It seemed like a long time for the assassin to reach around just two corners of the alleyways away from the Church of Reina, but Ixion knew he had to leave the vicinity in case the guards started to gather and block off the entire area while they go on to search for him. Each passing minute he was slowly regaining the use of his sore legs and arms, but still too slow for him to be able to disappear with haste should he be sighted. For now, he carried on with his limping, occasionally stopping to cough up the last remnants of blood that remained in his throat that the scars didn’t retrieve. Despite the alleys being quiet, therefore helping him in his escape, he thought that something was off. As if he was being watched by some distant being. The sounds of distant patters of feet coming and going of children as they played in the streets were the only thing that he could hear. It’s too quiet here, he thought, his left hand brushing the wall as he moved about while his right was placed on the hilt of his weapon.
It was then he just noticed it, though he remained still while he concentrated to make sure that his assumptions were correct. Footsteps. They were extremely light that they could have been disguised as the footsteps of the children he was listening to before. They were slowly getting louder, meaning that the being was heading in his direction. The first assumption he had was that it was a lone ducal guard trying to scout out ahead and might inadvertently run into his location. Alerting those nearby that the assassin was here. And that he was weakened. Ixion knew he had to disappear from the alleyway as soon as possible. He saw another junction to an alleyway, not too far from him. He took the opportunity to move towards it so he can ‘disappear from view’ before this figure was upon him. Slowly, he began to walk, stumbling over the parts of the ground that were jutting out. He didn’t have far to go before he could reach…
”Stop.”
It was too late as the person, whose voice indicated that the figure behind him was a woman. Ixion analysed the voice, taking in each letter, to determine who was behind him without turning around. The voice had authority behind it, possibly leading to them being a ducal guard. But… there was a sense of… no… a lack of confidence. Especially for such a simple, yet effective command as ‘stop’. So they might not be a ducal guard after all. He considered ignoring the command since it didn’t concern him at all since the guards were the only thing that he was worrying about. The only problem was that he hasn’t seen the person, which could mean that they are armed and could chase him down and confront him in the case that he was wrong about his assumptions. With his strength, he knew that confrontation would be quick and decisive. No, he had to think of another way to get to safety. Just then, his eyes scanned the rooftops, possibly looking for a way to escape that way. Ranged weapons would then be the issue, but that’s something that he could tend to in the case that he was hit with an arrow. Spotting an overhanding beam that is used to lift heavy things up into the storage door two storeys above a quiet shop, he grabbed the visual in his mind. In another moment later, he vanished, reappearing moments later on it. Just before he teleported, he heard a question from the woman behind him.
"Are you the Fixer?"
He turned around on the beam, his eyes scanning the area for another escape route should he need it later. As he looked around, he noticed another figure that was on the rooftops. Another assassin? he thought to himself before dismissing the figure to concentrate on the person below. Reaching behind with his concealed left hand, he turned to face the woman. The first thing he dismissed was that she was a ducal guard, at least not visually. The blue attire might relate to something but he dismissed it as he pondered on the question that was at hand. “Fixer,” he croaked, his voice still raw from previous events. He had to remain careful with his vocal tract from now on should he be able to speak again. “No meaning to me.” With such a question, eh began to ponder why the woman was looking for him in the first place. While he was thinking about it, he was also wondering why the lone figure on the rooftop was here was well. Adding a little bit more of an authorative tone, he called out to both of them. “And your purpose?”
Mercinus3
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Shienvien said *pokes at Merc* Post?
I'll work on a post once the weekend starts as I'll have more free time (tomorrow after my project labs at the earliest).
M3
Bunnita said
Right.Hey, M3! I just put ^up a new character, hopefully this one is more acceptable~~!
Certainly a much better character than before. The Earth Elemental Mount I'll let you decide. Character accepted.
M3
Prologue
Terrubane. It was the pinnacle of human civilization. Originally the home of refugees of the mighty empire that reigned under Conuence's banners, it has now become the beacon of everything that is advancing. It was the capital of the technological revolution, with a few inventors realizing that steam, or to a few individuals mana crystals, could be used as a driving force for things that would ease their way of life. The young capital had everything going for it; a few buildings that were more than a couple of storeys high and had mechanical gizmos that allowed people to choose which storey that they wanted to go to, methods of transportation that was at the same pace as a horse and many more that are coming out. While it was only the rich that were able to run the technology, it certainly was a sight to behold for every living being that walks through its gates. Even a few people from the rival capital, Conuence, watched in wonder at the marvel, while being fearful that these new inventions could mean that the world of magic was about to collapse. For many scholars, however, magic will have many more years before the contraptions would rival the basis of civilization.
