"Emperor of Greed?" Sev asked, pulling the spear back just out of reach of the bandit, looking unconcerned at the gathering mana, "so you're rebels? Good to know. By the way, you seem to have already forgotten the first rule of magic."
The bandit's angry expression turned to surprise as the illusion of Sev wavered and vanished moments before the mana detonated. Meanwhile, the real Sev, around the next corner sighed with mild relief. The illusions used against the bandits earlier he could have passed off as a precast spell, but when he dropped that bandit mage in the dirt and walked away, leaving his image behind, there wouldn't have been an easy explanation. He'd planned to simply leave the bandit mage behind, appearing to turn invisible with a quick spell cast, after getting his answer. He didn't expect this level of... devotion to their cause.
Kidnappings, rebels, some emperor of greed... at least one pretty lady, this was getting interesting, but also dangerous. With a shrug, Sev decided to stick it out for a bit, it could be fun. He doubted there was anyone from the Scar in a hundred miles, much less someone with connections to the military and having knowledge of who he was. All Sev had to do was play the role of a warrior mage, help out, have fun and leave before word got out. Should probably go a bit easier on the illusions.
Smiling to himself, and the last bits of rubble from that mage's explosion raining down around him, he spun his spear idly in one hand and made his way back towards the inn. Maybe he'd arrive in time to swoop in and rescue that Isoli noble woman.
"It does seem a bit... excessive for a small caravan town," Sev agreed, nodding towards the cluster of dead mages. As far as Sev was concerned, any magic user who couldn't hold off a guy with an axe wasn't worthy of the title 'mage.'
"I doubt this town has enough wealth to justify this kind of loss of life," Sev continued to Maeve, "any normal bandits would have given up the moment they got a bloody nose, not push into that meat grinder. Meaning they are hear for something or someone in particular. I'm hardly a person of much import, but if they truly were after one of us travelers they would have devoted more to rushing the inn than a couple hooligans."
The warrior-mage pondered as Allard headbutt another mage hard enough to cave the 'mage's' skull in. Coming to a decision he spun his staff conjuring a bit of fire at its tip to light his way in the night.
"I don't know if you are skilled in healing, but I am not. Don't suppose you could look after our barkeep and tavern while I go... retrieve someone who is better able to answer our questions."
Before waiting for an answer he vanished around the side of the tavern.
-----
"Idiots," the varuk mage spat, watching from a safe distance as one of his fellows was thrown aside by the berserk innkeeper, "never let a warrior get that close to you."
"That chain spell was reasonably impressive," one of his cohort said.
"Not if it couldn't hold one man in place."
"Greetings gentlemen!" Sev called, walking around a corner to where the small group stood, small flame still burning over the tip of his staff, "I don't suppose any of you are willing to answer some questions?"
"Get him!" the mage yelled, rapidly chanting a spell to constrict the man who'd foolishly announced his presence, grinning as the chains close around Sev, "rule one of sneaking up on someone, don't announce your presence."
Ofcourse that grin turned to surprise as the first man slashed at Sev, only for the blade to pass clean through the Sylve without leaving a mark. Moments later the image dispersed revealing that the chains had closed around an illusion.
"Rule one of magic: control where your target's attention is," A voice whispered in the varuk mage's ear just as a hand closed over his mouth.
The other men, after a moment of confusion turned to look back at their leader, who appeared to be looking around in confusion but not saying anything for several moments before he too dispersed like an illusion.
"So," Sev said two streets over where he'd half drug the Mage, "you can either answer my questions, and tell me why you are here, or..."
Rather than finish the warrior mage lifted his staff and tapped it on the ground. The polished wood seemed to crack and split, falling away starting from the top to reveal a shining spear blade, wreathed in fire, and continuing down the weapon seeming to turn it from a wizards staff to a magical spear of some power. Sev pointed the weapon's tip at the mage's heart while placing a foot on the other man's knee to keep him seated.
"Why, my lady, introducing myself is the least I can do," Sev replied with a confident smile, nimbly taking her hand in his and raising it to his mouth to give it a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles, "I am Sevuid Chigi, renown mage and warrior."
Releasing her hand he finished with a bow of his own that, while decent did betray his less than noble heritage to those with a skilled eye. Straightening he reached out one hand behind himself and, with a flick of his wrist, his previously stationary staff flew to his hand with a slight gust of air, the still sweat stained hat rocking about atop the slender headpiece.
"Though my friends call me Sev," he finished with another grin at Maeve, "and, should it come to it, I hope to be your friend if we are required to fight side by side."
"And I agree," Sev commented when Maeve mentioned the weather, "had I better control over ice magics I might try to cool things down, but, alas, unless you wish to be pelted with icicles we'll just have to hope the night is a more refreshing temperature."
