Just a heads-up, but due to RL stuff, my access is likely to be severely limited at best for a while.
Mardox
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An internet Dark Lord
STATUS: This is probably going to be my character for an RP about Space Pirates: imgur.com/1tIgW0k 7 yrs ago
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- Joined: 9 yrs ago
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- Mardox 9 yrs ago
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7 yrs ago
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This is probably going to be my character for an RP about Space Pirates: imgur.com/1tIgW0k
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7 yrs ago
Ever oversleep your alarm by eleven hours?
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7 yrs ago
Sleep was invented by the communists to reduce the time we spend active.
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7 yrs ago
That awkward moment when you glimpse a dog stylist advertisement and before you realize what it is, you assume it's an ad to raise awareness about animal cruelty.
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7 yrs ago
A friend introduced me to a site called nanowrimo.org Technically a novel-writing site but they seem to have useful stuff for writing in general in the forums.
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Most Recent Posts
Updated the religions to add a new deity/faith.
With formal attire packed, the band of four set out once more on the road to Mirador. Athaliah and Rhiara sat in the back of the wagon once more while Erika and Herbert sat together in the front of the wagon. The two snuggled together, sharing a large blanket to keep out the cold as Herbert drove. The first snows of winter had fallen and the road was covered in a fresh sheet of pristine, untouched white. Indeed, the snow was so picturesque that it almost seemed a shame to disturb it with the horses' hooves and the wagon's wheels.
A few hours into their journey, they ran into what appeared to be an obstacle. The bridge they had intended to cross was blocked by a dozen unscrupulous-looking men brandishing weapons in a decidedly unsubtle attempt to appear menacing. Herbert sighed and lightly tugged at the reins to get the horses to stop before reaching for a bag. "Good afternoon gentlemen." He called out in a rather neutral tone of voice.
"Is it?" questioned the tallest of the bunch, a dark-haired man wearing a shirt of boiled leather and a light blue cloak. "My friends and I were just talking about the weather. In my home, the sky is always blue, the seas clear as glass, and the trees are young and pretty." He smirked roguishly, raising his chin to look towards Erika. "Just like our women. I will say, in all my time in this muddy land, I have not seen a girl so beautiful."
Erika stiffened, sensing danger in the man's praise. She kept quiet with a stony expression but mentally prepared herself for the possibility of a transformation being necessary. Meanwhile, Herbert really didn't like where this was going, but perhaps he could stall the man and keep him talking for a while. Sure, it wouldn't compare to proper preparation and planning, but he'd like to at least size them up a bit. "I find that I'm fond of the cold and snow. Gray skies might not appeal to many, but to me, they feel like home. What are you doing so far away from your home with its wondrous weather?" The sea near Viarosa was often rather clear, as was the sky often blue, but Herbert wasn't particularly inclined to be truthful with this fellow.
The man looked to his companions, laughing haughtily with them in response. "I am Benito Aquilinus Caelinus, third son of Severus Aquilinus Caelinus, the wealthiest noble in all of Momosessuale. I was levied like a commoner, and sent to the godsforsaken east." He shook his head. "As much as I despise these lands, at least the locals don't set things on fire. I took the men that rightfully followed me, and we left that pointless quest to pursue our noble right, as heroes of the forest and road. We protect the weak, uphold the laws of the Aesernian Empire, and drink our fair share of whisky!"
A cheer went up from the men, but Benito calmed them with a wave of his hand. "Now. We must ask for a small favour of your support to our righteous cause, in exchange for your safe travel through these lands free of villainy. You are bringing goods in that carriage? We will take a share, and send you on your way." He turned his attention to Erika once again, raising an eyebrow. His men began to circle the wagon, spotting Rhiara and Athaliah in the back. "I see you have more than one lovely companion. Perhaps your women would like to display their appreciation more... Personally? I'm sure my men would all love some time with them."
“You’re not my type,” Athaliah said in the friendliest voice she could muster. Hidden next to her was her sword, and she held it with a grip that turned her knuckles white. “but surely such staunch, gallant heroes like yourselves could find any woman you wanted.” She purposefully made herself seem meek, more as an attempt to put the gang into a false sense of security than anything else. “You must let us fair ladies through; you wouldn’t insult the honours of maidens like us, would you?” she let out a forced giggle, which she swore she would hate herself forever for doing.
Rhiara, meanwhile, avoided eye contact with anyone except Athaliah. She wrapped a big fur cloak tightly around herself partly because she was cold, but mostly because she held a dagger in one of her hands. She had never used a dagger on a person before and she hoped she wouldn’t have to, but she saw Athaliah’s grip on her blade and knew full well what was going to happen.
Erika eyed the encroaching bandits with an icy frown. Her displeasure clear, she spoke. "Alas, good sirs, I cannot indulge you in such a manner as I am already in love with another. Surely, noble soldiers of Aesernia such as yourselves would not ask a woman to be unfaithful?" She'd only killed animals and a werewolf before, but these men were certainly acting like animals.
Herbert tossed a burlap bag to Benito. "My wagon primarily contains the tools of my trade, supplies for our journey and what's left of my last project. I offer you this instead as proof that I too help to protect the weak, make the roads safe for travel and keep these lands free of villainy." With the bag tossed, Herbert drew his swords and quickly applied basilisk poison to their edges. There was no point in being subtle now. The threat of violence filled the air and he could feel bloodshed coming.
Benito opened the bag, his smile fading as he reached inside. When his hand emerged, it was grasping a tooth the size of a dagger. He dropped it with disgust, throwing the bag to the ground. "Trinkets? You savages think that you can win your passage with trinkets?" He snorted, waving his bandits forward. "I will not be insulted so! I am the third son of Severus Aquilinus Caelinus, did you not hear! You will pay with your blood!"
At their leader’s order, two bandits climbed into Herbert’s wagon with what looked like well-forged daggers in their hands. One of the men tried to grab Athaliah by the throat, causing her to shout. “Now, Weiss!” she simply said, an instant before the sword in her hand drove into his gut. Rhiara followed her friend’s lead, burying her dagger to the hilt into the second man’s chest. They both let out horrible screams of pain which prompted their comrades to spur into action themselves.
As five of the deserters drew near, Erika and Herbert exchanged a look and a nod. Each then leaped into action. Erika lunged towards one of the bandits, seemingly unarmed and with a death wish. When she landed however, she was no longer human. Instead, she had transformed into a massive lion-like beast with a scorpion-like tail and the wings of a gigantic bat. With her new manticore form, she batted away the man's sword with a clawed paw before biting his head off and spitting it at one of his comrades. Upon being struck with his friend's head, the man - quite understandably - chose to run away. The normally gentle healer then roared a challenge at the remaining nearby bandits. Surprisingly enough, the horses did not panic. It seemed they were used to Erika's manticore form.
Meanwhile, Herbert was having a bit more difficulty fighting another pair of bandits who were each armed with sword and shield. Herbert was fast and years of hunting monsters had gifted him with good reflexes but he had little experience fighting people. These men, on the other hand, were trained soldiers with the advantage of numbers, even if they were deserters. He'd never win a fair fight against them. Of course, that was why he didn't fight fair.
Herbert parried a blow from the man on his left and was promptly bashed in the shoulder with Left's shield for his efforts. He dropped his broadsword and grabbed a metal flask from his hip, causing the bandits to laugh as he chugged it rapidly. "Liquid courage won't save you boy!" Called Right. The bandits stopped laughing when they saw some of the flask's contents dripping down his face due to his haste to imbibe it. It was clearly blood. Herbert swallowed, tossed the flask to the side, took a deep breath, and spat liquid fire in Left's face. Left fell back shrieking and clutching at his face. His end was not a pleasant one.
With the bandit no longer near his fallen blade, Herbert picked up his sword and wheeled to face his second adversary. The remaining bandit was keeping his shield near his face after his comrade's fate. Herbert advanced, taking another deep breath. He didn't actually have enough magic for another trick like that, but the bandit didn't know that and lifted his shield to protect his face. As the shield rose, Herbert lunged forward and swiped at the man's legs. He managed to draw a thin line of red on the man's thigh before the bandit realized his mistake and bashed his shield into Herbert's head. With the monster hunter stunned and disoriented, the bandit stabbed him in the torso and kicked him away, thinking him dead. A few moments passed as the bandit went for another of the group and the bandit doubled over, coughing up discolored blood and sweating profusely. The basilisk poison on Herbert's blade had kicked in. The deserter turned a deathly pale shade and collapsed, dead. Meanwhile, Herbert laid there on the ground, putting pressure on his wound and trying not to draw attention to himself. He was still alive, but he wouldn't be much more help in this fight.
Athaliah looked at Rhiara, who was staring in disbelief and shock at the body of the person she just killed. “Hey, Rhiara, look at me.” Athaliah said, forcefully grabbing her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “We can talk about this later, but we all need you focused right now if we’re going to live; do you understand?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied, taking in several deep breaths. “What’s the plan?”
Athaliah picked up her shield from under a blanket. “You stay in here and use your bow to pick people off.” Athaliah stated while attaching her shield to her wrist with some straps. “I’ll fight them out there; make sure you don’t get swamped.”
Athaliah jumped out of the wagon to come fact-to-face with three more bandits; two of which carried simple swords, but the last one – pretty much a giant of a man – carried a huge double-headed axe almost as tall as Athaliah was. They didn’t even wait for Ath to think of a proper plan before the two swordsmen charged in. One of the men gave out a gasp of pain as an arrow flew into the side of his chest, right where one of his lungs would be. Despite having what many would consider a life-threatening injury, he continued to advance for a few seconds.
