Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Mar 31, 2017 23:37:47 GMT -6
The afternoon sunlight spilled onto the marketplace, bouncing off the ersatz linen roofs of stalls and vendors. Now and then it would dive behind the clouds, only to reappear again some moments later, casting its multitudinous gaze onto the same spots. It was cool, with the sky carrying the gray promise of rain.
Lysander knew well the signs of trouble. They used to manifested themselves in telltale ways - a scream, the acrid odor of smoke mingling with that of blood, the caterwauling of children who, having let go of their mothers' hands for a split second, lost them in the bowels of the marketplace. Sometimes a member of the city guard would rush in, a rehearsed expression of sternness etched on his face, and retrieve the body of some poor fool who wandered into an unfriendlier part of town.
But this was not that kind of trouble. Lysander yearned for the days where the art of dilemma was a more conspicuous affair, if only to draw more attention to himself.
The young mage reached for the coin purse dangling from his waist, but recoiled. Strangely absent was the trademark jangle of coins on coins. Fearing the worst, he undid the drawstring and peered inside. He was greeted with an emptiness that he would probably come up with a clever simile for later. Seething silently, he closed the purse and returned it to its home on his waist. As if to taunt him further, his stomach emitted a low growl, much like that of a small tiger. But no gold for food.
For a fleeting moment, he debated on scouring the pavement for discarded change, but changed his mind. This would do little to satiate his hunger. Scanning his surroundings, he spied a baker's vendor below a nearby parapet, which provided shade.
One baguette, Lysander thought to himself. One baguette out of the fifteen or so on display. Doubtlessly dangerous. Which means I obviously have to do it.
It felt scandalous, even deplorable, for Lysander to regress into his old habits. He stole food out of necessity in his youth but seldom reflected on his actions. Ever since traveling with the circus troupe and his subsequent self-employment as a mercenary mage, he hadn't once gone hungry. Ends were met and the appropriate bridges burned. Business was business.
But times were tough. The war had taken its toll on everyone and everything. The eyes of the townsfolk, once shimmering with trademark Bernese pride, once so very easy to gaze into, now so often glazed over, averse to any contact. Food was becoming scarce. People were becoming selfish. If you were self-centered, survival was all but guaranteed. Thus...
Quiet as a dormouse, the crimson-haired man sidled over to the vendor, where the sole balding proprietor stood, his back turned. Lysander felt his outstretched fingers close around the rough edges of the baguette, his stomach reminding him that the deed will be worth it...
"Stop! Thief!"
The bellow cut clean through the ambiance like a blade of pure silver. By the time the enraged vendor had completed the exclamation, Lysander had already felt his legs move, seemingly on their own accord, sprinting across uneven cobble, the baguette castled between both of his arms. He could vaguely hear the patter of footsteps approaching from behind, but far from gaining. Without looking back, he sharply turned a corner, past a balustrade, into an alleyway, and out of sight.
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 10:10:39 GMT -6
Humans are disgusting creatures. In the jungles of his home Scar had seen many sights of vile smells and displeasing decay. These humans however they were a completely different breed. The stench that radiated from there city was nearly unbearable. Scar could smell it all the rooting corpse of the dead guy in the alleyway, the smell of waste being thrown out in some ditch, and even the individual smells of the unwashed hairless monkeys walking around. It was all so, ugg. Under normal circumstances Scar would avoid these meat bags however he was forced to come to market. He needed some more Elixir and he was no longer in Vinland. He would have to bargain with the humans if he wanted the substance.
Scar came into town with a more modified look. He wore a bandana on his head to hide his pointy ears and stuffed his tail in his pants. His dark brown skin shinned in the new morning light as the burly man carried into town ten coats made from the fur of deer and other small animals. Rather than go to the market and sell the objects for coin Scar traded them to the potion master directly. The man thought it was kind of weird,but accepted the trade anyway due to the potential value of the handcrafted coats. With two bottles of elixir in his bag Scar began to leave this cesspool of human filth. It was during his departure that Scar heard a strange cry, Thief.
"A thief", spoke Scar with a bit of excitement. There were thieves back in his homeland. When ever someone was caught stealing they were usually ripped to pieces by the owner or the owners friends. He wondered if humans had the same custom and turned to see if there was going to be any fun.
