Fantasy Soul Manifestors: Fall of the Monastery

[MythyDW]

< MythyDW The Good Doctor Ace Cream OverconfidentMagi BakaTheIdiot KhorneFlakes BloodInMyEyes EccentricFantasy ArchAngelLexi Tuska >

The Manifestor Monastery, found on the island north of Hertsei, was home to a number of Soul Manifestors at any one time. Most would be learners - young manifestors who were picked up by the staff rather than being drafted into a nation's military. However, a few of them would also be staff - instructors, seekers, and the kindly headmaster - who trained the young learners on their path to becoming a free manifestor. Most were taken closer to ten or thirteen years of age, though there was always some exceptions - no matter what, they would always train for a minimum of five years before being allowed to take a ship with their class to the Badlands. Those who were able to both meditate and learn the name of their manifestation from their soul, and survive the subsequent hunt with their class, would become a fully-fledged free manifestor. And this time was upon them once again. As was tradition, the monastery held a large feast for those who would be travelling before they retired for the night. However, this time, something was different.

----
​

Laukai was one of those who had been at the monastery for a longer time from a younger age. He hadn't begun his training right away, but after a few months of the seekers being unable to locate any of his family, the young man was fully brought in for the training. And now, he realized as he laid in bed, all his time here was about to culminate in a life or death struggle. But inwardly he knew he had already somehow defeated one. This next one, he believed, would end up no different. Slowly he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep...

It was unclear for how long he slept, but it was pitch-dark outside when Laukai was awoken by a scream. One of pain and pure terror. And then another. Without thinking, he tossed on the cloak he had on him when he was found on the ocean, and stepped out. It could have been one of the younger ones pulling a prank, but he truly felt terror burning in his heart. And as he walked out of his room to look upon the courtyard, he realized that was not the only thing burning. He saw figures in hooded cloaks running around, the building was on fire - and as he looked to the right, he saw one of the figures up close. They had a mask like a skull upon their face, and as Laukai watched they stabbed a short blade through the heart of another student. Eyes went wide, and he quickly manifested his blade right in time to parry the man's own.

"What are you doing?" he implored the man. "Why are you attacking us!?" his impassioned plea was only met with a growl.

"Death to centricity." was the only words he got. The warrior dropped the short-blade into his other hand and used it to cut at Laukai who was barely able to jump back. The young man, who was glowing a bright gold now that he had manifested, rose a hand to shoot a short-ranged blastwave of flame. The opponent dodged it, and it was at that moment Laukai realized the skill of their assailants. A sword was headed for his heart, and even as the manifestor rose his weapon he didn't feel fast enough to block the coming blow....

 

[EccentricFantasy]

MythyDW ArchAngelLexi

Jarroc was young when he entered the monastery. He had no clue what he was doing, but like everything else he did, he gave it 100% of his effort. Eventually, fighting with his manifest was nothing but breathing to him. This place has become like a home and after the hunt where he would figure out the name of his soul, he would return home and help his people in a hunt. Hunting was what he lived for. Even as he trained here, he never forgot his love of hunting.

Jarroc was fast asleep when he woke up. When he rose he saw something. It was a light. It was way too late for there to be any sort of sunlight. After stretching and standing up he looked out his window. The site of a burning building and Assassin's running through the monastery was terrifying. They moved like a well-trained Hunting Party. It was clear to him that these masked Figures were here to kill. He hoped and prayed that his friends were okay. Especially Rian. He had known her for a very long time. Even before they came here. There was a special place in his heart for her and he didn't know what would happen if you lost her.

With that in mind he took a breath. He slowed his heart rate down and took a moment to think about the situation. If they wanted a hunt, they picked the wrong prey. No one could hunt like him. He put his hand to his chest and manifested his scythe. After that he activated his minor invisibility. Luckily for him, all this commotion would still make it hard to see him. He opened his door and took a dash down the hall. He had to avoid a few assassins, but made it through okay.

Finally, he made it out to the courtyard, just in time to see Laukai about to be stabbed. Jarroc ran over, still invisible. He swept the man's leg and watch the man go down. He dropped his invisibility and put his Scythe right to the back of the man's neck. He looked over to his friend "Hope your alright Laukai."

He turned his attention back to the man. His Metal Arm clear to see as it held onto the scythe. One pull would be all it took to decapitate this masked man. He glared at the man with the look that only a true Hunter could give. It was cold and blood thirsty. It showed he was a killer to the bone "Why are you attacking us? Speak quick or die before your buddies can come save you."

 

[ArchAngelLexi]

Rian Kelly
interactions: N/A
Mentions: EccentricFantasy

Rian Kelly, the boisterous lady of the group. Been there since see was 11, and been training her butt off ever since. She was best know for her appetite and lovable demeanor. Yet she fought with all the ferocity of a bear. Over the past 7 years she's come far, from a girl who was barely strong enough to properly wield her own manifestation to a strong young woman.

