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Fallen Joy

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About Fallen Joy

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    Roleplay Wizard
  • Birthday 05/31/1990

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  • Occupation
    Aspiring Medical Student
  1. Within a marsh swimming city of notorious dangerous outskirts, the exquisite and quaint Red Herring was a great place for a girl like Frankie to start any kind relationship. After hoofing it through the such dangers to reach the city, her heart was a little too pumped and reared up like a stallion to settle down just because the atmosphere demanded it. So after a quick shower, she made the best out of her time whilst waiting for her next adventure to walk through the door. “Check this.” A tea cup was rolled across an ascending hand and glided along the arm of her caramel skin. The rim skated perfectly up the mounds of her shoulder before Frankie popped it in a crescent over her golden hair caught its rims upon her other shoulder. Her hand descend with with a dancer’s cadence, allowing the cup to roll onto the table in a neat sway on placement napkin. In all her beautiful blonde glory, Frankie was standing in the midst unoccupied tables, entertaining the occupants by performing tricks with tea cups. She rolled them along the curves of her body in a mesmerizing fashion that tricked the eyes into thinking her curves were held their own gravity. Her body slithered within her own space like rivulets of honey under the amber light, tea cups dancing along her waistline and hips perfectly coordinated and seduced from the pull of the earth. Each time, even if they rolled low, she managed to return them to the placements on the table. It was as she was doing this that she noticed Asbel stroll in, her oceanic hues brightening in an intrigued twinkle. The final tea cup was surfing along her thigh before she lifted the knee and lowered her back to reverse its direction. Her golden locks fell like riches spindled from hay as her back arched and the last cup rolled up her navel to her breasts, catching under her chin as he straightened herself and allowed it to fall evenly between her cleavage. When she finished the servers at the establishment released a great breath of relief. The cups were fragile and expensive, Frankie didn’t exactly ask to entertain the guest with their equipment—nonetheless, the others clapped for her. This alone held their tempers. “Waiting for someone?” Her voice, deep yet very feminine came to Asbel—for Frankie traveled to his table and folded her forearms on the wood. Leaning over, she nested her breasts in her arms and canted her head at him. One of her hands caught the cup as it tipped over, and settled it on the table.
  2. “Kana alive?” The rough voice came from Tera, who finished tying up their prisoner and approached the witches with curiosity upon her hardened face. The Matriarch sent her a single sharp look and the orc frowned before backing off. Instead she turned her attention to the blossomed fields. She stared there for a moment before going to the weaponry near one of the tents and recruiting a long spear made of a metal shaft rooting a great blade of sharpened bone. The style was very similar to her sister's, save for brandishing a great polearm of bone as opposed to arrowheads. She twisted the weaponry skillfully across her hands and then returned it to its rightful place between her shoulder blades. After that, she returned to looking towards the fields. “Kana is vigorous enough to find her own way back.” The Matriarch said smoothly. “It is their duty to protect me, and now you. They view mercy and gratitude as weakness; it’s best not to show it.” She released a slow sigh of mist whilst looking up towards the moon. “Only a day..” she repeated. “That’s good.” It meant they hadn’t lost much time...but a day within only few still took much of the time she had left to stop their premonition from coming true. It was possible this was also apart of the fates. Now that she had found the witch the spirits had guided her to, The Matriarch wasn’t sure what was next in their journey. She glanced over to Namiko who had approached the amulet. Her blind vision recognized the artifact as a hole in the threads of light she saw. It was like a blackened abyss reaching with greedy licentious hands for Namiko’s presence. It seemed that actual skin contact was needed for the detrimental effects to manifest. The shine of the amulet seemed almost mute on the ground, but as Namiko got closer it brightened longingly for her. The Matriarch saw this as a greater pull in the void. She walked over as well. “Yes, we do. But even moreso, we need to know where this came from.” Curiously, with both the witches were near, it blushed even more. The Matriarch couldn't see what Namiko did to hold it, but her eyes smiled at the innovativeness of it nonetheless. “It appears to respond to us…” she paused and thought. “But not the orcs…I imagine the mercenaries handled it effortlessly as well.” She paused again for another thought. “It must respond only to magic folk. Meaning these mercenaries were either implausibly lucky to have it in their possession...or were given it by someone looking to steal magic.” As the words left her scarlet lips, her equally red anger rose and crackled. She sharply looked towards the direction of the leader’s ugly energy threads, the aggression in her eyes much the like orcs she commanded. “It’s time for answers.” She approached the body, was silent for a long moment, and then said something in orc. Tera grunted mildly and approached the man, kicking him hard in the side. The man gasped and his eyes shot open, wind knocked from his gut and forcing him to wake. There was a great knot on his scalp where the Bodyguard knocked him and small streams of crimson likewise matted his hair. The man squinted through what must have been a throbbing headache, looking up at them.
