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About Avvercus

  • Rank
    Devil Dog
  • Birthday 02/02/1992

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  • Interests
    anime and manga, music in general, reading and writing, video games, visual novels, running, biking, martial arts, playing guitar, drawing, the list goes on.
  • Occupation
    Poor College student

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  1. Tonight was lonely She'd never been aware of it until the moon rose and the eyes of her companions closed, but Aralyn now found it acutely apparent that being the only one awake during these silent hours was a terrible solitude. Gruche had described sleeping and dreams to her, and now her curiosity festered. Still, the girl was happy she could be useful, and found herself sitting atop one of the grounded vessels, keeping a selfless vigil while thoughts inevitably drifted towards home, and the missing father she'd always longed for. Gruche and his 'students' were kind enough, and tried to include her in political discussions, but she simply had nothing to add to the conversation. The slime had arrived on this world very recently, and she had little interest in such things. Still, she gravitated towards the minotaur for the entirety of the next day, assisting him with anything he needed and keeping her eye out for those that struggled. With her natural strength and controllable viscosity, she found no issue scaling the mountainside. The cold, however, bothered her immensely. Hearing it would only grow worse, the young woman grumbled off to sit by herself, practically pouting to herself while curling up in her raincoat. Clothing would do her no good, her body didn't naturally produce heat Lyn heard a strange voice, and turned around to see a goblin squatting on a rock not far away. He was like her in that he was the only of his kind on this trip. Everyone else had at least one other type of creature similar to them to confide in. Not quite in the mood to walk, she allowed her legs to melt into goo and she slithered her way over to the rock, looking up at the stranger with a smile. Maybe she could make a new friend? "Hello! Aralyn is Aralyn. What's your name? Can Lyn have some food?" her voice was bubbly as she forgot the discomfort brought on her by the ambient cold, now focused on the churning acidic ph levels building in her center. It was a sign she was hungry, much like a human's stomach rumbling.
  2. Yes, I just need to post. My apologies, I've been wrapped up.
  3. Water Life's sweet, sweet nectar. Kal'to had barely made it with only a few day's worth of water left in his Willand to spare. Luckily, the Oasis had plenty to go around, and his big magic wagon was full up again. His food stocks were still more than sufficient, extra clothing and bedding had been purchased to accommodate his new companions, and he had managed to get his hands on a map of Elendaron. Everything was set for the journey ahead. Everything but ore supplies The blacksmith simply couldn't stand being out of a necessary ore. After forging the last blade, he had found himself totally out of iron. Yes, iron, one of the most crucial and basic elements a smith could ask for. So the Gallias, insisting on going it alone so that he might have some peace and quiet away from...those two, struck out from the home on wheels decked out in his white desert garb. Loose fitting, thin, comfortable, and covering all of his exposed skin, the smith found his outing to be a pleasant one. Beads of sweat did of course form on his brow as he skirted the ruined town, the radiating heat from his shield the main source of it. He followed an Arluian Lode Stone, a naturally occurring rock on Vulaer that helped point the way towards iron deposits by way of glowing blue veins runnings its surface. The faint signs grew more intense the further into the sandy sea he tread. Keeping a vigil, he checked his surroundings on a constant, even in the nothingness of the endless dunes. After witnessing the desperation of desert folk in this world, his hyper-awareness wasn't without cause. It was thus that he spotted the figure from a dune away. Crested atop the grainy hill, they sprawled and were beginning to get buried by the shifting earth assisted by the ceaseless zephyrs of the clear blue sky. His boots took flight, and quickly the man found himself by the stranger's side, checking the immediate area for danger first. Rolling the bundle of cloth, soft flesh, and hard muscle over, he felt his heart plummet into its stomack. Lord Yasai why. Please gods, no. Not another one... It was a woman Stranded alone and in danger of dying in the desert Why him? Why this wretched, mundane smith simply trying to make his way in a foreign world? He knew what was going to come of this already, and resigned himself to his fate. Perhaps that was the explanation. Lord Yasai was blessing him with companions, a capable party able to conquer whatever obstacles he might run into. Or perhaps Lady Lillailianthia was playing a prank on him... Regardless, he lifted her head up, hand enveloped by soft silken strands, and looking into her eyes which fluttered open. His water skin, still cold from the willand, was put to her mouth, her head tilted up, and the smith smiled. "Drink, you'll be alright. My name is Kal'to, can you recall your own?" he asked gently, using a basic approach to check to see if she was badly heat exhausted beyond the normal signs of cold clammy skin and a pale face.
  4. I apologize everyone, dealing with the no muse funk. That, and there's not much for me to do in my post I don't think. I'll try to squeeze out a small one.
