Gisk

Swords of a Master

People can feel free to submit CSs, I would like for you to do so by PM first.

The New York Academy of the Magic Arts.

I try.

The New York Academy of the Magic Arts.

Shut up.

The New York Academy of the Magic Arts.

River chased Hale down the street, around the corner.

Her long legs outpaced his distance and her lungs outstripped his endurance in time. People parted saw her towering veiled form coming and made way for her, while jack had to dodge and tangle through the crowd.

She was glad that Auntie had not outfitted her in heels.

They were away from the bulk of the crowds when she caught him by the scruff of his shirt. She pulled him back and turned him about, looking down at him through her skull-makeup.

"It isn't funny to throw strange charms at people! Is it something nasty? Do you have an antidote?" Her face was hot, boiling actually. The run had been long and her costume was heavy, her corset constricted her panting lungs.

"What do he ever do to you anyhow?"

~~~

"Hey!" Adelfonsus said. At first he meant to snap at their attacker but the flashy poof of whatever glomped in Richard's face. "Rich!" Fonsus grabbed at his best friend's shoulder and swung him around to inspect his face. He didn't notice River flounced off with the power of a bull chasing down a red flag. His hands automatically shot to his bag or wand for a napkin, handkerchief or some spell to aid Rich. But he had neither.

Fonsus squawked as he felt hands grab at him and arm slink around somewhere. It sent shivers - not the good kind - down his spine when he found it was Rich who was pressed against him and staring up at him with an odd starry expression.

"Uhhh...." Fonsus' mind blanked at Richard's question. That arm was really distracting. "Uhm. Uh." Fonsus glanced around wildly. The little nook that kept the trio safe out of the crowd was feeling far, far different.

"Hahaha" he laughed nervously as he realized River was no longer with them. "Yeah, lets, uh, go somewhere else." And so, focusing on something not Starry Richard, Fonsus tried prying his friend off, and thinking quickly, he resorted to their Halloween plans. He headed into the crowd to find a party.

Jack produced a wand from somewhere and pressed it against the angry skull girl's chest. "Easy now, don't make me jinx you. It was just a little bit of love potion, harmless fun. But maybe I should have used it on you?" By now his companions had fled the scene, apparently not wanting to get involved in yet another illegal duel. Jack, on the other hand, seemed to be very ornery lately.

~~

Richard followed behind, practically skipping in his happiness. He kept reaching his hand forward to hold Addie's, but Addie kept shaking it off. "So where are we going? Are we going to be alone?" A strange conflicting expression came over his face for a moment. "You're not going to tell Cae, are you?"
~~~
"We're going - to - a - stop that." Fonsus pulled his hand away from Rich for the fiftieth time. "Party." He shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping that would repel Rich. But fingers linking with his own proved that wrong. "Okay! Pockets are a no!" Fonsus gasped and yanked their hands out to the open air. He gave up and let Rich have his hand. He might lose him in the crowd anyway, right?

"Hm, what?" Fonsus paused in the crowd and glanced back at Rich. How the hell did Cae come up? "Uhh...tell her what?"
~~~
River looked down at the boy. She felt his wand press just above the edge of her corset, through the laceb a lace and touching her copper skin.

Yesterday the one inhabiting this body weeks would have backed down cowering. That person was far away now, lost in the feverish haze. Sweat threatens to take off her makeup, but Caelum had spelled it to be waterproof and sweat resistant.

"Si, Chacotero? No estoy ni ahi." She remembered that jack didn't speak Spanish. "Make you feel more of a man to do that? Take down a girl in a dark street. Go for it, I don't care." She took a step toward him drawing herself up to her full height. The wand now stabbing her skin. "What would you're mother say to see you now? She bought you that nice wand so you could go to school and make something of yourself. And here you are pulling pranks on kids and threatening women on the street with it. Que lata."

River thought... Nothing really, she wasn't on the thinking mood. There was a tiny rapid train of thought inside "omghehashiswandoutsideofschoolandhowdidhedothatyiuradquibgtfo..." But it was to quiet to understand and fading fast.

She was someone else tonight. Someone who would wear a dress and a corset and would not take any nonsense. Sometime who forgot her meds, someone getting a fever and loosing her inhibitions and instincts of self preservation.

Someone who was standing up to Jack Hale with his wand on her chest and without fear in her eyes.
~~~
"My mom doesn't say much these days," Jack growled, looking sideways. "I guess a guy shouldn't be jinxing unarmed girls, anyhow. "Now **** off, don't make me change my mind," he turned and tried to get down a side street to find his friends again.

~~~

Richard winked back at Addie, "Tell her what indeed. So where are you taking me? The Dante's party? I think that was our next stop, but maybe we should skip it and find somewhere private?"
~~~
River expected the jinx, the pain, the pin. Instead she felt the pressure of his wand lift from her skin as Jack ran away. This angered her, this disappointed her...

