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Voldemort

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  1. Arthur took a deep breath, exhaling profoundly as he stood to his feet and stretched out his mighty limbs. Feeling satisfied and limber, the mutant took a final bite of his apple and tossed the mostly eaten fruit away in a nearby bin, which was nearly a quarter way full with banana and orange peels. He drank the last of his water, finishing off his pre-fight meal before grabbing his weaponry. Taking up his sheathed longsword, he moved his black robes aside and attached the weapon to the bottom of his leather baldric. Meanwhile, Arthur grabbed his pollaxe, leaning the long weapon against his broad shoulder as he held the pole in his right hand. The mage grinned and pushed open the door with his free hand, striding into the sandy chamber to the roar of the crowd. Tournament goers hadn’t been entertained by his previous bout; his opponent (and good friend) had mysteriously forfeited the match, but Arthur had every intention of making up for that with a vicious second round. As he made his way to the stone arena in the center of the chamber, the mutant’s armor was mostly hidden under the voluminous folds of his wizard’s robes. The garment of shimmering black velvet rested loosely atop his shoulders; a mantle of black wolf fur provided for an intimidating visage as its tail and empty sleeves hung past his hips. A black wide brimmed hat sat atop his head, extending up then down in a crooked point. As Arthur reached the platform at the center of the room, the mage undid the golden chain that kept his robes clasped around his neck, causing the garment to fall at his feet where the hat soon followed. The mutant stepped his boot-clad feet onto the stone and roared ferociously, extending his strong arms off to the sides in a boisterous display of showmanship. The crowd cheered even louder as Arthur paced the length of the platform, his animalistic eyes staring towards his opponent’s entrance the entire time. Underneath his robes, the mage wore his armor, looking every bit the warrior in his black pair of padded chausses adorning his legs. A black aketon with vertical orange stripes was worn above; a black paisley design was embroidered onto the long stripes. Arthur wore his Order-issue half-plate as well, each piece of plate armor fixed to arming points across his gambeson shirt and pants. @Etched In Stone
  2. But yeah, it was my idea for them to come from the monastery
  3. It was @Dauner Light actually xD
  4. “Begrudgingly?” Arthur replied with a curious grin, his amusement evident by the lines around his face and the shine in his orange, wolf-like eyes. Of course, he didn’t deny that Xartia had reason to have a petty grudge, but it definitely wasn’t a mutual feeling. The alchemist continued to listen to the cambion, chuckling at last when his fellow mage admitted that he needed the mutant’s very specific set of skills. “No worries, I’m used to the sentiment. I’m sure Duchess Karradeen wanted to toss me in a ditch on several occasions while we were treasure hunting in Taen, but even a self-absorbed royal recognized talent when I saved her and many of her men during an ambush. So I applaud your pragmatism, if I were you, I’d want me on my team too.” The alchemist grinned, accepting Xartia’s brotherly squeeze upon the furred mantle that sat atop his broad shoulder, and reached out with his right hand for a handshake. “I’m glad I made the trip,” the mage added, gripping the cambion’s hand if Xartia extended his. When Xartia introduced Artamese, the mutant turned his orange gaze on the woman, and offered her a handshake as well. “Charmed,” Arthur greeted with a short bow before adding in ironic and joking fashion, “Arthur Uskglass. Greatest wizard of the age.” Chuckling at his own joke, Arthur gave Xartia a nod and followed suit up the gangplank and onto the ship’s deck. The mutant undid the straps of his rucksack and discarded his pack on the deck, leaning against the ship’s gunwale as Xartia paced back and forth while speaking. Yawning, the alchemist produced a pair of sunglasses with large, white colored frames with blue tints on the lenses. Though he didn’t seem to be paying the best attention, Arthur heard every word that Xartia said, letting him speak uninterrupted even though the alchemist desired to interject at multiple junctures. He spoke up immediately when Xartia finished, barely spending a second to contemplate before saying, “I’m in. I do have a few questions before I commit myself fully to the cause though. Like I said before, I helped a duchess in Fracture find a dangerous artifact, and part of me still feels that I was irresponsible in doing so. What the hell do you need this thing for? Because if it’s some frivolous desire, then perhaps a private collection may be the best place for it.” @Twitterpated @Malintzin @Etched In Stone @The Courier
