Atrophy

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@Raijinslayer and I spent a good chunk of time slaving away in front of a hot stove to cook you guys up a big and tasty post. No need to push, there's plenty for everybody. I also have a post for Ennis sitting in the wings, I'll probably hold on to it for another round or two.

On a side note, this OOC needs some love and attention, and I'm nosey and like to know about my fellow RPers. Whatcha folks been keeping yourself busy with? Going by @The Darklight Project choice in tunes, I suspect somebody has been playing a lot of the new Metal Gear.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Barcea, Southwestern Region

Drosil, Shadar, Sir Mauls, & Joy

In the distance Joy could hear the sound of what she could only imagine to be a hundred miniature horses stampeding towards the village. She rose her head, wiping the moisture from her cheeks with a dirty glove that left a streak of ash in its wake. A small cloud of dust rose in the sky, but unless the H'kelan forces had found a way to shrink their soldiers it was safe to assume it was a single rider. The dust cloud was lost in the smoke of the smoldering village. Joy's first thought was to grab her flask. She pulled it into reach with her scabbard, tucking the ashy canteen into her belt as she tried to clamber to her feet so she could greet the stranger on her own terms with arrow drawn. Her knee counter-offered that idea with a suggestive argument that, when boiled down to its finer points, stated “If you stand up I'll make you wish you were dead.” Joy seceded to her knee's wishes; on the post she sat, out in the open and defenseless.

Unfortunately for the downtrodden woman, perhaps it would have been better for her to go against her knee's howling. Metallic bolts of fire shot overhead, reminding her of battles long settled and making her chest swell with a vile contempt and, perhaps, a distant longing. Back when she was in her prime, Joy had been able to show many-a-mages that, despite all their dusty tome studying and complicated hand gestures, they still reacted the same way any regular man did when stuck with a blade or pierced by an arrow. She wasn't as quick now, and helplessly sat and watched as the flaming sentinels cut off her exit. Their eyes cast judgment upon her for a crime that, for once since she had fled her old life, she had not commit. She had seen a spell similar to this one before, and knew that as long as she kept her distance these sentinels were harmless enough.

Not so harmless, however, was the enraged wizard flanked by a deathcrawler stomping through the ash towards her, although it would be more accurate to say that the ash was stomping away from him as the swirling typhoon of magic around him kicked the dust away. Some landed on Joy's boots as the distance between the two closed. Any regular person would probably be terrified by the thought of being surrounded by flaming guardians, a massive bug, and a glowing mage, but Joy stood (or rather sat) her ground as Drosil demanded answers. All of this pageantry reminded her of how somebody else worked: show a little, tell a lot, and pray that they don't see the crippled bandit behind the curtain. She stared down the man's blank eyes as he told her of the way his creature would devour her. Not an inch of fear was on her face despite the creatures looming overhead. She decided that if being lunched on by Sir Mauls was her fate at least she would be of some use before she died.

“You should stop there,” said Joy, her voice quiet and low but exuding confidence. She made no threatening movement, yet gave off the appearance that she was neither impressed nor pleased by the man's extravagant entrance. Her eyes judged the distance between the two; if she forced her body she could probably get within striking range to gut him before his bug had a snack. Still, she'd rather not be worm food.

“Actually, you should take a step or two back. If you think I'm somehow responsible for all of this,” she gestured lazily to the destruction around them, “then you're dumber than you look. Now, I have my suspicions as to who's responsible, but why does my opinion matter?” She kept her eyes on the mage and the deathcrawler, ready to strike if need be. Hopefully getting him talking would distract him from his prying questions and let her gain a sense of if she'd be walking away from this. “Why do you even care? You seem more out of place here than I do.”

"Why do I- LOOK AROUND YOU!!!!" He roared out, gesturing to the devastation and carnage all around them. The bodies, once living breathing people with hopes, with dreams, with lives, and this woman had the nerve to ask him why he should care. "I don't have to be from Barcea to understand that this is wrong, that this is horrible, and that whoever did it and who ever helps them get away with should be killed with no exceptions."

