Warlord [hr] [@VitaVitaAR] It was true, that they perhaps, felt no shame or guilt. They thought that were in the right still, after all. And that would remain true for their journey back to the city. The three would keep their heads down, though for fear of being reprimanded or otherwise punished and follow along quietly to what was the village center. Needless to say, the villagers were definitely curious as to what was happening. Word had already spread that some outsiders, specifically a dark haired girl had been asked by Enli to resolve some incidents in the city so it wasn’t hard for them to believe some similar looking outsider would be involved something like this. And then came the words. Traitors. Murder. Attempting to kill Enli. “...They…attempted to kill Enli?” “But he’s our elder…” “Really? Can we…believe this?” “Didn’t you hear? One of those outsiders were looking into something for Enli!” “Really?!” “Then its true!?” Voices from the village would start ringing out, certainly and quickly earning the ire of the village in general. Some insults were tossed their way, after all, even if they didn’t particularly consider Enli to be some paragon of chiefly values - they definitely considered him mostly a good guy, doing his best to lead the village. Not only that, murdering would only cause chaos, wouldn’t it? What would they do without him? The hunters were looking visibly uncomfortable, keeping their heads towards the ground. It would take some time for the public ridicule to have some noticeable effect, but eventually, one of the hunters would speak up quietly. “...were we…the bad guys…?” “And what, leave the village to rot?” The three, at least, seemed to have some form of understanding then, at least, that maybe their actions could have been handled better. “Excuse me, miss.” One of the villagers, would walk over, interrupting Nobunaga and whatever she was doing now. “Erm, I saw some hunters rush over to the old ruin on the cliff…Soyala was with them. I don’t know what they’re doing, but if these three were plotting against the village…” A skill Seeker [@Crimson Paladin] [hr] “...you were meddling. The seal was under it…” The hunter would respond with a grunt. “Soyala and that one outsider said we should.” One of the hunters would comment, but aside from that they didn’t seem to have much more information. If pressed for the name of the outsider specifically, they didn’t seem to have one. As Novak left, they would respond no further, merely looking at Novak with a mildly tired gaze as they’d wait to have their punishment soon. As Novak headed through the village, the place was understandably a bit spooked by the obelisk. No doubt it had never done whatever it had before. A number of hunters were quickly making their way over to the Obelisk, though it was difficult to tell what they were doing. At least no one was going to impede his progress to Enli, and soon he’d find himself standing inside the chief’s longhouse. “Ah, Novak!” Enli would excitedly greet the younger man with a friendly smile. “Glad to see you are alright. I haven’t seen Akando, but I believe he might have been with that Donovan fellow, though I can’t be certain. Either way, I must thank you again for helping.” He would soon take a more serious expression though, as he’d motion for Novak to take a seat by the fire and warm himself. “What exactly have they mentioned, though? I was going to address the people soon, so I’d like to have some idea of what you’ve heard.” Misaki and Narkissa [hr] [@Click This][@PKMNB0Y] “Better look?” Lazhira would echo uncertainly. “Hmm…maybe…well, we could look from the edge of the forest! Sneak up on ‘em.” Lazhira would say. “But uh, you sure? I mean, its probably attracting a lot of attention and well…” If Misaki was certain she’d want to go after that, Lazhira would give her a wide grin and start making her way towards the southern exit of the village, pulling Misaki along with her followed closely by the Deer. Lazhira and Misaki would arrive at the edge of the forest, far enough away from the cliff and Obelisk to not easily be seen, but close enough to see what exactly was going on. It seemed the hunters were up to something, being directed by a black haired huntress who seemed a bit…well, pissed off to put mildly. She was pushing the other hunters around and barking orders to set up traps, it seemed. It looked like they were setting up to Ambush something or someone from the look of things, but what exactly they were looking to Ambush was mystery. By the time they had arrived, the light show was over and whatever the Obelisk had done was finished. This would also be the scene Narkissa would see from a distance as she’d make an approach. She however, was definitely more out in the open than the other two. Upon seeing her, Lazhira would start waving, coming just a bit out of the treeline. “Psst, hey!” She’d shout, just loud enough for her to hear. “Narkissa! Over here!” A Traveler [@PaulHaynek] [hr] Alone, cold, and slightly injured. Maybe he was out of his depth here. The cold snow would at least help with the burns and getting himself clean - but it would also only make him colder, losing more precious body heat…it was a good thing the cold no longer seemed to really matter to him all that much. He’d stand, legs shaking. The young man would find his only company to currently be snowfall, and silence. Thankfully it seemed the forest was well, at least marginally safer than the snowfield, or at least the dead weren’t as common here. As he’d follow the trail left by the unknown human, Nicholas would soon come across a perhaps welcome sight. A log cabin, smoke slowly rolling up from the chimney. The sloped roof carried on its top the weight of massive snow drifts, some which had even fallen to the point of completely burying the back of the cabin around the chimney. The sole window was near the pointed roof, where the roof met wood. The front of the yard was surprisingly tidy. Snow had been pushed to the side. A few carefully tended fruit bearing bushes clung to the front, already ripe with fruit it seemed. A few skins were also hung on a rack, presumably for drying and tanning. It seemed like a homely little place. Perhaps too much so. He would just make out a flash of red cloak disappearing