"x Nike wandered through the skaglands, her home for some time now. Finally free of her bonds, but not from her past. Memories of her former masters and the people she has killed in the arena, haunting her every day. Clad in short black leather shorts and a tight white tunic, lacking a midriff. Her daily attire revealed the only rune that adorned her body, a single fertility rune on her navel. She was not ashamed of it. It made her the powerful young woman she was today. It gave her the strength she needed to do what she was going to do. She was going to win this competition and destroy the systematic slavery that she was born into. She was headed to the competition now. She got caught up on the way, and she was probably already late. Nike didn't get lost. She promises. She walked calmly along the ridge of the mountains, to avoid.... further detours, kicking rocks as she went. Nike felt anothers' presence and she stopped, eyes darting forward to a heavily tattooed man in baggy clothes with a large halberd strapped to his back. Probably another tournament goer by the looks of him. She grabbed the hilt of her bat and strode forward, head high, showing no weakness. "Hello! Skeleton man! Do you know the way to the coliseum? I have experienced.... Detours." Nike shouted from a good twenty feet away, wanting to keep her distance until he proved himself to be a friend. x"
xxx"I actually was just ab--" Fahim began, turning to face the woman approaching him. Well, if he wasn't considered a social butterfly after today, then he didn't feel like he'd ever be, 'cause man did he get some socializing in today. Well. Maybe he just stood back for the most part and let other people talk. But he actually approached a group of people. Well. Maybe he did just wrongly assume there was trouble. Still. Socialization was socialization.
What abruptly cut him off was a Runic Screen, something Fahim was very interested in, swung into view as the announcer (In the City of Twelve.) announced the second round of the tournament. He seemed an odd fellow, but Fahim at this point was entirely entranced on the Runic Screen. It was high level runes and complicated stuff to activate something of that caliber. If only he could see what had activated it. Did it perform better with Kinetic or Spoken on Written runes? And how did the audio carry? He could tell a few that it simply had to use, no doubt in his mind. General runes were easy to guess, but there could be strange combinations to get different results. Sometimes needing to be chained together in smaller sequences-- He snapped back to reality as he realized he was delving back into work. He was here for the tournament and he needed to pay attention, not sit examining the screen in front of them from every angle. Focusing back on the contestants on the screen, the round now started, Fahim noticed the woman who had approached him out of his peripheral vision. "Oh. Hello. The name's Fahim. And it appears here is as good of a place as any to watch the tournament. But the seating is located that way." he gestured firmly towards the coliseum seating. "Rather packed, though. Not fond of crowds, myself." There was a definitely perk in his attitude, the screen obviously having roused him intellectually and lifted his spirits, though they were hardly low to begin with. He was simply nervous . . . or anxious. Either or.
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Roxi did not hesitate when Riyak asked her to get him out of the city. She could quickly see his power coming back to surface. In the closed quarters of the city that would have been disastrous. There had been a few rubbish bins tucked in the corner of the alley and an old cloth sheet someone has tossed aside. Lucky for Riyak, it seemed no too badly torn or stained. Roxi had quickly wrapped Riyak in it to shroud his visual changes. Navigating the streets the two had left the city gates and reached the Skagglands. Finally able to pause for a moment, Roxi caught her breath and kept her eye on Riyak. "Your powers is growing. I can feel it. Though I believe you can learn to master it without those bindings..." She spoke softly, yet sternly, tossing his cloak aside. "I heard enough in the city and this binding magick is weak and faulty.... Mind over matter, young one. Her eyes flashed bright blue for a moment, then quickly faded.