He was by no means in peak condition after that, however. The man stumbled and fell to one knee leaving Athaliah only one foe to deal with. Rhiara jumped out of the carriage as well, bow in hand, and approached the man. She didn’t intend to kill the man, but she had no intention of leaving him unsupervised either. She nocked an arrow and pointed it at the man, making sure he didn’t contribute anything more to the fight.
The axeman seemed to be hanging back for the moment; maybe he didn’t want to harm his comrades with his axe swings? Athaliah’s and her foe’s swords crossed two times, both testing each other’s defences. The fight began for real when Athaliah hid fully behind her shield and thrusted her sword directly at her adversary. He jumped back instinctively and began to circle Athaliah. She kept her shield facing her sword-wielding opponent in case he tried a futile attack. Unlikely for a man who fought in war, but she never knew.
“Athaliah!” Rhiara shouted, sounding extremely frightened. Athaliah suddenly remembered that there was another bandit lurking behind her and ducked as fast as she could. She felt a ‘whoosh’ of air just inches above her head and heard the sickening sound of hefty steel cutting into flesh and bone. The swordsman she was facing just a second earlier had been cleaved in two by the axeman, who looked at his fallen comrade with a brief expression of sorrow that really didn’t fit the man. It was soon replaced with one of fury. Athaliah turned to face her new enemy as quickly as she could, and tried to put some distance between him and herself.
Athaliah tried her best not so show it, but she was intimidated, to say the least. If just one of her foe’s swings connected then the fight would be over just like that. The deserter swung his axe once again; the blow slammed into her shield with enough force to send splinters flying across the snow. Athaliah concluded that the shield wouldn’t save her if it was hit directly, and it was slowing her down anyway.
The shield found itself on the ground in short order. Soon enough, their fighting began again; Athaliah charged at the man and swung. Her attack was blocked by the man’s axe and was met with his own heavy swing. She stumbled back, avoiding being hit by mere inches. Not wanting to give her foe the upper hand, she thrusted her sword at him while his axe was out of the way. His reactions were faster than expected however, and he managed to snag the sword under one of the blades. Athaliah pulled her sword upwards, taking the man’s axe up with it. Seeing the best opportunity yet, she freed her sword and charged forward.
The man was a fantastic fighter, and he’d probably danced like this dozens of times. He blocked every single one of Ath’s attacks and brought a powerful fist to her nose; blood fell onto the ground in large, steady drips. She fell backwards onto the ground. Surprisingly, he didn’t bring his axe down and end the fight immediately. Instead, he pounded at her face with his fists, turning much of her face red.
Not wanting to give her a chance to recover, he brought a boot to her head; her vision went black for a fraction of a second, followed by blurriness. He grabbed Athaliah by the throat, managing to lift her off the ground by sheer brute strength. Athaliah knew that she’d never escape from his grasp by force; instead, she opted for a less honourable approach. Plenty of blood and spit landed directly in the man’s eyes, distracting him enough to make him lose his grip on her neck.
She launched her own barrage with her fists, sending him staggering backwards. Using the moment’s respite, she picked her sword up off the floor and immediately ran it though his throat. Blood flew from the gaping wound when she withdrew her sword, quite a lot of it landing on Athaliah. The axeman covered his throat with both of his hands and he fell to the ground, squirming.
Seeing the majority of their comrades dead, dying, or fleeing, the three remaining bandits began to falter. Their leader took a look at the bodies sprawled near the wagon, and another at the ferocious manticore pacing near the fallen monster hunter. Benito, third son of Severus Aquilinus Caelinus, turned his tail and dove into the rushing river behind him. The Aesernian thrashed in the churning water, carried away from the bridge and the wagon he had stopped. Upon seeing their leader flee, the final two bandits broke entirely, turning and running as fast as their feet could carry them.
As the surviving bandits broke and ran, Erika flung venomous spines from her tail at them. Since she was more concerned by Herbert's wounds and not trying too hard, it was more by chance than accuracy that one of the fleeing brigands was struck in the leg. The blade-like spine stabbed through his armor and deep into his flesh, making him fall. The half-manticore paid him no mind however, and returned to human form. Erika examined her lover's injuries and to her relief, she found that the stab wound hadn't damaged any vital organs. The bottom half of Herbert's face was covered in blood, but that was just from a nosebleed rather than anything particularly serious. Despite the mask of red and wooziness, Herbert smiled at Erika as she worked. He stayed still and didn't speak, however. He knew from experience that it was best to just let her focus on healing.
Erika closed her eyes, put her hand over the wound and mouthed an incantation. Soft white light emanated from her hand and beneath her touch, Herbert's flesh wove itself back together. Within moments, the wound was gone and she helped Herbert up. He'd have a bruise or two, but he'd be fine. The pair embraced, knowing how close they'd come to losing each other. "I'm glad you're alright." They said, near-simultaneously. With a quick smile at that, they turned their attention to Athaliah and Rhiara. "Any injuries or wounds?" Herbert called out to the two Hoffen women.
Rhiara jumped out of the wagon herself when she was certain that the fight was over, and immediately ran to Athaliah to give her a crushing hug. “Please, never do that again. Okay?” she begged, a tear running down her cheek.
“I won’t.” Athaliah replied weakly; she was obviously out of breath and bleeding heavily out of her head. “You might want to let go; I’m covered in blood here.” Rhiara let her friend go, and looked down at her black leather tunic to see some red smears.
“I’ll clean it out later. Now, you need to sit down; you really, really need to rest.” Athaliah took her advice and sat on a step at the back of the wagon. She had a colossal headache, blurry vision and she was horribly dizzy – a result of getting punched and kicked in the head by a man that big. “Erika!” Rhiara shouted. “Could you come over here and take a look at Ath, please? She looks horrible…"
Erika moved quickly as time was precious when treating wounds. The medic took one look at Athaliah's head and leaped into action. Once again, she channeled her healing magic and the light emanated from her touch. While it was not so visible as Herbert's torso pulling itself together, the pain, blurred vision, and dizziness quickly faded away. The half-manticore gave her another quick check over and then looked over Rhiara just to be sure she was uninjured. Content that everyone was safe and in one piece, she glanced at the corpses near Rhiara and Athaliah and let out a low whistle. "No offense, but I didn't expect you two to kill so many." Now curious, Herbert also took a look and raised an eyebrow. "Neither did I. Let's get going, shall we?"
Rhiara climbed into the back of the carriage first, and gave Athaliah a hand in getting inside too. “How are you so calm about this?” Rhiara asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice that surprised even herself. “Yes, they were bad people, but… they were still people. They had childhoods, like us. They had dreams, and we robbed them of those.” She was mainly talking to herself by that point. The carriage had begun to move, and by the time she finished what she was saying she and Athaliah finally saw the destruction caused by Herbert and Erika. They both stared at the bodies wordlessly, shocked by what their comrades were capable of doing.
Herbert stroked his chin. "Well, look at it this way. Remember how I said I hunted all sorts of magical creatures so long as they preyed upon people? As such, I prefer to say I hunt monsters since it's implied that my targets act in a way that makes them monsters. Some of those monsters are sapient. They have childhoods and dreams just like us, that I take from them, don't they? Problem is, they kill innocents. If I don't slay them, they'll keep robbing folks of their childhoods and dreams, and all that. Killing these folks is like that. We've ended a threat posed by human monsters and kept them from robbing weaker travellers of their childhoods, dreams, lives, goods and maidenhoods. In other words, this isn't so different from my normal work and all of are okay, so why not be calm?" With that, he casually flicked the reins to get the horses moving.
Erika on the other hand, winced. "I don't know why I'm so calm, but it just feels... natural? I'm a little uncomfortable now that you've made me think about it, but that's more because I don't feel uncomfortable about having killed someone, you know?" She suspected that her comfort with biting a man's head off came from her mother's side, but that was unlikely to reassure the girl. Nor would the fact that she had enjoyed the taste.
Rhiara looked down at her feet and sighed. “I guess you’re right, it’s just… I’ve never killed anyone before. Besides, I didn’t think it would be so... brutal.” Athaliah changed seats, so she could squeeze in next to Rhiara. “I know, okay?” she said as she wrapped an arm around Rhi’s shoulder, pulling her close. “But Herbert has a point. If we hadn’t dealt with those people then we’d be in serious trouble. We’d either be dead ourselves, or the playthings of whomever those men were. We did a good thing today, and it’s the good things that are hard.”
As they spoke, Herbert stopped the wagon and hopped down. The man that had been hit with Erika's projectile was still alive and whimpering as the monster hunter jumped down. "Mercy?" Asked the bandit pitifully. "Aye." Replied Herbert, drawing his hunting knife and approaching with a grim expression. The man didn't resist and Herbert slit the brigand's throat as quickly and neatly as butcher might kill a hog. After quickly wiping off his knife, he sheathed it and climbed back aboard the wagon, setting off once more.
A few hours into their journey, they ran into what appeared to be an obstacle. The bridge they had intended to cross was blocked by a dozen unscrupulous-looking men brandishing weapons in a decidedly unsubtle attempt to appear menacing. Herbert sighed and lightly tugged at the reins to get the horses to stop before reaching for a bag. "Good afternoon gentlemen." He called out in a rather neutral tone of voice.
