Open On The River Paved 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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On The River Paved Road

Postby Wikus on September 25th, 2015, 11:32 pm

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Wikus, whimsical and demanding as he was, felt no need for introductions or further interaction with any of the present as he awaited someone's aid in silence. Truth was, he wanted to be on his way already, for there was no interest in the company of the eccentric group that had gathered nearby the gates. The social differences were far too great for a bond to form, and even friendship would surely require long and exhausting effort that, fortunately for himself, he lacked. At this moment, what mattered most is stomping away from the city that was nothing but a fake paradise.

While the cur that stood near the Drykas didn't feel threatening in spite of his size, the 'Blubble' that stared cross-armed certainly did. Weeks were spent amongst them, tho the few poor interactions he's had didn't provide any clues as to what their culture considered acceptable or not, and perhaps he himself had committed something inappropriate to cause resentment. Not that he cared, for that matter, but some knowledge for future references would be useful. Never the less, he'd glance towards the generic Akalak then and again, mostly because of distrust rather than interest.

But his interest quickly focused back on the Drykas he had in-front. He was the one to perform the first movement, hopefully reaching for a match or some other device that wasn't a flint and steel or, miraculously, pull out a lit branch from a covert camp fire. Being realistic, he did expect a match, leaning forward in order to give the Drykas the honor of lighting his pipe. Yet what he did not expect was the sudden focus the Drykas acquired - and the flame that afterwards spawned in his palm. The humble flame danced above it's owners palm like a taunt.

It was at this moment when Wikus, angry enough for his poor luck on this day, finally brought his eyes up to the younger male he had refused to look before, but now candidly confronting with a gaze. Even from the distance he had recognized his origin, not as much from the characteristic blond hair and the animal company, but instead for that proud attitude and childish features. Once you sniff the wolf, you see through the disguise. That was what that Drykas was wearing - a disguise of humbleness and good will when instead he gloats and snickers as he adorns himself with the flesh of his victims. Both him and his people were all the same, a copy of one another, where only mattered the titles you throw on your backs instead of the ones you earn.

Seriously he considered the possibility of taking him by the wrist and rubbing the flame on the mage's face, in order to taste the magic firsthand. Even if the cur tore apart his leg, he believed to be capable of dragging his kin to the edge and tossing him over it, hopefully to land on the same spot the bucket of excrement landed before, so that he and his cursed species could have a proper burial for the lies they spread throughout the world. Magic and healing, they assured, were not lies. It wasn't charlatanism, they swore. But it was - nothing but lies and deceit to play with people's hope.

But he didn't. Wikus, despite once being one, held great hatred for the Drykas, but even more for the magic users. The man that stood before him was both. More than anything in this world he wished to inflict him pain, even if that meant his own death, yet he was clearly overreacting perhaps due to the stress of the bizarre routine acquired in Riverfall. So, once again, he'd regain his calm, collapsing facade, as he merely stared the mage and awaited his flame. His body was mostly still, yet his hands were shaking lightly as they held the pipe, and the soft features in his face steadily turned grave and harsh as the lips below the bushy beard quivered in anger. Certainly, it looked like he was about to shout his lungs out.

And, yet again, nothing happened. The blue giant was suddenly gone, perhaps slipping out of the reach of his peripheral vision as his mind shuffled the options in his mind, the tense white noise that had surreptitiously taken over gradually letting the sounds of the nearby city resonate once more.


OOC noteWikus is Blight Gnosis Marked, which directly opposes Rak'keli. Perhaps Aoren can sense a bit of antagonism since he has a Healing + Divination? I'll leave it in your hands.
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On The River Paved Road

Postby Aoren on September 27th, 2015, 10:10 am

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I merely speak from experience.” He gave the Akalak a nod. He’d spent enough time limping about because of sore muscles and poorly stretched limbs. At the remark on his small display of reimancy Aoren merely tipped his head.

It is useful from time to time.” Aoren did not mind the subject of magic. He was a very learned practitioner of several disciplines both World and Personal. It was something most people did not expect when they first met him. He did not usually verbalize his proficiency with magic, preferring action over words but he was seldom prone to grand displays of power. He was certainly capable of hurling bolts of lightning, conjuring storms of fire, or making the very earth shake if he so chose but only a few times had he ever been moved to do so. Only in the defense of his life and others.

