Announcements: January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: With Chat currently offline... An alternative » Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? »

Players Wanted: JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted » DEAD! » Looking for new RP Buddy(s)! »

0
followers
follow

Taran Mortair

What is the point of life? Why was I given a gift, only to die so soon.

0 · 385 views · located in Isallia

a character in “Falsum Duomum”, as played by JEDH3

Description

Image

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Role: Flawed

Appearance: He stands at 5'9", and overall is the most average looking person you have ever seen. He has brown hair, a lean body that is in no way muscular, but at the same time not weak looking. He may not be hansom, but he is not ugly either by any means. He only has one visually discerning feature, and that is that his eyes change colors to match his mood. Normally he has excellent control over his emotions, so they stay brown most of the time. When he is fighting, they turn red and black; when he is sad, they turn grey; when he is happy, they turn gold; when he is mad, they turn green; etc.. He normally wears Kung Fu pants, Muay Thia hand bandages, and a Karate dougi with a black and green color scheme.

Image

Personality: He tends to be kind, and willing to help anyone who needs it no matter who they are. He is extremely respectful to everyone, even if they do not deserve it, but especially towards women. If he ever sees a man hit a woman, all bets are off. If you somehow get on his bad side, or he feels like a fight between two other people is unfair, he will destroy you. He is rather timid though, used to sneaking around he developed a shy nature which unintentionally fools most people into thinking he is weak. He is an extremely meek person, only ever showing as little of his abilities as he can get away with. He does not like to stand out, and would much rather be ignored for the rest of his life.

Equipment: His body density is much higher than most people, having the same approximate strength of steel, because of this, his body is incredibly resilient against harm, and it is difficult to hurt him with blunt force, or even cutting or stabbing. However, he is just as weak against fire, cold, or other indirect attacks as a normal human. He weighs much more than most people 9approximately 500 lb., but due to his proportional strength, he does not feel the extra weight. Also, due to a far higher muscle density, he is far stronger than most people. He is highly skilled in Muay Thai, Jujitsu, Chinese Martial arts, and more. Due to his young life, he has not had much chance to become an expert at anything, so he compensates by knowing many different styles and improvising. He always carries a Nagainata which he uses as his primary weapon. He also has another ability that he rarely uses. He is able to create a gravitational field around himself, to either attract or repel items. its range is approximately 20 meters in diameter, and the farther the object is, the weaker control he has over it. If the object weighs approximately the same as he, then both the object, and his body will move. If the object weighs significantly more than he does, only his body moves. Also, natural gravity still pulls things downward inside of his field.

History: Growing up Tartan had been able to avoid being tested, and was able to live as a regular human for quite some time. Unfortunately, he knew that this would not last forever, and once he realized that his mutation was purely defensive, he decided that he needed to learn how to fight without a mutation advantage first. Stealing money so he could learn how to fight like a normal human, he started taking lessons from whoever could teach him. He had to constantly change teachers due to the fact that they would often become suspicious of his incredible strength, weight, and resilience. Even with this drawback, he soon became a capable fighter. After some time, one master figured out what he really was, and reported him to the authorities, however due to his incredible natural talent for fighting, he insisted that Taran should not be punished, but continue tutelage under him. He was put with the rest of the Flawed, and became the focus of negative attention due to his late arrival, but his talent combined with his mutation made it easy to survive. After that, his abilities grew faster than ever, as he learned to combine all of his past teacher’s instructions into his own formidable style. Upon his 15th birthday, his permanent teacher gave him a Naginata, which is Taran’s most cherished possession.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uddQzpm-4aI

So begins...

Taran Mortair's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3

The setting changes from Isallia to Resdreillhm Palace

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3
~Taran Mortair~

“You,” the coordinator pointed at Taran with a pen. “Get up, you’re next.” He sighed and stood, walking over to the steambots who were guarding the long entryway to the arena. He smiled and nodded at the girl who exited, before entering himself at the steambot’s command. He hated this hallway. It was far too long for his liking. He would have preferred that it was a simple gate from the arena to the waiting room, but instead it was a long tunnel like hallway. Once he exited, he took up his position, and watched at they let out the person who’s life he would end today. He truly pitied his opponent. The thing that was fighting him was so twisted that it was barely human anymore, it spread it's limbs out on the ground, planting itself like an animal. There were several horns protruding out of its body, where the bones overgrew. Its face was long like a dog’s and a bone plate covered from the tip of the nose to the back of the head, leaving holes only for the eyes and nostrils. Taran could not even tell if it was a male or female. It bared its teeth and gave a primal snarl challenging Taran to attack. He wanted nothing more than to end this thing’s life to end its suffering. He knew that it probably did not know how bad its life was, but that did not matter. The problem was, that if he simply put an end to the creature immediately, the audience would be disappointed. If the audience was not happy, then his handlers made sure he was not happy.

He spun the long pole in one hand through his fingers for a few seconds at a high speed before snapping it to a stop by planting it in the ground. The length and placement of the sharp, bone, spike-like horns would make it extremely difficult to fight this thing empty-handed, and would therefore take longer and require him to use his imagination. Two things the audience loved. He deliberately walked forward to the thing, seemingly casually and with his guard down. A thousand strategies were running through his head, a habit that his Master drilled into him in their daily training sessions. He could even hear the old man’s voice telling him his favorite sayings. ”Always calculate, always plan. Go into battle unprepared, then be prepared to lose your life.” Right now, he was judging the creature’s territory boundary. As soon as he crossed the line, the thing would pounce. The key was to accurately interpret the thing’s reactions to his approach. He had to be prepared in case he attacked to early or too late as well. And on top of all of this, he needed to make it flashy. He hated flashy stuff, but it made the audience happy. Ironically, the only person in the audience whose opinion truly mattered to him was the only one who hated flashy fighting even more than he did.

He almost caught the thing's reaction too late, but he was barely able to counter on time. He and the creature jumped off the ground simultaneously, the thing’s mouth open to bite, and its twisted, clawed hands ready to grab him. But Taran was ready. His body was twisting sideways, his feet spinning around at a high speed like a windmill. Before the beast could do anything, his heel came crashing down on the top of its head in a solid axe kick. The creature’s head instantly changed trajectory and smashed into the ground as its body flipped forward over onto its back. Normally, he would follow through with more attacks; however that would end the fight too soon. Instead, he landed on his feet and rolled several feet away setting a new stance. The first was improvised, and he only used it because the crowd would eat up his confidence. This time, he brought himself down to the beast’s level. It looked as though he was mocking the creature, but in actuality, he was using a type of reptile based kung-fu that his Master taught him. The creature rolled over and shook its head, sneezing. It saw him and made an odd noise between a bark and a snarl before leaping at him again. His right leg was out front, so he rested his weight on his left leg, and two front hands, brought his right back, and snapped back out like a whip in a tail kick. His leg looked like rubber in its fluid and powerful movement, and was solid enough to break three of the bone spikes off at the base and throw it off to Taran’s left. It recovered much quicker than the last time, and was pouncing again in a second. Taran crouched down and brought his left arm up, letting the thing bite on. It’s arms wrapped around his waist and shoulders as the thing gnawed on him. He fell back, making it look like the thing caught him off guard. He pretended to struggle as its claws groped at his dougi trying to slice into his skin with no luck. Its teeth tried to tear out chunks of flesh from his arm, but it remained intact. After a few seconds, he stopped pretending, and stood up with the creature still attached. Showing that the thing was not hurting him, he swiped his right arm down, breaking off all the spikes on its back, leaving broken stumps and translucent skin. He grabbed a remaining spike on its shoulder and threw the thing off of himself. He waited for it to recover again -this time a bit longer than the last two- and when it pounced, he caught it underneath its jaw, flipped it over belly up, and threw it against the ground at his feet.

He gave a depressed sigh before looking down and whispering to the creature, “My deepest of apologies, friend. I hate to toy with you so. Please forgive me.” Then without hesitation, he grabbed it by the throat, and threw it high into the air, repelling it farther with his gravitational ability. He then ran over to where he left his Naginata, and in one fluid movement, grabbed it, rolled on the ground, and threw it while upside down in mid roll. It was something that he had been practicing for months. His handlers encouraged him to have a “finishing move” of some kind, and this was the best he could do. Most people liked it, because they could not tell when he threw the Naginata. He hated it, because it was far too impractical, and felt awkward. It flew through the air, and stabbed the creature straight through the back of the head, behind the bone. It was dead before it hit the ground. He walked over to the corpse with the same attitude he did when the fight started, and pulled the staff from the body. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped all the blood off from the blade, and the bit that got on the head of the staff. He always did this as soon as the fight was over. He did it to show the audience that he hated to kill, and nothing would ever change that. The blood on his precious blade was abhorring to him. And he wanted them all to know.

“Congratulations to our victor, Taran!” the announcer yelled over the microphone. He seemed to be scarred to come close to Taran, but he came out anyway for the announcement. “Yet another victory for this long lived Flawed, you all had better enjoy him while you can, this will be his last year!” He said with a clearly fake pity voice. Taran was one of (if not the) oldest of the Flawed, and would be executed in 11 months. He had been in many arena fights, and almost everyone knew who he was. His eyes turned from his combative black and red, to his furious dark green as he looked at the man in the eye. The announcer did not know what it meant, but he knew that there was a reason behind the change, and he could guess what was going through the warrior’s head. Silently, he spun the Naginata around with his wrist, bringing it against the back of his shoulder with the blade up. He bowed to the man respectfully before spinning the pole back to the front of his shoulder relaxed, and turning on his heels to walk back toward the steambots guarding the exit.