"Is it?" questioned the tallest of the bunch, a dark-haired man wearing a shirt of boiled leather and a light blue cloak. "My friends and I were just talking about the weather. In my home, the sky is always blue, the seas clear as glass, and the trees are young and pretty." He smirked roguishly, raising his chin to look towards Erika. "Just like our women. I will say, in all my time in this muddy land, I have not seen a girl so beautiful."
Erika stiffened, sensing danger in the man's praise. She kept quiet with a stony expression but mentally prepared herself for the possibility of a transformation being necessary. Meanwhile, Herbert really didn't like where this was going, but perhaps he could stall the man and keep him talking for a while. Sure, it wouldn't compare to proper preparation and planning, but he'd like to at least size them up a bit. "I find that I'm fond of the cold and snow. Gray skies might not appeal to many, but to me, they feel like home. What are you doing so far away from your home with its wondrous weather?" The sea near Viarosa was often rather clear, as was the sky often blue, but Herbert wasn't particularly inclined to be truthful with this fellow.
The man looked to his companions, laughing haughtily with them in response. "I am Benito Aquilinus Caelinus, third son of Severus Aquilinus Caelinus, the wealthiest noble in all of Momosessuale. I was levied like a commoner, and sent to the godsforsaken east." He shook his head. "As much as I despise these lands, at least the locals don't set things on fire. I took the men that rightfully followed me, and we left that pointless quest to pursue our noble right, as heroes of the forest and road. We protect the weak, uphold the laws of the Aesernian Empire, and drink our fair share of whisky!"
A cheer went up from the men, but Benito calmed them with a wave of his hand. "Now. We must ask for a small favour of your support to our righteous cause, in exchange for your safe travel through these lands free of villainy. You are bringing goods in that carriage? We will take a share, and send you on your way." He turned his attention to Erika once again, raising an eyebrow. His men began to circle the wagon, spotting Rhiara and Athaliah in the back. "I see you have more than one lovely companion. Perhaps your women would like to display their appreciation more... Personally? I'm sure my men would all love some time with them."
“You’re not my type,” Athaliah said in the friendliest voice she could muster. Hidden next to her was her sword, and she held it with a grip that turned her knuckles white. “but surely such staunch, gallant heroes like yourselves could find any woman you wanted.” She purposefully made herself seem meek, more as an attempt to put the gang into a false sense of security than anything else. “You must let us fair ladies through; you wouldn’t insult the honours of maidens like us, would you?” she let out a forced giggle, which she swore she would hate herself forever for doing.
Rhiara, meanwhile, avoided eye contact with anyone except Athaliah. She wrapped a big fur cloak tightly around herself partly because she was cold, but mostly because she held a dagger in one of her hands. She had never used a dagger on a person before and she hoped she wouldn’t have to, but she saw Athaliah’s grip on her blade and knew full well what was going to happen.
Erika eyed the encroaching bandits with an icy frown. Her displeasure clear, she spoke. "Alas, good sirs, I cannot indulge you in such a manner as I am already in love with another. Surely, noble soldiers of Aesernia such as yourselves would not ask a woman to be unfaithful?" She'd only killed animals and a werewolf before, but these men were certainly acting like animals.
Herbert tossed a burlap bag to Benito. "My wagon primarily contains the tools of my trade, supplies for our journey and what's left of my last project. I offer you this instead as proof that I too help to protect the weak, make the roads safe for travel and keep these lands free of villainy." With the bag tossed, Herbert drew his swords and quickly applied basilisk poison to their edges. There was no point in being subtle now. The threat of violence filled the air and he could feel bloodshed coming.
Benito opened the bag, his smile fading as he reached inside. When his hand emerged, it was grasping a tooth the size of a dagger. He dropped it with disgust, throwing the bag to the ground. "Trinkets? You savages think that you can win your passage with trinkets?" He snorted, waving his bandits forward. "I will not be insulted so! I am the third son of Severus Aquilinus Caelinus, did you not hear! You will pay with your blood!"
At their leader’s order, two bandits climbed into Herbert’s wagon with what looked like well-forged daggers in their hands. One of the men tried to grab Athaliah by the throat, causing her to shout. “Now, Weiss!” she simply said, an instant before the sword in her hand drove into his gut. Rhiara followed her friend’s lead, burying her dagger to the hilt into the second man’s chest. They both let out horrible screams of pain which prompted their comrades to spur into action themselves.
As five of the deserters drew near, Erika and Herbert exchanged a look and a nod. Each then leaped into action. Erika lunged towards one of the bandits, seemingly unarmed and with a death wish. When she landed however, she was no longer human. Instead, she had transformed into a massive lion-like beast with a scorpion-like tail and the wings of a gigantic bat. With her new manticore form, she batted away the man's sword with a clawed paw before biting his head off and spitting it at one of his comrades. Upon being struck with his friend's head, the man - quite understandably - chose to run away. The normally gentle healer then roared a challenge at the remaining nearby bandits. Surprisingly enough, the horses did not panic. It seemed they were used to Erika's manticore form.
Meanwhile, Herbert was having a bit more difficulty fighting another pair of bandits who were each armed with sword and shield. Herbert was fast and years of hunting monsters had gifted him with good reflexes but he had little experience fighting people. These men, on the other hand, were trained soldiers with the advantage of numbers, even if they were deserters. He'd never win a fair fight against them. Of course, that was why he didn't fight fair.
Herbert parried a blow from the man on his left and was promptly bashed in the shoulder with Left's shield for his efforts. He dropped his broadsword and grabbed a metal flask from his hip, causing the bandits to laugh as he chugged it rapidly. "Liquid courage won't save you boy!" Called Right. The bandits stopped laughing when they saw some of the flask's contents dripping down his face due to his haste to imbibe it. It was clearly blood. Herbert swallowed, tossed the flask to the side, took a deep breath, and spat liquid fire in Left's face. Left fell back shrieking and clutching at his face. His end was not a pleasant one.
With the bandit no longer near his fallen blade, Herbert picked up his sword and wheeled to face his second adversary. The remaining bandit was keeping his shield near his face after his comrade's fate. Herbert advanced, taking another deep breath. He didn't actually have enough magic for another trick like that, but the bandit didn't know that and lifted his shield to protect his face. As the shield rose, Herbert lunged forward and swiped at the man's legs. He managed to draw a thin line of red on the man's thigh before the bandit realized his mistake and bashed his shield into Herbert's head. With the monster hunter stunned and disoriented, the bandit stabbed him in the torso and kicked him away, thinking him dead. A few moments passed as the bandit went for another of the group and the bandit doubled over, coughing up discolored blood and sweating profusely. The basilisk poison on Herbert's blade had kicked in. The deserter turned a deathly pale shade and collapsed, dead. Meanwhile, Herbert laid there on the ground, putting pressure on his wound and trying not to draw attention to himself. He was still alive, but he wouldn't be much more help in this fight.
Athaliah looked at Rhiara, who was staring in disbelief and shock at the body of the person she just killed. “Hey, Rhiara, look at me.” Athaliah said, forcefully grabbing her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “We can talk about this later, but we all need you focused right now if we’re going to live; do you understand?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied, taking in several deep breaths. “What’s the plan?”
Athaliah picked up her shield from under a blanket. “You stay in here and use your bow to pick people off.” Athaliah stated while attaching her shield to her wrist with some straps. “I’ll fight them out there; make sure you don’t get swamped.”
Athaliah jumped out of the wagon to come fact-to-face with three more bandits; two of which carried simple swords, but the last one – pretty much a giant of a man – carried a huge double-headed axe almost as tall as Athaliah was. They didn’t even wait for Ath to think of a proper plan before the two swordsmen charged in. One of the men gave out a gasp of pain as an arrow flew into the side of his chest, right where one of his lungs would be. Despite having what many would consider a life-threatening injury, he continued to advance for a few seconds.
He was by no means in peak condition after that, however. The man stumbled and fell to one knee leaving Athaliah only one foe to deal with. Rhiara jumped out of the carriage as well, bow in hand, and approached the man. She didn’t intend to kill the man, but she had no intention of leaving him unsupervised either. She nocked an arrow and pointed it at the man, making sure he didn’t contribute anything more to the fight.
The axeman seemed to be hanging back for the moment; maybe he didn’t want to harm his comrades with his axe swings? Athaliah’s and her foe’s swords crossed two times, both testing each other’s defences. The fight began for real when Athaliah hid fully behind her shield and thrusted her sword directly at her adversary. He jumped back instinctively and began to circle Athaliah. She kept her shield facing her sword-wielding opponent in case he tried a futile attack. Unlikely for a man who fought in war, but she never knew.
“Athaliah!” Rhiara shouted, sounding extremely frightened. Athaliah suddenly remembered that there was another bandit lurking behind her and ducked as fast as she could. She felt a ‘whoosh’ of air just inches above her head and heard the sickening sound of hefty steel cutting into flesh and bone. The swordsman she was facing just a second earlier had been cleaved in two by the axeman, who looked at his fallen comrade with a brief expression of sorrow that really didn’t fit the man. It was soon replaced with one of fury. Athaliah turned to face her new enemy as quickly as she could, and tried to put some distance between him and herself.
Athaliah tried her best not so show it, but she was intimidated, to say the least. If just one of her foe’s swings connected then the fight would be over just like that. The deserter swung his axe once again; the blow slammed into her shield with enough force to send splinters flying across the snow. Athaliah concluded that the shield wouldn’t save her if it was hit directly, and it was slowing her down anyway.
