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2 yrs ago
Current Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Don't mind me. Just shilling a thread: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
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3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
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3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
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Bio

Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?

Stay awesome, people.

Most Recent Posts



Location: The Crows' Nest // Date: February 24, 2057 // Time: 22:00 // Interactions: Poppy @dreamingflowers, Erik @FunnyGuy, Akaia @Exit




Ugh, what a vibe shift. It her like a bitch. Lys tried not to look drunk. She had to be 'supplementary nurse lady' now. That was a hat she wore a good deal. But hats mess up my hair, she mused, almost instantly berating herself for the out-of-place thought. She needed to get up and move a bit, to make herself useful so, when Poppy recommended running some tests and Erik recommended blood for the soon-to-be revenant, Lys agreed with the first and humoured the second. "I can grab what we need," she chirped, trying to be Erik for a moment: all positive and stuff.

Upon being met with no disagreement, Lys set hands to wheels, rolling up to the doorway. "Pops, bloodwork kit's in the usual spot, right?" She half-twisted as she went, feeling the wooziness from four whiskey shots, and was met with a quick, distracted nod. People always assumed that the 'skinny Asian girl' couldn't drink but... Dammit, maybe they're right, actually, she realized, the alcohol hitting her unusually hard. Of course she was worried for Amelia - everyone was - but she couldn't quite keep a stray thought from entering her mind: You sure know how to pick your moment, Sleeping Beauty.

The door opened with a creak and there was Birdbrain, standing there on the other side, literally almost pressed up against it. For a moment, Lys was afraid that the other woman had been leaning on the door and would fall forward onto her, but that proved not to be a concern as the sidhe hopped aside, snapping out of what appeared to be some deep thought. Both sidhe had been unusually bouncy and spry today, come to think of it. Akaia immediately half bounced on the balls of her feet to get Lysandra's attention. "L-Lee-saw! The mistle?" she said, pale eyes the color of an excitement she didn't quite understand and with finger pointed toward the hall leading back to what had once been Ionna's room. "You fixed it?"

Lys blinked and closed the door behind herself, throwing up a cloud of swirling dust that sparkled in the light of the old stained-glass windows. "Well... I wouldn't say 'fixed' one hundred percent, but I think she's gonna make it." The human twisted and looked up at Akaia, brushing some hair from her face. She was a mess, to be honest. Maybe it was just a matter of not having the recovery time of a twenty-year-old anymore. "Now I've just gotta figure out how it works without hurting it." Brow momentarily furrowed, she inched forward with a little push. "You wouldn't have any special plant person knowledge on that... now wouldja?" Lys arched an eyebrow and smiled conspiratorially.

It was Akaia's turn to blink, and she shook her head. "I-... Y-you want me to eat it?"

You learn something new every day, thought Lysandra. Maybe she was just drunk. "If that can teach you things, then yes... eventually. I'd uh... like you to eat a small part. The plant's recovering... really well, actually, but it's still a bit too weak right now. I wouldn't want to risk harming it just yet." People inside were waiting for her to procure the bloodwork equipment. She had no time to linger, chatting, even if the chat was a potentially fruitful one. "We'll talk later, Flower Power, and don't worry. We won't let anything happen to Amelia." With a big push of her wheels and a small apologetic glance, Lys raced off to the storage room.

In hindsight, it should've probably been someone else who went. Despite its size, the room was absolutely packed: even more so since Ionna and Vincent had arrived. Ajax had been forced to sacrifice his training room and Lys her laboratory. The child revenant had lasted all of two days, and Ajax had simply moved his things partially to his spartan room and partially outdoors. The shift had still made for a lot of clutter, though, and would continue to do so until the Commune's scientist was finished moving everything back and reclaiming what had been hers anyway at the start of last week.

From almost the moment that she'd noticed it would be a problem, Lys had been adamant about people not just leaving their shit on the floor. She could sense that they found her insistence and constant carping pushy and overbearing, but it was something they could not hope to understand: If she wanted to be able to literally just be mobile like the rest of them, she needed a cleared path about two and a half feet wide, and 'just step(ping) over things' wasn't an option. Lysandra wound her way through the shelves, stacked barrels, and mountains of haphazardly-strewn junk, hissing in frustration more than once as she got stuck or had to bend over to sweep something out of the way. By the time that she rolled out of the room with the kit and two blood beads occupying her lap, she had taken about seven minutes and was in a thoroughly bad mood, the alcohol in her system only intensifying her emotions.

