• Closed • Ne'haerly Out of Breath

[Alistair]

23rd of Ashan, Arc 718

Quiet. Not a single crunch on a twig, nor an overbearing step on the grass. One could imagine that for a nearly three hundred pound man, stealth was rather difficult. Those individuals imagined correctly. He was wearing shoes that were meant to muffle the sounds of stepping, yet still he could hear himself move far too often, and so could the prey grazing in the distance. Alistair had began to erase magic as a crutch, half to conceal his unpopular identity and half to further improve his physical and mental capability. For the time being though, it had been difficult.

Half of the elk scurried off any time he drew even remotely close, and many others only remained partly to stare at him in curiosity. Considering the point was to approach the beasts from behind and dispatch them, he was clearly not performing adequately. The mage followed the fundamentals of stealth: he stuck low to the floor, stayed out of view, followed one shadow to the next, and tried desperately to reduce his sound. He was a Shadowdancer, so he could be light on his feet. But somehow, when crouching, it was more difficult. Maybe it was the pace; he didn't really enjoy moving at a crawl, so rather than crouching and slowly stepping one knee forward at a time, it was more like he was balancing on his feet whilst his chest was hunched over, the mage running mid-crouch.

He clearly had a lot to learn, but more opportunities continued to come. This time, it was a Bruxen, eating from the grass as it stood lonely amidst a clearing. Ne'haer's forests were filled with ominous and weary-provoking clearings, but this was early in the trial so he doubted he'd be surprise slammed by a Lurker. Sylvithia also didn't seem too fond of the daylight.

So, the mage took the risk, fully expecting himself to be the only predator seeking the demise of this Bruxen. He narrowed his eyes and attempted to keep them downward in case it emitted a flash outward, or began to beam light into the clearing. Theoretically, everything was set to function. He continued to crouch along the floor, this time taking slow steps as he circled around to the back of the Brux. Then, with his heartbeat quickening, he continued forward at a slow stride.

...Until the forest reminded him that this was, in fact, West Idalos - the land of overpopulated monsters and geographically entrenched horrors. A Skinbane leaped from the brush, charging at Alistair who only noticed the hastening movements at last second. He quickly turned around and bashed into the beast, beginning to wrestle with its skin-flaying tendrils as the Brux emitted a flash and ran, squealing.

"Fuck," he growled, his spear strapped - unfortunately - to his back rather than held in his hands. The mage began to use Withering, a necromantic ability that rapidly corroded organic material. The Skinbane's tendrils began to blister, boil and melt, but the mage's dissatisfaction still remained, and he had a target to unleash it onto.

[Han Hetra]

There was a kind of silence that one could only hear in the forests, early in the trial, silence of a variety that had its own presence and filled every empty space between the trees and in the clearings. Punctuated at an almost rhythmic pace by the calls of birds, the scurrying of rodents, and the breeze shaking the trees. It wasn’t a silence in the truest sense- the silence was that of man. Here, there was no council, no market, no city square, no standing guards. Only the calls of the wild and the sound of your own footsteps. And so it was Han’s footsteps that broke the silence at a steady, slow pace. crunch. … crunch. … crunch. The sound of what remained of the dead leaves of the previous cycles as they gave under his feet.

Thus far, he’d not had much luck. A few sightings of deer here and there, but never enough of an opportunity to attempt a kill. It was times like these he bemoaned his lack of experience. Hunting was still a relatively new skill, and one that he had largely taught himself. Each missed opportunity, either from poor positioning, poor tracking, or lack of stealth, reminded him of that. This trial was no different, as three times now the same group had spotted him long before he could capitalize. But he pressed on, determined to be undeterred. Patience had always yielded results. Results of some kind, at least.

But as it turned, out, patience would not be necessary this trial. As Han made his way toward a familiar clearing, the life-filled silence of the woods was suddenly shattered by a loud sort of yelp or squeal, and the sounds of something big coming his way. No sooner had his ears made the assessment than he turned to see the massive and majestic figure of a bruxen, galloping full speed through the brush. He barely had time to throw himself out of the way as the creature blasted through, and it was gone as fast as it came.

