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The soldier's speed was a stark reminder of something he had forgotten along with his memories, that there are those like him that act before anyone else has the time to think. The spear-point was already pressed against his neighbor's neck before he even realized the soldier had moved. His mind raced to solve the predicament he found himself in but there were too many variables and not enough intel. Would the others be his ally's if things came to blows? Did this man have any experience battling mages? Could he have had magic himself, innate or learned? That movement didn't seem natural, so it could have been an application of Space and Wind to shift one's location through the air.

Then there was the spear itself. As it did not appear of wooden or metallic origin, his magic would ultimately accomplish nothing. Stone doesn't react much to heat nor does it conduct electricity well. At least electricity has a visual effect, and thus could be used for intimidation purposes. A show of force that would allow him some level of control over the conflict sense he certainly wouldn't have the strength to pry it from the soldier's hands.

While he thought, the other guard had come back out and disrupted the focus of the soldier. Before he could think of anything else, he reached out and grabbed the spear halfway between its middle and its point. Electricity crackled from his hand as he stared down the soldier. He applied enough pressure backwards to show that his intent was not to push the spear away but simply to resist it pressing further and that he would redirect its trajectory should the soldier lunge anyways.

"Know this, if you wish to fight then it will be with me and not her."

β€π‡πšπ’π₯, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐒π₯,”

So, the soldier's name was Meko. It was a sting to learn someone else's name before you even learned your own. The new woman, that he believes is likely the shaman that Meko had mentioned for the brother to fetch, had ordered the soldier to stand down. He released his grip on the spear immediately so as to let Meko obey the shaman, unsure of why he assumed the shaman's words held so much weight.

As the shaman warned to leave the spears untouched, he noticed another woman begin to act strangely. She seemed confused and disoriented and the arm she was holding a spear with had looked starkly different then the other. He looked towards his own hand and while it had only been a few seconds, he had to admit that there was a cold numbness to his palm. However, he was uncertain whether there were any aesthetic differences as his scarred hand was already rough and blackened before he touched the spear.

Meanwhile, the man that he could only assume had the blood of Heat as his face was alight with flame had walked up to the afflicted woman and was asking her to reach in to his skull. That's when he remembered that during his previous delirium that of the people that had went ahead of him, one had kept grabbing spears and stabbed themself in the... Oh no, that can't be good.
The Air Feels Wrong


Ash, Smoke, Heat

His eyes struggled to open due to the suffocating atmosphere as he began to rise from the ground. Wiping away the soot from his eyes and coughing up the thick air to try and get something better to his lungs, he hadn't realized that the others had already started to move away from him. He needed to compose himself but every breath felt jagged and hot. A scene plays in his head, foggy and distant, but on repeat with new details being showed to him each time. Feel the heat and then channel the wind, that's what he needed right now, some wind and with it fresh air. It took time, and genuine effort to muster up even the smallest of gusts but he managed to push away the filth and inhale some stale but unpolluted air.

Something's off. I should be, more, connected, with the wind. Is it not, in my blood? This isn't right, this isn't my wind. I have no connection to it. My magic is weaker wherever this is.

Magic? Right, I was a mage. My teacher, showed me how to escape the limits of my heritage. But now, I'd do anything to have it's benefit again.

My body, looks different? Doesn't it? I'm older, than I was in that memory. What happened before that? And how much happened after it? How old
am I now? These, scars, they're new, aren't they?


His hand follows a dark jagged scar that contrasts his marble-colored skin as it extends up from his fingertips and all the way to his elbow. Then there was the circular scar in his abdomen, where he imagined a spear stabbing him but missing his vitals. Paired with a few sword scars here and there, he could tell this body had been in a few fights since last he had it. Who was he fighting though, and over what? He was a student, not a soldier, and he rarely traveled so he couldn't imagine having been to combat or being set upon by bandits and yet the scars remained. So who could have caused them? How much had his life changed since that first important lesson. Whatever the case may be, he couldn't just stand here. It was important to keep moving and gather as much information as he could now that he had so little.

He moved to rejoin the group that had been around him not too long ago. I wasn't hard to find them as they didn't move too far and they weren't the quietest bunch. He just barely made out one saying something that felt like a threat and then another of the group, a woman, chastising the man for it.

Everyone seemed out of sorts and most seemed unwilling to speak, except one who seemed unwilling to stop speaking now that she had started. She may have been a little unhinged in his opinion, but she was asking all the right questions. And then some. He had decided to walk up to her side as a way of showing some support towards what she had asked or at least to some of it being answered. He normally wouldn't be so quiet, but he was hoping someone would answer those questions first. There was one question though that demanded being asked that the talkative one hadn't...

