Fantasy Witches Game

[Hex]

A World of Magic

For the Witches of Acelion, being the best is everything. Power is the aim of the game, the Witches Game. A bloody, and violent battle between Sisters, this sinister game began with one of the Gods of this realm. All Witches and Magic-Users pay tribute to the Goddess Belial, for she is the one who governs the life-blood of Magic, the aural and powerful Mana. It is because of this, that the Witches are so often referred to as the Daughter's of Belial.


However, Belial is a twisted and perverse God. Finding herself bored and idle, she focused her gaze towards Acelion. It was there, that Belial found one of her many Daughters praying to her. This Witch prayed to Belial, selfishly pleading for the power to usurp her Sister. Struck with a brilliant idea, Belial appeared to this Witch with a message.


"Seek out your Sisters, dear child," Belial spoke, "Defeat them in battle, and prove your worth to me. Once you have stained your hands in their blood, may you devour their soul and inherit their power." And as Belial continued to explain, the Witch listened in both amazement and horror. The idea of devouring her Sisters souls was unimaginable. But Belial wasn't done. "And once you have claimed the last soul, I shall return to you. I will grant you true power...the power of a God!"





And so the Witches Game was created. Word of Belial's cruel game soon spread, and the Witches turned on one another. Many Coven's were dismantled, and Sisterhood's torn asunder. The Witches sought ultimate power, Belial's promise of attaining Godhood.


However, this Game has caused trouble for the Humans of this realm. For when Witches battle, anything standing in their way is destroyed. Countless lives have been lost, and many villages have been reduced to nothing more than rubble.


In order to combat the unruly Witches, the King of Kestira—Acelion's capital—has issued for the rally of Witch Hunter's. Skilled warriors who specialize in dealing with the Magic and power of Witches. While these talented individuals face immense danger in their field, these Hunter's are never afraid to charge outrageous fees for their services.


With time running thin, the Game appears to be drawing close to an end. As the Witches numbers decline, only the most powerful Witches will undoubtedly remain. And with the death of another Witch, another step they come to becoming the most powerful being in all Acelion. The Humans are terrified of what might become of the realm if a Witch were to possess the power of a God. Desperate to see this Game come to a close before that time, they hire Witch Hunter's to exterminate them.


And as the Witches battle on, feuding for ultimate power, another entity stirs. A presence unseen by this world, a dark and predatory force that continues to grow in power.


The battle for the powers of a God is underway, and only one shall rise to rule all.


The Witches Game.

 

[Hex]

It is the year 1063 here in Acelion. It is the 26th of Hudej, a week away from Imrotel's Summoning Day. The major cities have lined their streets with festive ribbons and streamers in preparation for the God of Wisdom's Summoning Day. Many are eager to begin the celebrations, and the air is jubilant and merry. Of course, beyond the borders of the cities, the Game continues on.


The Witches of this land continue to pursue that beguiling promise made to them by their matron, Belial. Three years have passed since that promise was issued, and many have since perished. In the wake of such destruction and death, only the powerful and cunning have remained.


Since the start of the Game, the Gods have grown quiet. Perhaps they watch in silent anticipation. Who is to say for certain?


In other news, the reigning King of Acelion—Hector vin Durmond III—has announced his daughter's betrothal to a Lord Emrys Vastion of Ashpoint. Many have come to believe that this marriage is to quell the hostilities between the two families.


In relation to Ashpoint, the Fort has experienced an unusually high rate of seismic activity as of late. Rumors have spread that the miners have been digging too deep into the mountain, and have jeopardized the foundations of the Ashen Mountains. More superstitious folk have come to believe that the Monster in the Rocks has come back, as they claim to hear it whispering to them. Lord Vastion has gone through great efforts to quash these fanciful rumors.


The weather is fair, as Acelion has been enjoying a fairly warm Spring. The crops have been planted, and Summer seems to be arriving early this year. With Imrotel's Summoning day approaching, the people of Acelion are in high spirits. The Witches continue their Game, and their Hunters maintain their pursuit. Only time will tell how this Game will end...

 

[Soviet Panda]

Connor walked along the road. Where this road led, he did not know. After a while of walking road after road, they all start to blur together. Besides, he had no specific destination in mind. The Game was to be played, but it was never easy to find another player of it. This was perhaps the most frustrating part. That, and how Belial decides to add more players at random. The way he knew this was because he had recently slain a rather weak opponent. The magic in their soul was pitiful, a mere drop compared to the oceans of others.


And he could not stay in one place to thoroughly scour it for players. He was being hunted, like most other witches that participated. However, this was not all bad. Some of these hunters had magical potential, and their souls gave him power like any other. And the best part was, they came to him. He could almost hear one coming up on him right now. Wait a second, someone, or something, was coming up on him.


