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Solsarin gets stabbed, curses. Rita helps?

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The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Solsarin
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Joined: Fri Oct 28, 2016 10:18 pm
Race: Human
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[Outside the Walls] A Leisurely Stroll (Rita)

61 Vhalar, 716

On occasion it behooved one to take a stroll. In recent days the city became stifling, perhaps all that construction made for worse concentration; so Solsarin did what he excelled at - he took to his lonesome. A clear, setting sky made for a peaceful backdrop, the twin suns making their final descent for the evening while the moon rose off the horizon, its form only half-visible. So close as he stayed to the city Sol made due with his usual dregs: a black, woolen cloak with its matching attire and an arming sword belted to his waist. Albeit, he wore a heater shield across his back, although he trusted in the patrols of the Rynmerian military the mage was nothing if not paranoid.

His boots trudged along one of the outer dirt roads, kick-stomping as they went, crunching to match the jingle of the various pouches that accompanied the hilt across his waist. In short, he made no effort to be quiet. A stiff breeze caught his cloak and the man lilted to the side, his silent reverie cast away by the sudden alteration of his course. Oh well, this way then. Sol altered his pacing as his boots took him from the road and into the fields, passing an array of scattered trees plastered about the calm farmlands of the rural regions. Oh nice. A smile spread out over his lips, for once, as the solitude sunk in, a mild feeling of peace uninterrupted by the rush of the city.

At least until someone screamed.

Damn it all. Loud, obnoxious farm girls. Sol rolled his eyes, his countenance soured with a steely gaze. An ear-rending screech rose above the breeze in the not-so-far distance, to where Sol brought his attentions. Three figures, dressed in a similar fashion to himself, poised themselves over another, much smaller individual - a woman, from the looks of it - whom sat before them, her arm stretched out over her face. Interesting.

Sol frowned. He looked to his left. No patrols. Then to his right. Nothing. Damn it. Thrice damn it. A heavy, labored sigh rolled his shoulders into a haunch and the man started up his trek once again, cresting a small hill that gave him a better vantage over the trio and whoever it was that lay before them. His hand came to rest on the hilt of his blade while he slung the shield around his shoulder, carrying it in his off hand in a steady, weary advance. Today seemed to be such a nice, uneventful one. How dull.
word count: 434
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Rita Fenyo
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[Outside the Walls] A Leisurely Stroll (Rita)

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Rita
61 Vhalar, 716

Andaris
Andaris was a different beast from when she left it, malnourished, beaten and weak. Reconstruction was well underway and it was recovering, if slowly. Merchants, however, took this time of strife to exploit the people out of their coin and once common commodities were being priced as rich luxuries. This was a common thing with this part of the world, not that Rita couldn't hate it. She had noticed how they smile with glee seeing an Ithecal walk past, rubbing their hands together and judging how much coin they can get out of them. In her profession Rita had learned this quickly and, despite her instinct not too, often had to haggle. So after telling a merchant where to shove his watered down medicine the rest caught on that she was not one to try and con out of her coin. With the recent war, she found herself making this trip more often than she'd like, supplies not making their way Krome as much as she needed, and having to deal with merchants herself.
Still now she was on her way back home now with only a few looks from the guards whenever she challenged a merchant for trying to cheat her. She sighed and moved her thoughts to things more peaceful. It's quite a pleasant day actually. A nice aroma in the breeze, twin suns not too hot. Birdsong. Yeah, birds out here sound so much different, it's better than back on Yithiral. Hopefully, it stays this way, maybe go out on a picnic with Esha, that would be enjoyable. The ithecal continued on her way oblivious to the movements around her, presuming herself to be safe and not knowing of the new bandit groups that had formed following the war. Anyone from farmers to deserters looking for a quick coin and a young ithecal woman looked like a very easy target.
An arrow just missed her chest, three figures jumping out into the road, one hidden in the bushes. Rita screamed and fell backwards, broken from her thought. They laughed and closed in, she raised her arm seemingly in a protective gesture. Truthfully, they had the sun to their back and she was blocking it so she could see. Her other arm seemed to be supporting her but was going for the survival knife at her back, stave out of reach and too obvious as well as the baton on her front left.
"Well look what we got here." The man, who was not tall, sneered.
"A weak young girly walking all alone" The man, who was not short, added. The woman in the back watched her with a grin. The figure in the bushes said nothing, arrow notched and ready. Rita watched unsure, trying to look every bit the weak 'girly' they made her out to be. She had taken to wearing her armour under her shirt and her ability to wrap around and crush opponents was one often ignored because of her feminine frame.
"Please don't hurt me, I am only running errands for my dear ma'ma. I only have a little pocket money on me" Her breast were bound to accommodate her chest plate better so seeming younger than she was felt like a good plan. It worked, even if it made her feel weird.
"Naw is the little snake scared." The man, who was not short, mocked.
"Gonna cry to mommy. Well, you'll never see her again" The man, who was not tall, added. One of them came close, blocking the archer and moving within range of her knife. She had a plan to take them down with her, they were gonna kill her anyway.
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word count: 672
"Ithecal" Thoughts
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Solsarin
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[Outside the Walls] A Leisurely Stroll (Rita)