“Damn.” Han said to himself quietly. Before he could think to say more, he heard another sound just ahead, this one very different to the brux.

”Fuck. That was the sound of someone in trouble. Or at least someone having a modestly bad trial. Han rushed through the woods until he burst into the clearing and laid eyes on the source- on the tree line was a man, grappling with a skinbane. Acting quickly, Han quickly strung his bow, aimed, and fired across the small clearing, his arrow lodging itself firmly in the creatures abdomen and causing it to recoil in pain. It was far from the killing blow he would need, but at least for the time being he had bought some time for the unfortunate soul that had been on the receiving end of those tentacles.

“Hey!” He shouted, reaching to grab his next arrow. “Come on!” He was hoping his shouting would prove an adequate distraction alongside his arrows to buy the stranger enough time to get on his feet.

[Alistair]

Another man came; he could hear him rustling the brush, charging forward either with excitement to cut down a struggling man or to assist him in reaving his prey. It turned out - fortunately - to be the latter, as an arrow flung from the outer edge of the brush and made a thud as it split through the thick hide of the Skinbane, bursting through his chest. The creature's reeling motion was all Alistair needed - it allowed him to quickly draw his spear, unsheathing it from his back and swiping through the torso of the Skinbane. Within a few moments, he opened up the chest of the beast, guts and organs pouring out and piling onto the floor as the creature wailed and flailed its tendrils.

He wasted no time - he didn't need to. It was best to take a lethal opportunity if one could, and Alistair always did.

Immediately, he averted his eyes away from the Lysorian Flayhound as some called it, and glanced at the bowman that had assisted him. He raised a thumb from his clenched palm and grinned, nodding a "thanks" before he examined the tracks the Bruxen had made. The creature was likely much warier by now, but if anything that provided him more of an opportunity to extend his stealth-borne capabilities. He contemplated it for a moment, his black padded feet stepping directly over the tracks of the animal as he attempted to practice more silent footsteps. Then, he recalled that he was in company, and glanced quietly to the other man.

He had helped him. Alistair wouldn't exactly go as far as to say he saved his life, but the intentions were there. The mage determined that perhaps he should at least have the respect of uttering a "hello" on top of his thanks, and at the thought, he cleared his throat and attempted to improvise a fair introduction that would make the hunter feel special. Even though he wasn't, at least not to the mage who had seen a hundred hunters roaming through here.

"Hello, darling. Charming beard you have - I'd stroke it with permission," he stated, retaining a serious face despite the clearly disingenuous humor. "I appreciate your accuracy, also," he said, placing his arms behind his back before locking his fingers. The spear still sat in his grip, slowly wiggling as he instinctively cycled his spear in slight, revolving motions.

"I've been trying to sneak up on Bruxen for... practical reasons, but unfortunately something always goes wrong. The first one didn't seem fond of me, so it turned around and huffed, then blasted light into my face. This one seemed to be a decoy for a bloody Skinbane... I bet the next will be a Lurker disguising as a subterranean light-moose. Seven Spirits," he shook his head, falsely exasperated. Then, he had an idea, his eyes immediately bustling into a smile as he playfully conspired. "What must a man do, in order to master stealth? I suppose you offer an opportunity," he nodded, before disappearing in a flash as he blinked out of view. Then, crouching and laying low above the surface of the ground, he kept his vision on Han from afar, stuffing his spear into his Domain Bag to reduce his chances at detection, and submerging himself largely in the brush with slow and easy movements. If nothing else, he'd at least be entertained by the amount of confusion Han would currently be facing.

