Upon hitting the ground, Kieran’s mind was propelled into a deep state of rest. He had pieces of visions, and some memories, but everything was a jumble. Kieran couldn’t sense everything going on around him, but there was one thing he could sense in particular, a healer. He could feel the energy—warm, enveloping, and lively. At the moment, it felt like the juxtaposition to his, which seemed cold and fading away from his grasp. When the others put him on a stretcher, he could feel that his healer was leaving, and he sought out her energy again, even though it was only in the form of his hand moving a bit.
In room 204, one of the other nurses brought up the form that the man had started to fill out. The nurse who arrived had been there in the triage, and came upstairs to give the active nurses and doctors the information they would need to treat him soon after the other nurses left. “His name on the paperwork is Kye-err… ran Fern-ear. He said he was in some sort of minor car accident at check in. He didn’t get much else filled out, apart from a partial address.” The nurse revealed. He had walked into the triage, and while he should have rightly had a wallet and car keys on him, he had neither. In this world, people never left home without their phones, wallets, and keys. However, Kieran wasn’t from this world. The things he made sure of before he left the house was that his clothing was appropriate. In his world, he had ‘essentials’, a small blade for self-defense, some rations, parchment, and a piece of charcoal for quick notes—though, he had found the invention of the pencil to be one of his favorites, and stole one from time to time to bring back to his world and use.
The nurse departed, returning to the triage so they could continue to scoff at the people who were in car accidents, though a bit more sedated now. Kieran, meanwhile, was aware of someone asking questions. He could hear a voice, and though he tried to answer, he was not in control of his body at the moment. The one thing he could determine was that this was his healer. The energy had returned, and Kieran wanted her to stay. He managed a small groan when she pressed on the edges of the wound, but along with pain came a sudden dissipation of pain. The wound seemed to fade away from Kieran’s mind, and a few moments passed before he began to wake. Kieran’s eyes opened, and he saw his healer, his savior, standing in front of him in…a large blue shirt and pants?
The hospital! he reminded himself quickly where he was, having been thrown off by the feeling of the girl’s healing energy. Looking at her now, he had absolutely no doubt in his mind that she was a healer. And yet…she was hiding here, in this world, where the technology they had could take care of so many injuries. Taking a few moments to process what the nurse was saying, Kieran gave her a small nod in response. “Thank you, miss….” He paused, hoping that she would answer with her name. He could probably track her down another way, but he wasn’t nearly as good at navigating this world, and apart from walking into the hospital and asking about nurses with brown hair who magically had the ability to heal patients, he wouldn’t get very far.
When she gave her name, Kieran began to sit up, finding that he was a bit sore—and shirtless. “Kieran.” He supplied, holding his hand out to shake hers. He looked down and found that he was now shirtless, and his wound was literally gone. He had thought it would be covered, giving the illusion at least that there was still an injury, and he eyed the spot curiously before looking back up at the woman. “Do you happen to know, where my clothing is?” He questioned. It might be standard procedure for the clothing to go in a bag under the bed, or in a closet, or something, but Kieran was completely unaware. “It appears that I over-reacted in coming here…” He added, curious what her reaction would be. He had felt her energy before, when they were down in the triage. Would she acknowledge what she was? Did she even know where she was from, or what she was capable of doing?
-.-
As with her usual fits, Rhys was oblivious to the way the elements were reacting around her. She was focused on her pig of a boss, and she thought she was controlling herself rather well. When the polite customer reappeared and began to address her boss as well, Rhys turned towards him with surprise. Fortunately, his interruption alone was enough to settle some of the fire and wind elements that were getting out of control. He said that he was waiting on another fill of his glass, and Rhys automatically reached out to get him more, but he pushed the now-empty container of wine towards her boss instead.
The man was furious, and he looked like he was going to cause a bar fight and destroy his own establishment to put this visitor in his place. Fortunately, Rhys didn’t have to suffer through the man’s wrath, because the newcomer took her hand and led her from the tavern. She followed for a few yards, and then pulled her hand away from him and stopped. He had dragged her from her job, and while it might have seemed like a blessing, it was curse all the same. Now she had no access to the money, and the cloak that she had kept in the back between shifts. She was sure that her boss would not allow her to return for her supplies—and he would likely demand the money in her pocket from the tables she had been serving. Her pay was pittance, but she felt dishonest holding onto the money that was meant for her boss to pay for stock and such things as well.
