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  1. In the skies above, a small falcon glided with the wind, occasionally releasing a few pieces of molten rock from its wings. It soared across the skies, getting a good view of the landscape. In the skies, the falcon saw a few other small birds that flew around. Nothing of its interest though. Having been satisfied with the view, the falcon descended downwards, gaining speed very quickly as it rocketed towards the ground. Heather hadn't pulled off this stunt for a long time, and she admitted that it was extremely reckless of her. The idea was that she'd shape the elemental energies in her body to take the form of a girl, and use the trailing fires that seeped off her skin to form a parachute to slow her descent. It did not go as planned. At all. Heather soon found that she was descending too fast for her to form matter from fire. This was bad. If she didn't find a way to slow down soon, splat. Dead. So she tried something else. She released the energies in her falcon form, turning her surface area even smaller, causing her to accelerate like a bullet. However, this also caused a dramatic decrease in her mass. Now just a tiny canary, she spread her tiny wings desperately to try to slow herself down. And then, she started to decelerate. Extremely quickly. Science had saved her. Soon, she was drifting through the air like a feather, having only a few metres above the ground to spare. I am never doing that. Ever again. As her tiny canary feet touched the ground, she released a large amount of energy from her body, which encased her like a shell. It began to solidify, forming muscles, flesh, bones. And finally skin, topping it all on top with a flowery orange dress. The people around her didn't seem to suspect a thing. After all, Port Caelum was located in one of the most arcane heavy circles of Genesaris. She groaned as her feet began to turn jelly. That terrible descent had completely rattled her. "Miss A'aria?" she called out through the crowd. Heather didn't have a tattoo. She wasn't a human, and her curse prevented her from taking the oath of the Rose Offensive. She didn't know how she was going to find her mistress. She was hopelessly lost among the crowds of people. She approached the window of a building, and stared back at the reflection of herself. During her descent, she had expended a lot of her energies, which would take time to replenish. Or A'aria could heal her, since they were both of nature's descent. Due to this, she lacked the energy to create a larger body of form for herself. She had been reduced to the form of a tiny 10 year old girl, the dress which she had imagined herself to be fit with now loosely fitting over her tiny body. The remaining fabric was clutched in her left hand, like a tiny blanket. Maybe she would just rest and try to find her mistress later on when she had replenished her magical energies.
  2. @Zamarca Heather's hands had left A'aria's waist in seconds. Her childlike body turned into a bright flurry of flames for a moment, elongating her limbs to their full stature. The whistle she had heard was unmistakable, and from the position she faced, she eyed Vox Umani's reckless approach on the dragon. Her eyes had widened upon seeing the dragon open its mouth. Not hesitating, she ducked under A'aria's arm, and threw herself between Vox and the fireball that came bursting out. The fireball struck her at an awkward angle, borne mostly on her right shoulder as the flames spread down quickly to her chest. Immediately, her skin glowed brightly as the embers within her body were rekindled by the familiar heat. But that wasn't her intention at all. Due to her poor positioning as a result of having to rush, the fireball succeeded in pushing her onto one knee, as the flames licked her body with a vengeance. Her skin darkened to an almost coal like complexion, and her irises dilated. Her eyes began to glow a powerful orange, as if flames were burning on the inside as well. As the dragon halted its stream of fire, Heather bent over onto her knees and gasped for air. She was really out of practice. Her body began to decrease in temperature rapidly. She hoped her Mistress wouldn't be mad at her. She didn't know what had triggered her to save Vox. Possibly something her Mistress had said about looking out for her companions. An instruction she would be forced to carry out, even if she didn't remember it.
