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Post by Duma on Apr 11, 2016 14:51:02 GMT -6
Duma stood there quietly listening. Listening to the story and trying to process the situation. He did not understand the mentality of these two girls. It wasn’t uncommon for Sacean’s to distrust outsiders. Outsiders tended to cause situations for tribes. The situations varied. Some cases with outsiders were beneficial. Like the traders and merchants who passed through the land offering things not found among the plains. Some were bad but harmless depending on the context. For example, a Sacean Boy or Girl running off with a foreigner. While some might see that as a form of romanticism, a tribesman might consider the person who ran off dead. And then there were the cases involving foreigners, that were just bad no matter how you look at it. Eturia’s war with Sacae is a prime example. Hargus’ monstrous invasion of the city of heroes was another. Duma stared at the ground for a moment. He understood why the tribes choose to refrain from meeting outsiders. Whether, or not he personally agreed in isolation was not up for debate at this time. What was up for debate was the fact if he should continue on this little crusade through the plains. And what was he going to say or do in regards to the situation. It was quite a while before the swordsman picked his head up and spoke.
“I want to know. What the hell were you thinking?” He felt his hands curl into fists.
“You two knew your tribe distrusted outsiders. Why the hell would you go out of your way to hire outsiders? How is killing the few clans men you have left supposed to help?” He cleared his throat.
“You led us into your tribes territory knowing we'd come into conflict with your tribe. This could have gone a million other ways. Peaceful ways! Reasonable ways! If anything you are only further reinforcing their mentality that outsiders are bad.” He did his best to keep himself calm. But found his true demeanor slipping out in other ways. Mostly the subtle shaking of his body, and now shaking of his head in disagreement.
“And you two as leaders.. daughters of chieftains.. are committing treason by murdering your own. And that is just the tip of the ice berg.. you don't know what repercussions this might have between Sacae and Ilia.” He paused and took a breath. He was starting to wonder if there even was an archive for them to find. Or if it was all a thinly veiled excuse for murder. He would ask these questions after he heard everyone's input.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Apr 13, 2016 7:36:58 GMT -6
Kinh'lua's eyes narrowed in contempt. The formerly soft, repenting mirrors hardened, glaring back at Duma. In the corner of her eye, Kinh'lua could see her sister tightening her grip on her bow. ”Treason, you say?” The sword-wielding translator shifted her weight from one hip to the other. ”Tell me, swordsman. In the country you come from, when a citizen curses a king's name, let alone makes an attempt on that sovereign's life, what is the citizen's fate? I am not so unfamiliar with the policies of Ilia or Bern to think that they are much different than our own. Anyone, regardless of nationality, social class, or intent, who would try to take the life of the Killuan tribe's chieftain, my sister, shall receive no mercy. This is not so different from where-ever you're from, I'm sure. If anyone is committing treason, it is our tribesman.” Kinh'lua spoke rapidly, her rhetoric powered by passion. Neither she nor her sister would so much as humor the idea that they'd been in the wrong by killing their tribesman.
”As for your other points. The Killuan tribe is nomadic, like any other. This-” She pointed at the earth below their feet. ”Is not our territory. As it stands, we'd not expected our kinsman to ambush us here.”
”As for hiring outsiders. This is not the first time the Killuan tribe has interacted with foreigners. When our father first created our archive he did it with the help of Bernese and Ilian sages, masters of Gaea magic. A fact many of my tribesman seek to swipe under the plains. The magics the sage's used ensured that nobody without the same magic could access the caves. How many Sacaens do you know who use magic, swordsman?” She inquired of Duma, almost accusingly. ”I know none. Our people's specialties lie elsewhere, in the use of bows, swords, horses. We had no choice but to seek foreign aid in uncovering the archive.”
”Beg pardon. But what the hell is so damn important this archive of yours? Is it really worth risking your own lives, and that of your tribesman for uncovering?” Ravvus chimed in at last. The mage had been watching the proceedings, puzzled by the sisters' need to uncover the archive.
”Do you remember my mentioning our father? The former chieftain of the Killuan tribe? He was killed during the attack on the City of Heroes. And yes, despite my people's xenophobia, my father made some progress with them. He led them to the defense of the city's walls, where he fell, creating a power vacuum.” Kinh'lua exhaled harshly, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand. She did not enjoy telling the Ilians so much about their culture, let alone the state of her tribe. ”Leadership of our tribe has always been declared by the passing down the bow of Killua, rider to Hanon and founder of the tribe. She turned to address all four men in front of her. ”I assume you can guess where father left the bow when he made the archive.” Kinh'lua's shoulder jerked back, pulled on by the hand of her sister. She turned, met by a hard look from Kish'lua. The heiress was clearly displeased by her translator's liberal sharing of their history. ”We have to 'Shi.” She lay her hand of upon her sister's, gentling removing it. ”We have to.”
