Lazo

Worlds Collide - A Futuristic Fantasy RP

Celica had strayed to the edge of their hiding place, so she was one of the first to see the dragon march into the ambush’s sight. As the rest of the dragon’s body crested the bend of the valley’s path, her eyes were drawn to a blue marking on the monster’s foreleg. It was made indistinct by the distance, but the bluish shade of the emblem representing the Endolan forces contrasted heavily on the beast’s brown hide.

Behind her, whispers and mutterings spread as more and more students became aware of the enemy’s appearance. Several rose and shuffled over to the edge of the valley, trying to get a better view of their invaders, while others began milling about and trying to settle themselves into organized groups, sensing the beginning of the conflict drawing nearer. The graduates and Shifter professors of the Academy began to assert themselves then, forming the core of squads and calling the students that had been assigned to them, even as the command to wait was given to them. No reason to be unprepared when the time came to charge.

One such call echoed in her head, as loud and clear as if the speaker was right beside her, snapping her attention away from the approaching forces. She looked behind her towards the milling Demons and Titans and swallowed, suddenly realizing how dry her throat felt. With one arm she began pushing through the throng, the other firmly pressed over one her holsters, her claws reflexively tapping against the weapon. She was only aware of the motion because of the clicking sound that tickled her ears as her claws scraped against the gun’s steel.

Eventually, the graduate she’d been assigned to came into view. He had assumed his Shifter form already. Humanoid and tall, whatever skin remained uncovered by his armor was colored in a gray hue, scaled in some places, and with tusked, leonine features that lent him a ferocious air. A deep, orange mane flowed from his scalp, seeming to glow from within. She couldn’t tell at his age as he was. His eyes flicked from the group of Shifters he was addressing and they fell on Celica, wincing slightly as their eyes met. Celica cringed and broke eye contact. A twinge of irritation managed to escape the cold knot in her chest as she reminded herself of the effect her gaze could have on others.

Ignoring her slip, the Ifrit gestured for her to approach, inviting her into the group. Celica moved closer, studying the other Shifters from the corner of her eye. There were about ten of them, all Shifted. She did what she could to identify some of the creatures arrayed before her. Celica counted a pair of Earth Elementals, taking on the shape of humungous stone golems, as well as what looked like a Chimera with a lion’s head and torso, the back legs of a goat and a snake head for a tail. Owing to a pair of wings and heavy plate armor, Celica pegged a blonde, short-haired woman standing by her as a Valkyrie, though her armor had a more traditional look than Alice’s, and she carried a shield on her left arm. Another Yukianesa stood opposite to her, ice covering the base of her jaw and neck in much the same way as crystal had taken the place of Celica’s arms and left eye. Celica thought she recognized her features, but she could not recall a name. To this last one she offered a perfunctory nod. She was not sure she could have pushed words out of her throat if she wanted to. The others looked no less odd or mismatched, but she could not immediately give a name to them.

The Ifrit stared impassively at the motely group, the only one out of all of them who had finished his training at the Academy. As the silence stretched, Celica found herself wondering if the man had ever led others in a fight before. For all she knew, the man had finished his training but had never seen proper combat.

Wouldn’t that be nice? We’ll figure it all out together, came the dry thought, with that lining of quiet hysteria that came when one was at the brink of something terrible and could not figure out whether to laugh or to cry.

The graduate sniffed, seemingly unimpressed by the weight of their own stares. “We’re going to play this one by the book,” he finally said in a gruff, vaguely accented voice. “You’ve all done this before, unless they changed things up since I was a recruit. Combat practice may seem like a game compared to this, but you’ve been training for a reason, so let’s keep it simple.” He sniffed again, glancing at the pair of golems. “We’ll be falling on them quick and deadly-like, so Titans, do as much damage as possible from the start. We want the first strike to bloody them bad enough to send them reeling, but don’t get carried away. Stray too far from the main group and you’ll see how fast numbers take down big and stupid.

“Demons, keep the Titans in sight. Kill anything that gets distracted by the giants prancing about, and if you see them in trouble try to run interference. The big lugs will draw the fire away from you. Let them fall and you’ll see what it’s really like having dragons trying to eat you alive.” That sounded like it came from experience. It did not relieve her as much as she thought it would. “Understood?”

A few halfhearted murmurs came from the group. “I said,” the squad sergeant growled, lip peeling back in a fanged grimace. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” came the chorused reply.

