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  1. #11
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    ArcanaFate's Avatar

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    Name
    Ezoreth "Ezra" Vrall
    Race
    Homunculi
    Location
    Corone
    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."

  2. #12
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    Atzar's Avatar

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    Atzar Kellon
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    “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…”
    Last edited by Atzar; 10-28-2017 at 12:47 AM.

  3. #13
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    ArcanaFate's Avatar

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    Name
    Ezoreth "Ezra" Vrall
    Race
    Homunculi
    Location
    Corone
    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.

  4. #14
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    Atzar's Avatar

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    Atzar Kellon
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    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.
    Last edited by Atzar; 10-28-2017 at 03:03 AM.

  5. #15
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    ArcanaFate's Avatar

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    Name
    Ezoreth "Ezra" Vrall
    Race
    Homunculi
    Location
    Corone
    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.
    Last edited by ArcanaFate; 10-31-2017 at 01:17 AM.

  6. #16
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    Atzar's Avatar

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    Atzar Kellon
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    Corone
    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.
    Last edited by Atzar; 11-03-2017 at 11:53 AM.

  7. #17
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    ArcanaFate's Avatar

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    Ezoreth "Ezra" Vrall
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    Homunculi
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    Corone
    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."
    Briarheart: Quick, become a disciplinomancer and Groundaga him

    (13:48:58) Nevin: Ezra can be whatever you need them to be
    (13:49:07) Nevin: Ezra doesn't judge.
    (13:49:18) ArcanaFate: Swiss army wife, basically.

  8. #18
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    Atzar's Avatar

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    Atzar Kellon
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    Corone
    “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.
    Last edited by Atzar; 11-07-2017 at 01:08 AM.

  9. #19
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    Ezoreth "Ezra" Vrall
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    Homunculi
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    Corone
    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?"
    Briarheart: Quick, become a disciplinomancer and Groundaga him

    (13:48:58) Nevin: Ezra can be whatever you need them to be
    (13:49:07) Nevin: Ezra doesn't judge.
    (13:49:18) ArcanaFate: Swiss army wife, basically.

  10. #20
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    Atzar's Avatar

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    Atzar Kellon
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    “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.

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