Screw all of these people. The words were silent, but he unsuccessfully willed every person in the room to know his thoughts.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Gargarin Sklave der Lüge Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

GARGARIN SKLAVE DER LUGE



The basement was three floors above him. The royal asses, six. But still, the rumble of his latest creation could be heard. Dust and chemicals fell of the shelves. Granted, the chemicals were there only to make the room unsettling, but still, he'd have to clean up.

More rumbling. The creature was magnificient, much like the ones with the X-ray vision and the wolf-esque smell. Gargarin prided on his monsters being the best. They looked terrifying but were nary a threat. They were designed for a specific purpose. To make sure the battle went for long enough. They had barely any meaningful attacks. Everything these monsters did had to be flashy, to look good. They had a good defense, but the complimentary weak spot of each monster made them easy to fight against.

Gargarin looked at the man on the table. Around him were three cauldrons of molten iron. The rumbling stopped, as if on cue. Cheap thrills, he called them. The big monsters that were easy to kill. It had surely terrified the public. It had been specially made for its competitor. A short woman with no physical prowess. That is, until she used her finisher. She was, in all likeliness, gotten scared. And confused. That was important. He knew she could beat it easily with her move. It was her confusion that kept her from using the attack too early. The crowd were loving it, he was sure.

The door to his lab was kicked in with such force that the clamps broke and the door fell to the ground. It was better than last time, when the man who loved breaking Gargarin's doors kicked it. He went through the door and got stuck, the splinters destroying his leg. Thunk. Step. Thunk. Step. Thunk. Step.

"Come in, come in," Gargarin spoke with mock excitement. He hated the man. Truth be told, he hated everyone, everyone who stomped on his uniqueness. But, this man, this man was different. This bastard wore the same hat as Gargarin sometimes did, just to get on his nerves. Intrusion of uniqueness! Gargarin wanted the man on the operating table. He would make a nice monster. He was already mentally one.

"Why the fuck are they all dying so easily out there. The audience-"

"The audience are loving it. In any case, how long has the fights been going on? An hour? If I send in the big guns now, what will left for the Grand Finale?"

"They'll be bored till then."

Gargarin looked at the operating table. The man on the table was mostly dead. The injection worked perfectly. Soon, the serum would result in a monster. He had tweaked the serum for this man specially. The serum really worked well when what it was doing to the body matched with what the person always wanted. This man wanted the truth. The man on the operating table started screaming. In pleasure, thought Gargarin.

"How was the big guy?"

"Hmm... he scared the public, and the girl, I think. I thought he was going to kill her. But he just missed squashing a few times. And then, she made it night."

"Took in all the energy and super punched the monster."

"Yes, that. Did you make him miss on purpose?"

"Maybe." Gargarin looked at the man. The man wanted something badly. What was it? Just tell me, and I'll set you free.

"But," the man said, "we need something now. Something that'll kill one of the Fallen." He looked at the man- no, the monster- on the table. It was squirming around in pain. "What about this?"

"This here, is overkill. I don't wish to use him now. I'm saving him for Taran."

"Why didn't you create him before? Taran's match is up."

"Not for today. For Taran's last match. The King will proclaim that if Taran wins, he will get his freedom. Unfortunately, he'll die in the match."

The man studied the monster. It still looked human, but slowly the molten iron around the chair started moving towards the man's body. It would be beautiful, thought Gargarin.

"A man made of iron isn't going to beat Taran."

"Oh, you are right. One can only wonder what this beast can do to beat Taran, survivor and conqueror of many. The man, you see, is evolving. His brain, much like ours, has many parts. Parts for emotions, parts for understanding what the eyes see, parts for controlling the body. However, a lot of these parts are wasted on monsters like him. And so, instead of removing these parts, I have rewired them to his eyes and nose and ears. This man can see the future."

"The what?! The... the future?" the man was flabbergasted. Gargarin smiled. Even though he was weaker than the man, in this state of shock he could beat him. Then, he could turn him into a monster. He moved a step closer but before he could strike the man regained sanity and gave Gargarin a stone cold stare. Gargarin turned around and began writing down notes. Most of the iron had now covered the man on the table. Steam bellowed off the man's body, burning his skin. The man was still alive, and all thanks to the serum a torture method wasn't working.

"You see, a man can lie to another man, but not to his own body. The body does what it's told, so if a man lies to it, it will do something wrong. You may know that to move any part of the body, chemicals move from the brain to the body part. That is why the body does not move when you chop someone's head off. Well, this man can sense these chemicals. So, he will know what his opponent is thinking, what he is planning, everything."

The nobleman's assistant was impressed. He spoke, "Impressive. But still, I need something good right now."

Gargarin pointed at the door behind him, "Take your pick. I have already the monsters from the Finale upstairs for preparations."

The setting changes from Resdreillhm Palace to Isallia

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3
~Taran Mortair~

Instead of the previous waiting cages, Taran was directed to a pen on the other side of the arena, where the first Flawed girl was waiting as well. He nodded to her politely again and sat in a corner, kneeling on the ground with his naginata leaning on his shoulder, and held in place by his arms. For a few minutes, he closed his eyes, ignoring the battle going on just outside the cage. But soon, he was interrupted by a shadow from behind him, casting through the bars of the cage. "Surely that was not you out there. I hardly saw a fraction of the skill my disciple has."

He gave a slight grin at his master's words. "If the choice were mine, I would have finished it within the first second. A beast who’s mind that has been all but destroyed is hardly a challenge for the Arts passed down from my master.”

“Just remember that it is the Arts whom it was not a match for, and not the artist.” A thick stick firmly poked him in the back of his head emphasizing the old man’s point. “And remember that the Arts’ and your Elders’ honor is of the utmost importance.” Another poke.

“Yes, Sir.” The boy answered solemnly. He knew his master was right. He should not sacrifice Honor to please the crowd. If the onlookers could not appreciate the fine subtlety of the balance between skill and strength, then that was not his fault. On the other hand, if they could not appreciate it, then they did not deserve to see it. Something his master would agree with, but he would not bother arguing at that point. Another reason he did not use too much of the skill his master taught him to possess, was because he hated showing how powerful he really was. It was never wise to let others know what you were capable of.

He turned his body and laid the Naginata across his lap. “Do you want me to do anything in particular the next round, Sir?”

“Let your opponent dictate your strategy.” He answered cryptically, before adding with a different attitude, “But try sticking to ONE discipline for a change.” Another poke.

Taran twisted his eyebrows, and pointed his eyes up at the man without moving his head. “I think that would make me significantly weaker. You know that I can’t use one Art for too long. I focus too hard, and it slows me down.”

“Two lions cannot live on the same mountain. And you have twenty. Fortunately for you, I am Alpha.” Another poke.

Rolling his eyes at his master's cane, he let out a deep sigh. He really did not feel like arguing with his master at the moment, especially with more of the other flawed arriving. “I know, but that was hardly my own fault. If any of them found out who I was, they would not have had the mercy you did.”

“Mercy?” The ancient face looked down at him in kindness. “No, that was not mercy. Mercy would have been killing you, instead of making you live through this torture.”

Taran’s eyes turned a deep forest green at his master’s words. “Then why didn’t you?” his voice seethed with fury, but was incredibly calm as he desperately contained his emotions.

He heard the man take a deep breath in thought before answering. “A few reasons. I suppose that the main one was that you had become very much like a son, or grandson to me. Second would be that it would have been a waste of talent. You absorbed everything I taught you so well, I could never end such potential.”

Taran’s eyes turned to such a dark green, they were almost black, “So you decided instead to set me up for execution?”

“Talent is no replacement for experience.”

His eyes faded back to a pale grey, but there was still feint green mixed in. “So this is to make me stronger. But you know I am a flawed. I only have a year left, what is the point?”

“I keep telling you. You never plan for the future. You need to work on that. But now, I should leave you to your new friends.” Taran looked back, and saw that several Flawed were now in the cage with him. “You are a man of Katsujinken, remember that. But have fun with the other kids, now. That girl there, looks pretty.” He nodded vaguely at the group, not pointing any one of them out.

“Top of my priorities, Sir.” Taran said with a straight face, but his voice was grinning. He could never stay mad at his master, Though ancient and somewhat more than senile, the man always did everything with a purpose, even if it did not make sense to anyone else. And he was never wrong.

The old man started to walk away, but stopped and turned, “One more thing. That infernal ‘finishing move’ your handlers have forced you to practice, may have actually paid off. Try using it more practically in the fights to come. See what happens. Remember, you learn nothing from repetition. Only from experimentation.” With that, he tuned and hobbled away.

Taran stood, and held his Naginata in his normal relaxed position against his shoulder. Looking at the group, he tried not to size them all up. Even though they were enemies, that did not mean that they could not be civil at the very least, perhaps even friendly. But in order to do that, he needed to not treat them like they would eventually be forced to kill each other, but as equals whom he respected. This was something he had always struggled with the past years.

He walked toward the group, and gave a respectful (but slight) bow. “Greetings, I am called Taran. I look forward to getting to know each of you.” He looked up and smiled genuinely at each of them, his eyes a sparkling gold color. “If I may ask, what are your names?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Siryn
“Greetings, I am called Taran. I look forward to getting to know each of you. If I may ask, what are your names?”