"Does anyone, remember their name?"
@Redacted

To avoid confusion, that means I can move him to the character tab, ye?


Pardon the two images, couldn't find one that got both his body, hair, and markings right while also getting his clothing and demeanor right. Despite both images having knives, he does not have any.
@ERode Cool, until I hear from him to say otherwise I'll be making my CS.
Is it too late to submit a CS? Saw this a few days ago but didn't express interest since I had other games I had to write for first and didn't want to stall anything if they took me too long. I see the game has just barely started so I'm hoping I could slip in under the wire?
Here!
Is this game still alive? It's been a little under a month since the last we've heard from Asura in any way. Or, at least me since I don't have their discord. Not sure if they're active there.

Stubbornness might be a trait the pair shared, but Ozymandias thought that bearers of Dynamicism always wore it the worst. In the most general sense, Dynamicism is an aspect of change and freedom, a bending of rules and standards. The antithesis of preconceived notions, and yet this woman held fast to her belief that their duo would work poorly together and refused to give him any real details. He hoped she wouldn't come to regret that choice.

Oz had spent his entire life studying the different facets of the universe. Physics, aerodynamics, aquadynamics, quantum-mechanics, dark matter, the list goes on; you name it. He was well versed in how existence breathed. His specialty was the changing of rules, of establishing new ideas. Something he thought Dynamicism could use well, but he digresses. There was more important things to be concerned with.

Like before, the essence of the Dark City quaked but this time instead of sensing displacement all around him, Oz felt himself dragged through the riftways feeling as if he was being sifted through gravel. Everything twisted and wrenched around him as he concocted a protective formula, an establishment to kill his momentum at the cost of nullifying his weight. He waited into the end of this mad ride to cast the spell, speaking aloud, "Establish, Halt, Null." He spoke as he slammed into pavement, his hand busy tracing formulaic expressions on the other. Before making a second impact, he would freeze midair. All speed stopped, but no weight for gravity to pull him down.

Oz would dispel this effect and tumble to the ground, still worse for wear but better than his compatriot. He brought himself to his feet as he took stock of his surroundings. The beast, soldiers, and a duo of what looked to be independent mages. First assumptions were simple, this beast had somehow dragged him here and likely the rest of this group as well, and so the creature would also likely be his hunter. The situation wasn't ideal but if he could stay on everyone's good side then at least the numbers would be in his favor.

Guns acted first, their leader sending spikes to impale the beast. Leader was likely of Manifest then with such an immediate display of power. The large one in even larger gear could be anything really, mages that kept up with physical improvements tended to surprise people with how they used their magic. The woman with a fog following her was likely pact-bound and based on the form it took, she was likely granted powers of Obscurity. The other two seemed like gunners first, mages second, which likely meant support magic of some kind. A well rounded team, but with his ally being of Dynamicism and the independent mages looking like they could very well be werewolves what with the one having slitted pupils, meant that there was a good chance every aspect was represented here. That would only make it harder to support them with team-wide effects, and so Oz decided to instead focus on impairing the half-incorporeal being.

When a target of his establishments interacted with a non-target, weird things could happen as the two were following different laws of nature and the Dark City would only expound on that strangeness. He needed a law that would mean almost nothing to those gathered here, but would hopefully cripple the beast so that he wouldn't need to exclude the others from his effects. His hands went to work as ideas entered his mind, a light blue arc of energy surged from his fingertips and lingered in the air as he wrote. Trying to balance the fantasy of his desires with reality.

"It's for the best if you all listen to me when I speak, don't blame me if you can't pay attention. I hereby establish that any limb in contact with a tangible, inanimate object must also be tangible from phalange tip to the joint that connects it to the torso at least. I establish that each eye's maximum effective visual capability is divided by the amount of eyes it's owner has open. Finally, I establish that maximum effective visual capability is doubled, but every third eye an entity opens is blinded."

Speaking his intended results aloud was not necessary, but he had gotten into the practice of using keywords to help him keep separate the various applications of similar formula. Here though, no one would understand what they meant and so at the cost of the beast knowing what to expect, Oz fully laid out how things would now operate. With these effects in place, the beast's limbs should always be valid targets for attack. Furthermore, everyone's eyes should stay unaffected since they only have 2 eyes, while the beast would either have to keep all but two closed or divide it's eyesight while also losing vision in a third of it's open eyes. Of course, observant listeners would also be able to note that they'd have twice the effectiveness in one eye if they closed the other.

Now to see if this truly helped anyone, but Oz was prepared to drop his spells should they prove hazardous to victory. All that was left was maintaining his detection on the horror, so that even if it went completely intangible, he could determine it's location to keep it affected.
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