(IC) Exiled

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  1. This is the In-Character thead. The OOC thread is HERE.


    A large boulder plunged into the icy saltwater, the rope bound to it dragging thirty writhing and battered convicts in tow. Sheer panic alone would have caused many of them to have forgotten why screaming underwater leads to a swift death. Those lucky enough to hold their breath before submersion fought against the fast-moving water around them and their own instinct to breathe while working at the rope tied around their wrists. Tooth, nail, and determination to live were the keys to freedom.

    Among those who managed to free themselves of the ropes before the stone sunk too deep was one of the Fox Folk. A Vulpinkith. The moment her hands were freed, she tried reaching for another person to help them, but the weight of the stone had ripped them from her grasp. There was no way for her to aid the others, as much as she wanted to. There was no blade she had nor were her nails sharp enough to cut through the fibers in time. With a pang of regret knotted in her stomach and the need for air gnawing at her lungs, there was little more she could do than follow the bubbles up to the surface. With whatever strength she had left after being kept in the brig for what felt like weeks on end, she clawed at the water and kicked with all her might. The saline water stung her eyes, but she had to keep going. She had to survive.

    At long last, the fox woman's face broke the surface, allowing her just enough time to release stale air and take in a new breath in a gasp before being hammered by the waves. It wasn't enough to keep her down for long. With darkness surrounding her, she squinted as she looked around. The galleon responsible for her fate as well as the fate of those down below was already retreating at a speed that would be impossible for the Vulpinkith to catch. Her stomach sank as deep as the rock; there was no way for her to return home like this.

    Still, she wanted to live. She turned around, treading the water as she looked upon her only salvation at this point: Chandra Isle. Her heart plummeted to join her stomach. Her only chance to live was an island of undead, but what choice did she really have? Resigning herself to her exile, the woman fought the waves to reach the firelight dotting the shoreline. Surely, there had to be someone alive here. She didn't know of any undead that cared for fire, let alone had the sense to make it.

    After what felt like an hour of paddling and kicking through the relentless waves and looking far more like a drowned rat than a proud fox, the woman finally managed clambered upon the gritty sand of the shoreline. For several minutes, she just lay there upon her stomach, drenched and panting, to give her arms and legs some rest and to convince her mind that she was laying still. As much as she wanted to simply lay her head down to sleep, there would be no time. Gurgling growls and spine-chilling howls were coming from the trees off in the distance. Her heart pounded in her tapered ears: the undead were roaming about.

    The fox woman finally forced her body to cooperate and stand, though still wavered a little as she walked across the sand. Her paw-like feet left very confusing tracks behind, but that was not her concern. Her concern for now was the source of light. A line of braziers looked to be spaced out every few hundred yards. Nailed to the long shaft of these torches was a sign with the words, "GRIMSHORE CAMP" carved into them. Grimshore... such an appropriate name for this god forsaken island. It took her a moment to realize that the sign itself was an arrow, with a tapering end pointing toward the long line of other braziers heading eastward.

    There was little else to do but follow the lights and stay on her toes.
    #1 Shenorai, May 26, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: May 26, 2014
  2. [Kyrie Bishaemon]

    Shamed and dishonoured

    GASP! Curse the humans! Cutthroats! Murderers!

    Mere seconds before, the proud Luftenwaffen, Kyrie Bishaemon, stood tall and erect despite the less than glorious position she was in. Both of her wrist was essentially clapped in makeshift shackles of rope in which every other prisoner bound for Chandra Isle was attached to. Many of the wretched beings sobbed ceaselessly or hung their head in despair at their fate. Not Kyrie. Her burning sense of justice kept her upright and stared defiantely at whichever crewmember dare to look at her. Kyrie Bishaemon has done nothing she deemed evil for he to hang her head in shame. Her fallen comrades beckoned to her, calling for her to bring the hammer of justice on those that has wronged them. Kyrie's defiance has earned her a couple of backhands, but it was nothing. It was only the loud sploosh of rock hitting water and the sudden jerk of her wrist that threw Kyrie's compsure off. Every single prisoner was swept off their feet and sent sprawling over the side of the ship, trailing after the heavy weight. The screams of men and women alike was rapidly cut short as they hit the cold, black water

    It took Kyrie several precious seconds to get her bearing and react to what has just happened. Much too slow for her liking. The dim light of the surface grew increasingly dark as she sank rapidly with the rope before through brute strength, Kyrie broke free of her bonds. Pain shot through her wrists from the jarring jerk and the nubs on her back stung like hell. All she could thank was that at the very least, her lungs werent bursting for air. However, Kyrie only managed two kicks of her feet before an iron grip wrapped itself around her ankle. The burly man that was chained behind her had somehow managed to worm his tied hands onto Kyrie's right ankle was was trying to use her body to climb up towards the surface. Little did he know, all he was doing was pulling the Luftenwaffen down with him. He was dead and didnt even know it. Refusing for this to be her end, Kyrie bent downwards and with brutal efficiency, sent a straight throat jab into the man's neck. It essentially caused the man's throat to paralyze and choke out, which meant as he let go of Kyrie, the air streamed from his mouth. There was no time for contemplation.

    By now, it was Kyrie's turn to begin to drown. Powerful strokes propelled her upwards, but it felt like an eternity. Even with military discipline and keeping a level head, it was hard to concentrate as her vision blurred. At last, the surface broke and the cold air streamed into the starved lungs. Waves battered across her head, but after the first two, Kyrie took advantage of them and rode the water towards the beach. As she let herself be washed shorewards, Kyrie scanned for any other survivors. It was extremely dark so the likelihood was close to zilch. Finding someone was going to be a double edged sword. She herself knew she was no criminal, but some, if not most, of those chained to that rope DID deserve to be here. There was nothing she could do but to keep her wits about her. Surfing slowly and resting every so often, Kyrie was soon washed onto low enough water level for her to stand. God knows how long it has been since they were thrown off the boat, but at the very least she was on solid land. Kyrie spent the next few minutes just sitting in the low water, regaining her strength. Given how dark it was, she should be somewhat camoflaged in the water. When her body felt much better, Kyrie slowly crept out and crawled her way landward.