[Han Hetra]

’What the hell is this guys deal?’ Han thought to himself as he looked upon the man he had assisted. After the arrow threw the Skinbane off balance, it hardly took the blink of an eye for the man to end the creatures life with his spear. He was obviously skilled, and very much so. He was fast too- and just by looking at him Han could see that the man was strong. He was built like a pillar of stone. Han was now moving away from the idea that he had saved this man’s life, and realizing that he had probably just saved him from the minor inconvenience of having to get the creature off of him. He clearly wasn’t just some peasant or hunter or even a soldier. Han had absolutely no clue what he might be or what he was doing out there, but it definitely wasn’t anything normal. It didn’t get any better when he opened his mouth to speak either.

’Stroke my beard? What kind of oddball am I dealing with?’ At this point, all of Han’s expectations about this situation had flown right out of the window. He was dealing with some kind of super strong elite warrior who had a penchant for being simultaneously unnerving and likeable in an inexplicable way. Learning that he was out hunting- or rather, as he said “trying to sneak up on” bruxen, explained what had happened earlier.

“So, you’re a hunter to-” He was gone. Gone. Didn’t run away, didn’t walk off, didn’t fly into the damned sky, he was gone. G-O-N-E. Right before his eyes. Like he had never been there at all. For a full two bits, Han just stood in place, his brain struggling to process what had happened. He was just…. Gone. ’But that’s impossible. You can’t just disappear. How the hell did he do that?’ Considering that perhaps he had hallucinated the whole thing, Han ran over to where the man had stood, and there it was- the skinbane corpse, guts strewn about and an arrow in its side. It was real. He gripped the arrow tight and pulled it from the skinbane. It was real. He wasn’t hallucinating- and if he was, he was probably going to die judging by how bad it would have to be. He placed a hand to his own forehead to check for a fever, as if that would somehow help. But he was fine, he felt fine. It was all real.

“.... Hello?” Han called out, hoping that maybe he was just stupid and hadn’t noticed the man leave, and maybe he’d call back. But he didn’t. Silence filled the forest. Possibilities began to fill Han’s mind. Maybe it was a ghost, or a spirit. Or maybe a mage. Could magic do that? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, he felt unnerved, like he was being watched by something he couldn’t understand. Suddenly, Han just wanted to go home. Looking to the sky, he determined which way was west and started back into the forest. This area was particularly thick, and there were precious few clearings at all between him and the edge of the forest before Ne’haer. Normally he’d skirt around, but he desired speed now, and prayed that he wouldn’t end up feeding a monster, or running into his unexpected new friend again.

[Alistair]

The mockery was already immensely satisfying, though Alistair couldn't help but feel a comical sense of guilt. This is why everyone hates mages, he lamented, laughing under his breath. Then he realized - no. No laughter; that was an issue. He remained still as a fallen droplet, waiting to discover whether his tiny laugh had stirred his discovery by Han. It appeared as if it did not, and so, he could continue to prowl. Stepping through the brush was problematic, as it would cause excessive sound. Instead, he crossed onto the other side of the brush, and watched Han through the cracks of leaves and branches.

He stared, quietly, for a moment... but eventually he moved on. Good, the mage told himself. The following continued as he began to tread towards home, Alistair's crouching form sticking low as his back bent further over, his feet quietly carrying the weight of his body. Crouching and walking could be physically exerting, it seemed, though with Alistair's physique and endurance he did not find it altogether troubling.

Han was followed for a while. Until, of course, something of extraordinary proportions occurred.

A horse was flung through the treeline, a rider still on its back. The man and horse ripped through and broke the branches of the trees, falling hard into the clearing with the horse upon the man's right leg, crushing it, whilst the remainder of the man and his beast were covered in cuts, gashes, splinters and sticks impaled into their body. The impact against the ground, even bedded by the softness of dirt and grass, did not help... and it seemed as if he had died instantly upon impact.

Alistair immediately revealed himself from the brush, scanning his surroundings on all sides to determine what the source of that vicious throw had been.