He pointed his staff at her again, speaking a single word spell, the orb glowing a bright Topaz as a spike of earth suddenly pierced through earth right in front of Joy, the point stopping just before her face. Joy blinked as the earth jutted towards her, ash and dirt smacking against her skin. The rage on his face was clear to see, and he wanted this woman to be sure that he could take her out if she didn't co-operate and with little hesitation. And in case she got any ideas, he pulled out his gun, cocked and loaded, the barrel pointed directly at her. She had been down the barrel of such a weapon a number of times before. His intent was clear enough.

"Now, I"m only going to ask you one more time. What happened here and were you apart of it? Tell me everything you know and leave not a single word out of it, or you'll find yourself gargling on your own blood before I have my friend her finish you off." Deep down inside of his mind, a voice was telling Drosil that he need to calm down, to pull himself back from the brink of insanity and to his happy place, but his rage was too great to allow for such action. He couldn't think right now, not logically, not sympathetically, not even on a primal survival instinct. It was all overtaken by an unyielding rage that roared in his chest.

Joy decided that perhaps it would be best to not shake the hornet's nest by mocking his sense of justice or by explaining to him that this is how things are in this world. At least not until later when they were on fair footing and she could properly defend herself if need be. However, with her being outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outgunned she knew that her only real option was compliance. She slid over slightly so the stalagmite was no longer against her chin and returned Drosil's angry gaze with a cold stare of her own.

"Okay," she finally spoke with a sigh, her stare softening as her voice returned to its more natural, aristocratic cadence. "If you take a moment to stop rubbernecking the dead it becomes obvious who would most likely be responsible for this. This wasn't a bandit attack, clearly. Bandits would probably kill a few people, torch a building, but they would leave most of the village intact so they could strike a few months later. The intent here also wasn't just pure destruction. Like you said, you aren't even from Barcea and you want these people dead. How do you think their actual countrymen will react? This is an enticement."

"But since you need me to spell it out for you," she said quickly. "I would guess that this was an act of aggression H'kela. Probably a small armored squad that could strike quickly and lethally. Look at the footprints; their heaviness suggests armored troops. Besides, their King has been hungry for a war since the Queen held out the olive branch over ten years ago." Joy cleared her throat. "Of course, this is all just speculation; I arrived here after the damage was done. If was apart of this I would either be one of the dead or several leagues away by now. So lower your weapon," she said, her voice assertive and commanding, "or get it over with."

Drosil couldn't say anything at first, looking at the woman with an unreadable expression, muttering under his breath as the orb began to take on a green glow. However, instead of blasting it at her, he whipped it around, sending a large sphere of compressed air to go hurtling into some wreckage, sending up a plume of ash and debris into the air. He would continue to do this for another minute or so, taking out his anger on his surroundings like a petulant child. Once it had all faded to a manageable simmer, he let out a deep breath, than began to mutter a deep chant, the sphere glowing a bright silver as he did so.

While this happened, Sir Maul's gaze never left Joy, the eager twitching of his mandibles and claws making it abundantly clear that he wanted the woman to make a run for it. He wasn't just a mount right now, but a predator looking for prey and the instant she made any sudden move would be the moment he charged in to end her. She might be able to stab him somewhere vital before he managed to grab her, might even be able to keep him from biting anything important, but thanks to her lack of heavy armor their was little chance of the bite not piercing her skin and then the venom would finish her off, slowly numbing her body until their was hardly anything she could due but lay down and wait to die. It would be a rather a awful way to go.

Joy had just shook her head as Drosil threw his tantrum. He was undisciplined; clearly his parents, if he even had any, did not intend for him to master his magic--or at least that was the impression Joy got. In a strange way, it reminded her of when she was a girl. Although instead of magic, she was teaching herself how to fight with a sword, and instead of throwing hissy fits for a crippled woman she was proving herself in duels against insulted nobles. Perhaps it just reminds me of being a child then, thought Joy as Drosil continued to wreck havoc on the already destroyed buildings. Her eyes glanced over to Sir Mauls; in a way, it looked like he gave her a curt nod that told her to just try and run. Clearly then it would be best to sit and watch. Slumping forward into her palms, she pushed her hair out of her face with a dirtied glove and continued observing the man holding her hostage go through his one man minstrel show.

