ML
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Attempted Polymath
- Last Seen: 5 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: Mercenary Lord
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1361 (0.30 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- ML 6 yrs ago
- ██████████████ 12 yrs ago
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Neziul,
Scrawl Banditta,
Ohm,
erikh
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Recent Statuses
5 yrs ago
hey can i be a guild mod
7
likes
6 yrs ago
hey can i be a guild mod
13
likes
6 yrs ago
new name, same piss poor time management
2
likes
6 yrs ago
if you have a "craving", write a story on your own, that way when you inevitably lose interest and quit you're only wasting your own time
4
likes
7 yrs ago
factory-engines roar like false lions, blood thunders in the dock-pipes
Most Recent Posts
I'd be up for the third one, though I'm not entirely sure what my schedule will look like in the coming weeks.
Ping for interest. Will look at later if slots are still available
"I don't know what he did." Asher slowly sat up, reaching for one of the wounds. To his surprise, the skin felt smooth and unmarked, yet he could feel the throbbing beneath the surface beginning to return, however slight. "Whatever they did, it didn't heal my injury, just the skin. I'm not going to be fighting any battles for a while, yet."
After a few more moments, Asher slowly got his feet under him once more, straightening to his full height. Then he promptly fell against Johanna, supporting himself though his will and her help. She was a strange mix of hard and soft, and Asher was confused for a moment by the flash of emotion he felt. "Sorry," he grunted, but he was unable to make any move to stand on his own. He could walk, but only just.
He glanced over to one side, where a pair of horses stood, paralyzed with fear. Their owner lay dead at their feet: he wouldn't need them anymore. "Come on," he sighed. "We'll need to be mounted if we're going to keep up with the Magi, in my condition."
Only a half-formed plan bounced around his head. There might be a way he could use these Magi.
After a few more moments, Asher slowly got his feet under him once more, straightening to his full height. Then he promptly fell against Johanna, supporting himself though his will and her help. She was a strange mix of hard and soft, and Asher was confused for a moment by the flash of emotion he felt. "Sorry," he grunted, but he was unable to make any move to stand on his own. He could walk, but only just.
He glanced over to one side, where a pair of horses stood, paralyzed with fear. Their owner lay dead at their feet: he wouldn't need them anymore. "Come on," he sighed. "We'll need to be mounted if we're going to keep up with the Magi, in my condition."
Only a half-formed plan bounced around his head. There might be a way he could use these Magi.
Johanna cut his assailant down.The nerveless corpse slid to one side, and Asher gasped from the sudden influx of air to his tormented lungs. Every cut on his body burned with agony, but the bastard had decided to toy with him first, so his injuries weren't too horrible.
His chest heaving with exertion, he slowly, painfully sat up. He couldn't fight anymore, not like this. The raiders were still attacking, and he was down. He'd done all he could. The pain was fuzzing up his mind.
In his haze, he saw Johanna above him, looking frightfully attractive. A sort of aura shimmered over her skin, and for that moment, Asher wondered what he hadn't seen before. He wanted to protect her. He had to. If only his blasted arms would work. "I'm sorry," he croaked, the words lost to the noise around him. Then the first explosion erupted from the ground.
A massive fireball, the size of a house, leapt up into the air, the heat burning against Asher's open wounds. The shock of the flame gave him the strength to sit up, and he noted, with some astonishment, the cloaked and hooded figures which now stood near the flame, one with his hand out, palm up. Fire leapt from his fingertips, actual fire.
The attack halted momentarily, and then a one of the newcomers rushed forward, and jumped on a bandit. A blast of lightning jumped from the newcomer's hands, searing the poor raider's face shut. He dropped silently.
The battle rapidly ended then. These supernatural men--Magi! They wered called Magi--quickly dispatched the few bandits stupid enough to fight. Asher saw flames and lightning jump from hands, and the Magi seemed to simply disappear into the dark at will. It was terrifying, yet oddly awe-inspiring.
"Step aside, young lady." From above him came a voice: one of the Magi. He could tell. "I will tend to him."
A soothing feeling came over one of the cuts, then another, and soon all of the pain had been swept away. The Magi simply touched him where he was injured, and the wounds sealed themselves. "Keep him safe," said the voice. Then the cloaked man disappeared again.
Asher groaned, relieved. "Johanna, thank you. So, so much. Ouch, damn it." He reached out and took her hand in his, grateful, truly grateful for the first time, that she was with him. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that." He scowled at the flames and sparks and shadows. "It looks like the battle is almost over. Let's just sit tight for a moment."
His chest heaving with exertion, he slowly, painfully sat up. He couldn't fight anymore, not like this. The raiders were still attacking, and he was down. He'd done all he could. The pain was fuzzing up his mind.
