Solo Arts of the Arcane III

Through the use of public glyphing Kynier learns more than he's prepared for.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

Arts of the Arcane III

Postby Kynier on June 10th, 2018, 11:53 pm

Timestamp: 11th of Summer 518

It was early in the morning, the summer air still cool from the night. As the city began the day anew Kynier sat at his table with his pen in one hand and a small mirror in the other. Holding the mirror close he kept an eye closed was applying ink both around and over the eyelid. Coordinating his efforts in the mirror was not an easy task. Consistently he almost made the next mark in the opposite direction required. Adding to the difficulty was the size. Kynier was attempting to keep it small enough to avoid drawing attention from others. Though Hea was a less complicated rune to make he still needed the barrier and trigger to be applied.

For a bell he worked on making the first one over his left eye. With the trigger Lousawth settled at the outside corner of his eye. To disguise it he would most likely have to wear his cloak and pull the hood low. The prospect of sweating the rune away was not encouraging. He intended to make another of the same sigil over the other eye, but waited for the ink to dry and avoid getting smudged.

“You look like the fool of a festival.”

“Art isn’t my strong suit. Ironic. Considering glyphing could be considered an art form.” While he waited he meditated. When he reached a piece of tranquility he called forth his djed. Softly he muttered an Auristics incantation. The ink on his eye started to feel warm, and through the eyelid he could see an obscured purple light. After several chimes he opened and closed his eye. The ink appeared to have dried enough to last. Closing the other he spent another half bell or so making a similar sigil. The trigger for the second needed to be different, to avoid activating them both simultaneously. Loustighs. Again he meditated, chanting the Auristic incantation to infuse it into the other eye. By the time he was done half the morning was been spent. Kynier didn’t want to wait much longer. Running up the stairs he took his cloak out of the wardrobe and draped it over his shoulders. From the downstairs cupboard he took out a balance ration and his waterskin. Pulling the rim of the hood over his eyes he stepped out onto the street and made his way to the local well to fill his waterskin.

There had been no plan on where to test the sigils. No scenario was more ideal than the next. Aimlessly he walked down the streets of Sunberth at an easy pace. He found himself moving west and entering Slaver’s Row. A new stock of “merchandise” was up for auction. Numerous souls stood huddled together, naked to the elements of the city and citizens. Disgust filled his insides as he watched a fat man stick his fancy cane through the bars, jabbing its end at the ribs of a young girl.

“Lousawth,” he whispered. Nearly in an instant every person insight began to emanate a smoky mist from their bodies. Each of them a different color in varying shades. Kynier set his focus upon the girl’s beige aura. His body shivered abruptly went he felt how cold she was. A harsh wood surface prodded his side uncomfortably. Fear, hatred, and disdain bubbled under his skin. Kynier broke away his focus from the young girl. It was only the beginning for her. Soon there would be an owner that treated her with no more respect than a piece of furniture, using her for whatever purpose they saw. Kynier hated that there was nothing that he could do about it. Had he any mastery he could burn the whole square to the ground. Instead he could only skulk quietly and watch things that he couldn’t change.

“If you don’t toughen that fragile heart then it will be ripped from your chest, probably by a pretty face too.”

Kynier turned north to leave. He couldn’t stand to even stay here let alone think of trying to read another aura in this place. The ugliest shades of life dwelled in this district, and he hadn’t the callous to tolerate it yet.



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Arts of the Arcane III

Postby Kynier on June 11th, 2018, 12:42 am

His feet carried him north to the Seaside Market. The ever changing layout of shops was filled with nearly anything a person could need. As long as that person wasn’t someone like Kynier. Drugs, weapons, clothing, food, women, men, and everything in between. Walking through the labyrinth of stalls his eyes wandered over the various merchandise. Also he gazed around for someone or something interesting to set his Sight upon. Though trying his auristics here may not be the wisest thing. The multitude of auras could overwhelm him.

As he turned to make his way out he saw three men, thugs, walking in his direction. Why he stopped to subtly watch them he didn’t know. As they drew near he could see that they were Daggerhand men. Nearly forgetting why he came in the first place Kynier approached a stall that they would walk by. The keeper began boasting his wares but Kynier ignored him and waited.

“The Night of Masks is no laughing matter. And you best be ready lads, because it’s start soon.” The oldest said as he walked by. Kynier quickly turned to follow them. Several days ago he had heard that phrase “Night of Masks” going around. Discreet methods hadn’t worked in finding out what it meant, but time was drawing short.

