An eventful lunch... (Open)

[Guido Faragas]

It was getting busy in the wilds. So many days on his own: but now a boy traveller, a yelping dog and a tall stranger - all converging on the same place at the same time. Fate...

The newcomer approached in a friendly manner and Gabriel welcomed him to the camp, deciding not to douse the flames. Guido directed a friendly smile towards the new arrival but still kept the bow in hand, his eyes scanning around the edges of the camp. This strategy appeared to be wise, for only a few short moments after the new arrival had entered the camp, he was followed by an injured hound and three rough looking men. It appeared that the men were chasing the poor lame beast and the weapons they held in their hands were clearly ones they had no compunction in using.

Guido stepped close to Gabe, keeping slightly to one side of the fire. Fire. Fire, was the element he was most at home with. Still keeping his bow grasped in his right hand, he surreptitiously extended the palm of his left hand until the hand and limb was vertical at his side close to the fire. He took a quick gaze at the fire, using the colour of its flames as the focus for his concentration. The familiar wrapping of his senses in a sheet of colour: the relaxation routine which preceded any attempt to find his djed and expel the res. The fire can be used. How fortuitous.

He said nothing, saving his concentration for others matters. He allowed his mind to dive into the multi-coloured strands that lay deep within him. This was the manner in which he envisaged his djed – others saw it in different ways – but the reimancer had always seen it in this manner, right from his first encounter with magic. He grasped a ball of the strands, ready to push them through his palm and form the res should the need arise. To those present, it might appear that he was in some sort of quiet trance, eyes glazed and unmoving.

[Paltra Immuran]

“Thank you very much…” Paltra bowed his head briefly, taking a seat opposite of the direction that he’d heard the sound. He didn’t much like the idea of having his back facing that direction… but, he hoped it wouldn’t matter, not with three people anyways. Paltra looked to the boy, and then to where his gesture led. It wasn’t much he supposed, some more or less burnt pieces of flesh, but he wasn’t precisely invited to the outing, so it was more than he hoped for. He smiled to the man graciously, wondering when was the last time he’d ever gotten anything from anyone without stealing it… that thought left his mind though, preferring to try to stay on the bright side of things…

“Ah, my thanks still.” Paltra spoke, reaching forward and picking up a few pieces, not differentiating between less burnt and more burnt, since when one had no food for many parts of your life, you tended to stop caring what the condition that your meal was in. He popped a small piece into his mouth, chewing it, still savoring the burnt taste as much as the actually fleshy sustenance.

Raw meat had been in his diet for a time as well… so burnt meat wasn’t as bad.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I neglected to even introduce myself to the both of you. My name is Paltra Immuran, born of Sunberth,” Paltra offered a bow in place of a hand shake, since his hands were occupied with breaking the pieces of burnt meat into smaller pieces to chew. Though, when the slice of pie was placed in front of him, he was utterly speechless. Now that it was closer, he could tell that this was the succulent morsel that he’d been able to smell even through the smoke and burning flesh. There was no doubt about it in his mind, none whatsoever. He was about to pick it up and take a bite out of it, almost cautiously, when the sound came forth.

Paltra glared at the animal at first, thinking that it was a Wolf, or some equally troublesome creature. But, immediately that glare turned into a look of pity. It was no more than a dog, a bloodied dog at that, limping forward as though it was returning from a lost battle. Paltra sat there, frozen in place for a moment as he watched the animal drag itself forward. It looked almost like it was pleading for help…

Three men approached after it, their voices easily exposing them before they even entered the small clearing that the travelers were in. Paltra wouldn’t have cared much if they were or weren’t bandits, quite in fact, he still didn’t. The simple fact that they had found it necessary to barbarically attack another, even an animal, and not finish the job quickly made Paltra’s stomach churn. He rose after the two others, his left hand clenching a fist-full of dirt, his other hand grasping the hilt of his sword, and pulling it forth. The metal sang against it’s sheath as it was drawn, the broad weapon, the Scimitar, gleaming devilishly in the firelight and the sunlight. A cold wind drafted through, sending an cascade of shivers down his spine.