  5. Sorry for the long wait, guys.
  6. Arthur continued his bored vigil over the auction, resting his elbow on his arm rest and dropping his chin onto his sword-calloused palm. For treasures found in a presumably ancient ruin, the prizes didn't seem particularly valuable, well-sought after, or even powerful. However, the mutant's expression soon changed as a locked scroll case was produced, and for some reason it automatically piqued the alchemist's interests. He lifted his chin off his palm, scooted forward in his chair, and watched with renewed interest as the first couple of bids went through. It could have been worthless, empty even, but an object of historical significance was certainly possible as well. Even if it turned out to be an inventory, it would be of interest to any historian that specialized in the area's history.The discovered ruins were of a monastery as well. If the scroll proved to be a religious text, it would be of even greater import in academic circles. Gears turned in the back of Arthur's head, debating whether he should throw his hat in the mix. As he did so, the mutant produced his deck of tarot cards and shuffled them deftly. He drew the first card, displaying a woman in a lavish dress on a stroll through an equally lavish garden. Nine pentacles were drawn among the plants. Arthur released the nine of pentacles, letting it float in the air above his lap. He drew the second, allowing it to join its partner in the air. "A Nine of Pentacles and the Wheel of Fortune, huh?" the alchemist asked himself under his breath, his smirk reaching from ear to ear as he grew giddy with excitement. Returning the cards to his deck, he put them away and retrieved his coin purse. He wanted to outbid his newfound opponents, but they were bidding with a grade of coin that Arthur didn't carry. Silver burnt the cursed alchemist. He did have a plan, however. The mage shut his eyes and cleared his mind. Suddenly, arcane formulae flashed across Arthur's vision, recalling the forms of Occultation that Arthur could employ to hide his magic. Behind his spells of Occultation, people would find it difficult to sense his magic, as his aura and mana seemed to remain in a static and nonfluctuating state. His magic wasn't gone, but it seemed stable enough that it didn't seem possible that Arthur was presently casting spells. The mutant produced three coins from his pouch, furtively working a transmutation as he did so. The first coin was a real gold coin; the other two were copper coins that now sparkled like they were gold as well. The real coin would serve as a decoy, whilst figuring that he'd be long gone by the time the Seeming placed upon the copper coins was discovered. Arthur lifted his paddle, speaking authoritatively and loud enough to be heard over the crowd. "Three gold coins."
  7. As the auction commenced, the tent seemed to buzz with a special kind of electricity. Hearts were beating faster, the anticipation amongst the crowd was great, and the mutant couldn’t care less. Arthur yawned from his corner seat, standing his sheathed long sword in between his seated legs as he couldn’t sit properly with the exceptionally long blade dangling from his left hip. The alchemist watched the unfolding event with a sort of bored curiosity, not interested in the set of daggers being peddled at the moment, but still attentive for any items that would interest the mage. Arthur chuckled under his breath, his wolfishly orange eyes veering away to catch the various acts of theft occurring throughout the tent. Of course they’d use child pick pockets at an event like this. It seemed Dawic was looking to make quite a bit of profit from the auction, and not just from selling artifacts and antiques. It would be supremely difficult to reach for Arthur’s coin, nestled deeply in his flaring black robes.
