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Moderated by Cetasaurus
The Wild Coast - Sunset (Open Fantasy)
Posted: Posted May 23rd, 2016 by Ero

Rumors were told of a wrecked vessel off the Wild Coast- a section of land protruding from the continent like a pointed finger. The sea lashed against the rocks that acted as a barrier between the coastline and the hostile waters. However they also acted as a tombstone for all the ships and sailors who were lost in their battle with nature...

The particular vessel that the young mage had been in search of was but a rumor, however anything would help at this point as his search along the coast was the best chance he had at finding the treasure he was in seek of. The mage seemed to be alone which was considered by most suicide in these parts due to it being a haven for raiders and scavengers looking to loot any ships. Hopefully he was in luck and beat them to this newest vessel.

The wind whipped against the cloak that shrouded his body as he carefully traversed the rocky terrain of the coastline. In the distance, the sound of yelling could be faintly made out over the roar of the ocean. The mage knelt down behind a large rock formation and looked into the distance, using a force of arcane magic to enhance his sight distance. A ship adorned with Imperial markings was being pillaged by raiders- if he wasn't quick they would make off with everything, including the item he so desperately sought. Glancing down at the crystal that crowned his staff, the mage watched as it's colors began to shift, indicating that he was beginning to amplify his abilities using the crystal as a catalyst. With a quick hop, he jumped to his feet and began to advance towards the raiders, prepared to do what was necessary in order to protect himself and the future of this world.

There are 6 Replies

Arlen wasn't the first scavenger to arrive on the scene of the wrecked ship; he had to prepare himself before he'd enter the frenzy. He perched on a rock a good distance from the debris, draped in loose rags, resembling in many respects a tattered crow. The sea spray had begun to soak through his clothes, and it caused his tangled dark hair to stick against his cheek. He raised a hand to brush it back. In the same moment, he spotted a lone figure, dressed in a cloak and carrying a staff, pressing doggedly toward the broken vessel. The stranger struck Arlen as odd, different from the usual characters on this bony stretch of land, with his crystal-tipped staff and his poised comportment. Arlen hung back another moment, watching. An idea occurred to him.

Scavenging was the only livelihood Arlen had known, though he hadn't always made his enterprises solo. It was risky – dangerous to contend with the other raiders, the pillagers, the plunderers. Sites of a wreckage often were bloodbaths. Teaming up was always the smarter option. Arlen's former partner, now deceased, had provided their team with cunning and strategy, right up until the moment when wit was found a futile defense against the brutality of a blunt, curved sword. It struck the young man through the chest. Arlen returned for the body a few days later, after the crowds had dispersed, realizing the sentiment of grief for the first time.

Arlen was not as smart as his partner had been. He was stronger by a little, but significantly more skilled with any choice of weapon. He was quicker in combat, fast on his feet. Arlen brushed the hilt of the short sword he had concealed beneath his clothes, a thoughtless gesture, then stood up and started to move. He bounced lightly over the rocks, taking care not to be heard above the crashing waves so as not to spook the stranger. He approached the lone figure from behind, and when he was within shouting distance he stopped, panting. "Sir!" he called, breathing in the misty air. "I saw you heading for the ship. We should team up – it will be safer." His tone was meant to disarm, his posture appeared non-threatening, but Arlen was prepared for if this man were to attack. His right arm lay across his stomach as if he were out of breath, close to the handle of his weapon. He watched the man for a reaction, eyeing the strange crystal on his staff.

Posted May 27th, 2016 by Cetasaurus
Cetasaurus
formerly KM8

Fate would not have just two vagabonds to be drawn toward the seaside raid. On the other end of the coastline closer to the attack, another spectator approached the top of a rugged decline to look upon the ransacking below. The salty sea wind whipped his battered cape and dark robes to and fro, the spindly, black feather plumage twitching about from their place behind his neckline. If the scavenger was to be compared to a perched crow, this mage bore the visage of a vulture. What bare necessity of the youthful, if stone, face left exposed from the tightly-wrapped hood was devoid any sympathy for the Imperial crew being pillaged. Like the far-off mage and scavenger, opportunity was what beckoned this magic-user to the scene.

"How fortuitous," he drawled, the makings of what could possibly be a smirk making its rare appearance. Purple, upturned eyes raked across the battle with calculative observation. Swordsmen meeting each other on deck, archer raiders on higher ground sniping unaware crew members. These bandits knew how to orchestrate an ambush, and would certainly have their winnings very soon. 'Would,' being the operative word. Their preference for cutting throats was a double-edged sword; violence beget violence, and all...