The shield found itself on the ground in short order. Soon enough, their fighting began again; Athaliah charged at the man and swung. Her attack was blocked by the man’s axe and was met with his own heavy swing. She stumbled back, avoiding being hit by mere inches. Not wanting to give her foe the upper hand, she thrusted her sword at him while his axe was out of the way. His reactions were faster than expected however, and he managed to snag the sword under one of the blades. Athaliah pulled her sword upwards, taking the man’s axe up with it. Seeing the best opportunity yet, she freed her sword and charged forward.
The man was a fantastic fighter, and he’d probably danced like this dozens of times. He blocked every single one of Ath’s attacks and brought a powerful fist to her nose; blood fell onto the ground in large, steady drips. She fell backwards onto the ground. Surprisingly, he didn’t bring his axe down and end the fight immediately. Instead, he pounded at her face with his fists, turning much of her face red.
Not wanting to give her a chance to recover, he brought a boot to her head; her vision went black for a fraction of a second, followed by blurriness. He grabbed Athaliah by the throat, managing to lift her off the ground by sheer brute strength. Athaliah knew that she’d never escape from his grasp by force; instead, she opted for a less honourable approach. Plenty of blood and spit landed directly in the man’s eyes, distracting him enough to make him lose his grip on her neck.
She launched her own barrage with her fists, sending him staggering backwards. Using the moment’s respite, she picked her sword up off the floor and immediately ran it though his throat. Blood flew from the gaping wound when she withdrew her sword, quite a lot of it landing on Athaliah. The axeman covered his throat with both of his hands and he fell to the ground, squirming.
Seeing the majority of their comrades dead, dying, or fleeing, the three remaining bandits began to falter. Their leader took a look at the bodies sprawled near the wagon, and another at the ferocious manticore pacing near the fallen monster hunter. Benito, third son of Severus Aquilinus Caelinus, turned his tail and dove into the rushing river behind him. The Aesernian thrashed in the churning water, carried away from the bridge and the wagon he had stopped. Upon seeing their leader flee, the final two bandits broke entirely, turning and running as fast as their feet could carry them.
As the surviving bandits broke and ran, Erika flung venomous spines from her tail at them. Since she was more concerned by Herbert's wounds and not trying too hard, it was more by chance than accuracy that one of the fleeing brigands was struck in the leg. The blade-like spine stabbed through his armor and deep into his flesh, making him fall. The half-manticore paid him no mind however, and returned to human form. Erika examined her lover's injuries and to her relief, she found that the stab wound hadn't damaged any vital organs. The bottom half of Herbert's face was covered in blood, but that was just from a nosebleed rather than anything particularly serious. Despite the mask of red and wooziness, Herbert smiled at Erika as she worked. He stayed still and didn't speak, however. He knew from experience that it was best to just let her focus on healing.
Erika closed her eyes, put her hand over the wound and mouthed an incantation. Soft white light emanated from her hand and beneath her touch, Herbert's flesh wove itself back together. Within moments, the wound was gone and she helped Herbert up. He'd have a bruise or two, but he'd be fine. The pair embraced, knowing how close they'd come to losing each other. "I'm glad you're alright." They said, near-simultaneously. With a quick smile at that, they turned their attention to Athaliah and Rhiara. "Any injuries or wounds?" Herbert called out to the two Hoffen women.
Rhiara jumped out of the wagon herself when she was certain that the fight was over, and immediately ran to Athaliah to give her a crushing hug. “Please, never do that again. Okay?” she begged, a tear running down her cheek.
“I won’t.” Athaliah replied weakly; she was obviously out of breath and bleeding heavily out of her head. “You might want to let go; I’m covered in blood here.” Rhiara let her friend go, and looked down at her black leather tunic to see some red smears.
“I’ll clean it out later. Now, you need to sit down; you really, really need to rest.” Athaliah took her advice and sat on a step at the back of the wagon. She had a colossal headache, blurry vision and she was horribly dizzy – a result of getting punched and kicked in the head by a man that big. “Erika!” Rhiara shouted. “Could you come over here and take a look at Ath, please? She looks horrible…"
Erika moved quickly as time was precious when treating wounds. The medic took one look at Athaliah's head and leaped into action. Once again, she channeled her healing magic and the light emanated from her touch. While it was not so visible as Herbert's torso pulling itself together, the pain, blurred vision, and dizziness quickly faded away. The half-manticore gave her another quick check over and then looked over Rhiara just to be sure she was uninjured. Content that everyone was safe and in one piece, she glanced at the corpses near Rhiara and Athaliah and let out a low whistle. "No offense, but I didn't expect you two to kill so many." Now curious, Herbert also took a look and raised an eyebrow. "Neither did I. Let's get going, shall we?"
Rhiara climbed into the back of the carriage first, and gave Athaliah a hand in getting inside too. “How are you so calm about this?” Rhiara asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice that surprised even herself. “Yes, they were bad people, but… they were still people. They had childhoods, like us. They had dreams, and we robbed them of those.” She was mainly talking to herself by that point. The carriage had begun to move, and by the time she finished what she was saying she and Athaliah finally saw the destruction caused by Herbert and Erika. They both stared at the bodies wordlessly, shocked by what their comrades were capable of doing.
Herbert stroked his chin. "Well, look at it this way. Remember how I said I hunted all sorts of magical creatures so long as they preyed upon people? As such, I prefer to say I hunt monsters since it's implied that my targets act in a way that makes them monsters. Some of those monsters are sapient. They have childhoods and dreams just like us, that I take from them, don't they? Problem is, they kill innocents. If I don't slay them, they'll keep robbing folks of their childhoods and dreams, and all that. Killing these folks is like that. We've ended a threat posed by human monsters and kept them from robbing weaker travellers of their childhoods, dreams, lives, goods and maidenhoods. In other words, this isn't so different from my normal work and all of are okay, so why not be calm?" With that, he casually flicked the reins to get the horses moving.
Erika on the other hand, winced. "I don't know why I'm so calm, but it just feels... natural? I'm a little uncomfortable now that you've made me think about it, but that's more because I don't feel uncomfortable about having killed someone, you know?" She suspected that her comfort with biting a man's head off came from her mother's side, but that was unlikely to reassure the girl. Nor would the fact that she had enjoyed the taste.
Rhiara looked down at her feet and sighed. “I guess you’re right, it’s just… I’ve never killed anyone before. Besides, I didn’t think it would be so... brutal.” Athaliah changed seats, so she could squeeze in next to Rhiara. “I know, okay?” she said as she wrapped an arm around Rhi’s shoulder, pulling her close. “But Herbert has a point. If we hadn’t dealt with those people then we’d be in serious trouble. We’d either be dead ourselves, or the playthings of whomever those men were. We did a good thing today, and it’s the good things that are hard.”
As they spoke, Herbert stopped the wagon and hopped down. The man that had been hit with Erika's projectile was still alive and whimpering as the monster hunter jumped down. "Mercy?" Asked the bandit pitifully. "Aye." Replied Herbert, drawing his hunting knife and approaching with a grim expression. The man didn't resist and Herbert slit the brigand's throat as quickly and neatly as butcher might kill a hog. After quickly wiping off his knife, he sheathed it and climbed back aboard the wagon, setting off once more.
Co-written with @BlondyMcHuggles
The road from the town of Hoffen to the city of Viarosa primarily cut through farmlands and forest, with the occasional grouping of hills. As the afternoon sun beat down on Herbert and his wagon, he adjusted his wide-brimmed hat to shade his face, though with winter coming, the sun was not as strong. He had his weapons, a flask of blood and a a container of basilisk blood within easy reach despite not expecting any trouble. After all, it was better to have a weapon and not need it than to need it and not have it. Sitting in the back on boxes and a large iron chest were a pair of young women from Hoffen.
As Athaliah and Rhiara sat in Herbert’s wagon; Rhi kept herself busy with one of the books she brought along for the trip, while Athaliah kept herself occupied by staring at the never-changing scenery out of the back of the wagon. Athaliah was quite curious about Herbert, and since they were going to spend the next few days together, she figured she might as well learn more about him. “Herbert,” she began. “What kinds of magical creatures do you actually hunt?” Rhiara threw an unimpressed glance her way.
"Well," began Herbert, "I don't really have a specialty. I generally just hunt whatever creatures happen to be causing trouble. You already know that basilisks are on the list, of course." He paused in thought for a moment to remember a few examples. "Let's see, I once killed a Gorgon, I've hunted yetis in Rosiland, sometimes some demons get loose from the Infernum and need to be disposed of."
Herbert turned his head and gestured to the scars on his face. "A werewolf in Viarosa gave me these, but don't worry about that, we're going to pick up the person who killed it." Turning back to the road, he continued. "All sorts, really. It's not all blood and death though. I've put a few ghosts to rest and convinced a couple of sapient creatures to play nice. Do you deal with much trouble as a town guard?"
“Militawoman.” Athaliah replied, correcting him. “Anyhow, bandits come over to attack the town every so often, but they usually run when they see a phalanx blocking their entry through the gates.” She paused for a few seconds to think. “Not a lot exciting happens apart from that, though. My job mainly consists of patrolling the town and the surrounding area to ward off thieves and such. So, how’d you learn to use magic?”