In his haze, he saw Johanna above him, looking frightfully attractive. A sort of aura shimmered over her skin, and for that moment, Asher wondered what he hadn't seen before. He wanted to protect her. He had to. If only his blasted arms would work. "I'm sorry," he croaked, the words lost to the noise around him. Then the first explosion erupted from the ground.
A massive fireball, the size of a house, leapt up into the air, the heat burning against Asher's open wounds. The shock of the flame gave him the strength to sit up, and he noted, with some astonishment, the cloaked and hooded figures which now stood near the flame, one with his hand out, palm up. Fire leapt from his fingertips, actual fire.
The attack halted momentarily, and then a one of the newcomers rushed forward, and jumped on a bandit. A blast of lightning jumped from the newcomer's hands, searing the poor raider's face shut. He dropped silently.
The battle rapidly ended then. These supernatural men--Magi! They wered called Magi--quickly dispatched the few bandits stupid enough to fight. Asher saw flames and lightning jump from hands, and the Magi seemed to simply disappear into the dark at will. It was terrifying, yet oddly awe-inspiring.
"Step aside, young lady." From above him came a voice: one of the Magi. He could tell. "I will tend to him."
A soothing feeling came over one of the cuts, then another, and soon all of the pain had been swept away. The Magi simply touched him where he was injured, and the wounds sealed themselves. "Keep him safe," said the voice. Then the cloaked man disappeared again.
Asher groaned, relieved. "Johanna, thank you. So, so much. Ouch, damn it." He reached out and took her hand in his, grateful, truly grateful for the first time, that she was with him. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that." He scowled at the flames and sparks and shadows. "It looks like the battle is almost over. Let's just sit tight for a moment."
Asher looked up at the woman, who had brilliantly neutralized the man in front of them. A grin broke on his face. "Nice hit!" He called, over the din, but there was work to be done. He wheeled around, bounding toward another marauder. With a spiral-web of steel and a sudden [i]snick[/s] the man shrieked and dropped his knife, clutching a wound on his side. It would heal.
"Stay near me!" He shouted to Johanna, but he didn't know if she had heard. He decided to assume she had, and moved on to the next fire, where a man and woman struggled with a pair of particularly scraggy raiders.
None of the attackers seemed to be interested in hurting others, as desperate people were more interested in survival than murder. But the refugees also wanted to keep their belongings, and so the violence had begun escalating out of control. There were many, many bandits; more than Asher could count in the flickering fires.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his unlikely partner, at least nearby. But behind her was another worry. To his slight surprise, a woman crept up on the other, with a wicked looking sickle winking in the flame light. An irrational flood of fear speared through him, and before he could even think, he ripped up his hand and hurled the weapon at the other woman.
The blade tumbled, end over end, through the air, streaking past Johanna, and smashing the woman in the face with the hilt. The blade whipped into her mid-rift, and Asher's blood went cold. The desperate, almost-feral woman had only been trying to survive, and he had very likely just killed her.
"You bastard!" A man's voice burst from behind him, and then Asher's feet were swept out from under him by a medium sized, but incredibly dangerous looking man. Asher had no weapons, and the lean muscle beneath his aggressor's skin were reason enough for fear, even if the short blade in his right hand wasn't. "You'll pay dearly for that, you monster."
The blade streaked downward, and a sudden pain exploded from Asher's stomach. The man was torturing him! The madman continued to cut a dozen shallow streaks in Asher's body, face, and arms. Asher could do nothing but take the pain, and pray for a miracle.
"Stay near me!" He shouted to Johanna, but he didn't know if she had heard. He decided to assume she had, and moved on to the next fire, where a man and woman struggled with a pair of particularly scraggy raiders.
None of the attackers seemed to be interested in hurting others, as desperate people were more interested in survival than murder. But the refugees also wanted to keep their belongings, and so the violence had begun escalating out of control. There were many, many bandits; more than Asher could count in the flickering fires.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his unlikely partner, at least nearby. But behind her was another worry. To his slight surprise, a woman crept up on the other, with a wicked looking sickle winking in the flame light. An irrational flood of fear speared through him, and before he could even think, he ripped up his hand and hurled the weapon at the other woman.
The blade tumbled, end over end, through the air, streaking past Johanna, and smashing the woman in the face with the hilt. The blade whipped into her mid-rift, and Asher's blood went cold. The desperate, almost-feral woman had only been trying to survive, and he had very likely just killed her.
"You bastard!" A man's voice burst from behind him, and then Asher's feet were swept out from under him by a medium sized, but incredibly dangerous looking man. Asher had no weapons, and the lean muscle beneath his aggressor's skin were reason enough for fear, even if the short blade in his right hand wasn't. "You'll pay dearly for that, you monster."
