[Center][h1]A Broken Sort of Love[/h1][/center] [hr] [sub]7 AA, Luminant[/sub] She could not see the world but she could feel it. With every body racking contraction, every demand to push, every scream before a deep breath. The soft sheets on the hard bed, nails dug in as she clutched it for dear life with clammy hands. Brown wings pressed flat behind her. Strands of her long black hair were stuck to her sweat covered body and that impassive face of hers, with a ribbon of black covering her eyes, was distorted in pain. She screamed again as the pain in her loins threatened to never end. Her body wanted to push but it hurt so much she held it in with all her might. "You must push Tulara. The baby will not come if you don't embrace the pain." Came the voice of Giara, a field matron, ones who helped with birth and remedy. Tulara wanted to protest but all that came out of her mouth was a growl. Someone placed a cool cloth upon her forehead and dabbed at her sweat. "Tsk tsk Tulara. I thought you stronger then this. Will you let a little pain defeat you? You've dealt with worse, after all." Said the silky smooth voice of Fara in her ear. She despised that woman, she was nothing but a nuisance since Tulara had arrived. Always chattering about strength and the wa- She let out another scream as the worse contraction yet hit her and she almost blacked out as her body pushed. She then felt two things, the pain beginning to taper away and a weight lifted off her shoulders. This relief was cut short when she heard Giara begin to speak. "Bring me a towel Fara." Tulara felt the damp cloth still and a wing beat as cool air washed over her. A moment of silence later and Fara cooed, "A girl child for the war effort." Tulara did not hear the child scream. A dark thought leaped to the forefront of her mind and she began to speak with an anxiousness to her voice. Dreaded hope leaching through. "She does not cry? Is she still stillborn?" "Oh you've made Giara frown Tulara. Not good, not good." Fara chided, she could almost see the grin on her face. "She stares, Tulara." Giara began, "With pale yellow eyes, akin to a weathered sunflower. Curious eyes, in the War Mother's visage." She paused. "This one breathes with quiet contemplation, unlike her mother who yearns for what is not, louder then she. You would do well to take note from her silence." Tulara frowned as her face became one of disappointment. Her hope for a quiet way out dashed before her. She felt no shame with those thoughts of her, much to the ire of Giara. Even without her sight she could feel the woman's scornful gaze. "Let's see…" Fara said, "Oh my, looking at her now, what a small baby, Tulara. Hmm. Grey wings, an odd color. Almost saint-like. Her skin is very pale, paler then you Tulara and almost sickly in nature. Her hair is stark white but that color might change with age. Her body has no blemishes and… Her grip is weak. And here I thought the children of Aveira's guard would be strong." "I don't want her." Tulara snapped, lips turning into a scowl as her anger boiled. "She was forced upon me without my choice. I will raise no weakling as my own." She huffed, crossing her arms. "We've been over this Tulara." Giara's icy voice bit into her. "A child forced upon you is still yours. We have too many orphans as it stands and we are running out of the means to feed them. You are this child's mother and you will raise her as your own. For the war effort and for the War Mother. If she did not want you to have this child, you would not have had her." Tulara exhaled a breath through her nose, conflicting emotions welling up inside her. A small voice broke the uncomfortable silence with a cry that grew louder as she found her lungs. Her greatest shame, brought to life. The cry grew louder as she was brought close and placed upon her chest. With great hesitance, she wrapped her arms around the bundle and felt soft flesh touch her own. She was so light. "The child needs a mother." Giara said at last. "Even if you resent her, she will be raised for the war. This is the duty of all mothers." As something wet began to roll down Tulara's cheeks, she cradled her baby, rocking her to quiet. She could feel the baby relax as she used her free hand to feel her face and paint a picture in her head of what she looked like. "Here, let me wipe the blood." Fara said in a quiet voice and the exhausted woman did not protest when she dabbed at her cheeks. "Soon enough your eyes will heal, Tulara and this life of yours will not look so bleak. Perhaps you will even find purpose again. Until then, you will take care of yourself and the child." Giara commanded, as Tulara