Once Drosil had finished the chant, he slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, causing the silver energy to cascade into the earth, slipping between the ashes and soil like water. Within seconds, piles of earth could he seem rising from the ground, formulating into a group of earth golems, these ones being made of soil and dirt and being of average strength and durability. Workers to do what you couldn't do alone or just found unpleasant. What Drodil had in mind filled both categories.

"You have enough energy implanted in you to last a week, spend that time digging graves and burying the dead. These people deserve that much at least."

The golems, a total of 13, left to proceed with their given task, and he tried to follow. Unfortunately, the ground had other ideas, rushing up to meet him with a solid thud. Pain was all he could feel right now,a dull burning that signaled that his body had become drained from using too much magic at one time. He needed to rest, but he couldn't leave the woman alone. It was dangerous for both him, Sir Mauls, and her if she tried to run for it. So with his last vestige of conscious thought, he focused on darkness, on the night, and on a big hulking figure with haunting white eyes.

It began slowly at first, a ring of shadow that circled his body, but soon began to converge upon him in a seething mass of blackness, any and all light to be consumed by it's gulltinous coils. After ten seconds pass, the darkness dispersed, and a large figure lifted itself off the ground. It stood at around 7ft in height, a large body wrapped in a thick scale armor that looked much too natural, filled with sinuous curves and spikes that couldn't be forged by the hands of man. At his waist lay a thick belt, holding two standard shortswords, curved and with a single edge to ensure maximum slashing efficiency. Upon his back, however, was a beautiful weapon that seemed to be made of living shadow, the metal's surface seeming to pulse, breath, and writhe the longer one looked at it. It was a greatsword, double edged with a wide blade that tapered down to a razor sharp point, the handle bearing a similarly dark coloration.

All in all, it made for quite the intimidating figure, and as he turned around, his eyes where but a sea of darkness with two haunting pools of still whiteness. The monsterous man would stand there for a while, looking down at the fragile woman and not saying a word. Joy, who had been staring intently as the man had shifted forms, found herself quickly breaking his gaze when their eyes crossed. His face was hidden behind a helmet-like crest, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking. He simply just stared for the longest time before finally chose to speak, his voice deep and booming like thunder.

"Don't make a run for it, or else Sir Maul's will catch you. You don't want that." The creature clattered behind the figure, as if to add emphasis to his point. She would notice that with Drosil replaced by whoever this was, the fire guardian's had left, but his warning wasn't one to be ignored. If she looked back at him, she's see that he'd pulled out a notebook and pencil from his belt bag and had begun to draw something, holding the delicate instrument gently and skillfully between his clawed fingers. If she walked over to see his work, warning little more than a wrong hiss from Sir Mauls if she moved slow enough, she'd see that it was her that he was in the process of drawing.

But Joy made no such move. She had thought the mage had cast some sort of illusion spell, something to make him seemingly more intimidating, but her gut told her otherwise. This was something completely different, something that possibly wasn't even human. Still, even with his appearance effectively shaking her resolve she couldn't help but smile and even chuckle at the humanoid's insistence that she tried not to run. The last time she had tried running anywhere she had woken up the next morning in some ditch covered in mud with her knee howling in pain and her head ringing from a hangover. Currently, she was dangerously on the edge of complete coherence, and knew very well that even if she gave the deathcrawler the slip she would still end up regretting it. The smile faded away. It had been a while since Joy had something to drink. Just don't think about it, she thought, as a chill ran through her body. Her eyes fell on the pencil in the thing's clawed hand. Was it really just drawing?

"So," said Joy, her voice cracking slightly under stress and frustration, "since I have been compliant with you I am now to be your hostage? I would hardly call that fair, but it's your prerogative." Keeping one eye on the deathcrawler, she stretched out across the post and propped up her good leg as she slid her hands beneath her head to keep her hair out of the ash. "We'll just stay here forever until one of us breaks." She had little doubt in her mind that, without quenching her thirst, she would probably be the first to crack. "Fine, whatever..."