“Good. Follow orders and keep from getting surrounded and maybe we’ll be lucky enough to live through this one.”

With that, the soldier moved up to the Elementals and began asking them questions. What Celica could overhear seemed to relate to the Golem’s magical abilities, but she could not find it in herself to be interested. Celica drew a deep breath, wishing the apprehension would leave her. How she hated the anticipation. She tried to liken it to the feeling she got before martial arts competitions, before exams, before her first combat drills as a Shifter. It felt silly that she should try to compare a fight to the death with something so mundane – the fear had never been so keen, the stakes never felt so high – but she could not recall if she had ever managed to shrug off the anticipation then. Back then, she did not worry so much about what fear could do to her.

Yes, Celica, do compare. Can’t get ahold of yourself in a friendly competition and you’re hoping to do so in a bloodbath.

She swore under her breath, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Down below in the valley, the enemy continued its inexorable advance. There still was some distance between the two armies, but Celica realized it would not be long before the Fae on both sides came within the range of each other’s magic.

At the soldier’s urging, the Shifters approached the precipice’s edge, one in among several groups now waiting for the battle’s commence with bated breath. Those with the benefit of wings would be able to fly down below, while the others would either have to brave the slope on their own or be carried. Celica could have simply jumped and turned to mist before the ground met her, but the move could prove disorienting, and she feared the risk, so she sidled up to the Chimera. The snake that formed the beast’s tail turned to regard her curiously for a moment before looking away, quickly losing interest.

The conflagration that lit the scene from below, followed by a wave of sound like thunder that swept over the ambush teams proved to be much more worthy of attention. Moments later, the vanguard of the armies met, and the distant cries and roars of the struggling creatures added themselves to the explosive tides of sorcery.

A series of conflicted feelings and thoughts flitted through Celica’s mind. There was an overwhelming relief over the fact that she was not standing in that first wave, followed by a wave of shame at the thought. Then was a muted sense of horror, courtesy of the part of her mind that was aware of the significance of those cries of pain and rage that rode over the sound of tremors and explosions, clinging to the coattails of the knowledge that soon she would be in the thick of it. It all stuck to the back of her mind, superseded by a kind of numb awe, as though she was merely being witness to a particularly fascinating traffic accident.

When the order to move came to them, her body moved almost of its own accord, falling into its given role as if in a desperate bid to outpace her own mind. She swung over the Chimera, gripping to its mane and torso just as the beast let out a rumbling roar and jumped down the slope. The muscles of the monster tensed and roiled under her with fearsome strength, moving with such speed and ferocity that Celica’s only managed to register the wind buffeting at her face when they had already bounded halfway down the valley’s wall. They might as well have been falling.

The force of the Chimera’s impact on the valley floor sent a jarring tremor through Celica’s body that dislodged her from her mount, sending her tumbling off. She probably should have sucked it up and jumped down on her own. With reflexes that would have taken the breath away from any ordinary human she rolled with the fall, the rough landing leaving little more than a slight ache on her shoulder, and looked up in time to see her ride tearing into the army’s side. Shifters of all shapes and sizes followed suit, and it took her a moment to realize she was still sitting half-crouched in the middle of a raging battlefield, staring at the unfolding scene as if lost.

Almost reflexively, Celica had her guns on her hands and she was aiming her arms at a small group of enemy Shifters, their wide eyes locked on the Chimera as they tried to answer the sudden assault. With the giant beasts rampaging along their ranks, Celica drew little attention to herself when she emptied her weapons on the ground beneath them. A whisper of power followed the projectiles, and the crystals that formed on impact suddenly exploded, sending sharpened shards flying into the groups of enemies.

A corona of fire erupted from besides her, washing over a group of Shifters turning to face her and she saw the fiery squad sergeant standing a few paces away from her, a hand extended in the direction of the flames. Already Celica could see the Academy’s Demons taking advantage of the chaos created by the charging Titans, but here and there she began to see the huge monsters slowing down, their advance brought to a halt as the enemy managed to mount up a response or they bumped against something larger and meaner than themselves.

As their forces entered the field, Celica stood back, taking the chance to reload her weapons as she tried to make sense of the chaos that raged before her. Here and there she spied Demons locked in combat with each other, with several others harassing the larger Titans as they fought monsters several times Celica’s own size.

