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View Full Version : Passing of the Flame? [Atzar] [Open to 1 or 2 more]



ArcanaFate
10-03-2017, 10:16 PM
Crunch, crunch, crunch...

The sound of snow beneath boots was the only noise hanging in the air, the Homunculi's movement the only noise in the nearby forested area. They hadn't been expecting the hostile reaction that the villagers had when talking about magic, but there was nothing Ezra could do about that. They were in a foreign territory with very little knowledge of the societal norms of Salvar. Probably should have read up on that before making their way so far north, but preparedness was something the Homunculi hadn't quite kept up on, either. Not having access to their full memory was really messing with their common sense. They quietly shook their head and muttered to themselves as they continued their trek through the snow-filled canopy.

"I bet Ezoreth never would have made that kind of mistake..." They frown as their words reach no one, finally stepping into a small clearing. Feeling that they were far enough way, they closed their eyes and tried to focus on the world around them. The smell of pine was strong here, and although the air was thinner here than in Corone, it was almost refreshing being alone in the calm and the quiet versus the hustle and bustle of the mercantile ports. After regulating their breathing to a calm and even pace, Ezra began to focus their attention to their hand. To unlock Ezoreth's- no, their tome-, the Homunculi would first have to remember how to cast spells. Conjuring fire would be an easy start, right?

With eyes still closed, Ezra dug through the broken memories, trying to remember the feeling of conjuring flame and taking the first steps into becoming whole once again. They imagined the mana in their body flowing from their heart, down their arm, and building the energy into their palm. They imagined the heat, the light, the passion of the flame. A faint smile graced their lips as they opened their eyes to look at the flame in their palm.

The flame that wasn't there.

Ezra blinked a few times, looking at their arm in bewilderment. What did they do wrong? "Fyr." They muttered, attempting to conjure the flame with a vocal component. Still, their palm remained cold and without magic. The Homunculi frowned, uttering any vocals they could think of in order to conjure the spell. After a few minutes of just staring at their hand in confusion, they began to swing their arm out as if to shoot the flame from their hand. And, like before, there was no sign of the spell functioning. They stared blankly at the tree in front of them, and said aloud to the trees and any deities watching from above,

"Well, fiddlesticks."

Atzar
10-06-2017, 02:50 AM
It wasn’t my fault!

I had been relaxing in a small village tavern with a cold pint, chatting up a nice Salvaran lass and otherwise minding my own business. It was shaping up to be a pretty pleasant afternoon until her husband spoiled the party. How was I supposed to know she was married? She hadn’t said a word about it. One moment, I was enjoying myself. The next, I was slammed up against the bar with a big bearded oaf’s rotten breath befouling my air.

He fed me a typical tough-guy line, and I responded by telling him to learn how to satisfy his woman. Maybe then she wouldn’t come to me for attention. Not the most diplomatic thing I could have said, but hey; when your “nice to meet you” is trying to throw me through the bar, tact is the first thing I toss out the window.

He responded with a fist to my face. I leaned back and dodged the worst of it, but he did graze my lip. The metallic tang of blood rose upon my tongue. That was unfortunate for him. His wife started screaming, the bartender yelled at us to take it outside, and there was just enough hubbub for him to miss the fact that his boots were now frozen to the floor. I gave him a shove, and he toppled like a stack of books. I hadn’t planned for him to bash the back of his head on a nearby table as he fell, though.

Okay. That part was a tiny bit my fault.

Now things went from bad to worse. One unconscious guy in a bar is just Wednesday. But the oaf’s feet were still rooted to the floor by a block of ice, and a few interested onlookers wore gray ecclesiastical robes. The Church of Ethereal Sway; nobody used magic around these people unless they explicitly permitted it. I had goofed. The four of them started pointing and hollering about “witchcraft” and “violating the natural laws of the Sway” and a jumble of other overzealous nonsense, but when I heard the word “crucifixion”, I decided to be somewhere else. I slung a quick apology at the fool's shrieking wife and bolted.

I left the sleepy little village behind with the foursome hot on my heels. Well; three of them, anyway. The fourth’s physique left him ill-equipped to run more than ten steps in any given direction, and he quickly fell behind, puffing like a bellows. I led the others on a jaunt through the snow and boughs of the Salvaran forest.

A ball of light whooshed by my head then. It crashed into a snow-covered tree limb, exploding into a hail of twigs and powder. I skidded to a halt and looked back. There my three assailants stood; one of them still held his hands theatrically out in front of him. He was a man of average height, and he sported short, light-brown hair and a neat beard.

“That was a warning shot,” he informed me smugly. I had heard of this; certain members of the Sway were permitted to use magic in their quest to root out all other magic.

I turned to face him with an eyebrow raised. “You practice what you preach, don’t you?”

He launched into a tirade about blasphemy and Sway-given exemptions and divine missions, his nose getting higher in the air with every word. Just as he was getting to the part where I should forsake my heathen ways and come quietly so my soul might be salvaged, I raised an arm. Sparks danced at my fingertips and ignited into a ball of flame, though more slowly than I might have wished. Blood for power; little blood, little power. My cut lip didn't offer me much of either.

My adversary crouched and extended his hands, one in front of him, one behind. The air shimmered and swirled around him. A shield. I quickly sized up my opponent. His postures and bluster were meant to intimidate me, but his ward was weak. This guy wasn’t very powerful. I had to be careful; I wanted to subdue him, not kill him. My list of misdeeds was already ugly enough for one day. I fed my fireball until it was the size of a melon, then fired.

ArcanaFate
10-08-2017, 01:20 AM
The silence had almost become deafening out in the forested hideaway.

Ezra had spent minutes, possibly even up to an hour in the frigid cold attempting to get this spell to work and having not even a spark to show for it. What were they doing wrong? Were they really that limited in spell power that even producing the simplest of flames was out of their control? The frustration was beginning to seep into their mind, and they stomped their boot into the snow, the crunch almost a cathartic response to the annoyance. Did the Homunculi even have a chance to succeed in the first place? Or was it a farce from the beginning, a failed magical experiment who was brought to life by magic but never wield it for themselves?

The existential crisis, however, would be cut short by the sound of footsteps in snow. Rapid footsteps... people were running? Running towards Ezra? That couldn't be a good sign. The Homunculi quickly dashed for the trees, attempting to hide themselves the best they could as a group of four men came into view. They watched as silently as they could manage, hoping the men weren't here to take Ezra back. They didn't know much about the Church out here in Salvar, but the anti-magic mentality was not to be taken lightly and how they dealt with 'heretics' was not an adventure the Homunculi was wanting to experience. It became clear, however, that the four men were not in a group together, but three of the men were chasing a fourth as an orb of light crashed into a nearby tree branch and splintered the wood. Purple eyes looked the man up and down, and the Homunculi couldn't help but be curious. Average appearance, not too skinny or fat. Black hair, rather unkempt but in this region it made sense to worry less about appearance and more about functionality. Rather young as well, with no or very little facial hair to hide his face. Probably a flirt with the women, using that young face to hi-

Quietly shaking their head and cursing their lack of focus, Ezra began listening in to the conversation between the man and his assailants. Apparently, the group was with the Church, and their leader was preaching the mission of hunting magic users and the salvation of souls and Ezra promptly tuned out the rest of the self-righteous nonsense. Magic itself wasn't inherently evil; at the end of the day, it was up to the caster's will that shaped the magic. Magic simply was, and no amount of zealous speech was going to change that. As the well-trimmed leader got into a defensive position, a spark of energy burst into life inside Ezra's mind. Their eyes almost seemed to glow momentarily, the runes within giving their purple eyes a slight golden hue. The Homunculi blinked in surprise, feeling... something inside. Some kind of veil lingered on their palms.