  3. Huffing with a grunt as he glared where the runaway mercenaries disappeared, The Bodyguard almost seemed to ignore the witch at first. When he did turned this large head, that glowering fierce gaze was set upon her. He seemed to be deciding for a half moment if he should smash in her crown too, but then continued his gaze to the Matriarch. That fierce gaze softened but only mildly. He didn’t say anything, but he stared at the amulet shining on her breasts. He reached a hand over intrepidly, or perhaps carelessly, and grabbed the amulet tightly. Though it was completely hidden by the orc's massive hand, the amulet did not seem to shine brighter. His bicep veins bulged as he tightened his grip. As per Namiko's words, he was trying to crush it. For a long moment, nothing happened. ….. The Bodyguard growled in frustration and leaned down closer to the Matriarch. He planted a knee down and gripped the chain of the item between his two fingers. Instead of trying to crush it, he pulled on the links. It worked; the amulet broke from its links and its glow diminished greatly. The orc opened his hand and looked at the amulet, not even bent, within his palm. He seemed hurt by his lack of ability and threw it to the ground before turning back to the Matriarch. “Mmmm…” she mumbled. The white witch slowly sat up on her thighs, feeling as if a boulder suddenly lifted from her body despite her muscles still aching and head pounding. Bringing her slender white hand to her forehead, she was still for a moment to associate herself with the body she felt was temporarily robbed of. The arcane was returning within her; she felt it in her unique vision and it was likewise seen within her eyes. Though originally just clouded like the elderly, mist now churned within her optics. It slithered beyond the orifices as if air breathed from her invisible pupils. Within the pearl and white swirls, tiny flashes like lightning thrived. She stared at Namiko with those eyes. “Thank you, sister.” She filled the distance between them and hugged her gently. “Thank you.” She parted from her, slowly rising to her feet. She had a few inches on Namiko, tall for a woman but short amongst the orcs. Weakness still plagued her, but she forced her legs to steal. “Tera,” she said and the female twin of Kana was on her feet. The orc seemed rather frustrated herself, likely with her predicament. She had been searching around the camp with her carmine eyes when the Matriarch addressed her. She grunted to acknowledge it. “Tie this one up…There will be questions for him then he awakens.” She said this in orc, her deep yet feminine voice holding an accent signature of her life with them. Tera narrowed her eyes a bit and approached the unconscious man, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him closer to the fire. She tied his wrists and ankles with some of the mercenary supplies left over in the camp. The Matriarch then placed her hand on The Bodyguard. “Check on hounds and buffos.” The Bodyguard turned and walked towards area of the campsite where the drugged hounds and large steeds were tethered. The Matriarch then returned her attention on Namiko. “They ambushed the orcs with bombs of blue pollen. The same scent is coming from there,” she motioned her hand towards the sack of an unknown substance. “I heard there was an occasional poison wind in the Blue Hills, but the orcs are typically strong against such things. These were very concentrated. It knocked out Kana, Tera, and the hounds almost immediately and severely weakened the other. I was also hit, but I'm more tolerant…I tried to bewitch them but one of them forced that,” She pointed to void in her vision, which must have been the amulet. “Into my chest.” She sighed deep, running the hand on her forhead back through her hair. How many days were lost to this? “Tell me, how many days have passed since we spoke at your home?”
  4. Natasha, being near the wings and legs of the dragon and the last target of the flames, had luck and time on her side. She dashed and slid underneath the shield of the fallen wing, barely avoiding fire underneath its shadow and scrapping her elbow while at it. She settled on her knees and breathed a heavy mist. This dragon did not give up. It reminded her of pregnant orc mothers. Though their maternal instincts were less than kind, they were fearsome to deal with prior to the birth. Even bumping them could leave you leave you maimed. Perhaps that was way orcs made it though pregnancy in such a hostile environment. Then something sparked within her mind. This dragon was a fierce mother, fighting tooth and tail with these assailants for protection the next generation. Her egg. The thought within Natasha's mind transformed into an idea and she ran back into the lasting mist behind the battle. Thrashing its head fiercely but wearily against Grud’s tugs, the dragon slowly walked towards the orc seeming unaware of the assault to be made upon its cranium by both the summon and the insect-giant. However, a dragon’s sensitivity to magic was impeccable and such a powerful manifestation upon its very body would not go unnoticed. It eyes turned far into its periphery as the summon ran from its wing base towards its shoulder blades, followed by the feeling of stomping upon its long neck. Then almost simultaneously, the thousand legged insect aggravated its side. Though it acted fierce and beastly, the dragon was intelligent enough to think and use magic. It’s good wing tucked in a quickened response and the dragon suddenly dropped to its side. Rolling towards its good wing, the dragon threatening to either crush or send its riders falling from a great height into the hard ice. With the dragon rolling towards Grud, the orc had no choice but to drop the chain and run. However, the surface ares of the dragon was too great and he not fast enough. He disappeared underneath it. The dragon rolled onto his talons, standing too quick and consequently stumbling into an ice pillar. Clemetine’s poison was still doing its work. On the ground, Grud laid on his back motionless but whole. He was alive, shown by the mist leaving his black