Familiar Ground (OPEN)

[Sage]

((This is an open thread, though if you want to join please post in the Recruitment thread first please.))

Corone was many things to many people. For some it was a land of opportunity, a land of trade and commerce while to others it was home. Though often overlooked for more exotic lands, it was still undeniable that Corone was beautiful in its simplicity.

On any given day the simple men and women of a small town called Harnsey would have gone about their lives. There had been little to bother them, the Radasanth militia had done well to keep the town protected, though turbulent times with the Brotherhood had caused the towns guard to dwindle to less than a handful remaining.

But so long as trade continued to pass through from Radasanth to Underwood, there would be very little that happened in Harnsey that would go unnoticed for too long.

But this day was not a typical day, not for Harnsey, not for Corone, and not for the rest of the world either. Talk was in the air, whispers and rumours of a coming calamity. A mountain had exploded, erupted with the force of angry god. The sky had been scorched deep obsidian by scarlet flame.

News was hard to come by, and for the people of Harnsey, fact and fiction was difficult to determine, leading to strange tales and even stranger expectations.

Worry was rampant in this town and not from the local bandits either.

For the day had carried with it an unusual omen. The sky was as grey as ash. The wind had carried the smoke all the way from Lornius crossing land and sea causing the sun to cast an earie orange glow upon Corone.

The towns people had been easily rattled as the day had gone on, doom Sayers grew emboldened at the coming end to come. Though none more so had become more unhinged than a simple man called Phil.

Or as he now preferred to be called by



Philgast the Great!



“The End is nigh!” The Portly man shouted while standing precariously atop a wooden barrel.

He was an average looking man, though short he was as board as a dwarf, and had a beautiful thick curling grand moustache that hid his upper lip. He tossed the cape he had borrowed from Miss Thornton back over his shoulder in an elegant flourish and held his arms wide for all to gaze upon him.

“A great darkness sweeps across the land, and yet no one has yet to do anything!” Philgast bellowed as he swept his arm across the small crowd that had gathered in the town centre to watch.

“Not you” He said pointing to someone in the crowd.

“Or you”

“Or even YOU!” he hollered accusingly to a passing stranger.

The residents of Harnsey could have been considered rather tolerant when it came to strange and wondrous things, though even their nigh legendary tolerance could be stretched thin when one of their own disturbed the peace.

“Phil? Get down from there” spoke a woman approaching the portly man from behind.

Philgast winced as he turned to face the woman “Not now Marge, Can’t you see I’m busy!”

“Busy?” She echoed raising her brow “All you’re doing is making my ears ring”

“Get back to the farm, have you even fed the pigs yet?”

“Fool, my greatness cannot be silenced.” He shouted gallantly, dismissing the meagre peasant.

“Behold! as I have finally unlocked the secrets of this strange …thing.” He said gesturing with another extravagant flourish over towards an admittedly rather strange sight.

It looked like a crack, something splintered along a jagged line like a torn piece of paper, though that was where the similarity ended.

It lingered in the air about seven feet off the ground and attached to nothing. It pulsed and stirred gently with a bright white light that if you were to tilt you head a certain way and squint, it would almost resemble the blazing sun high over Fallien. The wind stirred around it, and cast a sand ridden breeze across the town centre, before falling aimlessly to the ground adding more to the growing pile.

It had all the hallmarks of something magical, something dangerous.

It however, had been there all week, and despite the lack of any explanation of how it had got there, the Townspeople of Harnsey and long since grew bored of it and were waiting for someone to arrive from Radasanth to remove it.

Though once again, thanks to the conflict with the Brotherhood, such a request had been unfortunately delayed.

“With my mystic arcane powers, I have learned that it is, in fact, a portal to another world!” The barrel mounted wizard proclaimed at the top of his voice. And spread out his arms wide in a grand fashion like a master showman.

“And through it rejoice as I! Philgast the Wizard! Shall lead you all to Salvation!”

[Stare]

"Well he's arrogant."

Vitruvion Elssmith, lacking the noble 'Sir' these days, after a personal choice and after what he and his business kingdom had gone through, stood leaning against the wall at one of the alleyways to the square of Harnsey town. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed he stared at the one who called himself Philgast the Great and considered that this man was utter tripe, like the stains of old blood that refused to move from the floorboards of the dining hall in his, now, burnt down mansion.

"Yeah," came a grunt from beside him, brows raised, "he's arrogant? It's not like I've known anyone else who is arrogant."

