Fantasy Tales of Demetia IC

[Risotoo]

x

xA chilly sea breeze swept into the entombed village of Malt, its sounds reminiscent to that of a long-forgotten spirit, haunting the caves of Jove once more. From the town square, the chime of the clock reverberated throughout the village, snuffing candles and braziers in its wake. This was, to many, the time to be welcomed into their warm cots, to let their worn selves dip into sweet nothingness. Away from the sweltering humidity blown in from the sea. Away from the tedium that so naturally follows the endless repetition of their lives. Away. To others, the resounding gong was only a sign that it was time to head for the watering hole. In the lower ends of Malt, in an alcove far from the thundering rapids of the sea, was the local tavern. As effervescent as ever, one could still hear the merry cries of villagers too thrashed to care for matters outside of keeping their bellies full with mead. From its doors, a man barrelled out. Like many of the patrons there, his face was a bright red, and his movements similar to that of a new-born fawn. He could barely keep his balance as he fell to his hands and lurched out a whole day’s meal, and then some. With a slurred voice, he called out: “Oi! Mind givin’ a lil’ help here?” Footsteps. “Takin’ yer sweet time? Help me up!” He shouted. Still nothing. Eyes watery, the man looks up, likely expecting his mates to be looking over him with those shit-eating grins. But it was not so, for his eyes met something else entirely. There, at the brink of shadows, emerged the subject of many whispers, a creature birthed from his dreams. It was the figure in black, accompanied by a shade of equal presence. And there, at the side of its hands, a dagger with an irrationally infinite blade gleamed cruelly. The man didn't think twice before bolting away from the bar. ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦​ The figure stopped in front of the tavern. Outside of the noise and the lights, it didn’t seem particularly pretty nor significant. It was a hollowed-out cavity, with only a flimsy set of batwing doors to separate the tavern from the road. A weathered sign hung over the portico, its message barely decipherable. Truly, the only thing that marked this area as the bar was the image of a mug (poorly) carved upon the outer wall. That, and the recent barf that’s stewing on the rocky floor. Looking inside, however, was a much more flattering sight. Orange flames bathed the deceptively large alcove in a warm glow, wine and song flowed through the tables never-ending. Upon the walls were beautiful, albeit faded, murals, many of which depicting folktales of the goddesses. A few of the clear-headed villagers danced in tune to the off-key bellows of their companions, and to the barely distinguishable bard onstage. The smell was absolutely horrendous, though, stinking of sweat and alcohol. It must only be through the miracle of intoxication that the patrons themselves remained unaware of the filth. Hesitantly, the figure moved in, careful not to make more contact than necessary with the crowd. They did, after all, have a goal in mind. Somewhere in this tavern… That effort was quashed when suddenly, a drunken brute stumbled towards the figure. The first time was dodged, but when the brute made a second pass, the figure could not escape. "Hey,” he said in between hiccups, the very caricature of a drunk, “yer that freak that keeps goin’ round here, aren't cha?" The shade beside the figure, a tall woman with dark red eyes, quickly stepped in front, acting as a shield in case something went south. Nodding, the figure disappeared back into the crowd, eager to distance from the man. ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦​ Now unbothered by the man, the figure continued on, following only their instincts and the intensifying pulse of their hand. Eventually, their path lead in your direction. Strewn across many tables, you all were like stars in a constellation, waiting to be connected once again. You can feel it, can’t you? That same pulse upon the back of your hand, beckoning towards the figure. x

revior The Pilot Orikanyo BFabulous Melon Bomb ERode lumbago​

 

[revior]

Nobu
​

"What a strange town," an elven man mused, his face reddened with drunkenness.

He stared at the murals of the tavern carved into a stone wall. It had been about three months since he had arrived here, or has it been longer? Had he been here before he realized that he was here? It was strange, very strange indeed. It felt at times that he was both familiar and unfamiliar with this town. Too many times he could have that he had never gone down a street or alleyway before only to know exactly where they lead. He could almost say that he's been here for the longest time yet there was a sense of unbelonging, as if he was but a stranger here. Though that might have to do with the fact that's he's an elf.

"But, oh, where does an elf come from and where shall he go~" the elven man began signing his thoughts out loud.

