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» [?] A Certain Masked Man OOC
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» [SS] Arduous Tasks (OOC)
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» [SS] Hazy Silhouette OOC
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[SS] Hazy Silhouette

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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Saravati Nair on Tue Mar 21, 2017 6:06 am


As the infuriating jester spoke, the nun rubbed her index finger across a nail that she was holding. She really could not stand listening to another word coming from the jester’s mouth. He was being cryptic. Annoying. Skirting around the topic of where the children were.

Francesca was absolutely right. The jester had made his choice. There was no reason for her to wait any longer for the jester to finish his monologue. She could hit the man right now and end it all at once.

A nail driven into his head may kill him, but there were ways to incapacitate or disable a human being with just one nail.

She just had to aim. Focus and aim.

But, her brain failed to register anything in the slightest beyond the jester’s monologue. She had long since lost all focus on the world outside her.

She just had to focus. But her mind was no longer in a position to do that. Her brain was teetering on the edge of fatigue as her breathing emphasized exhalation, her legs felt heavy, her eyes seemed to blur, and her fingers twitched.

There was no chance of any precision attempt to paralyze the jester working.

It was the price she was paying for the effort she had put into her search.

Before she could even gather focus, the jester had finished his monologue, mentioning something about other people, and shady men and women under his command took cover as numerous elemental attacks rained down.

She would normally be able to jump, meander, and weave through the attacks. She should normally have no problem moving around and retaliating like an acrobat. Normally…

Her legs refused to move.

But, before she could take any attacks, a wall of wind erupted in front of her, taking and dispersing the attacks of the first wave before scattering outwards into multiple wind blades that flew towards the various shades.

“Are you alright, Miss Francesca?” The man offered a hand to his current partner in crime.

Francesca gave a deep breath out before signaling Mark to move his hand away. “I don’t need you to worry about my well-being.”

“In that case,” Mark picked out a card. “Let’s leave the knights to worry about the shades.” It was far from the option he would prefer but it was best to work with the cards he had been dealt.

“We’ll focus on their leader.”

Without another word of exchange, Mark threw a card straight into a box behind the jester, letting it stab into a nearby box. The man instantly travelled there before pulling out a brand new card—The Two of Swords.

On the other side, Francesca quickly sidestepped into Mark’s former location, quickly forcing some momentum into her legs before throwing numerous pins at the jester.

The two of them would create a devastating pincer attack that would pierce through the target’s defenses and blow away the target’s consciousness all at once.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Vita Vesta Caesar on Wed Mar 22, 2017 6:44 am

Following their entry, a splendid display of fireworks rose into the air, as if to greet them. No, there was not actually any such hesitancy in Moore's mind: these were certainly the 'greeting' that had been prepared for them. Countless elemental magics flew at the knights who had only just entered the building. The raiders had become the victims of an ambush.

Things had already gone awry when the operation had barely lasted even a full minute, but Moore was contrarily relieved. After all, this meant that the enemy had finally shown their hand, at least in part. With this he would be able to begin unraveling the mess he had found himself in.

The bombardment they faced was an unanticipated surprise, but neither Moore nor any of his subordinates would falter before it. Far from fleeing, they stood firm. With their bodies that were hindered rather helped by the likes of any kind of armor but plain steel, they endured the onslaught, letting the flames and winds wash across their armor, their blades repelling stone and splitting jets of water.

Rather than as an attack, the brilliant display of light and color was dangerous more as a distraction. The power was lacking, but the shock, awe, and surprise stole their attention all at once and allowed for the members of the Market to prepare for their next move. Rather than focusing on defense, Moore therefore made a point to survey the field with the full power of his senses and experience.

Their targets were scattering like rats, but they were not taking the opportunity to escape. They appeared to be acting upon individual volitions, but there was surely some greater purpose beyond that. What drew his eye the most, however, were those characters at the center of the stage, whose unique appearances cleanly separated them from the many bit players.

Mark Space, a nun of the Roman Catholic Church, and an eery jester who would make children cry before they'd laugh. The right hand of London's #1 troublemaker and a member of the world's greatest and most zealous religious order were seemingly working together to harmoniously murder a clown. The sight went beyond odd and surprising and straight into the realm of the bizarre.

With the wall of sound and light separating them, any orders he gave would not reach the other two units, but Beathen and Addicott were perfectly within reach. While the knights held the individual capacities to endure the onslaught, by coordinating they would be able to draw out more power than any of them held individually.

The bright colors of the fireworks were perhaps most deadly because of that. The flying elements created walls that separated the knights. Rather than damaging them on an individual level, they had chosen to assault the knights as a unit. It was a tactic that was made more effective by great lengths due to Moore splitting up the unit, but he had no way to tell if that had been planned for or if it was just luck.

Moore linked the strengths of himself and his subordinates. Separated, they could be picked off. This was no time for a siege. Any one of the knights could easily deal with the many small fry, but they had scattered, and breaking ranks to chase them down would be foolhardy. The original plan would have to be abandoned. They would risk allowing a great many of the lower members to escape, but they no longer had the leeway to worry about that. And besides, so long as they did not allow the three in the middle to escape, Moore had a feeling they would manage to profit in the end.

Substituting words for hand signals amidst the deluge, Moore communicated the plan. Addicott and Beathen would shield Moore from the brunt of the attacks, and he would use the freedom to blast away any obstacles in their path, human or otherwise, and link with Howell and Plaskett at the left entrance. From there, they would reinforce their formation, continue on to reunite with Heath and Wescott, and then finally take the snake's head at center stage. They rushed forward as one towards their first goal, and things seemed to be going well, but there was no telling what would happen in the interim between execution and success.

He had no proof, but Moore was certain that the jester was the leader of these rats. The scent of his appearance closely aligned him with the same type of evil that was characteristic of the Market. Thankfully, it appeared the odd pair that had arrived before him were keeping him busy. He would make eager use of the opportunity they had granted him.

Dealing with the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight and the Roman Catholic Church here was out of his expectations, but he'd known that his expectations would be shattered time and time again since a while ago. The question of how to deal with them would come after. For now, he would simply finish with his first task: eliminating the rats infesting the city. He was only thankful that those two seemed to share his goal.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Wed Mar 22, 2017 10:25 am

All around the elements flew, all around they danced, all around they damaged the surroundings. The floor was torn, the walls blown through, the shelves toppled and the boxes slightly burned. However the brave knights of England remained unscathed, the nun protected by the man in formal suit. The shades were unforgiving, yet it seemed their struggle was in vain.

The counter attack came quick and rash.

Men moving at speeds beyond the possible, their blades cutting them down. A bunch wide open faced with a hailstorm of wind blades, them being simply sliced through.

Death, destruction, defeat. They weren’t strong. They didn’t hold the power to deliver even a hint of damage. And in return they were mercilessly slaughtered. That was what it seemed to be.

A vicious smile ran across the jester’s lips, as suddenly the men that were sliced by Mark Space’s wind blades only a moment ago would simply keep on forward. It wasn’t that they hadn’t been sliced. They had been, most obviously. After all the blades had passed through them. The lethal attacks all had the very same effect. Always passing through, yet not harming them in the slightest. It was as if they’d become ghosts, withdrawn from matter, yet at the very same time capable of interfering with the very same.

Slowly stepping forwards the jester spoke up again, his red lips expressing the delight in face of the sudden twist.

«The Basque have a saying: ‹izena duen gutzia omen da› ~ ‹all that has a name really exists›. It is quite some powerful saying if you consider the philosophical background behind these words. It has quite a tremendous meaning associated with it and is such a shocking reality, if we try to pry deeper into the meaning or if we should choose to twist the meaning ju~st a tiny bit.»

As he kept talking, a card flew by his head, easily piercing into a box on the shelve behind his back, followed by his opponent’s sudden disappearance. He smiled even more as he noticed, yet did not even show the act of bothering with the occurrence. The nun quickly readied the nails she held in her hands, immediately leading to an attack, all the while the man from behind was preparing just another — something he was able to tell without bothering to look.

Projectiles from up front and a secret strike from behind.

Quickly spinning around his own axis, the jester artfully performed one of the basic figures in ballet, easily removing his body from the target line and the area of the spell’s effect, actually leading the two of them to face each other and possibly even their attacks to do the same. However just the moment he’d come to a standstill he quickly came to sing a short number of lines in an abstract language, forming a fairly complicated gesture weaved perfectly into his dance. A performance so skilfully executed it was stunning and at the same time magical.

Much like the effect it triggered.

Forming a circle around the mysterious performer, a gust of wind blew all around him, quickly launching a circular high speed attack assuming the shape of various blades of wind. However the shape itself was altered such that it would seek the exact two targets he’d wish the most to see pinpointed, the very same the both of his outstretched index fingers pointed at. The nun and the man in formal suit and scarf. Of inhuman speed and godly power the blades would easily slice through the thick metal constructions and concrete wall as if they were none but butter, ignoring the dire possibility of cutting down both allies and enemy, bringing death with beauty, or possibly not?

«My my my. If you would please watch out just a tiny bit. You might end up damaging the merchandise otherwise. And we can not afford this, can we~?»