Vitruvion looked down from his tall height, peering through the veil of snow-white hair at the small feathered creature beside him. She stood at around four foot, ten inches, and had a raven's head, complete with beak, upon her shoulders. Black eyes stared at the wizard Philgast, and a hand gripped the hilt of an elaborate katana. Her body was wrapped in a roughspun grey tunic, with the glint of mythril underneath. Slowly she breathed, small breasts barely noticeable, and held herself with rigid poise.

Gently, Vitruvion dropped a hand and let it rest on her head. He teased a feather, idly stroking it before he answered.

"Stare," he chided, "that is rather rude."

She said nothing in reply, only stood there resolute. Instead a glittering of amusement came into her eyes, knowing that she had somewhat offended him. It had been entirely deliberate. He was, after all, a bastard of a man (or, more accurately, god stuffed into the body of a man, bleeding out divine power and not able to talk to anyone about his true identity aside from a select few, such as her because he was her god). Lightly, he admonished her with a flick of a finger on her temple before lowering his hand again it his side. His eyes darted up to the tear in reality.

"Where do you think it might lead?" Stare asked quietly. "Is it possible it could be ..."

"The chances of it leading back to my father's world is minimal," Vitruvion said quietly. "But a tear anywhere is also an escape. As I am I cannot teleport us to another world, and a new one may be what need."

Ever since the skies had opened and rained ash, or the clouds had begun to turn black, the two of them had been either captured, or running. First Stare had spent two weeks within the clasp of their long-time enemy, Vitruvion's half brother, Vindrexis. The half-god had also torn apart Vitruvion's entire world, slaughtering his closest allies, burning down his offices, stores and house, and all this after spending months of slowly taking away everyone whom Vitruvion trusted in his life. Stare had felt those two weeks in almost constant torture and death, her only comfort her brother, brought back from the dead by Vindrexis, if only to haunt her ...

Vitruvion had rescued her, after his own personal battles, after temporarily gaining back his power as a god that was the only way he could kill the bastard. Then they had fled to the volcano on Lornius, the theory being that if they were closer to the volcano then they could keep a direct eye on the danger ... But a day and that had proved stupid. So now they were back here on Corone, only a few miles from familiar ground, surveying the prospect of beginning a new life. And not as master and slave any more, as they had once been, as something different.

As equals.

They had been through a lot.

"So we could go through that to ... Wherever?" Stare asked, slightly in awe.

"Indeed, some distant plane, some ... Planet far across the universe." He glanced down at her, and paused before grunting. "We keep an eye on it. We stay."

"But what if there is danger?" the kenku asked, eye closest to her god meeting his gaze. "What if we have just walked into another mess of chaos?"

"It's worth the try," he concluded, "to see what is beyond the tear.

[Sage]

Philgast frowned as he saw his crowd had been unmoved by his splendour. It was to be expected he surmised, in these dark times there would be few who would believe that their salvation would be so easily attainable.

Even he would not have been so easily swayed by such a bold promise. But this, this magical crack, it was special. He could feel it in his gut, the way it made his skin tingle every time he saw.

Philgast nodded solemnly “I see the doubt on your face”

And indeed the faces in the crowd, both familiar and strange, outsiders and traders all watched him with thinly veiled contempt. It was to be expected he allowed, because they did not know what he knew.

The revelation had come to him just the other day, as he had been watching some of the kids throw stones at the crack in some kind of game. The children however had not noticed as the stones passed by unimpeded, all except one. It had touched the crack and disappeared, and sand had leaked from the anomaly like a torn bag of flour.

There was something on the other side he had realised, and after that his own wild speculations had allowed him to envision what lay on the other side.

History would not remember Phil the Farmer, the one who found an escape from this dark and bleak world that was cracking at the seams.

But Philgast the Great, that would be something retold thousands of times in the new world.
Philgast hopped of the barrel with a grunt, and palmed a stone he had been keeping in his pocket since he had finished rehearsing his moment of glory.

Philgast strode towards the Crack, feeling the weight of the stone as though to gauge how to use it. “But I am humble, and I will not deny any one of you a chance to flee this world before it burns”

He began to wind his arm back for a throw, his believe that this was his crowning moment was unshakable.

“For I Philgast the Great will show all of you the way!” He roared and threw the stone into the magical crack as hard as he could.

The crowd watched the moment intently, fully expecting nothing to happen and for the facade to come crumbling down. Philgast was not a wizard he was nothing but a simple farmer.

By right, nothing should have occurred. The stone would pass through and reveal the broken man for what he was.