tusked lips. The dragon’s head hung low, breath heavily—it stood between the two pillars where the ambush waited. The war cries of orcs suddenly was around it. Bale leaped down from the pillar with a dashing beeline. He had propelled himself like a spring against the pillar and slammed Smug’s great hammer into the side of the dragon’s face like a bat. The force caught him in the air, pausing him in the action before he fell back and landed into the snow. Not losing a beat, he ran around the dragon. Knocked seeming silly but the length of its neck preventing its fall, the dragon was temporarily helpless. Two additional orcs came raining from the pillar with rattling chains. Curt landed on the muzzle, released a crazed and excited cry as he sadistically hooked the barbed grapples of two chains deep into each of the dragon’s nostrils. Blood immediately spilled from the hole but the dragon was still dazed did not respond properly. Curt threw the ends towards the air, immediately caught by Smug who fell from the pillar and onto the dragon’s back. 440lbs and 6’7”feet, his strength could not questioned despite the grays thinning hair on his scalp. Roaring like a beast, he yank the tense chains hard with all his vigor and forced the dragons head so uncomfortably back that the question of its neck snap became scarily real. But the males of the orc tribe did not care. With quickened preplaned thought, Smug used the new slack, tossing one chain on the broken winged side of the dragon whilst he jumped down the good side. The chain was grabbed by Bale, who reached his mark leaped in the air to grab it. With their combined weight and strength, they slammed the dragons head between its own shoulders. It looked awful—the dragon cried bloody murder. But the orcs weren't done, they ran underneath the dragon, crossed each other and hooked the other ends of the chains into a circle around the dragon front legs. Now if the dragon moved…it risked ripping open its own nostrils. If this wasn’t enough, Bale the most slender and agile of the three, grabbed the hanging chain that Grud once held and swung himself down once his task was done. When he touched the snow, he ran underneath the dragon and back flipped back up in reverse onto the dragon's upturned jaw and off again to his original side. He pulled the chain—the dragon’s head was now seat-belted down. The trap had worked, the dragon sitting its rear down into the ice but unable to move it fronts. Its eyes hang low—it seemed immensely wearily. However…her scales were brilliant shining bright, permeating with magic. As its final act of defense, it was preparing to send that dangerous mist once more. And by the luminescence of the shine, it would be much further.If it did, the chains would break and the dragon would be free once more, not to mention all the orcs pinning it down would be instantly killed. They had one shot.
  5. With the three of the men busy easing their wounds and the leader looking adamantly into the night for signs of his companions, Namiko’s approach to the orcs and the Matriarch was stealthy enough to go unnoticed. The Matriarch laid motionless, her breath steady and soft. She appeared to be floating in the blackened river that was her locks. The presence of her sister drew her eyes to an open; they were misted and clouded, indicating their blindness. Even though her energy was sapped and the world was aphotic, the shine of her sister came though. Namiko's beautiful spindles of the arcane, as gorgeous of the northern skies and brighter than galaxies, made the Matriarch feel fueled with relief. She couldn’t say anything but her weary eyes softened with greeting and gratitude. Namiko touched the orcs and the water washed over their bodies. Their breaths grunted instinctively and they shifted. Then Namiko touched the Matriarch. Something different happened. As their skin made contact, the Matriarch’s skin cool, smooth, and firm like marble under her touch, the amulet upon her chest heavily brightened. The amethyst burst nearly twice its original shine, drawing the immediate attention of the men. Simultaneously, a gravitational pull transpired. As if a thousand hands suddenly reached and to grab and pull Namiko down into their grasp, the amulet tried to steal her energy—her thoughts, her magic, her very will to stand—much like it did the Matriarch. “Stop her!” the leader yelled rushing over to the scene himself. Depending on if Namiko was too groggy to respond, he closed the distance sooner than his mates, lifting his sword to cleave down towards her knelt height and nape of her neck. Whether Namiko could defend herself was irreverent in the moment, for a black bulk rose between the distance and barricaded the cleave. The sound of sword hitting rock clinked as the leader’s blade planted against the forearm of the Bodyguard. Though Kana’s sister was still groaning and regaining herself, the Bodyguard was already on the way to recovery and thanks to Namiko he was back much quicker. The sight of him awaking froze the remaining mercenaries on the spot. His carmine glowered at leader like the devil himself. In a panic, the man frantically shoved his hand into the pouch on his waistline. The Bodyguard narrowed his eyes and forced his arm down with an incredible strength, the blade barely sinking an inch before cranking back and forcing itself from the leader’s head. Consequently, the orcs arm slammed into the top of the wielder’s skull. He fell onto the ground, unconsciousness. The other three men, skin raw on the face, leg, and neck them respectively, were discouraged. The Bodyguard rose, standing ominously and standing at his full eight feet, looked at them with a dare to approach. They looked at the sack at the The Bodyguard’s massive feet. They knew they only managed to deal with the Bodyguard previously because they caught him by surprise with the poison. Even then, he nearly crushed one of them between his hands. The Bodyguard released a beastly roar, drool flinging from his hog tusks and his bloody eyes seeming aflame. The very oscillations from his voice rattled the atmosphere. The men backed up, and then ran.
