Closed Brittle Bones and Iron Will

[Daegron]

Fall 64th, 514AV
late night

Defiance.
The wind was howling. It found it's way through alleys dark and canals wide lashing at the occasional Ravokian who'd brave the storm that was brewing in order to return to the safety of their homes. There was a certain tension in the air; one could feel it seep under the warm clothes and crawl under the skin. The roaring thunder mocked them as the rain never came. Like drums of doom it cracked it's dire warning: "Stay inside"

But Daegron just wouldn't listen. Fear was something he never knew. As faith in the One God dwindled among the floating city's denizens, his own was growing larger. It was another test to weed out the weak. Rhysol's might was greater than any storm. The chilling wind against his numb face was a thrilling sensation that made him feel alive. He'd spent the evening aimlessly wandering around the Merchant Ring and the Docks district, openly defying the weather. And as that hunting trip proved earlier in the season, exciting things happen under extreme conditions. After a few uneventful days in that new job of his, he needed a good stiff drink. He'd settled for the Malt house, craving a few drums of that sweet fiery nectar that Verin Rush, the zealot, eagerly served.

Yet the man wasn't there; it would be great to end this day with an intellectually stimulating conversation but he settled with quiet contemplation. He enjoyed every little drop of his whiskey, and got lost in his thoughts. And since there was no one to accompany him, he did what he thought was best. To keep his magic powerful, he'd learned that keeping a constant focus was necessary. He'd sink into himself at quiet times and visit his core. Djed was becoming more and more accessible and it's influence upon his physical form was now greater. The union of body and energy was re-made solid and that connection was constantly getting stronger. Staring at his glass, he focused inwards and revelled as his vibrant essence coursed through him. With slow, controlled breaths, he channelled it around his body letting it flow unhindered as it washed every fibre of his being. By the time his glasses were emptied and his palate satisfied, his magical game was over. Invigorated both mentally and physically, he walked out of the Malt House, ready to walk into the pandemonium that would soon reign outside.

They believed it to be the perfect night. The fierce wind would cover the whimpers or cries for help. They knew these alleys like the back of their hand. All they needed was a target with a full purse to prey on, rob and toss it's body in the lake. Blame it to the fish and move out. Rinse and repeat. Brenn's face was twisted in a constant wince; last night was a nightmare and that painful throb still lingered on his long thin limbs. He cursed the old man they’d robbed. Mostly broke, stinking of urine and worse, he probably carried some kind of a disease that was contagious. Other than that stupid skull-shaped Talisman that was now hanging from his neck nothing good came out of him. Derrin was in a good mood. Tall like his brother but a lot heavier, he tried to keep the spirit's high during that hell of a night.Their luck was soon to change. Some fool had decided that this alley was a good short-cut to wherever he was heading. Brenn nudged his elder sibling as soon as this rugged looking man passed before them. A quick glance, a nudge and a sly smile; they were soon tailing him.

Daegron was no stranger amidst thugs. He'd spent long hours with the worst scum and knew them well. It only took him a quick glance to notice the tell-tale details that marked them as such. The way they stood and pretended to casually talk. The sudden volume increase in their fake discussion. The knave's facial expression and the look that reminded a predator's eye fixed on it's prey were familiar. He didn't need to look back to know they were tailing him already and would soon make the move. With a cunning grin on his face, his pace changed into a light-hearted trot. He faked the occasional stumble to imitate alcohol's influence. But his mindwas very focused and clear and adrenaline was already being pumped around his body. They were in for a big surprise.

His lips moved and terrible words were whispered, carried away by the breeze. While his chant grew in volume and power he reached inside himself and was happy to find his Djed still vibrant and swirling madly. A strand was pulled and commanded to travel along veins and arteries, spreading around his body. And the shift was swift and accurate. Inside his bones, the precious material that was his marrow followed the chant's rhythm. Following that monotonous vibration his bones hardened and his ribs expanded and and slowly melded into a single entity; Soon a solid, yet elastic thorax was made. It's outer hard shell would protect the Morpher's organs like an armour. His hands grew slightly longer. His muscles condensed and expanded and tendons coiled and sprung, to support and strengthen his new limbs. The skin on his forearms dried and a multitude new layers were slowly stacked on to of each other, till the surface was hard like a tree-bark. They'd be useful to stop a small blade, and that thick hide would prevent any tissue damage. His fists tightened and his knuckles were torn by bone-white spikes that grew an inch out of his hands.

