• Graded • Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

Arrests are to be made. Will they come peacefully?

This area is unmoderated. Please click on "Forum Rules" at the top of this page or go to the "Unmoderated Areas" forum to see the rules for playing here.

Moderator: Basilisk Snek

User avatar
Oberan
Approved Character
Posts: 840
Joined: Fri Jul 28, 2017 6:32 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Full time nuisance
Renown: 292
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]



Oberan finally left the ice-like slipperiness of the pub’s interior behind, stepping carefully around the stone table blocking most of the doorframe. From the front, some blackguard rushed in, pushing past him though failing to notice his presence. A couple elbows hit his ribs, the few soldiers they belonged to telling Oberan to step aside, only to be confused mere moments later, unsure why they spoken and unable to recall what they’d said. Not that they dwelled on it, more pressing matters dominated their minds.

Stepping on the ice with hesitant feet, they blackguard half-slipped half-walked towards their fallen comrades, taking over from the tavern patrons who already were helping Flaxxo and his men to their feet. Two of the Tower Guard did not rouse though, regardless of any prodding. Panic washed over those who shook them, fearing them dead. However, a quick inspection revealed them to be very much alive. The unconscious guardsmen still breathed, and their pulse could still be felt, though both were slowed to a significant degree, as if locked in a deep, deep sleep. It took no genius to realize something supernatural or magical had taken hold of them, and though no apparent harm had befallen the affected, they would not wake soon.

Meanwhile, Flaxxo confronted Kasoria once again, calling for his surrender a second time. Oberan did not think the Raggedy Man cared enough about the Perimeter folk for the threat to have any weight. Though perhaps his appraisal of Kasoria’s character was miles off. He waited for the assassin’s response, a tingling of anticipation tickling within his stomach.

Thinking himself completely undetectable, Oberan did not pay any mind to the child walking in his direction. Why should he? Though he brazenly stood in plain sight where everyone could and did see him, all those around ignored him against their will --not even aware they were doing so-- to the point they became unable to consciously comprehend they weren't looking at empty space.

“What’s going on here, Mister? Why is there so many guards out here? There’s even white blackguard! I’ve never seen one of those before! Did that short man do something bad?” The child stood right next to him, staring him right in the eye. A confused expression on his rounded face, oblivious to the impossibility of what he’d just done.  

Oberan startled, pulling away by instinct. A sudden motion that drew attention, undoing the spell his body language put on everyone around him. One moment no-one had been there, the next there was a man in shabby clothes. In the few seconds it took Oberan to regain his composure and fall back into the bearing people subconsciously ignored, the blackguard matched his face to a sketch of his likeness. Gazes already trained on him, his technique had no effect, and they rushed to subdue him.

Cursing the child under his breath, Oberan turned to flee, yet found himself accosted by a small group of citizens. He punched two men in the face –one blow to the nose, the other to the tip of the chin—then whirled around to kick another in the ribs while a woman hurried the child away. More men joined in, grabbing hold of Oberan’s limbs and clothes despite his efforts to yank himself free. They dragged him down, forcing him to the floor.

A snarl escaped him as he lashed out with his Mortalborn power, draining all who held him down. Enough to knock them out for a little while, simultaneously pushing his own body to its limit. Adrenaline and strength gushed forth like a torrent, arms and legs defying the weight of the unconscious bodies weighing him down. The men slid off as he wrestled from hands and knees back to his feet, rising up in a display of awesome strength. Strength a man of his size and build should not possess.

The blackguard cried in alarm, arriving to thwart his efforts. A rough-hewn bag  --it smelled vaguely like potatoes-- cut off his vision, steeping it in darkness. Oberan did not care. He grunted and growled, rising still as the blackguard threw themselves onto his back. More and more, until Oberan sank back down to one knee, then two, buckling under the weight.

Still he fought back, resisting as the guards struggled to pull his arms behind his back, needing multiple hands to make him budge. Oberan grabbed whatever he could feel, digging his fingers into flesh whenever he found it. Even the power of his grip was greatly amplified, causing cries of pain of the unfortunate victims. Yet, the superior numbers of the guard pried his fingers off one by one, but still he struggled. Flailing and trashing, making lightweight weapons and pieces of armor vanish when he hit them. Eventually though, manacles clasped around his wrists, locking them together behind Oberan’s back.

He deflated, pushing the excess Thrill out, returning to a more normal state. Already, his muscles ached with strain, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted. That was fine. Clearly there was no use struggling. If he wanted to, Oberan could easily escape the manacles, but what use was there if it’d cause more blackguard to pile onto him? Right now he was in no position to flee, so there was no point in trying. Best save it for a later moment, catching the blackguard by surprise. Besides, the Hall of Reprimand posed little threat to him. Between his domains and expertise as a thief, very few prisons could actually keep him contained. You’d need one without doors to prevent his escape.

Still, the triumphant cheers of the blackguard ticked him off, and Oberan could not resist getting one last jab in. Already captured, it didn’t really matter if this proved disadvantageous. Besides, there’d been very little opportunity to use it in recent times, rational mind deeming it too dangerous, too risky. Now though? Now he could let it loose.

Oberan grinned underneath his bag while the blackguard pulled him upright, one man grappling on each shoulder. He focused for a moment, accessing the wellspring of chaos and mischief within. He exhaled, and with it released a blast of raw power, rushing forth in all directions. Let the pandemonium begin!

Little did he know his hail mary resulted in several magnitudes less chaos than he hoped for.

Shenanigan Sphere effect
31: Anyone affected will feel extremely compelled to greet people by slapping them in the face (3 trials)
Last edited by Oberan on Fri Feb 12, 2021 7:04 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 1095
Just because I shouldn't doesn't mean I won't.


Mortalborn Abilities | Die Roller | Capstones
User avatar
Kasoria
Peer Reviewer
Peer Reviewer
Posts: 2017
Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:34 am
Race: Human
Renown: 1245
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

Image
He was running out of time, and with it, patience, and options. Escape, flee, take the fight elsewhere at the least... that was his plan. It died when the woman wouldn't budge from his path. She wasn't like the other Blackjack. She didn't quail or cringe or shuffle quickly aside. She stood firm, sword as long as her ready to be drawn should it be needed. His little display of power didn't move her. Quite the opposite...