  3. No no no, Heather- no stuffing anyone's head in a toilet bowl! The Elemental princess turned around, the flames that enveloped her body shimmering for a moment. Whoever it was already went downstairs, and were probably just in a hurry- besides, they only knocked us over when they ran by, they didn't commit a crime or intentionally hurt me or anything! She raised her eyebrow at the comment, her eyes flickering across the room. The woman hadn't gone downstairs. She was peeking under a staircase. Please calm down! At once, she noticed the fear in A'aria's voice in her head. Immediately, the flames that surrounded her body snuffed out. She turned around completely, her skin still blackened from the inferno that she had turned herself into. Small cracks in her skin began to form, and energies seeped outwards, covering her scantily clad human body with an orange glow. And suddenly, Heather Sulfuras began to shrink, her teenage girl form turning into that of a 10 year old child. She was now a full head shorter than A'aria. The excess energies had been used to cover her scantily clad body with a flowery dress that went all the way down to her calves. As the embers slowly died down within her skin, the glow which had once surrounded her dissipated. She ran forwards, regulating her temperature so that she wouldn't hurt A'aria. In her child form, she hugged A'aria by the waist, burying her head in her chest. "Sorry, Miss, I got excited," she apologised and grinned sheepishly at her Mistress. In the form that she had taken, the symbol of ownership was still wrapped around her neck. It was now a lot more visible when her skin wasn't toned, almost like a doggy collar.
  4. Heather's canary eyes shot open as she suddenly felt a force wrapping around her soft canary body. She immediately panicked, as A'aria shielded her from Kyle's weight. In moments, light returned to her eyes as the angel rolled off the two of them. As A'aria got on her feet, Heather fluttered out of her hands and hovered in midair in front of the two. Elemental energies stored in her body began to seep out, forming around her like a shell. Fire soon turned to molten rock, coloring itself with the complexion of human flesh. The form of a human girl stood where the canary once was, as the blinding light dissipated. Heather Sulfuras' fiery eyes burned with a vengeance. Her skin was tingling with heat, and small sparks occasionally burst in the air around her. "Miss A'aria, do you want me to stuff the head of whoever pushed you over in a toilet bowl?" she turned her head to her Mistress, gritting her teeth in her fury. The cloth on her back which she had hastily formed was ripped and drifting with the wind created by the the small blaze which began to ignite around her. Heather rarely lost control. But waking her from her sleep made her really cranky. And to endanger her Mistress was a surefire way to get a fiery Elemental princess hard on the assailant's heels.
  5. @Knighto The elemental Princess dropped down to her knees and looked up at A'aria teary-eyed. She was 19, but for her people, this was the age at which they would begin to undergo mood swings. Heather found that she was almost always emotional, and easily affected by other's hurtful comments. Likewise, A'aria's kindness to her was something which she'd never experienced before in her life. It made her feel sad. Her body began to glow warmly, and her human body began to turn into orange essence, almost like a swarm of fireflies which fluttered and bloomed around A'aria. At the heart of her body, a small canary flew out and perched itself on A'aria's shoulder. The canary bore on its neck, a tiny wooden collar. On it, the symbol of a tree. The canary nestled into A'aria's neck, finding a warm and cosy spot on the wood nymph's body. She regulated her body temperature such that instead of being searing hot, it would drop to slightly warmer than room temperature, sitting at about 35'c. Memories of her first months of service to her mistress began to flutter briefly through her mind. There was the time when A'aria had accidentally triggered a tripwire, causing a hailstorm of arrows to fly towards her. To protect her mistress, Heather shielded A'aria with her own body, taking hundreds of arrows in her back, thighs, and shoulders. At that time, it didn't seem mighty impressive to her, but as her command over the fires which raged within her body dwindled, she found herself slowly losing her endurance to pain. The mortal side of her was beginning to take over, as the immortal began to lose its grasp over her. She began to feel pain, fatigue, breathlessness. All of these things were new to her. But nothing was as new as the loss of self esteem which she suffered. Her greatest fear was that one day, her mistress would be in danger, and no matter what she did, it wouldn't be enough to protect her. A'aria was her world. She didn't trust or talk to anyone else. She made a soft cooing sound with her beak, something which she didn't practice often, but still pulled off to some extent effectively. She nuzzled into A'aria's bark-like skin. It reminded her of the surface of a tree. The element which her's destroyed. Ironic how the element of wood had enslaved the element of fire. Truly an irony.
