Solo This broken road

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

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This broken road

Postby Achenar on July 2nd, 2015, 11:58 am

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55 Summer 515AV

He was alone in his thoughts, and the night was still, and dark. His room was too stifling and dull. He required the breeze on the wind and the steady, low chatter of city life around him. Leth had risen, and with him came his celestial form; graceful, statuesque and glimmering. He hated it. Despised what it stood for. And in the silence of his room, the memories returned, sinister and brooding and uninviting. The ethaefal could hardly find the solace he needed to practice his craft.

He shoved the daggers into his belt, laced his boots and stepped out the door of his room, locking it behind him. Maddoch fell into a steady gait, his hands in his pockets, and his gaze flickering toward the warm glow of the lanterns that dotted the streets. He found it idly amusing that the cacophony of the outside world was far more comforting than solitude. The sea breeze whistled through the trees, smelling faintly of salt. The echo of voices drifted out the polished doors of various establishments. He wondered idly what Caelum was doing at this moment.

He felt eyes linger on him as they always have; gazes that followed him because he was different. But after fifteen years, the ethaefal had learned to ignore the attention his celestial form brought. But where he was far more relaxed in his Svefra body, in his celestial form, he was on edge, and wary. Trust could not be extended to anyone, not even in the city of blue men.

Maddoch’s pace quickened as he passed through the gates, the last rays of the setting sun falling below the dotted horizon.

The dusty road extended ahead of him as far as he could see in the encroaching darkness. He stepped off the path and strode beneath the boughs of the trees that loomed above him. He strayed far enough to be shrouded by the foliage, but close enough to see the road and the amphitheatre from his vantage point. Here, he could practice in relative safety, without the prying eyes of bystanders who would likely be alarmed at blatant displays of magic.

He settled against the groove of a tree, nestled between upturned roots. With his back pressed against the bark, he closed his eyes and crossed his legs. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled with a low hiss. Helena had been insistent on the need for meditation to stabilize the mind and the body. The energy and willpower needed to split the astral body from a limb was one that was often strenuous. And so he always began with this; eyes shut to the world and ears open. He listened to the wind as it whistled through the trees, rustling branches. He heard the sudden flap of wings and the steady chirp of another.

Maddoch breathed again, his palms extended, as he focused slowly on the djed in his veins. Brows furrowed, the djed accumulated in his left arm and he slowly pried the astral limb from its organic host. He’d done this same routine dozens of times before and yet the effects still felt very much the same. His arm went slack and limp, remnants of pinpricks gliding up his shoulder, as the astral projection was raised high. His eyes scoured something easily grasped, and he directed the astral limb to pick up a stick. It was a good size, easily capable of being a makeshift dagger.


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Last edited by Achenar on July 20th, 2015, 1:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Achenar
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This broken road

Postby Achenar on July 2nd, 2015, 12:07 pm

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Maddoch pulled himself to his feet slowly with the stick in proverbial hand. He turned to face the tree, one arm limp at his side, the other curled into a fist as he brought the stick down on the tree in a mock sword gesture. If he was going to protect himself, he damn well better know how to fight. And though he fancied himself more a mage than a fighter, magic was not going to save him from physical blows.

And so he lashed again with his astral arm, satisfied with the cracked splinter of the stick as it split in two. Another crack echoed after that, and Maddoch paused when he felt a kiss of a blade against the nape of his neck.

“Well look what we have here, a horned freak. Not many of those around are there?”

The voice was almost guttural with a faint inflection. Maddoch dared to turn his head slightly to catch a glimpse of his assailant. The man was an imposing height and build, his thick arms encased in gauntlets, though that was the only piece of armor he had aside from one pauldron secured to his shoulder by a strap around his chest. The rest of him was donned in leathers that had seen their fair share of use, aged by the sun and wear.

“He fits the description so far,” a second voice, a woman, relayed to the man. Her tone was low, with a strange, foreign accent.

“Turn around, boy,” The man growled. “Nice and slow.”

Maddoch swallowed hard. The fear and rage in his gut bloomed like a poisoned lotus, forcing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. Slavers… or hunters, the ethaefal was unsure. His mind was in a chaotic state, trying to formulate a plan. Any petching plan. He wasn’t going to be a slave again.