  5. The man flinched when the door smashed closed, a deafening sound reminding him of what he'd just done. It was cold, the way he'd rejected the woman, and his satisfaction with the way he'd gone about it immediately turned to regret. Avvercus huffed out a sigh and grabbed his sword sheath, fitting the empty holster on his belt before following the footsteps of his displeased companion. He spotted her sitting alone in the corner of the lively tavern. Happy chatter filled the warm air, but Avvercus didn't stay to enjoy it. His stride found him around back, to the impressive forge hidden there. Just as promised, the lady smith met him with a toothy grin and they got to work. She wiped the sweat from her brow and set down the hammer at last. Her hands shook, quivering from excitement and exhaustion; the wizard had worked her half to death. “I...dunno how in the seven angels you did all that, but God...three hours? The guild’ll never believe it. By the by, what’s that little thing you made on the side?” “It’s a runic sigil. Here, part of my payment. Crush it if you’re ever in trouble and I will appear. Now, as for the coin…” “Nah, no, nope. We got a deal, you better pay up proper.” the red head shook her crimson locks and stuck a hand of denial out towards her smithing partner. “Are you certain? This is a masterwork, surely it’s worth more than-” “Not another word or I’m keeping it. Now shoo, this is for the lady yeah? Shouldn’t keep her waiting like that. Scram!” she shouted, practically pushing what she could have mistaken for some kind of elf out of her workspace. Avvercus’ face felt gaunt, though it wasn’t in reality. He had a certain pallor to his pale skin that told of some kind of drain, and drained he was. The mage hadn’t felt low on mana like this in quite some time, but it was worth the resource. His experience assisting a smith with magic was actually not completely lacking, though he was far from an expert at it. Regardless, the product wasn’t of any special property or of any higher quality than what the smith was capable of. He’d simply hastened the process it took to make. His search for Antique took some time, but eventually he managed to track her napping form to the shore of the beach, a long walk to safely get down the sheer cliffs for a simple outting. He approached her prone figure with a slight hesitation. They’d parted on less than good terms hours ago...he wasn’t sure how she would react to seeing him again. “Antique, wake up silly. This is a terrible place to nap alone” he greeted, warning her of his approach as he stopped just behind the raven haired wanderer. He slipped a silver chain over her head without another word. The necklace had a ceramic sigil attached to it, an arcane symbol that when destroyed would alert him, and allow him to know exactly where it was destroyed at. “To summon me in the future, you need only break this sigil. I will come, day or night, rain or shine,” the mage promised, backing out of her personal space, catching her lingering scent as he did. Taking a knee next to her, he held out a long object wrapped in white silk with trembling hands, clearly presenting it to her. “I’m impressed by your skill with a blade...and I want you to be safe, so here, a present.” His smile was weak, bittersweet, but none the less genuine. Inside, she would find a magnificent sidesword, functional and elegant. Its silver finish was beautiful, but subdued as not to look gaudy. The flowing guard, however, was a rusted gold to match her eyes. Everything about it was custom tailored to fit Antique and her swordplay as observed by Avvercus over the last week; the smith was able to fulfill his specifications with impeccable precision. The sheath was made of black lacquered oak, and had her name etched into it with runic letterings reminiscent of Avvercus’ magical writings. He watched her face for a reaction, and made to hide his shaking hands by putting his hands together into his sleeves, resting on top of his knee. Food and time would fix the mana deficiency with ease, should he prove too lazy to draw more in from the environment. Now, he had kept his promise. It was late by a few millennia, but he had done it in the end. He wondered what expression Kaia would have made...and then decided it didn’t matter. He would get to see Antique’s, and that was just as good if not better. Avvercus’s hail had failed to wake the woman. In fact, her eyes hadn’t fluttered open until he’d propped her head up and was slipping something around her neck. She jolted and reached for her knife, and even had it drawn before she realized who she was looking at, and her racing heart and panicked breathing slowly settled. She sat up and examined the first gift, then looked up. She had meant to ask what it was, but he interrupted her with the answer, and his thoughtfulness filled her with warmth, which almost washed away the resentment for their previous interactions. Almost, but she had watched him leave after seeing her, which made it worse. She’d wandered around the market before walking out to the shore, where she’d decided to give him a few hours before she left on her own, and she had to admit to herself that she was happy he’d come to her. He’d knelt down and offered an elegantly wrapped, suspiciously shaped object. There were few things it could be, and she doubted he’d bought her a fancy bow stave. When she saw it, she gasped and quickly shifted to a sitting position with her legs beneath her, unknowingly smearing her dress in the mud between the rocks as she did so. Excitement and confusion and disbelief whirled around in her chest as she hovered her hands near her mouth. “No.” She whispered, and looked into his eyes for any reason to disbelieve what was happening, but he just complimented her sword skills and said it was a gift. Her eyes fell slowly back down to the silk-wrapped object as her own shaking hands did, and pinched it, almost seeming nervous that it might disappear. Without moving her arms, she balled the cloth up in her hand until the silk’s receding edge revealed part of the complex hilt, and then she had the whole thing whisked into her arms, which she held tightly to her chest as she gawked and giggled at the masterpiece. She let the silk fall in her lap and scooped the sword into her hands, examining it from point to pommel in its scabbard. She ran her fingers over her name where it was etched and tears welled up in her eyes. “This is…” She looked up at the man, “So beautiful.” She clutched the thing to her chest and moved forward on her knees to the continued detriment of her dress, planting her lips on his in a moment of appreciation, thanks, and a little bit of regret for her unfairness to him. After the kiss, she leaned back and stared at him for a few wordless moments with her lips still parted before she licked them and looked down at the sword once more. “This is so beautiful, Avvercus. You shouldn’t have done this! Thank you so much!” She said, struggling with thoughts as to how she could ever return the favor of such a fine gift. A hand slowly drifted to his mouth, almost in confusion, most certainly in shock. His lips parted in disbelief for a moment before breaking out into a wide smile. Her joy was infectious, heart-warming. He felt the gloomy mood that had settled over his head dissipate thanks to it, and reached out to pet her head, swooping his hand around to caress her cheek as he pulled it back. Avvercus got to his feet and extended a hand to the girl with dirty knees. “Would you please swing it? I want to make sure we forged it correctly.” His caress brought her head up, and she watched him with her hands clutching the scabbard. She took his hand and stood with a smile. By then, all the drama and negativity between them that she’d been dwelling on was far out of her head. She stood a little too close to him as she delicately wrapped her hand around the grip, savoring the quality of the wood beneath the wire wrap. She hooked her finger over the cross guard and drew it slowly with a gasp that was hardly audible next to the famous ring of a metal throated scabbard as she did. “Oh, this is amazing.” She breathed. She gently handed him the beautiful work of the scabbard and marveled at the blade itself. It was wide as a sidesword got without being unwieldy, and beautifully--so beautifully--fullered, with two thinner, perfectly parallel grooves running along some two thirds of the blade. She stepped away from him for his safety and held it out in front of her. Not in a guard, but to make a wrist cut with an accrescimento, followed by a cut from the elbow with the same step, though she did slip on the rocks that time without losing her balance. She huffed out an impressed breath of air and flourished the blade. Not practical, but fun. She turned to face Avvercus, still a good distance away, and she watched him as she went through an exercise that showcased various cuts and thrusts that transitioned her between a large number of guards and variations. Her footwork was minimalistic, but such was the nature of the exercise. All the while, the curve at the edge of her lips grew larger and larger, until she stopped with her sword raised across her body in a high guard with the tip pointed at him, grinning. She wasn’t far away by then, and she took the initiative to push the sword down to her side and run at him. She minded to keep the blade angled away from him as she did so until she had her arms properly around him. She was giggling as she hugged him, though she squeezed him a little tighter than could have been comfortable. She even let out a short scream of excitement against his chest. “Avvercus, this is the best gift anyone has ever given me! Expert eyes watched her movements carefully, criticizing every sweep of the steel as Antique plied her new tool with glee. A breath of relief escaped him when he was satisfied the blade had truly come out perfect for her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, running his hands through her hair yet again. He was so very fond of that, playing with her ebony locks. It was relaxing and pleasant. “You’re very welcome. I’m so happy you like it. Karissa would probably cry if you didn’t...well, assuming that demon of a woman can cry…” he trailed off slowly, staring down at Antique’s excited eyes and full lips. He cupped one cheek and ran a thumb over them, remembering the taste, the touch. He pressed his forehead to hers and leaned in, stopping with less than inch between them and another kiss. A titanic battle was fought and won in an instant within him, and he pulled back slightly. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. “We still need to get you a new dress...and a harness for your sword,” he said breathily after a brief moment of silence. Being responsible was truly difficult sometimes… Antique chased the kiss and made a fist in his shirt after he withdrew. She bit her lip over the rejection, but she didn’t fault him for it. They had both made it clear that it was a bad idea. Her getting excited and crossing lines was probably not wise, and that realization had her sheepishly withdrawing from the hug. She nodded along to his suggestion, licking her lips to cover over an echoing sensation of how his breath had felt on them. It frustrated her, and she closed her eyes to let that moment of rage and lust wash over her before she opened her eyes, posturing a calm demeanor. “Yes, those would be lovely.” She said with a smile. “I am truly too lucky of a woman.” She took the scabbard from him and sheathed the sword, then looked to him. “And you seem like you should sit down.” She started to reach out to caress his pallid cheek, but redirected with her fingers pressed stiffly together before she relaxed them, opting for his hand instead, which she lifted up in front of her. “I thought I saw your hands shaking a little.” Her reaction, the twisted fistful of robes, the longing in her jerked on his resolve with a fury he never would have expected. He nodded in response to her, barely hearing what she’d said, barely knowing what he said back. “Yes...just a bit low on mana. I’ll be...fine…” His brow furled and he took her face in his hands. “Oh consequences be damned, I want this.” he nearly growled, pulling Antique into a tender kiss. This was no light peck or half-hearted smooch. He lovingly stole her breath away, tugging her soft lips into his mouth, tasting them with his tongue, savoring her flavor. He knew she might hate him for it, but he also knew she wanted it just as bad. The dam had finally broke, and he could no longer completely hold himself back. Having been pulled into such an intense kiss, and yearning for that sort of intimacy with him despite every part of her that opposed it, all Antique could really gather to do in resistance was press her free hand against his chest. She was trapped in a mind-flooding embrace, trying to swim to cognisant freedom, but every new thing, the slightest movement of his lips, his tongue across them, his hand so warm on her cheek, pushed her that much deeper. Her push dissolved into simply clinging to his robe, and by the time he broke the kiss, she was breathing rather heavily and blinking, trying to gather herself. Something in her brought up a feeling of emergency. “Avvercus, we shouldn’t…” She said it. It was necessary, it had to be done! But… Her voice was weak in those words. So much of her didn’t want him to stop, and she found herself screaming in her head not to close her eyes and kiss him again, even as she was doing so. “I know but...why?” he asked her, even as he returned the kiss. His hands refused to listen to reason, and found their way to areas that normally would have earned him a slap. In the haze, the two somehow ended in the sand, Antique’s sword set off to the side. He had mounted her, with one knee pressed between her legs, tightly against her crotch, his hand played with her breast over the dress, and their eyes and lips were locked as surely as the gates to heaven. His heart beat a million miles an hour, soaring as he knew in the back of his head that this situation truly was real, it was actually happening and it wasn’t stopping. Neither of them wanted it to, both almost...needed this. And certainly did Antique feel that need. He had his leg pressed against her as he knelt over her, delivering kisses with such intensity that it necessitated a whole replacement for her traveling wardrobe, but his hands on her breasts and the approaching satisfaction to her building lust coalesced into a moment of clarity that had her smacking his chest with her palm. “Because, because, because…” She was saying, scrambling for why they couldn’t be doing what they were doing. “I have to remember. I can’t be distracted. I can’t...” She started hyperventilating, and that hand went to her own chest as she tried to crawl out from under him with a hand on his shoulder. She had to sit up. She had to breathe. She huffed and whimpered, still yearning to be touched, to feel him. His body against hers. Those pleasantly girlish lips and everything else that made him beautiful flooding her mind with sensation, but she couldn’t. Her heart was beating so fast, and her chest felt tight. Like fear. Like terror. “I…” She struggled for words between gasps, holding tightly on the man’s shoulder, and she stammered, but she failed to put anything to words. Avvercus immediately realized something was wrong, and helped her sit up. Ice formed in his stomach, and he began to regret losing his poise. He wanted to be close to Antique, but not if it meant hurting her. Guilt broiled up in his chest again, and his conscious screamed at him that he was doing something horribly wrong. He knelt in front of his companion, one hand grasping hers and the other still tangled in her hair. “Antique, calm down. Breathe, deep breaths. Come on, try to relax. I won’t hurt you,” he gently calmed her. His eyes shook as he held her gaze, looking in her eyes for some sign of what he should say to fix this. Of course, there was nothing there. She listened and tried to calm her breathing, gaining awareness that she was panicking. She leaned on him, both hands on his shoulders. “No, no, no, I know.” She whispered. Her chin quivered and she gave into tears looking at the man and all of his concern. She placed her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I ruined the moment, I just…” Her heart was racing and her voice was weak. She had her hands in fists in his robe again. “I want you…” She said, “But I can't… Do this.” She stopped and slowed her breathing again. “I have to get my memories back.” She ran a hand over his arm. “I can't do this with you right now.” She whimpered and broke into truly crying, guilt for whatever blocked her from enjoying being so close weighing on her shoulders. Avvercus wrapped her into a deep, strong hug, enveloping her, making her feel safe. He stroked her hair and did all he could to comfort her. Every tear she shed hurt him...he couldn’t stand to see her cry. “Antique, I admire your convictions. You have a goal and you are sticking to it. I’m...just getting in your way. If you want, I will leave. I don’t want to hurt you…” “No!” She tugged on his sleeves, but then forced herself to let them go. “I mean… I won't keep you, but I like having you close.” She said, sniffing and wiping her face. “I don't know. Now I just feel like I'm keeping you. You can leave if you like, I have the sigil…” He grabbed her hands when she let him go and pulled them to his chest so she could feel his racing heart. “I enjoy spending time with you. I don’t want to leave. And...besides, my duty is being near you until I’ve gotten my shard back.” He reached up to wipe away her tears and made a sad expression. “Please don’t cry. I want you to smile…” She sighed and continued to try to settle her shaky breath. Her heartbeat was slowing, at least, and she felt rather silly for the ride she’d taken him on today. He’d come to her apologizing because of her hot-headedness, and he’d given her such a sweet gift and she’d been happy until she cried at him over something she could have reasonably stated, and she hadn’t even done that long before his comfort sated her. She wiped at her cheeks and forced a smile for him for as long as she could hold it. “You’re very patient, Avvercus.” She gave a whimpering sigh and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “And very sweet.” He pulled her into his arms again, a safe and secure hug to staunch the sadness. “Thank you, I try,” he smiled before standing and pulling the girl up with him. He pulled her sword to him with magic and let it float nearby before letting her go. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Let’s get you a new dress, that one really does look terrible. Especially with the mud.”