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Post by Duma on Apr 23, 2016 9:41:21 GMT -6
“The country I came from is dead. It’s true leaders have been killed. It’s people silenced. It is now ruled by a madman who kills any for even the faintest whisper of what he perceives to be heresy. The people of that festered land live in fear disguised as faith and devotion. And do ludicrous.. inhumane.. things just to stay in favor of the law.” He replied with a stern tone.
“While I can respect your trade as a guard to your sister. I.. do not see you as a sovereign. As far as I am concerned anyone willing to murder their own kin for the sake of a temporary seat of power is no different than that same madman. Should we succeed in getting this book for you.. Will it even be worth it? What remains of your people will see you in the same eyes as that madman. Some will want revenge for the deaths you cause. Others will live in disillusioned fear.” He rubbed the temples of his forehead using his thumb and forefinger.
“Gods above..everything is the same everywhere.” He muttered angrily under his breath. Then curled his hand into a fist. He had strong urge to just punch everything. Why, couldn’t things be simple? He was bound by the contract of the job to see this through to the end.
“Look, I’m not here to argue the semantics… philosophies of leadership and human life. If it were up to me i’d try to avoid all manner of death. Deserved or not. Unfortunately, the reality of the world does not allow me to do that. I know I must kill to defend people. To defend myself.” He shook his head. Duma had made a living killing people. Bandits. Kidnappers. Slavers. Corrupt leaders. There would always be people looking to kill other people. And those people always needed other people to defend them. But on the battlefield there was no distinction between good, bad, right, wrong. On the battlefield it is kill or be killed. Try as he might he did not know if every death he caused was done on a someone truly wicked or just some hired hand looking for gold in the wrong places. People just doing what they could to survive.
“I know of a few tribes who use magic. So do not think yourself special because of that.” He glared back. The tribes of Sacae were diverse. There were many who choose to wield the bow and sword. But he knew of tribes that specialized in lances, magic, and axes. It all mattered on what part of Sacae they lived in. At least when it came to his personal experience. The lancers he knew of generally lived by the shorelines of Sacae. They made a living fishing and living off the sea shore. They moved inland only on certain times of the year. Usually, this was during the rainy season. The magicians he knew off sticked closer towards the Bernese borders of the world. They traded information with their neighbors for centuries and specialized in healing arts. He also knew of another tribe that specialized in creating shamans and mages. They lived near the Illian side of the plains. They lived their life higher up in the mountains and lived a life guided by the stars. THe axe men were also mountain men. They made a living mining and cutting lumber for trade.
“The job entails that we help you get this book. Not for me to be an instrument of murder against your kin. I will continue this absurd journey.. as long as the rest of the compass is willing to do so. For the Sake. Of. Professionalism.” The words he spoke were true. But they felt like acid in his mouth as he spoke them. He pulled out from his holster his swords and flipped them on the other edge. So that way when he drew them they would be blunt side first. This will cut down on lethality done by his own hand. Then he put his swords back in their place. Arranged so that the weakest one will be drawn first.
He wanted nothing more than to take his leave of this journey and let the others figure it out for themselves. Actually, he had hoped that the others would walk out of this mess. But he had a feeling they wouldn’t do it. Money was tight and they had already come this far. Death was cruel, but a common part of this sort of work. Plus, he had a friend here. A friend who stuck his neck out for him, in order to help land this job, and it would just look bad if he up and left.
“The survivors will inform the rest of your tribe of our presence. Of your presence. I assume they know where you are heading... and whomever wishes to take your place as chieftain from you will prepare a counter offensive. And that.. Will.. be problematic should we choose to proceed forward.” He spoke with a slightly calmer tone. Focus. On. The. Job.
“Now.. this brings me to the other dilemma. You said that the cave doors won’t open if someone uses the same magic. And Gaea magic... Is a form of anima magic. And we.. technically have two anima users with us. That I know of.” He glanced over at the rest of the Pale Compass caravan. This would be a most excellent time for someone to speak up if they were capable of other spells.
“Unless you mean.. That the doors cannot be opened by another person using the Gaea tomes.”
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Apr 27, 2016 9:50:38 GMT -6
Kinh'lua shook her head. ”And I am not here to justify the law of my tribe. I am here to guard my sister and grant her her birthright. Stay your blades if non-violence is so important to you. I would not have you expected you to understand our ways.” The Sacaen kept herself from finishing with 'you outsiders'. Though much less xenophobic than the rest of her tribe, times like this made her sympathetic to their plight.