Focused on his magic as he was, he missed an important detail. One of them was not following any more and when he realized that behind him there was only the sound of one man's footsteps it was too late. Lightning struck and thunder cracked and from that dark corner, a pair of thick arms reached to grab him from his neck, wrapping around his throat. He was stopped dead on his tracks and pushed forcefully against the wall, crashing onto it. Underneath that pale oil lamp, a face appeared and words escaped it's bloated lips.

"Give me everything you carry, or they'll find you floating in the canals!"
"Petch off you piece of shyke !" he spat and his spiked fist struck on this fat man's flabby belly. With a grunt he was left free, and stumbled to the side.
"You filthy petcher !" the thug snarled and deftly pulled his knife aiming for Daegron's face. His forearm was instinctively raised and cold steel was deflected, leaving behind a deep cut. It did not bleed, for the thick hide wasn't pierced. But the fist that followed landed on his chin and threw him off balance. He fell on the hard platform's floor, cursing under his gritted teeth. A second pair of hands, doubtlessly the man that was still following, lifted him up. and pushed him towards the fat man.
"You don't value your life, fool ?"
Daegron was grabbed and turned around. Dizzy from that mighty punch still, his arms were locked behind his back. That fat petcher was strong; his grip would not falter. The thin guy came closer, his eyes were bloodshot and staring at him in the most curious or unusual way. He'd noticed the Morpher's hands.
"So, you're not human ? Bad place to be. No one will miss you..."
He pulled his arm back ,clenched his right fist tightly and sent it flying towards Daegron's stomach with all his strength.
"Aaahhh... Petch !" The force of the blow nearly took his breath away. But as the thug's hand fist connected with the bony armor, a horrible cracking sound was felt. Something broke, and it wasn't his ribcage turned into a wall.
"... my petching hand ! You freak !"
As a shrieking gust of wind blew straight into his face and pulled his raven mane back, Daegron's emerald eyes gleamed with pride. He burst into a laughter that roared over the distant thunder.

Another knife was drawn by Brenn. With the left hand shaking, and the right hand useless he walked closer. Glaring hatefully he aimed for the Morpher's throat...

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words : 1370

[Venser Rush]

The weather rebelled so furiously against the protection of Rhysol that it had even managed to penetrate Ravok's limits. The winds flapped against Venser Rush's coat as he stood at the docks, watching the winds whip maliciously upon the distant trees of Lakeshore. He could not see the event transpire, but he could only assume, instead his gaze casting upon the dark waters of Lake Ravok as the high winds whipped water into the air. As Venser looked into the abyss of the black water in the midst of the night, Venser felt a deep, foreboding chill that had little to do with the cold upon his face. A breath escaped his lips as he continued to stare deeply into the Lake's water. It was then that Karn penetrated the Rush twin's mind, the Familiar hiding in the man's pocket, the five-inch long frog quickly making its way out to see exactly what it was that the Rush twin was looking at.

The lake? You're having us stand outside in the midst of a storm to stare at water?

I refuse to submit to the climate and interrupt the habits that build my resolve as a mage.

Resolve as a mage? Such nonsense. What does the lake have to do with that? You sound like a fool looking to catch a cold.

"The water frightens me, Karn. I look upon the abyssal depths of the Lake and see the experience of drowning. I stare into the black tides of night and see the death that all are inevitably destined for. It strengthens my resolve as a mage to look into my fears, for I fear that death. Magic is a way of hastening one's way to that death, as well.

And in that, there is a conundrum, is there not? To look deeply into the water and equate it to the magic that threatens to destroy me is to build my strength. For if one equates the flow of the lake and the currents that are swash within the waters. Djed is akin to the flow. If one equates the soul to the lake, the reservoir from which the flow of the rivers, or the astral pathways stems from, then there is a rich comparison. I fear these waters, yet I strive to overcome it. I fear overgiving, as well, but it does not hamper my progression. If I am to fear the death caused by my own hand, then i may as well leap into this lake and die now, correct? I have made this argument before, and I have never died.

This place strengthens my resolve for I WILL NOT allow fear to rule over my mind, Karn."

The Familiar seemed to convey a sense of surprise as the Rush twin explained, a sense of understanding present in his words as he projected,

Fair enough... However, I will not stand by at your bedside should you catch a sickness again. We should leave, now.