She took a few shots at the latter, using her magic to push and pull at those her freezing projectiles found. She managed to get three of them trampled under the warring giants before the rest wizened up and she had to duck back behind the rest of the ambush team to avoid the sudden wave of sorcery, heart at her throat and hair lightly seared by passing lightning. She spent the beginning stages of the battle like that, sabotaging the enemy where the opportunity presented itself and making as small a target of herself as she could.

She had little desire to jump directly into the fray like some of her sturdier, better armored compatriots.

Cancelled

We'll see. It has crossed my mind that Mercer should simply accumulate random utility spells for the fun of it and just brain people with his cane in combat. Though I'll probably get at least a single proper offensive spell just in case.

Cancelled

Then he'll be a literal glass cannon

@Ariamis

Cancelled

Character is up. Funny that it came before my first OOC comment.

Cancelled

Name: Coil Mercer
Gender: Male
Age: 41
Race: Human
Place of Origin: Derimoor, Elsin
Appearance: Mercer approaches six feet in height, with a wiry, lean physique and tanned skin which must have endured long, grueling treks under the sun more than once. Somewhat worse for the ware, it would seem, as he carries himself with a mild limp on his right leg. His frayed hair is a dark brown, beginning to grey, locks curling slightly towards their end and falling just shy of dark, sunken eyes from which glints an irascible intellect. A rough, short black beard frames frame sharp, hard features.

His clothing is relatively simple, a white tunic and tan pants made of simple cloth, held together by a brown belt and accompanied by a sturdy pair of leather traveler’s boots. On the right occasion, the ensemble will be completed by a grayish, hooded cloak long enough to cover his ankles when worn. Around his neck, usually covered by his clothes, he wears a small, silver colored ring attached to flimsy metal chain as a necklace.

Belongings: It is rare that one might see Mercer without his cane, a sturdy, three feet long walking stick made of blackened wood. The shaft is straight and smooth to the touch, while the grip juts out perpendicular to it. It is a rather unassuming instrument at first glance, but on closer inspection, one might notice a series of fine runes painstakingly inscribed along its length in what seems to be ink, only slightly darker than the wood itself. It can be hooked to a hoop on his belt when not in use.

Under his left sleeve is strapped a sheath holding a small hunting knife. The weapon has a single, curved edge, and a deer bone handle bound in leather.

He also typically carries a large satchel with him, carrying all manner of things. Most commonly one might find chalk or charcoal, herbs, playing cards, and an old-looking pipe. Continuing to rummage through might let someone find stranger things. Candy, perhaps, or flowers, a pouch holding a lock of strange hair rather than coin (there is already a coin pouch strapped to his belt), bits of white rock further inspection might prove to be bone, well-padded vials of strange or oddly recognizable liquids. These contents may vary.

Mercer also owns a pet crow. The bird is not physically bound in any way, and indeed spends most of the day away from his master, but at the end of the day, the black bird always seems to make its way back to its perch on its owner’s shoulder.

Personality: Stern, distrustful, and with a healthy dose of cynicism, Mercer’s character and temper has often been compared to that of a cantankerous elder at least twice his age. Any humor he might indulge himself in tends to be scathing, sardonic, and levelled at people who irk him.

Mercer has been accused of sharing that irritating habit most often attributed to wizards and certain magical creatures of treating every scrap of information another one lacks as a secret worth keeping. He certainly does little to dispel the notion that he might be hiding some vast, fell knowledge when it is to his advantage.

Background: Mercer was born to a tavern wench in lower Thanadan, a rather young girl with little desire to maintain a family at her age. At least, that is what he has been told, as memories from those times are lost to him, though one must deduce from the fact that he is currently alive that the girl had some compassion and chose not to abandon him in the wilderness. Of his father, he knows nothing. Likely one of the patrons at the tavern so many years ago. Regardless, the girl took care of him for a few months, maybe up to a year.

Perhaps she still felt insecure in her role as single mother, perhaps she resented having to feed a mouth other than her own, or perhaps she lacked to means to do so. Whatever the case, when an old mage knocked on her door, offering to take the toddler from her, she agreed. For a price, of course. Coin means much in the land of Teredor, particularly in its capital, and for those at the bottom of its structure, the trickle of coin is slim indeed. He never asked his new custodian how much he had paid for him, the idea that his worth could be measured in gold troubling him deeply.