Using others against you. How ironic.

Something more animal than human growled out from Kasoria's lips as the woman delivered her ultimatum. Read him like a book, more or less. He wanted to avoid a fight that would engulf the tavern... but behind him, he could already hear the signs of brawling chaos break out. He resisted the urge to glance behind him; this one seemed just the kind to take advantage of that. Instead he listened, and watched... counted boots grinding on cobbles and weapons rattling in hands... came to a number by the time the woman had ceased talking.

Weighed and measured them all, surrounding him or not. Then again, that implied he was disadvantaged by such a thing.

He wasn't. It just meant wherever he struck, he would find his mark. Wherever that may be.

"Stand down, trooper, and thank you for stepping up."

Flaxxo returned, as Kasoria knew he would. With his Sparks throbbing under his skin along with the bruise he'd been dealt. But he was not alone. More Blackjack. A half-dozen men in manacles. A flash of a face, Oberan's, before it vanished under a scrum of bodies, fighting gamely, grimly, in a way the Raggedy Man had never thought the foreigner capable of. Ulric... was that Ulric? It was just a glimpse, a glimmer-

Irrelevant.

Yes. That was the truth. He could not factor in everyone. Too many angles. Too many... moving parts, he'd heard before. He narrowed his world to the street, the woman, the Blackjack, the Tower's Champion... and those men he threatened him with. At that, Kasoria's eyes seemed to flash. An impossible thing, one would think, with orbs completely black from mind's root to eyelids, but they did. Threats. Ultimatums. Stakes rising, spiraling, clawing at him with guilt and the lives of men he didn't know or care for and yet he'd shown an ounce of mercy and loyalty and now they were-

"I... am not... playing-"

He raised one hand, and Lavana Thorn found herself wrapped in chains. Invisible and ineffable, strong as steel, hard as the Shackles a master of Abrogation could conjure. Kasoria had no desire to fight fairly anymore; it was a mistake to even try. And while he had some regard for a man like Flaxxo, some exotic wench was a different matter. He raised his hand higher, and Lavana was lifted clean off the ground. Air hardened around her from thigh to shoulders, pinning her arms, an inch from choking off her breath. A true demonstration of power. The Blackjack flanking her fair scurried away, skittering over the cobbles, and Kasoria turned his gaze to Flaxxo.

"This... is not... a game."

He threw out his hand, and the woman was tossed away from him. A hard landing, judging by the clatter of armor, but definitely a blow cushioned, as it were. He didn't want to break bones. Not yet. Just get her the hell away from him and put the fear of Vri into everyone else present. As Lavana rolled to a stop a dozen yards away, Kasoria's eye twitched. His Sparks were taxed. His muscles began to ache. He had to end this, and soon.

You can run. You have to run. Flaxxo will keep fighting, and your magic can't stop him. You could outfight him... but how long would that take?

Then he noticed the sidestep. Giving Kasoria a chance to run. An opening. A trap. And a rather obvious one. Fates knew he'd used that trick before. But it took the champion away from the clutch of manacled men, and the trembling Blackjack guarding them. Men who reeked of fear as much as Flaxxo was immune to it. Kasoria licked his lips. He'd only get one chance here. A handful of trills... and then he'd be useless.

Serve me well, he whispered to his Sparks. Then we can rest.

The Raggedy Man and the Tower's Champion locked eyes. Mayhap Flaxxo understood what Kasoria would do. Maybe he guessed, or saw, but by the time his mouth opened to shout a warning-

-Kasoria crashed down and slammed both hands onto the cobbles, roaring out a bellow as the air around him exploded with ether-

-pouring into the cobbles, ripping through them in a ragged line-

-as he willed a six-foot-tall wall of transmuted cobbles rise up. Jutting up from the street like a rock formation sprouting into the air with a great grinding crash and a cloud of dust. Separating Flaxxo from his prisoners and the Blackjacks. Kasoria ignored the roar of anger from the Champion and focused instead on the Blackjack, throwing out an arm-

-and the black-caped enforcers dropped their weapons, air around their throats suddenly choking them. The prisoners trembled as much as they, unsure, stunned, until Kasoria barked.

"Run, yeh fuckin' idiots! Geddout a' here an'-"

A shadow. A scrape of leather on cobbles. Something whooshing through the air... and he knew what.

Foolish old man, Kasoria thought as he turned back to the one he'd thought himself rid of. Underestimating her like that.
word count: 950
Common Speech | Thoughts | Ith'ession Speech | Speech of Others
User avatar
Lavana Tharn
Approved Character
Posts: 211
Joined: Thu Jan 25, 2018 11:09 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Contribution

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

As soon as Flaxxo had given her a verbal commendation for her bravery and resolve in the matter there came an urge from almost nowhere something tugged at her like she wanted to slap Flaxxo across his face. It was an impulsive desire and the mortal born was fighting this temptation, she was busy staying her hand while under some sort of divinely inspired duress. Lavana was mesmerized by her hand as she was looking at it and wondering what on idalos was going on with this bizarre hang up or vice.

This momentary lapse in composure had left her exposed as these ethereal chains had wrapped around her form and as they did Lavana delved deep within herself as she ushered forth the sweet serenade of her domain of blood lust as she felt the rush of endorphins and adrenaline kicking through her veins while rage burned wild in her amber eyes.

She stood there motionless the chains symbolism taking her back to the shores of Scalvoris. As the mortal born was raised upwards she was taken back to the buckle and chain of all places. The remembrance of being cast down by Maxines fist as she hit the floor again like a rag doll as she was tossed off in the air.