Raising his voice yet again, his dance was commencing continuation.

The blade had sliced and easily passed through his men, the shelves, the walls. Just like before all but the first, or was there possibly more, was cut apart. Metal and concrete. Sparks and dust flew, yet not a single piece of cardboard.

The shades weren’t surprised to find themselves become the target, even in their own immunity. It was only natural. Even if it wouldn’t have been the case, that ice-cold monster would have mercilessly taken them as collateral damage to his attack. They were rats after all, expendable pawns nobody would cry for. He had told them when they had first met; he hadn’t kept it a secret, instead openly revealed it with full intent. He was evil, but that was the kind they were so used to; were they no different. In this world, their world, there was no such thing as camaraderie. All there was, was live or die.

Therefore they wouldn’t mind, not even feel surprised or shocked and keep on attacking.

Their patterns changed only a bit. They no longer stuck to the ranges, but went straight for close quarters. The enemies were unable to damage even a single one of them, all the while they could strike back. What use was there to keep a distance, if this was the case? What use was there to let their attacks loose their strength by staying away from them? Exactly, none at all.

Thus they rushed in, thus they simply passed through the knights’ blades, to strike from where were they were the most vulnerable. Fireballs, wind blades, water prisons, earthly hammers. It went on and on and on. Even if they wouldn’t be damaging on a single strike, on ten strikes or on twenty, they would keep on striking from all sides, until that fact would change.

The knights against the shades, the unstoppable force against the invulnerable ghosts.

The nun and the expert against the clown, the brave heroes(?) against the vicious nobleman(?).

For the time being it seemed none of the two battlefields would interfere with the other.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Albrekka Starbright on Wed Mar 22, 2017 9:56 pm

"I see."  She would sigh lightly.  Of course, this man was similar in ideals to Francesca, but possibly more far gone; at the very least, Francesca had a sliver of humanity left in her heart.  But, who knows?  Regardless, the man had made everything clear to her.

"Your target, I imagine, was Birdway?  It seems we're both being played currently; she never showed up."  She would rest her arm on her purse, taking a semi-relaxed stance.  "I had run into her yesterday, along with another ally of hers, Mark.  I ran into Francesca by coincidence, trying to find Birdway."  Though that part of the story is a story in of itself.  "I figure this heresy you speak of is allowing them to watch over the orphans, essentially trusting a magician.  I suppose that is fair, the goals of the Dawn-Colored Sunlight are mysterious at best.  Mark, however, seems to be a man of good intentions.  I would not trust Birdway with such a request, but Mark is someone else entirely."  She would say these things rather bluntly, almost as blunt as the man did, but there was no coldness in her voice, or fear.  Just the truth.  

"But, if you're here looking for her, and you know of these 'sins' Francesca has done, then..."  She would click her tongue, realizing that perhaps, certainly, Birdway had used the children as bait in the worst case scenario, without Mark's knowledge.  Which was probably likely; frustrating, considering at the time it was the best option.

Still, that did not answer the question of where they were exactly, and what the full intentions of the man in front of her were.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:09 am

«You are wrong.»

That man’s stature remained firm, as if built from stone. Looking at the cold expressionless face, the deep cold eyes and the colourless appeal of both his hair, eyes and skin all he resembled was a being that had shed away all that was human or even remotely so. But considering the truth of his being, his role as an executioner, none of that was of any great surprise. He must have killed more than was good to count or imagine. He must have used methods cruel and heartless enough to warrant himself the title of one of the Lord’s demons.

«The sins Francesca Purezza committed were even exchanging a single positive word with heretics and pagans, allying herself with said pagans and all that for the sake of protecting further pagans.»

He announced as nothing else about him changed at all.

«One crime would have been forgivable for a sister of our order, but all three of these weigh far too heavy to tolerate. Therefore, just like those pagans that have committed just a single of the crimes I listed, she will burn at the stake.»

His words were straight forward, not hiding the truth behind his intentions. Then again the key of the entire message was delivered by implications alone, as he’d never had addressed it directly. However twisting the understanding by three corners actually lead right to the correct solution.

«Thus, each and every element involved with the pagans of the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight or its allies shall be purged from the face of our Lord’s beautiful world. That is the command our leader imparted onto us. That is the command I have come to execute tonight, much like my comrades who are currently swarming over the city in search of the other conspirators. Leivinia Birdway, Mark Space, the 20 members below them, the pagan children they harbour and the girls that have come into contact with them over the course of last night.»

With this the truth was finally out. Their orders had been fairly simple and blind at the same time. Whoever it was that had sent them out, had just like that decided to execute everyone and anyone involved with his enemies, even if their involvement was something as simple of a gesture as doing someone a favour out of good will. Whoever it was that had sent this man and his comrades was the kind to treat anything that wasn't his ally as an enemy in need of the most severe punishment, not showing any mercy towards the innocent, even going as far as to make children their target.

Now that he had finally concluded his speech, something changed about him. What had remained a still statue up until now had suddenly set into motion. However motion would seem overly exaggerated if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d remained unmoving, as all he did was reach into his sleeve, rummaging for an item to grab.

A signal carrying a strong message in alignment to the words he had just spoken.

But did it really make sense for someone who seemingly was used to spilling blood to take this long with their specialty? Was there even any sense behind the conversation he just held? After all announcing ones intentions so broadly didn’t seem anything like a professional’s craft. Something was in fact off about this.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Sir Alexander Beathen on Thu Mar 23, 2017 4:42 pm

Alexander and his fellow knights under the command of Sir Henry Moore had charged into the den of the enemy. With his sword blazing with light, the young knight had stood at his fellows side into battle. But the knight remained aware, the calmness and cold stare in his eyes the young knight was unaffected about the prospect of entering battle.  

A well-timed blaze of light and sound fell upon them like a raging tide, fire, water, earth and wind elemental spells had been sent against them. For the young knight fire spells were no problem, and they seemed to have become weakened upon contact with his defences. And he took care of the rest similar in fashion, though he started evading more so than just enduring them like a tank. And mainly so he can stay on the move, the young knight had watched carefully the movements of everyone else.

His fellow knights and mostly the enemy. They had no sense of order, and their only realistic sense of teamwork had all been used on that first flurry. Afterwards, they had just scattered without course or reasoning to their paths. To someone like Alexander, this disorganisation was annoying, but there had to be a reason to it.  

He also noticed the movement of three key figures who stood out amongst the other unknowns. One was clearly a nun from the Roman Catholic Church and the other though seemed to be a well-dressed Englishman. This is also not forgetting the nuisance that is the Jester, who seemed frankly like a piss poor attempt to resemble a clown. Though it's probably something done on purpose, the person's attire though hadn't taken away from something the young knight had realised.

Either way, the attacks though seemed unorganised but had separated the Knights from each other impacting on the combat force's effective response. There were two ways possible to bridge the division, but both had required the right timing. For now, Sir Henry Moore also had plan who communicated through hand signals.  

And they all acted upon it.

And it had all seemed to work, the group they faced was slaughtered with the counter attack. The shades they faced had no chance against the combined onslaught of the two guests and the Knights. But something felt wrong, and Alexander personally found out.

While actively fulfilling Sir Moore's plan, Alexander struck against one of the shades with his blade. Swinging his sword, Alexander flawlessly aimed for the neck intending for a swift kill. But instead, the young knight was met with a sharp blow to his chest, something hard as earth like a hammer struck hard sending him backwards.

While it was a shock, the young knight stumbled back further purposely to get a sense of the situation.

Alexander wasn't as durable so while it didn't do much, it was a wake-up call to his confidence that something fishy was happening. The shade he was going to kill stood their unharmed despite knowing his blade has hit its target and appropriately looking at the entire situation at once. Those he knew the one had struck was still standing, which in theory was impossible. The other knights had met the same fate as suddenly their offence was stopped dead in its tracks, they all were starting to realise something was going on.

"Did they become intangible?" Alexander had asked himself as he now stood behind his fellows and watched as things developed. He felt sorry for taking a step back, but he had to see clearly.

"Their tactics had changed." Alexander said wanting to confirm something once more and charged forward without a concern aiming for one of the shades. And again it happened, though he purposely was less precise with his offensive so he can focus on the enemy's action seeing clearly the shade had passed straight through his blade and once again attacked him. Struck by a stream of water, the golden haired knight endured the blow and again went on the assault. Once again he lowered the precision of his strikes and followed his enemies movements.

It was all about timing, and it was critical to his attempt to understand what was happening. Waiting for that right moment while being embroiled a shade went through one of Addicott's usual powerful blows and just as the shade was going to strike back, the young knight intervened. Using the timing he had learned, Alexander struck the shade as it attacked Addicott. He was never able to stop that from happening, but it was to cover a dangling thought that they became upon attacking themselves.

It failed and not only did that shade hit Addicott, but he also endure another blow. This time a blast of wind which he had used the momentum to create distance. Now leaning against one of the high shelves stacked with boxes and numerous other things he stood there in its shadow to have one quick look at the surroundings.

That last observation had helped him paint a picture of what could be happening.