felt her begin to clean her disgusting body. "What shall you name the child?" Fara asked. "Her name will be Iora." Tulara said in a hoarse voice. "Iora? Doesn't that mean-" "A name, Fara." Giara cut her off. "Iora she shall be." [hr] [sub] 15 AA, Luminant [/sub] The white haired girl took the hit. She felt pain in her cheek blossom and tasted blood. Around her a crowd of children shouted and egged them on as she steadied herself and stared daggers at her opponent. Magdri, a brute of a boy, smirking with glee. The kind of face only an Oraeliari could love, or so she had heard. He stood two heads taller then her and his reach was fearsome but Iora had everything to prove and nothing to lose. She charged with a war cry, dodged his fist as it came at her and landed a hit on his chin. Pain shot down her arm and Magdri laughed as he punched her in the gut as a follow up. With the wind knocked out of her, Iora crumpled to the dirt, clutching her stomach as she gasped for breath. "If that's the best you got, then you really are a weakling." Magdri spat, walking around her. The others had grown quiet. "What a freak. Try something like that again and you’ll be sorry! Come on, let’s get out of here before Syri shows up." She heard a flurry of wing beats and looked up to see them flying off. Iora then stood up, her face relaxing as she watched them disappear through the trees. She dusted herself off, then went on her way. She got a thrill out of that, the look on Magdri’s face when she had tried to knee him in his groin. If he wasn’t such a troll, she would have pummeled his face in with- Ah there it was. She picked up a yellow cloth. It had been full of stones but now they were scattered about. She would have to lead with that next time. Iora’s feet brought her back to the small ransack village where her mother’s tent was. The village had no name, for she had been told a name was not needed for a temporary place. That had been a year ago. Much of the Neiyari here were wounded from the war, recovering as they could. Every wound was different, some physical and others like her mother. She avoided the scrutinizing gazes of the adults until she made it home, one of the few remaining tents on the ground level, out of the way really. She opened the flap and went inside the dim interior and musty smell. Like something needed to be washed. Her mother was there, sleeping as she often did, back turned to the light of the Luminant. Iora made sure to be quiet as she walked to her side of the tent and rummaged through her rucksack for what she was looking for. She retrieved the small bladder of the War Mother’s tears and took a sip. At once, cool relief washed over her body and that which ailed her became less. She touched her bruised face and found it no longer so sensitive. She took another drink and then marveled at the bladder. Taught to them by a Saint, she knew not how it worked only that it held water and came from an animal. An animal which escaped her still. “Iora.” Came the cold voice of her mother. She straightened her back and turned to see that her mother was sitting up, running a hand through her disheveled hair as she stared at her with a gaunt face and dark rings around her eyes. With an all too familiar look on her face, disappointment. One she had grown so used to, it no longer bothered her but to play along, Iora shrunk herself in that presence. “Yes, mother?” “Where is it?” she asked. Iora tilted her head in confusion. “Where is what, mother?” “Don’t give me that, girl. You know what I’m talking about.” she said, anger flooding into her voice. She got to her feet and in two bounds was above Iora, strong hands gripping her by her arms and lifting her to her feet. Iora’s eyes went wide as her mother dragged and pressed her against the wooden support beam in the middle of the room. The tent shivered and she snarled. “You bring shame on me again! Always sneaking about, starting fights that you can’t win and now, stealing? Do you think me a fool, Iora!” The slap came across the same cheek Magdri had punched not so long ago. It stung and her eyes watered. “Now you tell me. Right Now. Where. Is. The. Dagger?” “I-I-I don’t know!” She yelled. Another slap, this time the other cheek. “Stop lying Iora! The smiths keep close watch on their forges. They know to who, and what they give for the war effort. Now they say a dagger has gone missing and I was blamed. They said, ‘It must be that daughter of yours’ and ‘Why can’t she act normal? Why is she so weak.’ Do you have any idea how much shame this brings ME!” Her mother’s grip tightened. Iora began to cry. “I-I d-didn’t s-steal a d-dagger, m-momma p-please.” She pleaded. “If you didn’t steal it, then who Iora? Who!” She pressed her harder into the pole. “I-I don’t know!” She cried loudly. Her mother growled, acting as if she would strike her again but instead she released her. “Go. Get out of my sight.” She said, voice no longer angry but hollow. Like she had just given up. She went back to the bed and sat down. Iora did not wait to see what she would do next, as the girl was up on her feet and out the flap, running away from the village in haste. When she was far out of sight and into the trees, the girl stopped for a breather, rubbing her cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. She frowned, realizing she left the healing water back in her sack. Her frown turned into a look of anger and she stomped off in the direction of the hollow. She passed through the trees and found herself in the clearing she had found earlier in the year. A large hollow tree sat in the middle of a clearing. Blackened to bits, it was different then all the other trees because it was dead. She went past it and looked for the animal trail she had taken great interest in. It had taken her several days but she had finally learned how to make a snare. Such skills were taught to them in hopes and now Iora knew why. When it came in sight, her heart began to beat fast. There, struggling to break free was a lossum with banded fur and glowing spots. When it saw her it began to cower, pulling at its caught leg in hope of freedom. A rare smile formed on her lips and she rushed back to the tree. Within the hollow she retrieved a cloth bundle with her hand and uncovered it to grab the dagger. Its blade glowed softly, before it became brighter as it took in the light. Her mother had been right, she did steal it but there was no way she would tell the truth. She would have gotten beaten and she didn’t like getting beaten. Iora went back to the lossum. She knew from stories that no animals, maybe except the bigger ones and the humani, attacked. Such creatures were scared of them and only wanted to flee. So, Iora got close, the animal going frantic and she got down onto her knees. With her free hand she grabbed the snare and began to pull the possum towards her. It screeched then fell to its side and stopped moving. Iora had heard of animals playing dead but had never seen it. Not wanting the opportunity to go to waste, she grabbed a rock and smashed it against the lossum’s back legs. The creature shot up and screeched again. Iora was fascinated. It was the first time she had done something like that and it felt… Good. Watching it struggle, watching it try to get away. Her heart beat fast and a strange sensation overcame her before she moved closer with the knife. It whimpered and she smiled. [hr] [sub] 22 AA, Luminant [/sub] He stood a few heads taller than her, gripping her arms and pinning them to her body as she was pushed up against a tree. Iora looked up at him with fixated obsession, studying every small detail of his face and those lips that had laughed and caught her attention. His name was Bolvari, just a few years older then she and he had a reputation for getting what he wanted. In this case, it was her. Iora had grown into a plain looking teen, much too skinny, much too short for her age, as she was so often reminded. Her hair was still stark white, not helping but add to the oddity she was. Still, it was no wonder why she found herself pinned by Bolvari now. She had let him, this was not a surprise. She had given him fleeting looks, wanting to be close every moment she could get. The others scorned her, called her names. Even he did, at first, giving into that pressure of the group mentality. He probably still thought her a freak, an outcast, something to be an object of cruelty towards. Yet, here he was, staring at her with such bold desire. Such wanton need. It gave her such a thrill. Men were like that, once she was seen as an easy target, he could not resist. Still, it was telling that they were out in the middle of nowhere, away from scrutinizing eyes. Oh how the wind ruffled his long brown hair and how he leaned in closer towards her lips. She closed her eyes, letting the object of her fascination reward her at last. Yet when those lips touched hers, she found the thrill dying, replaced with disgust. Such lips and such breath as he tried to pry apart and stick his tongue in. Iora pushed him off, her strength waning. He looked at her with anger and the burning desire of being in power. She looked and found it did nothing for her anymore. He was boring, like all the others had become. Yet it lingered like a sour aftertaste, this desire she had