Mavick
Seer
Little Strategist
"The Darkness... It consumes me."
Posts: 208
Etruria Fame: -2
Sacae Fame: 1
Affinity: Dark
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Post by Mavick on Jul 31, 2015 14:25:13 GMT -6
Mavick's lips twitched for a brief moment, forming a frown on his otherwise neutral and nearly blank face. "You should not tamper with things you do not understand." he evenly admonished. He knew that better than anyone else in this room. Still, the deed was done, and the boy was mostly alright, save for the clear signs of frostbite on his fingers. That needed to be taken care of, before it blistered up and left him useless. Fortunately, Mavick had grown familiar with the home remedies for these sorts of maladies. Wandering around the frozen mountains, stark raving mad, had that effect on a man. Should he survive, that is.
"Come with me." Mavick ordered, firmly grabbing onto Rilcha's sleeve to drag him to a nearby table, all but forcing him into a chair. "Sit, wait, and do not rub your fingers. You'll only make it worse." He warned. "I want you to breath on them, but that is all." He stared at the boy for a few moments, just to make sure his point came across, before he left him again, heading back towards the kitchen. He spoke to one of the morning staff, asking them to pour him a bowl of hot water mixed with snow. The cook simply gave him a knowing look, before ladling out some of the boiling water made for the morning tea, and sending one of the kitchen boys out to get a handful of snow to throw in. With the snow added, the water cooled to a much lower, albeit still warm, temperature, and Mavick took it with a nod of thanks before returning to the commons.
The small tactician set the bowl in front of Rilcha, staring at him again with his nigh-blank expression. "Put your hands in it." he ordered. "And keep them there until I tell you otherwise. This is going to hurt, make no mistake, but do not scratch or rub your hands, or you'll just get blisters, and if those get infected, we may have to cut off a finger or two." he warned. "And in the future, be more mindful of what you touch. The tools we use are not normal by any sense of the word. They are strange and powerful and dangerous if mishandled. You are very fortunate that mild frostbite and a few stern words are all you have to suffer." He was only thankful that it was merely a nature spirit that the boy had tampered with. Had it been a piece of the Void... He did not want to think about it.
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Rilcha Winters
Novice
"You can't beat the princess of beets. It's like beating a puppy, you just come away feeling awful."
Posts: 36
Profession: Richter's Fan Club President
Affiliation: FanClubAnon LLC
Affinity: Light
Profile: Rilcha
OoC Alias: Mel
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Post by Rilcha Winters on Aug 14, 2015 8:28:13 GMT -6
Even though Rilcha already felt shamed by the mistake, the disappointment in Richter's tone was far more frightening than any fit of rage the boy's overactive imagination could muster up. His heart sank, and hopelessly the boy examined his pained fingers as the tactician stared at them impassively.
He gave a short nod of his head and breathlessly rose from his seat when prompted to by the tug on his sleeve from the small strategist, boots scuffing the floor all the way to the next table over. With a little push he was seated, laying his hands out on the tabletop to show that he wouldn't do anything with them while the tactician walked away. Rilcha craned his neck to watch where he swept off to, disappearing past the stairs and out of sight. He blinked slowly and turned back to his fingers, examining the softly shining flesh whilst he nervously awaited Mavick's return. He gently stroked the shining flesh with the tip of his finger, marveling at how smooth it felt beneath his touch. There was not even a trace of his fingerprint in the callused flesh, catching him in both confusion and concern. Fingerprints weren't exactly as important as his fingers, but he he didn't want to be missing them even if there provided no benefit.
As the strategist's shuffling footfalls started to become audible Rilcha raised his head, peering back over to watch him reappear carrying a large bowl, far too big to be his breakfast. The thought of being brought breakfast was comforting, but the boy held no expectation to be pampered in such a way like the healers back in The City of Heroes had done. While they had indeed given him work, they had also stroked his hair and slipped him sweets in the corridors as he passed. And hearing that he was leaving with Richter they had gone to great lengths to be sure that he had the proper clothing for the cold, and a packet of sweets to take along the way.
