Fantasy Discordibus Mundi | The Clash of Worlds

[Quantum Leek]

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Quantum Leek






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DrakeAlistair

The year is 1639 after the ascension of the Gods. The realm of Fydine, traditionally split down the middle by conflicting beliefs, is being thrust together once more by the hand of the Gods. A common enemy lurks on their doorstep; a trial to be overcome by all or none. The people of Fydine have been delivered an ultimatum, a prophecy of coming evil: stand together or fall divided.

 

[Quantum Leek]

ACT I: SCENE I

The calm





​

Soldiers and Mages alike continue to flock to the Tower of High Sorcery to enlist their services. The Army is doing a passable job of keeping everyone organized through well-assigned leadership. The Mages, slightly less orderly, lend their aid where it is needed. An unrest is growing among those camped at the Tower. Word is spreading that yesterday a full squad of seasoned soldiers was assailed by Dark Beings seeping out of the easternmost breech. None survived, in spite of making it back in time for healers to do their best. The soldiers are beginning to think this foe might not be one they can best with a blade. The mages are beginning to think this foe might not be one they can fight alone.


The day dawns. Six days remain until the world breaks open, according to Chamis' Prophecy.


Assignments

Nikomis Crimsongaze has been summoned before the Council of Archmages.



https://www.rpnation.com/profile/33489-drakealistair/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/33489-drakealistair/@DrakeAlistair

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/33489-drakealistair/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/33489-drakealistair/ : Niko made a proposition to the Battlemaster, who insisted that any dangerous magic must be reviewed by the Council before approval. The Council awaits Niko's presence to discuss his plans.





Lt. Marcella Kensington has been assigned Mercenary Recruitment Duty.



https://www.rpnation.com/profile/17669-lady-ravenshade/

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/17669-lady-ravenshade/@Lady Ravenshade

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/17669-lady-ravenshade/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/17669-lady-ravenshade/ : She is to take up post at the west gate and see to it that any new mercenaries are given a suitable place in her company.





Gen. William C. Rilington has received summons from the Battlemaster.



https://www.rpnation.com/profile/24696-elephantom/

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/24696-elephantom/@Elephantom

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/24696-elephantom/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/24696-elephantom/ : The Battlemaster can be found in his tent within the camp, where he awaits to discuss strategy with his Generals.





Reiner Fulke has just arrived at the Tower.



https://www.rpnation.com/profile/31804-mykinkaiser/

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/31804-mykinkaiser/@Mykinkaiser

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/31804-mykinkaiser/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/31804-mykinkaiser/ : He must enter through the west gate, where he will find Lt. Kensington waiting to place him.

Notice

Please DO NOT post unless you have been officially accepted and given information about your character's assignment.

 

[Elephantom]

"Nice day, isn't it Mr. Ferrins? A bit skewed of a note I may state, but indeed, a great terror awaits us, and as much as I'd say to start hardening yourself properly, I full-heartedly recommend that you enjoy whatever days we have left. Much dreadful days, I'd say."


William's pair of fairly neat eyes, looking quite sharp at the current situation, momentarily glanced up at the sky, before being followed up with a rather wholesome smile, yet best described as weary one. He did notice the slightly misty weather, and the slight increase in humidity, and acknowledged it earlier. His mind was on its edge now, and then more smaller details seemed to be big to him at this point.


He tried to enjoy as much of this peaceful moment as he could, but he really couldn't just forget about this recent loss of rather seasoned men, could he? Or was he just turning into a cold monster, just like he was earlier in his life?


A brief sigh escaped his lips, and if one was careful enough to note all the details, they really could notice that his brows were slightly burrowed. Pvt. Ferrins was unfazed by his sudden reactions, or rather, didn't really notice it, due to his pre-occupation on the examination of the numerous crows which just flew by the tower, producing their distinct calls. Followed by the soothing ambiance which flooded the areas previously.


His eyes averted away from the young soldier, over to the numerous camps which lay before him, seeing as how he was outside on discussing with his fellow soldiers about anything he fancied. The place was densely populated, although one could easily notice the battlemaster's camp, recognized by its more taller height and varying colours.


Before the old general could follow up his statement with another remark, he was interrupted by a messenger, carrying words from the battlemaster about some discussion of current strategies. The messenger soon hastily walked away after relaying the message, with the general reacting by going over to the battlemaster's camp, not in great haste, of course not, he did have all the time to spare, and nothing momentous was happening currently, or so he thought.


After a bit of walking and turning around the campgrounds, he soon reached the battlemaster's tent, the entrance being covered by a piece of thick drapes, with a wide slit in the middle for ease of entrance, one could easily define the entrance as being made of two pieces of cloth, and it could be somewhat defined as such, however, it was connected at the top for a better durability. The entrance was long enough for a man of his stature, and it didn't take time for him to enter the tent, proceeding to speak in the process.


"A discussion about our strategies. You called me for that matter, no?"


His tone was quite calm, and his expression would be better described as a questioning one, or if one was to lool at the aftermath, a waiting one.

 

[DrakeAlistair]

Location: Tower of High Sorcery: Personal Quarters


Feeling: Panicked[/side


Interacting With:@DancesWithVulcans

Nikomis Crimsongaze



​

Dawn found Nikomis still abed--which was an uncommon occurrence. More often than not he slept not at all, and yet, when he cast his mind back to recall exactly when he had fallen asleep he was unable to. This realization by itself brought him upright, his breath quickening. Remembering himself before it was too late, he shut his eyes, groping for the hood of his robe. But he wasn't wearing one. Before allowing himself to panic at this new revelation, he moved on to the backup plan. Around his neck hung a pair of smoked goggles--lenses tinted so darkly that once they were in place over his eyes, his gaze was completely hidden. He donned them now, relieved to find that these, at least, were in their correct place.





Crimsongaze was more than a name, more than the color of his eyes. It had become a part of his life--hide his eyes or release something so terrible not even

he

wished it on others. The name had been given to him following his exam--as was the case with all mages--by a voice without a body, a mind without a brain. Since then it was a fair guess for anyone to assume that his eyes were, in fact, crimson. The fact remained, however, that no one had seen them in nearly twenty years. And such was for the best.




With his goggles to darken his eyes, he regained sight--his robe was cast on the floor, the temporary quarters that he had been assigned in the Tower were as ever. Across the room, the second bed was undisturbed, its occupant absent. He knew without looking where she was--at his side as ever. It would likely as not have been a scandal if anyone had suspected that he was sleeping with his student. Not in the usual sense of the phrase, no. But in the most literal sense possible. She slept in the same bed as he, and had for the past few nights, at least--ever since.... Niko shook his head. None of that. Not now.




More importantly--

how

had he come to be there? The last he remembered, he had spoken to the Battlemaster... Rigarius had agreed only to present his case to the Council of Archmages. And then... nothing. What had become of the rest of the day? What had become of his memory of it? The realization that he was missing time sent a jolt up his spine. He could think of exactly one thing that might cause that. And it was not a thing he ever wanted to think about again.




