BugDozer73
The silence of the returning wind
The sun had only begun to set over the ocean surf, and so the shadows only just lapped at Sylas's boots as he walked down the road. He held a small coin pouch in his meaty green hands, his fingers as large as they were dexterously moving through the coins over and over, as if to materialize more of them out of thin air. He sighed loudly after finally accepting the count of 22 copper pieces and 12 silver. He had gotten a fair amount of money from this last job running some local bandits out of a nearby town stead, but the damage he had caused when he knocked them around was expensive, and he had ended up losing more coin than he made. He stowed the light pouch on his person, which itself was also rather empty: Simple leather armor and worn longsword. If he had more coin, he could afford some better protection: real metal armor would be no problem with Sylas's physique, but he would never commit to a full set of it: maybe he could get some half plate and patch it over some leather with some chain parts. Still much more functional and not nearly as restricting for his big form. Much like an Alligator, Sylas was big but nimble when he needed to, which caught more than one bandit off guard.
Sylas's longsword was worn, but in good shape. It was clear it was older and used often, but it was well maintained. In fact, the few things Sylas owned were much like what he carried with him when he traveled: old, well used, and as well kept as he could afford to keep them. In about an hour, he would cross back into the gates of Samu keev, not a penny richer. He stopped walking and turned to see the sun sinking into the glittering blue of the coast, now all alight with golden shine. The wind off the sea blew his hair back gently and cooled his face. He crossed his arms and took in the scene, relaxing while he could. The prospect of giving up his stubborn ways and signing a contract with one of the benefactors was not something he relished, but he was running out of options. He mused with the idea of giving it all up and serving food at the Levaith-Inn with Brianna and Susanna, and smirked at the idea of him in a dirty apron trying to move through packed tables on a busy night. Not something he was looking forward to, but maybe better than giving up and signing a contract.
His eyes settled on a strangely shaped rock on the beach, one that swayed with the lapping waves. His eyes snapped to attention as he realized the form was a woman and dropped his bag on the ground, taking off down the rocky bluff and onto the sand below. In a few moments he had gotten to this woman: she was short and lithe, in a basic soaked tunic. Her lilac hair was stuck to her skin and covered in frothy sea surf. her delicate fingers seemed to dig into the sand, as if she were clinging to the ground to not get pulled back out to sea.
"Hold on, I gotcha" He muttered to himself as he put his arms beneath her and scooped her into his chest, her form curling into him. He took her back some paces, away from the rising tide and laid her on much warmer, dry sand. Her skin was pale, and her chest rose up and down lightly, each breath shallower than the last.
Now, its important to mention that Sylas once was a simple swordsman with no aptitude for magic (not that he ever got a chance to go to school to study the arcane). It was only recently, within the last year when he made his Oath to Alfonzo Sawtooth, that he began to harness any sort of magic. Alfonzo had told him there was power in you word, and in your spirit. Those who made and upheld an oath could develop a strength of spirit much unlike anything else. He passed so quickly, however, that Sylas never received true training on the extent of his abilities. He had spent the last year (on top of trying to start his own guild and working many jobs) stumbling over his abilities and trying to hone them, to some success.
"Here" He whispered, and he raised his hand to her form, placing it on the flat of her stomach, against the wet cloth of her tunic. His hand began glowing a warm sea green, and the smell of the ocean intensified: color flooded back into her form and her breathing stabilized. He drained the last bit of healing he could manage and hoped it would be enough.
Purize
Sylas's longsword was worn, but in good shape. It was clear it was older and used often, but it was well maintained. In fact, the few things Sylas owned were much like what he carried with him when he traveled: old, well used, and as well kept as he could afford to keep them. In about an hour, he would cross back into the gates of Samu keev, not a penny richer. He stopped walking and turned to see the sun sinking into the glittering blue of the coast, now all alight with golden shine. The wind off the sea blew his hair back gently and cooled his face. He crossed his arms and took in the scene, relaxing while he could. The prospect of giving up his stubborn ways and signing a contract with one of the benefactors was not something he relished, but he was running out of options. He mused with the idea of giving it all up and serving food at the Levaith-Inn with Brianna and Susanna, and smirked at the idea of him in a dirty apron trying to move through packed tables on a busy night. Not something he was looking forward to, but maybe better than giving up and signing a contract.
His eyes settled on a strangely shaped rock on the beach, one that swayed with the lapping waves. His eyes snapped to attention as he realized the form was a woman and dropped his bag on the ground, taking off down the rocky bluff and onto the sand below. In a few moments he had gotten to this woman: she was short and lithe, in a basic soaked tunic. Her lilac hair was stuck to her skin and covered in frothy sea surf. her delicate fingers seemed to dig into the sand, as if she were clinging to the ground to not get pulled back out to sea.
"Hold on, I gotcha" He muttered to himself as he put his arms beneath her and scooped her into his chest, her form curling into him. He took her back some paces, away from the rising tide and laid her on much warmer, dry sand. Her skin was pale, and her chest rose up and down lightly, each breath shallower than the last.
Now, its important to mention that Sylas once was a simple swordsman with no aptitude for magic (not that he ever got a chance to go to school to study the arcane). It was only recently, within the last year when he made his Oath to Alfonzo Sawtooth, that he began to harness any sort of magic. Alfonzo had told him there was power in you word, and in your spirit. Those who made and upheld an oath could develop a strength of spirit much unlike anything else. He passed so quickly, however, that Sylas never received true training on the extent of his abilities. He had spent the last year (on top of trying to start his own guild and working many jobs) stumbling over his abilities and trying to hone them, to some success.
"Here" He whispered, and he raised his hand to her form, placing it on the flat of her stomach, against the wet cloth of her tunic. His hand began glowing a warm sea green, and the smell of the ocean intensified: color flooded back into her form and her breathing stabilized. He drained the last bit of healing he could manage and hoped it would be enough.
Purize
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