Last night she had been so excited she got a bit carried away at the feast and may have drank a bit too much. As well as probably eating more than her fair share of the food. She barely even remembers happened last beside the food and alcohol tasting phenomenal. Maybe if she had been more sober she'd be able to recreate the meal herself. She didn't even remember falling asleep or making it to her bed but somehow she managed.

From within her dream she could smell something burning. Oh no! the roast! From a dead sleep Rian awoke. Looking around she could see smoke and light flooding in. While her first instinct of it being burning food was wrong, something was definitely burning. From outside she could hear the screams of her comrades. Quickly jumping out the bed she manifested her sword into her hand. She let out a battle cry as she charged into the fray.

She couldn't have expected the horrors that lay before her. the monastery was being set ablaze and her comrades slaughtered. The scene caused her steps to falter a bit. Her battle cry would have certainly drawn the attention of some enemies. Regaining her confidence she prepared to attack. Rushing in she slashed at any one who stood in her way. "Jarroc!" she called out to her childhood friend hoping he was safe and would come fight by her side.

 

[Ace Cream]

Rouge

The sea of fire was spreading rapidly, one by one the monastery's building was set ablaze. Rouge ran down the hill in a panicked attempt to reach the monastery. The girl couldn't sleep after the feast, so she visited her favorite stargazing place on the nearby hill for the last time. Who know someone would burn the monastery right before she began her last trial? Yeah, she was sure someone burned it. She could tell from afar that the spreading of the fire was too fast for it to be natural.

She was welcomed by a stranger with skull-like mask on the monastery's entrance. Having her suspicion confirmed, she manifested her daggers and prepared to met the stranger's attack head on... not really. Rouge dodged the stranger's charge attack at the last second, sidestepping out of the harm's way while leaving two of her daggers on the ground. After regaining her footing, she immediately raised one of her dagger in front of her and conjured two lightning bolts that zapped towards the two daggers she left before, passing and shocking the attacker on the way there.

"Who is this people?" She knew muttering to herself won't give any answer and she couldn't ask the now unconscious attacker either.

Bracing herself for the worst, the girl went into the monastery and rushed towards a particular battle cry that drawn her attention. She saw Rian charging through the enemy, Rouge thought it was reckless to straightly face the enemies while they didn't even know their number and positioning, but there's no way she left Rian alone. She threw some of her daggers to Rian's surrounding and while making sure she didn't accidentally zaps Rian, Rouge made a trap that make any attackers that went for Rian got their legs electrocuted on the way to make it easier for Rian to finish.

"Rian, let's go to the boys' camps and regroup with the others!"

ArchAngelLexi

 

[BloodInMyEyes]

Brycen

Brycen was in his room, listening to the sounds of the night when he heard it.
The sharp tap of metal against stone.
The soft thump of wood tread underfoot.
The soft voice, barely more than a whisper muttered under one's breath.
And then the crackle of flames.
He left his room quietly at first, but when he smelled smoke, he manifested his greatsword and ran in the direction of the footsteps.
He was met by a man, face masked by a symbol of death.
He held his sword, ready to strike at the first movement, but then he heard the sound of swords being drawn behind him.
In a moment's notice, he was surrounded by the familiar purple aura of protection, summoned by his manifestation.
He had four seconds.
He spun and struck his attacker, who was caught off guard due to his strike having no effect.
Three seconds.
Then he turned his sword and thrust it behind him, into his other opponent.
Two seconds.
He thrust the hilt of his blade into a third attacker, causing him to buckle over, and then bashed him in the head to render him unconscious.
One second.
He lashed out in a large brutal swing at the final opponent, catching his arm and chest in the sweep. He cried out in pain and was kicked back into the wall, knocking him out.
The aura faded.
Then he smelled the smoke.
Immediately he ran up the stairs to the sleeping quarters and called loudly to wake everyone he could.
"Fire! The monastery is on fire! Draw your weapons! We are under attack!" He shouted.
He saw four more men in masks and readied his stance, prepared to fight for his life, and for the lives of his comrades.

​

 

[BakaTheIdiot]

Alois was one of the last to the fray. He bolted awake to the smell of smoke, coming from a little ways down the halls. Somebody's cooking again, or was it something a little more deadly? He slipped out of bed, threw on his coat, and made his way to the courtyard... where he was greeted by the horrors.

Flames. Bodies. All the old tools of man. For a moment, he simply looked in awe: the place he had called his home these past few years, where he worked towards forging a better future for himself and for those around him, was being reduced to ashes and coals. There was no mistaking: the men in masks were not here by accident. This was far, far more than just a simple raid. They fought with conviction, with a goal in mind. They were genuinely trying to kill everyone here.