for him. Well, there was one way to rid herself of it. “You dare? After tempting me these last few weeks, you dare push me off?” He demanded, wiping his lips. Iora shrugged. “I found the taste quite repulsive. Do you kiss up to the Saint’s with that mouth of yours?” She narrowed her eyes. She could see it dawn on him, the intent of her jab. As expected, he did not take it well. In two powerful bounds he was back up to her and backhanded her in the face. The slap made her tingle and her ears ring. She tasted blood and stronger hands gripping her, turning her around. Her head hit the tree and she felt his hands upon her waist. She glanced behind to see his face twisted with ill thoughts. Something flew towards them. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, freak? Well… I’ll show yo-” His voice cut out, replaced with a gurgle. The pressure keeping her in place relented as his body fell backwards into the ground. Iora turned around fully to see him grabbing his throat, blood spewing from the deep gash as he lashed about in vain. His eyes were full of panic, the kind she derived the thrill from. He looked up at her with hate and fear. An odd look on any Neiyari. A twisted smile formed on her lips, he looked horrified. She watched as he became still, the life fading from his eyes. The obsession she felt for him was gone with his final breath. She found the dagger nearby and with but a thought it lifted into the air and flew to her. She wiped the blood off on his robe and pulled herself away. She outstretched her hand and felt the power within manifest into a green flame at her fingertips. The first time she had summoned the flame had been in a moment of anger but as time went on she had learned to control it. She flung the ball at his corpse and it lapped at his flesh, like a hungry wolf to a fresh kill. The sweet smell of death began to permeate the air and Iora retreated into the woods. The flame would do its job, leaving nothing but ash behind. People went missing all the time in these parts, and her mother liked to move around the Luminant now. It provided ample opportunities. She found herself a bit disappointed. She would have liked to savor it a bit more but men were so, straight to the point with their intentions. Maybe next time, she would fall for a girl. [hr] [sub] 28 AA, Luminant [/sub] She had only seen the Heart Pierce Spire once in her life, when she was a young girl. Now she worked in its shadow, carrying healing water to those wounded Neiyari who were being brought back from the battlefront. A battlefront she did not get to see. Many of the enslaved humani did the same. It was lowly work but such was her fate in life. She couldn’t wield a sword, shoot a bow, heft a spear- It wore her out too quickly. When that had been found out, she wasn’t even trained to use them. In fact, she was belittled for it, much to the chagrin of her mother. The same one who was up fighting on the front line, having finally found herself again after years of denial. Pitiful really. It didn’t bother her, in the end. For she had learned that true power was not only through physical prowess but by more, subtler means. Or, she supposed, by being able to command flesh eating fire at her fingertips and the ability to move objects with her mind. Better to have them all believe what they wanted to believe about her. It made things… Easier. Besides, they were all beneath her. She was superior, blessed by the War Mother herself. Iora gave water to a Neiyari man without an arm. He groaned like a weakling and lapped greedily. The water would stop the bleeding but would not bring back his arm, only time would allow that. She found her eyes wandering, trying to get a look at- Ah, there she was. The humani girl who had caught her attention by yelling at a slave master. She got a whipping at that and now her right eye was covered in a cloth. As well as her arms and a leg. Her dirty blonde hair, so reminiscent of an Oraeliari, was long and unkept. She was almost as tall as Iora, and that wasn’t saying much as Iora was still several heads shorter than most Neiyari. If it wasn’t for her wings and hair, she could have probably passed for a human. She was captivated by the humani girl. She was really the only reason Iora was even handing out water. It was difficult to try and get a woman’s attention if they had their hearts set on a man but Iora did not let this stop her from trying. To be close was to feel the thrill and the strength. Even if it was for a little bit, just until she grew bored and… Well, no one would miss a humani slave. After moving to several more wounded Neiyari, Iora was close enough