”Allow me to clarify. No magic other than Gaea may open the way to the archives. We need the help of your older book-keeper in uncovering the bow.” She gestured toward Ivan, who was mending the wounded. ”Unless you are capable of the same magics?” Kinh'lua looked at Ravvus.
The mage shook his head. ”Haven't learned that one yet. Sorry.” Kinh'lua frowned, but was far from surprised.
The air was thick with tension as Duma mentioned the Pale Compass. The 'If'. The big If. 'If' they were going to help these women whose actions had killed on of their own. The big If. The caravan looked to Anton for leadership. The Ilian looked about as amused as Duma, but had more control of his emotions. The stern man spoke.
”The Compass will finish this journey. We have made a contract and are not the sort to go back on our word.” The Ilian tucked his head into his chest and closed his eyes. ”It is as Duma said. We will continue this job for the sake of professionalism.” ”But-” His eyes shot open. ”A member of the Pale Compass is dead.” The Ilian's face inched out of its' hiding place on his chest. ”The two of you will give us every last bit of information on your tribe. Numbers, patrol routines, tactics, strengths and weakness, hell what your people eat for breakfast if it'll give us a tactical edge. And if there is any way to approach that archive unseen, you're gonna tell us that too. The Compass will not needlessly lose another man like this.”
Anton. The man was a real asshole. But he had the makings of a decent leader.
"Fine.” Kinh'lua response was simple. Her expression was plain. On the inside she suffered. Kish'lua shook her head and turned her back on the translator.
Apart form the rest of the caravan, Anton and Kinh'lua engaged in their own dialogue.
Ravvus glanced at his temporary commander and the translator. He looked at the prisoner. Then Duma.
”Hey Duma. For what its' worth. Thank you for staying.” The mage tried to smile, but only managed an awkward, half smirk. A sort of 'I think this sucks too' look. In truth, the events had had little effect on the hot-tempered mage. Ravvus was not the sort to be jarred by the death, George's having been an odd exception. He could care less for the dead Sacaens. He was bummed that Carl was dead, but not overly mournful.
But Duma was his friend. And he could tell that his friend was, to say the least, unhappy with the situation. He'd been quite vocal in making that sentiment known. ”I know whats happened here has... well, struck a nerve with you. But it means a lot to me that your sticking around till its' done.” Ravvus paused, taking into account of who was in earshot. The only person who could hear them, the prisoner, would not be able to understand them.
”...”
”...”
”You know you don't have to stay if you don't want to.”
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Post by Duma on May 2, 2016 10:53:48 GMT -6
Duma turned his head towards Anton. The man had decided that the Pale Compass was going to finish this mission. Duma suspected as much. The green haired swordsman sighed softly and did what he could to calm himself. This whole thing just simply did not sit right with the swordsman. Anton continued to talk with one of the Sacean sisters. It seemed that the hard-ass axe man wanted to know every single detail of the tribe. Duma smiled softly at that. It showed that Anton had a good head on his shoulders and that made the swordsman trust him a bit more. He was also smirking a bit at the fact at how uncomfortable it had to be for the two sisters. For them to suddenly have to give up every little detail about the inner workings of their own tribe. If Duma had been in better spirits he would have stuck around Anton and the “mime” and listened in. Duma’s knowledge of tribes was good but limited only to a few tribes that he had come in contact with. He was by no means an expert in all of them. No man, woman, or child on this green earth was an expert on all of Sacae’s tribes. The swordsman resorted to standing in the sidelines with the prisoner. He glanced briefly at the man, who seemed to be unchanged by the situation. Duma wondered what the man was thinking. And then he wondered what they were going to do with him. The sisters seemed to want nothing more than to kill this poor sod. Her wasn't sure what Anton wanted to do. Duma just wanted the man to live. Possibly, live with the knowledge of the truth of what was really happening. If the man could even understand them. Ravvus then turned to talk to the swordsman. Duma’s blonde companion seemed relieved that he had decided to stay with the group. Ravvus expressed some concern over the swordsman.
“I'm sorry you had to see that Ravvus. I thought I had a better grip on my emotions. But you are right.. this incident has struck me in the wrong way. I have no choice but to play along with the hand I've been dealt...so to speak.” Duma looked solemnly at the floor. He then shook is head.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, Ravvus, I gave the Compass my word. And I signed the contract. I am not going to abandon you or the others just because of my personal feelings towards this. That… would be very disrespectful and very unprofessional.” He glanced at the blonde mage.
“How about you? What do you make of this?”