The blade streaked downward, and a sudden pain exploded from Asher's stomach. The man was torturing him! The madman continued to cut a dozen shallow streaks in Asher's body, face, and arms. Asher could do nothing but take the pain, and pray for a miracle.
A few, leaking tears flickered on Asher's cheeks. Johanna seemed so close to her brothers. Like a real family. He didn't even have parents. Emerson had been the closest thing, and even then, Asher had felt there were times when the two of them weren't connected. He'd never felt that familial bond. When she finished, he remained motionless, staring into the fire for a while.
"Oh, my apologies." Asher looked up, blinking away the tears. "Your story was quite interesting, I promise. It seems you and your brothers are close." He turned away for a moment, trying to clear his eyes. A true man is not afraid to cry, Asher, but he knows the time and place. Emerson may not have been a total father, but he had been an excellent mentor. The time to cry was not now. He returned his gaze to the fire, and opened his mouth to speak.
Then a scream ripped through the night air. Asher's head snapped to the right, where the noise had originated, and he leapt to his feet. A swirl of torches, high in the air, milled about near one of the other fires. "Bandits," he growled. "The bastards." He had heard stories about black-hearted people preying on the refugees, stripping them of even the smallest, trivial artifacts. They were worse than animals.
He started off, halted, and turned to Johanna. "I can't tell you what to do, but if you wish to fight, there's a spare sword in my pack. Be careful." Off he went, his sword sliding from its scabbard. The sword was medium in length, a powerful metal-hybrid weapon he had procured during one of his several trips to Rohnad. The swords there were some of the finest he had encountered.
Some of the raiders were on horseback, while some were on foot. Attacking the mounted would be suicide with sword like his, no matter how sharp and strong. Instead, he opted for a safer route. He stooped low, and grabbed a torch from the ground, lighting it in one of the fires. Then he leapt into the fray, swinging sword and fire alike, blinding the attackers and cutting them apart.
He tried to maim rather than kill, mainly because most of the bandits were simply the most desperate of the refugees, and because Emerson had once said, Only a coward kills the enemy. A coward who sees only the enemy, and not the man. Though they would kill you, you may gain powerful friends with a bit of mercy. And the man had been right--some of Asher's most steadfast allies had been enemies he had defeated in combat, through luck, skill, or concentration; he wasn't the best swordfighter, but he could handle himself in a fight.
He was more worried about Johanna. If she was injured, captured, or killed, he'd lose his best and only chance of finding what he sought. And, though he wasn't sure to admit it yet, he'd lose a friend.
"Oh, my apologies." Asher looked up, blinking away the tears. "Your story was quite interesting, I promise. It seems you and your brothers are close." He turned away for a moment, trying to clear his eyes. A true man is not afraid to cry, Asher, but he knows the time and place. Emerson may not have been a total father, but he had been an excellent mentor. The time to cry was not now. He returned his gaze to the fire, and opened his mouth to speak.
Then a scream ripped through the night air. Asher's head snapped to the right, where the noise had originated, and he leapt to his feet. A swirl of torches, high in the air, milled about near one of the other fires. "Bandits," he growled. "The bastards." He had heard stories about black-hearted people preying on the refugees, stripping them of even the smallest, trivial artifacts. They were worse than animals.
He started off, halted, and turned to Johanna. "I can't tell you what to do, but if you wish to fight, there's a spare sword in my pack. Be careful." Off he went, his sword sliding from its scabbard. The sword was medium in length, a powerful metal-hybrid weapon he had procured during one of his several trips to Rohnad. The swords there were some of the finest he had encountered.
Some of the raiders were on horseback, while some were on foot. Attacking the mounted would be suicide with sword like his, no matter how sharp and strong. Instead, he opted for a safer route. He stooped low, and grabbed a torch from the ground, lighting it in one of the fires. Then he leapt into the fray, swinging sword and fire alike, blinding the attackers and cutting them apart.
He tried to maim rather than kill, mainly because most of the bandits were simply the most desperate of the refugees, and because Emerson had once said, Only a coward kills the enemy. A coward who sees only the enemy, and not the man. Though they would kill you, you may gain powerful friends with a bit of mercy. And the man had been right--some of Asher's most steadfast allies had been enemies he had defeated in combat, through luck, skill, or concentration; he wasn't the best swordfighter, but he could handle himself in a fight.
He was more worried about Johanna. If she was injured, captured, or killed, he'd lose his best and only chance of finding what he sought. And, though he wasn't sure to admit it yet, he'd lose a friend.
Asher smiled genuinely, for the first time in what seemed like weeks. "I like your thinking, miss Johanna. Of course, I'm sure there will be plenty of danger and more than a little bit of discomfort, but if you're willing to put up with that," he broke off and looked her up and down, "and I do believe you are...well, then I see no reason to delay."