Turning, he rests a hand on the head of his hammer, and prepares several spells. A solid shield of magic to protect against magical attacks and arrows or crossbow bolts. Wards to detect anything hiding in the bushes. And, spells that he excelled at. Spells meant to destroy their target. If it was a hunter, or another player, they would be in for a nasty surprise.

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Excited and nervous


Location: Kestira Marketplace


Company: Unnamed Old Trader


@'s:


Other:

Milly Dawlish


Fields of freshly ploughed soil, that had been almost the only sight to meet Milly's eyes for the last day or so as the merchant caravan she had joined trundled through the countryside towards Kestira, but all that was beginning to change as the long train of carriages and wagons got ever closer to the towering city walls. More people filled the roads, and travellers inns popped up welcoming people passing by the city. As the warm sun of late spring bathed over her, Milly herself sat perched on the bench of a larger wagon, she watched quietly as empty carts rolled past having sold their wares at the growing festival markets, and as wagons loaded high with various wares fell into line behind her own. Just audible over the sound of creaking wheels and clopping hooves, the trader guiding her wagon hummed a song tunefully, it wasn't one she immediately recognised, perhaps one from his home town?


"We'll be reachin' the city soon Lass." the old trader said cheerily from beside her, his bushy grey beard shuffling back and forth slightly as he spoke. "Best get all yer stuff the'gether." he added in his thick accent. She was certain that the man wasn't even from Acelion, or at least was from some secluded part of the lands... Milly hadn't asked him, that kind of conversation usually came back to bite her as they too wanted to know where she was from, and that was something she'd rather not divulge.


"Ah, right!" Milly replied with a bit of surprise, and following the traders advice, she reached for her satchel sitting close by on the wagon. A fairly large bag with many little pockets, it was made of a woven canvas like material with simple brass buckles, it had served her well during her travels. Folding back it's cover flap, Milly had a quick rummage around inside, and pulled out a baked sweet potato wrapped in some large leaves. It's lightly charred skin felt crisp to the touch, yet with a light pull, revealed a fluffy orange inside just right for eating. Holding out a half, Milly smiled, and offered half to the traded.


"Ohh, aye, gid idea Lassie, don't want ti get caught hungry once me stall's set up. Gonnae be a hectic afternoon Ah feel!" he laughed, taking half of the potato from her and biting down on the fragrant orange flesh. Milly laughed with him, he had been kind to her, wanting nothing in return for the ride, just her company and the odd bit of food gathered on the road whenever they stopped for a rest.


As the city walls of Kestira grew even closer and the sounds of bustling markets drifted towards them through the massive gates, Milly smiled, perhaps she could take a break from running for a time, maybe she could even swap some ointments and medicines at the markets.


"Righty ho, Lass, here we go!" the old trader shouted as their wagon reached the looming walls. The noise of the markets hit them like a wall as they passed through the gates, the soldiers guarding the entrance looking over them carefully as they kept watch for anyone suspicious. Ringing bells sounded here and there as deals were made, people rushing back and forth with armfuls of whatever they had just bought, it was a sight to behold.


Pulling her large cloak around her tightly, Milly reached for her staff, placing it against her shoulder as the noise of the crowds filled her head, the sudden change was not something she was used to, it was intimidating, quite different from even a large towns market, yet at the same time, Milly felt her excitement and curiosity build.


"Don' worry too much, no one'll bother you if you stick wi me the now. O' course once me stall's up A'll no have time to do anythin' but sell, but you're welcome ti stick around till then. A'm guessin' you've got yer own stuff to do though?" the trader asked as he steered the wagon into a bustling square towards an empty stall space. Milly looked around herself before answering him.


"No, no I have no plans. Just as long as I can find somewhere to stay for a night or two and restock my supplies, I'll be happy." she replied, as the wagon came to a stop.


"Fair enough. A'right, lets get this stall up then!" the trader shouted enthusiastically.


"Right!" Milly shouted, feeling he man's excitement pass to herself. Jumping off the Wagon, she reached for some rope and joined him in hoisting his tent together.

 

[Riddle78]

Veronica,the Cannibal's Prion

Location: Kestria,market street.


Company: Belligerent Merchant.


Proximity: @Giyari


Other: Guards nearby,on edge.

Veronica hated it here. The city was a pit of hypocrisy and thinly veiled depravity. Outside the walls,people suffered,people were victims of more and more brazen Witch attacks. However,the seat of the Crown seems to have been passed over by the Witches Game... Or so it seemed. Veronica always was of the belief that silence was a sign of brewing trouble. And Veronica knew that the weak and stepped upon will never stop to think about what a helping hand up will have attached... The poor,the victimized,Hell,even some of the more unscrupulous nobles are all potential practitioners of Witchcraft. Power at any cost. The uglier face of Belial. The Goddess of Magic and Mana,turned into a devil. Veronica frowned at the thought; The patron of something so natural and primal,painted as evil? Does that make a tornado evil,just because it killed a noble's children? It was preposterous. The true villains were the careless Witches who allowed innocent people get caught in the crossfire of the Game.