There was no time to waste. Alois recovered quickly from his momentary shock, and slowed his breathing. He closed his eyes, and within a few moments he had blocked out the sounds of the surrounding. The crackle of the flames, the falling ramparts, all that would serve as distractions to an archer were drowned out. A brilliant steel bow manifested itself firmly into his hand. He drew back the string, now taut and armed with an arrow of ice, and listened.

Footsteps.

Nearby.

Getting louder.

He opened his eyes to face his attacker.

In less than a second, the bow was raised, and the arrow flew. Within the next, the man approaching had an arrow sticking out of his chest. Just an inch shy of hitting the heart. Not bad, considering he had just woken up.

Alois knew he was at the disadvantage here. There was no reasonable high ground, or at least, nothing that hadn't yet burned to ash, and what little remained likely wouldn't last. He scaled a nearby staircase, another entry into the monastery, to get a higher vantage point. It wasn't much - maybe just a couple of meters. It would have to do. He drew his bow again, and waited, waited for that perfect moment. Another target. He lead them, further, further...

Why? Why was this happening? It was unclear. Perhaps he wouldn't know until later. It didn't matter. Questions came later: now, there was only the matter of survival.

 

[KhorneFlakes]

CHARLES

Lonely was the night. Cold midnight breeze swept gently into the window of Charles' room. The wind made a humble sound as it passed through the stone room of the young manifestor. Silence was Charles' only companion and a single candle was the his only illumination.

House Godrik maintained a strict tradition of prayer before bedtime, a habit that was enforced onto young Charles as his knees scratched the stone floors whilst maintaining a prayer position. He claps his hands tight, with prayer beads in hand. He looked up into the serene night sky, void of clouds, praying deeply.

The young manifestor had not been here long. He's only been here for two years, but to him that time quickly passed by like a moment. Despite all the nights he has spent here, this night felt different. He would typically enjoy the peace from these lonely hours, but he had a strange feeling that the peace was to be disturbed tonight.

As he continues his prayer, a faint sound echoed from the halls. Charles thought nothing of it, prayer was his priority. But it came again. It sounded like a clash of steel in a battle.

Charles thought he was delusional. "I think all that horse riding made me ill in the head." He thought to himself before returning to his prayers.

But soon came a scream. A blood curdling scream that came and drowned out the noise of the clash. Charles' eyes sprang open. This was no ordinary night, not a peaceful one for sure. His instincts took the better of him. He sprang from his knees and hurried to his nightstand where his buckler was leaning on. Took it and put it on his left hand. With his right, he placed it on his chest. With a brief moment of concentration, a hammer appeared from the air and onto his palm.

He approached his wooden door and opened it slightly to reveal the corridors. It was poorly lit but Charles could see a dark figure creeps slowly at the end of the hall. The sounds of clashing steel still echoed through the halls, but now this time violent grunts started to form as well.

Charles pushed the door some more to reveal not one but two dark figures slowly making their way from down the hall with one lantern in hand.

"Hurry, if we're quick enough we can kill the rest in their sleep," one of the mysterious figures spoke through what appeared to be a mask.

Charles quickly emerged from his door, armed and ready, and shouted out "Stop! Who are you? "

Before the two men could even react, a loud shout came echoing from the lower floors

"Fire! The monastery is on fire! Draw your weapons! We are under attack!"

Charles' eyes grew wider. This was no assassination, it was full on attack from an unknown source. Charles readied himself and began to charge at the two intruders

"Take care of him, I'll get the others!" shouted one of the intruders as he ran back into the shadows. The remainder drew a short sword and charged forth towards Charles.

The two belligerents now charging each other, the intruder took a quick swing but Charles parried it with his shield. Now off balanced, the intruder was left vulnerable against Charles' hammer as he swung it fast, hitting the knees of the intruder. The intruder let out a painful scream before Charles took another swing at the intruder's other knee, forcing him to drop. With one fluid motion, Charles bashed the head of his enemy with his buckler and rendered him unconscious.

The fight might have been over but the war might still be on. Charles rushed down the corridor and reached the stairs. Making his way down, the smell of smoke started to come, rising up from the lower floors. A light came from the end of the stairs, and a roaring heat. The sounds of battle grew louder and louder with every step he took.

Finally reaching the end, and he saw a skrimish illuminated by a strong fire engulfing the tower. He saw fellow staff and manifesters battling the same mysterious masked men as before.