    Even when dampened with water, Luftenwaffen ears worked wonders and Kyrie could hear all manners of ungodly beings beginning to converge. It was time to move quickly and get into some cover. For about 30 seconds, Kyrie trekked cautiously until something on the sand caught her eyes. A set of incredibly odd footprints. It was bipedal, judging by the spacing, but had rather animalistic prints. Also, seeing as it came all the way from the water, it must have been one of the prisoners. Kyrie wracked her brain to see if she remembered any animal like prisoner and one DID seem to come up. She couldnt remember specific details, but she knew that there was such a being on the boat. As the trail moved along, Kyrie could tell that it was following quite an obvious and not so stealthy path. Whoever it was, they were just following a line of lit up braziers towards what the sign called "GRIMSHORE CAMP".

    Huh... rather fitting...

    Kyrie continued forward, using all her trackin skills and ranger experience to catch up stealthily to the being and sure enough, right ahead, she was there. Kyrie had remained a bit of a distance away. It was best to always have the surprise advantage, but this being isnt human. It was not something Kyrie had explicit experience with. There was no way to tell how far she should stay before the being detected her, so Kyrie used a fox as a basis for the distance. It was the only thing she could use, given the similar traits the being has to foxes.
  3. Tabitha didn’t really like that the humans managed to capture her, really didn’t like that they had access to anti-magic knowledge and absu-fucking-lutely didn’t like that they had small anti-magic gems. The type to make magic casting around it completely impossible. She remembered her master talking about them, after studying them for quite a while, when one casts a spell or uses magical abilities one is forming energy particles in a specific order; the fields created by these gems interfered with all forms of energy and disrupted the bonds between the so-named ‘mana’.
    In short; it fucked with a mage’s ability to form energy into spells.
    Having been found guilty of several claims of murder, arson and the like, though true they were not directly Tabitha’s fault directly. Though, the fairy’s words fell on deaf ears and her crime was deemed hard enough to be sentenced to the island rather than just killed, not really that bad an idea as this meant she could get out of this place eventually. Not really having been told details she was not aware that escaping would be hampered somewhat.
    Thrown in a small cage with an anti-magic gem fastened to the top of it, just strong enough to cover the cage and making her escape impossible.

    Days later, being kept alive on rather bland tasting but strangely nourishing gooey substance you were force fed if you didn’t eat on your accord, and without magic the little Tabitha had nothing she should have said about this. Rather forcing it down herself than being force fed by someone who might not have washed their hands on this side of the last fortnight.

    The dreaded time grew near, lots of prisoners were tied onto a rope, apparently this was a swim or die moment, seemingly this was sort of planned to either give the prisoners a chance to live on this island or just die for their crimes. Rather brutal but gave the strong a chance to survive.
    Though, whereas the others had to tear themselves free from luck or by strength, Tabitha was still in her cage with the gem attached, not even giving her a fair chance they simply fastened the cage at the end of the rope. Trying to shout out to her possible executioners all pleas either fell on deaf ears or were drowned out by the rest of the convicts.
    An order was given an a large rock was pushed over-board, a single strong yank on the rope and physics took over.
    Barely able to take in a breath of air it was already tainted with the salty taste of the sea, wanting to cough and gag already didn’t really help with the mindset needed to survive. The cold water and lack of vision did not help the least, and the surface was disappearing fast. What was only a few meters was quite the distance for the lithe fairy, after all without her wings her movement was far from as efficient as that of a human.
    Her only chance, her only possibility of surviving this, was to teleport roughly to where she saw the shoreline in the dark dim twilight.
    Though, to her demise casting the teleportation spell required her to say a short phrase in a magical language, and the lack of air and the fact that words spoken under water was not really audible and would not sound right.

    Suddenly her cage was kicked hard, jumbled back and forth between hard objects, either this was rocks or the kicking of the convicts trying to get free from the rope. Not being able to see Tabitha realized that the cage had been broken simply by the feeling of mana returning to her being, or rather the mana was always there there was just a strange feeling of buzzing in her skin.
    Swimming towards the surface which had to be tens of meters above her, little to no air in her lungs she was doomed to die a watery grave. Her master would not take this lightly, though she was currently looking for him this would surely strike a devastating blow to his mind and being.
    Wait, what was this feeling? Air? A flow of air made her fall within the water, odds were that someone were exhaling or worse down in the dark deep. Questions aside Tabitha didn’t waste time and did her best, her final attempt of surviving this death.
    Oium Sehlek!” The magical words were shouted as she did her very best to maintain the mental status she needed for this to work.
    A familiar flash of light and she found herself several meters above the ground, far enough inland that she was not in any danger of drowning, but her exhaustion from the liquid death as well as the sudden usage of a high level spell like that right after exiting the anti-magic had drained her so much that she was not able to fly properly. Barely managing to dampen the landing due to a few flicks of her wings and landing on sand, she did indeed take some damage from this but luckily not as bad as it could have been.

