TheBigJon

The Verdict of Amenor

Caildir wondered why he'd decided to stay in Hol-Vollum when he'd spent his 3rd night there. Today was when he got the answer.

He'd never been particularly religous; he never prayed or really had faith in anything. However, Caildir was a firm believer that everything happened for a reason, and no matter the circumstance, there was a reason for everything. He considered that his life philosophy. Then again, being the wanderer that he is, it befit his lifestyle. In his time in the great forest, he'd made quite a few friends and even assisted in the rebuilding of the city at times. Time seemed to fly in his moments there. The feeling of this was only cemented on the day of the Prince's speech.

How the hell is it already finished?

Although not easily impressed, Caildir marveled at the elven production. He watched in awe as the prince gave the speech that finalized the city's completion. In the midst of his awe, there was a slight chill in the air. Something was wrong, but he honestly couldn't put his finger on it. All the signs were there: his palms were slightly moist and the small of his back seemed to shift around, if you could relate to the feeling. The day's festivities forced him to push the thought to the back of his head.

Today, we celebrate.

And Caildir did just that. He entertained with his usual party tricks and fought some friendly bouts, but he stayed away from the alcohol. He figured if something was to go wrong, he might as well be sober for it.

[The Following Day]

Caildir awoke a fair bit earlier than majority of the elves. The air seemed stale. It was at this moment that he knew something was bound to happen. As if on cue with his thoughts, a lone voice cut through the air.

"We're under attack!"

His eyes widened and he quickly scrambled to see where the commotion was coming from. He heard more shouts about the outpost - the east one to be exact. That was where Caildir guessed he'd be needed. He was no soldier, but he knew he was a fighter. A slight feeling of dread came about him. He knew the forest well enough to reach the edge of the forest. He stood on the branch of a tree, looking a the sight below him. The fighting had already begun. It was horrific; the stench of death and battle wrung through the air. He could see his people be cut down. And for what reason? The ones they were fighting seemed to be none too different from them. What reason could they possibly have to attack?

It was fairly obvious who was doing the attacking. The elves were very much on the defensive. The fighting was quickly spreading near where he was standing. Caildir made his way down the tree, hoping to provide as much help as he could. A small skirmish was taking place where he landed. He counted 3 elves fighting back around 8 of the hostiles. He wasn't sure what to make of them, but he definitely knew what he had to do. The 3 elves were getting driven back, right towards him. They seemed to be holding their own, but they definitely wouldn't last.

Caildir's hand snuck into his own cloak, gripping the hilt of his beloved sword. He felt the hilt's familiar warmth as he channeled what he'd learned through the catalyst hidden inside it. He felt himself reach out to the 8 minds attacking his people. In their eyes, it seemed that the 3 elves' faces began to contort into malicious sneers. The human's saw their adversaries' eyes sink into hollowed sockets and their faces elongate into sinister and demonic forms. An unbearable scream exploded in their head. These sensations were quickly put down with their death, as the 3 elves had no problem dealing with the disoriented humans.

Caildir preferred to stay in the background when it wasn't his fight, but he knew that would stay the best course of action. He broke into a sprint towards the fray of the fighting when an armored body slammed into him. They tumbled down and Caildir quickly shifted his weight to throw the new enemy away from him as he stood. It was one of the elf-like things, fully armored, but no helmet. He got his first close look at his enemy. There was no time to speak as the human drew a dagger and charged clumsily towards him. He dropped into an even stance, anticipating his movements. Caildir's long cloak was unclasped at he moved his shoulder into to human and raised both his arms to block the slash that was initially directed at his head. He struck the humans head with his left hand while he moved his right down his arm and grasped the human's armed wrist. With a quick maneuver, Caildir twist the humans arm behind his back, using the dagger to "tie" the knot made with his own arm. He kept pushing till he heard a sickening snap followed by a scream. A swift kick to the head ensured the human's unconsciousness.

It wasn't long before 2 of the humans friends had come to the aid of the scream, both bearing longswords. He knew he'd have to use Naurhyanda if he hoped to live through this one. His hand touched the hilt as he dashed toward the two. His catalyst heated when he altered the hostiles' perception. To them, there were literally 3 Caildirs, each one moving differently. However, none of the 3 were real. Caildir had stood in place and touched his hilt. A slightly sadistic expression wove through his face as he saw the two clambering to protect themselves from nothing. Caildir quickly recomposed himself and ran toward the one on the left, who barely put up a fight. His sword drove itself through the left human's chest, allowing a scream to escape from his mouth before Caildir took his head.

With the illusions faded, the 3rd human screamed something at him and swung his sword. A quick parry allowed an opening for Caildir to slash at his arm. The small cut seemed to turn the man hysterical. He dropped his sword and clutched his arm in pain. A small smirk formed on the elf's face as he marveled at Naurhyanda. With the human brought to his knees, Caildir thrust his boot into his face, unwilling to kill again.

The Verdict of Amenor

How would you want us to introduce ourselves? Are we part of the army? Or were we just bystanders who could fight?

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

I think that's fine.

Pirates From Way Out - A lighthearted Space Pirate RP with a twist Interest Check and Signups

Room for one more?

Edit: Also, when's the OOC going to be up?

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

Atticus' slight smile broke into a grin as he heard the Captain's response. A wave of relief washed over him, but he stayed composed on the outside.