Before they could really think about what had happened, the young man the Churchmen had been chasing retaliated with a slow formed fireball and Ezra almost squealed with glee. If the young man knew fire magic, maybe Ezra could learn from him? But first, the clash between the men and the mage had to be settled. As the leader of the little group rolled backwards from the blast, the other two watching on in horror. The Churchman picked himself up and raised his palms towards the lone mage. Ezra could barely see the man's lips moving and a spear of light energy rocketed forth from the leader's hands towards Ezra's (hopefully) new mentor.

"Move!"

The Homunculi sprinted from their hiding spot in the trees towards the lone magi, but realized as they ran that he couldn't be shoved out of the way in time. It was possible the mage would dodge the attack but what if they didn't? Ezra didn't really know first aid and the hunters were definitely not going to help him if he was wounded. C'mon, c'mon, gotta protect him somehow! In a last ditch effort, the Homunculi threw up their hands for some kind of miracle spell.

And miracle spell they got.

A very familiar barrier formed in front of Atzar, and the spear of light ricocheted off into one of the nearby trees, shattering a large chunk out of the young pine. The Homunculi looked at their hands, looked between the black-haired mage and the group of Churchmen, and quietly blanched. Their face went slightly red out of embarrassment, and in a meek voice, asked,

"Can we just have a nice talk about this with-without violence?"

Atzar
10-09-2017, 03:57 AM
I’d have dodged it, of course.

But when a second shield shimmered in front of me and deflected the ray of light, I wasn’t sure which annoyed me more: that I hadn’t noticed this new arrival, or that my mysterious helper interfered in my affairs.

I shot the newcomer a glare. “I can handle my own business, thanks,” I said tartly. I’ve made my own way in the world since I was twelve. I take great pride in the fact that I’ve rarely had to rely on anybody else. Ignoring the plea for diplomacy, I gathered my focus for another attack.

The bearded priest held forth his hands to press his offensive; his companions hung back, content to let him do all the work. A grapefruit-sized ball of ice appeared in my palms and shot into the priest’s stomach before he could protect himself. No silly delays while I built my blaze, no funny business with wards; just ball of ice, boom. He doubled over, clutching at his torso and wheezing.

Well then. I hadn’t expected the difference between fire and ice to be so great. This warranted further consideration… but later.

First, I needed to decide what I was doing here. The three priests were a headache. If I let them leave, they would likely call on their fellows and hunt me down. It made more sense to kill them, but I didn’t have the heart to do it. And then there was the matter of my unsolicited ally. My breath steamed as I muttered a few choice words.

One of the other men crept forward to check on his wounded companion, concern written on his slender, pointy-nosed face. The third, a pudgy man with dark, stringy hair and red ears, made no move. I pointed at them both in turn. “You… and you. Get out of here,” I commanded. “Leave your magic friend. I still have business with him.”

“No!” Red Ears sputtered from his safe place behind his friends. “We don’t take orders from-“

“Go.” A second frosty projectile appeared in front of my fingers to incentivize him.

“Do as he says,” Wheezy croaked, still hunched over. “It’s fine.”

“You heard him,” I agreed. “You have my word that I won’t hurt him as long as he cooperates. You’re another story, unless you get moving. Right. Now.”

“We’ll be back with reinforcements,” Red Ears threatened. “Nobody gets away with kidnapping-“

“GO!” I thundered, taking a couple of steps toward him. Finally they broke, kicking up snow as they beat a hasty retreat back through the woods toward the village.

Red Ears’ words stuck with me, though. Not the threat; I had already expected that. But I hadn’t woken up this morning with designs on becoming a kidnapper. This was a new experience that I could have done without. But I had to make a quick decision, and this was what I came up with. I didn’t want the magic-user lurking around behind me, waiting for a chance to strike when my guard was down. I wanted him here where I could keep an eye on him. And there was a chance that he could even be useful to me.

I grimaced and shrugged, then turned to my guardian. My first reaction was to send him on his way, but the words died on my lips. There was something unsettling about his appearance. Well… perhaps ‘his’ wasn’t the right word. Honestly, I couldn’t tell whether I was looking at a man or a woman here. The being had tan skin and braided not-quite-white hair, and the purple eyes were unnerving.

“And you are?” I demanded instead.

ArcanaFate
10-09-2017, 08:52 PM
Well, negotiations had broken down almost immediately.

Ezra could only watch in surprise at the lone mage, who not only snapped at the Homunculi for saving his life, but then continued the battle against the Churchmen. Now flinging an orb of ice into the chest of the enemy mage, Ezra could only cringe as the man crashed to his knees and began wheezing and trying to breathe properly. Poor guy probably had the air knocked out of his lungs and could really be hurt. They wanted to go and check on the man, but before Ezra could take more than two steps towards him, one of his compatriots was already checking on the wounded man.

Then the orders started.

The mage wanted the other two men to abandon their friend and head back towards the town. The portly friend objected to the mage's demand, but the leader insisted. More threats were exchanged, and the two finally ran off. As they ran, Ezra called out, "Don't worry! I'll make sure your friend is okay!" Their boots crunched in the snow, and the Homunculi had not seen two men run so fast in their life. Growing smaller and smaller, Ezra let out a deep sigh of relief. They had not wanted to keep fighting, so in a way, diplomacy had won out in the end. It just took one last measure of violence to end the battle.

"And you are?"

Ezra frowned at the tone, looking over their shoulder and shifting towards the grumpy mage behind them. Upon taking a closer glance at the man they saved from getting impaled, the Homunculi noticed the deep set frown the mage was holding. How rude could this guy be? Save his life, get a snarky response. They turned back towards Wheezy and began making their way towards the man, eventually squatting down a good foot away from him.

"...My name is Ezra. Although common courtesy would dictate you introduce yourself first, but I suppose manners are not a high priority for you at the moment." They paused, still down at about the same level as the Churchman. "You have sent a warning via the two non-magic users to the Church about the 'heretics' out here in the woods and you now have unwittingly taken a hostage to satisfy some curiosity since you mentioned asking this man questions to the two lackeys before they left. Looking at this scenario, I have now become an unwilling accomplice to your accidental, not well thought out plan and I should be more annoyed than I am currently. However," they stood up and faced the mage once again.