He came to know the mage as Alvor Tellan. An old man, clear-eyed, beginning to bend in his stance, wrinkled and thin, carrying the robes and long beard that often come to mind when imagining the wise men among the magi. A high ranking member of the Elsinian, the man had lived for an inordinate number of years, far more than the already considerable number his appearance suggested. Some of the older Djinn in the organization going as far as to claim they could not remember a time when the man was not in the Elsinian. With a gift in divination that earned him the title of Seer, his sudden departure from Elsin, and equally abrupt return with a baby in tow was not the first time the wizard had baffled his fellow mages. As it tends to be with things born of prophecy, some of the wizened mage’s actions found meaning only in hindsight, if at all, and several years after the fact at that, and worked for the better when not questioned too deeply.

So it came to be that Mercer was raised at Elsin. Servants of the old wizard took on the role of caretakers, the wizard Tellan too preoccupied with his own duties and seemingly random schemes to be more than a mentor figure, one of the many that presided over him once he was old enough to begin his tutelage in earnest. It may have been this lack of a stable, parental influence that resulted in Mercer developing a rebellious streak, making him contemptuous of authority, and often quarreling with other apprentices, be they young or old. Eventually, Tellan found it necessary to explain his origins to the young Mercer. The boy took it calmly enough, as if the wizard telling him his parents had sold him to the first person who offered confirmed something he already knew, and slowly the boy became more willing to cooperate with his fellow mages, though his mood remained as dour and ill-tempered as ever.

Soon after coming of age, Mercer joined Elsin’s police forces. His abilities as a battlemage left much to be desired, but he was adept with several kinds of magic that were useful to a security force in a land teeming with magic-users. An ability to detect, assess, and disarm wards, knowledge of enchantments and certain rituals, and spells that could be used to track suspects with hair or nail clippings ensured he remained useful. That said, his confrontational nature did little to endear him to his superiors, and he soon found himself being assigned to some of the worst, most dangerous cases they had to offer. His experiences in the job gave him an understanding on some of the darker applications of magic, particularly magic that affected the mind, and a disgust for its use on sapient beings.

One such case left him with a severe injury on his right leg. Healing mages did what they could for him, but the leg never recovered full mobility, and the injury gave his superiors an excuse to dismiss him.

Insulted, and more than a bit resentful of the authorities in Elsin, Mercer left for Teredor. He settled in a small hamlet to the south of Lake Fall. He lived there as a small time enchanter and tutor to those who wanted to know more of the arcane arts, occasionally playing host to Elsinian mages who needed a place to rest in treks across the empire.

An apprentice mage recently contacted him, appearing on his doorstep with a letter from Tellan. Whatever the reason was for the old wizard to use an apprentice as a messenger all the way to the other side of the continent rather than use a sending, Mercer did not know, but his magic detected no foul play, and the letter carried the unbroken seal of the Seer and Tellan’s signature.

The message suggested that something interesting would happen at Nifu in the coming days, and he would do well to be there when the time came. The message was odd, the task inconvenient, but one ignored the Seer’s word at his own peril. He allowed the apprentice to stay at his home for the night, and parted the following day.

Class: Wizard

Stats:
STR: 10
END: 12
INT: 16
WIS: 16
CHR: 10
AGI: 8
LCK: 8

Cycle of Magic: The Five Great Cities of Durian

Looking forward to it, Crazy.

SMT: Persona RP

A shame, then. I've had RPs with time limits of a week which simply turned into another assignment I was doing merely out of obligation to the others. If this survives long enough for my next semester to start, I'd rather not do that to myself or to the RP.

SMT: Persona RP

I'm interested. Read the OOC and I have a character idea as well, but the rounds and time limits for posting are holding me back somewhat. Sure, three days might work well while people aren't busy, but I foresee quite a bit of skipping for those who are currently studying (or those that will go back to studying in some months) or have a time consuming job.

The White Company

@Incanus Aw, no Black Company reference? That makes me mildly sad. Still, I did go through the OOC a while ago. Found it interesting, but I don't really have any questions that wouldn't result in spoilers. If this gathers more interest, or if I manage to get some more free time I'll drop a bio for a character.

The White Company

This actually sounds like fun. I even think I have a character that would fit this setting perfectly with minimal editing. Now, if I had some extra time in my hands...

I might submit a character once you're accepting them.

Really, if the title is referencing the book series I'm thinking of, I might have to participate just for that.