The Crack split upon contact with the stone, and where once there was a minor abnormality in the seams of the world was now a gaping maelstrom of energy.

Unobstructed by the veils of reality a torrent of sand was freed to fall down to the ground as winds unknown to this world hit Philgast and the crowd with an intensity of a desert storm.

Philgast marvelled at the sight of the open portal, and though the image was distorted by magical torrents of arcane energies, it was impossible to mistake the sight of a desert on the other side amidst a sandstorm. He hesitated, and for the first time he felt unsure about this gate to salvation.

Just what was on the other side of that portal? And was he better off on this side?

The portal grew hungry, and a terrible feeling began to spread from its maw, a Magical energy so unlike anything else began to seep into this world. It felt Foreign, corruptive, malignant, as though it was like acid to all it touches.

A black form began to form on the other side, but before Philgast could even make out what it was it spilled through the portal and tumbled the brief seven foot drop to the ground and landed gracelessly in a crumpled heap.

It groaned a complaint and shifted the dark brown traveling cloak from its face, dislodging the sand that had been caked into it. Long dark brown weathered hair fell freely from its head as the humanoid rose from the ground and deposited a curiously familiar looking stone from their palm.

"Its a girl?” Philgast uttered curiously.

Not only did she look like a girl she also human and while young, Philgast certainly thought she was pretty. He also thought that she had the look of a scholar as under the brown traveling cloak was a dark grey robe that would have also suited a mage.

She turned to him as he said that with her brows dipped down over grey coloured eyes, looking as though she had just been insulted. But even as she moved to speak the words died on her lips as the girl suddenly looked scared as she swept her gaze across him and gathered crowd.

And then she turned around to look up at the still open portal above her and stumbled back in fear.

“Oh simose” cursed the boy called Sage Ainsworth, a soul thought to have been lost to Althanas.

[Stare]

Vitruvion immediately pulled Stare behind him, his eyes growing large and full of sudden determination at this creature who had fallen from the heavens.

A young being, neither obviously male nor female stood in the centre of the square. Brown, luscious and well-kept hair fell in waves upon waves, some ends as long as the thigh. Dressed in a simple tunic the being looked confused, and then seemingly disappointed as he looked up towards the portal. That strange tear in the fabric of reality which had seemed a hope for the kenku and the god, yet was now spouting people.

The god's eyes narrowed as he ducked a hand within the folds of his grey travelling coat (practical yet still with decorum) and grasped something solid within. Certainly, he did not want to travel through such a tear if the realm on the other side had humanoids like this readily available to leap out of them. What he preferred was a fresh green land, somewhere that he and Stare could begin anew. If there was such a place, if there was such a dream, then he would seize it with every fibre of his being.

Yet now ... firstly they needed to figure out if this being meant aggression or peace. He had pushed his kenku behind him as a precautionary measure, not liking the idea of people suddenly dropping in from other worlds, but now all the being was doing was staring into the sky.

Not an aggressive action in the slightest.

He took in a breath, studying the newcomer. They had hair traditionally of a humanoid female, yet spoke with a male note to their words. There were no defining curves or breasts, yet some creatures did not have breasts. It was highly possible that they were also not of any gender, but for the sake of the voice Vitruvion settled on the pronoun 'him'. At least for now.

"Stay behind me," he growled, as he began to step out.

Stare blinked, and tilted her head in confusion. But she nodded, angling her katana to be able to stay close at a quick pace. Vitruvion's white-blonde hair swept back from his face as he strode directly over the square, his hand finally being removed from his pocket to reveal a long golden dagger. He did not hold it angrily or threateningly, but rather at an angle kept low to the ground. It was a warning, simply, he liked to think. Trapped in the mortal form that he was in, which reduced a great amount of his ability to create from nothing and be omnipotent he was not entirely unable to be harmed, and so it was intelligent to show that he had the possibility of fighting back.

Were he to be struck.

"You are approaching him?" she asked under her breath.

He nodded once, and did not give words to his answer.

"Oh," she replied.

And that was all.

"I am Vitruvion. This is Stare," the man radiating power stopped before Sage. Behind him the crow-headed kenku leaned out and waved. The god stuffed in human body, who told the world in general he was a half-celestial instead for a number of reasons, pointed at the crack in the sky. "Who are you and where do you come from? What is that and where does it lead."