OOC- Thread on Haitus until Ravvus returns.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Oct 15, 2016 12:21:51 GMT -6
Unprofessional and disrespectful. Ravvus had hoped for more than just business terms from his green-haired companion. He had hoped Duma would have taken his sentiment to heart, would have lowered his guard if even for just a moment. But it seemed his temporary outburst had been just that: temporary.
Or maybe Duma had lowered his guard. Opened up to his friend. Maybe Ravvus simply didn't have enough life experience to pick up on it.
The blond mage cracked a grin. ”I'm the last person you should be apologizing to for losing your temper. Half my power in battle comes from my ability to give into baser feelings.” The mage's eyes tried to connect with Duma's. ”You have such control over your emotions Duma. I know I have not known you long, but I seldom see you smile. I've never seen you cry. You're a bastion of discipline, but you're human too.” The mage tried to soften the sound of his voice. A hard thing to do for a man so inclined to screaming and fighting. ”I don't know why you feel this way. I don't know why the callousness of the two sister's served as an impetus for your outburst, but... losing control. Feeling what you feel. These things are important to embrace.” Ravvus paused. He didn't know if what he was saying helped. Reassurance was not his strong suit. ”I suppose that's just a long-winded way of saying: its' fine.”
With the brief heart to heart over, Ravvus furrowed his brow. ”Me?” His eyes peered upward in a quizzical look. ”I don't know. No plans survives contact with the enemy. That said, it would have been nice if those two had mentioned we might be fighting their tribesman.” He scrunched his face a little harder, trying to come up with something to talk about. The mage didn't have many thoughts on the matter.
”You're not dead or dying. Neither am I. Neither is Ivan.” Ravvus glanced at the, now prone, steel coffin containing Carl. The winds had toppled his hulking form. ”I'm bummed about Carl, but I didn't know the man so well. I don't know Duma. As bad as things have gone, they could have been a lot worse.” There was one concern on his mind. ”I guess the only thing I'm worried about now is how we're going to access the archive. The Killuans will know we're coming. They're a tribe. I can't begin to imagine how five able bodies, an ex-sage, and a handful of injured novices are going to stand up against them.” He glanced over at Anton and Kinh'lua. “Let's hope the sisters have something up their sleeves, or that Anton can come up with a halfway decent plan with all the information their giving him.”
The normally hot-tempered mage looked back at Carl's body. ”Whatever the case, we should take care of him first. Come on. Help me with the body.” He gestured for Duma to follow.
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The caravan was some distance from the battleground now. The company was set up close to the archive, an entrance guarded by boulders barred their path. As far as the eye could see, the guild-members were alone. Before them, the rolling plains stretched out in a green, vacant expanse.
”It is a trap.” Kinh'lua muttered plainly.
”That much is obvious.” Anton grunted in a humorless aside.
”How can you tell?” An accusation almost venomous in its' tone.
”They know we're coming. They're not here. Either they've been all cursed with apathy or they're waiting until we're out in the open.” Anton peered across the green expanse. ”Wouldn't be surprised if they're already here, lurking in the tall grass.”
Anton clambered onto the cart. ”Listen up, people! Kinh'lua, you and the freelancers set up a perimeter. Keep your eyes peeled. The second you notice anything, a horse, an archer, I don't care if it's a shifty looking piece of shrubbery, you let us know. Everyone else grab a pickaxe and start breaking apart some of those boulders. It'll make Ivan's job that much easier. Once the complex is open, Ravvus, Duma, and the sisters will enter the archive. It'll be dark in there, so keep your fire spells at the ready." Anton spoke, pointing at Ravvus. "The second one of you finds that bow, get it and get the hell out. We're on a time limit, so speed is a factor here.”
The man grabbed a pickaxe from the cart, grasping it firmly in his hand. ”We don't know for sure how many they'll send at us, but we know their tribe numbers about two hundred.” Information Kinh'lua had grudgingly divulged during her interrogation. ”If they come at us, we won't have anywhere to go, but the archive. So, again, time is a factor. If worse comes to worse we can take shelter in there once it's open, then reseal the entrance with Ivan's magic.”
”Let's get to work.”
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Post by Duma on Oct 23, 2016 12:46:58 GMT -6
“Ravvus you.. Don’t know me well enough to see me cry. However, if you wish to see me happy present me with some fruit fritters or tarts once this job is over.” He smirked lightly. Few people know of Duma’s sweet tooth. His home guild had a few fruiting trees on their property. They would flower in spring and fruit in the summer. When the crops were good the fruit was usually turned into preserves. To which Mila and Duma would often get caught eating spoonfuls of the stuff out of the jars. He missed those days.
“It’s just.. Well.. I’m working. I have to have control over my emotions. I’ve seen many a good fighter die due to getting too worked up on the battlefield. It clouds their judgement and causes them to make fatal errors.” He sighed softly. When Ravvus spoke about Duma’s feelings towards the two sisters, he stared out at them with a bit of a glare. He didn’t trust them.