"Shut yer mouth," said another man drinking beside him, "I'm here to forget my woes, not receive it."

The other drunkard swung his mug at the singing man, only to hit nothing but air, the dirty elf already swerved out of the way, now apparently in a mood to dance, or at least, it bears some semblance of what a dance was supposed to look like.

Three months, three months of doing odd jobs, from patching up roofs to running deliveries to providing alibi for a cheating husband, in three months he had done any work he could get his hands on for a pittance of coins. Some days, he won't get work at all and he found himself digging through the garbage bins behind taverns for food. It was both a surprise and not when he found how used to it he was and how easily he could stomach putting something that had been simmering in trash into his mouth.

Well, whatever, today is not one of those days. But, if he doesn't find himself a proper job soon, tomorrow probably will be.

His feet, now tired of spinning incomprehensibly around, brought him to another seat, coincidentally close to the bartender, tending to the bar.

"Hey, old pal, heard anything?"

That's what he'd ask each time he dropped by, the same old desperate question, the answer to which capable of bringing either hope or despair.

"No... Not today," the reply came back.

"Ah, so despair it is then." The elf had his eyes downcast, planning to sing his sorrows away for the night as the bartender feared. The last time he did so, the entire tavern was reduced to a mess of carnage while this elven drunkard simply sang and danced obliviously throughout the night at the center of it all.

As the bartender began to wave someone over to toss the mad elf out before he becomes the center of another storm, the elf stood up suddenly from his seat. The bartender watched him with wide eyes, fearing for the worst, but the elf paid him no mind. Instead, the elf was watching a stranger in black. The elf could feel it under his skin, more specifically, the skin at the back of his hand and for some reason, he felt that this stranger was the cause of it, either that, or he had pricked himself on something bad while digging through the trash the other day.

 

[ERode]

It was comfortable and simple, making a living with only the might of your squat little body, but three months in, Rihi was absolutely starved. She wasn’t ever really all that big on junk food before, and a life going from grazing field to grazing field had steeled her resolve when it came to eschewing from the pleasures of civilization, but even then, her family had managed a trip or two to the city every month or so. In this new world however? Where the fuck were her tendies. Her shakes. The boba? Hell, even pizza was sounding good now.

Rihi stared at yet another meal of soup and bread and could only feel her irritation rise more. The same flavorless slop. The same basic tastes. The same weakass seasonings. Even the occasional roasts couldn’t help to alleviate the sheer lack of a kick that these meals had, an issue further exacerbated by how her travelling speed had cut in half ever since that little shitter went off with her horse. Now trips to larger cities took even longer to complete, which meant even more time on the road fed by crackers and water while her income dwindled too.

In a world with magic and spirits, why on earth did no one have a spell to make food taste better?

Rihi continued to stare at the sludge in her bowl, as if she could turn it into a spicy lamb hot pot with willpower alone. She stared harder. Harder. Harder! And when nothing happened, she sighed and worked hard to get it over with. Shovelling the contents of the bowl into her mouth, she slurped the broth in a single gulp, mopped up the residue with bread, and ate that in two quick bites too. Before her mouth could dry up like the desert, she chugged down the earthy well water that came with her meal and wiped her mouth clean with her sleeve. The atmosphere in the tavern was shit, full of depressed old men, gambling addicts, and a shit-eating elf who looked like he’d burst into a Disney musical at any moment. She was better off leaving if that was the only company present.

The halfling woman got off her chair, turned for the door, and…stopped. A throbbing in her hand. A connection not formed of body, but of the mind. The guidance of the goddess upon her starry throne, pulling her to the one she was destined to meet, the one she had always dreamed of meeting.

Her eyes, red as summer roses, found that tall, dark stranger.

It was them, wasn’t it? In a world of magic and spirits, in which one in particular found favour in her vigor and her passion, such serendipitous encounters could happen after all.

“IT WAS YOU! YOU’RE THE ONE THAT STOLE MY HORSE! BOLD FUCKING MOVE, YOU MOUSE-TIDDLING ROBBER! I’LL BRAIN YA INTO THE MODERN WORLD FOR THAT!”