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 1, 2017 11:46:12 GMT -6
Panting, Lysander continued down the alleyway, rounding corners until he had fully escaped the hubbub of the main thoroughfare. Finally submitting to the urge of looking back, he cocked his head behind him. Sure enough, he was being pursued, but not by the city guard as he had assumed, having lost whoever else had been following him. In fact, it was only a mercenary, with red, fiery hair adorning his head and brandishing an iron sword, scarcely older than he. No doubt a member of the plebeian persuasion, attempting to prove himself to the townsfolk.
"You can't get away with this!" he shouted. "I'll show you!" Then he charged, blade swinging asunder.
His form was sloppy at best, and Lysander sidestepped with relative ease. The young mage plucked the emerald-colored wind tome from his knapsack and took aim, fingers outstretched. A gout of gust blew from his fingertips like miniature crossbows, but whiffed broadside, missing the mercenary. Lysander swore under his breath, still not used to the momentum it took to cast spells. Rather than waste more time, he opted to continue running, diverting his path slightly while the attacker reconnoitered.
The path he took looped back into the main thoroughfare, albeit a different part of it, removed from the scene of the poaching. Something within him caused him to pause and look to his left. Somebody else was watching him.
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 14:36:55 GMT -6
scar watched with a bit of amusement as the human tried to kill the other human. It was funny to him how such a weak species flailed around. A cub from his people could kill far better than these sad excuse of hunters. Still Scar had to give the sly human his props for avoiding the mob of humans in the center. Quick of feet was one way to stay alive. running had saved Scars life on more than one occasion. Still the human that was now standing before Scar was a magic user. Scar did not like magic. To be truthful Scar was afraid of magic, though he would never tell anyone that. Magic was so far against his nature and it was the only thing his tough hide could not defend from. The thought was frighting. still Scar did not fear this man or any mage for that matter. Humans were a weak and squishy race.
"So you are the mone causing all of the ruckus in town huh. So what did you take, let me guess something shinny. You meat bags do love the shinnies. You carry them around where ever you go and give them away at big buildings. You kill each other over shinnies and you even trade food for them. You could say you all are a race of shinny. Still don't leave me guessing. What was it that you took?"
As Scar asked his question the man with the sword caught up. "thief you..", he screamed as he swung his blade around. Scar however was annoyed because he was trying to have a conversation. The lion stepped in and grabbed the blade mid air with his bare hand. The young man's eyes went wide at the sight. Scar however did not blink as he delivered a stern punch to the young man's midsection knocking him out.
"Quite kid, groan folks are talking".
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 1, 2017 15:16:08 GMT -6
Unsurprisingly, the mercenary had led a dogged pursuit towards Lysander. This time, the mage had been caught unprepared - but something else caught his eye. A large mass appeared, caught the young mercenary's blade in midair, and returned the blow with a forceful punch to the abdomen. Eyes bulging, the bewildered mercenary crumpled to the ground, out stone cold. Lysander turned to regard his untimely rescuer, as unnecessary as the gesture was.
The figure that greeted him was fairly large and unusually built, but Lysander thought nothing of it. "That was a close call. Thank you."
As Lysander spoke, the larger man began to do so in tandem. He had a strange accent that Lysander could not place. It was evident that this was the common language of Elibe, but spoken in an unfamiliar dialect. The young mage felt his eyes roll downward to the baguette he was clutching.
"Oh. Right. Yeah, I suppose I swiped this. Money's tight, you see. People are unsympathetic to hired hands these days. It's to be expected." Lysander's voice quavered slightly, heedless of the newfound relief. "I suppose I owe you."
With some effort, he tore the baguette in half and offered it to the newcomer. "Care for a snack?"
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 15:34:59 GMT -6
Scar looked at the man for a moment. All of that fuse was over a piece of bread. Well at the very least it was not over a shinny. Those things were useless. At the very least you can eat bread. Still this did bother Scar a bit. What was the purpose of all the fuse. There even was a would be hero. Bah humbug, thought Scar. Humans were strange creatures and he did not know how they thought. Maybe though it had something to do with principle. Yeah that was probably it. Reputation was important after all.
"Sorry but I only eat meat, you can keep your bread to yourself. I suggest you consume it before anyone else shows up looking for you. That being said why are you wasting your time and talent stealing one piece of bread. If your going to be a thief at the very least put some more effort into it. You could have stolen a entire pan of bread. At the very least you would not have wasted energy running away. That bread probably has less nourishment then what you use when you hunted it down. One of the first lessons I learned as a cub was to chose your prey wisely. No point in chasing the hare. Not enough meat for so much effort. If you don't want to steal then hunt. You can catch your own food out in the wild and use the meat for meals and hide for, how did you meat bags call shiny objects, oh right coin. You can kill two birds with one stone. Not to mention that you have the power to do so. You command the power of the elements, don't you. No dear runs faster than lightning. Shoot a few of them down and solve your problem."