  6. The road to Last Chance had been long. Many perils and revelations had lain in wait along the way, and yet more gave chase. Last Chance was far from a final destination, and in truth it wasn't exactly a place he would have seen himself spending more than a day in, but now was a time for rest and relaxation and so the Swordmage known as Avvercus took his well-deserved break from wandering. He'd found this cozy tavern his first day in the city. Nestled into the safer, more reputable section of the city, the _Ink and Ale_ tavern was for those that preferred a quieter, more intellectual place to hang their hat for the evening. Housing an impressive library and a clientele with knowledge in a variety of magical fields, it drew Avvercus right in. Nursing a squat crystal glass of spiced rum, a bemused smile played on his lips while as he tucked into a most curious tomb musing on the application of varying gravity runes on mundane mechanical engineering. A shiver ran the length of his back, cropping up goosebumps beneath the dark robes when the door to the place opened. A stray cold draft perhaps? Or maybe it was a warning of some kind from instinctual scrying. Who's to say? A woman with head-turning beauty approached the bar, and as luck would have she chose to sit right next to him. A short conversation between her and the barkeep followed, and a picture was flashed. It was of him, empty white sword scabbard on his left hip, long silver braid of hair falling to his knees, fitted black robes with runic scrawlings along the hems, dark trousers bloused into comfortable leather boots, a soft smile on his almost effeminate face that reached warm emerald eyes, and a relaxed posture any experienced martial artist would be weary of. He looked no different now than he did in that photo, and the bartender simply gestured to her right. "Hello! What does a beauty such as yourself have with me?" he greeted her cheerfully, setting his book off to the side and resting one palm on the bartop comfortably. Was Blairville still sending people after him? Surely word of his license had reached them all by now...
  7. Rainza grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, leaning back against the cold, uneven concrete that insisted on jabbing into her flesh. The more it talked, the less convinced she was that it was human. The voice itself was very strange, unlike any she’d ever heard. But the most telling sign was the clinical manner of speaking, like they were reading a legal document. Human’s didn’t speak like that. Not any she’d ever encountered, at least. The voice drew closer, but didn’t pounce or invade her space. She noted the lack of footsteps, but couldn’t make any assumptions. Flight? Excellent stealth? Some kind of silence magic? Regardless, its logic was impeccable, and even the stubborn Aldrak had to concede there was no reason whatsoever for an aggressor to make this sort of approach. “...fine. But I warn you, I am not weak. If you try anything suspicious, you will die.” she finally replied. Her tone lost the aggressive edge, now cold and calm. "I counsel temperance. There is no need for threats or bravado; my only interest is in ensuring a critical success rate for my mission in these ruins. To that end you are useful, and to your end I suspect I will be as well." “It is not a threat, it’s a fact. A deterrence. If you understand, feel free to approach. My tourniquet just snapped, the bleeding hasn’t stopped,” she fessed up, finally giving in to this ridiculous situation. Rainza was not one to rely on others, especially strangers she’d yet to even lay her eyes on. "Another fact: without my interference, very likely you will die. Is it sensible to stand opposite my involvement, a sword?" Evelyn came around the corner, taking Rainza's invitation at face value. At this angle the sun was to the side, rather than in front, and so Evelyn's shadow loomed colossal against the wall to its right. Rainza's first glimpse of Evelyn's host was its face, as it rounded the corner, and then the hulking body attached to it. Evelyn brought its host to another slow, and stop, a dozen meters away. "Is my presence suspicious? My face? Will I die for trying to help you?" Rainza tensed up for an instant at the sight of the creature. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd been expecting, but a non-humanoid wasn't exactly it. Especially not a spider. Especially not a giant spider. She nodded at the creature and got to her feet, sticking out the cleanly wounded limb. “...I understand. Do what you will. In exchange, I have a map to share and stories from those that have already explored here," she offered up her compensation as a strong gust whipped up and sent her freely hanging hair a-flutter. The Aldrak didn't mention she would live just fine even without help, but knew this was one of those opportunities to make contacts. She'd much rather have an ally of sorts wandering this eerie place than one more enemy amongst the many that remained unseen and uncounted.
