Ayla noticed the excitement flickering the red woman's eyes and kept closely behind the centaur. For some reason, staying behind a much larger creature made her feel more at ease if she could do it discreetly without him noticing. When he eyed her, she offered him a small, smile feeling a bit intimidated and took a little step back.
She glanced back at the lady who had decided to sit by the wagon. Worry grew in her gentle eyes.
A kind old lady passed her and gently offered Rose a handkerchief to wrap her wounds and Ayla felt a bit relieved that there was still kindness in dark times.
The strangled cry caught her attention and her head whipped towards the flames.
The insect cried in pain as the flame hit it's chest before writhing on the floor and collapsing, seemingly dead.
The white crystal still glowed faintly lkke a pulse.
A look of surprised crossed the orcs face at the centaurs kind words.
"I am Azog..." he answered solemnly, "though I do not know how much longer I will remember that. My father works as a baker in the village. I often do odd tasks for him, collect firewood from the forest and water from the river. One day, I was out collecting water from the river when I felt a bit sick. Just a headache at the time... or so I thought." He sighed and held his head, his fingers brushing the crystal on his forehead which pulsed so brightly, you could see it through his hand, "the following days were strange... I started doing... things... my father wished to take a dish from me that I was cleaning after supper... I... snapped. All I remembered thinking was it was my dish & he couldn't have it. I wanted to bite his hand."
He laughed, but there was no happiness there. "That was the first night I felt a burning sensation in my forehead. Right here." He pointed to his crystal, "in the following days, my temper grew shorter, my actions wilder, my forehead started to raise and pale. It gets bigger and brighter by the day"
The orc suddenly noticed the doctor pulling out a notepad and quickly writing. He couldn't help but laugh humorously again "By all means, scribble away dear lady. I do suspect your medical background will come in handy to find a cure... that's if it can be cured. I have not ever heard of a case where it has happened..." he offered the rest of the party a defeated smile, "do you lot have any other questions for the lab rat?"
(OOC: thanks JohnSturheit, great to hear!)
She glanced back at the lady who had decided to sit by the wagon. Worry grew in her gentle eyes.
A kind old lady passed her and gently offered Rose a handkerchief to wrap her wounds and Ayla felt a bit relieved that there was still kindness in dark times.
The strangled cry caught her attention and her head whipped towards the flames.
The insect cried in pain as the flame hit it's chest before writhing on the floor and collapsing, seemingly dead.
The white crystal still glowed faintly lkke a pulse.
A look of surprised crossed the orcs face at the centaurs kind words.
"I am Azog..." he answered solemnly, "though I do not know how much longer I will remember that. My father works as a baker in the village. I often do odd tasks for him, collect firewood from the forest and water from the river. One day, I was out collecting water from the river when I felt a bit sick. Just a headache at the time... or so I thought." He sighed and held his head, his fingers brushing the crystal on his forehead which pulsed so brightly, you could see it through his hand, "the following days were strange... I started doing... things... my father wished to take a dish from me that I was cleaning after supper... I... snapped. All I remembered thinking was it was my dish & he couldn't have it. I wanted to bite his hand."
He laughed, but there was no happiness there. "That was the first night I felt a burning sensation in my forehead. Right here." He pointed to his crystal, "in the following days, my temper grew shorter, my actions wilder, my forehead started to raise and pale. It gets bigger and brighter by the day"
The orc suddenly noticed the doctor pulling out a notepad and quickly writing. He couldn't help but laugh humorously again "By all means, scribble away dear lady. I do suspect your medical background will come in handy to find a cure... that's if it can be cured. I have not ever heard of a case where it has happened..." he offered the rest of the party a defeated smile, "do you lot have any other questions for the lab rat?"
(OOC: thanks JohnSturheit, great to hear!)
The red skinned tiefling settled back, slapping gently at her black manicured hands as if putting out an imaginary flame. Silently she listened to the orcish baker's tale. Only now, now that she wasn't actively being attacked did she let the scene truly settle upon her. Her head cocked as she looked back and forth between the things in their cages and this Azog.
Cinder's tail wrapped itself around her right leg, coiling there as if afraid to flick about as it normally did.
Something was irksome about these shackled beasts. Her amber eyes scoured the room, examining the walls, the things in their cells. Did they eat? Did they drink? What sustained them? Why were they so unnerving? Something about the way they moved. It wasn't like a zombie... No, definitely not a shambling gait, nor the clicking darting movements of a skeleton. It was its own thing and what was more, each of the afflicted seemed to have possess that odd gait, the odd mannerisms in unison.
Then there was the pulsing of the crystal, like a heartbeat perhaps, she watched it, searching out a rhythm, noting if the other crystals in the other beasts and in Azog pulsed in a similar manner, or perhaps, were like harmonious melodies, like when several people started a song, each one waiting for one verse to jump in.
For Hell's sake... the one time a bard was needed and there wasn't one! The blasted fools were near everywhere.
The centaur doing the talking freed her to observe. Unfortunately, she wasn't a true magician or wizard but she wasn't entirely unschooled. If only one of her occasional companions were along with her. By the Nine Hells and the Abyss, she wouldn't complain if that blasted lady knight and her wizardly little ward was about. This was the sort of thing they dealt with on a regular basis.
She was about to comment, about to say that the crystals looked familiar, almost like crystals she'd seen in lately materia shops as components for spells, or being offered as superior materials for constructing mystical foci. Being a warlock she hadn't really cared to investigate them but she now wished she'd at least shown some interest.
She'd mention it later. Right now she didn't want to interrupt Azog and the Centaur.
Cinder's tail wrapped itself around her right leg, coiling there as if afraid to flick about as it normally did.
Something was irksome about these shackled beasts. Her amber eyes scoured the room, examining the walls, the things in their cells. Did they eat? Did they drink? What sustained them? Why were they so unnerving? Something about the way they moved. It wasn't like a zombie... No, definitely not a shambling gait, nor the clicking darting movements of a skeleton. It was its own thing and what was more, each of the afflicted seemed to have possess that odd gait, the odd mannerisms in unison.
Then there was the pulsing of the crystal, like a heartbeat perhaps, she watched it, searching out a rhythm, noting if the other crystals in the other beasts and in Azog pulsed in a similar manner, or perhaps, were like harmonious melodies, like when several people started a song, each one waiting for one verse to jump in.
For Hell's sake... the one time a bard was needed and there wasn't one! The blasted fools were near everywhere.
The centaur doing the talking freed her to observe. Unfortunately, she wasn't a true magician or wizard but she wasn't entirely unschooled. If only one of her occasional companions were along with her. By the Nine Hells and the Abyss, she wouldn't complain if that blasted lady knight and her wizardly little ward was about. This was the sort of thing they dealt with on a regular basis.
She was about to comment, about to say that the crystals looked familiar, almost like crystals she'd seen in lately materia shops as components for spells, or being offered as superior materials for constructing mystical foci. Being a warlock she hadn't really cared to investigate them but she now wished she'd at least shown some interest.
She'd mention it later. Right now she didn't want to interrupt Azog and the Centaur.
Profoundly uncomfortable in the tight quarters, Theophilus held one of his forearms against the ceiling while he listened, as if pushing against it would cause it to rise in height. He also had to consciously keep his tail from flicking so as to not whisk Ayla or anyone else happening to stand close enough to his hindquarters. Not to mention mind where he stepped lest someone's toes be in a world of hurt. Although it would be that humanoid's fault for standing too close.