  6. "Alright, we do it your way!" For the first time, Kana gave Namiko a grin—so brutally out of place that the deep frown lines upon her hard skin seemed on the verge of cracking. This breed of orcs only smiled at one thing; the thought of murder and conquer. Swinging her bow from her back, she nodded to the witch. "Lead the way, friend." Kana paused, tightening her eyes as her curved smile fell back into a frown. It was as if Namiko said a derogatory remark to her. Orc didn't have friends, and to think of a witch befriending an orc was unsettling. They were soldiers. Grunts. Slaves. Not friends. She ground her tusks together and looked away from the witch. "Blessed be." Another tinge of discomfort. "We lead away. You save,” was all she said. There a long pause for a moment, Kana clearly tense throughout it. "Stay alive." She suddenly added. Then she placed her hand on the head of the lupine beast. For a moment her eyes seemed to illuminate a hair brighter, as did the eyes of the mutt. What happened in that brief moment was unknown, but in the next the two rushed off across the dimly moonlit pedals towards the camp site. The black coating of the hound and dark jade skin of the orc served as curtains that fell over them in the night. ~ ~ ~ Back at the site, four men sat around the campfire. They had the disgruntled look of mercenaries, dirtied and scarred from a life on the road and scuffles with their targets. The thick leather pads of hide on their shoulders, torso, and thighs were clawed and bruised from the beasts they likely specialized in. Another couple men were standing by the three bodies. The slender pale form of the Matriarch was placed on her side, at in the middle of the two captured orcs—one orc was massive in size and hid her even when on his back, and the other a replica of Kana save for her black hair. Around the Matriarch’s neck was a golden chain leading to a circular amulet that harnessed an amethyst colored jewel. The purple glowed brightly between her breasts. The last two men flanked the camp. “This one is stirring again,” one of the men said, his eyes anxious and fixated on the larger of the two orcs. This was the Bodyguard, large and imposing orc with a fourth of a ton of muscle layering his physique. He grunted and twitched, breath deep like a bull and as terrifying as a demon even if he was paralyzed from poison. His lids drifted into an half open state, carmine eyes landing uncannily onto the mercenary and making his heart freeze with fear. “Damn it, this guy is not worth this shit. Give me the bag, now.” Before anything could be done, a low growl in the wind immediately silenced everyone. The men around the campfire stood up, swords armed. Silence followed for a moment, the reach of the fire’s light dying in the blue fields. Then the growl was there again, lingering in the cold breeze that shivered the pedals. Then suddenly a tongue lashed out from the darkness, striking like whip and lashing around the necks of the gaurd. The man grasped as the tongue yanked him down into the dirt, released, and flung back. The man on the ground slapped his hands to his neck, his coughing turning to agonized yells. His nails raked at flesh that turned alarmingly red under the slime and began to erode with small ulcerations. The flesh eating bacteria within the saliva was corrosive against normal flesh. The hound leaped into view as the man crawled away, growling fiercely and drool leaking from its ebony muzzle to the ground. As its adrenaline rose, the salivation became intense, ready to eat away at the flesh it often devoured. Meat was tough in the world of the orcs. The beast barked once and more men charged it. Two reached first, the hound dodging one of the swings of the swords and biting into the calf of its owner. The yells enhanced it aggression and it thrashed its head. One of the unoccupied heads threw its tongue to the second, slapping him across the face with a force that nearly knocked him off balance. The others rushed at the hound, but the descend of an arrow bee-lining from the opposite direction halted one of them by sinking deep into the nape of a neck. With precision on his carotid accurate, the man immediately dropped and drew the attention of the others. Kana presence was suddenly at their rears, drawing another arrow shooting it into an arm. She grinned and turned tail, running back from the camp. Likewise, the hound released its hostage and ran off. “Fuck!” One of the men yelled. “Go, go! After them! Kill them!” Two of the men retreated to canisters, frantically rinsing the saliva from their bodies. It helped but left them bleeding and burning. Two more set off after Kana and one went after the hound. One dead, bleeding out on the ground from the arrow in his neck, one injured in the leg, also rinsing it frantically, and the one giving commands (leader?) remained. The leader clenched a sack at his waistline, his the other hand tightening on his sword. The rest was on Namiko. In the confusion, no one remember to poison The Bodyguard again, whose hand began to twitch.
  7. Get well soon, madam!!
  8. Kana paused, muscles quivering for a moment with bulging vessels before she turned to Namiko and huffed loudly. It was strange…the orc knew she had no obligation to listen to this witch like she did the others, but nonetheless, knowing that she had the obligation to find the greatest way of saving the witch made her do it. “Hmph,” she grunted, coiling her tension by crossing her arms and gripping her biceps hard. “What you do?” Her answer was watching Namiko. Kana instantly felt uncomfortable, much like she did when the other witches did strange behavior that suggested magic. This one was feeling into the earth, much like she did when tracking vibrations of beast herds in the distance. To Namiko's words Kana became thoughtful. Orcs didn’t think much, but that’s what separated Kana and the other orc leaders from the others. When it came to ways to kill, they loved to think. “I think I can feel how many there are. I hope…” “Eight,” she said, looking at the camp. “Eyes good in dark.” She tapped her temple to emphasize her carmine eyes, practically glowing like hot coal in the night. “Some maybe in tents.” There were, Namiko would feel if her magic worked. Depending on how well, she might also know how many. Kana thought for a moment more. “Pull some away with beast.” The orc hound came to their sides, wagging its tail. “And these.” She threw a thumb over her shoulders with her arrows. “Kana handle them. If do that, you save?” ~ ~ The Matriarch suddenly felt something. It was like roots deep within the ground, tickling the surfaces of her skin. Considering the Matriarch couldn’t feel most things on her skin in such a way, it caught her interest. It caught her interest to the point where her cheeks flushed with a cherry color and her palms ran warm. She knew the feeling of the craft anywhere. How it made her feel. Her own fingers reached into the dirt, taking in the arcane, grasping at the ties and releasing her own sparse traces of energy. Her vision was still so black, it comforted her. Her essence traveled, slithering through the energies of the earth and kissing Namiko’s tips. She couldn’t communicate in any other way, only to let her know that she was there.
