The Fire Within [Pig Boy]

[Praetorum]

Date: 6th of Ymiden, Arc 720

Status: Watched

Weapons: None

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

Praetorum almost always took second watch. The night was deepest then, and the fire most likely to gutter out, neither of which were of any particular concern to a defier kin with flame. 



Swallowing back a yawn, Prae idly fed the campfire another dry log, eyes half closed as he focused on the elements around him. Feeling the wind sweep over the plains, the displacement of air as his companions breathed in sleep, the earth settling beneath him, water flowing far underground, the fire crackling at his side.... there was a time he'd thought he would never feel such things again, trapped in walls and rooms of stone, not built for an Ithecal's bulk. 



There were stars above him, and the sight of them moved him to tears every time he remembered that. 



The elements danced around his own body too, the wind licking at his cheeks and nipping at his tail with affection, and he opened his claws to run his fingers through it too. Beneath him, the earth was as soft as any mat he'd ever slept on, molding to his body for his comfort.



Nothing moved in the night, beyond the occasional mouse or rabbit, scurrying within the radius of Prae's detection. But as he relaxed into the embrace of the elements, listening to them move, Praetorum became aware of a prickling along his hide; the all too familiar sensation of eyes, watching him from afar. 



Prae did not move, considering. It was not anyone within a hundred feet of him, at the very least, to the danger was not immediate. Focusing on his defiance spark, Praetorum slowly extended his reach, searching for whoever, or whatever it was that watched him so intently. 



Except, even as he cast his mind further, he could feel there was something wrong. No, the stare wasn't coming from further away. It was intuition more than anything else, but the sense of it was so strong Prae couldn't help but trust in his gut.


It was closer. Very, very close. So close, Prae could reach out and....


Touch.


His claws ghosted over the log he'd just placed into the campfire, and he opened his eyes, turning to stare into the flames.

Feeling them stare back.

[Pig Boy]

As Praetorum stared into the flame, the sense of being watched intensified. Informed passively by his attunement spark and perhaps his own sense of hypervigilance, there was something out there and it appeared to have eyes on him. It reminded him of something he'd never felt before. Save perhaps the last time he'd been in Yaralon. If he'd ever chanced to look upon the Spire, the Lighthouse of Faldrun, he would recognize a similar sense of awe and foreboding emanating from that small campfire. In the flames of the campfire, he would hear a slight whispering, coming in as the flickering of fire and the crack of ash. Barely noticeable at first, but eventually coming clear.

"That is the eye that fed on fire. That is the one who slaked his unholy thirst on our domain." The whispering became a crackling roar, until the campfire exploded in absolute fury, something was opening before Praetorum, a power that went beyond anything arcane. Should he try, his Attunement spark would not be able to attenuate to whatever was causing it. "He who shall be forsaken by fire."

Then, all hell around the campfire broke loose.

From the flames, a half dozen warriors emerged from what appeared to be a portal created from flames. The warriors flanked a woman, who bore a fiery mark that was indecipherable to Praetorum upon her chest. She pointed an accusatory finger toward Praetorum. "One of the unholy fire flayers. Whoever brings his hide back as a trophy will be rewarded."

So saying, Uriel closed her fire portal, which shut with a furious, outward explosion, knocking Praetorum back. The warriors, all bearing polearms of one type or another, circled around the Ithecal.

If Praetorum tried to call on fire at that moment, he would find it unresponsive to his pleas and hostile toward his commands, while the runic mark around his eye would burn with intense pain.

[Praetorum]

Date: 6th of Ymiden, Arc 720

Status: Fighting fit

Weapons: None

Armor: None

Current Magical Effects

Taithir's Enduring Scales

The fire flicked before his eyes, and unease twisted in the ithecal's gut. Something was very, very wrong here. Neither omnivision nor his flow spark could detect anyone else in the vicinity, but Suspicion was agitated all the same, searching for an enemy it was convinced was staring into his back. As he peered into the fire, the feeling intensified, the mark under his eye starting to stir, as if he were the one calling to the flames.


There was something almost familiar about the prickle in his hide, though. Something in his memory itching at him, though he couldn't quite grasp what it was. But just that fact was enough to convince Prae that whatever he was detecting, it wasn't just in his imagination. Which meant he needed to wake the others, or at least Ricky, the closest thing to a scout their little band had. 



Prae started to stand, and then stilled as his Flow spark surge to the forefront of his soul, straining for.... for.....


There was a voice in the fire. Not the voice of crackles and pops and flickers that Prae was used to hearing from Flame, but a mortal voice, speaking in common. Completely silent, Prae stared into the campfire, trying to hear.... 