“I just don’t like lies. Or rather.. I don’t like not knowing the full truth.. A whole lot of this mess could have been avoided if the sisters had told us the full details of what we were dealing with in the beginning. Going up against their clan. Numbers of the tribe. Where to avoid.” He turned around and looked at the armored man with the arrow through his skull.
“This man could still be alive had we more information.” He shook his head.
“The last job I did.. Had similar.. Hidden truths. The man and children I guarded claimed he did not know why he had hired hit men after him.. And when we were forced to fight those assassins.. we lost a good man there too.” He frowned softly. He told Ravvus this before.. But now he felt like he needed to emphasise the point.
“Lost my temper there too.. Among other things.” He paused for a moment. Then sighed again. He let out all of his frustration with that one breath. He needed to move this topic away from his adventures with Remus. Away from lies.
“Right.. The rest of the job is going to be hell. An angry tribe. A handful of warriors. I sincerely doubt a book and a bow will save us from that wrath. Hope Ivan and Anton can think of something.” He rolled his shoulders a bit and gently rolled his head. Some light cracks could be heard.
“Right we should tend to the dead.” He turned to face the captive Sacean. Duma gently shoved the man along with him.
“Come. You are helping too.” --
The group had made it towards the entrance of the archive. A massive cave sealed by boulders. A fine display of Gaea’s power and might. He glanced around at the expansive plains of grass around them. Duma had been vigilant. He served as a scout as the caravan progressed. While he might not have been born on the plains like the other Saceans, he still knew the plains. He knew what to look out for. He couldn’t see any human shapes or horses. He didn’t even see a rabbit or groundhog. It was strange to see the plains so devoid of animal life.
“No birds either.” He muttered.
“I have a feeling they are hiding among the grass. Waiting for us to open the door.” He spoke to Ravvus.
“Perhaps we can smoke them out..” He paused.
“Or not.. Smoking them out would only invoke their wrath.” This was a bit of a conundrum. He grabbed a pick axe from the wagon. Before getting to work on the nearest boulder he gave a small bit of advice to the free lancers. Told them the basics of what to look out for. He then stepped away and started to hammer away at the nearest rock.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Oct 25, 2016 15:29:29 GMT -6
The company hacked away at the cave-in. Boulders cracked and shattered under the blows of mining tools. Ivan, Gaea tome split open, muttered ancient words of power, lifting small clusters of rock. They were making good progress in a short amount of time. However, who knew how that long would last. Anyone watching Ivan could see beads of sweat starting to form along his forehead. Not necessarily a sign of exhaustion mind you, but it would be preferable that his task tire him out as slowly as possible. The rest of the guild had sweat to spare, but there was no telling how deep the cave-in was. Furthermore, the pickaxes paled in comparison to Ivan's magic. With coordination and and a dozen hard swings, the guildsmen could obliterate a boulder in a matter of minutes. But that was nothing compared to Ivan's magic, which could clear away clusters of rubble within a matter of seconds. With a lot of hope and hard work they would finish before the tribesman spring their trap.
”Rather hypocritical of them, don't you think?” Ravvus retorted. ”Let us outsiders do all the work for them since they lack the means of accessing the archives.” The mage sauntered alongside Duma as they made their way to the quarry. ”Rather contemptuous too.”
Ravvus, both hands gripped tightly around the handle, swung his pickaxe against the rock. The mage wasn't used to using such crude weaponry. The tool's balance was uneven and made the conjurer uncomfortable. If Ravvus had to use to a tool to for work he preferred something with an even distribution of weight. Something like a quarter staff. Shame the quarter pickaxe had yet to be invented. Such a tool would be far more agreeable.
Ravvus puffed out a gust of air, preparing himself for another swing. The sweating mage gazed as boulders floated over his head. How he envied Ivan. How he yearned to wield that mastery over earth. The conjurer's eyes wandered, following the rocks as they fell with dull thuds along the ground. Ravvus' eyes fell on Ivan as the old sage went about his work. With tome open and hand extended, the old man made it look so easy. As if control over earth was something all were born with. The sight only made Ravvus' jealousy deepen.
”I see an opening” Anton bellowed. Ravvus hurried to his location and, sure enough, spied an aperture in the rock formation. It was a small hole, giving way only to black abyss. ”Ivan. Focus your magics here! Everyone else, clear around the periphery.”