A few men came out to fight, no doubt to get their money back, and likely to try to get Rhys to return as well. It could not have looked good for her to simply walk out in the middle of a shift. While she hated acting the part of a defenseless woman, she didn’t protest Devon pulling his blade to defend them. She watched the fight, though it was honestly more of a slaughter. He cut down drunk after drunk, and Rhys was grateful that her boss hadn’t sent more. She stared at the blood on the ground, still pooling from a limb that was cut off, her own arms reaching across her chest tightly.
“Yes.” She answered automatically, speaking softly. She was alive, and she wasn’t being berated by her boss anymore, so that was a good thing. At the same time, she wasn’t alright. “But no. No, I’m not alright.” She turned to face him, turning away from the bodies on the ground, as they had been making her feel a bit queasy. “I appreciate you trying to stand up for me. I’m sure you thought it was the best thing to do, but now I have no job. The only other place here for women to work is a brothel, and I don’t have the supplies to simply wander off to another town and try my luck there. So while you might have thought you were doing me a favor, I would rather be a bit unappreciated but with a roof over my head and food in my stomach, than starving to death in the forest, alone.” Rhys wasn’t trying to be extremely bitter—that had come naturally from the life she had led.
Of course, Devon had done more than that, saving not only Rhys, but the other inhabitants of the alehouse before they were able to make the connection between the growing flames, the harsh winds, and the thin woman being yelled at by her (now former) boss. In Rhys’ mind, this man had seen a damsel in distress, and probably got some sort of weird ego boost by ‘saving’ her from her dire circumstances. Rhys turned from Devon and began to walk. She didn’t think he would care to spend more time with her, and she wasn’t in the best mood for company anyway, given the circumstances. If it had just been her, she would have likely destroyed the whole building and killed everyone in side, and yet she didn’t recognize this. She imagined that she would have been berated, and then she would have resumed her duties. Life would have gone on, and she would have continued to have a job, and a roof over her head.
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Awesome. No worries on the delay. Look forward to your post whenever!
I thought it was great. I responded, but I gotta head off now. Let me know if anything needs to be changed and I will take a look in the morning.
Some people had a habit of getting in trouble because they had poor luck. Kieran found himself in trouble frequently because he couldn’t help but get involved. He was wandering around the shops in town, minding his own business, when he sensed something…off. Being a spirit mage, Kieran had a variety of abilities that could make living a normal life entirely impossible. He could sense other mages, but was also prone to visions. Standing in a tailor’s shop, his fingers brushed against a piece of fabric, and his mind found itself across the street, just outside of a tavern. He sensed panic, anger, and fear. Someone was going to leave the tavern angry, weapon in hand, and he was chasing someone else. Kieran couldn’t make out much more than that, and he only had a few moments to decide what he was going to do with that information. As he found himself again in the tailor’s shop, Kieran swiftly turned on his heel and exited the building. So much for getting a new pair of trousers that day. He was halfway across the street when the door to the tavern flew open, a boy running out holding a coin purse.
Connecting the dots, Kieran figured out what his vision had been unable to conclude for him. The boy had stolen the man’s money, and the man would come after it. Looking at the boy now, though, Kieran could see him lying on the ground, dead. He reacted quickly, reaching out his foot and tripping the boy. He fell to the ground, and Kieran lifted the coin purse. “I’m sorry, lad. I am sure you might think you need this. But it isn’t worth your lif-“ He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because he felt a sharp pain in his side. Turning his head, Kieran saw the angry man, just as hot-headed as in the vision. He looked down at the blade in the man’s hand, surprised for a moment that it was red. In the vision it had been clean. He hadn’t killed the boy yet.
It doesn’t make sense. He thought briefly. I stopped him from killing the boy. Why is it red? The angry man grabbed the coin purse from Kieran’s hand, and the new scene played out in his mind as his eyes closed and he slumped to the ground. The boy stole from the man. Kieran interfered, tripping the boy and retrieving the purse. The man stabbed Kieran, seeing only his coin purse and rage. The boy got up and ran, and when the man realized his mistake, he turned the other way and ran as well. The street wasn’t overly busy, and those who did see the exchange looked the other way. No one wanted to be involved in this. Kieran took long, slow breaths. He had to stay awake. If he passed out, he would die. It might not have come to him in a vision, but he knew it to be true all the same. Though it took him a few minutes, Kamron made his way to his feet and began to walk back to his home.
