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| Topic Started: Nov 1 2010, 09:34 PM (1,094 Views) | |
| Raiu | Mar 22 2011, 10:50 PM Post #21 |
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Alba glowered at Illryian as he took off her sword belt and handed it to Bear before dragging her out of the store before the young noble could even say a word. Sure it was a good idea but she would have liked to make that decision herself. It was the same with the ring. It was a good idea, maybe a better one than her running away from her marrage but again, she wanted to make that decision for herself. Each time he made a decision for her, Alba started to resent him even more. She was not a doll! She is a person! The worst thing was that she would have to share a room with him! That brought a bright red tint to her face, a truely embarrising event. She would rather sleep outside than in the same room than that man! This was truely insulting to her, one that almost made her wish that she was back in the cage that she had called a home for most of her short life! So when she saw the chance to get back at her new teacher, she grinned in a somewhat evil fasion. "I won't." She muttered something that sounded a lot like a curse as she let out two bolts of lightning after a small cloud of static electricity shocked Illyrian, possibly draining him of a bit of his strength. She was not happy right now, not in the least. Maybe when Illyrian was a burnt crisp she would feel better. Edited by Raiu, Mar 28 2011, 09:22 PM.
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| The Karlminion | Mar 28 2011, 10:05 PM Post #22 |
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180-proof Redneck
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In truth, Illyrian did not understand what cause Bear or Alba had to be embarrassed about anyone sharing rooms; such things did not normally come into the sphere of his thinking, after all. Were they to explain it to him he would have brushed their concerns off as frivolous and totally unnecessary, since he was easily twice her age and he had no interest in robbing cradles; besides, if she was uncomfortable now she'd be mortified later on, being on a relatively small ship with twenty other men who weren't so scrupulous as her teacher. But this was neither here nor there. She was attacking him, or trying to anyway; potentially to her disappointment her efforts had no appreciable effect on him, not even to make him flinch. "You are angry," he said dispassionately, after a moment. "Anger will not serve you at all, not in this stage of your education. Your magic might serve you against monsters or common brigands, but against another trained sorcerer you will fail just as you have now if you cannot control yourself." He waved his hand; a towering funnel of wet air sprang into being out of nowhere, circling tightly around Alba. She would only have to put her hand out to be inundated in the raging cyclone, but where she stood it was perfectly calm and dry; not a drop of water left the wall of air. "Most mages do not comprehend true control, Miss Adelina," Illyrian went on, his voice somehow penetrating the roaring of his spell to be perfectly audible. "They think it is all about passion, fury, a will to dominate one's enemies into dust and cinders. That is but a start; an admirable start, but one many never move beyond." The cyclone faded, as if it had never been, and Alba was unscathed. "Quell your feelings, Miss Adelina," he went on, as if nothing had happened. "Your dissatisfaction means nothing for this lesson, less than nothing; be cold and unfeeling, like I am, feel the magic inside you and yank it out into something greater. You cannot grow strong if you do not have room to exercise and grow into; magic is no different. Break the confines that bind your true strength, look beyond your anger and your emotions, and attack me. Attack me." Again he stood still, volunteering no defense, making no move to attack or counter. His face was indifferent, casual; his intense green eyes were fixed on Alba's gray ones, boring into her, demanding nothing less than the perfection he drove himself to attain every day of his life. At the same time there were uncaring and dispassionate, showing her what he demanded of her. Self-control. That was the root of what he was telling her; she would not progress far as his student if she allowed petty resentment to rule her feelings. She had to go beyond it, find some icy unfeeling core and attack from that. It was almost as if he'd deliberately been prodding her along, embarrassing and dragging her here and there, just to prove this one point. |
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| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 29 2011, 04:41 PM Post #23 |
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aka Bear
