TwilightDragon — Roleplayer Guild

The pain simply got worse and worse. It had the strength of a thousand stinging bees and a hundred raging fires. Her ears still rang, blood still flowed. Ambra whimpered and clutched at her head, begging Naga to make it stop. There had been herbs to soothe pain in her bag before, but now they were gone. Some had been external medication, and she had coated Zaino's wounds in them. The other was taken into the mouth and ingested. Why the hell did she have to be so noble? She had to start thinking about herself for once. Thinking about her own health and well being. She hoped that the kick would not make her blind as she had seen it happen before. Something about your brain. It was something about how it got hurt.
A man approached, asking if the wyvern was her steed. She forced her eye opened and looked up at him, shaking her head. From the sounds around her, it seemed that the Shepherds were winning- but that didn't mean that they were doing well. The stench of blood hung in the air like the fragrance of perfume on a harlot. Screams punctured her ears like Silver Swords. Then he asked if she needed aid.
Ambra didn't like being seen as weak. She always wanted to help and prove useful in one way or another. Whether it was through combat or medical treatment, she didn't care. But what she hated the most was when someone asked if she needed help. What we're they thinking of her? Did they think of her as weak and useless? Tears came to her eyes at that, but she blinked them away.
"Yes, I need help... please, it hurts so much..." she pleaded, pulling her hand away from her head and looking down at it. It was covered in a thin film of blood and dirt. She knew that if she bled too much, she would be done for. If she fainted, she would most likely not be able to wake up. "Hurry please... I... see black in the corners of my eyes..." she whimpered, clutching her hair now. This further agitated the gash on her temple and made her whine even more.

Okay… maybe she was getting a bit dizzy. With the rum and whisky and all of the sort that was currently in her stomach, Lumara found herself a bit… shaken up. She couldn’t just throw up here- she was too into the battle to let go of the contents of her stomach. And, if, for some reason it came to the point where she had to vomit, she sure hoped it was on top of one of those Ylissean soldiers. Her green eyes focused on the battle. She saw a few people kill some of the mounts and then stop when a very… attractive man told them not to. She grinned, looking down at the prey that she had in her claws.
The wyvern rider that was going to attack that archer chick was locked in Caius’s sharp talons, looking up with fear and horror. “Please…” he gasped, the ivory claws tightening around his chest. “Let me… go…”
”Let you go?” Lumara smirked even deeper, giving him a devious look. She turned back to Caius and flicked behind his head. ”M’kay, boy, ya heard the man. Le ‘em go, eh?” the man fell silent, and then blabbered out pleads for his life as the claws slowly began to loosen. He screamed as he fell, giving a horrible sound as he smashed against the sandy ground. She sighed and stretched, arching her body much like a lazy cat would do.
She perked when she heard someone screaming on the street. When she did look down at the ground, she noticed that magic users had taken to the streets; streams of wind swam across the field and bolts of lightning illuminated the ugly walls of the buildings. There was this one man whose voice couldn’t get any louder…
Lumara rolled her eyes and sighed. ”What a loud mouth, eh, Caius?” she spoke to her wyvern again, pulling out a flask that she had on a different part of her body and tipping it against her lips. She hadn’t remembered what was necessarily in the flask, but as soon as she felt the sharp bite of rum on her tongue, she couldn’t help but grin. ”Oy! Feather-Asses! ‘s the matter? Can’t take a few hits?” she boomed with laughter as she swung toward a Pegasus Knight, this time successfully running the woman through with her Killer Lance. It tore through her throat and left her airborne, dangling from the tip. ”Ew. Ya got all of ya juices on me.” Lumara cringed, looking at the dull eyed woman as she tipped her lance downwards. The body slid off and fell to the floor much like the man had.
”Oi!” she barked, looking around. ”Who’s my next enemy?!” sure, her wound was gaping open and blood was staining her clothes and Caius, but she hardly noticed the pain. She probably would when she passed out from blood loss.

Talbot’s clothes had dried after a while, clean and fresh. He pulled them back on and, even though they were still a bit damp, provided him with extra refreshment. At least it would be a while until the clothes completely dried, so he wouldn’t be as hot. Pulling on his hat, he made sure that everything was in his satchel. Okay, he had Thoron, Arcfire, and Arcwind for now. He didn’t take on the dark arts for a reason. Spells like Mire and Flux just… weren’t for him. Black magic, he called it. He rather stay with the elements. His favorite was Thoron, as he loved the idea of lightning shooting out from his hands.
The man was finally going to go to what the Plegians called a lobby before he heard screaming and fighting outside. Fear shot through his heart and he looked outside the window. Blurs of white and black and green and brown shot through the air and raced on the ground. Pegasi and wyverns. Their marks obviously show they’re from Ylisse. he ground his teeth and pulled on his boots. In a matter of moments, the sorcerer was out of the room and down the stairs faster than a Pegasus itself. No. No one else would die at the hands of Darrian if he could help it. The image of a pretty, brown haired woman with the most beautiful green eyes flashed before his gaze, but he blinked it away. The picture of his late love made him become even angrier, and he darted outside with tome in hand.
Hissing a few words under his breath, he released Arcfire onto a wyvern rider. That didn’t necessarily take the enemy down, but the blast of flame severely hurt both mount and rider. The woman on the wyvern shrieked as the fire burned her flesh, and she turned toward him. Talbot dodged out of the way of her axe, only avoiding it by a hair’s breadth. Being hit by such a thing would hurt. He sent out an Arcwind for his next attack. The gust of air ripped the rider from her beast, sending them both tumbling backwards. The wyvern fell in such a way that it broke its neck, and the rider was crushed under the draconic beast. It was only then that he heard the man say that they should spare the mounts, and he promised himself to keep that in mind.
Talbot was jolted from his thoughts when a wave of heat smashed against his tome carrying arm. The heat soon became fire, and he screamed in agony as his flesh burned. The wind tome fell to the floor with a dull thud as he cradled his arm, glowering up at the Dark Flier than loomed over him. Yet, he didn’t need the tome- he had the specific spell for Arcwind memorized already. ”Leave me alone!” he screeched, sending another storm of air at her. The woman was basically shredded by the spell, falling off of her mount in a bloody mess of clothes and armor and flesh.
The sorcerer groaned, staggering a bit back and pulling up his sleeve to see his flesh red and blistering on his forearm and arm. Cursing Naga, Grima, and all of the gods he could think of, he ground his teeth and struggled with the pain. Damn it…

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