However, all of that wonder was brought crashing down when the army of an unknown man, going only by the name of Lord Sacremento. Men from the town of Chaldon had long dwelled on the thought of Terrubane being reduced to rubble, so when this man had rallied them under his name and determination to do what they had wanted to do, they were more than happy to oblige. In return for this service, the lord had struck a pact with the nightmarish creatures that lived in the neighbouring mountains to rally under him and swore an oath that they will no longer plague the city with death. Werepyres. Whoever had thought about the unnatural union of two children of the night, vampires and lycanthropes, had accomplished their wish. They had produced monsters that stood over 7 feet tall on average, their bipedal canine's muscles growing so much that they could, theoretically, rip trees out of the ground and throw them to speeds of a runaway train. What also gave these beasts a ghastly sight was the leathery, bat-like wings that expanded at least twice their own length so not only could they spread terror on the ground, but from the skies above.
With this army, Terrubane was reduced to a shell of what it was. Soldiers, warriors of the nearby villages, even the mercenaries that had been hired from as far away as Galbeez & Silvæa were being swept aside by this massive force. Weeks went by and all of the city had been turned to ruins, rubble lying on the ground. However, those that had survived the initial attack had started to drive them back. Magisters from Silvæa and Conuence were brought in, as well as people who were able to use ranged weapons, to aid those that had still survived and drive Sacremento's army back. While it had been a lot of hard work and a lot of strategic planning, but this ad-hoc army had managed to drive them back and, with any luck on their side, this day to be the last fight of the Destruction of Terrubane.
~~~
On the outskirts of Terrubane, a sight of broken bodies was scattered. Many had been left rotting because of the two armies being unable to collect their dead. However, for the living, the struggle carries on. Soldiers fighting for the city began to charge, swords, spears and any usable weapon lunging out in front of them. There was only one line of the enemy left, but they were consisting of nothing but Werepyres. All of their human counterparts, consisting of cut-throats, murderers and thieves, had retreated from the sudden surge of their enemies. Even so, these large beasts were something to be feared, needing at least 10 men to bring down just one Werepyre. Still, the humans charged, using every last bit of strength and morale to push this army of darkness away from their beloved city. For what seemed like an eternity, they finally clashed, both man and beast raining down their deadly attacks. One man was ripped into two by the claws of one beast while another was brought down by slashes, one of them cutting through its leg. All the meanwhile, magisters and marksmen were raining down their deadly trade, fireballs, arrows and bullets ripping through the large beasts.
For the few minutes, it seemed that the men of the ruined city were on the verge of winning. However, the beasts from the mountains started to fight back, their deadly claws and vicious fangs finally having a footing in the battlefield. Things went from bad to worse in minutes for the city's army, but there was some hope left. Out there in the battlefield, one man had managed to cut himself through two of the monsters and was keeping the morale high for those who were left. While there were still commanders out there, they were few and far in between, so he had decided to take up the reins of keeping everyone together. The man, while fighting like any experienced warrior, wasn't even in his late 20s or early 30s, hardened with decades of experience that should have come with his fighting style. He knew in his mind that the near-decade old training was tested to the full, often having to improvise counter attacks that were not in his mind. His ash blond hair, completely caked in the blood of man and beast, flowed as he moved through the battlefield, falling in ragged angles every time he stood still from the lack of days of recuperation. His armour had been cut and battered, but it was still holding onto whatever threads that were woven in the leather and metal pieces, all covering the chainmail underneath that was in the same condition, albeit more rusted from a long time of it being used. His sabatons were drenched in the bloodied soil, but they were still able to grip, steadying his weary/muddied legs. All the meanwhile, his hardened, scarred, hawk-like face was scouring the battle in front of him, his deep blue eyes picking out his targets and keeping check on the line that they had created, making sure that no one from the opposing side breached it and started their charge towards the marksmen and magisters.
