RyuShura

Caravan ~ A Mid Fantasy, lore heavy RP. Adventure, Action, and Mystery focused.

Great idea, I love it. Can't wait to see more! (Totally not from the main thread)

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

-- 9:37pm
- Mentions@Mataus

Though the battle ended rather quickly, Ayer still felt jitters of adrenaline. He tried to keep his breathing stable as they skulked across the port.

Upon being notified of the opening the patrol, he nodded and scurried after his friend, keeping a concerned look out as the cross the main walk towards the edges of the harbor by the ocean water where the boats were tethered. They were closing in to the first stage of their escape now. Ayer was familiar with how the arcane engines and rotors worked on most vessels, and judging by how they looked from afar, there wasn't any concern for any sort of odd technology he hasn't come across before.

"Smaller... Okay... umm, let's see."

He agreed with this sentiment. His eyes caught sight of the fleet's pride, a large cruiser compared to the rest. It can be safe to assume that their largest ship was also their fastest, and so stealing any of the lesser vessels will only lead to a chase they cannot hope to win. They would need to rely on slipping past without alerting. That would be the best bet.

As Ayer looked across their selection, keeping his head low as he practically crawled, he noticed a slight bobbing in the water and ducked his head over the side to see a rather small dingy in between the other vessels. Base don how unassuming it looked, and how it's sleek size probably meant it didn't have a motor of any sort, he was unsure if they would be able to pilot it properly. He also doubted if they would be able to reach the other shore in time before the Nillium patrols would discover the aftermath of what happened back in the alleyway leading to the harbor with the captain Mop. If that happened, stealth would not be a correct trade for speed. Thus, they would need a blend of both for this plan to succeed. Luckily...

Ayer pointed down to it, tapping the Eldi on the shoulder, "There... a small dingy in the water. It doesn't look like it has an engine for a rotor, but it's probably our best chance of slipping out unnoticed. However, it's pretty far down. And the thing is, while I don't mind swimming, water doesn't fare well for my Ars. My crafts won't break, per se, but getting water in some of the auxiliary units causes some complications with the mechanisms that'll increase risk. I might not be able to use Wax Jury right away if we fail the jump."

He looked for a scaffold or a set of protruding nails, where they can climb easier. "And for my plan to work, that cannot be the case..."

...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

-- Half Past 9pm
- Mentions: @Mataus

The scientist looked at the wound and shook his head in thought, "No, I'm afraid... My tools, though grand and powerful as they may be, aren't capable of complex magic like that... Wait, maybe I can...! No, that won't work either. Unless you are able to revive your dead flesh after I flash freeze it... Umm, Let me see what I can do..."

He was more an arcane scientist than any sort of physician, but basic first aid was a necessity when traveling alone across the continent. His eyes scanned the area briefly before he moved over and picked up the bottle Mop dropped earlier. It was cracked in half. Not useful anymore. He then stepped over to where the guard, Phillip, was lying, ruffling in his pockets a bit. What he found was some crumbled money, a few dried orange slices saved in a wrap, and a barely functional pocket watch.

Ayer frowned a little at the lackluster contents, reluctantly stuffing them in his own pocket. He then tore the guard's sleeve off, from the shoulder, using the edge of the knife hooked to his side.

He turned. But something stopped Ayer, his eyes furrowing even more. He sighed and turned back again, on a dime. He tossed the torn rag over his shoulder and fished around in the pockets of the guard once more. While he retrieved the pocket watch, Ayer slid out a dial, a miniature screw, from a slot in his metal headpiece and tucked it into a slot on the side. The watch popped open and he soon found the issue. There was a clog of residue in the gears, not to mention the balance wheel was off-center, the reason why it was ticking the hands off-measure. This thing was probably really old, maybe even important to the fellow. He swiveled the little tool in seemingly bored fashion with a meandering, almost bored expression. This was trivial to him. In a few seconds, Ayer had cleaned the internal mechanisms and bent the metal of the balance back into place. Checking that it worked now, he slipped it back into the unconscious guard's pocket.

"I'll take these as payment for fixing your watch. Thanks, and your welcome..."

He hurriedly went up to Paric, opening the snack wrap and shoving an orange towards the mouth of the Eldi, "Open your mouth. This'll be sweet... or not, I don't really know. But it'll distract from the pain. Not to mention, help you stabilize from the loss of blood."