Rilcha scooted back in his seat when Mavick set down the bowl on the tabletop, bending forward to examine the contents. It look like water and nothing more, but who knew what such a mysterious man could have added to it. While he had little expectation that it would be something that would harm him, the idea of frog leg powder or some other sort of superstitious nonsense was simply... It was just confusing to be quite honest. However at the threat of losing his fingers Rilcha shoved his fingers into the warm water with haste. It pained, stung, and he cringed horridly at the feeling of his fingers being burned for what seemed like a second time. He arched his back, pursing his lips and sinking his teeth into them to keep the majority of his whimpers from leaking out. But even with the pain he forced himself to keep his fingers still and submerged in the water.
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Post by Richter Abend on Aug 19, 2015 16:42:44 GMT -6
“You’re so quick to take my words at face value,” scoffed Richter. He shook his head as he watched Mavick pull Rilcha away to take care of the boy’s hands, then looked back to Siegfried. “What if I was lying to you to make myself look good?” Again his head swayed side to side as he expressed his annoyance. He probably wouldn’t have been so harsh to the mercenary normally, but between the awful weather and Rilcha’s latest mistake, the Winter Lion had been put in a poor mood.
“It doesn’t sound like the honest truth. I mean, a horde of monsters? A devil lord? If I hadn’t been there myself I’d think I was a madman just for saying it with a straight face.” The Ilian looked down at the table and spun his empty mug about. “Honestly I wish I could say I was mad. A lot easier than admitting to yourself that it's all true.” He sighed. The dreams got a bit tiresome at times, and the feeling that any of your shield mates could die at any time was stressful to say the least, but Richter wasn't the kind of man to let it show. At least not in any serious capacity. He had to many people relying on him to let himself be overtaken by trauma.
So what about this Siegfried? The Ilian already knew the man wasn't giving him the whole truth. How? People didn’t hunt you down in a snowstorm just to hear a war story, even to get it from the source. The mercenary obviously wanted something more than a tale, and Richter, having been there before himself, could guess what that was.
“So I assume you’re looking to join the brigade of the Winter Lion?” Richter asked, looking up at Siegfried. His eyes were steely and disillusioned. “You don’t have to lie. I’m slowly coming to terms with my fame.” The Ilian gestured his head at the people sitting around him. “I’ve even got something of a fanclub already.” He jabbed a thumb at the injured Rilcha, who strike a mighty pathetic figure with his hands dipped in a bowl and that sad look upon his face. “And of course, you’d be in good company.” If sarcasm was spit, it would have dribbled out of Richter’s mouth.
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Siegfried Aschdenne
Mercenary
"You can never end a cycle of hatred with death. So long as there's life...you can start a new one,"
Posts: 54
Profession: Freelance
Affiliation: Ilia
Guild: Ulfric's Mercenaries
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Siegfried Aschdenne
OoC Alias: Siegfried
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Post by Siegfried Aschdenne on Aug 19, 2015 21:36:27 GMT -6
After Guinevere added her piece, which was mostly that she had nothing to add, Siegfried briefly looked over to the young lad and the strategist. He had taken rather quickly to tending to the boy's wounds. Siegfried couldn't help but smile a bit at the sight. He was only so knowledgeable on first aid and the like, enough to survive life as a mercenary, that he always respected those with greater knowledge or skill in that realm. Whether or not they were trained in the use of healing staves or not.
Richter's voice brought his attention back to the Winter Lion. He seemed a bit...sour, now. His mood had likely been dampened by his spilled tea and perhaps even by Rilcha. Evidently Siegfried's own words had only gone to make things worse. Still, Richter brought up a point Siegfried himself had been too naive to realize. The older warrior could have easily made up the tale. Mercenaries commonly exaggerated in an efforts to bolster their credibility and chances of being hired, hell even knights and farmers did the same thing for one reason or another.
Yet, naive as it may have been, Siegfried was rather certain that wasn't the case here. Still, he had to concede the point to Richter, "You are right, sir. You could easily have have weaved that tale from scratch. One such as yourself would have little to gain for it, I'd imagine. It's as you've said: you have a good deal of fame already,"
Siegfried supposed that was as good an excuse as any, rather than outright admit his naivete. That being said he had picked up on Richter's not so subtle sarcasm. Indeed, his mood had been fouled quite a bit. Rather than address the sarcasm or be dissuaded by it, Siegfried made the decision to ignore it. Surely the mood would pass in due time.