"I'm largely self-taught, though I have been given some help here and there." Replied Herbert. "When I was younger and before I started hunting magical creatures, I managed to scrape together enough cash doing odd jobs to buy a scroll that taught how to conjure a rather simplistic fireball and someone was kind enough to donate some blood to actually make the magic work. To this day, fire magic is the kind I'm best at. Have either of you two ever been interested in learning?"
Athaliah simply shook her head. “Nope. Blades and shields have worked for me, and they’ll continue to do so. What about you, Weiss?”
Rhiara looked up from her book, wearing a thoughtful expression. She was thinking of how long she could keep her shapeshifting ability a secret, and if Herbert even needed to know about it in the first place. After all, after the feast they’d be parting ways anyhow. “I’ve tried it once or twice, so I might need tutoring. Just not any time soon.”
"Fair enough, magic's not for everyone. What kind of magic did you dabble in, Rhiara?" Asked Herbert. "There are a number of disciplines to study."
“Oh, I know,” Rhiara replied, her voice carrying a hint of happiness. Mock happiness, to be sure. “Fire’s a well-known discipline and I think it’s the most popular, actually. There’s also water manipulation, too. So, you’re really good with fire magic, I can attest to that, but how are you with the other disciplines?”
"Lightning and storms are my back-up plan for creatures that aren't particularly scared of fire, so I'm proficient with that as well. I've tried ice and cold, but for some reason, they just don't come to me as easily as other sorcery and I've never really gotten the hang of them." Herbert explained. "Other than that, I have some spellbooks in one of those boxes to reference before a hunt if I think some other trick will come in handy. I do believe you've dodged my question regarding your own dabbling, though."
Rhiara sighed and sat up straight against the wall of the wagon. “My magic isn’t something I’m exactly proud of, and besides, I can’t do it naturally anyhow.” She shrugged. Athaliah thought about speaking up for a moment, before she realised why her friend was being so hesitant to reveal what her magic consisted of. “Can we please leave it there, Herbert?”
"As you wish." Said Herbert. He hoped that whatever she was ashamed of wasn't too serious. It would a be a tragedy if she'd gotten herself into an infernal pact of some sort. Alternatively, there was the possibility that someone had gotten hurt so that she could use blood magic. After a short but awkward pause, he spoke again. "So, uh, how's the carpentry business?"
“It’s going brilliantly!” she replied merrily, like the earlier conversation never happened. “It gives me the experience I need to do my woodcarving that I do in my spare time, and I get paid for it - which is certainly a bonus. My master is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, too. Trust me, you two would get along famously.”
"That's nice. Perhaps you could introduce me to him sometime." While it might have seemed silly to some, Herbert couldn't help but feel more uncomfortable in this conversation than when draining the blood and poison from a dead basilisk. Rhiara's fake cheeriness - or any fake cheer for that matter- had one purpose, and that was to hide someone's true emotions or thoughts.
Athaliah sighed, happy that the awkward conversation was now seemingly over. She looked over to Herbert, and decided to switch to a happier topic. “Herbert, can you tell me about this woman we’re picking up? Erika, was it?”
Herbert smiled, though it probably wasn't visible from where his passengers where sitting. If they were observant, they might have noticed him relax. "Yes, Erika is her name. She's my beloved, and we've known each other for twenty years. Currently, she provides both mundane and magical healing to the people of Viarosa. Never will you find a kinder or more trustworthy person."
“She sounds like a great woman,” Athaliah replied. “How long have you two been together? And, since she does healing magic, does she know any other types?”
"We've been together for ten years." Answered Herbert. "She can do a little bit of shape-shifting if necessary, but for her day-to-day business, she only needs healing magic. How long have you and Rhiara known each other?"
At the mention of shape-shifting, Rhiara looked over the top of her book at Herbert; she felt safer about telling him, but now she was unsure of how he would react now that he had been lied to. “Almost ten years. Both of our parents decided to make us spend time together, because that’s what parents do. We’ve been great friends ever since, really.”
"Haven't really heard of folks forced to play together becoming great friends too often, but I'm glad it worked out for you two. How did your parents meet then? I assume they were friends if they forced you to spend time together."
Athaliah let out a “hmm” in thought. “I actually don’t know. My parents never mentioned how they met Weiss’.”
“Nor did mine,” Rhiara stated, still staring at her book. “I don’t think it was anything unsavoury though, it’s just that neither of us thought to ask.”
“What about you, Herbert? How’d you and Erika meet?”
Herbert winced. "We were both born in Krossavik and properly met because we were both lucky enough to survive when that godsdamned dragon attacked. After the destruction, the folks who were still alive looked to see who else was."
Athaliah looked down at her feet and gulped hard. “Sorry, Herbert. But on the bright side, you found the love of your life. You’ve got to take these victories where you can, you know? Do you… do you know why the dragon attacked Krossavik, if you don’t mind me asking?"
The monster hunter stroked his chin in contemplation. "If my history's correct, the dragon had been sleeping for thousands of years. It could just have been that he was hungry. There is another possible reason though. Most folk don't know it, but a long time back - generations, that is - someone managed to get their hands on a rather special knife."
Herbert paused. "I'm not talking about a dagger or a knife to eat with, it more closely resembled a surgeon's scalpel. According to legend, it was originally given to a healer of great skill by Veturia, goddess of air, nature and most importantly, healing. Supposedly, it could cure any ailment or wound short of death and so long as the wielder only used it for good, it would protect the wielder from old age as well. It was said to have a more martial purpose as well. Many said that it if one were to cut out the heart of the Shaitun Hargash with this scalpel, it would end him completely and utterly. Whatever the case, the dragon took it after destroying Krossavik, and I'm still looking for a way to kill him."
Athaliah and Rhiara both stared at Herbert in disbelief. “You’re… you’re going to try to kill a dragon? The dragon?” Rhi said, utterly shocked. “That’s… I heard it was the biggest dragon the world had ever seen! I’m not sure even you could manage to kill it.”
Herbert gave a nod. "Big or not, he isn't invincible. Obviously, a head-on confrontation and a fair fight are suicide on one's own, but I have an idea or two. For example, basilisk poison is extremely lethal and rather fast-acting, but it has a distinct green color and foul odor. If I could find a way to distill it into something clear, odorless and tasteless, I might be able to dump some into a lake near where he lives. An army might also do the trick, but I don't have one and quite frankly, casualties would be far too high. Whatever the case, he exists and therefore, can be killed."
“That sounds awfully risky, Herbert. There’s no way you’d manage to do that without it seeing you.” Athaliah said, gazing out of the back of the wagon. “Revenge like that isn’t something you should be seeking. Instead, get revenge by living long and well. My dad told me that.”
Herbert shrugged. "Poisoning his drinking water was just an idea rather than a plan. I'm no alchemist, so it's unlikely I could distill it anyways. As for revenge and motivation, I won't deny that I want vengeance but there are other considerations as for why he must die. He seems to regard humanity as nothing more than a food source - or at best, entertainment - and as such, is likely to keep killing innocent folk whenever the whim takes him, so long as he is able." He paused in thought for a moment. "I do try my best to avoid being overwhelmed by the desire to slay Htraknu though. Another survivor let the need for vengeance consume him and I know not what has become of him. I doubt his fate is a pleasant one."
Athaliah bit her lip for a second while she thought of what to say. “Did you know him well?” She knew it probably wasn’t the best thing to ask as soon as it slipped out of her mouth, but it was asked and there was nothing she could do about that.
Herbert nodded and a bit of emotion slipped into his voice as he spoke. "He practically raised Erika and myself after Krossavik was destroyed. He left when I came of age, telling us that he had a duty to kill the dragon. Just set out with his old armor and sword, and that was the last any of us saw of him. Let's discuss happier topics, shall we? Are you two looking forward to the feast?"
“I am, surprisingly. It could still be a trap so I’m a bit sceptical and prepared to be disappointed, but if it’s true then it’d be enjoyable. I’m not sure about the Order in any event, though. Giving religious people a militant desire is a bad idea. Also, Weiss here has brought a dress along with her for this feast.”
“It’s a cute dress!” Rhiara retorted, a little too defensively.
“What about you, Herbert?”
"Well, given that we have yet to encounter any sort of bandits or highwaymen, I don't think it's a trap." Said Herbert. "I think it'll be fun. What kind of dress did you bring, Rhiara?"
“It’s one of those cute dresses from the east" Rhiara explained. "I got it off a trader a few months ago, and I’ve never had an excuse to actually wear it until now. Herbert, did you not bring any clothes exclusively for the feast? Am I really the only one who planned ahead?”
Herbert waved the concern away. "I've got some fancier clothes at home in Viarosa, but not in my wagon. My normal routine doesn't really call for such garments. Who knows, these Order folks might appreciate something more suited for combat anyways. What about you, Athaliah, did you pack a dress or anything?"
Athaliah shook her head. “I don’t have anything fancy at home, to be honest. I’ve never needed to wear anything of the sort, and this news of a feast came a bit fast. I hope they’ll appreciate my armour, at the least. Who knows, maybe I’ll find one in Viarosa.”
"Has your armor seen much use?" Inquired Herbert. He remembered how when he was a boy, Bjorn had told him of various attacks that Krossavik had fought off. The attacks had supposedly been less frequent after Erika's mother arrived, though. Even the bloodlust of orcs and greed of shadow elves dimmed somewhat at the thought of fighting a manticore.