“Loustighs,” he muttered under his breath. As everyone’s aura came into view Kynier quickly focused on the Daggerhand in the center. There was a single feeling most prominent he was having, but Kynier couldn’t really distinguish it. Excitement or anxiety. Something that made his heart quicken in his chest. Kynier also felt an uncomfortable twinge below his ribcage and an urge to scratch at it. But there was something there, in the way, covering the place and the area around it. Kynier’s eyes began to burn and he ended the spell. He rubbed the inky residue from his eye as he continued to follow the three from behind. They left the district heading northeast towards Stumble Alley. After they crossed a bridge Kynier called out to them. The three stopped and measured him with steel gazes.

“You’re Daggerhand men aren’t you?” None of them replied, even physically. “What’s this Night of Masks?” As though it were some sort of que all three rushed him. Kynier nearly drew his short sword in response. What stopped him was that none of them had drawn their weapons, and he didn’t want to escalate the issue that was about to unfold. The two younger ones each took one of his arms. The older slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, painfully pinching the skin.

“It’s not healthy to ask those sorts of questions. Before you were smart enough to leave it alone.” The man’s fist came up and struck Kynier’s face. “Now we got ta reminder you why you don’t meddle in such affairs. Let’s go lads.” The two younger Daggerhands forced Kynier to follow the third into a secluded alley.

“Next time, it would be smarter to just confront one of them.”

Why do you only ever give advice when it’s too late?



Word Count: 518 Total Count: 1,211
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Arts of the Arcane III

Postby Kynier on June 11th, 2018, 1:22 am

They pinned him against the wall and stood out of the way of the older man. A wicked smile was spread across his face as he alternated hands cupping the other fist. Kynier tried to keep his breathing calm and didn’t struggle against the younger two. There were worse things than being beaten by a thug. But the scenario was a bit strange. They weren’t going through his pockets, searching him for weapons, or even taking the one that blatantly rested on his hip. To them there was only the matter at hand.

“It’s been too long since I’ve been able to enjoy this,” the man said. He hit Kynier in the gut, driving the wind from his lungs. The next one hit him in the ribs causing an uncomfortable reverberation through his torso. The younger ones were laughing as the third made deliberate strikes against Kynier’s body. Then a thick set of knuckles came across Kynier’s chin making his head whip to the side. His view of the world started spinning. “Gods I’ve missed this!” Another gut punch, quickly followed by a jab to the jaw. Kynier’s head whipped back against the stone building. Pain radiating on both sides he felt his legs give out on him.

The two holding him were laughing too hard to keep him upright. Crumbling down to the ground Kynier started coughing as he tried to regain his breath.

“Doesn’t take much for this one,” the bruiser said disappointedly. “Let’s get going lads.”
“Shouldn’t we kill him?”
“He ain’t Sun’s Birth. Probably too stupid to be Night Eye. You know the new rules regarding collateral damage.”

Without another word the three of them moved deeper into the alley. Kynier spat blood on the ground and hoisted himself onto all fours. His chest and abdomen throbbed fiercely making each breath sting. When his orientation was more normal he got to one knee and looked down at the three men.

“Will you simper and limp away now?” he said in a goading tone.

Kynier stuck a finger in his mouth and scrapped the inside where he tasted blood. Holding up his left palm he started painting Vaknui onto his skin in red. Kynier had to scrap the inside of his mouth for more blood a time or two to get enough to complete the glyph. Once it was done he stood up and drew his short sword with his other hand. His steps curved down the alley as he followed them down.

“Hey!” he called out after them. He could see them stop and look. The old one laughed and they started coming back. Other words were said but Kynier couldn’t hear them at this distance. He was too focused on trying to stay calm enough to conjure his djed. Eyes half closed he tried to find that place within where it resided. The three of them drew their daggers at the sight of Kynier’s blade.

“Remember lads, he provoked us,” he said as he came closer. Their over confidence had them walking slowly and with their guards down. Kynier still hadn’t found the djed. The three of them stopped and stood before him. “This lads is the sight of a fool. One against three? If he was good with a sword he coulda avoided gettin’ beat.” He ignored the words as he finally felt the djed. Bringing forth the res in his left hand as a gas he held it out towards the young one on the right. Ignite!

Whatever they were saying got paused at the sight of the orange glyph on his hand. The gaseous res spewed forth aggressively, turning into a stream of fire midway to his target.