He glanced backward at the sound of one of the infected being singed by the red woman's flame, but didn't turn at the presence of the masked doctor coming up closer, scribbling notes. The centaur's full attention was on the young orc, mentally noting the description of the gradual increase of symptoms, and the mention of the river. Perhaps the infliction was in the water there, or somewhere in the forest in general. It would be difficult to say for certain, though, considering they had only one person to question at the moment. In addition, if it was in the water, then how was the whole town not yet afflicted?
Or... were they all infected already, the plague in their bodies merely dormant?
"Azog," he said, tapping his own chest with the fist that was not upon the ceiling, "My name is Theophilus. I thank you for your willingness. I've two other questions, then the rest here might wish to speak with you: At the river, did you drink of it directly? And, at that time, do you remember hearing, seeing, or smelling anything--anything at all--that was amiss?"
Of course it was likely that Azog would have already shared if there had been anything strange there... but it couldn't hurt to ask the question directly in case it stirred memory. After all, in Theophilus' experience, humanoid recollection of events was a touchy thing.
He glanced backward at the sound of one of the infected being singed by the red woman's flame, but didn't turn at the presence of the masked doctor coming up closer, scribbling notes. The centaur's full attention was on the young orc, mentally noting the description of the gradual increase of symptoms, and the mention of the river. Perhaps the infliction was in the water there, or somewhere in the forest in general. It would be difficult to say for certain, though, considering they had only one person to question at the moment. In addition, if it was in the water, then how was the whole town not yet afflicted?
Or... were they all infected already, the plague in their bodies merely dormant?
"Azog," he said, tapping his own chest with the fist that was not upon the ceiling, "My name is Theophilus. I thank you for your willingness. I've two other questions, then the rest here might wish to speak with you: At the river, did you drink of it directly? And, at that time, do you remember hearing, seeing, or smelling anything--anything at all--that was amiss?"
Of course it was likely that Azog would have already shared if there had been anything strange there... but it couldn't hurt to ask the question directly in case it stirred memory. After all, in Theophilus' experience, humanoid recollection of events was a touchy thing.
Sitting on the cracked wheel of an old wagon, grass growing around the spokes, Rose stuck her bad leg out straight and winced as she peeled off the nasty bandages. Over the next few minutes, she'd make an effort to stay conscious as she applied the salve to her wounds, blinking away the agony as it came in waves. She tried to keep an eye on the town square, where many still gathered—some in prayer—but her focus was slipping. The medicine provided a cool comfort, dulling the pain, but it wouldn't be enough to enable her to start running if she needed to.
She felt inclined to peel off her breastplate just to breathe.
You're fine, she told herself. Again, and again. You're fine. I am fine.
The town guard seethed through her teeth. Someone approaching caused her to lift her gaze.
"Thank you, Jasmine," she managed to get out as the older woman passed her a cloth. It was clean enough. "Glad to see you're still in good health. I'll be right here, 'case you need anything. Just you come running, got it?"
A soft smile from the woman was enough to ease the churning in Rose's gut. She offered it back in kind, best as she could, before groaning in pain once left alone again.
She felt inclined to peel off her breastplate just to breathe.
You're fine, she told herself. Again, and again. You're fine. I am fine.
The town guard seethed through her teeth. Someone approaching caused her to lift her gaze.
"Thank you, Jasmine," she managed to get out as the older woman passed her a cloth. It was clean enough. "Glad to see you're still in good health. I'll be right here, 'case you need anything. Just you come running, got it?"
A soft smile from the woman was enough to ease the churning in Rose's gut. She offered it back in kind, best as she could, before groaning in pain once left alone again.
The healer listened, the lens of her mask directed at the orc; expression indiscernible, unblinking, almost unnerving in a way. As warm as her demeanor seemed, her hidden visage was uncomfortable. She continued to write things down, flipping a page of the notepad, sketching the appearance of the crystal. She wondered to herself if anyone had yet tried to remove the crystals, but that was likely a question for the local healers.
Upon being spoken to by the baker's son, Paris paused her writing. "I'm sure it can be cured. An ailment this widespread is not usually permanent. Disease tends to sacrifice strength in favor of.. greater contagiousness." She explained. "if it's too strong, it kills too fast, then it cannot spread. This sickness though.. It almost reminds me of mycelium. The kind that infects small invertebrates and takes over their bodies."
Paris tapped the bottom of her mask, as if tapping her chin, then continued to write stuff down. she didn't have any more questions, Theophilus had pretty much covered all bases. What she really wanted was an opportunity to dissect one of the infected creatures, perhaps that would yield results
Upon being spoken to by the baker's son, Paris paused her writing. "I'm sure it can be cured. An ailment this widespread is not usually permanent. Disease tends to sacrifice strength in favor of.. greater contagiousness." She explained. "if it's too strong, it kills too fast, then it cannot spread. This sickness though.. It almost reminds me of mycelium. The kind that infects small invertebrates and takes over their bodies."
Paris tapped the bottom of her mask, as if tapping her chin, then continued to write stuff down. she didn't have any more questions, Theophilus had pretty much covered all bases. What she really wanted was an opportunity to dissect one of the infected creatures, perhaps that would yield results
Azog kept a careful watch on the red lady, she seemed to be thinking about the creatures, a sense of almost familiarity there like she was either starting to put things together or something else entirely, he didn't know.
His sad eyes turned back to the centaur.
"We... always drink from it directly. I did notice small shiny stones in the water though did not think much of it at the time. Here... he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small rocks ranging in size though none any bigger than a tiny pebble. They glittered innocently in his hand. Pretty things, like crystals that would make lovely jeweller though there was something sinister about them.
"Mycelium you say?" He looked at the kind doctor, "Is that easy to cure? I hope it is something simple... is there anything you need from the villagers to find a cure?"
Ayla poked her head behind the centaur and went to pick one of the rocks up when
All of a sudden, there was screaming from the center square.
A mage had stumbled into the village square.
At a glance, he was just a mage—travel-worn, robes torn, breath uneven. But that illusion didn’t survive long. Not once his hand lifted into the light.
A white crystal had fused into his palm.
Jagged. Translucent. Beautiful, in the wrong way.
Flesh had parted around it, pale veins radiated outward, faintly luminous beneath his skin, pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythms that didn’t match his heartbeat.
His fingers twitched.
Then jerked open.
Magic didn’t gather—it erupted. A violent wave tore across the square, smashing through any remaining stalls and sending splinters spinning like shrapnel. Stone groaned under the pressure, cracks racing across the ground in jagged lines.
He staggered forward after the blast.
Like a puppet yanked by invisible strings.
“…stop—”
The word dragged itself out of him, thin and fraying. His free hand clawed desperately at the crystal, nails scraping uselessly against its smooth, unyielding surface—
—and for a moment, the light inside it shifted. Something curled deep within the milky depths. Subtle.
Alive.
The crystal pulsed.
Once.
Then whatever resistance remained in him simply… broke.
His gaze lifted.
Empty—but not hollow.
Occupied.
Another blast detonated outward, stronger, more precise this time, destroying the cart which the redhead sat by. Not wild. Not accidental. The magic bent, focused,—as if whatever stirred inside that false crystal was learning. Testing.
He looked up at the redhead who had been sitting beside the cart just moments ago then around at the screaming villagers
(Sorry early send!)