  8. He had the sun at his back, an ally flanking, equipment suitable for the foe, and was well rested and uninjured. Kal’to couldn’t ask or pray for a more beneficial situation to fight a monster in. Chrysilla got in position, and the beast was still as it continued to try and strike with its tail. The deadly appendage shook side to side for a brief moment before each strike, giving the warrior-smith ample warning to dodge and block. At his companion’s signal, Kal let loose a mighty roar and charged, meeting a vicious bit towards his thigh with the indomitable shield he favored so much. His hammer swung, bring all the metal shaping power of it’s weight to bear on the beast’s skull once more more. Crack went the bone as it fractured, and rip went the cloth of Kal’to’s shoulder as the beast’s claws retracted and the manticor reeled back. Chrysilla’s strike too had landed home, further driving the nail of pain and injury into the monster’s mind. Sand churned as blood dripped and pads twisted in furious agony. A whip-like snarl lashed at the pair as the thing finally relented, know this this prey was not so simple, and too much of a risk. With a limp in its gait and a dazed stagger to it’s direction, the threat made a hasty egress, slinking over a dune with speed that was terrifying considering its state of injury. Kal’to dropped his hammer and rushed over to Chrysilla before the beast even faded from sight. His hands flew over her as he fussed, looking for injuries, not noticing the crimson blossoming through the white clothing on his shoulder. “Are you hurt, bumblebee?” his voice was concerned and a worried frown covered his face.
  9. Avvercus was bent out of shape by this journey in the worst way. So much had happened, and nearly none of it was positive. However, there was one shining light, one silver lining. He had an adorable daughter, and no matter her origins, no matter the consequences for her siring, an intense love welled up in in his chest at the sight of her. Antique’s shift in attitude was clear after she met his daughter, and he couldn’t help but feel...attacked. Things were tense between them now, and though he tried to keep a positive face and strike up conversations, they were met with what he was convinced was hate. Since getting off the ship, he’d resigned himself to simply becoming a silent companion until it was time to part. Avvercus’ trip through Last Chance to the bar they’d agreed on meeting in was uneventful. Either his experience navigating less than amiable cities took him along the right path, or any would-be assailants decided it was best to leave magic users be. Entering the bar, he saw Antique speaking to a stranger and chose not to inform her of his arrival. She’d notice him eventually, no doubt. The Mage’s magical senses detected a creature of less than mundane origins high above, sitting on the ceilings crossbeams. A cute little elf of some kind perhaps? Feeling he’d rather not talk to humans at the moment, or be around so many people, Avvercus levitated up to the strange girl’s perch, taking a seat next to her. Some eyes followed, but eventually it was shrugged off and the two were forgotten. “Hello, little one. Mind if I join you?” He flashed the girl a smile and tried to forget his woes. Maybe a light-hearted conversation would help. Failing that...some rum would do the trick.
  10. Her nose ached horribly The pain was a distraction to her concentration at first, but as she’d trained herself to do so many times before, Rainza shut it out. Pain was a feeling, a phantom presence fabricated by her mind interpreting signals from her nervous system. It could be ignored and disregarded, provided one had the stones for it. Rainza most definitely did. The viscous goop that was her blood slowly oozed and dribbled along her path, leaving a clear trail for anyone, or thing, to follow should they want to find her. The Aldrak turned the corner of a desolate building, the stone cracked and scorched, and slammed her back into an alcove created by rubble. The tie keeping her hair up was tugged free and wrapped around her arm just past the joint. Satisfied the home-made tourniquet was secure, she closed her eyes and settled onto her haunches, focused. All of her bodily functions were directed and optimized towards mending the missing flesh. The organ in her abdomen began to heat up rapidly as it flew into overdrive, siphoning energy from the air for the repairs. Just then, she heard the voice. Snapped from her zen, Rainza hissed lowly and instead shifted her gathering energy from healing to destruction. The voice was though synthetic in origin. Forced through something not meant for speech perhaps? Regardless, Rainza had no intentions of being friendly. “Why should I trust you?” her voice, gruff and aggressive, echoed out from her hiding hole. Just then, the only thing keeping her from bleeding out snapped. The tie was old, and meant for hair not restricting blood flow. A flash of anger at her desperate situation spiked through the young Aldrak’s head. She might need to actually consider trusting that much as Rainza could trust other people, at least.
  11. My first character on Valucre was Rainza, a weird, apathetic little creature that spoke in the third person. I wanted a bottom-up character of less than favorable origins that had a unique race...and I wanted her to be a cute little badass that defied everything around her, refusing to ever go down or give in. I succeeded and she roamed the lands, a vagabond going at her own pace with no real direction or goals. After interacting with other characters, I discovered she wasn't satisfied with her lack of morals, and I also found after the Slaver's Alcove that she really, really wanted more than anything to destroy that place. Over time, she's gained a sense of humanity and emotion, losing her apathy in favor of annoyance, grumpiness, anger, and occasionally a transient form of happiness. Her aversion to people has turned into a dislike of large crowds, rather than simply everything that breaths. She knows in the back of her mind that she wants to go on a crusade against slavery throughout the world, but the moral backing for it has not. She stands on a razor wire after her experiences and the people she's met, and could fall to either good or evil at any point. Will her crusade start as vengeance, and end in her trying to destroy society itself? Or will it be one of compassion for the slaves she left behind, and end in her becoming a beacon of justice for the abused and forgotten? Honestly? I don't know. No idea. It really depends on who she meets, how they treat her, what they teach her, the things she witnesses and successes and failures. I've never had a more organic, genuine character and I love her to pieces. Avvercus, on the other hand, is a character I've bad lore built up for over many years. He's got tons of backstory, he's been shaped and molded into the man he is today before Valucre. I always plan things out for him, rarely keeping it organic beyond initial meetings with other characters. Of course, I've had a massive shift in plans for him since I started working with @Art in Music . His future these days is a bit more organic, but still very much planned. All the conversations between him and Antique have taught me a bunch of little things about the guy I didn't know. There's always room for organic growth, even in the most planned out and top-down character. The two sides to the spectrum have shown me that...both are fun for their own reasons. Organic and planned, that is. Bottom-up and top-down. But...a mix of both, I think, is my preference. At least if you plan on working with another writer long term. @Jotnotes has been an amazing writing partner as well. He is the reason I've gotten 2 of my characters off the ground in the first place, and his unique characters always inspire me to think about mine more. In a way, I have my val pals to thank for why my characters are who they are almost more than I do myself.
