Jamie Kanatariio, Scion Souk Semmarine It never seems to end
And the chaos continued.
And Jamie would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.
More fighters swarmed the Souk. Men and women shouted, orders and counter orders roaring. The Raven team surged forward to meet them. There was something about their family. They're all junkies in some way. Their father pushed the boundaries of what is human when it came to strength. Their mother a titan of order and power. Jamie's sister Athena, the Athena Awesome. Nearly uncomparible. Their big sister Freya pushing limits of science. And he well he'd lie about it if asked, but he gets off on the fog of battle. Sure he tempers that with ritual and following the pow wow trail.
But there was something that gave the normally stoic and stable young man a near sexual rush. Something about the whicker and snap of life rounds. The rumble of a grenade going off. The roar of a machine gun. If auntie Antoine got off on electricity. Jamie got off on a good fight.
Not that it's obvious.
Bit he's certainly in onyhe moment as he strides out and swings his HMGs off his back. The hopper for the guns is still mostly full, and he had two more anyway. So he steps into the open as the other agents of Raven enter the fray. His job? Pull heat.
And he does that with gusto. Striding confidently into the open. His weapon roaring. Rounds rattling. A living bastion of muscle an composite armor.
At a distance he watches a familiar sight. He pays a secondnto heed the mech. But there ate enough bodies dealing with that. He turns back then laughs and chinsnhis comms, "Oi! Bitch!" He waits a few moments to see his sister get the message and moment more for her to look around through the carnage. And when he knows she seen him he adds, " So we're one body down, but I see you've gone and caused chaos in yet another nation. I thought you and Frey had gotten over this."
In the midst of the fight Jamie makes his way through fire towards his sister. Still spraying the enemy, sending them running before the heavy rrad of Scion, "I swear I can't leave you and Freya alone before one of you is blowing something up. Or hurting yourselves." He says this about twenty feet from his sister by now, "Everyone of us is a menace."
The good-natured chuckle in his voice is clear. A brother teasing his sister.
<Snipped quote by Red Wizard> Got a bit of a backlog of things going, work took me out during the week. But not a lot left.
<Snipped quote by Chrys> If it develops, it develops, is usually my take on that! It's cool to read/write about if it's organic but if people try to force two incompatible characters together for the sake of it, nah (though one-sided things are also fun). Others might have different takes and that's cool too though. Y'all do you.
Yeah I feel this.
I mean go ahead and ship all you like. But don't try and force it.
Ends up making the story kinda awkward.
So all power too it sure. Just make sure both sides like the idea.
"Yeah we need to get him prepped, this came down directly from the Warden."
"Lords forgive us when that one is looking at one of these fools."
"Get back off your door now! Don't make me set off the traps!"
A roll of laughter through the this section of the holding cells. As no less then sixteen guards in heavy armor, with lashes, truncheons, and shields make their way down. A madman on one side of the hall cackles and slams himself against his door. Making two of the gaurds turn and set off that cells security, dousing the man with a sleeping spell. They turn it off then catch up with the others.
"Who is it?"
"Fields."
"Fields? What did he do to piss someone off? He's been good the last few days?!"
"I know but it's the Warden, we get in there subdue him, and make him ready, taking him to Isolation until the Warden is ready for him."
"That's why there are so many of us. Makes sense."
At the far far end of the hall is about 100 feet of bare stone walls, no cells near a single cell door that's locked with heavy lengths of Dwarven adamant chain, elven mithril locks, and rugged orcish banding. Anything to keep the thick alloy door on the cell from being compromised. As the guards approach and filter into the two alcoves next to the cell either side of the door, one of them pounds on it and shoves open the small hatch for conversation and handing in food trays.
A voice from within calls, "Dinner already? It's not even six bells yet." A hand snakes out of the hatch briefly, slender but weathered, "Otis? Malachi? Are you out there?" A truncheon comes down and slams on the hand, making the man within pull it back with a hiss of pain, "Oh so it's like that is it?"
"Stack up, tower shields in front, push poles behind them! Make ready the lashings and bindings."