And with the shriek of a banshee whose hair had been set on fire by a sadistically curious toddler, Rihi snatched the recently-emptied bowl off her table and rushed for them with killing intent!

 

[BFabulous]

Lenyx's time in his new body felt mostly like a dream and embraced it with open arms. In just a short amount of time a had became somewhat accustomed to this new world. The only thing he truly missed was modern plumbing and hygiene. Lenyx was lucky enough to be "rebirthed" into a new body with a strong culture behind him, affording him a lot of luxuries, such as a possible free room for a favor, or at least a roof over his head. The family he was staying with were kind in the best way. They asked little of Lenyx but he still chose to offer as much help as possible.

Lenyx's travel from Yggdrasil was grueling but it gave him plenty of opportunities to get further acquainted with his body. This new body was apparently a bunny-man. He could jump higher than others and his speed was unparalleled compared to humans. This situation, and new body, afforded Lenyx a plethora of freedom to explore himself although he was unwilling to trying to many things at once. He had formed a sort of boisterous personality but it was just a facade.....he thinks. One thing he did know he loved to do was cook. Even in his past life he loved to cook but wasn't allowed to do so. When he needed money he would work in tavern's to earn a little money, or expend a few bullets for a bounty. The vegetation in this world was different but somethings were the same.

"Alright, I'll be leav----" His voice was cut off by the family tackling him to the ground in tears

All speaking at once they exclaimed," We'll miss your cooking!!" Lenyx's felt the love until they said they would miss his cooking and not him. He scrambled from under them and stood up

"I'll just pretend y'all are gonna miss me! And not just my cooking...…,"He looked at the mother was she wiped away her tears first and nodded to a few notes left on the counter, "Bye!! And thank y'all so much for the space!" Lenyx screamed as he took off from the house. Outside the bunny man could feel the reinvigorating breeze against his cheery cheeks as a sudden urge pulled him towards a tavern

A Tavern.....That's right! I could find some info or watch a fight! OR JOIN ONE!

Lenyx walked into a halfling about to throttle a man...a woman...a being covered from head-to-toe. Their aura made Lenyx's hand subconsciously slip to his rifle. He was on edge just from seeing this person and he was prepared for the worst, hopefully!

 

[Melon Bomb]

Talena was not the drinking type. At least, not in her past life.

Flecks of foam sprayed in all directions as she slammed down her empty stein. The first sip was disgusting. And the second. The third one, too. The fourth, however... was even more gross. But she kept drinking anyway. She already paid for it, after all. And if there was one thing she hated, it was wasting food. Admittedly, once the buzz started to kick in she found herself unconsciously drinking more and more without really thinking about it.

It was a little depressing getting wasted by herself, though. The guys at her table were already gone, one of them had to go puke outside and his buddies escorted him out -- they haven't returned since. She kneaded the back of her hand with her thumb, letting her gaze wander to some kind of commotion by one of the tables. Well, everyone else is still pretty lively. Looks like there's a fight brewing!

"Oh yeah, honey! You show 'em what's what!" Talena drunkenly cheered on the halfling with the emerald locks, despite having no idea what was going on. "Kick his ass! Kick his ass! Kick his ass!" Her inhibition had clearly taken a hit, and yet she was just sober enough to register some strange words in that sentence. Hm. 'Brain you into the modern world?' Is that an expression people use around here? Weird...

 

[The Pilot]

It was rare to see Echo in town. It wasn't completely unheard of—as much of a hermit as the Huntress of the Rainforest was, she couldn't just ignore the town all-together. But to see her in the tavern, of all places? That was rare. And yet...

...Here she was, all the same. Teeth tearing through meat that was somehow both undercooked and overcooked at the same time. But the Huntress didn't seem to mind it. In fact, Echo didn't actually seem to mind anything in the tavern at all. Like there was nothing wrong at all in the world, the Huntress continued wolfing down the meat gripped in her hands...because to her, the simple promise of warmth and cooked meat made all of that worth dealing with. Hell, she could take a knife in the gut right now and she'd be happy as long as she got to finish her meal!