Retiring to his own room Sev nearly collapsed on the bed after traveling all day in the heat he was more than ready for some sleep of his own. He barely managed to remember to cast an air ward on the door to his room, which would create a loud snap if the door was opened without him disarming it first. It seemed like moments before the tolling of a bell, followed by shouting and screaming outside woke him from his slumber. Groaning the traveling warrior mage got to his feet, pulling on his hastily removed cloak and removing the ward from the door with a wave of his hand.
He half stumbled down the stairs, relying on his staff for balance, arriving at the tavern just in time to hear a meaty thunk and see the door shake as whoever had been trying to get in was killed.
"Uh, people these days," Sev grumbled, shaking himself awake and preparing several spells in his mind, "no manners whatsoever."
Undoing the bolt lock he stepped outside, and over the corpse of whoever had been trying to enter the Inn, Sev took in the battle taking place in the small town. The big barkeep had the majority of the bandits under control it seemed, judging by the bodies stacked up around him. Clearly whoever these bandits were didn't agree, however, as one wielding a short sword lunged at Sev, eager for what seemed like an easier target.
While Sev might not be the combat powerhouse of Allard, he wasn't a pushover by any means. He lifted his staff to parry the incoming attack, something the bandit was ready for, reversing his swing to avoid the block. It didn't help, however, as what seemed like an invisible blade of air sliced through his neck as his own sword passed through Sev harmlessly. The bandit collapsed to the ground, clutching his neck and gurgling in confusion as the Sylve almost calmly looked around for more enemies.
"Well, isn't this quite the predicament I've found myself in here," he sighed.
Sev caused his image to remain stationary as he stepped back to avoid the attack, then used his bladed spear to cut the man's throat while his image was displaced and stationary, only to return to where his image had been standing and drop the illusion.
"Ahh," Sev sighed in contentment as he finished the meal, little in the world was as good as a full belly and good drink, "wait, bloodlust?"
Sev paused to sniff a couple times, looking around the room in mild confusion. His staff stood upright next to where he sat as though it was stuck in the floor despite the lack of anything supporting it, a fun magical trick he'd learned early on, with the wide brimmed, and sweat soaked, hat Sev had worn outside hanging from the top as though the mage's staff were a hat rack. Across the room a rather pleasingly attractive woman had been speaking to someone about dancing, based on what Sev had noticed, several other patrons were retiring to their rooms or enjoying their drinks. But bloodlust? Sev didn't smell anything like that, but that might have been because of the amount of sand that had been blown in his face.
The Sylve jumped in his seat as the innkeeper dropped a massive axe on the table, talking about being an old warrior.
"If you need someone to assist you in combat," Sev said as he realized the axe wasn't directed at him, "I'm more than willing to help out, as I mentioned earlier. I'm a mage of some skill and can hold my own in a melee."
Some people have expressed interest in knowing more thus... a post for the knowing of more:
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Gods
Lysen Symbolized by a waterlogged tome, Lysen is the god of knowledge, secrets and deep water. It is generally frowned upon to worship Lysen, especially among the Erudin, who see keeping secrets as standing in the way of their fate as a race. Her temples tend to be hidden in caves or beneath cities, especially those with ports. Those who follow her tend to seek out knowledge in the world, storing it all in a single great tome which they then either ritualistically hide, or toss into the ocean. They see the seeking of knowledge as a greater pursuit than the knowledge itself. Another, rarer, follower of Lysen serve as confessors, a sort of traveling priest who accepts confessions from anyone, promising to keep their secrets while serving as an ear to listen.
Demodocus God of community, growth and forests, he is represented by a great stag. Demodocus is most popular among humans and has a temple or shrine in almost every town. Even farmers often have a small shrine where they burn offerings to the god of growth in the hope of a good harvest. Priests of Demodocus are willing to take part of almost every aspect of civilization, their clergy serving as mediators in disputes, bankers and trusted advisers for everyone from castle lords to independent farmers.
Lezeta The god of the future, traveling and death, represented by a bridge made of bones. If any god can be said to have gone truly insane from the end of fate, it would be Lezeta. She hates humanity for their sin and few end up worshiping her, though it isn't impossible to find an occasional contrarian begging her favor. The No'Go'Vin are the race most likely to worship her, being nomads, while churches and shrines to her can be found scattered throughout the lands of all the fated races.
Tui A burning fist represents the god of strength, renewal and fire. Tui is the spiritual incarnation of 'if brute force didn't work, you didn't use enough of it' and favors straightforward honesty and honor. Unsurprisingly worship of him is most common among the strength fated Kruun. Churches of Tui are generally in a constant state of flux, being a mix between a martial arts dojo and place of worship, the head priest isn't the eldest or wisest, but the strongest. Being defeated isn't dishonorable to a follower of Tui, it is merely part of the endless cycle that sees the weak become strong and the strong become stagnant.