And one bad apple can sour the whole barrel. Maybe it can work in reverse?


The Crown knew exactly what she was. However,she has also proven,time and again,that she was on their side. What's more,she's useful to them. She was an asset. And this is what kept her alive. However,to avoid lynch mobs,and maybe also to keep paranoia at a minimum,only the Crown,their direct agents,and regional magistrates know that she's a practising Witch. Which is good,because she'd most certainly be in a much worse situation if that weren't the case...


The man on the other side of the stall was in his prime,and built like an ox. And he was insisting on..."Two Wholes. Not a Bit less!" Veronica slammed the coutertop,causing everything resting on it to jump a couple of inches. The obstinate man was hawking meat. "Two Wholes!? That's how much I get paid for a kill! How do you stay in business with such outlandish prices!?" The man guffawed,and said, "By charging what my customer's got. You're a Hunter. You can't mean to tell me you're poor! The Crown pays your kind hand a king's ransom!" Veronica sighed as she balled her hands into fists,and straightened up. "I am paid well. However,I spend much of it to feed my horse. Furthermore,I travel. Too much coin will just weigh me down." The Hunter leaned in,and said, "Furthermore,I know the magistrate. Give me a reasonable price,or I have you in irons awaiting trial for highway robbery."





The merchant snorted derisively. "You don't have the stones,lass. Two Wholes,or fuck off."





Corin,the Wolfman of Kestria

Location: Northern border of the Ashen Fells,abandoned farmstead.


Company: Dust,echoes,and a murder of crows.


Proximity: None apparent.


Other: Dense fog,overcast,distant rumbles of thunder.

Corin Gascoigne pulled hard on his horse's reins as the old farmhouse came into view. Or,rather,the silhouette of the farmhouse. The fog was thick,today,as it was nearly every other day so close to the Fells. He was here,out in the armpit of nowhere,on a Hunt. There was a Witch,terrorizing caravans coming along a nearby road. Murders of crows,mad for blood,descended upon the caravans,ripping the escorts and merchants to shreds,the supplies either stolen,destroyed,or left to rot in the damp. When Corin caught wind of this,he set out immediately. After two days of riding,he finally found it. It was easy,really. Find the rotting hulks of the caravans,and look for nearby shelter,maybe a base.


The only option for any kind of shelter was this old vineyard. Marshland was amazing for cultivating. Rich in nutrients,you could grow anything in it,if you had the patience for the pests,weather,and treacherous footing. However,the fields,full of debris and detritus,bore silent testament to the current occupant's disinterest in farming. More's the pity. Gascoigne dismounted his old nag,and tied it to a nearby post,then proceeded down the rough dirt path to the farmhouse on foot. Drawing his Pepperbox and Wytchsteel blade,the Hunter walked alone for fifteen tense minutes,expecting an attack at any moment.


When none came,the Wolfman began to think his guess was wrong.


But that ended the second a corpse was launched from the second story window,seemingly by a great flock of jet-black birds,which crashed into the ground in front of him. The corpse was beyond recognition; The ribs were wholly exposed,as was the front of the skull. A great majority of the flesh on the hands and forearms were stripped away,revealing savaged bone. "Humph. Not enough meat left on this one." Gascoigne stepped over the cadaver,and into the farmhouse to confront his prey.

 

[Atom]

The Road to Kestira

A lone figure sat upon a pale horse, looking out over Kestira from the top of a sloping hill. Acrisius, the Lord of Locust's as he enjoyed thinking. Although even so it was a title he rarely actually atrributed to himself. A lord was so below one such as he, if it weren't for the neat lettering between lord and locust then Acrisius wouldn't pay mind to it at all. Either way though Acrisius still liked to muse of it idly from time to time.


His thoughts were invaded by the piercing screech of an hawk, his hawk in fact. Or one of his hawks if you could call it that. The thing wasn't living, that was evident in it's ragged decayin appearance as it swooped from the skies to land atop Acrisius' horse. Then again neither was the horse he sat upon. Of course one couldn't tell by looking at it, freshly animated corpses could easily pass off as living givin the right circumstances. A pale white horse would easily hide the pale deathly tone of it's skin. The hawk on the other hand, well besides the fact that it's body was twisted and warped from Acrisius' many experiments and changes to it's physiology, the hawk had the appearance of a half decayed bird already, let alone the stench it carried.


To any passerby the hawk would smell vile, of death and decay, enough to make one regurgitate anything they'd consumed recently. But to Acrisius the smell no longer held any true faults. One could get used to the smell of death and decay when dealing in necromancy. Acrisius looked to the feathered abomination perched on the horse a moment before he spoke finally, "Tell me...was there anything of interest in the surrounding countryside?"