And then -- he knew. He could hear the great thudding against the floor. And then the twisted groaning, mocking the fallen horse and its rider. OooooHhH, the creature imitated, a skin-crawling laugh following after. The Lurker's head poked through the treeline, its long face, thin nose and wide amber eyes staring through the gap that the horse had made in the trees. His eyes were directly upon Han, and for the longest time, the beast stared quietly and intently, eyes seeming to grow wider and wider as his face slowly paced forward, closer.

Finally, its mouth opened, typical human-like teeth revealing; it didn't even have the sharpness to reduce the suffering of the flesh it chewed. And it wanted Han to know that - that he would be slowly chewed, slowly dribbled back and forth between dull teeth, broken by the force of its jaw.

The wilds were a cruel animal - and the Lurker was by far the cruelest among all beasts that dwelled.

Alistair immediately created a portal behind Han, using pulling to bring the bearded hunter in, grabbing him by the shoulder as he came out on the other side. The Lurker swiped his arm forward just as Han disappeared, narrowly missing as his palm sheared the portal, resulting in the magical structure becoming unstable and closing . . . but also shearing the palm of the beast, nearly removing the whole of its left hand.

It yelled, and wailed. The Lurker was furious.

Although Alistair had joked about a Lurker just bits prior, this was no longer a laughing matter. Even for him, these beasts were of immense danger.

"Hunter, fucking step back," he demanded, urgency in his tone. "Hide from it. There is no way to distract a Lurker. Even if it is going to die, it will take out as many men as it can. Get out of its view," Alistair yelled, before blinking behind the Lurker, rapidly slicing at its hamstring with his dense, master-crafted Terrendyte spear, before voiding back with a quick series of hops and back-steps. He had a plan of action to quell the beast. He only needed to be patient, and to blink when utterly warranted.

[Han Hetra]

’What the fuck is going on?’[/i] Between the disappearing man and the flying horses, you could have convinced Han that this was a dream. But he knew that he was not so fortunate, and the grim reality of his misfortune wasted no time presenting itself.

It signaled its approach through the loud thuds of its footfalls and the gentle shaking of the ground beneath. Trees began to crack as it drew nearer and nearer, and the air was filled with some kind of cry, or roar, or laugh- whatever it was, it chilled Han to his core. He felt a fear grip his heart as though someone had reached their own hands into his chest and gripped it themselves. And as the hunter met eyes with the hulking monstrosity before him, he all but died on the spot. His blood ran ice cold, his heart skipped too many beats, and he wasn’t sure he could breathe even if he tried. This thing, this monster, was absolutely gargantuan. But, intimidating as the size was, it wasn’t what chilled Han. He’d seen big game before. Willow Red Bears, for example. Absolutely massive creatures. They didn’t scare him. What cut Han to his very soul was the eyes. They were huge, yellowish, and watched him entirely too closely. They stared into him, and he could practically taste the murderous intent of the beast.

’This is it.’ Han resigned himself in that moment to his death. It was funny, in the end he could be so matter of fact about it. Most of the time, death was no joke. But now, staring into the face of oblivion, it was more of a relief than anything. He knew his time in the company of this abomination would be over soon, even if there was much pain to endure along the way. As the creature lurched forward, his face drew ever closer. It opened its mouth to reveal teeth that were unsettlingly human. It was going to eat him, then. Panic began to grip Han as he braced himself for what would come, but despite the adrenaline blasting through his veins, those eyes froze him there, so gripped with fear that he couldn’t even begin to think of anything else. He would welcome death to be free from this. As the creature poised to strike forward with his arm, Han simply closed his eyes and embraced the end.

Or he would have, at least. Just as he truly let go, he felt himself yanked from the spot he once occupied. He was suddenly some distance from the monster, and now thrown behind the man he had seen disappear after fighting the skinbane, ordering him to get back and hide before disappearing once more, presumably to do battle with the creature. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Han said to himself before crawling into the brush, still on his hands and knees where he’d landed after being thrown back. It wasn’t but a moment before he stumbled his way into a small recess in the ground, likely the entrance to some sort of animal burrow. He couldn’t fit inside, but it at least put him out of sight for now. It would have to do.