Pulling his hood over his head, the young knight thought about a solution.



"How things had developed it's clear that the enemy saw us coming. The initial flurry of spells in response to our charge and able to effectively keep us separated from the other groups of knights was planned. And that only comes with prior knowledge of our raid. Their disorganisation seems to be a smokescreen to what is happening, their positioning seems crude, but there was a reason for it. They didn't escape but climbed upon and hid beneath those towering shelves. Then they changed tactics. And still our attacks are going straight through them and yet they can still strike back... Tangible and intangible at the same time, the only similar relationship I can consider is one right before me." Alexander had thought looking towards the shadow of the giant stack of shelves behind him.

But in seeing this, the young knight's eyes wandered towards his sword which was pointing down. The light which frequently surrounded it had dimmed as expected, but the glow from his sword had fought away the shadows.

"Shadows.. that must be it and the reason why they changed tactics when we got close. Somehow they're reversing the relationship between themselves and the shadows. You cannot attack a shadow but what its cast from can fight back." Alexander had thought putting his sword into his scabbard cancelling its effect.

Something he knew the others would notice and on purpose. It was an improvised method to grab his fellow knights attention. While it was drawing away support, the other knights were strong enough to continue without it for a moment. And they wouldn't have to wait long as Alexander headed straight back into the chaos, with his hood still up it was clear that he had a plan.

Using the timing he learned from the shades actions, Alexander avoided and blocked the incoming attacks. Knowing attacking at this point was pointless, so he used everything to manoeuvre around the battlefield towards the man leading the charge on his side.

The young knight knowingly had no evidence, there was no time to gather any, and there was never a hundred percentage certainty that he was correct. But he was confident that this was the only effective method to try at this point and finding his commander the young knight stopped right near him before drawing his sword once more with inhuman speed. And suddenly a renewed light blazed forth from his scabbard restoring his fellow knights with strength and resolve but mainly to alert Henry to him. Alexander then spoke towards his superior with a clear message.

"Sir Moore, this is something you and the others can do far better than me. I'll cover you, but the shadows you need to get rid of them!" Alexander said using his sword to point directly towards the towering shelves, which the shades had been crowding around.


Last edited by Sir Alexander Beathen on Tue Mar 28, 2017 3:35 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Saravati Nair on Thu Mar 23, 2017 11:23 pm


As fast as the two-pronged attack started, it ended up turning into a deadly example of friendly fire. Francesca’s eyes widened as the attacks that they had directed to incapacitate the jester were now heading towards each other thanks to a skilled acrobatic demonstration. The nails were quickly en route to pierce Mark while whatever he had up his sleeve was likely going to hit her.

But, as her mind and body refused to move until they were a half-step behind, Mark took the initiative and threw his card into the path of one of the nails while dodging beneath them, barely avoiding Francesca’s attack by a hair’s breadth. The card was completely destroyed as the nail passed through it and whatever effect it may have had was likely stunted before it could even start.

Mark dashed to right in front of her before pulling out another card, causing the earlier wind wall that had protected them before to once again erupt. The wind blades fired at the two were forced to a stop on contact.

“I’ve figured out where the orphans are hidden.” Mark muttered as he flipped the Eight of Swords in his right hand and grabbed Francesca’s head and turned it to face a certain something with his left. Her eyes widened as soon as she heard Mark and saw where he was directing towards.

As the wind shield scattered out, Mark let go of Francesca and let the card in his hand fall out onto the floor. Her head quickly turned back to face the jester…or at least the debris and dust that were likely only obscuring his figure while he smiled. After all, if he was acrobatic enough to evade that pincer attack and set another attack that quickly, there was no way the reversal of the Eight of Swords was going to skewer him. In all likelihood, he had artfully dodged everything.

“Are you sure?” she asked with an exasperated breath. The man, grabbing and activating a three of swords in his hand, simply nodded.

Without even another gesture, Francesca kicked off towards the direction Mark had stated. The loud sound of her foot slamming against the floor from the initial force echoed.

With vigor and adrenaline overpowering her exhaustion, she charged off.

Now that she had thought about it, the location was fairly obvious. After all, it was the one set of things that had been left undamaged despite the onslaught of attacks raining throughout the warehouse.

Nails in hand, she charged off to that location.

I’m coming, kids. The Lord’s grace has not abandoned you!
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:04 pm

All that has a name really exists.

The key sentence defining the idea of the Adur, the very baseline of all Basque Magic.

The idea is a fairly simple one, implying that the name itself is what ties things to their shape in the world referred to as reality. This exact same idea was the one all of them exploited right at this moment.

They weren't powerful, they weren’t experienced fighters, they lacked anything that would have made them capable of waging war. However, this simple trick turned all these things around, even enabling them to take something like the UK’s strongest combat force head on.

They had twisted the meaning of what stood at the baseline of all their Magic, discarding anything that could be considered a name, shattering what chained them to their existence in the manifest real world. No matter how many times they would be cut, no matter how many times one would strike them down, it would do no harm for whatever was hit didn’t exist in the first place. That was what it was and how it should have been.

However a single man meant to fight back, lifting a sword of extraordinarily shining blade to illuminate the entire area. They were shadows and what was before them was light. The outcome was fairly simple to explain, or at least it should have been. Light is what drives shadow away, yet it is not what kills it. Shadow is an omnipresent thing, always tied to the world, even if in the tiniest of angles. Wherever there was light there is also shadow. And, it wasn’t as if they were using these shadows; they were them.

Driven backwards, they would simply find another way around, creep through the newly found darkness of the shadows cast by the surroundings and quickly circle around the man that was attempting to take them head on. They didn’t have to endure it, they didn’t have to be beaten by it, they just would find another way, only to then strike back with artillery from all sides, just like before.

It seemed to never end…

«It seems you have finally made the realisation I so eagerly awaited. How lovely, how impressive, how fortunate. You haven’t been a second too late this time around either, have you Mark Space?»

The mysterious jester remained unfazed as he eyed the man before him. He had been his sole focus point this entire time; something that hadn’t been a secret at all. However this time the find further underlined it by not even rewarding the nun with a glance as she simply ran on triggered by that decisive exchange of words

«I wonder. Do you feel something for that woman? I take it you must be a masochist with how your life is set up. From all I heard Leivinia Birdway is quite a tyrant, isn’t she? So it wouldn’t be surprising for you to fall for the violent kind of woman. Then again, could it be that your preferences are settled at a younger audience minding the one you follow so dearly~?»

He spoke in amusement, forming gestures to express the delight he felt at the thoughts he’d just voiced. He seemed insane as he went on, crazy, devoid of any constraints.

It was strange. Odd. Unusual. Disgusting. Yet elegant much like a performer on stage.

In fact, this man was a performer and a good one at that. All he did, even the tiniest of motions he performed, all was chosen with greatest care. It went deep enough to make one question if anything he did was actually a kind of natural whim or actually part of some larger script he’d prepared ages ago.

«Now shall we continue our dance?»

His eyes shot directly at his opponent’s, then he made his next move. Again a dance, again a song and again a circle of wind forming around his body as he indulged himself in the artful performance. Immediately after, it was fired, a single blade of wind, assuming the shape of a spear, piercing anything in its way at a speed on the borderline of human perception. However just as it shot straight forward into Mark’s direction, in the minimum of an instance its path changed completely, twisting, turning and taking off into the exact opposite direction, following the concluding movement to the jester’s dance, right for the back of the nun running to the innocents’ safety.

A delightful chuckle ran over the jester’s lips as the lance, that blade which could pierce both metal and concrete alike, would strike, dig through and strike again.

Two birds with a single stone…or not?
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Erin Lightheart on Sat Mar 25, 2017 1:48 pm

The young detective returned to Mr. Morrison's mansion in quite the foul mood. Still, seeing Albrekka and sharing information with her had managed to lighten her spirits somewhat. The matter of Millinda weighed heavily on her very soul and heart that night; the threat of those human traffickers lent more than enough fuel to her nightmares that a peaceful sleep would be all but impossible.

And yet, her rest did arrive. Old, wispy memories flooded into view much like a tumultuous brewing storm, lightly drizzling drops of forgotten emotion over the desiccated fields which illustrated her psyche. Twirling events spiraled past her, blindsiding the poor girl at every turn as she looked for a place to cower and hide. Just as it seemed she was to be surrounded by these oppressive feelings and memories, a distorted voice rang out, piercing through the hearts of her foes.

It was a man's voice, commanding the young one to forgive him for a blunder he committed against her. She faced her fears and looked up into the sky, black as pitch. The voice erupted from within, sending cracks across its oily surface and revealing the distasteful hodgepodge of rainbow underneath. Each audible word sent waves across this psychedelic landscape, appearing to rupture the entire space!

"...So I'm very sorry Miss, but you'll have to wait until it's repaired. I think my grandparents' old room might have some old clothes for you, so don't fret..."

It appeared as though the mansion's washer and dryer had malfunctioned while trying to clean her clothes from the muck of the town and excess moisture of the haze. As it was, she had only her pajamas available, and those were hardly suitable for wandering around outside, were they?

"I suppose it can't be all that bad."