"That is the eye that fed on fire."


That voice. It wasn't known to Prae, he was sure of that, but there was something familiar about it. 



"That is the one who slaked his unholy thirst on our domain."


It wasn't the voice.... It was the accent—a yari accent. And it was a memory of Yaralon that ate at him as the sensation of being watched, judged, found wanting intensified. A memory of a tower that shone bright as a beacon out towards the sea. 



Faldrun's temple. The worshipers of the eternal flame.


All at once, the crackling campfire exploded into an inferno, a roaring, sparkling wall of heat that even Praetorum instinctively recoiled from. Suspicion lashed out immediately, trying to attune to the flames, only to find its song an incomprehensible blur, like a song heard from underwater. Below his eye, the brand burst to life, a searing pain under his hide that he hadn't felt since he'd become kin to flame.  There was no need to wake his companions—the noise of it was enough to startle them all awake, the two Yari rolling out from underneath their furs and grasping for weapons, Sneabru waking with his knives already in hand. 



"He who shall be forsaken by fire."



Flow twisted and turned in him, fighting against something Prae could not even begin to grasp, and the voices of flame started to slip away, turning angry and almost aggressive as a woman stepped out from the raging fire, flanked by half a dozen warriors carrying spears and staves and even a halberd. 



Prae narrowed his eyes as the woman gave her orders, hissing at the pain from the burning brand. So, it was him that they were here for. Why they'd chosen to come after him now, when emea had fallen and returned an arc ago, he didn't know, and right now he didn't care. 



His people weren't ready for this fight—they'd only just woken up, they had no idea what was going on, and right now, they were the easiest targets in the world. But it was Prae the woman was pointing at, Prae the warriors were moving to surround. So he had to occupy their attention until his companions were combat ready. 



Praetorum leaped to his feet, only to be blown back as the portal snapped closed, nearly falling onto his back before the wind caught him and dragged him upright. His first reflex was to reach for the campfire, to set these foes ablaze, but the first touch of his spark had the element recoiling from him, and he didn't dare push it. He who shall be forsaken by fire Fear spiked in his heart, but he quickly set it aside, his mind already settling into a cold battle-readiness that left no space for anything but plans and action. Unarmed and unarmored, he was going to have to rely on wits and fists to win this fight—and of course, Ethelynda's blessing.



The explosion had blasted his quarterstaff away from him, and his shield and the silk scabbard were both in his tent on the other side of the enemies; not ideal, but he'd have to make do. As Taithir's Enduring Scales shimmered over his hide, Prae shifted into an Ustrina stance, and darted forwards, throwing quick jabs into the air before he was within reach of his foes. Ustrina was a fighting style meant to be used with flame, but since that wasn't possible right now, he'd just have to improvise. Each jab was accompanied by a blast of wind that extended from his punch, air so dense it was nearly solid shooting at the face, throat, and gut of the closest foe. 



If he could knock one of them out immediately, he could grab their weapon, use it against the rest. And even if he couldn't, they were all wielding polearms—they'd be at a disadvantage once he was inside the reach of their weapons.

[Pig Boy]

]

The blast of the portal shutting, and sealing the woman behind its field blew Praetorum back on his tail, which he used to leverage himself back onto his feet. The men all around him, six of them there were, circled around, each brandishing a polearm of some sort. The first one to attempt a strike was a brandistock wielder. The triplet of blades sprung from it's open cavity as he thrust it forward, toward Prae. He wasn't prepared or else not strong enough to pierce Praetorum's enduring scales, or the weapon was angled poorly. It would be a simple matter to take his weapon. And once Praetorum stepped into and under his guard, he landed a few easy jabs against his face. This was enough to jar the man, giving Prae an opportunity to grab his brandistock.

Yet, the man wasn't knocked out yet, merely dazed, and wouldn't let go of the brandistock. He held fast to it. If Prae could leverage the other end of the spear, and butt him in the stomach, perhaps that would do the trick? In any event, he didn't have much time to consider his options, as the other five swooped in on him as he was engaged with the other man.

The next one to attack was wielding a halberd, swinging it for Prae's neck.

A third one engaged at the same time, bringing a longspear to bear against Prae's left flank, and testing his resolve by jabbing the air a few times, nearly hitting the Ithecal. Praetorum would notice that something was off about the way they were fighting. It was almost as if they were only trying to contain him, rather than dispatch. A cage of polearms slowly converged around him, in the form of the warriors. Each of them were within striking distance, yet none of them had landed a solid blow.