“The fuck have I gotten myself into?” He mumbled to himself. He supposed he was fortunate to have encountered this man, and probably even moreso for having had the wherewithal to help him. Though, judging by his obvious grasp of some sort of magic and, Han presumed, skill in combat, he probably didn’t do much to save him from anything. Still, they were on the same side now and that was all that mattered. If they made it out of here in one piece, he’d have to find some way to repay him.

[Alistair]

Han faded from view, though in truth Alistair could not be so perceptive as before, with the towering beast looming above him. The Lurker lunged forward, gathering distance from Alistair before turning around to face him. He snarled, and stared into the eyes of the much smaller warrior, holding a bloodied black spear with an indigo sheen. The Lurker was not armed, and so relied only on his right hand, and what remained of his left.

Of course, for such a large creature, kicking was an option too. Alistair needed to be wary of the Lurker's legs more than anything, as one misstep could result in being flung with crushing force. With this in mind, his plan of action was simple and did not decidedly alter much from fighting a typical warrior: the legs needed to go first. One hamstring had already been damaged severely in the initial assault, but he would not be satisfied until he cut through the hamstrings and calves of each leg, and if possible the ankle.

Additionally, he would need to do all of this whilst avoiding the creature's hands, swinging at him and encompassing all directions. He could not easily strafe around a creature that could lower himself and sweep across his form in a three-sixty radius. But, he could also not keep distance and attempt to take off his hands first, as the Lurker would sneak in a kick when it was most inopportune.

And thus, the decision had been made: he needed to go for the legs first, and the rest would be easy.

The mage stepped forward, cautiously, before beginning to encircle the Lurker. The beast snarled, again, but did not immediately move. He was... patient, quietly observing the Rupturer. Alistair had to remember that Lurkers did not have instinctual intelligence alone, but, rather calculating minds. He was not going to make himself open unnecessarily. But, by doing so, he did not maintain any pressure nor advance the tempo of the action.

This ultimately allowed Alistair the ability to do as he wanted, and in this case, he wanted to strike a lethal blow. Purple cracks appeared on a singular chunk of the Lurker's armor near the center of his chest, though much of the breastplate remained solid and normative. Immediately, Alistair vanished, digging his feet into the metal plate of the Lurker and sinking his spear through the piece of armor covered in the ethereal cracks; the spear simply slipped right through the material, as if a specter, digging through the flesh of the beast and making its way immediately into his heart. Alistair then blinked away, leaving his spear present within the Lurker's chest as he moved from its realm of action. He was glad he did, as he began to flail and swipe rapidly, beating at his back as best as he could and kicking hard - one such kick uprooting a tree.

Then, the Lurker fell, defeated by his inability to know when to push an attack. Alistair waited for a few trills to determine whether he was truly dead, and after doing so, he stepped over to the back of the fallen creature and removed his spear, exhaling.

"Right, then," he whispered, his heart still beating quickly and his blood still running hot. That was... exhilarating, as much as it was intimidating. But he'd killed Lurkers before - this was not his first, and not the worst among them. Uthaldrian Lurkers often held Terrendyte weapons, and they were used to considerably more threat than the ones of Ne'haer, who typically preyed on animals and farmers.

"We should probably do something with this head..." he whispered to himself. "Perhaps swing by the nearest village, drop it off. Build up my reputation," Alistair grinned. Of course, he was completely talking to himself, and almost forgot that Han was there. Until he remembered.

"Hey, hunter," he called out, "you alright? Still alive?" Alistair asked.

This was, of course, absurd - but the Willow Woods were unnecessary in application; many strange things happened, all at once, or in succession. Most days were peaceful, but then... there were days like this.