His sad eyes turned back to the centaur.
"We... always drink from it directly. I did notice small shiny stones in the water though did not think much of it at the time. Here... he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small rocks ranging in size though none any bigger than a tiny pebble. They glittered innocently in his hand. Pretty things, like crystals that would make lovely jeweller though there was something sinister about them.
"Mycelium you say?" He looked at the kind doctor, "Is that easy to cure? I hope it is something simple... is there anything you need from the villagers to find a cure?"
Ayla poked her head behind the centaur and went to pick one of the rocks up when
All of a sudden, there was screaming from the center square.
A mage had stumbled into the village square.
At a glance, he was just a mage—travel-worn, robes torn, breath uneven. But that illusion didn’t survive long. Not once his hand lifted into the light.
A white crystal had fused into his palm.
Jagged. Translucent. Beautiful, in the wrong way.
Flesh had parted around it, pale veins radiated outward, faintly luminous beneath his skin, pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythms that didn’t match his heartbeat.
His fingers twitched.
Then jerked open.
Magic didn’t gather—it erupted. A violent wave tore across the square, smashing through any remaining stalls and sending splinters spinning like shrapnel. Stone groaned under the pressure, cracks racing across the ground in jagged lines.
He staggered forward after the blast.
Like a puppet yanked by invisible strings.
“…stop—”
The word dragged itself out of him, thin and fraying. His free hand clawed desperately at the crystal, nails scraping uselessly against its smooth, unyielding surface—
—and for a moment, the light inside it shifted. Something curled deep within the milky depths. Subtle.
Alive.
The crystal pulsed.
Once.
Then whatever resistance remained in him simply… broke.
His gaze lifted.
Empty—but not hollow.
Occupied.
Another blast detonated outward, stronger, more precise this time, destroying the cart which the redhead sat by. Not wild. Not accidental. The magic bent, focused,—as if whatever stirred inside that false crystal was learning. Testing.
He looked up at the redhead who had been sitting beside the cart just moments ago then around at the screaming villagers
(Sorry early send!)
The redhead, Rose Thornwood had been sitting on a broken wheel of the cart when the pandemonium broke out. She witnessed the destruction first-hand as it tore through a section of the town, wincing at the brightness of the blast, the jar of medicine in her hands flying as she flinched away with a yell— a yell that seemed to alert the mage. They turned to look at each other at the same time, both with a mix of shock and fear.
Until that shock and fear turned into numb, deadly intent. She recognized the look. It was the same look some men gave when confronted with their crimes and presented punishment.
She had the wherewithal to dive out of the way as he attacked again—luckily not behind the wagon for cover, as it was annihilated in the blast—but her leg screamed in pain from the burst of dexterity. She held her arms over her head protectively for just a moment as the arcana in the air subsided before frantically scrambling across the road, into an open door where a civilian gestured for her. She limped the last few steps, reaching out a hand as the woman pulled her inside, where—hopefully—the mage would turn his focus elsewhere for a moment.
Rose choked out a sudden sob as the reality of the situation dawned on her. There had been people where that wave of energy had passed through. Dust fell from the ceiling as another wave of power shook the earth, but she had a moment's reprieve.
Damn! She pressed a bloody hand to her forehead, smearing the red. Her halberd had been lost in the chaos, likely reduced to nothing.
"A weapon!" she shouted over the noise. "Do you have a weapon?"
No time was wasted as a short-sword was pressed into her hands. A family heirloom.
"Thank you! I will not let this go to waste. Is there a back door with access to the square?"
Only moments had passed and she was already rapidly making her way to the square. She grabbed a broom along the way out and hacked the head off, using the stick as a cane. Another blast of energy rippled through the air, screams raising up behind it. Rose glanced around a corner of crumbling wall and tried to make a plan on approaching the enemy without getting gunned down.
He was still in the middle of the square, perhaps a hundred feet away. The guard could see multiple civilians hiding around the block, but she was helpless to reach them.
Turning to look down the alley she was taking cover in, she looked for anyone that could help.
Until that shock and fear turned into numb, deadly intent. She recognized the look. It was the same look some men gave when confronted with their crimes and presented punishment.
She had the wherewithal to dive out of the way as he attacked again—luckily not behind the wagon for cover, as it was annihilated in the blast—but her leg screamed in pain from the burst of dexterity. She held her arms over her head protectively for just a moment as the arcana in the air subsided before frantically scrambling across the road, into an open door where a civilian gestured for her. She limped the last few steps, reaching out a hand as the woman pulled her inside, where—hopefully—the mage would turn his focus elsewhere for a moment.
Rose choked out a sudden sob as the reality of the situation dawned on her. There had been people where that wave of energy had passed through. Dust fell from the ceiling as another wave of power shook the earth, but she had a moment's reprieve.
Damn! She pressed a bloody hand to her forehead, smearing the red. Her halberd had been lost in the chaos, likely reduced to nothing.
"A weapon!" she shouted over the noise. "Do you have a weapon?"
No time was wasted as a short-sword was pressed into her hands. A family heirloom.
"Thank you! I will not let this go to waste. Is there a back door with access to the square?"
Only moments had passed and she was already rapidly making her way to the square. She grabbed a broom along the way out and hacked the head off, using the stick as a cane. Another blast of energy rippled through the air, screams raising up behind it. Rose glanced around a corner of crumbling wall and tried to make a plan on approaching the enemy without getting gunned down.
He was still in the middle of the square, perhaps a hundred feet away. The guard could see multiple civilians hiding around the block, but she was helpless to reach them.
Turning to look down the alley she was taking cover in, she looked for anyone that could help.
Cinder's head immediately cocked in the direction of the distant explosion, then paused before fully taking her eyes from Azog. Things were certainly getting interesting- but this could be a bit of slight of hand! Something to distract them! She was, after all, a street urchin, and had lived, surviving entirely, by her wits at a young age. She often did similar with magic to allow a fellow rogue to act unwitnessed. She would do something absurd and her fellow would pick a pocket, or switch an item for a fake. This could be what Azog was doing.
At the same time, she really wanted to know what was going on outside! Her red skin flushed with heat, fingers and toes itching as if about to start burning.
Somehow; maybe it was her recent observations, maybe it was some primal instinct, but she somehow thought this Azog knew exactly what was happening outside.
"What have you done?" she asked him, cocking her head, amber eyes narrowing in a menacing fashion as she lifted her hands into a casting position.
At the same time, she really wanted to know what was going on outside! Her red skin flushed with heat, fingers and toes itching as if about to start burning.
Somehow; maybe it was her recent observations, maybe it was some primal instinct, but she somehow thought this Azog knew exactly what was happening outside.
"What have you done?" she asked him, cocking her head, amber eyes narrowing in a menacing fashion as she lifted her hands into a casting position.
*falls from the sky, slamming into the ground, creating a crater. They hear a shotgun pump*
Since Azog didn't reply, only looking as if she were enjoying this every bit as much as Cinder was, Cinder decided to see what was happening. Cinder backed away from Azog and the other creatures in their cells. She didn't dare take their eyes from him lest they have some other means of attacking from through the bars. Once outside she peered around with her amber eyes, looking for what was happening. Her hands itched slightly, sparks forming on the backs of her hands and her tail was swishing excitedly behind her like a cat's. Her bare feet also itched and as she moved she left a faint charred outline of her footprint. She was so excited that she was running hot, literally.