  12. The knock was hesitant. So much that at first, it might have simply been a draft jostling the door in its frame. However, the knuckles rapping on the door found their resolve and became loud enough that they would wake the average person. “Antique…?” came the muffled voice of Avvercus through the door. It sounded horribly reluctant and tired, almost quiet for someone trying to call for another through a door. His knocks woke Antique as she was drifting off to sleep, and she took her time in sitting up and blinking. She hobbled to the door with her blanket wrapped around her and opened it just a crack to peek through and see who was on the other side. Recognizing Avvercus, she blinked for a moment, then opened the door properly. Her hair was down and it framed her face in a way that was unusual for her, casting shadows on her cheeks and falling in natural ringlets. “Hey. Feeling any better?” The disheveled man braced his forearm against the doorframe and leaned heavily on it, taking a deep breath before raising his eyes to meet Antique’s. He smelled of rum and iron, masking his usual lavender fragrance. “Antique...I need to speak with you. May I come in?” his question was polite, though spoken heavily, as though it took him some enormous effort to do so. She gave him a concerned look when his smell hit her, and she immediately worried for his well being, though she felt it wasn’t the time to pester him about it. “Of course,” She reached out to lead him by the hand to the chair in her room and guide him to sit. Doing so flashed some of her shift beneath, but she quickly corrected that and pulled her blanket closer. Once she had him situated, she sat on the bed across from him. “What is it, Avvercus?” She asked. He navigated the way to the offered chair without difficulty, maintaining balance and poise despite obviously having been drinking. His hands immediately went to his face when she gave him both back, rubbing at his eyes and moving strands of silver hair out of his vision. He groaned quietly before finally looking for her gaze with an almost depressed droop to his visage. “Antique I’m...sorry. For treating you wasn’t fair of me. Honestly, I’ve felt terrible about it ever since I asked for two rooms...I could feel your pain when I said it. I’m sorry…” he apologized from the bottom of his heart, pouring out far more emotion than one normally saw from the calm, jolly Acolyte. He began to reach out for her hand again, but stopped midway and retracted it back. Antique stared at Avvercus’s face, admiring how his silver hair shone in the moonlight. He apologized from a depth in his heart she hadn’t thought existed--again he surprised her in that way. “It’s alright,” She began, and then he moved to reach out for her hand before he decided against it. Antique half stood up to scoop his from where he placed it next to him and sat back down, holding his hand in a loose grip. “I was kind of rude today, and I’m sorry for that.” That look of concern deepened on her face, her golden eyes catching the light from the window. “Are you alright, Avvercus?” Her eyes seemed to glow that soft gold he remembered so well, and her gentle touch was far too reminiscent of a bygone evanescence. The thought that coming here was a mistake flashed across his mind, and was just as quickly struck down. She needed to know, and he needed to vent this. “It’s difficult, Antique. Painful. Sometimes the past really is best left forgotten…” he began, seeming to start that same conversation the two had a week ago. He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes, unable to look at hers any longer. “The shard you thousands of years old. It doesn’t just have your has mine as well. That isn’t normal at all. They’re starting to come back as it re-assimilates to me...old feelings. It’s why I’m having the dreams.” The Teladri looked back up and gave his companion a weak smile. “I loved her. I loved Kaia with all my heart, and she loved me. That’s why...I’m sorry...It’s difficult…” he trailed off, not sure what else to say. She kept her eyes on him, even after he looked down, and her shoulders and the rest of her face fell as he started with his discouraging talk about the past again, but by the end of his spiel, she found herself wide eyed with her lips parted, though luckily not gaping. She regained her posture, still holding a delicate grip on his hand. “Well…” She blinked. “I guess I don’t know how to respond.” She was thinking about how much he knew about her, and guilt weighed on her chest, for in that moment, all she really wanted to ask was how old she was, and what she was like, and other self-centered questions. She had to run through what he said again and focus on how he felt. Antique patted the top of Avvercus’s hand briefly, and then spoke again, “Avvercus, when you’re not… Pestering me, you make me feel comfortable.” She smiled at him, but part of her screamed not to, and she had no good justification as to why she did, so it fell pretty quickly from her face. “I don’t remember you, but you feel familiar, somehow. So, but… How can that have been thousands of years ago? Or, I guess that’s not really important.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. I’m sorry, I’m not making much sense. She focused her eyes on their hands and spoke with focus on her articulation. “I don’t know how I feel about you. I’m mixed up and it’s confusing, and ultimately…” She looked up, concern for how he would take her feelings drawn on her face. “I don’t want to get any closer to you. You keep telling me that memories are dangerous, but… They’re who I am. And even if I make someone new of myself, I won’t know where I’ve been or, or… Or what I’ve done. You know? “I need to know these things. If I’m th-thousands of years old, think of all the mistakes I must have made, and all of the improvement I’ve done, a-and without remembering any of that it’s just… Starting from square one. It’s just… Pointless.” Her voice quivered as she finished her reply. She let go of his hand and pulled her blanket tighter around her, averting her eyes. “Things will never feel right unless I remember. I’m sorry, but I have to find a way.” She looked back at him, keeping watch for a response in his eyes. Avvercus’ heart pitter pattered and his chest compressed and loosened over and over, causing a pinching pain to spread through his torso. He resisted the urge to clutch at his breast, and took deep, even breaths to calm his nerves. An experienced and powerful individual he may be, but he was still human. Emotions ran just as rampant through his heart despite his jaded approach to many things. His forced smile regressed into something more neutral, a blank, solemn expression of understanding. He knew she was right, because she truly was, about the state of affairs between the two of them and whether or not she should pursue her memories. He just didn’t wish the hardship on her...on anyone. He retracted his hand as well, folding it in his lap as he leaned back and assumed a proper posture. “I...enjoy your company, Antique. But, I feel the same. I don’t want to get closer, it’s dangerous. You’re a fun friend to be around and I have enjoyed our sparring. But…” he began, but abandoned the train of thought. His voice was calmer now, composed and casual as it normally was. “I support your decision, and I will help you. You’re brave, Antique. So very brave...I respect it.” he smiled at her, warmth in his eyes. “When you get your memories back, I will be there for you. I’ll help you through it. So, keep doing what you’re doing without fear.” He stood up then, and put the chair back where Antique had grabbed it from. “Truth be told...I think I would have asked for two rooms regardless. I wasn’t sure if you quite trusted me enough yet for us to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed.” he