"x Nike nodded in understanding as he expressed his concerns with the main seating. "Yes, here is good. I don't have a great relationship with crowds either. Not unless theres the arena keeping them away." Nike said evenly. Crowds were not really her thing. Not being in them anyways. She had seen people being taken in the uproar of a crowd to serve as she had. She had even seen people killed in the crowd and never even noticed until hours later. She did not like to be vulnerable and if it were up to her she never would be again. Nike looked up at the runic screen, waiting for the match the start but it seemed to be going nowhere fast just yet. "So, while we wait to get that heated up. Are you here to watch the tournament? And I apologize if this is intrusive, but.... The whole living dead thing you've got going on. Whats all that about?" Nike asked unabashed. She was an open book about her past and she hadn't grown up socialized enough to expect any less of anyone else. Nike's eyes wandered back up to the runic screen, it's workings a total mystery. Runes never made much sense to Nike. She had no talent for it. If she ever needed to deal with runes, she would just have to get a more experienced rune mage's help. x"
Ash sat apart from everyone else, cross-legged on the ground as he had one of his golems de-constructed in front of him as he re-read the runic script caved within making small adjustments taking an occasional glance to an old worn scroll written in a symbol based language frowning as he took off his cloak and hung it over a low hanging dead tree stretching out before getting back to work
xxxFahim half divided his attention between the screen before him [not really the match; it had barely started and the screen itself was far more intriguing] and the woman watching beside him. "Oh, yeah?" he asked half enthused and being polite to her mentioning not liking large crowds. Many people didn't, Fahim himself received his fair share of odd looks, even from some those not human themselves. It was only when she really began to address him that he finally broke his half gaze at the screen away and turn his attention to Nike fully.
It was at this point that he became more aware of his surroundings, lifting a hand in a half wave at Ash. Though, he had missed Araxie entirely. "Um. My markings? Ah." he began unsteadily. Social interactions. Not his forte, though he could turn on the charm with then situation called for it. But when things got casual . . . "The best I can explain is that it's a reminder given to me. Same as this." he spoke as he lifted his neck, showing a high marking all the way around his neck, obviously where a rope had been tied, though it looked to have been very tight to make a marking like that. As in . . . break your neck as you hang tight. "I had an . . . incident with a relic. Luckily there was someone to immediately attend to me, but yes. I came out better in ways and worse in others. This is a reminder of the payment made and the inevitability of where we all end up." he spoke with a shrug. He wasn't attempting at being a downer, but it crossed his mind that he likely was. He didn't necessarily speak somberly, merely factually. He was simply stating what was true, how he felt held little to no bearing on the subject. But, regardless, he tried to lift the mood. Laughing genuinely at the twisted humor of the situation he found himself in he showed the girl his arm, bare except for the faded white skeletal markings. "My personal works of art I keep hidden. I've tried with the markings, but nothing works. Even if I put up an illusion of how I look entirely, the runes are still there. There's only one thing that--" he began before cutting himself off. He was already showing this girl more than he thought he would just for lifting a mood. No need to give too much away for free. Fahim had learned long ago the price of knowledge. He subconsciously rubbed the wound around his neck, his hand sliding to rest on the medallion on the chain that lay against his chest beneath his shirt.
Fahim put his hand to his forearm that still laid bare before Nike. He looked at it for a moment, thinking before he spoke. "Lum'ux" he spoke forcefully with a twist of the wrist. As he did, a single rune appeared for an instant in a shining blue before fading to black and then back to his normal skin tone. As soon as the projection was cast, his eyes shone blue, the same bright blue as the rune. This is all that Nike would see, but to Fahim, everything in range was seen with great detail and far brighter than before. In the day, it could hurt one's eyes a bit, as it was doing with Fahim now. He closed his eyes and cut off it's activation, looking back at Nike with his regular shade of blue eyes. "If I would've used a different activation phrase as I projected, the outcome would have been a blinding light through the area. En instead of Ux and a subtle change of wrist movement. I've studied a ridiculous amount of ways to activate common runes. Lum is the base rune. Depending on what combination of Phonic, Syllabic or Kinetic activation you use, you can get drastically different results. I'm practically covered in head to toe in runes I've concealed. I'm pretty sure if I uncovered them all, my skin would be practically black . . . Except for these markings, of course." he spoke with a laugh, then realizing he had spoken more to this girl than he had spoken to anyone in a long while. Not for any particular reason. He had friends. Just not people he was close to. Not confidants or people that cared about runes, though he didn't know if this woman did, either. "I'm sorry. I've just been carrying on, and I've not even gotten your name. As I said, I'm Fahim." he began with a bow and flourish of the hand. "And you are, my lady?" he spoke with a laugh, she seemed obviously the type that wouldn't receive a welcome like this. Fahim hoped she picked up on his mocking tone of the gesture. If someone accepted his gesture genuinely, he generally mocked them to himself. Anyone that thought that highly of themselves . . .