The voice startled his revere as he stood leaned against the wall as far away from the other combatants as possible. Quinn had wrapped his wings around himself to further exclude his presence from the others. He was in no mood to talk to anyone and didn't wish to be approached either. The sound of the voice had caught his attention though, and Quinn opened his eyes to see his black feathers fanning out across his body.

With a soft sigh he rolled his shoulders and readjusted his body against the wall. The wings fluttered as well as they moved and resettled with him. Silence stretched and the silence gnawed at him. Why didn't anyone answer? Did they not wish to? Well, that was fine by him. Quinn tried to get back to the darkness he'd created around his body and mind, a place with no feeling and certainly no pesky people prying for attention.

However, that didn't seem to be the case and he sighed in frustration. For whatever reason, he was a bit curious to see who had addressed the group and also to see why no one had spoken up to the question. So he dropped the wings down, letting their girth stretch outwards before folding them back behind his shoulders. Even then, the enormous extensions of feathers rose up over his head and stretched out further than his shoulders, making him look larger than his actual body was.

The man that stood before him was about his height, with brown hair and eyes. His clothes were loose and a different style than anything Quinn had ever seen. He wondered idly how the man fought with such loose clothing, while Quinn's own attire was much tighter across his lean body. Of course, the less drag on his body the faster he was. Maybe it was a preference, or maybe it had something to do with how the man fought.

Quinn folded his arms across his chest and glanced out into the crowded room. There were quite a few there, more than he'd expected to make it to the final rounds. He figured at least half of them would die within the next twenty four hours, so he didn't pay them all that much attention. Getting attached only made things worse.

"Why get to know us?" Quinn asked suddenly, his voice cold and hard as steel, "We're all going to die anyway. What's the point?" He scoffed at the man's attempt to form friendships that were sure to end in tragedy. Quinn wasn't there for friends, nor alliances or anything else. He was there for one purpose. Survive and prove to the Royal's that they had chosen the wrong man to throw to the dogs.

After that, Quinn would continue to win, and continue to live just to spite them all. Freedom was never going to come, and so he figured he was going to live a long life of nothing but fighting. He was prepared for that after all. He'd even prepared himself for death. If he died in these final rounds, well, so be it. It was meant to be and that was all there was to it. That didn't mean, however, that he wasn't going to put up a damned good fight.

Quinn narrowed his eyes at the man who called himself Taran. What was the point? How delusional was this man? Quinn scoffed between his teeth, tch, and turned his gaze away as he leaned back against the wall. He'd decided that he really didn't care about the answer given to him. It was pointless anyway, any kind of hope that man had would surely be crushed soon enough. Quinn was sure Taran wouldn't live to see another fight passed the next one.

He snapped open his wings in irritation and folded them around himself once more. Back in his darkness, he seethed. How irritating it all was. Pointless. Vain. Ignorant. Fools. All of them. Fools.

The setting changes from Isallia to Resdreillhm Palace

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Orfhlaith Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Igari
Eiurin

It had been terribly unpleasant for the woman, for that stupid, stupid red pixie slut fairy refused to leave the vicinity of her cell. Being snappy didn't seem to be the proper approach with this red-haired vixen, so instead, she had opted for ignoring the consort. Oh sure, little miss pain-in-my-ass had forced her presence anyway for a time, bantering on and on about choosing right and altering paths to make sure stuff panned out right. Eiurin had never been one for the cryptic bullshit and pretty much had tuned out the entirety of the statements in favor of a mental image of the girl dying slowly whilst being impaled in a bed of spikes. That was a nice image, yes, she could work with that. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, the metal flawed refused to comment and eventually, the other had finally left. Gods above, that was annoying. It didn't seem as if she could catch a break, however, as it was merely moments after, right when she had been about to curl up on her bed that there was a loud knock at the door. Oh, what the bloody fuck...

"Get on your feet, freak. We're moving you to the waiting quarters." Ah, it was one of those retarded guards who thought he could order her around. How utterly amusing. She'd comply, she was good at playing. And wasn't that all she had been doing for the small princess anyway? She'd been putting up with all this abuse and topsy turvy society just for the sake of the desires of a whelpling who had no concept of the world outside of her own. But Eiurin did. She knew the world out there. It wasn't a sanctuary, the princess was wrong. But it was too late to change things and she had agreed to this doomed plan anyway. A plan she had promised to force success upon. She was a fool.

She clenched her fist, stepping up from her bed and adjusting her features. She would not show this uncertainty to anyone else--she had a reputation to uphold after all. So she tilted her chin up, walking over to the door just as the guard opened it. There were two steambots in the hallway, her escorts, she could presume. Eiurin put her hands behind her head, for all intents and purposes, she had never had those negative thoughts to begin with. She lowered her lashes slightly as she huffed out.

"Well, I don't have all day--seriously, you're leading me to my lovely darling death." She let out a scoff at her words, golden orbs moving between the steambots seamlessly. There was no response, the bots just turning as she wandered out, hovering on either side of her. Most likely to prevent her from making an escape, if any--how endearing, as if she'd really try to run anyway. They led her to a different elevator than the one she had taken up to the arena, shoving her in somewhat roughly. Eiurin glared at the machines with as much malice as she could put into her glare, a feat she had gotten quite good at. The bots hesitated for a few seconds before inserting an odd-shaped jagged key into the pad on the wall. The elevator whirred to life and she sighed as it brought her up several flights, making a creaking noise the whole way up. These devices really needed to be quieter. It was grating on her faint headache.

The platform came to a halt, the woman stepping off of it with a frown. There were other flawed here, the ones she had spied on that had also fought in the previous matches. She didn't want to bother moving near them though, choosing to recline on the floor nearest to the exit. Her antisocial mentality wasn't shared, apparently, by all of the occupants of the area for one spoke up, his voice smooth and warm. An odd combo and one she instantly disliked for it was so out of place. Hmph.

“Greetings, I am called Taran. I look forward to getting to know each of you. If I may ask, what are your names?” There was a silence that settled about--oh hey, that priestess girl had made it. The girl was pale as death and leaning against a far corner. Eiurin took the opportunity to gaze around the room at the others to get a better look at them, at least--she wasn't sure how long she'd be stuck with these idjits but if the plan was successful, it was be a pretty, shitty long time. The one that had spoken up had a calm visage about him, ugh, absolutely infuriating. She took her eyes off him immediately, turning her gaze to the winged boy who looked just as irritated as she. It was he that spoke some sense, his voice chilled and distant.

"Why get to know us? We're all going to die anyway. What's the point?" Her thoughts exactly. Minus the dying. Eiurin didn't entertain that thought with a great amount of pleasure. She yawned, taking the tips of one of her metal wings and running her fingers along it carefully.

"What an absolutely splendid point of view." She said with sarcasm layering her voice in nearly suffocating amounts. "Since we are so obviously going to die, we might as well decide who is going to double-team up together to kill the others. And in case you were unclear on it, I am totally snagging dibs on the winged asshole. He looks like tons of bloody fun." She was careful to drown out the question of names with her own natural brand of snarkiness. Though personally she didn't understand it, Liandre had been very firm about Eiurin keeping her name a secret. She could abide by that desire, at least. Introductions would do little anyway--if that stupid slut's words had been any indication, the elimination match would be coming sooner than they had expected. And she would have to be ready.

The setting changes from Resdreillhm Palace to Isallia

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3
Image



Taran was just about to interrupt the bickering between the winged boy, and the scantily clad girl; however he was interrupted by the start of the elimination rounds. "Well blast." he grunted to himself, disappointed. He had not even learned their names. If he did not know their names, he could not honor them after death. It was a true pity to him.

However, instead of grieving over the disrespect he would unfortunately show his victims, he had to live, himself. Seeing that as soon as they were released, all of the combatants had leaped away, he stayed exactly where he was. He dropped to the ground, kneeling in a classic Idori stance. This had multiple benefits; first of all, he could rest until he was attacked. Second, it would appear as if he had put his guard down and had merely sat on the ground, inviting death. Few knew the ancient art of Idori. His master had told him that it had been developed by warriors thousands of years past, as a way to always be on guard, even when they were seated on the ground. No one here would know what he was doing, unless they had similar training to as him. Thirdly, since it was a low stance, the area he had to guard against was cut in half. He did not have to worry about someone coming up beneath his defenses, unless they could somehow burrow through the ground, which he would easily be able to feel.

He closed his eyes, and sat patiently for someone to notice him. It did not take long. He felt the pressure of air as someone drew near. They were at his right side, and very fast, he had less than a second to react. Not having enough time to move, he twisted his head, and leaned back slightly, he could feel the movement of the air as a blade passed by his cheek. His left hand gripped his Naginata at the neck, just below the blade, and pushed down. The opposite end rose up sharply, and struck his opponent in the chin. He calmly stood up, and continued the rotation of the staff using both hands. By the time he had risen to his feet, he held the blade at the other's throat. He finally opened his eyes, and looked to see who he was fighting. Slightly surprised, he saw a girl, approximately fourteen. She stood defiantly, glaring at him, a long knife in her hand. He was about to cut her throat, it would only take a twitch of his wrist, but his master’s words interrupted him, “You are a man of Katsujinken.” Taran had not paid attention to his master’s word choice before, but now he understood.