  6. Heather pushed through the crowd hurriedly, making her way towards her Mistress. "Miss A'aria!" she called, running over to her hurriedly. "I have spoken to my father. There is something strange happening. His powers are dwindling, and with the loss in effectiveness of his abilities," Heather cupped her hands to produce a small flame that flickered weakly, "Mine are affected as well." "However, it came with an interesting side effect. Due to the elemental part of my bloodline weakening, the curse has begun to lift itself." But that wasn't what Heather wanted. She already had freedom. To others, it seemed as if breaking her enslavement would give her back her freedom. But A'aria treated her better than her father ever did. When she lived under her father's roof, she always feared for her safety the next day. Within A'aria's mortal body, she found true joy and contentment. But due to the past events, her ability to protect her Mistress was no longer as effective as it used to be. "Forgive me, Miss A'aria," she lowered her head in silence.
  7. "Aah! You are not dead, Mister Isaiah," she said in an unnaturally cheerful voice. She had honestly had enough awkward interactions for that day. At least she had prevented the woman from wandering off. There was not telling what she would do to Isaiah Shiversteel. Even someone with a vagina could have more balls than the lad. "I'll leave you two to whatever you were doing," she got out of her seat with an amused look as the bartender brought a solid cube for the woman to 'drink'. She didn't see how it would be possible to her to consume it. Heather had to use her fiery abilities to heat it to a temperature that wouldn't harm her inner body. She would do anything to watch her attempt to 'eat' the solid cube that lay in the glass. Clingy. Alyssa had called her that once. Clingy. Maybe she should've just left. Heather still didn't understand how interactions between sentient beings worked. She would speak to A'aria about it later. A small spark ignited next to her head, forming a small hand. The hand waved goodbye as she turned and walked through the crowd. Bystanders parted ways to avoid coming into contact with glowing flesh. And as the crowd quickly filled up the holes, she was out of sight.
  8. Heather raised her eyebrow. She was about to speak, when a lump formed in her throat. She began to somewhat choke, much to her embarrassment. Then she remembered. Elemental spawn were prohibited from questioning others. She sighed, unable to think of a decent way to express what she wanted to say. At first, she made a few choking sounds, before finally relenting. She cursed under her breathe silently. "Pardon me, Miss, but I think you have the wrong idea," she raised her hands as a sign that she didn't mean any harm, "I just wanted to talk about... Wait did you slit his pants?" She eyed him with a curious glance. Anyone who had the nerve to irritate Isaiah Shiversteel without fear of being irritated back just the same was someone she could respect. But really, she never thought that someone with a vagina could have more balls than a boy. Turns out she was proved doubly wrong. She smiled politely at the bartender, who fetched her a tall glass of a solid substance. She pressed her index finger to the solid, and it began to melt almost instantly. As soon as it had begun to boil, she put the glass to her mouth, inhaling the beverage in a single breath. "And you would like?" she looked curiously at the woman. No doubt that the woman was older than her. Heck, she bet that everyone in the tavern was older than her. It had only been her first 6 months since she'd been exposed to others not of her kind. The experience was a strange one, she admitted. However, this was the first time she had found someone just as awkward as she was. Or maybe it was just a deceptive face. A'aria told her that folks had many faces. Heather took that quite literally the first time. She still didn't quite understand what it meant.
  9. Heather immediately grew suspicious upon the woman getting up to leave. Her overly defensive reaction further provoked her suspicion. She knew Isaiah was constantly brewing away, making all sorts of wacky concoctions to coat his weapons in. However, stabbing himself with one of them was beginning to seem more far-fetched than it did initially. The woman wore a cloak which she clutched tightly to her body. As she moved, it barely flowed, indicating a mass of items on the inside. Heather immediately raised her palm, a plate sized fiery glyph forming in front of the woman's face as she tried to leave, "Just where do you think you're going, Miss?" She cringed at her inability to use a questioning tone. Heather was cursed to always be polite to everyone. Although it did help her to avoid trouble on more than one occasion. A small fiery spiral formed around the base of the swivel stool, spinning it around to face the woman. "Sit, M-miss," she had to force the polite acknowledgements out of her throat. So much for the intimidation factor. Maybe that wasn't the way to go. She was probably scaring the shit out of the woman. "And join me for a drink," her ember colored eyes began to return to regular human pupils. The cracks in her skin gradually closed, energies that leaked out quickly seeping back in through the tiny holes. She tried to give the most inviting stance that she could. Although the awkwardness in her lack of social skills really made her look out of place. And Edric had told her that she was getting better with social cues. What a joke.