to the girl that she ‘accidently’ bumped into her. The humani girl fell, dropping her water flasks. She growled at first then seemed to realize her position and began to apologize. Iora reached out a hand. “Oh clumsy me, I’m sorry.” She said in a soft voice, an inviting smile on her lips. It was difficult to fake a genuine reaction because Neiyari barely had the concept, but there was a flicker of recognition in the girls eyes. She did not take Iora’s hand but stood up on her own, retrieved her flasks and walked past her in a hurry. Iora watched her go. It took time to feed the desire of being wanted. To have a shoulder to cry on. At least, that’s what she thought humani liked anyways. They, along with the Oraeliari, were suckers for that kind of interaction. Besides, she had only ever been infatuated with one other humani but he ran away. She did however learn an important lesson after those weeks of agony. For one day, she woke up and the obsession was gone. As long as she didn’t let this one escape, she had a real chance to test her skills. A flash of light, brighter than all of the Luminant caught Iora’s attention, stopping her in her tracks. It lingered in the air where the battle was being waged and she found her curiosity getting the best of her. She dropped the flask and began to fly to the front. Was this what all the rumors were about? The master plan by the saints to boost morale and deal a blow to the enemy? They had said Aveira had returned but Iora was skeptical of that one… Mother had always said she had been a fool, left her to her fate at the hands of Malri. Her father. Iora didn’t care one way or another, she was indifferent to her mother’s constant bickering. As she drew closer to the source it abruptly vanished and before long, she found herself in the midst of a retreating Neiyari host. She saw their faces, scared and abysmal but Iora pressed on to the lake. She flew through the last of the trees, to witness the battlefield, now empty save for the last few Neiyari stragglers and… She had never seen the Oraeliari so close. There were many now, wandering dazed and confused, others clutching their hearts upon their knees. Across the water, a great host of Oraeliari flew about, some coming closer. She could almost hear their cheers. So the day was lost, what a pity. She turned to leave- “I-Iora? Is that you?” It was her mother’s voice but not… She turned to see a golden haired woman approach her. She tilted her head. It was her mother’s face, with white wings and such emotion. Tears, pooling in her eyes. “Why are you here Iora?” She quickly shook her head and smiled as her tears began to stream down her face. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, I was going to find you. My little girl.” She stepped towards her but Iora stepped back. This seemed to jolt her mother and she paused. “Listen, Iora. I-I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you, for how I... “ She couldn’t bear to say it, it seemed. “I love you, Iora. I always have. Please, come with me, we can… We can start over.” “You love me?” Iora said. “How convenient for you, mother. After hitting me, abusing me, belittling me, after I brought you so much shame for all these years… The minute you turn weak you say you love me? That we can start over? I shouldn’t be surprised. What, did you expect me to just forget what you’ve done?” “I don’t expect you to forget or forgive me, Iora but I would like to try to bridge the gap I created. It is my fault, and I am sorry. The cruelty of the Neiyari is like an infectious disease. It makes you numb to the world and those around you. Please, Iora come with me. Let’s start over, away from the war. From all of this.” She was begging now. Iora shrugged. “I’d rather not. You are the enemy now, Mother. You always were.” “Iora! Please!” she cried taking a step forward. “You always did think me weak, mother. Can I tell you a secret?” She lifted a discarded sword from the ground, one that was behind her mother. “I never was.” The blade pierced her mother from behind and the woman stumbled forward, eyes wide. She fell to her knees and Iora walked closer, lifting another blade at her side. “You see, I was always much stronger than you. You made me keep secrets. Just think, you could have become a Saint if you knew your daughter was so powerful. But you thought me weak. You hated me.” The blade grew closer and began to enter her mother’s chest with slow agony. To her credit, Tulara did not scream. “But don’t worry mother, I forgive you.” She stood above her now, for once in her life standing taller. Blood began to flow from her mouth and her breathing became