Upon seeing Akaia, she took a long breath, in and out. Life's frustrations were what they were and she couldn't change them right now. These people still cared about her and she cared about them. Lys gathered herself, pushed out a polite but perfunctory greeting for the sidhe and opened the door. There was somebody inside who needed her help, who was - hopefully - soon to awaken to a new life. It was her - and Poppy's - responsibility to ensure that happened safely. The blood beads, she handed to Erik. "Listen, I know you wanna help, chief, but I think we should hold off on these until we run our tests. Can't try to cure before the diagnosis, hmm?"

The kit, with its sampling needles and tubes, swabs, and ties, was placed on the sleeping revenant's end table. Lys glanced at Poppy. "Sorry for the wait. Someone else should've gone." She glanced down for a moment and swept some hair from her face. Looking back up, she was all business. "We should begin."


For those who are wondering, BTW, it seems we've got a solid amount of interest and the interest check is already extensive enough that an OOC won't be much work. All considered, I'll open one by Thursday and I'll start reviewing Character Sheets on Monday and Tuesday.
@josephb@Atalanta@Inertia

Awesome. If you have any questions or would like to bounce some ideas off of me, feel free to ask away, to check out The Hourglass Order or, best of all, join the discord. It's pretty active and you'll get a quick response to any ideas you have. The community's pretty helpful!

Can't wait to see what you come up with.
@Fetzen Awesome! Feel free to fire off any questions you have here or in our discord!
interested, will try to have a character sheet made up soon—hoping to fill the role of either a warlock or an infiltrator.


Sounds good! Those are both pretty fun callings. Feel free to bounce any questions off of me here or in the discord.
The Gift: A Deeper Understanding___ __ _ _

Use of The Gift is a rare phenomenon, reserved only for those most blessed by the gods. It is estimated that perhaps two in a hundred people have the ability to use magic for more than mere parlour tricks, though this has not been measured for a certainty. As befits a great boon bestowed upon man by the divine Pentad, The Gift is arcane and inscrutable in nature: far beyond mortal understanding. What little is known to learned men is recorded below for the benefit of the interested.










The World: A Deeper Understanding__ _ _ _

The world of Sipente is home to a myriad of different cultures based on region, religion, social class, and other identity factors. For the purposes of our RPG, we'll be focusing mainly on those of Parrence, Drudgunze, and Eskand, which occupy the central and southern regions of the continent of Constantia.

As a general rule, the lingua franca (common tongue) that most people would speak, similar to how many of us use English as a common medium and how Europeans used Latin in the past, is Avincian: the old language of the Avincian Empire. Most noble, clergy, and wealthier merchant characters would be expected to have a strong command of this language in addition to their native tongue and perhaps one other major language. For the commonfolk, its use has faded and local dialects of Parrench, Eskandr, and Drudgunzean generally prevail.






In-Progress Example CS_________ __ __ _ _


Long ago, along the banks of the rivers now called the Asquelle, Oreuse, Vitroux, and Meine, there lived five tribes: one for each of the Gods, though these people were as yet ignorant of the Pentad. The land that Oraphe had gifted them was lush and green nonetheless, the climate fair, and the forests rich with game. At times, it was true that Echeran raised his mighty sword and there was war among them but, more often than not, there was bounty enough for all and they lived in Ipté's peace.

Centuries passed and, as Chune granted them more of her wisdom, the five tribes began to apply her Gift of magic in simple ways. They built villages and towns, pushing back the forests with their dark, rugged reaches and savage beasts. Farms came to cover the hillsides: swaying seas of golden rye, barley, oats, and lentils dotted with thatched-roof huts and cottages. Gradually, the five peoples became one and their numbers grew. They began to call themselves something new: Parren. Dami was pleased by their sound judgement and blessed them greatly for many years.


But the five-tribes-turned-one were simple yet, compared to their neighbours from the rocky, sweltering north. These had built a vast empire on blood, gold, and magic. They, too, were many, and greatly blessed by Echeran, whom they worshipped in marble temples. Now, they turned their greedy eyes south towards the lands of those they called Parencii. How simple was the conquest.

