HokumPocus

The Five Senses

---

Lynx was out cold. Despite not having taken part in the battle at all, the familiar had fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately after receiving shelter. The stolen familiar had apparently been unable to completely get rid of his pampered roots and barely budged, even with the vigorous attempts of one particular little fairy. The spectacle that was taking place between Lynx and Sil would have been enjoyable to Octavio, had the latter not decided to pay him a visit as well. "Alright alright, fun fun." he said, smiling. His face may have painted a friendly scene, but the thoughts in his head directed at the other man´s familiar were anything but. Experiences in infiltration had led him to learn that their element of unpredictability tended to be a liability above anything else. As things were he was perfectly fine with an exotic cat that did nothing but sass him and run.

"Fortunately I can´t say that I´m a stranger to staying up too late." he said, suavely. It was the truth, although the way he spoke framed it to imply romance rather than robbery. Charming wealthy socialites and then pilfering their treasures were both jobs that needed to be done at night for the best results. Ironically Octavio had ended up being one of the best candidates among their party for being nocturnal and alert, not that any of them knew that.

Chres had more or less pulled him to their improvised observatory with no resistance, as Octavio was still tired and treating their current state of affairs as nothing more than an annoying obligation. He surveyed the room that was designated as their improvised observatory with relative calm and crossed his arms in annoyance. There wasn't much to do here. His hazel eyes looked at the sight beyond the window, unimpressed by their surroundings.

"But I have to admit, this is a fairly boring affair in comparison." he added. He recalled the stolen bottle of expensive wine that had been jumbled with the rest of his equally hard to explain belongings, but then thought better of it. Or at least until the rest of them went to sleep, anyways.

Týfurkh had begun yet another strategizing session with the party which made Octavio feel drowsy. What was the point of all this again? Couldn't they just run for it if things got too dangerous and stab a couple of people if need be? It made Octavio feel reassured on his stance on cooperating with others. The mention of a clocktower however... The dramatic man would most likely approve their plans if it involved one.

The Saltaire District

---

Irvine didn´t like Roman. From the beginning of their gathering he had begun to see glimmers of contempt and judgement forming within the mans tired eyes, and he didn´t like it one bit. His art was a misunderstood one, with dozens of critics ready to leap at him like street animals the second another body would go missing. He could already imagine the dozens of eyes within the room turning on him at the mention of an unsettling medic being stuck with them, pointing, laughing, judging. His paranoid thoughts were bested by delusion as they always were, however. He reasoned that just because they were unable to appreciate the human form like him didn´t mean that they would be unable to develop some sort of relationship working together.

"Does this mean I´m cleared of you and the district´s suspicion?" he asked, in a manner perhaps more bitter than intended. He put people back together again, not the opposite, for the sake of the gods! Yet every time another would go missing he could feel the tension between him and the rest of the town rise. Others in the room had asked questions as well, but he didn´t see anything to be worried about concerning the mission. They had been going about things the wrong way in his opinion.

For starters, it was nearly impossible for him to not sneer at the mention of sending experts to investigate. Irvine thought of professional adventurers as irresponsible and ignorant brutes who depended on healers such as himself to mend all of their mistakes. Guards ranked even lower on his mental scale of respect, as his past experiences in grave robbing had led him to discover that all it takes is a couple of coins to make one turn the other way. Roman must have seen him and whoever the rest of these people were as some sort of last resort, but Irvine was overconfident in his skills and was secure in an easy victory.

The comment from the man named Alex irritated him, just as any and all perceived or actual criticisms of his work did. To be accused of sorely lacking in the magical department through a negative lens was folly to him. He held back from snapping at him with a lecture over the power of manual labor and how we must never depend to much on magic. For now. Roman was about to judge Irvine's character, and he wasn´t willing to give him even more material to criticize him with.

"Also..." he said, ponderously, "What are this Brax fellow´s whereabouts?"

The Sanctuary

---

There seemed to be no shortage of fantastical sights around The Sanctuary, but Ar'oa struggled to think for a moment at the sight of an enormous tree creature being welcomed.

The closest Ar'oa had gone to seeing trees in the Wasteland outside of illusions were pale and hardy flora that were as determined to cling to life as his people were, and so the sight of just one tree would have been enough to leave him speechless. There was more than one however, and the beautiful forests around The Sanctuary had left an impression on him that he would most likely remember for the rest of his life. But... that wasn't the end of it. In front of him, also welcomed to stay at The Sanctuary, was a creature made entirely of trees and life. It transcended being described as something from a storybook and reached the status of legendary in his eyes. Its verdant and sprawling presence was something that required no artifacts to fully appreciate, and Ar'oa was at a total loss for words on how to perceive such a moving miracle. Every movement that it made would have no doubt sprouted dozens of caravan tales and songs devoted to it as a symbol of life and bloom. He had to focus on the task at hand, however, and resumed paying attention to the strange man's instructions.