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 1, 2017 16:32:52 GMT -6
Lysander shrugged at the newcomer's statement. More for him, he surmised. He took a thoughtful bite of the bread, as if trying to prove to the larger man that he was missing out on the carbohydrates. (Whatever those were supposed to be.)
In any event, Lysander tried his best to follow the man's explanation, however disjointed it may have sounded to him. Between chews, he wondered what the man's true intentions were. If they entailed lectures, Lysander had received many an earful of those. The man seemed to have sensed his apprehension for the deed nonetheless. Choose your prey wisely... That was a compelling point indeed. A few questions still swirled in his mind, however: why was this man calling Lysander a meat bag? He had read about rumors, sure, but he had yet to lay eyes upon any tribesmen. Perhaps this was his first.
"I... hadn't thought about that, admittedly," confessed Lysander finally. "I've been doing this for most of my life now. It's rare that people with my abilities partake in hunting. In case you couldn't tell, magic isn't exactly a stealthy discipline." He paused for a moment, searching for the next appropriate batch of words. "I never actually learned to hunt. I always assumed my books could get me further in life... but here I am."
Lysander sighed vehemently. It was pointless to dwell on non-ceremony. "My name is Lysander. And yours is?"
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 17:27:47 GMT -6
Scar looked at the man as if he had committed a sin. He did not know how to hunt. What were his parents teaching him. those meat bags seemed to lack a formal education. Here they were teaching there children to chase shinny rocks and run around like fools but they never taught them how to hunt. The very thought twisted Scars stomach. These meat bags had lost a bit of what little respect Scar had for them.
"Well first off my name is Scar", spoke the burly darkskin man as he pointed toward the three line scar over his right eye. The mark looked liked a bear had clawed him right in the face. "I got my name after my father gave me this. Before that I was named something else, but it does not matter now. I am Scar. second, are you serious. You have the ability to shoot lightning from your finger tips and you are telling me that you never thought of using that power to hunt. Are you a bit there slow meat bag? I heard that there were a few of you all walking around short on whit. To be honest I don't know why you all let them live to adulthood. Sounds like a waste in resources, but I am getting off topic. Listen, umm, Lysander or however you pronounce your name meat bag, you don't need to be stealthy to hunt when you shoot lightning from your finger tips. Just shoot the deer from far off. Zap, boom, dead, pre cooked meat too. I saw a guy I use to know, Raven if I remember. He shot a dear with a bolt of lightning and stopped its heart. Of course he also accidentally started a forest fire, but that was a different spell."
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 1, 2017 19:49:33 GMT -6
Lysander pondered the tribesman's words for a brief spell, no pun intended. Then he felt his arms cross about his chest, his posture still as a statue. He disregarded the darker man's odd attempt at an insult, instead fixated on the origin of his name.
"Your father..." Lysander repeated, trailing off briefly. "You say your father inflicted that scar over your eye? I suppose we both have issues in that division, then," he concluded, jerking a thumb up to his misshapen nose. Though largely unnoticeable at first glance, it was indeed bent slightly to the left, the bridge gently protruding from its socket. It made his speaking voice nasally at times, but only when congested. Regardless, there were more pressing matters at hand. "And to answer your inquiry, yes, I can cast rudimentary elemental spells. Fire, thunder, and wind, the three constituent elements. I never read about their application for hunting, though. It always seemed like such a clumsy effort. For archers, poachers, the like, but not for mages."
Lysander felt the intensity of the man's gaze deepen, as if some unseen force was steadfastly encircling him. Yet his argument was compelling enough. It was true that, with enough focus, a thunder spell could do more harm than simply charring the outer flesh of its victims. The human body was over seventy percent water, so the conduction could interrupt the target's heart rhythm. Dedicated practitioners of the craft could be trained to stop the heart entirely. Lysander had also read about former priests that became mages and used low-level thunder magic on the wounded and the dying in order to stabilize their heart rhythms. Nevertheless, it was a tricky branch of magic to master, and often employed the heaviest of tomes to boot.
"You've won me over for the time being. Perhaps you could teach this, ah, meat bag, how to hunt? It'll give me something to do, at least."
