• Graded • -‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

The "City of Slaves", sitting amidst the jungle terrain of the Crescent Peninsula, is a hotbed of simmering hatreds between the oppressed humans and their arrogant, winged avriel overlords. With each free citizen or visitor a potential slaver or sympathizer, and with the veiled presence of the cruel Cult of Valtharn, how long before rebellion erupts?

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Coroth
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-‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

Fri Jan 31, 2020 5:22 am



54 Vhalar, 719 Evening

-‡- Time was a continual loop to some people. A continual return to the past as ones mind absently replayed scenes out, remembering, learning, enjoying those moments. Some moments weren't even real, but they could come to ones' mind as if one was dreaming, and douse the person in a state of confusion as to what was really happening, and what wasn't.

The Avriels had scoured the town of the raiding bandits, taking out many of their numbers who were not quick enough to hide within the shelter of the homes they had been burning, sacking, and pillaging since the middle of the day. Thus their bodies were joining those of the villagers throughout the village. After a time, they would let each other know that it was safe, that the avriels had left and were not seeking to take their heads individually before the day was out.

Instead, the wagon that the bandits had brought with them, piled with loot from prior excursions had been discovered earlier, and had become the center of their attention as the bandits hid themselves, and no longer posed a threat to the flying interveners.

Their purpose had been to bring some of them back with them as slaves, to fight in the arena or to sell on the blocks for other purposes. Only a few of them had been captured by nets, bound up, and brought to the wagon filled with their loot. It wasn't laiden with golden and silver trinkets and chests bulging with gold and jewels. But was one that was built upon looting poor villages and nearby farms. Thus it was more laiden with steel and silver, pots, tools, and other metal items that could be turned into weapons at a forge, or other profitable forms.

There though, were rarities upon the wagon that made it worth securing, and including in their mission to this far distant region beyond Atharts city walls. Nor did the Avriels truthfully take the time to dismantle the contents, and take a tally and ledger of just what was on it. They though, knew that there were still bandits alive who would fight for their earnings. And a decision was made to leave the village before they reemerged to do so.

Thus some of the avriels remained behind. Flying in the air, or lurking about the southern part of the village to guard the retreat of the others. To begin picking at the bandits if they showed themselves. And give the wagon time to gain a distance that could not be tracked into the night. For it would not be until nightfall till the remaining avriels would rise into the darkening skies, a darkness that they were used to flying through, a darkness that gave them the title of the Shadow Wing.



Last edited by Coroth on Thu Jun 18, 2020 3:38 pm, edited 3 times in total. word count: 473
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Re: -‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

Thu Apr 02, 2020 2:41 am



-‡- Night had taken on a seemingly short span of time moments ago. As if the length of it could not be determined in it's passing. As if a void had been entered, where time was not needed to be counted, checked on, or determined. Where the lucid avriel had no qualm or worry about the next day. A lapsing of time that was spent passing through fields of freely grown grass that blew and weaved with the passing of winds that coerced beneath the sending torrent's from his incognious wings.

When lurid dreams would be grasping upon the travelers on the roads below; when villagers, worn out from the days toil upon soil and livestock were slumbering in the rugged homesteads that provided them shelter and homely comforts; these avriels were awake, and passing upon barren roads. Roads that they normally would not be seen upon, definitely not on foot, and rarely ever with horses.
Coroth had landed upon a tree that rose up higher than the others lingering below him. The branch beneath his talonicly sharp tips bore his weight with silent grief. Bark had only groaned upon his landing, and the chiseled like aging of wood hidden within had passed his test in those first moments. Now though, arms encased in leather armaments' slid to perch upon lowering thighs. Easing himself into a hunched perch whilst his wings loosened and unfrayed themselves from their tousling's with the winds beyond him.

A shift of his eyes adjusted, concentrating on a tree below. One that slowly weaved with the winds as he stared at it. The semblance of the movements seeming to entrance him, as if it was waving a resemblance of a greeting to him with its large bush laden arm. It was no doubt, just his mind thinking peaceful, loving thoughts as if it was a neighbor. One that had aged, and remained rooted for years longer than he had known. One that thus should be given doubts, and respect.