"I really, really do not want to die or be tortured. So, ask your questions. We make sure he's not going to die, and then we leave before reinforcements arrive." Ezra stated, eyes narrowed. The man who got iced groaned, still struggling to get air into his lungs. They looked down at the Churchman with a sigh and adjusted the braid so it rested more comfortably in front of their shoulder.

"Sir, are you alright or do you need assistance?"

Atzar
10-10-2017, 01:15 AM
I could feel my temperature rising at every word out of Ezra’s mouth; at the end of the rant, I was pretty sure my breath had turned from steam to smoke. We were going to get along great.

“’Unwilling accomplice?!” I stared incredulously as Ezra checked on Wheezy. “YOU shoved yourself into the middle of MY affair, you fool! Had you just minded your own damned business, you’d have absolutely nothing to do with any of this – exactly as it should have been!”

I gestured in the direction of the escaped duo. “And another thing. You’re not happy about how I decided to settle this? Run them down and kill them. Kill this guy too, while you’re at it. That’d wrap things up just perfectly, wouldn’t it?” I bit my tirade off there. I kept my name to myself out of spite. Ezra was right about one thing: manners were not a priority for me right now.

I ground my teeth and closed my eyes to calm myself. I jabbed a thumb in Wheezy’s direction. “His group has a fourth member that stayed back in the village. They’ll run to him, and they’ll rouse the Church to search for the heretics who have taken their brother. I acknowledge this.” I shrugged. “I could have killed them instead. Not only would that have tasted foul, but their friend would have found their bodies. There are footprints everywhere in the snow; wouldn’t have taken long. Right now, we’re heretics on the run from the Sway. Had we killed them, we’d be murderers on the run from every able-bodied man in this part of Salvar. I picked the best option of a bad lot.”

“You chose your option long ago,” Wheezy creaked, fixing me with a glare of pure hatred, “when you took up your foul power. Heathen dog.” Then his eyes moved to Ezra. “And you’re no better. Devils, the both of you. Untouched by the light of the Sway.” I appreciated him more when groans and wheezes were all that he could utter. He was a tremendously unlikeable individual when he had the ability to speak. I weighed the idea of putting another chunk of ice in his ribs to quiet him, then sighed.

When I had woken up this morning, I was a – so far as anybody knew – law-abiding man, free to go where I pleased. In the space of thirty minutes, I was a heretic and kidnapper, wanted by the Church. At this rate, I’d be the personal enemy of every soul on Althanas by the time the sun went down.

ArcanaFate
10-10-2017, 02:25 AM
The Homunculi's face remained stoic as the mage continued to yell and argue with them about how it was 'his' affair and how Ezra should have just 'minded their own damned business' and frankly, it was insulting at this point. They really shouldn't have stepped into this situation. They were a Homunculus in a land that despised magic, and if Ezra was caught... Well, all they could do was shudder in fear.

Killing Wheezy wasn't the right option, either. As much as they loathed to admit it, the Rebel was right. Rebel was their new friend's name, Ezra decided, since he decided to be a uncouth charlatan and not properly introduce himself. Since he insisted on rebelling against everyone and every path, Rebel it is. They took a deep breath in, reaching down to the knife on their leg and pulling it out with a swift motion. It felt heavy in their hand, at the very real possibility of what could be possibly happening next. They could either kill Rebel in a bluff, leave him for Wheezy as a gift and flee, slit Wheezy's throat so he couldn't alert the rest of the zealots which way the two ran, or just... end it here. The fate the Church would have for Ezra would truly be worse than death, and being treated like a lab rat wasn't in the cards.

Wheezy spat his rhetoric about the Sway and being 'devils' and generally being a terrible nuisance. He definitely wasn't helping his case on the whole 'getting killed to save their hide' option. Stepping up to the kneeling man, the Homunculus stopped next to the man with knife overhead. He looked up in surprise, then let out a laughing fit riddled with coughs.

"Go ahead and kill me, demon." The man wheezed, grinning like a madman. Which, to Ezra's assessment, could very well be likely the case. "The Church will gladly come for you, and I'll be remembered as a hero. A brave soldier of the Sway who gave his life fighting the demon scum who dare tread on Salvan snow!" Ezra placed the blade on his neck and all it would take is a single pull, a quick shift of the arm and this man wouldn't be able to harm any other spellcasters. Their hand shook as they stared down this kneeling man, purple eyes peering into brown and not an ounce of fear rest in his eyes. After a long moment, the Homunculi sighed and pulled their knife back into its' sheath. The man blinked, then continued his fit of laughter, tears pouring down his cheeks into his beard.

"You can't even kill your enemy!? What a pathetic little bitc-" He jeered, only to be interrupted by the butt of Ezra's warhammer connecting with his jaw. The man crashed down into the snow, spattering the fresh powder next to him in red (and possibly a tooth or two). The Homunculi let out a huff, looking at the now unconscious man who would definitely need to see a doctor about his case of broken mouth syndrome. They were content to leave the man down but as they turned to face the Rebel, a small glimmer caught their eye. There, on the man's belt, was a device of some kind. Ezra sheathed their hammer and quickly knelt down to the body, ignoring the Rebel's rants (if there were any).

Pulling the device from the man formerly known as Wheezy's belt, Ezra realized it was some kind of magic lantern. It was metallic, perhaps some form of iron? They didn't really have time to investigate it fully, but it was etched with runes and the rune for 'light' was blatantly carved into the top of it. With another huff, they quickly tied the lantern to their own belt and made their way to the rebellious mage and got almost face to chest with the young man (the curse of being short, unfortunately). They looked up and made sure that the mage could see their eyes and began talking in a stern tone. However, the panic and fear in their voice wasn't easily hidden and was almost obvious.

"Listen, Rebel. I know I definitely did not help our situation by busting his jaw, since that just makes it look worse. But if he is unconscious, he cannot point the way to us when the others return here. I guarantee that we will both be tortured and killed if we don't work together to get away. Once we leave this place and get far enough to where they lose track of us, we go our separate ways and never deal with anything like this again. Fair?"

Ezra made a glance between the unconscious Churchman and Atzer, almost ready to bolt like a rabbit depending on his answer. This was not in the cards when they made their way into the snow.

Atzar
10-13-2017, 12:57 AM
Without a word, I turned my back. I needed a minute.

I had hoped Wheezy would be useful to me. He was a bad mage-hunter, but he was a mage-hunter nonetheless. I had come to Salvar looking for something, and there was a chance that the zealot would know where to find it – or at least where to start searching.

And now he lay slumped in a heap with a broken face. I stared off into a blur of white and brown, hands on my head, cursing fate for handing me such unrelenting misfortune.

I recognized terror when I saw it: the widening of the eyes and shortness of breath; the rambling, tumbling speech; the abandonment of anything resembling reason. None of this was intentional. Ezra didn’t mean to complicate every plan I created. It just happened because the fool was incapable of handling pressure. And for my part? I was incapable of handling fools who were incapable of handling pressure. Some people have incredible patience when others are melting down. Not me.

“I needed that,” I stated when I turned back, thrusting a finger at Wheezy. “You knew I needed that.” I fought to keep my voice level and my gaze nonlethal, but I had never had much of a poker face.