[Sage]

The portal was going to be an issue the boy decided after he finished examining the vortex that was slowly beginning to wind down. Something had caused it to become unstable, and he was sure that he had done nothing to it on the other side, other than fall gracelessly into it when it opened up below the sand dune he had been stood on.

‘Something on this side then’ he mused for a moment before he realised something was off.

The crowd was still staring at him, some with open awe and others with tempered caution, it was beginning to make his skin squirm. He shyly retreated backwards and almost bumped into the portly man who appeared to be a wizard? He muttered an apology and ducked backwards again but the crowd was still staring at him.

‘Right, they probably do not see many people fall from a portal in the sky’

Sage shivered as a cool wind blew through his hair, the change in climate had been rather sudden and his body was ill prepared for the sudden shift in temperature. He hugged his arms close to him and almost complained when he started to actually feel a power looming over him.

The empire had been a place where magic was rare and he had slowly gotten used to a land where magic felt very faint. But here he could feel the magic in the air, ripe and even more abundant than Elrohir the fabled city of the elves. It made his skin itch and almost felt as oppressive as the desert air he had just came from.

Or it could have been the person who had just approached him.

As the young mage turned to the person in question, he was immediately struck in awe by how perfect the man looked, handsome with sharp features, long flowing silver white hair and unmistakeably male.

There was something ironic about that.

The man held the bearing of a politician or a wealthy merchant if he were to hazard a guess, but he thought better of it when he saw the golden blade held low. Not for an attack, but a warning? That was certainly nice of him.

Vitruvian wasted no time after introducing himself and his companion and began launching a series of rapid-fire questions at the boy, most of which he doubted had a simple answer.

“Wait, I”

Sage stumbled back with his arms held up in surrender unsure of which question to tackle first. He opened his mouth to speak but came up short when he looked between Vitruvian and his companion. He locked eyes with the one called Stare, and found it was all he could do.

She was a …Kenku? He was sure of it despite never meeting one in person before. But … if there was a Kenku here, had the portal just returned him back north to the Empires country side? Because as far as he knew the race had been exclusive to that world.

No… no, that was not important right now, what he needed to do was ascertain where he was, because if he was in the wrong place then he needed to return through the portal and try another while Captain Valliere was keeping overwatch.

He blinked, and rounded his attention back to Vitruvian, the new sense of urgency helped the boy focus past the man’s oppressive presence.

“My name is Sage Ainsworth, and I am from a town called Crossroads on an island nation called Corone” he answered and lowered his arms to his sides, keeping them relaxed despite how tense he felt.

“Is this Althanas? I am trying to get home you see after I…”

“Behold the Messenger, the world beyond the portal sends an angel to greet us into our land of salvation!” Philgast cried out from behind the boy startling him. Sage turned and wondered what the wizard was yelling about when he saw the portly man gesture both to him and the portal.

“What, Messenger?” Sage frowned, not understanding the context.

“Salvation is at hand, the world beyond awaits our arrival”

The boy watched the portly man continue to proclaim that the land beyond the portal would lead them to salvation, a prospect that Sage knew could not possibly be any more wrong “Hey, no wait, you must not.”


“Is it really a better place?”
“He did it”
“Is the angel going to guide us?”
“To salvation!”


His protest did not reach the crowd over the enchanted murmurs that began to spread among them, now all too eager to believe what Philgast had to say, wizard or not, in their eyes the man had promised salvation. And what better proof was there than the angelic looking being that had appeared before them as Philgast had opened the portal with nothing but a stone.

Sage knew he would never be able to sway the growing fever of the crowd, nor could he force the portal closed, not in the unstable state it was in. He considered wasting one of his spells to get their attention, but as good as he had gotten with his magecraft, he still had a limit to how many times he could use each spell.

And he was loathing to use any spell without a good cause, besides, the boy already had another idea in mind.

Sage turned back and favoured Vitruvian with a look of genuine urgency.

“Please you must stop them, the other side of the portal leads to the Vale of Dreams!” he neglected to mention what the Vale exactly was on purpose. unsure on how to even begin to describe the corrupted magic of that desert, or the eternal sandstorm frozen in time due to a meteorite that broke all of reality around it.

“Captain Valliere is keeping overwatch for any sign of Reavers on the other side of the portal. But I fear the magic in this land will draw their attention before long” he explained.

And yet as he spoke someone from the crowd screamed and Sage’s eyes swept towards the open portal where a long-bladed scythe that even death itself would approvingly consider for reaping began to reach through the portal.

