Fantasy Zephyr (Accepting)

[Ixacise]

It would seem that his effort weren't quite enough. As the moment he landed with a firm clack of his boots' soles on the hard stone streets that wounded girl was quite gone with something carrying her off. He quickly sheathed his blade again as he stood still for a moment. As he let himself catch a brief breath followed by a brief drink from a bottle.


"My, how disappointing." he said aloud to himself.


His eyes swiveled surveying the chaos around him. With the way the village had been destroyed by that magical fire it looked like another war zone or the remains of that city he had heard of. The situation escalated quite quickly no doubt about that. But this escalation was all for naught and instead was sad and pathetic. Like a deflated souffle robbed of all glory and just a sad object; so too was this moment. All this destruction all to snatch one person away was a bit too inefficient for his tastes.


However this time was not the place to ruminate on such thoughts. Fact of the matter was that girl must have been quite important to warrant such an approach. Making haste he went back to the area of where those girls were. The only one left was the one who blasted the shadow creature. "Are you okay? Also what now?" he said to her his gaze meeting hers.

 

[Ian Temero]

Shor

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The cat examined the hole for a few seconds before answering the prince. "Best that you go first, otherwise you will be waiting quite some time as I figure out how to climb down a vertical ladder." Shor could always just fly down, but he was not ready to reveal all of his secrets to the young prince. "You begin your climb and I will search for another way. After all, it would be inconvenient and dangerous for Ezra to have to carry crates of contraband up a ladder. Surely he must have another way." And with that Shor walked off and into the kitchen, where out of sight of others he vanished in a puff of smoke.


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Medea

​

All around the roof top lay the bodies of dozens of shadow creatures in various states. Some were had been cut to pieces, many still burning, but most of them were riddled with three foot long icicles. In the middle of all this stood the mage. Covered in blood and claw marks, she leaned on her cracked and splintered staff, sruggling to stay on her feet. Between healing the refugees, attacking an undead assassin, and fighting off strange creatures, Medea had used up almost all of her energy.


"Are you okay?" A voice said "Also what now?"


It took her a few seconds to focus her eyes on the figure in front of her. It was the man had been duking it out with the assassin down below. She gave him a weary smile. "I'm fine. Nothing that some rest and a healing spell can't fix. Honestly I'd think you would be in worse condition considering that you were in arms reach of that guy." She said with a laugh. "Speaking of which, how's the elf chick?" She tried to move towards the edge so that she could see for herself, but her legs gave out before she could take a single step and she began to fall...

 

[CaptainDorran]

The Freedom sailed through the air, at the moment climbing past the port side of the middle of three large relief ships on their way to Dominion. With their forces hopelessly disorganised, Althalos and his crew had become the hired help. It was doubtful that anyone should wish to attack the purely humanitarian convoy, but the quad-bows were loaded and primed all the same. He had kept the crew at normal stations, having learnt long ago remaining at full combat readiness for the entirety of a three day journey wasn't good for morale nor fatigue. The ship creaked slightly as the pilot eased off on the forward sails, opening the lower set to neutralise the upwards force they had gained. They were sailing cross wind, and at half sail to keep the pace of the slow cargo ships.


His vessel was a strange old design, fastest with the wind behind rather than across it like most modern ships. But ingenious design meant she could sail quicker than most no matter the wind direction. Being able to change not just the facing, angle, and size of your sails like any ships but also the shape was what really gave her the edge. The fore-sails were long, thin rectangles at the moment, with the beam at thirty degrees. All four aft sails were out in right angle triangles, flat on to the wind which blew across them at about their 5 o'clock. The midships control vanes were packed tightly in, no need for the manoeuvrability they provided for the time being. But the two airmen sitting on a barrel of steel quad-bow bolts playing cards were charged with opening and maintaining them at a moments notice should the need arise.