Her black half plate armor weighed heavily upon her frame but her saving grace was the padded armor she wore that buffered the trauma of blunt attacks like a shock absorber cushioning her descent to the floor where she lay motionless as delved into hysteria. Reliving the moments that led her to this point, the injustice of being shot by Nirwei when she had called the guards to fetch him for disobeying the Alberach. The injustice of being branded a criminal, the injustice of being cast aside by her mother, the injustice of the loss of her friends and the injustice of being cast out of the council by the very people she had saved. The Injustice of being marked by Qylios out of pity. But the one injustice out of all then that made the blood burn like kerosene was the injustice of watching Kura be favored by her mother while she lay bleeding out.

She mused in a hushed whisper”If there’s a god of injustice in this world I must be your favorite, huh” as the bar was spinning around her as she had been rocked.

There was a realization the chains were no longer tangible around her form as she picked herself up from the swansong of her life. The trills passing her strength and endurance steadily increasing as she was trying to control her manic disposition over the situation trying to curtail the frenetic throws of traumas long past that had left all but ill.

But from this pit of despair she ushered a strength unlike anything she’d ever reveled in. The further down the rabbit hole she sank the more power surged from this pitch black wellspring of negative energy as the swimming euphoria of hatred pushed through her veins again and gave her hope as she saw the world now with perfect clarity.

Kasoria had taken his attention off of her as she maneuvered across the slick of the floor. She’d fought on worse terrain, but she’d use tactics and keep herself out of the mages line of sight while he was busy throttling others with his magic.

No words no monologue a fierce strike with no wasted movement right across the center line as her whole body followed through her feat spread enough apart to keep from slipping from the release of the wind up as if she were swinging a bat. The raw strength, the weight of her claymore still wrapped in its steel sheath was aimed at his temple while he was distracted. The intention was to simply knock him out because he refused to cooperate albeit at this point with extreme prejudice.

Should this strike find its mark and land however, and ~only~ if it landed Lavana would say in the heat of the moment low enough for Kasoria to hear as a murmur addressed to no one in particular but herself.

”If I was Maxine you’d already be dead”

It did not seem like much of a sentence but it was the only revelation about who Lavana really was and whom else she’s tied too.
word count: 737
User avatar
Ulric
Approved Character
Posts: 222
Joined: Tue Feb 12, 2019 6:13 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Wanderer
Renown: 215
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Featured

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

Image Image Image

89 Zi'da 720 | Ulric
Kasoria's people were being rounded up and it seemed the number of the guards was going to overwhelm the small group in a matter of bits, but it didn't feel that way. As Ulric watched the fighting and chaos transpire, arguing with a voice in his head, he felt like something larger and more ominous was at play. Flaxxo tried to use Kasoria's 'friends' as leverage and Ulric was admittedly curious to see if Kasoria valued them enough to stand down. He doubted it. However there were still other pressing issues, Alex's voice was quick to remind Ulric, after a cry about Sintra-loving bastards went out.

Were they talking about him? He hardly loved Sintra but he did not feel confident in moving against her despite everything he knew. Alex wanted him to. Alex urged him to, but Ulric knew that sooner or later he'd pay the price for this manner of betrayal... if he could not spin it in some way to seem like a favor for her. Alex told Ulric to get rid of the other Sintra marked but Ulric didn't believe it would really help them speak openly. He knew how his spider worked. He knew there was no open conversations in Etzos anymore. Perhaps being arrested was the best idea... no. He told himself that was Alex trying to get him in trouble and tried to ignore it. He looked towards the woman bouncing up and down on a table a moment before one of the legs broke off and she seemed to lose her balance.

He understood a loss of footing. He hated it. Kasoria could handle himself. This woman could not.

She got to her feet and was beset by three enemies who appeared well trained, not that Ulric really recognized it in the moment. Alex kept talking, the boy had always liked talking and now it seemed his only ability. Then Ulric saw Arlain. He eyes narrowed and his hand dropped to his sword. Was he to kill a specter haunting him? A moment later he realized she was not there. It was in his head. He was seeing things. Fine. Ulric wasn't sure what pushed him over the edge and into action. He would never say it was Alex or the visions even if that was the truth. In time he might call it a sense of honor or a will to see the chaos ended. Or perhaps he just wanted to fight. He didn't know, but something pushed him beyond the pale and it felt good.

Ulric moved to get between Frindalli and the three assailing her, conveying through any obstacles in his path and using the tendril tethering him to the ceiling to keep his balance across the slippery floor. He had one trick, but is was a damn good one. He... well practically slapped the woman across the face with a tendril- he did not know why that happened, he only meant to poke her to announce his presence, but he held up his hands to indicate he did not mean to harm her. "Three against two seems more fair than three against one." Ulric said in a somewhat stern voice before turning his attention towards the three who in different circumstances could probably have been Ulric's friend.

"I offer you this chance only once, leave this place." Ulric said in as stern a tone as he could. Unfortunately he was not nearly as intimidating alive as he had been when he was dead. He was hoping they would see the advantage to leaving. They could report what they'd seen so far to Sintra. Otherwise... they would not leave and she would get nothing more from them ever again. All the same, he did not expect them to stop and that was perfectly fine.

The moment one of them made a move to strike either at Ulric or at the woman beside him, the resurrected man would manifest three tendrils from his chest to seize and constrict around the throats of the spies. He wasn't looking to break any necks but he would certainly thrash them around a little if they gave too much resistance.
word count: 713
User avatar
Maltruism
General Staff
Posts: 2430
Joined: Thu Feb 26, 2015 10:57 pm
Race: Prophet
Profession: "Mastermind"
Renown: 0
Plot Notes
Office
Personal Journal
Templates
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Staff

Miscellaneous

Events

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

What a difference a fraction of a trill can make. Had Oberan's 'Shenanigan Effect' been activated by this degree sooner, Flaxxo would have perhaps laid Lavana out with an innocent greeting turned to a roundhouse punch. And while Lavana herself wrestled with her discipline to avoid initiating such an event with her own hand, many of the others gathered around were lacking in sufficient training or motivation to do likewise.