Ayer then began to wrap the wound with the torn sleeve, trying to put a stiff pressure against the gaping hole where the blade entered.

"Well, that's the best I can do. You feeling any better?" his eyes narrowed, looking at the bloody rag, "There isn't much we can do about it now. Let's get on one of those ships, and quick. Once we're out of danger, we can worry about infections and whatnot. There might be some first-aid somewhere in one too. There usually is, at least."

...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

-- Half Past 9pm.
- Mentions: @Mataus

Ayer heaved a long sigh, both relieved and frustrated at the result of this little skirmish. It was definitely not what he planned, not in the slightest. He rushed over to the stuttering, flailing captain, staring at the burnt shaggy hair with a bit of shame and disappointment at the unnecessary suffering. His eyes narrowed in guilt at his pain.

He stripped off his jacket and covered the man with it. He didn't want him to catch a cold, on top of all this.

"I know what you did was for the best... but..." he sighed, "Whatever, at least he's not dead... And you're not dead, too. Still, I think we could've avoided that if we jus-- Ouch!"

As he spoke, Ayer suddenly winced, letting out a weak yelp as he turned to see what stung him. Without his thick insulation jacket, the brimming hot metal of the condenser unit had seeped through the side of his pants and threatened to brand his hip. An oversight. Usually, he didn't have to be concerned about so many things at once. The large, perforated exhaust pipes that lined alongside the main unit now appeared to leak a faint stream of steam, and the jeweled cores that outfitted the intricate piece were glowing faintly. A concern filled his pale eyes. Was it already melting down? Did he used too much mana, already? Or did it get damaged somehow in all of this? Ayer quickly loosened the strap on the steaming condenser, to allow it to hang, and popped open the panel to check the pulse of the Ars.

A hiss of steam spilled out to his face. Ayer let out a short cough, flapping the warm smoke away with an annoyed frown. But his urgency soon faded after that. The meter was 2 out of 5 now. Must've been an accidental back-up of fumes. He'll have to check the pipes later.

Phew, there is still enough for now. But at this rate, however...
"I can still be of use if... things like this happen again, but I can't risk much more than maybe one or two more charges, depending."

The blonde stepped outwards until he can peek around the corner of the alleyway to the outside. There didn't seem to be a noticeable shift in the commotion of the town. "Looks like they have not seen us yet... let's get on one of those ships before anything else happens. Sound good to you, mon ami?"

...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

- Half past 9PM
- Mentions: @Mataus

The air, even despite being close by the sea, felt intense and musky, reeking of brine and sweat. Though perhaps it was just Ayer. Knowing he was no match, much like a defenseless rat, he silently stalked after the shadow looming above. With each step forward, he would glance out and instantly duck his head, hoping not to be seen. He moved like this until he reached the stairs back up towards the upper floors. The inventor flinched when he heard a quiet splash down the hallway and up the stairs he was crawling on, instantly turning that direction with his Ars aimed out.

His hands shook even though his eyes glared. Not much an intimidating force, he'd have to admit.

But the battle struck a different tide. Though he prepared himself for the worst, upon turning the corner he saw a savage shark burst out of the water and leap at his ally instead. Ayer could barely catch the fleeting form as 'Mop' darted across the room, like a predator in the tides. He pivoted, blade lowered and swung, all in one fluid motion. In a split moment, the jolly drunken that once was absently hollering sea shanties had transformed into a beast. He wanted to shout out to Paric but even his words wouldn't hope to reach him before the blade would. He wanted to pull the trigger too, but what if the man moved and he missed? If he was too slow and their opponent changed position, Pacis was directly in the line of fire.

He clenched his teeth and did the only thing that came to mind. He took aim and fired.

Squeezing the trigger, the Ars main chamber would suddenly emit a spark that traveled through the compressor and condenser units and down the handle an barrel in an instant. The whole alleyway would flash, followed by a soft low frequency. The many Ars cores sticking out the main unit would charge a bright rainbow-like spectrum, this higher intensity a result of using a higher mana charge, combined with a more unstable 'lightning' mana-elemental profile.

