Ages of Fantasy [RP Thread]

[AgentOrange]

The crack of distant firearms pulled Burz from his buzzed stupor. Grabbing his warclub, the orc walked to the outside of the King's Head Inn. The faint odor of gunpowder hung in the air; it seemed to come from the city of Regalin itself. That wouldn't be happening, unless... there was civil disorder. The orc sighed. Humans had a very poor crowd mentality, the orcs could riot better any day of the week. Figuring that Jazoth would have a plan for such an eventuality, Burz started running to the Bright Sun Inn. He reached it with little incident, noticing increasing amounts of Krad soldiers marching towards the city. Must be one hell of a riot.

Entering the inn, the barkeep called Burz over to him.

"Oi, orc! I've got something for ye." The barkeep pressed a single gold coin into Burz's palm. Burz was understandably confused; where did this come from?

The barkeep noticed the orc's confusion. "Ah, that's from some bloke with a long, white beard. Looked like one of those magic types. He wanted me to tell you to meet him in his room, first door on the left, second floor. He said that he has work for you."

Burz was never opposed to more money. There was nothing he liked more, besides technology and machinery. However, the orc was wary; magic was a forbidden art to orcs, and a wizard desired his services? Nodding in thanks to the barkeep, the orc walked up the flight of stairs and knocked on the door, awaiting a response.

[RagnasEdge]

Ragil swung the sword left and right, in a strange fashion that I had never seen before. "What do you call this 'style' of yours Ragil?" He laughed a bit and said, "It is called Akido. Have you never heard of it before? How long have I been imprisoned in this, that all have forgotten the technique of Akido?" He stated boastingly. "Akido?" I ask questioningly. "It's a fighting form of discipline. Now, please stop interrupting me. Also, these men with spiked helmets. I'm allowed to harm them right?" I thought of it as a stupid question. "They are the Krad, so yes, I'd say you should try and thin their ranks a bit. Remember to focus on helping civilians though, like you promised. I'd much rather not have the blood of others on my conscience." I heard him grunt, and could tell that meant understanding.
He continued with his strange strance. It was hard-hitting, and very fast. It almost looked like he was channeling water to make his slices flow like waves. He'd rescued about four civilians so far. Two of them being wounded, and the other two just being drunk. Eventually one of the Krad shouted, and all was stopped. "You are all placed under arrest of the king!! If you do not surrender yourselves, you shall be killed right here and now!" I started to panic. "Get out of here right now Ragil! There is no use in trying to save anymore, lest we risk our own lives." Ragil chuckled. "Afraid of facing justice are you?" I took great offense to this. "I did not wish to join this battle. Twas you who took over my body and forced me to kill these Krad. I should just trade you in to the nearest dealer for a blunt knife!" Ragil mocked me. "Well then ser Berethor. I grant you permission to this puny body once again. Have fun." I could feel a menacing tone in his voice.
I could feel myself being manifested back into my body. I looked at my muscles that were now shrinking, and could feel myself becoming more and more fatigued as the process went on. I tried my best to hobble out of the newly made battleground, and made it to a street alley. I sat down, looked at the sword as it was no longer glowing, and blacked out for a few moments, hearing whispers in my head.

[Hellbot711]

Delynnaria laughs as the guards try to gain control of the situation. The blades that were once dancing behind her begin to strike out at the guards. One every few seconds was struck down by the outstretching blades. The guards try to guard themselves from the blades and end up doing a decent jobs. She continues to direct the blades to attack the guards as shadow bolts continue to strike out at the civilians.

[AM Oneechan]

The minutes felt like hours. Time passed by slowly as Analia sat around, simply waiting for Berethor to come back. Her stomach grumbled irritatedly and honestly, she had to pee. She felt sick and dizzy and wanted to go back to sleep, but something kept her from it. It was as if she could not quite relax, despite sitting around doing nothing. She was not fidgety, as she sometimes got when she was waiting. Rather, it was as if something ominous was in the air. The wind was speaking to her, however odd that seemed. She had never heard of another human – or elf – with the same hearing as hers. She could have sworn that the leaves carried by the wind were tapping gently against the window or that the chirping of the birds outside were warning her of danger. She would have bet her father's beard that she was different from her kin, for some reason. It was as if her sick feeling only amplified these odd signals she was getting.
She resisted the urge to open the window and let the tapping leaves in and ignored the whispers of the wind and the warning chirping of the small birds. Instead, she stood from her seat and began wandering around the house in the search of something to do, once again.
What was wrong with her? Why was she feeling so odd. Never mind the sickness, but the whispers and such was freaking her out. It reminded her of that one time she went hunting with Fret – the adventurous cook. She had gone the full day without a single kill; but not from the lack of aim. Rather, each time she had her aim on a prey, it was as if something inside her was telling her to stop; to miss. Or perhaps it was something on the outside. Fret never heard a thing. Each time he had aimed his bow, another corpse was added to the cart of dead animals. The mere thought made Analia's stomach do a flip and she no longer felt hungry.