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 20:54:03 GMT -6
Ah crap, thought Scar to himself. He had just brought this pain on himself. It was not that Scar wanted to teach the kid how to hunt, but he could not see the logic in his actions or rather the lack of common sense this meat bag had. Now by stretching the point he kind of pushed himself into teaching the welp on how to hunt. Scar could only prey that this was not going to be a all day thing. He still needed to hunt for his meal tonight. he would show the meat bag the basics and help him catch a kill.
"Alright fine I will show you how to hunt. However your going to need to be of quick wit meat bag and watch your surroundings. There are a lot of things you need to know and I don't have years to teach you so some stuff you are going to have to pick up on your own." With that Scar began to walk out of town toward the wild wilderness. As he walked the young swordsmen began to stir. Scar gave him a quick kick to the jaw and kept on walking.
After he was a hundred yards away from the city he began to talk again. "Listen up meat bag the first thing you need to know is that we all are bags of meat. From the fearsome lion to the smallest mice. We are all meat to someone. Keep in mind that in the wild everyone is looking for a meat bag, that includes yourself. Always watch your back. It is easy for the hunter to become the prey. Now the first thing you need to do is to know yourself. How far can you shoot a spell? How much control do you have after it has left your finger? What spell is easy to cast and which spell is harder?"
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 1, 2017 21:29:45 GMT -6
Upon leaving the out-cold swordsman, the bustling townsfolk, and the capital city behind, the duo found themselves on the outskirts some hundred yards away. Though barely away from the congregation of houses and hovels, there was an increase in scenery. Lysander uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut for most of the short trek, opening it again only when prompted. He disliked being under someone else's tutelage at this age, but food had scarcely been an issue for him until now. Better late than never, he supposed.
"I'm not a novice of my craft, if that's what you're asking. I can handle myself. Not spectacularly, but I can cast elementary spells a fair distance. Fifty yards if I focus enough. I imagine that range will get further as I improve," Lysander said clearly. He doubted that Scar knew much of anything about "meat bag" magic, but he was in no position to insult his intelligence. The darker man knew enough when it came to the martial aspects of hunting, and that was what mattered for the moment.
Lysander took a tentative step forward. "Let's see... I don't know if I can explain this to you candidly, but here goes: Wind is easiest for me to cast because it's the most accurate element. It tends to spread on impact, so there's no much of a need for aiming. It doesn't inflict a lot of damage, though. Thunder is the least accurate but the strongest spell I have right now. I think I can aim it pretty well. And then there's fire, but I'm not a huge fan of using that one, as simplistic as it is..."
He was reminded of the incident six years prior, in which he was tasked with replacing the injured trapeze artist. The term "close shave" had not been applicable to him until the moment he nearly singed off the tips of his eyebrows during a flaming hoop stunt. In any case, he seemed to have a solid grasp on what Scar was getting at: much akin to how a hunter selects an arrow, perhaps different spells had their own niches as well. The next thought that arrived concerned tracking, but his suspicions about Scar led him to believe that the latter would take point in that department.
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 21:53:49 GMT -6
"hmm", spoke Scar as he took the information in. Fifty yards was not bad. The meat bag could get a kill in at that rang. Still there was the problem of finding the food. His rang was his biggest advantage but that all meant nothing if he never saw a deer. So Scar guessed he would have to show him a bit about tracking as well. well meat bag tracking.
"Alright then, you know yourself, but now you need to know your prey", spoke Scar. The Lion took the opportunity to look down on the ground to find some tracks, unfortunately there were none. Normally he would rely on smell but the meat bag did not have such a good nose. "Listen, no matter what you hunt and where you are at there is one thing that all meat bags have in common, they need water. So if you find the source of water then you will find the meat bags." Scar stood back up. "There is a river that way."
As scar began to walk toward the river he began to talk again. "there are two things to remember about hunting by using water. Water supplies are the junction for both predator and prey. Remember to watch yourself when you are near the water. The second thing you need to remember is to be sure you are not hunting down wind. The wind can carry you scent for miles warning prey."
As the duo walked toward the river Scar noticed a pile of rocks. "Oh, right, if you want to get bit by a snake sit on rocks like those. The little devils like to rest between and under them to regulate there temperature. It is also a good spot...", Scar took a stick and pulled one of the evil little suckers out. when it struck out Scar grabbed it by the head. To the untain eye it looked as if he avoided the fangs, but in reality they could not pierce his skin. scar then ripped its head off. "To get good snake skin."
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 1, 2017 22:30:11 GMT -6
As the hour waned, Lysander could faintly hear the sound of rushing water. This was the river that bisected the capital from the rest of Bern. Few trails wound their way past this point, instead giving way to the entanglement of hills, crags, and mountains dotting Bern's landscape. As the duo walked along the riverside, Scar had instructed him not to sit on the rocks, lest he receive a painful chomp to the rear. Simple enough, for Lysander's restless leg syndrome disallowed him from sitting for long periods of time anyway.