“You are fortunate, girl. I am forbidden from taking anyone’s life.”
Katsujinken meant Fist of Life. He asked his master for advice, and he had given it. Taran had to somehow survive this bloodbath without killing anyone. Fantastic. Before she could react, he twirled the staff around, and struck her in the head with the butt of the pole. She slumped to the ground unconscious. Turning to the battle surrounding him, he sighed. Somehow his master expected him to win. Of course, he could not win, unless everyone else was dead. That meant that at least one person’s life would be taken by him. Which would defy his master’s instructions. Sometimes, he hated his master.

Another opponent lined themself against him, this time head on. He was confused at first. This certainly was not a good strategy. It was a large man. He was bald, had no shirt on, was muscular and had what appeared to be red crystals growing out of his body. A few were curved jaggedly with hard angles, and he stood against Taran wide open and breathing heavily. But as soon as the man attacked, he felt something else. His head screamed, “TRAP!” He dropped down to the ground, as a body sailed over his head, plowing into the crystal man. Alliances were already forming; he had to pay attention now.

This continued for a few more minutes, he tried to defend himself as best has he could without delivering fatal harm to anyone. In that time, twice he had used his blade. Once he cut off a man’s ear, and another, he removed three fingers from an unfortunate person who thought his blade would be dull so far into the battle. His blade never dulled. He had taken time to apologize on both occasions for his actions, but was forced to return to fighting when someone else thought that they could best him.

He was just throwing one girl off of his back, when something unexpected happened. The orange walls changed. This was something new, and momentarily distracted, Taran forgot about the girl, who took his confusion as an opportunity, and gripped his shoulders. Her hands grew hot, and his flesh burned. Giving a startled yelp, he used his power for the first time during the battle and Pushed her back, sending her flying across the arena. Looking at his shoulders, he saw that she has burned straight through the fabric, and had left perfect, hand-shaped burns on his skin. It was not that bad, his super dense skin –although weak to fire- was still quite resilient. Even so, he would have blisters later.
Turning his attention back to what had distracted him in the first place, Taran saw that the walls had all but disappeared. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and he began to suspect that it was a ploy by the king to induce excitement for the crowd, or a trap to lead the combatants into a murder hole. But glancing around, he noticed that the guards were terrified, and the crowd was slowly beginning to panic as the realization of what happened began to set in. still not convinced, he looked up at the king’s box seat. There was no mistaking it. The king was shocked and angry. This was certainly not supposed to happen.

The other combatants were beginning to notice what was happening too, although, he noticed only a handful were left. Even the ones he had not killed were all dead by now. Pushing the morbid thoughts to the back of his head, his master’s words sounded in his head, “When you cannot think, breath.” He whispered under his breath. He took a deep breath, inhaling as much as he could hold. Slowly letting it all out, he ran through scenarios in his head. Either it was all a trap and they would die if they tried to escape, or it was not a trap and they would all die if they tried to escape, or it was not a trap and they would escape and live. Looking to where he knew his master was in the crowd, their eyes met. Somehow he had known this was going to happen. He was telling me to go for it.

“Let my enemies dictate my strategy.” He repeated his master’s advice from before. “They gave me an opening, and I am going to use it. Even if it is a trap.”

The setting changes from Isallia to Resdreillhm Palace

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Igari

Image



Motherfuckers.

Eiurin had been so wrapped up in the conversation with the princess that she hadn't been paying attention to that one asshole. The one that had just cleanly connected a kick to her stomach. That stupid piece of... The force of the blow knocked her to the ground and she spat out the sand that had flown into her mouth upon contact. Yuck! That was just plain nasty. And who did this arrogant jerk think he was anyway?! No one just hit her and got away with it. She got up quickly, glaring at him as her wings spanned out. She was going to cut him into little tiny pie--

"I've had enough!" A loud yell drew her enraged stare from the boy upwards to the stands. The king was on his feet looking absolutely beside himself. He had the microphone he used earlier up to his mouth and he screamed into it. "Release my champion this instant! Don't let any of them escape!" Oh well, sucks for him, that was exactly what they were planning. Hey, what was that idiot over there doing? The flawed frowned at the monk who somehow (even though she was pretty sure his code was the most retarded of all) was still alive. Oh jeez. They really let the ball drop on the survivors.

A few more shouts and she looked away from the others, narrowing her eyes. Her hand clenched in a fist as a low rumbling filled the arena, the ground shaking beneath her feet. At the far wall, a gate was rising, a guttural and primal growl sounding from behind it. Before the gate was even fully open, a creature of annoying size bounded through, tearing the metal to bits as if it was nothing. It was misshapen and contorted, as if it had been warped beyond comprehension. It bellowed in rage and swiped at the nearest flawed.

From the looks of it, those poor bastards were dead the instant it hit them. Well this was just fan-fucking-tastic. Honestly, the barriers were down already, this was just... pointless jibber jabber. The creature, however, did not seem as fascinated by the flawed as perhaps the king would've hoped. It soon turned around, noticing those in the audience that had not yet moved. It yelled, throwing itself into the crowd and demolishing a large section of the concrete.

Whooooooa shit. She wouldn't want to have to fight something as ugly as that thing--it'd be kind of sad to have to kill it anyway. It was sort of doing her job for her. It was no lie or well kept secret that Eiurin had been fantasizing about how to kill every single one of the audience members before this whole thing was through. Whatever, it was providing the perfect distraction anyway.

"Oi, idiots!" She called out to the few surviving finalists. "Ya gonna stand there gawking? Come with me if you want to--fuck it. Just get the hell over here or I'll slice you to pieces." She ended with a rather menacing smile, particularly in the direction of the young priestess. No one ever said she had to play nice with them anyway. All she had to do was lead them to where the princess was waiting. She'd get to go back to her world and things would be back to normal.

That was what was going to happen, damn it, and she was not allowed to let a few unexpected events totally ruin her efforts.

The setting changes from Resdreillhm Palace to Isallia

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3
Image



Taran had nearly ran off on his own, but at the last second, he knew that it would be incredibly stupid to try and break out on his own, and even if he did have the power, he could hardly leave all the others here. “United we stand, and all that I suppose.” He muttered to himself as he glanced around wondering what they should do.
Considering the cause of the walls dropping was unknown, they could restart at any time so the best immediate course of action would be to get out of their boundary as quickly as possible. Before he could move, he heard a shout from the King, "I've had enough! Release my champion this instant! Don't let any of them escape!"

“Champion?” Taran spoke aloud. “How interesting.” His expectations were exceeded when the monster revealed itself. Impatient, it tore the opening gate apart as if the mighty metal bars were nothing more than tinfoil. As it lumbered forward, Taran began to feel incredibly uneasy. "Oh my, this certainly does not bode well." There was something about this abomination that was not quite right. It was far different than the other twisted creations that came from whatever hellish pit the King had produced them. This one seemed to have actual power. Not just strength and savagery, although he could sense much of that as well. Altogether, even he would avoid fighting it if at all possible.

Fortunately, that decision would have to be put off as the golem like creation apparently preferred to take on the audience instead of the Flawed who at that point should be focused on escaping. Speaking of which, a voice called out, snapping his thoughts back to the present. "Oi, idiots! Ya gonna stand there gawking? Come with me if you want to--fuck it. Just get the hell over here or I'll slice you to pieces."
Taran could not help but smile. At least someone else had their priorities in order. Unlike that rude one from before who refused to give his name. He just charged past the girl and attacked the beast. Taran knew it would not end well, and it was only a few moments before his fears were confirmed. He darted forward as fast as he could, knowing the thing was going to strike another blow at the boy’s now unconscious body. As soon as he was in range, Taran used his power to start pulling the boy toward him thought they were a hundred meters apart from each other, Taran was still able to use his gravitational ability to move the boy enough to get him out of the way from the next strike. This was difficult in that it was almost impossible for him to directionalize his own gravity generation, so it must have been affecting other people as well. Even so, he tried his best to only pull what was directly in front of him. As he got closer, the boy dragged across the ground faster until Taran could pick him up and throw him over one shoulder.

Looking to the girl who called out from before, he saw that another girl had joined her. They looked very different, and he could not help but appreciate for a moment, the contrast between the two. ”Odd the things you notice when your impending doom is crashing down upon you.” he noted to himself before returning his attention to the creature. “Blast it all.” He lamented, now noticing that the thing was none too happy about Taran stealing away its prey. “I really should not have saved you.” He commented to the unconscious body hanging over his shoulder. “But nothing to do about it now, except finish the job.” He tossed the body into the air, and reversed his personal gravity to send the winged boy flying towards the two girls, hoping they would take care of him. Probably not, but one could hope.

Less than a second later, he leapt into the air, dodging a crushing fist that crashed into the ground from above. He landed on the fist and ran up the length of the arm. Reaching the top, he jumped, and spun around delivering a powerful axe kick to the side of the creature’s head. With the same momentum, he pushed off the thing’s face, and landed on the ground several feet away. It was not until he landed that he saw the creature had not so much as moved. “This is not going to be a fun fight…. Is it?” he asked the thing, not really expecting an answer.