"I honestly don't care much for whether you're my hostage or not, but I'd rather not have Sir Mauls rip you limb from limb. If my brother hadn't been an irresponsible idiot, than you'd be on your merry way on that bum leg of yours." Shadar sighed, looking at Sir Mauls and noting with some relief that he was starting to calm down, if only a tad. As long as no unknown people came in here, then the beast should be able to calm down with the next few minutes. Of course, if someone did come in and panicked, then we'd have ourselves a clusterfuck of violence, with somebody killing somebody else. Dammit, Drosil, why can't you think ahead for once instead of acting on your fucking righteous impulses! "Instead, I'm stuck here making sure you don't die. As for seeing who breaks first, you're much more likely to do so then I am."

Shadar could sense her frustration and slightly stressed mental state, but he doubted she'd do anything drastic as long as everything remained calm. He was right. Even though he had struck a nerve by calling her out and even implying that he was doing a favor, she knew it would be best to just stay put—especially when being kept under watch by a riled deathcrawler and a clearly batty shapeshifter. Whether said calm could be kept when more people entered the mix was hard to say, given that Cyril was likely to come here to investigate his brother's tantrum.

"Also, just so you know, some Sentinels will be here soon. So whether that's good news or bad news, at least your informed," said Shadar.

“Best thing I've heard out of you...or your, uh, brother,” said Joy.

No Masters or Kings - ON HOLD

Oh this looks like it could be pretty neat. I take it we're still open?

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

I'm painting an image in my head of Sir Mauls desperately trying to hold back a swinging Drosil while he yells "Lemme at 'em, lemme at 'em, I can take 'em!" Kinda like:

this

Only with more hand/leg thingys and less robot.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Barcea, Southwestern Region

Joy

The pungent, unforgettable smell of a fresh slaughter may have been the first thing to assault her senses, but it was only when she got closer to the village that the true stench of burnt corpses breached her lungs. The nauseating smell had a putrid, sulfuric sweetness to it that refused to not be noticed. Joy couldn't help but be reminded of the first time she had experienced such a smell; she could still catch a whiff of the death days later. The horse she rode on wasn't as used to the scent of death. It bucked and neighed. Unfamiliar with the creature, Joy decided against risking getting thrown off of another horse and tied it to a post outside of the razed village. Hopefully it wouldn't be able to free itself before she found some kind of information. Proceeding forward alone into the wreckage, the former captain took her bow in hand and nocked an arrow. She doubted that anybody would be able to stick around in such a putrid haze, but it was better than being surprised.

The death and smoke wrapped her body in its aroma as she cautiously toed her way through the remains of the village. The final licks of flames were lapping up the remains of the attack. She could see burnt bodies that had been cut down while trying to escape or hide in the charred remnants of crops. A limb would be poking out from underneath a collapsed building here, a tattered smock there. To the raiders the men were no different from the pigs, mercilessly slaughtered where they stood and left there to die. Joy came on to what must have been the village square. She could see the charred frame of what appeared to be a church. It appeared to be fairly intact at first despite the fire damage thanks to its stone walls, but as she gazed through the smoke cloud lingering above it Joy saw the caved-in roof that had probably given the villagers who had hidden inside one final surprise. She cautiously tapped the handle to the church door and, seeing it wasn't hot, gave it a pull. There was some give, but the door was locked. Her imagination would have to fill in the rest for now.

She limped through the rest of the village, returning her arrow to its quiver as she discovered that she was the only living soul there. Using her scabbard to keep her upright, Joy analyzed what she had come across. There appeared to have been little resistance on the villagers part, as if the attack was quick and caught them off guard. The footprints pushed deeper into the ash than hers, suggesting at least some kind of heavier armor. There were too many valuables that appeared to have been deliberately destoryed and left behind to provoke some sort of response.

The go to answer was bandits, but almost everything she saw stood against that idea. True, bandits were vicious, bloodthirsty, and evil, but they had a sort of sense to how they operated. A vulnerable village far from any major city or guardpost was ripe for the picking, and could be harvested regularly every couple of months with little effort or fear of retaliation. Slaughtering an entire village, burning all the crops, and destroying all the goods wasn't just wrong, it was bad business. No, normal bandits aren't this deliberately wasteful, thought Joy as she chewed on her lip. The only people I can think of that would be this cruel and senseless are soldiers convinced that they are doing what is right for their country and kin. She frowned. If she was right that would mean Gartian had finally stopped licking his wounds from years earlier and knocked enough of his people into their place to organize an attack.