  10. With her father's powers dwindling, Heather found her own abilities being drained as well. Although it did come with an unexpected side effect. With the loss of her once unhampered control over the fire element, it also began to lift the curse which bound her to her master. It allowed Heather to think and act more flexibly, not that she would've traded it off however. A'aria treated her as a friend, if only she could do the same. Although she was still bound, she was able to venture freely, rather than staying by her Mistress's side at all times. Walking over to the bar, she ordered a special brew which appeared to be the only thing which she could consume. The liquid had an extremely low boiling point, and it was served in Solid state. This caused it to melt in her mouth, with the liquid state only surfacing for a few seconds. As she siphoned the energy which the warm gas gave her, she couldn't help but notice the slumped figure of Isaiah Shiversteel, bent over the bar in a deep state of unconsciousness. She pursed her lips. What could have happened to the rogue? Sitting between them, was the purple haired woman whom Isaiah had been speaking to earlier. She closed her eyes, and her senses lit up. She could suddenly smell the alcohol on the woman's breathe. With a look of distaste, Heather stuck out her tongue and shook her head. Her eyes shot open. She didn't want to have to experience that again. Hanging from the rogue's pants, Heather saw a small wooden button dangling in between Isaiah's legs by a thread. Her eyes followed the thread, up to the boy's crotch, where his pants had apparently been sliced open. But why there? She sighed in exasperation. Heather found it difficult to understand humor. Her people were practical, and logical. She had never once heard of the term 'humor' until she had been enslaved. Upon that thought, she rubbed the earthen collar which wrapped around her neck snugly. It would be difficult to tell that it was there, it blended in nicely with her toned skin. Upon the collar, the small icon of a tree rested in the middle, right under her chin. The symbol of ownership. That she was 'claimed' in a sense. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud gurgling sound. She fidgeted with irritation at the purple haired woman, who seemed to not care much about manners. "You responsible for that, Miss?" she didn't even turn her head to the woman, but spoke in a loud and clear voice. Rather, she closed her eyes and concentrated. With a bright spark, the button that dangled between Isaiah's legs caught fire, making moderately loud crackling noises as it burned its way up the string. Just as it neared the end of the string, Heather's eyes opened, and the fire snuffed itself out. It was then that she turned her body, small cracks in her skin beginning to reveal a soft ember glow. @Robbie Rotten
  11. I'm withdrawing Rachel Azraelian from the Cast. She got really clunky due to her amnesia, and being a dead person who came back, it's not really helping the storyline. Also, @Warlock decided to kill her. ;-; Rip Useless Character
  12. Heather glanced at her Mistress's companion with an amused look. A trap? How is that supposed to be relevant? The person whom had orchestrated the murders of Lukas Policio and the others whom were not named was not one who would be easily fooled. The murders were done swiftly, with no witnesses, and no traces that could lead them to any potential suspects. However, what the orc said did give her an idea. "Mister Connor, his words have truth to them. What if we do say... Set up a bait. I'll be willing to be that bait. And if I do indeed get attacked, you will all be in the nearby vicinity to capture whoever goes for me," she suggested earnestly. The idea did not scare her. If it would prevent any further threat to her mistress, Heather was willing to do it. Besides, she had survived much, much worse things. And suddenly, the sound of a howling wind recoiled within her ears. Her eyes twitched to the orc, whom was making a seemingly impossible sound with his humanoid vocal chords. She hadn't heard a sound like that in a long time. 'I respect your power,' it said. Her language was an art lost in the modern society. The few elementals that lived in the present were mostly enslaved, and forced to fight in arenas. Many perished this way. A dishonorable death. She was eternally grateful that her mistress would never do that to her. As the whistle flowed out from the orc's mouth, her body began to sway. It made her instantly nostalgic of her childhood. Her childhood. Her mother had never been a part of her childhood. Her mother was human, giving her a fraction of human genetics. It was said that as her mother gave birth to her, the heat that radiated from her body caused her to sustain horrible burns. She was killed in childbirth. As the whistle slowly faded away from the orc's mouth, Heather began to regain control of herself, steadying her body. A small tear formed under her left eye. She quickly rubbed it away.