“Got a plan?…” Paltra asked, walking up beside the boy and man, idly noting the glazed appearance of the oily-haired man as he drew near to him. He wasn’t sure what was going on with the man… but something told him to keep his distance and not disturb him.

“I can distract one--maybe two--of them, you guys finish the others off and then save my petching rear… Sound good?” Paltra spoke, feeling his blood rise and heat, fire in the veins as he imagined all the ways his plan could fall flat and he’d get gutted…

[Guido Faragas]

The reimancer continued to hold his palm close to the fire as the tall man moved towards his two companions. Guido chanced a quick glance at Gabriel and saw that the boy appeared frozen in place. I’m not sure he’s going to be of any use. It looks like I’ll have to rely on this stranger and hope he has some skills. The leader is the key – the others just look like followers. If I could heat up that chain mail with a ball of fire...

He allowed part of his mind to dive into the pool of multi-coloured strands that characterised his imagining of his djed. He paused at that point for a brief moment and hissed a few quiet words to Paltra.

“Leave the leader to me if they insist on a fight. See if you can deal with the others. Just keep out of my line of sight.” He moved his hand closer to the fire, feeling its heat. Wincing a little, he directed his eyes back to the three men who were still converging on the fire. The strands of Djed writhed, eager to escape the confines within which they were imprisoned – hungry to be transformed into res by the will of the reimancer.

[Paltra Immuran]

Paltra eyed the man curiously, looking over his shoulder as the men approached. It wasn’t as though he had any time to argue the point to the man. As far as it looked, the man might have been able to hold himself high in a fight, when weapons weren’t involved anyways. He was indeed armed with a bow though… maybe it was his plan to quickly execute the leader of the three men in a timely fashion and attempt to dispatch the others while Paltra distracted them.

The Scimitar wielding man turned his head back to the three men, swallowing hard at the prospect that lay ahead of him. He could feel his pulse race, caressed gently by the suave and lightly chilling air that drifted through the forest. The tension in Paltra’s gut almost made him feel sick, woozy even. Quickly he steeled his mind, focused on the dominant rule of his life… Survive…

“You’ll get no argument from me… be sure to take care of the man quickly though. I don’t know if I can last a fight alone for long…” Paltra whispered to him, glancing once more to the man, noticing a hand to the fire. A light seemed to come on in his mind, a vague suspicion--or rather, a hope and a fear at once--that perhaps this man was more than met the eye. He didn’t let the notion betray his outward features, best not to give off any inclination that the man was perhaps a more important target than Paltra. Besides, he knew how certain things could be misinterpreted, bent and twisted to make a person feel better about their chances. For all he knew… he was just a beginner archer and was a terrible shot… Still, the only other option would be to run for his life, but he wouldn’t leave the man and the boy without at least trying. Which, the boy now seemed about as useful as… well, the wounded dog that defiantly stared onward at the men that were responsible for it’s wounds.

Paltra moved off to the right, gesturing at the two men at the leaders side in a silent challenge. They bore wicked grins, staring back at him and one moving off to the right more, ready to cut Paltra off if he tried to go around them to flank the group. The boss huffed a chuckle, nodding his head to the other man as he focused on the older fellow. Paltra scowled at them, trying his best to look fearsome. In all truthfulness, Paltra indeed looked like he was what he was. A street rat that was used to fighting death in the streets and pit’s of Sunberth…

“Come on boys… let’s have some fun…” Paltra chuckled, watching as the two men moved forward to him…

That guy had better be a really petching good archer… He thought to himself, ready to face off against the men as soon as they made the first move…

[Guido Faragas]

Still focusing his concentration on his inner djed, the reimancer nodded slowly in response to Paltra’s words. He prayed that his companion could hold his own against the two men whilst Guido attempted to deal with the leader.