Althalos sat on the stairs up to the wheel at the aft of the ship, leaning on the rail. He held a book in front of him, it was dull, barely holding his attention, but for now it beat staring at clouds. He snapped the book shut, already forgetting its mind-numbing nature. As he stood to join the airmen in cards he heard a shout from the speech tube that came up to the starboard of the wheel. He leapt up to it and spoke clearly "Report!" putting his ear to it a reply came from the starboard lookout. "More orc movement Cap'n, 48 degrees; mark 46." He recited from the log book he would already have recorded the event in. Althalos grabbed the telescope he kept in a leather sheath on his thigh and used the gyroscopic compass on it to align himself with the given magnetic angle and relative vertical bearing. He squinted through the lenses at an undulating tide of Orcish warriors. "A couple o'hundred strong I reckon." He said evenly to the Helmsman; Gordon Herganann.


"Good thing they can't fly then." He said in his usual droll tone. "Imagine, just for a second, an Orcish airship..."


"Heavens, I can see it now..." Althalos sneered, gazing into the middle distance.


"Putrid green."


"Putrid." he echoed "And slow."


"Made of pig iron." He flexed his fingers on the wheel. "And worse, it'd be..." He shuddered for a second as they spoke together "Asymmetrical." Althalos looked down at the deck and smiled, he and his old friend had similar oddities. He smirked at Gordon, who merely glanced at him as if to say 'I'm serious right now.' He chuckled and trotted down the steps to the Air-deck. As Althalos faced away from him, Gordon allowed himself a smile, just a small wry one, before continuing to scan the horizon.

 

[Ixacise]

The man caught the falling the falling woman but instead of letting her stand weakly. He simply let her sit as he struck a a post and began making some gestures. It was good to know she wasn't completely wrecked from the fight as this would slow things down. He said to her, "We have failed. One of them of them managed to take her away while we were distracted by the fight and the town being burned." He then looked at her and concentrated for a few moments hurrying his flow of energies as he knew they had to move fast.


He then simply picked her up with one hand by the arms with effortless ease as if she was some small animal. He then placed her on his shoulder and then began to run from the burning debris as the buildings burned and crumbled into ashes and stray bricks fell from the collapsing frames. The entire place was quite literally going up in flames and he didn't want to linger here anymore than was necessary. As they left the village and moved into the outskirts the village in the distance looked almost like a massive bonfire.


"So do you happen to know of that girl and the reason those monsters needed to capture her so badly? Also where do you need to go?" he said as continued moving at a brisk pace. He wondered if he should let her down for a moment, but decided against it seeing as she could easily catch her breath given the magic being used to allow for her balance on such an awkward seat and to have her extra weight being minimized to allow for mobility.

 

[Beaurmont]

The prince watched as his furry companion hopped of his shoulder, quickly disappearing into distance. Shit. Guess I'm alone on this one. Zelin shrugged, and with a sigh, looked once again into the dark corridor. Ezra stood above him, taking fast rythmic puffs from his pipe. The owner watches silently, contemplating but not giving any hint on his thoughts. He simply grunted every now and then, even nodding when the cat mentioned another path to the corridor.


Zelin crouched and firmly placed both of his feet on a peg of the metallic ladder, sliding down a bit. The metal was cold on his hands, and a rather peculiar smell arose from below. "I assume ya won't know tha way...it's relatively straight, but it takes a few curves near the end. Make sure you keep to the walls. Torches are hung around. Jus' need to find something to light em. Anyway. Good luck." Ezra muttered, surprising Zelin a bit. He didn't even have to ask. "Thank you again. I'll be sure to take extra care." With that, he descended downward into the darkness, climbing carefully. The light from above slowly diminshed and he felt the darkness slowly creep around. He tried to gaze down below, in search of some hint of a end, but he simply couldn't.


Finally, after the light had nearly disappeared completely his foot reached the ground, and he could walk on stable ground again. "Oh yeah, don't tell no one bout this tunnel ya here? It'd ruin me." Ezra yelled above, getting up from his own crouched position. Zelin assumed he didn't need to answer, and turned to look for anything that resembled a torch. From what he could make out, large boxes sat covered in dust. A fresh breeze blew in from down the tunnel, meaning at some point it reached an opening. He began feeling around in the darkness for anything that could be of help to him.