He thought at first that he could fix it, wrap a bandage around the wound and give it time to heal, but it had gone too deep. He cursed as he got blood all over his washing room, looking for bandages. Finally, he made it up the last set of stairs to the attic, and opened the portal. Getting to the other world was the best chance he had. He opened the portal and found himself in another attic. He looked out the window, seeing a grey sky and heard the sound of rain pattering against the glass. It was always strange when the weather was different. He held one hand firmly against the wound, grateful that at least he had a rag for now to keep most of his blood in his body. He made it down the first set of stairs, and almost forgot to change into more appropriate clothing before he continued. He put the rag against his wound and took some sports tape to hold it in place, and then began to shed his clothing. He threw on a simple black shirt and a grey jacket, as well as some grey slacks and shoes, and then made his way downstairs to get the keys.
He probably should have called an ambulance, but Kieran wasn’t the most prepared for this world. He knew how many things worked, but some had eluded him entirely. He drove to the hospital, managing (surprisingly) to avoid getting in a car crash. Fortunately, the waiting room wasn’t entirely full. This was the second time he had been to a hospital in this world. The first time had been seven years before. His uncle had brought him when he fell and broke his arm. His uncle made sure that he was put in the system, and helped coach him between all of the x-rays and other procedures that took place. Kieran went up to the triage desk to check in, stating that he had been in a small car accident (figuring that with the weather, people would get hurt with those giant metal machines of death a bit more often). Since he was well-dressed, and had no visible bruises or pain, the nurse handed him a clipboard and told him to fill out his details. Kieran took the paper to one of the seats, and managed to fill out a few of the pieces of information on the clipboard before his thoughts began to slip away from him. He shakily stood up, and approached the triage desk to tell the woman that he really wasn’t feeling well. For some reason, he remembered them being a lot more helpful when he was younger. In any case, this one was using the phone, and holding up a finger for him to wait. He stood, leaning on the counter for a few moments before his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor.
-.-
The tavern was filled with drunks and assholes—and the patrons were pretty bad as well. Rhys hated this job, but it was better than working next door. The tavern was called Staggering Knight Alehouse, a rubbish name really, but represented its clientele well. The men were all full of themselves, acting like they owned the place, and then often trying to stiff the wenches on the bill. It wasn’t as if it was for a good reason, either. Most of the men went from the Alehouse to the Inn next door, creatively named Inn Good Company, for the beds and whores that it rented out. Perhaps Rhys should have been more grateful that she could acquire a job at this alehouse, rather than at the brothel next door. However, as the men grabbed her ass, and pulled her hair to get her attention, she was beginning to think that she was better off risking the bandits between towns, and trying her luck somewhere else. Perhaps she could work at a nunnery, or somewhere else where the men weren’t quite such…pigs. She had already been working for a long time when yet another man approached her for services.
Anticipating some sort of come on, or lewd comment, Rhys was actually surprised when all he asked for was wine and bread, and even said please. She hesitated for quite a few moments, searching for some hidden malice, before she realized that she was standing there looking like an idiot, and apologized. “Sorry, sir. Of course.” Rhys took the money without really looking at it, and nodded, her face beet red. She didn’t realize until she was back in the kitchen, getting a good loaf of bread, that the coin wasn’t something her boss was going to accept. She could go back and tell him that his money was no good, but then she thought about the way he had looked, and realized that he probably had no other money. She took the bread on a tray and grabbed a jug of wine, along with a mug, and brought them out to the man. She couldn’t bear saying no to the only person that had actually been polite to her. On the way, one of the other drunkards grabbed at her behind, and Rhys jumped, almost dropping the jug of wine. She caught it, fortunately, though she still earned a raucous round of laughter from the drunk men at the table. Her glare only made them find mocking her more entertaining, though.
Rhys straightened herself, and did her best to ignore them as she went the rest of the way to the new man’s table. She gave him the bread and wine, but before she could ask if there was anything else he needed, another man snapped his fingers, and Rhys turned on her heel, ready to tell him off. Sadly, the man snapping was her boss, and he did not appreciate the look that she gave him at all. He beckoned her with a finger, and she lowered her head meekly as she walked up to the overweight man. “Why is it that I keep getting complaints about you, girl?” Despite the fact that he knew her name, the boss almost always called the bar wenches by pet names, he liked to irritate them, and Rhys was so easily irritated.