The voice calls out, "Oh is that how it's going to be my boys?" There's a soft chuckle as a faint yellow light flares from within. A chittering sound from within adding to the moment.
"Ready!? Fields! Get back from the door."
The man inside the cell chuckles, "Mortagin? Is that you? How's the burn? It healing? Oh do come in."
"Ready the door! Conrad, Nolan!"
Two guards step forth and start working on the chains, and locks. One of them passes in front of the still open hatch, then screams, a jet of flame blasts out from within scorching his stomach. Fields, the man within chuckles, "Really should pay attention."
"Damn it! We were careless. Get the spells ready!"
The guard who had caught the flame to the stomach gets up and tries again, when another jet of flame lashes out and nearly catches him in the face this time, "Careful Conrad! I don't want to mar that pretty face!"
"Now!"
The last lock and chain swings free, and the ice and water spells inside the cell flash! Dousing Ricon Fields with shards of ice and a deluge of water, that quickly drains out of the room. Just as the door heaves open, and the guards charge in, screaming, "Get down Fields! Get down!"
But Ricon Fields, aka The Infernomancer does not get down. He clocks one of the guards across the face with a wooden plate, sending hims sprawling, another he catches in the knee with a kick, before the others swarm him and lock him into a corner.
But yet he still struggles, until a sleeping spell hits him...
And he knows only blackness.
Until he doesn't.
It's a voice. A sweet voice, an almost kindly voice that wakes him. Ricon, blinks and looks around.
What the honest to the Inferno is going on?
And as he comes too, he realizes, he's not in that thick itchy home spun tunic the Maw dressed him in. He's in his linen Pyromancers robe. His pauldrons, gauntlets and greaves are on his body. His grimoire hangs at his belt by the fire blacked chain. And Embershard rests in the leather scabbard at his hip.
And then he looks to his side and sees...Her.
He stares at Her.
He narrows his eyes and tests his bindings, then whispers, to Her. The Warden, "Still playing games? Still playing with us? Too scared to face any of us yet?" He grunts then shudders her words in his head, "Patience...you...want...wait..."
And he can see the others. There are others there. He stares at Her balefully, "What is this...?"
I shall point out, that your character last time was pretty boss. But at the same time, (sorry for the criticism here) your GM posts with a character were kind of lacking with direction for the other players.
Leaving us with little ability to really go and move the story along. Unless that was your intention. I'm not really sure.
Either way it is ultimately up to you if you want a GMPC, then rock and roll. IF not, and you want to act as an all seeing narrator, then all good as well. SO yes continuing the trend.
Silver blonde hair, a pale complexion with evidence of old fight scars, that of small blades and impacts. He really isn't all that interesting looking. He's tall and lanky, doesn't look like he weighs much more then 200 pounds soaking wet. His hands are rough from working, unsure of with what, and his knuckles are scarred likely from fights. His eyes are a blazing red with a yellow. Which seem to ignite with flares of flame boiling from his eyes when he's utilizing his magic. He's constantly followed by small licks of flame that bob and weave about him and seem to exhibit a small amount of intelligence even. His clothing is shades of fire reds, burnt browns, solar yellows and yellow-whites. An underlayer that is the blackest of coal like blacks. Leather guantlets, pauldrons and greaves in a burnt brown color end his normal combat outfit. He will wear these same colors but in soft supple leathers when not in a fighting situation.
Personality
Cocky, self sure and confident are three main words to describe the personality and attitude of Ricon. He knows what he's capable of, and those who have seen him know it too. And he takes pride in that, he's very proud. And very cock sure.
Long moments of being the cock of the walk in alot of situations has caused Ricon's personal filter to be a little off. And will often be the first one to throw a cuss, fist or a spell. And he sees nothing wrong with this at all.
Background
What can you do? You get born, you grow up, and you die. It's how it happens. Or sometimes you don't die and you get a second chance.
Ricon was born to a humble cobbler and a talented carpenter. His mother and father were good people. And he was born healthy and hale.