It edged its way over to the end of the vortex and began to push it wider, slowly ripping reality asunder like paper, there was no sound to accompany it nothing but the wind howling through the gap between worlds as the desert of the vale of Dreams leaked across dimensions into the town of Harnsey.

Sage paled as the Reaver entered the world previously untouched by its kin. The corrupted magic of the Vale was known to do terrible things to a man after prolonged exposure, and any creature with even a drop of magic was all too susceptible to the changes that the magic wrought upon them. The rapid growth in size was a common mutation as is the grotesque muscle expansion and cancerous growths.

The ground thundered under the staccato of four stiletto tipped legs piercing into the ground as the Reaver took the seven-foot drop effortlessly. Its antennae tasted the air and a dozen asymmetric eyes turned to those it stood before and saw nothing but prey.

The Reaver would have once been an ordinary Preying mantis, but exposure to the Vale had turned it into a 12-foot-tall ravenous hunter, the scythe like appendage alone was easily seven-foot-long and would have cleaved through the entire crowd if they had stayed in one place and not ran for their lives.

The Reaver screeched its displeasure and leaped through the air to the roof of the local inn, multiple eyes along its head and body tracking each potential feast hungrily.

Sage stared as the Reaver seemed spoiled for choice, usually the blasted things homed in on the largest source of mana, which had usually been him as of late.

“That is a Reaver by the way. Umm… do you have any airships armed with Magitech cannons in this world by any chance?” he asked, but somehow doubted it.

[Stare]

Vitruvion glanced to the strange androgynous being, male by what he had so far decided, brows raised and entirely confused.

He had mentioned trying to keep the crowd still and calm. Certainly, Vitruvion, even at his reduced ability, would be able to hold the thrall of the crowd for some period of time. Although much of his empire had fallen he still held the charisma and demeanor to hold quite the scene, to give a speech that could hold an audience captive. He had smirked, and felt incredibly proud, knowing that this was indeed one of his talents. Lowering the golden dagger he had begun to imagine how best to start. He could have Stare dart out and take their attention, showing to the world her glorious wings. Yes, they were not far from Akashima, but she was unique in her kind that she could fly. Her own presence was strong and fantastic as well, and could incorporate well as a precursor to his.

Yet, that period had passed. Now there was some sort of creature pushing its way through the void, from this 'Vale of Dreams,' whatever that was. Vitruvion stood, with his dagger ready, heart thundering in his chest as he took in the words and the actions and all that had happened. Stare began to peek out, her own eyes staring at the creature before them.

Massive. Terrifying. Moving with curious noises that were clicks and whirrs and a deep voice. Twelve feet long, with pincers held as if about to enter a boxing fight it stood above the maddening crowd and town, a horrific sight to be seen. Some form of insect it was, evil by the intent in its too many eyes, and oddly familiar.

"The Reaper?" Vitruvion murmured, "you said the Reaper? And what is a magi-"

Suddenly there was a burst of light. The massive insect screeched as something assailed it from below. Black, fierce and quick; a small blur occurred as a feathered assailant came right at the creature from below, cawing out in some fabulous noise of war.

"Ansaldo's balls!" Vitruvion yelled.

And he blinked. Then he was gone. All to appear right beside the flourishing black form that was right now running for the mantis' leg.

Stare had had enough. Being told to keep back, being told that she was to stay. Vitruvion had not given any specific order not to attack the Reaver, and thus she had gone in, deadly katana drawn, singing into the day. Its edge was keen enough to cut bone like paper. She steadily unfurled her wings, calling out in her native tongue to challenge the beast as she swept up her eyes and aimed to catch one of those of the beast before her.

"Come and get me, fucker!" she yelled as she drew up the blade, aiming for the closest leg. Her eyes stabbed to deliver a swift blindness, calling upon all the bad emotions of times long before that Vitruvion had brought into her life.

"Stare!" Vitruvion cried, appearing directly beside her, stepping out of some thinly veiled portal of the air.

She ignored him and went in for the cut.

[Sage]

Sage blinked, and then the man called Vitruvian had vanished with little more than a pop of air. The boy quickly caught sight of the man now standing closer to the beast alongside his partner who did not seem to want to stop and wait to hear what he had to say. The boy flinched at that, the Kenku girl flew in without fear or hesitation that he feared would lead her to biting of more than she could chew.

Any hesitation he felt about facing the beast was lost in the single moment he realised that everyone in the town was in danger and that if he did nothing…

Sage took a single step forward as close as he ever would dare to get to a Reaver. He held out his hand, calling forth one of his own spells that ignited into existence with a flourish of black flames in the palm of his hand. The Eldritch Bolt was a thing of deadly beauty, the flames condensed into a perfect black sphere that contained no light and appeared more akin to a singularity.