    She woke later, not having any basis of time in this place she could only assume that it was the same night due to logic, having some slight energy returned to her, both physical and magical she took to the air. It was strenuous but taking breaks on the way she should be able to obtain cover.
    Noticing a sign leading to a so called ’Grimshore Camp’ it was the best choice for her now. There was strange and bad energies swirling around on this island, and though she might be turned into a captive again it was far better than fighting what was out there in the dark, at least in her weakened state.
    Flying low she headed along the road toward the camp, trying her best to keep and eye and ear out for any birds of prey, that was the last she needed at this time.
  4. Indignation, Red
    Irylena Firewrath

    Pathetic, clever creatures. Binding Iry with shackles possessing anti-magic properties would prove to be their cleverest move yet. Slapping her, taunting her, groping her? Not quite so, not at all. A High Battlemage was not elected purely based on ancestry. It was based on power, power they so conveniently restrained via outlandish measures. Iry could not fathom the logic of the shackles or perhaps the gems on them, but she knew it kept her from teaching them what it meant to humiliate her so. Yet kneeling on the deck now, she knew there was nothing she could do. The thought only left her seething.

    Just a month before, she would be reclined comfortably on her armchair she had specially crafted by renowned artisans using the priceless Sand Topaz. Waiting on her hand and foot would be servants A and B. She never knew their names but how delightful they were to her, when they scrambled from her flames. Flames; it was then she realised how long it has been since she surrounded herself with them. Clearly aware of her abilities, the crew of the ship took extra precautions, isolating her from all torches and heat in general. The violent winds pelted her face, as did the fierce storms and freezing water. Being on the bow of the ship, these was hardly surprising. What was surprising was that Iry was still alive.

    The crew of the ship must have thought the same, going by their shocked expressions as they brought her to the line of fellow captives. Visibly starved and literally weather-beaten, she looked markedly different from when she first boarded the ship. Of that Iry had no doubt, she could feel it, her body growing weaker, growing thinner. However, that meant little to her in light of what is to come. She is aware of it, and she had been preparing from the very moment she boarded the ship. The stories of Chandra Isle were not foreign to her. As part of lessons on general world history, this was a small chapter, one interesting enough that Iry cared to listen.

    Stories of how the Isle was cursed with undeath, and how none has returned to tell its tale - a point of contradiction, she remembers her tutor admitting but never bothered to elaborate. More crucially to her in this situation, was how they 'delivered' the captives. A brutal method, she remembers, one she does not look forward to. Regardless, she wasted no time in preparing for it mentally. Image training was a staple of the Firewrath's lessons in pyrokinesis, it was just that Irylena never thought this would be how she put it to use. A plan she quickly realised was pointless as the crew undid her shackles, replacing them with a sturdier rope one.

    A sturdier one, without anti-magic properties. Iry quickly focused her mind, aligning with the spirit of fire as she struggled to quickly regain her energies. She had little time, she knew. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, hoping for a little more time. One second goes by... All's well. Two... Still good. Th--

    Without any warning, she was dragged forward so fast she barely registered the intense pain in her wrists until she landed in the water. She barely had enough energy, but it was enough. Now if only she weren't in water, she thought to herself as she kicked her legs, trying to push herself upwards. The heavy rope was fortunately not too heavy in water. However, the other captives were, and they dragged her down, testing the limits of her lungs, which weren't exactly ready for this sudden need to hold breath - not that Iry did, regardless. Eyes wide opened in spite of the salty waters that added another layer of pain, Iry desperately called the flames to her arms.

    Shockingly, it worked, as a jetstream of bubbles shot out from her palms, pushing her up. Still, the weight of the other captives and their struggles below threatened to keep her from the surface. Yet somehow Iry broke the water surface long enough to get a quick breath. Knowing what she needed to do to survive, she focused her mind again, trying to restore as much energy as she could. Within 5 seconds, she was ready, as she let loose the jetstream of bubbles from her palms, allowing her head to break water surface, then slowly, her shoulders, her arms...

    And finally her hands... And finally, the familiar sensation of fire, of heat, returns to her. It was a brief reunion, brief enough to burn through her bonds and release her from the other hopeless captives.

    She fell back into the ocean, but this time she wasn't dragged down. Finally freed and safe for the time, she let herself relax in the water as the current gently moved her towards the Isle. In the distance, she sees the ship departing. Some of the crew were watching, some were cheering; 'scoundrels' was the only thought Iry had.

    It felt like hours before finally, she reached the land. A quick scan of her surroundings revealed no other signs of life, though there was a clear path of rather conspicuously lined braziers. Iry didn't think twice.
  5. Charles looked around seeing many other criminals in chains, on their way to an island that he himself never heard of, only what the prisoners have said about the island, but with so many rumors he didn't know what to believe. Charles never said a word while on this long voyage after his own tribe chained him and two solders went south to a port and put him on this ship. The weather was far warmer than where he was from. and the varies ways people talked was very different also.

    Charles thought about if there was any point to surviving any longer, his tribe was all he knew, all he ever wanted to know, but he couldn't bring kids in as slaves, like his chief wanted. While thinking about all this one of the soldiers open the door where a few of the criminals were at.

    "Alright your turn get out of here!" he said as he forced everyone to their feet, "time for you guys to say hello to your new home. If you can make it that is" he said with a laugh and made everyone go up to the deck. Charles saw an island very far away, still in his chains with everyone else they slowly walked towards the plank.

    "Aren't you going unchain us?" one of the criminals asked, all the soldiers on board just laughed at him, "yeah right!" they said as they threw him overboard.

    One by one they were throwing the criminals overboard, then came Charles turn. "Good luck!" the soldier said with a smirk on his face and pushed Charles off the boat.

    Charles sat in the water for a few minutes, wondering if there was any point to surviving, if this island was even worth it, maybe drowning would of been better, an easier way out.

    Charles instincts kicked in as he was losing more and more oxygen, and with all his strength he broke the chains off his arms and went up for air. Easy was something that Charles refused to do. He looked around and didn't see anyone else coming up, he then saw the island in the distance and paddled his way there.