Tall. Short. Quiet. Solsarin made no effort to silence his approach. The heavy footfalls of his boots caught the attention of the quiet one in the back first. She pushed the tall one and he turned about, one brow arching at the random black-clad warrior. Sol shot a glance to their prey. What in all the hells? He started at the half-woman half-snack, his lips turning down in a puzzled expression. Right. So. Three bandits and a damsel-snake-lady-thing in distress. Certainly. In his observation he caught the arrow shaft to the side and noted that none of them carried a bow. A fourth, then?

"Mind finding the archer?" Sol muttered to the air. His own shadow seemed to slither away before he turned to address the collection of misfits, his approach already garnishing their attention. "To be quite honest with you all, I don't usually do this. You see the plight of others is something of a nuisance." He paused, his eyes flickering from one bandit to the neck. All armed, but poorly armored; their weapons held a despicable craftsmanship about them. Lucky him, Legion steel made for a stark contrast. "But, I have somewhat of a well. Bandits leave a foul taste in my mouth, something akin to rot and feces. You'd be doing us all a favor if you kindly returned to the sink hole you crawled out of." Bold words for an outnumbered fool. Still. The spheres could even the odds, all he had to do was keep them from surrounding him; mind the flanks, so to speak.

The bushes to the far left. Your fourth man waits there. The Harvester faded back into Sol's shadow. He nodded then glanced in that direction, his body adjusting to place the shield between himself and any sort of proper sight line.

"We have a deal, yes?"

The twang of a bowstring sufficed for an answer. Sol lowered his shoulder and hunkered himself down behind the cover of the shield and braced as the arrow broke against the surface. The impact sent shivers down his arm and his hand fell numb. Ah, the feeling of battle. Sol felt his adrenaline rush and he steeled his thoughts, his head raising above the metal-plate in time to witness both the tall one and his feminine friend rushing his position. The girl was too much of a witness to use the Spheres. No yet anyway. Sol squared himself up with their advanced and poised his blade forward, his silver eyes narrow in anticipation.
word count: 430
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Rita Fenyo
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[Outside the Walls] A Leisurely Stroll (Rita)