He slid out of bed and pulled his robes on, drawing the hood over his face and dropping the goggles back to his neck, just as a knock sounded at the door. He answered, outwardly calm in spite of the growing panic in his chest. Beyond the door was a messenger, with a summons from the Council. Messenger dispatched once more, Niko shut the door, resting his head against it.






"Lindzi..."

He spoke, not moving from the door, not sure if she had woken yet.

"I am summoned before the Council."

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

The street level door seals behind those that enter the alley shack, the half moon of candlelight bleeds across the cobbles suddenly shuttered to glare down the stone stairs downward towards the second door. Halfway down, the door bursts open flooding the stairwell with the din and funk of the fighting rings - sweat and spit, salt, smoke and liquor thick in one's lungs. The slam of the door against the stone wall is lost in the roar of a throng of bodies as two men fall onto the bottom stair in mid scuffle. Short behind them comes a woman with a head of tousled ebony hair; her fingers hook on each collar and raise the men to their clumsy feet, leaving a smear of blood across the bottom step.


“Mind yer step,” she growls with irritation as she hoists the men up the stair, pinning her hair back as she climbs, unaffected by the slurred yelling of her charges and certainly uncaring of the opinions of some fancy toff looking for dirty thrills.


Marcella Kensington raises a thumb to her stinging lips and wipes the swelling droplet of blood from the nick. She was foolish to be gallivanting about in the rings which only lowered her vigor. She knew this, yet the woman had housed a craving for the sport right after the news of the prophecy had traveled to her ears. She would fight. Proudly.


They would be victorious.


Out in the open street with her steed walking steadily beside. With a light heart the soldier hopes to be summoned for battle. And just in time at that, as there came a courier rounding the corner, come to transfer a report of the duty that was to be completed by the lieutenant.


Marcella halted to ask directions from a kindly stall owner before hastening her pace toward the West Gate. Her head in turmoil all the way. How pitiful a job she had been assigned, was she not suited to be situated on the front line. Battling the shadow armies alongside the powerful squadrons? Was she only to stay back and interview those slow-minded scoundrels who for sure would be butchered the instant they set foot across enemy territory?


So, irritated, the woman waits by the towering gates. She sets her helmet on the earthen ground and takes to polishing her Axe, merely to gloat of the power she beheld and to strike fear in the hearts of those who intended to be placed by the soldier. She loosed a small huff of distaste and ran her fingers through the snowy mount's mane, it was tangled and muddied from lack of cleaning. Marcella made a note to get to brushing the horse. "You don't think the war'll be that bad do you, Mint? Everyone's saying it but I don't believe the load of bollocks they're spouting.." She pats the stallion, who nuzzles at her hand for tit bits. There were none. "Guess we'll have to see for ourselves then, won't we, my friend."

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire
​

Upon entering via the west gate Reiner looks around the tower lazily, noting with some slight amusement that the place really hadn't changed much since he'd last seen it, not that he had expected it to though. Places like that tend to not change much over time, some nonsense like tradition or whatnot. Either way though, Reiner couldn't really be bothered to care. He was just here to have some fun and get paid, nothing more and nothing less really. It wasn't that he didn't believe the prophesy was true, rather he figured it probably was. It was just that he didn't really care either way. Well, that wasn't exactly true, if it was real he figured it could be fun, world ending or otherwise.


He meanders leisurely around, looking for a commanding officer or recruiter type person. As he does thos his eyes land upon a group of soldiers eating and drinking heartily and he's struck by a sudden pang of longing for food. Ironically, he can't really remember what food tastes like, but he remembers that he liked it, ot at least some of it. Well, he figures there's no real use dwelling on it and he continues to look for someone important-looking. Soon he notices a woman with a white horse polishing an axe. Figuring that she might at least know something if she isn't who he's looking for he wanders over. He hopes she won't be very self-important, though he doesn't have high hopes in this regard. Over the years he's found that the majority of commanders or other people in similarly high positions tend to have irritatingly bloated egos and were thus almost uniformly troublesome to deal with. However, this was all speculation at this point so there wasn't much point in dwelling on it as he couldn't very well change how she was going to act either way. He would have to cross that bridge as he came to it.


"Hey kid, you recruiting?" He asks her, looking very much not intimidated by the axe. In fact, he strikes a rather odd character as he stands and waits for her answer. The lazy smile on his face and his, somewhat slouching posture give off a very sloppy looking vibe at first glance. However, if you look closer you might notice that he carries himself with the sort of bearing you only get by standing on too many battlefields for your own good. The kind air that only a veteran warrior has, despite of how young he looks. Not to mention his dark blood-red eyes that seem to glow and smolder almost as if they're on fire. He wears no armor, unlike most knights and mercenaries, save for some simple looking dark metal gauntlets that cover his forearms and hands. All in all, Reiner is a hard man to figure out upon first meeting him as he is apparently full of contradictions. One of the few things that is easily apparent is his complete lack of manners or regard for authority, something that has started him off on the wrong foot of many people in the past.


As he waits he notices the woman's cut lip, figuring she'd been in a fight. Probably either from a sparring match or something. He really didn't care other than the fact that she didn't seem to mind it. He'd met too many "commanders" who didn't know the blade from the hilt on a sword. He looks her up and down, rather rudely in fact, though not sexually, to gauge whether or not she seems capable. He notes with some satisfaction that she does. This will make things a bit easier, plus he was tired of working for fat cats. They paid well but were generally self-centered and annoying, not to mention the fact that they all looked down on him, something he found somewhat amusing but also irritating. Thus, he was tentatively, depending on how she acted, looking forward to working with this woman. Also, she was't bad looking at all, so that's always a good thing.


@Lady Ravenshade

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery: Personal Quarters

How: Alert/Curious


Who: @DrakeAlistair

In general, Lindzi’s fight or flight response was overwhelmingly flight, literally; in the face of something that scared her, she would literally take to the air with a skip and flee. However, when Niko was around it was safe to assume that nothing could hurt her. So, when she was awoken by a violent shaking of the bed that she last remembered falling asleep on cuddled with her mage master (a thought that immediately caused a blush to warm her cheeks), she froze in place, instead of dashing for the door, or searching for high ground as normal.


Lavender eyes snapped open and she seemed to sink further into the blankets as Niko fumbled for his goggles, eyes closed and clearly unsettled. She diverted her eyes out of habit as Niko put on his goggles, knowing very well that the temptation of seeing what his eyes truly looked like was not worth the risk. In the dark days before she was Niko’s charge, Lindzi had heard the rumors spread by other fearful apprentices huddled in spots of bright sunlight after the dark mage had walked past. They were comforted by the light as a majority of the rumors stated that he would burst into flames upon contact with direct sunlight other common rumors had been “Your eyes will burst explode if you see them!” “You’ll die immediately!” and her personal favorite “I heard he doesn’t have eyes at all!!” However, she hadn’t truly believed any of them until she had nearly been forced to look into them herself; Niko’s reaction, coupled with other factors on that dismal day, had cemented the threat she had so naively dismissed before.


