tilted his head back a little against the wall where he still sat, watching them through his lashes as he smiled.

“Frankly, I’d be insulted. Maybe this is punishment for our sins, no?”

 

[Pilgrim59]

Freischutze
Imperial Scout Captain
「???, Unknown Location」

Interacted: Aeronwren/Eyolf ( koala )
Mentioned: Silas ( MagicPenguin ), Emilia ( The Fluffiest Floof ), Frosty ( HighSanguinaryPriest )
​

Shimmers of clashing blades. Colorful tracers of fiery bolts. The grand opening of a scherzo of iron and blood. A shadowed figure, lurking among the canopy of the tallest tree that one could find. His watchful gaze studied the grounds below in silence and solitude. The thundering chaos of hatred and enmity in the distance gradually faded around the man in black, as he divert his attention towards the encampment below. In his heart, he carried a certain burden for his master, and that of his comrades-in-arms. It would do well for him to scrutinize the enemy's dispositions, before returning with haste. Or so he thought. It was supposed to be a simple task entrusted upon him. Having done this a great many times before, there was no cause for the man to feel foreign to his settings. While that was the case for most, there are times where even the Captain himself must resort to his blade and primal instincts. But for now, it was time to return to his superiors.

Before he could deploy a firefly courier, an enigmatic sentiment caught his heart, sending shivers down his spine. His body gave in to its call, as the man fell from the tree. As he collapsed completely upon the ground, he did not feel any pain, only restrictions upon his movements. While he remained conscious, his body would not concede to his calls. It was as if he was paralyzed. Thoughts ran him by, as he tried to decipher to what cause had ended himself, but to no avail. Before long, he had embraced the darkness of his faint eyes.

'My lord Blackthorne, I have failed y-...' was the last thing that he uttered to himself.

GASP! Frei ejected from the ground, catching his breath, as his vision slowly returns. His memory clouded by his brief, but deep slumber. Thanks to his habitual protocol of donning his helmet, it served to prevent his neck from being snapped. Albeit at the price of having a pounding sensation at the back of his head. His hand, as if by habit, was upon his waist-sash, firmly gripping the hilt of his sword and ready to draw. The reticent dripping of water around him, accompanied by the glowing fireflies gradually dispelled the eagerness in his veins. Eyeing his surroundings, he found illuminated crystals that were scattered throughout the place. Stalactites, embedded with the same crystals shimmered in the distant ceiling, as if the old stars had been dyed blue. A torch of sort, blazing from a few steps past him had caught his attention. He fixed his eye on the light, before he could adjust his vision to the contrast of light and darkness. The voice that followed was one he would recognize.

With his hand grasped tightly upon his sword, the Estellian paced himself slowly towards Aeronwren. With each step, Frei was slowly regaining his strength. A refreshed feeling, having awoken from a deep slumber. Questions plagued his mind, as to how he ended up here, in this cavern. As a scout, Frei seldom seems to forget the path from which he trod, even going as far as marking them between each trip. Yet now, he finds himself at loss for any sort of orientation, as he could not decipher where they were, or how General Blackthorne and Lightstark have appeared in front of him. Perhaps he was bereaved of his respite for many nights, that his sanity had finally cracked? No, this was something else. Even now, Frei could feel a certain sentiment of uneasiness surrounding him. The man, whose intrigues to seek out his objectives in the uncharted, was now filled with a certain sense of fear of the unknown. Despite this, he continued to pace himself towards the two familiar faces before him.

"Lady Tulipey, were you and your companion hurt?" Frei inquired, before briefly eyeing Silas and Emilia.

Seems like the situation is very well under control. I'd best keep an eye on Lady Tulipey for the time being. Frei thought to himself, having seen how Blackthorne was handling the Frost.

His cause for concerns was no more than simply fulfilling his obligations as a soldier, or so he convinced himself. Given time, perhaps the Generals could shed some light on the situation, but for now, Frei needed to secure the perimeter and safeguard their flanks.