into the door of the place. If he wished too, Knocking on the door or calling would give no answer, and he would find it was unlocked. He had definitely just seen someone go in, but they didn’t seem intent on talking…perhaps that would be for the best, and he should leave and wait for Elisette. [hr] Send Feet Pics [@Cu Chulainn] [hr] The Oni would give Nomura a friendly nod, waiting for him to finish his errand. The fisherman he had borrowed the rod from would look at Nomura, then the fish, then the rod. He would repeat that a few times, seeming in mild disbelief as he’d gaze at the large catch, a loss for words as Nomura spoke about spirits and blessings. “A-are you now?” He’d respond with a blink. He seemed uncertain, but he couldn’t quite not believe what he was seeing. “A spirit…in the fishing rod…?” Soon, he’d start laughing, though not out of any sort of disbelief. “A spirit of some sort, eh? That’d explain it. Alright, i’ll believe you, sure. Now I’ll go and see if I can catch something with this, ahah!” No sense in not believing Nomura, really. Who knows - maybe this spirit rod would catch him enough fish to feed the entire village and his family twice over. Heading back to Mie’s tent he’d find the fox herself having just settled back in, seemingly having finished just some business. “Well,” Mie would laugh, seeing the fish he was carrying. “Didn’t take you for a fisherman. I’m sure Ayumi would love eating that in a single night.” The fox would respond. “Hm, yes, sit it on the table for now. I’ll have a Oni put it in one of the ice boxes after skinning and taking any valuable parts from it.” Business minded as ever, it seemed. Once Nomura had done so, Mie would motion for him to leave the tent and follow her. “Thank you for solving that. I’m assuming that’s why one of the Oni told me someone was leaving with some of my things. No need to get violent. Violence is the last option, in my line of work.” Mie responded with a rather laissez faire attitude. “If he doesn’t…Ayumi will take care of him. Now as for why I called you here.” Mie would say, bringing Nomura to a small arena looking place. A few logs of wood had been driven into the ground, ropes tied between them. A few weapons and scattered bits of protective armor were laying near by. Some shirtless Oni were taking a break nearby while two seemingly had just finished sparring. “I know I said I’d be employing you, Nomura - and while I’m not going to make guarding anything your job…I do expect you to be able to protect my goods. That is to say, I would like you to have some ability to defend yourself and my things with some measure of ability. You can have any weapon you wish - I see you favor a bow, and there are plenty of arrows, alternatively I have many swords or other melee weapons.” The Roma Mob [@ERode] [hr] [hider=Definitely fear the old blood] It was incomprehensible, but unlike some others, Isidore had no qualms with simply accepting that. Twinned caverns, one enormous and another fathomless, brought him to the edge of stony plains, clusters of rounded rocks resting upon terrain that was smoother than pavement. Erratically, lava bubbled up in the depressions of the field, pockets of searing illumination that promised warmth and death in equal parts. The greatest surges of lava was sufficient to create a river of molten flame, though it was unclear where the waterfall came from. Metal pipes, gleaming in the red light, surged with steam, indicating some subterranean reservoir, while the trees that Nesherit had mentioned were inverted buildings instead, thrust unto earth as spears. It pulled at him, these relics of his former world. If these were buildings craft of human engineering, were other products within as well? Or were these empty shells, facsimiles of the world he once inhabited? Isidore slipped on his goggles and his gloves, his gaze drawn to the city in the distance, the shadow of a stump rendered miniscule when compared to the unending heights of Old Naraheim. Was it possible that this entire mountain was naught more than a shell, a lid that covered this cavern? Or was something else at play here? He blinked as he realized that he had been gripping his polearm the entire time with force enough to blanch his knuckles and slowly relaxed. There were mysteries to be solved here, answers to be uncovered. But the job came first. [b]“Come, Octavia,”[/b] Isidore clicked, turning eastwards. [b]“Demons will be left til next time.”[/b] The sights, though impressive, would not keep Isidore captive for long. With a happy bark Octavia would follow as he’d cross the glassy plains. He did have a job, so investigating other places could indeed, wait for later. Initially the walk was mostly uneventful, Isidore kept only company by the sound of the lava and the occasional distant howl of some creature. Soon though, he would reach what was assumedly his objective. Rounding the large mountainous rocky protrusion he would come upon what could only be called a forest of sorts. A forest of roots. Before he’d have a chance to thoroughly investigate, though, he’d hear Octavia give an aggressive growl, her demonic maw pulled back into a terrifying grin as she’d loudly bark towards the forest. Isidore would only have a few seconds to react before whatever Octavia had noticed, noticed him. It looked like a pack of some sort. About three hounds similar to Octavia, but much larger. Dangerous on their own, to be certain, but what they were gathered around seemed to be a different story altogether. A tall creature about the size of a man, with black, leathery flesh and a mane of coarse white hair. Several holes on its body glowed red, and what seemed to be hot lava dripped from its massive underbite between its sparse, sharp teeth. Its black flesh seemed oddly fluid in some areas, causing it to drip and hang from parts of its body revealing skeletal structure underneath. They had just noticed him, and if he acted quickly he could get the first blow in. Three canines and a humanoid. At a glance, Isidore understood them as hunter and hound, a combination so useful that it persisted, cruelly perhaps, in modern day policing procedures. And he understood too, that to escape from them on foot is to kill the hound first. Trust him to jinx himself though. Would that monolithic deer arrive next, if he simply evoked their name? [b]“Octavia, dogs.”