Now, as for the manner of joining his "brigade"...
"Believe it or not I truly did only come here to ask about the battle. I'm part of a mercenary group as well, you see, but I came here on my own terms," Siegfried couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Travelling with a warrior of true renown was pretty high up there in those childhood fantasies of his. Of course as he grew up he began to dismiss the fantasies, for the most part. But still..."That being said, if you've need of an extra man, I'd be honoured to join you. If only for a short while, that is,"
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Aug 20, 2015 13:17:07 GMT -6
Guinevere didn't like the tone Richter was using. While she had to admit that he had reason to be less than happy, between being suck here due to the weather and what had happened with Rilcha, but there was no need to take that tone with this Siegfried. She obviously didn't know the mercenary, but there was no need to be as rude as he was being. She knew Richter could often come off as tough, but this was a little ridiculous. She reached over and hit Richter in his uninjured arm, while giving him a stern look. This wouldn't have been something she would have done in the past, but her time with Rayl had given her more confidence to speak her mind. "Be nice. Commander." She stressed the last word, hope her use of that instead of his name would shake him from this mood.
Despite everything, she knew that Richter was still going through a lot. Not even counting the weather or Rilcha, he still had a lot on his mind. Their mission. His arm. It was a tough line to walk, as she needs to keep him honest but also not let him get too weighed down. She maybe be the Ilian's bodyguard and former soldier, but she was also his friend. She had to worry about his physical and emotional well being, even if he wasn't one to worry about the emotional side. So even though she didn't like his tone and didn't hesitate to call him on it, she knew there was more to it. But that was something to potentially discuss at another time. Until then, she kept her stern look on her face and stared him down. Guinevere wasn't as scared of Richter as a lot of other people were and she had no intention of backing down.
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Mavick
Seer
Little Strategist
"The Darkness... It consumes me."
Posts: 208
Etruria Fame: -2
Sacae Fame: 1
Affinity: Dark
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Post by Mavick on Aug 24, 2015 13:47:40 GMT -6
The dark mage watched with absolute apathy as Rilcha whimpered and gritted his teeth. He should consider it part of the lesson of not tampering with other people's belongings. Besides that, this was hardly the worst bit of frostbite he could have suffered. Mavick still recalled the horrible pain he had to endure, what with being frost bitten on virtually every inch of his skin. It was a miracle he still possessed all of his limbs and digits.
“So I assume you’re looking to join the brigade of the Winter Lion?”
"I would hardly call this a brigade." the tactician dryly commented. "What we have here is a revolutionary, a foot soldier, a sheltered child, and a half mad book keeper. Which is perfectly fine by me, it cuts down on said book keeping." He added with a slight shrug of his shoulders, his facial expression never once changing from it's usual blankness. "If we are going to have additional companions however, I would like to know sooner than later. Again, the book keeping."
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 3, 2015 15:06:31 GMT -6
Richter sighed under his breath, annoyed as Mavick dryly corrected his chosen verbiage. Yes, of course this scattering of, well, people, really, could hardly be called a brigade. That much was obvious. But then... when had Mavick ever shied away from chiming in to state the obvious? The man had always pointed out the most easily understandable concepts in a way that seemed to emphasize his belief that no one else was quite as smart as he was, and with his new lifeless personality, the tiny tactician’s sardonic comments had grown just that much more grating.
“Tend to the boy, will you?” he said, shooting the tactician a peevish glance. "Make sure he hasn't completely broken himself." The Ilian commander looked back to Siegfried, took a deep breath, then continued.
“He's right, though, we’re hardly a military outfit,” The statement was calm and plainly spoken. Richter was hardly embarassed by his ragtag little group, and he also took Guinevere’s chiding to mind as he composed himself a bit more professionally. “But I won’t turn down a willing, breathing body. I don't see much sense in it given the odds I'm up against.” The Ilian shook his head, a confident look replacing the sour, moody persona that had been dominating up until this point. “That said, I also won’t tolerate weakness,” he continued, dutifully nodding his head. But the moment the words left his mouth he realized how false they probably sounded given the sight of Rilcha behind him. If that boy didn't fit the definition for weak, no one did. “At least I try not to.”