In less than half a bit, the air was filled with as many cries of outraged retaliation as there were protests insisting they did not know why they had just smacked someone upside the head. This is not to say that everyone present had taken on either aspect of these violent exchanges. Though any honest intent to give a greeting was transformed into a face slap, there was no increased impulse to greet if one had not already possessed one. But in a tavern crowd pumped up with the spectacle of 'Flaxxo vs. Kas', many an enthusiastic high five turned instead to tooth-loosening impact.

Flaxxo wasted no time in grabbing hold of the unseen Abrogative shackles hindering his troops and letting the touch of his ward unravel them. Even as gasping troopers stumbled in release of their invisible bonds, Flaxxo stared around in dumbfounded wonder at the rapidly escalating brawl. But he then also felt the pull of the mortalborn prank the moment after the swordswoman's stroke with her still-sheathed claymore forced Kasoria into a tumble to avoid a more serious brain rattling.

A trio of newly arrived Black Guard pounced on the assassin in hopes of holding him down for another to step up with the mage shackles that were used on troublesome magic users. Time would tell the measure of their success. Flaxxo had turned to give Lavana a second round of praise as he found himself suddenly having to put the figurative brakes on an impulse to slap her with his plated hand.

The next trill was spent in the realization that he'd felt no such impulse the first time. Mental gears meshed and speculative numbers added up to the sum of awareness that some power had only now been put to work to upgrade the mayhem within which he stood. The dumbfounded wonder of moments earlier turned swiftly to red-faced fury as he swept up a metal tray that had somehow found its way in the push of the crowd to lie unnoticed in the street.

Bashing it with the same fist he'd been about to smack Lavana with, until it was an unrecognizable travesty of its former function, he quickly drew attention to himself.
"THAT IS ENOUGH! STOP YOUR FIGHTING, YOU IDIOTS! THERE'S SOME POWER AT WORK HERE. NO ONE IS DOING THIS ON PURPOSE UNLESS YOU ARE HITTING BACK. AND THE NEXT BASTARD THAT DOES IS GOING TO FACE ME RIGHT NOW, AS IS! AND I SWEAR ON MY FOREFATHERS I WILL BEAT YOU BLOODY."


He turned slowly as he ranted, taking in every eye. Nothing about his stance or demeanor suggested he was not entirely serious. His own eyes practically glowed with fervor, a combination of both Oberan and Lavana's mortalborn influences egging on his rage. And where the volume of rancor quickly waned right there, it was offset by the din of chaos building around the hooded Oberan.

Flaxxo's glare turned with slow, deliberate, narrowing focus as the crowd immediately before him parted in tacit, collective awareness of his new target. The metal of his gauntlets creaked with the strain of the fists within them as he stalked measured steps toward this second, smaller brawl. Double takes turned to blows stalled in mid strike as the faces connected to them paled at his approach. The pandemonium had clearly escalated beyond anything excusable by a claim of resisting arrest. It would have been even money as to whether Flaxxo was more enraged by citizens daring to assault guards, or guards disgracing themselves with such undisciplined responses.

But in fact, it was neither. The action fizzled to everyone slowly backpedaling without overtly turning to run. And it managed to bring the struggling and hooded Oberan into the forefront of the group. Flaxxo grinned with the acceptance that this one time he was not going to exert the discipline he had exercised toward Lavana. It all added up; trickery back there, trickery here; this was the one that had somehow been all but invisible despite being one of the targets of the squad. And the chuckles of malicious mischief coming from beneath the hood only confirmed what intuition told him.

"Oberan, I presume? I'm so glad to meet you." Whatever means the collected guards had attempted to impose upon the mortalborn to subdue him were put to shame by the irony of Oberan being victimized by his own ability, as Flaxxo's plated hand "greeted" him with an unrestrained slap full on the side of his head to leave him in a moaning heap on the ground.

"Bring him." the commander instructed his subordinates, with a sneering nod at the collapsed thief, as he turned back toward the tavern. "We still have one 'Ulric' to collect."


Despite the slap in the face, Frindalli's expression turned from resigned determination to die fighting into something more resembling cocky bravado as her odds suddenly leveled with the appearance of Ulric. The expression on the opposing faces shifted in reverse of hers, soon taking on an appearance of accepting the one-time offer to leave. The three Sintra loyalists exchanged glances and came to a nodding accord.

They began to make their way toward the crowded door that would open upon the fight outside, but the woman suddenly stopped moving as the man beside her braced his foot against hers for traction and launched himself at Ulric. The one trailing those two turned and swept a stool toward Frindalli, forcing her attention away from him as he charged, knife held low in his right hand.

The impromptu club Frindalli parried with absorbed the sharp edge of the enemy blade, which bit deeply into the soft wood of what was really only of furniture level hardness, not the weapons-grade, fire-hardened variety. It could be said that she won the exchange as the neutralizing of both weapons as they locked together took a better one from the hand of the charging man. Still, she was now disarmed as well.

But this man had no firm footing to leverage his charge and Frindalli's superior agility served her well with a spinning kick that blended into a slide to a position off to his side. His instinctive spin to follow her position did not take the slick floor into account and he ended up on his backside ten feet away. Frindalli located the knife-bit table leg and slid to it, pushing the wooden post against the bar as she wrenched the blade free from it.

A second stool crashed numbingly against her shoulder as the third assailant returned to swing the wreckage of it back the other way, missing her duck by inches. She dodged around the corner of the bar, letting the knife slip from her hand to skitter several feet away. The man sneered loudly and went to get the knife, stepping a little more slowly than usual in caution of the icy footing.

But his slow progress gave Frindalli the time to exploit her greater knowledge of the layout of the bar. Snatching up a bottle of high-proof alcohol she knew to be kept in a floor-level cabinet, she broke it in the man's face, as he turned around. The smell of the high alcohol content and the sight of the candle in Frindalli's other hand prompted a scream of terror that morphed swiftly into an even louder scream of agony as the candle ignited the man from the waist up.

In the meantime, the first man's impact with Ulric did not result in anything near to what he'd anticipated. Unaware of the tendril Ulric had locked overhead, the man expected his target to be bashed backward into the floor, not shoot up and away, like a child on a playground swing. Even as his stunned silence found voice again, it was strangled shut by a tendril.

