"That Damned Battle Mage!"

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Time-Out, Aug 31, 2014.

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  1. And so this happened.
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    A young man by the name of Kohei Uchimora finds himself in a bit of a... Pickle.

    An esteemed warrior, he is the stuff of legends - lean, mean, and ready to strike down his enemies. If only he had anticipated what his latest enemy was capable of...

    (The microphone is to you, battle-mage!)
  3. "Lady Asoka! I have brought a friend of mine," a plump lady, no older than thirty despite her laughing lines, half hoisted her friend into the cottage hut. Ginger hair bundled up in a scarf, she looked like a farmer's wife, the generic type. Her companion was a beauty, though age was catching up on her, and her prominently ailing health must have done a number on her as well.

    The young witch beckoned sat behind the low, wooden table (slightly moist to the touch from humid). Her violet eyes were a shocking colour in contrast to her platinum hair. With her legs crossed Indian-style, large cone hat near toppling off her seemingly too-small head, she looked like a child in oversized clothing, cosplaying as a witch for recreational purposes and not a legitimate one. But the villagers have seen what she could do; they knew she was, despite the size, fearsome, like the deadly kiss from a tiny spider.

    Nevermind the fact that all she did was pull a few simple tricks, like lighting fire from her fingertips or curing a flesh wound on a cattle boy. It was just a random and rare whim of hers to provide help, but she didn't complain much, since the villagers practically threw their dirty bodies down at her feet in worship.

    "Bring her closer to me," her light voice chimed, "Let me see her."

    The plump woman carefully, thoughtfully made space for her friend and even offered assistance as she sat the slender lady down. The sick one had very dark hair, tinged with brown in some strands. Her eyes were sunken, somewhat, but one could easily tell that if she were in better health, she would have the warmest chocolate eyes.

    Asoka was immediately jealous of the concealed beauty; it always ticked her off to see pretty things in the blandest shades. Brown was supposed to be a boring colour - like this table! - how dare she look .. attractive?

    Such was the immature thoughts of a witch.

    "What bothers you, woman?"

    "I .. have been having a cough. It's been prevailing for many a month now."

    Her friend interjected, "Her husband is away on duty."

    Oh. Well now.

    The flaxen-haired child faked a careful scrutiny and rested her chin in one hand, nodding with a few 'hm'. "Come back again tomorrow. I will have a cure prepared by then."

    As the duo left with words of thanks, Asoka lowered her head, cone hat tipping further to shadow her smirking face.
  4. Kohei would've been gone for a few days now when he returned to his humble abode. It was as simple as simple could be, enough to make the minimalist squee. Though, there was a slightly off putting air about it when he entered, and knowing the swordsman, he went in to investigate.

    "Miyo? Are you there?" He called walking around with his sword slung at his hip. The way he looked gave off a presence of sheer power, an indeed powerful man who could cut butterflies in half. Regardless of his skills, he would not be ready for the happenings which would ultimately change his life.

    His wife had been sick even before his expedition to the mountains, but alas, he trusted her friend would take care of her slender form. Kohei soon found his wife, but he ran to her side once he did. "Miyo!"

    She had been laying down in an abrupt fashion; the hem of her dress seemed to be astray and her body looked deathly pale. She wasn't dead, but, the swordsman could see she was fighting for her life. Scooping her up into his lap, Kohei looked on with eyes telling the story one might expect. "Hey, hey it's going to be okay! We just need to... Damn it! What's going on, Miyo?!"

    Kohei never took death easily, and he had been branded a murderer within the village they stayed within. Though... This had taken him by surprise, and the strings clutching his heart were tightening. He couldn't have his young wife die on him like this, not now, not after three years of happy marriage and no child. With a shaky sigh, he cradled her form, until...

    There was a sizzling sound. It was deafening, causing Kohei to be flung back through the wafer thin wall behind him, as a magic circle suddenly appeared below his beloved wife. The way the air seemed to pick up and fling around various things was enough to convince him - someone with magic had done this. The swordsman got his footing and stood up, stance ready, his blade ready to draw. His wife had been possessed by demons, and now... She turned into what the magic circle depicted.

    A lumbering ogre smashed through the ceiling of the home, before roaring with sounds incomprehensible to the human ear. Kohei gritted his teeth, his wife flashing before his eyes in images unending, though the first swing of the monster almost caught him off guard as this happened.

    The swordsman evaded this strike, and proceeded to draw his sword right when he reached the ogre's knee, carving deeply into it, a yell of agony coming from the brute. It fell to that knee, but then struck Kohei, sending him flying through two more walls, before he got himself up and saw his wife yet again before his eyes. "... WITCH! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD. JUST YOU WAIT!" He shouted, the only person he knew to have magic was the witch within town, and now, he had to do the impossible.

    End his wife's life.

    Even if she was in this form, he could not help but feel sad as his blade sank deep into the thigh of the ogre, and the swordsman jumped up before his sword delved deeply into it's head, blood spurting out everywhere. This was the killing blow, and the brute crashed down to the ground, the man finding himself standing a blade covered in green blood. His form was heaving, gasping for breath, before he sank to his knees.

    This was the lowest point in his life.
  5. Fast forward 4 years later because why not.
    A calloused hand slapped at the door, again a familiar wooden, moist touch to it. Asoka had terrible taste in choosing a new home each time she migrated. "You're moving again?" She looked up and twitched her lips to the left in distaste. The boy standing at her door (too hesitant and shocked to enter, perhaps) had shoulder-length blonde hair, darker than hers, and had a rich golden colour. It was beautiful, so she never thought of laying a (diabolical) finger on him. Or spell.

    Speaking of which, that brought back several memories ..

    "You're here, Riku," came his succinct reply.

    Like a record player going bad, he repeated jerkily, "Are you moving again?"

    "I heard you the first time," the witch snapped, impatient and irritated, "Yes, I'm moving again. We both know it's bound to happen."

    By then, she was almost done with packing. With a bit of shrinking spell, most of her junk fit just peachy into the luggage bag. It helped with lessening the weight, too. Her male counterpart half choked a sob - she rolled her eyes - and gave a grand sweep of his arms outwards. "This could be your new home!"

    "Don't be crazy. I never stay more than 6 months in every town, village or city. People don't like witches."

    "But I like you," the boy blurted, "I'd go anywhere with you."

    It would be silly of her to turn down such a loyal pawn.
    "Alright, then," she faked hesitancy and smirked inwardly when she saw his face light up, "Grab your things. We'll be leaving in an hour."

    "Where to?"

    "Graviner. Quite a ways to the Northeast from here."
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