One werepyre, smaller than average, started to charge towards him, claws outstretched and ready to cut the acting commander down and start its blood-thirsty rampage. For the young mercenary, however, his weapon was already poised, ready to fend and strike the beast down. Despite the rain and dark clouds above, which had darkened the battlefield, his claymore shone out into the darkness, its icy-blue edge acting as a beacon of hope for everyone that was around him. The golden runes, despite it being in an ancient language, had been roughly translated as 'Silver Moon', probably named after one of the gifts from an unknown deity. The aura that came off the blade reflected off the gold hilt, the yellow sheen matching nicely with the blade itself. The beast had finally cut the distance that was between them and was nearly upon the warrior. In one swift move, the man had pirouetted around the beast, cleaving its arm in an up stroke. Without skipping a beat, he whipped the blade back down again, the wicked edge slicing through flesh and bone of the werepyre's back, crippling the beast of its legs. Leaving the dying beast to be dealt with by anyone wanting to kill something since this battle had begun, he began to scan the area again. At first, it seemed as if nothing was happening, but someone shouted over the noise for him.
“Auroreon!” Pinpointing where the shout had come from, the mercenary Auroreon was moving through the people, trying to get as quickly as he could to where the sound had come from. “Auroreon!” Tried as he might, his progress through the thick of battle was slow, people and the soggy mud slowing him down to a crawl. As he progressed through the battlefield, the more he learned that the line was faltering elsewhere, with the beasts starting to whittle the numbers down. The dead and the dying were numerous in this area, more so for the army that he was fighting for. Finally, after a long time fighting through the manic crowd, he reached the person that was calling his name, a man of a smaller stature than him, his face and brown hair coated with mud. “Auroreon!” the man had started, his voice heavy with fatigue and the weakened morale. “We can't hold this line! Their attacks are too strong and are almost through to reach the magisters and marksmen!”
Before he could respond, Auroreon only watched as a werepyre came from behind and lifted the man high into the air, claws digging through their sides. With a show of brute strength, the man's agonizing cries and a sickening pop, the beast tore the man in half, throwing the two halves in either direction. Before the beast had the chance of converging his attacks against the mercenary, a bullet ripped through the beast's shoulder, followed by the crashing might of 5 fireballs into the beast's chest, sending it flying through the air and into a standing standard bearer, the spearhead stabbing through its chest. The huge carcass of the werepyre collapsed, crushing the two guarding the standard under the huge weight. With the situation dire, their line on the point of breaking, Auroreon stabbed Silver Moon into the ground. “Men, to me!” he roared, his voice carrying out throughout the battlefield for the ears of the people that sill have energy to come to his call.
Terrubane. It was the pinnacle of human civilization. Originally the home of refugees of the mighty empire that reigned under Conuence's banners, it has now become the beacon of everything that is advancing. It was the capital of the technological revolution, with a few inventors realizing that steam, or to a few individuals mana crystals, could be used as a driving force for things that would ease their way of life. The young capital had everything going for it; a few buildings that were more than a couple of storeys high and had mechanical gizmos that allowed people to choose which storey that they wanted to go to, methods of transportation that was at the same pace as a horse and many more that are coming out. While it was only the rich that were able to run the technology, it certainly was a sight to behold for every living being that walks through its gates. Even a few people from the rival capital, Conuence, watched in wonder at the marvel, while being fearful that these new inventions could mean that the world of magic was about to collapse. For many scholars, however, magic will have many more years before the contraptions would rival the basis of civilization.
However, all of that wonder was brought crashing down when the army of an unknown man, going only by the name of Lord Sacremento. Men from the town of Chaldon had long dwelled on the thought of Terrubane being reduced to rubble, so when this man had rallied them under his name and determination to do what they had wanted to do, they were more than happy to oblige. In return for this service, the lord had struck a pact with the nightmarish creatures that lived in the neighbouring mountains to rally under him and swore an oath that they will no longer plague the city with death. Werepyres. Whoever had thought about the unnatural union of two children of the night, vampires and lycanthropes, had accomplished their wish. They had produced monsters that stood over 7 feet tall on average, their bipedal canine's muscles growing so much that they could, theoretically, rip trees out of the ground and throw them to speeds of a runaway train. What also gave these beasts a ghastly sight was the leathery, bat-like wings that expanded at least twice their own length so not only could they spread terror on the ground, but from the skies above.
With this army, Terrubane was reduced to a shell of what it was. Soldiers, warriors of the nearby villages, even the mercenaries that had been hired from as far away as Galbeez & Silvæa were being swept aside by this massive force. Weeks went by and all of the city had been turned to ruins, rubble lying on the ground. However, those that had survived the initial attack had started to drive them back. Magisters from Silvæa and Conuence were brought in, as well as people who were able to use ranged weapons, to aid those that had still survived and drive Sacremento's army back. While it had been a lot of hard work and a lot of strategic planning, but this ad-hoc army had managed to drive them back and, with any luck on their side, this day to be the last fight of the Destruction of Terrubane.