    When he finally got to the shore, he slowly took deep breaths and looked around, he didn't see anyone or anything, only the sand, and a grassy field in front of him. Charles found a sharp rock and broke the handles from the chain that was still on his wrist, and he rubbed his wrist with his hands, still not seeing anyone else come to shore.

    'What to do now?' Charles wondered as he waited a few more minutes. He looked at the woods in front of him. 'Guess there is no other way,' and he slowly walked the field that had a sign that read "Grimshore", with only a sharp pointed rock in hand.
    #5 Shace, May 27, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: May 27, 2014
  6. The paw prints left in the sand became more irregular with every hundred feet or so. After spending so long in a cramped brig of damp wood, the sudden overuse of the fox woman's muscles were taxing on her worn body, regardless of her brief rest earlier. She finally paused at another brazier to catch her breath, somehow comforted by its warmth and fierce light. As the Vulpinkith attempted to squeeze the remaining saltwater out of her tail, she noticed that all of these braziers had signs pointing to Grimshore Camp. Perhaps whoever set these up had expected any marooned people to have washed up specifically upon this shoreline.

    Despite the splashing water upon the sand, the woman's tapered ear twitched a little, picking up on movement somewhere behind her. Whipping her head around, she fully expected a rotting corpse shambling after her. But no. Someone living was trying to sneak up on her. Judging from the wet raiment matching her own, the Vulpinkith could only assume that this was a fellow exile who was cast off from the ship. But considering the hostile nature of some of the prisoners...

    The Vulpinkith instinctively moved behind the brazier, putting it between herself and the approaching figure. After the fact, she realized perhaps this wasn't her best move: she had just shown whoever this was that she had very little fighting instinct. Clearly showed that she was the weaker target in this situation. With a frown, she called out, "I've done nothing against you, you know. You don't have to scare me like that."

    Her stomach knotted. Again, admitting that she was scared wasn't her brightest idea, but her tail would have given that away regardless. It had slipped from her hands and hung low, not showing any sign of dominance. Any normal person would be scared when thrown into this situation. But a condemned convict? She didn't know of this exile's crimes nor whether or not there was intent to really harm her at all. All she knew was she wasn't in the best of shape to be fighting anything or anyone. Her aching legs tensed, preparing to run.
  7. OOC: Italics are thoughts

    [Kyrie Bishaemon]

    Cloak and dagger...

    Inch by inch, Kyrie kept up with the odd foxgirl, keeping sure that her presence were betrayed but mistakes in her own movement. It was almost like stalking a wild beast, but this time, one with sentient intelligence. The difficulty of the task was much greater than anything she has done. Unfortuantely, even with all of her experience, it didn't take long for Kyrie's cover to be blown. Perhaps the being has recovered a portion of her strength from the swim and that her ears were no longer being affected by the washing of water on the shore. Whatever the case, the foxgirl's head snapped around as if alerted. The action was almost animal-like and she stared directly at Kyrie. The game was up.

    Within a second, the brazier was between Kyrie and the foxgirl. Presumably, it was to make it harder for Kyrie to reach her if her intentions was to attack. It was a legitimate move in her books.

    "If you are unsure of what you are facing, make it as hard as possible for you to be attacked until you know what you are against! Running from a disadvantageous fight is not cowardice!"

    Her Master-at-Arm for her unit had always emphasised this point. The sheer danger the Rangers faced daily meant that blind chivalry and pride was deadly. Suddenly, Kyrie was thrown slightly unbalanced by the foxgirl's call

    "I've done nothing against you, you know. You don't have to scare me like that."

    Not a threat of violence... means she isnt exactly unreasonable or mindless... could be a trap though.... She knows im here, so the only couorse of action if i dont want to escalate this is step out and greet her where she can see...

    Kyrie wasn't going in blind though. Just life foxgirl, her ears was extremely good at picking up sound. Giving the winged ears a few shake to get rid of the remaining water on it, Kyrie stepped out, her ears slightly extended to pick up sounds a bit better.

    Easy... i am coming out slowly now.

    As Kyrie continued into the light of the brazier, her eyes scanned all direction for any potential threats. Being in the light was like attaching a signal to yourself to everything in a mile radius. However, upon closer approach, Kyrie got a better view of the being. She was indeed fox like, with fur and tail and all. In fact, if she was to go by a fox as a standard, that lowered tail meant she wasnt being overly defensive or threatening. A good sign. If the foxgirl was threatening, it could be dangerous, especially if she fought like a feral beast.

    Ok. I am out in the open. I am not looking to harm you. I barely made it to shore and i spotted these braziers, just like you. Saw your tracks and didn't want to risk being attacked in case you were hostile. I am not going to attack you unless you do something stupid, so lets not go down that path, ok? We both are heading to this camp. We have a common goal. I am not asking you to suddenly become all friendly, but i dont want to hurt you and i dont think you want to hurt me either, so lets just go up there, at arms length apart if it makes you feel better.
  8. Through Grimshore Camp, James was known well enough to not be attacked, but he was still scorned and often had some hide from him. He was a mixture of two things this island feared, a notorious pirate and an undead that walked among the living. It was rare that a resurrected undead had a full mind, the rumor was that it required a fully functional brain and a strong will to happen. When James died, his hatred and desire for revenge against his mutinous first mate is probably what kept him from becoming a beast. Had he still had his flesh intact, he'd normally be spending his time drinking wines until an ogre looked pretty enough to bed, but as it turns out you can't really get drunk without flesh to taint. Instead, James spent most of his time searching for people to help him find the source of the curse. Usually he'd tell them it was to rid himself of his life after death, but that was a simple lie.