...

The maid had to be called in to assist Erin with getting dressed. It had taken well over an hour, and much interesting banter was exchanged in the process. Things were said about what fit where, whether or not colours would clash, and even accusations of something poking one's eye out if they weren't careful.

"I'm so sorry, Miss. This was the only thing in your size that was still clean."

There was a deep sigh, followed by the defeated words of one who had learned the hard way to just deal with unforeseen circumstances as they arrived.

"It will do. At the very least, virtually nobody will recognize me this way, though it will attract attention."

The door to Erin's room was opened, and in the doorway stood a hatless young woman wearing a 19th century red coatee over top of a white waistcoat, complete with white breeches and stockings, with long black boots. On the shoulders of the coatee were epaulettes indicating the rank of Major General. That's right; she had donned the uniform of a British Major General who had served during the Napoleonic era.

"Oh, we can't have you taking that outside. You'll end up in jail mighty quick, you will!"

The maid then felt that removing the ceremonial sword at her side was the appropriate course of action. While this was reasonable, the bigger question of why she saw fit to include the sword with the uniform in the first place overrode any kind of sense of relief. What was she dealing with, here?

It was time to leave and do her part in restoring the town's peace. Where to, exactly? There wasn't really any leads to follow, no thanks to that interfering brat. The one who went about as if all the people in the world were required to praise and swear fealty to her just because she exists. There was always Millinda, but little was actually said about who she was or what she was doing.

It all came down to Birdway again. She refused all offers to drop her mask and actually get down to business. Erin had even made a not entirely subtle offer to the child which was summarily turned down. The obnoxiously dressed detective knew Birdway was trying to manipulate her, so why not embrace it and make things faster and more efficient? Perhaps her pride wouldn't allow her to openly accept such a deal.

Either way, she was going to intervene no matter what, so Erin might as well do things her own way so that those interventions were at least partially on her terms instead of just blindly and foolishly allowing her to control everything. Last night had all but confirmed that her ambitions were less than noble from pretty much every possible perspective.

After a quick meal provided by Mr. Morrison's maid, she set out into the town once more, this time hoping, praying to uncover at least something for a change. What time was it, anyway?
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Sat Mar 25, 2017 8:36 pm

The streets of Whitby were ever so strange as they used to be. Weird cosplayers and haze spread all over. However all over should not imply that they formed a mass. Here and there their kind was visible, occasionally having even the ordinary citizens mixed in — brave enough people still existed. Still, in the end Whitby was still the same odd ground as the night before.

There was a difference, though. One so tiny it might as well slip that girl’s attention, as after all it was nothing that should cross her path right now.

Here and there strange priests and nuns were wandering around, as if in search of something or someone. They were different from all the others, was there some way darker and colder about them in comparison to the vividly colourful extrovert people from all over the world.

But it should not matter, as what they were looking for was none they would ever recognise, at least not with the ironic twist destiny had taken here. So for the time being all they did was stare intently at any moving existence in town, whilst their very target would escape their grasp undoubtedly skilfully.

Another story left for another time.

Much like the many twisted people, an old man wandered the streets, sticking out like a sore thumb just for being perfectly normal. White hair, cut short, frameless oval shaped glasses, cord trousers and an old fashioned brown winter coat. He was relying on a walking cane he didn’t seem to need at all, considering the sportiness in his overall stature and appeal. It was probably just an additional accent born from taste in fashion.

He was odd, yet not for being actually odd but for being completely normal.

He wore a smile of childish contempt, not paying any heed to the many around him.

Was he used to seeing all those weirdos or was he simple ignoring them?

Maybe it was a hint of naivety.

Either way, before the sight of the man would captivate any of the bystanders his rather fast stepping rhythm had quickly carried him out of anyone’s vision, back into the confines of the thick shroud that was the fog.

On one of the countless steps he took however, something flew from his body. A little tiny thing that easily must have escaped his pocket: An envelope of pure white sealed traditionally with a stamp of red wax.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Albrekka Starbright on Thu Mar 30, 2017 5:57 am

«You are wrong.»

Albrekka would look at the man curiously.

«The sins Francesca Purezza committed were even exchanging a single positive word with heretics and pagans, allying herself with said pagans and all that for the sake of protecting further pagans.  One crime would have been forgivable for a sister of our order, but all three of these weigh far too heavy to tolerate. Therefore, just like those pagans that have committed just a single of the crimes I listed, she will burn at the stake.»

"I see."  She would say, frowning; after all, Francesca also chose the best course of action; religious law would say otherwise.

«Thus, each and every element involved with the pagans of the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight or its allies shall be purged from the face of our Lord’s beautiful world. That is the command our leader imparted onto us. That is the command I have come to execute tonight, much like my comrades who are currently swarming over the city in search of the other conspirators. Leivinia Birdway, Mark Space, the 20 members below them, the pagan children they harbour and the girls that have come into contact with them over the course of last night.»

"And so that would include me as well.  We will have to fight, then?  Why do that when those children are in danger?"  Albrekka obviously seemed disinterested in fighting the man.

With that, the man would reach into his garb for...something.  He had made his intentions verbally clear; his job was to end Albrekka's life, as well as the others of the church would end Erin's and the others.  How, exactly, would Erin handle such an encounter?  There was not much time to think of it.

It had seemed that perhaps her words fell on deaf ears; though...that was a good point, why did he listen to her in the first place? Perhaps the man just felt that this was going to be a simple execution, that she would not put up much of a fight?

Well, in the end, it did not matter. Since she had approached the man, she was not in a strategic location to find cover or to use terrain to evade whatever the man was doing. The best she could hope for was to deflect whatever the man would conjure up. Which was risky at best. She would stand there with her hand on her purse, though her face didn't show any real hostility, just focus.

Perhaps he wanted her dead, but she had no desire to have blood on her hands. If she could just deflect and avoid whatever was going on long enough, perhaps an opening would show itself.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Thu Mar 30, 2017 2:20 pm

Stillness.

Only that and nothing else.

The man did not move, even after the air between the two had been conquered by the heat before the outbreak of a battle. Both had become aware of that perspective. Both had announced their readiness. However that was it. Nothing happened. Everything remained standing still.

He had spoken those words before announcing the cruelty of a judgement no one would escape. Not the innocent ones that hadn’t even directly aligned themselves with that man’s enemies, not the orphans that were in no way involved in this. But where was said judgement? From the looks of it and any expert’s estimation that gloomy priest could have ended everything within a single strike. It was very well among his skill set to execute even a powerful veteran on the first move just applying a simple technique; and yet he didn’t do so.

His eyes dug into the girl, but that was it. It was as if all he did was just the same as she did. A big fat bluff. But why?

He seemed more tense than before. The coldness of his featureless demeanour was disappearing entirely. The statue was melting like a snowman at the dawn of spring.

Silence. Tension. Hesitation. Stillness.



It had been a mistake to assume things would go this simple.

Their orders had underestimated the targets many fold. Usually their group was the kind to strike whenever they could, were there no limitations to their actions. Right now however the situation was different. They were on another faction’s territory, acting as messengers not as someone with full jurisdiction. They couldn’t slay people like they would normally. Here there were limits and borders imposed onto them. One of them was the rule of alignments. The United Kingdom had many allies, enemies and groups they were on neutral terms with. Whitby was filled with all of them. However that also meant that striking down on the wrong part would lead to diplomatic troubles they surely couldn’t afford right now. Thus they always had to watch out who it was they would raise their hands against. Enemies of the local rule were of course no problem, much like the vampire, the human traffickers and all these other outside groups. Then there were the allies they would simply have to let trespass. And lastly there were the neutral parties. Groups that were on equal footing like the Russian Orthodox Church or the Dawn Coloured Sunlight — the latter being quite a special case, since it was only the local authorities that feared getting on their bad side would cause them to drown in currently unaffordable troubles.

In the end, though, there were still means to circumvent that entire deal. The law of the first strike. A childish but efficient idea dictating that the one striking first in a combat situation was the one to blame and thus undeserving of any protection. That had been all there was.

The reason for that unending tension filled stillness.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Saravati Nair on Fri Mar 31, 2017 6:13 am

Despite the haziness of Whitby, Saravati could still see the water her breath condensing in front of her. It truly was amazing how cool weather could create such wondrous effects, or at least what would seem to be wondrous to somebody who lived a fairly sheltered life. Sara could say that she was far from sheltered anymore, at least in comparison to how sheltered her life used to be.

She had really only been a member of Necessarius for about two years. So, even still these small spectacles like the condensation of her breath still fascinated her. One could call it childish, but that sense of wonder and fascination was something that was too deeply ingrained into her for her to simply grow past and she was fine with that.

“Haaaaaa” she breathed out, into her hands, letting the condensed water seem almost like it had been caught by her. As her breath reached her fingertips and warmed them up, she could feel her body shivering less.

Even if she had been to numerous colder locations on assignment before, she was far from used to cold weather. Still, she could lament all she wanted that she was not wearing something more suitable for winter like her usual Autumn-Winter get-up as much as she wanted. That still would not change the fact that she was on assignment and that said outfit would have been too restrictive and too unfit for her use of magic.