It was the first offensive spell the boy had ever devised, his dislike of conflict was echoed in what spells he knew, most of them were benign and others were made for seeking out secrets. This spell however had a singular purpose, to impose a single kinetic strike as hard as his mastery of magic would allow.

But Sage froze, and the spell lingered in the palm of his hand with a calming hum. The spell was perfect, it would do exactly what he wanted it to be able to do but there was a singular flaw.

And that would be his aim.

"Please, don't miss" he silently begged of himself.

The Reaver cried in indignation, screeches and clicks quickened as it turned to rid itself of its assailant. It’s scythe like appendage rose up for the cleaving stroke but froze mid-way as the Kenku used a power that rendered it blind. Anger swelled with the madness of the vale and any hesitation or sense of self-preservation was lost long ago, it allowed the Reaver to strike out at where it had last seen the Kenku girl, piercing the ground deeply with its keratin blade.

The Reaver had missed its target completely and while still blind to the world it missed the moment when the blade of the prevalida katana cleaved through the stiletto looking limb like a hot knife through butter. The beast felt a bite of pain and instincts demanded instant retribution as it spun around to swipe its large scythe like limb at where it thought its assailant was yet again. But it stumbled as the limb that was struck parted with the rest of its body causing it to list as it tried to put its weight on a limb that just wasn’t there.

It fell into a tumble, screeching out in disgrace as it flopped and turned onto its back, thrashing around blindly. It stumbled back into its front but crashed sideways into the wooden wall of the town’s inn causing screams to start anew from inside.

Its blind eyes spun around helplessly still unable to see anything before it, but just like Sage, the beast had come from a world where magic was a lot thinner than it was in Althanas. And just like Sage, the presence of magic in artefacts or in people felt like an itch the closer they got.

The sensation would fade the longer they stayed in this world but for now something had gained its attention, like standing close by to a bonfire. And the Reaver was ever so cold, its hunger for the heat drove it to blindly ignore pain and forget everything in favour of filling the void that the Vale had callously taken away.

It struggled to adapt to using only three legs, but instinctively stabbed the ground with the scythe like blade to help balance itself as it made a mad dash towards Vitruvian.

His presence was like a neon sign for an all you can eat buffet for the Reaver, it salivated as it approached stomping loudly though unable to approach the man in a straight line. Sage Ainsworth took aim at the beast’s head, but the wild erratic movement caused the boy to hesitate and doubt that he could even hit such an illusive target at his current range.

“Maybe not the head” he reasoned with himself and adjusted him aim slightly lower.

The Reaver stomped towards Vitruvian with a hissing screech while raising its scythe to pierce its prey. But the blow never came as the black orb of Sage’s Eldritch bolt barrelled into its abdomen where the mantis’ profile was at its thickest. The blow was like a Warhammer had just been swung into its side, cracking the chitin under the tremendous blow and toppled the Reaver back onto its side where it again flailed wildly.

“Only three more times” The young wizard quietly reminded himself and hoped that the Kenku girl, Stare was her name? could put the Reaver out of its misery with the given opportunity.

The boy eyed the Portal wearily, he was unable to tell the extent of the damage the mutated mantis had caused to it when it forced its way through, it showed no signs of deteriorating just yet and he had no doubt that another mutated monstrosity would be able to find its way through in time.

“Right, Standard imperial response then” he reasoned and easily cast a different spell by uttering a simple word. ‘Lux’

A sphere of white light rose from his palm, lazily growing in size until it was no bigger than his head. The boy frowned in annoyance as he reached up to palm the light and pulled at it to unravel the spell into circles of glowing runes and connecting lines.

“I should have learned how to use magic like a sorcerer” Sage lamented as he set to work on locating a key function of the spell that would allow him to change a single aspect.

Memorising a complicated spell like this was surprisingly easy, repetition and familiarity allowed Sage to cast a spell with a pre-programmed function with ease. Spells like his required very little concentration and allowed him to cast and forget certain spells.

A sorcerer however was hard-pressed to keep the concentration for the duration of the spell, but the upside was that they were able to change a spells objective on the fly and repurpose them to fit other needs.

Which all meant that Sage was rewriting a single core aspect of his light spell to just change the colour that it gave off, which was a pain in the rear on its own.