  9. When neither Emma nor Serra heard the air-shattering scream, Luna wondered if it only haunted her mind. Perhaps it was something that her insides were trying to reach and warn her about; something that they feared or dreaded. This disturbed her even more. “Calm yourself, Emma.” Luna said with a voice gentle but mildly stern. Her edge and lingering feeling of ache within her ears made her slightly less lenient. “This place is not one to be panicked in, the dark magic likely feeds on fear. Stay focused, we are here for each other.” Upon these words, Luna turned to approach the shivering shrubbery in question and approached. She listened to Serra but still cast her own feelers towards it. The witch was right, she felt nothing as well. Moving on was a good idea, but she also did not want to exactly walk with their backs to a lurker either. Getting close, she intrepidly prodded the copse with the tip of her metallic staff. “Nothing. Let’s move—” Another scream pierced the forest, cutting off Luna’s words and making her flinch in pain again. It was as if she were standing in the heart of bell, the thousands of horrific vibrations filling her body with a dread and fear that she couldn’t explain. Nausea and a whirling sensation come upon her and suddenly she was swept into the past by a memory. A hundred years ago...She saw herself walking upon the sight of her sisters broken and unconscious within the grasps of a demented warlock. Luna’s breath elevated, the dreaded memory pounding her thoughts. Those stream of emotions, inspiring vulnerability and panic, normally only happened when her sisters were in pain. When the guilt became a sword through her mid section and bled out her power and will. Why did this screaming inspire such things? She was desperately trying to figure this out when suddenly the aphotic canopy broke open and a creature descended towards her. In some legends, it was an ancient maiden spirit who wails were only heard by the minds of their victims. In others, it was the beacon of death in households, broken soliders, and great generals. It was also known as the old hag of the mist, wailing in the white shadows like broken widow. Most simplistically was a banshee. Luna’s advanced processing skills often made the world's movement slow, down to a crawl when her life was in danger. She looked up as the branches broke apart and took in the imagery of the banshee diving down upon her like a hawk. The banshee had wild tresses bleached white, riding around the currents of her body, and her pale skin was covered in dirt and moss. Her bony fingers led into elongated blackened claws that were once possible fine nails. Her attire was disheveled and blood stained with the creatures she'd slain, if not her own. But her face…Luna's eyes widened. That expression laced with so much pain and anger held a beauty that was all too familiar. “...I wish us all good health on this journey, so that we may use these poultices another day.” The voice behind the scream was even clear to Luna. Suddenly she realized those weren’t screams she heard, but the wailing…keening of someone they held most dear. The banshee was literally a foot from her body with silver hues shining like galaxies. She'd never forget those. “...Stellestria?” she barely managed to whisper, all her defenses tumbling to her ankles at the shock before the banshee swept her from the ground. The banshee's hands grasped her shoulder with great strength, claws sinking deep into the flesh and making Luna cry out from the pain. The banshee (Stellestria?) screamed bloody murder into her face, agonizing her mind, and then threw her into the trunk of one of the trees. The bark moaned wildly and dead leaves rained down as Luna fell to the ground with a groan. Her emerald hair spilled over her bloodied shoulders and tears were already on her cheeks. The banshee circled under the canopy upon and dove again towards the witch. Luna didn’t seem to respond to it.