Until he was five. And the house they all lived in, him, his older brother and parents mysteriously caught fire one night.
WOOSH! FLAMES! EMBERS!
And all that remained of the house after was ashes and coals...and an oddly unaffected baby Ricon. He was picked out of the guttering blaze, bare as the day he was born, but without a mark on him. Sadly his nearest kin were an aunt who wanted nothing to do with him, and a grandparent who was already on deaths door. So he was turned over to the state. And into an Orphanage. Where he really didn't get along with people at all. So at ten, he ran away. And started to live on the streets.
This is where things started to get interesting. Out there on the mean streets of the capitol he fell in with a small gang of street urchins, and here he learned the fine arts of sneak thievery, pick pocketing, lock picking and various other skills in being a thief. And he was good at it too. He could work a lay like no one else, and became an outstanding member of the gang. And likely would have continued too. Just your odd little thief in the streets for the rest of his life. Until one of the older members of the gang, planned a pay roll heist. They wanted to filch the pay roll of a masonry guild. And Ricon was chosen to help pick the lock on the safe in the guild house. Nine people went in. And that's how it all went to shite. The casing of the joint was botched, and when they went in, rather then a quiet empty guildhouse, the guild was holding a late night meeting. Three of the group were pinched on entry. Another two when they were running in the halls. One was killed when a guild member hit him on the head with a hammer. And the last four were run down and arrested. Ricon was just seventeen.
Time time they gave him to the army.
Now remember those flames from when he was a toddler? It was his third day with the army, in bootcamp when a senior trainee decided to try and haze Ricon, he and five others decided to jump the little larcen after last bell. There was an explosion all of a sudden. A pillar of flames. The training sargeants came running. And found Ricon standing in a circle of roiling flames, one of his tormentors screaming in pain as white hot flames licked at his leg stumps. The ring leader? His charred skeleton still held onto Ricon's lapel. The others had run. It was an awakening. Ricon, had turned out to be a Pyromancer, and had just had an awakening that the College of the Arcane Arts Grandmages, would say hadn't been seen in generations.
Ricon would join the College of Arcane Arts just before his eighteenth birthday. He would stay there for six years.
He found magic, to be absolutely astounding. He dabbled at first, learning conjuration, summoning, alteration and other magical schools, while also studying his Pyromancy. But it was clear, he didn't really belong. Most of the students in the College were Social Elite. A generals son, a Lady Marquis with talent, or a Lords scion with a dream. And here is Ricon, a low born orphan, who was a former street thief, briefly a soldier and now one of the most powerful Pyromancers on record. The others hated him, and though Ricon loved magic, he hated them too. So Ricon put the screws to himself, he studied hard and gained a mastery in pyromancy as fast as he could. He was already considered a master in fire magic, by the time he looted his yearmates bedrooms of anything of value, and skipped school.
Now really none of this would have garnered a stay in the Maw. He would have been just branded a Rogue Mage and he would have had a bounty on his head. And that's that right?
After he left the College though, Ricon started to perform his old thievery tricks again. But this time, deaths occured. why shouldn't he back up his threats with real consequences? Didn't give up your jewelry? Then he burns your hands. Refuse to give up your coins? He'd slowly cripple you with flames. He earned the moniker of "The Infernomancer" Though, when he tried to extort a mining town. Thirty Five Thousand gold coins, or he'd immolate their town. They thought he lied. This is when he created his signature move. He procured a old steel broadsword, and set the blade aflame, then jammed the tip into the ground. Igniting a wave of white hot flame, a wall of scorn and rage. That roiled down and burned the town to the ground. he then walked in, casually and gathered up all the valuables he could find that still remained unmelted, and even gathered up some of the melted stuff, silver, and gold is still good even in a melted lump.
He did this several more times. And amassed a large fortune. That's when the King sent a task force after him. Six College Arch Mages, Twenty Royal Paladins, twenty eight knights and fifty elite soldiers. Against only the most powerful pyromancer in several generations. The fight would be recorded as "The Immolation of Yargo Pass". It lasted for seven hours. And by the end one arch mage was killed, two paladins, one knight and forty soldiers. Burned at the hands of The Infernomancer. But he would be captured, tried and convicted. No orphanage this time. No army, no college. The King sentenced him to the Maw.