Word Count: 616 Total Count: 1,827
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Arts of the Arcane III

Postby Kynier on June 11th, 2018, 2:30 am

Fire engulfed the young man, spreading to his clothes and coating his exposed skin. In his terror he dropped his dagger and raised his hands before him in a hopeless shield. Kynier ceased the flow of res and immediately brought the tip of his cold iron up at the other younger man.

“He’s a ma…” the younger one had been saying when he noticed the blade coming for him. Leaning back suddenly the man avoided the cut coming for his throat. The old man lunged in at Kynier’s opening. Taking a long step got him out of the way of the thrust. Kynier pivoted on his feet and brought the sword back in a fast arc towards the old man. The blade cut through his exposed back sending a thin trail of blood to the ground. Kynier found himself in between the two remaining adversaries. The young one stepped forward and stabbed down at him with a reverse grip on his dagger. Kynier side stepped out of the way and swung back with his blade again.

Kynier carved a shallow gash across his chest and made a small circular motion with his sword to cut diagonally up for a follow through. But the man staggered out of reach with a hand pressed against his chest. The red life force of his body trickling out to stain his shirt. Though he wanted to rush in for the kill Kynier backed away so that both of them were in view again. Grateful that he did, because the older one slashed at him, moaning in pain as he did. Kynier took a step back to evade. Remembering what he felt with his Auristics he understood now what it was. The old man was already injured. Kynier raised his short sword high above his head as though to cut down hard as he stepped in. The old man’s eyes followed the blade up into the air.

He didn’t bring the sword down but instead thrust his left fist out at the point of the old man’s previous injury. Striking in the soft spot below the rib cage Kynier felt the extra thickness of the bandage. The old man gasped painfully and withdrew from him, hand covering his wound. Kynier then brought the sword down catching his shoulder. When the blade hit the bone Kynier felt the impact reverberate. He pulled his blade down extending a deep gash on his opponent’s shoulder to his chest. Stepping back and pivoting Kynier saw the young man coming forward. The man stopped as soon as Kynier turned and raised his sword tip towards him. In his eyes he could see utter contempt.

“Filthy…” Kynier lunged in with his tip. He couldn’t afford for it to be said aloud. It wasn’t fast enough though. The man side stepped and brought his dagger up. Kynier dedicated too much to his attack and couldn’t avoid what came. Trying to shift his body in mid motion wasn’t enough either. The dagger cut him up the chest to his shoulder. The sting made Kynier wince and groan. A follow through came from above. Kynier knelt down and made a sideways slash over his head. His blade cut down to the bone of the man’s weapon arm, severing the tendons that kept his grip. Kynier recoiled his blade and made a thrust. The attack struck the rib cage but didn’t slide through. It jarred Kynier’s grip but he managed to hold on.

Setting his other hand on the hilt he pushed forward, driving the man to the wall. His opponent cried out in pain when he hit the side of the building and Kynier’s blade grinded against his bones. Kynier brought a foot up and planted it on the man’s chest before pulling out his sword. His foot was directly over the cut, so when he applied pressure the man’s eyes were blinded by pain. Kynier slashed his blade across the man’s neck. Blood sprayed out onto Kynier’s clothing as the man made a gurgling noise.

Taking his foot away he let the man fall to the ground. The last one was backing away from him. Kynier marched toward him quickly, blade at his side. The older man turned to run but Kynier made a quick slice at his legs cutting deep into the hamstring. Crying out the bruiser fell when he put his weight on it. Before the man could have a chance to do anything Kynier stomped on the fresh wound. His heel dragged down the leg and unintentionally pried the cut further open. Screaming in agony the old man tried to shelter his leg. Stepping around Kynier kicked the man across the face with his bottom of his boot. It rolled the man onto his back. Kynier stood over him and pointed the tip of his cold iron down at the man’s throat.

“Now, I want to know. What is the Night of Masks? And when is it going to happen?”



Word Count: 830
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Kynier
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Arts of the Arcane III

Postby Kynier on June 11th, 2018, 3:55 am

The man stared up at him with labored breath. He was ignoring Kynier’s weapon and staring straight into his eyes. After a moment he just started laughing and spat at Kynier’s foot. A small glob of blood mixed with the saliva. Kynier shifted the tip of the blade and stuck it in the man’s bicep. The older man was attempting to not say anything and just made guttural sounds with his throat. When Kynier locked eyes with the man again he could see that he wasn’t afraid of him. If he wanted that to change, he would have to change tactics.