She only moved from studying the bedspread once Niko had climbed from the bed and began pulling his robes on. It was always interesting for the pixie to watch as Niko transformed himself from the alarmingly thin, fragile human she knew to the walking embodiment of Shade himself. His robes had always been a source of fascination for her, even back when they had been a luxurious shade of purple. They seemed to float just above the ground and never seemed dirty, likely charmed to do so, but their billowing volume had always seemed to be the perfect hiding place. They gave Niko an air of menace and mystery, and she was quite confident that if she were to tuck herself beneath them, that nobody would know she was there.


Lindzi pulled herself into a sitting position as Niko answered the door and wrapped herself in the bedding in a crude imitation of his robes. She pulled the blankets over her head and around her mouth, so that only her nose, eyes and spikes of bed mussed hair were exposed.


“A council’s summons?” She asked, responding to Niko’s back. Her words were muffled by the blanket, but loud enough to be heard, in part because she was casting her voice through the air, and partially because she was naturally loud.


“Is everything alright? Is it about the Cracks?” She continued, bouncing to the edge of the bed, still bundled the entirety of the bedding. She wiggled her nose and mouth to move the blankets to her chin and threw what she hoped was a comforting smile at him.


“Shall I come with you?”

 

[Quantum Leek]

Battlemaster Rigarius

​

It was dawn and Rigarius was well awake. He had slept fitfully, waking numerous times throughout the night and eventually giving up when the sky lightened with false-dawn. He had bathed, dressed, and eaten nothing more substantial than a crust of less-than-fresh bread. That wasn't to say that nothing else was available, of course. An army marches on its stomach, as they say, and Rigarius certainly wasn't going to feed his troops with slightly stale bread. That form of nourishment was reserved expressly for him, in spite of the constant battle that he waged against the army cooks and a handful of others. Evidently it was not befit a Battlemaster to eat bread when a full meal was waiting for him. They might have saved themselves the trouble--he had never, and would never, eat the meal they prepared for him. But if they were going to go through such trouble on his behalf, surely they could have baked some Gods damned bread? Apparently not.


Such were the thoughts that lurked in the back of the Battlemaster's mind as he chewed his breakfast, leaning over the wide table in the middle of his tent. Across the table was spread a map--the best one of the area that he could find--and across the map were arranged pins with flags of different colors. Most recently, there were a littering of little red flags following three separate lines to the north, east, and south of the Tower. These were the voids--the cracks that had formed in the earth from which unspeakable things were beginning to leak. And they were growing. They were growing and he didn't know what to do about it.


He summoned a messenger and dispatched the young woman to summon his generals. He had no answers, only questions, but something needed to be done. He paced while he waited. The generals arrived one at a time: General Rosenfeld, General Marton, and finally General Rilington. The latter entered with a question.


"That is the case, yes...." Rigarius looked at the map one more time, brushing away a smattering of crumbs from his breakfast (if it could be called that). He was quiet for a moment before settling on what he wished to say. "As you well know, we are being slowly, but surely, boxed in. I suspect that in six days time there will be no way out--unless we can find some way to cease the spread of these. Yesterday I consulted an expert--one of the most powerful Dark Mages at the Tower. Nikomis Crimsongaze."


Rosenfeld's brows knit; Marton looked less disapproving and more mutinous. It was an expected response--Master Crimsongaze's name was nothing if not representative of all that was wrong with Mages.


"I realize he has a reputation," Rigarius said, sounding weary. "The fact remains that desperate times call for desperate measures. He has suggested a path involving what I suspect is forbidden magic--having no knowledge of magic, myself, I have left his plans with the Council of Archmages, so that they might give us council. If there is another way, I must confess I do not see it...."

@Elephantom
​

 

[DrakeAlistair]

Location: Tower of High Sorcery: Personal Quarters


Feeling: Panicked


Interacting With:@DancesWithVulcans

Nikomis Crimsongaze



​

Lindzi was, evidently, awake. He turned to look at her mid stream of questions. As was ever the case, his apprentice was ready and waiting with more questions that he wanted to answer. Was everything all right? The liklihood of things being alright decreased with every passing minute. The post-sleep fog on his brain had faded from the panic, but his memory remained patchy. What in Shade's name had happened the previous day?! The

only

thing that gave him some small amount of consolation was that he had woken up in the same bed as Lindzi--not because she was there, no, but because of what that

meant.

If she had climbed into bed with him, either he had, in fact, been himself the previous night, or else whoever he

had

been was pretending to be him....




On second thought, that wasn't very comforting at all.




He shook his head. There was no time for these thoughts. He needed to collect himself and meet with the council. And probably he should respond to his apprentice, who had asked him questions nearly a minute ago and he still had yet to respond.






"It is likely about the void--y...es..."

He looked up at his apprentice and his response was delayed once again. In spite of everything, in spite of himself, he very nearly smiled. There she was, in what ought to have been his bed, wrapped up in the blankets. It was ridiculous.

She

was ridiculous. But she took his breath away.






These is

no time



for this.



He shook himself mentally. What was

wrong

with him these days?









"It would be for the best if you stayed here."

Or on the wall. Or really anywhere where she wasn't likely to overhear that the spell he proposed to do was forbidden for a reason.

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery: Personal Quarters

Howlayful/Hopeful


Who: @DrakeAlistair

In the past, Niko had made it abundantly clear that he had absolutely no tolerance for whining. If she remembered correctly, she once had to single handedly scrub a training room for the crime. And yet, as he told her, perhaps for the millionth time, to stay, she could feel a tell-tale whine building in the back of her throat.


“Stay here? In our quarters?” There was just the faintest hint of a pout on her lips, and coupled with her bright, enormous eyes she looked like a puppy that had just been denied their favorite toy.


The truth was that Lindzi was simply too active to be cooped up in one room for too long; hell, she had trouble staying in bed when she was sick. Or staying still in general. Unless she was thoroughly unconscious the pixie was guaranteed to be moving or fidgeting; sometimes even doing handstands. Her inability to remain still had given many the misconception of immaturity, others tended to liken her constant movement to childish habits, instead of attributing it to the fact that she was a pixie. She simply had more energy than her human counterparts, and she actual put in a fair amount of effort to restrain herself and her natural tendencies in order to avoid alarming them. She was fully capable of moving faster than the average human eye could track, and yet she nearly always managed to reign herself in and move at more socially acceptable speeds. She made efforts to sleep and eat on a human schedule, although she would be perfectly happy to sleep for less than half the time of her classmates and eat twice as much.


Then again, Niko knew all of this. He knew her, perhaps better than she’d ever allowed anyone else to. So she was fairly confident that he knew what he was asking was her was a monumental task, to say the least. One that she would reluctantly obey, if he truly commanded her, but she got the feeling that his main reason for keeping her in their quarters was because she wasn’t privy to the conversation that Niko was about to have with the Council.


“At least allow me to go to the wall. I’m sure I can find messages to deliver. Then I’ll be both busy and out of the way and out of trouble.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Niko and smiled. Trouble may as well have been Lindzi’s middle name, but she was hoping he’d take the statement as the joke she intended it to be.


Lindzi had seen his earlier hesitation, but contributed his delay in response to an attempt to refrain from smiling at her. If he was in as good a mood as she hoped he was, then she was hoping her continued playful antics would succeed in pulling the hint of a smile she thought she’d seen earlier out and into the light.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

After posting a few dozen seemingly useful recruits in a matter of minutes. The soldier is about ready to report the days activities. That was until a final man arrived. She was fed up as it was.