Deciding to change tactics, he went on the offensive. His staff had been on his back for quite some time, but now he unfortunately needed it. He drew it out quickly, and in the same movement, darted forward. Running to the beast, he zigzagged, dodging all of the direct blows the thing delivered, but none of the debris. As he drew closer, he started slashing at the things ankles with his Naginata. He tried weaving between the two feet and tripping up the beast, throwing him off balance, but he had no such luck. After only two slashes (which did not do so much as scratch the skin) the Creature was able to predict his movement, and kicked him away. His body hit a wall with an impact great enough to crumble the stone. Even Taran, and his super dense body could not fully withstand such a powerful blow. He slowly got to his feet on shaky legs and focused on breathing as deliberately as was possible. He did not have much time, the thing would be on him in a few seconds at the most. Even if he could defeat this monster, it would take far too long. He needed to get out of there. Sticking the Naginata in the ground for the time being, he grabbed four boulders from the wall in his arms. He jumped again into the air, and landed on the thing’s knee. As soon as he landed, he was back in the air jumping to its shoulder, then again to the top of the things head, and one final jump straight into the air as high as he could. Once he reached the pinnacle of his trajectory, he threw the four boulders down, pushing them as hard as he could with both his arms, and personal gravity. They all hit the ground at approximately the same time, and exploded from the force of the impact, causing a dust cloud to rise up around the thing several meters in every direction. Using the massive dust cloud as cover, he pushed himself to the side with his gravity, and landed by his Naginata. “Forgive me, but I have no intention of dying right now.”

Running over to the girls and the boy he stopped, “My apologies, friends, I wanted to come straight away, but I had to escape the…… Thing’s attention first.” Then turning to the smaller girl, who was barely dressed, he spoke, “You wanted us to gather here? I am assuming that is because you have a plan on escaping. One that I am most interested in, I’m sure.”

The setting changes from Isallia to Resdreillhm Palace

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Igari

Image



How come no one listened when she called out to them? Stupid idiots! The winged boy had been the first offender, running off and doing his own thing but (of course) got his ass whooped within seconds. Knocked out cold, that ridiculous moron. The silver haired female was smarter than him, though, and immediately had come to Eiurin's side with a thoughtful light in her eyes.
"What do you need?" It came out a bit breathlessly but it still seemed genuine. The metal flawed rolled her golden eyes and placed her hands on her hips as she observed the group.

"Not until the other dumbasses get over here... not sure what the hell they are thinking." She grumbled, none too quietly for that matter. Eiurin had no qualms about insulting someone as loudly as she wished and if they were offended, well, sucks to be them! The monk seemed equally as stupid as the winged boy for he had willingly gone into the fight to retrieve the unconscious dead weight.

Really, was this some kind of pity play or some shit? They had places to be, literal PLACES to be, and this idjit right here was going around and saving some guy who had abandoned the main group to be a selfish jerk. And then once he picks him up, the monk goes and tries to continue attacking the large beast! Were these guys incapable of even THINKING properly? Ugh.

The boy soon learned how futile his efforts were and, after throwing a distraction a ways from them to call off the creature's attention, returned to the small ragtag group of flawed with a shake of his head. “My apologies, friends, I wanted to come straight away, but I had to escape the… Thing’s attention first. You wanted us to gather here? I am assuming that is because you have a plan on escaping. One that I am most interested in, I’m sure.” Eiurin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

"Yeah yeah, save the sucking up speech for later. First of all, I'm not your friend so don't get the wrong idea!" She hissed at him with narrowed eyes. "Only doing this bullshit because miss prissy-pants wanted to save all you dumbasses or whatever..." She frowned, glancing over at the stands nearest them.

"Anyway, with that thing causing problems for the audience, we'll have time to make our escape. Pretty sure that fuck-up of a king ain't gonna be keepin' his eyes on us with all that destruction." She smirked a bit, as if amused by the fact of the carnage. Eiurin hadn't grown up in a casual environment. She was used to freak accidents and murders--stuff like this was partially run-of-the-mill for her. Though the enemies where she came from weren't exactly as tall as that giant of a flawed.

"It's best if we stick together from here on out. Just to make it clear, I've got NO responsibility if you die on the way. I'm only going to bring us to where the princess is waitin'. So each man for himself, what the fuck ever." She ended on a shrug and flicked a bit of hair out of her eyes.

Without further ado, the girl was already scampering up the wall with ease and lifting herself into the first row of the stands. She raised her arm and waved a bit to signal to the others to follow her. No matter how much of a distraction that large flawed was providing, if they didn't move fast, the opportunity would be lost. She was certain, judging from what Liandre told her, that the king had ways of controlling his champion. And she sure as hell wasn't going to stick around to find out how.

The setting changes from Resdreillhm Palace to Isallia

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image


"I've had enough! Release my champion this instant! Don't let any of them escape!"

The voice echoed throughout the arena, powerful and commanding. She looked up towards where the King stood, his face contorted in rage. She shivered despite herself, she was feeling weary even though she knew she wasn’t drained but it was still hard. She’d killed another three flawed since entering the arena, her skin was grazed, cut and bruised as well covered with splodges of blood from the fighting, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. However the sight of this ‘Champion’ charging into join them caused her to stop for a moment, a sliver of fear etched in her heart before she clamped down on it hard and regained her composure. She was watching with interest

"Oi, idiots! Ya gonna stand there gawking? Come with me if you want to--fuck it. Just get the hell over here or I'll slice you to pieces."

Another voice called out, another flawed attempting to take control of the situation from what she could understand. Clearly someone who thought themselves the leader of those flawed who flocked to her commanding voice or at least tough enough to demand that they be made their leader. Eve wasn’t sure what to make of her but either way if she had some way out of this it looked like her best bet. But if that turned out to be a dead end she’d make sure to wipe that smug smile off her pretty face. Maybe using a knife if needs be. She chuckled darkly to herself for a moment before she felt more than thought of a pair of eyes looking disapprovingly at her which caused her to clutch her metal tags tightly for a moment as she chastised herself for the sadistic thought.

She looked around the arena, seeing what others were doing in response to the girls cry and finding that not many of the Flawed remained and that those who did appeared to have reached a simiar conclusion, if they wanted to make it through this then sticking together might be their only chance. She turned back towards the 'Champion' to watch it ripping into the stalls, devouring those too slow or foolish to break and run; including, much to her pleasure, many of the guards and wardens with their blasted steambot. Her face was turned into a joyful, yet lopsided grin at their brutal deaths which bordered on a smirk which faded slightly when she saw one of the remaining flawed run almost suicidally to engage the foul creature causing her brow to furrow in puzzlement. As it turned to meet him one of the guards beneath its claws was thrown like a chew toy across the arena, smashing the man’s skull against the curve of the wall nearest her. She darted towards him, and began to raid his body for anything useful beyond his armour since that while what he was wearing was clearly durable and useful she was already protected in that regard from her own before this had begun and his armour would have likely been more of an encumbrance anyway.

Her quick search yielded several curved knives slotted into his belt at regular intervals which she unlocked and wrapped the belt around her waist; a simple yet masterful longsword which was slotted into one of a pair of back mounted scabbards, the second being strangely empty; as well as the remains of his halberd which was now several splintered bits of wood, one particularly jagged bit she picked up and impaled it hard into the man’s chest causing a single tear to run down her cheek before she regained control. She didn’t have time to let go yet.

Having already locked the knifebelt into place she unbuckled the scabbards and swung them over her shoulders, chuckling at what she decided was a reassuring weight resting there. All of this had happened in a few moments and when she glanced back towards the ‘Champion’ she could see the body of the foolish boy who had attacked it now lying close towards the girl who’d demanded they follow her while another boy with a bloodied spear, oriental in its design, appeared to have retreated towards her from the direction of the creature. Eve began to run towards this group when she caught sight of the other sword from the guard’s, well now hers, pair lying in the sand nearby. Picking it up and testing its weight as she sprinted towards the others she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

As she arrived she caught the back end of what appeared to be another insult laden rant intended to secure her role as leader to those around her, given that they were battered and weary and she appeared cool and collected. But either way it didn’t matter much. Eve smiled as she listened to the girl’s vocabulary of insults appearing to grow as she’d turned it towards all of them rather than the spear wielding boy and the someone passive girl with her. As she swore once again to illiterate her point to them Eve almost rolled her eyes in exasperation but just about managed to stop herself. She watched the girl make a break for the wall and climb to the top with ease, and was about to follow herself when she remembered the unconscious boy near her feet. She could leave him and get out but once again she could feel those silent eyes staring disappointedly at her.

Damn. Damn. Damn. She grumbled inside her head.

What should she do? Try to wake him or try to carry him? Either way didn't sound the best.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Siryn
(Collab post between Jed and I, much thanks to Jed :) )

Taran looked at the girl in confusion, he had no idea what he had done to offend her, and hoped to still the waters between them. Picking up the feathered boy, he looked at the other girl. “Greetings.” he smiled as warmly as he could, given the circumstances. Not waiting for a reply, he ran straight up the wall after the first girl, only using his hands when he go to the top. Setting they boy down, he turned around and waited to see if the girl needed assistance. ............. When she reached the top, he picked the winged boy back up on his shoulder and said, "I am called Taran. May I ask your name?" Smiling, his eyes were a glittering silver, glad to be finally leaving this place.

Vier watched as another man joined them and took off, gaining the creatures attention and retrieving the winged boy who'd gone and gotten himself hurt badly. She was still unsure if he was alive or not. When the man returned, he offered her a smile something that made her feel a bit odd because no one had ever smiled at her before. After telling her 'greetings' he picked up the winged boy that he'd thrown over to them earlier, and ran for the wall that the girl who'd taken charge leapt up.

Vier followed, intent on not being left behind and curious as to what the girl meant by her master wanting their freedom given to them. Or something like that. She ran towards the wall, scaling it with her eyes as she tried to judge how well she was going to be able to climb it. She didn't have wings or anything of the like. The man made it up easily enough even with the winged boy over his shoulder. For a moment she felt that she would be a burden, but tossed it aside. She had to get out of there. It was a dream for her to escape this life, a dream that was slowly coming true. Vier wasn't about to let it slip away.