Acrisius stared at the being a moment as it's knowledge flowed into it. It was a unique transfer, not of words but more of thoughts, and basic at that. One could not get very complicated with such a small brained being. But images and thoughts sufficed for this mission. "So..simply a few witches, nothing of extroidinary power..no hunters of any real threat either.." Acrisius grumbled. It was rare anymore that he ever ran across anything significant in his travels. Most of his recent souls and playthings hadn't even been witches, rather they were persistent hunters who refused his offer of escape when given. One couldn't do much more than slaughter them like cattle when they refused to back down.


It was such a waste too, at least in Acrisius' opinion. Weak and pitiful hunters who, with time, could have become greater. Hunters who could have gathered many witches souls before coming to Acrisius to meet their demise. Harvesting, that would be a simple way to summarize it. Why slaughter the weak when you could wait for the weak to become strong, bringing to you the souls of many instead of the soul of one? It was such a more intelligent route in Acrisius' mind, one that he enjoyed much more in fact.


Acrisius reached out to the bird, gently stroking it's feathers, or what remained of them. "Take to the skies and remain there until my call." he ordered it, shooing the bird from his mount. With a screeching call the bird flapped off, taking high into the skies until it was nothing but a small dot hidden by the sun. Without further hesitation Acrisius spurred his mount onward down the slope towards the gate's of Kestira. It was time to get on with his business...


One could only imagine what the detailed...

 

[Hex]

Location:

Outside Kestria






Tags:

N/A






Notes:

D A O L A

THE WOLF OF RIDSTON
​

Inhaling deeply, one could taste the frost blowing down from the Acelion Ridge. Despite that, a warm spring sun shone down from the sky above. Having just disembarked from a ferry off the Hesin River, Daola was pleased to be returning to civilization. Hunting Witches in the swamplands, while paramount to furthering her career, was a rather foul setting to linger in. Of course, it would have all been worthwhile had she claimed a kill. Unfortunately for the young Hunter, that was not the case. Nearly a fortnight spent in the murky wetlands, and she had naught to show for it. Regardless of her plight, Daola was happy that she could once again walk upon solid ground.


Shifting her shoulders, she tugged at the straps fastening her pack to her back. As she began heading for the tall towers and walled city in the distance, the dried mud on her boots began to dust off. Her long golden locks had been secured in a tightly-wound bun, ensuring her hair would not soil during her stay in the Hesin Moors. Her clothes, however, fared far less. Her blouse, once a pristine white frock, was now stained a dull brown. Her sleeves were worn and nearly torn, matching the condition of her trousers. It was clear from her rather ragged appearance she had endured a rough couple of nights.


Heaving a defeated sigh, Daola focused on returning to Kestria. There, she hoped to find a nice inn where she would bathe and then finally sleep for the next few days. If she were fortunate. Of course, the chances of her being called for another Hunt were high. The young Huntress only hoped that her next chase would involve seizing victory. Time would only tell if the gods would show mercy towards Daola, and alleviate her misfortune.

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Slightly wary of the crowds, and fascinated by the wares.


Location: Market Square


Company: Formally; Old Trader


@'s:


Other:

Milly Dawlish


With a rope in her hand, Milly got to work securing one side of the merchant's stall, it was a simple construction at best, a three sided tent with a roof and a table at the front displaying some wares, most of the wooden poles were shaped to fit together quickly, the only part really needing work being rope ties to keep the poles together. Knot-work wasn't something Milly had too much experience in, she had once repaired a broom but nothing major, she could manage this though.


"A'right, that'll do it. Seems sturdy enough! Now, we wait for the punters ti turn up, unless you wanna go check other things out? Ah gave yi a lift in return fer the company and settin' the stal up, yi don' have ti help oot wi anythin' else if yi don't want tae." the Trader mentioned as he tied off the final knot on the roof cover and began laying pelts and other items out on his table. He was right too, Milly had "paid" the trader for her journey, but she was also in no rush.


"Well..." she began, before hearing someone cause a ruckus at a nearby stall. It was the city though, loud was just how things seemed to be around here, everything was loud.


"I'm running low on oils, it's difficult to make ointments without them." She finished, glancing out down the rows of stalls. There was bound to be a vendor selling oils, it was just a matter of finding them amongst the busy marketplace crowds...


"Ahh, Aye, Ah see, you got yer own business to do too! Tell ye what, how much o' yet medicines have yi got in yet bag? I'll buy the made up ones the now, give ye some money to get more o' them oils yi need!" The Old Trader laughed, stroking his bushy beard as he cracked his "master plan" to Milly.


Having a quick glance into her satchel, Milly counted roughly how many jars she had made up, there wasn't much, but any spare money would be worth it while she was here. Taking out fifteen or so small glass jars, each one filled with a creamy yellow coloured paste, Milly smiled and sat them down on the Traders table.


"These ones usually fetch around twenty bits a jar, they're all purpose, but not great for burns, the oils upset the wound." Milly explained in an uncharacteristically serious tone, medicine was not something to be flippant about, her teacher had made sure she was careful with their use.