Yet, for all of their initial brutality, these Avincians proved just and fair as masters and, in time became brothers with the Parencii and the others whose lands they had marched upon. Once again the people of the Asquelle, Oreuse, Vitroux, and Meine thrived. They learned a great deal in this time - most of all, the names and magics of the Gods - and nobody could call them simple anymore. They built their homes of stone and plowed their fields with oxen and slaves gained from conquest. Their victories became those of the Avincians and the Avincians' theirs.


However, the same was true of their defeats, for such are the Gods of the Pentad that they give and they take. The peoples of Sipente ebb and flow no differently than their world does. Too much, those of the arid north liked their gold, and their empire weakened from within. From the south now, lands cold and unforgiving, blessed only with winds, snows, and a wealth of minerals, came a new threat: the Eskandr.

Their magics were fresh and strong and their fury and lust like nothing the Parencii nor their Avincian masters had ever seen. By fire and sword, they set upon the more civilized peoples' homes, farms, and businesses and razed them to the ground. To their frigid and desolate lands, the Eskandr took the accumulated wealth of generations: the gold, spices, and marble, the strong men as slaves, and the beautiful women as unwilling wives. Those left behind howled for vengeance and, within a decade, formed the backbone of the mighty Avincian legions which struck south.





On the banks of the Meine, the two armies fought to a bloody standstill. The empire recovered itself somewhat and staggered on for another two hundred years. The Eskandr bided their time but, when the thousand year city of Avince and its civilization fell, it was not they who did the deed. Rather, among others, it was the Parench. For quite some time, they had been doing the dragon's share of the work and receiving scant little of the reward.

For their greed, Dami judged them wanting and Echeran laid them low. Plague and famine swept the lands of the dead empire. Petty kings, conquerors, and strongmen carved the great corpse into small, feuding realms. Roads fell into disuse, temples into ruins, and forests full of wolves and bandits encroached upon farmland. As they lay bleaching in the subtropical sun, bricks were scavenged from the great, overgrown bones of the old Avincian cities. Public baths, stadiums, and libraries became humble huts and longhouses. Books became kindling and the practice of magic became strange and arcane.


Now, the Eskandr returned, and they feasted on the soft lands to the North. Under many banners but with one purpose and a common set of heathen gods, they raided up and down the coast and then began to strike inland. The villages of the Parench burned once more and there were a hundred different men who claimed that they would act as saviour to their people: the one to take on and defeat this scourge of Echeran. They would not share their glory, however and, instead, they carved their own lands up in bloody warfare. Only after dozens of these would-be heroes lay dead and the heathens ran rampant, extracting tribute and taking slaves, did the remainder swallow their pride and adopt the titles of dukes, counts, barons, and margraves.

On the shore of the Étroite Sea lies the old Avincian city of Solenium, with its handsome stone buildings, cobble streets in their original grid pattern, and palm trees that sway in the maritime breeze. Renamed Solenne by the Parrench, it was here that the proud lords of the land, near to broken from their wars against each other and Eskandr alike, gathered on the Ides of Verdi. As cathedral bells chimed and the year’s first flowers bloomed outside, they bowed their heads and pledged their fealty to a new king: a first among equals.


The ruler of the unified Parrench people, Arcel, is a young man, for it was truly his father Rouis who won the crown and then expired too soon to wear it. Some say he is clever, handsome, and strong in The Gift. Others say that his are a young man's dreams and too grand to make for reality. Dukes and counts whisper and scheme. Margravines curtsy and court him. They say he will fail but, in truth, he must succeed, or the bold experiment that is one Parrench nation will fail with him and become a feast for the Eskandr.

To that end, in cities, towns, and even the largest of villages, King Arcel's agents now appear. For those few who can read, parchments are hammered onto posts and church doors while innkeepers and town criers relay the king's message for the many who cannot. Arcel, first of his name, King of the Parrench, calls all willing and able warriors skilled in the use of The Gift to the town of Relouse, on the southern frontier. Knights, Wizards, Rangers, and Scoundrels alike, he calls them to fight for the future of their people.