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Bear made his way back to Polly's Tavern and took a seat close to the bar. "Back again? That mage fellow you were here with before left word he'd pick up the tab for your lunch if you wanted it." Joe explained as the Viking made himself comfortable. "Do I want it? When have I ever passed up a free meal?" Bear chortled. "I'll have.....hmm, what's the special today?" Joe gave his patron a wily grin. "The special is too cheap. If a wealthy client is paying why not eat like a king today?" "Good call. Well then, I'll have the most expensive item on the menu!" Bear agreed. "And don't stop cooking until I can't hold anymore!" ~ It took the cooks half an hour to fill the Viking's order but when it was placed before him Bear realized it was worth the wait. For the main course the cooks had prepared for him a Grouder steak so large that the plate it rested on was nearly invisible beneath it. With it came a bowl of roasted potatoes glazed with butter, a wedge of smoked cheese and a whole loaf of bread. All of it was to be washed down with a pitcher of Polly's homemade Mistral Loqua. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about." Bear sighed, taking a deep whiff of the tantalizing aroma. "Time to dig in!" "There's also a tray of fruit puffs coming out of the oven if you're interested in dessert." Joe informed the Viking. "I'm interested!" Bear replied between bites. ~ Bear pushed away from the table, rubbing his belly in contentment. "You lads do fine work." He praised the cook staff as a waitress came to take his empty plates away. "I'll add a generous tip for them to your bill." Joe winked conspiratorially. Saying his goodbyes Bear lumbered out of the tavern and onto Sailor's Island's main street. Illyrian and Alba were off doing who-knew-what together, leaving the Viking on his own again. "Guess I'll head back to the inn." He decided. There were always travelers lodging there who were willing to exchange stories or play a round of cards. Bear would have preferred to share a few rounds of ale with them but Illyrian wanted his crew sober for the coming voyage and he had to respect those wishes. As he walked Bear withdrew the dagger he'd acquired for Alba and held it up to the light. It was a fine blade, although it didn't really suit him, and for a brief moment Bear wished he could keep it. But that also did not suit him. People who didn't know Bear, and to be honest, most who did, would not understand his generosity. Why go through so much effort to get something for a girl he had known for less than a day? Well, that was just his nature. Bear could tell that Alba was inexperienced in many ways and as a veteran sailor he felt it was his responsibility to provide her with the tools and knowledge she'd need to survive. He had promised to teach her a few things about fighting after all. Sheathing the blade Bear quickened his pace made the short walk to the inn. The common room was abuzz with activity as he entered. Sailors from all points on the compass were coming and going, either just arriving or about to leave port. One particular group caught Bear's attention. Seated in one corner were a handful of men he'd sailed with before. They were laughing raucously as they raised their tankards in a toast. "Hmm. Well, one drink won't hurt." Bear smiled as he made his way over to join them. |
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| Raiu | Mar 30 2011, 03:10 AM Post #24 |
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The cyclone and the fact that Illyrian did not have to use any effort at all to deflect her spells just ticked Alba off more. She let loose three more sets of lightning, each and every one of them easy enough to be effortlessly deflected by Illyrian, before the logical side of her mind beated the emotional side of her mind back with what amounted to a mental stick. She still felt like she wanted to rip her teacher's face to shreads but she didn't allow that feeling to dominate her mind. Her bolts of lightning became a bit more focused but still Illyrian could still easily deflect them. That made her eye twitch a little but she kept in control. She tried to focus the electri again but it was a bit too much for her and she shook her head as the bolt went wide. "Dang..." Mental fatigue was not fun to have and using magic gave you plenty of it as well as draining physical energy as well. "First time out and..." Her eye twitched again and she decided to try that dangerous parlor trick that Alihandro had once taught her. She drew her rapier, a bit heaver than she was used to but she could aim it well if she aimed a bit low, and pointed it at Illyrian's abdomin. She then let out half a breath and focused the magic into the blade, getting it to the point where it slowly glowed. She let out the last half of the breath and releashed the magic focused like a dagger attached to a large cork attached to a shooken bottle of champain. In short, it shot forward, heading for the bottom of Illyrian's chest in a beam which traveled fast. It was a good example of control but at the wrong time. Alba's arm went numb and she nearly dropped the rapier that was held in her hand had she not caught it with her other arm. Now the mental fatigue manifested as a monster headache. "Ow." Edited by Raiu, Mar 30 2011, 05:56 PM.