"Praise be to Malphas," red skinned tiefling whispered to herself, secretly pleased by all the chaos rolling through the town. A mystery, random violence, this was the town of her dreams!"
They were on the very edge of town, having had to walk to get here. The sounds of rioting or conflict seemed to be coming from the town square. Entering a slight jog she headed back towards the sound of violence and action that seemed to be coming from the center of town.
(OOC: It takes as long as dramatically appropriate for me to arrive!)
"Praise be to Malphas," red skinned tiefling whispered to herself, secretly pleased by all the chaos rolling through the town. A mystery, random violence, this was the town of her dreams!"
They were on the very edge of town, having had to walk to get here. The sounds of rioting or conflict seemed to be coming from the town square. Entering a slight jog she headed back towards the sound of violence and action that seemed to be coming from the center of town.
(OOC: It takes as long as dramatically appropriate for me to arrive!)
Near the corner of the crowd, while everyone was bustling about, a young man—at least 19 in age—seemed to be trying to draw attention to items in his cart. Perhaps he was a merchant.
He had pecan skin, vanilla hair with puffy medium length waves, wearing a dark blue hood with dark green cat-like furry ears sticking out, a linen multicoloured doublet, pants, and a dark blue waist cape.
The young man seemed to me arousing an innocent young lady, who seemed to be telling him about her problems, which the man seemed to be emphatically listening too.
The woman sobbed at him. “A-And then I looked him in the eyes, and then- and then—!”
“Let me guess,” says the man, with a soft expression on his face. “He died?”
(OOC: Reference lol)
“Yes!” the woman gasped. “How did you know?!”
The man grinned, placing a finger over his lips.
“That’s a merchant’s secret~”
“Oh, you’ve been so inventively listening to my whole rant so far!” says the woman. “Please, let me repay you by buying something of yours!”
The man had a sly grin. The woman fell for his trap. “How kind of you, madam. Here, for a gorgeous lady like yourself, I shall grant you with something immaculate…”
The woman held her breath.
The man reached into his cart, shuffling items aside, aaaand…
“Ta-da!”
A single foxglove.
The woman’s expression faltered slightly. “Oh…! Well, um, how much is one…?”
He tells her the price. Her soul looked like it left her body.
“For… one… single… foxglove…?”
He nodded happily.
The woman hesitated, but decided to pay the price. She took the single foxglove and quickly trotted off.
“Come again soon, madam! The man yelled overhead. “And the name’s Spectre Dolion, just so you can remember~!”
It didn’t take long for the lady to realize that a foxglove meant a silent warning. And Spectre knew that. How foolish humans are.
He had pecan skin, vanilla hair with puffy medium length waves, wearing a dark blue hood with dark green cat-like furry ears sticking out, a linen multicoloured doublet, pants, and a dark blue waist cape.
The young man seemed to me arousing an innocent young lady, who seemed to be telling him about her problems, which the man seemed to be emphatically listening too.
The woman sobbed at him. “A-And then I looked him in the eyes, and then- and then—!”
“Let me guess,” says the man, with a soft expression on his face. “He died?”
(OOC: Reference lol)
“Yes!” the woman gasped. “How did you know?!”
The man grinned, placing a finger over his lips.
“That’s a merchant’s secret~”
“Oh, you’ve been so inventively listening to my whole rant so far!” says the woman. “Please, let me repay you by buying something of yours!”
The man had a sly grin. The woman fell for his trap. “How kind of you, madam. Here, for a gorgeous lady like yourself, I shall grant you with something immaculate…”
The woman held her breath.
The man reached into his cart, shuffling items aside, aaaand…
“Ta-da!”
A single foxglove.
The woman’s expression faltered slightly. “Oh…! Well, um, how much is one…?”
He tells her the price. Her soul looked like it left her body.
“For… one… single… foxglove…?”
He nodded happily.
The woman hesitated, but decided to pay the price. She took the single foxglove and quickly trotted off.
“Come again soon, madam! The man yelled overhead. “And the name’s Spectre Dolion, just so you can remember~!”
It didn’t take long for the lady to realize that a foxglove meant a silent warning. And Spectre knew that. How foolish humans are.
Ayla wrote:
Azog kept a careful watch on the red lady, she seemed to be thinking about the creatures, a sense of almost familiarity there like she was either starting to put things together or something else entirely, he didn't know.
His sad eyes turned back to the centaur.
"We... always drink from it directly. I did notice small shiny stones in the water though did not think much of it at the time. Here... he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small rocks ranging in size though none any bigger than a tiny pebble. They glittered innocently in his hand. Pretty things, like crystals that would make lovely jeweller though there was something sinister about them.
"Mycelium you say?" He looked at the kind doctor, "Is that easy to cure? I hope it is something simple... is there anything you need from the villagers to find a cure?"
Ayla poked her head behind the centaur and went to pick one of the rocks up when
All of a sudden, there was screaming from the center square.
A mage had stumbled into the village square.
At a glance, he was just a mage—travel-worn, robes torn, breath uneven. But that illusion didn’t survive long. Not once his hand lifted into the light.
A white crystal had fused into his palm.
Jagged. Translucent. Beautiful, in the wrong way.
Flesh had parted around it, pale veins radiated outward, faintly luminous beneath his skin, pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythms that didn’t match his heartbeat.
His fingers twitched.
Then jerked open.
Magic didn’t gather—it erupted. A violent wave tore across the square, smashing through any remaining stalls and sending splinters spinning like shrapnel. Stone groaned under the pressure, cracks racing across the ground in jagged lines.
He staggered forward after the blast.
Like a puppet yanked by invisible strings.
“…stop—”
The word dragged itself out of him, thin and fraying. His free hand clawed desperately at the crystal, nails scraping uselessly against its smooth, unyielding surface—
—and for a moment, the light inside it shifted. Something curled deep within the milky depths. Subtle.
Alive.
The crystal pulsed.
Once.
Then whatever resistance remained in him simply… broke.
His gaze lifted.
Empty—but not hollow.
Occupied.
Another blast detonated outward, stronger, more precise this time, destroying the cart which the redhead sat by. Not wild. Not accidental. The magic bent, focused,—as if whatever stirred inside that false crystal was learning. Testing.
He looked up at the redhead who had been sitting beside the cart just moments ago then around at the screaming villagers
(Sorry early send!)
His sad eyes turned back to the centaur.
"We... always drink from it directly. I did notice small shiny stones in the water though did not think much of it at the time. Here... he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small rocks ranging in size though none any bigger than a tiny pebble. They glittered innocently in his hand. Pretty things, like crystals that would make lovely jeweller though there was something sinister about them.
"Mycelium you say?" He looked at the kind doctor, "Is that easy to cure? I hope it is something simple... is there anything you need from the villagers to find a cure?"
Ayla poked her head behind the centaur and went to pick one of the rocks up when
All of a sudden, there was screaming from the center square.
A mage had stumbled into the village square.
At a glance, he was just a mage—travel-worn, robes torn, breath uneven. But that illusion didn’t survive long. Not once his hand lifted into the light.
A white crystal had fused into his palm.
Jagged. Translucent. Beautiful, in the wrong way.
Flesh had parted around it, pale veins radiated outward, faintly luminous beneath his skin, pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythms that didn’t match his heartbeat.
His fingers twitched.
Then jerked open.