Your Legend_________ __ __ _ _

First: The Story | This is a low fantasy RPG set in the same world as The Hourglass Order, but eight hundred years prior, during the Dark Ages. It shares much of the same lore and deals with the coalescence and founding of the nation of Perrence. This takes place against the backdrop of merciless and persistent raids and invasions by the southern 'barbarians' known as Eskandr. Yet, these invaders face issues of their own. Their northernmost brethren - the Drudgunzeans - are increasingly forsaking their ancient ways and the faith of their fathers in favour of Quentism. You'll be playing warriors of a great many sorts who have answered the young king's call to fight for their country or else the very barbarians who seek to destroy it in order to preserve their ascendance.

Second: Character Creation | This RPG involves magic and a handful of fantasy creatures, but is more concerned with a degree of realism than most fantasy. To that end, you'll be playing human (or yasoi) characters. You are allowed a concurrent maximum of two. These should be setting-appropriate, which means no clockwork tinkerers, half-elves with violet eyes, unusually tall emo kids, rebellious princess-knights, or anime main characters. The people that you create don't have to revel in their outward uniqueness simply for its own sake. They can be archetypes but still be compelling if thought, nuance, and heart go into making them. Good Dark Ages character art is also very difficult to find, so I'll be allowing some leeway, but this is not a D&D campaign or an anime. Characters' attire should be practical and reflect their setting and role.

Third: Conduct | This will be a fast-paced game with plenty of action, intrigue, politics, and exploration. It will have a clearly defined goal and ending. Players will be expected to adhere to the standard rules on powerplaying, metagaming, and 'asspulling'. Play this game in good faith and it'll be rewarding. If you find yourself very focused on 'winning' against other players as opposed to telling a collaborative story, then I'd ask you to look elsewhere. In terms of activity level, I'm looking for at least two paragraphs per post a minimum of once per week. If you don't think that you can keep up with that activity level, then this isn't for you. If you go inactive on the forum and on discord without prior notice for more than a week, I will ping and Direct Message you. If you fail to respond after a second week of inactivity... your character will fall in service of the kingdom or join the Visitor in Grønhal.

Fourth: Deaths | As participants in a wartime game, you run the risk of character death. These will not be random acts of the Gods, but risky choices are, well... risky. That is not to discourage risk-taking. There may be sizable rewards as well, but ill-advised decisions (and you will always receive a warning of the risks and possible benefits if you would like one) can also result in the maiming or death of your character. You are free, however, to re-enter with a second character if your first is taken by Echeran. You'll only be permanently kicked from the game in instances of counterproductive behaviour or extended inactivity without notice.

Fifth: Character Roles | There are three main factions and ten Callings (otherwise known as classes). Some are fairly unique and there will be caps on how many characters are allowed of these types. For the sake of realism, if your character is going against the societal grain, I would like to see good, nuanced, developed reasons as to why. If you're rebelling in some way, it needs to have a compelling internal logic and thoughtful emotional justification. In general, to ensure a balanced spread of characters that reflects the spirit of the game, we'll be using a quota system. If there are too many characters submitted for a particular quota, the one best suited to the direction of the narrative will be taken. The other player may submit an alternate character if they wish.





The World_________ __ __ _ _


The world of Sipente, where our story takes place, is vast and complex, governed by the laws of nature and magic but, to its people, by those of the divine Pentad as covered in the holy Menanne. All Parrench and many Drudgunzeans believe firmly that it was through the will of the Gods that all things were brought into existence, by their leave that man flourishes, and by their wrath that he fails.

Distinct from most fantasy settings, this world is very much in its equivalent to the Dark Ages (though the later part of them). Tactics and technology are simpler than in later medieval times: castles humbler, siege warfare in its infancy, good steel more valuable, and mounted knights a relatively new innovation. Full plate armour does not yet exist. The trebuchet has not been invented. Still developing, too, are the social codes that will come to define the middle ages: chivalry is a mere idea that some people have, nobility is still as much a state of being and behaviour as it is a status that one inherits. Magic has become less schooled and more arcane, still widely used but with much of its written form and finer points having been lost. Kingdoms are generally small and evanescent in nature. Parrence is the first truly large one to form north of the Asquelle since the fall of the Avincian Empire. Its success or failure may very well determine what the continent's future will look like.

Many are the peoples, places, beasts, and legends of this world. However, in this brief guide, only those that may play a role in our story will be covered.
















Just a quick update on the above vote: thanks to player and general forum input, the winning spinoff idea was Oriflamme. the interest check will be going up sometime later tonight or tomorrow. Vive la Perrence!