    If James was seen in Grimshore Camp then as a few people knew, that meant he was trying to find more people, expand his crew. In this case, the few that did not die from the island threats had abandon the goal of finding the curse, leaving James all alone in his goal. Grimshore Camp was his chosen area because it often had new faces, more exiles not unlike himself that would be more than willing to make their stay easier. No doubt once James got a hold of the curse, he would offer the others positions on his crew.

    This was, of course, only if the curse was something that could be taken off the island. If the source was another person or something too large or anything that wouldn't be so easily moved, he would simply destroy it, ending his own life as well. A pirate captain must always be ready for death, and he was when he had been captured, but it was needless as he was exiled on this forsaken spit of land anyway. Usually in a mutiny, pirates were not even cruel enough to use cursed islands, merely abandon ones. It was acts like this that made James question which men were truly bad, the men of justice, or the dogs of the sea? Surely the pirates were the evil, and he welcomed this idea, he never once cared what anyone outside his crew thought of him, but had he truly been worse than the ones cruel enough to send people to a land of such curses?

    Thoughts like this is what made it so easy for him to talk others to help him, though most of these people were criminals, and probably leader figures like himself, he chose his words wisely. He had the mind and heart of a captain, and being rid of such mentality would be nearly impossible, but if he were to convince these people to follow him he would have to make them feel equal, even if James held himself higher than themselves.

    So far nobody he had spoken to liked the idea of putting themselves beside a skeleton, but new hope came to James as he thought he saw something in the distance. It was too far, could have been a bird just appearing on the horizon, but James knew a sail when he saw one. Taking out his spyglass, he extended it to look. He was right, the ship to condemn more had arrived. No doubt people would be showing up here soon, just as he had. Making his way to the western entrance, James sat against it with his head leaning on the wall. Someone ignorant to the curse would have assumed him to be a dead body that never was picked up, but he would relax here and wait for the new arrivals, he was having no luck with the veterans. He had only hoped they wouldn't attack him before hearing him speak.

    At times like this, James wished the undead could sleep.
  9. Tired, oh god so tired, teleporting was rather high cost unless she was at her full. She drew energy from her surroundings and the best location for her was nearby magical sources; she could -in fact- sustain herself or draw energy from the passive radiance of a mage. Her connection to mana made her able to see and feel other energies in the air and around her, though not to her master’s level it was still plenty to find out what, where and who.
    Losing control over her flying due to exhaustion she almost landed in one of the braziers that lit up the path towards Grimshore Camp, the name of that place was eery but if it was the closest ‘location’ to the shore it was named well.
    Barely managing to dodge the flames she instead landed on a small patch of sand, far from a soft landing though her light frame and lack of natural aerodynamics meant that the air itself aided her even of just ever so little. She had to sit there for quite a while to regain physical energy, her mana was somewhat recharging from the energies on the island... Either there was a mana-well nearby or there were an abundance of energy flowing on this island. Though relaxing and trying to focus was annoying due to her lack of energy and lacking mana-pool, she was able to get a sense of her immediate surroundings. There were a lot of dark energies flowing about, necromantic or at least in some way from the dark arts.
    Being a Mana-Fairy she had the ability to absorb energy from most sources but there was a mental component where she had to attune herself to the correct form. So if she were to absorb energies from fire magic or fire attuned energies she had align her own aura to fire, this would then allow her to obtain energy for herself from fire mages or fire magic. As an interesting side effect of this her own aura were always fluctuating wildly for any mana-sensitive onlookers.
    So for this island she sat down and relaxed, forcing her own body to take onto the properties needed for this to work, which took much longer than she would like due to her situation.

    Several minutes later she could feel the switches in place, so to speak, though still somewhat iffy she could feel the small stream of energy flowing. Though hiding within it there was something else, a pulse of movement within it’s own field.
    Letting her senses work again she noted that this was not just the energy that was moving, there was a being actually moving as well. Out through some foliage came what looked like a crazed old man who had not thought of the concept of hygiene the last decade. No, wait... He was already dead. Necromantic energies, grazed seemingly dead people; it all made sense now.
    Gathering the remaining energies she had been able to gather she formed a yellow sphere of energy between her hands, no larger than half a centimeter (0,19”) it expanded to the size of a good fist as it left her cupped hands. No words or phrases needed for this, just an extension of her inner attunement. The sphere sailed into the chest of the feral being flailing towards her and crashed into it’s chest. A small explosion of energy and yellow tines of lightning jumping to the branches and ground erased the upper part of the zombie’s torso.

    Falling back to her knees Tabitha was again tired beyond belief, she needed to regain her energies to her normal levels, at least get to relax properly.
    Her logical chance was still the camp, walking some of the way she tried to mix flying and walking as she got closer towards to what she assumed to be the camp based on lighting around and what she assumed to be a makeshift wall in the darkness. She was too tired to put too much thought behind her actions at this time, drained of physical as well as magical energies she wanted to just find somewhere safe and sleep for the next two weeks.

    Flying closer she realized something.... Not far from the wall there was another one of those gatherings of energy, it felt like a sort of gray cloud on a, otherwise slightly brighter cloudy sky; not always easy to differentiate but somewhat clearly there.
    Not really having the energy to fly around this being, she simply landed where she was now, a mere four or five meters away. She had not realized the minute differences in the feel of energy yet; so she actually had to get this close before she realized this one being here. Only difference physically was that this one looked more like a decomposed pirate and less rabid, he was still one of them.
    Standing on the ground, she gathered as much energy as she could, she planned to fire an Energy Blast at it as soon as she had enough to go on. Hopefully he would not do anything strange until she was ready.
  10. While pondering the thoughts of what new beings might enter the island, a rare sight had approached him. It was odd, seeing a fairy, especially here. Was she a new exile? That seemed to be the case given her lack in hostility and willingness to approach him. Even then, he'd thought the rumors had spread inland. Perhaps instead she thought of him as nothing more than a decayed corpse, which wasn't far from the truth. Though in reality, most of his flesh was ravaged by the cannibals. Or perhaps this was despair? She looked exhausted, maybe she chose a grave. Unlikely.