explained, practically asking for confirmation. Antique’s lower lip quivered and she blinked away tears over his sentiment. She hadn’t bothered to mind how hard having the memories back would be, even after the conversations they had, but she truly considered how painful it could end up being in that moment, and he assured her against a loneliness she’d been unaware of, that there would be at least one person there for her afterward, if not to help her through it, then at least to help her find direction. But of course, she said nothing on any of that, and rolled right into another concern about the separate rooms, and she frowned and even laughed a little. “Well certainly not the same bed, but it’d be more practical to have one of us on the floor. Rooms are expensive and… Well… Thank you, Avvercus, for knocking on my door. And being willing to pay for the second room. I guess if we can afford it, it’ll be better for the awkwardness between us.” She wanted to let him go, but the urge to ask a final question overcame her, despite her reservations about prying in the context of that conversation. “But, did I really love you back? And, could that really have been thousands of years ago?” She blurted, and she raised her shoulders over the nervousness she felt regarding, again, the impact of her words. Avvercus wanted to hug her again, seeing the tears, but he forced himself to smile with one hand on his hip while the other gestured. “We can afford it. I’m not particularly attached to my coin, as my master of magic provides me with most of the things I know, I don’t know why we haven’t just been using the Librarium this entire time. That would save time and expenses...we’ll try it out tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll like it. Thank you for giving me the chance to speak with you. I’m sorry for waking you.” he answered and turned to leave. His hand came to rest on the door frame when her questions drifted across, and and he huffed out a sigh. Difficult questions to answer. “I’ve been alive a long time, and while my journey through time and space has been a complicated one, I can assure you my reading of it is accurate. Yes, thousands of years.” he answered, staring at the door knob. “Your love was...intense. It swept my 19 year old self off his feet.” he said, turning around. A single tear ran down one cheek at the memory, though his voice didn’t make any noticeable change. “I feel...empty, without it. That blazing sun is snuffed out, leaving me dark and cold on the inside,” he answered, and choked as he tried to resist the sorrow that insisted on pouring out of him. His chest gave a heave and he leaned on the doorway as he fought for composure. “Any...other questions?” he asked between sobs. The tears flowed freely now, spilling from emerald eyes darkened by some deep loss even he didn’t quite understand. His grief brought a whimper to Antique, but despite their welling, no tears fell from her eyes. She hadn’t meant to bring him such sadness in asking, and it brought that feeling of guilt back to her. She mostly stared at him as he spoke, but as he descended into sobbing, she found no choice barring her from standing up, walking over to him, and slipping her arms around him. She had to, even leaving her blanket behind, which left her cold and vulnerable in her shift. She wanted to cry like Avvercus was, but she hadn’t the memories to mourn, so the tears that slid down her cheeks were silent, save for a few whimpers. Those whimpers, however, were far from her mind next to her hurt friend who’d come to reconcile in the depth of the night. She hugged him silently, letting his insincere invitation hang in the air; more than anything but her past, she wanted him to feel better in that moment. A level of frustration with her inability to remember any of what he missed smoldered beneath her skin, and idle thoughts flitted through her mind as she endeavored to comfort him. Thoughts about how he confirmed that she was very old, which didn’t surprise her as much as it should have, which was probably due to the so-many strange and seemingly very separate, too-real dreams she’d had, and thoughts about how very long ago they had met. How very very long… And a flash of realization hit her. The intense feelings he had attached to her, how young he was then compared to now, and how important it seemed to be to him. Her head snapped up and she moved back a little to look up at his face. “Wait, w-was I your first love?” She asked in a shocked tone. Her softness was the same, shifting sensually under the flimsy shift and comforting him as it had long ago. The familiar pressure of her bosom embracing was such an amazing relief to feel it again he nearly forgot they were in the present for a split second. It was long enough for him to return her hug, slinging his arms over her shoulders and squeezing the woman as though she would disappear again any moment. He loosened his grip as she tried to look up, and was about to thank her for the comfort when another bombshell dropped. She had an insight he hadn’t expected, and it caused a new wave of gentle sobs, muffled and choked by sheer force of will, to rack his body. “You...were many of my firsts. The first person I ever...taught swordsmanship to, the first to share in my sanctuary, the first woman I ever slept with...and...the first to steal my heart. But...we lost it all and I don’t know how...not yet. I...and I want to, I think. I need to know...but Goddess does it hurt…” Avvercus managed to pull himself together and speak without sobbing, likely thanks to Antique’s comforting touch. Her hand drifted to his chest since his arms were around her, and she searched his face for the truth she knew was in his words. She dreaded the feelings that arose in that moment, such comfort and intimacy that neither cared to break led to a realization. She knew she would have to seek him out again after she had her memories back, if she could wait that long to feel his lips on hers, or his arms around her in a different context… Such a frustrating and extraneous desire. She felt childish for wanting to be closer to him, and a deep, roiling anger for its undeniability. I don’t want this, She thought, but those feelings didn’t keep her from listening to his words, and definitely laid beneath a more immediate desire to care for him in his grief. “I know that feeling,” Her tone was sad, almost resigned, she looked down, and her head stirred at the realization that she was just looking at his chest, but still, she kept her eyes downcast. “I live with that every day. I… used to be afraid of who I might be. But now, I don’t think it matters. I don’t feel like I have a choice. Whatever it is, I don’t think I could stand living without ever knowing my past.” She squinted, then looked up at him again, searching his eyes, “Even hearing what you’ve told me about myself. There’s so much more I want to ask you, but…” Antique stepped back a little more and brought her hands to fold in front of her, but then she realized their proximity to a rather sensitive region, and she circled them behind her. She leaned her forehead against Avvercus’s chest. “I also just want to ask something stupid.” It began. The old familiar flitting of consciousness from the holder of the shard to him, and vice versa. Tricklings of thoughts and emotions passing between them, so tiny and obscure in the early stages they could barely be discerned. But he could tell from the intensity here...she was as conflicted as he was. He put a hand on top of her head, stroking it gently, running through her silken calmed him, and he hoped the same would be true for the girl. “You can always ask me anything you want...I will never lie to you,” he assured his tentatively subdued companion. Her smell enveloped him, the sweetest and sourest flowers on the vine faintly mixing