Magic didn’t gather—it erupted. A violent wave tore across the square, smashing through any remaining stalls and sending splinters spinning like shrapnel. Stone groaned under the pressure, cracks racing across the ground in jagged lines.
He staggered forward after the blast.
Like a puppet yanked by invisible strings.
“…stop—”
The word dragged itself out of him, thin and fraying. His free hand clawed desperately at the crystal, nails scraping uselessly against its smooth, unyielding surface—
—and for a moment, the light inside it shifted. Something curled deep within the milky depths. Subtle.
Alive.
The crystal pulsed.
Once.
Then whatever resistance remained in him simply… broke.
His gaze lifted.
Empty—but not hollow.
Occupied.
Another blast detonated outward, stronger, more precise this time, destroying the cart which the redhead sat by. Not wild. Not accidental. The magic bent, focused,—as if whatever stirred inside that false crystal was learning. Testing.
He looked up at the redhead who had been sitting beside the cart just moments ago then around at the screaming villagers
(Sorry early send!)
The centaur had been about to grab Ayla’s hand to keep her from touching the glittering white stones when the distant screams reached his ears. "Find somewhere to hide outside of this building," he said levelly to Ayla and the doctor, "an attack is upon us." He wheeled around in the small space dangerously, knocking into anyone who didn't move out of the way quickly enough although he'd tried not to run into any of the ladies.
In a moment he was across the room. Instead of going through it carefully like he had before, Theophilus barreled his powerful body straight through the doorway, breaking the edges of it as he forced himself through. In one swooping motion he released his caparison-cloak from his back, which billowed out before falling to the ground. Armor plating and chainmail was revealed that protected the equine part of his body. His hood was torn off his head by the wind, dark shoulder-length hair whipping through the air as he galloped at full tilt toward the town square.
He peered briefly in confusion at a merchant in a multicolored doublet who was standing by a wagon, making a deal with an emotional woman as he thundered past them, both as yet seemingly unaware of the distress in the square. Theophilus was past them in a moment, taking no time to warn them. He would let the nearby destruction speak for itself.
He could see and hear the chaos: Wood splintering under magical force. Men and women screaming. Among the packs of supplies on his back was his helmet of worn iron. Twisting a hand behind him, he grasped it and put it on.
His large hooves clattered over the street as he arrived. Debris from a shattering piece of a house shot toward him—the centaur jumped into the air with a mighty leap, sailing clear over the obstacle with more agility than his size seemed would allow. Landing heavily, he kept galloping at the same pace as before.
Quickly scanning the scene with keen green eyes, Theophilus identified the aggressor: the only calm figure in the midst of everything, a hooded, weaponless traveler. Based on the destruction, certainly a mage. A mage who seemed to currently be focused on the civilians who were scrambling desperately away from danger. He spotted the injured red-headed guard from before taking cover in an alleyway with a stick and a sword.
Had there been no civilians, he might have taken a moment longer to think of a better strategy. But the best he could do now, seemingly to him, was to draw attention away from the people—better yet kill the hooded man.
Theophilus, galloping straight toward the mage, raised his halberd and threw it mightily at him. It wasn’t usually a throwing weapon, but he was strong enough to make it work. As soon as it left his hand, he drew one of his longswords.
((Tentatively jumping back in—responses might be slow so feel free to skip me if I take a couple days or whatever you feel is right.
Also, welcome in, cynwave!))
Azog was too stunned to be able to reply to the red woman. Another attack, it brought flash backs of the day he was not in control, unconscious but also strangely conscious at the same time- almost as if he was in some strange dream.
He cradled his head, backing up slowly as he took another seat "no...no...no... not again..."
--
Ayla jumped at the sound of the explosion, her hands instantly going around herself as if expecting someone to attack her at any moment.
Unfortunately, the sickness had left many mental scars on the townsfolk where explosions meant trouble and screaming meant someone was about to die.
"Find somewhere to hide outside of this building."
She nodded at the centaur, his words made her feel safer, him and the red woman looked strong.
"I-I can help!"
Avoiding the heated footprints (that woman's magic was certainly something else), she ran out towards the square.
"T-there is another attack!" She shouted to the mysterious vendor and the Marianne, one of the fellow villagers who had paled and was holding a single glove, "p-please protect yourselves!"
She arrived to the scene and a hand came to cover her mouth.
"Nathan..." she said under her breath, "one of the mage school students..."
But she barely had time to register before the second blast, energy exploding out from him splitting the floor.
As debris came flying towards Cinder, Theophilis, and herself, she instinctively waved her hand in front of her causing dark energy that looked like smoke appear in front of the three of them, deflecting it.
"I-is everyone alright?" She looked over at Rose who was too far for her to reach, including her in the question.
--
The halberd came like a streak of silver through the smoke.
For one impossible moment, the mage thought it would end there.
Then the crystal reacted.
A violent burst of white force exploded outward from his arm, cracking the ground beneath him as the weapon was knocked off course with a deafening shriek of metal against stone. Splintered wood, market debris, and shattered brick were swept into the blast wave hard enough to tear banners from nearby buildings.
The mage staggered violently from the recoil.
A broken gasp escaped him as he dropped to one knee in the ruins of the square, clutching at his corrupted hand with the other. Blood slipped between trembling fingers. The crystal embedded in his palm glowed beneath the smear of crimson, pale veins spiderwebbing farther up his wrist than before.
It was spreading.
“No…” he breathed hoarsely.
His nails scraped uselessly against the smooth surface lodged in his flesh. For a second, the light inside the crystal dimmed—and something shifted deep within its cloudy center.
Something alive.
The mage froze at the sight of it.
The crystal pulsed once against his hand.
Hungry.
His breath hitched sharply.
Around him the square burned and screamed. Villagers fled through dust and collapsing stalls while firelight flickered across fractured stone. Somewhere beyond the haze came the thunder of hooves again. More movement too—someone hiding nearby. Watching.
The sensation hit him instantly.
Like something beneath his skin had noticed.
His head turned sharply toward the alley Rose hid within.
The broken wall shielding her began to creak.
Small stones lifted first, trembling unnaturally before rising into the air around the mage in slow orbit. White cracks of magic splintered across his fingertips as his hand twitched toward the alley mouth—
Then stopped.
His expression strained violently.
For one brief second, something terrified surfaced behind his eyes.
“Don’t…” he rasped toward the alley under his breath. “Don’t let it—”
The sentence snapped short.
A pulse tore through him hard enough to arch his back, nearby lantern exploded outward in showers of glass.
Then his gaze lifted.
It landed on the horned woman entering the destruction openly, seemingly thrilled by the carnage around her.
The mage stared at her, then to the centaur, then to Rose. Empty once more.
His posture slowly straightened despite the blood running down his arm, movements stiff at first—then disturbingly deliberate, like a marionette finding its rhythm again.
Debris rose from the ground around him, rubble from the wall that was once next to Rose, parts of the roofs of nearby buildings being ripped off with inhuman force, bricks from the ground coming to form a swirling mass around the Mage.
And then he struck.
(A/N open for everyone to make this swirling storm of an attack effect their character & the surroundings as they wish)
He cradled his head, backing up slowly as he took another seat "no...no...no... not again..."
--
Ayla jumped at the sound of the explosion, her hands instantly going around herself as if expecting someone to attack her at any moment.