Hiram God of Kings, Determination and Mountains, Hiram is represented by a lone dormant volcano, representing both his resolve and the depths of his fury when angered. It's almost impossible to find a kingdom without a temple to Hiram in the capitol, unlike Demodocus, who preaches a shared identity, Hiram argues people must be ruled and that a hierarchy of authority must be established. Priests and followers of Hiram are slow to anger, but slower still to forget, and will rarely stop short of reaching their goal. Rivalry between two priests of Hiram have been known to drag kingdoms to war decades later. The Orren, who wished for stability, almost exclusively worship Hiram, and look down on all other gods, especially Arabella.
Arabella Tools of industry, such as plows and anvils all serve as symbols to Arabella, the goddess of ingenuity, independence and rivers. Arabella preaches self-reliance and intellectual development, making her a favorite among the Erudin. Unlike Lysen, however, priests of Arabella believe in the sharing of knowledge rather than keeping it hidden for yourself. What few large temples to Arabella that do exist resemble schools more so than places of worship, often dedicated to educating their communities and serving as a home of research. Many preists of Arabella travel to bring knowledge to far flung communities and live free in the spirit of independence.
Epham A god of passion, lies, and storms, he is represented by a tornado. While many gods are fickle, none are more so than Epham. Sailors make sacrifices to Epham before leaving shore in the hopes he'll leave them alone, knowing all to well the damage of a sudden storm. Only artists and performers generally admit to being followers of Epham since most of his worshipers tend to be thieves and gamblers. It is hard to say what might earn Epham's favor, but it is just as hard to guess what might anger him.
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The Known Races
The Kruun The Kruun wished for the strength to take what they wanted, to most this makes them seek to better themselves so that they might best others. There is no one method to become strong, but strength you don't demonstrate is wasted in their eyes. Many Kruun will take small trophies, like finger bones or coins, from those they defeat and weave them into their hair as a symbol of their strength.
Kruun are shorter than the average human, with thicker arms and only 4 fingers per hand.
The Orren This race of mountain dwelling people wished for stability and the ability to endure whatever comes their way. They pride themselves on their rigid, unchanging societies, many of which haven't passed a new law in over a century, and their stubborn nature. Unique among the fated, they are able to enter a sort of stasis where their skin slowly hardens to resemble rock. Doing so for long periods without your house falling apart is considered desirable, and the High King of their largest citadel city is said to have been in this stone sleep since the end of Fate.
Orren average six feet tall, or more, with a thick, grey hide.
The No'Go'Vin A race of nomadic lizard people that wished for, and now live upon, giant dinosaur like creatures called No'Go'Bu. They worship their great companions, living in small tent cities that hang from the howdah upon the beasts back. Rarely do the No'Go'Vin leave their tribal beast for any length of time as they will begin to wither if away for too long.
No'Go'Vin stand only four feet tall with long scaly limbs and a crest along the back of their heads.
The Giflings A race of short agile people who only wished to enjoy this world. What few of them remain live in hidden farmer communes where a strict unspoken rules results in a generally happy and peaceful agrarian existence, those who disrupt the status quo negatively are often banished. These exiled Giflings are the ones most commonly interacted with by other races, and have earned Giflings as a race of troublemakers, pranksters, thrill seekers and junkies.
Giflings stand at most 4 feet tall, have long pointed ears and are extremely agile, if physically weak.
The Erudin This race of scholars wished for knowledge, and tend to have the most sophisticated magical and technological societies. The only Erudin strongholds that survived the tide of ash were far to the west upon the Erudin Isles, which escaped the fall of fate almost untouched. Erudin have a reputation for being obsessive about learning all they can about a single subject, Erudin chefs will travel the world to learn how to cook dozens of recipes, swordsmen will practice day in day out to perfect their skills.
Erudin stand the same general height as humans, but have an extra finger on each hand.
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This is, of course, a bare bones quick overview of the races and gods. I'm willing to entertain ideas for other fated races, if you have an idea, but be sure to come up with a way for that race to have survived the fall of fate. And if you have questions, feel free to ask :)
In the beginning the gods wove the world into existence upon the loom of fates, upon this world they created the mortal races. Each race was given a single wish, a single desire that the gods would weave into their souls as fate to be their legacy and defining aspect. Many races made their wishes, the Erudin wished for knowledge, the Kruun wished for strength and so on. Finally it was the humans turn to make their wish. They looked upon the other races and saw that a fate was more than just a desire, it was how the gods controlled them. They danced as the gods willed, little more than puppets to their fate. Thus humanity wished to be free from fate, to have control of their own destiny. It is unknown if the Gods or humans knew what would happen but to weave a fate that frees one from fate is a contradiction, and the mechanism the Gods used to control the fates was destroyed.