He would not have been able to do the same thing with his other spells, But Lux was his first spell, and he knew how it worked because he had created it all by himself for the single purpose of having a light to be able to read at night.

Sage flicked his finger at one of the runes and redrew a different one in its place. The young wizard then pushed his hand back into the spells floating runes and watched expectantly as they compressed back into a mote of light that now glowed a brilliant bright red.

Satisfied he launched the red light upwards into the sky with a flick of his hand causing the orb to rocket upwards several yards before it came to a stop and began to shine as brightly as possible bathing the town in a faint red hue.

“That should be able to attract anyone’s attention. I just hope they realise the red light means trouble”

[Paladin_Lorenor]

Nearby-

Lorenor awoke suddenly from his half-meditative position. He oft camped outside in the wilderness those days, realizing that he did not like the noise levels of busy cities like Radasanth.

What awoke him so suddenly was a feeling of dread, a powerful magic lurked in the area and at that precise moment a red light shot up in the air.

Lorenor did not know Sage and Stare directly, but he knew the forces of magic.

There are many powerful forces in the world... Lorenor thought to himself as he stood up and wiped the meditation out of his glowing blue eyes. He gathered his belongings and knew, no, felt compelled to where his next destination would be. Gathering his things, he quickly closed his tent and put out his campfire. He'd readied a basic pit for the campfire so that he would not harm nature at all...

As he stood up he placed his two handed great sword across his back at an angle and gathered his shield. Lorenor was a Paladin, a devout follower of the old ways. More importantly...Lorenor was an Undead Paladin at that. But he was a very specific kind of Undead. As he stood he felt a great power from nearby to where the red light shot up from.

Lorenor knew his hour had come.

Without fear in his step or hesitation, he walked towards the general position of Stare and Sage. In his mind, he was mentally preparing an escape route should the need arise. When he arrived on the scene, he saw Sage casting powerful magics, at least in Lorenor's eyes. Lorenor was never good with the arcane arts but he had one gift he could use if the need presented itself. Lorenor narrowed his eyes and looked at Sage and the nearby form of Stare. "What is going on here?" Lorenor asked...his voice was perhaps a bit more accusatory than he meant for it to sound.

[Stare]

Barely did he register the strange newcomer into their midst. Vitruvion was focused now, and intent, his eyes blazing with a form of celestial glory that could not be denied.

As Stare rushed forwards to again strike at the beast before them, Vitruvion glanced around them, seeing the various people who had been such an ardent crowd, cooing their admiration of the Philgast 'wonderful' man, who promised a new life. Now, they backed away from all, alongside the fanatic himself, hiding in alleyways, doorways and alcoves, or altogether having scattered. As the red light of Sage's craft blazed above them, bathing them all in a crimson glow, the people gasped and shivered, for fear of the beast who had stumbled into their world.

So far one of his legs - no two had bene severely wounded. And Stare had temporarily blinded the glorious bastard. Now she danced, dodging the mantis' strikes with the supernatural speed that her direct connection to Vitruvion granted her. Their relationship was one of true divinity and high priestess, the paladin he would never have. He watched in a moment of silence as she twisted her form, bending her legs to then excel herself into the air. Bounding, she aimed directly for the beast's back, her wings unfurling magnificently to give her lift. They beat once and she was soon in the air, aiming to get better of this creature.

"Keep the rest back," Vitruvion shouted back to Sage. "And I will deal with this."

In a blink of an eye he was gone. He then reappeared in midair, directly beside Stare in her almighty rise into the skies. For a second he floated - hovering like a ghost as if gravity and momentum meant nothing to the man - before he began to fall. Just before he did, however, he reached out, hand curling around State's upper arm.

And he dragged her to him.

"What the-" she began.

He swung an arm around her torso as they both started to fall back to the earth. Right back to where he and she had begun, nowhere close to the mantis' back.

"Fly," he commanded in a firm, low voice.

"Fly?" she asked, as they twirled onto their backs. The beast of mottled earthy colours shrieked and tried to lash out at them with one of its injured legs.

"Fly!" he confirmed with a yell.

And she beat her wings. At the same time a rush of energy, supernatural and divine, ran through him, moving into her body with the strength of an entity beyond her imagining. The power surged into her wings and as she beat them she found she was suddenly able to carry both of their weights, catapulting into the sky madly, sailing far more than a single beat should have, faster than should have been possible.

"Stop!" he growled.

And she stopped.