Unfortunately, the sickness had left many mental scars on the townsfolk where explosions meant trouble and screaming meant someone was about to die.
"Find somewhere to hide outside of this building."
She nodded at the centaur, his words made her feel safer, him and the red woman looked strong.
"I-I can help!"
Avoiding the heated footprints (that woman's magic was certainly something else), she ran out towards the square.
"T-there is another attack!" She shouted to the mysterious vendor and the Marianne, one of the fellow villagers who had paled and was holding a single glove, "p-please protect yourselves!"
She arrived to the scene and a hand came to cover her mouth.
"Nathan..." she said under her breath, "one of the mage school students..."
But she barely had time to register before the second blast, energy exploding out from him splitting the floor.
As debris came flying towards Cinder, Theophilis, and herself, she instinctively waved her hand in front of her causing dark energy that looked like smoke appear in front of the three of them, deflecting it.
"I-is everyone alright?" She looked over at Rose who was too far for her to reach, including her in the question.
--
The halberd came like a streak of silver through the smoke.
For one impossible moment, the mage thought it would end there.
Then the crystal reacted.
A violent burst of white force exploded outward from his arm, cracking the ground beneath him as the weapon was knocked off course with a deafening shriek of metal against stone. Splintered wood, market debris, and shattered brick were swept into the blast wave hard enough to tear banners from nearby buildings.
The mage staggered violently from the recoil.
A broken gasp escaped him as he dropped to one knee in the ruins of the square, clutching at his corrupted hand with the other. Blood slipped between trembling fingers. The crystal embedded in his palm glowed beneath the smear of crimson, pale veins spiderwebbing farther up his wrist than before.
It was spreading.
“No…” he breathed hoarsely.
His nails scraped uselessly against the smooth surface lodged in his flesh. For a second, the light inside the crystal dimmed—and something shifted deep within its cloudy center.
Something alive.
The mage froze at the sight of it.
The crystal pulsed once against his hand.
Hungry.
His breath hitched sharply.
Around him the square burned and screamed. Villagers fled through dust and collapsing stalls while firelight flickered across fractured stone. Somewhere beyond the haze came the thunder of hooves again. More movement too—someone hiding nearby. Watching.
The sensation hit him instantly.
Like something beneath his skin had noticed.
His head turned sharply toward the alley Rose hid within.
The broken wall shielding her began to creak.
Small stones lifted first, trembling unnaturally before rising into the air around the mage in slow orbit. White cracks of magic splintered across his fingertips as his hand twitched toward the alley mouth—
Then stopped.
His expression strained violently.
For one brief second, something terrified surfaced behind his eyes.
“Don’t…” he rasped toward the alley under his breath. “Don’t let it—”
The sentence snapped short.
A pulse tore through him hard enough to arch his back, nearby lantern exploded outward in showers of glass.
Then his gaze lifted.
It landed on the horned woman entering the destruction openly, seemingly thrilled by the carnage around her.
The mage stared at her, then to the centaur, then to Rose. Empty once more.
His posture slowly straightened despite the blood running down his arm, movements stiff at first—then disturbingly deliberate, like a marionette finding its rhythm again.
Debris rose from the ground around him, rubble from the wall that was once next to Rose, parts of the roofs of nearby buildings being ripped off with inhuman force, bricks from the ground coming to form a swirling mass around the Mage.
And then he struck.
(A/N open for everyone to make this swirling storm of an attack effect their character & the surroundings as they wish)
It didn’t take him long to hear the screaming of men and women, and whipped around to see—holy shit, is a fight happening?! Mages?! HE JUST GOT HERE???
He saw in horror of the happenings: a fight, splintering wood, and—shit, is that woman going to—
He wanted to help her, he sincerely wanted to… but…
What was this dread clamouring inside of him…? Is it… fear…?
He saw in horror of the happenings: a fight, splintering wood, and—shit, is that woman going to—
He wanted to help her, he sincerely wanted to… but…
What was this dread clamouring inside of him…? Is it… fear…?
The guard ducked and covered her head with an arm, dropping the makeshift cane as stone debris began to crumble down onto her. She'd barely registered the Mage's notice of her by the time the earth began to bend at his distant fingertips, pebbles and rocks lifting from the shattered stone wall she'd taken cover by. Her pain was forgotten in the rush of adrenaline that followed, her right leg doing much of the heavy lifting as she hauled ass towards the group of heroes that had come to help deal with the threat.
"Does somebody have a bow?" she yelled, arriving beside Ayla. "I'm alright, child. But we're still in his line of sight, we need to get out of here."
The protective smoke she was able to conjure wouldn't do much against another agonizing blast like before. Even as they spoke, the Mage was rallying another attack, large stones that had nearly crushed Rose now circling around his head. The smaller rocks whirled more violently around him, waiting release at any moment. A single blow from any of those stones could kill any of them— especially if there was powerful magic behind it. Arcana was electricity in the air; she could feel the hairs on her body raise. It wasn't safe here for them.
Rose pivoted in front of Ayla, putting herself between the girl and the mage in the middle of the square. A brief glance told her that the centaur was going to wipe him off his demonic hind, but they were in more danger the longer they lingered here and Rose did not want to get caught in further crossfire.
She held her sword out, ushering her back and blocking the other from maneuvering around her in case she had some sort of death wish.
"Does somebody have a bow?" she yelled, arriving beside Ayla. "I'm alright, child. But we're still in his line of sight, we need to get out of here."
The protective smoke she was able to conjure wouldn't do much against another agonizing blast like before. Even as they spoke, the Mage was rallying another attack, large stones that had nearly crushed Rose now circling around his head. The smaller rocks whirled more violently around him, waiting release at any moment. A single blow from any of those stones could kill any of them— especially if there was powerful magic behind it. Arcana was electricity in the air; she could feel the hairs on her body raise. It wasn't safe here for them.
Rose pivoted in front of Ayla, putting herself between the girl and the mage in the middle of the square. A brief glance told her that the centaur was going to wipe him off his demonic hind, but they were in more danger the longer they lingered here and Rose did not want to get caught in further crossfire.
She held her sword out, ushering her back and blocking the other from maneuvering around her in case she had some sort of death wish.
The ongoing assassin war in the next village over had drawn the Patron God of Assassins with all the prayers and summoning of him. That was how the male found himself in this small village. After he had forced the war to end in a stalemate amid losses on both sides, Caasimyro had gone to this town to stay at the tavern. It was supposed to be a brief stay, then a journey back to his country. Walking from the town gates, ready to find the nearest tavern and warm bed, a whirlwind of debris hit him.
The force sent the Patron Saint into a wall. He groaned and lifted his head. Black spots filled his vision, but only momentarily. Swearing under his breath, he unsheathed his chakram and threw it at the mage in the middle of the square. The storm caused it to veer off course, lodging into a tree instead. Rising to his knees, he grabbed one of his throwing knives, throwing that as he rose to his feet.
"What?" he murmured. There were other people in the process of fighting this mage as well he realized. Another tornado of debris hit the Patron Saint, sending him into another wall. He spat up blood as he got onto all fours.
Where there was an aristocratic male in Noble clothes with long blonde hair, there was now a shadowbeast. It looked like a panther, but was the size of a horse. The panther snarled, showing fangs the size of daggers. It darted over to the others, laying low to avoid more of the flying debris, sembling back to human only when it was safe to do so.
"What in the name of my mother did I walk in on?" Cas asked.