In a moment of desperation the gods attempted to wash the world clean with their divine fire, to burn away the infection, but it was too late. A full third of creation burned before the gods were completely cut off by the wish of humanity. The world remained but now the threads of time wove themselves chaotically, with no divine direction. The very idea of fate reversed for the mortal races, no longer was it something they were destined to achieve, it was something they had to seek out lest their souls unravel.
But the worst was yet to come, millions died in the divine fire, but those slain by the wrath of the gods couldn’t move on to the next world. Instead they returned as creatures known as the Ashen, twisted abominations that only vaguely resembled their own charred corpses. They set out to finish what the Gods had started, what sense of self they might have had driven away by unending pain and anger. Even if they should fall their souls return to the place where they first died in holy fire to begin again.
Between these unholy monsters and the gods seeming to ignore their devoted it was assumed they had abandoned the world. Or perhaps they were killed, if a god could be killed. It wasn’t till two centuries later that the Prophet walked out of the Mists of Worlds End bearing word of their survival and the first glimmer of hope returned. Those few who still survived had been driven to the most remote stretches of the world to escape the endless Ashen threat and word of the gods return spread slowly. Hope wasn’t enough to save the world, something more was needed.
That’s when the Guardian appeared, out of nowhere he seemed to materialize with a fortress guarding the largest pass through the mountains between the Ashlands and a region of the world that escaped judgement. At his back the Guardian founded an order of Guardians who’s sole purpose was to guard the world from the Ashen threat. Thus the mortal races began recovering, hopeful for the first time in centuries that a solution to the Ashen might be found.
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Sins of Ash is a dark fantasy setting based on a world of my writing, it is a highly complex and detailed world that was first created for a DnD campaign I ran nearly a decade ago. Almost nothing of that original world remains but this is the result of my writing and world building.
If you are interested in reading the book in this setting I’m in the process of writing, the first chapter is here, new chapters are posted weekly.
That aside this RP will be its own thing, though I might steal elements of what happens for my book’s canon. That said, there are several key themes to this world:
Magic is strong: Magic comes from the soul, the greater the emotion and willpower behind a spell the greater the effect. Even regular people can use magic in moments of desperation, a woman trying to lift a tree off her child will unconsciously channel mana from here soul into her body to push it beyond its limits.
Magic is weak: Whenever you use mana you are burning your own lifeforce. Like giving blood losing a little no problem, it can even make your soul grow stronger over time, but the consequences for running out are lethal. While your aura regenerates over time, when low your emotions themselves become weaker resulting in a state of general apathy. Using more magic past that can result in fracturing of one’s sense of self, psychosis and death. While a mage can throw lighting, for all but the very strongest doing so is extremely draining.
Power comes at a price: The very act of using magic consumes your soul, and everyone uses magic even if they don’t realize it. The strongest magic comes in moments of desperation, but those same moments are the ones in which we are willing to die. A father throwing himself between his son and a monster, the mother running with her baby from a fire. If you are willing to give your life to accomplish a task your soul will respond and burn your life up in pursuit of that goal. Often times this means those who are willing to die for another in a moment of desperation do, trading their very souls for a moment of strength.
The Future is uncertain: The Ashen cannot be stopped. They are an endless legion of superhuman monsters. The Lord Guardian and his order have bought the world breathing room, but there is no ultimate solution.
Fate is a curse: The fated races, which is every race except humanity, must pursue their fate or suffer the withering as their soul comes undone. An Erudin must seek new knowledge or perish. This means the fated are effectively immortal so long as they follow their fate, their soul gaining a small amount of strength as they accomplish their fate. They can persist for a time without their fate, but the longer they go without following it the weaker they become.
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If anyone is interested please do let me know, more information on the races, gods and world will be provided if this goes to a full RP. For now, I’d just like to know if anything above strikes people. Moreover, if it does what kind of RP would you like? Political intrigue? Struggle to survive?
"Mmm," Sev hummed thoughtfully to himself as Allard offered some food that another patron had walked out on, "I'm not one to accept charity but I don't want to insult your hospitality... I know!"
A smile spread across the pale face as he reached into a pocket and, after a bit of rummaging, produced two coins, one silver and one copper which he held up for the barkeep to see.
"How about a game?" said Sev, taking one of the coins in each hand which he held out, palm up with the coins clearly displayed, "we're going to leave this in the hands of fate, in a moment I'm going to mix these coins up and hide one in each hand."
Sev demonstrated by covering the coins, flipping his hands over and bumping his hands together before presenting the coins again. However it seemed that in that simple movement the two coins had switched hands, the hand that had the silver now held the copper and vice versa. After letting the barkeep get a decent look at this he once again hid the coins and bumped the sides of his hands together.