Venser nodded in agreement, his face rather numb from the exposure to the winds before he turned around and advanced from the docks without turning back. The Rush twin decided that rather than return to the Foundation of the Elemental Mind and co-habitation with Miro, he would stall his return and find his way towards the Malt House. Both were located quite close to where the Rush twin currently was, and thus the choice would not be a difficult one, Venser making his way forward and out of the cold, his face immediately hit with the preserved heat of the bar. While not freezing outside, the cold had begun to affect his face, the return to its normal temperature rushing colour into his cheeks for a moment. He allowed a moment to take in the air of the Malt House before casting his direction towards the bar.

Verin was no longer there. Instead, Grayson and his 'girls' presided over the patronage, drinks served and the laughter of men and women alike permeating the air of the tavern. Of course, the children were gone by now, the families taking refuge in their house and doing whatever it was that a complete, happy family did when they all hid from the storm. Not that it was a common occurrence in the city of Ravok. Almost unheard of, even.

However, Venser's musing was interrupted by an assortment of humans beginning some sort of scuffle outside. There was one, however, that seemed to be calm despite the drinks that had been passed around. unfortunately, Venser had not yet had the chance to partake, but it was for the best. To ingest alcohol, in Venser's particular case of weaker tolerance, started problems. Rather, he sought to watch, making his way out and noting that one man had struck a blow. Blood flowed from the other, portly man's stomach, falling to the floor, and that, in it of itself, was odd. The man's punch had not been particularly fast, yet it had done a powerful amount of damage. Venser commonly associated enhanced physical abilities with the secret for his own. The Flux. And that, by itself was cause enough for Venser Rush to spur the use of Auristics.

Djed welled from the depths of Venser Rush's soul, his eyes utterly focused on the first attacker, not quite listening as they muttered that he was not human, though he saw the transformations that took place upon his body. A grin formed upon his lips as he mustered his djed, linking it to his consciousness and then allowed his consciousness to stretch. Djed allowed the mind to proxy itself and its senses through Auristics. However, Venser instead sought to synchronize with the attacker's aura to see exactly what had transformed his body. The obvious answer was djed.

The Rush twin allowed djed to permeate and Daegron's aura presented with it the concentration of djed flowing through his body. Several feet wide, the man's aura was thicker at particular places, taking the form of a circular shell that coated his body, spiked and horrible to behold. But, to Venser, it was fascination incarnate. If one assumed that the thicker concentrations were djed, Venser could very well assume that it was a magic that was transforming the body. One that could be learned. Though Venser did not take well to changing his body, he could at the very least have a learning opportunity should the man survive. And thus, Venser allowed Auristics to fade and stepped forward, his fingers reaching to the clip at his waist to unsheathe a single punch dagger.

Venser's left fist clenched within the hilt of the punch dagger. His gaze cast over to the man who held a knife, noting how he sought to catch the mage fighter off guard. Venser knew he could not reach the man in time without drawing attention to himself.

But that's fine. I've never been a stealthy sort.

You're about to become involved, aren't you? This should be interesting.

Venser Rush sprung forward as he mustered his djed. Each step was paired with him reaching into the depths of his soul and with it, siphoning enough djed to act as a magnet for the inlaid djed of his right arm. The limb fell from its bent position as the djed was pulled, Venser taking merely a tick to transfer the djed of his right arm and pushing it all into his left tricep. At the same time, he pulled his arm back, ready to strike. The Rush twin knew that he lacked the skill to strike at the man's arm, and thus, he took a different target. Venser Rush's dominant arm struck forth, his tricep thrusting powerfully, charged with the Flux, driving the blade of his punch dagger deeply into the man's thigh. A scream filled the bar as Venser dispersed the djed once again, fueling his right arm with its own strength and bringing it forth to strike the attempted assailant square in the jaw. The force sent the man reeling back, unbalanced and disoriented as he fell to the ground, bleeding.

"Do you need help?" he asked the mage, a grin materialized upon his lips.

Count: 1364.

[Daegron]

Gathering.
The curved knife glimmered under the dying oil lamp and he knew that should it find a way to his throat, everything was over. He desperately tried to break free from the fat man's grasp, but it was useless. No matter how he pushed, huffed madly and kicked around, he was effectively immobilized. The thug's moves were slow and methodical, despite the fact that he was hurting badly. Murder was on his mind, and Daegron could almost hear the gurgling aftermath of his owndemise; he could feel his hot blood pouring out, the cold steel across his neck. His djed was still bubbling, ready to be commanded and his terrible chant was echoing inside his brain. But there was no more time to Morph. The blade rested on his neck and he shuddered at the thought of the inevitable. If only he had a little more time.