The woman accompanying him was instants away from suffering the same fate, but managed to duck from the first flail of Ulric's ghostly tentacle. She realized what was up. "You're an ex-ghost! Why are you fighting us? You should be on OUR side!"

While Alex's sensibilities were not anything he could truly force upon Ulric like an empath, there was no denying the sense of furious rage now spiking from this inner source as a result of her comment. The very idea that the mortal entity he shared with Ulric should be on the side of those devoted to the immortal that had maneuvered and seduced Ulric into killing him was beyond enduring.

Whatever sense of righteous anger Ulric had already given into was now doubled and enhanced into a new manifestation of connection with Alex. The spirit of the youngster within felt such desire to hurt the speaker of these hateful words that somehow a focus of his fury began to syphon energy from the woman.

Neither he nor Ulric would realize immediately what was taking place, nor how to repeat it at will. But by the time this fight was over, both Alex and Ulric would realize that something powerful and unexpected had occurred.
word count: 1609
User avatar
Oberan
Approved Character
Posts: 840
Joined: Fri Jul 28, 2017 6:32 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Full time nuisance
Renown: 292
Character Sheet
Plot Notes
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]



Though he did not see much of the effect of the explosion of mischievous energy, Oberan certainly heard it. Cries of pain and surprise, suddenly springing up from all around. The sharp sound of flesh whipping against flesh filled the air as congratulatory gestures and otherwise harmless greetings turned to violent slaps. Victims retaliated even when the offenders stammered apologies and tried to explain they hadn’t meant to slap. Soon enough, a brawl broke out without proper cause.

It reminded Oberan of the chaos that’d occurred a few seasons back, when the Web Guard had been trafficking children. Of course, the current situation couldn’t compare. The chaos Oberan could will into existence was only minor in scope, his influence on reality limited to his immediate surroundings. Still, the cacophony of pained screams and angry yells and retribution was music to his ears, and he chuckled quietly to himself, head-splitting grin hidden by the hood.

As per usual, there always had to be at least one party pooper. Flaxxo bellowed and roared, the commanding tone of his voice enough to still just about all of the ongoing scuffles. Most, but not all of them. The people around Oberan either hadn’t heard (unlikely) or were too affected by the Thrill Oberan had released into them to be intimidated. They continued their fight, yanking at collars and slapping each other silly, spitting curses in each other’s face.

Yet as the Tower Guard commander approached, it seemed common sense once more took the reigns, the noise around Oberan finally dying down. Even through the coarse fabric of the hood, Oberan noticed a silhouette in white appear in front of him, tall and proud and –by the look of his posture—very angry.

“Oberan, I presume?” Flaxxo said. Oberan did not need to see the man’s face to feel the bloodlust roll off the Tower Guard in thick, furious waves.

“No, sir. You’ve got the wrong guy! My name’s Thomas, sir! Thomas Fohleray. I didn’t do nothi--”

“I'm so glad to meet you.”

Red and blue and green and other bright colors flashed for a moment, a searing pain thundering through one side of his head. Then through the other too as it connected with the cobblestones, hard. He groaned, tasting blood, feeling as if all his teeth were shook loose. They seemed to rattle as he breathed. Still, he laughed softly despite the pain, body rocking gently up and down. On first glance, it might be mistaken for sobs, but the guards picking Oberan up soon realized it was quite the opposite.

“My my, Commander,” he slurred through a jaw numb with hurt, “it seems you’ve got some anger issues, and not a single measure of honor within your body. Beating down a helpless opponent? Most unbecoming of a distinguished figure such as yourself. Shameful, really. Do you disgrace yourself every time you stroll into town? No wonder they never let you out of your tower!”

The blackguards holding Oberan punched him in the stomach to shut him up, likely not wanting to suffer Flaxxo’s glare anymore. Though Oberan coughed and spat blood onto the stones and very nearly regurgitated his breakfast and lunch, he did not stop chuckling to himself, though even he wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny. Perhaps he simply laughed because it pissed off the guards, each and every attempt to make him stop only spurring him on.

Since he couldn’t escape, he’d settle for being an annoyance instead.

word count: 596
Just because I shouldn't doesn't mean I won't.


Mortalborn Abilities | Die Roller | Capstones
User avatar
Kasoria
Peer Reviewer
Peer Reviewer
Posts: 2017
Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:34 am
Race: Human
Renown: 1245
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Miscellaneous

Events

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

Image
Maxine?

The thought shot into his mind like a bolt, an arrow... a barrier. Because in that moment the whole bloody chaos of the street and the tavern were blotted out by a sea of memories. How strange, that he could have so many of her, after not even a whole Zi'da together. Her training had been accelerated, to put it mildly. He'd not had an apprentice since, and after her, another seemed... he couldn't quite find the word. Churlish? Rude? Pointless? Disrespectful?

See, this was the problem. Because those thoughts came to him. Those memories. Spawned completely by accident by the woman who'd nearly taken his fucking head off with that sword (and when the sword is a damn claymore, it doesn't matter much if it's in a sheath).

Kasoria came grunting to his feet, shaking the blood from his eyes. A skull fracture was instead a glancing blow, thanks to his reflexes. He hadn't thought, just reacted. Jumped and rolled under the sword swing... almost. His head throbbed angrily and his hands went to his blades before he'd fully got up. No more fucking about, then. The Blackjack, he'd leave crippled, but alive. This foreign fucking bitch, though-

Maxine. Are you in this?

The Raggedy Man growled at the woman and decided the entertain the sharp, intruding suggestion to give her a tasty slap across her aristocratic face, when what felt like a charging bull smashed into him from behind-

-followed by another from the side-

"Den, geddown 'ere an' fuckin' 'elp-"

"Fuck off, m'gettin' the manacles, hold'im-"

"Both a youse shaddup an' watch hisfuckHANDS!"