“I mean, I’ve wore it a lot if that’s what you’re asking.” Athaliah replied, looking at her armour which she had placed next to her. “It’s taken a few hits and scrapes from knives and such, but nothing too big; I let my shield take those kinds of hits.”
"What I meant by that was 'how many fights have you been in?'" Explained Herbert.
“More than I’d care to admit. I usually try to avoid getting into fights; they’re not good for either person. That said though, people will always fight when I try to enforce the law upon them. Maybe they think they can beat me because I don’t look that intimidating. I win most of the time anyway. I’ve been in some big fights against whole gangs of bandits, but that’s rare.”
"Never had to deal with marauding orcs from past the Dragon's Spine or slavers from Rosiland then, eh? Is the law any different in Hoffen than other bits of Asmeinland given that it's enforced by the militia?" Herbert couldn't help but be especially curious about the law there, given that he had had the occasional disagreement with Asmeinlander law.
“Well…” Athaliah stopped for a second to think. “In theory, no. In practice, yes. You see, the only law enforcement that Hoffen has is its militia, which as you know are civilians who are trained in warfare and all that stuff – we have no full-time guard. So because of that, there are some Asmeinland laws that Hoffen doesn’t recognise; Hoffen is not obliged to send soldiers into war because we technically have none, for example. Basic laws are the same, though. Don’t steal, don’t hit people, et cetera.”
"Sounds reasonable. I take it that if I made the odd joke about the king, you'd show me some mercy then?" Herbert's tone was joking but disrespecting the king had gotten him into his agreements with Asmeinlander law.
Athaliah shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so. Disrespecting the King is legal if there’s no rebellious sentiment, or whatever. To be honest, I don’t concern myself with it; let people say what they want.”
Herbert nodded thoughtfully, but spoke no more. It seemed that the conversation was over for now and the three of them lapsed into silence as the road stretched on. There was still a good bit of land to cover before they reached Viarosa.
The road from the town of Hoffen to the city of Viarosa primarily cut through farmlands and forest, with the occasional grouping of hills. As the afternoon sun beat down on Herbert and his wagon, he adjusted his wide-brimmed hat to shade his face, though with winter coming, the sun was not as strong. He had his weapons, a flask of blood and a a container of basilisk blood within easy reach despite not expecting any trouble. After all, it was better to have a weapon and not need it than to need it and not have it. Sitting in the back on boxes and a large iron chest were a pair of young women from Hoffen.
As Athaliah and Rhiara sat in Herbert’s wagon; Rhi kept herself busy with one of the books she brought along for the trip, while Athaliah kept herself occupied by staring at the never-changing scenery out of the back of the wagon. Athaliah was quite curious about Herbert, and since they were going to spend the next few days together, she figured she might as well learn more about him. “Herbert,” she began. “What kinds of magical creatures do you actually hunt?” Rhiara threw an unimpressed glance her way.
"Well," began Herbert, "I don't really have a specialty. I generally just hunt whatever creatures happen to be causing trouble. You already know that basilisks are on the list, of course." He paused in thought for a moment to remember a few examples. "Let's see, I once killed a Gorgon, I've hunted yetis in Rosiland, sometimes some demons get loose from the Infernum and need to be disposed of."
Herbert turned his head and gestured to the scars on his face. "A werewolf in Viarosa gave me these, but don't worry about that, we're going to pick up the person who killed it." Turning back to the road, he continued. "All sorts, really. It's not all blood and death though. I've put a few ghosts to rest and convinced a couple of sapient creatures to play nice. Do you deal with much trouble as a town guard?"
“Militawoman.” Athaliah replied, correcting him. “Anyhow, bandits come over to attack the town every so often, but they usually run when they see a phalanx blocking their entry through the gates.” She paused for a few seconds to think. “Not a lot exciting happens apart from that, though. My job mainly consists of patrolling the town and the surrounding area to ward off thieves and such. So, how’d you learn to use magic?”
"I'm largely self-taught, though I have been given some help here and there." Replied Herbert. "When I was younger and before I started hunting magical creatures, I managed to scrape together enough cash doing odd jobs to buy a scroll that taught how to conjure a rather simplistic fireball and someone was kind enough to donate some blood to actually make the magic work. To this day, fire magic is the kind I'm best at. Have either of you two ever been interested in learning?"
Athaliah simply shook her head. “Nope. Blades and shields have worked for me, and they’ll continue to do so. What about you, Weiss?”
Rhiara looked up from her book, wearing a thoughtful expression. She was thinking of how long she could keep her shapeshifting ability a secret, and if Herbert even needed to know about it in the first place. After all, after the feast they’d be parting ways anyhow. “I’ve tried it once or twice, so I might need tutoring. Just not any time soon.”
"Fair enough, magic's not for everyone. What kind of magic did you dabble in, Rhiara?" Asked Herbert. "There are a number of disciplines to study."
“Oh, I know,” Rhiara replied, her voice carrying a hint of happiness. Mock happiness, to be sure. “Fire’s a well-known discipline and I think it’s the most popular, actually. There’s also water manipulation, too. So, you’re really good with fire magic, I can attest to that, but how are you with the other disciplines?”
"Lightning and storms are my back-up plan for creatures that aren't particularly scared of fire, so I'm proficient with that as well. I've tried ice and cold, but for some reason, they just don't come to me as easily as other sorcery and I've never really gotten the hang of them." Herbert explained. "Other than that, I have some spellbooks in one of those boxes to reference before a hunt if I think some other trick will come in handy. I do believe you've dodged my question regarding your own dabbling, though."
Rhiara sighed and sat up straight against the wall of the wagon. “My magic isn’t something I’m exactly proud of, and besides, I can’t do it naturally anyhow.” She shrugged. Athaliah thought about speaking up for a moment, before she realised why her friend was being so hesitant to reveal what her magic consisted of. “Can we please leave it there, Herbert?”
"As you wish." Said Herbert. He hoped that whatever she was ashamed of wasn't too serious. It would a be a tragedy if she'd gotten herself into an infernal pact of some sort. Alternatively, there was the possibility that someone had gotten hurt so that she could use blood magic. After a short but awkward pause, he spoke again. "So, uh, how's the carpentry business?"
“It’s going brilliantly!” she replied merrily, like the earlier conversation never happened. “It gives me the experience I need to do my woodcarving that I do in my spare time, and I get paid for it - which is certainly a bonus. My master is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet, too. Trust me, you two would get along famously.”
"That's nice. Perhaps you could introduce me to him sometime." While it might have seemed silly to some, Herbert couldn't help but feel more uncomfortable in this conversation than when draining the blood and poison from a dead basilisk. Rhiara's fake cheeriness - or any fake cheer for that matter- had one purpose, and that was to hide someone's true emotions or thoughts.
Athaliah sighed, happy that the awkward conversation was now seemingly over. She looked over to Herbert, and decided to switch to a happier topic. “Herbert, can you tell me about this woman we’re picking up? Erika, was it?”
Herbert smiled, though it probably wasn't visible from where his passengers where sitting. If they were observant, they might have noticed him relax. "Yes, Erika is her name. She's my beloved, and we've known each other for twenty years. Currently, she provides both mundane and magical healing to the people of Viarosa. Never will you find a kinder or more trustworthy person."
“She sounds like a great woman,” Athaliah replied. “How long have you two been together? And, since she does healing magic, does she know any other types?”
"We've been together for ten years." Answered Herbert. "She can do a little bit of shape-shifting if necessary, but for her day-to-day business, she only needs healing magic. How long have you and Rhiara known each other?"
At the mention of shape-shifting, Rhiara looked over the top of her book at Herbert; she felt safer about telling him, but now she was unsure of how he would react now that he had been lied to. “Almost ten years. Both of our parents decided to make us spend time together, because that’s what parents do. We’ve been great friends ever since, really.”
"Haven't really heard of folks forced to play together becoming great friends too often, but I'm glad it worked out for you two. How did your parents meet then? I assume they were friends if they forced you to spend time together."
Athaliah let out a “hmm” in thought. “I actually don’t know. My parents never mentioned how they met Weiss’.”
“Nor did mine,” Rhiara stated, still staring at her book. “I don’t think it was anything unsavoury though, it’s just that neither of us thought to ask.”
“What about you, Herbert? How’d you and Erika meet?”
Herbert winced. "We were both born in Krossavik and properly met because we were both lucky enough to survive when that godsdamned dragon attacked. After the destruction, the folks who were still alive looked to see who else was."
Athaliah looked down at her feet and gulped hard. “Sorry, Herbert. But on the bright side, you found the love of your life. You’ve got to take these victories where you can, you know? Do you… do you know why the dragon attacked Krossavik, if you don’t mind me asking?"
The monster hunter stroked his chin in contemplation. "If my history's correct, the dragon had been sleeping for thousands of years. It could just have been that he was hungry. There is another possible reason though. Most folk don't know it, but a long time back - generations, that is - someone managed to get their hands on a rather special knife."
Herbert paused. "I'm not talking about a dagger or a knife to eat with, it more closely resembled a surgeon's scalpel. According to legend, it was originally given to a healer of great skill by Veturia, goddess of air, nature and most importantly, healing. Supposedly, it could cure any ailment or wound short of death and so long as the wielder only used it for good, it would protect the wielder from old age as well. It was said to have a more martial purpose as well. Many said that it if one were to cut out the heart of the Shaitun Hargash with this scalpel, it would end him completely and utterly. Whatever the case, the dragon took it after destroying Krossavik, and I'm still looking for a way to kill him."