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Rita
"You'd do well to leave Human" The woman finally spoke in a slow deliberate voice. Flicking her wrist and kicking up a cloud of dust into the mans face. A sly grin as she eyed him up. "This is our pray and you will live longer if you leave. Now run along human before you get cooked, because you do look tasty. " The man, who was not tall, drew his sword moving for the intruder on their fun, the archer had another arrow ready trying to aim around the shield. Rita was unsure if the woman was cannibalistic or simply trying to unnerve the warrior. Analysing the bandits, she judged the archer to be a deserter, the man, who was not tall, was a farmer by his build and marks on his body. The man, who was not short, she was unsure about, possibly a trader by his well-kept manner. Unsure of whether to end the teenage girl or help with the shielded man, unaware that the Ithecal was moving towards him. Evidently, the shielded man was not leaving, advancing towards them ready for battle.
"Fine then, kill them both" Another cluster of arrows were shot at the man coming to help, this time hard to dodge. Keeping the warrior pinned as the man, who was not tall, charged forward with more gusto than skill. Rita took this opportunity to strike, lashing out with her tail and winding him. The woman turned with slight surprise as he grunted and fell. Before Rita could get a good grip around him, an arrow shot through the air where Rita once was. The Ithecal landed hard but pushed through the pain, now armed with her stave, as the man, who was not short, recovered and charged her. Sword hitting stave, he had more experience than the man who was not tall, blocking and swinging for the Ithecals weak spots. The archer looked at the woman for guidance, she pointed to the Ithecal. Rita didn't see the arrow that hit her, stumbling her and the sword cutting up through her chest. Rita stumbled and slumped. The man smiled thinking the woman slain, turning away to go for the warrior, and being smashed in the head with her stave.
Her shirt was cut open showing her armour that had a gash up the front, the arrow had struck a pouch and gone no further. With a groan of annoyance, the woman gave orders.
"You two kill the idiot, I got the bitch. " She cast off her cloak showing her pale skin, armoured with leather and chainmail. Seeming almost amused by Rita's strength "You seem like trouble snake. I wonder how you taste char grilled." The woman raised up two clumps of earth, tossing them towards the Ithecal, she fell flat on her stomach in a way the woman wasn't expecting. Rita dashing forward but rolling away from a hidden blade. Evidently, it would be a tough fight.
[/style]
Template made by Aelius for Rita
Last edited by Rita Fenyo on Wed Nov 09, 2016 11:24 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 547
"Ithecal" Thoughts
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Solsarin
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Posts: 45
Joined: Fri Oct 28, 2016 10:18 pm
Race: Human
Renown: 32
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Wealth Tier: Tier 1

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[Outside the Walls] A Leisurely Stroll (Rita)

Sol arched a brow as the woman and the tall bandit ceased their charge and resumed speaking. The flame added an element he did not expect. His own confidence wavered - another mage? Here? The concept of a fire-slinging highwayman played ill in his mind, various scenarios of burning flesh and singed hair doing little to inspire acts of grandeur. Another arrow. Shit. Sol grunted and shifted his profile behind the shield once again, its top lilting back at impact and sending another quiver down his arm. He peered about metal again to find two more assailants en-route. An archer, two swordsmen, and a ma- holy fuck what the shit?!

Solsarin's eyes widened as a Fire Ball flew from the woman's hands and exploded in a mass of flaming death. Was that even possible? Ah, no time to contemplate the complex intricacies of magic; in all earnest, Sol did not care for the snake-woman's well being, he merely hated bandits. And these were far out of his league. The man glanced behind him, then back to the bandits. He stepped back, lowered his shield, then spun about, taking off in a dead sprint away from the brawl. He cursed as another arrow broke at his feet. Damn it all! Better to mind your own business. A few lunges took him up the side of the hill. The men galumphed behind, their thick boots hot on his trail.

They are faster than you, Devourer.

"Yes thank you for the update!" Sol's irritation spoke to his own shadow. How odd.

Watch the arrow.

What arrow? Sol threw himself aside as yet another blasted shaft stuck into the ground instead of what should be his torso. The motion set him off balance and he careened to his side, hitting the grass with a dull 'oomph.' He rolled, one foot lancing out to cease his descent. In seconds the tall bandit came upon him, blade brandished, he rose the weapon into the air, his muscles bulging in the sun. Sol's cheeks flushed. The mage threw his torso forward and flailed out with his arming sword, the edge biting bone. The tall bandit screamed as his leg rolled back down the hill while his body crumpled into a heap of blood and pain. Oh how he missed the cries of pain. Sol rolled his eyes. He placed his sword on the ground and pushed himself up, raising to a knee before a second body crashed into his form. For Immortal's sake. Sol involuntarily exhaled. A burning seared down his shoulder from metal digging into his flesh. Why the shoulder?!

A fit of rage overpowered the mage's otherwise placid thoughts. He threw his head back and slammed the back of his skull into the bandit's face. The pressure that kept Sol prone weakened. He posted with one leg and rolled over, raising his sword with the motion and sliding it into a newly exposed throat. Sloppy. And dirty. Arterial spray sputtered out over Sol's hair and beard.

Arrow.

"Give me a fucking bit!" Sol lunged down and threw his shield arm out in front of his body. The head scattered against the front-plate and something in his arm shook from the impact. "How many arrows do you have?!" He lay, once again prone, his eyes latched to the still sputtering form of the short man. There was an idea.
word count: 575
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