Another moment was breathed through his nostrils, the health of his lungs remnantly strong and hollow from the cool winds that collected and passed through them amidst his flights. Trustworthy lungs, and that ever beating heart. A heart that bled profusely at times, reminding him that it was alive within the staunch of muscles stretched along the caging's of his ribs. Eyes widened some as he averted his attentions downwards, elsewhere. Tracing the length of the road as it weaved through the overpass of the forests, and into a clearing of land that seemed most normal with the passing of time. Though perhaps had suffered the affliction of a tornado long long ago to clear the area.

"Remain behind..be one of the first. You are stronger than the others..you are also not one of the best of the stones within the wall..," his voice resonated to his own ears, speaking to himself, chiding himself. Noting what was clear to the eyes of any who looked upon him compared to any to nearly anyone who was normal. Yet he also knew his flaws, and wondered what he would endure because of them. Worried silently if it would be the death of him if he made not the right decisions. Yet such decisions..were only fit to be worried about when ye had a blade in your hand.

It was then, as the morning was passing within the skies. When the surreal abyss of the ever lurking darkness and the silent predators that snuck about within its whispering hues of evil; did the light begin to tread into the skies. When the over watching orb within the skies would begin to claim the lands with its' nearing warmth. When it's encompassing brilliance would devour the darkness, and bring with it the reality of that which had slipped into the void of nothingness.

Yet it was in that nothingness, that the shadow faction had been ambling forth with the loot. When another avriel flew through the skies along the line that the road offered to be followed. The approaching avriel would be given the extending of Coroths wings into their extending reach as a means to stand out in the quiet motionless world below. The dark winged figure stood out in his perch within the highest of trees. The span of the avriels wings being stretched out far enough with their subtley light movements to discern it as what it was. The signal was leaned towards with the notable shifting of the avriels wings within the lighting skies beyond. It's descent watched until the similarly young lad descended to hover afore the tree Coroth was perched upon. His darkened wings keeping him afloat, unsteadily maneuvering up and down as he attempted to relay a message.

"They are coming..only a few. The greedy ones..whose horses are white at the mouths…should we tell the others?" The other avriel asked in a grown adolescent manner. Knowing he was young, but knowing as well he was still a fighter, and wanted to follow orders instead of making them.

Coroth solemnly thought upon the remedy for the situation. A turmoiled sigh passing through the duo orifices above sealed tiers. As if the news had ruined his tranquility, and something more violent began to flow through the blood in his veins as air was taken in, and exhumed in turn.

"…no..they are only a few, yes? Then we shall get rid of them..and let the others get their sleep.." Coroth was determined as he spoke. As if some inner strength would begin to boil within him to the promise of letting forth blood. Eyes enlargening into something he had become secretly obsessed with, in his own ways. Wings folded behind him, shifting beneath the other branches around him before he felt them clear for use. Thighs that were used to the position unflexed and leapt forwards into the air. His lightweight physique drifting within the void of space as he dropped. The unfurling of his wings soundingly reaching outwards like sails upon a ship, searing the winds with their stretching reach at each of his sides. Sending him into a glide still high above the canopies below that he began to descend towards.

The other avriel watched the cerulean feathers catch at the dawns waking light. The reflection of deep blood smearing into a rising gold conflicting with the white streaks along the numerous large feathers he gazed upon. Then, he fell into position behind Coroth, ready to follow, and kill.
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Coroth
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Re: -‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

Fri May 22, 2020 6:22 pm



-‡- The village had been Northeast of Athart, quite far beyond it's borders and patrols. To return to the famed, ancestral city of the winged Avriel, the squadron of winged warriors had to head southwest. The sun thus poured down on Coroth from it's waking stretch upon the horizon above the line of trees, and their canopy of greens smoldered amongst aged rootings of brown and greying bark. The clamor of rays and infinite warmth being bestowed upon the lands that bled into a profuse jungle and tide of earthly growth that made it difficult for humans, or anything else on two feet to traverse through. Such awaited the pursuers he now headed to intervene upon, such the elk of humans would not even begin to enter through before they would be dead.