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 9, 2015 20:24:46 GMT -6
Timeskipping forward a few days
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The commander cursed silently at himself for his foolishness. They had departed when the skies had only just become clear enough to travel, because, of course, that meant the bad whether was over, right? Of course not. Richter had figured that after days and days of a blizzard the storm had finally decided to move on, but he was an Ilian! He should have known better. In Ilia the bad weather never ended.
This wind, curse the heavens, this wind! The sun was out and the sky was only lightly streaked, but this wind did not seem to care. It brought with it no snow, save for that which it pulled up from the ground, but it tore through him like water through a sieve, howling like a pack of angry wolves as it went. He knew this trip would have them facing quite the chill, but this was more than he had expected. Scowling, he pulled his cloak up around his face in an attempt to gain some control over his environment, but the pink haired traveler realized it was a wasted effort. The cold still stung his cheeks, practically freezing them off, and his eyes could only open far enough to squint. And if he was having such a poor time, what of his companions? They weren't exactly the image of a band of survivalists, and as far as he knew, none of them were Ilian.
“We need to find shelter!” shouted the warrior, though the second he did his mouth filled with cold. He could feel the spit freeze to the inside of his cheeks. Still, he spoke. “This wind will be the death of us!” He looked back at his companions. Damn it. He had been too eager to get to Edessa, and now it seemed this the mountains were equally eager to see that neither him nor his companions saw this trip to the end. Wind storms weren’t uncommon in Ilia, given how flat the tundra could be, but normally they were little more than uncomfortable, inconvenient squalls. The mountains were turning this into something quite lethal, and as Richter repeated that fact to himself, he realized he may have very well led everyone into a death trap.
“A cave or something!” Richter shouted again, now searching for something resembling what he was describing. Ideally they’d find something in stone, something strong enough to stand the test of any gale, but it wasn't a sure thing. So if they couldn’t they might just have to make one, likely out of the snow. "Is everyone alright?"
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Oct 10, 2015 10:35:15 GMT -6
Guinevere was not alright. They had all been eager to get out of the tavern and finally get going, but she could see now that they should have stayed. The wind was just too much. When they had finally left, she had bundled up in her heaviest clothes just in case such a thing happened. But even still, she wasn't prepared for this. As she pushed through the snow after Richter, she clutched the hood of her cloak around her face. Several layers of pants, shirts, and socks, a pair of gloves and a heavy cloak weren't enough to keep her warm. She had been to a number of places and through many different types of weather in her trips with Rayl, but never anywhere like this.
The soldier honestly wasn't sure if she would survive this trip. She couldn't remember ever being this cold before in her life. The closest was a few days when she was a young girl that they had been hit with a big snow storm. But even then, it had been more fun than life threatening. Richter was right, they needed some sort of shelter. She tried her best to peer out from underneath her hood to find some sort of cave, but she could barely see. As if on cue, right after the Commander asked if everyone was alright, Guinevere stumbled and fell face first into the snow. She was slowly able to push herself back up onto her feet and brush some of the snow off, but physically couldn't get it all. She looked up at Richter with eyes that betrayed any look she might try to use to fool him into thinking she was fine. Guinevere was not alright.
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Rilcha Winters
Novice
"You can't beat the princess of beets. It's like beating a puppy, you just come away feeling awful."
Posts: 36
Profession: Richter's Fan Club President
Affiliation: FanClubAnon LLC
Affinity: Light
Profile: Rilcha
OoC Alias: Mel
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Post by Rilcha Winters on Oct 11, 2015 23:23:50 GMT -6
Rilcha's teeth chattered as he bowed forward against the bitter cold, his hood pulled down low over his face and a thick scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. Nearly every bit of skin the child had was covered in a thick layer of wool and somehow he still was shivering in his boots. He was truly thankful for the cloak, mittens, and other bits of thick winter garb that the Inkeeper's son had long outgrown. The nice man's wife had thrust them upon him in a flurry once she had found out that the boy lacked proper attire for the vile season. If the redhead was already chilled to the bone it spoke for how horribly off he would have been without them.