~~~
On the outskirts of Terrubane, a sight of broken bodies was scattered. Many had been left rotting because of the two armies being unable to collect their dead. However, for the living, the struggle carries on. Soldiers fighting for the city began to charge, swords, spears and any usable weapon lunging out in front of them. There was only one line of the enemy left, but they were consisting of nothing but Werepyres. All of their human counterparts, consisting of cut-throats, murderers and thieves, had retreated from the sudden surge of their enemies. Even so, these large beasts were something to be feared, needing at least 10 men to bring down just one Werepyre. Still, the humans charged, using every last bit of strength and morale to push this army of darkness away from their beloved city. For what seemed like an eternity, they finally clashed, both man and beast raining down their deadly attacks. One man was ripped into two by the claws of one beast while another was brought down by slashes, one of them cutting through its leg. All the meanwhile, magisters and marksmen were raining down their deadly trade, fireballs, arrows and bullets ripping through the large beasts.
For the few minutes, it seemed that the men of the ruined city were on the verge of winning. However, the beasts from the mountains started to fight back, their deadly claws and vicious fangs finally having a footing in the battlefield. Things went from bad to worse in minutes for the city's army, but there was some hope left. Out there in the battlefield, one man had managed to cut himself through two of the monsters and was keeping the morale high for those who were left. While there were still commanders out there, they were few and far in between, so he had decided to take up the reins of keeping everyone together. The man, while fighting like any experienced warrior, wasn't even in his late 20s or early 30s, hardened with decades of experience that should have come with his fighting style. He knew in his mind that the near-decade old training was tested to the full, often having to improvise counter attacks that were not in his mind. His ash blond hair, completely caked in the blood of man and beast, flowed as he moved through the battlefield, falling in ragged angles every time he stood still from the lack of days of recuperation. His armour had been cut and battered, but it was still holding onto whatever threads that were woven in the leather and metal pieces, all covering the chainmail underneath that was in the same condition, albeit more rusted from a long time of it being used. His sabatons were drenched in the bloodied soil, but they were still able to grip, steadying his weary/muddied legs. All the meanwhile, his hardened, scarred, hawk-like face was scouring the battle in front of him, his deep blue eyes picking out his targets and keeping check on the line that they had created, making sure that no one from the opposing side breached it and started their charge towards the marksmen and magisters.
One werepyre, smaller than average, started to charge towards him, claws outstretched and ready to cut the acting commander down and start its blood-thirsty rampage. For the young mercenary, however, his weapon was already poised, ready to fend and strike the beast down. Despite the rain and dark clouds above, which had darkened the battlefield, his claymore shone out into the darkness, its icy-blue edge acting as a beacon of hope for everyone that was around him. The golden runes, despite it being in an ancient language, had been roughly translated as 'Silver Moon', probably named after one of the gifts from an unknown deity. The aura that came off the blade reflected off the gold hilt, the yellow sheen matching nicely with the blade itself. The beast had finally cut the distance that was between them and was nearly upon the warrior. In one swift move, the man had pirouetted around the beast, cleaving its arm in an up stroke. Without skipping a beat, he whipped the blade back down again, the wicked edge slicing through flesh and bone of the werepyre's back, crippling the beast of its legs. Leaving the dying beast to be dealt with by anyone wanting to kill something since this battle had begun, he began to scan the area again. At first, it seemed as if nothing was happening, but someone shouted over the noise for him.
“Auroreon!” Pinpointing where the shout had come from, the mercenary Auroreon was moving through the people, trying to get as quickly as he could to where the sound had come from. “Auroreon!” Tried as he might, his progress through the thick of battle was slow, people and the soggy mud slowing him down to a crawl. As he progressed through the battlefield, the more he learned that the line was faltering elsewhere, with the beasts starting to whittle the numbers down. The dead and the dying were numerous in this area, more so for the army that he was fighting for. Finally, after a long time fighting through the manic crowd, he reached the person that was calling his name, a man of a smaller stature than him, his face and brown hair coated with mud. “Auroreon!” the man had started, his voice heavy with fatigue and the weakened morale. “We can't hold this line! Their attacks are too strong and are almost through to reach the magisters and marksmen!”