The sound of hooves stomping upon the already compacted line of the road below came to his attentive ears as his wings carried him over the opening in the lush canopy of leaves and branches that were more of a menace to his flight than a means of secreting himself from sight with their providings of concealment. The slit through the tree line was easy enough to follow as he drifted upon the quiet winds that morning. Below, some trees grew over the path, blurring his sight of how many there were below. How many he would have to kill, how many he would have to fear being killed by.

Then, something within him began to grow stronger. Some buried part of his avriel nature that hungered to kill. Hungered for the shedding of blood, hungered for violence. Violence that he had learned well of how to use to inflict upon those who would do the same onto him. It was this boiling of something deeper within him that drove away the deeper plighting to go about this more tactfully. For deeper, longer thoughts were not a keen part of being an avriel. Thus..this shorter, whim of his being took over, and began to excite him with the thrill of killing. With the thrill of wreaking havoc upon those who would retrieve the spoils they were after.

It was thus, when he began to pursue the sounds of horse hooves through the blurring view of branches, that he began to see the movement of horses, dirt- smeared white fur, and brown hides streaked with the black of harnesses and saddles. They were following one another along the light brown path of the road, that he'd begin to descend for. One in particular was in the lead, one in particular who became his target. The sound of his wings batting at the air before they'd fold partially behind him. The way they shifted the winds in their movements over his pointed ears. The way the sound of it blurring into a whisper to his thoughts, though he would not trust aid from the elementals, they were still able to be listened to whilst he flew.

A spear was removed from behind him where his harness became loose with it's loss of weight. Where his wings would fold over his back as soon as it was withdrawn in a quickened manner that he was discovering to be necessary whilst in flight. His shield was in turn pulled into place by the strap that allowed it to be swung into place on his arm from behind him. Something he had figured out how to do a time ago, a complication with wings. His palms grasped upon the staves carvings that had been weaved into the wood. Not runes, but mere engravings drawn with a blade whilst he was bored and waiting. The partitions in wood felt by his flesh as he gripped it all the more fiercely. Flesh sinking into those small lengthening gaps that allowed him to grip it all the more.

"Use your bow!" Words were bombarded into the air, flown with the wind to the avriel who was with him, and behind him within the skies void. The sound of his companion shrieking with his own bout of excitement and agreeance pierced into the air. His angle of flight shifting so Coroth would not be in his line of sight. Before he even fell upon the men below, arrows were already beginning to be sent into flight through the air. A small rain of aimed shafts that tore through flesh, horse, and earth when they missed the marauding team of men below.

Then it was his turn, as the men began to scatter, and make less of a target to aim for. The shriek let them identify where they were coming from. They knew already that they would come from the skies above, for they had wings. And it was expected. Shields were raised to protect themselves. Yet a few had no shields at all. Preferring spears, overly large swords and other, menacing weapons of strength and might. It was one of these that he barreled for as his wings became firmly held behind him. Keeping the angle of his descent sharp and precise. The spear was aimed in this charge from flight, a spear that would miss his target directly, for he was still unskilled at such. In truth, it was his first attempt. A first of many as he became a blur of cerulean feathers that immediately expanded outwards, catching the very air that he would churn around him with continual flapping of their widths. Wings that would lift him back into the air as men shouted amongst themselves to kill him. As men scrambled for something to shoot him with. As men fell from their horses with an arrow here and there who sought to wield such weapons. - ‡ -



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Coroth
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Re: -‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

Sun Jun 07, 2020 9:01 pm



-‡- There were only a handful of the bandits on the road. The realization of such was percieved in following moments as the desperation of his charge passed, the loss of the tactical advantage lost. The man now directly mounted in front of him was so distraught from the attack, that he did fall out of his saddle to avoid the spear. A spear that whisked through the air where he was perhaps sitting moments prior. Another horse nearby had its' hooves scuffing into the earth, trodden dirt beneath as it's rider tugged fiercely upon the reins. The bit in the animals mouth causing it's head to rein backwards. Its frill of a mane whisked through the air as it's forelegs were raised in defense and instinctively of a mind to bash in someone with them instead. The muscles along the beasts saddled undersides rippling against the fear that was suddenly instilled upon it through the rider alone. And perhaps the attacking avriel.