With a keen eye, Marcella had observed the bloke from her post before he had noticed her. She regarded the slouch in his shoulders with a very unladylike snort, saw the listless gaze as he sauntered through the bunches of passer-by's. Just by the looks of the man, he was lacking. This war was not a game yet clearly this civilian thought so. In fact every war would never be a game. Not a game with distinct line between winners and losers. Mars expected for recruits to be serious, courageous, swift and tenacious. Sure, the guy was menacing looking but she had no way to judge his skill. For all the woman knew, she was the one leading them to their poor demise.


The lieutenant felt her stomach protest, hungry for solid food. When all she had consumed for the last hour was alcohol and greasy chips. Which, undoubtedly, wasn't too benefiting for her body as they sat heavily in her stomach. The girl could eat. the sort of training would make anyone hungry almost all the time.


Dusky eyes flicker as they watch the man approach. Kid.

An incredulous look of amusement plays over her face as she lifts it to stare at his, grip tightening on her axe. She could very well use it at the moment, the only thing keeping her would be the witnesses and the fact that she was a soldier. The woman would surely be sacked from her post if any injuries were inflicted on a possible recruit. An arrogant one at that.


"You shall address me as Lieutenant Kensington." the brunette replies, thorny-tongued and sour. Before starting on the lines she had been repeating throughout the day: "Name please, and do you happen to have any qualifications...any past experiences in battle?"




Muscular arms fold across her chest the soldier senses his roaming gaze on her. A brisk and brief laugh is let fly at the unbelievable audacity of such a person. With this her head turns slightly as she clips her axe in it's leather sheath and then ties onto Mint's saddle pack.


Her fingers settle little paths into the white tresses, the stallion swings his head towards his rider, following it up with pressing into the human's space. Marcella grasps the halter deftly.


Lousy posture did nothing but anger the woman, any recruits she trained with such posture would have punishment. "You're in fit physique but you're hardly dressed for what we are to face." acknowledging the weak protective gauntlets around his wrists before pivoting to face him.





"--Nor is your form at all satisfactory. Stand upright, shoulders back, feet together." Marcella barks the commands,





With disgruntled features the lieutenant drops the level of her voice slightly, her words however stay as sharp as ever. "A soldier does not underestimate his adversaries. Speak quickly, I do not intend to waste my time on newcomers like you."

 

[Elephantom]

GEN. RILINGTON





William was, quite unsurprisingly, astonished at the words of their battlemaster. His forehead stressed out, as his eyebrows furrowed, all in a subtle manner, of course. Hinting at a moderate disapproval of his proposal. He could feel Rosenfield's bold disapproval of this new proposition, and Marton's odd cowardice. Neither of them failed to properly express the fact that Nikomis was indeed more liable to lead them into a more certain fate — one which definitely wasn't leaning on the more brighter side — than he was to lead them into salvation.


As the battlemaster's words carried on, now with a more weary tone, the general's mood only tended to become more worse. He definitely wasn't one to easily let himself fall into the abysmal depths of anger, but he could feel himself inching near the edge. Nikomis was the one of the most, and possibly the only, vilest mage who seemed to dwell only on the forbidden side of magic. He may even be the reason Itamaar even hates magic, or more precisely, people like him. The rest of the words failed to increase his morale, as he fervently caressed his chin, deep in thoughts, and not of the most greatest kind.


Rigarius has finally lost his nuts? Russell did predict this, however, I never thought that it would come to fruit. His 'forbidden' magic, of the darkest kind I suppose, May even boost this being's utmost prowess.





Indeed, I seem to thoroughly fail to see the good in this activity. But I suppose this is our last hope, as stated by my superior, alas, the stakes are too high and the gains are probably too low.





This were the words that loomed around his mind, his eyes bearing an absent-minded look, although only for a millisecond or so. He could almost imagine himself in a suicide mission, yet he managed to keep his ideals all fine and dandy, but was he being sarcastic?


He took note of the crumbles of bread, figuring out that rigarius had his meal, which was obviously a loaf of bread or something. The food problem, and not scarcity, started up a few days ago, guess the cooks were acting too rebellious. But then again, he wasn't one to judge as he wasn't really the one who was looking over at this activity.


His eyes wavered away from the two other generals — who decided to keep quiet — and to the battlemaster. Seeing that the generals were quite possibly waiting for him to speak out his opinion,he proceeded to speak, his tone undertook a drastic metamorphosis, from calm to a more slightly coarse nature, yet hardly noticeable for it was quite subtle, really.


"Are you sure, Rigarius? Your suggestion is quite risky, and can leave us in the hands of that very same Nikomis, and might also add that he's fairly unpredictable, and is quite unknown."


He paused a bit, looking over the situation in hand. It would be reckless to let Nikomis continue on with his foolhardy nature, yet they have no choice.


"But, it seems as we have little to no choice here, and as such, we can't conceivably refuse. I'm only saying these because we don't who our enemy is and what their potential is, and it'd be foolish to go against an enemy we don't even know off!"


He finished, agreeing with Rigarius in the end. Yes, it did seem like this was the only choice, but thoughts if Nikomis a forbidden magic only seemed like giving a sword to an untrained yet strong kid. The least Rilington could even muster up to do, was to just suspect that something of a disastrous scale was to happen in the very near future.





@Quantum Leek

 

[Quantum Leek]

Battlemaster Rigarius

​

A silence met his words; there was an unmistakable uneasiness among his generals. Rigarius wasn't surprised. If someone had told him a week ago that today he would tell his Generals that they were considering help from the most evil son of a bitch he knew, he would have laughed in their face. But here he was; at his wits end. Things were not going well--as much as he hated to admit it to anyone. But his generals needed to hear it, and they needed to hear it from him. So there it was, all out on the table. The Archmages were likely meeting with Niko at this moment.


When the silence was finally broken it was Rilington who broke it. Rigarius turned his eyes on him, nodding slightly, grimly, in acknowledgement of his question. It seemed, however, in the end, that Rilington came to the same conclusion Rigarius had. It was comforting to hear another agree with him, but perhaps not as comforting as he would have liked. It would have been far better if they had told him he was a fool and had overlooked a much better solution. The fact of the matter was, there was no better solution. It was a reality he was having trouble coming to terms with.


Rigarius nodded when Rilington had finished, "You understand, then, the dilemma we are faced with. Do we use this magic, from a man who has no loyalties to anyone but himself? Or do we try to make do without? I am not yet prepared to assure anyone that Nikomis' magic is the best path--but I recommend that we, at the very least, hear what the council has to say about it before making a decision."


"On that note, I do have news about the void. Unfortunately, it is from the same source as our potential solution. I realize that Master Crimsongaze is not a trustworthy source, but he is the most expert source, and as such I held his council. I trust his words, insofar as he can ever be trusted, not because I believe in him, but rather, because I believe he currently has no reason to give me false information. If you are not familiar with Crimsongaze personally, I will tell you that his motivations are entirely self-serving, that he does what benefits him, to hell with the consequences. On this occasion, while I received the distinct impression that he was amused by how truly terrified my squad of soldiers was, I believe that helping us helps him. So I am wont to believe him. He had this to say about the voids..."