But it wasn't his time yet. Feet shuffled and a shadow moved behind his killer-to-be. A mere moment before the knife's edge started carving it's red path across his throat, the shadow disappeared behind the thief's shoulder.

"What..."

A loud scream, another cracking sound and Brenn's weapon abandoned the shaking hand that wielded it. His plan to take the Morpher's life was interrupted by an unknown assailant and he stumbled away, unable to defend against this crippling sneak attack..
"Rhysol bless the bastard..." he thought and the ominous mantra was murmured, invoking Daegron's Djed to stir and energize another transformation. The break he needed was offered to him, and his chances to survive and overcome dramatically increased. That flabby son of an overused whore was going to pay. His grip was already weaker. Righteous rage filled him and violent thoughts sprung forth in his mind. A solid punch landed on the lanky thug's jaw, sending him crashing ungracefully on the floor. That petcher was a threat no more and a torrent of curses in a language that did not exist were spat from the Morpher's mouth. And the man who'd just saved his hide from certain death spoke, offering his help.
"You're more than welcome..." he growled an answer and his face was the livid mask of a madman, adorned by a grin that screamed vengeance.

Through neural paths and nodes Djed found it's way to his spine . Like a black serpent it coiled around the column and was absorbed in it. Another black strand crawled up to his head and the alterations begun. His skull resonated and the bones were thickened and hardened. Three small lumps instantly grew on his forehead, and pushed outwards, tearing the skin that was stretched as they turned into short horns. Each and every vertebrae shuddered under his will and their outer edges elongated till his skin receded to give way to a series of sharp nails that violently sprung forth, piercing Derrin's greasy flesh.

A moan of pain accompanied the retreat of those arms that held him still. He stepped firmly and pushed his captor back with a thrust of his feet. Turning swiftly around, he used the force generated by the spin to empower the spiked fist that crashed on Derrin's cheek, sending him stumbling to the side. He had the upper hand now, his enemy reduced to a pathetic whimpering weakling; surprised from the sudden turn of events, despaired for his brother's body that was being broken in the background and terrified by the monster that was coming closer with vengeance on his mind.
" Murder, Murder !" sang that beautiful whisper that caressed his ear. A thrill of pleasure and shivers that went up and down his spiked spine. How could he resist ?
With a series of quick stems he closed the gap between them and pulled his head back as the thug desperately tried to hit him in defence. His head was pushed forward and his horns hammered his victim's forehead, knocking him down. Derrin's face was a bloody mess as Daegron leaned over him. His hands were made longer and he could ignore the fat man's flailing fists. A series of vile thuds echoed as he hammered on the chubby face with his jagged knuckles, making it into a red mush, incited by the whisper's song.

"But Raelann would never do that...." The thought flourished into his hateful mind and made him stop. He got up, unable to understand. The identity he'd invented days ago and occasionally used had just left a print into his psyche ? Stronger than the whisper that commanded his own demise ? Stronger than the beast, bent on destruction that lurked underneath his morphed skin ? It was all too confusing. As he turned around he saw the man standing over what seemed a dreadful combination of broken limbs blood and tattered clothes that still wheezed and moaned. Much like the pile of fat that now laid behind him. A meeting of killers, it seemed.

His flesh and bones slowly returned to their natural state as Djed was dispersed. He'd become a whole new definition of ugly, but he was now almost human. Almost.
"Great timing..." he said and his voice was raspy and deep, still affected by the ominous chant that powered his magic.
Verin Rush was his saviour ? He could not believe his eyes...
"Much as I'd liked you to make me a proper stiff drink, I am so glad that... No, wait.." Something was wrong. Verin had a knack on changing expressions and moods but this... This was anger at the world that shadowed his brow. It was lust for power that darkened his gaze. And the blood spatters that covered his figure were more like adornments and less like stains. It reminded him so much about himself. He took a long breath and finally spoke.
"So, you're his brother huh ?"

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words: 964

[Nemesis]

Daegron

Skills	*	*
Meditation	*	+1
Morphing	*	+2
Observation	*	+2
Uarmed Combat	*	+1

Lores

* Verin Rush: Has a Twin

*

*

*

*
*
Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• ??
• ???

Venser Rush

Skills	*	*
Skill 1	*	+??
Skill 2	*	+??
Skill 3	*	+??

Lores

* Lore 1

* Lore 2

* Lore 3

*
*
Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• ??
• ???

__________

• I haven’t got much to say here… gave what I could where I could.
• Would have been fascinating to watch Daegron react to the twin.
  Shhh.