Complete Syroa the Immortal

- Syroa the Immortal, along with others are dead this season. Syroa has a temple in Athart..

3rd of Vhalar 721

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Coroth
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Posts: 172
Joined: Thu Jul 18, 2019 2:23 pm
Race: Avriel
Profession: Leatherworker/Warrior
Renown: 95
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Syroa the Immortal



3rd of Vhalar, Arc 721


-‡-

A blur of dark cerulean wings passed amongst the nearby buildings. Folded naturally behind the avriel, his descent was an act of agility and the use of aerial speed. Speed that had to be drawn from descending much higher within the skies above the temple of Syroa where avriel were known to gather and honor the immortal with their gathering tributes.

Night was an abysmal darkness in the skies above the illuminated terraces that lined the nearby buildings. Terraces which were lined by the growth of greenery and the hang of metal and stone balconies. A darkness that was cast away by the light of the city of Athart where some were still awake, as well as where the guards kept their watch upon the enslaved and free who walked the streets below upon cobbled, and earthen streets.

Streets where even now a handful of rebellious humans had gathered to violate the walls of the temple with vandalism. Those of the Shadow wings had been called upon just the prior day to aid with the guarding of the city. Something was amiss, and was being stirred in the masses of humans during the day. Something was about to happen, or had already happened and was remaining too discreet to be understood by the avriel.

The handful of humans below were defacing the wall of the temple. Coroth was too late to prevent a good many letters if not an entire word of human elk to be written along its surface, yet as he descended upon the handful of men, arms were taken up. One of them seemed to be the leader, and rushed the others to keep the avriel busy whilst the man who was writing something on the walls with paint was rushed to continue with a fester of hands being shaken into the air before him in a show of haste and adrenalin as fear and anger seethed through his pale aged features.

Two of the humans took up their bow and arrow, weapons which were hard to come by within the city of Athart, yet were hidden away by the rebelling human. The sound of twining strings being stretched as they were pulled taut sounded, but the humans were only so skilled in their use.

Coroth was already armed with his arsenal of weapons and the leathers of his armor. When he was on duty as a warrior of the Shadow Wing, all that was suitable for combat was brought with him. Even now, a long shield was passively wielded upon his left arm. Its' weight was something he was growing used to flying with, even now he shifted the angled top of it to not influence his decent by keeping it close to his body, and angled towards himself. *

Only a few moments passed before the first of the arrows arced through the air, objects the avriel was skilled with himself, and could trace their trajectorial path towards him in a way that he chose to avoid. A twist of his wings behind him was drawn from their muscled rootings, he would evasively fly beyond the arce through the air that the arrows would follow. Avoiding them, if by mere inches from his shifting feathers.*

The humans below did not have enough time to draw further arrows into use, the avriel was getting too close, to quickly. Another maneuver with the wringing of his darkening wings caused him to twirl into an angle that would bring him more horizontal to the ground so when he would come upon them, he would still be in flight, and not hit the ground when he'd pass by. *

In that following moment, his spear was shifted beneath his arm, tightening it as he had in past, until the blood squelch of its' metal tip buried itself within the flesh of the first of his prey below as he passed by. The other archer attempted to fire his bow at near point blank, but his timing was off, or perhaps something caused him to loose the arrow too soon as the blur of his form passed by. The menace of claws in the air a strickening of fear to the mans' apprehension. Causing the second to duck in place to avoid such close proximity in the avriels passing.

The aged leader of the group half hunkered down against the wall himself out of fear and spiteful protest that was kept silent by shivering lips. The avriel was watched as he flew by, only to retract into the air with a blitherance of its' wings suddenly snapping outwards to draw it into a complete menacing halt. The taper of clawed feet scratched upon the stones of the road below as Coroth landed, and began approaching the demoralized humans with haste still coursing through his blood.

A blade was released from its sheathed home behind him, the sound of metal links unsnapping biting into the air before it was hungrily vented forth above him with an arce of his arms movement. Muscles rippled along his descending bicep as the shimmering blade reflected the light of a torch that had been dropped by one of the men moments prior.

With a rush of steps, the avriel leapt into the air to pounce upon the remaining man who had been vigilant with the bow, the only one remaining who had attacked him. The second had already fallen to the ground nearby, with the avriels spear jutting forth from his upper chest, giving the spear grounds to keep it jutting in the air in silent salute to it's use.

The second man was in a rush for his life, his own sword being drawn forth from its scabbard at his side was raised just in time to parry the descending blade that would have ended his life. It would not keep him alive for long. For as soon as the blade was parried, the hilt of the avriels sword came lunging downwards to send the pommel brutally smashing into the mans' face. Sending him spiraling off of his feet to the ground below with a spray of blood spewing forth into the air in its wake. *

The blade was leveled, shimmering metal directly pointing to the aged man whilst the painter abjectly remained frozen in fear with a paralyzed lack of comprehension of what to do to prevent his own death at that point.