Before he could respond, Auroreon only watched as a werepyre came from behind and lifted the man high into the air, claws digging through their sides. With a show of brute strength, the man's agonizing cries and a sickening pop, the beast tore the man in half, throwing the two halves in either direction. Before the beast had the chance of converging his attacks against the mercenary, a bullet ripped through the beast's shoulder, followed by the crashing might of 5 fireballs into the beast's chest, sending it flying through the air and into a standing standard bearer, the spearhead stabbing through its chest. The huge carcass of the werepyre collapsed, crushing the two guarding the standard under the huge weight. With the situation dire, their line on the point of breaking, Auroreon stabbed Silver Moon into the ground. “Men, to me!” he roared, his voice carrying out throughout the battlefield for the ears of the people that sill have energy to come to his call.
@BantlingBee: I can see no problem with either of your characters, so they are accepted into the RP.
@Bunnita: Just to let you know that Silvæan magic is something that could not be used by anyone outside of the race or any half-blood characters. As for teaching magic to other people, that is fine, but just a reminder that not every person in Gelbaron, despite the 1st Precendata Arcana saying that anyone has the potential to use magic, not everyone can use it.
Another thing I had noticed when glancing at your character is that your Silvæan character is immortal. As it is something that very rarely occurs and the Rite is not something that is done on a whim, as those who take it usually are on the verge of death via wounds, alongside the fact that an immortal Silvæan is something that would be too OP for characters, I was looking into having the Silvæan characters to being mortal.
Another thing which is noticed is that your character's magicis noted as Silvæan Immortal. This doesn't exist in Gelbaron. There's just Silvæan magic.
It does happen that some Silvæans do get exiled from Silvæa for doing a crime against the people, but the only reason that the exiled don't return is because of guilt, not because they are blocked by a magical force (a mantle of that size would drain a lot of spirit from the user(s)/mana crystals, so there's no point in having it up constantly) or have their mind's manipulated by those carrying out the sentence (as this breaks the 6th Precendata)
While I am fine with the 'Shambler', there is also another creature that could serve this purpose (albeit not listed in the Creatures section due to the post being huge already) are creatures called Carrefær. I can PM you the necessary information on these creatures if you want.
Finally, it's fine to reveal a lot more things that relates to the background of your character during the RP.
Once the above corrections are made, I'll have a look at the revised version of Bree.
I think there are enough characters in the RP (once Bunnita's character is changed and accepted) to initially start off the RP. I will post the first IC post shortly.
M3
@Bunnita: Just to let you know that Silvæan magic is something that could not be used by anyone outside of the race or any half-blood characters. As for teaching magic to other people, that is fine, but just a reminder that not every person in Gelbaron, despite the 1st Precendata Arcana saying that anyone has the potential to use magic, not everyone can use it.
Another thing I had noticed when glancing at your character is that your Silvæan character is immortal. As it is something that very rarely occurs and the Rite is not something that is done on a whim, as those who take it usually are on the verge of death via wounds, alongside the fact that an immortal Silvæan is something that would be too OP for characters, I was looking into having the Silvæan characters to being mortal.
Another thing which is noticed is that your character's magicis noted as Silvæan Immortal. This doesn't exist in Gelbaron. There's just Silvæan magic.
It does happen that some Silvæans do get exiled from Silvæa for doing a crime against the people, but the only reason that the exiled don't return is because of guilt, not because they are blocked by a magical force (a mantle of that size would drain a lot of spirit from the user(s)/mana crystals, so there's no point in having it up constantly) or have their mind's manipulated by those carrying out the sentence (as this breaks the 6th Precendata)
While I am fine with the 'Shambler', there is also another creature that could serve this purpose (albeit not listed in the Creatures section due to the post being huge already) are creatures called Carrefær. I can PM you the necessary information on these creatures if you want.
Finally, it's fine to reveal a lot more things that relates to the background of your character during the RP.
Once the above corrections are made, I'll have a look at the revised version of Bree.
I think there are enough characters in the RP (once Bunnita's character is changed and accepted) to initially start off the RP. I will post the first IC post shortly.
M3
As mentioned, that was fine by me. Character accepted.
M3
M3
RabidAnubis said
You say that common fantasy races are acceptable. Are those dwarves, elves, ect?
Those are exactly the ones I was talking about.
M3
cthulu said
Well here she is so far, I have a feeling some stuff might need changing so tell me if it does and I'll work on her bio when I'm less blegh.
If you want to make things a little bit simpler for you, you can introduce the Biography of your character in the RP itself and not add it to the sheet.
M3
Hey Shien. Yeah I thought I give the RP another try with the resurrection of RPG. I think I accepted Narandail before and I'll accept him again.
M3
M3
Hey Hymusia :) Glad you've stumbled upon my RP. I'll be looking forward to your character in the future.
M3
M3
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