Ar'oa felt unnerved by the man already knowing his goal for seeking this shelter out. It was unsurprising though, as The Sanctuary's existence had been made known to him by various rumors over its capabilities. The anubis blood within him felt dishonored at his secret having been alluded to so publicly, and in the Wasteland he would have doubtlessly taken the man's words as an act of hostility. But no one had reacted negatively towards him and Ar'oa's sense of calm had restored at the realization that none of these other races held the same conventions his did.

"You will call me Ar'oa." he stated. However, may you already know that as well, perhaps? he thought. He could be coy when he wanted to, but now wasn't the right time.

The Saltaire District

writing a post currently 👅💦

The Sanctuary

---

If there was a single word that could describe the personality of the girl before Ar'oa, it would probably be brazen. From the unfiltered expression of her emotions to her willingness to befriend even someone as strange as an anubis, Ar´oa was at a loss for words. Stephanie, as she had called herself, had no qualms with revealing the origin of her grief and explaining her artifacts to someone who was practically a stranger. He thought about asking Asri to confirm if humans were usually this honest, but didn't think it would be a wise idea.

He approached Stephanie and enveloped her hand with one of his own, kneeling to reach it. The healing process would be faster if they were performing direct physical contact. That, and, he wanted to avoid the flashy appearance of his long distance magic when in front of those he didn't know very well. His hand looked gargantuan compared to hers, with fine black fur and gleaming canine nails that looked like polished marble. In less than a day he had gone from being one of the slimmest members of his clan to a giant among men.

"This will require no effort on your behalf. Maintain a physical connection until I finish."

Ar'oa was a member of a clan talented in emotional healing, and while his gift of physical healing had certainly been an indispensable tool for living in such hostile lands, he saw it as the cruder art of the two. Physical healing could only alleviate pain and wounds in their most simple and primal forms. Emotional healing could lift burdens, erase grudges, spring forth joy and happiness. It could fill oneself with a calm that could turn the hearts of beasts into men. If physical healers were medics that mended things together, then the emotional thaumaturges of his clan were masters of unspooling the fabrics of the soul, threading and weaving to create something whole. He healed the effect, they healed the cause. He pruned the weeds, they uprooted them entirely.

Gazing upon the pained and tear-stained face of the girl filled him with an inner grief at the futility of his actions. He could never make her forget the things that the woman she had mentioned, her own mother, had inflicted upon her. He could only make the light bruises from collapsing disappear. And so he did, once again confining the theatrics of his heart to the inside.

"I am sorry that you have suffered. I have healed what I can."

He stood up, unsatisfied at his limitations.

The Sanctuary

---

Ar'oa was unsure of how interpret the human's nervous behavior. She looked to be young even for her race, yet there was a hardiness to her that suggested that she could hold her own in battle. So what had caused her to become so overwhelmed by emotion? He thought of the stark differences between his kin and the rest of the world and how she might have been intimidated by him, but that didn't make much sense to him. The girl was clearly able to fend for herself and was honest in her words. Something else had been the cause of her tears and nervousness, something of great importance to her. He didn't ask. The anubis respected each other's secrets, and he would extend the same courtesy to her.

On her neck was an amulet that shone with the changing colors of blue to green like captured seawater. He hadn't seen many artifacts with that sort of beauty in his travels and was fascinated by its magic. He would definitely ask her about it if the opportunity presented itself.

"You will call me Ar'oa." he said, calmly. It was common for anubis clans to maintain an emotional distance with one another, greeting themselves in that peculiar manner and even using false names and identities in certain cases. This, once again, was done out of respect above all else. He was aware that customs in the rest of the world would be different, but had yet to learn any of them and had decided to continue with the behaviors that were typical of his people. Anyone offended by it could probably be reasoned with, as he doubted that The Sanctuary would give shelter to anyone too brutish.

She had asked him for a name but had not supplied one for herself, and Ar'oa had stared at her with a pair of expressionless black eyes half expecting her to do so. The voices of clan elders obsessed with ceremonies and manners rang in his mind at such a bold action. And yet, it made him feel more at ease. If the world outside the Wasteland was truly this liberal when it came to greetings, then it meant that her words of friendship were more earnest than he had initially thought them to be. He too spoke sincerely, curious to know how other cultures behaved.