“We’re carrying him.” Ezra wanted to work together, after all. This was the condition. I had questions, and I was going to ask them even if we had to drag our holy man across Salvar. I wasn’t even sure if Wheezy would be able to talk when he woke up, but I’d cross that stream when I got there – though I expected it to be deep and full of sharp rocks and undercurrents like every other stream had been that day.

I made to hoist Wheezy’s prone form when I remembered something. “I need your knife for a minute,” I told Ezra. “I’ll need to cover our tracks.” The blood on my lip had mostly dried, and I was going to need my magic for this. I didn’t relish the prospect of scattering snow over our footprints while carrying some hundred-fifty pounds of dead weight, though. At least Wheezy was on the small side.

Ezra cocked a brow, then shrugged and tossed the weapon over. I caught it and set my teeth in an anticipatory grimace.

Blood for power. The restriction had existed on my magic for a few months now, but I still hadn’t gotten used to it. And I would never get used to deliberately harming myself to take what had once been free. In a strange way, I preferred being injured by an enemy to inflicting damage on myself. I pulled up a sleeve and did what had to be done. Blood welled up and trickled down my forearm. I wiped the edge of the blade on my tunic and returned it.

That done, I returned to Wheezy and maneuvered his upper body onto my shoulder. Then the snow churned and eddied, covering footprints and spatters of blood. The priest’s friends would inevitably return here to start their search, but they would have a hard time finding a trail to follow.

ArcanaFate
10-15-2017, 05:52 AM
Carry the mage hunter? Oh, this was a sign of a good time. Ezra quietly adjusted their braid to a more comfortable position before putting Wheezy's other arm around their shoulders to help the weight distribution. As the rebel mage moved, the Homunculi watched the footprints behind them fade from view, leaving nothing more than freshly fallen snow. In an ideal world, the mage hunters would have no clue where they vanished off to from here. But, realistically, there was a very good chance there was a hunter who was much more competent who could figure out what they had done.

The two continued on, their third unwilling participant on their hike through the snow still taking a nap. Ezra had mixed feelings on the situation currently. A part of them enjoyed the silence and serenity of the forest. A part of them did not enjoy the silence of their new ally as the two of them carried the mage hunter's body along with them to whatever location they were headed to.

"So, is there a location in mind you wish to head to? Or are we just going to wander Salvar until we can leave this accursed place?" Ezra finally asked, purple eyes shooting a glance toward Atzar. Their tone wasn't sarcastic, but genuine in curiosity. What was the actual plan here? Leaving the human alone to fend for himself wasn't off the table yet, but the Homunculi felt that their odds were much better off if they didn't separate. Call it a hunch, or the threads of fate pulling them together for this ridiculous turn of events, but Ezra had to see whatever was happening through to the end. Maybe it would lead to the reason the Homunculi had come out to this snow-filled country in the first place.

"...And are you going to share your name at some point or should I just keep calling you nicknames based on your looks or personality?"

Atzar
10-17-2017, 01:26 AM
I wasn’t having a fun time. Ezra was nearly a foot shorter than me, so I had to stoop as we dragged our charge through the Salvaran forest. My back ached already. The sleeve of my beige shirt felt unpleasantly damp and cold against my flesh, stained red from the self-inflicted cut. I dutifully masked our tracks as we traveled. At first, the going had been slow as I painstakingly recreated the texture of the surrounding snow. But I quickly got the hang of the process, and we made good time now – as good as two mismatched-in-every-way travelers could while carrying an unconscious third, at any rate.

Ezra plied me with a question, their tone oddly amiable after the stormy start to our current partnership. I met the purple-eyed gaze, and again I felt unsettled at their appearance. A face typically has countless small features – pimples, freckles, moles, scars, angles, curves, and minor asymmetries. For example, I have a faint, thin scar just left of my nose, and my left eye is an ever-so-slightly lighter shade of blue than my right. I’m sure there are dozens more details that I just don’t care about. But Ezra… none of that. The tan face sported no identifying marks of any kind, almost as if it had been crafted rather than concocted in a mother’s womb.

I pulled my eyes away to keep from staring. “Right now, we’re just moving,” I answered shortly. I hesitated. “I’m… looking for somebody. I know she lives in Salvar. Don’t know where.”

I shifted the zealot’s weight to ease the burden on my back. It didn’t work; I grimaced. “I have a hunch that our Shining Example of Salvaran Faith may be able to help me find her.” I didn’t really want Ezra in my business, but they had a right to know why we were carrying this lump around until he woke up from his unsolicited nap.

When Ezra pressed me for my name, a grin split my face. “I’ve been called worse things than ‘Rebel.’” I knew little about my new acquaintance, but I had noticed a preference for manners and decorum. I was sure that my impolite, unhelpful response would rankle. I’d like to say that my snark was all in good fun, but I was also sore about having to lug Wheezy through the forest. I didn’t like somebody else tossing their mistakes onto my pile. I had blundered enough today on my own.

I was admittedly curious about my mysterious companion as well. But I knew I wasn’t likely to get answers if I didn’t give them. Eventually curiosity won out over petty resentment, and I sighed. It had been an entertaining joke while it lasted.

“My name is Atzar,” I said. “Your turn. I found you in the Salvaran backwoods, alone. What’s your story?” It was as good a place as any to start.

ArcanaFate
10-17-2017, 06:15 PM
The Homunculi stared at the mage and was waiting for an answer and met the gaze of the man. They felt slightly uncomfortable at his gaze, and kept shifting their eyes between staring into his and looking away. But at the mention of the plan, Ezra refocused at the man. It would be rather rude to ignore him. '...She?' Ezra did their best to keep their face as still as possible as the mage gave a short answer that he was looking for a woman of some kind. That the man whose teeth Ezra had left back in the clearing after kicking them out might have the answer to her location and that's why they were lugging this waste of space with them. This was... rather humanizing of him. Ezra saw the Rebel as less of a jerk and just a gruff man on the search for someone important, damn the consequences.

When he finally gave up his name to Ezra (Atzar, curious name that), the Homunculi's eyes seemed to sparkle as they gave the man a small smile of satisfaction. Learning his name was a small joy in this forsaken mountainous hell that they had wandered into, so learning his name was akin to making a new friend. Friends were important, after all. Friends kept you from being prosecuted as an abomination and murdered horribly.

"...you want to know my story, Atzar?" The Homunculi stared directly at the mage, e"yes peering at him as if trying to ascertain his motive. Of course he would be curious; most people that had met Ezra had given them odd looks. But no one up to this point had genuinely asked about their story. Most people were too polite or just let it roll off their backs to really probe. It was a blessing yet a curse; how does one explain their odd existence when they don't really know their history? They didn't answer the question immediately, choosing to instead to just hum for a moment to draw out time to think. After a few moments, they gave Atzar a rather odd look before speaking.

