BrodZ11711 — Roleplayer Guild

Lucas

The shaking was pleasant, it was soft yet shaky, enough to make him feel good. It was when the shaking stopped that Lucas's eyes shot open, looking out the carriage window he saw the dirty grassland of the forest of nature turn to the concrete creation of man, he had finally arrived back home. Lucas stretched, breathing in the air, tasting it, identifying every different flavor in the air. He told the well dressed driver to stop and let him out, he nodded and pulled the horses to the side. The creaking of the rusty hinges was the only thing that could be heard. His foot lightly touching the stone path and an odd sensation of familiarity ran up his body, he turned to the driver and handed him his reasonable fee. As the driver rode off from once he came, Lucas took the time to appreciate his home, the smell, the sight... the feel, as he ran his hand through his hair. Distant cheering was echoing throughout the city, the games. No one was around and so Lucas headed to the central location of the mass. 

It had been two months since he last saw any Phoenix Wing members, he'd hope that they didn't think he ran from the guild. As far as he knew, no one came for him. He did mention to the master that it was a secret mission and specifically to not tell Amaya. The day was coming to a close, the weather changing ever so slowly while maintaining it's beautiful feeling. He was almost at the games when the cold chill of death ran through Lucas's very core. He stopped moving, the wind brushing past him ever so lightly. Covered by shadows, the white mask was all to be seen. A smirk broke across Lucas's face, he cocked his head slightly to the left, the pulsating sword coming straight down, missing him completely. Lucas's eyes locked with The Pale's faceless mask, mere centimeters away, he raised his fist, combining it with his mask, sending him backwards. And at the exact same time, Lucas jumped, averting the leg sweep of Azazel, while in the air, he spun, bringing out his leg and forcing it down onto Azazel's head, colliding his head with the pavement. Ducking the span of the sword once again, Lucas kicked behind him like a donkey, kicking The Pale in the stomach, warding his attack off. With his foot still on Azazel's head, Azazel reached around and snagged his foot, rising to his feet, to swung Lucas around by the ankles, letting go and sending him into a wall. Dizzy and spinning, Lucas straightened his body, twisting and curling in the air, joining both feet with the wall he launched himself off, faster then both Azazel and The Pale could react, he swung his leg around and hit both of them in the face. Landing elegantly, the smile never left his face, he spoke with a calm sturdy voice, "I'm not that same weak mage from two months ago, if I still had both my eyes, my power would be that of a 'S' rank mage. I didn't use my magic in this fight. Tell father I'm ready for him." Lucas twisted away from the conquered assassins and headed towards the games. His cape swung sumptuously in the wind. 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, Lucas stood at the entrance, waiting for the day to be over, and waiting for Phoenix Wing to see the new Lucas. His hair was the most notable difference, going from his ice blue to fire red color, his carbon black eye patch over his now gone left eye and his gears and cogs over his left arm. His power was a massive difference. Lucas had spent two months training non stop with Beth, his savior...
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Master of the New Age

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