She sped up, her blood blades were still active on her arms from her mutation and she used them to help her get up the wall when she couldn't run further up it. It only got her so far and she was more than thankful for the man turning to retrieve her. She'd lunged forward and he'd grabbed her, pulling her the rest of the way up. Her heart was in her throat, thoughts of what could have possibly happened if she'd not been helped up.

She panted slightly next to him as he introduced himself as Taran, "Vier. I'm Vier," she returned, "Thank you for helping me."

“It is a pleasure and an honor meeting you, Vier. And please do not thank me.” Taran chuckled as he ran after the smaller girl with a bad attitude. “Was I supposed to leave you to do it on your own? What if you had not made it to the top by yourself? That would have been the same as leaving you to die. I might as well have killed you if that were the case.”

Vier chased after them, dropping her mutations activation. The blood blades sunk back under the cuffs around her arms. Thin trails of blood spilled forth and covered her fingers from the cuts that she'd made earlier to create the blades.

"I-I..." she was at a loss for words. How had he maintained his composure through everything? How had he kept such a kindness in the place they were all in just moment ago? Or maybe it was just a facade, something to use to get closer to others. Vier shuddered slightly, her eyes moving from his frame over to the smaller girl who was leading them.

"I'm sure others would have left me," she stated softly, "The boy... how is he? Is he... dead?" She asked wearily.

“Others do not have my Master to guide them.” He smiled back at her. Hearing her question, he looked at the boy. Not an easy task when running as fast as you can down a hallway. And the odd anatomy made it even more difficult. “I am unsure. He received quite the injuries.” Then, dividing his attention just as his Master taught him to in situations so his body would act on its own while his mind could think, he focused on feeling the boy’s body.

The first thing he noticed, was that the body -though unconscious- it was not heavy like a dead person was, and how the weight shifted felt different. He had picked up many bodies in the arena in the past, especially in group tournaments, where he could throw them at other contestants, and use them to hide, or as distractions. The second thing was that he could feel a very soft, gentle beating. It might have been his own heart, but since he had been running, his would probably be beating faster. “He does not carry like a corps, and I may feel his heartbeat.” He responded after a few minutes.

Vier let out a soft sigh, "I'm glad," the woman turned her attention to where they were going. She had no idea where the other girl was leading them, and she wasn't entirely sure if they were even going to make it out alive at all, "Where do you think we're going?"

“No idea.” He responded lightheartedly. “Although, she did say that she was taking us to ‘Miss Prissy-pants; and also referred to assumedly the same person as a princess. So my guess would be that we are about to meet royalty.” He had not put any thought into it before, but that practically screamed ‘TRAP!’ It was very well possible that they had been deceived, and were walking into an ambush. But that seemed unlikely, considering everything that had just happened. What would be the point of taking down the walls, sending out the champion, and luring them deep into the palace just to kill them there, instead of letting them all kill each other like they did every year? The whole situation was confusing, and Taran had no idea what to think of it. Was it even possible that one of the ROYALS was actually helping them? “So either a princess is actually helping us escape for some reason, or we are about to be killed.” He tried to say it in the same cheery tone that he had been using, but this was the first time his heart was not behind it. “In any case, I am confident that working in conjunction, you and I can make short work of whatever stands in our way, Vier. However, if worse comes to worst, I need to be confident in the faith I place in you. I need to know that you understand that we are no longer in the arena, and our only hope of another life is through cooperation. Is my trust misplaced?”

Vier felt a bit of a jump in her chest, her heart skipping a beat as she steadily kept pace with him the winged girl leading them. Was he perhaps hinting at the fact that together they would be more powerful? That together they wouldn't have anything to worry about? That with him he would protect her, so long as she did the same for him too? It was a jump to say the least in situations, but Vier couldn't help but want to agree with it. After all, she wasn't the strongest fighter, she was timid to say the least and his personality (if it wasn't all an act) was oh so appealing to her.

"No, your trust is not misplaced," she responded softly, the words barely escaping her lips as she thought of their situation, "Thank you... again." She muttered as she followed them. Well, if anything she figured that together with him no matter if the princess they were going to see was to harm or help them, they would make it through. They had to. Not after just gaining their freedom. It would be a damned pity to lose it all so easily right at the beginning.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Despite her indecision the choice was made for her as the boy with the spear knelt and hefted the unconscious one over his shoulder and nodded towards the other member of their group who was still there in greeting before running towards the wall and climbing it with ease. Sighing softly to herself, somewhat relieved, she too made her way towards the wall; admittedly staying slightly distant from them as she wasn't entirely sure about any of them thus far, especially given that this 'Taran' appeared to have introduced himself to the other but not to herself. She watched the girl follow him without much difficulty having formed blades of a red liquid which... Was that blood? Somewhat intrigued she watched as the oddly compassionate boy reached down to help her to the top after which they spoke for a moment before following after the loud-mouthed girl.
Rather nice of them to offer to help.

Grumbling to herself, she checked the section of wall and noticed several points which would make decent enough handholds to get her up a few heartbeats later. After making sure that all of her newly acquired weapons were safely secured and placed within their scabbards and sheaths she made a running jump for the wall and climbed up, swinging from rocky-outcrop to crumbling stone. She was able to get her fingertips into the ridges of the stones and leaver herself to the top, collapsing for a moment as she saw the other two move onwards with the unconscious body swung over Taran’s shoulder.

“I knew there was a reason I hated other people.” She growled as she sped off after them.

As they ran further into the myriad tunnels of this place Eve tried to keep up with them as best she could while she listened into their conversation and was somewhat glad that the other boy was not dead. Even though she was beginning to feel that this boy was somewhat of an anomaly, perhaps even genuine with his concerns it bothered her greatly. Since after all every one of them was in this for themselves whether they wanted to be or not. It was the truth of the Royale. Part of her cynicism was cemented by the fact that his odd question of trust with the girl next to him sounded like testing the waters to see where people’s loyalties lay. Perhaps he was planning to usurp their guide when they reached their destination? It was hard to be certain but so far she doubted that any of them would be trustworthy, after all no one was.

Either way it was beginning to look that while today wasn’t likely to end in either her death or those of everyone else it may well boil down to something far worse. Especially given the roars and screams she could still hear behind them. Both of which appeared to be getting louder rather than dulling as they widened the distance. Not a good sign all things considered.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Luther Gottfried von Krieger Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Ezarael
Luther

Luther was hurriedly digging through a pile of rubble whilst the Coliseum was trembling as the King’s twisted Champion tore into the monument of death with a veracity matched only by that of a feral beast cornered by its hunter, his hands caked with a mud mixed from shattered rock, sweat, and blood that was both his own and that of others’. No matter how fervently he dug the pile never seemed to end as he worked to reveal the body which belonged to a lone forearm clutching at the empty air for some way to break free from its prison, but before he could even bring the arm’s shoulder to light another tremor shook the stadium as the rampaging beast tore another chunk from its side. When the dust cleared Luther could still see the lonely forearm, now strangely clutching his cloak as it was freed not only from the rubble, but from its owner as well.

A wave of anger and frustration surged through Luther’s usually unruffled and jovial persona, as if it wasn’t bad enough that they had hundreds of Flawed murder each other every year the King had to go and cause this ruckus. Maybe it was not the King’s fault the shields were down, yet that monstrosity wreaking havoc upon everything with indiscretion was most definitely that power-hungry fool’s fault, but there was too little time to focus upon wrath at the moment. There were still hundreds, if not thousands, still in need of help, the situation did not look to be quieting down anytime soon, and by the sounds of things his assumptions were correct earlier. A chorus of fighting rang out from all around and Flawed from the Royale were quickly attempting to flee the battlefield, but whether for revenge or some other reason would only be known after they climbed past the rubble.

With the flick of a wrist the bruised and battered noble quickly drew his sabre as his adrenaline-fueled figure brought him to one of the numerous origins of conflict, finding several of the guards occupied with a small group of Flawed, and faring very poorly by the looks of things. No matter how well trained any of their soldiers may be the Flawed usually had the upper-hand, and it would still be some time before the Steambots could properly respond to all skirmishes taking place, but their priority would probably be the hulking beast tearing the stadium apart at the moment. Not that any of it really mattered at the moment, the reins of the situation would be brought securely into the military’s hand relatively soon and this mayhem would stop, all they had to do was hopefully stay alive until that happened.

Before he could assist any of his fellow countrymen though, a certain sight gave him pause, was that twice in one day? He could see Liandre’s Flawed, the scrumptious little-tart he wished could meet Nobunaga named Eiurin, working her way through the mayhem towards where the elevators were located, and it appeared as if a small group of Flawed was not far behind her either. A lightning bolt of recognition shot through the back of Luther’s mind, igniting the spark which had been smoldering there since earlier as he recalled some of the peculiar circumstances of the day. With a look of fierce determination on the noble’s face, enhanced by the ever-looming scar given to him by his father, Luther rushed as quickly as he could to the elevators, his station merited access to them but his father, prudent as always, refused to allow his son the privilege of its use on these days. This was most definitely a sour turn of events, and he was fearful of what the King would think about both his time spent with Liandre earlier today and his current absence from his Majesty’s presence at such an inopportune moment once the truth of the situation came to light, as it always seemed to do. Things were not all that horrendous though, if things were as they seemed, from his rather unique perspective at the least, then his beautiful lady Liandre was capable of planning-out extremely intricate plans, but hopefully his love had not bitten off more than she could chew, it would be such a tragic shame if he had to give his life to protect her from harm before even receiving a kiss from her sweet lips.