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Post by Duma on Nov 5, 2016 15:00:22 GMT -6
"Outsider work is still work. They need those archives. We need the cash. Hopefully whatever in here is worth it." The grass haired Sacean spoke to Ravvus as he worked. Duma was a bit too focused on the job at hand. He wanted this work to be over. This was partly due to the fact that he hated digging and mining. He hated digging holes as it always reminded him of digging graves. He hated mining. The constant pick, pick, pang noise of the pickaxe hitting the rock annoyed him. Each pang reminded him of the struggles he had to deal with when digging in the ruins. He and the rest of the mercenaries hired by the Eturian archaeologists would chip away at the rubble hoping to find any signs of life. He prayed that he'd find Mila alive and well. But, he never did. He always assumed she died deeper in the ruins. In a place where the pickaxes and people couldn't get to.
"I don't think it's worth it." He muttered as he slammed the tool towards the rock. The swordmaster glanced over at their extra member. The Sacean man who Duma spared. He was was busy, hacking away at the rock. Duma glanced back at the sisters whom were acting as scouts. The sister with the bow caught his glance. She moved her gaze away first. Duma glanced back at their captive. Duma knew he couldn't stop an arrow from this range. The very least he could do was swap places with him, which he did.
Ivan seemed to be working wonders with the Gaea tome. Duma hadn't seen any Mage use the spell before. And the tome seemed to mimic the powers of the earth mother herself. The ability to move the earth rock and ground. To bend it to your will. Duma saw a lot of potential in such a spell. With out warning Anton blurted out that he had found something. An opening of some kind. Duma let out a sigh. Relived that he wouldn't have to clear away any more rock. He cleared the area and waited for the result.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Nov 5, 2016 17:57:33 GMT -6
Ivan's arms reached out, his hands quivering as they lifted the last stones to the entrance. The boulders floated precariously in the air, shaking no less than Ivan's frail frame. Ravvus gazed at the stones as they floated overhead, finding himself in the shadow of one. Not entirely trusting of Ivan's quivering arms, the mage took a step back. And not a moment too soon. As the stones moved clear of the guildsman they fell, piercing the earth with a dull thud. A set of cairns now littered the entrance to the archive. Ivan threw his hands upon his knees, taking in deep breaths. Exhausted the old sage sank to the earth, his forehead drenched with sweat.
”Finally.” Anton muttered, casually tossing his pickaxe aside.
A shout rang out from the perimeter. ”Company!” Kinh'lua drew her custom wo dao ”They're all over! Everyone fall back!” The freelancers and the Sacaen speaker abandoned their positions and made for the main group.
”And not a minute too soon, it seems.” Anton grumbled beneath his breath. ”Spelunker team, form up!” The Ilian dragged his forearm across his sweating brow. ”Get in those caves and find that bow. If the Killuans are as faithful to tradition as Kinh'lua said, they'll acknowledge her as chief once it's in Kish'lua's hands.” The Ilian barked. ”We'll hold them here until Ivan's ready to use Gaea again. If worse comes to worse we'll retreat into the caves and close the entrance behind us!”
Ravvus listened intently to Anton's orders, watching Ivan all the while. The old man was too tired to stand, let alone cast high level magics. The conjurer watched Anton as he frantically tried to get the freelancers in position. The mage approached the Ilian commander. ”Anton!” Ravvus pulled his boss aside, speaking in a hushed voice. ”Ivan's in no shape to cast Gaea. If we don't find that bow in ti-”
Anton slammed a tense, open palm on Ravvus' shoulder.
”Find that bow, Ravvus.”
The Ilian removed his hand and peered over the mage's shoulder. ”Duma! Bring me the prisoner. We might be able to buy some time if we ransom him as a hostage!”
Ravvus carried a spare torch, summoned a fire spell, ignited the flammable wood, and handed it to Duma. The respective teams got into position. One for exploring the archive. The other to defend it. Kish'lua took the first step, entering the cavern. Her sister and Ravvus followed suit.
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Post by Duma on Nov 11, 2016 18:52:53 GMT -6
Duma watched as Ivan continued to cast Gaea. He noticed how hard the old man was pushing himself in his effort to move the earth. He remembered Mila's lessons on magic. Lessons derived from their father. She explained that magic had a weight to it much like a sword did. You needed to familiarize yourself with all forms of the element. And this familiarization was different with all magicians. Mila would collect and cast stones until she got the hang of her aim with the weight in her hand. Then she'd practice throwing ball shaped fire spells. Anton's method of casting reminded him of her. He imagined, she would have moved in the same manner, moving the earth with strength. *Crash*
I think Mila would have had more strength simply due to age.. The rocks that were so delicately held in the air came tumbling down. Ravvus was smart enough to move out of the way. Duma followed his example and moved a few steps backwards. Ivan crouched down and was breathing heavily. Exhausted. Duma went to crouch down and help the old man.
