[IC] Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire] (Page 2)

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[IC] Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire] Page 2

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Alnard Val Lothian
Garleton - Dusk

Night fell upon the castle city of Garleton, soldiers both new and old, and mercenaries had convened briefly at dusk to get their orders. Mercenaries would be told to report at daybreak, while recruits were ushered into barracks within the castle itself. Those who were already stationed here simply went about their shifts and duties.

Alnard himself addressed the recruits himself when they all gathered briefly,

"It is a brave thing you have done to fight for the Empire, I am aware how hard it may be to be spurred into action for a ruler such as my father, but I promise our deeds from here on out will make us all proud to be Imperial citizens. From today forth, you shall all become Imperial soldiers, we will fight together, train together, die together, and most importantly, we shall seize glory and victory together, and return to our homes as heroes!", as he spoke he drew his blade and raised it to the heavens, and with him the recruits cheered, though not yet quite in unison. That will need work.

After this, Hadrick had everyone dismissed back to their quarters, either tents in areas around the castle, or in the castle courtyard. This little town didn't have a barracks, so everyone including those stationed here had to make-do.
_________________________
Status: Alive
Class: Spell Lord
Inventory:Rapier
Vulnerary

Garleton Castle - Alnard's Quarters

Evening

Retiring to his quarters for the night, Alnard found himself anxious, a rising weight in his chest. Was this responsibility? No, not quite... Responsibility was something he wasn't adverse to, in fact in order to achieve any recognition among his brothers, especially while his two oldest were both alive rather than just one, it was something he had to rise to. No... This was not the weight of responsibility, but the weight of lives. Though not yet taking to the field, he could already feel the responsibility he had for each soldier addressed there. Although while he was there... There was a familiar pink haired face, but for the moment with his mind on organizing the troops, he could not remember.

He walked over to the desk and sat down, clicking his fingers to light the candle as he did before taking a quill to parchment. He meant to write two letters, one for his brother Kalvas on the frontlines regarding his thoughts, and the other to Henris in Dinas Afaraon, though a more light-hearted letter. No doubt Henris would not be interested in war matters, but barely as he took the quill to ink, he felt a cold presence behind him. He turned, and kneeled down behind him was... Fortunately a familiar face.

"Gerrian?", Kalvas' most trusted assassin and a member of his private division the Ravens. An expected name considering his title. Gerrian was a dark-faced man. Little is known of his origins, except that Kalvas had found him as a young boy and trained him. Based on his features he certainly was not from this land, with tan skin and dark hair, to be frank he fit incredibly well into a clandestine group. He wore charcoal gray robes over tight and flexible leather, with a hood available to him, and a face mask usually. He appeared to have no weapons on him, but that would be a grave mistake to make.

"It is rare to see yo-",

"Now is not the time for pleasantries. I am here to exit you of this place under orders of Lord Kalvas",

"You mean to have me... Evacuate? From what?"

"Now is not the time milord, as we speak, a large Lyonesse force heads this way from the north",

"What of my brother? Was he not the one-",

"He was defeated, but managed to escape. We must leave now, he bid me to ensure your survival, we are to run to Reynes and lay-", his words were cut off as a loud and explosive noise was heard from the town. Alnard leaped to his feet and checked outside. The night was now lit with fire, houses burned and in the distance, upon the horizon were banners bearing that of the Lyonesse army.

"We must go milord, take what you can and we shall leave at once",

"I can't just abandon these people Gerrian. I will be heading down and spearheading an evacuation operation", the man of shadow was... Visibly disgruntled, but with a nod, he accepted.

"In that case I will secure some exits out the back. The castle itself has a secret passage that will lead us to safety, it starts in the courtyard", he said. Alnard turned away to grab his sword and any supplies he can carry while fighting, before turning back,

"Very well, report to the courtyard when-...", he was gone. Regardless there was no time to waste.

------------------------------------------------------------
Garleton Castle - Entrance Hall

"Hadrick! Brigadier General Everett!", Alnard was sprinting down the hall into the entrance hall. It appears they had already convened a meeting to figure out how to deal with this mess. There were grave faces among all of the Reynes soldiers, or... Rather, everyone. It was a huge force, and no one was ready to mobilize, meaning battle was inevitable.

"Milord Alnard, it appears you have arrived in a timely manner. I have already decided that me and my knights shall lead the defense, and prevent Lyonesse forces from reaching the town for as long as possible. In that time you shall all evacuate. I will give you a few of my knights to help lead you all through a safe route to Reynes and cross the border. Once there and behind our defense lines, you can think of what to do next",

"General, what you speak of is your death",

"Of course. However this is my duty, that the king himself has bestowed upon me, and we knights of Reynes never back down from a challenge! I daresay the knights I send with you will be jealous. Those Lyonesse dogs for their number cannot outmatch a Reynes knight!", his gusto was encouraging, but those present, Alnard included, could see there was some fear within him. It was natural of course, death is something all people fear.

"In any case, I will go and see to my knights young prince", and with that, the general left through the large doors, and the only thing heard next was his booming voice, addressing his soldiers.

"Milord, what are your orders?", Alnard made a deep breath to get his nerves under control, before he made the order. He had to be quick, the longer they take, the less time there will be to save these people.

"Hadrick, take a retinue of soldiers and rouse the people to evacuate to the castle. I shall head to the mercenaries and ask they do the same",

"The castle milord?", he seemed inquisitive.

"Yes, Gerrian arrived earlier, he has informed me that there's an exit that starts from the castle courtyard. We can use that to get everyone to safety",

"I see, a sound plan... You heard the prince! Get to work you lot!"

Garleton Castle Town, Western Wall

"Well well well wot's all dis den?", a jagged man began to emerge from a broken part of the city wall. A strange part of the wall where from inside it was too high to climb and escape, but ground level was higher on the other side, allowing people in.

"Seems like an attack boss!",

"So it would seem, would be right unfortunate if someone were to you know..."

"Mug 'em?"

"Yeah but I was leaning more for kill",

"Boss that's awfully mean, but you know, we could probably nab a few things while everyone's all distracted-like",

"Hehehe! Well, whatever, if you kill someone today then we can just blame it on those stupid Lyonesse folk! Go wild boys!"

Objectives

Victory Condition: Escape
Optional Condition: Kill Bandit Leader

 The town is ablaze and chaos has taken to the streets. The Lyonesse Mages prepare a second magical air strike which will occur once General Everett's forces are defeated. Your orders are to evacuate the town before then. Prince Alnard has taken to the field to help with the evacuation efforts.

 Everyone is to report to the castle.
EXP: 30

Enemies

Name: Bandit Leader*
Threat Level: C
EXP: 30(20)
Weapon: Axe

Name: Bandits
Threat Level: E
EXP: 5(5)
Weapon: Axe

Name: Bandit Archer
Threat Level: E
EXP: 5(5)
Weapon: Bow

Quick Tutorial!

- How to read threat levels -
Threat levels indicate the enemy's average stat spread. For example if their threat level is D, then their stats if added together and then averaged out, will result in D. Some enemies will be marked with an asterisk, which indicates that you cannot kill them based off of their threat level alone, and engaging them will reveal their stats. The more asterisk they have, the stronger they are. So be wary of these types of enemies.

It is also useful to note that they do not have to attack back to have their stats revealed, so if you can out-range an enemy, that can be useful to get a read on high level enemies.

- EXP -

Do you notice that EXP stat with the enemies there? That's how much EXP is earned per kill, plus the amount in the brackets is the amount earned if you assisted in that kill. There is no limit to enemies besides the boss and certain targets, however you cannot spontaneously create enemies to kill for EXP. I must put them on the field first.

When someone uses Dance or Healing Spells, they will gain EXP equal to the Assist amount of either the last enemy they fought, or the enemy they attack. As such, EXP earned via support is given after their target's next post. If they did not fight at all prior to this, they will receive 5 EXP.

EXP can also be earned by doing objectives, such as securing fortresses, choke points, or anything indicated in the battle's details. They will all be marked, and their EXP values will be given to you.

These will be added to a new document soon, that shall be titled "Battle Mechanics".


Night fell upon the castle city of Garleton, soldiers both new and old, and mercenaries had convened briefly at dusk to get their orders. Mercenaries would be told to report at daybreak, while recruits were ushered into barracks within the castle itself. Those who were already stationed here simply went about their shifts and duties. Alnard himself addressed the recruits himself when they all gathered briefly, "It is a brave thing you have done to fight for the Empire, I am aware how hard it may be to be spurred into action for a ruler such as my father, but I promise our deeds from here on out will make us all proud to be Imperial citizens. From today forth, you shall all become Imperial soldiers, we will fight together, train together, die together, and most importantly, we shall seize glory and victory together, and return to our homes as heroes!", as he spoke he drew his blade and raised it to the heavens, and with him the recruits cheered, though not yet quite in unison. That will need work. After this, Hadrick had everyone dismissed back to their quarters, either tents in areas around the castle, or in the castle courtyard. This little town didn't have a barracks, so everyone including those stationed here had to make-do.	_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Spell Lord Inventory: Rapier Vulnerary

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Branna Naves
Town Edge  ||  Lothian Empire: Garleton  ||  Evening

With a canvas pouch slung over one shoulder and a half-eaten apple in her hand, Branna strolled through the town towards the wall, her eyes tracing the perimeter. She’d never understood the point of building walls. Be it from above or below, enemies would always find a way in, and getting over walls for her was as easy as getting on her wyvern, archers aside. Rather than staying in one place, it was far more efficient to go after enemies yourself, in Branna’s opinion. Blitz them, hit them so hard they reeled until the second attack came, then get out before retaliation was an option. The best defense was a good offense, after all, and a defense that stayed in one place was more of a limiter than an asset anyway.

Tossing the apple core to one side, Branna stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, the sound a pebble on the lake of the silent corner of the town she was in. Along the wall, guards on duty turned to look, relaxing when they saw that she wasn’t armed. In response, Branna grinned, raising an arm to wave at them as she walked towards the gates. She looked suspicious, yes, but harmless enough. Her clothes left nowhere to hide weapons, after all, and she was walking away from the castle, not towards it. However, if they wanted to hold her up despite all those tells, well, Branna wasn’t in the mood to play along. 

A series of shouts was followed by a shadow overhead, and Branna’s smile grew into a grin just as her wyvern swooped to her side, wafting up a plume of dust on the dirt path. Another beat of his wings cleared the air, and Branna approached, cooing as she stroked his flank. Then, grasping one of the spines on his back, she hoisted herself onto his saddle, righting herself with a flip of her hair. 

“Giddy up, Mors,” she croaked, as the wyvern sprung off the ground with a strong beat of his wings. 

Clearing the low altitudes was always the slowest, but once that was over, the wyvern and rider were high enough to allow them an overhead vantage of the wall as they glided past. Below were the flickering torches of the town Branna had made a few circles around during the day, having found nothing much to occupy her time with. Instead, she’d stocked up on rations and such, leaving her coin pouch slightly lighter than before. Her financial situation had always been a bit precarious, but now that was different, wasn’t it? According to her new employer, she was now an ‘imperial soldier,’ a future hero, and heroes got paid well. Sure there was death to consider, but she didn’t plan on dying for a long while. No, she planned on getting paid.

That all, though, could wait until tomorrow. It’d take more than a sack of coins to get her interested enough to take refuge in a town. Rather, mountains and hilltops suited her just fine, and Mors always managed to find one or the other. She’d be back tomorrow before the sun rose to do whatever the little lordling required, and she’d be back before most people were up because, after all, the morning sun hit mountaintops first.

Branna was in the middle of securing the sack she’d procured onto Mors' saddle when the wyvern turned abruptly, hovering in midair with slow beats of his wings. Looking up, Branna was able to just make out the sliver-like arc of magic before it landed with a boom, the part of the town it hit exploding into a dark cloud of dust and debris. 

Branna giggled, the noise scratchy. “Mors?”

Rearing up, the wyvern ascended another few meters before angling himself downwards, diving towards the town. The wind whipped through Branna’s hair as she grinned, the cold drying her teeth and cooling her hands, which were gripped tightly around the spine at the head of the saddle. 

Clearing the walls, Mors bottomed out over the town, relaxing back into a drift as Branna glanced out over his side. The struck part of town was on fire, and the streets were a mess of noise as people rushed back and forth. It seemed the town was being evacuated, which was just as well. She'd need a larger prize pool to be encouraged to challenge a magic-user of that level. 

From what she could see of the weapon-bearing individuals down below, it seemed the majority of the army had been utilized to help guide the townsfolk out, but Branna wasn’t too interested in doing that. The helpless could continue doing their thing, and she’d continue doing hers. Instead, her eyes scoured the town, looking for anything of interest until a smile crossed her face.

“Hey, Mors, how about some of those?”

She leaned forwards to point out what she’d seen to her wyvern: A few rough-looking individuals heading into buildings rather than out of, the axes on their backs glinting in the torchlight. Around them the crowd shied away, their screams melding with the din across the town.

“Tasty, hm?” Branna croaked, a few scratchy giggles escaping her as she patted Mors’ side, then reached for the spear strapped there.