Athaliah and Rhiara both stared at Herbert in disbelief. “You’re… you’re going to try to kill a dragon? The dragon?” Rhi said, utterly shocked. “That’s… I heard it was the biggest dragon the world had ever seen! I’m not sure even you could manage to kill it.”
Herbert gave a nod. "Big or not, he isn't invincible. Obviously, a head-on confrontation and a fair fight are suicide on one's own, but I have an idea or two. For example, basilisk poison is extremely lethal and rather fast-acting, but it has a distinct green color and foul odor. If I could find a way to distill it into something clear, odorless and tasteless, I might be able to dump some into a lake near where he lives. An army might also do the trick, but I don't have one and quite frankly, casualties would be far too high. Whatever the case, he exists and therefore, can be killed."
“That sounds awfully risky, Herbert. There’s no way you’d manage to do that without it seeing you.” Athaliah said, gazing out of the back of the wagon. “Revenge like that isn’t something you should be seeking. Instead, get revenge by living long and well. My dad told me that.”
Herbert shrugged. "Poisoning his drinking water was just an idea rather than a plan. I'm no alchemist, so it's unlikely I could distill it anyways. As for revenge and motivation, I won't deny that I want vengeance but there are other considerations as for why he must die. He seems to regard humanity as nothing more than a food source - or at best, entertainment - and as such, is likely to keep killing innocent folk whenever the whim takes him, so long as he is able." He paused in thought for a moment. "I do try my best to avoid being overwhelmed by the desire to slay Htraknu though. Another survivor let the need for vengeance consume him and I know not what has become of him. I doubt his fate is a pleasant one."
Athaliah bit her lip for a second while she thought of what to say. “Did you know him well?” She knew it probably wasn’t the best thing to ask as soon as it slipped out of her mouth, but it was asked and there was nothing she could do about that.
Herbert nodded and a bit of emotion slipped into his voice as he spoke. "He practically raised Erika and myself after Krossavik was destroyed. He left when I came of age, telling us that he had a duty to kill the dragon. Just set out with his old armor and sword, and that was the last any of us saw of him. Let's discuss happier topics, shall we? Are you two looking forward to the feast?"
“I am, surprisingly. It could still be a trap so I’m a bit sceptical and prepared to be disappointed, but if it’s true then it’d be enjoyable. I’m not sure about the Order in any event, though. Giving religious people a militant desire is a bad idea. Also, Weiss here has brought a dress along with her for this feast.”
“It’s a cute dress!” Rhiara retorted, a little too defensively.
“What about you, Herbert?”
"Well, given that we have yet to encounter any sort of bandits or highwaymen, I don't think it's a trap." Said Herbert. "I think it'll be fun. What kind of dress did you bring, Rhiara?"
“It’s one of those cute dresses from the east" Rhiara explained. "I got it off a trader a few months ago, and I’ve never had an excuse to actually wear it until now. Herbert, did you not bring any clothes exclusively for the feast? Am I really the only one who planned ahead?”
Herbert waved the concern away. "I've got some fancier clothes at home in Viarosa, but not in my wagon. My normal routine doesn't really call for such garments. Who knows, these Order folks might appreciate something more suited for combat anyways. What about you, Athaliah, did you pack a dress or anything?"
Athaliah shook her head. “I don’t have anything fancy at home, to be honest. I’ve never needed to wear anything of the sort, and this news of a feast came a bit fast. I hope they’ll appreciate my armour, at the least. Who knows, maybe I’ll find one in Viarosa.”
"Has your armor seen much use?" Inquired Herbert. He remembered how when he was a boy, Bjorn had told him of various attacks that Krossavik had fought off. The attacks had supposedly been less frequent after Erika's mother arrived, though. Even the bloodlust of orcs and greed of shadow elves dimmed somewhat at the thought of fighting a manticore.
“I mean, I’ve wore it a lot if that’s what you’re asking.” Athaliah replied, looking at her armour which she had placed next to her. “It’s taken a few hits and scrapes from knives and such, but nothing too big; I let my shield take those kinds of hits.”
"What I meant by that was 'how many fights have you been in?'" Explained Herbert.
“More than I’d care to admit. I usually try to avoid getting into fights; they’re not good for either person. That said though, people will always fight when I try to enforce the law upon them. Maybe they think they can beat me because I don’t look that intimidating. I win most of the time anyway. I’ve been in some big fights against whole gangs of bandits, but that’s rare.”
"Never had to deal with marauding orcs from past the Dragon's Spine or slavers from Rosiland then, eh? Is the law any different in Hoffen than other bits of Asmeinland given that it's enforced by the militia?" Herbert couldn't help but be especially curious about the law there, given that he had had the occasional disagreement with Asmeinlander law.
“Well…” Athaliah stopped for a second to think. “In theory, no. In practice, yes. You see, the only law enforcement that Hoffen has is its militia, which as you know are civilians who are trained in warfare and all that stuff – we have no full-time guard. So because of that, there are some Asmeinland laws that Hoffen doesn’t recognise; Hoffen is not obliged to send soldiers into war because we technically have none, for example. Basic laws are the same, though. Don’t steal, don’t hit people, et cetera.”
"Sounds reasonable. I take it that if I made the odd joke about the king, you'd show me some mercy then?" Herbert's tone was joking but disrespecting the king had gotten him into his agreements with Asmeinlander law.
Athaliah shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so. Disrespecting the King is legal if there’s no rebellious sentiment, or whatever. To be honest, I don’t concern myself with it; let people say what they want.”
Herbert nodded thoughtfully, but spoke no more. It seemed that the conversation was over for now and the three of them lapsed into silence as the road stretched on. There was still a good bit of land to cover before they reached Viarosa.
Going on a cruise, see you all in a few days.
Due to players dropping out, I am re-opening the RP to new applicants.
Many thanks to @PrinceOfHeaven for his assistance in writing this.
The Year is 1308 in the Age of Solanius. The World of Thurius is as dangerous as it is magical, home to many races of people from the gallant and enterprising humans (by far the most common race of Thurius), to the majestic and proud elves; from the ferocious and powerful orcs, to the wise and gentle samothaurs.
Long ago, on the peninsula of Gelidia, a mighty empire rose to power, conquering and colonizing all within its path. The Aesernian Empire, as it came to be called, dominated nearly the entire known world, stopped only by the barbarian tribes to its north, desert wasteland to its south, oceans to its west, and the empire known as the Savarian Caliphate to its east. As the world's wealthiest, largest, strongest, and most advanced civilization, the Aesernian Empire was said to have been granted the blessed favor of the Living Gods of the Great Pantheon, in whom the Aesernians possessed an unwavering faith.
However, what is fated to rise is also doomed to fall. Rife with corruption and conflict within, the Aesernian Empire swiftly collapsed, shrinking down to a single divided province beset on all sides by enemies, all of whom desire to claim the mantle of the Empire for themselves, though the strongest claim and the proper throne of Aesernia belongs to its Emperor, Vittorio III. To the east of Aesernia, sharing the Gelidian Peninsula, stands their greatest rival: the military junta of Nursia led by Generalissimo Leonardo Speziale. Other Kingdoms seeking to claim the mantle include Foveros, Illyrica, Narbos, Bryon, the Elvish Kingdoms of Tarraconia and Aquilania, and the southern lands of Marrakech and Cathion.
To the far North, the warring Norsidic tribes have established three kingdoms of their own, embroiled in their own three-way conflict of ideas and territory. Osland, a country of warrior-poets, embracing the traditions of their pre-Kingdom elders, consider themselves the true Nords of the North, seeking to one day unite their people under the banner of Norsland. Rosiland, a country shared by the proud Nords, reclusive Shadow Elves, and aggressive Plains Orcs, seeks only to maintain its independence. And last, the Kingdom of Asmeinland, rejecting the traditions of their savage ancestors, turn instead to more modern sensibilities and ways of thinking, seeking to civilize the North in preparation for the creation of a new empire to replace the fallen Aesernians as the world's capital.
And to the east, the Savarid Caliphate had faced great turmoil of their own. Likewise collapsing into many warring sultanates, the Savarids soon abandoned their faith in the Great Pantheon, their piety now turned towards a new and rapidly growing religion in the element of fire itself, the Path of the Sacred Flame. Beginning in the Kingdom of Sindhus and spreading by the sword and the flame, the zealots of the Path immolate heathens and heretics alike, seeking to purge all sin from their souls as they assimilate their consciousness with that of their mystic flame. The Path would grow to consume all Kings and Sultans and become the dominant faith of the east.
Marking the beginning of a new era, the Savarid Sultanates waged Holy War for the province of Iurusolym, an act responded in kind by the Aesernian Kingdoms, temporarily united against the Path of the Flame in a call to Crusade by the High Priest of the Great Pantheon. After years of fighting, however, the Savarids prevailed, forcing the Crusaders out of their Holy Land, now free to incinerate all sinners without interference.
Now, in an age of blood and steel, the Aesernian Kingdoms do battle once again with themselves, the North Kingdoms, and the Savarid Sultanates, all yearning to once again hold the favor of the Gods and restore the glory of the Pax Aeserna. Yet as they wage war to do so, the Legions of the Infernum grow ever stronger, pulling Thurius closer to a hellish demise.