In another moment, Coroths wings were sending a small gail of wind through the mottled riders as he ascended above them and backwards. Eyes narrowing in concentration and tactical indecision. His was not the only mind there, as one of the riders who escaped the whizz of an arrow charged forward, a length of a spear was in his grasp, and it was hefted through the mans' hands to attempt to pierce the avriels wings in one of its' down strokes. The beat of the wings was reflexively drawn backwards, and out of range of the spear. Coroth was too close to keep in flight, he though, did not want to merely pick them off with a bow and ended up dropping from the air entirely. His wings swishing behind him with the commotion of many feathers sliding amongst one another as they fell into natural placement.

His own spear was hefted into more of a firming grip. The size of his shield was hefted straight upwards to ensure it would protect him as the rider with the spear sent another thrust from above downwards towards those targetable feathers behind the avriel. Coroths' arm ripped upwards with an uppercut movement by his shield bearing arm that blocked the intensity of the descending thrust. The spear was felt thudding into the uppermost portion of the shield, barely catching it in time. The sound of the piercing tip jarring through the leather along the side of his shield caused it to get stuck partially in place quaked into his ears from being so close. The way the leather caught the spear was enough to put the rider into a state of in balance. Just long enough of a moment that the avriel could ascertain his target, and send his own spear thrusting forwards from the side of his shield into the opening the bandit gave him.

He felt the tip of his spear pierce through cloth, and the ruined leather of the bandits armor to get into flesh beneath. To feel the grit of bone inside that the spear tore against. From training, he was told not to leave your weapon inside of a man's body, or it would get stuck there when the flesh closed up over it In natural healing. So Coroth kept that in his mind, and fought to savagely tear the spears end free once more. The shout of anger, and pain echoed into the air from above. The eruption of such pain echoed into the canopy surrounding them before the rider fell from his steed in a convulsion of pain and the excitings of his heart that began to rush blood through a raging wound.

The loss of one of their comrades was heard upon ears not at all deaf. Another of the handful of men was dead by an arrow on the ground further behind the others from the second avriel who was still in the air above them. Bow in hand, he was still picking shots at shields and scurrying riders. One or two of whom had turned about in fear and fled. Another had fallen from his horse and scattered into the nearby trees for cover in these moments.

The first rider Coroth had attempted to kill with the descending charge was still on horseback. He saw the opening and rushed in. His boots kicked encouragingly against the horses flanks to send him forwards to reach the grounded avriel. And in another moment, the sweeping of a sword was sent through the air as it was yanked from its' dried scabbard at his waist. A sword that shimmered in the air for a brief moment, avriel eyes atuned to the threat, and magnified upon it, knowing it could lead to his death.

In the next passing moment, Coroths lowered shield was drawn upwards again. The feel of his strength in that arm tensioning and raging with a strictness of his will to use it for defense. Then, he turned it horizontally above his head, to shield himself from both side angles that the sword could be sent through to get at him. At just the right moment when the horse approached, he lowered himself into a squat lower than the shield. His other arm sent forth a bloody rage of a thrust with his spear from below, catching the man in the gut as their clashing of blade upon shield erupted in the din of the air around them. This time he had to let go of his spear before the charge of the horse would pull it out of his hand, or even twist his wrist in the process of trying to keep it. The thudding sound of the spear could be heard against the flank of the horse as it remained lodged deeply in the rider until he fell upon it and the ground below.