He could not stand to wait, Charles readied himself once more, and with passion, he came charging like a ram at the nearest enemy he could find. His hammer, cocked to the back of his head, loaded with force. He sprinted at an unwitting enemy, with his back turned, and heard the powerful footsteps of the young Charles. He turned his head to see a young man with a big hammer ready to strike. The last words he heard before Charles took a swing, was a powerful war cry that shook his core

"FOR HOUSE GODRIK !"​

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Soryn Llyonard, crown prince of Buntae, was woken from his otherwise peaceful sleep by a sharp pain in his stomach. He knew the feeling, it was the unbearable hunger of one whom had gone a week without food. Starvation was something he had felt before in his life, but considering how much he'd consumed just during this prior night's festivities, this was not his own hunger he was feeling. It was the blade's. Soryn's now-awake silver eyes slid across the grey shadowed room towards the silver blade standing in the center, its tip stabbed into the stone floor. He would often leave the sword manifested throughout the night. It seemed to enjoy the taste of the moonlight that fell upon it through the window and then those colorful sunrise hues. How strange that he would come to think a sword capable of enjoying anything. How strange that a sword would cause him to wake in the middle of the night with its pangs of hunger.

But the strange colorless light dancing across the sword's surface tonight was not moonlight - moonlight rarely dances - it was far too violent for that. Soryn got out of bed and stepped with bare feet across oddly-warm stone towards the window. Away from that cursed sword, the dancing light showed its true colors: reds and oranges of flames. That made sense. Fire absolutely loved to dance. It was one of the few things fire and snow had in common.

Soryn got out a piece of paper and ink and wrote a short note explaining that he planned to go out to investigate the reason for the monastery being on fire, which he left atop his pillow in the event that someone came searching for him. He set his white-gold crown upon his head, lifted his blade from the stone - feeling its hunger surge through him as soon as he took hold of it - and slipped out of his room.

So that was why the floor was lacking its usual earthy chill, the lower floor was already burning. Soryn had reached the end of the hall and the stairwell, only to find flames creeping up from where he wished to go. It seemed that the sword would be able to eat its fill tonight. He descended the burning steps with his blade before him. Instead of the flames heating the metal sword, the opposite seemed to occur. The blade showed no change, at least at first, while the flames seemed to fade and weaken around it. Soryn continued down the burning steps now, the fire before him fading as the blade consumed its bright reds and oranges and yellows. The last part of the staircase collapsed, so weakened was it already by fire that it could not handle Soryn's weight. He plunged a dozen feet into a pile of charred wood, ash, and smoldering embers. His pristine white robes were absolutely ruined by the landing, but aside from a slightly sore backside and back in general Soryn managed to stand back up and brush himself off, for what good it did.

"Someone's there!" A voice yelled from outside.

Assassins? That was where Soryn's mind had gone to, but it seemed unlikely. He'd seen both sides of an assassin's work, and this was far too messy and high-profile for it to be a simple assassination gone wrong. Given the widespread destruction he'd seen outside, it seemed that whoever was carrying out this attack - and it was certainly an attack - didn't care if they killed everyone within the monastery, if that wasn't their end goal. This was no assassination, this was a coup. Someone wanted to destroy the monastery and remove its heavy hand from the political scales. Soryn had of course considered that exact thing before even coming to the monastery, any politically-minded person would have despite claims otherwise, but thinking it and actually carrying such an insane plan out was two very different things. The person behind this attack was certainly insane, and far more bold than Soryn or any politician that lusted after the power withheld behind the monastery's control. Under different circumstances, Soryn might buy a drink for such a person. But tonight he would be pressed to act in defense of the monastery.

The enemy had heard the collapsing staircase and was quick to investigate, but the person found the room dark and empty. Soryn reached out from the shadows inside the doorway to grab the enemy by the front of their clothes and pull them inside away from the light and towards the hungering edge of his blade.

 

[Tuska]

Karam was sleeping like many others had been but woke as the smell of smoke caused him to cough and stir awake. His eyes stung and he found himself falling out from his bed as panic suddenly shot through his mind. The building was on fire! Why is it on fire!? He thought to himself as he got to his feet and ran outside still in his sleep wear. The sights outside were far worse though as he saw strange hooded figures fighting and... killing students. Terror swelled within his mind but mixed with the natural adrenaline as his fight or flight response came into the fore. The initial instinct to run was overridden as anger filled his mind. The other students of this place were his friends, his family, he wouldn't run away from this and for the dead's sake he couldn't. Karam ran down into the courtyard as he summoned his sword. He wasn't sure if he would survive tonight but as he moved to stab one of the robbed figures in the chest he wasn't sure if that mattered. All he wanted to do was fight until he couldn't fight anymore.

 

[The Good Doctor]

The monastery had become a home away from home of sorts to Bertrum and he had grown far stronger than he ever thought possible while getting to know some of his peers. He liked them well enough but he always wished for something to bring them closer together, something he would regret asking for. It all happened so fast. The night before he had gone to sleep after finding out some new tricks with his axe and he woke up with a mixture of burning smoke and stone in his lungs. There had been plenty of mishaps around the forge in his time so he wasn't doubling over in pain or anything but it was still a bit unsettling. As his senses came back to him, he could hear the shouting and overall rage of battle happening outside. This was definitely an attack if he ever saw one but these people would soon realize what happened to those who attacked the home of Bertrum Blackheart. With an almost Nordic rage, he placed his hands over his heart and a familiar axe formed into existence. Its beautiful brown wood was only complimented by the heavy gray head with ice quickly forming to increase its lethality. It was time to cut some people down to size.