With a beat of his wings, the wyvern boosted them over, relaxing into a hover above the buildings into which the figures had disappeared. 

“Hm,” Branna hummed, the note cracking as she looked out at the innocuous structures below, then at the slew of guards and townsfolk on the main street. “Be a dear and do the thing, won't you?”

Rearing up with a strong beat of his wings, Mors roared.
_________________________

Status: Delighted
Class: Wyvern Flier
Exp: 0
Inventory:
Iron Spear
Vulnerary
END: D
STR: C                         
MAG: E
DEX: D
SPD: C
DEF: E
RES: E
LCK: D


With a canvas pouch slung over one shoulder and a half-eaten apple in her hand, Branna strolled through the town towards the wall, her eyes tracing the perimeter. She’d never understood the point of building walls. Be it from above or below, enemies would always find a way in, and getting over walls for her was as easy as getting on her wyvern, archers aside. Rather than staying in one place, it was far more efficient to go after enemies yourself, in Branna’s opinion. Blitz them, hit them so hard they reeled until the second attack came, then get out before retaliation was an option. The best defense was a good offense, after all, and a defense that stayed in one place was more of a limiter than an asset anyway. Tossing the apple core to one side, Branna stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, the sound a pebble on the lake of the silent corner of the town she was in. Along the wall, guards on duty turned to look, relaxing when they saw that she wasn’t armed. In response, Branna grinned, raising an arm to wave at them as she walked towards the gates. She looked suspicious, yes, but harmless enough. Her clothes left nowhere to hide weapons, after all, and she was walking away from the castle, not towards it. However, if they wanted to hold her up despite all those tells, well, Branna wasn’t in the mood to play along. A series of shouts was followed by a shadow overhead, and Branna’s smile grew into a grin just as her wyvern swooped to her side, wafting up a plume of dust on the dirt path. Another beat of his wings cleared the air, and Branna approached, cooing as she stroked his flank. Then, grasping one of the spines on his back, she hoisted herself onto his saddle, righting herself with a flip of her hair. “Giddy up, Mors,” she croaked, as the wyvern sprung off the ground with a strong beat of his wings. Clearing the low altitudes was always the slowest, but once that was over, the wyvern and rider were high enough to allow them an overhead vantage of the wall as they glided past. Below were the flickering torches of the town Branna had made a few circles around during the day, having found nothing much to occupy her time with. Instead, she’d stocked up on rations and such, leaving her coin pouch slightly lighter than before. Her financial situation had always been a bit precarious, but now that was different, wasn’t it? According to her new employer, she was now an ‘imperial soldier,’ a future hero, and heroes got paid well. Sure there was death to consider, but she didn’t plan on dying for a long while. No, she planned on getting paid. That all, though, could wait until tomorrow. It’d take more than a sack of coins to get her interested enough to take refuge in a town. Rather, mountains and hilltops suited her just fine, and Mors always managed to find one or the other. She’d be back tomorrow before the sun rose to do whatever the little lordling required, and she’d be back before most people were up because, after all, the morning sun hit mountaintops first. Branna was in the middle of securing the sack she’d procured onto Mors' saddle when the wyvern turned abruptly, hovering in midair with slow beats of his wings. Looking up, Branna was able to just make out the sliver-like arc of magic before it landed with a boom, the part of the town it hit exploding into a dark cloud of dust and debris. Branna giggled, the noise scratchy. “Mors?” Rearing up, the wyvern ascended another few meters before angling himself downwards, diving towards the town. The wind whipped through Branna’s hair as she grinned, the cold drying her teeth and cooling her hands, which were gripped tightly around the spine at the head of the saddle. Clearing the walls, Mors bottomed out over the town, relaxing back into a drift as Branna glanced out over his side. The struck part of town was on fire, and the streets were a mess of noise as people rushed back and forth. It seemed the town was being evacuated, which was just as well. She'd need a larger prize pool to be encouraged to challenge a magic-user of that level. From what she could see of the weapon-bearing individuals down below, it seemed the majority of the army had been utilized to help guide the townsfolk out, but Branna wasn’t too interested in doing that. The helpless could continue doing their thing, and she’d continue doing hers. Instead, her eyes scoured the town, looking for anything of interest until a smile crossed her face. “Hey, Mors, how about some of those?” She leaned forwards to point out what she’d seen to her wyvern: A few rough-looking individuals heading into buildings rather than out of, the axes on their backs glinting in the torchlight. Around them the crowd shied away, their screams melding with the din across the town. “Tasty, hm?” Branna croaked, a few scratchy giggles escaping her as she patted Mors’ side, then reached for the spear strapped there. With a beat of his wings, the wyvern boosted them over, relaxing into a hover above the buildings into which the figures had disappeared. “Hm,” Branna hummed, the note cracking as she looked out at the innocuous structures below, then at the slew of guards and townsfolk on the main street. “Be a dear and do the thing, won't you?” Rearing up with a strong beat of his wings, Mors roared.	_________________________ Status: Delighted Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 0 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

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Thom Chaff Garleton: The Evacuation, Evening


The argument was getting out of hand. Thom, and the guardsmen were about to get involved but just as they were about to step in were stopped by another guard patrol. "We'll handle this, your shifts are done." The other guard sergeant said, giving a nod toward Thom, who only returned the nod. Tapping the guards with him to get the hell out of dodge before this turned into some sort of riot, or blades were drawn. The other batch of guardsmen going to deal with the situation. The group went back through the streets, heading back toward the keep, and into the barracks. 

Before they could even strip off their gear, and put their weapons away they were stopped by the on duty captain. "We don't have enough guardsmen on shift, would you guys mind going back out there?" He asked the group, eliciting a collective sigh from the guardsmen. "Suppose we have too." 
"That-a-boy, i'll buy you all an ale after your shift as payment, that sound good?" The captain stated, only eliciting a cheer from the worn out guardsmen. The group filed back out of the keep into the streets ready to continue keeping the peace. 

To Thom the rest of the day was a blur. Stopping thieves, inspecting carts that came into the city, dealing with petty disputes between merchants, mercs, and civilians. By the time the evening rolled around the group was footsore, brain numb, and irritated. They were currently dealing with a man who felt like he had been ripped off by a merchant. "For the last time sir, we can't do anything if he isn't accepting your refund. You bought the product, we can't force him to give your money back." One of the irritated guardsmen said. "Do you know who you are dealing with? If my father were here, he'd have you lot executed. I'm the son of a noble you can't do this to me!" 
"Feel free to direct your father to the guard captain, we're just doing our job sir. Now move along."  Thom chimed in his voice clearly annoyed. Thom would of loved for this noble to get a little bit more violent, so he could put him in his place, but before the noble could cause more trouble though the group was interrupted by the sound of a distant explosion forcing Thom to flinch, the group of guardsmen looking at one another with fear in their eyes, it seemed the enemy had come. 

There was a brief moment of shock, that rippled through the guardsmen before Thom sprang into action, he raised his voice above the screams. "Everyone, head toward the castle. Anyone who can take a stand help those who cannot fight make it out!" He moved to usher the guardsmen with him toward a group of civilians but one of them shouted over the din. "We have to hurry back to the keep help the nobles evacuate." Thom shook his head. "To hell with the nobility, they have their own guard to help them get out. These people are relying on us to escort them there in one piece!"  He shouted back at the man making, then shoved him toward the front of the group of civilians

The group moved through the city, speeding along any non-combatants who couldn't fight, escorting them toward the keep. The sounds, the stress it just spurred Thom on even more, something inside of him wanting to surface, wanting to fight any enemy who came at him. But he forced himself to remain focused on keeping the crowd moving, praying to whatever saints might be listening to him, that no one would interfere with such a large group of people.

But like always the saints did not seem to care for the warrior. The slow moving group was eventually caught up to with their enemy. The odd thing that stood out to Thom however was they weren't dressed like kingdom soldiers, nor did they carry any banners, as well as the fact they seemed more concerned with looting to be kingdom warriors. But that mattered little to him, he shouted above the din. "Anyone who cannot fight keep moving toward the keep, the rest of you keep this path clear for any stragglers!"  He drew his ax, the other guardsmen with him drawing their weapons, and took defensive positions inviting the enemy to them, not bothering to break their formation to chase after their enemy. 

     
_________________________
Status: Upright, and defending

Class: Guard
Inventory:
Vulnerary
Iron Axe


The argument was getting out of hand. Thom, and the guardsmen were about to get involved but just as they were about to step in were stopped by another guard patrol. "We'll handle this, your shifts are done." The other guard sergeant said, giving a nod toward Thom, who only returned the nod. Tapping the guards with him to get the hell out of dodge before this turned into some sort of riot, or blades were drawn. The other batch of guardsmen going to deal with the situation. The group went back through the streets, heading back toward the keep, and into the barracks. Before they could even strip off their gear, and put their weapons away they were stopped by the on duty captain. "We don't have enough guardsmen on shift, would you guys mind going back out there?" He asked the group, eliciting a collective sigh from the guardsmen. "Suppose we have too." "That-a-boy, i'll buy you all an ale after your shift as payment, that sound good?" The captain stated, only eliciting a cheer from the worn out guardsmen. The group filed back out of the keep into the streets ready to continue keeping the peace. To Thom the rest of the day was a blur. Stopping thieves, inspecting carts that came into the city, dealing with petty disputes between merchants, mercs, and civilians. By the time the evening rolled around the group was footsore, brain numb, and irritated. They were currently dealing with a man who felt like he had been ripped off by a merchant. "For the last time sir, we can't do anything if he isn't accepting your refund. You bought the product, we can't force him to give your money back." One of the irritated guardsmen said. "Do you know who you are dealing with? If my father were here, he'd have you lot executed. I'm the son of a noble you can't do this to me!" "Feel free to direct your father to the guard captain, we're just doing our job sir. Now move along." Thom chimed in his voice clearly annoyed. Thom would of loved for this noble to get a little bit more violent, so he could put him in his place, but before the noble could cause more trouble though the group was interrupted by the sound of a distant explosion forcing Thom to flinch, the group of guardsmen looking at one another with fear in their eyes, it seemed the enemy had come. There was a brief moment of shock, that rippled through the guardsmen before Thom sprang into action, he raised his voice above the screams. "Everyone, head toward the castle. Anyone who can take a stand help those who cannot fight make it out!" He moved to usher the guardsmen with him toward a group of civilians but one of them shouted over the din. "We have to hurry back to the keep help the nobles evacuate." Thom shook his head. "To hell with the nobility, they have their own guard to help them get out. These people are relying on us to escort them there in one piece!" He shouted back at the man making, then shoved him toward the front of the group of civilians The group moved through the city, speeding along any non-combatants who couldn't fight, escorting them toward the keep. The sounds, the stress it just spurred Thom on even more, something inside of him wanting to surface, wanting to fight any enemy who came at him. But he forced himself to remain focused on keeping the crowd moving, praying to whatever saints might be listening to him, that no one would interfere with such a large group of people. But like always the saints did not seem to care for the warrior. The slow moving group was eventually caught up to with their enemy. The odd thing that stood out to Thom however was they weren't dressed like kingdom soldiers, nor did they carry any banners, as well as the fact they seemed more concerned with looting to be kingdom warriors. But that mattered little to him, he shouted above the din. "Anyone who cannot fight keep moving toward the keep, the rest of you keep this path clear for any stragglers!" He drew his ax, the other guardsmen with him drawing their weapons, and took defensive positions inviting the enemy to them, not bothering to break their formation to chase after their enemy.	_________________________ Status: Upright, and defending Class: Guard Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Axe

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Alnard Val Lothian
Garleton Plaza

Alnard had headed out for the plaza while Hadrick roused the recruits. He would oversee and make sure people were managing to make it safely to the castle. Already citizens were being ushered out of their homes and towards the castle. Alnard rushed to help those who had tripped or required assistance, but it didn't take long for the challenges to be faced tonight to be compounded. His attention was drawn to a wyvern rider who had swooped down on one part of the city, and as he looked to the streets in that direction, he could see a bit of fighting. This is bad, did some Lyonesse soldiers come through? No, as he got closer he could identify that they were unaffiliated. Bandits then. At a time like this.

He readied his sword to his side and joined the battle on the west side of town. There seemed to be some soldiers here already, he can identify there were both axemen and archers, and at the far end was likely their leader. He wore some more striking gear, and had a bigger axe too? Well, given it was hard to identify that from here, yet still that was not something he should worry about.

He recognized one of the guardsmen already having arrived. Thom was it? He hoped he was right, he had taken the time to get to know the names of the guardsmen at least.

"Thom, we should take care of those archers, lest our flying friend be shot down. I'll have your back!", he ordered.
_________________________
Status: Alive
Class: Spell Lord
Inventory:Rapier
Vulnerary


BATTLE!


Western Street
Front Line
2x Bandits

Back Line
2x Bandit Archers


@Typical
Branna Naves would find herself faced with the back line of these bandits as the greater worry. Having a wyvern made reaching those in front quick and easy, ensuring she had the first hit, and could run before they could strike, but if she lingered too long or could not make it in time, the archers behind them would have her number. Though she only sees 4 of them, two axemen and two archers, in her immediate vicinity, from high up she can see there were plenty more in the back streets and alleyways. If they don't secure this street, the bandits will have more time to spread throughout the city.