"What do you do that would require your lives?!" Blitherance spewed forth from Coroths lips, hatred that he was attacked by these humans, and an indignant air of superiority over them tainted the air that sent forth his words.

The aged man dropped onto his knees in pity, his hands clasping before him as he begged with clutchingly white knuckles, and a face that wore a smug frown as he made himself humbled before the avriel warrior.

"..She is dead! It is to be known by all!" The aged man spewed such words forth, a declarance of whom was not deduced, yet the temple of Syroa was what was being painted upon so late into the night. Just who he was talking about muddled the avriels thoughts. Thoughts that had no part or acceptance that he would at all be referring to the immortal herself.

"…it may be best if you are interrogated..your under arrest.." -‡-
word count: 1231
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Coroth
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Posts: 172
Joined: Thu Jul 18, 2019 2:23 pm
Race: Avriel
Profession: Leatherworker/Warrior
Renown: 95
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Wealth Tier: Tier 3

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Re: Syroa the Immortal



-‡- It was whilst the disrupting avriel was "arresting" the leader of the pack, that a few others of another group were returning from their own chore of the night. The sounds of death, groanings of pain, and the precision strikes of a warriors blades impacting through flesh had menaced the nearby alleyways with their short, bloodying echoes.

Such noises drew these men to return to their leader, and when the avriels back was towards these other openings into the area, their chance to actually bring down one of their feared rulers was at hand. A blade was sent hissing through the air, its' length long and sharp as it was more inclined for use in the kitchens. A blade that nearly any human was allowed to obtain for his own use to eat with. Yet this one was sharpened and made into a weapon that could kill all the more efficiently. The owner no doubt had spent his free time practicing the art of throwing such a blade, for it hit Coroth with practiced ease.

It was only a moment after he was feeling the vigor of achieving a successful victory over these inferior humans that he lost track of keeping an eye on his surroundings. He was alone, and felt the small handful of humans could be dealt with, and he had proven himself correct. It was in that embodied moment of strengthened glory that he heard a sudden hiss from the air come from the darker alcoves nearby. Then he felt its cause burying itself into the leather armor protecting his arm.

Coroth made his own armor. From the thick leather of the large reptilian beasts that crawled along the rivers just beyond Athart Arcs ago. Thick leather that was in some regions heavier than that which the humans used upon their saddles to ride upon. Such leather covered him along his shoulders and down along his upper arm. The feel of the blades impact was more than a concussive blow against his armor. It was not the steel armor that the royal guard wore along wings and chest. For the blade was felt slowed in its penetration, yet the chiseled point was now pinned against the flesh of his shoulder.

The sudden rush of crimson was felt wetting beneath his armor, it could be nothing less than his own blood. As he shifted, he felt the piercing of metal embedded in his armor, and instantly that it was better not to move his arm towards it, thus disabling his ability to use his shield arm, the weight of it keeping it down towards his side. Where it had already been relaxed whilst he had begun his arrest.

Coroth was lucky it was not aimed for his head, or had missed if it was. Yet the avriel was quick to turn around and face the new attackers. A grizzled flicker along his thin lips was forced out as anger seethed through him with the boiling of blood that rushed to seal the wound, or escape from it before it could. Two more men had enough balls to charge forth from the darkness. Brandishing clubs that had become more lethal objects with the wrapping of metal, and the jutting of nails. Objects that could easily be hidden in refuse or piles of debris anywhere.

A flush of breaths was drawn as the wound festered, he had not the time to release his weapon to pull the blade free, and left it lodged in place. The blade in hand was raised above the shield in a horizontal fashion. A defensive tactic recently taught to him by another avriel shield-bearer. One that deflected the first of the clubs as it was hammered down towards him from the mans's shoulder. The blade was allowed to parry from his blade, even falling to the shield to use the bulwark as a solid base to bounce the club away from him. Coroths blade pursuing it to send a slash through the air beneath the ascending club. A twist of his wrist sent the shimmer of steel through the air to slice through the mans arm as he lunged forward to gain ground, and get the reach needed to cause blood to spurt forth from a lacerated neck.*

Yet, the second man was not far behind the first. For he took advantage of the blade and club in movement. Some would be afraid to be caught in the midst of whirling weapons. Uncertain of which would be going which way. Yet the second man was no dancer with the sword, and lunged in with a thrust towards the avriels opening below his arms. Whilst the sword was slicing through flesh above, a club was felt stunning him in the gutteral region below. The thickness of his currass only drawing so much of the impact before he instinctively retreated.

Another moment and the avriels sword was returning to the air at his side. A puff of breaths were used to regather what was spent within his lungs before the second man gathered himself, and took on another aggressive assault. A twirl of the club was sent at the avriel, a continual swirl of the wooden length of bludgeoning destruction were a whirl from side to side In an infinity like pattern in the air.