Where his cell would be equipped with ice and water spells set to douse him and interrupt his fire magic. He'd often be heard to say while in solitary after burning a Maw guard, "I'm only in here because She, won't let me go. You have no power over me! Only that one does!" coupled with laughter, confident laughter, of a man who knows it's only a matter of time.
Talents
Skills
Incredible Pyromancy ability - The man is strong enough to summon flames so hot that he could melt the legendary Adamant steel of the dwarves with ease. He can pull flames out of the air like a street magician can pull rabbits out of a hat.
A myriad of minor magical ability. Such as healing, alteration, conjuration and a smattering of summoning magic.
Powers
The Inferno - A spell he created, that he channels through his burnt and warped broadsword. Creating a wall of flames white hot in nature.
Plume of Fire - One of his simplest and most effective spells, a simple blast of fire and heat.
Magic "Missile" - A staple of mages everywhere. But in Ricon's case it's fire themed. And he tends to make it so it tracks his targets.
Most of Ricon's Magic in general will tend towards fire enhanced. Even a simple Magical Hand will be wreathed in fire.
Flame Familiar - Those small little fire spirits that will flit and fly about, little bubbly and cute giggles can be heard from them, and they can swell and flare up, or can be used to spark any number of his fire spells.
Training
Thieves Training - Picking Pockets, Sneak Thievery, Lock Picking and general larceny. Often enough he can recognize another thief with ease. He learned how to fight dirty as a thief. Handful of sand, low blows that kind of thing.
Infantry training - It lasted only a few days, but Ricon picked up the ability to reliably use a sword and a dagger in his time with the army. He learned how to fight efficiently with the army. Conservation of energy and all that.
College Education - He picked up how to read and write at the College of the arcane. He can do his numbers too. So now he knows how much he has stolen. And it's value.
Flaws
Ice and Water - Anathema to his fire magic, a good well placed water or ice spell can cancel out all but his most powerful spells.
Thalassophobia - The fear of what lurks under deep and unknown waters. Pairs well with the Ice and Water flaw. Fire and deep water don't mix. One of the Arch Mages used the illusion of a deep dark underwater scene to slow Ricon at Yargo Pass.
Equipment
Linen and leather out fit, his casual outfit, a backpack where he had stored all his belongings during his rogue days. A grimoire, the Archmages tried to take it, as Ricon had written all his Pyromancy knowledge in it, but the King ordered it taken by the Warden instead. And lastly, his Sword, which he would name Embershard, because of it's warped and blackened state after the many focusing of Inferno through it.
Miscellaneous
Ricon is endlessly denied anything he can set alight, for fear that he will use it to conjure one of his spells.
No less then six guards as assigned to him when he's let out of his cell. And two must always be in his blindspot to make it harder for him to get them all in a Blaze. And one must have a magical bottle of ice or water to stop him from starting too many flames.
Ricon if allowed too will always have atleast three of his small flame familiars flitting about him. But if more then three appear he's usually doused immediately to put them out.
Silver blonde hair, a pale complexion with evidence of old fight scars, that of small blades and impacts. He really isn't all that interesting looking. He's tall and lanky, doesn't look like he weighs much more then 200 pounds soaking wet. His hands are rough from working, unsure of with what, and his knuckles are scarred likely from fights. His eyes are a blazing red with a yellow. Which seem to ignite with flares of flame boiling from his eyes when he's utilizing his magic. He's constantly followed by small licks of flame that bob and weave about him and seem to exhibit a small amount of intelligence even. His clothing is shades of fire reds, burnt browns, solar yellows and yellow-whites. An underlayer that is the blackest of coal like blacks. Leather guantlets, pauldrons and greaves in a burnt brown color end his normal combat outfit. He will wear these same colors but in soft supple leathers when not in a fighting situation.