In nothing more than a shirt and some fitting pants, he ran outside to the cries of battle. It seemed like most people had already gone out into the fray and he was a little late to the party. It didn't matter though, since it was how you ended and not how you started. These masked men were easy to identify as they were the ones facing off against several instructors and even some people he knew. They were all cowards in Bertrum's eyes for the masks they wore. Why not look me in the eye when you're trying to kill me? Assert your dominance like a true warrior of battle! "You there! I will be taking the heads of your fellow men this day for the destruction you have caused here." His golden locks kind of blew gently in the smoky air as he twirled his axe, seeing a few men rush at him. "Prepare to die!"

The two men came for him using almost large bladed instruments and cloaks, sporting barely any armor. These were the types of opponents Bertrum loved facing since their screams of pain would echo out as his axe buried itself between their bones. And that it did...over and over again. They made the mistake of thinking the big guy was slow until he dodged an attack and sent a chop straight into the man's knee, almost separating the appendage. The other man was smarter than he seemed and took this time to try and strike Bertrum. The smith's son was no fool and moved out of the way, taking his axe with him. Seeing that the man was limited in his movement, he looked to the one who tried to attack him last and gritted his teeth.

He engaged the other man and traded blows with his sword, not actually getting a swing to land on flesh until he tried something a little underhanded. He crashed his axe into the floor and caused some of the ice that coated it to break, flying into his opponent's shoulder. He used the man's moment of pain to follow up with a deep side cut, definitely killing him as he felt the bones crushed under the axe's weight. The injured man had managed to muddle forward and stab at Bertrum's leg, getting a good cut at his calf muscle. The slice was bleeding a bit but nowhere near enough to cause worry. The broadside of the axe slapped into the masked man's skull, knocking him out. His scream was cut short by the axe slamming into his head, breaking the mask and caving his skull in. A mighty roar came from Bertrum as he looked on to more of the masked men. "WHO WANTS TO DIE NEXT?!?"

 

[MythyDW]

Boy's Camp - Upper Balcony
< MythyDW EccentricFantasy >

"You poor, deluded monsters." the man chuckled a little as he felt the scythe upon his neck. "You are blind to the greater scheme - and that is why you will lose." he started to laugh, and then forced himself up so Jarroc's weapon severed his spine. Laukai sighed as he shook himself off, and then looked to the scythe-user. "Thanks for that." he said softly. "These guys.. they know what they're doing." His eyes then narrowed and he looked down at the courtyard. There were plenty of aura-lights down there, but every moment another one disappeared as the assassins slayed another.

"We can't stay up here. We'll be sitting ducks - best thing we do is gather who we can, and then escape." he said to Jarroc, looking to the sides as two more assassins rushed them from the sides. "Come on. Jump!" he told the other, before doing so himself. He would twist in mid-air and use a blastwave from his fire to slightly lessen his impact speed. With a grunt he landed with a roll, and began running towards the people that he saw in the courtyard.

Jarroc, should he hesitate, would take a number of barbed needles thrown at him.

Boy's Camp - Lower Balcony
< BakaTheIdiot OverconfidentMagi BloodInMyEyes KhorneFlakes >

Plenty of the rest of the class was on the lower levels, though they would be separated from one another due to the fighting that was occurring. Soryn, after slaying a few of the assassins, would have some of his tricks figured out. One assassin chucked a lit lantern at his area, splashing oil and fire on him while the others used that light to throw thick needles at him. Those that hit would dig deep, and were barbed to cause even more pain once removed.

"You manifestors never pay attention." came a voice from behind Charles. "Your imagined superiority makes me sick." before Charles could react, he would get a boot forcibly on his back, shoving him down some nearby stairs. This would bring him on a collision course with Alois, who would actually be saved from decapitation by Charles impacting his legs and making them buckle slightly.

Brycen would find himself accosted by four more assassins with his ability on cooldown. He had the choice to attempt to flee and group up, or fight. But he had to make it quick, as the lead assassin threw barbed needles at him and then all four dashed, threatening to get in close before he could effectively react.

Boy's Camp - Courtyard
< The Good Doctor Tuska >

One of the instructors that had been fighting turned to see a trio of students - part of the class that would have soon been going to the badlands. "You three!" he roared, form blurred as he used his own manifestation. "Gather who you can, and flee! We cannot-" he was cut off as a cut appeared on his throat and collapsed in a growing pool. It seemed as if the assassin that was now approaching Karam had cut directly though the instructor's manifest.