A war was good news for a bandit, but Joy couldn't help but feel disgusted. Not because some villagers had been slaughtered mercilessly by H'kelan regulars, nor because this meant an end to the decade of peace. It also wasn't the smell that made her sick, or the river of corpses she had waded through. Innocents die, that's the way it is; it was only fitting that the environment reflected that truth. No, she was disgusted with herself. When had she become so desensitized? These weren't just some villagers, they were her countrymen. She felt as if she should be outraged, even do something heroic yet stupid like swear to avenge the dead and right the wrongs of the H'kelans. There was a time when she was young that she had some sort of duty for her country and King, at least, she thought there had been. Yet now she just accepted the atrocity surrounding her as the way things were.

“Shut up,” she said to nobody. Her head hurt, perhaps from the stench, and thinking made it only worse. Her foray into the destruction had served to be a sobering one, in both senses of the word. She felt sweat form on her furrow brow; her hand shook as she reached for her flask. The alcohol mixed with the taste of death as it filled her mouth. I'll need more than that to get that flavor out of my mouth, she thought as her head cleared. Yet she did have a reason for being in this village, it would be best if she could at least stay in sight of the wagon.

She tromped through the ash back to the remains of the church; it was the only place where she hadn't checked the dead for Sentinels or Princesses. By this point, Joy was getting a sneaking suspicion that the hunter had lied to her, either out of some kind of protest against her or some kind of duty to the royalty. Good man, she thought, shaking her head in acceptance of her foolishness. It did make little sense to her that a blind teenage girl would want to travel to some backwater village so close to a dangerous boarder, let alone that her sister would allow it. As well, the lack of any real weaponry told Joy that the Sentinels had not been involved in the clearly lackluster defense of the village. Still, it would be a waste to not confirm the negative thoughts swirling around in her mind.

Reaching the locked church, Joy first looked for another way inside. The charred stone walls weren't exactly smooth or even, but she doubted she could climb them to use the collapsed roof as an entrance. The windows, likewise, were too high and too small for even a child to fit through. The doors, it seemed, was the only option. She tried them again. They seemed weak and ready to splinter, but she couldn't force it open with her hands. Perhaps a series of well placed kicks could do the job. Of course that'd be the solution, thought Joy, glancing down at her knee as it took that very moment to throb in dull pain as an added insult. Maybe a horse could pull it down? Unlikely, but it was worth a shot.

The first thing Joy saw when she made it back to the entrance of the village was the post lying horizontal on the ground, the frayed remains of a quarter of a rope still tied around the middle. She was able to fill in the rest of what had happened by what she didn't see: the horse. She gritted her teeth. Now what? Her hand already had the answer to her question uncorked and to her lips before her mind could even process it. She drank, but all she could taste was the death around her. A rare burst of guttural and emotional noises lined with what possibly could have been words escaped from her throat as she spiked the empty flask into the ash. She twisted her body unnaturally in her fit of rage. Her knee screamed in pain that was almost as loud as the curse from her mouth. Collapsing onto the post in pain and frustration, Joy buried her face into her hands.

“Just stop, you idiot,” she said through gritted teeth. “What are you even trying for?”

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@The Darklight ProjectI approve of this plan.

Also, I've been working on another character. Should have him sent out to you in the next day or so once I work out all of the details.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

H'kela-Barcea Border Region

Joy

The first thought that ran through Joy's mind as she was landed roughly on the ground after being flung from her horse was the same one she had each and every morning: Somehow I'm alive. Joy didn't have to see the trap to know she had been caught by one; she was too good of a rider to simply be thrown from her horse by her own fault. She propped herself up to her feet, her scabbard digging into the dirt as it supported her weight. A stinging pain circulated her face from where it had dragged across a few pebbles, and there was a shallowness of breath from having the wind knocked out of her. As well, her knee sung with agony, but that was a normal occurrence after a long day of being active. All things considered, she was dazed but okay. The same could not be said for her horse, if its whimpering was any indication of its fate. Its eulogy would have to wait. She heard the crunching of leaves. Her arrows had been scattered by her impact. Hopefully her ambusher wouldn't instantly turn her into a pincushion.