Wellll...okay, that was maybe just a little bit of an exaggeration. It was impossible for Echo to actually turn a blind eye to everything as she gnawed on her meat. It was impossible to ignore just how badly roasted the meat was, to the drunk fools who actually approached her, to when the sparks of the hearth got just a little too close for her liking. Even as a hermit, even with only murky memories of her previous life...the Huntress had to admit it. This bar was pretty shitty.

Despite all that though, it was all okay! As long as her meal remained mostly undisturbed...she would be fine. At least, that's what Echo told herself. She could tolerate this much as long as it meant some cooked food for a damn change. That's what Echo whispered to herself.

But the Gods are cruel bastards with a sick sense of humor. Because it was as soon as Echo comforted herself with those thoughts that the screaming began.

“IT WAS YOU!"

And while Echo was willing to tolerate many things...a tavern brawl was not going to be one of them, tonight.

As the halfing continued to screech on, Echo carefully set down their roast. As the others in the tavern cheered on the incoming brawl, she stood up—intervening. The Huntress stepped in between the charging hafling and the cloaked figure before one could collide with another...shoving both the cloaked figure and the halfing away from each other, not hesitating to put serious force behind it.

Yet, it hadn't been the throbbing in her hand that drove the Huntress to step in like this. No. There was a far more serious, far more grave reason for why the Huntress stepped in...


...It was because her table was right next to them. And the Huntress was going to actually kill a man if her roast got ruined in their scuffle.

 

[Risotoo]

Breaking through the sea of arms, the figure breached the crowd, akin to a fish out of water. Looking around, they once again spotted the motley group, drinking away their worries. There seemed to be something strange, however, something different…

Suddenly, from the corner of their view, a shadow jumped out of the background, lunging at them with the viciousness of a bloodhound. Although its cries were muffled by the roars and hollers of the villagers behind, her wrath was apparent right away as in her hand, she wielded...a bowl?

Their mind had no time to process it, however, as a strike connected. Funny, how something so mundane as a wooden plate can cause so much catastrophe. Or was it? Truly, they weren't sure. Only that whatever had hit them had hurt.

As the roar of the crowd reached a crescendo, the figure could feel their senses being muted by the pure whiteness encompassing their mind. Slowly, the colours of the world dimmed away to a quiet song, its tune a monotonous whine.

It lasted for only a second, though, as, in a gush of stimuli, the pain immediately rushed in to fill the void. Hot, bruising pain arose as the light returned. They had been pushed away, fortunately by a masked individual apparently. Looking up, two figures stood at the shade's feet even as their cloak fell away, revealing a woman.

"What the hell..." she gritted."..is wrong with you?"

ERode The Pilot​

 

[lumbago]

THE FIGURE'S COMPANION

HENRIETTA MORENO

INTERACTIONS: Risotoo The Pilot

TAGS: BFabulous ERode Melon Bomb Orikanyo revior

LOCATION: Malt's Tavern

ATTIRE: A large black cloak that shrouds her figure. Underneath, the standard priestess attire associated with the goddess, Callisto, albeit modified to Henry's tastes.

INVENTORY: To be determined.

MONEY: To be determined.

Henrietta didn't want to go.

The villagers, for some reason, seemed to be distrustful of the duo ever since their respective arrivals. Her size notwithstanding, she couldn't understand what distraught them so. And now, they're to go to the local bar? Where people gather in hordes to get drunk and, by proxy, lose all sense of inhibition that might stop them from harming her? If that wasn't a recipe for disaster...

But to let her companion go off alone didn't sit right with her. (And, what would Amara think?! The sheer thought of her disapproval was too terrifying to imagine.) So, despite her reservations, off they went.

Regret, however, was quick to follow that journey.

The "tavern", (if it could even be called that,) was a terrible cocktail of alcohol, piss, vomit, and who-knows-what. Its patrons were, nearly just as unsavoury, rushing to and fro with little regard for her and the waiters' well-beings. Even the interior was tacky, with the faded paint on the walls looking like the musings of a bored child. What better descriptor was there for this place other than "eugh"?

"Where's yer freak friend runnin' off to?" And to make matters worse, she's now stuck at guard duty, trying to ward off this drunkard. You'd think that being over seven feet tall would've been enough to discourage harassment like this from happening, but maybe it's just the liquid courage that's keeping him talking.