Rigarius picked a piece of parchment up from the edge of the map table. It appeared to be a brief note in a slanting, but immaculately neat, hand. He read:





"The cracks in our world lead to the Underworld. The beings you see coming from the voids are Shadows--they are nothing. And I mean this in every meaning of the word; they are made of nothing, and within the hierarchy of the Underworld, they are nothing. Further, still, they are nothing to what you will meet when the cracks open fully. Spirits, the undead, then demons. For now we have the Shadows; the slaves of the Underworld--the lowliest Darkbeing you will meet in the days to come.


For make no mistake, they are coming, and they are coming in force. The cracks we see in the earth are the physical correspondents of where the bulk of their forces gather in the Underworld. They are lined up, waiting to get through--but they are not ready yet. I wager that they will be prepared to break through at the time predicted by Chamis. They will have us boxed in completely by then. And make no mistake; they vastly outnumber us. Too few have arrived to assist--too few mages, particularly. A blade might bring down a demon, but it will be inefficent. The mages are your only hope--and at this point, they are no hope at all."


The Battlemaster paused, lowering the parchment and looking at his Generals. "The last, I admit, is more likely distasteful embellishment than useful information."

@Elephantom
​

 

[DrakeAlistair]

Location: Tower of High Sorcery: Personal Quarters


Feeling: Distracted / Preoccupied


Interacting With:@DancesWithVulcans

Nikomis Crimsongaze



​

At least one of them was in a good mood.




Niko leaned his back against the door as he considered her. Or at least, looked at her. In fact he was not thinking about her at all--his thoughts had flitted away again. First and foremost was the Council--this was the last hurdle in his plan. If he could convince the Council of Archmages that the cost was worthy of the benefit, then everything else would fall into place.

If

he could convince the Council. That was easier said than done, since he had a reputation inside (and outside, truth be told) the magical community. It was not a favorable reputation. His mind raced through possibilities--they would obviously question him about the cost of the whole thing. Would they believe he could do it? That could go either way. He may have had a dark reputation, but he was known to be powerful enough.... And his motives--of course. The first thing anyone ever questioned when interacting with Niko was his motives. It was, doubtless, a good thing to question. Unfortunately, they wouldn't learn his true motives until it was too late....




Lindzi was talking again. He even distantly registered that she was expecting an answer from him. What had he said to her, again? Ah yes, 'stay here,' which were words that would always be contested by his apprentice. It didn't matter where they were or what they were doing, those were two words that could be guaranteed to cause upset. This time she suggested an alternative--finding work or some such.




Niko waved a dismissive hand, turning back toward the door,

"Do what you wish--barring following me to the Council, or causing yourself injury."









That, he felt, adequately summed up the things that Lindzi should not do. Anything else was likely fine. Niko pulled the door open and started out.






"You know where to find me, if necessary--disturb us

only

in the case of dire emergency."

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire

​

Reiner was going to have some fun with this one, he could tell just by her reactions to him. He fairly easily see that she had briefly entertained the thought of using the axe she had been polishing on him, not that he would have particularly minded if she had. It might even have been fun. However, she restrained herself and launched into the standard interview, adding on some criticisms at the end for good measure. It was plain to see that she severely underestimated Reiner. Though, he hadn't exactly given her any reason not to. He briefly considers being serious, it would definitely streamline this process, but ultimately decides against it as he's in the mood for some fun after his walk to the tower.


When she finishes speaking he snaps an over exaggerated salute and adopts a highly mocking version of standing at attention. "Yes ma'am Lieutenant Kensey," he says, still in the same lazy voice as before. His entire bearing at this point screams a total lack of respect for the woman in front of him or her authority. Furthermore, the condescending smile spreading across his face clearly shows his confidence, almost bordering on arrogance, in his abilities. To put it quite frankly, he looks like an arrogant asshole. "Private Eric Donovan reporting for duty. I have more combat experience than you and armor just slows me down," he continues as he drops his arm.


He then pauses, as if he had thought of a good idea, "If you don't believe me we could have a match, let you test my capabilities for yourself. Sounds fun right?" he suggests, his smile growing wider, "And you don't have to worry, I'll even tell your bosses it was my idea if they get all pissy." As he speaks the look in his eyes hardens, changing from the lazy, half-closed look of before to the deadly eyes of a hunter stalking prey, despite the fact that he retains his lazy, mocking smile. With just this his affect changes from that of an arrogant but questionably competent asshole to that of a man who's seen many battles, a very jarring and disconcerting change to say the least. It gives the impression that there's more to the man than he lets on, especially when taking his odd eyes into consideration.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

There existed an air of nonchalance and mocking that oozed from the private and frankly, it infuriated the woman. She pressed her lips together at the misuse of her surname and feigned act of acknowledgment. The drawl in his tone and that smile, Kensington was all for decking him one right then and there. What followed his statement on being more skilled than the woman, was a rattling laugh, full of spite and bearing a bitter taste.


His daring remark was met in equal as the lieutenant's voice took on a sweeter tone. "Eric Donovan," she hums. "--Pet, you are amusing. Are you sure you're up for all this chaos? Surely, you've heard of what those demons can do to you. Once they get their claws on your weak, rotting body.." There comes a fast whistling sound as the soldier swings the battle axe in her hand and leaves it to dangle back and forth and back again. "Eric Donovan will be nothing but filthy bones." Those last words are exaggerated, biting, cold as they spilled from her lips. Unfortunately, the woman had not brought the axe close enough to his pitiful face. What a shame. She'd have to work on her positioning.


Now, the man dared to challenge her, and something ignited, something brimming with red, and heat and razor-edge.


Her features lied as she giggled rather uncharacteristically. “Such darling words, keep that up and I might indeed succumb,” the brunette let out a small breath as she leaned in to whisper. "There'll be nothing for you to tell 'em after our little match. Just you try."


How dare he. How dare he accuse her of being weaker, Marcella was not frail and she would never withdraw from a challenge. Besides, the woman would be killing two birds with one stone. Firstly, this would enable her to test the waters and discern whether his skills were truly a necessity in this war and a benefit to the army. Also, this was an opportunity to punch that bloody face in. The fool bloody well deserved it.

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire



​

Reiner doesn't even blink as the axe comes at his face, rather his smile simply grows wider. Her attempts to threaten him, rather than being intimidating were actually rather amusing and, dare he say it, cute. She really was underestimating him, not that he could blame her, and that was going to make this all the more fun. She really was his favorite type of person to mess around with, so serious and proper, not realizing that her reactions were the entire reason he continued this asinine behavior. He definitely wasn't going to let her in on that secret though, why spoil his own fun after all?