"Emm... If you're okay with it, I could give you them for fifteen bits each? You could sell them for profit, and keep some for yourself in case you get a scratch or something!" Milly added excitedly, she was trading with a real trader, it was kind of exciting, like she was making a real sale, it felt, grown up!


"Ahh I'd be more than happy, lass! Yi've got yersel' a deal, so yi do, hahaha!" he laughed heartily and took Milly's hand in his own, giving it a shake to seal the transaction. His massive calloused fingers made Milly's hand look tiny, not that her hand was big by any stretch, but the size difference between the two of them had never been more apparent than this moment.


"Ah~! Thank you! I could get used to this, trading is fun, haha!" she sang cheerily as the Old Trader dropped a bag of bits into her hands. It wasn't as heavy as she Milly expected it to be, but when she peered into the small pouch it became obvious why, a number of halves gleamed back at her.


"Trading isn't an easy business yi know, lots of unscrupulous types oot there who'd try an' make a fool o' yi. Yi gotta have yer wits about yi at all times." The Trader answered as he stacked Milly's little pots of ointment up at the side of his table. She knew he was right, but that fleeting thought of a peaceful life on the road selling and buying, it sounded a lot better than shuffling from town to town, hiding from other lone figures on the road in case they were after her blood... A girl can dream.


"Y-yeah... You're right. Still, I can always aim for something one day." Milly replied, putting the halves and bits into her satchel.




Gathering together her things, Milly once again thanked the Old Trader for his kindness and help, before she set off around the market. The crowds were farily packed, but it wasn't too much trouble to move at pace from stall to stall. With her large black cloak over her clothes and her slightly bulky leather satchel slung over her shoulder, Milly gazed over each stalls wares.


Some sold general farm produce, butters, cheeses, fresh vegetables, others were a bit more specialised, with freshly picked orchard fruits lining the tables, or wines and ales from far afield. What interested Milly most however was the crafted goods, finely worked gemstone jewellery, mechanical items for keeping track of the time without the sun, ornately worked leather belts, bags, and saddles. Sure she was on the look out for oils, but it never hurt to have a look at other things while they were available... Plus she now had extra bits to part with! Holding on to her large walking staff, Milly continued down the rows of stalls.

 

[Atom]

Alayna Blue Everly, "Zora"

Alayna lightly bit down on her lip as she reached out slowly from her hiding place behind the bench. In front of her sat a small group of men enjoying a drink around a table, their voices booming loudly. These men were a few loggers from outside Kestira, enjoying a brief break from their taxing jobs in the wilderness. And loggers back from a break meant one thing to Alayna, coins. And these men had a good haul. Alayna had seen them earlier getting paid, and their coin bags rested on their waists heavily. At least one of those could give Alayna enough to last a few more days in the city. The only difficulty was getting it...


Alayna gently reached out, her hand grasping the bag carefully right where it hooked onto his belt. A thunderous bout of laughter made her freeze as the man she was attempting a lift from shook heavily, the laughter obviously coming from him. "Ahhh boy, twas a good one Mac...aye...you win, you win. You're lucky I've had such a good haul, 'therwise I'd not be payin ye righe now." The man said as his laughter subsided. And then his hand moved too fast for Alayna to see, brushing hers on it's arc for the pouch. The reaction was instant, Alayna attempted to quickly pull away, and the hand itself reached back and clamped around on her wrist, yanking her out and around into the air.


"Whaddah we got here! A theif!" the man barked angrily, lifting Alayna into the air as he stood. Alayna quickly twisted her other hand around to grab the man's wrist as she swung her foot forward and up, slamming directly between the divide of the man's legs with a fierce hit. The man let out a yelp that revealed a raise in his voice's octave considerably before releasing Alayna's wrist. Alayna was moving before she hit the ground, throwing herself away from the roar of anger from the group of men and into the crowd of the tavern towards the door.


Alayna burst through the open and into a crowd of people, slamming shoulder first into a a rather burly man who, to Alayna, felt like a brick wall. With a grunt she bounced off of him to the left and hit the ground in a ball, rolling to a stop into the street and gather the attention of the people around her. Alayna took a moment to pick herself up, at least until a voice roaring from the doorway caught her attention.


"Stop her! Theif!" The man from before said, pointing directly at her from the doorway. Alayna quickly shoved herself from the ground into a run, darting into the crowd before it could react to the man's words. Alayna pushed herself hard in her running, following the street to the marketplace and dove from the crowd into the stalls, ducking and weaving between them without casting a look back. She had no idea if anyone was chasing her, but it was definitely something she didn't want to risk checking to find out. And so Alayna continued to run without a look back.