The mage turned his head slightly to acknowledge his two... 'comrades.' Unlike the one still currently unnoticed, this arcane user was not without accompaniment. "These people seek a bloodbath. Let us help them along."

This said, the mage reached into a pouch attached to his belt, withdrawing a handful of shimmering ash. Under his breath he rasped an incantation, and suddenly his billowing cape wrapped in around him as the sea breeze abruptly changed course to be directed down towards the Imperial ship below. His arm stretched out from his poised figure, and from his open palm the ash was swept away - but rather than scattering into dust, it parted into small streams carried by the wind, snaking down towards their targets. The strands homed in towards the archers with unnatural precision, smacking against their eyes before they could react. Instinct bade them to try to rub the offending particles from their squeezed shut eyes, but the inevitable would not be halted now. Opening eyes were revealed to be clouded over, the archers seeing nothing but darkness through them. They were blinded, robbed of their most valuable aspect on unsteady terrain in the middle of a fight. Instinct bade panic.

With that threat neutralized, the mage looked up at one much taller than himself expectantly - a silent command for that one to now enter the fray.

Posted June 15th, 2016 by Zaqir
Zaqir
 

The sounds of screams harshly entered their way into his sensitive ears. How could human voices from such a distance be so loud? Their blood curdling screams almost made his stomach churn… Almost. It wasn’t the first time Enki had experienced this cacophony of human suffering. Back then, he relished in it; enjoyed the feeling of being able to overpower them. Who knew the tables would have turned so greatly, that he was now bond to serve one of them for the rest of this man’s days. Anything to continue to keep his kind and homeland a secret from this world…. Well, mostly a secret.

Standing with a hand on his right hip, he watched the mage work his magic. Magic was certainly a ghastly thing. So unnatural. However, it was oh so useful in combat. Those arrows really did hurt. As silence once again formed over the trio, Enki’s golden eyes looked down upon Zaqir, knowing that the two would most certainly locked eyes. Over the past few months, Enki had finally started uncoding this human’s strange silent communication. Humans apparently loved to speak without really saying anything at all… annoying really.

Enki’s lean figure loomed over the two as he stood at 6’5”. His white hair was sprinkled with strands of various shades of grey and rested at his tail bone. His light brown skin held a few scars here and there and dark freckles framed his cheeks and nose. Despite his intimidating height, his appearance did not even come close. His androgynous face left many questioning whether he was a man or woman, when he wasn’t shirtless of course. Yet the most notable of his features were the two pointy, wolf ears that rested upon his head and the bushy tail that was slightly wagging behind him. His left ear was pierced all the way to the top with small gold rings, his right only held onto three. He only wore a pair of old, loose harem shorts that stopped above his knees.

Cracking his clawed fingers, Enki revealed a sharp, toothy grin. ”Who doesn’t?” Jumping from the top of the hill into the lush vegetation under them, Enki disappeared. As he reappeared, several of the pillagers released a scream. Before them was a wolf: a wolf of mythical proportions. This wolf was larger than that of a normal grey wolf by four times, whose jaws easily shrank into the nearest human’s torso. As they tried to run, Enki continued sinking his fangs into them, one by one.


Posted June 17th, 2016 by Enki, Lord of the Lands
Enki, Lord of the Lands
 

As Arlen waited for the mage to reply, the atmosphere of the quarreling pillagers turned sharply. Without warning or explanation, archers were grasping at their eyes. No sooner had Arlen straightened up to look for the cause, hand resting overtly on the hilt of his sword now, than a flash of an animal disappeared into the vegetation. When the creature remerged, Arlen took a few staggering steps backward, though he was far from the scene. The grey beast was colossal, and the screams of its victims cut right through the impassive roar of the sea. Arlen watched, face frozen in an expression between terror and awe, as the wolf tore bodies apart with its giant jaws.

The mage forgotten, and whatever response he gave unheard, Arlen leapt off the rock on which he'd been standing, darted out of sight through a well-known maze of boulders, and crouched behind a mass of shrubbery. He inched around the brush's side, hoping its sage-like odor would mask his scent from the lupine monster as he looked toward the shipwreck. It was then that he noticed a figure poised on the high-ground, standing unruffled as the salty winds whipped his dark robes around his frame. With the snarling of the distant wolf ringing in his ears, Arlen had half a mind to abandon this enterprise. The pillage had seemed a necessity before, he barely scraping by with what few supplies he hadn't yet exhausted, but this had turned into a different game entirely. And yet for that reason, he felt compelled to stay.