He cupped his mittens over his eyes, attempting to block the harsh gale that stung his eyes and froze fine crystals along his lashes. Faintly Richter could be made out up ahead, head turned back towards them as he bellowed over the howling winds. Rilcha couldn't make out what he was saying, likely do to the layers wrapped around his ears to keep them from freezing solid and breaking off. His mum had warned him about it and he worried constantly that it would happen if he wasn't careful. Nevertheless the boy quickened his step through the snow, raising his leg higher and stretching it out farther to wade his way forward.
"What?" he chattered faintly, the rhythmic clicking of his teeth as he shook rather unsettling. Richa clenched his jaw, determined to make it closer to the older man's side in their battle against the elements. It stood to be proven otherwise, but he still clung to the slight notion that in any situation no matter how dire the safest place to be was right behind the Hero. Biting chill and violent winds were certainly a situation that he was ill equipped to face by himself. Maybe Richter would radiate warmth like a well stoked fire, he wouldn't put anything past the man no matter how unlikely.
Rilcha was shivering and his nose was running like a faucet, but he would never speak up that he was struggling to keep up in such harsh conditions. He wouldn't bare to disappoint any of them further, even if he pushed himself well beyond the point of exhaustion.
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Mavick
Seer
Little Strategist
"The Darkness... It consumes me."
Posts: 208
Etruria Fame: -2
Sacae Fame: 1
Affinity: Dark
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Post by Mavick on Oct 12, 2015 0:32:46 GMT -6
He was a damned fool. He should have been better prepared for this sort of situation, but low and behold, here he was, freezing to death in the Ilian mountains. Again. The tactician had dressed heavily for this expedition through the mountains, thinking himself properly equipped to withstand the wrath of the North this time. Oh, how the world loved to humble him.
At least Mavick was better armed with knowledge. He had studied how to survive in the cold rather extensively, having no desire to come so close to such a horrible death a second time. So when Richter called out for assistance, at least he could properly give it. The other two members of their small group were fairing far worse than he was - the boy looked like he would drop dead any minute - so something had to be done, and soon.
"Commander," Mavick called over the wind that was so eager to drown out his voice. "I don't believe we have much time to spend searching! If we don't find a way to warm up soon, we'll die no matter what we find!" Damn it. If only he knew something of Anima magic. If only he could cast a barrier spell. But all Mavick had to work with were his dark magics and a healing staff. "I suggest we build a snow wall! It doesn't need to be large or even well made, just some sort of barrier to huddle behind before we all drop!" It wasn't a glamorous idea. It wasn't even a comfortable one. But unless Richter could find a cave soon, it was their only hope to stay alive.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 20, 2015 20:31:02 GMT -6
Richter looked at his companions. With their noses running, their skin beet red, and their hair frozen, they looked... awful. They looked awful. Rilcha and Guinevere would probably keel over dead of exposure if left out in the cold much longer, and Mavick didn't look too hot himself. He still had his senses about him, however, which was to Richter's benefit. He needed someone to keep him making the right decisions. Even Richter's could feel his better judgement affected by this sheer cold. So the pink haired Ilian nodded rapidly, furiously, at Mavick's suggestion; partially in agreement and partially just because of the cold. He was freezing and movement seemed to be the best way to keep his blood from freezing in his veins.
"Yes," muttered Richter, still nodding his head. It was barely voluntary at this point, Richter felt like he couldn't stop, but rather than show his discomfort at his slipping control over his own body, he merely scowled all the deeper. His usual social defense mechanism kicking in even now. Some habits were hard to break. "Snow, yes, but not a wall. We need a cave. We need to get under the snow. Common Ilian survival tactic. We'll build one ourselves. We'll build a snow cave. The snow is deep enough." Richter stomped on the ground a few times. His speech was uncharacteristically rapid and harsh. Not unexpected given his environment, but it bothered him all the same. It made him more driven to get out of this cold.
