Field Trip! (Closed)

Ettermire stood as the pinnacle of Althanian ingenuity, a metropolis of steel and fire in a world where most cities were mere wood and stone. Bloated airships threaded between soaring spires, and gigantic factories belched putrid smoke that coalesced into a hazy gray ceiling of smog. Mechanical contraptions dotted the wide, busy streets, from clocks to guns to an unsettling, spiderlike carriage that belched steam as it plodded forth.

In the back of his mind, Atzar Kellon held one final hope that the dark elves of Ettermire would be more open and friendly than those in smaller Alerian cities. For years, the human wizard had endured scorn, distrust, and even open hostility. Perhaps, he had thought, the capital of Alerar would be more civilized. He was dead wrong.

As he walked down the street, he saw the same tight-lipped frowns. The same cold, hard stares. The same balled-up fists. This, merely because he was human – they were completely unaware of his magic. He returned their meaningful glances with resentment, brow furrowed and teeth gritted. His nails dug painfully into his palms. He unclenched his hands and slowly, deliberately swept his long black hair behind his ears in an effort to calm himself. But when a sharp elbow slammed into his ribcage, he snapped.

He turned, fire in his blue eyes, and a quick right caught the tall dark elf square in the jaw. The man staggered but recovered quickly, a knife flashing into his hand. Atzar pulled in his focus. Passersby streamed past on either side, a few eyeing the duo with cocked brow, but most ignoring a skirmish that didn’t involve them. The wizard wished not to harm bystanders, but his assailant had picked this arena, not him.

A boot to his left calf caught him unawares, knocking him painfully to one knee. This man was not alone, the mage realized. A fist to the side of his head set off starbursts in his eyes, and he wavered on the precipice of unconsciousness. Then strong arms grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes.

A dire mistake. Not only did they give him precious seconds to collect his senses, but withdrawal from the crowd benefited Atzar as much as these thugs. They wanted the privacy to do their dirty work unseen. The young wizard wanted isolation, a space free of human obstacles so he could flex his magic with no reservations. Darting eyes counted four, five, six dark elven assailants, all in unremarkable attire but carrying small blades. Meat.

Shoving aside the throbbing in his head as best as he could, he regathered his focus. Fire spewed from his palms, igniting the pants of the two men who dragged him. They dropped their captive in their mad, shrieking dance. The wizard stumbled upright, hands at the ready, facing his now-concerned enemies. Armed and superior in number though they were, their thuggish confidence had deserted them. Atzar did not share their hesitation. The air crackled and a diffuse light emerged between his palms. The snaps grew louder, the glowing ball brighter, until a sizzling bolt of lightning shot forth at the man who had elbowed him.

Violent spasms seized the dark elf, and the knife he held actually wounded one of the cronies standing alongside him. Blood seeped from the tear in the man’s vest. He yelled, jumping away in confusion and pain as the electrified drow collapsed to the ground.

Footsteps padded behind him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see one of the elves, now singed and without pants, charging with dagger raised; his fellow had already run off. Without turning fully, Atzar attacked with ice. Two grapefruit-sized chunks crashed into the hapless attacker’s face. Crystals and crimson speckled the air and he dropped, blood flowing freely from his gashed forehead and broken nose.

The wizard turned back to the three remaining, noting their shock and fright. He was enjoying himself, he discovered. Turning the tables felt good - almost as good as the defeat haunting their eyes. Lips parted into a feral, admittedly-overdramatized grin as he looked at each of his foes in turn.

“Still hungry?” he invited.

Despite everything that had happened in the course of the last few months or so, Ettermire would always be Devyn’s home. Here was where her people were. Of course, they weren’t really her people. Being human prevented that. Still, the smoke that constantly spiraled to the sky, reaching out to blanket the whole busy city in its tendrils, that unique smell that made unseasoned lungs spasm, and the vibrant atmosphere- despite the relative grayness of the area- that whispered promises of things to come would always have a semblance of familiarity to her. After all, it was where the mechanic had been born and raised. It was where the shambles of her “family” lay, and it was where she really felt comfortable. Beinost was nice and all, but it didn’t really fit her.