Red, raw, rage settled over Kasoria like a shroud. Crushed by stinking, clanking bodies. Pain wracking him from straining muscles and the consequences of his magic. The confusion of hearing her name, seeing her face, so far from anywhere she would be. Now he was down again, pinned and squirming and as he turned he saw a ruddy red face trying to keep his arm laid out and pinned-

-so very, very close-

His brain said slap. His muscles did what was easier, and he lunged-

"FUCK!"

"Fuckin' Fates!"

The other two Blackjack recoiled for a precious second as the little bastard under them jerked his head forward and bit into Fatty Jhorel's ear like it was a scrap of salted pork. With a feral snarl he twisted and yanked his head back hard-

-and it came off. Spewing blood everywhere for a moment until the squealing man slapped a hand to it, bellowing and cursing and now he was free on one side-

"Get those on 'im, now!"

Kasoria could feel metal slapping into position around his wrist. Someone with trembling hands and angry whispers closing the first around his left and he saw a flash of features as the man came into view-

Slap the-

-prick who was kneeling in front of him-

CLANG

-with his other hand half-in the other manacle, Kasoria did just that, and teeth went skittering across the cobbles.

The second Blackjack went reeling off him, onto his arse, spitting teeth and moaning through a broken jaw. Kasoria surged up now, the third man not even close to strong enough to stop him. He was already begging as Kasoria grabbed a handful of cloak and yanked it hard, pulling the man down onto his back at his side, and lo, there was another face in need of a fucking sl-

CRACK

Something exploded inside the Raggedy Man's head. A force that blasted him clean from his body and any control over it. One trill he was there, manacle-clenched hand raised high to destroy the last Blackjack's face before he turned all his indignation to that fucking woman, and then... then there was just an endless echo. A ringing sound like a giant bell, the toll stretched out into forever. As it went on he couldn't feel his body anymore. His arms or legs or the bruises on his trunk and the gushing cut on his head.

He shook it. Shook it again. Some twat had hit him. Nearly knocked him out. Like a magican trying to control a puppet, he told his body what he wanted. Told it to turn and find out-

"Fuck me, are youse fuckin' kidding?!"

"Hit 'im again!"

The two Blackjack that had been watching the prisoners had finally found their balls, buried deep under chainmail and ill-polished plate. The younger had drawn a distinctly non-regulation cosh from his pocket and belted the Raggedy Man just like the other, Harold, had taught him. A sweeping strike across the back of the head, like he'd been shown, and seen, and done before. Only this time, the little man didn't go down. Even with a sound like an ax burying in a tree still echoing between them, he turned around... and faced them-

Oh, bugger this!

Harold lurched forwards and buried his boot in Kasoria's crotch-

-just as the barely-conscious man's hand swung out and-

CRACK

"FUCK!"

"HIT! HIM! AGAIN!"

Harold staggered back with his jaw dislocated. Bloody annoying, that. But unlike Krilick, he was an old hat at enforcing the law and minding hoodlums and being a nasty fucking bastard, he was. Since before his younger partner had been born, in fact. He knew when to leap into a fight, and when to stick on the sidelines. With the Raggedy Man on their list that night, he knew bloody well which he'd be doing, and he'd dragged that stupid kid along, too. That part hadn't been easy: young blood wanted to fight, of course. Harold knocked that on the fucking head.

Until the fight turned. Until that woman got involved. Until Kasoria went down under a scrum of bodies and though he muscled and bludgeoned his way free, he was weakened. Like jackals, like vultures, like Blackjacks, the two men forgot their charges and closed in on him. Krilick gave him quite the clobber... but it hadn't done the job. Harold had been the one to suffer from that mistake. But he still snarled those words through gritted teeth and Kasoria went down to his knees with a heave of his stomach, and Krillick

CRACK

CRACK


"Heh... good lad..."

Another blow to put him on his back. One more, right between the eyes, to stop him from moving at all. Hands shaking so much he nearly dropped his cosh, Krilick stepped back from the prone form of Kasoria and before he could even claim his victory-

"Bind him, quickly! Use the right shackles!"

-that big Tower sod marched over and started fussing over them both. Yet more Blackjacks had arrived, fresh bodies, getting into the swing of things, thjrowing punches, slapping... wait...

"S-Sir? Why are they-"

"Shackles! DAMN YOU!"

Kasoria heard but echoes of what followed. He didn't hear the Blackjack, young and old, disbelieving and wryly amused. He didn't feel the cold steel clap around his wrists, then his ankles. Nor did he feel himself being hooded and lifted between a handful of bruised, bloody, cursing men who had not expected such a lively turn out that night. His lips moved around a word, right before they bagged his head like an ugly fruit. Just the whisper of one. A woman's name. Asked as much a question as anything else. Then his head lolled back and his soul fled from a body too damaged to further endure waking. Kasoria went down into darkness, and left the chaos to burn itself out without him.
word count: 1282
Common Speech | Thoughts | Ith'ession Speech | Speech of Others
User avatar
Lavana Tharn
Approved Character
Posts: 211
Joined: Thu Jan 25, 2018 11:09 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Contribution

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

A sword stroke clipped her adversary as she had taken a step back faintly putting her leading foot off to the side towards Kasorias forehead that was drizzling blood into his eye .

Sometimes less was more as she used what was necessary, wild sloppy swings left the arms and body recoiling and trying to reign the sword back into position was a weakness that left one exposed something she had learned from Sephira. Instead she leaned towards disciplined control to stop the momentum of her weapon as it came to a grinding halt.

As the mortal borns arms lifted back and upward the sword was firmly clasped above her head while her core straightened out giving the warrior access to a fully wound up chop.

The simple but precise foot work had begun acclimating to the terrain as she began to feel out a certain level of comfort on the surface once the surprise had past. Asserting herself in this stance she was ready to reengage her adversary in a heated exchange.

Having had the privilege and pleasure of watching the raggedy man melee his way around the bar before his inevitable clash with herself. However in doing so it had provided Lavana the luxury of tactically studying him giving away insights to allow her to formulate some level of counter measure. Adjustments and readjustments, fine tuning as it were a game plan as he’d broadcasted a wide assortment of his talents. This among other reasons was why Lavana usually hung back in altercations.