[/b] A mirthful grimace cut into his features as Isidore lunged in, the core of his stomach building up fire and energy but not yet expelling it all. Taking the polearm, he swung it downwards into a vicious chop, ready to cave in the skull of the closest hound. Whether hunters or gangsters, the methods were always the same: the mongrels went first. The hunchbacked humanoid shrieked, an unholy, high pitched thing as Isidore’s halberd struck the unaware demonic hound. The heavy weight of the strike nearly cleaving the hound in two as a second hound would make an attempt to leap towards Isidore - but would be intercepted by Octavia, tackling it from the front as the two would slide across the ground, growling and snarling, biting at each others throat. Leaving Isidore to just deal with the humanoid looking demon and a single hound. Seeing two of its hounds occupied, it would snarl, and quickly start closing the distance between the two of them. The last hound would circle to his side, ready to flank. One down, another dealt with. Isidore hitched his hand up the shaft of his halberd, his own legs bent as he hefted the head of his weapon back behind him. The distance continued to close, adrenaline surging through his fiery veins as Isidore built up more and more power, a heat haze emanating from his form. A flank was useful only for offense and for applying mental pressure. But he already knew how high a hound could leap. The distance became opportune. He let the engine roar. Surpassing the speed he had demonstrated in his initial ambush, Isidore dashed in low, the stone fractured where his feet had been. Joints groaned beneath the pressure he placed upon them, but within the corona of a physical [i]explosion[/i], those were all distant concerns. Like a sickle through wheat, the halberd arced, intent on bisecting the humanoid with Dirithen steel and destructive velocity. The lunging hound would miss its target, not expecting the speed that Isidore had displayed and would sail past the human, scrambling to get back to its feet as it attempting to make a sharp turn. The humanoid too, seemed somewhat taken aback by the sudden burst of speed…but Isidore’s halberd would not find its target. In a display of speed, instead of avoiding, the demon would instead duck, leaping forward - and ram its head right into Isidore’s midsection before the blow would connect. The impact was enough to momentarily daze as the creature would then make an attempt to follow the headbutt by attempting to grab one of Isidore’s arms. Meanwhile, Octavia seemed to be winning her confrontation. The other hound had put up a fight, but she had managed to completely bite a hole into the other hounds chest - and was proceeding to start devouring it…while it was still alive. It could react to his speed. [i]Demons[/i] could react to his new speed. It was good to know. It was a shame he’d discover it this way. Maintaining the engine of his accelerating heart, Isidore braced himself for the headbutt, his breath escaping from grit teeth as the skull of the monster slammed into his ribs. It would bruise, but nothing would break, and more importantly, it wasn’t a tackle. So the hunter had exposed its back, bent over even as it tried to rise, one clawed hand grasping for his arm but having nothing to guarantee that Isidore himself would remain where he was. One step and a pivot brought Isidore beside the creature, its claws only scratching the leather of his gloves. Above, he had brought the halberd upright, spiked butt now driving down onto the monster’s back. Below, his foot swung out in a low kick to knock the already off-balance creature, intent on preventing another miraculous escape. And if all went well? The demon would be staked into the ground while Isidore handled the remaining hound. Isidore’s halberd would meet its target. Its feet were summarily knocked out from under it. The spiked end would pierce the creatures leathery flesh, lava-esque blood seeping from the wound and spilling across its skin, the smell of burnt flesh quickly reaching Isidore’s nostrils. The demon would shriek, and make an attempt to grab the halberd. The remaining hound would bark, growling and snarling as it would leap towards him again, fangs bared to knock him off balance as he was busy finishing off the demon. Writhing. Bending. Contorting. The creature’s legs scrambled against the floor as its arms reached backwards in ways that beggared belief, clawed hands reaching for the haft of the halberd as if it could actually pull it out. Considering its speed, its inhuman physiology, Isidore decided that it certainly could. That, alongside the blur of matted fur in the corner of his eye, caused him to click his tongue. Should’ve gone for the mongrel after all, but the opportunity had been too good to pass up. Stepping back and cocking his halberd over his shoulder once more, Isidore relied on his enhanced reflexes to dodge the hound from hell by the barest of margins. As he did, he sucked in another breath, the energy that surged from his core now shooting outwards. The nature of magic was creation. The nature of [i]his[/i] magic was fire. And the nature of his fighting style? Small tricks, big hits. Where the spiked end of the halberd left, a molten spike manifested, sprouting out from the ground and filling that hole in the demon. Not to harm, but simply to hold it in place if it tried to roll or scramble out of the way. A distraction, easily countered if the demon simply pushed itself off the ground and stood up. But so long as it didn’t roll, it couldn’t dodge Isidore’s halberd, swinging down with divinely-blessed might. The demon would give a momentary gurgle of relief as the halberd was pulled from its chest. Its arms would contort back to the front of it. It wouldn’t roll or make a move to evade, since it had no idea that a spike of fire was going to quite so cleanly attempt to immobilize it again. The trick, indeed, seemed to work. From under its feet, a stake of molten fire would pierce the demons chest from the front. Another shriek though this time seemed more annoyed than painful. The hound would just barely miss Isidore, snarling again in understandable annoyance. Octavia, having completely finished the first mongrel and what was apparently her now lunch, would move to intercept the last hound, giving Isidore time to deal with this demon. The halberd would fall again. The blade would cleave flesh. Fiery blood would spill from the wound. It would screech in annoyance, but even though its blade would sink into the demons flesh, it wouldn’t die - its flesh would seem to almost immediately start mending itself just seconds after the impact. [b]“Now why won’t you die?”