"I jus' wanna talk. Tell both of ya. You two been walkin' 'round. Scarin' good folk. Can't be havin' that." He sputtered, leaning far too close for comfort. Their distance was only maintained by her matching his steps, moving further back as she shrunk in on herself. She scratched at her hand, her brows furrowed and her already-strained frown gained an added tension to it. "Please," she gritted, "just leave me be. I've literally done nothing."

If only it were that easy. The drunk showed his teeth, insistent on breaching her space. Pleading, she turned to the crowd, hoping for a chink to escape from or help from a well-meaning stranger. But, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she found neither. Only a crowd forming a wall around her, trapping her within and leaving her no purchase.

She needed to reunite with her companion and leave. Now.

Frantic, she turned around, searching for even a glimpse of that dark shade of cloak they both shared. It surprisingly didn't take long, because, on the other side of the room, another commotion was occurring. There, your companion was, about to be throttled by some green thing until another interloper pushed them both to the ground. Hard. She could almost hear the (probably painful) thud of their fall, even through the din of the crowd.

"The hell?" Now she really had a reason to rush through. Henrietta, fuelled by a sense of guardianship (and a tinge of desperation,) shoved, and shoved, and shoved. Maybe a little too much, because before she knew it, all she can feel is the rough surface of the stone slab table. Around her, the sounds of stone against stone, beers, chips, heck, a full roast fell to the floor, wasted.

Somewhere in that tavern, she could hear that same drunkard, now crying wolf. "Y'all saw it, right? Freak pushed me first! Gone mad!"

In complete coincidence, Henrietta huffed out the same words her companion had uttered just moments before, tail swishing greatly in agitation. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" If she simply gone bruised from this encounter, she might have let it go. Angry, yes, but she would heal. Unfortunately, however, her last good dress was ruined. Arguably her only good dress, to be honest.

And that's a sin that must not be forgiven.

Calm soon descended upon her, the clarity of her subsequent actions and her determination in following through fuelling her. "You're getting it." She declared aloud in so steady a voice that you would think she's simply remarking on the weather, before launching herself to her feet, (only losing her balance slightly.)

Barely a second passed before that calm from before was replaced with the storm. Any restraint she might have had earlier snapped, her eyes seeing red (both literally and figuratively.) Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she brandished the blunt end of her axe, a weapon nearly as tall as herself, and waved it around, uncaring of the bystanders that might be injured by that move. "Payback time."

That bastard (and anyone who dared stop her from throttling that bastard into the next life) is dead.

Code By Nano

 

[Orikanyo]

Richard Plenty


Ah a brawl, yea, those can happen, Usually all in good fun, sometimes folks even became close friends after a fist or three in the face. it was just how these things went. yea never know somebody until you take a punch or three from them.Yea, these gals will work it outta their systems soon enou-

Oh fuck shes bringin' out an axe!

Yea no my dear that don't stand even if yea got beef on each other!

"Oi oi oi love hold yer arms d'here!" Like a soldier lining up in the frontline the infantryman rushed up and raised the shield from his back, his stance hardened and ready to meet the strikes.

"Come on now me love yea don't need to go killin' over a soiled dress I dare say it's a big jump from a bout of spilled poridge!" He wouldn't take out a dagger, but he wouldn't stand by as one of the wee folk get flattened. He wanted a closer look at this gal... But certainly not in this way.

"Bye the gods lass what yer parents feed you?"

lumbago
@ others in the fight'a current surroundings.

Active skill, Brace

 

[revior]

Nobu
​

Something was happening, people shouting, being shoved around, tossed around even. There was this tall woman, parting the crowd with the might of her strength alone. She was strong for a woman, that's what the elf had thought, amused by what he's seeing in from of him. He wasn't sure why bar fights tend to happen whenever he's around, but usually, around this time, he'd be drunk and singing. Today is different somehow.

His sight, however, soon fell away from the tall woman when an entire stone table was flipped, just like that. It was an amazing feat, freakish, one might even say. What really made the elf's eyes open wide though, was the beer, chips and HOT DAMN, an entire roast, wasted, on the filthy ground. That means that no one would want it anymore, right? That means that it's good as trash, right?