@Enalais(Alnard is assisting you with black magic)
With the orders from Alnard, he need only carry them out, or dispute them if he thinks there's a better way, but this is a simple scenario. For now they should quell the bandit threat, or at least prevent it from impinging on the evacuation effort. Alnard had spotted a chance to push them back with the help of Branna, but only if they can reach their archers. This may require breaking through their front line. Alnard already had fire forming in his hand, ready to pelt it at any attackers, or swing his blade into them.


Alnard had headed out for the plaza while Hadrick roused the recruits. He would oversee and make sure people were managing to make it safely to the castle. Already citizens were being ushered out of their homes and towards the castle. Alnard rushed to help those who had tripped or required assistance, but it didn't take long for the challenges to be faced tonight to be compounded. His attention was drawn to a wyvern rider who had swooped down on one part of the city, and as he looked to the streets in that direction, he could see a bit of fighting. This is bad, did some Lyonesse soldiers come through? No, as he got closer he could identify that they were unaffiliated. Bandits then. At a time like this. He readied his sword to his side and joined the battle on the west side of town. There seemed to be some soldiers here already, he can identify there were both axemen and archers, and at the far end was likely their leader. He wore some more striking gear, and had a bigger axe too? Well, given it was hard to identify that from here, yet still that was not something he should worry about. He recognized one of the guardsmen already having arrived. Thom was it? He hoped he was right, he had taken the time to get to know the names of the guardsmen at least. "Thom, we should take care of those archers, lest our flying friend be shot down. I'll have your back!", he ordered.	_________________________ Status: Alive Class: Spell Lord Inventory: Rapier Vulnerary

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Yankee

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Yankee God of Typos

Member Seen 1 day ago

Yankee

God of Typos

1900 posts

in 1970 days

Seen 1 day ago

Bio

Belisendé
Evening | Plaza | Garleton, Lothian Empire
At sunset, Bel found herself idly wandering the town of Garleton, her nerves alight and too wound up to even hope to sleep. It had been an exhausting day. Making the trek to a new town, experiencing new things, and being accepted as a potential recruit - though nothing had been made official as of yet - it tired her out. More than that, however, was the thought of sleeping in a camp or barracks. The young woman sighed. Wasn't she trying to become a soldier? She would have to get used to it. She'd been staying in inns and rented tavern rooms during her journey here, though she knew eventually that would come to an end. Nothing beats a plush bed though... he thought to herself.

As she strolled about she looked over the gathered soldiers in the plaza, camping out and making conversation with each other. She had no wish to join them, not right now anyway. She continued on, moving away from the central part of the city. She was alone right now, having left her horse behind at the town's stables. Though it pained her to do so, bringing him around everywhere in such a crowded little town wasn't feasible. She her bow with her though, and the small pack she'd taken when she left home - she felt better having something familiar close to her. She walks down narrow street paths, running her hand along the brick walls and thinking everything over from the past couple of weeks. Leaving home, on her own, trying to better herself and struggling to do it... but also meeting the common folk to the empire, seeing the countryside in a new light - not to mention getting to hear Prince Alnard's rousing speech firsthand only a few hours ago.

As she came to the alley's exit, she stopped just outside of the more open area it led to. She should probably be getting back to the castle and at least try and get some shut eye, especially if they were to be properly tested and accepted into the Imperial Army tomorrow.

Just as Bel determined the direction she should take and turned to retrace her steps, the harsh whooshing sound of something sailing through the air reached her ears. Whatever it was landed with such force that it exploded, and nearby - Bel could feel the tremor of it and feel the heat of the fire, even mostly protected in the alleyway where she was. There was something else too, like the particular feeling of magic in the air. Had the explosion been a magical one?

Bel spun around once again, facing the open area and now seeing the damage for herself. She was frozen in shock - before the sound of people finally shook her out of it. People screaming and crying, and calling out orders to evacuate. Evacuate... yes, evacuate! Guardsmen appeared to usher people in the direction of the castle, and Bel was about to join them when she suddenly remembered something very important: Sunbeam.

She dashed off in the direction of the stables, as fast as her legs would carry her. The horses would have been spooked for sure by that huge explosion, including Sunbeam. He had an aggressive nature, yes, but he was still just a horse - and not even one properly trained for war. As she got closer to the tables she let out a shrill whistle that would summon Sunbeam to her if someone had opened the stable doors, or the building was otherwise damaged in the chaos. 

Almost there! She thought - then, a nearby shriek stopped her dead in her tracks. An armed man was attempting to wrench something from a woman's grip, though she held on fiercely. Who was he? Why was he doing this? A thief, trying to profit even during a situation like this?

"Stop it!" Belisendé called out, but the noise of the town drowned her out and the would-be thief was preoccupied. The woman sobbed as she clung to what looked like something glittering - a family heirloom maybe? Either way, the man's actions were unacceptable. Bel hesitated, wondering where the closest guardsman was or if it was even worth it to---

Wait a minute, wasn't she trying to become a soldier? The thought rose to the front of her mind again and she approached the fighting pair. "HEY!!" she shouted, leveling her bow at the man. This time she got his attention.
_________________________
Status: Alive & Panicking
Class: Squire
Inventory:Iron Bow
Vulnerary

END: E STR: E 
MAG: D DEX: C 
SPD: D DEF: E 
RES: D LCK: C

N/A


At sunset, Bel found herself idly wandering the town of Garleton, her nerves alight and too wound up to even hope to sleep. It had been an exhausting day. Making the trek to a new town, experiencing new things, and being accepted as a potential recruit - though nothing had been made official as of yet - it tired her out. More than that, however, was the thought of sleeping in a camp or barracks. The young woman sighed. Wasn't she trying to become a soldier? She would have to get used to it. She'd been staying in inns and rented tavern rooms during her journey here, though she knew eventually that would come to an end. Nothing beats a plush bed though... he thought to herself. As she strolled about she looked over the gathered soldiers in the plaza, camping out and making conversation with each other. She had no wish to join them, not right now anyway. She continued on, moving away from the central part of the city. She was alone right now, having left her horse behind at the town's stables. Though it pained her to do so, bringing him around everywhere in such a crowded little town wasn't feasible. She her bow with her though, and the small pack she'd taken when she left home - she felt better having something familiar close to her. She walks down narrow street paths, running her hand along the brick walls and thinking everything over from the past couple of weeks. Leaving home, on her own, trying to better herself and struggling to do it... but also meeting the common folk to the empire, seeing the countryside in a new light - not to mention getting to hear Prince Alnard's rousing speech firsthand only a few hours ago. As she came to the alley's exit, she stopped just outside of the more open area it led to. She should probably be getting back to the castle and at least try and get some shut eye, especially if they were to be properly tested and accepted into the Imperial Army tomorrow. Just as Bel determined the direction she should take and turned to retrace her steps, the harsh whooshing sound of something sailing through the air reached her ears. Whatever it was landed with such force that it exploded, and nearby - Bel could feel the tremor of it and feel the heat of the fire, even mostly protected in the alleyway where she was. There was something else too, like the particular feeling of magic in the air. Had the explosion been a magical one? Bel spun around once again, facing the open area and now seeing the damage for herself. She was frozen in shock - before the sound of people finally shook her out of it. People screaming and crying, and calling out orders to evacuate. Evacuate... yes, evacuate! Guardsmen appeared to usher people in the direction of the castle, and Bel was about to join them when she suddenly remembered something very important: Sunbeam. She dashed off in the direction of the stables, as fast as her legs would carry her. The horses would have been spooked for sure by that huge explosion, including Sunbeam. He had an aggressive nature, yes, but he was still just a horse - and not even one properly trained for war. As she got closer to the tables she let out a shrill whistle that would summon Sunbeam to her if someone had opened the stable doors, or the building was otherwise damaged in the chaos. Almost there! She thought - then, a nearby shriek stopped her dead in her tracks. An armed man was attempting to wrench something from a woman's grip, though she held on fiercely. Who was he? Why was he doing this? A thief, trying to profit even during a situation like this? "Stop it!" Belisendé called out, but the noise of the town drowned her out and the would-be thief was preoccupied. The woman sobbed as she clung to what looked like something glittering - a family heirloom maybe? Either way, the man's actions were unacceptable. Bel hesitated, wondering where the closest guardsman was or if it was even worth it to--- Wait a minute, wasn't she trying to become a soldier? The thought rose to the front of her mind again and she approached the fighting pair. "HEY!!" she shouted, leveling her bow at the man. This time she got his attention.	_________________________ Status: Alive & Panicking Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Bow Vulnerary END: E STR: E MAG: D DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: D LCK: C N/A

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Savo

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Savo Time to go to Hell

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

Savo

Time to go to Hell

3770 posts

in 3821 days

Seen 0-24 hrs ago

Bio

Einar
Lothian Empire  ||  Garleton: Plaza  ||  Evening
Einar was grinning like an madman as he began whistling to himself, counting through the bounty he had convened during his time at the tavern, replaying every little even that transpired to lead up to that point as he began rolling a gold piece between his fingers that was oh so generously delivered to him by that little lady, Bel was it? Flipping the coin into the air, he ambled away from the castle, still keeping his mind on the preparations they had coming up.

Looking over at the sizeable amount of money though, he caught the coin in his satchel, passing by a couple of recruits who were heading back to the castle, possibly the barracks if he could guess. The mercenary's eyes shifted about, turning his head to eye the duo briefly before shaking it and clicking his tongue. Nah, there were better targets available.

As he departed to the town, he began sifting through the numerous piles of charms, knickknacks, that one book he never returned, and so on, but one thing he did take note of was the fact that he lacked any rations. Einar could only whistle a bit as he closed up the bag, increasing the speed he had in his step as he entered the plaza.

"I should probably buy some- ooooh," he caught what looked to be a pastry shop out of the corner out of his eye and was quickly drawn to it like a moth to flame, only to realize that it had closed down for the day. The mercenary couldn't help but sigh; whether it was out of relief or annoyance, who knew, but from the looks of it, some of the places looked to be closed up for the eve.

As he meandered about for a few minutes, taking in the twilight as a few soldiers, mercenaries, and what not conversed, he surveyed each and every place before stopping in front of one of the buildings. As much as he would of liked to flirt with one of the cute waif's, he had more pressing matters at hand. Smiling with a stale chuckle that followed, he lightly grunted as he gently pressed his hand against the old, dilapidated wooden door, entering the building, only to be greeted with what looked to be two siblings cleaning up the shop, a boy and a girl, with no one else in the musty looking building.

One of the two turned to see who entered, squealing as they bolted into the back yelling "Papa, papa, you have a customer," with the other who stood there awkwardly, averting their gaze from the mercenary who flashed the girl some pearly whites in return. "Were you all closing up," he leaned over on his knees, tilting his head as he observed the nervous child who shifted nervously, not answering his question as they bumbled back into dusting, only to accidentally brush some dust into Einars face.

His eyes watered up a smidgen while the man held up a fist to his mouth, hacking and sneezing, stumbling back an inch as the small girl stood there petrified at the small scene.

"Owh my, what seems to be the commotion," a gruffer, much more croaky voice contrasted the squeaky shrill of the boy from earlier as Einar looked up with one eye squinting open and another clasped shut. The man looked to be in his late thirties and had a goatee with some stray stubble coating his jaw as he hobbled on to the counter before resting there with a yawn, bagged eyes drooping.

"Nothing, nothing, just, caaaaffffff," he coughed before sneezing a little, his fruity voice becoming raspy for a split second before he sneezed a couple of times in a row, doing his best to keep his warm smile up, "jus' got some dust into my eyes... and my nose."

Once that fit was done, he let in a deep breath, before sneezing and exhaling again, clearing his throat as he approached the merchant. "I'm lookin' to buy some rations for the way out," the man nodded before slowly pushing himself off the counter before hobbling to the back of the room. The boy, who was a lot more excitable just seemed to pounce on Einar as he darted around the counter and tugged at his arm.

Mister, mister, are you one of Prince Alnards soldiers" the girl shriveled back at her brothers antics before walking over and trying to get him off of the mercenary, but to no avail. The boy had an iron grip and there was no way to tear them off, lest they were to tear off some of Einar's sleeve in the process.

However, he was kind enough to shake his head and waggle his finger with a bright smile, "Nah, I'm a mercenary kid, I'm not a part of Alnards regular soldiers." The boy stopped jumping up Einar's sleeve, backing down before staring at him like some sort of wild animal. "So you're one of those greedy guys who doesn't serve under the Prince."

"I mean, that's one way to put it, but it's more like I fight on his behalf and he pays me for it, like some of the others who have joined up," he grinned, not even displaying any sort of irritation or vexation against the crude claims, keeping that warm personality up as he leaned on the counter.

"Hey! Whydoncha stop being greedy and actually join the army?"

"It's not really greed kiddo," he uttered, though it was completely true that he loved gold and the sound it made when dripping into his coffers, "why does your father run this shop?" That man was these kids dad, right?