It would be obvious to Mop that he was being attacked from behind. In essence, he wanted it to be very obvious. Ayer figured the man was smart and wasn't some complete berserk maniac who had no interest in self-preseveration. In his mind, Mop had only two choices before the lightning would hit. He was in the middle of an attack, so his movements were already narrowed. Realistically, the shaggy-haired man can either let the swing rip to hit Paric, but tank the artificialized lightning bolt. Or do the more sensible thing and try to evade the lightning beam, thus moving the scenario back to neutral.

However, this action was nothing more than a bluff. He knew they had a losing hand and was calling all-in, hoping to get a fold.

Ayer purposely aimed the lightning spark slightly off center, towards the pool of water that Mop surely just ran over. He heard it, after all. The blast would spread enough to hit it. If Mop decided to dodge backwards back into the water, he'd go right into the trap. If he didn't, it wasn't a big issue. As a man of science, he didn't bank on pure luck anyways. He wanted to avoid getting his partner struck, more than anything. He wasn't entirely confident on Eldi physiology, but a direct hit from the beam at this level of intensity will stun even larger beasts of the wild. So fatality was almost guaranteed on smaller beings. Plus, if they were back at a neutral fighting position, their chances would be significantly better against Mop.

Ayer knew playing a trick was the only option he had, knowing how unfamiliar his technology was to practically everyone and how inept he was in straight combat.

"Drunk on the job, are we? Don't worry, this'll sober you right up!" he shouted over the air flux, just as the lightning charge fired.

...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

- Around 9:30PM.
- Mentions: @Mataus

Ayer breathed a grateful sigh when the guard showed signs of life after reciving the blast. Even if he was about to give their position away.

“Sorry, I really am...” he muttered, checking the pulse of the guard before turning to his device and flipping a panel at his hip open.

Still breathing, fantastic news. But are you, my little Ars...?

His eyes glanced over the messy rows of buttons, bulbs, and switches, stopping atop a metal meter split by crude welded bars that outlined five ticks. Attached to it was what appeared to be a re-fitted gauge pointer. The needle had move up the first tick half-way, all of which looking the same dull bronze except for one. The last tick had a bright red film and a doodle of a squiggly mushroom adorned the end. The was no questioning what that meant. This device used large amounts of power no matter what, sometimes even shooting multiple ticks on particularly straining charges. Luckily, he didn’t use that much mana for this task.

Good, still stable...
Eyes flicking down at a faint blue light among all the wires and pipes. And there is still plenty of power left for my plan.

But his hopefulness did not last long. His pale eyes then glanced over at the shifting moonlight, the pale yellow disks widening as a very familiar, slurry, though suddenly menacing voice now called out.

The Nillium commanders were no jokes when it came to keeping law, no matter how casual or unassuming they acted normally. Ayer remembered just how nimble one of them flicked a blade to his neck, an odd wishy, pale fellow, who casually threatened him on his welcoming tour of their facilities. He didn’t even have time to react. If it wasn’t for the others intervening at that point, his snide comment would’ve cost him his life. He was then told that was normal, and was that one’s way of saying ‘hello’. So if that one was just playing around, Ayer would never be able to match someone of apparent equal rank in a straight fight. Especially not when he was so tired from all the running and snooping as it was.

Ayer’s head snapped to the left and he gazed up the platform where Paric stood. He wanted to yell, but stopped himself as his mouth went open. No, if they caused a commotion now, all of Nillium will come down on them.

They needed to deal with Mop. Now.

Before the shadow could make it any closer, he pointed the Ars and twisted the curved handle again, turning the dial to a spark synbol. Lightning. This time, he pumped up the force considerably. Ayer knew it would drain a lot of mana, but he also knew he only had one shot to incapacitate the man. Otherwise, things were going to get a whole lot rowdier than just a drunken brawl.

...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

- A Quarter past 9PM.
- Mentions: @Mataus

When Ayer saw the shadow of the guardsmen draw closer, his heart nearly skipped a beat. He held his breath and pushed himself closer behind the corner of the turn, finger on the trigger of Wax Jury. He had it all planned out, how to move, how to take out this man without a single moment to react. But something was wrong in his head. Though he told himself that he needed to do this, the thought of hurting another person made him feel horrible. His lips felt dry and chapped, despite all the moisture of the sea.