in his head. That was one thing that had changed about her, and he didn’t dislike it at all. It mingled with his own lavender scent and created something wonderfully relaxing. He wanted to rest his head on hers, stroke her cheek and whisper sweet nothings...but surely that would not lead to something positive for either of them. Antique, on the other hand, was in the process of disregarding the urge to ask him to stay for the night. She scrambled for anything else to ask, so she blurted whatever else came first, “Was I good for a first time?” She bit her tongue as she finished it, half on purpose, and shot a hand up to cup her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. “Don't answer that,” Her voice was muffled through her hand. Avvercus couldn’t help but chuckle, the last bit of sadness trickling out of him with the humor she provided. He ruffled her hair and bent down to whisper in her ear. “You were amazing. You taught me how to treat a woman right.” Avvercus felt himself not wanting to leave, but he also felt there were few excuses for him to stay at this point. He debated simply asking to stay...the urge to stay by her side for the night was overpowering. She laughed along with him and placed a hand over his face, pushing him away, though not without a sensually chilling reaction to his whispering in her ear. “You're awful.” She said, and let her hand drop to his chest again. She looked him in his mossy eyes, mentally sorting out her emotions--identifying them. She wanted him to stay, she knew that, but she had fear in there, and she felt embarrassed, and she was happy in that moment, and so much else. She was happy she took the time to go over that though, because she was able to be more certain in her next decision. And while she was certain, she wasn't sure whether he choice was right, but her chosen perspective said there was no reason not to ask for what she wanted, so she asked, “Avvercus, will you stay?” She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold of the night, and she met his eyes for a moment before her embarrassment for her request took the better of her. “I don't want you to leave. We could just talk. I'd like that… Or just having you close tonight…” She trailed off. She didn't want to be intimate with him, she knew. Some part of her still resisted enough for her to keep focus on her true intentions, but waves of satisfaction went over her as a reward for her decision. It felt good to ask for what she wanted, even despite her confliction. “Would be nice.” She finished after a long pause. Like magic(because it was), Avvercus’ robes were in his hands, and he was putting them around Antique’s shoulders before drawing her cold figure back into his arms. He held her tight, and breathed a happy sigh. His plans for the lady smith, and discount weapons upon the sun’s rise, faded away like smoke. He had no intentions of trying to seduce the girl in his arms, and somehow doubted even his best efforts would yield nothing but sour grapes, and so he was resigned to be left unsatisfied for a while longer. It was worth it to stay by her side tonight...few things seemed more important than that. “If you didn’t ask, I was going to,” he confessed. Now invited for the night, he let Antique go and sat on the bed, patting the space beside him. “I haven’t slept in a proper bed for quite some time, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let me sleep in it with you. Of course, you can trust me to behave...I...well honestly, I just want to be close to you tonight as well.” He hoped the lack of light hid the blush that rushed to his cheeks. He felt young and inexperienced again, getting embarrassed over something so tame. A shiver ran the length of his spine as he felt the chill without his robes, but he made no move to show it. He had to admit...seeing her in clothing was a sight he would like to see more. The robe he'd placed on her shoulders, his momentary tight embrace, and his reciprocating words all collected in a rush of energy and excitement that had her clenching her fists in his shirt. She had an urge to do more to express that, but she suppressed it, and she was tired anyway. She pulled his robe closer around her and spent little time on a smile, seeing him sit on her bed. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around one of his, resting her head on his shoulder. She had thought it would be comfortable, and convenient for conversation, but she moved away from it when she noted the discomfort, and their mutual desire for rest and the other's company, so she stood up again and pulled him to his feet by his hands. “Here,” She said as she threw the blanket over the bed. She walked on her knees to the inside of the bed and pulled back the covers, inviting Avvercus to get in, after which she followed suit. Avvercus took his time removing his boots and trousers, folding the pants and placing them on top of his footwear neatly by the bedside. He had black silk shorts on underneath, loose enough for comfort and tight enough for functionality. He thought about that brief moment, where she grabbed his arm and leaned on him. It was just like she used to do, and that brought more smiles. His braid trailed behind him as he moved to lay down, another difference between the present and the past. His hair had been shorter then, and his braid was nowhere near earned. When she lay down as well, he moved his hair so that it wouldn’t get tugged when either of them adjusted, setting it on top of his companion as he lay his head on her chest. He listened to her heart beat, and searched for her hand under the covers. “I’m so glad...that I found you again. Despite it all, I’m glad I remember, and I’m elated to be able to do something so simple with you again...Thank you,” he said softly, fully relaxing into her. The stress of the road, of the myriad of things he had to keep track of, his responsibilities, the unbelievably high hurdles that lay in all melted away for the moment. “Hey Antique...ask me something else…” Sharing the moment of peace, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. She'd thought they'd have been reversed, but she didn't bring it up. Simple? She didn't think it was simple at all. Even casting aside her worries, she still had an underlying turmoil of conflicting feelings and a knot of fear about what it all meant. Still, he was warm and comforting, and she idly fiddled with his braid with her eyes closed. “Uhm, did you recognize me from the start?” Avvercus drooped an arm around her waist as he snuggled closer, letting loose a deep sigh of contentment. He loved the feeling of her playing with his braid, and made no move to stop it like he normally would. “No, but something in me told me to go with you, protect you. I normally do that for anyone, but...I don’t normally dive into lakes I know nothing about with someone I just met...or share gifts from my Goddess with them. Next question?” He asked her the question, but by then she had her eyes closed, and it was a few moments before she spoke in a tired voice, her lips moving only minimally. She still toyed with his braid, but she paused at points, and it was almost fitful. She asked, “How can I find you again after you leave?” “I’ll give you a sigil. All you need to do is crush it, and I will come as quickly as I can. In the morning…” he whispered as sleep began to encroach. Soon, the man’s breathing evened and he was dreaming, once again, of a lover from aeons past.
  13. I'll try to get ahold of Jojo and see what's up. He's been super busy with college from what I understand.
  14. Slank I'll race you to its tentacles! first one to touch them gets the death blow!
  15. Kruggles my dude! Welcome, welcome. Everything you see on valucre is all on the same planet, minus the alternative section. If ya got any questions, don't hesitate to ask.