As she leans in to intimidate him once more he reaches over and pats her cheek, "Right right love, you know you're adorable when you're pissed right?" he asks, mainly to show the complete waste of efforts her attempts to threaten him thus far have been. She's a bit too early to be doing that age-wise. He then turns around and takes a step away, stretching lazily, "So, how do you want to do this? Fists? Axes? I'm down for anything," he says, waving his hand frivolously in her direction to indicate that she should choose and that he doesn't care what it is. He turns back around and spreads his arms out, "If you like I'll even handicap myself, make it even and all," he says in a highly condescending tone, blatantly provoking her. If he's going to put on a fake ego just to annoy Kensey he might as well go all out with it right?


One thing to note about Reiner is that, while he's confident in his abilities, he isn't actually as egotistical as he lets on. Rather, he acts that way simply because he finds amusement in the infuriated responses such behavior provokes, especially from people like Kensey. As such, Reiner's personality might in many ways be worse than that of someone who was truly as arrogant as he acted. An arrogant person couldn't tell that they were terrible, Reiner could, and he fully embraced it.

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery: Just outside the Battlemaster's Tent

How:Curious


Who:

Lindzi’s eyes narrowed in concern as Niko dismissed her with instructions not to get herself killed, while that was all around sound advice, the distracted method in which he delivered it gave her pause. Just what was he thinking about so intently? The meeting with the Council? The fire of curiosity immediately began ravaging her mind. After all, it would be no effort at all to ease drop on the conversation, and yet… the thought was dismissed almost immediately after it formed. In most things, Lindzi followed Niko’s commands without question, and as he swept from their quarters, scattering timid apprentices in his wake, she knew that his instructions to leave him to his business were as serious as his commands got. Oh well. She shrugged and stood, shedding the blankets as she did so; if her assumptions about the seriousness of his meeting were correct, she would find about the subject matter soon enough.


Now unburdened by human eyes, Lindzi made quick work of dressing. On went her knee high boots, charmed against the fire that cause the serpentine faded burn scars on her thighs that peeked out from black shorts. On went the elbow high black gloves, charmed in the same manner of her boots. Lastly, she wrapped a thick yellow ribbon about her arm, the marking all messengers bared, in an ornate bow. She smiled at her handiwork and swiftly made her way to the windows.


In the center of two, taller windows, was a third that was just wide enough for her to squeeze through. She hung out the window one handed, not at all bothered by the height from which she appeared to be so carelessly dangling. The pixie casted her gaze over the wilted grounds of the Tower and the camps contained therein, searching for the best vantage point from which to both be seen, and see. Lindzi slowly allowed her hand to slip from the windowsill and hovered just outside. Using her magic to hover midair. She left the window slightly open, confident that their quarters would be fine, after all, they were several stories from the ground.


Her eyes finally settled on a tent practically centered amongst the other camps. Such a central location would mean that it held someone important inside and therefore would be an excellent place to wait for work. Target in sight, she dove from the window, using the sill to kick off from and sailed through the air towards the tent at speed that made her little more than a black smear on the grey sky. Lindzi was a silent flier, especially without her wings out, but she still managed to startle a few humans on her way down. Their exclamations of alarm were music to her ears, but as she darted in an out between the various tents and encampments she couldn’t help but pick up on the sounds of an argument. It was just a little too far away for her to hear properly, and she didn’t truly care enough to listen harder, but in her opinion the man and woman involved were likely to come to blows. The Battlemaster will not be pleased with that, she thought. She’d met Rigarius only a few times, but he’d left quite the impression, and she highly doubted he would approve of fighting amongst the ranks. But then again, she could hear disquiet amongst the troops on the wind. The whispers made it clear that they were scared, just like everyone else.


Lindzi arrived at her destination silently and landed with a tiny puff of dust at the entrance to the tent. She could just barely make out voices from within, and, out of curiosity as to just whose impressive tent it was, she flicked her wrist and caught hold of the air inside. She moved the flow over herself and with it moving directly over her, she could hear the conversation inside just as a clearly as if she’d been in the room. As a wind mage, Lindzi was able to hear the voices of the wind, they had a voice of their own and could carry anything from warnings to gossip, but more often than not, they carried on them the sounds of distant events and conversations. In her opinion, it was the best part of her magic and now, it allowed her to know that the tent was actually that of Rigarius himself, and he too seemed to be in some sort of council.


Maybe one day I’ll be invited to join one.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

Stormy eyes blackened further at the way Eric's smirk broadens. Marcella stands very still and presses past the profanities that rise in her throat as his hand lifts to her cheek. The fingers of her own hand curl into a solid, white-knuckled fist in an effort to repress the urge of slashing the man, To not let the visceral thoughts undermine the real purpose of her being here. The lieutenant's patience is growing thin; any semblance of her society-mask is gone, and without it, the piercing edge in her words is no longer blunted. "Suffice it to say, Private, none of us were expecting to get tangled into such a precarious situation, and as of yet, I do not plan as such, given as it has not even been a few minutes since we've only just been acquainted." Part of her wished not to become involved in petty combat with this man when they were so close to a battle field where brave men were fallen. Part of her knew she would regret the decision perhaps forever if not.


Currently, the woman was embarking on an escape from any possibility of a sparring. Whilst ignoring the arrogant taunting, her eyes narrow ever so slightly. Doubt had overshadowed her pride, no longer existent. What remained was only anger and apprehension. Her shoulders square and her mind made, Mars' gaze turns towards the red-eyed man with an unsettling frozen cast to her features.


"Your gauntlets and coat off." An unusual phrase to say the least. "I expect there to be zero forms of armored protection and we'll be using knives if you don't mind." A slow sneer draws across her features, she guessed that most likely the mercenary would barely have been trained in using those blades, and be more accustomed to agility and raw strength than the fluid movement of knives. She hoped that is.


All the while she spoke, Marissa busied herself as the woman steadily untied her stallion from the rope and gathered parchment files from her make shift interview site. Besides, it was nearing noon and she was just about to leave for a bite to eat anyways. There's a pregnant pause in the sweltering air that contorts into an unspoken challenge, a challenge of strength and skill, a challenge of rank and pure ability. She realized how blatantly absurd the position she had gotten herself in really was. Would a true soldier step up to a ridiculous challenge from an overtly obnoxious mercenary. She presumed not but Kensington's wicked wishes had the best of her.


And so the competitors found themselves in the same fighting ring which Marcella had earlier exited from. The smell of salt and sweat twine into a pair of waiting nostrils, the scents of an abandoned I'm uncultured, slowly burning out. The arena was permeated with cigarette smoke and gaslight. Sounds of sea and merchant fishermen shout from the docks up above their heads.


Linen wrappings hover in the face of one assailant, shadowed by the cool light reflecting from the lanterns hanging against iridescent walls. The pit is sparse, moderately sized, and lacking in any clear barriers. Only a circle of drunken strangers and burly looking men, all with tankards of ale in their hands.


“Go on. If you don’t, I’ll break your nose. I didn't come here for you to drop it and cut your foot with,” a voice grates, though there’s a wide current of satirical amusement setting the words adrift. Small fingers clutched around the handle of a wire-handled glass knife, poised to strike. Marcella had shed her armor and shown her teeth. Clad in a simple woven shirt and leather pants which lay under her silver plates.