Personality
Cocky, self sure and confident are three main words to describe the personality and attitude of Ricon. He knows what he's capable of, and those who have seen him know it too. And he takes pride in that, he's very proud. And very cock sure.
Long moments of being the cock of the walk in alot of situations has caused Ricon's personal filter to be a little off. And will often be the first one to throw a cuss, fist or a spell. And he sees nothing wrong with this at all.
Background
What can you do? You get born, you grow up, and you die. It's how it happens. Or sometimes you don't die and you get a second chance.
Ricon was born to a humble cobbler and a talented carpenter. His mother and father were good people. And he was born healthy and hale.
Until he was five. And the house they all lived in, him, his older brother and parents mysteriously caught fire one night.
WOOSH! FLAMES! EMBERS!
And all that remained of the house after was ashes and coals...and an oddly unaffected baby Ricon. He was picked out of the guttering blaze, bare as the day he was born, but without a mark on him. Sadly his nearest kin were an aunt who wanted nothing to do with him, and a grandparent who was already on deaths door. So he was turned over to the state. And into an Orphanage. Where he really didn't get along with people at all. So at ten, he ran away. And started to live on the streets.
This is where things started to get interesting. Out there on the mean streets of the capitol he fell in with a small gang of street urchins, and here he learned the fine arts of sneak thievery, pick pocketing, lock picking and various other skills in being a thief. And he was good at it too. He could work a lay like no one else, and became an outstanding member of the gang. And likely would have continued too. Just your odd little thief in the streets for the rest of his life. Until one of the older members of the gang, planned a pay roll heist. They wanted to filch the pay roll of a masonry guild. And Ricon was chosen to help pick the lock on the safe in the guild house. Nine people went in. And that's how it all went to shite. The casing of the joint was botched, and when they went in, rather then a quiet empty guildhouse, the guild was holding a late night meeting. Three of the group were pinched on entry. Another two when they were running in the halls. One was killed when a guild member hit him on the head with a hammer. And the last four were run down and arrested. Ricon was just seventeen.
Time time they gave him to the army.
Now remember those flames from when he was a toddler? It was his third day with the army, in bootcamp when a senior trainee decided to try and haze Ricon, he and five others decided to jump the little larcen after last bell. There was an explosion all of a sudden. A pillar of flames. The training sargeants came running. And found Ricon standing in a circle of roiling flames, one of his tormentors screaming in pain as white hot flames licked at his leg stumps. The ring leader? His charred skeleton still held onto Ricon's lapel. The others had run. It was an awakening. Ricon, had turned out to be a Pyromancer, and had just had an awakening that the College of the Arcane Arts Grandmages, would say hadn't been seen in generations.
Ricon would join the College of Arcane Arts just before his eighteenth birthday. He would stay there for six years.
He found magic, to be absolutely astounding. He dabbled at first, learning conjuration, summoning, alteration and other magical schools, while also studying his Pyromancy. But it was clear, he didn't really belong. Most of the students in the College were Social Elite. A generals son, a Lady Marquis with talent, or a Lords scion with a dream. And here is Ricon, a low born orphan, who was a former street thief, briefly a soldier and now one of the most powerful Pyromancers on record. The others hated him, and though Ricon loved magic, he hated them too. So Ricon put the screws to himself, he studied hard and gained a mastery in pyromancy as fast as he could. He was already considered a master in fire magic, by the time he looted his yearmates bedrooms of anything of value, and skipped school.
Now really none of this would have garnered a stay in the Maw. He would have been just branded a Rogue Mage and he would have had a bounty on his head. And that's that right?
After he left the College though, Ricon started to perform his old thievery tricks again. But this time, deaths occured. why shouldn't he back up his threats with real consequences? Didn't give up your jewelry? Then he burns your hands. Refuse to give up your coins? He'd slowly cripple you with flames. He earned the moniker of "The Infernomancer" Though, when he tried to extort a mining town. Thirty Five Thousand gold coins, or he'd immolate their town. They thought he lied. This is when he created his signature move. He procured a old steel broadsword, and set the blade aflame, then jammed the tip into the ground. Igniting a wave of white hot flame, a wall of scorn and rage. That roiled down and burned the town to the ground. he then walked in, casually and gathered up all the valuables he could find that still remained unmelted, and even gathered up some of the melted stuff, silver, and gold is still good even in a melted lump.