Had he lunged forward weapons drawn her back foot would have stepped in aligning itself with her leading foot. It would have caused her body to swivel off and out of her opponent’s line of attack. She would have taken the position with the highest value, putting herself in her adversaries blind spot or what she thought was as head wounds had a nasty habit of bleeding profusely. So in her mind She’d attempt to vanish like some kind of phantom. Her intent would have been to put that sheath to the back of his neck, at full throttle force as her strength and endurance intensified. She’d already mapped out her strategy had moves lined up before they even engaged.

But it never came it was just another moment denied to her.

Because when Kasoria lunged to give her that tasty slap he was suddenly met by the black guards. It was an unexpected variable but she did thoroughly enjoy the spectacle.

His words were met with silence and her own inner discomfort which was veiled behind hateful amber eyes filled with malice and disdain. But her nose crinkled in dissatisfaction of the revelation, she did not like the idea of Max ruining her good thing.

Was her friend, if she could call her that still alive? But then again the rusulka had made it clear she was no hero, and she was fine with that. Lavana was the bad guy despite how bad she’d been fucked over by everyone on that wretched island.

Her stance slowly withdrew as her mind was jangling those thoughts around as the tip of her sword met the floor and she capriciously hung off her cross guard. She was enthusiastically watching him suffer taking a great deal of enjoyment and pleasure from it as if marveled by some kind of brilliantly made masterpiece. Lavana knew he could see her as he defiantly pushed onward while she cracked her mischievous shit eating grin as if to haze him from a distance. He hadn’t figured it out yet, she was so much more then some ordinary tart in armor.

The tapestry of exquisite imagery and emotions was sprawled out before her as if majestic wonders at her feet. While the Raggedy Man struggled on the ground writhing and fighting in vain with everything he had left.

It brought her back to that moment when Raskalarn had left her bleeding out and favored Kura the daughter she always wanted. Or maybe this was reminiscent when she tried to reclaim her friendship and ended up on the floor with a bloody nose.

This piece was raw and primal and forced its viewer to see the things that take us down. But while fleeting she did savor the big picture. The thought of betrayal the hurt the unfulfillment tied into how vain the struggle truly was; until it all falls into ruin. This was special because it made her feel something and moved her. Was this the restorative properties of art?

Injustice it was beautiful.

”Take him to the naughty corner!” she barked as they wrapped his head with something akin to a potato sack.

Lavana exercised calm and withdrew from the domain of blood lust as they dragged his keister off into the night. She liked to keep her power away from prying eyes. The mortalborn knew information held value and it was important enough that she was willing to withhold it or keep it in check from others. Keep them in the dark about her true potential, because when she utilized it she wanted it to be a surprise. The simple truth was the more someone knew about you the easier it was to kill you.

It took a moment to once again steady her hand as she turned to Flaxxo to await further instructions on this assignment, Kasoria had been detained and Oberan had been detained but in the process she had missed the calamity between Frindali and Ulric.

Lavana would have come to Frindalis aid, but right now she was on a short leash with Flaxxo and just like most of her life as a soldier she would follow the chain of command.

Especially since she was in his good graces, after this darkening she was probably well on her way to getting a promotion. Nothing fancy maybe a junior officer rank like lieutenant, or guard captain. At least the thought of a reward brightened her disposition if only just a little.

But when she was released from duty she would be investigating Kasorias outburst.
word count: 1020
User avatar
Ulric
Approved Character
Posts: 222
Joined: Tue Feb 12, 2019 6:13 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Wanderer
Renown: 215
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Featured

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

Image Image Image

89 Zi'da 720 | Ulric
Oh, if only Ulric had heard his name spoken and had the good sense to get away from all the chaos. Unfortunately he was doing something he hadn't done since he'd been brought back to life. Arguably something he had not done since his demise. He was playing the hero, a role he was no good at playing. Protect the girl, stop the spiders, give everyone a chance to live through the encounter. It was what a good man would do. It was what Arthur would have done... would have. Sintra may not have killed him, but by turning Ulric into what she had, she'd broken Arthur. The drunk Ulric knew was wandering the streets to-trial was not the man he had once been. Maybe it was Alex, maybe it wasn't, but playing the hero felt good for a few trills before the good feeling subsided like it almost always did in Etzos.

It had seemed, for a few moments, like the other marked of Sintra were going to accept the offer of peace and mercy. They began moving towards the door and Ulric breathed a small sigh of relief, but then they did what anyone marked by the immortal of manipulation would do, they tried to surprise their enemy. The battle began, one of them lunging at Ulric while the other moved towards Frindalli. Ulric manifest the tendrils as planned and they moved quickly. In this close quarters drawing a longsword didn't seem as probable as strangling the web spinners with tendrils. Frindalli seemed like she could handle herself against the one opponent so Ulric focused on his two for the few trills it would take.

The first man crashed into him and found Ulric well tethered then found himself short of air as Ulric's other tendril wrapped around his throat. The second woman dodged the tendril and seemed to get a sense of what he was. Fortunately not who he was but that would likely not be hard for Sintra to figure out. "Why else would I have given you a chance to run?" Ulric asked as he felt a familiar pull of energy. It was something he had not felt for a long time. Something... invigorating. The chance to run had passed, the woman knew he was resurrected. Ulric swiped his hand to the right, redirecting the manifested tendril to sweep at and wrap around her legs before pulling his arm back and attempting to yank her feet from beneath her and swing her into her burning companion.

The first of the attackers seemed well managed, the tendril continuing to compress around his neck before Ulric seemed to change his mind and loosen his grip. A trill later Ulric whipped that tendril and them man wrapped in it, towards his other two friends. Then he released them all, dissipating the tendrils that he had manifest (apart from the one tethering him) as a different idea came to to resurrected man. He reached his hand into the air, manifesting two more unseen tendrils from his arm as if it were as easy as breathing- the one skill he had discovered that he was truly good at.