"Now you pick a hand, which ever coin you pick is how much the meal costs," explained Sev in a slightly excited voice, it wasn't often he got to use his skills for something other than theft but it was more enjoyable this way. With his thieving his marks, hopefully, never noticed they'd been stole from. But with games like these his skills with slight of hand and magic could be demonstrated in such a way that left observers confused. He was very careful to cover his tracks, ensuring his use of illusions was never noticed in such a way that could out his aberrant blood.
He smiled as the barkeep picked a hand, after a moment's thought, which Sev turned over to reveal a silver coin.
"Looks like the meal costs one silver," he smiled, showing that the copper coin was in his other, unpicked hand, before putting the copper back into his hidden pocket and placing the silver on the table.
"Oh, you mentioned something about people going missing?" Sev asked a moment later as he accepted the food and drink, "I guess if a band has already headed out after the bandits I probably can't help there. But I don't have much to do till the next convoy west leaves. Maybe I can put my skills to use?"
Both coins were silver coins, Sev simply covered one or the other with an illusion of being a copper as he needed.
The desert heat sucked, Sevuid thought to himself, wiping away the sweat from under the brim of his wide hat. His pale skin was not built for this kind of sun either, like many Sylve he grew up in The Scar, where it was cloudy more often than not and nowhere near as hot. Sadly, The Scar was no longer welcoming for him, and Portea was far too crowded.
Thankfully, despite his misgivings, he’d finally arrived at Kalla, meaning some semblance of shade and drinks. Maybe he could cool the drinks with his ice magic, he often heated food with the little fire magic he knew so why not the other way? If he was stuck here till the next convoy out of town he might have to learn to do that. Military magic training never covered the truly useful stuff.
Next issue, coin. Between the cost of a seat in the convoy that brought him here, food and drink he was low on funds. And it was remarkably hard to steal a drink and room to sleep.
Turning to look at the sights Sev blundered shoulder first into a human.
“Oh gods, I’m sorry,” Sev apologized, holding out a hand to help the man up, cradling his six-foot wooden staff against his shoulder.
“Not an issue,” the man grumbled, taking the offered hand before checking himself with a scowl, “where’s my coin purse?”
“Did you drop it?” Sev asked innocently, patting himself down before pulling a felt pouch from a pocket, “I’ve still got mine. What’s it look like?”
“Leather,” the man grunted, eyeing Sev skeptically, “got any others on you?”
“I should hope not,” the Sylve replied in shock, “though you’re welcome to check.”
The man angrily checked Sev’s pockets, sleeves and hands before grumbling something that sounded like an apology and turning back the way he’d come. Sev gave his well wishes as he walked into town himself. Once he was around the corner he smiled as the pouch waved, turning from felt to leather as he canceled the spell. He retrieved the coins from the pouch before carefully dropping it in the sands where no one could see.
Now with nine silvers, by his counting, Sev made his way through the city, looking for an Inn. Or Tavern. Or really anywhere with drinks, beds and shade. Like many desert cities Kalla was laid out haphazardly, clustered as close around the small oasis as possible. After a short walk through the market district he eventually found a building marked ‘Inn.’ Eager to be out of the heat Sev quickly entered, sighing as he entered the shade, removing his hat to shake free the sweat that had gathered in the fabric.
As a mage of some skill he could likely make money in other, less illegal, methods, but this was more fun. Maybe some day he’d settle down, get a ‘real’ job, but for now if he was forced to travel, he might as well explore the world. So far, however, this whole desert thing was a bust. Still better than guard duty, but not by much.
“I need a cold drink, and a room for the night,” Sev explained after he made his way to the bar, placing two silver on the surface. Sighing as he almost collapsed onto the stool he continued, “anything interesting going on in town? Don’t know how long I’m going to be here, might as well see the sights while I’m here.”
Appearance: Sev's actual looks are very normal for Sylve, pale skin with short black hair, an unassuming face and stature. The only notable part would be his eyes, which are fully a brilliant gold, a mark of a distant Grusk ancestor. Using his illusions he almost always keeps his eyes looking more normal, but when stressed or low on mana his eyes will revert to their true colors. Likewise Sev prefers simple clothing that can be easily altered with his illusions, typically functional, if uninteresting, cloth tunic and trousers. The most distinctive item his carries with him is his spear, a token of his, admittedly short, military career and focus for the magic's he isn't gifed with.
Bio: Born to a poor family living in The Scar his parents quickly realized that some dormant Grusk blood had come to the forefront to give Sev eyes of a bright gold. Not wanting him to be persecuted for this heritage they kept him sheltered in their rundown home, only their most trusted friends knowing about his condition while others were simply told that he was 'unable to go outside due to a deformity.' As he grew older, Sev became envious of those outside, coming to hate his own eyes and wishing they were more normal. One day his Grusk blood manifested again as his years of desire and pleading manifested his first Gift, that of Light magic. His parents were hesitant at first, knowing that a Gift of light magic was as much of a tell as his eyes, but eventually they were forced to allow him out as his father grew ill in his age.