She waits for movement, raring to strike. Praying that it would be over quickly so that she could down a pint and have one of those indifferent pies which almost all customers had when they visited the greasy little hole that was the Thirsty Lizard. It would be all the worth after such a disappointing sparring.

 

[Elephantom]

GEN. RILINGTON


He squinted his eyes at the last remark, taking it into knowledge that the last one was indeed captured from a very particular military treatise, and a rather excellent strategy too. The two generals who stood at the corner of the room, and remained fairly silent except for some few grunts of approval or decline. Their very presence seemed to be quite awkward, only serving as background people. His eyes diverted from the duo to Rigarius, before proceeding to speak.


"Know your enemy and yourself and you can have a definite chance of winning. And by some unfortunate chance, we lack both of this."


He paused a bit, noting the fact that Nikomis was wholly self-serving and his motives weren't really clear-cut on the more better side. If a person such as him were to have a control on the whole operation, it would prove to be potentially fatal. He breathed a short sigh, a weary one, before proceeding to start speaking again.


"He may be an expert source of solution, but I may have to agree that he's just not really trustworthy. You say that this 'forbidden' magic comes same from this abysmal creature's roots, than how are we to believe that he's not a demon collaborator or it won't help the demons in any way?"


He paused a bit. He thought he heard a sound of a wind thing, maybe it was his imagination, or was it the wind in general? But today wasn't actually a windy day, was it?


Such were the thoughts that ran though his head, which was unable to produce a detailed description of this event. However, he chose to remain unfazed of this event.


"But I can only hope that this situation doesn't intensify, we're in a rather weak position, strategically and physically."





@Quantum Leek

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire



​

Reiner's smile changed momentarily from the obnoxious one from earlier to a wolfish grin as Kensey accepted his challenge before reverting back. He honestly was a little surprised that she had accepted, he had had her pegged as too straight-laced for that. It seemed as though she might be more fun than he had previously thought.


At the mention that his coat and gauntlets must be off his grin grows once more, "Want to see me shirtless that badly do you? Well, that's alright I suppose," he says playfully as he followed the woman on the way to the venue of their fight. Figures that she wouldn't want to just go at it in the street, after all this behavior is quite unbecoming of a soldier, especially a higher ranking one such as a lieutenant.


Walking into the bar Reiner once more feels a pang of longing for food and drink, though he brushes it off as he looks around the pit and the small crowd around it, completely at ease. He enters the ring and pulls off his gauntlet, coat, and shirt and piling them in a corner, giving the men around it a look as if to say, touch those and I gut you. As he does this he reveals himself to possess the build of a veteran warrior, all lean muscle with no unneeded fat at all. However, more striking than this is that, when he turns around to put down his stuff he reveals the large dark red and black rune wheel that covers his back and the connected serpent that wraps around his right arm. They would almost pass as tattoos except for the fact that they seem to glow and smolder in the same manner of his eyes. One can tell, just by looking, that the wheel and the serpent are not natural and that there is something almost sinister about them.


Reiner reaches down and draws his boot knife before turning around to face the lieutenant. "Hey, Miss Kensey, why do you get a shirt while I don't? I feel like this is an inherently unequal bout." he says facetiously while lazily, yet skillfully and somewhat gracefully, dancing the knife around his hand, demonstrating a finesse that the lieutenant had likely not attributed to him. He looks at her for a second before abruptly stepping in despite having never taken a stance and, reversing his grip on his knife, slashing diagonally upwards at the underside of her right arm, grinning all the while.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

An insistent mouth gapes, about to protest at his assumption but instead she clamps it tightly. Marcella is intelligent enough to know not to fight fire with fire, she, unlike private Donovan had sense not to provoke any further. Knowing that it was better just to let it out in a 'fair' duel. "Never did I mention that shirts were to be discarded," the brisk mutter slips from her lips as the woman's gaze is enraptured, and circles the peculiar patterns on his back. Immediately wishing that he hadn't taken his shirt off, there was something highly menacing about them. It was too late now.


The blade slips easily through skin, sinking not far into the flesh of Marcella's upper arm, bare as it is from the cut of her shirt. A pair of brown eye watches Eric's face as the sharp, welcome pain splits her lips into a grin more razor-edged than his cutlass. She had to hand it to him, the speed of his attack came as a surprise, however the adrenaline in her reserve refused to slow. Dark eyes watch the trickle of blood as it soaks into the material of her blouse. Oh, the soldier could tell that this was going to be a good one and she certainly was hungry for a challenge.


The tall brunette could slip to the side, grab hold of Eric's arm and break it at the elbow. Or, perhaps, trip the man and twist to follow, drive her sharp knee into the small of her opponent’s back, and weave her fingers through mussed hair to grind that straight nose into the floor. Countless fights, countless knives, had left her muscles tight and willing to duck, dodge, weave. She doesn’t.


Quite a lot had been lost back in Naloma, from which the lieutenant hailed from. For Mars - the burdens she formerly carried, the assurance of a fight won once started - but some things could not change. The guilt, the hesitation, in her eyes were exactly what the formerly-substantial woman expected. Which practically confirmed the connection of knuckles against loosely dressed bone over the private's sternum, as the sharp ridges adorning Marissa's fist connect and torque, aiming far more for sting than damage. The blow was hard enough to knock the wind from the man but not to inflict any damage--a bruise perhaps but nothing less.


Standing merely as a diversion for her next infliction. Marcella's wrist flicks, she can feel the bones there click and her shoulder muscles tense. This time, the lieutenant keeps her arms low, close to her torso and in an instant she jerks the blade toward private Donovan's stomach. It’s an advantageous position for the shorter woman, reaching up with bloody fingers to place trails of crimson against her opponent’s lower back, a gently warm and sticky hand ghosting against the muscles and tendons tight over a certain vertebrae.


At the movement pain blooms in the soldier's arm, travels up to her eyes, her temples, where fireworks of agony are merrily exploding. To feel such hurt from the seemingly innocent slash that he had delivered was shocking, her arm had only just started to numb due to the absorption on first strike. “Bloody hell,” she screams, nearly dropping her knife all together. The cry wrung from her throat, all decorum forgotten. There's a cheer from a couple of blokes in the gathering crowd and it makes Marcella's blood boil.


"How?!" there's a tinge of a whine in her voice, it's laced with bitterness and shock despite her efforts to conceal it. The soldier rights herself and trips back from the man. She's wheezing after leading with her shoulder against the trunk of his body, almost as if bracing against an immovable object. Which Eric seemed to be, in some ways.

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire



​

Faced with whether to try to dodge the fist or not Reiner simply absorbs it, feeling the impact but not really the pain. Maybe he should have mentioned that bit to her? Well, what's done is done. Plus, he gets to have more fun this way doesn't he? He moves to react the following knife blow just to see Kensey pull back from him with a cry of pain. Reiner wonders for a moment what that feels like as, along with the taste of food and drink, he's forgotten what the pain of a cut like that feels like. Now days, he can only really feel pain from massive injuries, like being dismembered, or light magic, both of which are quite different from a single knife wound. That said, he had tried to avoid anything that would be lasting damage. He wanted to mess with the woman, not ruin her life. After all, if she loses her job as a soldier and becomes homeless because of him it won't be any fun to mess with her anymore. Also she reminded him of his sister, and he couldn't truly bring himself to hurt her as it would tarnish his precious memories... not. Reiner really couldn't care less about Kensey apart from the fact that she was amusing. He didn't know her well enough for anything else.