  10. The dragon’s pearl fangs lashed like a thousand sabers toward Clementine, fully intent on ending her life in a smear of crimson upon the snow. The noble steed of the Alexandria intercepted with a flourish of bright orange flames from its nostrils, colliding into the face of the silver scaled beast and immediately ceasing the strike. The dragon thrashed its head in irritation, eyes already sensitive from the chemical burns, and moments later felt something prick into the wet membranes of its mouth, instantly numbing mucus skin. Then, if that was not enough, a searing pain suddenly broke out on its side. Natasha and Alexandria’s blades collided with the appendage of its wing, breaking forth blood and agonized screeches from the winged beast with an audible snap to the tendon. The scales took the blunt of the slicing force before breaking, leaving their metal only halfway into the flesh underneath. The wing stayed stubbornly attached by the thickness and strength. Natasha, never satisfied, rose her fist and stabbed again, but could only do so before the wing rocked wildly. The dragon thrashed its body and fought through the pain to move its wing to the best of its ability. Natasha's blade, still anchored, kept her still as the wing rose to flat plane. That’s when that long sharp tail, practically a blade itself due to the formation of silver scales, whipped at their bodies with a near cracking sound. If it connected, their waist lines would abandon their hips. Natasha saw the tail on the horizon only seconds before it struck. With the mist at the dragon’s rear providing enough cover to make its appearance swift and unexpected, it was like the strike of a snake. “Look out!” she warned, instinctively in orc, and barely had time to lift her own gauntlets from the flesh and cross them at the point of impact. She countered the sharp strike and listened to the echoing sound of blade hitting blade before she was tossed across most of the wing and rolled off the edge. She landed in the ice and snow, her blackened marble skin barely tingling from the force and her breath only elevated from excitement. She was quickly on her feet again, checking for Alexandria. The dragon’s aggression and vexation rose intensely, responding to the increasing threat on its life. With an amazing amount of stamina, it rose to its legs finally. There was an increasing sensation of numbness within its mouth and jaw, shown as it hang slightly slack. The fires of the nitemare didn’t seemed to damage it much, for the smolder on the scales shook off with its movement. The standing dragon turned its head, one wing high and eyes on the witches, familiars, and orc. With only a brief warning of light rushing up its scales, blue flames shot violently from its mouth. The flames manifested like powerful jet of water, the point of impact instantly creating palisades of sharp ice in sporadic and dangerous directions. The jumping spears went as far as ten feet from its origin, though primarily in the path of its momentum . The dragon aimed the magical icy flames in a tracing line, starting with the nitemare, trailing to the fallen Clementine, and ending at Natasha and Alexandria (unless she managed to stay on the dragon). The landscape, once a flat plane, became a devastated mess of ice stalagmites, incredibly sharp and threatening to stab the escapees of the fire with their pierce. Grud came running in from the rear of the head. With a decisive leap, his short and heavy body went into the air and grabbed the chain stilling dangling from one of the spines of the dragon’s head (placed by the previously killed orc). His dense weight cranked the fire spitting head to the side. The neck was forced to bend as the orc landed back on the ground, holding the chain sternly. The dragon stopped its fire, turning its body like a reigned horse to the pulls of the chain. “Cmere, ya damned oversized pieca lizard shit!” Feeling the paralyzing weakness spreading all too quickly to its neckline, the dragon struggled to pull back against the chain and turned towards Grud instead. Although late, the orc managed to stop its spread of fire. Hopefully the others had survived it.
  11. This actually does sound fun! I'll figure out a character to put in tomorrow and edit this! Alright decided: Frankie
  12. The pedals rushed into the air, disheveled by their tromping boots, hooves, and paws as the trio rushed across the plains. At Namiko’s words, Kana shifted her carmine eyes to the side, not saying anything. Her dedication to help the witch was odd to the orc. Natasha of the orcs often spent her thoughts wandering what it was that made witches come to each other’s aid. She expressed it adamantly amongst them. The concepts of loyalty and dedication for a stranger were asinine to an orc, for your own family. They lived in a brutal world of kill or be killed until their enslavement by the witches. Now they were forced to witness and praticipate in concepts that made their skin crawl. Kana shook her head, she wouldn’t allow the same thoughts weigh upon her mind. It drew Natasha closer to the witches. She had no attention of doing that. That orc's intelligence made her weak-minded. She rather be comfortable in doing what she did best, and that was tracking and killing. Thus she had more to focus on, like how she was going to terrorize the ones responsible for this and how good their blood would feel within her hands. ~ ~ ~ ~ Where am I? “Mmm,” the Matriarch groaned and opened her eyes. Her body felt like it was buried and filled to the brim with sand, everything immensely heavy from the inside of her mind to the tips of her toes. The intoxication through her mind from memory of what happened beyond the attack. When she came to the aid of the orcs, something magical grabbed her, pinned her, and stole her consciousness. Rivulets of her black tresses streamed in front of her sloughed countenance, and an ember glow of fire reflected upon the strips of ivory skin between. She could neither feel the tickle nor the heat. Her unique vision even seemed groggily. The threads of energy she normally saw were hazed and thinned like cobwebs in the night. The white witch could only relay on her hearing and smell to determine where she was. The smoldering scent of burning logs, there was a campfire nearby. It meant there were most likely outside and that it was also likely nighttime. If she was lucky, it was the night of the same day. In addition, the shuffling and smells of lifted dust trickled between a greater perfume of familiar flowers. They were still in or downwind of the Blue Hills. There was rustling and whispers, clumsily shuffling of feet. Not at clumsy or as heavy as the orcs, but definitely men. Three? Five? She breathed out soft to focus. A few were sitting…Eight. Metal and leather ground with the movement. Eight armored men. There was another smell in the wind, something even more familiar. Orcs. She also heard their husk deep breaths, and if she could feel, she’d imagine feeling the uncanny heat radiating as well. They were very close. Close enough that she… Steeling a fragment of her will, her fingers shifted in the dust, crawling forward aimlessly for a moment before she touched flesh. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she touched volcanic rock. But that was how she knew it was an orc. Based on the rigidity, it was the Bodyguard. Alive. This didn’t completely settle her though…why was her mind so hazed? She could think, but she couldn't plan. What had these intruders done to them? “Why’d we bring the orcs?” One of them were speaking over the crackling pops of the fire. “Because their hides are extremely tough, I couldn’t even pierce this fucker here with my sword.” The sound of metal to rock, hinted that he tried again. “ If we drown them in the rivers of Coconino, we can skin them later and sell it.” “But they keep waking up, the poisons seemed to be wearing off quicker and quicker. If we run out, we’re screwed. We can’t use the amulet on them again, we gotta keep it on the witch. She's what we want, let's just ditch them.” “Stop being such a damned coward. We just have to rush to the river. If the damn beast starts struggling tryna save its life, we need the water to be deep. Bloke is big enough to send us all fly’n otherwise.” “Yeah a’right, I ain't no coward." "Then shut-up about it. This is gon’ be a huge score for us.” Anger immediately rose within the Matriarch. Mercenaries? They were taken and overwhelmed by mercenaries? Her pride rattled within her body, attempting to make her move again, but her mind only sunk deeper into apathy and with it came noxious exhaustion. It was like the more she struggled, the worse it got. What was this amulet they were talking about? “These elves better give what they promised. All this damn trouble.” Elves? ~ ~ ~ The hound suddenly stopped. Kana pulled beside it, panting heavily though not fatigued. She was speedy enough to keep up beside a trotting horse and tracking lupine, it was an advantage of her class, but such an expense of energy wasn’t meant for the long term. Though she was fine enough now, she knew she wouldn’t be able to run like this throughout the course of a whole day—thus she hoped the hound was find something soon. Looking in the distance, there was a sliver gleam of ribbons where the creeks of the Blue Hills seemed to slithered into the density of trees lurking on the horizon. They were approaching the end of the Blue Hills. Kana growled under her breath, wondering how these guys even managed to carry a nearly 600lb orc plus her 150lb sister and the Matriarch so far in a day. They must have taken their steeds as well. The hound paused, sniffed some more, and then whined under its muzzle whilst walking forth with a nose pointed to the distant east. Kana turned to look. A jewel of fire twinkled small, surrounded by tents and shadows of figures both sitting and standing. With eyes capable of seeing better in the night than the day, Kana saw more details. On the outskirts, two large bull like creatures were tethered and three other hounds laid on their sides—likely afflicted with the same ailments as Kana had been. “They are there,” Kana said, feeling her heart race with blood thirty excitement. Her hands clenched into fist. “We rush and kill all.”
  13. “Blue pedals?” the she-orc repeated with confusion in her tone. She squinted her carmine eyes and paced back and forth on the spot, scratching her long nails through her silver hair. She faced a contemplation between what she was obligated to do, what she wanted to do, and what she should do. Most of what Namiko said sounded like mere tied tongues to her, but there were a few things that she honed into. “Namiko…witch.” Witches...she was supposed to cooperate with those. The soft ground began to sink under her pacing. Her struggle seemed odd, but her mind was slow—as per her tribe with few exceptions. “ Have witch to search for witch…okay.” She stopped and faced her again, roughly pointing a thumb to her own sternum. “Kana.” She named herself, stepping towards the witch and patting her entire hand to her chest this time. "I am with witch." “Men come with poisons. Magic poisons that sparkle blue and smell pretty like flowers." She kicked a patch of said flowers as she explained this. "Make big weight on body and eyes blind. No see. No move. No think.” She clenched her fist, angry that she was done over and dominated by strangers. Luna would have her head; actually she’d have the entire regime’s head if she heard of this. Kana couldn't let the Matriarch die. The apprehension made her clenched her tusked teeth, roughly turning from Namiko again and pacing once more. Her sister was gone, too. "Woke up alone." Her jade hand ran through her hair again, scraping at the scalp and pulling sparse metallic hued threads with it. “Gone. Witch gone. Must find. Need to track.” She stopped pacing and turned her attention to the hound a second time, barking orders in her orcish language. The hound padded eagerly to her side, neither yelping nor flinching when the orc grabbed it by the scruff and dragged it to one of the sunken body imprints on the ground. She harshly released the mongrel and all three of its noses lowered to the ground. Dust clouded with its rapid sniffing and the air thickened into white as one head lifted to do the same to the wind. Finally they turned towards Kana with a small growl under their muzzles. Kana nodded then turned towards the witch. “It has scent. Come. We track. Find them quick.” The orc rushed to grab her scattered arrows with heads sharpened from bone with bone. Nine gleamed pearl in the moonlight before she shoved them into her hide covered carrier. Secondly, she reached for an ebony strap on the ground and she tied her long hair into a ponytail. Ready, she waved her hand to Namiko and barked at the hound. The beast rushed forward through the pedals, the orc running behind it. Kana was obviously little for chit chat.