  8. I am. I’ll get one out this evening
  9. It wasn’t until Arthur was alone in his room at the inn when the thought hit him. The mage had traveled a long way to Dawic, farther than he’d ever journeyed since arriving on Valucre. Setting his backpack on the floor next to his bed, the mage sat himself near the window and watched the passersby on the street below, time elapsing as he dreaded leaving the comfort of the inn. After all, it hadn’t been the first time that the mutant had trekked a long way for naught. However, the discovery of the old monastery had been too interesting to pass up. Hopefully, Arthur would succeed in ingratiating himself among some of the buyers, and get hired to study any of the treasures purchased at the auction. Taking a deep breath, the mage stood from his seat and tightened both of his baldrics across his shoulders, causing the leather belts to crisscross near the middle of his torso. Arthur moves quickly, exiting the inn and made his way across town until he found the auction tent. That day, the mutant was dressed in a black short-sleeved button-up with dozens of sunflower prints, black board shorts, and a pair of grey trail-running shoes. His baldrics carried much of his magical equipment, and both of his weapons near the bottom portion of each baldric. Arthur’s long sword was sheathed on his left hip, while his rondel dagger hung from his right. The mage wore his robes on top of everything else; reaching just past his hips like a jacket, the black velvety material sat on his broad shoulders, leaving its sleeves empty and swinging in the breeze whilst also obscuring his upper body. Arthur dipped under the entrance of the auction tent and found a seat in the back row, situating himself near the corner of the tent where he could watch the proceedings closely. @Mickey Flash @Cheezeegriff
  10. I should be posting tomorrow. Just had a busy end of the week, got home from work around 8-9ish yesterday, and my second cousin died this morning so my writing mood is shot today.
  11. He was late. The mage knew that much and he couldn’t quite blame it on it being his first time in the sprawling Port Kyros. At least not entirely. Arthur had gotten lost as he made his way towards the port where Xartia awaited his arrival, and had stopped to ask locals for directions but only managed to get himself even more lost. The mage sighed and scratched his head, making his way to the ledge of the uphill avenue he was traversing, and looked down over the rest of the city as he attempted to figure out where he was and where he needed to go. Arthur could not. He could see the port from his vantage but couldn’t figure out what route to take. It was starting to become frustrating when, as fortune would have it, the mage’s eyes scanned over the sea wall that bordered a section of the coast. Something clicked in Arthur’s mind and the mutant made his way downhill. The path was far easier to navigate, the sea wall looming higher as the black mage descended. Arthur found himself under the shadow of the sea wall and climbed the steps to the elevated path that overlooked the ocean. The mage figured he could simply follow the wall, or rather the coastline itself, to the port. A sound plan. However, Arthur delayed his urban adventure further, leaning against the parapets and peered down at the crashing waves of the ocean. The mage breathed in the salt air, assuaging the frustrations he’d been feeling while frantically navigating the maze-like streets. So much so that Arthur ended up relaxing upon the parapets, watching the tide roll in for longer than he’d spent lost. It was another hour before the mutant made his way across the sea wall, descended a set of stairs and walked the rest of the way to Xartia’s vessel. Ascending the gangplank, he stepped onto the deck, his orange, wolfish gaze surveyed his surroundings, and spotted his fellow magician pacing along the deck. Arthur looked the part of a tourist backpacker. He wore a dark blue short-sleeved button up with a pattern of red palm trees printed across its surface, a grey set of shorts, and blue-and-black trail running shoes. But, despite their destination, Arthur also looked every part the adventuring wizard as well. The mage’s black robes rested upon his broad shoulders, its tail which reached just past his hips, and its sleeves that hung emptily at his sides both swayed in the breeze as Arthur walked on the deck. Underneath his robes, Arthur wore a pair of crisscrossing baldrics of brown leather and a harness around his hips of the same material. They contained his occult vestments. Narrow slots for small scrolls, packs and pouches for reagents and alchemical ingredients, several occult fetishes were pinned arbitrarily across both his baldrics, vials in small bandolier-like holsters, and larger flasks were leather wrapped and hung from the belt around his hips. A larger pack was strapped to the bottom of the baldric which hung from his left shoulder and settled on his right hip, carrying his explosives and related materials, but also home to his set of chakrams. He carried visible weapons as well. The bottom of each baldric was the home of a sheathed weapon, his long sword (Bogatyr) on his left hip and a rondel dagger on the right. Meanwhile, the mutant carried his brown wax canvas rucksack on his back, its straps looping through inserts in his robes. A pair of objects were lashed by long stretches of cordage to the pack. His thick bedroll on top and a brass scrying bowl on the back of the pack. “Xartia,” Arthur called out from afar, making his way over as the wind tossed his slicked back hair. “It’s been a long time.” ((What a crap post lol)) @Twitterpated @Malintzin @The Courier