As Kensey asks him "how" he doesn't answer, not really bothering to figure out what she's even asking him about. There could be so many things and it'd be too much effort to narrow them down. Instead he merely smiles innocently at her. Innocently, and yet somehow it sends a shiver down the spines of many of the onlookers. At this point it should be clear that Reiner is more than just an infuriatingly arrogant recruit. The problem now is what exactly that makes him.


Reiner steps in once more, feinting that he's going to go for her abdomen before abruptly dropping down and scything a leg at her in a sweep kick aimed to knock her off her feet. Had she known that Reiner actually specialized in hand-to-hand combat she might have decided to go with something that put some more distance between him and her than knives, like swords or axes. Reiner doesn't really know either way, nor does he really care. He just wants to be recruited so he can go off and have a bit of fun, and if he can amuse himself in the process, all the better.

 

[Quantum Leek]

Battlemaster Rigarius

​

Rigarius nodded grimly as General Rilington spoke. These were thoughts that also plagued him. Could Nikomis truly be trusted not to turn on them? He liked to think that the man didn't want complete ruin to come to the world, but... but he had been wrong before. And the last thought that Rilington left with him was unsettling, to say the least; could he be collaborating with the demons?


He remembered all too well how thrilled Niko had been to investigate the voids with him. How he had dominated one of the Shadows with his own magic. Couldn't it be true that the Dark Mage was, in fact, planning to let the demons overrun them, then take control of them? Did he have that kind of power? Rigarius would have liked to confidently answer 'no,' but the truth was he did not know. He knew so very little about magic--but he knew that Niko was regarded as having great power, even among the Archmages. Great power and very few scruples. That combination was always a recipe for disaster.


"What you say rings true, my friend. They are doubts I, myself, have had about accepting his help. And I, perhaps foolishly, came to the conclusion that he is unlikely to want the world decimated. Black-hearted though he may be, Master Crimsongaze must also live here."


"Battlemaster, if I may: we are hardly in a position to refuse to look at what this mage has to say. We risk nothing by consulting with the Archmages about his spells. They are the experts, after all, and they will surely be able to tell us what the outcome of his spell ought to be--but it is the cost that worries me more." Rosenfeld ventured. She looked as if she was trying very hard to see the bright side of things.


"And what then? If this Mage sets a price too high for us to pay? I, for one, am not confident enough in your Magic to set the lives of all of Fydine on one Mage's shoulders. Where are the Gods in all of this? They foretell death and destruction, and yet they turn their backs on us? Could it be that they disapprove of your methods?" Marton, on the other hand, seemed to go in the opposite direction. His voice was hot, accusing. As a native of Itaamar, he had starkly different views of how things ought to be run. That was, in part, why Rigarius wanted him there in the first place; a different viewpoint was often the best. This time, however, his accusatory tone and the fierce look he gave Rigarius suggested that he was talking about more than just magic.


"This is hardly the time for baseless accusations. What the Gods did say was that we must stand together or die alone. I'd thank you to make an effort at that." Rosenfeld fired back, looking venomous.


"Enough," The single word brought silence. Rigarius had that effect on people, often. "The Gods keep their own counsel, as must we. Rosenfeld is right--we must stand together. In this, at least, we will hear the Council's advice. But we will not place all of our hopes in such a risky place. The paladins have yet to arrive from Naloma, but when they do they will be our strongest asset. Until that time we must prepare as best we can with what resources we have. And we must not doubt each other."

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery: Battlemaster's Tent

How: Scared/Mortified/Angry


Who: @Quantum Leek @Elephantom

The sounds of far off fighting suddenly floated past the pixie and nearly complete distracted her from the frankly insulting conversation currently occurring within the Battlemaster’s tent. The wind had carried the sounds of the fight she had previously predicted to her ears, which as expected, seemed to be much more heated than the sparing matches that the soldiers had been participating in up to that point. However, the distraction was only fleeting as Lindzi was now focusing her full attention on the Battlemaster’s council; a council about Niko.


Her stomach had dropped when she had heard the first older man speak, seemingly agreeing with Rigarius about some previously made point about the trustworthiness of her mage master. Somehow she had known that’s who they were talking about. As much as it pained her to admit, she could understand the human’s wariness of Niko but the more interesting tidbit was about some sort of “forbidden magic”. That must be what Niko’s Council meeting is about, she thought. And Lindzi would have been content to continue eavesdropping, had the insults and general slander not started. The woman inside seemed reasonable enough, but the other man who sounded as if he was from across the River made her blood boil. Being wary of Niko was one thing, the wise thing truly, but to accuse him of using a potential apocalypse to his advantage? To accuse him of betraying them all in the face of possible world destruction?


Anger, the likes of which she had not felt in some time, began burning through her core and left her trembling. Anger was not something she was used to feeling and it was an emotion she dealt with rather poorly. Niko is not evil! How many times would she have to make that argument?! Fists clenched, she continued listening, but found herself struggling mightily to remain still and silent. She wanted to speak out, to stand up for not only her mage master, but herself and other magic users. After all, to insult her mage master was to insult her as well. I should say something! She fumed, Show them they’re wrong.


And like that, she was moving.


Lindzi spun and practically ripped open the fabric opening the tent to step inside, stern faced and stiff. She’d even allowed her wings to unfurl from her back; the bright purple dragonfly-esq shape added a foot or two of height to her normally slight frame. And yet, upon entering she immediately realized she had made a major mistake. Firstly, Riggs was sitting in council with a group of people that were clearly generals, or some other high ranking officer, and secondly, she had absolutely no idea what to say. If she immediately began to defend Niko, then it would have been obvious that she was eavesdropping on the Battlemaster and his generals.


A small voice in her mind quipped that this was in no way, shape or form staying out of trouble.


Luckily, quick thinking had always been one of Lindzi’s strong suits. Instead of standing in the doorway looking as flabbergasted as she felt, she immediately adopted the At Rest pose she seen the soldiers outside take and waited to be addressed. She was, after all, a messenger.


She thanked the Gods for the pep talk given to herself and the other messengers by the Quatermaster just a few short days ago. “You are this army’s eyes and ears! You are official messengers!” The man had barked, (she remembered with a start that she didn’t even recall his name), “This sash, as obnoxiously colored as it is, identifies you to every solider and mage. Anyone at any time can give you a message to deliver, it is your duty do to so as quickly as possible.” A small boy at the front of the group had stuttered a question about interrupting his seniors which had caused the quartermaster to laugh so loudly he startled them all. “As a messenger you are allowed just about everywhere. Announce your presence if you can, otherwise, stand in a conspicuous place and wait to be addressed. With the possible fate of lives on your hands, you will not be kept waiting long! Deliver your message, gather the response and leave promptly!”


And so, with the Quartermaster’s instructions still booming in her mind, Lindzi squared her shoulders and made a valiant effort to appear far more confident than she felt.