[/b] Isidore mused, at ease with Octavia handling the remaining mongrel and his chief opponent squarely on the ground. The demon’s limbs continued to wriggle and squirm, the severance of its spinal column doing nothing to actually prevent its lower body from moving. Still ready for frenzied battle but deciding that speed was no longer a deciding factor here, the dark-haired youth allowed the engine of his heart to slow, allowed the blood in his veins to cool. A heaviness settled upon his shoulders, a burden many times greater than the items that he had strapped to his body. It would have been good if Augusta was here now to offer some advice, some secret she had gleaned through her omniscient eyes, as to how one would slay such a nonsensical creature. Octavia herself, like the other plants, had been weak to fire and holy magic, but Isidore doubted the former’s efficacy and had no access to the latter. For that, perhaps, another man would be more suited for demon slaying. His gaze swept around the area, spotting a pocket of smoldering light off nearby. If neither holy magic nor fire magic could serve his purposes, well, perhaps hellspawn ought to just be consigned to the lake of fire from whence they came. In pieces, if he had to. More like an executioner than a warrior now, Isidore drew up his halberd and this time slammed it right down onto the demon’s neck, breaking through bone and rotted flesh, before kicking it off a couple meters away. As for the rest of the body? The pick end of the dwarven halberd made for a good hook when it drove itself into the still-moving body, and Isidore moved to drag it towards the nearest pool of lava. It wasn’t a cement mixer, but it ought to keep this living corpse occupied for a bit longer. If no noteworthy struggle was had, demon’s body would find itself bathing in lava soon enough. The demon, of course, shrieked in protest. Was it frightened? Could demons even be afraid? Perhaps, perhaps not. The demons neck was cut. Flesh rent from bone. Its body would still convulse and attempt moving, but it was weakened from its severed head it seemed, whatever regeneration it seemingly had at least temporarily halted, or perhaps confused as it head and body were separated. It wasn’t hard to find a pool of smoldering lava in this forest of roots. They weren’t as deep as the river he had seen before, but they would suffice. The body of the demon would soon be tossed in…the burning smell of flesh. Shrieks of pain from the beasts head as the body was soon completely submerged. It would continue to writhe for seconds, until it completely ceased. Octavia would bark a few times - yet if Isidore looked, her target wasn’t the hound. It had already had its body impaled by…roots that seemingly had come up from the ground, fully impaling and immobilizing the second hound. Had Octavia done that? Regardless, her target now seemed to be the head of the demon that was still writhing, attempting to regenerate. Tendrils of flesh would come down from its neck. Octavia was doing her best, but the fiery blood seemed to be a good deterrent. Like some sort of cockroach that refused to die, perhaps. [b]“Good girl,”[/b] Isidore murmured as he strolled up beside the pup. Her own bag of tricks was expanding, it appeared. Good that she used it to end the second hound quickly, good that she used it while she was still an ally. It was better that decapitation seemed a fair bit more effective against such creatures, even if their speed made it unlikely that he could do so in the heat of battle. At least not with a weapon as hefty as a halberd. Perhaps next time, he would bring the longsword after all. He was also curious how such a creature could continue its shrieking without a set of lungs to pump air through its vocal cords. Perhaps a conversation with Rullphana would have to be at hand too; there was certainly no way he could deal with these creatures effectively if two of them came at him together. The young man rubbed the back of his neck, hefted up the halberd, motioned Octavia to be careful about the splatter, and cleaved the demon’s head in half, from crown to jaw. If that still wasn’t enough to put an end to the wriggling…well, fine, what was another body part into the lava bath? Another cleave. And finally, the demons shrieking and struggling would cease. No life or energy remained. Seemed whatever was keeping it alive would finally be unable to do so. As it would make its last breath, the entire demon would just…deflate. Melting, it seemed, into a pile of black and orange sludge as its skin and blood seemed to mix together in a puddle. Thankfully he didn’t have to fight two at once, but who knows how many more were around here…and whether or not something more dangerous was lurking around. The head was completely severed in two, and Octavia would sniff the resulting corpse though would soon find herself recoiling in annoyance and trot back over to the hound she had impaled before starting to eat what remained of it. He was alone at least now, and as far as he could tell there was nothing else immediately in the vicinity of the root forest he was in, giving him some time to investigate the forest in full then. Now that he wasn’t fighting, he could see something a bit odd about the roots. After abit of looking around, while a number of them were penetrating the ground, it looked like several more in several places had been oddly…cut? Perhaps that was the wrong word for it, but it was hard to really come up with another. Sections of roots had been entirely just removed, with odd rectangular cuts at the top of the stumps on the ground and the same where the roots would have connected to it further up. Curious. It would seem there were quite a number of these odd cuts in these roots. With the