Alas, the Legions of the Infernum and the Shaituns are not the most pressing problem. Htraknu, Father of all Dragons, has awoken. For twenty years, he has lurked in his mountainous realm, plotting, scheming, and preparing for an undertaking that most would consider madness at best. Ever since Htraknu burned the Asmeinlander village of Krossavik and slaughtered all but six of the inhabitants, the Elder Wyrm has been mobilizing his forces in search of artifacts that will help him slay the very gods and take their power. Should he succeed in his endeavor to become the One God, Thurius will fall under a rule more tyrannical and wicked than any other. Mortals will be slaves at best and livestock at worst. The Shaitun known as Hargath is the first target of Htraknu's plans, as the dragon has already taken the means to slay him from the ashes of Krossavik.
Htraknu gazed upon the captive demon with the same contempt he held for the overwhelming majority of non-dragons; along with a more personalized degree of irritation that came from his patience being sorely tested. Despite the best efforts of his one of his most sadistic goblin lackeys, the beast was being rather stubborn and had not yet revealed the secret of how to enter its master's realm. It wasn't a matter of courage that kept half-rotting demon from surrendering the information. The wretched creature was simply more afraid of the Shaitun known as Hargash than it was of the ancient dragon and his underlings. This irked the great reptile greatly but ultimately, it was of no real matter, for that foolish notion would soon be cured.
The dragon's deep intake of breath was the goblin torturer's only warning to get out of the way. As the green humanoid scampered out of the way, Htraknu exhaled and sent a gust of flame toward one of the demon's hoofed feet with all the precision of a master artisan. The demon shrieked with pain and would likely have shaken the now-flaming foot frantically if not for the slightly molten manacles. With the demon seemingly now sufficiently intimidated, the elder dragon spoke. "Your choice is quite simple. Either you tell me what I wish to know and thus earn your freedom, or you keep silent and I slowly roast you alive before devouring you."
Eyes wide, the demon spoke so quickly that it was barely understandable. "I'll tell you whatever you wish to know! The conditions necessary to enter the Citadel of Rot are rather specific and require a great deal of magical power, though I'm sure a being as mighty and wise as yourself need not worry about the requirements. To enter the Citadel, you must first find the ruins of a once-great city brought down by plague. Once there, you must bind the souls of seven beings that died alone after a life of rejection. Using the bound souls, you can open a portal to the front gates of the Citadel. That's all there is to it! You said you would set me free if I told you!"
Htraknu smiled. "Indeed I did," to which the demon relaxed somewhat, "but alas, only the dead are truly free." Before the demon had a chance to register this statement, the ancient dragon opened his mouth and unleashed a flame hot enough to melt the chains around the demon within seconds. Without further ado, the great reptile bit into the demon's charred corpse and immediately spat out the mouthful. Even in death, the creature was utterly repulsive. He began looking for something else to eat, content that he knew how to reach at least one of his intended victims. Soon enough, there would be much that needed to be done if he were to realize his ambitions. In the meantime, he was hungry.
The Year is 1308 in the Age of Solanius. The World of Thurius is as dangerous as it is magical, home to many races of people from the gallant and enterprising humans (by far the most common race of Thurius), to the majestic and proud elves; from the ferocious and powerful orcs, to the wise and gentle samothaurs.
Long ago, on the peninsula of Gelidia, a mighty empire rose to power, conquering and colonizing all within its path. The Aesernian Empire, as it came to be called, dominated nearly the entire known world, stopped only by the barbarian tribes to its north, desert wasteland to its south, oceans to its west, and the empire known as the Savarian Caliphate to its east. As the world's wealthiest, largest, strongest, and most advanced civilization, the Aesernian Empire was said to have been granted the blessed favor of the Living Gods of the Great Pantheon, in whom the Aesernians possessed an unwavering faith.
However, what is fated to rise is also doomed to fall. Rife with corruption and conflict within, the Aesernian Empire swiftly collapsed, shrinking down to a single divided province beset on all sides by enemies, all of whom desire to claim the mantle of the Empire for themselves, though the strongest claim and the proper throne of Aesernia belongs to its Emperor, Vittorio III. To the east of Aesernia, sharing the Gelidian Peninsula, stands their greatest rival: the military junta of Nursia led by Generalissimo Leonardo Speziale. Other Kingdoms seeking to claim the mantle include Foveros, Illyrica, Narbos, Bryon, the Elvish Kingdoms of Tarraconia and Aquilania, and the southern lands of Marrakech and Cathion.
To the far North, the warring Norsidic tribes have established three kingdoms of their own, embroiled in their own three-way conflict of ideas and territory. Osland, a country of warrior-poets, embracing the traditions of their pre-Kingdom elders, consider themselves the true Nords of the North, seeking to one day unite their people under the banner of Norsland. Rosiland, a country shared by the proud Nords, reclusive Shadow Elves, and aggressive Plains Orcs, seeks only to maintain its independence. And last, the Kingdom of Asmeinland, rejecting the traditions of their savage ancestors, turn instead to more modern sensibilities and ways of thinking, seeking to civilize the North in preparation for the creation of a new empire to replace the fallen Aesernians as the world's capital.
And to the east, the Savarid Caliphate had faced great turmoil of their own. Likewise collapsing into many warring sultanates, the Savarids soon abandoned their faith in the Great Pantheon, their piety now turned towards a new and rapidly growing religion in the element of fire itself, the Path of the Sacred Flame. Beginning in the Kingdom of Sindhus and spreading by the sword and the flame, the zealots of the Path immolate heathens and heretics alike, seeking to purge all sin from their souls as they assimilate their consciousness with that of their mystic flame. The Path would grow to consume all Kings and Sultans and become the dominant faith of the east.
Marking the beginning of a new era, the Savarid Sultanates waged Holy War for the province of Iurusolym, an act responded in kind by the Aesernian Kingdoms, temporarily united against the Path of the Flame in a call to Crusade by the High Priest of the Great Pantheon. After years of fighting, however, the Savarids prevailed, forcing the Crusaders out of their Holy Land, now free to incinerate all sinners without interference.
Now, in an age of blood and steel, the Aesernian Kingdoms do battle once again with themselves, the North Kingdoms, and the Savarid Sultanates, all yearning to once again hold the favor of the Gods and restore the glory of the Pax Aeserna. Yet as they wage war to do so, the Legions of the Infernum grow ever stronger, pulling Thurius closer to a hellish demise.
Alas, the Legions of the Infernum and the Shaituns are not the most pressing problem. Htraknu, Father of all Dragons, has awoken. For twenty years, he has lurked in his mountainous realm, plotting, scheming, and preparing for an undertaking that most would consider madness at best. Ever since Htraknu burned the Asmeinlander village of Krossavik and slaughtered all but six of the inhabitants, the Elder Wyrm has been mobilizing his forces in search of artifacts that will help him slay the very gods and take their power. Should he succeed in his endeavor to become the One God, Thurius will fall under a rule more tyrannical and wicked than any other. Mortals will be slaves at best and livestock at worst. The Shaitun known as Hargath is the first target of Htraknu's plans, as the dragon has already taken the means to slay him from the ashes of Krossavik.
Htraknu gazed upon the captive demon with the same contempt he held for the overwhelming majority of non-dragons; along with a more personalized degree of irritation that came from his patience being sorely tested. Despite the best efforts of his one of his most sadistic goblin lackeys, the beast was being rather stubborn and had not yet revealed the secret of how to enter its master's realm. It wasn't a matter of courage that kept half-rotting demon from surrendering the information. The wretched creature was simply more afraid of the Shaitun known as Hargash than it was of the ancient dragon and his underlings. This irked the great reptile greatly but ultimately, it was of no real matter, for that foolish notion would soon be cured.
The dragon's deep intake of breath was the goblin torturer's only warning to get out of the way. As the green humanoid scampered out of the way, Htraknu exhaled and sent a gust of flame toward one of the demon's hoofed feet with all the precision of a master artisan. The demon shrieked with pain and would likely have shaken the now-flaming foot frantically if not for the slightly molten manacles. With the demon seemingly now sufficiently intimidated, the elder dragon spoke. "Your choice is quite simple. Either you tell me what I wish to know and thus earn your freedom, or you keep silent and I slowly roast you alive before devouring you."
Eyes wide, the demon spoke so quickly that it was barely understandable. "I'll tell you whatever you wish to know! The conditions necessary to enter the Citadel of Rot are rather specific and require a great deal of magical power, though I'm sure a being as mighty and wise as yourself need not worry about the requirements. To enter the Citadel, you must first find the ruins of a once-great city brought down by plague. Once there, you must bind the souls of seven beings that died alone after a life of rejection. Using the bound souls, you can open a portal to the front gates of the Citadel. That's all there is to it! You said you would set me free if I told you!"
Htraknu smiled. "Indeed I did," to which the demon relaxed somewhat, "but alas, only the dead are truly free." Before the demon had a chance to register this statement, the ancient dragon opened his mouth and unleashed a flame hot enough to melt the chains around the demon within seconds. Without further ado, the great reptile bit into the demon's charred corpse and immediately spat out the mouthful. Even in death, the creature was utterly repulsive. He began looking for something else to eat, content that he knew how to reach at least one of his intended victims. Soon enough, there would be much that needed to be done if he were to realize his ambitions. In the meantime, he was hungry.
@Mardox
I have hopefully improved this enough to be within acceptable parameters.
Looking good, you're in.
I'd like you to tell me about this university your guy learned magic in.
I've got to go, might BBL
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