ragged but she did not look away from Iora. “I-I’m… So… S-” Her words failed her, as another blade severed her neck from her shoulders. Iora watched her head fall and her body slump, feeling not a thing but an itch to see the humani girl. Before she could even leave, an arrow thwacked a shield right next to her and she looked up to see four Oraeliari fighters coming at her and one lingering above with a bow. Had they seen her kill… Probably. They landed, looking gruff, swords and shields raised to the offense. She looked past their weapons to view their faces. She had always been told the enemy were weak, frightened creatures that followed a false deity. These ones looked bolstered, strong and anything but weak. She looked to the corpse of her mother, she had been weak. “Are they sending children now, to fight in their stead?” One asked, not her but the others. “Quiet, Handari. Don’t jump to conclusions.” Said the one in the middle. “Are you hurt?” He asked her. She stared, growing annoyed. “Do I look hurt?” she retorted. “I told you, Olgari, even their children are cruel.” Handari said. “Fly back up to Imra and that’s an order, Handari. Radinri and I will handle this.” Olgari said in a commanding voice. The man took one last look at her and flew up to the woman. “Did you kill her?” he asked, looking at her mother. “Yes. She was weak.” She stated matter of factly. “She always had been, but grovelling before me, saying she loved me? Asking for forgiveness? I don’t normally feel disgusted when a bug crawls on me but I did then. Such a strange feeling.” She watched as their faces became unnerved, a slight thrill building in her chest. It was fun to toy with prey. The larger man sighed and shook his head. “Tevuri will have to fix this one as well, Olgari.” “Perhaps. Say, would you come with us without a fight?” Olgari asked. She shook her head. “There is a humani girl, waiting for me at the Spire. She doesn’t know it yet, but I plan to enjoy her presence before I kill her. Slowly. Perhaps I will use a knife.” The larger man’s face grew pointed and he charged her in an instant. Good. This Olgari shouted but before he could do anything, a blade had flung into his chest and he dropped before her feet. The blade still hung in the air, coated with blood. Olgari froze and up above someone screamed. She felt a pinprick, and then an explosion of pain in her left shoulder. The blade dropped and she looked to see an arrow shaft protruding from her skin. That wasn’t good. A flutter of wing beats jostled her awareness and she flung herself out of the way before a mace landed where she had been. The one known as Handari fell before her to reclaim the mace. Green fire sprang from her fingertips, catching him unaware as he ran at her. As it touched his chest and neck, he screamed a wonderful sound. He dropped to the floor and he summoned more, throwing it on his back and wings. She smiled, and another arrow whizzed past her. She looked up at the sky and another blade shot off towards this Imra. Like two birds courting, they dogged and weaved in front of each other, the sword turning on a dime each time. So focused on that, she was again caught unaware as something large hit her from behind and she sprawled forward. In a daze she lifted herself to see the one known as Olgari briefly checking on his dying friend before his gaze fell upon her. A sword lifted off the ground to meet him but he batted it aside and another arrow pierced her leg, pinning it to the ground. She grunted, her annoyance turning to anger. She scowled as the woman landed beside Olgari, arrow knocked and aimed at her. Was she going to die? No wait, she couldn’t die! She had to get back to the humani girl. Her breathing became erratic as her goal seemed to be squashed before her. They would dodge the fire, wouldn’t they? And her swords? Then what! THEN WHAT COULD SHE DO TO GET BACK? Her answer came in the form of power. She lifted her arm and they ran at her but Iora let them come, noticing the vines growing on her pale arms. Like skin patterns that some Neiyari had begun to adopt. Her hands began to grow green, Imra took to the sky and loosed an arrow as Olgari threw his spear. From her hand came an eruption unlike any she had seen. A beam of pure, destructive flame. The spear and arrow broke apart and she was hit with splinters but the Oraeliari fared much worse. The beam caught Olgari full mass, and it consumed him, eating away at his skin, flesh, to bone and then ash before it clipped Imra’s right side. The left half of her body became skeletal and she dropped dead as the flame consumed the rest. The beam stopped, having blackened a