Sev quickly gained a reputation as something of a prankster, learning to use his illusions in subtle ways that others wouldn't even recognize as magic. Pranks quickly turned to petty theft and pick pocketing out of a desire to provide for his parents. During this time his second gift manifested, a more standard Slyve gift with Air magic. This continued for a while, but he wasn't as skilled with his air magic as he was with illusions and was caught when trying to rob a low ranking officer in the Sylve military. Sev was given the choice of losing his hand, a standard punishment for theft, or being drafted into the army due to his gift with air.
He didn't take long to realize he wasn't one for the military. His pranks were no longer considered 'amusing' or even just 'annoying' but earned him punishment. When he was caught anyways. Sev managed to squeak through the training, keeping his light magic a secret, learning a decent amount about how to use the air to assist him in combat. He also got a chance to learn magics from other elements, being given a magical spear to use to channel these other spells. He didn't get very far beyond basic summoning of fire and ice before he was shipped off, first to guarding some shrine and then to border duty, being told to 'keep practicing' so that he might become worthy of further training.
If military training wasn't for him, manning a border post was even worse, trapped in the middle of nowhere with a couple of humorless mooks. He lasted a month before he decided to slip away while out on patrol at night. He didn't even hear if the other guards reported him missing, they may have been glad he was gone after dealing with his pranks. Between his illusions, military knowledge and a life growing up on the streets he was easily able to find his way to a town outside of The Scar. Some minor pickpocketing to earn enough for a change of clothing, maintaining illusions on his whole body would get tiring after a while, he quickly moved on. Deciding to simply see where the road takes him.
Equipment:
-One Sylven arcane bladed spear used for casting in combat (typically covered in an illusion to look like a walking staff)
-Commoner's clothing
-Traveling Gear
-Light leather armor
Abilities:
Basic military training: While Sev knows which end of the spear to point at the enemy and can handle the basics of fighting he isn't a combat powerhouse by any means, relying more on trickery and speed than strength or technique to get through most fights.
Gifts of Air and Light: Sev is gifted with Air and Light magic due to his mixed Slyve/Grusk blood. In fact he is so adept with light magic that only the most stressful situations can disrupt the illusion over his eyes as he has been maintaining that spell for years without break. While the uses for these gifts are manifest, Sev likes using them in subtle ways that others might not even recognize as magic. Between these two gifts he has a number of preferred techniques.
-Appearance Alteration: Sev can cloak any object he touches in an illusion making it appear to be something it isn't. The illusions need to be the same general size and shape of the item in question as it doesn't alter the physical properties of an object and often simply touching an item cloaked in such an illusion will make it obvious the object isn't what it seems. The duration of the illusion varies based on the complexity of the item and mana invested, but can be refreshed so long as Sev keeps touching the item.
-Solid air: Sev can temporarily solidify air to mimic a solid object. The solid air remains more fragile than an actual physical grip but can still allow him to manipulate objects at a distance. When combined with his appearance alteration and illusions this can add some disturbing levels of realism to make people further question what is or isn't an illusion.
-Quickening: a Sylve army spell, it causes the winds around the caster to flow with them, allowing them to move faster, jump higher and pull off otherwise impossible moves. This ability speeds up his movements but not his mind, and while he has received training with Quickening he isn't overly skilled with it, preferring to use it for short, pre-planned bursts of movement rather than keeping it up throughout combat like many gifted Sylve do.
-Spell Mimicry: When all else fails, using his Air and Light magics together Sevuid can create the illusion of casting almost any spell he can think of. Be it summoning a dragon from thin air to darkening the sky with storm clouds, using light to create a visual illusion, with air magic to add gusts of winds and basic sounds to add realism to the effect, all while waving his arms and chanting can give the impression of casting spells of any sort. Of course it is all simply an illusion, there is no dragon or storm, as such Sev uses this ability only when needed as part of a greater trick.
Basic Fire/Ice Magic: Due to his affinity with Air magic he was taught the basics of fire and ice magic in the military, even being given an arcane spear to cast with, but he didn't get far. He can summon fire or ice at the tip of the spear, and even shoot them from the end (to middling effect). But he hasn't progressed much past that, often using these magics only to augment his combat ability.
Life on the Streets: Sev grew up as a pick pocket and petty thief, making him quite skilled at slight of hand and misdirection which he uses to augment his illusions. He is also something of a prankster, enjoying the challenge of pulling off generally harmless tricks on those around him without getting caught.
Lakavia is a city situated on the banks of the Lakavia river. Well-known for its large lake and even larger aerodrome, the city-state is one of the more cosmopolitan regions of the Confederation of Rivaravia. Compared to other city-states, Lakavia was one of the largest, having a population of over 1.6 million people. The most well-known feature of the city is its large aerodrome situated on the outskirts of the city near the coast. The Lakavia Aerodrome is the largest in Rivaravia, housing several dozen airships. Alongside its large aerodrome, Lakavia became the center of airship production and maintenance in Rivaravia. For anyone wanting to hire the best airship captains or otherwise purchase their own, Lakavia was the place to go.