"He is right. You cannot survive." came a smirk from beneath the skill mask. Then he rose a foot and slammed it hard against Karam, who would be sent sprawling. Meanwhile, Bertrum would find himself facing down his own assassin. The shortblade user dashed head-on, but before any attack could connect he slid on the ground and spun, using his legs to take Berturm's own out from under him. His recovery was quick, as was the way he slipped forward to stab his sword at the young man's chest

Girl's Camp - Courtyard
< Ace Cream ArchAngelLexi >

The girl's side of campus was no better than the boy's. Students and instructors both rose arms to fight, and both were cut down with no hesitation. There were even times where manifestations seemed to be nulled, and the ranks of the manifestors seemed to be falling quicker than the ranks of the invaders. The window to do anything seemed to be closing extremely quickly, and calls were being given to retreat and escape. Of course, nothing would be easy to do when surrounded by assassins.

One charged close and would engage Rian in close combat, dodging any attack leveled at him while Rogue would find herself unable to assist - as if she stopped moving, an arrow would impale her heart. One archer she couldn't find seemed to have her sighted in, and was aiming to keep her dancing.​

 

[EccentricFantasy]

ArchAngelLexi MythyDW Ace Cream

Jarroc was not surprised when the man killed himself. People on a mission don't allow the enemy to capture them. The problem he was facing was how many there were and just why they felt so compelled to kill the manifestors. That would have to be a question for later.

When Laukai called for him, he looked over the balcony and smiled "My friend, I plan to do a bit of hunting. Tell the others I will catch up." A smirk formed on his face as his dark blue aura became almost black in places. This only happened from his excitement and Readiness to hunt. He turned to the other man as they were coming at him. They were up pretty high so the flames didn't cast too much light. That meant his invisibility was going to be hard to fight. With a smirk he took a few steps to the right and simply disappeared in the front of the men. He waited until they were stopped and looking around for him to take one large swing from behind. He watched their bodies fall, cut completely in half.

His laugh echoed around the entire campus. The laugh that was known very well. It meant Jarroc was hunting. The other students had heard it a few times. Rian especially. This laugh was something he only had when he was in and he was completely focused on catching his prey. Once that laugh echoed across the stone, that was his friends signal. They should know that there would be no stopping him now.

He made his way through the stone building. Keeping his invisibility up and cutting down everyone in his sight. Despite being invisible, the lights in the Halls did give a few of the Assassin the opportunity to wound him. One managed to cut his face add another managed to wound his arm. It was a much harder fight than he had anticipated, but in the end he managed to sleigh at least 6 of the assassins. His body was now cut and bleeding.

He stopped in the major come in the area and dropped his invisibility. Now that he was bleeding, it would be far too easy to see where he was going, so the invisibility was no longer needed or useful. He took a breath as he stood there. Cuts up and down his body and even a stab wound on his right arm.

He breathes heavily. This was a hunt and he was not going to stop until everyone who was trying to hunt his friends were dead. He then placed his scythe on his shoulder and looked around the common room. This place connected the girl and boy camps. There was bound to be a few assassins coming through. So he stood there, waiting for his prey to come to him.

 

[ArchAngelLexi]

Rian Kelly
interactions: N/A
Mentions: Ace Cream

As one of the attackers came near she swung her sword at him. With each swing the attacker dodged; with each dodge her anger swelled. Hearing Rogue's voice she looked up. A mistake. In her moment of distraction the attacker hit her hard, knocking her to the ground. Lordy that hurt. As she hit the ground she rolled back. gaining a bit of distance she rolled back onto her feet. By the time she was back on her feet the attacker was already coming nearer and she stood her guard once again. This time she'd take a step back after every attack she made in hopes to slowly move toward the edge of camp.

The longer this dance when on the more she felt like a cornered animal. Attack. Dodged. Step back and attack. Deflected. Repeat She found herself unsure of what to do anymore. She was mere student up against seemingly trained assassins. Trained to specifically kill manifestors. Who even are these people? She panicked. She knew she couldn't fight, she'd have to run. She was fast. She could do it. Well, maybe if she wasn't still slightly drunk. God, she was still drunk.

With her attacker closing the distance again she panicked. She refused to die here. She'd claw her way out if she had to. Focus. If i wasn't so bloody drunk maybe i could! Behind her, the path to the boy's camp. Above, her friend Rouge being attacked by some hidden archer. Around her, fire and blood shed. Finally in front of her, one attacker who seemed to be giving her the run around. What to do? Think fast you drunk idiot! With all the courage granted to her through intoxication and the desperateness of a cornered beast lunged forward. The manifestation of her sword disappearing as went to tackle her attacker to the ground. Letting out a scream she planned to literally pound him to a pulp and make a mad dash out of there. "I wont let you kill me here!" She screamed as she tried to wrestle the blade away from him.