Coroth was taken aback as other steps sounded behind him from where the one he was to arrest had been. A flicker of his attention would be all it would take to get hit by the club. The footsteps behind him were heard running away, he decided to let him go as he fled.

Another moment and he decided how to best the clubber. The blade was twisted through the air by arm to wrist, and at the right opportunity, he sent it forward with a thrust of its tip. The length of the blade longer than that of the weighing club. The greeting of metal fileted the inner length of the assaulting arm bearing the club. Causing blood to spill into the air onto the ground below. The mans ability to hold the club lost, its sound ricocheting off of the ground below in a following breath of a moment. A gape of the humans mouth was a must, as he nearly fell to his knees and begged for his life as he took his injured arm into his hand to staunch the flow of his own bleeding.*

Watching as the avriel took another glance around his surroundings. Finding a handful of dead at his feet, blood soaking the stones lining along the road. Brows went awry as he dealt with a sudden feign of the revelation, and nearly swooned some on his feet before he recalled the blade at his shoulder. As he found a moment free to do so, he put his sword down for a moment against his shield, and was quick to grasp at the handle of the lodged blade in his leather. The length of the blade was deftly yanked free and flung aside before another attack was upon him.

Whilst he took to gather his sword, the sound of other wings began to descend from the skies above. The others of his wing had heard the clamor of bloodletting, one of which perhaps saw the fleeing figure still running away, the sound of wings being used to pursue him could be heard heading that way. They were silent when they were at work. Unlike other avriels during the day who were quite loud and the complete opposite. These of the shadows maintained a quiet, sneaky tactic to keep themselves alive, and to kill those they were after.

"Coroth..you are from henceforth prohibited from scouting on your own, you keep taking all the kills..damnit! Besides..a witness would be useful if we are ever questioned about matters like this," so states the avriel woman in charge. One who had kept him in her squadron for some time now, and was known to make small jokes with him. Yet she seemed serious enough to have another reason that began to wrinkle the corner of her eyes as she began pacing between the bodies to see if she could identify the fallen.

"As you wish..one spoke that someone is dead..a she..though I did not get a chance to find out who it was he spoke of."

"I see…perhaps we'll find out later…for now, we need to get rid of these bodies." Gesticulations were made to the others, their tardiness causing them to become the cleaners of the night instead of the hunters they had a knack to be.
word count: 1450
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Pegasus Pug!!!
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Re: Syroa the Immortal

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Coroth

Points! 10 (may not be used for Domain Magic)

Knowledge:
Combat: Shield- bounce a weapon off of it like a parry.
Combat: Sword -After a parry, use momentum to slash inwards while lunging to close distance.
Combat: Sword - After a parry, the hilt can be brought down as a bludgeon.
Investigation: At sword point, and death of their comrades, they will talk.
Combat: Bow - Knowing the arce of arrows when shot upwards, while in flight, you can determine where they will arce.
Flight- While descending, keeping the shield close to the body increases ones aerodynamics.


Loot: None
Injuries/Overstepping: See Consequence below.
Renown: 10


Comment
Hi Coroth! This is an interesting thread where you depict Coroth fighting off a bunch of rebellious humans. I enjoyed reading the story and you have some moments of really lovely imagery. The story is cohesive and flows well and you have a clear structure to it.

There is an issue, however, in how you play Coroth's skills - he is a Novice in most of his skills, and you play him here as Expert level. Let me give you some concrete examples, so you can avoid it in future threads:

1. Flight: You've got Coroth pulling off some pretty intense manoeuvres there. He's competent flying, but dodging arrows and the sort of mid-flight combat you're describing here would be much more tricky.
2. Detection: Tracing the trajectory of incoming arrows etc is a detection skill use - he has no skill in it, currently.
3. Combat: You've got Coroth killing people with a spear, mid-flight. He's novice with a spear.
4. Intimidation: People are quivering in fear from him - he has no intimidation skill.
5. Athletics: Leaping into the air mid-combat requires a decent level of athletics - he has no athletics skill
6. Endurance: Coroth took a wound without batting an eyelid - those hurt and he should show that.

In future threads, please take Coroth's skill levels into account. You could have the same outcomes, but would need to work ways around this. Maybe the others of his group could have joined him earlier, etc.

Consequence
Coroth has been seen and recognised by those who seek to undermine the very structure of Athart! He has been targeted by an anti-avriel / anti-slave group who have identified him as more of a threat than he actually is. This means that they will attempt to assassinate / stop him - and will send people much more skilled than him to do this! How will he escape? Will he emerge victorious or will he be taken and interrogated? That's up to you! Have fun with this consequence- it gives you the chance to play Coroth's skill levels and to build them up at the same time.

Enjoy your rewards!

Peg.
word count: 473
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~~Red in hoof and claw... ~~


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