    "You should be careful," he spoke from his fleshless throat. He never understood how he was able to speak, let alone keep his scratchy, deep voice without flesh, but he also didn't know anything about the curse at all other than its effects. "The dead don't sleep here, and the living is full of cut throats, low lifes, and worse I should dare." Hopefully his words wouldn't startle her too much to warrant a defensive attack. "Why are ye not in the walls to keep yourself safe from my ilk?" He almost called her a lass, but he had no idea how old she was, he didn't know much about a fairys lifespan or cycle for that matter. She could have been an old woman for all he knew, or even just a child.
  11. Aggressiveness, Red
    Irylena Firewrath

    Iry was no fool, keeping close to the fires of the braziers. The Firewrath were naturally attuned to the spirit of fire, which itself presented many uses aside from mere manipulation. Her eyes watched the flames as it danced in the chilling sea breeze. The warmth from the braziers did little to dry her raiment, or soothe the ache in her wrists, but it communicated something else more important. "Aha, so there are survivors," Iry chuckled as she closed her eyes, focusing her mind.

    "Two? Okay," she mutters as she cleared her mind and restored her energies in full. She didn't know if they were going to be hostile, but for them to be banished to this accursed isle must mean they were no pushovers. It would hardly surprise her if they proved to be the back-stabbing scoundrels she already expected them to be. After all, such was the way of the world. You climb atop the backs of those foolish enough to turn away from you.

    Her eyes looked ahead in the distance, some ten meters away. Her steps were cautious, and though flippant to the eyes of any onlooker, Iry was mentally preparing herself for an ambush. As she walked, she quickly realised her concerns were unwarranted. There were indeed two figures, but they were anything but hidden. "Hm," mused Iry as she observed the two converse. One seemed like a normal lady, albeit tall and imposing - a warrior, perhaps. The other was more curious, with the ear of a fox and a tail. Iry had heard of other races inhabiting this world, one such as the one she saw now, but seeing it in person was a first.

    Regardless, now seemed a better time than any to remove some opposition. They looked weak enough that it should be easy. Glancing at a brazier, she beckoned the flames to her. The fire leapt from the brazier, curling into a small effervescent sphere. With a bored expression, she swung the fireball at the two. It lands on the ground near them, exploding with sufficiently good force that makes Iry smirk.

    #11 Mikasa, May 30, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: May 30, 2014
  12. To Yanet, this being was perhaps as strange as she was. Obviously female, but those wing-like ears were too much of an oddity to even call her remotely human. Yanet may be able to move her own ears - as shown by how they were attentively tilted toward her stalker - but not quite in the same way. At the very least, this woman showed and voiced her unwillingness to make the first strike. This was a relief, bringing on a weak smile. Yanet had no intention of making the first strike, either. Hesitant in case this woman had other plans, the Vulpinkith timidly stepped out from behind the torch. Her own hands were empty, save for the black claws upon her dark fingers. She only wished she didn't have to use them.

    However, not everyone present shared such sentiments, for a third convict was approaching the pair. Yanet picked up the whiff of burning kelp on the wind as this other woman approached. Perhaps it was just the brazier and the dank stench of her own raiment. Perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her. Despite Yanet's tail held low, her own nervousness caused the fur near its base to stand on end.

    The fox woman's eyes soon grew wide upon witnessing the new woman draw upon the embers themselves and harnessing it into a sphere. Unlike Miss WingEar, this one was hostile. And she meant business.

    "Look out!" was all she had the time to shout before the flame was hurled in their direction. Praying her warning was sufficient enough, Yanet bolted away from the immediate danger. Her pulse raced as fast as her thoughts in her head. Should she fight? With what weapon? Should she run? If so, where to? The woods to the north? Straight to the camp?
  13. [Kyrie Bishaemon]

    As expected...

    Kyrie could only thank the gods that this being was willing to play ball. If she had attacked instead, Kyrie would be fighting on the back foot, but it wouldnt be the first time she has done so. Slowly, the being became more and more clear as she stepped into the light of the brazier and she was indeed an odd one. Tail and ears nonewithstanding, her feet were quite like those of an animal and she had some sort of colouring on her face and other parts of her body. Kyrie couldnt tell if it was natural to the foxgirl or if the fire from the brazier was playing light tricks on her face. Whatever the case, her not attacking meaning some form of parlay has been formed.

    Before Kyrie could even utter another word, her ears twitched. It wasnt the twitch of hearing something, but the twitch of danger, a phenomenon she and her rangers only know so well. Aggression. Often, in the jungles in the Hallowed Realms, everything was trying to eat you, so the twitch was often redundant. However, in the rare offchance they were safe, the twitch was the only thing that saved them from the reaper. In this case, Kyrie wasn't expecting any danger so when it twitched, it acted more like a flare than a spark. At the same time, The foxgirl shouted for her to look out while the fire from the brazier flew from its housing past her back towards the beach.

    Once again, the twitch, along with Foxgirl, saved Kyrie from death. Rather than waste time looking back, Kyrie dove towards the direction of the Foxgirl. Since the flame went backwards and Foxgirl warned her, it was only natural that the attacker was behind her and sure enough, the fireball slammed into the ground next to where they were and blew up like a bomb. It would have caused some damage if she hadnt moved. By now, Kyrie had combat rolled from her dive and swivelled to face the back, crouching in the grass. In a low whisper, Kyrie tried to coordinate with the Foxgirl. In this situation, where there is now no light in the immediate area, Foxgirl had the biggest advantage with her senses.