"I'm Alistair," he told the hunter. "Alistair var Radomir. I'm sorry that we had to meet like this, and I'm sorry for playing games with you. But you were brave, and... I just want to make sure you're quite alright," the mage called out, cycling his vision to cast a view all around him. He still could not see Han - as if the tables from earlier had been turned upon him.

[Han Hetra]

Just like that, it was over. Han still didn’t exactly understand or comprehend what was happening. It seemed like no sooner had he taken shelter in his little ditch, the battle was concluded, the monstrosity crashing into the ground as it breathed its last, causing a small tremor to rumble through the woods. What were really only trills felt like whole bits to Han as he practically had more adrenaline than blood running through him now. But slowly, as the fear began to release its stranglehold on him, he became extremely aware of the relative silence that had engulfed their little corner of Idalos. The battle was over, and judging by the lack of monster sounds, he prayed that his newfound friend was the victor. It was then that the strangers voice broke through the silence.

“Quite…. Alright…..” Han said to himself, but loudly enough that he would be heard regardless as he shakily stood up from his hiding place, and just as shakily walked to meet this Alistair character. “Yes… I think so…” He did a quick pat down of his whole body just to be sure. “Yep.. It’s all here.” Realizing that he hadn’t been breathing properly for probably several bits now, he sharply inhaled before releasing a deep exhale, bending over for a moment with his hands on his knees, regaining his composure and sanity. As his mind returned to him, he found that he had only one question to ask, in truth, of this Alistair.

“How the fuck did you do that? I mean, thank you. Thank you a million times over. But. I mean. How did you do that? It was bigger than a fucking house! Are you some kind of monster hunter or something?” As he spoke, he looked back and forth at least a dozen times between the monstrous corpse that lay before them and Alistair, trying desperately to get his brain to understand what it was seeing, hoping that it would be obvious if perhaps he tried enough times. He was somewhere between genuinely curious to know and simply needing to express his absolute shock and awe at the feat. It was true that yes, Alistair was built like a stone temple and obviously was better trained in combat than most, but to kill that thing, it seemed impossible for a single man. A strange mix of gratitude, disbelief, and lingering fear flowed strongly through Han as he spewed his questions and thanks at Alistair. In all his wanderings he had never seen such a feat.

Finally, after another moment had passed, he finished with a final question. “So, uh, what do we do with it now? Do you just leave things like this lying around, or…” He was genuinely curious. He assumed it was probably not something he wanted to eat, though he really couldn’t be sure if monster meat was the same as other game. Still, he knew that some seemed to find such things valuable, and maybe this Alistair was one of them. It just felt… Strange to leave all these things here. Han let his gaze wander to the horse and its old rider that had found a new way to travel on horseback. They’d now been stepped on, a mangled mess of gore. He quickly averted his eyes from it. Maybe leaving really would be best.

[Alistair]

Just as he prepared to behead the Lurker and move on, Han responded, assuaging his worries as his voice peaked out from the brush. The man walked towards him, shakily, perhaps even weakly, as he investigated his own form to ensure that he was - in fact - alive. Alistair, too, was in a state of rush still... even though it would have appeared that he had calmed. There were few creatures in Idalos that surpassed the might of a Lurker. To have fallen one so easily this time, even with the advantage of the first strike, was... exhilarating. He was, ultimately, filled with pride; confidence.

And then, the question came, and the man began to laugh lightly. How the fuck did you do that? Han questioned. He supposed he would offer him the technical explanation, since a snarky comment like 'magic' or 'skill' or 'you can't do that?' wasn't necessarily productive. So, without further ado... he explained. "I used Rupturing. Splintered his armor, blinked to his frame, then lodged my spear directly into the location of his vulnerable organs. Big part of it was the gambit that Lurker physiology was akin to human. Fortunately, I was correct... and the heart is in the same location."