Coroth turned about, a menace of ferality upon his scarred features. A churn of breaths was felt passing laboriously through the bindings of muscles laiden along his chest that were buried beneath that of studded leather he wore to protect himself. In another moment, his comrade lowered onto the ground further down the road. He was watched as he rushed into the tree line to pursue one of the remaining men who had made a run for it, then found him hiding against a tree and put a blade into injured mans through an attempt to defend himself. An arrow already lodged within his arm that kept him from putting up much more of a fight than that. A good thing, for the other avriel was still new with his blade, and had to get over the infringements of his mind at having to kill someone face to face.

Basking in the small victory, the cerulean winged avriel bellowed into the woodlands around him. His gutteral release of victory being sent to echo above and through the distance to perhaps reach the ears of the two others who had fled beyond. And maybe even the other avriels of the squad a distance a head of them who were with the caravan and loot. -‡-
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Coroth
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Re: -‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

Mon Jun 15, 2020 1:02 am



-‡- Coroth glanced around again. It was a good habit, that constant lifting of your eye to gauge your surroundings. To note the darker shadows beyond the nearby trees. To discern the flickering of a hanging tree branch from the movement of someone or something that it could have been a second prior. Was it? You wouldn't know. It seemed like his eyes had a way of playing tricks on him. Or he had an earnest appetite to be surprised. But it rarely happened. They were too far enough away from the village, the closest local of civilization for it to be a normal person of the area. It though, was possible that the bandits had men on foot. How quickly humans would need to run to keep up with horses. Or, such movements could be something not associated with them at all. Like a beast of the area sneaking up on unknowing prey.

More coins were relishingly scraped out of the leather depths of another purse. These lads sure weren't rich in their prospecting upon villages. Wings were felt being bothered again by the leering breeze. The feel of his strict feathers bristling as the wind slightly picked up, and breathed through their folds behind him. Tersely, they were stretched, then pulled back sharply to his back as if to get rid of a nuisance of a bug that might have landed within their lengths. As a horse uses his tail to his backside against flies. Coroth crept forwards, staying low to the ground. Muscles along his thighs bristling against flesh that was exposed above his knee and downwards. The lengths of the leather of his skirt hung down on each side of the stretched muscles between the many partitions that hung from the belt further above. The next body was thus snuck towards, or more so lazily crept towards. They were all dead, for they definitely were no longer moving. Ochroid depths slid downwards to return to the body now before him. His hands shuffled through the thin leather of a jacket to feel for pockets, or hidden items inside of it. Then the usual patting elsewhere around the waist. Coroth wasn't experienced at searching the dead, weapons on the ground were usually able to be sold. Eyes lifted to one of the remaining horses nearby that he tethered to a low hanging branch earlier. A harness of rope had bundled together an assortment of swords and spears. On the other side of the saddle of one was a large satchel that weighed with the burden of pieces of armor that he felt could be sold for coin. As a leatherworker, he knew well what was still useable, as well as what he could mend together and build into something better.

Another pouch was passed over where it hung towards the ground. A brief moment was spent tugging at it, and its knot. It seemed that some people had their own way of making knots. Ways that prevented these small purses from being quickly pulled free. It took him a few moments to figure out that he wouldn't be able to unbind it. In a sighing breath, his hand drew forth the wisdom of a small blade, drawing the cord to the edge. He cut it free to fall into the catching grasp of his cradling hand. It was a boring matter, ruffling through bodies for loot. It was like a job in itself. Having to be so close to the dead, and still dying. One of which was next as he rose back into a stance, and strode to the third figure that had an arrow lodged through his shoulder, inches away from his heart. He was watched as Coroth approached. Spasms suddenly shaking his body as his blood was constricted from passing through his body properly. As he convulsed and shook, bubbles of fresh blood began staining his mouth and neck with the dark crimson from within.