She chased him, following him down the alley. Now they were well off the street, alone in the little alley. She would try to grab him by the cuff of his shirt as she first had and spin him into the brickwork. The lace on her dress strained and stitches popped as she flexed her powerful shoulders. River had a natural strength large people possessed, then it had been conditioned by climbing mountains and lifting 9-entree trays and buckets of ice and dirty dishes her whole life. She would never, in her right mind, direct that strength toward violence. Yet, now she had gotten away from herself, it was out of her hands, she was driven by unchecked hormones and adrenaline coursing through her blood.

"Well I'll say it for her!" River would try to pin his wand-arm, but she was clumsy and brutish, practically falling into the other with her shoulder. She was honestly too dizzy to notice if she succeeded or not. “cobarde!*”

*coward

~~~

Fonsus internally cringed at the wink. He may have played with the thought of having a special someone in his life but having that kind of….affection coming from his best friend was….just plain weird.

“oooookay. Yeah. We are definitely going to a party, Rich. You said Dante, right? That should be…somewhere….” Fonsus looked around, straining on his toes as he peered past the many obstacles of props. Where the hell was the Dante’s party? Without much of a clue, Fonsus took the lead and tugged Rich through the maze of people.

“…here!” After a few twisty turns, some dead ends (moments he wanted to forget for the rest of life with Richard mistaking the mistakes as something else), Fonsus found the Dante’s hideaway – er, his house-shop-thing. It was a crowded place. A thrumming place with a certain vibe that just oozed “Dante”.

Sweating, Fonsus pulled Rich into the party past the apothecary shop and up the stairs to the main body of the Dante’s party.

“Hey.” Fonsus waved weakly to the host of the party. “Have you seen River?”

~~~

The apothecary was quite empty as the pair breezed through it. They went up the stairs behind the counter, and into a little apartment above the shop. They passed through a living room on their way to the kitchen, where they could hear the sounds of talk and merrymaking. On the living room couch there was a witch, lying on her face and apparently quite asleep. When they walked by she raised a hand feebly and waved them into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, there was a group of young witches and wizards, most of them Fonsus would recognize from Alchemy club. The Dante was sitting on the counter by the stove, puffing on a pipe. The smoke coiled out and formed into the shapes of hobgoblins and bats and the like. The others gathered around were having a laugh throwing little pieces of candy through the shapes.