The boy paused and thought for a moment, staying silent until the girl shakily spoke up, "Uh, uhm, is it to s-support us?" Einar beamed at her. "Cor-rrrrect~," he replied in a sing-song voice, "I'm a merc cuz' it's a way to support myself, plus I get to see plenty'a places in the process."

He kneeled down, whispering and dramatically throwing his arm out, hand completely open, From the glazing white peaks of Dinas Afaraon, to the blazing golden sands of Zion, I've seen wa-ha-haaaay more than the noble would ever see and I'm still pree' young m'self!" The boy squealed, his sister jolting back, but looking at the man with wide eyes, begging to be told more.

"Wohd' ya two stop pesterin' the man!" The two squeaked before dashing behind the counter as the man hobbled over, grumbling and groaning, apologizing to Einar for them annoying the man, only for the mercenary to keep that same amicable smile he had up, waving one hand while groping through his bag. "Nah, it's fine, it's fine, I actually don't mind it!"

The man sighed, thanking Einar for his patronage before scooting a bag that had held jerky, dried fruits, nuts, and other necessities that looked to keep a person fed for at least a week, and stated that the price was four gold pieces. Deftly retrieving the four, Einar bounced them onto the counter as the man began picking each one up. In return, Einar retrieved the bag, tying it up before tossing it into his satchel.

PPPPHHHWOOOOSH!

Before he could bid the man a farewell, the sounds of an ear piercing explosion blasted his ears as the ground violently shook and rumbled, as if the earth was throwing a temper tantrum, the flames coating the shop in a bright red and orange hue, the scaffolding collapsing on the shopkeeper. Einar was able to easily keep his footing, though the rest of the inhabitants weren't as they came to their senses before wailing and scrambling to their feet, trying to drag the burning log off of their dad.

The mercenary swiftly adapted, recognizing that, yes, this building was on fire and yes, that was a ton of damage in such a minuscule amount of time as he deftly sidestepped a falling piece of wood, the smell of the air quickly becoming enveloped with smoke and ashes. Einar could only grimace as he calmly walked over, looking deadly serious at the man; if anything, he probably broke some bones, but for the most part he was still breathing.

"You're a damn ox, aren't ya." Sighing, he watching as the flames slowly danced and pirouette along the wood, threatening to light the boy and girl on fire if they didn't get off. Shaking his head, he yelled at the two to get out of the way as he rushed over and gripped the debris, grunting and gritting his teeth as he forced the lump of burning wood off, telling the two to go for their dad. They were still in a daze when Einar lifted the heavy piece of wood that was once their home, only to be snapped out of that stupor with Einar barking at them to hurry it up.

It took them a minute to drag their dad out, grunting, struggling, and crying as they felt stinging tears fall down their face while Einar felt the stinging flames tickling his face. Once they got him out, Einar promptly dropped it with a resounding thud before jogging over to the man to help him up, listening to him cough and wheeze for a moment until he was able to catch his breath the best he could. Wobbling on his feet, the two children took Einars place to support their dad, the mercenary, rushing towards the door and slamming it open only to be greeted with a town in disarray.

A cacophony of sounds ringed throughout his ears, as sounds of yelling, screaming, and guffawing could be heard, making it difficult to determine what everyone was saying. However, the scene did inform him of what was going on rather quickly as he saw guards rushing about, men and women screaming as they ran in multiple directions like headless chicken, and wild looking men covered in furs and cloth that were brandishing weapons.

While that told him more than enough he was able to make out some important words - castle, evacuation, bandits, fire. That told him more than enough information as he drew his blade and emerged from the flaming structure, only to hold his arm out to the trio trying to exit the house as he backed up himself. "Hold it," he hissed, as his eyes darted over to the few of bandits that were occupying the streets and the small amount of guards that had formed up to combat them, with one of them having striking red hair.

Wait, that was Prince Alnard! Was he spearheading this whole operation to evacuate? That really didn't matter to him at the moment as him and the family of three were in a tight spot, as well as a woman and her... dragon? If anything, he recognized the woman from earlier when he was sifting through folk coming through and she just gave him the creeps from first glance.

"Whatever you do, wait until you see those four go down, then run for the castle, you got that?" The three bobbed their heads up and down, not bothering to object to the now scarily serious young man as he returned with a nod. Gripping his sword tightly, he swiftly surveyed the enemies, picking out their positioning in correlation to him and the others.

"Alright, if the dragon girl and I attack, we should be able to take out the archers and finish off the others with a pincer maneuver," he noted, slowly trotting out into the streets, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling. With his path determined, he held his sword out and dashed at the archer, raising his sword to the side and quickly closed in on the archer.

He couldn't tell if the man heard him or not, but the sounds of the plaza in chaos and their focus being primarily on the prince and the other soldiers was more than enough for him to close the distance. And in an instant, Einar's sword flew threw the air, looking to find his blade in the side of the archer in the hopes of slicing their side out
_________________________
Status: Hot, but not bothered
Class	  
Page

Inventory    
Iron Sword
Vulnerary

Experience 
0/0

Stats	   
END:	D
STR:	D
MAG:	C
DEX:	C
SPD:	D
DEF:	E
RES:	E
LCK:	E

Action	   
Flanking a Bandit Archer

Supporting  
Alnard (@Sho Minazuki)
Branna (@Enalais)
Thom (@Typical)


Einar was grinning like an madman as he began whistling to himself, counting through the bounty he had convened during his time at the tavern, replaying every little even that transpired to lead up to that point as he began rolling a gold piece between his fingers that was oh so generously delivered to him by that little lady, Bel was it? Flipping the coin into the air, he ambled away from the castle, still keeping his mind on the preparations they had coming up. Looking over at the sizeable amount of money though, he caught the coin in his satchel, passing by a couple of recruits who were heading back to the castle, possibly the barracks if he could guess. The mercenary's eyes shifted about, turning his head to eye the duo briefly before shaking it and clicking his tongue. Nah, there were better targets available. As he departed to the town, he began sifting through the numerous piles of charms, knickknacks, that one book he never returned, and so on, but one thing he did take note of was the fact that he lacked any rations. Einar could only whistle a bit as he closed up the bag, increasing the speed he had in his step as he entered the plaza. "I should probably buy some- ooooh," he caught what looked to be a pastry shop out of the corner out of his eye and was quickly drawn to it like a moth to flame, only to realize that it had closed down for the day. The mercenary couldn't help but sigh; whether it was out of relief or annoyance, who knew, but from the looks of it, some of the places looked to be closed up for the eve. As he meandered about for a few minutes, taking in the twilight as a few soldiers, mercenaries, and what not conversed, he surveyed each and every place before stopping in front of one of the buildings. As much as he would of liked to flirt with one of the cute waif's, he had more pressing matters at hand. Smiling with a stale chuckle that followed, he lightly grunted as he gently pressed his hand against the old, dilapidated wooden door, entering the building, only to be greeted with what looked to be two siblings cleaning up the shop, a boy and a girl, with no one else in the musty looking building. One of the two turned to see who entered, squealing as they bolted into the back yelling "Papa, papa, you have a customer," with the other who stood there awkwardly, averting their gaze from the mercenary who flashed the girl some pearly whites in return. "Were you all closing up," he leaned over on his knees, tilting his head as he observed the nervous child who shifted nervously, not answering his question as they bumbled back into dusting, only to accidentally brush some dust into Einars face. His eyes watered up a smidgen while the man held up a fist to his mouth, hacking and sneezing, stumbling back an inch as the small girl stood there petrified at the small scene. "Owh my, what seems to be the commotion," a gruffer, much more croaky voice contrasted the squeaky shrill of the boy from earlier as Einar looked up with one eye squinting open and another clasped shut. The man looked to be in his late thirties and had a goatee with some stray stubble coating his jaw as he hobbled on to the counter before resting there with a yawn, bagged eyes drooping. "Nothing, nothing, just, caaaaffffff," he coughed before sneezing a little, his fruity voice becoming raspy for a split second before he sneezed a couple of times in a row, doing his best to keep his warm smile up, "jus' got some dust into my eyes... and my nose." Once that fit was done, he let in a deep breath, before sneezing and exhaling again, clearing his throat as he approached the merchant. "I'm lookin' to buy some rations for the way out," the man nodded before slowly pushing himself off the counter before hobbling to the back of the room. The boy, who was a lot more excitable just seemed to pounce on Einar as he darted around the counter and tugged at his arm. Mister, mister, are you one of Prince Alnards soldiers" the girl shriveled back at her brothers antics before walking over and trying to get him off of the mercenary, but to no avail. The boy had an iron grip and there was no way to tear them off, lest they were to tear off some of Einar's sleeve in the process. However, he was kind enough to shake his head and waggle his finger with a bright smile, "Nah, I'm a mercenary kid, I'm not a part of Alnards regular soldiers." The boy stopped jumping up Einar's sleeve, backing down before staring at him like some sort of wild animal. "So you're one of those greedy guys who doesn't serve under the Prince." "I mean, that's one way to put it, but it's more like I fight on his behalf and he pays me for it, like some of the others who have joined up," he grinned, not even displaying any sort of irritation or vexation against the crude claims, keeping that warm personality up as he leaned on the counter. "Hey! Whydoncha stop being greedy and actually join the army?" "It's not really greed kiddo," he uttered, though it was completely true that he loved gold and the sound it made when dripping into his coffers, "why does your father run this shop?" That man was these kids dad, right? The boy paused and thought for a moment, staying silent until the girl shakily spoke up, "Uh, uhm, is it to s-support us?" Einar beamed at her. "Cor-rrrrect~," he replied in a sing-song voice, "I'm a merc cuz' it's a way to support myself, plus I get to see plenty'a places in the process." He kneeled down, whispering and dramatically throwing his arm out, hand completely open, From the glazing white peaks of Dinas Afaraon, to the blazing golden sands of Zion, I've seen wa-ha-haaaay more than the noble would ever see and I'm still pree' young m'self!" The boy squealed, his sister jolting back, but looking at the man with wide eyes, begging to be told more. "Wohd' ya two stop pesterin' the man!" The two squeaked before dashing behind the counter as the man hobbled over, grumbling and groaning, apologizing to Einar for them annoying the man, only for the mercenary to keep that same amicable smile he had up, waving one hand while groping through his bag. "Nah, it's fine, it's fine, I actually don't mind it!" The man sighed, thanking Einar for his patronage before scooting a bag that had held jerky, dried fruits, nuts, and other necessities that looked to keep a person fed for at least a week, and stated that the price was four gold pieces. Deftly retrieving the four, Einar bounced them onto the counter as the man began picking each one up. In return, Einar retrieved the bag, tying it up before tossing it into his satchel. PPPPHHHWOOOOSH! Before he could bid the man a farewell, the sounds of an ear piercing explosion blasted his ears as the ground violently shook and rumbled, as if the earth was throwing a temper tantrum, the flames coating the shop in a bright red and orange hue, the scaffolding collapsing on the shopkeeper. Einar was able to easily keep his footing, though the rest of the inhabitants weren't as they came to their senses before wailing and scrambling to their feet, trying to drag the burning log off of their dad. The mercenary swiftly adapted, recognizing that, yes, this building was on fire and yes, that was a ton of damage in such a minuscule amount of time as he deftly sidestepped a falling piece of wood, the smell of the air quickly becoming enveloped with smoke and ashes. Einar could only grimace as he calmly walked over, looking deadly serious at the man; if anything, he probably broke some bones, but for the most part he was still breathing. "You're a damn ox, aren't ya." Sighing, he watching as the flames slowly danced and pirouette along the wood, threatening to light the boy and girl on fire if they didn't get off. Shaking his head, he yelled at the two to get out of the way as he rushed over and gripped the debris, grunting and gritting his teeth as he forced the lump of burning wood off, telling the two to go for their dad. They were still in a daze when Einar lifted the heavy piece of wood that was once their home, only to be snapped out of that stupor with Einar barking at them to hurry it up. It took them a minute to drag their dad out, grunting, struggling, and crying as they felt stinging tears fall down their face while Einar felt the stinging flames tickling his face. Once they got him out, Einar promptly dropped it with a resounding thud before jogging over to the man to help him up, listening to him cough and wheeze for a moment until he was able to catch his breath the best he could. Wobbling on his feet, the two children took Einars place to support their dad, the mercenary, rushing towards the door and slamming it open only to be greeted with a town in disarray. A cacophony of sounds ringed throughout his ears, as sounds of yelling, screaming, and guffawing could be heard, making it difficult to determine what everyone was saying. However, the scene did inform him of what was going on rather quickly as he saw guards rushing about, men and women screaming as they ran in multiple directions like headless chicken, and wild looking men covered in furs and cloth that were brandishing weapons. While that told him more than enough he was able to make out some important words - castle, evacuation, bandits, fire. That told him more than enough information as he drew his blade and emerged from the flaming structure, only to hold his arm out to the trio trying to exit the house as he backed up himself. "Hold it," he hissed, as his eyes darted over to the few of bandits that were occupying the streets and the small amount of guards that had formed up to combat them, with one of them having striking red hair. Wait, that was Prince Alnard! Was he spearheading this whole operation to evacuate? That really didn't matter to him at the moment as him and the family of three were in a tight spot, as well as a woman and her... dragon? If anything, he recognized the woman from earlier when he was sifting through folk coming through and she just gave him the creeps from first glance. "Whatever you do, wait until you see those four go down, then run for the castle, you got that?" The three bobbed their heads up and down, not bothering to object to the now scarily serious young man as he returned with a nod. Gripping his sword tightly, he swiftly surveyed the enemies, picking out their positioning in correlation to him and the others. "Alright, if the dragon girl and I attack, we should be able to take out the archers and finish off the others with a pincer maneuver," he noted, slowly trotting out into the streets, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling. With his path determined, he held his sword out and dashed at the archer, raising his sword to the side and quickly closed in on the archer. He couldn't tell if the man heard him or not, but the sounds of the plaza in chaos and their focus being primarily on the prince and the other soldiers was more than enough for him to close the distance. And in an instant, Einar's sword flew threw the air, looking to find his blade in the side of the archer in the hopes of slicing their side out	_________________________ Status: Hot, but not bothered Class Page Inventory Iron Sword Vulnerary Experience 0/0 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E Action Flanking a Bandit Archer Supporting Alnard (@Sho Minazuki) Branna (@Enalais) Thom (@Typical)

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Sho Minazuki

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Sho Minazuki P5 Hero

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BATTLE!