The force sent the Patron Saint into a wall. He groaned and lifted his head. Black spots filled his vision, but only momentarily. Swearing under his breath, he unsheathed his chakram and threw it at the mage in the middle of the square. The storm caused it to veer off course, lodging into a tree instead. Rising to his knees, he grabbed one of his throwing knives, throwing that as he rose to his feet.
"What?" he murmured. There were other people in the process of fighting this mage as well he realized. Another tornado of debris hit the Patron Saint, sending him into another wall. He spat up blood as he got onto all fours.
Where there was an aristocratic male in Noble clothes with long blonde hair, there was now a shadowbeast. It looked like a panther, but was the size of a horse. The panther snarled, showing fangs the size of daggers. It darted over to the others, laying low to avoid more of the flying debris, sembling back to human only when it was safe to do so.
"What in the name of my mother did I walk in on?" Cas asked.
Ayla wrote:
Azog was too stunned to be able to reply to the red woman. Another attack, it brought flash backs of the day he was not in control, unconscious but also strangely conscious at the same time- almost as if he was in some strange dream.
He cradled his head, backing up slowly as he took another seat "no...no...no... not again..."
--
Ayla jumped at the sound of the explosion, her hands instantly going around herself as if expecting someone to attack her at any moment.
Unfortunately, the sickness had left many mental scars on the townsfolk where explosions meant trouble and screaming meant someone was about to die.
"Find somewhere to hide outside of this building."
She nodded at the centaur, his words made her feel safer, him and the red woman looked strong.
"I-I can help!"
Avoiding the heated footprints (that woman's magic was certainly something else), she ran out towards the square.
"T-there is another attack!" She shouted to the mysterious vendor and the Marianne, one of the fellow villagers who had paled and was holding a single glove, "p-please protect yourselves!"
She arrived to the scene and a hand came to cover her mouth.
"Nathan..." she said under her breath, "one of the mage school students..."
But she barely had time to register before the second blast, energy exploding out from him splitting the floor.
As debris came flying towards Cinder, Theophilis, and herself, she instinctively waved her hand in front of her causing dark energy that looked like smoke appear in front of the three of them, deflecting it.
"I-is everyone alright?" She looked over at Rose who was too far for her to reach, including her in the question.
--
The halberd came like a streak of silver through the smoke.
For one impossible moment, the mage thought it would end there.
Then the crystal reacted.
A violent burst of white force exploded outward from his arm, cracking the ground beneath him as the weapon was knocked off course with a deafening shriek of metal against stone. Splintered wood, market debris, and shattered brick were swept into the blast wave hard enough to tear banners from nearby buildings.
The mage staggered violently from the recoil.
A broken gasp escaped him as he dropped to one knee in the ruins of the square, clutching at his corrupted hand with the other. Blood slipped between trembling fingers. The crystal embedded in his palm glowed beneath the smear of crimson, pale veins spiderwebbing farther up his wrist than before.
It was spreading.
“No…” he breathed hoarsely.
His nails scraped uselessly against the smooth surface lodged in his flesh. For a second, the light inside the crystal dimmed—and something shifted deep within its cloudy center.
Something alive.
The mage froze at the sight of it.
The crystal pulsed once against his hand.
Hungry.
His breath hitched sharply.
Around him the square burned and screamed. Villagers fled through dust and collapsing stalls while firelight flickered across fractured stone. Somewhere beyond the haze came the thunder of hooves again. More movement too—someone hiding nearby. Watching.
The sensation hit him instantly.
Like something beneath his skin had noticed.
His head turned sharply toward the alley Rose hid within.
The broken wall shielding her began to creak.
Small stones lifted first, trembling unnaturally before rising into the air around the mage in slow orbit. White cracks of magic splintered across his fingertips as his hand twitched toward the alley mouth—
Then stopped.
His expression strained violently.
For one brief second, something terrified surfaced behind his eyes.
“Don’t…” he rasped toward the alley under his breath. “Don’t let it—”
The sentence snapped short.
A pulse tore through him hard enough to arch his back, nearby lantern exploded outward in showers of glass.
Then his gaze lifted.
It landed on the horned woman entering the destruction openly, seemingly thrilled by the carnage around her.
The mage stared at her, then to the centaur, then to Rose. Empty once more.
His posture slowly straightened despite the blood running down his arm, movements stiff at first—then disturbingly deliberate, like a marionette finding its rhythm again.
Debris rose from the ground around him, rubble from the wall that was once next to Rose, parts of the roofs of nearby buildings being ripped off with inhuman force, bricks from the ground coming to form a swirling mass around the Mage.
And then he struck.
(A/N open for everyone to make this swirling storm of an attack effect their character & the surroundings as they wish)
He cradled his head, backing up slowly as he took another seat "no...no...no... not again..."
--
Ayla jumped at the sound of the explosion, her hands instantly going around herself as if expecting someone to attack her at any moment.
Unfortunately, the sickness had left many mental scars on the townsfolk where explosions meant trouble and screaming meant someone was about to die.
"Find somewhere to hide outside of this building."
She nodded at the centaur, his words made her feel safer, him and the red woman looked strong.
"I-I can help!"
Avoiding the heated footprints (that woman's magic was certainly something else), she ran out towards the square.
"T-there is another attack!" She shouted to the mysterious vendor and the Marianne, one of the fellow villagers who had paled and was holding a single glove, "p-please protect yourselves!"
She arrived to the scene and a hand came to cover her mouth.
"Nathan..." she said under her breath, "one of the mage school students..."
But she barely had time to register before the second blast, energy exploding out from him splitting the floor.
As debris came flying towards Cinder, Theophilis, and herself, she instinctively waved her hand in front of her causing dark energy that looked like smoke appear in front of the three of them, deflecting it.
"I-is everyone alright?" She looked over at Rose who was too far for her to reach, including her in the question.
--
The halberd came like a streak of silver through the smoke.
For one impossible moment, the mage thought it would end there.
Then the crystal reacted.
A violent burst of white force exploded outward from his arm, cracking the ground beneath him as the weapon was knocked off course with a deafening shriek of metal against stone. Splintered wood, market debris, and shattered brick were swept into the blast wave hard enough to tear banners from nearby buildings.
The mage staggered violently from the recoil.
A broken gasp escaped him as he dropped to one knee in the ruins of the square, clutching at his corrupted hand with the other. Blood slipped between trembling fingers. The crystal embedded in his palm glowed beneath the smear of crimson, pale veins spiderwebbing farther up his wrist than before.
It was spreading.
“No…” he breathed hoarsely.
His nails scraped uselessly against the smooth surface lodged in his flesh. For a second, the light inside the crystal dimmed—and something shifted deep within its cloudy center.
Something alive.
The mage froze at the sight of it.
The crystal pulsed once against his hand.
Hungry.
His breath hitched sharply.
Around him the square burned and screamed. Villagers fled through dust and collapsing stalls while firelight flickered across fractured stone. Somewhere beyond the haze came the thunder of hooves again. More movement too—someone hiding nearby. Watching.
The sensation hit him instantly.
Like something beneath his skin had noticed.
His head turned sharply toward the alley Rose hid within.
The broken wall shielding her began to creak.
Small stones lifted first, trembling unnaturally before rising into the air around the mage in slow orbit. White cracks of magic splintered across his fingertips as his hand twitched toward the alley mouth—
Then stopped.