She looked over her body. Her eyes darted over the fingerless gloves on her hands, white lilies strapped to her arms, the almost swimsuit-like outfit she was wearing, and the holster for her numerous knives. It may not have been the best outfit for the weather, but it was the one she needed to be fully on guard on assignment.

After feeling that minor warmth traveling through her body, she looked back to the unfolding scene that she had been following. The two parties involved: a gloomy priest with a commanding presence and a young woman with a hair color Sara had to question the naturalness of.

The situation had gone from a tense conversation about, if she was hearing things correctly, one of nuns under the priest committing too many sins to forgive into a suffocating stalemate caused by two bluffs being taken to their limits.

“That doesn’t look good.”

Sara was never a fan of getting involved in stilted conversations. Watching them was just as painful to her, especially when they were ground at a stalemate. The situation between those two was like a balloon just waiting to pop as air continued to flow inside.

If that was the case, it was best to try become the outside party who would delicately force the air out of the balloon and return it to a stable condition. That would be the undeniable first strike of this situation, and it would not even come from the main parties involved. As much as she hated having to reveal her presence at this stage, some things needed to be done.

Without any tension in her body, she casually walked up to the two parties in the conversation before wrapping an arm around the green-haired girl’s shoulder. “Come on, you guys. There’s no need to be so tense here~”

Her voice was almost song-like as she continued to speak. “This lady here has a point. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding you two, there are definitely more important matters than standing forever at a stalemate like this. I mean, seriously, the atmosphere between you two was far too stifling to bear~”
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Vita Vesta Caesar on Mon Apr 03, 2017 7:18 am

With Moore and his group making good progress towards Howell and Plaskett, there had been no problems. As expected, the many men in black were unable to stave off their advance, and crushing them seemed as if it would prove easy. But as he had come to expect, nothing would be so simple.

His sword stroke was clean and powerful. He had sidestepped a spear of flame, cut apart a blade of wind, and crushed a stone bullet, arriving within range of one of the enemies despite their many attempts to keep Moore at a distance and unleashed a blow should have torn them in two. For a below average magician like this, there should have been nothing they could do.

But the one who felt pain in the end was Moore. As he was about to move on to the next target, it happened. From a range closer than close, a globe of water which was meant to impact at long range impacted his body from behind, shaking him. The damage was nothing significant, but it couldn't be ignored. Wondering how one of them had gotten so close without his noticing, he turned, and his eyes immediately widened.

The same man whom Moore had just cut down was standing there as if nothing had happened, preparing another spell. As he was about to fire it off, Moore's sword flashed again. But even though he had successfully severed the attack before it reached him, the arm it had come from remained unharmed.

As he leaped back to create distance between the two of them, a quick glance to both sides showed that Beathen and Addicott were experiencing more of the same. Somehow, the many rats had attained an immunity to physical assault.

"No, not somehow." Refuting himself, he confirmed that the culprit's identity actually was a known factor. With an appearance that screamed suspicious, and assuredly the leader of these lackeys, the jester was the obvious suspect. These many men who had given up their individuality for work in the shadows were magicians of the lowest level, but just a glance at the battle going on in the center of the building was enough to tell that their leader was anything but.

Next, then, was the question of what to do from there. The simplest answer was to go after the leader, but Moore doubted it would be that easy. There were stories of army ants killing elephants, and he felt as if they would suffer the same fate if they ignored the many small fry. Even if their power as individuals was small, the ability to ignore the danger to their own lives and engage in suicidal assaults with impunity was dangerous.

"The other options would be to counter the spell, or somehow lure them all away so we have an opening to strike at the jester. In that case, first we should..."

Moore had just begun to formulate a new plan of action to counter these new developments when he noticed Beathen approach him and draw his sword with a flash of light. Though he kept his senses honed in on the battlefield around him as he did so, he turned to face the young knight.

"Sir Moore, this is something you and the others can do far better than me. I'll cover you, but the shadows you need to get rid of them!"

At Beathen's words, Moore's eyes immediately flew to the positions that the many lackeys had taken immediately upon the Knight's entry, just as he assumed Beathen's had. Comprehension soon entered them, and an exclamation thereof followed. "Shadows... Just reflections, intangible? Is that it?!"

"As expected of Beathen," he couldn't help but think. It was Moore after all who had said that Alex's good head more than made up for his poor sword arm, and it was now being proven in practice. As Moore had simply been fending off the many attacks, Beathen had already discovered a core of the spell. In the time that had Moore had come up with the idea to analyze and counter it, Beathen had already done so.

Moore was preparing to give the orders to follow Beathen's suggestion and dismantle the spell, but he was interrupted by the rushing of several men. Their attacks, he managed to fend off, but he paid a small price for it. A chip in his sword. It was a small thing, but it proved that the attacks of their enemies truly were effective.

The sword was actually just his sidearm, and he was using it to match his subordinates more than anything else, but it still irritated him that his weapon was damaged.

"First at the station, and now here. This thing's causing me no end of trouble. I really should just use my..." as he hurriedly backed away from the chasing enemies with no way to fight back, he trailed complaints all the way. In concert with his words, he stowed the wounded weapon in its sheath and reached over his shoulder to take up his mainhand, but upon grasping it he paused both voice and action.

"There was still that?! Beathen, if this works, then take Addicott, meet up with Howell and Plaskett, and gun for the jester. I'll meet up with Heath and Wescott and we'll cover you!"

In lieu of an explanation, Moore removed his glaive from where it rested on his back. It was obvious that there was fire in his voice, a fierce spirit that couldn't be fully explained with just the excitement of battle. And at the same time, the dark cloud that hung over his spirit was burned away.

—The Claiomh Solais. Sword of Light. Though that was its common moniker, there were in fact legends in which it was described instead as a polearm. This was an armament of the Knights modeled after that legendary weapon of Irish folklore. In the many stories that the weapon makes its appearance, it is shown to have many traits.

The unparalleled sharpness of a legendary sword. Felling tens of enemies with a single stroke. Glowing with holy light. But though the glaive Moore held was a fine weapon, none of those details had been the primary motivation behind its construction. Instead, the function. Heroes would meet foes who held no death. Immortal, unkillable. No man could touch them. But it was with the Sword of Light that the hero was able to do the impossible and slay them.

In short, a monster-slaying blade. An immortal killing weapon. That was the effect and purpose of this weapon he held. Though the Knights had evolved beyond the need for such things, Moore was originally a member of the First Lancer Division, and thus held a lingering affection for polearms, and the weapon itself had excellent compatibility against the vampires he furthered himself for the sake of one day facing. Therefore, even though there was no strict need to bring it, he found himself lugging it around everywhere out of personal sentiment.

But though he wished to use it against vampires like the one said to be plaguing the city. Didn't these foes, too, hold an outstandingly wonderful compatibility with this weapon of his? The shadows would be vanquished by the Sword of Light. The monsters would be slain by the hero's blade. The immortals would obtain death in meeting with the Claiohm Solais.

He had stopped retreating. Fearlessly, one of the many rats infesting the storehouse rushed straight toward his spear as it split the air en route to the beast's neck. How effective would it be?
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Saravati Nair on Tue Apr 04, 2017 5:59 am


In the end, things never go as smoothly as planned. Mark would hold off the jester while Francesca sped to the location of the children, free, and protect them. Such was the plan that the two had silently agreed to. But, fate had an uncanny way of making sure things never went as planned.

The Three of Swords would be enough to keep the jester occupied and within range while wearing at him. There was no need to play along with his words, but he would guarantee that whatever dance was performed was his to lead. But, his initial strikes missed and that led to a fatal error. The jester let off a single attack which he had promptly side-stepped.

Or so he thought at that initial moment.

It was only at this moment when he realized what that attack was meant for.

It was directed not towards him but the one who had rushed off, leaving her back defenseless.

Dammit!

There was no time to turn back and look to see the attack careening towards Francesca. He had to act quickly to prevent the worst possible solution. Trying to get the Four of Swords to affect her was out of the question. He would not be able to pull up a defense for her in time.

That left destroying the symbol behind the attack and based on his observations…

He quickly pulled out the Four and Five of swords. The Four of Swords emitted a soft glow as Mark's body disappeared, letting him close into the jester's right, leaving nothing but the card visible. The Five of Swords subsequently glowed, producing a wind slash that threatened to slice at the jester's right leg.


But, that nun was far from defenseless. She may have decided to rely on Mark for help, but it would have been foolish of her to expected Mark to prevent everything from getting through completely. Ever since she had started running, she had the tools to fight back ready in her hands.

She held eight of her nails, one between each pair of fingers on her hands.

She may have been exhausted, but she could still feel the change in air pressure from the jester’s wind attack.

She had no idea what was incoming, but she could react. Even if she was thoroughly exhausted, she could still react properly.

The proper reaction was almost absurdly simple. She threw her nails into the attack. No matter what it was, it would pierce through, create holes, and cause it to fall apart.