Vyn closed her eyes briefly as she strode through the streets, blindly forging her path through the mass of citizens. The girl shouldered people out of her way as she wandered, steps sure and confident. Just because she had no idea where she was going didn’t mean that she had to act like it. For all anyone knew, she could have something important to go to. The more you looked like you knew what you were doing, and the more you looked like you felt you belonged, the less likely it was that someone would attempt to detain you. With the added bonus of racial discrimination, it was even more important to not get jumped. Plus, it would delay her from her very important task of the day: relaxing.

And then relaxing flew out of the window as she passed by an alley. This was no ordinary alley. Vyn had seen many of those, even in her young age. No, this alley had some occupants who seemed less than trustworthy, more than a bit shady, and transformed the otherwise normal alley into one of interest. What was worse than the activity they were pursuing was that two of them appeared to have no pants. How indecent. I get that it might be hot once in a while, but really? Ever heard of shorts? Wrinkling her nose, Vyn brushed a strand of brown hair away from her face, the flyaway curl meshing effortlessly with the rest of the mass. The other dark elves had pants, so either the two were alone in this endeavor to cool off, or the man with the magic had gotten rid of the pants for them.

Even more intrigued, Vyn sidled up to the edge of the alleyway, her head poking out ever so slightly from the entrance so that she could see what was going on. Yes, it was nosy of her. After all, they had obviously entered the alley so that nobody disturbed the fight. But this was interesting, and so was excused.

Green eyes narrowed, the mechanic took in the scene, grinning and performing a silent fist pump as one of the pantsless fellows took some chunks of ice to the face. It seemed like the mage could handle this. Still, as she took the time to observe him, the girl’s thoughts were less on the fight and more on what he could do. Judging from the state of the pantsless man’s well, lack of pants, she guessed that they’d probably been burned off. Plus, the singe marks on his legs attested to that. Furthermore, the mage had attacked with ice as well, meaning that he was flexible. It probably wouldn’t hurt to presume that he was proficient or at least adequate with other forms of magic. And finally, all of that led to the conclusion that he could be very useful.

The man paused to goad on the elves who still remained, and so Vyn started forward, drawing her iron rods from her belt. This was the perfect opportunity to step in, give a hand, and then guilt the man. Then, if all went well, he would cooperate with her. If not, she would have to resort to desperate measures such as annoying the heck out of him until he caved.

“Now, now, now,” she chided, coming to a stop a little in front of the mage. “I’m sure they’ve had their fill, haven’t you?” she asked plainly, flashing a bright smile at the closest elf. And then, like an idiot, the elf charged forwards, to have his knife flicked to the side with the left rod, and have his head bashed by the right one. He then proceeded to act like a lump and drop. With another smile, Vyn looked at the remaining two elves who had yet to move, and too were acting very skillfully like lumps. “Be careful. Eat too much and you’ll find yourself explodin',”

They glanced at each other and wisely backed off, leaving Vyn to stand right in their path of escape. Friendly gaze dropping, the girl stared coldly at them, hands tightening on the handles of her rods. Maybe her appearance wasn’t the most intimidating at first, but she had mastered the art of scolding people with her gaze- a talent that was quite useful when dealing with rowdy siblings. Keeping her gaze on the elves as they slid past her, rubbing against the walls in order to avoid contact, Vyn turned to face the mage, friendly smile back on her face. If they knew what was good for them, they wouldn’t come back, but still, she kept one of her rods out and sheathed the other.

“Now that this messy business has been settled, I expect you to do somethin' for me,” she stated, free hand perched on her hip. “Of course, I obviously saved you the hassle of expendin' precious energy on taking out a bunch of lumps, and so rewardin' me with your time and energy is only appropriate. How do you feel about goin' on a… field trip?”