  14. A witch covered in gold rushed for its wing and another witch of white rushed towards it hanging head—due to the sheet size of the beast, the dragon knew none the better. It continued to swing its wild limps like a pounced upon lion, back claws slashing into the ice and leaving trenches whilst its front claws stuck inside and began the starts of a rise. Its wings lifted into the air and slapped the earth to aid against the pain in its back tendons, and sent a frosty wind into its surroundings. While it further vanquished the magic mist it released, Alexandra would have to take heed in not being knocked to her back from the resultant gust. The dragon’s wings were like the sails of a great vessels and blew currents upon the surface of ice like powerful waves that could bend trees. When the dragon lifted its large head, Clementine’s reflection flickered upon its pupil. The witch had came towards into its field of vision, causing the dragon to respond aggressively. It braced its position with its front claws and sent its bear trap maw of teeth towards the witch in a fearsome bite. Back at its rear, Natasha rolled herself to her stomach lifted herself rising from the snow, staring down at her shadow and imprint within the sheet of white. Surrounding her were the frozen links of chains she attempted to teeter the tail of the dragon with. However, when the accursed misted suddenly burst from its body, they spread across the links like poison and broke the metal like glass—thankfully before it touched her hands—and sent her on her back. It was too close of a call for her. If it did that again in the trap between the pillars, that would be devastating. Perhaps it would only do it once though. Natasha didn't have the logic to consider it, she was too battle hungry. She irritably brushed the snow off her and exhaled once. Then a chill arose on her skin—something difficult to accomplish—and her attention shifted to the mist, forcing to further retreat back. The tail was still in her vision and it started thrashing fiercely, lifting and slamming upon the ice and dispersing the mist almost as soon as it came. She grunted. “Damn dragon,” she muttered in her orc language. She had enough magic from her owners to deal with. “Getting tired already?” Grud had appeared beside her. She merely turned a sharp eye. “You need to find a way to draw the dragon to the pillars. I’m on witch duty.” Grud grunted in understanding before cracking his thick neck back and forth and running off. Natasha ran off in another direction. She was fast and quickly lost sight of Grud. The dragon’s thrashing back talons forced evasive maneuvers on her trek. The beast was likely to struggle in standing again because of its hurt tendons, but only Natasha’s assault had done any real damage. She noted this as she leaped over the swinging claw, observing blood slipping down the attached ankle as she did so. Landing on the opposite side, she continued forward, eyes sharpening as the suddenly caught sight of Alexandria rushing towards the wing. Seconds later she was hit by the gust. The force on her against the less than ideal friction, nearly slid her off her footing, forcing her to stop and stab the ground with her gauntlet. The gust slowed due to the wing being at the base of its flapping, but ready to rise again. Her carmine eyes quickly switched from the witch to the wing, her one highlight of battle intelligence in her mind brightening. The witch was trying to dewing the beast. Her kind of brutality. If Alexandria could make it to the point where her sword swung down on the appendage of the wing (if that was her intention), she'd find herself joined by Natasha. At the brief slow of the wing, she sprung herself against the planted gauntlet and leaped. The orc fell down through the air, bladed gauntlets ready to sever it together. The wing was far too large to be cleaved off, but the tendon could definitely be disabled.
  15. The carmine eyes of the orc widened with shock then narrowed with aggression as the shadow of witch came into view. Despite Namiko's angelic approach, for she looked practically blessed by the white kiss of the moonlight, tension cascaded upon the orc’s body. Her veins bulged in her arms and temple, her muscles quaking and attempting to reach her waistline dagger defensively. However, her enervation proved to overcome her efforts, only intensifying her exhaustion. Instead, her voice only deepened with husk whilst her heart quickened in pace. "Calm yourself, I will help you." That simply wasn't in her nature. Neither was trust. Then the serenade of magic began, pouring smooth like honey from the witch’s lips. It was instantly recognized by the rigid and rough orc. Though she did not feel any sense of loyalty to this stranger, indicating she was not of the coven, she had grown familiar enough to recognize witchcraft over plain sorcery. Witches seemed called to the energies of the beyond, something her dull mind didn’t even attempt to grasp, and those all-powering forces rained down and extended through her bodies to produce the unfathomable. To the orcs, those hands were mostly bloodcurdling but sometimes kind. She remembered when the Matriarch selected her to rule the scouts with her sister… The thought hit her with a second wave of poison and she struggled again, half watching the rise of the river ascend above her body like a blanket. There was little love between herself and her twin, but they made a demented bet long ago. Whoever died first lost it, and lost the brigade. Caught between her rush of thoughts, the orc didn’t have time to respond before the water fell upon her, darkening her cloth, silvery hair, and streaming through the crevasses of her scowling face. However, it lightened her body. Like a spring she leaped up to a tense crouch, glaring at the witch and backing up like a reared cat in utter silence for a moment… Then she breathed long and came to a stance. Her scowl remained planted on her face, perhaps it was permanent, but she seemed decently less aggressive. Grateful seemed quite impossible. It probably was. Her brows furrowed deeply as if stuck in concentration—she was never meant to thank or think. “Who…you?” She managed. Confidence those where the right words, she spoke again more clearly. “You save me. Why?” She spoke with a voice rougher than a land slide of rock, thick vocals grinding in her throat. The accent announced that common tongue wasn’t her native one. In fact, she spoke mostly orc. The hound, who had been lapping at the water, also stood. The enchanted blessing of the water perhaps helped it as well. Unlike the orc, who scrambled back, it crept forward, sniffing curiously at the witch with all three of its heads. It too recognized a witch, but by smell. Unlike the orcs, it was not bound by servant loyalty but had become fond of the familiar smell of magic. Its tail waved. The orc glared at the hound and her legs shivered anxiously, suggesting she was eager to leave, but her mind was forcing her to stay.