immediate threat taken care of and Octavia distracted by her constant desire to gorge (hummingbirds honestly had nothing on her), Isidore took a small break as well, leaning his halberd against his shoulder as he took a long sip of lukewarm water from the canteen. A couple of dried strips of jerky kept up his energy levels and kept his mouth occupied as he knelt over the puddle of flesh that the demon had ultimately dissolved into. He studied it briefly, before standing up again. Right now, his main weakness is that he had no proper gauge of what was ‘normal’ for a demon and what wasn’t. That was a problem to be fixed with experience and conversation though, not investigation. And as for the actual matter to investigate… Rectangular cuts, with sections of the roots removed to functionally create ‘windows’ in the area. Removing the glove from his left hand, Isidore placed one hand on the sliced open end, feeling the grain of the wood and trying to determine how ‘seamless’ of a cut it was, while his gaze found itself peering into the darkness of the space beyond those roots. The silkweavers could have gone through the gaps of the roots regardless; these windows were for larger creatures then. Poachers? Or just predators? He narrowed his eyes. As he’d lay his hand upon the cut, a small static shock would briefly singe his hand. Nothing painful, but that was odd. A natural phenomena? The fact not all the roots had these missing pieces perhaps said it wasn’t. There was also the hole itself. Against Isidore’s touch, it felt smooth. Impossibly smooth. As if instead of being cut, perhaps, the matter had just been completely deleted as one might text from a word document. Octavia, finishing another meal would trot over to Isidore, standing alert. She seemed just a bit bigger than she had previously…well, it was probably fine. The size somewhere between a puppy and a fully grown large hound. The same fiery, hot landscape stretched beyond the roots, the forest seeming fairly large by comparison. If he walked through it, he might find something else or some other clue as to what these cuts were unless he had some way to investigate the roots directly or wanted to try. The static shock surprised him, but that surprise was a pleasant one. Tapping his fingers over the rest of the cut roots, Isidore confirmed that they all caused the same curious effect, one that lingered even after the first exchange of electricity, and with that in mind, brought the halberd against the roots. The axeblade wasn’t designed for the work of cutting lumber, but Dirithen steel made the act easy enough, and Isidore secured two severed roots to his back, creating enough of a gap in the mesh of roots that he could slide into without problem. There was a raised brow at Octavia’s explosive growth, but no comment. She too was immortal, after all, possessing a unique set of magical capabilities. So long as her hunger was trained upon monsters, he had no complaint. And if betrayal was in the nature of this facsimile of humanity’s best friend…well, Augusta may not understand, but Augusta wasn’t here. And thus, hefting his halberd over his shoulder again, Isidore ducked beneath the roots and headed in. The root forest was, well, as much of a facsimile of a forest as Octavia was of a hound. Isidore would run into a few more hounds, but they wouldn’t engage. Perhaps, lacking a hunter or otherwise deeming Isidore not worth it. It was expectedly dark, too. A reddish haze tinting everything with heat further creating a red, hot gloom. More of those odd gaps in the trees, too…soon whatever he was doing though, his thoughts would be interrupted by what was the now distant roars he was hearing - that were steadily getting closer, In fact, whatever it was, was seemingly coming towards him at an alarmingly fast rate. Something was coming. Something loud and monstrous, smashing through the distorted vegetation of this gloomy forest, something that could very easily explain why the silkweavers have gone…either in the form of predator or prey. Against something that he could only like to a bulldozer though, even Isidore did not want to stand in its way. Bending his legs, he motioned Octavia to begin scampering off to the side while he drew power into his own core, redirecting it to his lower extremities. He needed to see this creature. He needed to evade this creature. So the best way to do it would be to leap off to the side on sight, and allow the creature’s own momentum to make pursuit impossible. So Isidore breathed in and out, quelling his frantic mind with measured motions. Perhaps this was what matadors felt. He wouldn’t have to wait long. Crashing through the roots of this massive tree, was a creature that looked far more bestial than the hunchbacked human he had encountered earlier. While its lower torso sported short, stubby back legs covered in the same charred, black flesh that started fairly human, halfway up the torso it would begin to grow obscenely, body bulging as its flesh glowed and bubbled, heavy and large enough to cause the creature to have to walk hunched over - though it was not a problem. Its front arms were equally as big as its body, using them to run and barrel through the charred roots at an alarming rate. They were covered in heavy, thick rock-like slabs for protection. A smooth tail extended from its backside. Curiously, it seemed to lack any sort of head or facial features. Where its ‘head’ would have been, was merely a gaping hole, making the beast appear almost entirely hollow inside save for a molten furnace able to melt steel. It stumbled through roots, barreling past both Isidore and Octavia, spilling liquid fire behind it as it did so. It was at least twice as tall as he was, liquid fire leaking from its ‘head’ as it began to seemingly check the area around it, as if it was looking for something. Octavia was taking shelter behind a tree not far from Isidore. Soon, it would seemingly trip over its own top-heavy weight into a nearby clearing where it would soon right itself and give a guttural, gurgling howl and turn back the way it came, seemingly searching the treeline with senses not evident to Isidore. Twice his height and built like a gorilla, but without a head or any internal organs, it was a monstrosity that could only