All his life, his work was always designed to help people. Though there was a bit of revenge and ego tied into the motivation, these long years spent adrift were fundamentally towards figuring out a way to make people's lives easier. These Ars were supposed to be his greatest revelation upon the world of magic and technology. And yet, he was using these very tools for inflicting pain and treason. But what choice did he really have? The Nillium will do with his Ars far worse than he possible can, if he allowed it. His brow furrowed just thinking of the act of destruction he had committed to his own prized work earlier today. All of those tools and crafts, meant to one day lead the revolution to advance the sentient races of Thoris, to perhaps rid them of the threat of the untamed wilds, gone and destroyed by the self-initiated meltdown. There were probably be bits left, he was sure. The jewel cores themselves were incredibly durable. But he was sure that was not enough to replicate the complexity of the Ars itself.

But his time to contemplation was over. The shadow was a few steps away now.

One for many... this is what you must accept, Ayer...

That drunken act he overheard earlier seemed to really work wonders. The young man didn't even look like he wanted to be bothered with the search anymore, disgruntled and carelessly walking down towards the lower floor where Ayer was. The second the man pulled the corner, Ayer stepped out and pointed the barrel at his chest and blasted him. He hoped the loud pop of condensed wind wouldn't draw too much attention. Though there was also a slight spark of mana influx from the crystal cores to worry about too, though much less noticeable.

Ayer simply hoped for the best. And hoped the man lived too. He lowered the power considerably, afraid to kill the unsuspecting innocent. Maybe a little too much, one might even say.

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

- A Quarter past 9 PM.
- Mentions: @Mataus

The moment his companion got the attention of the guard who had presumably seen them, Ayer immediately dropped low and scurried off to a drop in the rooftops. He winced as his arms landed on a sharp rock while he crawled, but he continued on, cursing to himself all along the way. Truly, the untamed outdoors was a curse set upon by cruel deities to foil his progress. Once he reached the ledge, Ayer clutched the edge and nudged himself off, dropping to the lower level like a dangling rag. He did so outstretched as he could, to avoid making unnecessary noise. He landed with a soft pattering of his muddy boots and continued further down in a silent strut until he was a good distance away from his Eldi savior above. He made sure to wave a signal before jumped around the corner into the shadows. He didn't really expect it to work out like this. He overheard that there were guards everywhere, so that got him a bit worried. But if this works out, at least there would be one less for them to deal with. Maybe.

As he hid in a crevice between buildings on the other side, he quickly armed his Ars, turning a dial on the circular disk above the handle to point to a swirling symbol on a diagram of various symbols. Wind.

Normally, his expertise about arcane science did not exactly translate to performing concussive combat blows, nor render him capable of rendering an unsuspecting soldier incapacitated. In fact, his reclusive life-style proved detrimental to such an endeavor. But Ayer can circumvent his physical weaknesses, just as any good scientist should, through the power of his trusted tools.

Ayer knew he didn't have many uses of this Ars, but he couldn't risk failure either.

He quickly modified the effective range of Wax Jury, turning the handle and tightening the mana flow that would pass through the pipes and tubes, alongside gating clearance through auxiliary exhausts with another valve on the main compressor unit. This would reduce the distance of expulsion drastically, thereby increasing the power without raising the intensity and potentially causing strain to the Core. Essentially, instead of a strong gust of wind, there would be a compact burst of air. Much like taking an invisible wrecking ball at point-blank range. It should be more than enough to blast someone hard enough into a wall and knocking them out clean, if not immediately. Ideally, without killing them. In fact, he lowered the intensity a bit, just to make sure. He knew just how drastic his devices were.

As Ayer did all of this, he began wondering something.
Wait, did we perhaps overreact a bit...? I'm starting to think we hadn't gotten seen in the first place...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

- A quarter after 9PM
- Mentions: @Mataus

The scientist almost couldn't hear the Eldi over the racket of the fervent 'singing', the shouting scattered across the small city, and his own heaving breaths. He was absolutely worn out. All this running, he wasn't even sure he ran this much his entire life. Ayer felt like he could just curl up and die right there. So much for heroism right?

But he strode to listen, freezing still. His heart and body ached, but he didn't dare move.

He already knew a bit of the Five commanders of Nillium, but the Eldi didn't know that. He felt a little guilty having the man think he was just some random desperate soul. At this moment, however, they both needed to focus on getting out alive.