"Well," Ezra started, seeming somewhat hesitant in their speech, "There was once a man whose knowledge knew no bounds. A great and powerful sorcerer, one whose magic prowess was unmatched in his age. But, he suffered to a curse that everyone succumbs to at some point: the man had aged. He had grown old and his desire for knowledge had cost him any opportunity to figure out a way to continue his legacy and keep his magic theory alive for generations to come. In his haste to prolong his life, he dove into his knowledge for some kind of way to prolong the the inevitable. The fates were kind to the sorcerer, in a way, and... our paths crossed. Now I have o-... his tome, and it is bound to me. I was told there was possibly a magical item that was held by a well-known mage here, something that could help me unlock his tome and continue the research for him."

Upon finishing, they looked away from Atzar, their gaze shifted to anywhere but the mage. Ahead, there lay the trunk of a large fallen tree covered in white snow. Clearly the tree had been there for some time, but not long enough to fall apart entirely in the cold weather. "Atzar, let us stop behind the tree and see if we can wake up the mage hunter here to answer some questions. Sooner you get your answers, the sooner we leave him for his buddies to find and get rid of the extra weight."

Atzar
10-19-2017, 01:05 AM
“Good idea.” I was grateful for the rest. We set the unconscious priest up against the fallen tree. I took a moment to stretch, mulling over Ezra’s tale as I did.

I found the story as odd as the fellow who shared it. So Ezra was here in Salvar at the behest of an aging wizard who had cheated death “in a way.” Why tell me so much about the old man? It was an odd detail to share in such an otherwise-simple story.

Questions for later, perhaps. I put it from my mind for now, turning my attention to Wheezy. I bent to gather a double-handful of snow and then smashed it into the priest’s face before remembering that Ezra had possibly broken his jaw.

Whoops. Silly me.

The combination of bitter cold and fiery pain did the trick, however. He woke with a groan, his hands immediately moving to his frost-and-blood-caked face.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, crouching in front of him. I already knew the answer. Mostly, I just wanted to verify that he could speak.

It took him a moment to get his bearings. His head lolled this way and that as his fingertips probed his bleeding mouth, brow furrowing whenever he found a tender spot. Bottom jaw, left side; the skin was welted by the butt of Ezra’s spear, and tears sprang to Wheezy’s eyes when he touched it. I took note of that for not-nice reasons. Finally, he spoke. “My mouth hurts,” he complained with some difficulty, “my chest aches, and my shoulders feel like they’ve been pulled out of their sockets.” Then his eyes finally met mine, and I watched his lights turn back on. Reality returned; with it, the burning defiance in his eyes.

“Where have you taken me, heretic?" Wheezy spat a mouthful of blood in my direction, spattering my tunic. I watched with satisfaction as he immediately regretted the action. He winced and clutched at his face in agony.

I took a deep breath, resisting the urge to put him back to sleep right then and there. “What’s your name?” I asked. The query was a test. I was just looking for somebody; I wasn’t about to ask him to betray his country. If he was willing to work with me on the simple stuff, then our conversation didn’t have to be unpleasant.

“Devil take you,” he grated. Of course it couldn’t be so easy. I looked up at Ezra, my teeth set in a determined grimace.

“Our friend is about to learn that cooperating with me is good for his health. Defiance… Not so much. You get my drift, yes?” My eyes narrowed. “I’m warning you now. If he has the answers I want, I’m going to have them… one way or the other. If that bothers you, go take a walk.” In the back of my mind, my conscience wrestled with itself. The day had been one long, slippery slope; my misdeeds grew more and more indefensible, each committed in an attempt to correct or justify the last. Was I really prepared to go so far? This was important, but perhaps not that important. And I would likely find plenty of people who would happily aid me in my search without the benefit of threats and torture.

“You’ll get nothing from me, wretch,” the priest snarled. “Do your worst.” On the other hand, though... Wheezy had really pissed me off today.

“Well,” I said, “If you insist…”

ArcanaFate
10-20-2017, 01:28 PM
Ezra couldn't help but quietly grimace as the Church man woke up and spat blood on Atzar. Their emotions had spiked and shattering the man's jaw had not been the intention of the Homunculi. Guilt had hung over their head for a bit as they fled from the Mage Hunters who would be sure to follow after realizing the Church man had vanished without a trace along with the two heretics. The duo's crimes, in the eyes of the Church, were definitely climbing and the future of the Homunculi was getting a little more dangerous. They took a deep breath as their gaze shifted to where the duo had come from, and Atzar was currently checking on their new 'friend'. They couldn't help but be curious of the rebellious mage; he had been so gruff yet seemed to be rather kind. Ezra couldn't really understand how people hid themselves behind so many layers and chose to be so complicated. Ezra didn't talk about everything asked of them, sure, but they were much more open and honest with what they thought and felt compared to others. Secrets were the antithesis of knowledge, and knowledge was true power over everything else.

Atzar's warning, however, threw them off.

Ezra turned back from their quiet introspection and gave the raven-haired mage a raised brow in response. Was he expecting some form of objection? Was it a ploy to lull the mage hunter into a full sense of security? They remained quiet for a long moment before pulling the hunting knife from its sheath once more and tossing it into the snow by Atzar. "Well, if it must be done, then do what is needed. I have no objections. I only ask of you two things: make sure his screams are stifled when... 'persuading' his cooperation, and ideally do not eliminate him once you are done. Depending on his answers to you, he might have some answers about what I seek as well." They looked to Atzar with a stoic expression, attempting to hold a serious look to emphasize their tone. "Once we have gotten all that we can out of him..." Their gaze shifted down to Wheezy, and a horrendous smile grew on the Homunculi's face. Mimicking a full smile was not something Ezra liked to do often, as it had negative social results every time they had attempted to do it thus far. Their teeth seemed somewhat sharp and vicious as they looked down on the beaten up hunter, and they made the grin a little bit wider as they spoke.

"You can do with him what you like. Your species can continue to thrive with him no longer in the breeding group."

As soon as the smile had appeared, Ezra turned on their heel and started carefully moving away from the fallen log and off to a small grove of trees. "I shall return shortly. I will keep watch for any uninvited guests while you... work." The mage hunter let out a small, audible gulp and the Homunculi began moving around a few of the trees to look for a distraction while Atzar began his questioning. Hopefully, Ezra's tactic would make the man a little more agreeable in helping their cause.

Atzar
10-28-2017, 02:55 AM
Ezra played along. I was grateful for that.

I collected the knife from the snow, wiping it clean on my tunic. Then my gaze settled back on my prey. I decided to try once more to do this the nice way.

“Right now,” I began conversationally, “the name I have for you is ‘Wheezy’ because of the sound you made when I stuffed a ball of ice through your gut.” The sullen resolve on his face deepened into anger, and I grinned impishly. “You have one more chance to upgrade that name. What should I call you?” I asked.

His facade of determination cracked. His gaze slipped to the knife, then back to me. “Murov,” he muttered. He had enough sense to avoid getting tortured over his name. Good. Maybe I could get somewhere with him after all.

“Is it your job to hunt down people like me, Murov?” I asked.

Again he looked at the knife, but he hesitated. I rebuked myself inwardly; I had worded my question poorly. I was hoping for a ‘yes’, but if he thought I was merely out for vengeance, then he likely wouldn’t want me to think he did this on the regular.