Kynier kicked the man in the face with his heel. As the man was distracted from that Kynier started kicking him repeatedly in the ribs. He had his foot scrape the ground to kick more of the underside of the ribcage. As the man’s body buckled after each kick he progressively rolled on his side. Using his heel Kynier pushed him onto his abdomen and knelt down on the center of his back. The man groaned as Kynier’s weight pressed down upon him. Using the short sword he cut open the back of the man’s shirt. The wound he applied earlier still trickled fresh blood down the man’s back.

“You’ve seen what I can do,” Kynier snarled. His tone seemed to silence the man’s agony if only briefly. “And there are no giants here to save you.” Kynier reached for the assassin’s dagger he had strapped to the back of his belt. He took it out and started carving lines into the man’s flesh. They weren’t without purpose. As the man did his best to muscle through the pain Kynier cut a glyph of Dala into his back. There was no need for a barrier or trigger. It was just going to be an amplifier. Kynier took a calming breath as he conjured his djed into res. “Night of Masks, what is it?” he asked while waiting for the res to form. But the man continued to resist with silence. So be it.

When the djed finally came Kynier set his fingers around the blood glyph. Liquid res spread itself out over the surface of the man’s back in a thin layer. Ignite. It burst aflame and began to consume the flesh and glyph. The man howled and squirmed, but Kynier kept his weight on the knee in the man’s back to keep him in place. The scent of burning flesh was repulsive as dark smoke rose from the fire. “When will it happen?” he demanded.

No words, not even nonsense spew from the man’s lips. Kynier respected the man’s willpower though he wished he had kept one of the other two alive instead. Even as the flames were reduced to embers across the severly burned back, the bruiser kept quiet. He couldn’t afford to do this all day. Someone would eventually discover him. The glyph had been burned away so there was no immediate work required to hide what really happened. Taking the dagger in his dominant hand he slid the blade in between the older man’s ribs. He felt him tense up as the blade slid back out. Again he drove it through the ribs then got off the bruiser’s back. With a foot he flipped him on his back to expedite the bleed out process. The man’s eyes were wide as he tried to take a breath only to experience greater pain.

“You... damned... petch...” he uttered before the end. Kynier sighed and wiped both of his weapons clean on the new corpse before stowing them away. For the next ten chimes he searched through their possessions, taking anything that seemed valuable. Then he propped all three of the bodies up against the side of the building next to each other. Going to the still wet pool of blood he dipped his fingers in and started leaving a message above the bodies.

Dagger Swine


After that Kynier looked at the scene. One with his throat slashed, another burned to death, and the last burned and hamstringed. Taking more blood he placed Dala on the faces of the two that were still recognizable. As he did he kept checking over his shoulders to make sure no one was coming still. After that he took a chime to draw on his djed again. As he did he grew faint and his arms began to twitch. From both hands he spewed res in a gas and directed it to both glyphs. As it spread over the surface he willed it to ignite. Kynier turned and left as the two bodied burned.


Word Count: 772
Total Count: 3,429
Kynier
Player
 
Posts: 851
Words: 1156083
Joined roleplay: May 13th, 2018, 3:14 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Human
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Medals: 7
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Arts of the Arcane III

Postby Madeira Dusk on June 11th, 2018, 5:58 pm

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Kynier Haltara

Skills
  • Painting: 2xp
  • Glyphing: 3xp
  • Meditation: 2xp
  • Auristics: 2xp
  • Observation: 4xp
  • Endurance: 2xp
  • Reimancy: 2xp
  • Weapon- short sword: 1xp
  • Tactics: 1xp
  • Intimidation: 2xp
  • Interrogation: 2xp
  • Investigation: 2xp

Lores
  • Lore of a soft heart
  • Location: Seaside Market
  • Daggerhand: don’t like to be questioned
  • Endurance: suffering a beating
  • Glyphing: drawing in blood
  • Auristics: identifying an injury
  • Lore of murder
  • Interrogation: using pain to get answers
  • Lore of staging a crime scene

Awards & Retribution


Notes
What an action packed thread! You're an excellent writer. You work through action very cleanly, and I was never once confused by what was happening. Keep up the awesome work! But as a side note, you need to keep an eye on your skill level. A guy with 5xp in short sword and reimancy should not be able to go up against three armed thugs and win.

Shoot me a PM if you have and questions or concerns!
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Madeira Dusk
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