Unbeknownst to her, because the attack was a wind blade, the holes would cause some major issues with the fluid dynamics. But such a technical explanation was far out of her expertise. All that mattered was digging the eight holes into the incoming attack.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Wed Apr 05, 2017 1:55 pm

Blood splattered, someone fell and was greeted by instantaneous death.

A shock ran through the entirety of the gloomy storage house. Behind the shelves, between the packages both small as a hand and large as a child the shadows ceased moving for an instance. Something came over them. Was it panic? The bell has been rung. The bell to announce this battle’s turning point.

As Henry Moore had slain the man that came straight for him the entire air in that cramped space changed. He’d done it. The tides had turned.

All of them, each and every last of them, they fell back. Defence, temporary retreat. They didn’t know how, didn’t know why, didn’t know what, didn’t know anything. It had just happened to suddenly and now this was the point where they stood.

The shades’ raging offence had died down, turning into frantic attempts to save whatever was left.


That jester’s smile intensified, as he gracefully pulled his leg out of the path of that sudden wind blade out of nowhere, transitioning into a perfect backflip, increasing both the distance and granting him a high up position on one of the storage hall’s shelves top. An inhuman feat, likely the work of physical reinforcements.

«The four and five of swords, I see. Respectable, aren’t you?»

Technically what had come for him hadn’t been out of nowhere. Of course it hadn’t been. He had seen the man disappear and solely that card remain; he had noticed him closing in with great speed and he’d even seen the slash’s origin, only leaving him with the task of avoiding it with the great ease his top notch acrobatics allowed him.

«I am not disappointed, not in the slightest. But it seems our time is running out. What a shame. What utter shame. Aaah, I would have loved to dance a little longer, but it seems the knights didn’t disappoint my predictions.»

Melancholia came over him as he spoke and posed.

However that wasn’t the real point either. He’d easily seen through the spell his enemy had casted, even naming its origins right off the bat. There weren’t many scenarios where such a thing was possible, unless of course their domains intersected.

Golden Style Magic. Based on the teachings of Crowley and the Golden Dawn, it still had many followers. Followers like Mark Space who relied on the Minor Arcana of Crowley’s Toth Tarot and that jester who…

«It seems you have seen through my spell, haven’t you?»

Casting only a short glance towards his leg, where a single small cut disturbed the plain whiteness of the cloth, the overall delight in his existence increased even further.

«The pentagram. A man that uses his limbs to replicate that very concept for the sake of performing rituals without the other unnecessary additions, invoking elemental effects. Don’t you recognise the familiarity at last? Or are you still as dense as you’ve been the entire time? Well, it does not matter, does it? Time is up after all.»

The sounds of his men being slaughtered, the echo of Francesca Purezza’s hurry after she’d somehow escaped certain death and the ring of the armours closing in on him from all around, they all reached his ears. It was perfect. Entirely perfect even. Everything had gone according to the plan. It all perfectly fit the script. Perfect execution down to the tiniest of all details even.

At some point a red rose had appeared between his slender fingers.

«Time for the grande finale, isn’t it?»

He chuckled, then he began his dance. It was a fine dance, detailed, well structured fluently and immediately an effect was invoked. Again gusts of wind began to blow all around him, surround him, building a wall akin to a small tornado, a wind shield of immense strength. The entire area shook, everything was affected by its blow. The boxes on the shelves, the shelves itself, the small people. It was powerful, outraging, beautiful and yet the next instance none of it seemed to matter.

Suddenly all of it was erased. The wind, the glow of the sword, the power of the cards, the strength of the nails, the intangibility of the shades, the sensation that could even pierce an immortal, the barriers protecting the children. It all simply disappeared. All Magical effects were annihilated. Eaten up. Voided. Banished.

The Banishing Rituals of the Pentagrams. The purification spell. That which eats away all interference.

And in that single instance, to the surprise of everyone present, the entire area of the storage house was purified, not leaving behind a single magical effect, for all was cancelled out.

«Now suffer. All of you fools. Feel it. Feel the weight of your own mistakes. Feel the weight of your foolishness. Get crushed by it. Let it ruin you until there is nothing left of all of you. Fools that have been daring enough to step up to me. Fools that have been daring enough to challenge me and my master. Burn.»

He hadn’t ceased moving. The next instance from the initial spell’s activation, another dance concluded, perfectly woven into the prior performance. His song echoed, as in the dance’s conclusion the jester held the rose high up into the air. Then with him as the centre a powerful burst of flames erupted all over.

It wasn’t just flames, it was raging fire unlike anything ever seen before. Assuming the shape of petals it danced across the entire area, consuming everything in its path. It was hellfire an inferno, unstoppable and merciless. It was raging destruction. It was beautiful yet ugly. It was filled with hope yet drenched in despair. It was the end to it all.

Flooding the entire space of the storage hall not a single centimetre should be spared.

There was no escape, or was there?

At least one person would have found it.

For in the end all there was left of the man at the centre was but a single entirely unscathed red rose.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Albrekka Starbright on Sat Apr 08, 2017 1:45 am

There was certainly a stillness.  A very awkward stillness.  If his role here was to kill her, why not just do it already?  Magicians have always been ruthless, doing whatever was necessary to reach their goals.  Was this man just not fully committed?  Or perhaps his idol theory required that she act in some way before it could take effect?

"...esn't look good."

A voice some distance down the street was heard.  A third entry to this awkward standoff?  Albrekka would look to the woman's direction as she approached.

"Come on, you guys. There’s no need to be so tense here~”  As the woman would attempt to place her hands on her, Albrekka would take a step back, disallowing it, a bit startled.  If a man had shown up to kill her, it wasn't out of the question that perhaps some other force existed to do so likewise; its nothing to construct a spell that is employed by touch and is related to some type of easement.  "No offense to you, but in a town like this, such casual physical interaction might be seen as threatening.  I appreciate the concern, though."  She would simply state the situation to the girl who had just arrived, making a light smile that signified that she really didn't take much offense, but was just being careful.  Still, who exactly was this person, being so casual?  For now, it didn't matter.  She had to reply to the "elephant in the room", as it were.  She would turn to the priest who had been standing there for some time.

"I should take my leave, I want to make sure the children are alright."  She would make an attempt to leave, but before doing so, she would turn back. "Before I go, you wouldn't know where Francesca is, by chance?  Though I understand if you can't say."  She would ask the man a simple question, though not really expecting an answer.  She was already prepared to take her leave regardless; it wasn't like she hadn't already wandered the streets looking for answers the night prior, she could do so again.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Sat Apr 08, 2017 9:51 am

As the situation’s tension was about to burst another person made their appearance. It was a girl that had casually moved herself to the centre, entirely lighthearted it seemed. To that man however it was a reason to tense up even more, especially after their glances met.

Another Magician.

He was an expert on his craft after all, thus he would recognise his prey the moment he’d run into it. It was a bad situation, entirely, though. Not for he found himself outnumbered, but because he knew. He could tell immediately. This was something different from before.

The cold priest had his tension disperse and removed the hand from the sleeve without taking any other action or removing any kind of item from it. His offensive spirit was gone, the threat as well, it seemed.

However it would never be that easy, wouldn’t it?

«I should take my leave, I want to make sure the children are alright. Before I go, you wouldn't know where Francesca is, by chance?  Though I understand if you can't say.»

Again that strangeness. He didn’t get it, not at all. Why did that girl behave like that? Why was she so openly talking about her objectives or even assuming things like that? No matter how long he’d stare at her, no longer how long he’d try to understand her, it just didn’t come. That was why he hated her all the more. That was why his plain watered mind turned into a stormy sea.

However he didn’t allow for it to show, covering all by his statue like demeanour.

«I wish you the best of luck from the bottom of my heart. Find them and find Francesca Purezza. I am truly sorry for keeping you up this long, dear Miss.»

As he spoke a smile so artificial it made one vomit was plastered onto his face. It was all fake, all a lie, all spoken with ill intent. Yet exactly that was the conclusion he had chosen. Of course only temporarily.

Casting the other girl what could only be described as a lethal glance, he turned tails and moved away himself, quickly disappearing from sight by moving along an intersection of the silent road. A bit too quickly. This wasn’t over yet, was it?
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Saravati Nair on Tue Apr 11, 2017 6:58 am

Yeesh. What a cold reception on both fronts.

The green-haired woman had side-stepped away from Sara before she could hang around her shoulder. Did she not realize that close contact was a great way to get to know someone?

The priest’s reaction was even more disheartening. After all, he gave her nothing more than malevolent glares. How cruel does a person have to be to do that?

Well, I guess this is the best-case scenario.

In actuality, it was fairly obvious why the two of them would have such averse reactions to Sara. They were, of course, magicians. A third magician coming in during such a stalemate was quite the adverse event that neither of them likely wanted to deal with. As for why the green-haired one avoided contact, there were a few logical guesses.

In the end, this truly was the best-case scenario. The situation diffused and the two parted ways, preventing what could have possibly been an ugly scene.

Now that the priest had said his last piece and disappeared, Sara really only had one option before her. After all, she had revealed herself, so there was no point in keeping herself hidden.