Western Street@Enalais@Typical
Front Line
2x Bandits

Back Line
1x Bandit Archer
1x Bandit Archer (Einar +5 EXP)
1x Bandit (New!)


@Savo
The young mercenary would be met with a formation of some sort by the bandits. Though he would manage to dig his blade into the bandit archer, he would find another turning the corner with an axe in hand. Though his blade would fell the Bandit Archer, he was suddenly being turned on. The other archer had not the time to focus on him, but the new Bandit would lock blades with him, a clumsy, but hefty strike going straight for his head.

Alnard along with those others present would spot the young swordsman diving into the fray from an unexpected angle. This was a prime chance to bring the fight to them.

---

Stables
ENEMY!
Bandit Archer

@Yankee
The young lady finding herself in a new situation she had not counted on so soon in her little journey was met with a Bandit Archer. Aiming her bow, she would find a good angle that didn't put the damsel that the bandit was trying to wring for goods in danger. Moreover he had not yet noticed her. This was a prime chance. One arrow would be all it takes, in the right place. But should she fail to land her mark, the other bandit too was an archer, and a counter-attack would be inevitable. The flames around her soared, and the noise did little to calm her nerves.

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Typical

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Typical

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Branna Naves
Town Edge  ||  Lothian Empire: Garleton  ||  Evening
From the back of her wyvern, Branna watched the scene pan out below her. Having effectively given away her position, she was the target until a new one appeared, and appear it did. At the head of the street, the city guard joined the fray, the imperial red-and-white cape of the lordling from earlier that day standing out amongst the steel and leather. 

“Hm,” Branna hummed, directing her gaze to the bandits closest to her: a pair of archers, alone for now until their axe-wielding comrades arrived from further down the street. With the front liners accounted for, the archers were the obvious target for her, and she grinned when she spotted a swordsman skirting through the streets towards the archers.

Branna giggled, hefting her spear. “Archers,” she croaked, and Mors dove. 

With the wind whipping past the smile on her face, she adjusted her spear to her wyvern’s diagonal trajectory so that the tip was aimed straight at the back of the unassuming archer. Their attention was focused on the other way, of course, because when it came to striking from the correct direction, Mors knew best.
_________________________

Status: Diving
Class: Wyvern Flier
Exp: 0
Inventory:
Iron Spear
Vulnerary
END: D
STR: C                         
MAG: E
DEX: D
SPD: C
DEF: E
RES: E
LCK: D


From the back of her wyvern, Branna watched the scene pan out below her. Having effectively given away her position, she was the target until a new one appeared, and appear it did. At the head of the street, the city guard joined the fray, the imperial red-and-white cape of the lordling from earlier that day standing out amongst the steel and leather. “Hm,” Branna hummed, directing her gaze to the bandits closest to her: a pair of archers, alone for now until their axe-wielding comrades arrived from further down the street. With the front liners accounted for, the archers were the obvious target for her, and she grinned when she spotted a swordsman skirting through the streets towards the archers. Branna giggled, hefting her spear. “Archers,” she croaked, and Mors dove. With the wind whipping past the smile on her face, she adjusted her spear to her wyvern’s diagonal trajectory so that the tip was aimed straight at the back of the unassuming archer. Their attention was focused on the other way, of course, because when it came to striking from the correct direction, Mors knew best.	_________________________ Status: Diving Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 0 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lugubrious

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Artemisia

Army Encampment to Merchant Row, Garleton

True to Artemisia's prediction, Trace took her up on her offer, and within short order the pair embedded themselves in a local eatery to pass some time. In the period that followed, they broached a number of subjects, but seldom got deeper than the surface. While at the dark mage's prompting Trace gave up a couple stories about his mercenary past, which seemed fairly standard fair as far as Artemisia was concerned, he did not open up about anything further back or more interesting. That was fair, though, since neither did Artemisia. Whenever asked, she demonstrated a decisive refusal to share any details of her origins or goals, though that only seemed to pique Trace's curiosity. She did, however, opt to tell him that she sought someone with an incurable sickness and pink eyes. That reveal gradually led to Trace making a new offer, which Artemisia understood as a futile attempt to convince her to rethink mercenary work with him, but one that she accepted nonetheless: to spend the remainder of the evening among the armed forces, with Trace as her guide, to look for and inquire about her VIP.

That led to a less-than-pleasant romp through the army's turf over the course of the whole afternoon. While not always threatened, Artemisia managed to feel out of place the whole time, and even with Trace helping progress came slowly. Nobody seemed to know who she sought, nor did any soldier or squire bear the characteristics she watched for. She ended up in the castle barracks by the time Prince Alnard himself opted to give the recruits a rousing speech, thanks to Trace, who as an independent mercenary answered to that noble alone. The prince's word's rolled off her back like water across duck feathers. She harbored no intention whatsoever of fighting alongside him, let along dying with him. Important things remained for her to attend to—besides, she rather liked being alive, her comrades within the Coven, and most of all her dear father. As the mercenaries were dismissed, Artemisia found herself wondering where Solomon was now. The Wyvern Courier traveled far and wide, the breadth and beauty of the whole continent beneath him. With a smile, the dark mage remembered the last time he'd taken her up with him on that surly old drake of his. Flight was a glorious thing. If she'd been born in a city rather than the swamp, Artemisia wondered if she might have followed in his footsteps as a pegasus rider. Things would have been so much less complicated.

A short time later, as Artemisia put the finishing touches on a new entry in her Book of Secrets, the hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. The air felt...charged. As in moments before a thunderstorm burst. Galvanized into action, she jotted down another line, snapped the diary shut, and stood up from where she sat against the outside of Trace's tent. Her baby blues scanned the night sky. Two seconds passed. Three. Four. The silver-haired woman furrowed her brow. Had she been imagining things...?

Then the starry heavens lit up with flame, and the entirety of Garleton shuddered like a stuck pig. “Whoa.” Artemisia steadied herself, watching as her vision filled with brilliant, hungry orange. The town was burning. She thought of jostling the tent and telling Trace to come out, but surely he heard and felt the blast for himself. The same thought scalded itself onto everyone's minds: they were under attack. All around, chaos had erupted. There weren't many citizens in this particular area to flat-out panic, but not all the soldiers kept their heads. For her part, Artemisia surveyed the tempest coolly, looking for an exit. “Resonant flames,” she explained to Trace with nonchalance. “The work of a large mage circle. I must confess myself impressed, though not so much that I shall hesitate in my withdrawal. Thank you for your help, Mr. Trace, but I believe it is time to depart.”

That proved easier said than done, however. Orders came in, as best she could tell, for the soldiers to help evacuate the citizens via the castle. Since evacuation sounded pretty good to Artemisia, and running willy-nilly through the city could very well lead her into the enemy force responsible for the fire strike, she allowed herself to be swept up by the current. That, however, turned out to be a bad idea. With her lack of size and athleticism, as well as her robes, keeping up with the stampeding civilians ended up being both difficult and hazardous. As the stream of humans rounded a corner to head up the main thoroughfare to the castle, Artemisia took a hard shove, tripped over the edge of her gown, and stumbled out of the crowd. She hit an abandoned horse cart head-on and dropped like a sack of flour. After rolling a couple times, she came to a stop, clutching her head as unbidden tears filled her eyes. “Ow ow ow, Gwyn damn it.” Despite her arching noggin she struggled to her feet, lurching in the wrong direction a short way before falling to her knees.

One of the soldiers tasked with evacuating noticed and left the crowd to jog her way down Merchant Row. “Miss? You alright? You're going the wrong way.” The man, with long blonde hair in a ponytail, wielded gauntlets and wore a concerned expression. With his green eyes on Artemisia he didn't notice the arrow sailing his way until it was too late. “Gah!” It sunk into his right thigh, provoking an agonized grunt. He staggered but avoided falling over as a few marauders came into view. Gritting his teeth, he raised his gauntlets into a ready stance, only to wince again as Artemisia used him for support to stand up again. In grim silence the woman held up her hands, surrounding them in purple energy and black particles. Whether he appreciated it or not, this fistfighter would be backed up by a practitioner of the dark arts. Whoever these aggressors were, they had no idea what they were in for.

__________________________
Status: Dazed, small, and ready to brawl
Class: Occultist
Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets
New entry                                     
This afternoon I spent perusing the area's armed forces. I expect ordinary soldiers would be loathe to have someone such as I in their midst, but I had the fortune of being vouched for and guided around by my new acquaintance, Trace. While our conversation at lunch did precious little to endear himself to me in terms of intrigue, the fellow is certainly proving himself obliging and useful. All the same, I fear today's end will mark the termination of our cooperation. I did manage to behold the prince himself, whose striking features have inspired me to learn more about his exploits come the next opportunity. Perhaps it is construable as indulgent, but I am sure time spent learning the tale of the royal family is not time misspent.

As I write now, I find certain sensations gnawing at me. A lick of magic haunts the air, tingling the mind and body. I am sure that something interesting is soon to happen.


True to Artemisia's prediction, Trace took her up on her offer, and within short order the pair embedded themselves in a local eatery to pass some time. In the period that followed, they broached a number of subjects, but seldom got deeper than the surface. While at the dark mage's prompting Trace gave up a couple stories about his mercenary past, which seemed fairly standard fair as far as Artemisia was concerned, he did not open up about anything further back or more interesting. That was fair, though, since neither did Artemisia. Whenever asked, she demonstrated a decisive refusal to share any details of her origins or goals, though that only seemed to pique Trace's curiosity. She did, however, opt to tell him that she sought someone with an incurable sickness and pink eyes. That reveal gradually led to Trace making a new offer, which Artemisia understood as a futile attempt to convince her to rethink mercenary work with him, but one that she accepted nonetheless: to spend the remainder of the evening among the armed forces, with Trace as her guide, to look for and inquire about her VIP. That led to a less-than-pleasant romp through the army's turf over the course of the whole afternoon. While not always threatened, Artemisia managed to feel out of place the whole time, and even with Trace helping progress came slowly. Nobody seemed to know who she sought, nor did any soldier or squire bear the characteristics she watched for. She ended up in the castle barracks by the time Prince Alnard himself opted to give the recruits a rousing speech, thanks to Trace, who as an independent mercenary answered to that noble alone. The prince's word's rolled off her back like water across duck feathers. She harbored no intention whatsoever of fighting alongside him, let along dying with him. Important things remained for her to attend to—besides, she rather liked being alive, her comrades within the Coven, and most of all her dear father. As the mercenaries were dismissed, Artemisia found herself wondering where Solomon was now. The Wyvern Courier traveled far and wide, the breadth and beauty of the whole continent beneath him. With a smile, the dark mage remembered the last time he'd taken her up with him on that surly old drake of his. Flight was a glorious thing. If she'd been born in a city rather than the swamp, Artemisia wondered if she might have followed in his footsteps as a pegasus rider. Things would have been so much less complicated. A short time later, as Artemisia put the finishing touches on a new entry in her Book of Secrets, the hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. The air felt...charged. As in moments before a thunderstorm burst. Galvanized into action, she jotted down another line, snapped the diary shut, and stood up from where she sat against the outside of Trace's tent. Her baby blues scanned the night sky. Two seconds passed. Three. Four. The silver-haired woman furrowed her brow. Had she been imagining things...? Then the starry heavens lit up with flame, and the entirety of Garleton shuddered like a stuck pig. “Whoa.” Artemisia steadied herself, watching as her vision filled with brilliant, hungry orange. The town was burning. She thought of jostling the tent and telling Trace to come out, but surely he heard and felt the blast for himself. The same thought scalded itself onto everyone's minds: they were under attack. All around, chaos had erupted. There weren't many citizens in this particular area to flat-out panic, but not all the soldiers kept their heads. For her part, Artemisia surveyed the tempest coolly, looking for an exit. “Resonant flames,” she explained to Trace with nonchalance. “The work of a large mage circle. I must confess myself impressed, though not so much that I shall hesitate in my withdrawal. Thank you for your help, Mr. Trace, but I believe it is time to depart.” That proved easier said than done, however. Orders came in, as best she could tell, for the soldiers to help evacuate the citizens via the castle. Since evacuation sounded pretty good to Artemisia, and running willy-nilly through the city could very well lead her into the enemy force responsible for the fire strike, she allowed herself to be swept up by the current. That, however, turned out to be a bad idea. With her lack of size and athleticism, as well as her robes, keeping up with the stampeding civilians ended up being both difficult and hazardous. As the stream of humans rounded a corner to head up the main thoroughfare to the castle, Artemisia took a hard shove, tripped over the edge of her gown, and stumbled out of the crowd. She hit an abandoned horse cart head-on and dropped like a sack of flour. After rolling a couple times, she came to a stop, clutching her head as unbidden tears filled her eyes. “Ow ow ow, Gwyn damn it.” Despite her arching noggin she struggled to her feet, lurching in the wrong direction a short way before falling to her knees. One of the soldiers tasked with evacuating noticed and left the crowd to jog her way down Merchant Row. “Miss? You alright? You're going the wrong way.” The man, with long blonde hair in a ponytail, wielded gauntlets and wore a concerned expression. With his green eyes on Artemisia he didn't notice the arrow sailing his way until it was too late. “Gah!” It sunk into his right thigh, provoking an agonized grunt. He staggered but avoided falling over as a few marauders came into view. Gritting his teeth, he raised his gauntlets into a ready stance, only to wince again as Artemisia used him for support to stand up again. In grim silence the woman held up her hands, surrounding them in purple energy and black particles. Whether he appreciated it or not, this fistfighter would be backed up by a practitioner of the dark arts. Whoever these aggressors were, they had no idea what they were in for.	__________________________ Status: Dazed, small, and ready to brawl Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets New entry _{This afternoon I spent perusing the area's armed forces. I expect ordinary soldiers would be loathe to have someone such as I in their midst, but I had the fortune of being vouched for and guided around by my new acquaintance, Trace. While our conversation at lunch did precious little to endear himself to me in terms of intrigue, the fellow is certainly proving himself obliging and useful. All the same, I fear today's end will mark the termination of our cooperation. I did manage to behold the prince himself, whose striking features have inspired me to learn more about his exploits come the next opportunity. Perhaps it is construable as indulgent, but I am sure time spent learning the tale of the royal family is not time misspent. As I write now, I find certain sensations gnawing at me. A lick of magic haunts the air, tingling the mind and body. I am sure that something interesting is soon to happen.}