He did this several more times. And amassed a large fortune. That's when the King sent a task force after him. Six College Arch Mages, Twenty Royal Paladins, twenty eight knights and fifty elite soldiers. Against only the most powerful pyromancer in several generations. The fight would be recorded as "The Immolation of Yargo Pass". It lasted for seven hours. And by the end one arch mage was killed, two paladins, one knight and forty soldiers. Burned at the hands of The Infernomancer. But he would be captured, tried and convicted. No orphanage this time. No army, no college. The King sentenced him to the Maw.
Where his cell would be equipped with ice and water spells set to douse him and interrupt his fire magic. He'd often be heard to say while in solitary after burning a Maw guard, "I'm only in here because She, won't let me go. You have no power over me! Only that one does!" coupled with laughter, confident laughter, of a man who knows it's only a matter of time.
Talents
Skills
Incredible Pyromancy ability - The man is strong enough to summon flames so hot that he could melt the legendary Adamant steel of the dwarves with ease. He can pull flames out of the air like a street magician can pull rabbits out of a hat.
A myriad of minor magical ability. Such as healing, alteration, conjuration and a smattering of summoning magic.
Powers
The Inferno - A spell he created, that he channels through his burnt and warped broadsword. Creating a wall of flames white hot in nature.
Plume of Fire - One of his simplest and most effective spells, a simple blast of fire and heat.
Magic "Missile" - A staple of mages everywhere. But in Ricon's case it's fire themed. And he tends to make it so it tracks his targets.
Most of Ricon's Magic in general will tend towards fire enhanced. Even a simple Magical Hand will be wreathed in fire.
Flame Familiar - Those small little fire spirits that will flit and fly about, little bubbly and cute giggles can be heard from them, and they can swell and flare up, or can be used to spark any number of his fire spells.
Training
Thieves Training - Picking Pockets, Sneak Thievery, Lock Picking and general larceny. Often enough he can recognize another thief with ease. He learned how to fight dirty as a thief. Handful of sand, low blows that kind of thing.
Infantry training - It lasted only a few days, but Ricon picked up the ability to reliably use a sword and a dagger in his time with the army. He learned how to fight efficiently with the army. Conservation of energy and all that.
College Education - He picked up how to read and write at the College of the arcane. He can do his numbers too. So now he knows how much he has stolen. And it's value.
Flaws
Ice and Water - Anathema to his fire magic, a good well placed water or ice spell can cancel out all but his most powerful spells.
Thalassophobia - The fear of what lurks under deep and unknown waters. Pairs well with the Ice and Water flaw. Fire and deep water don't mix. One of the Arch Mages used the illusion of a deep dark underwater scene to slow Ricon at Yargo Pass.
Equipment
Linen and leather out fit, his casual outfit, a backpack where he had stored all his belongings during his rogue days. A grimoire, the Archmages tried to take it, as Ricon had written all his Pyromancy knowledge in it, but the King ordered it taken by the Warden instead. And lastly, his Sword, which he would name Embershard, because of it's warped and blackened state after the many focusing of Inferno through it.
Miscellaneous
Ricon is endlessly denied anything he can set alight, for fear that he will use it to conjure one of his spells.
No less then six guards as assigned to him when he's let out of his cell. And two must always be in his blindspot to make it harder for him to get them all in a Blaze. And one must have a magical bottle of ice or water to stop him from starting too many flames.
Ricon if allowed too will always have atleast three of his small flame familiars flitting about him. But if more then three appear he's usually doused immediately to put them out.
Eviledd1984
Chrys
Red Wizard
FourtyTwo
Lurking Shadow
TheNoCoKid
Alby47
GingerBoi123
Sho Minazuki