She ducked and weaved between various stalls, cutting a corner between two in order to reach the street before her foot caught ahold of a rope on the ground, nearly throwing her to the ground before the rope came loose, collapsing the newly set up tent onto a man and his stall, who wasted no time in yelling at Alayna's running form. "Sorry!" Alayna shouted, turning her head to make sure she hadn't injured the man without stopping her movement. It was because of this inoppurtune choice in looking back that Alayna didn't even spot the woman in front of her, at least not until she slammed full speed into her back with a yelp, sending both her and the other girl to the ground in a pile.


@Giyari

 

[H A R P Y]

​

Location: Ridston Outskirts


Mood: Cool, Determined, Focused


Tags: @ [any]
​

⌘ | E V A N O R A





"Do not fail to keep in mind," called the witch to her town, "the blessings of the Pantheon, for all gods gather to celebrate the Summoning of one. Remember the gifts of Minore as you go about your days, for your health and fortitude sources at his heart. Remember the gifts of Ikhael as you thrive in this land, for your strengths of mind and body hail from his own arms. Remember as well the gifts of Pengali as you prepare this feast of feasts, for by the fertility of this land--her womb--are we allowed to reap our grain." A pause met her mouth, halting the last blessing's instinct to continue on.


"Keep in mind these blessings of our mighty gods, and you shall find a crown of guidance placed upon your head by Master Imrotel himself. May the Pantheon watch over us."





The crowd echoed her last words and after a bow of the waist, Evanora made her exit to the sounds of hurried whispers and the hushed shuffled of feet.


Two years had passed since her arrival at Ridston and little more than a spec of trust was gained. It was to be expected, of course; with the war of witches growing ever more toxic, few people trusted those with magic skill. However, as a resident "Mage" of the town's center, it was expected that she partake in the preparations of the coming Summoning Day.


The murmurs followed the loose threads of her cloak until she made her way towards the edge of the town, the faintest of grins upon her lips.





"Moronic as ever, I would say," came her mumbled words. Moronic though the lowly citizens of Ridston may be, they were her perfect cover, and for that she was grateful. Few others would ever suspect a witch of her kind mock-worship the god Imrotel, let alone hide amidst humans who so hated her kind.





But the war had begun to draw a close; while others saw bright, halcyon skies promising a bountiful spring, the tingling static of strengthening magic hazing the air did not go unnoticed by hidden witch.


Sooner or later, her identity will shatter and she will reemerge as Lady Haven to devour the souls of whomever was left of her kind.


Her fingers buzzed with the hum of power, long tendrils of grass sprouting in her steps.


She will not be taken off guard, of that she was sure.

 

[simj26]

Adelaine Matthews

For what it was worth, the "game", as they call it, was not much of one for her. While at first, the stench of magic that clung on to every inch of every town and city she had been in was unbearable, two decades of living with it had taught Adelaine to appreciate her talents, especially if her supporting talents included getting rid of the source of the smell. Naturally, Adelaine could, generally, sniff out her next victim if they had been wantonly using their magicks, leaving their traces all over their bodies, and all over the town. Once upon a time, Adelaine Matthews left most of those who simply reeked of witch-magicks alone. There was a code of conduct to be followed: unmarked targets, innocent or no, were not part of her contract. She was paid to waste enough resources to get rid of a specified number of targets, and she did not need to create a hole in her pocket for some demon's whore, especially since said whore wasn't going to be worth anything. In fact, the more she left alive, the higher the chances were of a client putting a mark on their heads. It was simply a matter of economics.


That having been said, Adelaine Matthews, known as Marigold Waters to the innkeeper and her neighbours in the small, yet comfortable temporary residence, situated right next to the rather lively Kestira Markets, now caught the scent of a strange existence that she had yet to encounter, as soon as she opened the doors to her balcony. It smelled like...cleanly cut grass, and the fresh misty air of morning, tinged only with a hint of what seemed to be decay. What was odd, however, was the scent's nature. It smelled...plain. It was strong, but it did not invade her senses like those of Belial's harem, and yet it did not seem as if it belonged naturally. A witching mage? A maging witch? With that unique smell, the unmistakable malodour of a witch meandered close, one that smelled of a newly constructed room or space in a building, cardboard, wood, that had been set alight and left to burn. It was tantalising, the thought of two potential sluts, gathering just under her balcony, but what was more fascinating was the former of these two smells. She cared very little for the second. The fact that it had little defining factor made her sure that this particular slut had no talent in magic at all, besides one or two of them. The other? Possibly two magicks, but their nature was undetermined.


"Ms. Waters, good day."


Adelaine reminded herself in time, that she was not wearing her usual armaments, to save herself the embarrassment of reaching for an invisible sword at her side, as she swivelled to face the source of the voice. It was none other than the portly Mr. Mortensson, whom she had the best of luck to acquire a room adjacent to. He was a man of wide girth, rather pudgy face, lined with age, complete with a well-kept moustache and a toupee to make up for his balding head. He was no trouble, for the most of it, and was quite the polite gentleman nonetheless. From their talks on the balcony, she had learned much about the man, and he had learned nothing about Adelaine Matthews, only the fictional Marigold Waters. Recently widowed, the man sat at his balcony or at the counter of the bar next door, searching for company that would converse with him, to get over the passing of his beloved. The sentimentality of humans was remarkable and it was not something that she would fault him for.