The tremendous force of another body colliding with his own soon side-tracked the noble from his intended destination as the individual flew into him from the side, sending the both of them toppling head-over-heels across the rough stone-floors of the hallway. After losing track of his sword Luther instinctively went to trying and grapple with his unknown enemy, forcing his fingers into the Flawed’s eyes before feeling a white-hot stabbing pain digging into his side. His hands quickly sought out anything nearby and found a decent sized rock within reach and bringing it swiftly up against the head of whomever or whatever he was fighting with at the moment. Before long the body soon grew limp, but that same searing pain was throbbing in Luther’s side, when he went to check the area he noticed a set of claws embedded deeply into his flesh, at least down to their second-knuckle. Luther set about tenderly removing the claws from his side, clamping his left-hand on the wound, and grasping his re-discovered sword in his right.

When he found the time to regain his bearings, doing his best to put the thought of searing pain and bleeding to death to the back of his mind, he looked back towards the elevator, or where the elevator should be. It was hard to tell if the group of Flawed was there or not with all the smoke and dust filling the air, his eyes squinting forcefully to try and make the scene out better, but to no avail. “Heh, might as well let them be off, I have other things which merit my attention, such as the Flawed who are obviously trying to kill the citizens and guards. I hope Liandre won’t be too disgusted by my appearance to merit our date after everything settles down.” His words trailed off with a weary-chuckle, filled more with the lingering dread of what was to never be than irony at his current predicament.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Siryn
Image


He was bouncing slightly, his head lolling from one side to the other with no control. Quinn hated the feeling of being out of control of his own body. He groaned slightly as he regained consciousness. Everything hurt, especially in his chest and ribs. He couldn't quite figure out why it hurt so much, but it did. Then he realized that he was being carried, hoisted over someone's shoulder and that was why he was bouncing just a bit. Quinn took another breath and winced painfully. The position he was in wasn't helping his broken ribs.

Shaking his head just a bit, he slowly opened his eyes and reached up to run a hand through his hair, pushing it all aside so that he could see better. Of course, all he could see was the ground rushing by and a pair of feet and legs. He shifted, groaning again but more in pain than anything else. The flawed was really not liking the position he was in, and who the hell was carrying him? His gaze could only see so much and on the other side was an armored woman with long silvery blue hair. Behind them was another woman, her dark eyes watched all of them carefully.

Reaching over his hands gripped the persons side, gathering mostly cloth though, and pushed upwards in an attempt to free himself. It didn't work very well and he immediately lost the strength to try again. Was something else broken too? He'd certainly hit the wall pretty hard... even so, he had been lucky not to hit any jagged metal that the creature had created when it'd burst through the wall.

Quinn's breath panted in and out of his chest, quick and short as he hung there. He tested his wings. One was mobile, the other wasn't, hanging limply across the person's front who carried him. Of course, it would just so happen that his wing was broken. Figures. He ground his teeth together in irritation. Come to think of it... why was he being carried? Had they really, seriously, saved him? What fools.

"Put me down," he growled, utterly pissed off at the situation.

Image


The sound of the winged boys voice startled her and she looked over. He was awake! Though... he didn't sound very happy either. Vier pulled her lower lip into her mouth and nibbled on it nervously. Looking at Taran she shrugged slightly. It was up to him if he wanted to put down the seriously wounded boy or not.

"You shouldn't push yourself," she offered softly, dropping back just enough to look at him. The boy raised his head, yellow eyes narrowed in irritation and his lips pulled into a frown. Dark hair fanned his face, bouncing slightly as they moved down the hall to what appeared to be some elevators. So that was where the girl was leading them... from there though was still a mystery. Although, Vier had to admit she was happy that they hadn't been led straight to any of the royals.

"Let go of me," the boy insisted again, more venomous than the first time.

Vier shook her head slightly, "I really don't think that's a good idea. You took quite the battering earlier. You're lucky to be alive!"

He didn't say anything, only glowered at her as he shifted his body to try to push out of Taran's hold. Vier frowned in response to that. Taran was rather strong and the boy -in his current condition- was no match in strength. She returned to her place right next to Taran and sighed as she looked at him. With a shrug she shook her head slightly.

"Stubborn... but I guess that comes with being in this place for so long. Maybe he'll come around."

"Like hell," the boy growled. It didn't seem like he talked much. Vier bit her lip again. He sure was stubborn... and very cold. It made her wonder why he was like that. Maybe he didn't like the fact that they'd saved him instead of leaving him back in the pit to die. How sad...

"Maybe you can put him down when we reach the elevators?" Vier asked Taran, a little worried for his safety if the boy grew even more angry. She didn't want the flawed to lash out at Taran, she couldn't have that. Then she'd have to fight the winged boy and she really didn't want to do that either.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3
Feeling the body on his shoulder stir, Taran looked back to see the man’s eyes flutter open weakly. “Hello there, Friend. I am glad to see that you are alive.” He smiled. Hearing his growl, Taran answered still smiling, “My apologies, but I do not think that that would be wise. We are in a great hurry, and I would hate it if you fell behind due to your injuries.”


"Let go of me," the boy insisted again, more venomous than the first time.

Vier shook her head slightly, "I really don't think that's a good idea. You took quite the battering earlier. You're lucky to be alive!"

He didn't say anything, only glowered at her as he shifted his body to try to push out of Taran's hold. Vier frowned in response to that. She returned to her place right next to Taran and sighed as she looked at him. With a shrug she shook her head slightly.

"Stubborn... but I guess that comes with being in this place for so long. Maybe he'll come around."

"Like hell," the boy growled. It didn't seem like he talked much. Vier bit her lip again. He sure was stubborn... and very cold.

"Maybe you can put him down when we reach the elevators?" Vier asked Taran, a little worried for his safety if the boy grew even more angry. She didn't want the flawed to lash out at Taran, she couldn't have that. Then she'd have to fight the winged boy and she really didn't want to do that either.



“Yes,” he agreed to Vier’s suggestion. It would do him some good to rest. But I wonder how he will react to being picked up again when the time comes.” Glancing over his shoulder at the boy, he noticed a flash of red hair behind them. Curious, he turned around to see another Flawed girl. Her red hair was spiky, and she more what seemed to be that same weapons that most of the guards used. Her eyes were very dark and untrusting, and Taran did not like it. He felt as though she might not cooperate with the group as easily as Vier had agreed to. But in any case, he could not treat her any differently that he would the others, even if she did not trust him. Strike that. Especially if she did not trust him.

“Oh, Hello there.” He smiled, slowing down to her side. “I am glad to see that you are with us. My apologies for ignoring you so long, for I was ignorant of your presence. I am Taran, and the lady whom I was speaking to a moment ago is Vier. I am happy to see that you made it over the wall unaided. I hope that no others were left behind. He frowned for a moment, his eyes flickering grey for a moment before forcing himself back to his normal, polite self. In any case, it brings me- and I am sure the others as well- joy to know that another will share in our freedom. If you would be so kind, may I ask what your name might be?”

The setting changes from Isallia to Resdreillhm Palace

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Igari
(Shorter post this time guys :O I'm a little pressed for time as college is approaching and all but I promise the next one will be nice and lengthy <3)



Eiurin




Were those nerds seriously socializing when they were running for their lives? This was just fan-fucking-tastic."Hey, punks!" She called over her shoulder, about ready to rip that monk limb from limb since he seemed to be the instigator of this meet and greet. "This isn't some random group date, keep it in your fucking pants! Aren't you a monk?" She questioned with narrowed eyes, but it was more rhetorical than anything else. She really didn't care enough to try listening in to his answer.

She shot all of them the dirtiest look before leading them further down the hall, glancing over at the distant arena. They were making good time, she'd admit that much. For all their yacking, at least they kept their legs moving. The king's champion was still wrecking havoc off in another portion of the castle. She'd say poor bastards but she didn't really feel bad for 'em. Nope, they were just necessary as part of the whole distraction.

She tsked as they rounded a corner, catching sight of the elevator at the far end. "Come on!" She yelled at them, picking up the pace as she moved quickly towards the exit. Finally, something GOOD to see. They'd be in that elvevator and through the portal where Liandre would be waiting for them. And then she could be shot of all these losers. No one said she had to take care of them once they entered into the parallel world, after all. She just had to get them there. That was the deal.

Pah. Morons, the whole load of them.

As they drew closer to the elevators, she grabbed a knife from a fallen guard and threw it in front of her to strike one of the remaining guards in the throat. Whether or not his death was instant, well, that didn't matter much, did it? The point was he was out of the way and she had little care for the rest. She just wanted her peace and quiet back. Ugh. She shouldn't have ever agreed to this, such a damn headache.

She took the key from around her neck that the princess had given her and pushed it into the slot, turning it until she heard the click. The doors creaked open and she darted inside, urgently gesturing to the others to follow. "C'mon, c'mon. You can chase skirts later, monk. All of ya, get inside the damn elevator so I can be rid of you sooner! And possibly save our hides if you're lucky." This day was FAR too long.