He slowly turned as he was ordered to and abruptly swung with his astral limb, catching the man in the face. As the brute stumbled, clutching his bruised jaw, the ethaefal bolted through the trees, reattaching his astral limb to his arm in shambles, leaving the arm in a state of a painful numbness that he could hardly lift. But before he’d made it ten paces, a net slammed into his back and sent him crashing into the ground, tangled in a mess of rope and dried leaves.

“Well, well, he’s a petchin’ little runner, ain’t he?” The woman smirked as she approached. She kicked him brutally in the side with a steel toed boot, forcing the air from his lungs with a painful groan. “You’re useless, Torben, I swear.”

“Shut your mouth, woman,” the man barked, rubbing his jaw with a gauntleted palm.

Maddoch tried to focus on his breathing, staring into the hard ground as he breathed in the scent of the dirt and grass. The woman’s fingers curled around a glassy horn, forcing his head up with a harsh jerk.

“Lookit here, the faint brand of Radacke, what a coincidence,” there was a smirk to her tone and an inky blackness to her eyes that denoted exotic origin. She was olive-toned and garbed in just as much leather as the man, and looked just as fierce.


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This broken road

Postby Achenar on July 2nd, 2015, 12:11 pm

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“What the… petch do you want with me?” Maddoch hissed. Though he was trying with every effort to hide the anxiety in his tone, it still seeped through his gritted teeth. He had to build up a wall, build up a persona, an act. He lowered his right arm painfully slow, down to the sheath of his dagger.

The woman took a look at him and laughed, shoving his face back on the ground. “You couldn’t guess, you daft boy?” She asked, unhooking the rope from her belt. “You ever take a look in the mirror? It’d be staring you right in the face.” The big man Torben laughed at that. The woman gestured to him with a sharp jerk with her chin and he lifted the heavy net off the ethaefal.

The black-eyed woman reached for his arm, and that was when the ethaefal unsheathed his dagger, aiming for her wrist with a swipe. But in just as fast a motion, the man’s heavy boot crunched down on his arm, and he let out a harsh yell. Torben the brute threw back his shaggy head and laughed. “The boy thinks himself a fighter, Djork.”

Boy. The word made him seethe. He clenched his jaw and tried to pull his arm from under Torben’s weight, but it was futile. Soon his world was a muffled darkness as the bag went over his head. Something in him snapped like volcano.

DON’T PETCHING TOUCH ME! He roared, slamming his forehead into the man’s arm, trying to lurch to his knees. But he was met with a fist to the gut, forcing him to curl over in a sharp pain that sent mixed signals to his brain. Pain is pleasure. His mind echoed. NO.

“I’m NOT A SLAVE,” He yelled again into the rough, scratchy bag that covered his face. The man dragged him easily by his foot. He didn’t know for how long, only that he struggled in the rope that bound his arms, trying to twist them free, except with just the utility of his one right arm. He was abruptly lifted after he’d been dragged to what felt like a road, and tossed unceremoniously into a caravan. Or that was what it sounded like, as the wood creaked and a flap was lowered.

“Now don’t be going nowhere,” the man’s voice uttered with an amused undertone, as Maddoch felt his legs bound together and his wrists secured to a seat. “Your master is dying to see you again, ey.”

Those words sent dread down his spine, and it took all the effort in his bruised body to smother the rage that consumed him. In truth, he was afraid. Death would have been bittersweet, but he hadn’t longed for Dira’s embrace.

Until now.


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This broken road

Postby Nivel on December 11th, 2015, 7:08 pm


Maddoch :
XP Award:
  • Observation 2
  • Organization 1
  • Stealth 1
  • Meditation 2
  • Intimidation 2
  • Interrogation 1
  • Projection 2
  • Endurance 3
  • Planning 1
  • Running 1
  • Escape Artist 1
  • Subterfuge 1
  • Acting 1
  • Weapon: Dagger 1
Lore:
  • Avoid prying eyes when preforming magic
  • Meditation: an essential part of the magical practice.
  • An encounter with Bounty hunters
  • The Master comes to collect
Notes: A pretty short thread but there was purpose and it was written well. Keep up the good work. :)
Although you should update your character sheet soon, you still have fall expenses that need to be paid make sure those get taken care of or at least indicate that you weren't active that time. The season change didn't happen that long ago so I did your grade anyway.

Additional Comments: If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to message me.



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