“My word, you're no elk.”

The voice belonged to a wiry, bearded man dressed in tanned, reddish leathers with a hunting bow slung over his shoulder. The worry in his eyes and the way he held himself made him look to be no bandit. Genuine concern was, generally, a rare trait in a bandit who was about to slay somebody for a lump of gold or a bite of jerky. She also somehow doubted that the man was doing it to lower her guard in someway. If he wanted to harm her, she was already at enough of a disadvantage to make such a tactic utterly pointless. Unless, of course, he had any idea who it was he was dealing with. She kept her hand on her hilt and her ears open just in case.

“Neither was he,” she said, gesturing towards the pit. Her horse had gone silent. Dead. “But I'm afraid when it comes to it pitfalls aren't the best at discerning their prey. Mind giving me a hand? I think I hurt my knee. You have a way of getting down into those pits, I assume. Could you fetch my things?”

“Suppose it would only be right.”

If there had been others she would have been aware of their presence by now. As the man disappeared down into the pit Joy set about recollecting her scattered goods. Her arrows had all been splintered during her spill. Of course. It's what I get for trying to save money and make my own. Waste of time, she thought as she picked up her flask. Uncorking the top, she put it to her lips and...nothing. The only indication that anything had even been held in it was the lingering, smokey scent of wood. That was wrong, it had only been half-empty this morning. Had she already drained it all? It made a bit more sense to her now how she had found herself off the path. I imagine the pain from this fall will be a bit rougher as the night goes on, she thought as the man came crawling out of the pit with the rest of her gear.

“I apologize for your horse,” the hunter said. “How bad is your knee?”

“I'll manage,” she said. She pointed at his waterskin. “Any brandy in there?”

“Water,” he said. He handed it over to Joy

“It'll have to do. Thanks,” she said, drinking from it greedily.

“Have some spirits back at my lodge. Food, too. It's not a far walk from here,” he said. “You won't be able to make it to any of the nearby villages before sunset. Least I can do is help you out for the night. The name's Rodger.”

“Joy.”

“A pleasure. Follow me,” said Rodger, turning his back and making his way towards a thicket of trees. “So, what were you doing off the path?”

“Hunting,” she said, her fingers teasing the hilt of her blade as she followed after the Samaritan.

* * *

The sun had gone down outside and the woods outside of the lodge were quiet except the occasional hoot of an owl. Joy sat on a stool next to the fire, her sword and bow propped up within arms reach of her as she devoured a bowl of stew. It's flavor filled her mind with painful memories. Memories which she promptly squashed with whatever swill she was poisoning her body with. The lodge was lined with many animal skins and had a well-lived in feel to it. A bed roll that the hunter said he used doing longer hunts had been laid out for her. It all had a quaint charm to it, really.Yet judging by the small cot and the fact that he only had one seat, Rodger lived there alone. The hunter had his back turned to the woman as he went about his work on the bench in front of him, skinning the hare one of his small traps had caught. Joy could smell the death even over the aroma of her stew.

“It's dangerous for a woman to be traveling on the roads these days, but it's even more dangerous to be going off of them...” said Rodgers as worked his knife. He had been talking at her for a hot minute, unable to take her dismissive hms and hahs as anything but continued interest in his ramble. Joy was more interested in what he had than what he said. His quiver by the door had a handful of quality-looking arrows left in it. The bottle she had helped herself to was absolutely foul at first, but the lingering burn covered up any vile aftertaste. If she was to be on the road she'd need a bedroll. Most importantly, she had spied a horse that Rodger used to cart skins into the neighboring village when he needed to trade.

“...my cousin warned me that I'd be smart to cross the border into H'kela since the bandits only seemed focus on Barcea villages. The other day I heard a rumor of bandit attacks happening on the other side of the border too. Nowhere's safe, even with the Sentinels out here patrolling. That reminds me, did I ever tell you of the time I met the Princess...”