The whispers were getting annoying. It was like a fly buzzing about around your head; you never saw it, but you sure could hear it. She wished she could just swat this whispering away like a fly, but the more she ignored it, the stronger it got.
“What do you want?” she finally hissed out under her breath, the tongue she used was no longer that of her mother – the human language that had been adopted by her father's kind when they started following the evolving race – but rather the ancient tongue of a race she was only partly bound to.
The whispers seemed to pause for a moment before getting ever stronger and even harder to decipher. It was like a million voices speaking at once; all of them desperate and cautious.
“Slow down. I cannot understand,” she advised and another pause came to the whispers. It was only a moment before they began again, slower and less urgent. It was clear to her now that they spoke the tongue of her father. They whispered of danger over and over again. They warned her about humans about to shed blood. They spoke the word human as if it was a swear.
“I am partly human,” she reminded the whispers with a heavy heart. Despite her Elf blood being stronger than that of her brother, she was still just a halfbreed to both kinds. She was a dud to her father's people; only partly immortal and considered unable in elven magic. She was a freak to her mother's people; pointy-eared and slow-aging. The whispers seemed to ignore her and continued their warnings; continued speaking the word human like a swear.

“Fine, fine. I'll have a look,” Analia finally complied, heading for the closest window. The voices stopped abruptly as soon as she saw the view outside. Soldiers were streaming to the main street where it seemed something big was about to go down. She could not see much from the window, but she had a better idea. She headed back to the room where she had slept and put on her quiver and bow before fastening her belt around her waist and throwing a cloak around her shoulders. She was out of the building in a flash, pulling herself from the windowsill to the roof and hopping along from one roof to another to go check out the commotion.
She soon realized that she would not have needed to get closer. The commotion was obvious, even from far away. Someone was using magic; she could feel it like a tingle in her entire body. She hopped closer, though, feeling a bit of panic rising in her chest. What had started this commotion? She hoped this was not her fault. Upon seeing the actual fight, she realized – with relief flooding her – that this had nothing do to with her. It was a riot of some sort.
She spotted Berethor amongst the fighting and her brows furrowed. She had not planned on actually being part of anything like this – she was still a Lady, after all. With a small groan, she pulled her bow from her back and strung an arrow, setting aim on one of the men dressed similarly to the ones Berethor was – in the lack of better word – executing. The projectile soared through the air before hitting the man straight in the side of the neck. She did this to two more men before noticing Berethor changing. It looked like he had been deflated, honestly. She had the fleeting thought when she first saw him out there that he looked more buff than the night before, but now she was certain. His muscles were shrinking back down. Wonderful, she thought, she just had to meet the one freak among thousand of normal humans.
She stiffened and let her arrow drop to the ground as she got a better look of the human she had come to consider an accomplice, at the very least. He appeared sick. Perhaps he was using some sort of magic that he was not used to. She glanced to the black Mage that seemed to be mindlessly killing off everyone that came in her way, but with a hiss of a breath, left the battle to follow Berethor. She would have had no chance anyways.
“Where is he?” she grumbled lowly to herself, her tongue still that of her father. A gust of cold wind hit her in the face, making the loose strands of her hair whip around and against her skin. It was almost as if the breeze was tugging on her cloak. She did what it was urging her to do and went back the way she had come from. Soon she came to the edge of a roof and as she stood there, a harsh gust of air hit her back, almost like a hand shoving her forward.
She fell gracelessly to the ground with a strangled scream, ending up in a heap of fabric on the ground, completely tangled in her cloak. She cursed the wind in any way she could think of, only to freeze in the middle of freeing herself from her cloak as she came to face the sight of what appeared to be an unconscious Berethor.
“What the -” she cut herself off with a shake of her head, crawling forth while still mostly trapped by her cloak. What was wrong with her today. She sat on her knees in front of him, an almost worried expression on her face. She reached out, fingers nearly trembling, and slapped him straight across the face.