“I do whatever the Sway command,” he said evasively.

At least it was an answer; sort of. “I’m looking for a magic-user,” I explained. “I was told that she lives in this part of Salvar. Would your church know of her, perhaps?”

He looked at me incredulously. “You captured me and then threatened to torture me for this?” he demanded. “To ask if I know somebody?” Admittedly he had a point.

“I had planned to ask you before I ever kidnapped you,” I said ruefully. “And then…” And then Ezra had bonked him in the face with the butt of a spear. “Look, things haven’t gone the way I wanted today.”

“You’re not just a heretic,” he seethed. “You’re an idiot.”

I slapped him across the face, aiming for that swollen lower jaw I had noted earlier. He cried out and toppled over in agony, cradling the side of his face and moaning. He did have a point, but I’d had enough of his mouth. I let him blubber for a moment.

When he calmed down, I jerked him back upright. “Would you know how to find her?” I repeated.

He shrugged, still holding his face and with tears in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “Do you at least have her name? Or shall I question every –“ He faltered when my hand moved to whack him again. He learned; I approved of that.

“Her name is Myris,” I provided. Again he looked at me incredulously.

“O-Outrageous!” he spluttered. “Utterly outrageous!”

“You know her, then?” I asked.

He glared at me. “That’s the name of my friend’s wife,” he declared. “She’s a good, honorable woman – no witch.”

“Perhaps I’m looking for a different Myris?” I suggested.

“I only know one woman by the name of Myris. It’s not a Salvaran name, so there aren’t likely to be others in the area,” he said. “She’s been a faithful wife and a friend to the Church for thirty years. Calling her a witch is yet another item on your list of sins, blasphemer.”

His glance at my hand betrayed his tough words, but I stayed my hand. “Guess where you’re taking me next?” I informed him.

The initial expression of resolute defiance settled back onto his face. “Not possible.” He folded his arms. “I won’t endanger my friend and I won’t allow you to sully Myris’s good name.”

I chuckled. “You don’t have a choice, Murov. But if I’m wrong about her, I’ll make my apologies and be on my way. No danger.” I had gotten all I needed from him. I'd find out if he was right about Myris soon enough. I turned my head to the woods. “Ezra!” I shouted.

ArcanaFate
10-30-2017, 12:05 AM
The Homunculi had been listening in to the conversation the best they could, and although some words were difficult to hear, Ezra remained rather focused to learn as much as possible. The wheezing man- no, that's rude, his name was Murov- seemed indignant at Atzar's accusations about this 'Myris'. Apparently, being someone's wife automatically excluded them from being a witch. Can people not be more than one thing? They sighed, shaking their head. Humans were rather silly, weren't they?

At Atzar's call, however, the Homunculi perked up and made their way back to the two men with a piercing gaze at the man whose mouth they had broken not long ago. Murov looked back, a mixture of defiance and confusion locking onto Ezra. They shrugged after a long moment, pulling the hammer from its sheath once again and pointing the head at the man's chest. The look of defiance remained, but there was hesitation to his movements. Perhaps he wasn't so willing to die for the cause, after all.

"So, he leads us to this... Myris? Then what? I assume you have some sort of vendetta with this witch? Once she is disposed of, I assume our business is concluded? I had planned on finding a magical artifact currently in the possession of a magi located in this region, but after today, I rather have the urge to leave this nightmarish unintelligent zealous location." They paused, then looked back to Atzar.

"Although, it may be possible, however unlikely, that Myris is the mage I seek." Murov made a noise of indignation to interrupt the mage but a small poke with the hammer made him silent once again. "I will assist you in locating this woman first, Atzar, and then I shall be on my way. But first,"

Once again, Ezra jabbed the injured man with the warhammer, poking a small hole into his tunic. "You will help us find this woman, Murov. I promise you that Atzar will not harm her in any way unless she provokes an attack, in which case the rules of self-defense apply. Once he has the answers he seeks, we shall be on our way and no further harm will come to you. I have no intention of murdering anyone, and if Myris is not the one he seeks, there is no harm in taking us to her."

With a quick movement, the hammer was once again in its sheath. "After all, this is the best way to prove her innocence. If we left now, the question would always be there, would it not? Whether this woman you knew was, in fact, a demon portraying a wholesome and loving wife. Help us, and protect your friend."

The two held eye contact for a long moment, the man seeming to size up the ebony-haired humanoid. He eventually let out a long sigh, and hung his head in defeat. "Fine. To prove Myris' innocence and that you demons cannot be trusted, I'll show you the path. No tricks, though, demon. The Sway take you for your blasphemies." Murov rose to his feet shakily, then began moving towards the right of where they had stopped.

Ezra gave a simple look to Atzar, shrugged, and followed behind the mage hunter with hands behind their back. Human bonds were surprisingly easy to pull on, it seems.

Atzar
10-31-2017, 01:46 AM
I returned Ezra’s glance with one of ice.

I’m not a person who gives up control lightly. I handed the reins to Murov because I had little choice, but I was aware of the risks. He could get us lost, or he could lead me straight to the Sway mage-hunters’ base of operations. I had no reason to trust him, but I preferred this to the other choice, which was to leave this duo behind and start back at square one. I detested the idea of admitting that the day had been one big failure.

As for Ezra…

This was my show. Mine. The purple-eyed midget intruded upon my life because they were too afraid to travel alone, and then acted as if the script was theirs to write and edit as they wished. They promised that I wouldn’t harm Myris? If that’s the way things unfolded, then I’d love to see Ezra try to stop me. A goose might as well try to turn back an airship.

Without a word, I handed the knife back to its owner and followed Murov. He led the way confidently, even though he’d just been knocked out and dragged an indeterminate distance through the forest. As I walked, my mind wandered back to the skirmish in the clearing.

I had always had an affinity for ice. The idea that it was more potent than my fire magic wasn’t a revelation – I knew that already. What I hadn’t expected was the enormous gulf between the two. Working with a mere split lip, my fireball had been so ponderous as to be impractical. In a real battle against a foe with half a brain, I wouldn’t be afforded the time to slowly build the blaze. Yet with the same minimal amount of blood, I conjured and fired a potentially-lethal piece of ice in the blink of an eye.

On impulse, I pulled up my sleeve to inspect my cut. My arm was smeared with dried blood, but the wound itself still oozed red. This was a good chance to practice. I shrugged the sleeve back down, then held out a hand and concentrated. A ball of ice appeared at my fingertips in an instant and rocketed away into the trees. A crack reverberated through the forest as it ended its flight on a sturdy trunk.

As expected; now for the unknown.

Sparks ignited and swelled into a small blaze. I fed it my power, growing it into a roaring head-sized ball. I watched it critically for a moment before allowing it to fizzle out. The entire process took perhaps three seconds; still long, though not unworkably so. The greater quantity of blood certainly made a difference. The strategy was clear – if I was only bleeding a little bit, stick to ice. If I was wounded, my options were much greater. But where was the boundary between ‘practical’ and ‘impractical’?