J O C A S T A R E


Plenty of decapitations here, Jocasta mused to herself. How macabre. She wasn't particularly surprised that these were all little killers despite their subtle and not so subtle assertions to the contrary. After all, what was she?

I am what the Refuge made me, she knew, and the things I have become since, but there was nothing before: only vague memories of hide and seek, climbing pistachio trees, and frolicking on a rocky beach with friends whose faces she could not remember. For that wound, the Chemical Mage who had taken those memories paid with his life. It was but a trick of internal chemical and magnetic magic: overstimulate the heart and provoke a heart attack. He noticed her tampering, but it was too late. He couldn't fight it off by then. He couldn't even form words. So it was that Jocasta sat there while the others battled, her face telling the story of a near-panicked girl sweeping the distance for energies, while she ripped the life out of an evil man. It was revenge a decade in the making and yet it did not satisfy the girl. She worked to keep a scowl from her face. You still lived past fifty, she knew. I didn't get to watch it, she thought. You didn't know it was me. She consoled herself with the notion that at least he would not erase everything that made up any other little children like he had erased her or whoever she had been before.

Next, Jocasta knew, she would have to set upon Mirabel, the Tan-Zeno, for she was strong in The Gift and would escape once she recognized this for the attack that it was. Already, the girl could feel the energy of three bodies scrambling. She could feel Mirabel's brain pumping out cortisol and adrenaline. You're next, you bitch. She had already decided to save Gutierrez for last. The more that he suffered, the better. Al-Qorrah was unfortunate to be there, but there was nobody innocent who ran a Tethered Refuge.

"Could you warm this for me, please?" Jocasta snapped out of her bloodlust just as Mirabel may have felt the first pinch. She'd wasted time being unusually subtle. Six Halassa were dead. Bitch and Creep were not, sadly: the former to go on being as presumptuous as ever, the latter as arrogant. The sour look that some part of Jocasta demanded did not show on her face. She would finish her work later, even if all five of these others stood against her. As for Esparza, it would appear to all but the most trained that the anxious old man had simply suffered a heart attack. Besides, out here in the desert, with aberration-mad beasts running amok, the other caretakers would not continue their mission while carrying the body. They would return to the Refuge and she would see them there. A wave of... something cold and uneasy washed through Jocasta. She could not picture, in her mind's eye, being back there. Secretly, she wished for Triste, or even Benedetto. His constant slings and barbs would keep her mind busy.

Jocasta put hands to wheels, resisting the near-instinct to let herself float. At least the ground beneath her was rocky and she started to move. Then she found more of that Gods-awful drink shoved in her face. What was with Bitch and consuming the stuff? Fuck it, Jocasta relented, time to kill her with kindness. "Oh Zamira," she chirped, "r-really, you're too kind! How can I refuse?" With a quick bit of chemical manipulation, she muted the signals from her taste buds to her brain and took a hearty sip. She let it linger in her mouth for a moment, checking for poisons and psychotropic effects. Satisfied that the drink was no threat, she swallowed. "Ahhh, I know I shouldn't be... be drinking this," she sighed, "because it excites my temperament ever so... so much, but that really hits the spot." She smiled warmly. "I can already feel the energy flowing back into me. Tha-Thank you." At that, compliments towards the vile drink abounded, and they all got down to the work of filling themselves with it.

"So. The settlement,” Zarina remarked after a blessed few seconds of not having to hear her voice. "We’ve agreed to talk to them first, yeah? Then let’s get moving before they’re all turtle shit.”

They're already far worse than that, you self-important imbecile. As if to reinforce Jocasta's impression, the Virangishwoman yawned and stretched. "... It’s that way, right?” She pointed in a direction that was... just wrong enough that Jocasta was tempted to let her walk off in it.

"Uh... uh, yes!" the Tethered girl replied after a moment. "Th-this way!" She pointed in a slightly different direction. "I'm... I'm sure Yalen senses it too. We've, uh, quite the range. Perhaps he'd be a b-better choice to um... lead the way," she squeaked. "Th-that is, if you're alright with it, of course!" With a start, she turned to the priest. "Dami forgive me, I'm so t-terribly sorry for just assuming."

Yalen merely pointed at himself in response with a look of puzzlement. "Me? Er, yes, of course. I'd be happy to." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Someone must have felt the portal open. I can sense them out there. A group of four or five. They must be part of the garrison."