Two strange figures on the scene, and an unnatural monster of a canine tearing pillagers to shreds – there must be something special about this ship to draw such exceptional company. Less concerned for his life than for his curiosity, Arlen stayed put, watching the slaughter unfold. When the screaming stopped, he would venture closer.

Edited June 20th, 2016 by Cetasaurus
Cetasaurus
formerly KM8

With the cries of the blind came the heavy steps of a rather impatient third party. His heavy cloak continued to flutter in the wind as he slowed his pace, his feet leaving prints in the damp soil of the coastline. As he neared the others gathered there, it took no time for his sunken eyes to drink in all the details of the chaos below them.

"I don't recall ever saying that I'd assist you in battle. This is your task."

The green (and exceptionally hairy) goblin arrived at the precipice of the cliff they were on, arms folded in defiance with a large lizard by his side. He was ruggedly dressed and noticeably well-built, which made up for the fact that he barely stood at the shoulders of his shortest "comrades".

"That is, unless you find yourselves incapable of besting some common thieves." he sneered.

Of course, he said this mostly in jest. It took only one look at the ground below to see that his partners had no issue removing the obstacles in their way.

But why do it in such a fashion? An opportunist would have taken the time to let the fiasco unfold without interruption. They could have watched the arrows zip by, or listened to the thunderous clapping of metal armor colliding as they bid their time before collecting the spoils in the midst of all the confusion. They could watch grown men, like spoiled children, fight over nonsense and beat one another's faces in until there was no face left to beat. Why even do that? Blinding all the on the ship would gut the middleman altogether.

Animals only hunt for nourishment or in self-defense. Were humans truly such depraved and idle creatures that bloodsport remained the only thing to consistently amuse them throughout the ages? What was fun about such a nonsensical thing? He couldn't grasp it.

How base. And that "wolf" was no different; it was a wolf in name only, just as untamed as the humans judging by the glint in its eye as it tore through mounds of fat and flesh. No amount of coverage from the dark arts could mask its nature.

Still, he knew what this was. At least to some degree. He never got on well with this kind, and he could tack this display onto a laundry list of reasons why. But this motley crew had the potential to lead him to the things he desired. That alone was enough reason to accompany them.


Edited June 21st, 2016 by P,B
P,B
 

((... okay so I guess I'll just go ahead and continue on))

So, the beast was learning. Zaqir was frugal with his time, and wasting it articulating his commands to a creature who'd yet to fully grasp the nuances of human interaction was irksome. He watched from his perch as Enki revealed his true form, a haze of indifference as opposed to the reaction of horror from those on the wrong end of the wolf's jaws. His attention was, however, mostly fixed upon the beast, only drawn away momentarily by the third member of this 'team.' The mage turned his head towards the disgruntled goblin, only the smallest shred of annoyance revealed by the arc to his brows.

"Take care, one might begin to wonder if your reluctance stems from inefficacy."

Zaqir shifted his attention back to the action - nose distinctly turned up after returning verbal fire. Scrutiny was applied to which soldiers were where on the battlefield. Much as expected, the bandits were primarily in the middle of the fray, now being flanked by Enki. Their assault on the Imperial crew was rapidly becoming their undoing, now too tripped up in that battle to be able to turn their blades towards the new threat. Before the wolf made too much gain towards the main skirmish, though, Zaqir began another spell. Pointing at a far-off bandit fighting in the bulk of the battle, red sparks curved along his finger before shooting out as a thin bolt. Hitting the target, it branched out to three other bandits close by, sending a momentary shared spasm among them. While they'd only a moment before been doing well with quick footwork and deft strikes, such prowess was abruptly diminishing. Their strength was being drained, reflexes failing them, til one, two, and three were cut down by their opponents. The fourth fell - or, more accurately, stumbled - back, as much good as it'd do him, as the curse was intent on sapping him til he couldn't even stand.

The spell had a two-fold cause: the obvious, and to send another subtle message to Enki about who their targets here were. Hopefully the beast would pick up on that wordless communication as well. Perhaps it would even carry the benefit of answering some of the goblin's idle pondering.

In any case, the raiders' numbers were quickly falling, the tide of battle now turned to their disadvantage merely with the inclusion of a wolf and mage.

Posted July 27th, 2016 by Zaqir
Zaqir
 
Reply to: The Wild Coast - Sunset (Open Fantasy)

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