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Thom Chaff Garleton: The Evacuation, Evening


The group was getting ready to push forward a bit to help some of the stragglers who were getting stopped by the bandits. As Thom was going to spur the group on, a wyvern roared in the distance, and the group was not prepared for that it took position on a building nearby. It didn't have any identifying colors, but it also wasn't plunging into the group of guardsmen, so that led Thom to believe it was friendly. As he took a step forward he was snapped back to the current situation at hand by a voice behind him, that of the crown prince. He had only heard tales of the man, he had also heard the man had given a briefing today but they were already doing their jobs when had gathered the soldiers. But Thom knew enough about the man to know what he looked like, and to know the power he wielded. 

Thom was going to offer an idea, but most nobles didn't like it when some peasant offered ideas, so he assumed the crown prince was like most nobles but more powerful. Thus leading him to keeping his idea to himself, instead following the boys idea of pressing forward. Of course that also went against the standard procedure when royalty was out, and about. The guard captain, had told them if any of the royal bloodline were to show up in the streets without an escort they were to stay close to him, and if need be throw themselves on him to take any blows that might be coming for him. Staying close to the nobility didn't exactly sound fun to Thom so he pressed forward, spurring himself to punch through the line of bandits to head toward their back line. 

With as much speed as he could muster, he brought his ax swinging down for a bandit who jumped out of the way, he swung his own ax back at Thom who ducked the blow. The two went back, and forth neither one able to parry, or block blows as the shock of the weapons clashing could cause someone's arms to give out. So the two of them looked like they were in a delicate dance of death, before the guardsmen finally got annoyed with the combat, and moved himself further from the bandit, and put himself on the other end of a display table that was displaying some jewelry. With a huff the guard kicked the end of the table, pushing it into the bandits legs, the bandit lost balance enough for Thom to bring his ax down on the poor mans chest. The smell of iron spurred the guardsmen on, he hoped the prince was using his magic well enough to keep the other bandits off him while he went rushed the back line. Anger, and blood lust pushing him forward.   
     
_________________________
Status: Upright, and defending

Class: Guard
Inventory:Vulnerary
Iron Axe


The group was getting ready to push forward a bit to help some of the stragglers who were getting stopped by the bandits. As Thom was going to spur the group on, a wyvern roared in the distance, and the group was not prepared for that it took position on a building nearby. It didn't have any identifying colors, but it also wasn't plunging into the group of guardsmen, so that led Thom to believe it was friendly. As he took a step forward he was snapped back to the current situation at hand by a voice behind him, that of the crown prince. He had only heard tales of the man, he had also heard the man had given a briefing today but they were already doing their jobs when had gathered the soldiers. But Thom knew enough about the man to know what he looked like, and to know the power he wielded. Thom was going to offer an idea, but most nobles didn't like it when some peasant offered ideas, so he assumed the crown prince was like most nobles but more powerful. Thus leading him to keeping his idea to himself, instead following the boys idea of pressing forward. Of course that also went against the standard procedure when royalty was out, and about. The guard captain, had told them if any of the royal bloodline were to show up in the streets without an escort they were to stay close to him, and if need be throw themselves on him to take any blows that might be coming for him. Staying close to the nobility didn't exactly sound fun to Thom so he pressed forward, spurring himself to punch through the line of bandits to head toward their back line. With as much speed as he could muster, he brought his ax swinging down for a bandit who jumped out of the way, he swung his own ax back at Thom who ducked the blow. The two went back, and forth neither one able to parry, or block blows as the shock of the weapons clashing could cause someone's arms to give out. So the two of them looked like they were in a delicate dance of death, before the guardsmen finally got annoyed with the combat, and moved himself further from the bandit, and put himself on the other end of a display table that was displaying some jewelry. With a huff the guard kicked the end of the table, pushing it into the bandits legs, the bandit lost balance enough for Thom to bring his ax down on the poor mans chest. The smell of iron spurred the guardsmen on, he hoped the prince was using his magic well enough to keep the other bandits off him while he went rushed the back line. Anger, and blood lust pushing him forward.	_________________________ Status: Upright, and defending Class: Guard Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Axe

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by itano123

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itano123 definitely not evil

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Midday

After the dance ended the next few moments that followed confused William immensely, it all happened too fast for him to comprehend what these people were on about... to the point that when he was threatened all william could do was smile awkwardly and raise his hands up in surrender.
"Please don't resort to violence, for one I have no idea what you are on about" The young smiling man awkwardly laughed as he continued to speak.
"Secondly, stalking? please don't flatter yourself so much I don't ev- oh!" continuing his conversation William suddenly seemed to have some form of epiphany, "OH, you are that young dancer I keep seeing around, I could see where confusion lies but please don't worry I just travel around a lot" through relentless talking the smile on the mans face brightened to a grin.

"Please rest assured I am no stalker, though I do admire your dancing, please take these lands into consideration... there isn't much choice of towns from one to the next" Awkwardly laughing William hopped he wasn't about to be tied up again so soon.

Evening

The days events spiralled until William was finally free again, free to relax and enjoy a nice meal at the inn, nothing would ruin his meal. So he sat there slowly enjoying the meal he had ordered, everything was fine, nothing was going to ruin his meal... Nothing! Nothing appart from this damn commotion going on around him, everyone was in a panic starting to evacuate as it seemed as if the town was being attacked, Which was a strange turn of events. Though it seems as if his meal would be ruined after all due to the fuss going on around him.

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Trace Retloth
Mercenary Camp to Merchant Row en route to Plaza

The meal went about as well as Trace expected.  Neither of them divulged secrets or deeper truths but Artemisia did give him a valuable clue to hers.  She was looking for someone, a person with distinctive characteristics.  Pink eyes weren’t something he had seen but there were mercenaries who hid their faces.  Also, some who fought for money were saving up to purchase treatment for themselves or others who had more troubling diseases.  So, he extended an invitation to her to tour the mercenary camps and activities.  She could check if anyone had knowledge about such symptoms.

The trip proved to be a waste of time on that front.  There was no news and no sightings.  Still, it had given Trace a chance to check through his tent and confirm that the items there were all cheap and replaceable.  He also looked into the distance.  He still had that brooding feeling that this was the calm before the storm.

He was just thinking about this very feeling when Artemisia suddenly gave up on using him to help her search and said her brief and perfunctory farewell.  Unfortunately, she chose the moment after she successfully identified the artillery grade spell that had slammed into the town a moment before.  It might not be the last time that he would have this thought… but she seemed either too dedicated for her own good… or a complete fool.  A surprise attack could come from any direction at all and she abandoned the company of the one combat ready acquaintance she had in town.

Then again, she was a mage.

Confidence can become arrogance all too easily and confidence came quickly with magic.  Trace had learned that much pretty early in life.

He had also learned to not judge a person based on a short acquaintance.  What he did know was that she was a small woman who chose to get caught up in the stream of evacuees and was likely to be trampled and left behind.

He followed her but remained on the fringes of the crowd, holding a relative position that put him between the obvious guards and the people they were herding.  It made him look like a coward, less of a threat.  That was probably one of the reasons why the helpful guard that went to aid Artemisia after she was predictably, though accidentally, bludgeoned got shot by the bandit archer’s first shot rather than him.

Trace was about to move to assist when he saw the early stages of a spell in Artemisia’s hand.  If he hadn’t been trained in magic when he was young he would never have recognized it so quickly.  Or, rather, it was its unfamiliarity that gave it away.  Trace knew what the early stages of black magic and white magic spells looked like.  This… this was not any of them.  That reality left only one likely possibility.  Artemisia is a Dark Magic Witch.

For the first time in combat, Trace froze.  The shock didn’t last very long, a beat or two of the heart.  But, during that time he was able to piece together a few things.  She was seeking someone whose name she didn’t know.  She had refrained from telling him things rather than lying and giving him a false story.  There was a chance that she didn’t mean well for the person she was seeking.  Those who intend harm for specific strangers are frequently willing to lie, cheat, steal, and kill to get what they’re after.  However, Artemisia had helped at a clinic instead. 

He didn’t know what she was up to or why.  But, he didn’t think that she was a danger to him and he had no specific reason to turn on her that was worth spitting at.  Besides, being near a mage increased his chances of survival and escape.

He moved.

While Artemisia still held her spell and the gauntlet wielder was still getting over the initial shock of his injury Trace dashed along the side of the path between them and the archer.  He had a simple plan.  He had greater mobility than a man with a wounded leg.  He would make use of it by becoming a greater threat to the archer than Artemisia was.  If the second shot came his way then she would have a clear line of attack to the archer.  Personally, though he was charging, he kept his awareness high and his defenses up.  He didn’t know how many enemies were close enough to intervene and he was determined to evade any close combat first strike as well as the possible arrow.

_________________________
Status: Uninjured… And Unhappy
Class: Recruit
Inventory:Iron Lance
Vulnerary


The meal went about as well as Trace expected. Neither of them divulged secrets or deeper truths but Artemisia did give him a valuable clue to hers. She was looking for someone, a person with distinctive characteristics. Pink eyes weren’t something he had seen but there were mercenaries who hid their faces. Also, some who fought for money were saving up to purchase treatment for themselves or others who had more troubling diseases. So, he extended an invitation to her to tour the mercenary camps and activities. She could check if anyone had knowledge about such symptoms. The trip proved to be a waste of time on that front. There was no news and no sightings. Still, it had given Trace a chance to check through his tent and confirm that the items there were all cheap and replaceable. He also looked into the distance. He still had that brooding feeling that this was the calm before the storm. He was just thinking about this very feeling when Artemisia suddenly gave up on using him to help her search and said her brief and perfunctory farewell. Unfortunately, she chose the moment after she successfully identified the artillery grade spell that had slammed into the town a moment before. It might not be the last time that he would have this thought… but she seemed either too dedicated for her own good… or a complete fool. A surprise attack could come from any direction at all and she abandoned the company of the one combat ready acquaintance she had in town. Then again, she was a mage. Confidence can become arrogance all too easily and confidence came quickly with magic. Trace had learned that much pretty early in life. He had also learned to not judge a person based on a short acquaintance. What he did know was that she was a small woman who chose to get caught up in the stream of evacuees and was likely to be trampled and left behind. He followed her but remained on the fringes of the crowd, holding a relative position that put him between the obvious guards and the people they were herding. It made him look like a coward, less of a threat. That was probably one of the reasons why the helpful guard that went to aid Artemisia after she was predictably, though accidentally, bludgeoned got shot by the bandit archer’s first shot rather than him. Trace was about to move to assist when he saw the early stages of a spell in Artemisia’s hand. If he hadn’t been trained in magic when he was young he would never have recognized it so quickly. Or, rather, it was its unfamiliarity that gave it away. Trace knew what the early stages of black magic and white magic spells looked like. This… this was not any of them. That reality left only one likely possibility. Artemisia is a Dark Magic Witch. For the first time in combat, Trace froze. The shock didn’t last very long, a beat or two of the heart. But, during that time he was able to piece together a few things. She was seeking someone whose name she didn’t know. She had refrained from telling him things rather than lying and giving him a false story. There was a chance that she didn’t mean well for the person she was seeking. Those who intend harm for specific strangers are frequently willing to lie, cheat, steal, and kill to get what they’re after. However, Artemisia had helped at a clinic instead. He didn’t know what she was up to or why. But, he didn’t think that she was a danger to him and he had no specific reason to turn on her that was worth spitting at. Besides, being near a mage increased his chances of survival and escape. He moved. While Artemisia still held her spell and the gauntlet wielder was still getting over the initial shock of his injury Trace dashed along the side of the path between them and the archer. He had a simple plan. He had greater mobility than a man with a wounded leg. He would make use of it by becoming a greater threat to the archer than Artemisia was. If the second shot came his way then she would have a clear line of attack to the archer. Personally, though he was charging, he kept his awareness high and his defenses up. He didn’t know how many enemies were close enough to intervene and he was determined to evade any close combat first strike as well as the possible arrow.	_________________________ Status: Uninjured… And Unhappy Class: Recruit Inventory: Iron Lance Vulnerary

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Sho Minazuki

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Sho Minazuki P5 Hero

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BATTLE!