Well met, Duron!” Aoren called after the Akalak as he took off after the young woman. They both worked at the Sanctuary? That statement only cemented just how out of touch he was with everything that had been going on since the Spring. With both Duron and the young woman gone, Aoren turned his attention to the bearded man. The focus of his auristics came to rest upon this one as he dismissed the wisps of the other auras. As it came into focus the Seer was met with a wall of seething anger laced with the pepper of hate. It caught him off guard nearly making him take a step back in shock. He supposed his parlor trick of conjuring a small flame to assist the man in lighting his pipe wasn’t the most welcome. For whatever offense, Aoren closed his palm withdrawing the strands of his remaining res back into his body. The flame went out instantly becoming nothing more than a dying ember.

He considered the man for a moment before taking a closer look at him. What was most noticeable were the multitude of tattoos upon the man’s exposed skin. Their flow and style immediately stuck out to Aoren was something characteristic of his father’s people. Drykas.

You are well?” Aoren switched to Pavi the tongue of his people. He was not fluent but knew enough to carry on basic conversation. His hands moved in unison with his words inquiring after the man’s well-being.The whole man’s body was making small twitches from time to time. The hands that held on to his pipe were shaking. While Aoren’s windmarks, the only sure way to identify him as a Drykas beyond that of a normal human, weren’t visible his use of the language was a dead giveaway.

The Seer was beginning to wonder if he should simply be about his business. The longer he stared into the folds of this individual’s aura the less he was inclined to prolong interaction with him.
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On The River Paved Road

Postby Alea Davenport on September 27th, 2015, 5:08 pm

Alea had hoped that no one would run after her, but no such luck. Before too long she could hear the heavy footsteps behind her. She did not risk turning to look; that would have only slowed her down. Probably, running had been the wrong move, and it made her look like prey, almost forcing the fire mage to chase her. She began weaving slightly along the road, not enough to hinder her progress over much, but enough that any projectile fireballs might have a harder time hitting her.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up this pace. Her legs, strangely, seemed fine with the exertion, but after just a couple of chimes, her stomach muscles burned. The footsteps still sounded a bit far off, but they hadn't stopped. Alea, without really slowing down, slid into a more regular, loping pace. She counted her breathing by the tick of her feet hitting the ground. In-two-three through the nose, out-two-three through the mouth. She stretched her legs as far out as they would go on each step, trying to let her momentum carry her through, and minimize the amount of energy she was using.

As she ran, she glanced around at the landscape, trying to think of something she could do, since out-running her pursuer wasn't as easy as she'd hoped. It occurred to her that she hadn't seen any fireballs go whooshing past...maybe this mage wasn't terribly powerful? Alea clung to that hope, but that just meant that she'd be in even more trouble if he caught up to her. The cliff-top road offered no protection; there was absolutely nothing to hide her from view, no rocks or trees she could dodge around. About the only thing she could do was jump to her death off the cliff itself, but that rather defeated to point.

But she was running out of energy, quickly. She couldn't keep this pace up all the way to the Sanctuary, and even if she could, did she REALLY want to bring a fire mage down on their heads? No, she would have to deal with this herself, and soon. She looked around again, rethinking her strategy. There were pebbles and loose rocks littered all along the side of the road. That was her best shot, unless she thought there was something clever she could do with grass in a hurry.

Timing her moment, she suddenly swooped down to the side of the road, grabbed a pebbled, rolled onto her back and hurled it with all her might in the general direction of her pursuer. Even if she missed, the flying projectile might give him pause long enough for her to find more rocks, or something.

Now the she no longer had her footsteps to time her breathing, she was openly panting, her throat feeling raw and abused, and her muscles all screeching in protest at their treatment. While she funbled around for more rocks, she was able to actually take a look at who was chasing her. It was...Duron, the akalak. Not the mage, as she had assumed. But why? Was he also sensibly running away from the mage? Or...has he somehow come under the mage's thrall, and come to bring Alea back to endure unimaginable tortures? She clenched the rock in her grip more tightly. Either way, she had no intention of letting him threaten her.
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