    Damnation. Knew there were cutthroats on that ship. Listen. I know you mean me no harm, so i am going to take the risk and put my life in your hands. Since you were able to sense me and warn me about the attack, im assuming your senses are quite acute. Unless our attacker is like you, she is blind. The braziers are our worst enemy considering she seems to be able to use fire magic. Our best bet is to make a run for it and get to this camp and use your sense to keep track of our attacker.

    Kyrie concentrated the wind at her hands and sent a wide blasting gust down the pathway. It wasn't going to do much, but at the very least, would make the mage keep their head down in case it did.

    let's move

    Quickly, but steathily began to scuttle up the bushes besides the path towards the camp. The more distance they make, the harder it was for the mage to hit. She genuinely hoped the Foxgirl wasn't going to stay and duke it out with a hostile mage and actually help her. Kyrie needed her superior sense if she wanted to increase her chance of survival.
  14. It spoke.... Could they all do that or did it mean this one was different? If nothing else this one was not attacking her as of now, seeming to take a relaxed and talking role does indeed show intelligence way above what the feral creature that attacked her earlier had. It was not possible for her to take his word on anything as of yet; after all she had no idea if this was a ruse or was indeed actual advice from a ‘person’, though a tad threatening sounding.
    He did have the same aura about him that the others, but his flickered a tad, there were more to his than the mindless ghoul before. Was this a sentient undead?

    “I came from the shore, I was on the way to the camp.” She answered truthfully. There was no reason to lie nor to hide the rather clear details if one thought about it for a minute.
    In a way this was her buying her time till she gathered enough energy to dispose of this undead in one go without losing consciousness in the process. Though her master always told her to assume someone an enemy until proven wrong. Sadly this has had her taking many unnecessary lives; perhaps she actually did indeed belong on the isle...

    Though, the more she thought about it the more her curiosity managed to slither into her mindset.
    “Why aren’t you attacking me?” She wanted to know, logic pointed to this one being different than the other but she could not be sure. “The last one of your... ilk... I met lounged at me like he was lacking food as well as a brain...”

    Conversation was a good timewaster that doubled in obtaining information, hopefully the undead pirate was not buying time as well for something else.
  15. With his suspicion of her being another exile confirmed, it was only fair that she ask him questions. He chuckled slightly at the question, not because of the question but because of the answer. "I won't attack you because I see no profit in it for me, nothing to gain." Such was the nature of a pirate, particularly a captain. It was deeper than that, he missed the company of his crew, but no fairy or anything else for that matter would suffice for that gap. Still, it was no lie, had he seen profit in it, he would likely attack without hesitation.

    "I suppose you want more than that," James continued. "Rumor has it if an undead is resurrected and has a fully intact brain and strong enough will, he keeps his memories and personality, I seem to be the case." It was so difficult to explain something he just didn't understand, all he really knew was that he came back to life and remembered who he was. It made sense that in order to understand more he'd likely have to find the source of this necromancy, but until then, it was useless to question it.

    Glancing over at her, James found himself unusually curious about her species. He wondered specifically if she was thirsty, which lead him to question if fairys even needed water at all. There was an easy way to find out, very simply raising his right hand he telepathically pulled water from the grass that grew from the ground. With her size, he didn't need much at all, so he made a ball maybe the size of a marble. Probably too large for her to drink all of it, but it was the smallest he could handle without it falling apart in the air. Floating the tiny orb towards her, he spoke once more, "Thirsty?"
  16. Casual Pursuit, Red
    Irylena Firewrath

    Iry laughs as she watches their reaction. Here, she had launched an attack with an intent to kill, and there they were, running instead of fighting back? Not that it would do them much good, Iry thought, but still, it was disappointing behaviour. Iry's heart was pumping in anticipation, expecting them to confront her. Expecting them to remind her of how it was during the uprising, how intense it had been - more so than any flame she had manipulated.

    Seeing them now, wipes the smirk off her face. She steps forward, hardly about to give up the chase when the more human-looking individual sends a gust of wind at her. By virtue of their distance, the gust became more like a strong breeze. All it managed to do was slow her down a little and stoke the flames. Eyes burning with mad desire to see immolation, she strode onwards, following the path as she beckoned two more fireballs to her hands.

    With each step, she tossed the sphere of flames at them. They land short of the two, who were doing a good job of keeping the distance between them. "Heh, lucky cowards," Iry remarked as she paused, watching the explosions. Unless she picked up her pace, there was no catching up to them. Iry could only sigh as she ambled onwards. If they were going in the same direction, she would meet them eventually.

    #16 Mikasa, May 31, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2014
  17. OOC: I think that we might just continue with our little dialogue and events until someone comes into play, as we are in front of the entrance after all. ^^

    Tabitha was taken back a little, though only speculating he had done a rather decent job with it. Although he had only half of it down, when someone were brought back via magic it’s more often in the hands of the mage than the will of the person dead; though the spirit was the important factor as well as the casters’ understanding. But it remained partly as the pirate guessed, having an intact brain did indeed help. She knew a lot of theories about this but had to get herself back to her full to be able to sense the details she needed to know to make sure about this.

    Lowering her guard ever so slightly as it did indeed seem like this.. person.. didn’t mean direct harm, at least not as of now. Tabitha thought she saw some sense of curiosity in his eyes as he looked at her, though it might as well be constipation for all she knew, the facial features of a partly decayed body was not always as easy to make out. But what followed came as a slight shock to the winged one.
    She was offered water, that he seemingly pulled out of the vegetation... This undead might be a water mage or manipulator, but the fact that she was offered water from this particular being, and that it was apparently drained from the local ground where she knew creatures who being called unclean was an upgrade had been, didn’t really give into her thirst. Though her mouth was as dry as fine sand she could not give into it.