With a hop, skip, and a jump, she made her way to and caught up with the green-haired woman who had oh-so-coldly rejected Sara’s introductory embrace. If the first opening for conversation would not work that easily, then she just had to keep trying till she broke the ice.

With the same playful tone, she spoke up. “So, who’s this Francesca person and what are the deal with these kids the two of you were talking about?”
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Erin Lightheart on Tue Apr 11, 2017 7:28 pm

Ironically, the young detective's new uniform had allowed her to seamlessly blend in to the town far more than she had been afforded previously. If one can appear suspicious for looking too normal, could she appear normal here by looking far too ridiculous? Regardless, it appeared to be working. Far less eyes laid on her than they might have previously, and so she was capable of wandering the streets with a cautious confidence that served to help convince those around her that she in fact belonged there.

Millinda's fate and circumstances sat upon her shoulders, threatening to drag her into depths few human minds could hope to withstand. By intervening as she did, Birdway inadvertently revealed that the unfortunate mute was far more involved in matters than she was letting on. And yet, if Millinda were truly an enemy, nothing stopped her from just ending Erin's life as she pleased. Most likely Birdway was deliberately steering the detective down a path convenient for her goals, but she was mistaken if she believed she could also control what Erin chose to do once led there.

Her eye for detail singled out the suspicious man in the crowds. In a town full of weirdos such as herself (albeit unwittingly on her part) , such an unremarkable person would immediately catch the undivided attention of anyone who even once laid eyes on a detective novel. All she had to do was act natural, and go about her business without making it obvious that she was keeping watch over him and his surroundings. After all, it was possible he was merely bait to lure in people like her. Had there been any others nearby who were guarding him?

However, that's when the envelope dropped down nearby and he seemingly vanished into the fog. After waiting a moment to see if he or anyone else would come to retrieve it, or if anyone had been watching her instead, she casually walked over to pick it up with some caution. As she brought it up into view, she took a cursory glance at it, to look for a name or address, before continuing to walk as normal. If she had stopped in place or just opened it in public, that would certainly be suspicious. Perhaps she could catch up to the man to return it to him. Was she being led into a trap...?
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Wed Apr 12, 2017 9:49 am

That envelope was as ordinary as far as ordinary could be described.

White, made from handmade paper not bought at a convenience store and sealed by a red wax stamp as they used to be back in the days. However it wasn’t excelling quality either, as it was still something one could by in stores and reproduce at home. Likely the person had just added some of his personal taste to the entire thing, not some strange occult reasoning or whatever.

It was a letter, something that was quickly revealed by the two kinds of handwritten information found on it. A sender and a recipient. Both with addresses attached. The one of the sender, a man named Nate Fours, was located in Whitby while the other was a bit farther way, namely a place in Warsaw. The person to receive it went by the rather english sounding name Silas Sharpthorne.

Silas Sharpthorne. In fact that name should ring a bell in the back of the detective girl’s mind. It wasn’t a clear memory, not something she may have been told explicitly, but it should have sounded oddly familiar, like something she had come across before. A weak memory if she did memorise that moment at all. Had she at some point overheard it in a conversation or read it elsewhere? In the end it was among the vast sea of information she’d taken a deep dive into in the previous days.

That was all there was.

Two names, two addresses and old-fashioned romanticism.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Saravati Nair on Sat Apr 15, 2017 7:20 am


The approaching threat had completely failed and the nun could now continue unobstructed. Her charge could continue and she could rescue the orphans from their enclosed prisons.

Without incident, she ground to a halt and stood before the shelves and the boxes that lined the warehouse. Without a doubt, the dozen or so orphans could have only been imprisoned in one place. They were merchandise to these scum, after all. What merchant, no matter how mired in filth they may be, would let their merchandise get damaged.

There was something that was simply left undamaged during that initial flurry of attacks. Something that must have had an external factor protecting them—the boxes that lined the warehouse. There were only a few that were large enough to contain single children, so it was obvious which ones were the ones that contained the ones she wished to save.

“It’s time.” She muttered before throwing a nail at one of the boxes, piercing whatever barrier seemed to be keeping them intact. Once the nail tore through the box, she immediately reached for and pulled out—Thank the Lord!

The figure she pulled out was that of a little girl.

As soon as she was about to throw the next nail at one of the child-sized boxes and get the next orphan out to safety, a gust of wind blew past her and—

What’s going on here?!

In that instant, it was as if the nail she had just pulled out had lost all of its magical effects. No, it was more than just the nail.


Seeing as he could see Francesca still making her way to the boxes on the shelves without being pierced, it seemed as if his attempt to break the components to the jester’s symbols were unnecessary.

Still, he had chained the 1-5 of swords at this point. Even if he had failed to produce any visible effects or definite damage with them, the chain state was already forming.

All that was left was to use the time the jester spent building up his symbols and contorting his body to use up cards until he could hit the Page, Queen, Knight, and King of Swords and turn the entire warehouse into a temple.

As the jester spoke, confirming Mark’s suspicions about the basis behind his spells, Mark continued to activate cards in succession and toss them by the wayside.

Six of Swords.

The jester was far from wrong. Even if he had no recollection of who this man may have been, there was definitely some familiarity in his actions. Perhaps he really was a former enemy returned from an abyss.

Seven of Swords.

«Time for the grande finale, isn’t it?»

However, a quick burst of wind blew. Before he could even come close to completing the chain, the start of the next attack was coming. Instinctively, he picked up the eight of swords which was, in all luck, the next in the chain.

The wind wall erupted between him and the jester, melding with the wind coming from around the jester and then dissipating.

What?!

Something was clearly wrong. It was more than just the eight of swords being interfered with. The cards he had chained before had lost all of their magical effects. The chain and temple of wind he was building up had been toppled in an instant as its foundations were torn apart.

There was no question that the jester was planning something. He did not even wait until the jester had finished gloating to distance himself. Every second counted and luckily, whatever the jester did seemed to only erase the magic effects of whatever was active at that instant. He could still produce spells. Without hesitation, he threw a One of Swords back to stab into a box next to Francesca.

As the card stabbed into the box, he appeared next to Francesca who was holding an unconscious girl in one arm and a nail in another.

“We have to go, now!” Mark declared, grabbing at Francesca’s arm and biting his lip. It was regrettable, but there was nothing they could do anymore.

“NO! We still haven’t rescued all of them!” Francesca tried to pull her arm back to no avail, she was too tired to resist Mark. “They’re still trapped!”

Without another word, Mark picked up one last One of Swords.

“STOP IT!” The nun was crying out as the desperation in her voice took over her very core.

They had to escape. Self-preservation was a primary instinct for a magician, after all. There was no time to save any more. They had to take the one they could save in time and escape.

That was the grim reality of the situation.

He threw that card as it pierced near the main entrance to the warehouse, taking him, the nun, and the orphan girl they had rescued there with them. Biting his lip without turning back and paying attention to whether the knights had escaped, he pushed out of the entrance before hellfire began to ravage and consume the inside of the warehouse.

Mark was not looking at Francesca’s face as he finally stopped outside of the warehouse, but he was certain of one thing. The poor nun was definitely crying as she stared at the results of the failed rescue. That was undeniable reality.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Vita Vesta Caesar on Mon Apr 17, 2017 8:39 am

As the wind stirred, filling the air with fresh scents of blood, Moore delivered his gaze from the scattering rats to the breeze's origin at the center of the building where the battle between those three continued. With the threat of the weak many all but neutralized—the threat his very presence evoked was sufficient to ensure that—he took this opportunity to thoroughly assess the state of that theater.

Not expecting what he found there, thought fled his mind as his gaze absorbed the situation. The strength which with the air had been shifted was what had attracted his attention from the first, but it was the all too obvious motive which retained it. Multi-layered, many-faceted plans, built with deceit manipulation: those were the tools of those creatures called 'magicians'. He knew that all too well.

The jester was at no obvious disadvantage. The state of the battlefield, the positions of the three, and their conditions both physical and mental told him as such. So why had he erected a rampart? Multi-layered, many-faceted; always two steps ahead. Looking at it from that standpoint, the intention was clear. The wall of wind was not a desperate defense, but a means of preventing interference. The shield which had already shaken the building was merely preparation for something even more decisive.

Those three magicians were the cornerstones of the battlefield. With them at equilibrium, the knights had been able to calmly face the jester's many subordinates with minimal interference from their leader. But if those envoys of the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight and the Roman Catholic Church were to fall, then the tide would immediately change. And if he continued in a downward spiral—

Abandoning the enemies surrounding him without the slightest of hesitations, Moore charged towards the center of the building with all the speed he could muster.

Yet even though his spur to action had begun at almost the same time that the jester had unleashed that wall of wind, those few short moments proved enough for the spiral he had wanted to avoid to begin. As he felt not only the air but even his glaive and sword still themselves, he realized that there had never been a gap for him to interfere with from the beginning. Once more, he had been wholly outplayed.

«Now suffer. All of you fools. Feel it. Feel the weight of your own mistakes. Feel the weight of your foolishness. Get crushed by it. Let it ruin you until there is nothing left of all of you. Fools that have been daring enough to step up to me. Fools that have been daring enough to challenge me and my master. Burn.»