Coroth stood over the dying man for a lingering moment, then set the leather of his boot onto the mans' chest. His hand gripping at the protruding length of the arrow shaft, a few strong jerking twists were given. He felt then how it was stuck and closed upon by drying blood and grasping muscles within that were quick to heal internally. A wince fettered over his lips before he sent his muscles to argue with it again. Then quicker to pull it free in one piece. The arrow was heard squelching through blood from the orifice. Then it jarred against bones linign the rib where he perhaps had pulled it free at the wrong angle. The metal of it's head caught against the sinew of bone, causing an immediate spasm of the dying man to arce his back upwards as if to put himself back along the arrows tugging shaft. Then with another violent twist, Coroth attempted to pull it free again, only for the frail shaft to snap beyond the grip of his vising fist. The body thudded onto the earthen ground below. Blood flowed forth from the wound like a small geyser, covering bared flesh before it sunk into the filthy remains of what was once a white tunic. It didn't take but a few more moments for the body to go slack, and die completely.

A remorseful sigh passed through the avriels nostrils. Not that the man had died, but because he would have to set to the task of creating a replacement arrow. Sinking back down onto folding thighs, Coroth's hands were sent to the mans' waist to rummage along it for a pouch or something of value to come out of the ordeal. And so he would continue for another body or two. Until he would rise up, finished. The feel of blood flowing back into his legs whilst he strode about and returned to the tethered horses beyond caused that reknown numbing sensation from legs he didn't really use for running at all. The leather of the reins were led free to slide through the crisp callouses of his hands so the beasts would follow him back to the road, to continue the journey they were intended to make. To reach the wagon bearing the loot and the other avriels beyond. Lengths of his hair bound into leather thongs and binding cords shifted along the stoic features of his visage as he turned his attentions behind him. To the road behind him where there was the noticeable darkened shape in the trees above. Barely discernable to the passing eye. Yet he knew it was the other avriel who had come to him for aid. The one who now had returned to the duty of watching for more of them seeking to obtain the loot they had been working to gather before the avriels had taken it for themselves.

Fettered eyes weaved his attentions back along the earthen road that led into a tunnel of forestry and darkening shadows beyond. A swish of his lips to the mise of having to walk instead of fly passed through his features as he led the horses along. An eye passing to one of them, and the saddle upon it. He had never attempted to ride one. He was an avriel, they flew instead. Yet the notion that it would be quicker if he rode for once beckoned to him. His eye continuing to turn to its corner, to gauge the slow pace that he was leading the mares to maintain so they would not outpace him. He had seen enough humans mount them in the city. It was thus, just a matter of moments that took him to send a foot into the stirrup. His hands grasping, and sliding in a failed attempt for the saddle before the jutting horn was grasped at its' top and used to heave himself up the high flank of the tawny brown steed. It took him another moment, blindly swinging his foot in the air on the other side as he sought the second stirrup to set his boot within. He failed, and had to lean in such a direction to eyeball it, find it, and send his boot into the hanging of metal and leather. Eyes blinked shallowly as the horse beneath him teetered its' head from side to side. Its' large bulbous eyes dark and gleaming as it eyed its' new rider. Then lethargically began to move onwards to keep up with the other horses that meandered upon a path that was to be followed.

"Reh…at least I won't have to walk.." -‡-
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Re: -‡- Gone with the loot -‡-

Thu Jun 18, 2020 6:29 am

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Coroth

Experience: 10 no magic xp

Knowledge:

Combat: Spear - One must learn how to aim while charing in flight
combat: Shield - With the shield above you, mounted riders are better blocked.
Flying - Careful with ones wings when in combat, they become targets.
Mount - The horn is useful to pull yourself into the saddle with.
Combat: Spear - Thrust from beneath a raised shield for different angle.
Combat: Spear - Unharness between wing rotations is unhindering.

Renown: 5 for taking part in a raid against some bandits.

Skill Usage: Appropriate to skill levels. Although I would include tactics and leadership in the skills used.

Loot/Losses: some scrap leather.

Injuries/Conditions: none

Consequences: none

Comments: This was a fun little skirmish of avriel versus bandits. The detail of every action was pretty well done, from the pulling of an arrow from the dead bandit, to the mounting of the horse at the end. Coroth must have been quite tired to resort to riding a land animal. Still, it's a long way to the city, and his wings are probably tired from all the exercise.

Well done and enjoy your points and rewards.

If you have any concerns about this review, please PM me about them.
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