"Company!"
Damn.. they certainly wasted no time. Duma thought to himself. The Killuans were mobilizing and preparing to attack the group. The perimeter group quickly gathered towards the digging group. Duma glanced over at Ivan, Ravvus, and Anton. Ivan was is no shape to fight or go spelunking. Duma slowly crouched down to help Ivan up. He put one of the old man's arms up over his shoulder and slowly lifted.
"You did fantastic work Ivan. I know you are in no shape to be casting any more spells. Hide and recover." Duma quickly shoved a flask into the old man's pockets. If we fail here.. then you might live and tell the rest of the world our story.
"It's water." He spoke firmly to the old sage. Duma flagged down one of the mercs and transferred Ivan over to him. Duma was given orders to bring the prisoner over. Duma looked over at the prisoner. His expression was one of fear or nerves. Duma sighed softly and grabbed him by the arm. Something in him.... something told him that this wasn't going to end well.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Nov 13, 2016 16:30:13 GMT -6
The kindly book-keeper breathed heavily, while leaning on Duma's shoulder, and graciously accepted his gift with a smile. ”Thank you Mr. Duma.” The sage took a deep swig from the flask and wiped his mouth. ”Don't count me out yet. These old bones...” Ivan panted, still tired from his work. ”Have life in them yet... huff... huff...” Duma transferred Ivan over to another one of the guild-members. ”Be careful out there Mr. Duma... I'll be back on my feet... in no time...”
Anton roughly pulled the prisoner from Duma's grip. ”Thanks... What you staying out here with us?” The Ilian glanced back at the archive as Ravvus lead the two sisters inside. ”Hell. Probably for the best. Your blade will serve us far better out here than it would anyone in there.” Visible beads of sweat started to run down the temporary commanders head. Anton breathed deep, but not fast, pacing himself for the incoming battle.
He glanced back at Duma, noticing slight fraying in the swordsman's ironclad discipline. He leaned close to the green-haired warrior. ”You of all people cannot fall apart on me now, Duma. We're making it out of this, you hear me? All of us.” Anton kicked the back of the prisoner's legs, forcing him to his knees. The Ilian drew his sword and placed it across the Killuan's neck. ”Even this idiot. Nobody else is going to die today... Not on my watch... We all just need to do our part and buy the sisters time.” Anton's sword hand quivered ever so slightly with anxiety. The mercenary was talking more for his own sake than Duma's at this point.
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Ravvus held a fireball alight in one hand while the two sisters shared a torch. The archive was awe-inspiring. There was so much history. The walls of the inner cavern were lined with tapestries of The Scouring. The pieces were massive in width, each one easily stretching over at least ten feet. One section portrayed Hanon and her riders firing arrow after arrow at dragons, while another depicted Hanon standing amidst a bonfire, triumphantly raising Murgleis before a crowd of tribes.
”Your tribe seems to have a great respect for the legendary hero of Sacae.”
”Of course we do. She was the only person Killua acknowledged as a leader, besides himself. Hanon was just as influential to our culture as our patriarch.”
Ravvus leaned in close to one of the tapestries, spotting a man with white hair. That was strange, everyone else in the piece had jet-black Sacaen hair except for that one man. Ravvus glanced at another tapestry, noticing that the white-haired man was also in that one. In fact he was in a lot of the works and he was always standing next to Hanon. ”You said the progenitor of your tribe was one of Hanon's riders, yes? There's a man with white hair next to her in every picture. Is that... is he Killua?”
”Who else would it be?” Kinh'lua spoke curtly, brushing off Ravvus' question. ”Mage, quit wasting time. Your guildsmen will not last if we do not find that bow!”
”Uhm, right.” Ravvus muttered, following the sisters deeper inside the complex.
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Post by Duma on Nov 18, 2016 21:09:47 GMT -6
"Of course i'm staying out here. Those caves look spooky." He joked. Although his words were meant to convey humor, his actions did not. His gaze was focused on the oncoming tribesmen. He was watching the movements of the blades and counting the people. He counted at least ten folk with metal in their hands. Ten able bodied fighters who had weapons to fight in close combat. He knew there were a few behind them who could wield bows. Duma needed to find away to avoid those arrows as he fought. He knew he needed to find a path to them and cut them down before they could strike at others.
But the odds were against them. Really what could he, Anton, a magically drained Ivan, and a handful of sell swords do? Duma could hear the nervousness in Anton's voice. The captive was wrested from his grip and forced to his knees. Anton swore that there would be no more deaths today. Some how I doubt it. Duma glanced over at the captive. Part of him wondered what he was thinking. Would he be cut down by his own tribe? Would he be accepted back? Would he grab the nearest blade and try to kill them all? His gaze went back to the approaching Kiluians. All we need to do is bide time. Duma took a breath. He relaxed and then refocused on the situation. He drew his blade slowly. The brave sword.