Bah. So many variables now. And I hadn’t even considered the other elements yet, such as lightning or air. I suspected that I was in for many long, painful nights of practice and experimentation before I developed any sense of comfort with my magic in its new form.

How I loathed this curse on my power.

ArcanaFate
11-01-2017, 06:09 PM
The cold glance of Atzar was responded to with a simple stare back, as if they were entirely unfazed by the glare. Ezra had made a promise to make sure no harm would come to the witch unless self-defense was a necessity, and it was a promise they intended to keep. There was no need for people to die unless absolutely necessary. The Church would definitely not let such an attack against them go unpunished, and would likely send agents after them in retaliation. The Homunculi had no intention of constantly having to watch their back for the rest of their life. With their knife back in its sheath, they followed behind Murov and at the side of the 'rebellious' mage.

Glancing between the mage hunter, the forest path that he was leading them on, and Atzar, the Homunculi couldn't help but wonder how they had been pulled into this strange turn of events. The only thing they had come out to do was figure out how to begin their fire spellwork and now they were a fugitive from the Church of the Sway or whatever these insane zealots were calling themselves. This was not the plan, and having to rapidly adapt to these sudden events left a sour taste in their mouth. Atzar suddenly released a ball of ice into the treeline, a loud crack of ice on wood echoing out. Murov jumped in surprise, then began cursing at the pain in his jaw. Apparently, the noise had him shift his jaw and caused him a good amount of injury. The ice spell Ezra had seen earlier, but when Atzar conjured flame, the Homunculi's eyes went wide.

"You can use flame magic!?" Ezra exclaimed almost incredulously, the gold runes embedded in the Homunculi's purple irises glowing once again. They could feel the fiery spell resting in their mind, the complex yet simple element imbuing them with a sense of passion and warmth, and they kept their gaze focused on the mage. "Can you teach me the ways of wielding fire magic? One of the reasons I journeyed out here to understand the science behind controlling flame magicks but unfortunately was unaware of the negative connotations of spellcasting in Salvar." They shot a look towards Murov, who was sneering at the two at the mention of magic. He quickly turned back, when Ezra started reaching for their hammer. The mage hunter let out a grunt and turned away, clearly dissuaded against arguing the point further.

"In return, I shall assist you in some form of endeavor to make us even in the trade."

Atzar
11-07-2017, 01:05 AM
“I can use many elements,” I proclaimed proudly. “Not just fire.”

Then I fell silent, listening to the snow crunching beneath my feet as I mulled the offer. I had no qualms about teaching Ezra; magic was my favorite topic of conversation. But my abilities were a combination of natural talent and experimentation, not education. I had little understanding of why or how it worked; I only knew that it worked. As a result, I was never a great teacher because I was never able to articulate exactly how I did things. My recent alteration further muddied the water.

“I can’t promise results,” I admitted. “But I can try.” I wracked my brain, searching for a way to say what I wanted to say. Finally, I instead held out a hand, palm up. For the third time that day, an orb of fire materialized at my whim, crackling and roaring as it grew larger and hotter.

“When I met you,” I explained, “you made a ward. You spread energy out over a wide area to block Murov’s spell. Rather than spreading it out, focus it in a small space. Keep feeding it, like this.” My blaze swelled to the size of a watermelon. “Envision your magic as heat,” I concluded lamely. I wasn’t even sure what that meant. But that’s magic: performing an action through inexplicable means. By definition, it doesn’t make sense. To grasp it, a student must eventually cross a bridge that isn’t there.

“I wish you’d practice your devilry away from the eyes of decent folk,” Murov complained. “Or preferably, not at all.”

I looked at him. “How does your magic work?” I asked the priest. “You have power of your own, meager as it is.”

He spat at my barb. “My power is a gift from my gods,” he said haughtily, “bestowed to allow me to stand on equal footing with heathens such as yourselves.” My curiosity turned to disgust. I don’t know why I even bothered.

“If your gods intended you to be my equal, then either you aren’t believing hard enough or your gods aren’t actually that powerful,” I retorted.

I turned back to Ezra, prepared to ignore the outraged lecture about faith and righteousness that was sure to follow.

ArcanaFate
11-15-2017, 03:51 AM
Ezra's eyes bounced between Atzar and Murov, and although they wished to chime in and stop the arguing, they knew deep down it would be pointless. Atzar had shown to be hot-headed at times, and the mage hunter wasn't exactly keen on keeping his calm despite being an apparent hostage. But the information the rebellious mage had given the homunculus was quite useful in regards to their problem with their lack of control. The man had mentioned confining the energy to a smaller space, but how were they supposed to do that when they couldn't conjure the energy in the first place? The ward had been a mere copy; nothing more than a subconscious reflex thanks to Ezoreth's gift. But, for now, they had no choice but to try and figure out how to bring the energy forth in the first place.

"...Thank you for your words of wisdom, Atzar. I shall attempt to take your advice in consideration when I may practice more freely." The last words were almost spat out in a tone almost identical to Atzar's tone upon their meeting, and the purple-eyed mage stared a hole into the back of Murov's head as if to imagine it fading away. The mage hunter glared back, and Ezra couldn't help but stare back at the man. He was a rather plain specimen of human, that much was certain. But they couldn't understand why this man despised magic so much even though he wielded it himself? Was it simply his zealotry that had blinded him to his own hypocrisy? Or was his magic truly based in faith of his gods, and without that faith, he would be unable to tap into magic directly? The power of the soul was truly mysterious, and the homunculus could only remain quiet in thought as they continued their journey to where the supposed witch resided.

After another ten minutes of walking, Murov stopped the two as the group moved into a small clearing. A somewhat large log cabin stood out against the pale snow, white smoke billowing from the stone chimney into the cold air.

"This is the place. She'll be inside." Murov spat, looking down at the white snow beneath him. Ezra could only watch as the man fell onto his knees, a combination of exhaustion and apparent sorrow for the 'betrayal' the man would have committed. The homunculus stared at the mage hunter, head tilted to the side as if confused by the man's emotional breakdown. They couldn't understand why he was so worried; this would be a win-win for him. Either his friend's wife is proven innocent of her supposed witchcraft, or they would help bring her to justice.

Glancing at Atzar, the homunculus shrugged their shoulder and the black bear head on their right shoulder seemed to tilt its head as well in confusion. "Well, Atzar? This is the place. Should we go in and find this possible spellcaster?"

Atzar
11-21-2017, 10:20 PM
“That’s the plan,” I responded.

I watched quizzically as Murov lost his mind in the snow. “What’s the problem?” I demanded. He offered nothing in response. I didn’t know if it was pain from his injuries, stress from being a captive, or some sort of religious hysteria, but I was tired of his antics. I left him there and approached the cabin.

I had noticed a plain, rustic practicality about most backwoods Salvaran homes, and this one fit the theme. It was two stories tall and built of sturdy logs. It squatted in the center of the clearing, content to hide beneath the towering pines all around. Smoke puffed from the chimney, and I noted a store of firewood stacked neatly beside the front door. My footsteps changed from snowy crunch to wooden thunk as I stepped up onto the porch.