The mage looked to Han with narrowed eyes, and a mouth half-torn between a frown and a blank stripe of concern. "I know this is... a lot, and you don't know what Splintering, or Blinking is. I understand. But, essentially, magic is what did it," he tried to reasonably explain. There was... of course, the perpetual desire to promote the benefits of magic and mages to those weaker than them, but political rhetoric was poorly placed as things were now. The other man was confused, and a bit lost. "And... yes, I... you're correct in your assumption. I'm a Jeger, from Uthaldria. We are, as you asserted, monster hunters. There are Lurkers in Uthaldria as well. I've killed two or three, by now."

The first was the hardest. Second was the middle ground. This was the easiest. Things became more natural to him over time. Eventually, Lurkers would not be particularly difficult prey. The 'insurmountable' goal at the top would change, as it always had, a thousand times over.

But Han was right. They needed to handle the... disposal of the creature, and possibly, its most recent victims? The mage looked to them, finally registering that they were even... there. The man, and his horse, in a crushed pile of gore. Bones poking out, blood everywhere... thinned out muscles and meat from the impact, and crushing blow. The mage visibly cringed. "We'll just... take the Lurker's head. The rest of all of this will be... cleaned out by the wild-life. I apologize if it seems heartless to just leave these corpses, but, neither of us are undertakers. At least we killed the thing that got them."

Stepping over to the creature, his boots pressing lightly into the fetid ground, the man's fingers danced into the hilt of his spear, twirling it. As velocity increased, the spear's motions became blurry and unclear, and Alistair pressed the bladed weapon into the Lurker's neck as it continued to spin. Carving through his skin and flesh, Alistair eventually dismembered the head. He supposed, though, that he would still need to carry it over to one of the nearby villages. Thankfully, he hadn't expended much ether, so portals remained an option.

"I'll include you in the short list of people that slew the beast, when I gratify my ego with the townsfolk. Would do well to increase your reputation - contractors and businessmen will seek you out. Could really put your life on track." Pulling on the hair of the beast, he dragged the appendage away from the remainder of his body, a trail of thick burgundy-colored bile escaping from his severed throat.

A black orb opened with a shuddering boom and audible tear, a blazing circle of sparks living along the edges, dancing around the spherical darkness. Pushing the head fully through before stepping back, the mage looked to the hunter over his shoulder. He felt sorry for him, and for his confusion. This was not a typical thing even among mages, or Jeger - it was a strange and coincidental situation. Luckily, though, everyone lived. If you didn't count the man and his horse. Or the Lurker.

His gaze shifting from Han to the backdrop of forest, the mage finally spoke out what he wanted, treating Han as a soundboard for his ideological position. He felt that it was warranted, and if there were ever a moment to proselytize, it was this one.

"Without magic, mortal men cannot resist threats like this. We can only lay down and die. I hope, regardless of whether or not we stay in contact, that you remember."

[Caius Gawyne]

Here's your sarding thread review already.

Alistair

Points

XP:
15 | These points cannot be used for magic.

Renown:
+10 Killin' beasts and +5 saving booty.

Goodies

N/A

Consequences

N/A

Knowledges

Skill Knowledge:
Rupturing: Splintering a small section of armor for a pin-pointed lunge
Polearms: Spear - Making powerful, lethal jabs
Stealth: Blinking into stealth
Stealth: Prowling along the edges of the treeline
Stealth: Minimizing contact with objects that vibrate sound
Stealth: Reducing your effective size to reduce chances at being seen
Stealth: The Domain Bag assists in maintaining a small form

Other Knowledge:
N/A

Han Hetra

Han, if you'd like your part of this review, submit the the review queue and send me a PM so I can claim it! Thank you.

Comments

Domain bag, MVP.

How do you keep a Rupture portal quiet? Stealth seems particularly difficult with certain magics, but you seem to always manage to write a creative story. I also enjoy Han's character's reactions to all the insanity—flying creatures and portals! OMG! Hahaha. A layman's reaction to magic is soooooo refreshing, thank you.

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Be not afraid of greatness:
Some are born great, some achieve greatness,
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em.

- Malvolio | Shakespeare's Twelf Night (II, v, 156-159)