  12. Arthur returned Artanthos’ smile with a grin of his own, displaying his competitive spirit rather than the animosity that often accompanied such duels. By no means did the alchemist want to hurt his opponent, but (though seemingly oxymoronic) Arthur did want to fight the exiled knight. The mutant had never said it out loud, but he had almost decided to tell Artanthos and Tenkai about Heaven or Hell without recruiting them for his own team. That way, there was a chance that Arthur would face skilled combatants, so few of them there seemed to be in this decadent day and age. Arthur, of course, had instead chosen to make them his companions, and he couldn’t say he’d made the wrong choice. He couldn’t fight them on the grand stage... until this moment, but gained them as sparring partners and allies. ”I don’t know about that,” the black mage replied with a hint of amusement, holding his pollaxe across his midsection and leisurely began his approach. His left held the haft near the queue, whilst his right hand gripped nearer to the axehead. “If they riot, they might charge the arena and force us to stand abreast. Fighting all of them together would be way more fun...” Arthur shrugged his shoulders and said no more, having uttered his response in a way less than serious manner. He saluted Artanthos with his left hand, releasing the haft of his weapon long enough to do so, and turned his head to offer a similar gesture to his leshen companion. Gripping his pollaxe again, the mage continued his advance, stepping onto his left leg when he reached about ten feet from Artanthos. Swiftly, Arthur swung his pollaxe in front of him, aligning the point of the queue with the exiled knight’s body, and jabbed the weapon towards his opponent’s right quadricep from the extreme end of the alchemist’s measure. However, trickery was afoot, as the initial thrust barely reached the half way point before revealing itself as a low feint. Arthur took a passing, lunging step with his right foot and changed the way he gripped the pollaxe, transitioning to just past eight feet away from Artanthos as the mutant lead with an overhead cleaving motion with the opposite end of the pollaxe. The weapon came down thunderously, aiming to connect with the left side of Artanthos’ head/neck/shoulder area with the axe-side of the polearm. The mage roared as his attack bore down on the exiled knight, causing the roar of the crowd to deafen suddenly as their titanic battle commenced. @Damnatus @Fierach @Spooky Mittens
  13. Voldemort

    To Lose A Star

    “I’m sure the pleasure is all mine,” Arthur yawned whilst managing to stay cordial, getting entirely too comfortable as he laid back. His head pressed against the bundle of his thick robes, lowering his knife and newly constructed spoon, and watched the pink-haired newcomer when she ducked under the tarp’s roof and entered the tent proper. His fiery eyes, a wolffish orange, studied Iona closely. To say the least, the witch was a curious one indeed, and the mutant couldn’t say his interest wasn’t piqued. “Guilty as charged,” Arthur admitted, sitting up suddenly as he folded his legs underneath him in an effortless lotus position. “I appreciate your style though. Anyone could have plucked that job off the board, obviously, but that tiny bit of your resonance and the two-part binding made it impossible to miss for someone like me.” The mage leaned back, resting on his palms by the time he finished speaking. Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion when the witch spoke to someone that wasn’t in the tent. However, his eyes went wide with surprise and awe when he realized that Tabitha had been with them the entire time. “Amazing magic,” Arthur exclaimed excitedly, watching the doll closely as it approached. The mutant grabbed his half of the parchment and held it out towards the creepy doll. He didn’t particularly enjoy the look that the eerie familiar was giving him, but the mage had met the gaze of far more fearsome things to be afraid. Rather, he watched Tabitha with mounting interest. “What’s her story? How did you come by a familiar like this?” At that point, Arthur wanted to forgo business-talk. His love for the Art being enough to derail any talk of work in favor of a discussion about the many nuances of magic. Especially that doll. However, it seemed that Iona had no intentions of straying off topic, not for long anyways. “I imagine that it’s ill-advised for anyone to exit the walls alone. Woman or otherwise,” Arthur replied, noting the pause before referring to Cabbage as his friend. His gaze turned towards the Leshen, lights exuding from the berries that hung from its leaves. “Friend is an apt description, yes, and those are Goodberries that he’s trying to trade with you. They’ll prove useful while we’re exploring Yh’mi. And yes, that means we’re taking the job. Do you want me to pack up now or are you looking to get some rest before we head out?” @Akako Akari @Spooky Mittens
  14. That’s what I said. Tenkai wit da tight rows lol
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