The setting changes from Resdreillhm Palace to Isallia

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by JEDH3
Image


Before The redheaded girl could answer, the one they were following interrupted. ”Hey Punks! This isn’t some random group date, keep it in your fucking pants! Aren’t you a monk?”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “I neither practice Asceticism, nor have I dedicated my life to serving others- with the exception of my master. And it is common knowledge that it is easier for a group to achieve a goal if all of the individuals work under a friendly cooperation. assure you, my goal is nothing more than survival through cooperation.” He answered rather confused as to what she was referring to. It did not help that she was clearly not listening to him although she had asked him a question. He would have continued if it were not for the incredibly nasty look she gave him. Looking down at his pants to see if anything important was sticking out, he looked to Vier. “What am I supposed to keep in my pants?”

He wanted to continue his conversation with the redhead girl, but he decided that it would be better not to further disrupt the little peace there was between he and the strange girl leading them. So instead, he smiled at the redhead girl apologetically. Seeing a few guards ahead of them, the girl in front yelled at them, “Come on!” while throwing a knife straight at one of the guards, the blade sticking in his throat. Strangely, she ignored the others standing ready to attack them.

Frowning inwardly, he quickly calculated. The lead girl was ignoring them, he was carrying a casualty and he hated to tell the other two girls to put their lives in danger. Now frowning outwardly, he said to the boy on his shoulder, “I apologize in advance for what is about to happen, friend. I have no intention to cause you discomfort.” Then calling out, “Vier, please cover me!” as he charged forward toward the remainder guards. He jumped up kicking one in the face breaking his nose and knocking him out. Using the man’s face as a springboard, he launched himself at another. Spinning around, he knocked the guard’s weapon away with one foot, then kicking him in the side of the face dislocating his jaw. His great weight easily pushed them around, while he still held back just enough to not kill them. Trusting that Vier and hopefully the other girl would take care of the rest, he continued forward, slowing down only to keep an eye on his new allies. He trusted that Vier alone could handle the rest, although he hoped that the redhead would help her, but he would feel terrible if he continued on to not help them if on the off chance that they were overtaken.

During the quick attack, he tried to move as smoothly as possible as to accommodate the winged boy on his shoulder. Well. As smoothly as one can jump and kick two people’s faces before touching the ground. “Are you quite alight? I did my best not to jostle you too much. I will set you down in the elevator so you can recover, if you would like.”

”C’mon, c’mon! you can chase the skirts later, monk.” The lead girl yelled at them from inside the elevator rather angrily. ”All of ya, get inside the damn elevator so I can be rid of you sooner! And possibly save our hides if you’re lucky!”

“I… I’m not a monk….” Taran said dejectedly. “And no one is even wearing skirts….” He grumbled under his breath while setting the boy down as gently as possible. Now that they were all in the elevator, he looked at the lead girl. "I am terribly sorry, friend, but have I done anything to offend you? If I have, I would like to apologize and assure you that I never had any intentions to do such. May I ask your name? I am called Taran."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait: Rakka Sukai
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Siryn
Vier T'sker


The girl ahead of them erupted in a fit of anger, yelling at them and cursing about something that Vier didn't quite make out as she was a bit farther back. What she did manage to get though, was that most of her comments were directed at Taran who answered her and then upon not getting a reply looked back at Vier.

“What am I supposed to keep in my pants?”

Her cheeks brightened just a bit and her eyes widened slightly as she ran behind him. Vier shook her head quickly in response and shrugged, "I-I don't know..." she answered, completely embarrassed at the situation. As the one leading them threw a knife as she shouted for them to hurry, Vier's throat tightened. She really didn't want to fight again, but she figured it wasn't really something she could avoid. Besides, they were almost to freedom, or so she hoped.

The sharp edges in the cuffs of her wrist armor dug into her skin as she flicked her arms. The soft flesh, scarred and worn by the many times she'd done it, opened up easily enough. Blood trickled down her hands and she quickly formed it into the blades that she used to fight with.

“Vier, please cover me!”

She nodded and jumped into the fray. Her hands slashed outwards, fingers opened as she attacked the first guard that she could get to. She watched -and winced slightly- as Taran jumped and kicked a few of the guards down. She felt terrible for the winged boy that he held, knowing for certain that must have been more than a little uncomfortable. Twisting around she just barely avoided getting cut in half as one of the guards took a swipe at her exposed stomach. She repayed them the kindness by slashing open his face.

She turned on her heel, heart beating rapidly and rushed for the doors. She ducked in behind everyone else, just barely managing to avoid getting injured by any other guards. She turned to see Taran gently putting the boy down and bit her lip. He looked really pissed off. She wondered for a moment if she should say something to him... but then she thought better of it. Probably best to leave him alone.

But, what were they going to do when they had to pick him up again? There was no may he could walk on his own, not with his body battered the way it was. Vier winced at her next thought. If worse came to worse, she supposed she could just knock him out again...

Quinn Sari


“I apologize in advance for what is about to happen, friend. I have no intention to cause you discomfort.”

"Wait... wh-" Quinn started, but didn't manage to finish as the man named Taran shouted to the girl he'd been talking to earlier and abruptly jumped into the air. The movement itself didn't hurt Quinn, it was when Taran struck something -and hard too- that Quinn was jarred just slightly. He hissed in pain, hands clenching the cloth that was the man's shirt tightly. Taran used the one he'd just kicked and the room suddenly was a blur to Quinn.

It wasn't that he was unused to such things, for his flight patterns usually did the same thing. What bothered him was the second jarring attack and the fact that he wasn't in control of the situation at all. Thankfully it all was over rather quickly.

“Are you quite alight? I did my best not to jostle you too much. I will set you down in the elevator so you can recover, if you would like.”

Quinn grit his teeth, "Put... me... down," he hissed angrily.

Taran entered the elevator at the beckoning of the girl who led them. Once inside, he pulled Quinn off his shoulder and set him down slowly. As he was leaned against the wall, he reached around and gripped his side in a vain attempt to ease the pain of the broken ribs. He glowered at the people around him and moved his legs beneath him. He pushed against the wall with his back and started to stand. He only got part way when his legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor.

Dizziness and pain in both his wing and his chest caused him to drop. Perhaps he'd hit his head as well... Quinn sighed heavily as he slowly pushed himself back up into a sitting position. Great... this is just great he thought to himself grumpily.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eiurin Character Portrait: Evelynn Character Portrait: Vier T'sker Character Portrait: Taran Mortair Character Portrait: Quinn Sari Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK


Image


She looked at the boy with a looked of exasperation as he cheerfully greeted her, though before she could construct a reply the moment was broken by the sound of that irritating brat who was apparently ‘leading’ them to safety. Most likely another string of unconnected pointless insults aimed at them, though it appeared to be primarily aimed at Taran. Referring to him as a monk by the sounds of it? Though the exact details were somewhat lost till he turned to this ’Veir’ and asked her about him keeping something in his pants.

Eve couldn’t help but grin and chuckle darkly at his innocence and even more at the reaction it brought out in the girl in response to his question, clearly embarrassed at his confusion and the implication of their ‘leaders’ insult. Though further retrospection of events was cut short as the girl ahead of them impaled a guard through the throat with an excellent, even Eve had to concede that, throw of a knife. It was the only good point she’d managed to find about the girl since they’d managed to break out of the arena, maybe another good point would be found should they actually escape. The girl then ducked past the other guards and using a key that hung round her neck opened the doorway at the end of the corridor onto what appeared to be an lift, before resuming her hail of abuse for them to hurry up and cease getting be

As the rest of them reached the group of stunned guards guarding the lift, she watched as Taran muttered what appeared to be an apology to the boy he was carrying, though for what she couldn’t tell at first. He then launched himself towards several of the guards, stunning them and knocking them to the floor where they remained, and it was when she saw the grimaces of pain flashing across the wounded boy that she realised why he’d been applogising moments earlier, an attempt to make up for what he’d needed to do. An odd one certainly, this Taran, to still be considerate and simple after being held here?

Moments later, her embarrassment forgotten the girl named Vier following Taran’s lead and lept into the fray. Her arms trickling blood but with no real sign of injury, let alone one to have causes the amount that was passing between her fingertips. As Vier reached the first of the guards Eve saw that the blood had formed into blades within her grip, slashing and cutting a path through those that stood in her way. As soon as the girl had dodged the first slash for her stomach and left the assailant with a vicious strike across his features Eve reached upto grip the pair of swords she now wore on her back but changed her mind as she began to run towards the group. Slipping her fingers into the pockets of her clothes she withdrew half a dozen pebbles and such that she’d picked up in the arena. After holding them close for a heartbeat or two she flicked her fingers outwards, sending small pulsing red stones towards a number of those between her and this purposed freedom. The stones exploded inches away from their targets, sending sharp shards of stone spearing into the faces of those unfortunate enough to be looking in her direction and embedding themselves in others. A few of the shards were still fainting pulsing for a few seconds more before detonating a second time, some of which ripped flesh from bone where they’d managed to lodge themselves.

The hallway was filled with faint ripples of fire, screams and blood as she ducked under the horrified guards that remained standing and pulled the door to the lift shut behind her as hard as she could.

Once inside she turned to take stock of what was happening, noticing that the injured boy was now grumbling as he lay on the floor with Taran speaking to him and their leader seemed as agitated as ever while Vier looked to be concerned for the boy as well. Shaking her head she looked towards the other girl, and cocking her head slight spoke to her.

“So, whats this great escape plan then? Now that we’re all inside the lift.” She smiled softly and began twirling one of the throwing daggers she’d hung around her belt in her right hand.