"Can you dig?" asked Richter, turning his gaze to meet Mavick's, but before the tactician could respond, the Ilian responded with a raised finger, signaling Mavick to silence. No, digging was a bad idea. It would take to long and exert too much energy. They'd only be making themselves a grave. Richter's mind raced as he stared off into the snow covered abyss of the mountain pass. He only needed a moment, he could think of-
The commander's eyes lit up as he reached behind his back and began fumbling with the straps that fastened Boreas to his clothing. It took him a second longer than it normally would, but the axe came free. Richter managed to noticed that, for once, the dragon bone handle didn't seem so cold, but he figured that was likely because everything around him was currently so damn so. Richter shook his head, incredulous at his own logic as he looked down at the magic weapon's icy blades. Would this work? It seemed silly to think that he could solved this with a swing of his axe. It was like solving a creaky door by hitting it with a sword, or at least it seemed that way. But low and behold, as Richter expressed his doubts, the familiar icy touch of a tempermental axe pricked at the skin on his hand. You doubt me? Go ahead. What are you waiting for? Do it!
Fine then.
"Howl..."
As the axe's magic began to swirl and storm, Richter could feel blood rushing to his limbs. His muscles tightened and his veins bulged. He was emboldened, energized, and exhilerated. The cold fatigue that had clouded his vision was blown away as if it too had been caught up in the wind. The pink haired warrior wasn't sure if this was magic or adrenaline, but he didn't care. He simply swung Boreas behind his head and spread his stance as if facing off against an opponent. But no opponent stood before him. Just the winds. They howled loud, roared even, but Richter would roar all the louder. He was the Winter Lion after all.
"BOREAS!"
Richter put all the strength of his back and shoulder into the next swing, and Boreas arced like the tool of the executioner. It seemed like overkill. The axe became weightless in the Ilian's hand as it split the air, and when the it fell at his feet, the snow's white, pristine surface split in two, creating a crevasse depper than any axe should have. It was a guillotine upon a criminal's neck. But instead of blood, snow and ice erupted from the ground as if burst from a vein. The plume soared skyward, but as it did it found itself caught in the violent pull of the wind. The icy jet whipped back over the heads, but rather than be dispersed by the howl of the wind, it froze, leaving a crystalline half dome that crested over their tiny group like some sort of icy feather frozen in time.
At first Richter couldn't believe what he was seeing. A solid structure? Shelter? Just like that? It seemed so. The dome was even beautiful, you could say. The shape of its sculpt was smooth and wild, as if it had been carved from the ocean, and it glittered and sparkled like glass as the sunlight peered down through its clear yet wavy surface. Yes, he could still feel the wind grab bits of his hair, and still see his cloak tossed about, and of course his nose and ears were still bitten by the cold, but the oppressive force of the storm was no longer blowing in their faces. Peace, if just for a time, and more importantly, survival.
"That," began Richter, relief washing over his face, "should keep us from freezing to death." He dropped Boreas before rubbing his arm furiously. The cold that had been so easily dispelled by the axe's display of magic was quickly setting back in, and now Richter felt as tired as he had moments ago, albeit a good deal less cold. "Someone break out the blankets and the food."
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Oct 24, 2015 10:42:28 GMT -6
Guinevere momentarily forgot how cold and frozen she was as Richter pulled out Boreas and somehow created a shelter for them. Magic had never been her strong point, so whenever someone could wield it she was always impressed. She had even less experience with magic weapons, with Richter being the only person she'd ever met to wield one. All the being said, she was left in wonderment with what had happened. Maybe it was influenced by the conditions, but the soldier had no idea how such a thing could happen. To use a weapon to create a shelter like this? In her amazement, it had taken her longer than it should have to realize the wind was being blocked. While it didn't immediately make her warm again, it certainly was better than it was before.
As Richter called for the blanket, Guinevere finally was able to move. She shrugged her bag off and let it hit the ground with a thump. Slowly crouching down, she pulled the bag open and began to pull out the blankets inside. Thankfully, her body had blocked most of the snow being blown around and kept them dry. Gwen still felt frozen as she moved around their shelter and handed out the blankets. She gave the heaviest one to Rilcha, as he seemed even worse for wear than she was. Once they were all handed out, she wrapped the last blanket around herself and tried to get her body temperature up. Again, it wasn't working well but it was at least better than before. She turned her head towards Richter. "T-T-That was a-amazing."
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Rilcha Winters
Novice
"You can't beat the princess of beets. It's like beating a puppy, you just come away feeling awful."