“I don’t know sir. What are the complaints?” Rhys asked, genuinely confused as to what she was doing wrong. She couldn’t think of a single table that she had neglected. Her boss, however, had a multitude. He brought up a table from the previous night, one that had a bunch of guards who wanted her to sit on their laps. She had refused, and so they hadn’t paid her any tip. When they left, she didn’t say good evening to them. Though her boss phrased it a bit differently, saying that she had refused to meet their needs, or speak to them politely and courteously, Rhys knew the truth. “Sir, they wanted me to sit on their laps.” She responded, hoping that for once, he would recognize how degrading it was.
“And why didn’t you?” He questioned, folding his arms.
Rhys’ eyes narrowed in frustration. “Because, sir. I chose to work at this tavern, rather than the brothel next door. I don’t want men groping me.” She said.
The man shook his head in annoyance. “Girl, they wouldn’t have hired you over there. You always look like a sour lemon, you have no ass, and your breasts are too small. You couldn’t make a man happy if your life depended on it.” He continued to hurl insults at her, saying that she would be a dead fish, and he had taken a risk in hiring her in the first place. He explained that he had been losing business since he hired her, and there were complaints daily. As he continued to put her down, his voice grew louder, and Rhys began to tremble, clenching her teeth to try to keep her own temper in check. Most of the tavern was busy enough and loud enough for few to notice the woman being berated in the corner, though a few glanced her way when they were searching for someone to get them more food or ale.
What a much larger portion of the patrons noticed, however, was the flames in the fireplace on the opposite wall beginning to grow. The flames licked the mantle, and the pot of stew hovering above the flames was enveloped by them. Outside, the wind began to howl, causing a few of the shutters to slam shut. Rhys and her boss were oblivious to this, enveloped by their altercation. This was not the first time that her ability was quickly leaving her control, and Rhys’ fists were clenched in an attempt to keep them under control. She was oblivious to how much control she had already lost.
Connecting the dots, Kieran figured out what his vision had been unable to conclude for him. The boy had stolen the man’s money, and the man would come after it. Looking at the boy now, though, Kieran could see him lying on the ground, dead. He reacted quickly, reaching out his foot and tripping the boy. He fell to the ground, and Kieran lifted the coin purse. “I’m sorry, lad. I am sure you might think you need this. But it isn’t worth your lif-“ He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because he felt a sharp pain in his side. Turning his head, Kieran saw the angry man, just as hot-headed as in the vision. He looked down at the blade in the man’s hand, surprised for a moment that it was red. In the vision it had been clean. He hadn’t killed the boy yet.
It doesn’t make sense. He thought briefly. I stopped him from killing the boy. Why is it red? The angry man grabbed the coin purse from Kieran’s hand, and the new scene played out in his mind as his eyes closed and he slumped to the ground. The boy stole from the man. Kieran interfered, tripping the boy and retrieving the purse. The man stabbed Kieran, seeing only his coin purse and rage. The boy got up and ran, and when the man realized his mistake, he turned the other way and ran as well. The street wasn’t overly busy, and those who did see the exchange looked the other way. No one wanted to be involved in this. Kieran took long, slow breaths. He had to stay awake. If he passed out, he would die. It might not have come to him in a vision, but he knew it to be true all the same. Though it took him a few minutes, Kamron made his way to his feet and began to walk back to his home.
He thought at first that he could fix it, wrap a bandage around the wound and give it time to heal, but it had gone too deep. He cursed as he got blood all over his washing room, looking for bandages. Finally, he made it up the last set of stairs to the attic, and opened the portal. Getting to the other world was the best chance he had. He opened the portal and found himself in another attic. He looked out the window, seeing a grey sky and heard the sound of rain pattering against the glass. It was always strange when the weather was different. He held one hand firmly against the wound, grateful that at least he had a rag for now to keep most of his blood in his body. He made it down the first set of stairs, and almost forgot to change into more appropriate clothing before he continued. He put the rag against his wound and took some sports tape to hold it in place, and then began to shed his clothing. He threw on a simple black shirt and a grey jacket, as well as some grey slacks and shoes, and then made his way downstairs to get the keys.
He probably should have called an ambulance, but Kieran wasn’t the most prepared for this world. He knew how many things worked, but some had eluded him entirely. He drove to the hospital, managing (surprisingly) to avoid getting in a car crash. Fortunately, the waiting room wasn’t entirely full. This was the second time he had been to a hospital in this world. The first time had been seven years before. His uncle had brought him when he fell and broke his arm. His uncle made sure that he was put in the system, and helped coach him between all of the x-rays and other procedures that took place. Kieran went up to the triage desk to check in, stating that he had been in a small car accident (figuring that with the weather, people would get hurt with those giant metal machines of death a bit more often). Since he was well-dressed, and had no visible bruises or pain, the nurse handed him a clipboard and told him to fill out his details. Kieran took the paper to one of the seats, and managed to fill out a few of the pieces of information on the clipboard before his thoughts began to slip away from him. He shakily stood up, and approached the triage desk to tell the woman that he really wasn’t feeling well. For some reason, he remembered them being a lot more helpful when he was younger. In any case, this one was using the phone, and holding up a finger for him to wait. He stood, leaning on the counter for a few moments before his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor.