Three now, Jocasta thought, learning another valuable piece of information about her teammate. "Thank you," she mewed, "and sorry. I... I suppose we should get going." And that was that. With a few more words exchanged, they set off for the Refuge, or 'settlement' as Bitch put it, or 'garrison' as Idiot put it. At least Slut knows when to keep her mouth shut, Jocasta decided with some satisfaction, though the Torragonese kept stealing yearning glances at Creep's cloak. Sucker was... furtive, probably wondering if anyone had noticed or would condemn him for his use of Blood Magic. Ironically, that had actually served to increase the tiny shred of respect that Jocasta held for him. Now, if you could just learn to use it without shame, she thought, but the notion soon faded from her mind.

It was tough going for the Tethered girl as the terrain alternated between stone and sand. There was a growing chill in the air and a pesky wind that continued to whip dust into the group's eyes. The blonde was forced to use a continuous amount of energy to both move herself and keep her eyes clear. More than one of the others noticed and tried to take advantage of her shield, and so, with a little peep of exertion and doe eyes darting about, she expanded it to cover them all, drawing from the residual heat in the sand to warm herself as she went and... for some reason, Slut as well. It wasn't generosity, empathy, or anything like that, of course. She just couldn't deal with any more of the girl's telegraphed gazes at her teammate's cloak.

Then, there were lights in the far distance and she knew them for the sanctuary. Clear in her mind's eye was that night, six years ago, when she'd glanced back over her shoulder at them a dozen times, with growing conviction that she had made the right choice and growing fear that it would kill her.

Yet, there was something else too, and she exchanged a glance with Yalen - Idiot. Three human bodies and a fast-cooling corpse, the energies in it changing: Tan-Zeno, Binder, and Rapist. They were hurrying back to the safety of the for-once aptly named Refuge. Further, Jocasta stretched her senses and she could feel swift shapes moving above: a pair of Froabases pounding the air with their wings, kinetic energy swirling about. The stout thirty-foot dragons liked hunting at dusk, often aided by their version of The Gift. They avoided cities, but would regularly pick humans off if they journeyed solo or in small groups. The sonic rasp of their echolocation caused her to flinch momentarily. They were either hunting or...

Almost simultaneously, the Froabases arced up and away and that struck Jocasta as wrong. One of the caretakers from the Refuge turned to look back at the fast-gaining group and shouted something unintelligible, waving them forward but not stopping. Jocasta delved into the kinetic and sharpened the distant voice. "Arena!" they were shouting, "Arena Malvada!" ...Evil Sand, Jocasta translated with a start. She reached out with her senses and there it was, near the edge of her range, approaching exactly from due east, perpendicular to their path: the gargantuan collection of energies that could only denote a Royal Sand Wyrm... and it was a big one.

One of her idiot teammates was shouting for the caretakers to slow down. Another was asking if they needed help. It would be easier to let these fools die, but she needed them, in a manner of speaking. Jocasta was not entirely ready to waltz into that Refuge and not just murder every caretaker in sight. The face that she was forced to wear for them might be the only thing that would hold her back. She took a deep breath. "Sand Wyrm!" she screamed, making sure that everyone heard her. "East of here! It's... it's coming up fast!"

The caretakers would make it if they dropped Esparza's body. They'd make it with time to spare. The foundations of the Refuge were solid stone and ran deep underground to bedrock. Jocasta's peers were... a fifty-fifty proposition. Anyone who could boost their speed with Kinetic magic stood a good chance. Anyone who could lift themselves at least one hundred feet clear of the sand might live. Or, they could fight it. The Refuge was so tantalizingly close. Jocasta never thought that she'd actually be happy to see one of the accursed places, but its presence was now a comforting thing and a grim reminder of the sheer hostility of the High Desert. Separating herself from her wheeled-chair, she raised it alongside her as she rose smoothly into the air. Then, the Tethered was flying, letting gravity tug at her and then drawing from that same energy to lift herself back up in a continuous loop. She glanced down at the ground and her five peers. She glanced ahead at the Refuge and its stoic walls. "Hurry," the caretakers were shouting at the students in Torragonese, "Run! Use your magic!" She glanced East at a distinctive growing furrow in the sand. Jocasta Re had killed many people and many things in her life, but she had never even thought to kill a Sand Wyrm.




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