small area of the forest behind her as pain shot up both her arms. Her hands shook but she admired the tattoos, fighting through the pain. For pain was familiar to her. It had been there when all others had not been. Her oldest friend. A laugh escaped her lips. It looked like she would get to see the humani girl again. [hider=Summary] Tulara is the one Neiyari that survived Malri’s massacre and ended being teleported back to the Luminant for nefarious reasons. She ends up giving birth to a child that she doesn’t want but is told to keep her for the War Effort. We then shift POV to the girl, Iora, and her struggles with life and growing up Neiyari. Spoiler, her mum basically resents her and Iora is like the kid everyone hates growing up and is ridiculed for her shortness and white hair. She’s aggressive, steals and lies and this results in her abusing animals in return. We skip ahead to when she is a teenager, her powers have begun to manifest and she uses them to get a ‘thrill’. She ends up getting bored of a dude then murders him without a hint of remorse at the ripe old age of 15. We then skip further ahead to the fateful day when the War in the Luminant changed. She is at the Spire, dishing out healing water to wounded Neiyari, under a false pretense to get closer to a humani slave who she finds fascinating. Then the sky explodes in light and her curiosity gets the best of her, so she flies to the front to see the Neiyari host fleeing from the battle. When she gets there she meets her mom, who came under the effects of Rhiona’s compassion curse and turned into an Oraeliari. She is lovely dovey to Iora and the girl murders her. This attracts the attention of four Oraeliari and a fight ensues after she goads them. After taking a couple arrows herself, iora mops the floor with them and is excited to return to the humani girl now that she lived. [/hider] [hider=MP] Neiya start 2/3 -1DP Tainted Love I: (This hero is prone to randomly become fascinated by a person who performs some significant action near her - a laugh, words, acrobatics - the fixation is malleable and random. When the hero is so fixated, she cannot remove the person from her thoughts until they have been apart for several weeks. While together with her fixated target, the hero is stronger than usual.) End 2/2 Thaa Start 5 MP 5 DP -2DP Bale Flame II: This hero can summon Bale Fire in a short distance from themselves in a spout or blast. The flames do not burn or spread like a normal fire and are not put out by water or sand like one might with a normal fire. Instead the fire causes rapid necrosis in cells of living material near the flame, and can typically spread across the living body of any creature hit by it. Larger creatures usually can survive initial impact if it hits a non-vital area although having any large portion of ones body be so subsumed is incredibly difficult and may require amputation or extensive healing or regeneration to survive. This effect does not protect the user from the effects of flame. End 5 MP 3 DP Yamat MP start-5mp/5dp -2MP Telekinesis II - This hero is able to move objects with their mind. This is not through magic, but a divine imposition on reality. Smaller and lighter objects can be moved with relative ease and speed if the need arises. Heavy or large objects are typically difficult to move, and an extremely tedious and tiring procedure. Multiple objects can be moved but only the smallest ones, for it is easier to focus on one object at a time. The strength of the telekinesis is enough to push over a fully grown Aiviri, if they only had clothes on. This strength can be easily resisted if one holds onto something or a magical barrier is present. DP-Desolation The Second Herald IV-4dp plus 2 free titles This hero has been gifted the heraldry of Desolation itself. Tattooed upon their arms is the image of thorny vines that wrap all around, starting at their elbows and ending at their wrists. This hero can summon forth the power of desolation contained within the tattoos, allowing them to increase the power of their balefire control and concentrate it into a singular beam. This death ray includes the balefire’s ability to reduce living beings to ash but also includes the ability to reduce non-living objects to ash as well, it is slower than when used on mortals, but can still seriously cut into rock and destroy trees. When using this power however, the tattoos on the skin burn as if a searing fire was there, while causing no permanent damage the pain is incredible and only increases as it is used. End Mp-3mp/1dp --- [/hider] [hider=Prestige] Iora Starting = 0 10k words = +5 Ending = +5 [/hider]