His expression strained violently.
For one brief second, something terrified surfaced behind his eyes.
“Don’t…” he rasped toward the alley under his breath. “Don’t let it—”
The sentence snapped short.
A pulse tore through him hard enough to arch his back, nearby lantern exploded outward in showers of glass.
Then his gaze lifted.
It landed on the horned woman entering the destruction openly, seemingly thrilled by the carnage around her.
The mage stared at her, then to the centaur, then to Rose. Empty once more.
His posture slowly straightened despite the blood running down his arm, movements stiff at first—then disturbingly deliberate, like a marionette finding its rhythm again.
Debris rose from the ground around him, rubble from the wall that was once next to Rose, parts of the roofs of nearby buildings being ripped off with inhuman force, bricks from the ground coming to form a swirling mass around the Mage.
And then he struck.
(A/N open for everyone to make this swirling storm of an attack effect their character & the surroundings as they wish)
After Theophilus had leapt over the one set of debris, another would have struck him if not for the dark magical intervention. Managing a glance backward, he saw that it was likely caused by little Ayla. There was a split-second of realization that it was a good thing she didn’t hide like he’d told her to—her skill would come in handy if she could do something like that on command.
When his halberd was thrown off-course, the handle splintered from the force of the blast and clattered across the cobblestone street. Theophilus, who had been in front of the mage by then, was also taken up in the blast. His weight of over two-thousand pounds was thrown like a leaf in the breeze backward through the air.
The centaur smacked hard into the side of a ruined building before he finally made contact with the ground, falling on his side. His sword was still gripped loosely in a large hand, having held onto it firmly throughout, but he didn't move. Unconscious for several seconds, he didn't respond to Ayla's question.
His purposely-reckless charge had been rendered useless by the mage's power. But perhaps he'd bought some stragglers an extra few seconds to escape the blast zone.
Although Muffled, his ears began working again. Does anyone have a bow? he heard the red-haired guard shout. He opened his eyes. By the time the whirlwind began to wind up, Theophilus was in the process of getting up. Dark blood streamed down a black hind leg. His forelegs were scraped. His helmet had flown off to who-knows-where, and blood matted the dark hair on one side of his head and dribbled down the side of his face over one eye.
Though he was battered, his voice was still deep and clear, “Ayla,” he called urgently, speaking quickly, “if you are able to use that magic on command, start throwing large pieces of anything at him—but stay back as far as possible!" He staggered as he finally got all four feet under him. "Madam Red," he said over the noise of destruction, glancing over at the bleeding guard, temporarily naming her by her rusty-red hair, "will you defend Ayla so she can concentrate?" It was phrased as a question only as an attempt to come off more respectfully, although the tone revealed it wasn't a question at all. It was a lot to ask of someone who'd obviously already been through so much, but there weren't many other fighters left on the scene.
Seasoned green eyes spotted a giant black panther darting about. He angled himself and his sword in preparation to attack and be struck in place of the women nearby—but the creature morphed into a blonde-haired man and came up to them. There was no time to consider who or what the shifter was at this moment, only the fact that he was not yet their enemy. Lowering his blade, the centaur barked simply, pointing at the cloaked man in the middle of the building whirlwind, “Assist in bringing down the mage or run for your life! Explanations must be made later."
Sheathing the sword, he swiftly unhooked a bow from his pack and opened a long tube on his back that revealed long, perfect arrows. If Ayla was successful in doing what he asked, it may help throw off the mage's concentration, possibly giving him and the others a chance to strike.
Notching an arrow and bending his bow at great speed, he let an arrow fly at the cause of the total annihilation of the town, attempting to thread it between the flying debris to hit its mark.
Theophilus easily outdistanced Cinder, his hooves clopping and hurling dirt behind him. Cinder followed, following the long trail of divots that had been carved into the earth by Theophilus' ride. Cinder was nowhere near as fast as a centaur., not even close and she found herself lagging well behind. Legs pumping, tail bounding back and forth, Cinder ran all out, worried... not for the people in danger, but that she might miss out on the fun!
Minutes later, Cinder finally approached the town square, chest heaving, black painted lips. If her flesh wasn't already crimson it would have been red from the effort. There were still shouts and cries as people ran about, trying to escape whatever was happening. Cinder found herself intrigued. However, she wasn't stupid. She knew how deadly magic could be... after all, she was usually the one flinging it about without concern.
Wait, was this how people felt when they came after her? The thought was titillating. How exciting!
Was it an elemental, an escaped demon an salamander? Oooh! Dragon! Maybe it was a dragon or something?
Moving swiftly she slid along the edge of one of the nearby walls, peeking around the corner, fully expecting to see the barbecued horse rump of Theophilus in the middle of the square after some sort of suicidal charge against whatever it was that was causing so much chaos.
(((OOC: I was waiting for things to happen... after all, Cinder can only jog so fast!)))
Minutes later, Cinder finally approached the town square, chest heaving, black painted lips. If her flesh wasn't already crimson it would have been red from the effort. There were still shouts and cries as people ran about, trying to escape whatever was happening. Cinder found herself intrigued. However, she wasn't stupid. She knew how deadly magic could be... after all, she was usually the one flinging it about without concern.
Wait, was this how people felt when they came after her? The thought was titillating. How exciting!
Was it an elemental, an escaped demon an salamander? Oooh! Dragon! Maybe it was a dragon or something?
Moving swiftly she slid along the edge of one of the nearby walls, peeking around the corner, fully expecting to see the barbecued horse rump of Theophilus in the middle of the square after some sort of suicidal charge against whatever it was that was causing so much chaos.
(((OOC: I was waiting for things to happen... after all, Cinder can only jog so fast!)))
How long was Spectre going to stand there? There’s no point—what can someone like him do? Sure, he could do something, but he doesn’t wish too—
No, he must leave. Those mighty-looking strong people seem to have it covered anyway. Perhaps it’s time to take lea—
Nope. When Spectre even thought of leaving, flying debris from the fight smashed into his cart, which sent the cart into smithereens. He didn’t even react at all—he had a feeling some shit like that would’ve occurred.
He sighed. Spectre knew better. Perhaps it was his fault all along. Maybe he could convince that mage that it was? No, that wasn’t possible…
Spectre was just standing there, in the midst of the fight, just contemplating his game plan, but at the same time, doing absolutely nothing to help…
Flying debris was a tornado around him, as he tried to think straight…
If he transformed… right here… right now…
Would the surrounding people react?
No, that mustn’t be it…
And for a moment, Spectre continued to stand in place in deep thought…
…why does feel as though someone’s eyes are on him?
No, he must leave. Those mighty-looking strong people seem to have it covered anyway. Perhaps it’s time to take lea—
Nope. When Spectre even thought of leaving, flying debris from the fight smashed into his cart, which sent the cart into smithereens. He didn’t even react at all—he had a feeling some shit like that would’ve occurred.
He sighed. Spectre knew better. Perhaps it was his fault all along. Maybe he could convince that mage that it was? No, that wasn’t possible…
Spectre was just standing there, in the midst of the fight, just contemplating his game plan, but at the same time, doing absolutely nothing to help…
Flying debris was a tornado around him, as he tried to think straight…
If he transformed… right here… right now…
Would the surrounding people react?
No, that mustn’t be it…
And for a moment, Spectre continued to stand in place in deep thought…
…why does feel as though someone’s eyes are on him?
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