Joy felt that it was no longer a question if whether or not Rodger lived in the lodge alone. He seemed so absolutely desperate for company that he didn't even mind if they didn't talk back, and if he spent more time in the civilized world perhaps he would know that almost anyone had a story of the time they had met a royal. Joy couldn't go into a bar without hearing of the time the bartender had served a beer to the Prince himself or how one of the lads had gotten the once-over and approving smile from the Queen. People would get in to contests to one up one another, each tale more tall and unbelievable than the last. There was little appeal to hearing falsities about people you had seen grow up. When not guarding her father, Joy had taken to escorting the then-princess Kori around the Capitol. She had taught Cyril how to properly hold a sword and how to take a hit. She had been there for Ayano's birth. Every time somebody spoke of how the Queen ate this and the Princess touched that was like a dagger being shoved between Joy's ribs.

“...and she said I was red, whatever that meant, and told me to take care. She was like this close,” he said, measuring with his blood-stained fingers before going back to gutting the hare. “I think they were still in town when I left yesterday.”

A spark clicked in Joy's mind. You must be drunk if you think that's a good idea,she thought, corking the bottle of spirits. She stumbled up to her feet, steadying herself against the wall as the alcohol resisted her sudden movement. It would've been a smarter idea to wait until morning, but this idea required she take action now. She grabbed her weapons.

“Which town. Where?” she said, slinging her bow over her back and silently sliding her blade out its sheath.

“Hillsborough, to the North. Why do you...” he turned, the carving knife dropping from his hand as his voice fainted into a concerned whisper. “...ask?”

“Like I said, I'm hunting. Kick the knife away,” said Joy, taking a step towards the hunter. “Here's how it's going to go. Although I appreciate your hospitality, the slaying of my horse was a great inconvenience. The way I see it, you owe me. Now, there are a couple of ways this can go. Namely, you can lie down on the floor and not get up until I say so, or I can lie you down on the floor and you can never get up. Either way I'll be taking your horse plus some interest. The choice is yours.”

“Y-you can't,” said the hunter, already getting on to his belly—the cowardly yet smart option. “Without my horse I can't sell my skins.”

“You should be more concerned about saving yours. Now shut up and close your eyes,” said Joy with a growl, banging the hilt of her weapon against the wall to add emphasis to her threat.

She didn't plan on hurting the bearded man, but she was out a horse because of his trap. There was no other clear answer to the woman. Keeping one eye on her victim, she went to wrapping up the bedroll with the bottle of spirits in it. Cradling it under one arm, she limped to the door and took a second to refill her quiver before walking towards the tiny lean-to that served as the horse's stable. Saddling the sad looking animal, Joy clambered on top of it and cut free the rope that was keeping it from wandering. With only the light from the moon and her lantern Joy navigated her way through the woods, regret weighing heavily in her heart.

* * *

Joy had set out the next dawn after a rough sleep near the edge of the treeline. She had been right that she'd feel her fall in the morning; her entire body ached with a dull pain. Still, she could not dwadle. Riding down the road through a grassy plain, distant hills gave her a sense of relief that she was on the right track. However, as the sun rose higher in the sky and the hills drew closer the relief was turned into a feeling of dread, for Joy could see a very familiar plume of black smoke rising in the air. Kicking the sides of her stolen horse she burst into a gallop, knowing already that there was little hope for getting her plan to work if they were all dead.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Alright! Had a decently busy past few days, but I should be able to get a post up this evening.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Sorry for the silence. Nursing a hangover after going a little too hard at the bar last night. Still, I'm very excited to check out everyone's characters. The rest of ya'll better stop slacking!

Anyway, my character will most likely start in some H'kela-Barcea border town making questionable life decisions. I'll try and PM you more helpful details the minute I make them up.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Well, it took me the greater part of the day but after trashing my first duder, spending a gross amount of time getting distracted by diving into Wikipedia (if you guys want to know the history of scabbards I got you), drinking ~3 cups of coffee, and watching only a handful of Youtube videos of people shooting arrows into meat I finally finished my character! :D

PM going out to you boss man with my sheet the minute I finish looking over it.