Turning them both in the air with a pivot of his form Stare found them to be now, suddenly, directly over the neck piece of the monster. It let out a ghastly clicking as it tried to turn, stumbling on those bleeding legs she had already caused.

"Blind it again! Pain!" Vitruvion hissed, as they, once more, started to fall.

Her eyes went wild. Inside of her she searched and found the memories that would spark emotions to cause the mantis suffering. With a single glare she cut off its sight, and then sent a reeling stab of agony into the head of it. Not enough to kill, but enough to stop it from moving out of the area they needed.

It paused, frozen in that time. Vitruvion drew his golden blade, clutching close still to his kenku, eyes focusing on the single point where the head met body. Wordlessly understanding Stare raised hers too as they plummeted as a joint bullet of death from above. Down they went, down they stabbed, as the monster let out another single, horrible, clicking yell.

And then blades met skin, slicing through like butter. They cleaved through shell, muscle and bone, gaining right to the central cortex.

Which they severed. Along with the head.

Killing the beast, there and then.

And they slammed into the ground, covered in blood.

[Sage]

Startled by the accusing tone of the stranger, Sage whirled his attention to a man he was sure had only just arrived to the town. Sage wilted back under the stranger’s stern expression he had cast upon him with eyes glowing a strange earie blue.

With his oddly bright eyes and pale complexion Sage thought that something about the man was obviously not entirely human, though what exactly he could not say. Sage initially did not know what to make of the man, other than he was dangerous and possibly an experienced fighter. Though the crest on his tabard was almost familiar, Sage could not put a name to it.

“I swear I have nothing to do with any of this” The boy blurted before he could have thought of any reasonable reply.

He winced when he realised that the stranger would probably find him even more suspect after saying something like that, so he gestured to the open portal instead.

“That portal leads to another world.” He said quickly

“Unfortunately, the other side leads to a place called the ‘Vale of Dreams.’ It’s a desert with a corruptive magic that changes creatures into monsters called Reavers” He hastily explained.

“Uh, Sorry. That probably does not explain much, does it?” he apologised earnestly to the stranger for what he felt was a severe lack of information. He would need both the libraries of the elven city and the lore keepers of the desert Kitsune that lived beyond the tainted desert to even begin to appropriately explain just why the Vale was the way it was.

But then again, not everyone liked to spend hours looking into another worlds obscure history like he had. Sage turned his attention back towards the Kenku girl, the last he had seen of her she had been utterly decimating the Reaver, but now she was soaring upwards to possibly gain a more advantageous position, but then Vitruvian joined her in her ascent.

“Wait …What are they doing?” Sage uttered dumbstruck as he tracked their ascent higher and higher, before they began plummeting towards the Reaver at what should have been terminal velocity all so that they could behead the beast with two decisive separate strikes.
It was a stupid move to make and made no sense from a tactical standpoint. The Reaver had been paralysed and Stare had already proven that its chitin and mutated flesh were no match for the blade of her Katana.

The most efficient way she could have dealt with the beast would have been to have just walked up and casually lopped off its head.

And yet Despite knowing how excessively unnecessary it was to finish of the Reaver in such a way, Sage cheered regardless. And he was not alone, the entire town became an uproar of cheer and jubilation as the townspeople all saw the beasts head hit the ground minus its body. Stare and Vitruvian became the centre of the towns praise as they clapped and cheered at the defeat of the beast.

That was when the boy had realised what exactly that had accomplished. While the Kenku could have just walked up and finished the Reaver off, there would have been no fanfare, no sense of victory. Instead this moment would now forever remain in the memory of each person who had witnessed her grandiose blow that slayed the beast.

For the people of Harnsey would always remember the Kenku who slayed the Reaver from another world.

If they had been seeking to establish any sort of reputation than they had succeeded, of that Sage had no doubt.

But not only that, Sage had noted from the way Stare and Vitruvian had soared upwards into the air that there was an intimacy between them, a connection that only companions, friends, lovers, or maybe even something closer to kin, or family would ever have. There was something special that was unique to them alone, a closeness that he could not put into words.

The boy’s cheeks began to burn red with embarrassment as he felt guilty that he had possibly caught a glimpse of something that was supposed to be private.

But his new-found adulation soon turned sour knowing it may only be a temporary victory. Sobered by his thoughts the boy quickly began to assess the current situation, and with a deep resigned breath, the boy stoically turned back to Lorenor.

“I am sorry to ask this of you, but can you please lend me your aid. I fear that the danger will not be over until the portal is dispelled. One Reaver has already made its way through, and I do not doubt it will be that last”