-.-
The tavern was filled with drunks and assholes—and the patrons were pretty bad as well. Rhys hated this job, but it was better than working next door. The tavern was called Staggering Knight Alehouse, a rubbish name really, but represented its clientele well. The men were all full of themselves, acting like they owned the place, and then often trying to stiff the wenches on the bill. It wasn’t as if it was for a good reason, either. Most of the men went from the Alehouse to the Inn next door, creatively named Inn Good Company, for the beds and whores that it rented out. Perhaps Rhys should have been more grateful that she could acquire a job at this alehouse, rather than at the brothel next door. However, as the men grabbed her ass, and pulled her hair to get her attention, she was beginning to think that she was better off risking the bandits between towns, and trying her luck somewhere else. Perhaps she could work at a nunnery, or somewhere else where the men weren’t quite such…pigs. She had already been working for a long time when yet another man approached her for services.
Anticipating some sort of come on, or lewd comment, Rhys was actually surprised when all he asked for was wine and bread, and even said please. She hesitated for quite a few moments, searching for some hidden malice, before she realized that she was standing there looking like an idiot, and apologized. “Sorry, sir. Of course.” Rhys took the money without really looking at it, and nodded, her face beet red. She didn’t realize until she was back in the kitchen, getting a good loaf of bread, that the coin wasn’t something her boss was going to accept. She could go back and tell him that his money was no good, but then she thought about the way he had looked, and realized that he probably had no other money. She took the bread on a tray and grabbed a jug of wine, along with a mug, and brought them out to the man. She couldn’t bear saying no to the only person that had actually been polite to her. On the way, one of the other drunkards grabbed at her behind, and Rhys jumped, almost dropping the jug of wine. She caught it, fortunately, though she still earned a raucous round of laughter from the drunk men at the table. Her glare only made them find mocking her more entertaining, though.
Rhys straightened herself, and did her best to ignore them as she went the rest of the way to the new man’s table. She gave him the bread and wine, but before she could ask if there was anything else he needed, another man snapped his fingers, and Rhys turned on her heel, ready to tell him off. Sadly, the man snapping was her boss, and he did not appreciate the look that she gave him at all. He beckoned her with a finger, and she lowered her head meekly as she walked up to the overweight man. “Why is it that I keep getting complaints about you, girl?” Despite the fact that he knew her name, the boss almost always called the bar wenches by pet names, he liked to irritate them, and Rhys was so easily irritated.
“I don’t know sir. What are the complaints?” Rhys asked, genuinely confused as to what she was doing wrong. She couldn’t think of a single table that she had neglected. Her boss, however, had a multitude. He brought up a table from the previous night, one that had a bunch of guards who wanted her to sit on their laps. She had refused, and so they hadn’t paid her any tip. When they left, she didn’t say good evening to them. Though her boss phrased it a bit differently, saying that she had refused to meet their needs, or speak to them politely and courteously, Rhys knew the truth. “Sir, they wanted me to sit on their laps.” She responded, hoping that for once, he would recognize how degrading it was.
“And why didn’t you?” He questioned, folding his arms.
Rhys’ eyes narrowed in frustration. “Because, sir. I chose to work at this tavern, rather than the brothel next door. I don’t want men groping me.” She said.
The man shook his head in annoyance. “Girl, they wouldn’t have hired you over there. You always look like a sour lemon, you have no ass, and your breasts are too small. You couldn’t make a man happy if your life depended on it.” He continued to hurl insults at her, saying that she would be a dead fish, and he had taken a risk in hiring her in the first place. He explained that he had been losing business since he hired her, and there were complaints daily. As he continued to put her down, his voice grew louder, and Rhys began to tremble, clenching her teeth to try to keep her own temper in check. Most of the tavern was busy enough and loud enough for few to notice the woman being berated in the corner, though a few glanced her way when they were searching for someone to get them more food or ale.