The advice he was receiving was, admittedly, advice he never thought he needed to hear. But it was useful. Hunting downwind meant that prey could be alerted to one's presence for miles, allowing them to take evasive maneuvers long before they could even be reached. Such dogged pursuits were not in good taste.
Then Lysander spied it: a brown deer in the distance, some seventy yards away, though it clearly hadn't heard the commotion since it appeared to be too busy using the river as a drinking basin. It must have just arrived as well, considering that Scar's nose would have likely picked up the scent by now. Lysander wondered if his nostrils were flaring with intrigue. He wagered that a well-placed thunder spell would do the trick, though he would have to approach it without being detected. And, as the spectacle at the market clearly demonstrated, furtiveness was not his strong suit. A nagging feeling within him led him to question whether or not it would be viable to follow it, and, if so, by which method. In this realm, Scar was vastly more qualified.
"Well, well... I've spotted something," Lysander noted in satisfaction.
|
|
Scar
Cat Tribe
Posts: 46
Profession: Hunter
Affinity: Fire
Profile: Scar's Profile
OoC Alias: Butorega
|
Post by Scar on Apr 1, 2017 22:54:34 GMT -6
"Deer", whispered Scar as the meat bag spoke. Scar had picked up its scent earlier but waited till it was visible to say anything. He did not want to give away to many secrets. Still the creature was out of the yard limit set by the mage. If he was going to kill it then he was going to need yo get closer. Deer were easily spooked so Scar did not think he could just walk the distance to get in a shot. the guy was going to need a way to get closer without alerting the deer.
"Remember when I said know your prey well this is one of those times. Deer like many stupid animals identify things by shape. If you are shaped like a human they will think you are a human. If you are not shaped like a human then they won't think your human. So", whispered Scar as he pulled a deer hide blanket out oh a bag. "We are going to put this over our heads and walk in a crouch. Once we cross the fifty yards then we can fire upon the creature with your magic from afar. Make sure you hit your shot, you get one chance."
This was so stupid thought Scar. He knew it would work, but they would look the fool. Scar would prefer to simply run the creature down and kill it. However the meat bag did not have that kind of stamina. He was out here to teach the new guy the ropes of hunting after all. So the lesson needed to be focus toward what he could do. Hopefully he would get a killing shot in on the first try. If it was wounded then they would have to give chase. Scar did not feel like running down a deer with this meat bag, it would be a painfully slow chase.
|
|
Lysander
Mage
Posts: 36
Profession: Writing verses and slinging curses.
Affinity: Wind
Profile: Lysander's Profile
OoC Alias: Moogle
|
Post by Lysander on Apr 2, 2017 14:47:33 GMT -6
Calling the deer hide blanket putrid was an understatement. It stank horribly, with every conceivable layer of detritus detectable by Lysander's nose. He couldn't fathom how Scar's nose could handle it, but the tribesman certainly had something vaguely reminiscent of an idea. Reluctantly, Lysander slipped the foul hide blanket over his head, ensuring the the tiny eye holes were level with his line of vision, though the implement tunneled it slightly.
He could still see the deer, oblivious to the duo's actions, still sipping the contents of the river. The shot was clear, if only Lysander could meander closer to his target. Twenty yards was a doable distance, but the approach had to be as clandestine as possible, for obvious reasons. Then the shot itself, harder after.
Taking care not to step on any outstanding twigs, branches, pebbles, or anything capable of producing audible noise, he crept furtively closer to the deer, fingers splayed, Scar close behind him. Lysander could feel his hot breath pooling on the back of his neck. With the deer still in sight, he took tentative aim, his fingers beginning to silently crackle with energy from his thunder tome.
"Right... here goes..." Closing his eyes, Lysander ushered a swift, bright conglomerate of sparks and branch lightning forward, bounding towards its opponent, clearing fifty yards in less than a second. The recoil from the spell unaffected him.
The bolt successfully struck the deer broadside, lighting the animal up like holiday baubles. It shuddered and writhed briefly, then collapsed to the ground sideways, dead as a door nail. The spell had evidently stopped its heart, for it no longer moved after this point. The hunt successful, Lysander strode over to the fallen creature and inspected it. The lightning had entered through one of its hind legs and traveled up its torso, eventually stopping its heart.
|
|