“I swear, if these valves don’t fit I’m going to strangle that mechanic,” a deep voice grumbled from within the chaotic nest of brass pipes.
“Hal, If they don’t fit, I might just level his shop,” Jac replied, doing his best to angle the lantern so his engineer could see what he was doing. It was rare that the Libertas’ boilers were cool enough to work on and being at dock was one of those times. Unfortunately, parts for the Amperan frigate were hard to come by this far west, the other side of the world from the shipyards that built her. It didn’t help that there was no standard for airship construction.
“I think I got it,” the engineer rumbled, his prosthetic arm hissing as he released his grip, “blow a test tank Capn, make sure it holds.”
“Got it,” Jac nodded, placing the lantern on the ground and walking over to a connection point where a young woman was already connecting a tank of pressurized gas.
“Thanks Anna,” he nodded and motioned for her to continue. She pulled a release lever and the tank hissed as gas poured into the pipe system. Pipes rumbled as they were suddenly pressurized, the entire engine shaking as though angry its rest was disturbed. A few moments later a release valve near the top of the stack blew with a high pitched whistle.
“Looks good here Cap’n,” Hal called from where he lay within the pipe works.
“Need any more help?” Jac called back.
“We’re good, should have the engine back together in an hour if you need it.” “Alright, don’t take too much time rubbing your pipe,” the captain replied, earning a snort from within the engine. After using a rag to try and clean the oil from his hands, and likely only spreading it around more, Jac climbed the steep staircase from the engine room to the main hall of the AC-244 frigate he called home. Some of the crew was on leave still, but most had returned, exhausting their pay and eager for the next job. Metal clanked under his feet as he made his way down the hallway, pushing open the door to the small bridge.
The mooring tower dominated the view out the front of the large windows, obscured slightly by the bow sprites and fore turret. Beyond that muddy grass and other ships stretched as far as the eye could see.
“Beatrix!” Jac called over his shoulder as he pulled a small book from a shelf near the control wheel, “damnit, Beatrix! Did you find us work?”
Beatrix's quarters on Jac's frigate might not be the most luxurious and they definitely were much more... compact than the one she had in her home, but still they were indeed quite cozy. Despite his snarky personality, he was still a good guy. Surprisingly, he had agreed to Beatrix's demands of having a good place for her to stay and thus she ended up with one of the best quarters of the frigate.
Since they had stopped to change some valves and fix something in the ship that Beatrix both didn't know what nor she cared, she was simply maintaining her equipment in her room. After cleaning her armor and checking her weapon and ammo, she was leisurely brushing her hair as she listened the echoes of Jac and the engineer's voices, threatening to strangle and leveling his shop if the valve didn't fit. Having fiercely refused to help with fixing the ship, under the pretense that 'if oil spills in her hair it would take her half a day to clean it', she was mostly left to do whatever she wanted by Jac... Or at least that was what she thought, having forgotten that she had asked something of her before she went inside.
"Noisy, as usual." Beatrix said to herself, with a sigh and a hint of amusement in her voice. It was, in some ways, quite refreshing to be around people like Jac and the rest of his crew, as they were notably less... 'strict' than the people back at Legio Ater Ferris. With a rumble that resonated through the ship, she could feel the vibrations of the engine shaking as it was turned on. A high pitched whistle indicated that whatever repair they were making was succesful, much to the mechanic's luck, which had both his neck and his shop saved. Coincidentally, she had finished maintaining her armor, which was on display on an armor stand on the corner of her room. Putting the hairbrush on top of her bed, she looked at her reflection on the mirror. Wearing a beautiful, black, gothic lolita style dress. Her hair, which was carefully braided in two pigtails gave her quite an adorable appearance.
Just as she got out to see how Jac was doing, she heard his angry voice calling her name. Calmly walking towards him, she found him with his hands completely dirty with oil, reading a small book near the control wheel.
"I did hear you the first time, you know... There's no need to shout!" she said, rolling her eyes as she walked towards him.
"Work? You mean... a contract?" Beatrix asked, raising an eyebrow as she stopped nearby Jac, confused.
"Was I supposed to?" Beatrix asked, waving her hair as she tilted her head. Her confusion was clearly not just her being bratty though, it was clear thanks to her expression and her voice that she honestly didn't remember him having asked her to do so.
Without looking up Jac pointed to a board on the back wall of the bridge which normally indicated who was on which shift. While at port he used it to delegate various jobs that needed to get done while docked. Next to Beatrix’s name Jac had written ‘find contract’ with the grease pen tied to the board. Most of the crew had similar short jobs listed.