be likened to that of the warden of the prison. Certainly, Isidore had slain foul creatures before, but the thing that stumbled through the roots with gargantuan violence, spewing flames out heedlessly, presented another sort of challenge to him. It could not bleed, and there did not seem to be any physical mechanism that enabled its movement. Isidore’s own specialization, insofar as he had obtained through amateur experimentations and desperate situations, was flame and thus subsequently useless against a creature whose very existence was defined by flame. There was some comedy in both encounters though, one that caused his lips to twitch as he backed further away from the creature. An undying hunter and its hounds. An armored juggernaut burning from within. Was it at the designs of the Storyteller, that such creatures were Isidore’s first experience with [i]real[/i] demons? Twisted one, wasn’t she? But well, that went for those she had called as well. A wanderer with no sense of self-preservation, a holy man in a world that called for amorality, a woman who sought to burn away her past in pursuit of nebulous ambition. And himself, still undefined, still burning, still searching. The first hypothesis formulated then. A powerful demon had lost something. In search of that [i]something[/i], it continually rampages through the habitat of the silkweavers in search of it. Now, what was it? Its child? Its missing head? Or something else? Isidore narrowed his eyes, watching it depart into the heady gloom. Two hours had passed, and though his environment was exhausting, he had food and water to spare. He clicked his tongue, drawing Octavia’s attention once more, and pushed deeper into the forest, resetting his hourglass at the same time. One more hour, and then he will make his return. Just a six hour work day. Luxurious by his previous world’s standards. The headless demon, would as Isidore leave, give another gurgling, guttural howl as it would seem to briefly deem nothing in the vicinity, before running off the direction Isidore had come from. Perhaps, it was for the best he did not engage. No telling what such a beast was capable of, and no telling if there were others around or not. Onward he would press into the forest, the direction the behemoth came from. As he walked, he would slowly become aware of more of little rectangular cuts in the ground like the same as in the roots. They had been sparse and rare before, but the deeper into the forest he got, the more common they would become. They weren’t exclusive to the ground now, either. He would too, spot other demonic creatures off in the distance. More hounds, and what appeared to be another of those juggernauts - but dead, or dormant…or sleeping. Its body was completely unmoving, the furnace within having been extinguished. It looked nothing more than an odd rock formation as it lay dormant. Odd, more of those cuts on it, too. Soon, he’d see something perhaps, a bit uncharacteristic for the forest. The red haze coloring everything would slowly lift as Isidore would come to the edge of a small drop in the floor. A large, unnatural, rectangular shaped cut in the ground about the size of a football field. Red, crackling energy would occasionally zap from the ground, and a number of rocks would litter the unnatural plain, seemingly shattered in half, those rectangular cuts at either end as though they had been severed at the middle and just tossed about. More corpses too. Another juggernaut. A few piles of black sludge. A few hounds that seemed to have been cut in half as the roots and rocks had. The entire forest of roots had also been cut down, creating an unnatural clearing. Octavia would whimper next to Isidore. So his hypothesis was incorrect. It wasn’t looking for what it had lost. It was looking for whatever had caused [i]this[/i] as it scrambled away. Isidore’s steps slowed as the area around him was transformed by whatever had caused this, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened over the worn haft of his halberd. A halberd that, if it exchanged blows with whatever had caused this devastation, would simply be split in half. Another juggernaut laid on its side, whatever arcane work that gave it life having been extinguished with enough damage to its chassis. A silver lining then. Those walking forges [i]could[/i] be killed. Even if only by a physical force that he himself couldn’t generate. [b]“Octavia,”[/b] Isidore murmured, senses honed for any movement in the vicinity, [b]“Bark if it gets dangerous.”[/b] He sucked in a breath, forcing his buzzing brain to cool down even as his heart rate increased to fervent levels. There was no fight, not yet, but Isidore was only resilient, not immortal. And his undying nature could be trumped easily by a singularly powerful strike that landed before his carapace began to thicken. Cautiously, he approached the very edge of the depression, crouching down before it. That monolithic deer could wrought such destruction, but they were leagues away. The mountain-spanning worm could wrought such destruction, but no biological being could perform such a shallow, straight bite into flat stone. Sorcha and Rullphana could no doubt wrought such destruction, but if that’s the case, there was no mystery at all, and it did not explain the lightning that crackled either. So it was that crackling lightning, so much more forceful than the static shocks at the very entrance of this root forest, that Isidore would have to puzzle out, would have to extract. Removing the leather glove that covered his left hand, he furrowed his brow, visualizing the viscous, intangible energies that swirled within his blood. He did not know how batteries worked, did not even really remember what caused static shocks. The days of his youth had been spent on violence, the days of his maturation on enterprise. It would be just metal then. Metal to tease out this bloodbright energy, to then seal it. A lightning rod, stretching out in the void, unable to release its charge. Iron, charred and smoking, molten and warped, but iron all the same. He’ll get Vasserasa to foot the medical bill. Isidore pressed his hand against the edge. And so Isidore would focus on the lightning, and his own fire he would begin to start attempting to ‘pull’ it. A rod of metal, pulling in the crimson electrical energy towards him. It would initially, be somewhat slow. It was hard to ‘grab’ or ‘attract’ such erratic seeming energy. The way the lightning discharged was entirely random and impossible to predict, surging from the ground, the rocks, and even the dead juggernaut at random intervals. Yet, soon he could see some visible progress. The energy would crawl along the ground, getting closer and closer - until the red energy would leap from the ground to Isidore, striking him with a high pitched electrical whine right in the closest part of his body - outstretched hand. The next he’d feel was intense pain as electrical energy would surge through him His entire hand would start feeling unnaturally hot - and rather distressingly, it seems like the tips of his fingers were starting to be burned away, little flecks of rectangular black particles dissipating from where lightning met flesh. It was hard to tell if it was working, but it at least did seem as though he had drawn all the energy to him. [b]“Fuck!”[/b] Even having braced himself, the agony that ripped into his body drew a cry from Isidore’s grit teeth as he stumbled away from the depression, his left hand twitching and spasming from the energy that surged and circulated within. Already, the flesh looked like it was carbonizing, tips blackening and flaking away, the sort of irreparable cellular damage that would have meant a lost hand back in the modern era. He had been aware of it of course, had even expected that he’d lose more than just the tips of his fingers. Had been resolved to it, knowing that magic which could heal existed in the world. But, just like how being pepper sprayed would cause even the most hardened badass to cry, and just like how being tasered would cause even the most roided up goon to fall, there were some sensations that overrode all control of one’s body, through stimuli alone, and for a moment, Isidore found himself wholly willing to eject that lightning out once more, to simply report this [i]area[/i] to Vasserasa, so that more knowledgeable investigators could puzzle out this incident. And yet, he didn’t. Because he wasn’t dead yet, and because he hadn’t exhausted every other option yet. His teachers thought Isidore as violent. His subordinates thought Isidore as merciless. His wife knew him as stubborn. His right hand clamped over his left, as if to physically pin the lightning there. Heat continued to rise and even in the gloom and shadow, Isidore saw his flesh began to swell and redden. So what? His skin was already stone. His blood was already fire. His stomach was already a furnace, his heart already an engine. If he could not claim dominion over what this artificial body of his was, how could he claim to accomplish any more than what he had in his previous life? Eyes squeezed shut in concentration, mind forcing away the sensation of pain, both hands clenching as tightly as they could, Isidore refined his visualizations, picturing the scarlet lightning that had shot into his body, the lightning that he had tried to bottle. Batteries though, must not have truly [i]captured[/i] lightning. No, lightning was not something to be captured to begin with, not when it moved faster than any of mankind’s creations. Sorcha flashed through his fevered thoughts, so swift that her physical form could blink out of existence, the distance between the two closed between the beats of his heart. Lightning was not stilled. Lightning was constantly in motion, so long as one granted it such. He would grant it such. Isidore knew nothing of the fine profession of electrical engineering, but he had stripped copper from wiring before to make some spare change. Electricity traveled through copper. Circuitry guided lightning. So he would guide it too. From the furnace of his stomach, he envisioned the smelting of ore, golden lines gleaming bright, materializing within the fiery veins that boiled within his left hand. Rudimentary circuitry, all connected, all coiled, forming an endless pathway for that cursed lightning to travel through. Now, all he had to do was to connect it. A breath. Blisters were forming now, bulbous and grotesque, pus geysering out. Two hours away from civilization if things continued to go poorly. Couldn’t totally trust that Octavia wouldn’t attack him if he showed too much weakness either. And this was only the [i]side effect[/i] of whatever creature had wrought so much damage. Fuck off though. Isidore still hadn’t hit his limits. [b]“Switch on.”[/b] Engine beating. Blood boiling. Fiery breath. Every engine he possessed had activated, straining against this foreign energy that Isidore was attempting to tame. His body was screaming, burning, telling him to release, yet, stubborn as he was he did not. From his fiery blood, the crimson lightning would begin traveling through his body. Up his arm, now that he was guiding it it seemed to be burning him less as it moved. Was that the secret then? Perhaps so. From his arm, it would then travel down the left side of his body, towards his stomach. Now he could even see a visible effect on the surrounding area as the amount of crackling energy and lightning seemed to lessen the more he drew it in. From his stomach, it would travel up towards his heart. A dangerous notion, letting electricity near such an important organ. Yet, it seemed to indeed be working. As long as he kept the energy moving, it seemed he’d have no further adverse effects save for excruciating pain in his hand, and mild burns upon the rest of this skin where his carapace would start hardening to protect him…but then, what would he do with this energy? He had taken most of it, and it seemed like it’d start burning, disintegrating him again if he let it stay still. Perhaps there was a way to absorb it into the engine he had so carefully made himself. If it was just pain, that made it easier. Sweat continued to bead down his brow, stinging into his eyes, but Isidore gradually released his grip over his own wrist. That energy was circulating properly now, his veins converted into circuitry, fireblood into molten metals. He had given lightning direction. Now, he needed to give it a function. Gathering his feet in front of him, Isidore sat in a cross-legged position and maintained his deep breaths. In and out, tension leaving his jaw as he forced himself to relax. The fervor left his heart. The flames faded to coal within his core. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he turned his scorched left hand upwards to the ceiling, resting close to his navel, while his right hand turned downwards, overtop his left hand. Fuel. Furnace. Engine. An engine that generated further power, but directionless power. Now, with lightning still wrecking havoc, still cooking his left hand from the inside even though it no longer disintegrated his body, Isidore continued to up his ante. The heart, the engine, granted power. But the nerves, both autonomous and voluntary, granted movement and finesse, sensation and adaptation. The circuitry reworked itself, disassociating from his blood and seeping into his flesh, spreading out from his heart to connect with the innumerable nerves that truly controlled the contraction and contortion of his muscles. If the heart was the engine, the nerves were the steering system, the dashboard, the pedals. He had already risked his body thrice over for the purpose of amateur experimentation. What was another go? A thin, nervous smile crested his features, a smile that he could only allow because Octavia couldn’t speak. To imagine that this was just the first day in Old Naraheim. To imagine that this was just him collecting a sample of a suspicious phenomenon. Isidore allowed it to flow. The energy coursed through his veins. Seething, burning…but controlled. A few errant sparks would blast from his hands, sparking and arcing between the two until eventually the pain would ebb away. It seemed as long as it circulated through his body in some manner, it was harmless enough, but there was overall no telling what exactly this energy even was in the end. A brief look at his hand, Isidore would note that the tips of his fingers had…well, disintegrated. Miniscule, rectangular cuts where the lightning had burned them. It seemed this lightning itself was responsible for those rectangular holes, burning - or perhaps completely disintegrating whatever it touched in such a precise fashion. Perhaps he could do this exact thing with other magical energy somehow? [hider=Goddess Note] Skill Acquired: Mana Redirect A skill allowing one to redirect magical energy tossed at them from any supernatural source. Rather than absorbing and meshing it with your own, you redirect it to some other purpose, thus weakening its effects upon you as you turn it towards something else. Generally, this will work with everything but some sources of energy would be far too strong to completely deflect, and some are easier to work with then others. Skill Acquired: Crimson Lightning (???) You’ve absorbed some unknown power. This power is constantly burning within your body, what exactly it is you don’t know, but it no longer at least seems harmful to you and seems to self-replenish enough for you to use it. Just what is the nature of this stolen power? You can likely release it if you wish, and turn it on your foes. However, it does not travel far through the air - it seems like it travels further through physical medium. [/hider] Regardless, Isidore would have seemed to succeed, but unfortunately for Isidore, as he’d refocus on his surroundings he’d feel Octavia pulling on the leg of his pants, whining and tugging harshly on his leg to get his attention. Perhaps he should have thought that whatever made this was still nearby. There was a hum of energy, crackling under him. More of that red lightning as the whining, whirring sound of electricity would fill his ears. A flash of red in the distance, shooting from the forest floor into the sky, before arcing right towards him! Senses twitching, synapses firing, nerves ablaze with stimuli. No time for emotion to rise, no time for thoughts to crystallize. Scarlet light reflected in Isidore’s eyes, his right hand swatting Octavia away from him as his left hand rose up to meet the near-impossibly fast bolt. Do or die. And no matter the result, don’t look back. Isidore would raise a hand, attempting to deflect the bolt of crimson lightning. However - he would find that quite impossible. The moment the lightning would impact his left hand, instead of some ethereal, intangible power it would grab something quite solid. [color=f49ac2]“Tch, of course…”[/color] Amidst the electricity he heard a voice, very briefly as the object in his grasp would twist slightly, turning in his hand. Next, was more pain. Something slammed into the side of his head, electrical burns as he was quite literally blasted yards away from the impact, landing face first against a tree root. Blood ran down his face. Something felt broken. The bolt of lightning would would continue its trajectory, landing right on the ground where he had been, slamming into the ground and soon dissipating into the ground beneath it. [url=https://i.imgur.com/M91jjtD.jpg]Revealing…a…human, in its place.[/url] Well, they looked vaguely human. Pointed ears. Black horns jutting from their forehead, tipped with a crimson red. Red and black thigh-high boots and heels. Long, pink hair in a braid fell to her feet. She was dressed in what seemed to be some sort of corset, with a leotard underneath in perhaps, some mock of what Isidore would know to be victorian fashion. A cloak hung from her shoulders, covering what little she seemed to be wearing elsewhere. No visible weapons were seen on her, save for a cage hanging from her belt. Under her feet where she landed, the ground seemed to disintegrate into those little black rectangles as the same red electricity arced across her own body, leaving burn marks on the ground where she’d walk. The source of the crimson lightning was likely to be this demon, then. [color=f49ac2]“First that bitch has the audacity to wake me from a nap, then I find some dumb bugs in the forest that won’t leave me alone, and finally some human wanders in here.”[/color] She’d laughed, but she wasn’t smiling. [color=f49ac2] “Well, unlucky for you, I’m in a foul mood. Don’t worry, I’ll put that blood of yours to good use after I beat it out of you.”[/color] She’d crack her knuckles, flexing a hand. Isidore didn’t have long to recover from the blow to the head. [/hider]