Western Street
Front Line
1x Bandit(Thom +5 EXP)
x1 Bandit(Alnard/Thom +5 EXP)

Back Line
1x Bandit Archer (Branna/Einar +5 EXP)
1x Bandit Archer (Einar +5 EXP)
1x Bandit (New!)


@Typical
 With one archer down, only one was left. Ordinarily a flier may fear archery, but if it came down to just one of them, then it was of little issue as Branna brought her lance down before he could draw his arrow and take aim. With little issue, the archer had gone down. This left only the bandit that had come upon Einar, but it seems that soon would be of little issue.

@Enalais
Thom charged forward boldly, locking in combat with the bandits in front, finally managing to bring one down after a brief exchange. His back kept clean as Alnard engaged the other, opening up with magic before finding a place for his sword within the bandit's gut. Alnard took deep breaths as he turned to Thom, and then to the archers, who were taken down. There was one left in this part of the street, fighting with a young swordsman, with more further down as he saw. But it seems they would not reach their position just yet. This gave them a bit of time to clean up and regroup.



Merchant's Row
ENEMY!
Bandit Archer
x1 Bandit


@Haeo@Lugubrious
The bandit archer had gotten one blow in, but as soon as he did, a lady who seemed like a mage, and a man followed closely behind. He took a step back... He was no master archer, one arrow could maybe fell one, but the other would be free to hit him. He yelled out to the corner behind him, and in mere moments, another one appeared, brandishing an axe. He got the picture rather quickly, since he was sprinting right for Trace while the other began to nock his arrow.

The gauntlet-wielding man was unable to fight it seemed, but for his own valiance he could not bear to just run while these two came to his aid.


Front of the Inn
ENEMY!
x1 Bandit


@itano123
William would be greeted to a medley of fire and screams, but as he opened the door a bandit just passing by noticed him. The two locked eyes awkwardly for what seemed like an eternity. It would be a few more moments before the bandit would come upon him with axe raised, but for now there was some distance between them.

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Yankee

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Yankee God of Typos

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Belisendé
Evening | Stables | Garleton, Lothian Empire
Belisendé stared hard at the bandit, as if she could somehow will him into ceasing his assault of the poor woman. As the cacophony of the chaos grew louder and louder around her, the panicked mind in Bel's head grew quieter and quieter, narrowing down to a single thought. No one was going to come and help this woman, it was up to her. She could do this.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this I can do this I can do this IcandothisIcandothisIcandothisIcan--

She felt fear slowly gripping her, ceasing her hand, and she wished for the strength to shoot. Before she was totally petrified, a single noise made it's way through to her: the clop of hooves on cobblestone, coming closer.

The town and all it's fury came back to her with a rush, and the scene in front of her had hardly changed. The woman sobbed and by chance turned her way. She met eyes with Bel, and the hopeful recruit was struck by the pleading look on her face. She was reinvigorated by the woman's silent cry for help and the knowledge that her loyal stead was on his way.

Bel silently loosed her arrow at the place she thought would end this sad scene as swiftly as possible: the bandit's oblivious head.
_________________________
Status: Alive & Panicking
Class: Squire
Inventory:Iron Bow
Vulnerary

END: E STR: E 
MAG: D DEX: C 
SPD: D DEF: E 
RES: D LCK: C

N/A


Belisendé stared hard at the bandit, as if she could somehow will him into ceasing his assault of the poor woman. As the cacophony of the chaos grew louder and louder around her, the panicked mind in Bel's head grew quieter and quieter, narrowing down to a single thought. No one was going to come and help this woman, it was up to her. She could do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this I can do this I can do this IcandothisIcandothisIcandothisIcan-- She felt fear slowly gripping her, ceasing her hand, and she wished for the strength to shoot. Before she was totally petrified, a single noise made it's way through to her: the clop of hooves on cobblestone, coming closer. The town and all it's fury came back to her with a rush, and the scene in front of her had hardly changed. The woman sobbed and by chance turned her way. She met eyes with Bel, and the hopeful recruit was struck by the pleading look on her face. She was reinvigorated by the woman's silent cry for help and the knowledge that her loyal stead was on his way. Bel silently loosed her arrow at the place she thought would end this sad scene as swiftly as possible: the bandit's oblivious head.	_________________________ Status: Alive & Panicking Class: Squire Inventory: Iron Bow Vulnerary END: E STR: E MAG: D DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: D LCK: C N/A

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Savo

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Savo Time to go to Hell

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Einar
Lothian Empire  ||  Garleton: Plaza  ||  Evening
Einar heard the cries of pain leave the enemy archer's throat as they took one last gulp of air as his blade fatally sliced through their side, shredding through their armor and abdomen, slicing the unfortunate soul right open. Of course, while he did expect one of his allies nearby would enter the fray, he didn't react quick enough to address the new threat that popped out of the corner at an inopportune time.

His blade was still carving through the stomach of the archer, leaving him little time to counter as the man heaved his axe into the air. Fortunately though, Einar was able to curve his sword out of the archer. Unfortunately though, he wasn't stable enough at the time when he swung his sword up to deflect the strike, causing him to lose some of his footing.

Using the power behind the swing, the mercenary let himself be knocked back, tumbling and slamming onto the ground. Using the momentum from the attack, Einar rolled back and bounced up onto his two feet, wobbling for a few seconds as he watched the bandit pull their axe out where the mercenary had been prior to that assault.

Quickly eyeing the other three, he saw the life quickly leaving the other archers eyes, with the sound of a crash, gurgling, and clank transpiring behind him. He whipped his head to witness that the Lordling's blade had struck true through one of the bandits, causing him to grin for a second before recalling his own predicament and turning back around to face his opponent.

Einars eyes widened and he began grinding his teeth as he stabilized himself, gripping the blade tightly with one hand as he watched the bandit slink towards the building he was in a few seconds ago. The man had a savage twinkle in his eye as he licked his chops and was beginning to slowly raise his axe into the air.

"Tch, bastard."

Einar furrowed his brows as he pressed his right foot on the road and launched himself forward, back into the fray once more. He quickly assessed the situation, noticing a small foot near the door and the fact that the axe was coming down; he could easily exploit this opening, but he determined that one of the children would of perished in the process if he tried this.

Looking to the side briefly at his compatriots, he deftly swung his sword up as he slid in beneath the bandit, his sword clashing with the axe as he felt a similar power going into this swing. But that was all it was, just a swing; it lacked any finesse or training at all, allowing him to lock blades with the fighter. "Go on, get outta' here!"

The shivering children and their crumpled father silently nodded to themselves, struggling to squeeze through the duo, to which the bandit looked to try and exploit, before being shoved back a little. Einar kept the pressure up, his other hand palmed against the end of his blade as he stared down the assailant, grunting and growling at the man, keeping his position until the small family had completely escaped this skirmish.
_________________________
Status: This is nothin'
Class	  
Page

Inventory    
Iron Sword
Vulnerary

Experience 
10/10

Stats	   
END:	D
STR:	D
MAG:	C
DEX:	C
SPD:	D
DEF:	E
RES:	E
LCK:	E

Action	   
Locking Blades w/ a Bandit

Supporting  
Alnard (@Sho Minazuki)
Branna (@Typical)
Thom (@Enalais)


Einar heard the cries of pain leave the enemy archer's throat as they took one last gulp of air as his blade fatally sliced through their side, shredding through their armor and abdomen, slicing the unfortunate soul right open. Of course, while he did expect one of his allies nearby would enter the fray, he didn't react quick enough to address the new threat that popped out of the corner at an inopportune time. His blade was still carving through the stomach of the archer, leaving him little time to counter as the man heaved his axe into the air. Fortunately though, Einar was able to curve his sword out of the archer. Unfortunately though, he wasn't stable enough at the time when he swung his sword up to deflect the strike, causing him to lose some of his footing. Using the power behind the swing, the mercenary let himself be knocked back, tumbling and slamming onto the ground. Using the momentum from the attack, Einar rolled back and bounced up onto his two feet, wobbling for a few seconds as he watched the bandit pull their axe out where the mercenary had been prior to that assault. Quickly eyeing the other three, he saw the life quickly leaving the other archers eyes, with the sound of a crash, gurgling, and clank transpiring behind him. He whipped his head to witness that the Lordling's blade had struck true through one of the bandits, causing him to grin for a second before recalling his own predicament and turning back around to face his opponent. Einars eyes widened and he began grinding his teeth as he stabilized himself, gripping the blade tightly with one hand as he watched the bandit slink towards the building he was in a few seconds ago. The man had a savage twinkle in his eye as he licked his chops and was beginning to slowly raise his axe into the air. "Tch, bastard." Einar furrowed his brows as he pressed his right foot on the road and launched himself forward, back into the fray once more. He quickly assessed the situation, noticing a small foot near the door and the fact that the axe was coming down; he could easily exploit this opening, but he determined that one of the children would of perished in the process if he tried this. Looking to the side briefly at his compatriots, he deftly swung his sword up as he slid in beneath the bandit, his sword clashing with the axe as he felt a similar power going into this swing. But that was all it was, just a swing; it lacked any finesse or training at all, allowing him to lock blades with the fighter. "Go on, get outta' here!" The shivering children and their crumpled father silently nodded to themselves, struggling to squeeze through the duo, to which the bandit looked to try and exploit, before being shoved back a little. Einar kept the pressure up, his other hand palmed against the end of his blade as he stared down the assailant, grunting and growling at the man, keeping his position until the small family had completely escaped this skirmish.	_________________________ Status: This is nothin' Class Page Inventory Iron Sword Vulnerary Experience 10/10 Stats END: D STR: D MAG: C DEX: C SPD: D DEF: E RES: E LCK: E Action Locking Blades w/ a Bandit Supporting Alnard (@Sho Minazuki) Branna (@Typical) Thom (@Enalais)

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Typical

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Typical

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Branna Naves
Town Edge  ||  Lothian Empire: Garleton  ||  Evening
Branna pulled her spear back just as Mors tugged on the archer, his jaws crunching down on his new toy. The spear came out with a wet ‘shik’ as the archer screamed, but the sound was swiftly silenced as Mors adjusted his bite. 

Movement at the corner, though, snapped over attention from both rider and wyvern, and Branna watched with a smile as the swordsman maneuvered around the axe-wielder’s swing. Glancing down the street showed what quick work the imperial guards had made of the rough rabble, and Branna's smile stretched into a grin when she made out the lordling’s sword embedded in one of the bandits. 

“What fun,” she croaked, her giggles scratchy over Mors’ crunches. 

When the children emerged from the rubble, their injured father in tow, Branna narrowed her eyes. Though the swordsman looked more than capable of besting the axe-wielder, it seemed he’d reached a stalemate in his attempt to play hero. Whether he'd be able to turn the situation around now, though, didn't matter; the only thing Branna hated more than waiting was watching.