    “No... thanks...” she stated, sounding more hesitant than she intended. She really did appreciate the offer and under other circumstances this would have been godsend, she just didn’t trust him or the environment.
    “How long have you been here?” her inquisitive side kicked in sooner than she’d like, being a creature who literally lives on the energy people call Mana, her interest in things magical was simply a logic side effect. “And what happened to you to bring you to this state?”
  18. Denying his offer to drink pure water would normally lead James to believe she didn't need water, but the hesitation was rather unclear. He wouldn't press the matter, after all he just admitted that this island was full of cut-throats and lowlifes, and to be completely true, he fit among them quite well, he'd taken many lives, and taken the innocence of many women. Her asking him how long he's been here caught him off guard, causing a moment of silence, then another brief moment to attempt remembering. "Hm...It must be about 21 years now, give or take. I don't know just how long I was dead for," he explained, he knew the time span wasn't too significant, but it still could have been more than a year. He assumed it was less, but this number was for how long he was aware of his existence.

    Realizing he was still holding the water orb, he let it go as the marble of liquid fell apart and landed on the ground. It was such a small amount that he actually hadn't noticed he still had it. "9 years ago, my mutinous first mate stabbed me in the back. He killed me and blamed me for getting my crew caught and..." James stopped. The rest of the detail wasn't important for now. "The rest is just just a tale, now. I assume he threw my body to the cannibals, who helped themselves to my flesh, other than what you see here." As he mentioned his current state he waved his hand around his body to emphasize his lack of flesh. "Then I remember coming back to life, still having most of my wares."

    He had no idea why the fairy was here or how she felt about people who seek revenge, so he left out the part about treating his first mate the way he did. But he would tell her one more piece of information before asking his question. "An' just if you're wonderin', My name is James, I was a pirate before. My ship was the last sight of many men." He didn't much care if she worked out that he was the Redshirt James, but he did care to not be attacked, had he hurt someone close to her, she might just want revenge. "My turn," He continued. It occurred to him that a fairy might be a good ally, particularly if she turns out to be powerful. "Ya got a name, lass?" It was amusing to him despite not showing it, calling her a lass was a complete mistake, just an old habit that refused to die.
  19. So, he had been on this island for quite some time, roughly a fourth of the expected life of a normal human. Tabitha had slight problems putting that into perspective as she had most likely lived far longer than the pirate would ever do. Some further explanation told her what she was going to ask next, it’s a tad strange for her as when one turns a corpse into a living dead, one of -if not the- first things said undead lays eyes on is the caster who called him back to this world.
    But, this man just ‘woke’ like that? Was the mage messing with his memories or were there something else behind this?

    The water was dropped.... All that sweet sweet thirst quenching liquid... Back into the sand... Her thoughts of sadness were interrupted by his introduction. James!
    James the pirate... there were something about that... Had she heard it before? and if so; where?
    Her thoughts were again ripped back to this world as she was asked a question just after James stating his order in line to ask the questions; only fair given that he had answered already.

    “My name is Tabitha.” she answered, not telling her last name due to several reasons, most being that she didn’t need to. But there were something about his name.
    She had met hundreds of James’ in her lifetime, but there was a reason that it triggered something in her mind once it was tied to a pirate. Logic dictated that this was a pirate or a James related to piracy in some way, but she couldn’t put the puzzle together as of yet.

    Choosing to ignore it she decided to try and take advantage of James here. He stated he was sleepless, and seemed to have at least some hydromancy to go on. He was a pirate and apparently had seen some battles. Her idea was to figure out if he was one to trust or not, if he was she could try and use him as a bodyguard of sorts until she recovered. Her alignment to the dark energies on this island was far from perfect, so she didn’t get the link running as she’d like, returning to full would take a day or so.
    Though... She couldn’t just press on too hard, or the whole idea might reflect back on her in ways that she’d prefer not to think about.
    For now, she had to measure him up and figure out if he could be trusted, if nothing else she had gotten to the point of recharging where she could at least wound him with her Energy Blast and escape.

    “So, James, why are you waiting outside the camp entrance?” It was clear why this location more than possible others, this one was closest to the shore where they got out of the water, odds were he was very aware of this, but why take the chance of being attacked on sight? His attackers might be weak but why risk it?
  20. Tabitha, eh? No last name was mentioned, but he didn't much care. He didn't even have a proper last name thanks to the way he was raised. Even if he had, it would make him a hypocrite to demand one, so he had no reason to question this. Now with her asking why he was waiting here, a completely fair question, triggered James to use his silver tongue, maybe he could convince her to help him find the curse. The best bet seemed to be to tell part of the truth, but not the whole truth, just in case he needed to lie in front of her later.

    "New arrivals," He began. Knowing there would need to be more context to make him not seem sinister, so he continued without pause. "See, had I thought there be a life after death, I'd not have chosen the life of a pirate." This was completely true, he'd taken so many lives and brought tears to so many familys that had there been an afterlife, hell would surely be his final fate. Perhaps this was it. "I want to find the source of this necromancy." He decided it best to not mention what he truly wanted to do with the curse, she didn't need to know that if it was something that could be taken off the island, he would do so and bring his crew back. "It's not something I can do alone, or I'd have done it already. I saw the ship with my spyglass, if new exiles want to help me, this is a good place to intercept them. It's easy to pretend being a corpse when you are one." There were very few that would bother a corpse, especially a fleshless one, so long as they were new. He had a few Skirmishes with the ones smart enough to do so, but his way with words proved very useful against many of them.
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