"x Nike suddenly felt a chill, like they were no longer alone. She jumped back a step and looked around, abandoning civility for just a moment. She swept the landscape and saw two people that weren't there moments ago. There was a strange man in a long cloak that hid his every feature playing with some rocks. Rune magic. Did everyone know how to do it or was Nike just dumb? He seemed occupied. She did not think of him as a threat for the moment. She noticed another woman. A strong woman with blue markings all over her body. Those could be runes or just tradition, but Nike wasn't planning on finding out. She looked dangerous, and no less because she was holding a boy wrapped in a blanket like a corpse. He appeared to be alive but no good could come of this strange situation. Nike had a bad feeling about these sudden visitors.
Nike's eyes flitted back to Fahim, whom she felt more connected to. "I'm sorry, I don't like big crowds, but I don't like being surrounded by strangers in the middle of nowhere more." She whispered as she stepped forward, getting closer the the one she trusted. She listened intently to his explanation, nodding as if she understood, but it was basically gibberish to her. "That sounds really cool. Very mysterious! I also have a runic reminder!" She shouted. Nike pulled up her top to show her midriff where her fertility rune surrounded her navel. She beamed with pride at it, regardless of its nature because it drove her on. It was how she made herself keep going every single day. "I'm so sorry! My name is Nike! I'm the former Arena champion!" Nike explained.
She brandished her runic bat and swung straight into the dusty ground, creating a crater of loose rock. "Pick one up. This is my power." She motioned confidently. Her bat was her baby, and it made everything weigh a one hundredth of its former weight.
x"
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xx➥Up To Bat‼
Commando Omnipants
120Damian120
monotonesword34
Johnny HellKat
Posted: Sun Feb 19, 2017 9:46 am
FANTHRALL MURES
Such exhaustion burdened Fanthrall after the battle. His wounds may have been mended by gracious healers but they'd done little to relieve him from the tiredness that sank in his bones from recent overuse of Kinetic. He'd sold what he'd went to sell; returned what was Araxie's to her and simply disappeared from the group after they'd arrived to the City of Twelve and-- now, he was out of it once more. Chased to the sidelines; to safety from another battle and what a relief that was. The man needed some rest, and at that point was partially contemplating returning to his home. At the very least, as Cras, pulling his empty cart on top of which he sat now, sniffed the air and snorted, his gaze drawing to more people in the distance, he appeared much more skeptical with his approach.
Clicking his tongue and uttering a few soothing words, the half-breed in front of the cart pulled to a stop and Fanthrall climbed out, cautiously observing the grouping of people from afar. He'd not met those folks; did not know if they were friends or foes, and as much as his heart willed him to give them a chance, the recent complications with people who might have appeared friendly on first glance had installed a shred of cautiousness in him.
Cocking his head, the weight of horns upon it a comfort now, his rusty eyes scanned over the small gathering of people out there beyond the walls of the city; far enough in the wasteland to be considered almost peculiar. Frail as some of those folks appeared, Fanthrall knew better than to think too little of them but-- there weren't that many situations a bright smile and a friendly 'hello' couldn't improve, right? --
Wrong.
Sad as it may have been, Fanthrall was a man of the Southlands, and life was harsh out there. Surely, he couldn't be quite as naive--
Regardless, he plastered a small smile upon his face and got to approaching the small group of people, a hand raised in a friendly wave to any and all, once he was near enough.
xxxFahim acknowledged understandingly that being grouped around strangers could be awkward, though he himself didn't mind. Or at least he told himself he had to appear not to and be confident in his own abilities. Let your enemies see you give an inch and they'll take a mile. Push you in as far as you can go and having you racing harder than you ever thought you could manage in order to keep up. Memories not his own are what brought these thoughts into his head, they sometimes slipped in without him even realizing it.
"Understandable. Though, I know all of these people . . . to a degree. All competitors in the tournament. All nice people, as well. Well, as far as I know." he admitted as Araxie and the shrouded figure that accompanied her were immediately summoned to the arena, another screen appearing before them. Interesting how this tournament functioned. "All except for him." Fahim motioned with his head. Raising his hand straight up, Fahim motioned to the newcomer, friendly smile upon his face. "All in good fun." Fahim laughed, though the mirth didn't quite touch his eyes.