He was now close enough to hear the jester's words, and with his speed he could close the remaining distance within moments. But instead, whether because he judged the action unnecessary or the moments too long, he stopped in his tracks.

He knew that Beathen and the rest had been regrouping and steadily closing in to the center last he checked, but Moore didn't have the wherewithal to confirm how or if they had reacted to these new developments. With the way all magical effects seemed to have been purged, Mark Space was unlikely to be capable of the necessary decisive action to counter what was to come next, and the nun had her back to the jester as she knelt before the children. In short, he realized that he could not hope for assistance.

Henceforth, he would place no sense nor strategy into his actions. He was now out of his depth. His usual methods for combat could be more kindly described as an instinct acquired from countless battles, but it was in truth simply something so crude as reciting lessons from a textbook. They may have been learned on the battlefield instead of taught in the classroom, but the essence of it was the same. So once Moore strayed from those guidelines, there was only one path left for him to take.

He had no allies, an enemy about to unleash a decisive attack of unknown power, and the goal was to stop it all costs. This was the crème de la crème of desperate situations. The only way for weaklings to match to advance and meet the talented—the key to success— is to straddle the borderline. To never remain in the realm of the possible, but never stray into the realm of the impossible. Yet Moore had crossed the line and strayed into the latter.

In doing so, he gambled his every accomplishment. If he succeeded, it would pave the way to unprecedented success, but if failure would lead to unprecedented loss.

All unnatural powers had been purged, but the strength of his body was unfaltering. The few short moments the jester spent in motion were his sole chance to act, and he bent every bone in his body to the task. It was not an intelligent action. It was memories carved into the flesh rather than the mind and a sheer desire to survive that drove him forward.

His head was bad, but his strength was superior. That was all that was left to him, and he now defaulted to it. He placed his future in it.

And so the stillness of the air was once more disturbed by a wave of violence, as a silver spear struck towards the dancing clown.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Sir Alexander Beathen on Tue Apr 18, 2017 12:56 pm

His awareness was at his peak, the young knight's eyes moved quickly responding to the numerous events happening as they occur and his breathing remain calm fueled by his lack of emotions. Not allowing the chaos of this battle to overwhelm his senses, Alexander was able to keep check of what was happening at an increasing rate. Using these moments of confusion as valuable learning time, the way Alexander overcame superior enemies or attempt to turn a disastrous tide became apparent.

You see the only reason he is standing here today, the only reason Alexander was in this position during this battle was that he observes the actions of others and uses that information to predict their next movements. Their placement and body language along with their past observations of their moves, tactics and how they respond under pressure. Basically this ability to predict came down to accumulating all his learning experiences and using them together. It was this reason why he was able to overcome the best in his class during his trials to become a Knight.

These people weren't Victoria, and so his observation of his allies and enemies was rough continually being updated as time flew. But isn't that the whole point of tactical intelligence? You make these actions based on your experiences and predicting the enemies movements. Alexander deployed this to its extreme in the heat of battle and with his ability to remain calm under such circumstances had only made it remotely possible.



As timing his actions to his superior, the moment Moore acted and turned the tide of the battle, confusion and disorder set in on the enemy forces and Alexander took full advantage forcing his sword to shine as bright it can to create further chaos for the shadows. And upon that he charged, taking full advantage as the shadow's offensive died he chased after his fellows plucking them from their disadvantaged positions, the young knight hadn't need to tell them and only upon acting like a beacon the others followed as his momentum drew them.

With their superior speed, they easily were able to catch up and keep pace, and this happened with no words passing their lips acting upon the strength of their unity.

And the numbers of his fellow knights following him grew.

With his sword acting as the beacon, and with the clown in his sights Alexander rushed forward towards the trio with the intention of cutting the head off the snake.

And as the distance shortened the more aware he became of the events happening between those three individuals. While this didn't stop his advance, it was the sudden breeze accompanied by a strange foreboding that caught the young knight unaware. Followed by an unusual movement by the clown something had felt missing, it wouldn't take him long for him to realise that the power given to him by his sword and shield had faded.

His pace slowed immediately, and for once he started to feel under pressure. It made him woke up to the reality that cutting the head of the snake was far out of their reach.

And as he desperately tried to observe what was happening a darkened voice followed.

«Now suffer. All of you fools. Feel it. Feel the weight of your own mistakes. Feel the weight of your foolishness. Get crushed by it. Let it ruin you until there is nothing left of all of you. Fools that have been daring enough to step up to me. Fools that have been daring enough to challenge me and my master. Burn.»

His eyes widen as he listened and yet in that sobering moment all he heard was an echo of a marble dropping to the ground and the nun with her back to the clown as she knelt before the children.

He didn't have to analyse the Jester's words to understand what is happening as the nun who was weeping from a certain sense of loss and foreboding had painted the picture as Alexander's momentum grounded to a halt.

"Not again..." he spoke under his breath.

His words had sparked a memory...

«Paul Oldturf is the one I meant. He died, even though he shouldn’t have. He died at the hands of the monster, he should have helped bring down. The scene of his death should have been the scene of this catastrophe’s end.»


"Not again!"  Alexander said as he realised the children, the most important thing here today was left helpless as they fought this battle against the shadows.

Where they had been hidden had become clear after seeing the Nun, those boxes mostly left undamaged despite the chaos, had been the answer all this time. But for how long? A surge of flames can be felt, and though he could feel this heat he hadn't stopped to check. For now, allowing his emotions to replace what was lost he turned towards his fellow knights as while locating the nearest box with a glance.

" The boxes.. No matter what save the Children! NOW!" he roared at the top of his voice as the calm and collective Alexander crumbled in their sight. In his place was a knight filled with passion and hope to save the most innocent of them all.

The Children.

And he had no idea just how many they will save if any at all as the overwhelming flames surged ahead.
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Re: [SS] Hazy Silhouette

Post  Leivinia Birdway on Fri Apr 21, 2017 12:15 pm

Too late.

The storm of flames erupted, spread and drowned everything in its viciousness. All in its path was destroyed, eaten up, ruined. The boxes, the shelves, the floor, the ceiling, it covered all within that space without any sign of mercy.

The brave men that had charged to the innocent’s rescue, the lance that had been cast at last resort. Were they too late?

She couldn’t tell, had she hurried to leave the area as well.

What remained in the end, after the flames had stopped and disappeared, was a wasteland of burnt and torn structures.

She couldn’t believe her eyes as she saw it. It had been disastrous, cruel, depressing.

The brave knights, Addicott, Howell, Plaskett, Wescott and Heath, lay on the floor, their armours carrying visible traces of the hell this place had only been a moment ago. They were cowering, their backs faced upwards, shielding something. Underneath the each of them there lay a child, unharmed, protected, saved. All damage had only be dealt solely to them in their heavy armours. Only one layer thinner, only one moment later and things would have been different.

But it didn’t help. She just couldn’t smile. That smell was still lingering in the air. Five had been saved by the knights, another one by that nun and Magician, however there had to be even more. The smell of burnt flesh. The smell of death. The smell of defeat.

The smell of not only the villain’s pawns, but also that of the innocent that had been sacrificed in the process.

The sound of someone crying. She took a glance at Paula, one of the two girls she had managed to smuggle out during the commotion. She could feel sadness written all over her face, despair, suffering. She herself was young, but unlike her that girl had never seen the true face of the world, up until now. Only that the face she’d seen was one far worse than any of the faces there ever were.

Even for her it was harsh. Even for what she had been used to this had been one step too far.

She was stronger than the children by her side. She was stronger than anyone her age. That was why she’d turn for them one last time, still standing at the entrance they had just fled through.

«Please stay here. I’ll be back in a moment…and then…I don’t even know what…we’ll just see, right? Bláth will be right back for you, just stay here…hold on…that could be dangerous as well…»

Blaming her own inexperience with situations like that, she settled on taking both Paula’s and Ronny’s hands as she stepped back into the building, along the ravaged path to the centre of what was now a field of run over molten dominos.

«We just have to talk to the friendly men over there and then I’ll take you to a safe place, yes? Yes…? Hey…don’t cry…I…what am I even saying…»

She wasn’t anywhere different from then. Frail, small and young as she was, all she could do was try her most to somehow convince the saved ones.

Bláthín Neve was at loss of everything right now…

⭐︎☆☆⭐︎

Amidst that terrible wasteland of burnt future a girl in company of two children, a boy and a girl stepped forward. They came from outside, so maybe they’d just fled. At least her company appeared to fit the description of the missing orphans. She herself however was strange.

Clad in clothing that consisted only of a green tube top perfectly enough to cover at least her chest and skin tight leggings missing one leg, a belt and a brown leather vest she gave off the usual strange appeal of a Magician. A yellow scarf running around her frail childlike neck, blonde hair and emerald eyes however made her more human. She was not older than the other children, probably even a bit cuter and more innocent than them. However unlike them she seemed more used to such scenes.

They were in shock, one was crying, she was struggling to calm them down.

That was all there was right now.

Otherwise only death, destruction and a disappeared jester with no trace left but that rose dropped at the epicentre were left to explore.
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