"Unwen, Nothing," The Dante was the first to notice them. "Didn't actually expect you. Mother let you in?" The other kids laughed at this, as if it were some kind of joke.

~~~

Jack grunted as he was slammed into a wall. "Speak English, you crazy *****!" He jerked his arm away from her, and she all but tackled him, knocking them both to the ground. Jack hopped up as quickly as he could, brandishing his wand again. River was still on the ground, and he paused to look at her condition. "Get up, I'm not gonna jinx you when you're down."

The New York Academy of the Magic Arts.

Blah blah, here we go.

Swords of a Master

The thunder of marching feet filled the air, as a great wave of yellow cloaked men ascended the mountain. Not one man looked back toward the ship that was anchored nearly a league below them already, unable to fly any higher. At the head of the formation was a tall and proud man, carrying a helmet under his arm that was crested with yellow dyed horse hair. At his side was a pair of swords that shared a scabbard. A famous pair of swords, whose prophecies had won him smaller victories already, and bolstered both his confidence and the trust that Emperor Caelus had in him.

In their reflections, he had seen many things. He had seen the Rhee's camp, which lay in a drunken stupor over the loot and plunder that had been carried up the mountain from a sacked city. He saw himself, and his battalion, only the first wave of men to take to the mountain, slaying the barbarians before they could mount a defense. But he had made a mistake by telling these things to his men. For one of them was not truly his.

The first indication that something was wrong was a stirring around them, and by then it was already too late. Men and women bearing swords, axes and spears, rose from the loose earth at either side of them, and struck. The outer side of the formation fell before the men on the inside were aware that they were under attack. Yllicus threw his helmet on, pulling his swords out to defend himself. He looked into their reflections as he fought. He saw each attack seconds before it came, and parried and dodged without fail. But he was already cut off from his men, as the ambushers surrounded him. There were piles of dead already, but the soldiers behind him had raised their shields in a much practiced phalanx to keep the attackers at bay. The attack was compromised, he knew it now. The left hand blade of Seer told him what happened. He saw which one had betrayed his trust, and he saw who to, and why. Yllicus gave an order he hadn't spoken in five years. "Retreat! Back down the mountain," he called to his men over the din, "Regroup at the ship!"

The phalanx started moving down the mountain, harassed on all sides by the barbarians, but Yllicus couldn't move. Every inch of ground he moved back was taken instantly away from him. He was locked in combat with a vast hoard, only surviving because every move he made was guided by prophecy. Before long, he couldn't even see his men in the distance, and his limbs grew tired from the never ending melee. Countless lay dead at his feet, and he knew he would collapse soon, but was determined to kill as many as possible.

"Stop!" a voice called out from above. It was a woman's voice, strong and confident. The second she spoke, the hoard around Yllicus froze, as if they were statues. Could the gods have come to his rescue? he wondered. Was this the very voice of Lithis? No, he saw. Up the mointain, there was a woman of black hair and austere beauty. She was draped in furs to fight off the cold, and Yllicus could see a sword at her hip. He fell to the ground, looking up, wondering if this was a rescuer or another fiend.
As she drew the wicked, curved blade, he knew which.

~~~~

The base camp was abuzz and lively. The airshipmen of the Mountaintaker were reloading ballast to account for the lighter weight that the ship would have, while the wounded soldiers were being attended to by physicians. Those who had stayed behind, and those still strong enough to fight, were forming a perimeter to keep the barbarians away. They had come in high spirits, but they were taking no chances now. They were leaderless, the ranking officers were in a tent somewhere, determining their next move. Should they press on with the campaign? A smaller ship had been dispatched to inform the Emperor, but they couldn't wait for word back to make a decision.

But then, all at once, the men at the perimeter gave cries, some of alarm, some of freight, and a few of joy. The Mountaintaker's captain, Vern, rushed forward to see what the commotion was. He was met with a crowd of almost every single soldier and sailor, gathered around to see something. They parted, and let through a battered, exhausted Yllicus. His helmet was missing, his cloak was torn and his armor battered, and he had a rag tied tightly around his right thigh. But he was alive, and he still held Seer in its scabbard.

The only words he spoke were to the Captain, "Pack up, we leave now," before he disappeared into his personal cabin.

~~~

The Witchblade's magic interfered with his very thoughts. Every action he thought to make was instantaneously checked against the Witch's orders. Yllicus paced the room, frantic now. Every possible plan was disallowed by the Witch's cunning words. She had thought of everything... Or had she?
He still had Seer. Not only had she allowed him to keep it, but she had given no orders regarding it whatsoever. It wasn't possible that she didn't know about it. Her spy had told her everything. Could it be a lapse in her judgment? Or perhaps she didn't care for it. Maybe she saw its weaknesses more clearly than he had.
How could he use this to his advantage? No matter what Seer let him see, his actions were limited by the curse.
He took the sword from its scabbard, and gazed into the future. At the current course, he saw his own success in the task that the Witch had given him. He could tell no one, to weaken the prophecy. He needed to change events, something needed to happen or all was lost. But the only avenue that was free, was his use of Seer.

Or, the thought struck him, his disuse of Seer. He looked into the blade yet again, closer this time. Very close indeed. He saw Mountaintaker soaring through the air. The airshipmen were hard at work, concentrating on their own tasks. But outside, a smaller ship flew. He saw it, and he watched a possibility unfold. It wasn't much of an option, but it was a change to the game.

Yllicus did three things, then. He sheathed Seer. Walked out onto the deck. And then dropped the sword off the edge.