"Thank you Anton." Duma still refused to call him sir, mister, or boss Anton.
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Ravvus Wiseau
Mage
We will not stop until I have bested you at least once. My pride simply won't allow any alternative.
Posts: 207
Affinity: Anima
OoC Alias: Ravvus/Luba/Rowan
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Post by Ravvus Wiseau on Nov 21, 2016 15:39:53 GMT -6
”Hahaha.” Anton chuckled softly at Duma's joke. With a sharp exhale Anton tightened his grip on his sword. ”At least somebody is keeping their composure.” The tribe of Killuans drew near. Well behind the lines of the raving tribesman sat the rider from the before, the one who'd fled from the initial ambush. Sitting atop his horse, the hard-eyed man raised his bow and nocked an arrow. ”Warriors of the Killuan tribe hear me!” Anton shouted above the dull roar of raving Killuans. ”Accompanying us are Kinh'lua and Kish'lua, heirs apparent to your tribe.” The Ilian pressed his blade against his prisoner's neck. ”In our custody we have another of your own, a survivor from your ambush. If you place value on any of their lives you wi-” An arrow soared through the air, and abruptly cut off Anton as the projectile embedded itself in his shoulder. In the distance the hard-eyed rider sat, his bow now barren of projectile. ”Argh!” The Ilian spat, flying off of his feet and onto his back. The prisoner took this opportunity to make a mad dash for the Killuan lines. Stumbling onto his feet and ignoring everything at his back, the captive raced to reunite with his people.
The first wave advanced. A ten man strong unit, all wielding blades.
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”So...” Ravvus began, as he and the two sisters ventured deeper into the cavern. ”Was Killua a Sacaen? Based on the color of his hair, I'd imagine him to be Ilian.”
”Knowledge unknown to history.” Kinh'lua responded plainly. ”It was never clear in truth. All that is known of Killua's origins was that he was a babe found abandoned in the plains. He had the face of a Sacaen, sharp eyes and a humorless expression, but the hair of a foreigner.”
”...If that's true, how can your people be so xenophobic? The very man who created your tribe may well have been of foreign lands.”
”You think that matters to them? The possibility that he may not have been Sacaen in blood? People will believe whatever they want to believe. If the people of my tribe want to believe that Killua was the one-in-one-million Sacaen to be born without black hair, then they will believe it. If they want to believe that my sister is unfit to lead because she and I want to make allies of foreigners, then they will believe it. And if the people of my tribe believe the only right to lead comes from bearing Killua's bow, then they will believe it. Just look at you and your company of explorers. You are not so different. Your people believed that you all had a duty to finish the job, even though you knew coming here was suicide. If a person, or group of persons, adhere to their ideals as dogmatic, then it doesn't really matter to them if their beliefs contain logical fallacies.”
”...”
”...It should not be much further now.”
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Post by Duma on Dec 6, 2016 13:12:16 GMT -6
Ooc- I'm assuming the grass is person height let me know if edit is needed. Text colors later.
e should have anticipated this. He should have known that the captive would run the moment he had the chance. Duma sighed. He really wanted to spare him. He was hoping the Saceans would barter for his life. He hoped for one goddamn thing to go smoothly on this mission but it seemed reality wouldn't let that happen. And now, now they had to fight. Now, there was a good chance he'd run into that captive in the middle of the fray and slice him with his blade.
“So much for no more deaths.” The swordsman muttered under his breath and prepared himself for the fight.
“Nine foot men are approaching! One archer on a horse!” He shouted to the others. He didn't know what they were going to do with that information. But, Duma knew what he was going to do.
“I'm going for the archer.” He spoke. His voice was oddly calm. He knew he could take on the footmen. He knew how to fight and user the tall grass to his advantage. Yes, this fight would test how well he knew his adoptive homeland and it's warriors.
“Stay low and use the grass to your advantage!” That was the last thing he shouted before jumping into the reeds. He had his sword in his hand and was running with a bit of a slouch. His green hair and pale clothes broke up his image among the grasses. He could hear the footfall and rustling grasses of the enemy nearby. Two were trying to flank him.
He swung to his left and his blade met with another man's. Another swing and his sword met with the blade of the one on the right. The light material of the brave sword granted him two more swings. Two quick vertical sketches back to back. He swung with all his force. These strikes wouldn't kill these men unless they were unfortunate enough to be close to his blade. These were meant to disarm or to distract. These two weren't his primary target. He knew he needed to take down the Bowman. He kept running.
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