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| The Karlminion | Mar 30 2011, 06:00 PM Post #25 |
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180-proof Redneck
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Illyrian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and sidestepping the wild magic thrown at him. "You have no stamina, Miss Adelina," he declared morosely, stepping forward. She drew her blade, and his eyes narrowed dangerously; he had forbidden weapons or special attacks, what did she think she was doing? He stood there, trying to decide whether to be amused or irritated, as Alba charged up her sword; she released the energy, and he turned his body to the side as it flew by. "I said, no weapons and no special attacks," the Black Mage told her as he came to her side. "But that is neither here nor there; I see we have deeper fundamental problems to work on here." He pulled her to her feet and put a hand on her forehead, muttering 'Sacres' as he did so; green fog enveloped her form and wiped away the headache and the numbness, restoring her strength. "I don't know how you were raised or what sort of pampering your parents engaged in, but that stops today; you must develop stamina and fortitude, both physical and mental." Deliberately he turned his back on her and walked back to his former place. "You will not be much good aboard my ship either, if you cannot pull your own weight. But that should be a good chance to work on your endurance; for now, practice." Again he held out a hand toward her; there was a flash of red light, hot and strong, which coalesced about her body and disappeared into her. "You have ten minutes of Increm, Miss Adelina," he explained simply. "Find your self-control, find the cold center of your magic and break it out into the open, and come at me again. No weapons, no special attacks, no more hot-headed lashing out, and no more time outs." He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, but made no attempt at any defensive posture. Privately he reflected on his own education; struggling with a set of books on his tenth birthday, books of advanced magic and obscure theories, fumbling with the six beautiful moonstones his parents had also gifted him with. That had been but the start of his journey, the opening page of what would one day be the greatest legend Arcadia had ever heard. He had turned half the crew of a pirate ship to blocks of ice when he was sixteen, thus forcing his way aboard and into the ranks, and had not looked back ever since; every day he pushed himself to learn more, to do everything he could for the sake of the magic. He had not come here lightly, his life had not been easy; in fact at times it was quite miserable, but always it was by his own choice and volition. Alba would not have the luxury of pacing herself, and he expected she would hate him if she didn't already, but that was meaningless. |
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| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 31 2011, 06:57 PM Post #26 |
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aka Bear
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Bear sighed, drumming his fingers on the table as he inspected the cards he'd been dealt. "Fold." He muttered, slapping them down on the table. He'd been playing for only a short time but the Viking was already bored with the game. The fact that it was only a friendly game rather than one being played for money (which none of them had to wager) was only partly to blame. "And big daddy does it again!" A freckled faced youth crowed as he displayed his winning hand. Bear scowled. It had been a bluff after all. "Want to play another hand Bear?" Another sailor, this one sporting a gold tooth behind his scraggly beard offered. "No, I'll pass." Bear answered. He looked glumly at the empty tankard on the table and wished he could order another ale. But the more he drank the more he wanted and each successive drink would just make it all the easier for him to have another. And another and another. Instead Bear glanced out the window, noting the hour by the position of the sun in the sky. "What's wrong buddy? You lookin' for someone?" Gold Tooth asked. "Or maybe somebody's lookin' for you?" A third pirate, a tattooed man of Ixa'takan origin, interjected. "You on the run again?" "Really? What did you do this time?" Freckles asked in an excited voice. Bear glanced at them all in confusion. "What? Nothing! I'm just waiting for my shipmates to come back. That's all." The trio looked disappointed. "What?" Bear asked, regarding their downcast faces. "Nothin'. Just your stories are always fun to hear." Freckles answered. "And we could all stand a bit of excitement." Tattoo added. "Uh huh." Bear sighed, turning back to the window once more. "Huh?' He snorted as he observed a crowd of people rush past. The passing crowd had also drawn the attention of Gold Tooth. "Looks like something's going on outside." He stated. "Something exciting I hope." Freckles muttered. The four men looked at one another and then, almost in unison, they rose from the table and headed towards the door. Stepping outside Gold Tooth flagged down a passerby and asked if something had happened. "A couple of magicians are going at it out back!" The sailor exclaimed before rushing off around the edge of the building. "Alright, some action!" Gold Tooth barked. "A wizard's duel!" Tattoo added. "Oh yeah!" Freckles cheered. "Oh geez." Bear sighed. This clearly had "Illyrian & Alba" written all over it. Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 31 2011, 07:00 PM.