"Thank you for the opportunity. You won't be disappointed."

He took a seat near the other hunters talking to the Captain, listening intently on their conversations. However, his eyes remained somewhat shifty. Atticus never stopped scanning the room, processing who was in it and what was going on. He laughed when others laughed and reacted accordingly, but he never really stopped computing. Once the dining hall seemed to empty, he followed the people outside, wondering what would happen next.

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

Malikoy said
@Thebigjon In the IC you said that Atticus arrived at the fort at night as the sun was setting, but we are all currently just having breakfast, it is still around 7-9 o'clock in the morning..

I'm silly.

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

Atticus rode on his brown mount, Roscoe, with his deep black cloak blowing gently in the wind. His hood and mask was up, shielding his face to the cold sting of the wind. The sun had been rising as he approached the gate to Raven's Peak. The guard stopped him for a bit, but after some conversing, the charm of Atticus pulled through and was allowed entrance.

When he rode up to the fort, he was somewhat surprised at how easy it was for him to enter. There didn't seem to be a guard and he tied Roscoe up to a post as he ventured into the fort. Sound came from the dining hall and he guessed that that's where he was supposed to be. When he entered, his hood and mask came down while his brown eyes scanned the room. Taking in the scene, he'd heard someone referred to as "Captain."

That's who I want.

His robes reaching the floor, Atticus walked to the Captain and waited for him to see him. Once he'd seemed to have the Captain's attention, Atticus introduced himself with a slight head bow.

"Hello. I'm Atticus Euronsfyr. I have reason to join the Order and you have a reason to recruit me. I'd appreciate if I were to be considered."

He waited for a response while maintaining a polite smile and eye contact.

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

Great! Thanks for your patience. I'll get to work on introducing him in the IC

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Captain Locklear made his way to the hangar after the call. His shotgun clung to his back as he walked into the hangar. The younger pilot was settled in his mech as Ben hopped onto the Patton. He heard the kid's comment and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't intend to die any day soon. I hope you don't either."

Locks' heavy voice resonated through the comlink. He took a seat and waited for landing while doing a secondary check of his equipment.

The Order of Hunters: Tales of Fort Raven's peek

Atticus Euronsfyr
Male
28 Years Old
Caudium Empire

Appearance

Atticus stands at 5’10” at a fairly light 173 lbs. His face mask is normally off, revealing friendly facial features with a sharp nose and deep brown eyes.

Bio

Atticus was born the youngest in a militaristic immediate family. His father and 4 brothers valued strength and fighting prowess over much else. Try as he might, Atticus was never going to keep up in athleticism with his rivals and gained the resentment of his father. Instead, Atticus spent majority of his time in books. At first, it was stories – works of fiction to entertain his depressed self. Before too long, Atticus found himself craving knowledge. He’d read books nonstop, learning as much as he could about the human body and biology in general, as it was his favorite subject. His father, concerned about his “failure” of a son, attempted to at least push Atticus in the direction of military and fighting tactics. He’d hoped that Atticus would at least develop some sort of skill related to battle. This wasn’t for naught, as Atticus learned more about fighting styles and the human body, he’d soon be able to apply it.

His uncle, Piotr, become somewhat of a father figure to Atticus. He was a mysterious man, a little shifty at times, but Atticus loved him nonetheless. Piotr called himself a scientist, but Atticus always guess there was something he wasn’t telling the family. You see, it was only Atticus’ immediate family who generally resented him (his mom never really played a role in their lives). The rest were an assortment of things – doctors, farmers, you name it. His uncle was a “scientist.” Atticus had spent a lot of time with his uncle in the library; they even had discussions on whatever it was they were interested in at the time. Regardless, both possessed vast knowledge on a myriad of subjects.

Upon his 18th birthday, Piotr had told Atticus something that'd change his life for the better. By now, Piotr had hinted about it long enough, but just confirmed Atticus' suspicions of him being a mage. Apparently, nobody in the family knew. Atticus' curiosity obviously lead him to ask his uncle's teachings - something Piotr had hoped. He'd always wanted an apprentice, but not just some random kid from the street. Atticus set out with his uncle, with little protest from his family.

Thus began the magical chapter in Atticus' life. He spent 10 years with his uncle until they parted ways. In that time, Atticus gained a handle on telekinetic magic, becoming an expert on it. Eventually, he donned three razor sharp knives on his waist, used for self defense or whatever poor bounty him and his uncle decided to collect. After parting from his uncle, he'd decided to make something of his life; he wanted to use his newfound knowledge for something worth it. It was at this point he heard of the Order of hunters. Hunting was something he was familiar with. He didn't consider himself a bounty hunter - just someone who'd needed to get by. Either way, he was set on joining the Order.

One early morning, he sought out on his horse, Roscoe, and headed for the Order.

Fighting Style

Atticus relies on his prowess in magic and intuition as well as his extensive knowledge in battle tactics and biology.

Equipment

Atticus carries several artifacts with magical properties.
-Amulet with a dark crystal around his neck
-Tattoos of ancient languages cover his forearms and his back as well as one on his forehead, aiding his magic
-His 2 knives are strapped to his waist, with one on his boot.

Skills

Atticus is an expert in telekinetic magic and possesses extensive knowledge on the human body