 

[Ace Cream]

Rouge

For a moment, Rouge could faintly hear Jarroc's maniacal laughter in the distance. She never like the laugh or the sight of Jarroc going batshit like that since for her, killing was something that ones shouldn't enjoy. Still, knowing he was still alive and kicking gave her a bit sense of relief. That's what Rouge was thinking while wildly dodging the arrows aimed at her.

This was a bad bad situation. Dodging the arrows robbed her the chance to assist Rian in handling the attackers. Moreover, she couldn't spot the archer that probably had positioned himself outside of the light of the raging fire. Retreating now was not an option either. If she vanished from sight, the archer would surely start aiming at the distracted Rian. She really didn't want to do this, but...

"I'm sorry."

Rouge grabbed the nearest corpse. The pale bloody face of a little girl sent a gush of nauseus sensation down her stomach. It was Elena's corpse, one of the youngest trainee that just came in a few months ago. Elena likes fishing with Theo and Barry and occasionally asked Rouge about her hometown. Seeing the kid lifeless body on her hands... and the fact that she would use the body as a shield disgust herself.

Raising the body at the general direction of the archer, Rouge shifted her focus towards helping Rian. The big girl seems to be in a brawl with one of the attacker. With a meatshield on her left hand and a dagger ready to be thrown on her right, she aimed her dagger at the head of Rian's attacker and smoothly threw it.

"Rian, let's retreat to the main building." If there's anywhere safe from the fire, then it would be the stone building smack dab on the middle of the monastery's ground. Not only that, the hall was also the shortest path that could take them to the boy's camp.

MythyDW ArchAngelLexi

 

[KhorneFlakes]

CHARLES

Whilst engaged in heated combat, Charles paid little attention to minor details. All that mattered was to protect those around him, and to fight off all these intruders. But one detail overcame him, a barrage of footsteps came up from behind, and before he realized it, he was being attacked from behind. A powerful kick landed on Charles' back and he was sent off balance. Charles fell onto the flight of stairs, down into an uncontrolled spiral. At the end of the fall, he stumbled into an unwitting fellow, sending them both to the floor.

Charles took his time to regain his senses, the fall made him dizzy for a brief moment. As his sight returned, he sees a fellow manifestor, Alois, fallen to the ground alongside him. He looks up to find another assailant, armed with a sword, looking down onto them. Charles quickly got up on his feet and assumed a defensive stance, protecting the downed Alois from further assailants.

"Alois, get up! We have to fight off these men!" Charles screamed at the top of his lungs. Not only to signal the downed Alois, but also to intimidate the intruder nearby.

Charles readied himself, hammer in hand. With his shield up, he stared into the eyes behind their masks and awaited their move. He knew better than to begin an attack. If he were to make the first move, Alois might be taken by another intruder from nowhere, Charles thought of the smart thing to do and be a bulwark for his comrades.

Sweat ran rapidly down his temple, down onto his cheeks, and falling onto the floor. The heat from the far made the situation more tense, as the two faced off, Charles and the masked man in front of him, waiting for the first move.
​

MythyDW BakaTheIdiot

 

[BakaTheIdiot]

The one flaw every archer has in combat is the inability to defend oneself from a nearby attack. While he was busy looking for his next easy target, he failed to notice the men that had the higher ground, and further failed to notice Charles tumbling down towards him. Thankfully, he wasn't seriously injured, and only bruised his elbow from the impact with the ground. He got back up, his back to Charles.

"Charles... take care. I'm sure you've noticed by now, these men are professional killers." He drew his bow and took a potshot at one of the assailants near the top of the stairs. The odds of the arrow hitting were slim, but it was meant to serve as a distraction.

"He's on his own. If you're going to take a shot at him, do it now." Alois said in a raised voice. "I'll take care of our flank, just watch my back."

On that note, he drew his bow once more and sent an arrow hurtling towards an intruder who was quickly making his way to the foot of the staircase.

KhorneFlakes MythyDW

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Soryn sighed as he dropped another enemy corpse with a slit throat onto the bloodied floor. Two others lay beside this one. He'd asked politely each time, "Who do you work for?" None had answered him, in fact all three had spouted some quasi-religious drivel before dying. One had even forced himself into the edge of the blade. Fanatics, wonderful. Soryn had mostly ignored religious matters, preferring hard politics and more pragmatic matters, but he may need to study up on the mainland's religious situation as well to try and figure out the motivations of this attack. That sounded like a pain. It would be much easier on him if he could torture one of the enemy into explaining things plainly.