The elf turned to the bartender, his drunken elven eyes met with his. Though the owner only looked at him because of the surprise that an actual fight broke out before the elf started singing, the elven male took it as a sign of approval. One big gulp of the mead in his mug later, the elf had his drunken eye set upon the buffet that laid on the ground. Sure, it's filthy, but nothing a bit of dusting off won't fix, and if that does work, rinsing it with some alcohol ought to fix it.

"Alright, I'm going in."

 

[Melon Bomb]

Pulling out the broom! How rowdy-- wait a minute... that's not a broom!

Without a moment's hesitation, Talena flung her mug at the stranger's noggin hoping to throw off her aim and grabbed her halberd with the other hand as she bounced off her stool. The young woman rushed into the fight with a controlled but semi-precise strike (she was drunk) in an attempt to deflect the incoming axe. It's a big weapon so it's hard to miss, but she might be thrown off her feet because she didn't have the time to stand still and properly hold her ground.

This played out better in her head before some other like-minded heroic fellow suddenly squeezed himself in between the attacker and the patrons with his shield up. She nearly tripped over her own boots trying to redirect her swing away from this guy's exposed back.

"Sorry, sorry!" The apology flew out of her mouth as she skidded to an abrupt stop and readjusted the angle of her halberd. Talena pointed to the incredibly villainous axe lady. "In here, we settle fights with our fists! Put that thing away!"

 

[Risotoo]

Folks get into fights all the time, especially when tempers turn as explosive as their drinks. The barkeep hadn't minded it too much, then. He was usually able to make a killing through the guilt that followed the rowdier patrons after a particularly bad tantrum.

Although the mood recently had been disturbed by the arrival of those two phantoms, most of the patrons had been on their best behaviour, especially with the Moon Waltz coming up soon. And even if a fight were to break out, the barkeep had been confident in it quickly blowing over. The tavern had seen its fair share of fights, after all, and would always live to open another day... was what he had thought.

But not like this.

Never like this.

He was just about to fix another drink for the patrons when suddenly, he heard a crash. He paid no mind however to the raucous noise, knowing to never get involved with the villagers when they were drunk. "Keep it down!" he shouted over his back, before returning to the mugs that had been piling up.

His resolve quaked, however, when he heard jeers. Alarmed, he looked over to see a crowd gathering around in a circle, enclosing the havoc within. Although he couldn't see it's participants, he knew all too well a brawl had just begun.

The barkeep expected something, especially when those two entered the tavern, but not to the extent that the taller of the two would be swinging around an axe. Not to the extent that his furniture would be ruined.

For a moment, the man was dazed out of his mind, held in disbelief as his establishment is wrecked to bits. Every mug that he had bought, every slab of stone that he had painstakingly carved out himself, every painstaking fixture that the loanmaster was sure to need repaying for...

Turning to the people that seemed to not hesitate in facing her, he screamed, "I beg of you, save this damned tavern and stop that madwoman!" Shortly after, he dashed out the doors, making a mad dash to the precinct for assistance in this matter.

A new quest has popped up. Please refer to the #quests channel in the Main Menu.​

Faced with the impending destruction of the local tavern, you are left with a choice: will you face Henrietta and stop her from murdering both the man and the "avant garde" furniture from turning into dust or leave the tavern to its eventual doom, thus losing the only cheap and affordable watering hole in town?​

 

[EMIYAman]

Oswell Whitlock

A young man sat in the far corner of the tavern at a lone table. His hands constantly moving as he scarfed down his meal as quickly as possible, then pausing to scribble something within a book next to him. Sometimes he would pause longer than normal, erase something he had just wrote then started writing again. Despite the seemingly frenzied way in which he moved he looked quite calm and absorbed into what he was doing. He barely looked at his food as he ate only when it was necessary to stave off the hunger that had dangerously encroached during his journey. The clothes he wore could easily have been described as finery at one point, and if one were to glance at him his ties to the church would be obvious. Yet in spite of these things which told of a upper status beyond the common man his appearance showed anything but that. His once pristine white robes were stained with the dirt of the countryside roads and the edges which touched the ground were in tatters showing none of the holy elegance they once portrayed. The gold upon him was muted in color and did not shine like it once had, even his hair was messy and unkempt and hadn't been cut in some time. Indeed, the young man shared more in common with a vagabond than an honorable man of the cloth. However the one thing which defied such scathing assessment sat to his right leaning, a long metal object which spoke of the mans identity as a magic user.