"And to you a good day as well, sir. Drinking up the sunlight again, I see." Adelaine leaned on the parapet of her balcony, looking down onto the streets of the market, attempting to discern the source of the smell. The witch's scent was moving fast, leaving a faint trail that vanished soon after. It was hard to keep up with that one. The witchy mage's scent, however, moved slower, was more relaxed. Which was good for Adelaine.


"Ah, of course, Ms. Waters. I cannot just loaf around in my residence forever. What a terrible way to be found if I were to die, alone, rotting away in a bed. Pathetic and tragic, wouldn't it be?"


"Indeed." Adelaine replied without much consideration of his speech, scanning the crowd with her eagle eyes. A spyglass would do her good, but taking one out right now, in front of her neighbour, was like to arouse suspicion.


Whatever had been uttered by the existential Mr. Mortensson did not reach her ears, for the next moment, the smells clashed, literally. Both scents collided with each other, turning into an unholy mix of smells. Adelaine leaned over the parapet, attempting to catch sight of the scene, so far that she almost tipped herself over. There, at the other end of the street. A pair of lasses had run into each other. From the position of the bodies, it seemed as if the one with the soft, golden hair had been the perpetrator of this particular accident. That was the witchy witch. The other, the one with the boyish, raven hair, was the witchy mage. She was the one. Adelaine wasted no time. She gave a curt farewell to the still reminiscing Mr. Mortensson, backed into her room, and threw a white coat over her black tunic. She looped her belt, one that she preferred to call an utility belt, due to all the pouches and holsters it held, around her hip, jammed two pistols into their homes, and slipped her dearest dragon into its own home situated behind her. Pulling the hood of her white coat over her head, she climbed out of the window, the one that led to the alley beside the inn, and lowered herself down on the window sill, onto the ledge that was the window to the innkeeper's room. She hopped down from her last foothold, and dropped onto the ground, her coat's skirt settling around her knees. She drew the coat together, clasping the front shut. Unless she ran, her guns were invisible.


Lisa-Anne Valentine

From the alley opposite the little accident, a figure decked in a white cloak hurried over to the two young women who had had the misfortune of said accident, her brow furrowed in one of worry. Without prompt, she took hold of both ladies and attempted to help them to their feet. "Come now, are either of you ladies hurt? I-I was passin' by, and I couldn't but help to see that, thought I oughta help a little." The lady in white spoke with an accent, the same sort that would come from the farmlands of Ridston. Her blue eyes that seemed to shine brightly under the shadow that her hood cast, and the braids on either side of her face furthered that implication.

Spoiler

@Giyari


@Atom

 

[Kenji Jensai]

Location:

Market In Kestria






Tags:






https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11748-giyari/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11748-giyari/@Giyari

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11748-giyari/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11748-giyari/




https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11171-atom/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11171-atom/@Atom

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11171-atom/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/11171-atom/




Notes:

Tasha GodSpell

The living Dead
​

Inhaling deeply, Tasha sitting on a public bench quickly found that the scent that drove him wild was in the air, the scent called Magic."Awe so some witch has entered my hunting ground" he finished his sentence with a wide grin.Shifting his shoulders, he tugged at the deathly white hair on his head. Getting to his feet he quickly ascended to the rooftops surveying the area he quickly spotted the source of the so called Magic Smell. It seemed hat the source was coming from a nearby alleyway. He began leaping from building to building until he was directly above it. In the alleyway were 3 females all ranging from various ages.'So one of them must be a witch or they could all be witches 'he thought to himself."Well I supposed I should greet them like a gentleman" he chuckled as he spoke the last words. Him a gentleman unbelievable, well time to get on with the show. Heaving hard he threw his body into the air doing a cross between a flip and a summersault he landed acrobatically on the ground below.


"Hello ladies my name is Tasha Godspell and I am your Judge, jury and executioner" he said it with a bright smile that looked like that of a madman's."Well aren't you going to answer" he said with a laugh that would give Gods nightmares.[/Justify]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_09/unsure_by_bloodline_009-d46ftc3-Copy.png.7007a6cfd4ad808e533ea11e74da8fa4.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="75882" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_09/unsure_by_bloodline_009-d46ftc3-Copy.png.7007a6cfd4ad808e533ea11e74da8fa4.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Surprised and confused


Location: Kestria Market Square


Company: Alayna, Adelaine, and Tasha.


@'s: @Atom, @simj22, @Kenji Jensai


Other: The post's a bit messy, too much going on at once.

Milly Dawlish


Milly was busy eyeing up a selection of hair pins when the unfortunate meeting happened. With a sharp dunt to her side, Milly squeaked slightly, landing hard on her behind with whatever it was that knocked her off her feet now resting more or less on top of her.