Rather than fly directly towards the spies, his tendrils went up and around a beam similar to the one he was tether to, then they dropped down to wrap around his their necks. He moved his hand in a little circle, grabbing hold of both solid but unseen tendrils that were attempting to wrap around the webspinner throats, and then pulled on them to try and lift both victims from their feet. However if he'd even made it that far he would discover the different between the strength of the tendrils and the strength of his human body. They could lift a lot, he could not. Pulling on them relied on his muscle which was unfortunately underdeveloped. Still, if the tendril made it around their neck he'd effectively tethered them both in place... and to him.
word count: 678
User avatar
Maltruism
General Staff
Posts: 2430
Joined: Thu Feb 26, 2015 10:57 pm
Race: Prophet
Profession: "Mastermind"
Renown: 0
Plot Notes
Office
Personal Journal
Templates
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Staff

Miscellaneous

Events

Re: Apprehensions [Kas, Obie, Ulric and Lavana]

Flaxxo turned to the squad departing with the near-comatose Kasoria. He wanted to make the point of how the assassin might have realized the significance of how it WAS tower guards that had been sent, and how that could have possibly tipped him off that this was more than an arrest. At the same time, it was the very need to prevent this thought from taking root among the crowd that kept him quiet about it.

He frowned as he watched them leave, his insight warning him of the Raggedy Man's potential to suddenly snap out of his unconsciousness just in time to deliver some surprise to his "escort", towers guards among them or not. "Hold a moment there." Compliance was immediate.

He took a bit to unfasten a vambrace from his armor and clasped it around the forearm of the assassin. It would not easily be removed by the shackled prisoner. The ward attached would make the brewing of any of the man's known veins of magic inaccessible. He considered the scene a moment longer before nodding their dismissal.

Turning back to Lavana, he very nearly slapped her, actually stepping back as his arm twitched in spontaneous drive to deliver the blow. Gritted teeth did not stay a brief spout of profanity. "I'm sorry, trooper.....Kastiel, wasn't it? I guess the impulse is not spent with a single pulse. It seems it will be with us for a while yet." There were enough instances in the distance of unaffected greetings to see that there had to have been a limit to its range.

Keeping every one where they were, including a raised voice to request similar imposition on nearby citizens, Flaxxo did enough testing to verify that the sagging, hooded Oberan did appear to be at the epicenter of the effect. What regrets had begun to percolate in his mind over the possibility that he'd been in error when he'd given in to the impulse to smack the man up side his hooded head waned quickly. He then informed everyone that they no longer needed to stay in place, and could go about their business.

He returned to Lavana and instructed her to disperse the crowd, wondering in all honesty why they persisted in loitering about. A simple nod was all he would display in public, especially since a pat on her back kept trying to be a slap in her face. But he'd been impressed with her fearlessness as well as her competence, skill and opportunism to lay the assassin out without killing him. She'd be moving up in the ranks if he had anything to say about it.

And he usually did.

That left a few squads' worth of Black Guards, many of whom had shown up when they'd heard the commotion. He placed Lavana in charge of them to take Oberan to the "Hall", as the detention cells below the Hall of Rule and Reprimand were more commonly known. His only additional instruction was to get him there in no worse shape than Kasoria.


Noise from inside the tavern now started to be noticeable, and he entered to find two figures hanging by some apparently invisible force, and a third nursing an ugly arm wound as he kept a table between himself and a very angry woman with the likely knife. His eyes narrowed, perplexed, as he could see that the man hanging in the air had grasped onto whatever strand of force it was keeping him airborne, and pulling on it to help lift his body weight enough to keep from being either choked or hanged. His other hand was working at some similar force around his throat. A woman was in similar distress and was trying to offset it in the same manner.

He nodded casually, recognizing the presence of ghostly tendrils, except they appeared to be coming from a living man. "Let them down now....Ulric?...I suspect?" Making sure to keep his mental focus on NOT approaching the conversation as a greeting, he still took the precaution of keeping his distance.

Once they were down, the released "victims" ran to him, insisting as they neared that they'd been accosted by their assailant for no reason. When they reached him, they made the mistake of wanting to add thanks to their remarks and ended up delivering slaps to Flaxxo's face. He of course, had known it would be coming, and knowing the real purpose of this entire charade, he'd allowed it, since clearing the scene of likely Sintra loyalists was paramount to Parhn's plans. This way it would not look like the sort of favoritism that Sintra might suspect.

He snapped his fingers at the doorway and a foursome of Guards hurried inside. "Arrest them. For level 3 assault of a tower guard." Their previous showers of thanks turned instantly into wailings of injustice as they were hauled off. Frindalli now also walked, smiling, up to Flaxxo, appreciating the turn of events, though not truly understanding them.

Flaxxo guessed this and quickly caught the wrist connected to the hand before it made contact with his face. Frindalli stared in horror at her own hand, stammering the beginnings of a confused apology, as Flaxxo released her and informed her that some strange, mischievous power was at work and that she needed to be aware that peoples' meetings seem to be oddly twisted by some impulse to slap faces.

The very fact that this Ulric fellow was using ghostly powers revealed him to most likely be one of the restored ghosts. They were a portion of the citizenry that were devoted to Sintra almost to a man. If he had not known Frindalli to be a member of the resistance, and seen them fighting together, he'd have instinctively figured him to be one of the enemy. Even as it was, he was not entirely sure he could blurt out how this whole thing was just for appearance's sake.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to detain you in the Hall, if for no other reason than to get your statement on the necessity of stringing those two up that way. it's really not a citizen's place to carry out sentencing." He could not completely suppress a sigh of resignation. "I truly hope you will come more peacefully than those other two, Kasoria and Oberan."

He gave Frindalli a subtle finger gesture, known to the resistance, to play along with a situation that was not genuine. If the ghost-man was going to resist, he did not want to have to deal with Frindalli as well.
word count: 1120
Post Reply Request an XP Review Claim Wealth Thread

Return to “Western: Etzos”