Nike's display was quite impressive, though. Examined the runic symbol on her navel closely. Perhaps awkwardly closely for some individuals. "Excellent craftsmanship. A very simple rune, but with high versatility. Yes. There's a lot of potential, there." he spoke more so to himself than to Nike. Nodding, he then turned his attention to her statement and her display with the bat. He was as surprised at the sudden demonstration as her revelation that she was the former Arena champion. "Oh! You must tell me what it was like fighting in the old stadium. I know some things must have changed since they built this new arena, but it can't have changed too much since those days." He began before picking up a stone, his face obviously showing supreme curiosity as his hand weighed the stone, bouncing it up and down in his palm and his eyes weighed the bat in Nike's hand as if searching for some piece of a puzzle. "Fascinating . . . " he spoke at a mumble.
"x Nike was still wary, regardless of Fahims' apparent flippancy to the strangers around them. The newcomer had kind eyes, but she trusted no one for their eyes. Suddenly Fahim was crouched down inches away from her Navel rune, examining it closely. "It's not very special in terms of use I don't think. I'm pretty sure it was just to make me fertile for my old masters." Nike said matter of fact, looking away, trying not to make contact. She was not ashamed of her past but it was not an easy thing to talk about either. Suddenly Fahim shot up after she expressed her former title. "Yeah, it wasn't much like this one. It was less an arena and more a place where warriors, and nobles would go to shed commoner and slave blood for fun. Or at least to watch the animals do it for them." Nike said solemnly. It was a dark, bloody arena when she conquered it. It was bound to be blood sport one way or the other but back then it was a lot more blood and a lot less sport. Nike picked up one of the stones herself after holstering her club once more. She pitched it as hard as she could into nowhere, just to demonstrate the rocks weight. The rock disappeared into the distance before even hitting the ground.
x"
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xx➥Up To Bat‼
Commando Omnipants
120Damian120
monotonesword34
Johnny HellKat
A City Of Fools
Hygienic Sex Symbol
Offline
Primae Pandora
High-functioning Lunatic
Offline
Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2017 12:40 pm
FANTHRALL MURES
Cras, the lazy creature that it was, took slow sluggish steps, led by the soothing scratch of Fanthrall's fingers at its ear, soft lion paws barely making any noise but the raggedy cart made up for that. The cross-breed drew to a stop when Fanthrall's fingers wrapped around a horn resembling that of a bison so very strongly and pulled lightly to keep some sort of control over the beast of burden. He'd not witnessed much from afar but there was certainly a woman of great power ahead of him, and a man-- who appeared perhaps more odd than the last one he'd met. Come to think of it, he still wasn't that sure about his opponent on the arena. At least that one hadn't reminded him so much of death.
Oddities all over.
Unlike the other male, he appeared to be fond of keeping a reasonable distance from the pair even if the half-goofy smile lingered on his face. Must have seemed like a half-wit. Perhaps he was after the arena, who would he be to tell? No one had gotten far enough to teach him whether or not someone had a little crack in their skull. However, this company had to be better than the Skrathjaws or the dull, focused healers of the arena who'd been fairly disappointing when it had come to conversation. How sad.
"Hello, hello!" Fanthrall greeted, the familiar bounce and lilt of Nyfødthjem accent dancing along with his words. A rough flutter; similar to a flight of a possibly overweight moth, wearing armor. Fanthrall thought he might have seen one of those once in his life, though it could have been a dream. "Headed for arena, you two?" he inquired, unwillingly having caught a few words of the shared conversation, following it up with a very serious insight that was perhaps exaggerated by him nodding his head along with his words, "Bad place, very scary."
xxxFahim was beginning to get over the high of talking about runes and now that his head was settling down, he was definitely picking up on some of the more subtle (or not so subtle) social cues. All of the talk of slaves and masters was a real downer, and the anger could be seen behind his own eyes. "You're free now . . . That's all that matters." he said, placing a hand on her shoulder with genuine sympathy. There were still so many who were being subjected to involuntary slavery. The concept of willing slavery still baffled his mind. Having subjects whom you paid and were free to liver their own lives, sure. But slavery was different. Don't ask him how. In most cases the willingness of the person was very large.