Posts: 36
Profession: Richter's Fan Club President
Affiliation: FanClubAnon LLC
Affinity: Light
Profile: Rilcha
OoC Alias: Mel
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Post by Rilcha Winters on Nov 1, 2015 2:44:26 GMT -6
Rilcha gripped the blanket given to him tightly. His eyes were wide with wonder at what he had just seen Richter do, a feat of some sorcery that he could have never imagined even in his wildest dreams. Wide was an understatement, the boy's eyes were comparable to dinner plates. Rilchter was by all counts amazing! He had known that the man was the strongest in all of Elibe and feared nothing, but growing bubbles so large was another matter entirely. His head was tilted back mouth agape as he took in the dome that covered them.
"I didn' know soap could..."
The red haired boy had washed his fair share of dishes and knew a bubble when he saw one. Somehow Richter had turned some snow into water and made a giant bubble? It was the first thought that came into his mind, but once he thought about it properly it didn't make much sense. A bubble did enclose them, but not one made from a good lather. Rilcha's cheeks reddened as he realized the original train of thought had escaped his lips. It was impossible to tell with the flush from the chill. Nonetheless he hung his he head, hoping that over the faint howl of the wind no one had heard.
He draped the blanket pretty Gwen had given him over his head and sank down into a crouch. His arms wrapped around himself tugging the blanket along, the boy trying to make himself seem small and unnoticeable. Rilchter's bubble had cut off the harsh winds. And while he was still shivering, the blanket was doing a marvelous job of keeping him comfortable. Rilcha felt like a little rabbit snug in it's nice burrow, ready to wait out the savage winter curled up with plenty to eat. He wiggled his nose absentmindedly, imagining what it must be like to cozily sleep the season away. Never had the boy been very fond of sleep, but maybe the rabbits experienced it differently, maybe they always dreamed of nice things.
"D'we make a fire?"
His voice trembled as he turned his head to look at Mavick, someone far less radiant than Richter but with so much knowledge that Rilcha's head spun. If anyone would know about the snowy weather other than the Winter Lion it would be the short frightening one. His size made it easier for the child to talk to, not having to strain his neck as much. Also, he certainly didn't feel entitled to address Richter after he had said something so ridiculous.
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Mavick
Seer
Little Strategist
"The Darkness... It consumes me."
Posts: 208
Etruria Fame: -2
Sacae Fame: 1
Affinity: Dark
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Post by Mavick on Nov 8, 2015 11:46:00 GMT -6
What was Richter thinking? Mavick agreed that they could use something much more substantial than a measly wall of snow, but they were freezing to death. They didn't have time to dig a proper snow shelter. He could perhaps shift the snow with his dark magics, but he couldn't guarantee any degree of structural safety. Elder magic was not particularly delicate in most of its forms. He was more than prepared to explain that to his commander, but Richter seemed to discard the idea as soon as he asked it.
The tactician watched intently as the Ilian reached for the winter-touched axe that had somehow come into his possession. Mavick saw the look of quizzical doubt on the larger man's face, and he understood. It was a look he was all too familiar with - the same look he must have had when he first found that old, musty tome, so long ago. "Do not waver." He spoke, addressing the mercenary commander with a guiding tone. "Just as your arm wields the blade, so does your soul wield the magic. Just as the true quality of a blade shows with a strong arm, so does the true quality of magic show with a strong spirit."
Mavick stepped back from Richter as he rose his axe high. The air was alive with the raw power of the weapon's nature spirit. The Winter Lion roared, bringing his weapon low... And the very world around them heeded his commands. He stared in wonder as the dome of frost formed around them, and let out a shaken breath. A moment's respite, at long last. He approached Richter, looked up to him, and offered him a nod of approval. "Well done, Commander." A slight smile graced the taciturn mage's face for the briefest of moments, before he turned to rejoin with the rest of the group.
"Stay close together. It will help you stay warm." He instructed towards the other two members of their party.Wrapping himself in the offered blanket, he took a seat next to Rilcha. At the mention of fire, the tactician shook his head. "No. The snow is too deep, and we have nothing to stack our tinder upon. Besides, I do not believe this is our final stopping place for the day. We should search for more substantial shelter for the evening - or create it ourselves if need be - before we use what little we have." He advised, looking to Richter for approval.
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