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| Raiu | Apr 16 2011, 05:50 PM Post #27 |
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The fact that a large group was growing around them didn't bother Alba since the more lucid of them at the front gave them plenty of room. The fact that the most of the crowd was drunk didn't faze her either. Not even the amount of vulgarity that would have placed the men in shackles back in Valua was moot point to her. What did bother her that Illyrian didn't think that her use of a focus was in the rules he set down. "You must have used something like this when you were learning your magic. Or maybe you were full on traditional." A smile went onto her face as she loosened her control on her magic just a bit, allowing her next bolt, this on aimed at his leg, to resemble lightning a bit more. One thing that she hadn't anticipated with that was that the red moonstone on the hilt were glow slightly, making small embers pop along the length of the bolt. Now that tired her out more than using a spell usually had. She lowered the sword. "Well... That was fun..." She didn't expect Illyrian to get seriously hurt. Maybe a little singed but that was all. Her last bolt, the one that Illyrian had doged, continued on for hours until it struck a Looper carrying a large amount of moonberries. The looper was killed and the resulting lack of supply eventually led to the falling out of favor of super moves, though that is another story. |
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| The Karlminion | Apr 16 2011, 07:31 PM Post #28 |
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180-proof Redneck
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Illyrian loved a crowd, and despite his usual misanthropic tendencies he couldn't help but ham it up just a little whenever he had an audience. So when Alba's attack hit his leg he overreacted to make it more dramatic, clutching his knee and grimacing; his own counter, a downplayed Wevli that knocked Alba back but didn't hurt her at all, drew similar gasps from the crowd. They went back and forth like that, trading spells while the Increm on Alba lasted, and for the last minute or so Illyrian closed in with his dagger, forcing the girl to use her new blade; he saw that she was skilled, for her age, and reflected that if they weren't merely showing off it might have been fun. But then the buff ended, and the Black Mage turned to wave the crowd away; the show was over, nothing more to see here, all that sort of thing. "One last thing for today, Miss Adelina," he said once they were alone. "Whenever you have a crowd watching you, act it up. Play the part of whatever they're expecting; an audience is a rare thing, to be cherished as long as it lasts." Why he liked them so when he normally disliked people was quite simple; he wanted the world to talk about him, the things he did and the magic he wove with a whisper and a wave. It was part of his ultimate ambition, after all. In any event, the remainder of the day was spent more studiously for the two mages; Illyrian had her reading a book of magical theory, one she had not read before, while he practiced the various small parlor tricks he had discovered over his life. Little uses of magic, ones some would decry as wasteful, but he took pleasure in such exercises even when no one was watching. In time the sun went down, and the night passed without incident. Illyrian did not say much to his new student: "Good night, Miss Adelina," and "Wake up, Miss Adelina," was the extend of his communication. As promised they were up before dawn, and he gave her twenty minutes to get ready and be at the ship, or there'd be chores in her future. And there would always be chores aboard a ship, even one as small as the Dark Score Run. Once Bear showed up they could cast off, and that was the start of their journey. The ship's regular crew, veterans of the 4th Fleet under Belleza, were quick to welcome the two additions; they treated Bear like just another sailor, joking and razzing as sailors did, but for Alba they were respectful even as they oversaw her training and her chores. For Illyrian had assigned one of the mates to train her in sword-fighting, not the gentlemanly stuff taught in Upper Valua but a dirtier method meant for one thing and one thing only: killing, quickly and efficiently, with minimal harm to oneself. It would likely be a most instructive time for Alba, this brief trip through the skies. As promised Illyrian pushed her hard, not only in learning magic but in working among the crew of a ship and learning to fight. He intentionally ran both her and Bear ragged, not out of any malevolent intentions but simply as a matter of course, and they would see that he pushed himself and his own crew just as hard, if not harder. It was a tight ship, and the men looked out for everyone, not just each other (although the cook made sure to give a little extra to the two visitors; he couldn't stand a scrawny person, and Alba was scrawny in his eyes). It wasn't all pleasant sailing through calm skies, of course. Black Pirates aplenty roamed the area, and attacked the small dark ship whenever they found it; Illyrian was absolutely ruthless when it came to ship-to-ship battle, shouting orders at everyone and pummeling the enemy ships until they were helpless and stationary. He always boarded them, too, personally dueling and slaying the captain of every vessel who attacked him and his ship and crew; then his men took whatever was worthwhile in their holds, threw the survivors overboard, and set the ships to explode behind them as they sailed off. These boarding actions were also a good chance for Bear to prove himself and for Alba to practice what she'd been learning. It was ruthless, and bloodthirsty in the extreme, but he never initiated such aggression against the pirates; he merely reacted to the force of others with force of his own, and after the first few pirate attacks word seemed to get around and they weren't accosted again. "That'll stick for about two weeks, then they'll forget and start attacking us again," he commented at one point, watching a Black Pirate vessel as it quickly sailed away from them upon seeing the flag he flew. "No matter how many we shoot down, there's always more to spring up in their place... idiots." Once or twice they landed on islands, either to trade with whoever might have been there or to refresh their stores from the water and wild animals that lurked there. Some of the pirate ships had been carrying slaves, and he dropped these unfortunates off at friendly communities, each with a few gold pieces and a small pistol to protect themselves; he waved off their gratitude, saying it was only what any decent person would do. This lasted about three weeks, and they came upon the South Ocean corridor in time. Rather than dare its storms directly Illyrian simply sailed above the angry clouds and flew over it all; looking down at the roiling skies, the flickering thunderstorms and the miles-high twister clouds, was quite a sight, and not one that most people got to see. "It's even more interesting from below," the Black Mage said at one point. "Much darker of course, but still quite a thing to see." Finally, the corridor passed behind them, and the air grew chill. They were coming up on Glacia, and it was time to sink back below the clouds, put on their cold-weather gear and prepare for their destination. |
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6:56 PM Jul 11