He stooped down, picked up his bags, and closed the fireplace doors. "Shall we?"
---Skip Ahead---
Day four. From what Johanna had told him, they still had a long way to go. Asher sighed, and held his hands up to the fire. It was still cold at night, and now they ran the added risk of being attacked by wolves, bears, or whatever animal decided they were easy prey out this far in the wilderness.
Still, they weren't too badly off. Asher glanced to his left, and the twinkle of another campfire brought a slight reassurance to his mind. They were not alone: dozens of refugees off the main road had all set up camp here together. He looked back at Johanna. The light from the blaze caught her face in a warm caress, and not for the first time Asher caught himself admiring her features. He shrugged, laughing it off as a loner's curse.
He shifted slightly closer to his companion. "Tell me something about your brothers. Ciola. Anything. Let's pass the time for a while before sleep."
He stooped down, picked up his bags, and closed the fireplace doors. "Shall we?"
---Skip Ahead---
Day four. From what Johanna had told him, they still had a long way to go. Asher sighed, and held his hands up to the fire. It was still cold at night, and now they ran the added risk of being attacked by wolves, bears, or whatever animal decided they were easy prey out this far in the wilderness.
Still, they weren't too badly off. Asher glanced to his left, and the twinkle of another campfire brought a slight reassurance to his mind. They were not alone: dozens of refugees off the main road had all set up camp here together. He looked back at Johanna. The light from the blaze caught her face in a warm caress, and not for the first time Asher caught himself admiring her features. He shrugged, laughing it off as a loner's curse.
He shifted slightly closer to his companion. "Tell me something about your brothers. Ciola. Anything. Let's pass the time for a while before sleep."
Asher nodded slowly, his face lightening considerably as she spoke. "Yes," he muttered, "yes, that might actually work!" He could have cheered as a rush of inspiration flowed through him. "You're proving yourself already, miss Valor...Valiver...Johanna." There would be time for him to learn her actual name later. Why couldn't nobles have something simple, like Thyne? Thyne was a good, strong, easy to remember surname.
But instead, the rich and wealthy decided to ingrain titles and family names and hypens into their ancestry. It was such lunacy, though he couldn't blame Johanna for her family's decisions. He straightened from his bent position, a new fire kindled in his eyes. "Of course, it means we'll be diving headfirst into a civil war, but I've dealt with worse. We'll probably want to leave as soon as we're able, before the refugees start to move again."
He glanced at her then. "I assume you know the way to go?" He sure didn't, and he didn't want to lead them in the wrong direction so early on the trip. Or ever, he hoped.
But instead, the rich and wealthy decided to ingrain titles and family names and hypens into their ancestry. It was such lunacy, though he couldn't blame Johanna for her family's decisions. He straightened from his bent position, a new fire kindled in his eyes. "Of course, it means we'll be diving headfirst into a civil war, but I've dealt with worse. We'll probably want to leave as soon as we're able, before the refugees start to move again."
He glanced at her then. "I assume you know the way to go?" He sure didn't, and he didn't want to lead them in the wrong direction so early on the trip. Or ever, he hoped.
Asher shrugged. "I told you, the only lead I had vanished when the roads swarmed. He was a jeweler, and I happened to hear him discussing with a tradesman the most remarkable gem he'd happened to find. It fit the desription of one of the gems in one of the stories. It was a tiny lead, but it was all I had."
He sighed, and bent to the floor, gathering up his things. "I suppose I'll start by seeing if any of the cities along this route has any information on incredibly beautiful gems. If that doesn't work, I'll head back to Emerson and see if he has anything to say."
He turned and made the bed slowly. "People who sell jewels are quite the troublesome bunch."
He sighed, and bent to the floor, gathering up his things. "I suppose I'll start by seeing if any of the cities along this route has any information on incredibly beautiful gems. If that doesn't work, I'll head back to Emerson and see if he has anything to say."
He turned and made the bed slowly. "People who sell jewels are quite the troublesome bunch."
She seemed to be doing all the work for him. He hadn't had to ask her at all, but he would need to seem coy, else she'd wonder why he agreed so easily. "I thought you were looking to be an artisan in Enrimor. I can't see how that would be useful for a long, dangerous journey." He left out the fact that most men would have been thinking. Why should I share my hard earned treasure with you? Of course, he didn't actually think that, but if she thought he didn't want her, than she'd want all the more to come with him.
Or maybe he was just talking himself in circles. "Still, if you want to come along, I don't have any real issue with it. Just be careful. Can you fight at all?"
Or maybe he was just talking himself in circles. "Still, if you want to come along, I don't have any real issue with it. Just be careful. Can you fight at all?"
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