"Okay..." he said, inching a glance up. Ayer was out of breath, but he tried to make it quick. He was usually a fast speaker in general, but now it sounded like he was squeezing every little word out as fast as possible with each breath.

"I'm assuming fire is your only specialty... You being an Eldi an all. I've not much either. That means we don't have much at our disposal when it comes to distraction or subterfuge... If your suspicions are right, the natural reaction upon seeing something unusual is confirmation upon the unusual and dubious sighting. That means, he'll probably walk up to get a closer look. If he does, I want you to pretend you are one of them. Not everyone knows I've an accomplice, nor do they know you. Call out that you've found me and bait him in closer. Then we knock him out." he breathed, looking at the Eldi, "Use my name, 'Ayer', if you have to. Make it urgent, so he can't think to turn away. The others won't be able to hear over all this noise, I'm sure.

He almost shrugged his shoulders in acceptance, hand never having left the grip of Wax Jury. "If not, we've been found anyway, right? I'm ready to fight."

...

Caravan: Resurrection

Ayer Lecomte

- Around 9 PM
- Mentioned: @Mataus

Ayer cracked a bitter smile, "Ha... A drunken fire-bending hero? I guess miracles come in all shapes and sizes. If we actually make it out this mess... how about a round of drinks on me?"

He jumped when fire blossomed again, turning to see the flames bellow down towards two upcoming pursuers heading up the stairs. They were knocked back down by the exploding heat, fumbling wayward in burning balls of fire. Ayer wanted to shout in victory, but the intensity of the moment picked up as he realized just how many were reaching them now, catching sight of a trio of shadowy figures scaling the rooftops ahead of them. That humorless, prude Henry sure was quick. He was able to outsmart the man once, under the guise of unpredictability and innocence. But his guise is long gone. A man like him wouldn't take any chances after such humiliation. No doubt there were others he wasn't able to see already moving to flank.

Ayer seemed to begin to suffer from a panic attack just thinking of how dire their situation was. A nasty combination of his over-active imagination and unnecessary calculation and overthinking. His whole body shook as these deadly thoughts gripped him with deep fear and uncertainty. The Nillium didn't want him dead. No. They wanted him alive. Without him, who knew how long it would take to decipher the Ars devices, if at all. His breathing become dangerous and vapid as his mind raced uncontrollably. His thoughts almost overwhelmed him, vivid lists and postulations on how they were going to beat him, maim him, bleed him dry until he complied with their heinous goals. So long as he was able to talk, Ayer was sure they wouldn't think twice about just leaving him with nubs for arms and legs. His eyes darted across the dark horizon without focus, as small lights began to point towards their direction.

What to do? What was the right choice? Is escape even possible?

But it seemed his savior was more level-headed than the finicky arcanist. Without hesitation, the last word the Eldi stranger left was 'shipyards' before darting the other direction. He looked at the Eldi with a gleam of inspiration and admiration. If this person was going to risk their life for him, he damn well can't stutter and fail to meet them half-way.

Snap out of it... Ayer, don't be so lame. Take it from your hero. Be brave! Yes! The world's greatest mind can't end up dead by the hands of some war-minded crooks! No way!

Truly, heading to the harbor where the Nillium kept their boats was a great idea. The best given their situation at least. The place surely was heavily guarded, as the Nillium valued them for their trading, not to mention those already on their heels. But given his condition, even if they were to get over the walls, somehow, they wouldn't be able to run too much farther without him railing the Eldi down and collapsing. A watery get-away would be the only possibility at this point. Difficult as it may be. But he had an idea...

Looks like the time for running is over...

Wiping his brow, combing his blonde-sweat dripped hair to the side, Ayer straightened himself out and pulled out a circular disc with an intricate curved handle and triggering mechanism. This piece was connected by a series of metallic pipes to the main unit, most of which appeared completely alien to those who knew nothing of his theory. One he entrusted to no one but himself. The scientist was wholly against violence to settle conflict, but he didn't think there was much choice. With a few swift clicks and turns of valves, popping one of the empty slots open, he inserted a small cylindrical crystal-tipped canister, then swapped a few, and moved others of different colors around. He didn't want to use Wax Jury just yet, knowing just how precious the few use charges would be for such a plan to succeed. But he simply primed the device, in case things got ugly.

Hearing footsteps hammer above, he quickly started after his newly paired companion towards the West Shipyard.

...