"Wha-! Owww..." she stuttered, unable to get the words together thanks to the throbbing pain on her hip. Propping herself up on her hands, Milly looked down at the mess before her. The culprit seemed to be a younger girl, perhaps lost, or just too excited about the festival and not paying attention. Either way, she seemed in a rush.


"A-are you okay?" Milly asked quickly, still trying to pull herself together. Busy marketplaces could be hazardous so really she wasn't surprised at the turn of events, it happened all the time to people, but who would have thought it would happen to her. She just hoped the damage wasn't too serious.


The more immediate problem was the crowd around them, Milly could almost feel their eyes drilling into her skin, a spectacle such as this, it was embarrassing to no end! People around them moved back slightly, giving them room, but no one came to their aid right away, no, they were happy watching and laughing under their breath at the two "clumsy stupid girls".


It was only a few moments before someone offered a helping hand, but it felt like an eternity, things drags on when you're the object of attention, like everyone's collective thoughts add to your very presence in time. Hearing the voice of help snapped Milly back into the real world, and with a thankful look towards the voice, her eyes met with another woman.


"Ahh- thank you, Oww-!" she stuttered, grabbing her staff and taking the woman's hand to get on her feet, the other girl in turn being lifted as well. "That's... that is going to bruise." Milly added quietly as she placed a hand over her right hip, she could feel the tender muscles pulse through her dress, making it hard to put any real weight on her leg. Of course she could apply some magic to it, but in a place this public, she would be better waiting it out. For now, it looked like she may need some help.


"My hip, I may have sprained my hip during the fall..." Milly explained quietly as she used her staff to support her weight. She could feel her face still flush with embarrassment, what a day.


To make matters worse, the now trio of women seemed to have attracted the attention of someone else, someone... odd was the only way to describe them.


"E-excuse me? Judge?" Milly replied the the man's incoherent ramblings. Was he a preacher of some kind? It wasn't unusual for them to proclaim to be messengers of the other world, to judge the sins of the living, and to shout about repenting said "sordid marks" on the souls of others. It was usually best to just ignore the zealots, most of the time they were con men, or covering for their own heinous deeds, anyway...

 

[Atom]

Alayna was dazed after the impact, not exactly sure what had just happened. All she knew was that while she'd had her head turned back towards the destruction she'd caused and turned back just in time to run face first into something. It'd been too sudden and too fast for her to really take in what it was, all she knew was that she hit it hard and nearly knocked herself sensless. Alayna rubbed her eyes as someone helped her stand up and looked around at the woman who'd helped her as well as what appeared to be another woman who'd she'd ran into.


"I..I'm sorry about that.." Alayna started, raising her right arm to scratch the back of her head, a nervous habit she'd developed. At least she'd tried to do this until a sharp spike of pain from her elbow that made her hiss in pain and suddenly look down at it. There was nothing visibly wrong with it but it certainly hurt like hell. Alayna bit her lip and let her arm sag, hoping the other woman hadn't spotted what had just happened but quite sure that it'd be nigh impossible that she didn't. It was then that someone who appeared to be raving at them about something.


"I..uh...do you know this guy?" Alayna asked the other woman in front of her who'd she'd ran into.

 

[Soviet Panda]

A rider. That was who was coming up on him. They looked to be in a much larger hurry then he was, but that did not matter. All he had to do was step to the side for that. No, what was more important was whether this man was a player in the game, or a hunter. There was only one way to tell. Weaving an intricate ward, he prepares to set it on the rider. The ward was designed to sense magic and to get not be detected. But since Connor wasn't the best in that branch of magic, the results were varied. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did nothing. And other times still it did something he never expected. Such as point towards the caster and basically call him out. Hopefully that last one wouldn't be it. But you never knew with wards. Wards Connor made anyway.

 

[simj26]

"Not at all." was the curt answer. She could smell the stench of a witch's magic on him. He wasn't magic, he was magical. A construct created from magic. Whatever he was, his words were enough for her to understand that he was not here to have tea with them. The general reactions of her quarry and her newfound friend told Adelaine as much as well. Her swords missing, she had no power in her holsters to end his miserable life. She had, however, enough power to beat a hasty retreat. Adelaine Matthews' hands moved quick, faster than the eyes of her present company could see, flicking her coat open. In a split second, three small glass balls hit the ground, shattered, and exploded into a burst of grey smoke. In the next, the white, hooded lady had a gun with an unusually large barrel directed ahead of her. The doubt that she had loaded the gun with incendiary ammo crossed her mind for only a second, before she pulled the trigger. A deafening roar exploded from the gun as its mouth spat out a burst of flame ahead of her, at where she surmised her target would be. Spinning the gun, and holstering it behind her, she closed her cloak, turned around, and clapped the shoulders of the two witches, pushing them away from the smoke.


"Run." was all she said.