~~~

The market of Lan was livelier than usual today, high off the the powerful stimulant known as gossip. A ship had come in the middle of the night, bearing news from the much anticipated campaign in the mountains. According to most of the airshipmen, who would know such things, the Mountaintaker should have reached Hurmding sometime the previous morning. It may be a great distance on foot, but the ships were swift and could make the trip in short enough order. The rumor mill was working hard now, theories being bandied left and right about what the message might have entailed.
They wouldn't have to wait long for more excitement, however. A few hours after noon, someone spotted the ship coming in from the North. After much ado and excitement, it was confirmed to be the Mountaintaker, already on it's way back to the capitol. Business in the markets was poor after that, as everyone rushed to the shipyards to see it come in. They wanted to get glimpses of the soldiers, or else to maybe overhear some juicy news.
The ship came in on a friendly wind, and was quickly moored. The ropes were strained immediately as the ship started unloading its human cargo, and the unencumbered hull pulled against the moorings. The airshipmen were going about chores, adjusting ballast, restocking and unloading. The soldiers, meanwhile, filed out of the ship in mass, looking unusually grim. The gathered crowds backed away to let them through, those close enough to speak to the soldiers asking questions that went unanswered.

After the soldiers, came the officers. The rabble knew better than to try to press these men for information. Captain Vern walked with Admiral Yllicus and a few hangers on. They had business at the palace.

~~~

The men hung around in the Atrium, Yllicus was looking more like himself, though with a pronounced limp. He had a plain short sword in place of Seer on his hip. He hadn't said much, even to Captain Vern, who looked worried as the Admiral paced back and forth, apparently quite agitated.

“You're quite sure, Yll?”
“Yes,” he kept pacing.
“You've a feverish way about you, I don't like it. His Blessed Highness would understand if you wanted to rest and recover before briefing him.”
“But it can't wait.”
“What can't wait?” Vern was letting his own irritation show now. Yllicus had been very tight lipped. Whatever he had seen up on the mountain, he felt that he could repeat it to no one short of the Emperor himself. Likely, though, Emperor Caelus would convene a strategy meeting afterward, which Vern and his entourage would be a part of. Anything this important would find its way to the Mountaintaker's captain soon enough.

Yllicus waved a hand for silence as the doors on the end of the hall opened. A guard in shining silver armor stepped out and beckoned, “His Blessed Highness asks for an audience with Admiral Yllicus, and no one else.” Yllicus nodded at Vern, and walked past the Imperial Guard and into yet another grand hallway. The guard took no objection to Yllicus' taciturn attitude, and the two walked in utter silence until the guard opened a door on the side. The guard was about to step in first, but Yllicus brushed past him and took hold of the door.
“No one else,” he repeated the man's words back at him, and closed the door in his face.

Emperor Caelus beamed at his old friend when he walked in, and jumped up from the cushions he had been lounging on. “Yll! But Lanus has guided you back to me! I heard you were injured, is it terrible?” He rushed forward to embrace Yllicus.

“No,” Yllicus said into the silence as the Emperor's face turned blank and lost all color. He pulled the blade out of Caelus' ribcage and dropped it with a clatter to the floor. “It is the least of my griefs. I am so sorry Cae...” tears streamed down his face as his emperor and friend fell to the floor.

Swords of a Master

Here's the OOC.

Swords of a Master

A master craftsman, long ago, made eight swords that were so perfect, the gods recognized their skill and blessed them each with their own power. With two of them, the Warlord Octavius Tharas began his conquest of the rest of the known world. Generations later, the world is mostly at peace, with the exception of the one country that the Tharans failed to conquer. They have become restless as of late.

Here is a Google Doc containing the world. Please read it carefully before doing anything. You can't really get by without knowing the info in there. Also, bear with me if I add to it as time goes on.

The swords that are unavailable are:
Earthshaker
Witchblade
Seeker
Seer
Water Dragon
Whisper

The others are still up for grabs, but please PM me if you want one of them and we can hash out the character.

I'm still working on the prologue post, bear with me for a little while until I get it up, and then the RP can commence.

Feel free to fill out a CS, don't worry about format as long as it's readable and gives all the info we need.

Swords of a Master

Also of importance(I'm going to add this to the doc, but I'm putting it here for reference in case you aren't keeping up with the changes I make to the doc):
The world's total skystone wealth, divided by country:

Thara: 60%
Iluim: 25%
Osmad: 10%
Smaller cultures(the nomads and such): 5%
Dan Hurmding: Negligible, less than one percent.