Pushing past the thoughts of slavery, they were on to equally sad topics. He had heard small rumors about the Coliseum, being a resident of the Skaglands, but he assumed them just that after seeing the Coliseum today. Though, it would make sense. The City of Twelve was attempting to industrialize itself and build money (for the Barons, no doubt), it only naturally followed that they would put on a more public friendly show in order to attract visitors and thus more commerce for the area. Fahim tightened his hand around the rock and chunked it into the distance after Nike did. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to where likely Nike would only hear him, speaking under his breath with great conviction. "Things have to change. Starting with the Skaglands. The shady business sickens me. Especially the slave trading. Aaah!" he began, finishing with a yell of frustration and turning around just as Fanthrall approached them. "O-oh. I'm sorry." he spoke, apologetically to the Torstarian. "U-um. The name's Fahim. And this is Nike~" he spoke with an attempt at flourish, but the undsteadiness betrayed how flustered he actually was.
"x Nike could see Fahims' expression getting more and more angry or sad or jeez what was it? It was a little hard to tell with the whole skeleton thing going on. "You too?" Nike whispered so no one else could hear.
"Don't worry, they're going to!" Nike said quietly with a quick wink. Suddenly the large deer boy that had been slowly trotting towards them this whole time came to a stop and greeted them. "The arena is less scary than any man is outside of it, my friend!" She shouted cheerfully as he drew near. She heard Fahim introduce them both to the strange horned man and she shot him a look. "Hey now, your name is yours to give and mine is mine. Names have power." She said quickly, keeping eye contact with her new friend, her hand on her hip and long blonde hair whipping around her face in the intense wind of the skaglands.
x"
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xx➥Up To Bat‼
Commando Omnipants
Primae Pandora
Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2017 8:20 am
FANTHRALL MURES
Fanthrall found himself somewhat surprised to be treated to such a peculiar greeting. Not entirely daft enough to miss an apologetic, somewhat tense tone, he arched a brow, letting his smile grow a little as he glanced between the pair. Granted, the shout had been a little surprising there but it was hardly a reason enough for the Chimera to judge people. As much as he loathed creatures too noisy, a single yell was hardly going to cut his tolerance to zero. "Fanthrall," he announced, pointing a thumb proudly at his chest. "Fawkes easier. People call me Fawkes."
His face had lit up a little, cheerful with child-like glee from the first glance, at the woman's greeting. Friend? Friendly sounded lovely right about now, which was why he huffed a small laugh. "Fawkes don't use names for bad, yeah. Happy to meet you. New friends always good to make." Socializing, as rare is it came, especially far out in the Wildlands, could sometimes serve as a relief. More friends than his favored pet Cras, even if only for a brief period. "I disagree, miss. Arena more scary," Fanthrall said returning to confirming his opinion. "I come all way from Wildlands-- step to arena, odd people, odd creatures. I go back to barbarians. Barbarians much safer than arena." Lessons learned, he supposed. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to fool himself into thinking that it'd be a great idea to step a foot out there among the entertainers and champions. Definitely a place he didn't belong to.
From a short distance a draconian roar could be heard. Tough men, feared men, running and screaming as they were set a blaze. One thug tried to escape from the underground cave the had but was dragged back into the darkness, only to have skull crushed by Ordo's bare hands. Another had attempted to lift the fearsome draconian weapon Inferno Hammer but ultimately dropped it on his own foot, which set the man on fire. To any normal being the sounds, smells, and sight would haunt the person. To Ordo it was a standard plan gone right.
Emerging from the ground the large, armor claded Dragonborn sighed as he took in a smell of fresh air. His orange eyes looking around at the area he walked into. Still covered in some blood the creature spotted a group of people. Cleaning himself off, collecting his weapons, he strolled on over to the group. "Greetings, can any of you tell me where I am? I've been in those tunnels for weeks now and honestly have no clue where I ended up." He gave a kind and friendly smile, shocking to anyone who heard of his race. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself. I am Ordo Vadamee. Talyc for those of Draconian tongue."
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