Something flew in through the doorway, shattering and spraying oil across the floor and onto some of Soryn's white robes. Fire quickly spread across the oil, and the prince's eyes grew wide as he was about to be burned, his own thin robes making him the perfect pyre. His arm holding his blade grew heavy, and as it fell its razor edge sheered away the bottom half of his robes. Soryn fell back away from the flames as they swallowed up the thin cloth that had a moment ago been connected to him. But the attack was not done. A sharp pain in his gut caused Soryn to double over just as a handful of deadly spikes flew in through the doorway, the flames having revealed him inside. His bent body protected him from the worst of the attack, three of the heavy needles flying over his head, one pinging off his crown, sending it flying off behind. Three more hit his sword, protecting him even without his arm raising it, but two managed to pierce deeply into the flesh of his arm, and another deflected off his side, leaving a bloody gash as it slid off of a rib.

Soryn stabbed his blade into the floor and kicked off its side to roll further back away from the doorway and the danger outside. He'd put himself in a bad position. With the stairs collapsed behind him and the only exit that doorway with enemies in wait on the other side, he was pinned. Damn it all. He was Soryn Llyonard, crown prince of Buntae, and he would not allow himself to be killed here! His hand touched the cool metal of his crown, sitting in the black ash of the burned wooden stairs. His silver eyes stared at the darkened metal as an idea sparked to life.

The last of the flames inside the room faded as the blade finished consuming the delicious reds and oranges of their heat, plunging the doorway into darkness once more. Before the people outside could throw another oil lamp, a white shape streaked out, flying out of the shadows right towards the enemy. While they were momentarily distracted by his sword wrapped in his flowing white robes, Soryn slipped silently out and around the side of the tower's shadow. He was almost invisible in the dark, his pale skin and white underclothes turned completely black and grey from being rubbed with ash and soot. And when his blade reappeared in his hand, Soryn's presence disappeared altogether.

He stopped to lean heavily against the side of the tower and feel the cut in his side. It was bleeding quite a bit, but it hadn't started to hurt as much as it would once the adrenaline wore off. He should be fine for a while. The two spikes lodged in his arm hurt more right now, but he wasn't bold enough to remove them himself. His medical knowledge was sparse, beyond what plants would keep a person from starving and which ones would kill you, but even he knew that if one of those spikes had caught a vein and he ripped it out, he could very well lose his hand, or worse. So despite the pain, the metal stayed in.

As he rested and checked on his injuries, Soryn witnessed one of the instructors fall to the enemy. The only acknowledgement of sorrow he allowed himself was that he'd enjoyed that instructor's lectures. Any more than that and he'd become distracted from his current goals: to survive and escape, and to capture an enemy to torture for information. He turned his back before the instructor's body hit the ground, abandoning Karam and Bertrum to their fates. Being a hero was not one of his goals.

He slipped unnoticed through the shadows, blinding himself to the destruction and carnage around him, making himself unfeeling as sounds of death and pleas from the dying reached his ears. Once he heard Jarroc's laugh. It sounded like he was at least enjoying himself. That thought combined with everything else actually made Soryn feel sick to his stomach. He had to lean against the wall again until he was able to move forward again. Near the edge of the monastery grounds he saw a group of the masked assailants. He couldn't make out anything they were saying, but one pointed and the other two ran off in that direction. That one might know slightly more than the enemies running around slaughtering people - they were just people, not people he'd known for years, not friends, just people, please just be people, nothing more. He might be worth trying diplomacy on. Soryn slipped around the man, carefully stepping on bare ashy feet into the man's shadow as he watched the flames rising into the dark night. He raised his blade behind his head and slammed it down, pommel-end towards the man's temple.

 

[Tuska]

Finding himself flat on his back after getting kicked hard to the chest by an assassin, Karam didn't particularly feel confident in his ability to survive this. The master had died so quickly and this assassin was... well terrifying but he would not let himself be killed so easily. He gripped his summoned sword and swung it into the air, the blade flexing and stretching into something more akin to a whip. He wasn't sure how much of a fight he could put up but he might as well try as he swung his manifestation towards the assassin without getting up. After the first swing he did his best to get to his feet without disturbing the blade's momentum. He would follow up with another swing if he could, the blade bending with the momentum to slash at the target as a probe to find any weaknesses, if there were any.

 

[BloodInMyEyes]

Brycen

Brycen was almost covered in wounds, despite his manifestation's protective power.
The assassins were well trained.
He had been lucky to take down the few he fought earlier with the surprise of his invulnerability.
Every time he was lucky enough to take another one out, two more would take their place.
Fighting seemed futile. He needed to escape and regroup with the others.
He swung with his sword at the three assassins in front of him. As they dodged his attack he turned and ran.
He headed for the woods surrounding the monastery and hid himself the best he could while he waited and prayed for his comrades' safety.
Tonight he lost the battle.
But he would not rest until he avenged this dreadful deed, and won the war.​