A pat sent Mors in the right direction, Branna timing her stab with the momentum of his swoop. Her grin fixed itself on her face as her spearhead aligned with the axe-wielder’s ribcage.
_________________________

Status: Delighted
Class: Wyvern Flier
Exp: 0
Inventory:
Iron Spear
Vulnerary
END: D
STR: C                         
MAG: E
DEX: D
SPD: C
DEF: E
RES: E
LCK: D


Branna pulled her spear back just as Mors tugged on the archer, his jaws crunching down on his new toy. The spear came out with a wet ‘shik’ as the archer screamed, but the sound was swiftly silenced as Mors adjusted his bite. Movement at the corner, though, snapped over attention from both rider and wyvern, and Branna watched with a smile as the swordsman maneuvered around the axe-wielder’s swing. Glancing down the street showed what quick work the imperial guards had made of the rough rabble, and Branna's smile stretched into a grin when she made out the lordling’s sword embedded in one of the bandits. “What fun,” she croaked, her giggles scratchy over Mors’ crunches. When the children emerged from the rubble, their injured father in tow, Branna narrowed her eyes. Though the swordsman looked more than capable of besting the axe-wielder, it seemed he’d reached a stalemate in his attempt to play hero. Whether he'd be able to turn the situation around now, though, didn't matter; the only thing Branna hated more than waiting was watching. A pat sent Mors in the right direction, Branna timing her stab with the momentum of his swoop. Her grin fixed itself on her face as her spearhead aligned with the axe-wielder’s ribcage.	_________________________ Status: Delighted Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 0 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Amaterasu

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Amaterasu Love Pillar

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Sumire
An Inn, Garleton: Evening

The suspicious man they apprehended earlier that day turned out to be nothing more than a fellow traveler, or so he explained. Sumire decided it wasn't worth the trouble to start a fuss over and made her exit. After the events that transpired at the plaza, the dancer and her bodyguard decided to take a much deserved rest at a local inn. The profit from the performance was able to cover all the cost from the room to the meals for two.

"You're dismissed for the day, do as you wish for the rest of the evening! Just do avoid trouble when you can, do you hear me Rin?" The tone of Sumire's voice at the end of the statement was that of a lecturing older figure knowing the younger could easily cause trouble when her attention was away from him. As she gave a simple wave as a farewell gesture, the dancer turned towards the door to her room and shut it behind her upon entering.

POOF. Sumire fell backwards onto the bed, body exhausted. Despite the slight fatigue, there was a feeling of content swelling up in her chest. Another town, another applauding audience ecstatic to watch the colorful art weaved by her hands. This sort of feeling was what she lived for, vibrantly blooming to be appreciated for the art she constantly polished and improved over time. A soft smile found its way upon the maiden's lips as she was left to her own musings.

Not too long after, a disturbing ruckus could be heard from out the window of the dancer's room, causing her to look over at the crowd of people panicking over to a similar direction. Something about the way they behaved told her that it wasn't just something to be ignored. Darting out of her own room and banging on the door to her bodyguard's room, Sumire audibly called out, "Rin! Something seems to be happening outside! I apologize for the interruption but please accompany me!"

Before the younger male would leave the room, the pinkette hurried towards the exit of the inn to take a better inspection of the situation outside. But unfortunately for them, a certain familiar figure awaited at the entrance to the inn. "Oh not you agai--" The irritated voice was interrupted upon finding a man raising his axe towards the spectacled man. "Nosferatu!", she screamed a defense buff in a quick impulse.
_________________________
Status: Alarmed
Class: Dancer
Inventory:
Vulnerary
Iron Sword


The suspicious man they apprehended earlier that day turned out to be nothing more than a fellow traveler, or so he explained. Sumire decided it wasn't worth the trouble to start a fuss over and made her exit. After the events that transpired at the plaza, the dancer and her bodyguard decided to take a much deserved rest at a local inn. The profit from the performance was able to cover all the cost from the room to the meals for two. "You're dismissed for the day, do as you wish for the rest of the evening! Just do avoid trouble when you can, do you hear me Rin?" The tone of Sumire's voice at the end of the statement was that of a lecturing older figure knowing the younger could easily cause trouble when her attention was away from him. As she gave a simple wave as a farewell gesture, the dancer turned towards the door to her room and shut it behind her upon entering. POOF. Sumire fell backwards onto the bed, body exhausted. Despite the slight fatigue, there was a feeling of content swelling up in her chest. Another town, another applauding audience ecstatic to watch the colorful art weaved by her hands. This sort of feeling was what she lived for, vibrantly blooming to be appreciated for the art she constantly polished and improved over time. A soft smile found its way upon the maiden's lips as she was left to her own musings. Not too long after, a disturbing ruckus could be heard from out the window of the dancer's room, causing her to look over at the crowd of people panicking over to a similar direction. Something about the way they behaved told her that it wasn't just something to be ignored. Darting out of her own room and banging on the door to her bodyguard's room, Sumire audibly called out, "Rin! Something seems to be happening outside! I apologize for the interruption but please accompany me!" Before the younger male would leave the room, the pinkette hurried towards the exit of the inn to take a better inspection of the situation outside. But unfortunately for them, a certain familiar figure awaited at the entrance to the inn. "Oh not you agai--" The irritated voice was interrupted upon finding a man raising his axe towards the spectacled man. "Nosferatu!", she screamed a defense buff in a quick impulse.	_________________________ Status: Alarmed Class: Dancer Inventory: Vulnerary Iron Sword

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lugubrious

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Lugubrious Player on the other side

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Artemisia

Merchant Row, Garleton

The rush of battle got Artemisia's blood pumping, and things began to feel very clear. Her bow-wielding foe spotted her spell taking shape and called in backup before knowing another arrow. Neither seemed especially composed, talented, or well-equipped. Bandits, then. Not even the advance wave of the enemy force. In a way she felt disappointed, insulted even. At least this would be easy.

All the same, she did not feel comfortable taking the initiative, but it came in the form of a new arrival to the fight. Oh, he's here too. Followed me I'll bet. Trace appeared from behind Artemisia and her new knight friend, which made her realize that a third bandit could have stolen up on her with a back-stabber in hand just as easily. The spearman, however, was a welcome arrival, and he charged to clash with the axefighter head-on. 

Their bout could be decided in a split second; if Trace thrust just right, he could pierce the vagabond's heart before he got close enough to swing. If he missed that pivotal chance, however, the brute power of the axe could easily split his lance's shaft in twain, followed shortly by the boring man's head. Artemisia, who knew none of these weapon-based intricacies, at the very least wished that Trace fought more adeptly than he conversed. Primarily, she wished that the both of them would get out of her way. Unlike arrows, weightless magic projectiles arced barely if at all, which meant she needed a clear shot at the archer to take him out. With the melee in the middle there wasn't much of a chance of that, and it would reflect poorly on her if she went with her first instinct to hurl her Flux at Trace and the bandit both.

Just a moment passed before the answer came to her. Artemisia thrust her hand outward, throwing the Flux at the ground to the left of the melee fighters. With a deep tone followed by caustic sputters, it burst into purple waves and large black particles. Into the haze Artemisia rushed, using it as cover while she prepared a second. When in position she raised her hand above her head and hurled the Flux at the archer, crying, “To pieces!” She aimed for the ground between his feet to catch him in the blast. Such a target made hitting almost guaranteed, though it'd be a miracle if it did lethal damage. With a little luck, though, it could cripple his ability to fight, and Artemisia liked the odds.

__________________________
Status: Attacking
Class: Occultist
Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets


The rush of battle got Artemisia's blood pumping, and things began to feel very clear. Her bow-wielding foe spotted her spell taking shape and called in backup before knowing another arrow. Neither seemed especially composed, talented, or well-equipped. Bandits, then. Not even the advance wave of the enemy force. In a way she felt disappointed, insulted even. At least this would be easy. All the same, she did not feel comfortable taking the initiative, but it came in the form of a new arrival to the fight. Oh, he's here too. Followed me I'll bet. Trace appeared from behind Artemisia and her new knight friend, which made her realize that a third bandit could have stolen up on her with a back-stabber in hand just as easily. The spearman, however, was a welcome arrival, and he charged to clash with the axefighter head-on. Their bout could be decided in a split second; if Trace thrust just right, he could pierce the vagabond's heart before he got close enough to swing. If he missed that pivotal chance, however, the brute power of the axe could easily split his lance's shaft in twain, followed shortly by the boring man's head. Artemisia, who knew none of these weapon-based intricacies, at the very least wished that Trace fought more adeptly than he conversed. Primarily, she wished that the both of them would get out of her way. Unlike arrows, weightless magic projectiles arced barely if at all, which meant she needed a clear shot at the archer to take him out. With the melee in the middle there wasn't much of a chance of that, and it would reflect poorly on her if she went with her first instinct to hurl her Flux at Trace and the bandit both. Just a moment passed before the answer came to her. Artemisia thrust her hand outward, throwing the Flux at the ground to the left of the melee fighters. With a deep tone followed by caustic sputters, it burst into purple waves and large black particles. Into the haze Artemisia rushed, using it as cover while she prepared a second. When in position she raised her hand above her head and hurled the Flux at the archer, crying, “To pieces!” She aimed for the ground between his feet to catch him in the blast. Such a target made hitting almost guaranteed, though it'd be a miracle if it did lethal damage. With a little luck, though, it could cripple his ability to fight, and Artemisia liked the odds.	__________________________ Status: Attacking Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Haeo

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Haeo One Who Listens Deeply

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Trace Retloth
Merchant Row en route to Plaza

Trace had only brief moments to plan and act but he was accustomed to thinking on the fly.  The street between him and the bandit was wide and clear of obstructions.  He held his lance at half-haft and waited until the bandit was committed to his strike.  The moment the man's arms tightened to bring the axe down happened to be the moment when Artemisia loosed her spell, causing a convenient distraction that Trace was quick to take advantage of.

He shifted his body to his left and lowered his stance, sliding into the area that the bandit could strike with a backswing.  However, Trace had a clear shot at the man's side from here and just enough room to thrust his lance toward the hollow of the man's underarm.  If he succeeded, the bandit would be out of the fight very quickly.  If the bandit managed to move his body back enough to protect that strike point then the tip of the lance would pierce his head or neck instead.

_________________________
Status: Uninjured
Class: Recruit
Inventory:Iron Lance
Vulnerary

Exp:0


Trace had only brief moments to plan and act but he was accustomed to thinking on the fly. The street between him and the bandit was wide and clear of obstructions. He held his lance at half-haft and waited until the bandit was committed to his strike. The moment the man's arms tightened to bring the axe down happened to be the moment when Artemisia loosed her spell, causing a convenient distraction that Trace was quick to take advantage of. He shifted his body to his left and lowered his stance, sliding into the area that the bandit could strike with a backswing. However, Trace had a clear shot at the man's side from here and just enough room to thrust his lance toward the hollow of the man's underarm. If he succeeded, the bandit would be out of the fight very quickly. If the bandit managed to move his body back enough to protect that strike point then the tip of the lance would pierce his head or neck instead.	_________________________ Status: Uninjured Class: Recruit Inventory: Iron Lance Vulnerary Exp:0

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Sho Minazuki

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Sho Minazuki P5 Hero

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ENGAGEMENT COMPLETE!


Western Street
Front Line
1x Bandit(Thom +5 EXP)
x1 Bandit(Alnard/Thom +5 EXP)

Back Line
1x Bandit Archer (Branna/Einar +5 EXP)
1x Bandit Archer (Einar +5 EXP)
1x Bandit (Branna/Einar +5 EXP)


RESULT
Branna @Typical Earned 10 EXP
Thom @Enalais Earned 10 EXP
Einar @Savo Earned 15 EXP

With one swift and decisive jab, the bandit froze in his stance, axe held high for yet another blow, that would not come. As the spear slid out of his chest, he collapsed, first onto his knees, before losing consciousness. The immediate vicinity was now secured as Alnard moved up to cover ground, he pointed to the castle, telling the small family to head for the castle. Soldiers should be along the way to help them too. With them sent along he turned back to everyone present... A ragtag crew, so to speak. Two mercenaries, still, this was no time to think of their station or whatsoever.

"All of you, there are still more bandits, and people to help evacuate, you all shall come with me. We'll drive off the bandits, and then make for the castle. At the very least, we should stop these bandits from looting and attacking civilians freely, until everyone has made it to the castle", he ordered. 


ENGAGEMENT COMPLETE!


Merchant's Row
ENEMY!
Bandit Archer (Artemisia/Trace +5 EXP)
Bandit (Trace/Artemisia +5 EXP)


RESULT
Trace @Haeo Earned 10 EXP
Artemisia @Lugubrious Earned 10 EXP

A gutteral scream of agony would signal the end for the Bandit Archer, while the other with a brief exchange would be put into a checkmate of sorts as the lance found it's way to the neck of the Bandit. It was a swift display as the two skilfully put down their respective foes. No swift brutality or reliance on anything besides a chessmaster approach to combat. For the young gauntlet wielder it was quite a sight to behold. Yet all could be said to be also in part of the inexperience of the bandits who knew not formal combat.

The flames around them began to rage, it's been a fair while since they engaged with this crisis and the flames from the initial attack have already spread to nearby houses. It best they get moving before more bandits show up.


Front of the Inn
ENEMY!
Bandit (Sumire +5 EXP)
Bandit Archer (New!)


@Amaterasu@itano123
 Sumire's hands glowed white as a burst of light flashed like the muzzle of a firearm, albeit less crude. In an instant a soft explosion of light blasted the bandit, his arm still raised to strike the young scholar, only to fail to even reach him. He would be smashed back into the pavement and knocked out cold. Though this would not kill him, being out cold in a situation like this was sure to lead to death if none of his friends dragged him out of here. Speaking of which, an arrow whizzed right past the young dancer's nose, landing square into the door frame beside her.

A Bandit Archer had spotted the little commotion and was taking fire, already pulling another arrow from his quiver. They had but a few moments to either enter cover, or fire back and put him out of commission.

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