What a much larger portion of the patrons noticed, however, was the flames in the fireplace on the opposite wall beginning to grow. The flames licked the mantle, and the pot of stew hovering above the flames was enveloped by them. Outside, the wind began to howl, causing a few of the shutters to slam shut. Rhys and her boss were oblivious to this, enveloped by their altercation. This was not the first time that her ability was quickly leaving her control, and Rhys’ fists were clenched in an attempt to keep them under control. She was oblivious to how much control she had already lost.
No worries. If you decide to do another because you are inspired, that is fine too. I am finishing up a post and balancing some work stuff at the same time, so I will be around for a while.
That sounds good. We can always save Devon and Rhys for the second post. I am not a stickler for needing everyone in every post.
I am thinking not yet. If he has encountered her, she wouldn't have stuck around necessarily. Would you like to start, with a bit of typical ana stuff, and then i can work in Kieran?
Oh, I was thinking that perhaps he was injured, and he goes to the other world to get help, because healers are so rare and because there isn't anywhere safe for him to get his wounds treated. Does that sound like a decent way for them to meet?
Oh, I was thinking that perhaps he was injured, and he goes to the other world to get help, because healers are so rare and because there isn't anywhere safe for him to get his wounds treated. Does that sound like a decent way for them to meet?
I think it's good that they know each other. I think we should kick off with the modern setting. Perhaps just Anabelle and Kieran, if you don't mind taking it slower. We could have Devon and Rhys meet in the magic world if you want as well.
Though, I do love the idea of Kieran bringing Devon to the modern world at some point.
Though, I do love the idea of Kieran bringing Devon to the modern world at some point.
Name: Kieran Fernier
Age: 21
Magic: Spirit
Appearance: (In modern world)
Background: After his parents disappeared, Kieran ended up living with his two uncles. As he grew, he was introduced to the other world that to which they had access. He only visited a few times with his elder uncle, Ithric, when his uncles deemed that it was too dangerous for him to be around. When Kieran reached adulthood, Ithric passed away, and his other uncle left the home to mourn. Kieran thought about leaving, but he discovered the means that Ithric used to traverse the lands, and began to cross between the worlds. Kieran always dreamed of the future and the past, but he still struggles with interpreting his visions. He is naturally much better at sensing magic and magic users.
Name: Rhys Alderan
Age: 26
Magic: Elemental
Appearance:
Background: All mages were hunted in the great war, with every mage useful to the enemy for another reason. Elementals were blamed for the droughts, and when they were found by the hunters, they were forced to draw water from the ground for the enemy’s plants, and other such things. Rhys isn’t very good at controlling water. Having grown up in a time when mages were being hunted all of the time, she was never able to hone her ability. She ran away from home after causing a natural disaster, knowing that her former friends and family would come under scrutiny. She tried to stay away from towns, but, with little survival skills of her own, ended up working as a bar wench at a tavern in one of the larger cities, trying to stay hidden.
Age: 21
Magic: Spirit
Appearance: (In modern world)
Background: After his parents disappeared, Kieran ended up living with his two uncles. As he grew, he was introduced to the other world that to which they had access. He only visited a few times with his elder uncle, Ithric, when his uncles deemed that it was too dangerous for him to be around. When Kieran reached adulthood, Ithric passed away, and his other uncle left the home to mourn. Kieran thought about leaving, but he discovered the means that Ithric used to traverse the lands, and began to cross between the worlds. Kieran always dreamed of the future and the past, but he still struggles with interpreting his visions. He is naturally much better at sensing magic and magic users.
Name: Rhys Alderan
Age: 26
Magic: Elemental
Appearance:
Background: All mages were hunted in the great war, with every mage useful to the enemy for another reason. Elementals were blamed for the droughts, and when they were found by the hunters, they were forced to draw water from the ground for the enemy’s plants, and other such things. Rhys isn’t very good at controlling water. Having grown up in a time when mages were being hunted all of the time, she was never able to hone her ability. She ran away from home after causing a natural disaster, knowing that her former friends and family would come under scrutiny. She tried to stay away from towns, but, with little survival skills of her own, ended up working as a bar wench at a tavern in one of the larger cities, trying to stay hidden.
Alright, I am back, and everything looks great! I am starting CS shortly. I am not intending to put a lot of background in the CS, so that we can learn more about the characters as we go. If you don't mind, I think I am going to have my male spirit mage having recently inherited his position, so he isn't the most familiar with the 'modern' world. He likely visited it every year or so, but didn't stay for long until he was an adult.
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