What was going on?

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	You're good to start combat. Keep your actions relatively breif according to your skills as you are now in a combat situation. Try to avoid conditionals, but feel free to land a hit or two if you reach an impasse in your writing. However, I will determine what kind of damage occurs

[Praetorum]

Date: 6th of Ymiden, Arc 720

Status: Escaping

Weapons: None

Armor: None

Current Magical Effects

Taithir's Enduring Scales

Half a dozen foes, all now circling around Prae; none of them seemed focused on his companions, which was a relief. Weapons all different; the closest one wielding a staff—no, wait. Prae sidestepped as a trio of blades sprung from the end of it. A brandistock. Been a while since he'd seen one of those. The blade glanced off his shoulder, the angle all wrong to actually cut through his thick hide. Their mistake. 



A blast of air blinded the man long enough for Prae to land in a proper punch. But the man was persistent, holding on to his weapon even as Prae tried to take it from him. 



There was a flash of movement at the edge of his vision, and Prae whipped around, his tail lashing out behind him to trip up the brandistock wielder—if Prae couldn't disarm him, he could at least disable him for a few moments. Now, a new threat; a halberd, swinging in from the side. Prae deflected it with an upwards palm strike to the haft, then stomped his foot, sending a chunk of stone and dirt flying into the air by his side to intercept a spear thrust. 



Something wasn't right here—they were each at a distance where they could attack him all at once, and yet they seemed to be taking turns, keeping him occupied rather than trying to kill him. He didn't quite understand what was happening here, but Prae knew one thing for certain; he didn't want to stay in this encirclement. 



Whirling around, Prae grabbed at the shaft of the spear that had attacked him earlier, sliding one foot along the ground as he did so; the earth followed his motion, rising up in a knee high wave that went to knock the spear wielder off their feet. As the wave reached the human, Prae pulled sharply at the weapon to take it from the man, and tried to duck through the newly formed gap in the enemy formation.

[Pig Boy]

]

Brandistock and Halbred were dispatched by his quick and tactical movements, and masterful cooperation with the elements that weren’t fire.

They rolled out of range of him, but looked to be hurt enough that perhaps they’d be out of the fight.

The wave reached the human, having the effect of a rug pulled out from under him, tripping him up and prompting him to lose his grip on the weapon. The shaft of the spear met with Praetorum’s hand, and so he was once more armed, and prepared to deal with the rest of the warriors.

They charged him all at once, giving up for broke now and having stalled him as reasonably as they could be expected. The cleaving blades of their polearms, and the butt end of the staves wheeled end over end, parrying, seeking, finding purchase on his armor and scales but not penetrating.

Prae did manage to get some distance out of the formation that had coalesced around him, and now the men were getting desperate. Their weapon strikes came faster and stronger, now conceding that toying with him wasn’t going to work. Containment had failed, and so extermination was very much on the table.

The three pole-arm wielders formed a trident facing him, fending him off and trying to maneuver for advantage as they tested his defenses with strikes here and there.

The men that Praetorum had wounded were still on the ground, dispatched by his quick commands to the elements. One dazed and on his back, another with a jutting rock on his foot. And yet another disarmed and looking very much at a loss.

It was Prae’s battle to win, it seemed. So what had all that song and dance with the flames been for?!

OOC

Feel free to mop up the remainder of the enemies. Assume the ability to dispatch them as you wish, or disarmament. Once you’ve done that, you may wish to keep them for questioning or finish them. Before you get to the point of interrogating or finishing them, allow me to post then. Thanks! And sorry for the wait on this post.

[Praetorum]

Weapons: Glaive

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

The flow of the battle changed the moment Prae's claws closed around the human's spear. His enemies, it seemed, understood that an armed Praetorum would not be as easy to deal with as an unarmed one—changing tactics, the remaining three humans charged to begin attacking in earnest. 


Ethelynda protect me, he prayed, and activated Enduring Scales, a bare moment before a glaive came sweeping in towards his head. Raising his spear, he parried the incoming attack, batting it to the side. The spear in his hand was built for a human, not an ithecal, but Prae adjusted quickly, leaping back to buy himself a little more breathing room. 



Three down, three to go—wielding a glaive, a trident and a poleaxe. They followed quickly after him, seemingly trying to wear him down with rapid-fire attacks, and Prae soon found himself blocking and dodging blow after blow. More than a few landed, but only glancing ones, none able to penetrate his scale covered hide. Prae knew how to keep on the move so his enemies couldn't get a proper hit in, staying mobile with the wind half carrying him, while the ground beneath his enemy's feet shifted and trembled under his command. 