Knuckles rapped the thick door four times. In response, I heard footsteps within. Then the door opened. A man answered, average of build and sporting a bushy black beard.

“Who are you?” his deep voice boomed.

“Name is Atzar,” I answered. I gave an attempt at a disarming smile. “I’m looking for a woman by the name of Myris. I was told that she lives here.”

Before he could reply, my captive darted past me and into the house. “Murov?!” the bearded man exclaimed. Alarm bells went off in my head a moment too late.

“Danger!” Murov shouted. “These two are mages. Rouse everybody in the house!”

The man’s expression morphed from wary curiosity to hostility, and he grabbed for something next to the door. Before I could fire a spell, the butt of a quarterstaff caught me squarely in the midriff. I crashed into the snow. The man stepped outside and loomed over me, weapon at the ready. Murov came behind him, face triumphant; I heard more voices and footsteps inside.

“You lying filth!” I spat at Murov. It was as I feared. He led us straight to his comrades. I saw red; I was a fool to follow him.

I had stumbled down a slippery slope all day long, each offense worse than the last. Now, I had reached the bottom. My ire boiled over, and murder filled my thoughts. The man raised his staff to strike again. He would never get that chance.

ArcanaFate
12-06-2017, 04:28 AM
Well, cheese and crackers.

Everything had gone downhill very quickly upon the small group's arrival to the cabin. Analyzing the situation, Ezra began to mentally compartmentalize everything in order to process the best way to handle the situation. Murov had betrayed them upon the arrival to the cabin, where a total of four other mage hunters had been residing. The four zealots were riled due to their ideology about the 'Ethereal Sway', whatever that was supposed to mean, and had a society based in their faith and only allowed those who had shown their allegiance to use magic.

Which, frankly, was imbecilic.

Magic deserved to be used freely and with little restriction; obviously there were exceptions to the rule, but a majority of magi were not evil. They were learned, and deserved the right to experiment and allow their skills to flourish. One of the Churchmen, a young man with a buzz cut and muddy brown eyes, decided to make a name for himself. Brandishing an old oak staff, he charge the homunculus and began a barrage of swings. "Young man, I must ask that you stop your attacks. I have no intention to engage in combat."

"Silence, foul demon! There is no salvation for the wicked!" The young man yelled, slamming his staff full force into the homunculus' chest and sent them sprawling into one of the large trees nearby. The snow fell from the tree and Ezra felt their back slide into a thick batch of roots. With a grunt, they attempted to rise to their feet only to hear a twang! of a crossbow bolt being loosed in their direction. The wooden wall to their right splintered in response, and an elder man held up the weapon with one hand while trying to reload. With a deep breath, the homunculus imagined the feeling of passion and flame forming in their hand and being expelled forth.

Nothing came.

Ezra quietly sighed, scrambling backwards made his presence known as the young man with the oak staff bellowed loudly as he attempted to bring the staff down against their skull. They continued to flee, pulling out the long yet small-headed warhammer from its sheath as they did a quick spin with the weapon to drive the head full force into the young man's ribs. The sound of cracking bone and blood spilling from his mouth made Ezra shudder as the youngling collapsed onto the snow. He let out a groan as the sclera of the homunculus' eyes began to shift to black, the purple irises glowing with some form of dark energy. The elder Churchman had reloaded his crossbow and prepared to fire when he paused and called out to his allies,

"Be careful! The witch has lightning!"

Ezra was confused at his words, until looking down at the odd glow that was starting to form. There was a deep purple glow emanating from the magus' left hand, crackles of energy spitting forth from the palm and up their arm. With a quick raise of the hand, the purple energy streaked forth from their arm into the elder, his body convulsing as he let out a scream of agony as he stumbled back. The crossbow fell into the frost with a gentle slosh, and Ezra could only stare at their hand for a long moment. They had cast magic. Their own, actual form of magic. If the situation wasn't so dangerous at the moment, they would love to experiment more. But it was a bad time to lose focus, and their attention shifted back to the young man at their feet. A low groan was coming from the floor, as the youngling was still suffering from cracked ribs. Time seemed to slow down for the homunculus, as their thoughts began to race looking at their fallen foe.

He had tried to kill them.

He had tried to end their life without hesitation, without attempting to broker peace. All over a little bit of magic power. They had not come here for violence; they had given their word to Murov that there would be no further bloodshed, and yet he betrayed his word. The word was sacred. There was no reason to ever blaspheme in such a manner. Their breathing began to get faster and faster, and they could hear the faint calling of the elder who had seemed to somewhat recover from his shocking revelation.

"Now, there's no need... to do anything further. He's just a young lad, he won't be causin' any more prob... problems. Your fight is with me, witch. Now come face the Sway."

The homunculus looked over to the elder man, whose grey hair stood out against the dark wood. He was well built despite his age, and it was clear by the various scratches and dings in his armor that he had been through many battles. His blue eyes seemed to pierce into their body, and they were surprised and such devotion to his order and to his allies. The man's eyes appeared to widen at Ezra's appearance, and they simply looked down at the boy once more before looking back to the man. Gripping the hammer tight and breath slowed, their stance shifted to face the white-haired Churchman. Ezra furrowed their brow before simply stating aloud,

"No salvation for the wicked."

With a quick shift, their grip shifted to a tighter stance and the purple-eyed mage brought the hammer down onto the fallen boy. With a sickening crack of metal against skull against dirt, a spray of blood burst from the downed mage hunter. Before the elder could say another word, Ezra continued the onslaught with two more furious strikes and leaving nothing more than a thick pudding of what was once the boy's head splattered along the snow. The crimson stood out against the fresh white powder, and the elder Churchman looked on in horror for a brief moment before beginning to tremble. "JACOB!" the man screamed, looking at his fallen comrade before glaring once more at Ezra. "YOU BITCH, I'LL DESTROY YOU!" He roared, flames erupting from his palms. Ezra remained stoic faced, glancing off to where Atzar was currently dealing with the other mage hunters. Hopefully he was having better luck fending off his foes, as the Churchman clenched his fists tightly and began running towards the homunculus.

"If you do not desire peace, then I shall give you war, human."

Philomel
06-22-2018, 07:57 PM
Passing of the Flame (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?430-Passing-of-the-Flame-Atzar-Open-to-1-or-2-more/page3)
Judgement Type: Basic
Participants: Arcana and Atzar

ArcanaFate (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?127-ArcanaFate) receives:
1045 EXP
0 Gold

Atzar (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?103-Atzar)receives:
1390 EXP
130 Gold

Spoils request:
Arcana Fate -
"Inquisitor's Lantern: Magic lantern that does not need fuel to light, only has to use the "divine scripture" (incantation) to turn it on and off. Can also release a burst of light magic once a day, blinding foes for 30 seconds. Once released, the lantern stays dark until it absorbs enough sunlight to function again. (Generally one to two days)."

Spoils request rewarded in exchange for Gold and EXP, and some GP from me. APPROVED.