  13. Heather huffed at Connor's attempt to tease her. The magician had been one of the friendliest to her ever since she'd been enslaved by her mistress. Then again, she wouldn't really call it enslavement. If she were not under this new mistress, she would eventually end up serving someone else. She was grateful that A'aria treated her more of a person than a minion, but that still didn't break the bindings of her curse. To always be polite and loyal to one person alone. "Nonsense. I'll never let anyone touch an inch of a hair on her head," she growled. A'aria was the only family that she had. Her father had been in a hibernative state for at least 4 months. It would be a few millennia before he was to wake again. Even though her mistress constantly told her that the others in the Rose Offensive were sincere and good people, she still found it difficult to confide in anyone but her. She received Connor's cigar without a word and lifted up her hand. Her palm opened and a small flame erupted within it. She lit the tip of the cigar and returned it to Connor, dousing the flame with a twist of her forearm. That was another problem. The wood Nymph was terrified of her. A'aria's abilities drew from the forest. Heather was a being of pure fire. She had to be careful in combat, so as not to hurt her mistress. She had seen the extent of damage in which fire could do to A'aria. It wasn't something that she wanted to remember.
  14. Gone unnoticed among the wild crowds of the tavern, a brown haired girl donning a flowing coal colored dress silently watched the scenes unfolding before her. Her eyes were a marine blue, but if one looked closely enough, they could see the flames burning within her pupils. Few would be able to tell that she was the daughter of one of the most powerful elemental lords in Valucre. And even fewer would be able to guess that she was enslaved. Even after 4 months of serving under her Mistress, Heather still felt awkward around humans and other fleshies. Her mistress wasn't exactly a fleshie, her body was borne from the wood element, allowing Heather to be more trusting towards her. A'aria had tried to convince her countless times that the others in the group weren't as terrifying as the dark elf whom had enslaved her father, the one whom had forced her father to kill his only daughter. It was that day, Cellius Houston arrived at her residence uninvited. He spoke with her father, the elemental lord, Prince Maximilian Sulfuras. After a few minutes of discussion, she heard her father's frantic pleas, before he groaned in agony, and then there was silence. She remembered yelping in alarm, making her way towards the door, but before her hands could grip the handle, Cellius had beat her to it. She remembered his words clearly. There cannot be witnesses my minion. Kill her. She stared at her father in shock. He nodded grimly. His expression was blank. And suddenly, she felt a wrenching feeling in her gut as her father's blade tore through her abdomen. He twisted it around before sliding it out. Her mind couldn't compute what was happening. She stared in shock as she sank to her knees and fell onto her back. Slowly, her vision began to fade, as did her life force. Heather shook her head. She'd been thinking about the dreams that she'd had. Her father's enslavement playing over and over in her mind. Had she not been saved by Rafael Untor's healing abilities, she would have been long gone. Suddenly, she felt it. Something strange with the atmosphere. The taverners had gone quiet. Many spoke in low voices. And then, a sharp whistle. She turned her head to the direction of Connor Fortesque, the Rose Offensive's magician. There he sat, opposite a large greenskinned creature. He appeared humanoid, apart from the canines which protruded from his jaws. Heather considered leaving the tavern and to leave social activities to her mistress's counterparts, but if she didn't start somewhere, she would never learn to blend into valucre's flesh and blood society. She got off her seat and whispered to her mistress, "Please excuse me, Miss A'aria." She turned and walked towards the magician, eyeing the greenskin suspiciously. "Mister Connor, my mistress wishes that I get to know the local populace better, in view of my twenty years locked in a cave with my father," she stated blandly. She smiled politely at the creature. "May I, Mister?" she gestured towards the seat next to Connor.
  15. With a small burst of light, a small hole in space and time was created between A'aria and Kyle. Heather was forcefully warped through the wormhole, crying out in surprise. She fell on her rear rather ungracefully, dusting the specs of particles off her dress. "Miss A'aria, I may have forgotten to mention that any sort of pain will summon me," she rubbed her skull with embarrassment, grabbing on to the bar counter to steady herself. She immediately noticed the row of tattoos on her mistress's arm. "Well I must say, congratulations Miss A'aria," she smiled earnestly.
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