"The world is permeated in Magical Energy..." Oswell muttered to himself while ceaselessly writing within his worn journal. His eyes rapidly scanned the page which was mostly blank save for a few words. His deadpan eyes widened a fraction before he once again set to writing.

Magical Energy is the largest source of power recorded to date and is essential for life within this world. It is safe to assume that the Conservation of Energy law still applies here as such Magical Energy is not unlimited but is so vast to mortal men it may as well be. (Note magical energy also cannot seemingly be destroyed only converted) This energy in its natural state is practically blank able to have intent imprinted upon it when used to achieve desired magical effects, however Magical Energy can also absorb the nature of its surroundings gaining properties more suited to certain elements and forms of power. Hence the existence of the elements and graces. Based on my studies Magical Energy is similar to light in that it exists as both elementary particle and wave due to this nature as both particle and wave as stated in the Uncertainty Principle it is hard to measure or study its properties. Yet Magical Energy despite being so abundant and omnipresent for all of history is incredibly elusive and undefinable. The laws and rules of my old world while applicable in some cases cannot be relied upon completely as some Magic has a tendency to defy all known logical explanations and openly flaunt its defiance against the laws of physics. It would be easier if it followed these laws or completely sidestepped them entirely but the fact that its a case by case basis makes the conclusion even harder to reach. At this point I may have to use Metaphysics as an actual avenue of study. Hu-

His writings were cut off as a chair flew threw the air and collided with the wall next to his head shattering into pieces. Oswell closed his book and showed his surprise with a few rapid blinks before turning his attention to the commotion deeper in the tavern. He hadn't noticed up till now but a brawl was ensuing and was growing in both audience and fervor. It was hard to tell who was fighting through through the crowd but the tips of horns could be seen over the top of the onlookers heads from where Oswell was sitting. He didn't show it on his face but he was rather annoyed not only was his meal interrupted but so was his writing he had been travelling for a while now so a bit of rest was sorely needed. He would have ignored them then and there but a feeling overwhelmed him. The back of his hand tingled in a way hard to describe it was if longing and purpose had been translated to the physical and engraved upon his hand. He marveled at the feeling even as he almost unconsciously rose from his seat beckoned to where the fighting began. Oswell wondered if this too was an application of Magic unable to be studied. Any doubt as to his next set of actions was dashed as the barkeep begged the people around to stop the destruction of his livelihood. Oswells eyes narrowed as he fingered a cross in his pocket before taking up his stave and marching into the chaos pushing and weaving his way though the crowd.

He came upon the combatants and was briefly shocked at the sheer, diversity. Four people of varying sizes and races faces off against the large horned women with a huge axe to boot. She seemed to have flown into a rage and the other were trying to placate her with either fist or words. His eyes locked on a figure in black and the tingle on his hand grew again. "Alright then, stop the fight then confront that mysterious individual." Oswell thrust out his stave in a showing his intent to cast a spell. "Simple." If he knew a spell to cause them to sleep or lose their anger that would be far more elegant but a show of force that cannot be ignored should be more than enough. After all he can easily cause more damage to this tavern than any of them.

Magical Energy gathered, his Grace was put to use, and light presented the advent of the manipulation of primal energy. A fierce wind whipped around Oswell as he intoned in a loud but firm voice with a look of concentration, "Fireball!". A ball of fire exploded into being above the fighters to the surprise and horror of all present, Oswell made sure to contain the spell so no damage would be done but the threat was still very much present.

"Now then, he spoke to the group grabbing their attention. As a God fearing man I would not seek to harm any of you, but if you continue this line of action I will be forced to act and I will have no reservations or hesitation to do so. So please for all our sakes cease this quarrel." As always Oswells face betrayed no emotion other than concentration but ever so subtly a smirk grew upon his face as he gazed upon them with his ultimatum hovering above their heads.