[Blue Moon Queen]

Kilaloa had gotten separated from the rest of the group days back when all of them had first stayed in the inn. Now she wandered through the city, carrying Eau's urn and disguised with a thick heavy black cloak. When the scent and feel of fires, no matter how small, reached her she began heading for them quickly.

Blocking her path were sets of Krad soldiers and barracades. On the other side she could see some of her former companions and many others rioting and fighting. A grin spread across her face as she tucked Eau's container away safely. When she spread her fiery wings the cloaked burned away, no longer disguising her. A few hard thrusts of said wings launched her into the sky and over the barracades and everything in her way. The fires nearest Krad soldiers burst toward them, alighting them. Once they were lit, nothing they did seemed to put out the fires.

[RagnasEdge]

I suddenly felt a rush, and the whispering began to die down, and get more slower. I felt an intense pain across my face, and I opened my eyes again. The first thing I saw was her beautiful visage. As tempted as I was to pull her face nearer to mine, I resisted, and sat upright. "I thank you, sweet Analia. For I do not think that I would have came back to my senses if someone didn't stop those whispers. They said the strangest things though. Something about a caravan, and three friends. I managed to pick out one of them whispering that they were sent to jail. Other than that, I thank you great fully. It's nice to see you once again, although I thought I never would."
I tried to stand up, but instantly pain came to my various joints, and I was forced back down. "Rgh... Confound it all. I don't think that I can lift on my own." I clambered up onto the walls, and was able to get up. It seemed that my arms were still fully functional. I tried to take a step, and instantly fell into her arms. "Eh-hehe. Sorry there. I think I may need your help. Just support me while I walk, and I should be just fine for now. I need a little bit of rest, and some medicine that I've received recently." I got out of her arms, and once again used the walls to lift myself up.

[AM Oneechan]

Analia was pleased when Berethor woke up without much hassle. Magical exhaustion could be a very serious condition and she figured it was even worse for a human, whose magical capacity was not quite as powerful as that of an Elf. The moment he opened his eyes, something odd passed through his eyes, but Analia dismissed it as simply being his fatigue.
He thanked her and she blushed. Then he went on about whispers telling him of a caravan and three friends and she sort of wanted to scoot way from him. Not that the idea of whispers telling you things bothered her that much; that had led her to him, after all, but the idea that someone else – and a human, nonetheless – had voices in their heads made her a bit uncomfortable. Humans were weak-minded creatures, after all. It was far more likely for a human to lose their mind than it was for an Elf with the same background.
When he toppled over, she was quick to catch him as he basically fell on her. She, of course, felt heat rush to her cheeks again and her stomach contracted with a sudden jolt. He asked her to support him for the walk home and despite the almost painful heat of her cheeks, she nodded in agreement. She did not trust her voice to not sound like someone stepping on a mouse in a situation like this.
So she did as she had done so many times before, when her brother had dragged his drunken body up the stone steps at the front of their castle. The guards had always just laughed at him, as he was not supposed to be out in the first place. She wrung her arm under both of his, around his back and gently stepped him away from the wall to see if she was a good enough crutch for him or if he was too heavy for her to support. Had she been wearing other shoes, she would have been too small to properly support him without breaking his back in the attempt.

[RagnasEdge]

I carefully took a small step forward, and found myself not flying face-first at the ground once again. I sighed, and held onto her more tightly, which probably made this feel a bit awkward. "We must head to my house as quickly as possible. These men are the Krad as I was telling you about last night. Their omnipotent armies, have all but drove us out of these cities. They pick on the hungry and homeless by eating in front of them, and taking their food and money. If we were ever to conjoin with them, I can see one of the largest rebellions in the history of Etil coming up soon. Enough dawdling though, I'm sorry if I'm a bit too heavy. I've recently bought many items, of various girths, and sizes. If you can stay around for long enough, we may be able to have a decent lunch."
I smirked my usual one, and continued to walk slowly, putting as much weight as I could off of her. We eventually walked out of the alley, and one of the Krad walked up to us. He looked us over, and laughed, then leaving. "Were lucky. He must have been drunk," I told her softly. I saw that the carnage was starting to die down, and the streets that were once brown and dusty, are now painted a crimson red. I shook my head a small bit, and looked down at my sword. Once again the whispers came back. There were only three of them, and they were talking at an average pace. It was like they were having a meeting of sorts. I dared not release my arm just to grab the sword, so I ignored it nervously.