“You didn’t check the shift board?” Jac asked, finishing marking down the repairs in the ship’s log. He closed the book, replaced the pen’s cap and returned both to their shelf.
“Well, lucky for you I’m free now,” he continued with a sigh, finally turning to face the young woman with a snarky grin on his face, “so I hope you got your shopping in, because it’s time to put your… preparations to the test.”
Nothing quite pulled interested parties like a good-looking woman which, though Jac would never admit, Beatrix was. That’s why he often gave her that job while they were between contracts. Between that and her combat skills she was a good member of the crew, though at times he had to remind himself of that.
Looking to the board that Jac pointed at, Beatrix indeed saw her name, together what what she was supposed to do written right next to it. It didn't help that she didn't have a habit of looking at the board herself.
"Oh... It is indeed there." Beatrix said, shrugging.
She was surprised to notice though that Jac didn't give her a long sermon or scolding for having forgotten her task, nor did he said anything about her wearing a dress, going as far as to even offering to go with her in search of a job. In fact, he seemed to be strangely satisfied that she was wearing nice clothes.
"I honestly thought you were about to scold me and give me a sermon." she said, with a chuckle.
"Good looks do attract stares. Lucky for you though, I'm here." Beatrix said with a smug look on his face and a chuckle.
Truth be told, the initial reason for her to wear her dress instead of her armor wasn't to attract stares and help to find a contract like she claimed to Jac, but simply because it was undeniably more comfortable than her armor and she was still a girl. She enjoyed looking pretty when she wasn't working.
“If I did chew you out again, would it help?” Jac asked with a raised eyebrow. Wiping his hands once more on his pants before grabbing his jacket from where it lay next to the wheel, he made for the door leading from the bridge to the main deck. Normally the door was closed in flight, but they tended to leave it open while the ship was moored to let some air through.
“Better to use you as bait. Just hope we find a good job or I’ll have you helping Hal clean the oil system,” Jac chuckled, in a decent mood despite the lack of work currently. Normally he was rather solemn between jobs, seemed like every other day that the bank was sending him telegrams reminding him of the money he still owed on the Libertas, but with nearly everything on board working for the first time in recent memory he figured he could enjoy the relaxation before it all went downhill again.
Turns out the feeling didn’t last long, the moment he climbed down the ladder from the ship’s deck to the ground a messenger on a bike pulled up.
“Mr. Bashford?” The man asked.
“Depends on who sent the telegram,” Jac said with only a slight groan.
“Says ‘Federal Reserve of Amperta’ sir.”
“Then no, Mr. Bashford isn’t here right now. In fact, you may have the wrong ship as there is no Jac Bashford on this ship.”
"I do like the nice Jac that doesn't scold me much more though..." Beatrix replied to Jac when he asked if it would help if he scolded her. Normally, Beatrix knew how solemn Jac was between jobs so it was a rather nice surprise to see him in such a good mood.
As she followed him outside the bridge, on the way to the main deck though, she heard quite a worrying sentence from Jac... If they didn't find a job even when using Beatrix as a bait, he would have her help Hal to clean the oil system. Something that Beatrix would definitely hate. Despite it being followed by a chuckle, Beatrix didn't doubt at all that he would really do it in case they didn't find a job.
"What?! The Oil System? Do you know how much time it would take for me to clean the oil stains from my dress and clean my hair? Almost an entire day!! I just finished brushing my hair too!" Beatrix said, clearly unsatisfied.
"Ugh... I hope we find a job..." she said with a heavy sigh as she followed him to the ladder in order to get out of the ship.
"Don't you dare to look up by the way..." she said as she got down the stairs, holding her dress near her body with her free hand.
When they got down though, much to Beatrix's dismay, a messenger on a bike pulled up asking for Mr. Bashford. While it seemed to be something quite trivial, she would learn by the short exchange of words between both man that it would completely ruin Jac's good mood for the day. While she knew Jac's general background, lots of things were still a secret for her. What the Federal Reserve of Amperta could possibly want with Jac was one of them.
"The Federal Reserve?" Beatrix repeated in a low tone.
"I can hand him the telegram if you don't mind. " she said, walking towards the messenger. The tone of her voice and how she walked made it clear that she wouldn't take no for an answer.
The messenger glanced between Jac and Beatrix for a moment before shrugging and handing over the letter before hopping back on his steamcycle and peeling away, already pulling another letter from his bag.
“Fine,” Jac snatched the letter from Beatrix before she could open it, shoving it into a jacket pocket, continuing in a grumble, “so much for being able to claim we didn’t get it. You better put that full day of brushing to use then and find us a good job.”
“Well Ma’dam,” Jac said sweeping out an arm with a mock bow for added effect to allow Beatrix to go first, “do try to avoid flirting with the creeps.”