"Were these my homelands I would have thought of your words as folly, but it seems that The Sanctuary is miraculous enough of a stronghold that seeking friendship so boldly is possible during these times." He spoke with a usual relaxed demeanor and subtle changes in his face that could have been hard to read for the other races. The level tone was usually a shield for his true feelings, but he currently felt at peace with the fantastical surroundings and the friendly strangers around him. And the other human, a warrior, had also greeted him. It had pleased him to know that his stay at The Sanctuary would be closer to some sort of gathering rather than the temple infiltrating he was imagining it to be similar to. And to her he also extended a welcome.

"Certainly. Forests and castles were always confined to storybooks in the Wasteland."

He had noted that the wind felt weaker compared to the sandstorms of his home, making him feel as if grounded inside of someone else´s dream. A snake had interrupted his thoughts, however. Ar´oa cursed under his breath at not having taken enough protective measures. Revealing illusions was an absolute necessity when pilfering temples or interacting with their spirits, and yet he had let his guard down out of a sense of security. It was a pathetic snake, nothing like the gemstone colored serpents sold as luxury items between the caravans. He felt no need to intervene as the person it was attached to could very well see that it wasn't real. Stephanie had been injured however.

"If your injuries are physical", said Ar'oa, approaching the young human,"I can heal them if you wish."

XD

oh right I should probably do the same

Magnezone

Ability: Sturdy

Item: Wise glasses

Moveset:
Explosion
Thunderbolt
Flash cannon
Substitute

The Saltaire District

Irvine

A set of tired and piercing eyes framed by masculine features, Irvine would be considered a reasonably attractive man if he kept his mouth shut and put effort into his appearance besides the bare minimum hygiene required for work. His hair is dramatically slicked back to be out of the way and formal.

"Don't worry, I'll fix you up... as long as you let me get a good look first."

---

Irvine Wellington

29 / M

Human

Medic

The Saltaire district and the land around it have yet to make any large strides in the refinement of health and medicine, and many practitioners have been forced to accept brutish methods for what they are and hope for the best. Except for Irvine. One of the best medics in his town, Irvine isn’t just satisfied with his work, but downright gleeful about it at times. To Irvine, nothing beats putting people back together the good old fashioned way. He’s certainly talented in healing through magical means, but prefers to fall back on it as a last resort. Why mess with strange powers when bone saws and musty tonics are so readily available?

Irvine is an extroverted and curious man who struggles to socialize appropriately, often oversharing or overstepping boundaries. He doesn’t find anything about the human body disgusting and is fascinated by it to the point where it concerns others. He is friendly and eccentric, talking for the sake of talking.

Irvine grew up comfortably with two busy parents and an abundance of unsupervised leisure. His mom was a butcher and his dad put things together as a carpenter, and before long the fascination of both of their worlds coagulated into an intense appreciation for surgery. Despite murmurs of his satisfaction having roots in the darker pleasures of life, Irvine remains adamant in insisting that he just enjoys repairing what's broken. Irvine's claims are honest, and much like a tailor enjoys the craftsmanship of sewing swaths of cloth together to form a finished piece, he enjoys stitching skin and sinew to assist his patients.

He is no stranger to the world of adventuring having been one himself in his younger years, albeit as a cleric rather than anything more heroic in nature. Some of the older adventurers in town are still able to recall their encounters with Irvine and his reluctance to rely on magic despite its benefits. This former job and the frequent quarrels that it caused left a bitter taste in his mouth, leading him to live a more independent and stationary lifestyle as a local medic. Through a combination of hard work and incredible passion he has grown into a definite professional, although there might be a sense of hesitation in asking for his assistance.

---

In his youth Irvine had brief stints of working as a cleric for hire with mixed results. A set of drab robes the color of dying straw are still in his possession. They are quite resistant to magic and allow him to cast spells more effectively, at the cost of offering no protection against physical attacks. A personal notebook with shorthand scrawls indecipherable to anyone but himself is also in his possession, intended to assist him in magical endeavors in case he forgets a word here or there. This is backed by a steel rod the size of an arm used as a magical staff.

He unsurprisingly carries basic medical supplies with him, his favorite bone saw included.

Irvine has carved out a niche for himself with the vast amount of knowledge he has amassed over the inner workings of the human body throughout the years, including the magical and non-magical ways to mend it. He has a dextrous pair of hands and a very high pain tolerance, as well as the ability to sneak around undetected. Like many talented medics, the occasional grave robbery for the sake of education is sometimes needed to develop his craft.

Irvine is able to magically heal wounds, but prefers to stitch them up or repair them as much as possible beforehand through traditional methods to conserve his energy. His healing spell is his primary and strongest spell. He is also capable of casting a minor spell that muffles noise, but prefers to keep it to himself to not raise questions.

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N/A

The Saltaire District

wat u think about my cs

Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

I had fun with this roleplay and learned from it, I'll let you know if I ever reboot it someday lol