The trouble with fighting alongside allies was that unless very well coordinated, every ally was also an obstacle you couldn't afford to hit. And Prae was well familiar with how to take advantage of that.



Trident stumbled, and Prae leaped at the opportunity, tail whipping out to catch the man by the ankle and pull him off his feet towards his friends. Poleaxe was forced to pause in his attacks as his ally fell, and then to retreat as Prae pressed him back with a flurry of jabs, the ithecal circling to keep Poleaxe between himself and Glaive. Impatient, Glaive tried to attack around his friend, and Poleaxe flinched as the weapon shot out past his shoulder. Just for a moment, but it was enough for Prae to slip through the man's defenses. A blast of air knocked the glaive off course, while Prae's own spear sank into Poleaxe's shoulder, deep enough to make the human shout in pain and stumble back. 



Pulling the spear free, Prae darted forwards as Glaive got out of his injured friend's way. Prae parried a clumsy sweep by the last human standing, and brought the butt of his spear around to slam into his stomach, making the man double over. Dropping the spear as he approached, Prae grabbed the glaive by the haft, and then brought his knee up sharply, slamming it into the human's face. There was the crunch of cartilage, and Prae pulled the glaive out of unresisting hands as the man collapsed. Whirling around, Prae saw Trident starting to get up, only to freeze when he saw Prae was the only one still standing. 



Prae raised the glaive, and pointed threateningly at the trident wielder. "Who are you, and why are you here?" Prae demanded, voice lowered into a growl.

[Pig Boy]

Trident lay back in the ground, defeated and realizing that it was over for him and his comrades. He seemed resigned to his fate and looked on Praetorum calmly as the Ithecal held his glaive, ready to bring it down on him at a moment's notice. There was nothing he could do to salvage this situation. Uriel had trained them well, but not well enough. In the end, they were mere kindling to the start of this bonfire. One that would persist long enough until the next gaggle of cultists could track Praetorum down. Until the flayer of fire was done for, once and for all.

"We are the kindling," He said, cryptically. He didn't care that Praetorum threatened him now. He had spent much of his teenage years and adulthood taming his fire. Perhaps more of that should have been dedicated to martial training and fighting in a group. Or perhaps it was by design that they fail. "You are the fire we're here to stir."

At once, Praetorum would notice a choker around the neck of Trident, and indeed around the necks of all the soldiers. he wouldn't be able to ignore it, as the gem at the center of the chokers began glowing with the light of the sun. Within a moment, all of the Aukari soldiers began burning up, their veins tearing their skin open into fissures, like lava from a volcano. In a moment, they were crisply burned up, the secret designs of their mistress, to which they were merely privy to, to a certain point, would remain secret. The burned men were devoid of color, their leather armor burned to a crisp along with the rest of them. Only the gem of their chokers remained unblemished. All of them, and each an Imedyte well. Should Praetorum choose to take them, he'd find they were condensed ether, through his magical senses of attunement and the ability to perceive ether. They also seemed to resonate with fire, and he found his ability to manipulate fire returning as the moments wore on.

Thus was he left with the message, and the warning. What kind of fire did they want to stir? And what did it have to do with Praetorum?

Player Name: Praetorum

Points awarded: 20 xp (5 points may be used for Defiance.)
Magic xp: (5 of these points may be used for Defiance.)

Knowledge:

Combat: Unarmed x 4
Meditation: x 2
Tactics: x 3

Renown: 10
Loot: Five functioning, yet somewhat unstable imedyte wells. They are all class 1 wells. They will need to be tapped and refined in order to render them usable for something again. Or you can flay them. Let me know if you do that.
Injuries/Overstepping: Probably doesn't matter at this point. But nothing too serious in the end. Praetorum may find himself in a heightened state of awareness around open flames. Until he gets some psychological treatment.
Wealth Points: nope
Consequence: Contact me if you ever do anything with the wells. If Praetorum should happen to give them to someone else, and have no further involvement with the wells, you need not.

Skill Review: All Skills used appropriately to PC's level

Notes: This was a fun little showcase of Praetorum's combat abilities, and his ability to comeback from being on the backfoot, and overtaking a bunch of less skilled combatants. I enjoyed it very much.

Do let me know if you want to pursue another progression of the attack of these flame stalkers. I do have some idea where I'm going with it. Feel free to involve other players if you like, as well.


If you have any questions, comments, or concerns regarding this review, feel free to PM. Enjoy your rewards!