Guido pulled the strands of energy towards his palm, expelling them as a translucent red-tinged cloud of res, which he quickly formed into a small ball. The ball hovered beneath his hand, close to the fire – difficult to observe unless one knew what one was looking for. As he had done many times before, he stroked the surface of the ball with his thoughts until it flickered into flame. The inner part of the ball remained as it was, for he did not want to lose control over the res – eager as it was to escape from its confines. The next stage was more difficult – attracting the fire to the ball to amplify its power. Fortunately, he was standing close to the fire – the proximity of the res and the flames reduced the effort required. However, It still required a tangible effort of will to attract the flames to the ball and he let out an involuntary gasp as the flames joined with the fiery ball. To anyone watching, it must have seemed as if his hand had touched the flames and ignited. Guido could feel the heat but felt exhilarated as the power mounted in his hand.

The gang leader was only a few paces away and his companions were closing in on Paltra. It was now or never. He ignited the inner part of the flaming sphere and flicked the palm of his hand towards the chest of the approaching ruffian. His hand jerked a little and he almost lost control, for the fire had considerably enhanced the power of the res. If the man with the morning star had been further away he might have missed him altogether. Fortunately, he was almost upon Guido and the flame of fire struck the man on the top of his chest and neck area before he even had time to look surprised. The force of the blast knocked the fellow of his feet and the chain mail must have transmitted the heat for he screamed as he writhed on the floor, one hand reaching to his charred and smoking neck.

Guido staggered back a few steps, for the effort of the fire blast had drained his energy. He fumbled for an arrow in his quiver, daring a quick glance in the direction of Paltra and the other two men.

[Paltra Immuran]

Paltra could feel his hands and body almost feel lighter as his adrenaline kicked in to new heights. He could see his two enemies with crystal clarity, the glint of their blades in the sun, the motion of fabric in the wind. Even the look of murderous intent in their eyes, glazed over and assuming the façade of human consciousness. He swallowed hard, focusing on their motions and their body language in an attempt to get an early warning of what they were going to do. The first man, mostly bald it seemed, bore many scars from head to toe. He seemed to have been the more experienced of the two of the scars made any suggestion at all to experience. He was a grizzled man, large, muscled, but most of all blind in the left eye, a cloudy white tint consuming the color of the eye. His comrade was not so ill fortuned, bearing only a few scars and having long, dreadlock styled hair, dark brown and bearing flecks of leaves and other debris in it from what was likely an ambush recently performed.

Either men bore short-swords, heavier than Paltra’s blade of choice, the Scimitar. That made head on confrontation risky, since they would have more leeway and striking strength with their blades than he. Of course, he wouldn’t have to beat them… just survive long enough for the other man to finish with the small gang’s boss.

In a moment, the bald man struck forward, growling as he did so, pressing forth a more primal part of his mind to call upon some of the most basic human psychological effects. Paltra dodged narrowly, moving to the right, in the blind-spot of the man, and then flicking his fist forward to catch the man in the cheek. The impact was hard enough to have the man back off quickly, touching the side of his face with his unarmed hand. Much to Paltra’s dismay, he grinned, spitting out some blood onto the ground and then coming again. This time, both of them came forward, heavy footsteps easily tracked and felt through the ground. Paltra backed up, grimacing and a blade slash came mere inches from his face. He brought his own sword up, managing to parry the second blade as it nearly cut deep into his shoulder from a vertical slash.

Paltra moved forward intending to get another strike in, however only succeeding in receiving a near fatal slash at the throat, to which he’d only managed to lean back and avoid. The other man, the man that was not so encumbered by their body as the bald one, lifted hi blade up ready to cut into Paltra with as much skill and finesse as a lame beast that still bore all of it’s power. Paltra side-stepped before he moved for the actual slash, kneeing the man firmly between the legs and grabbing him by one shoulder and pushing him to his cohort. The man didn’t resist much, not after the initial blow, and quickly slammed into his cohort as he stumbled to him. The bald man caught him, but only enough so that he would not fall, and then moved back to Paltra, not caring for the other man’s apparent pain.

The first blow of the short sword was narrowly blocked, the force of the strike catching Paltra off guard as his defense crumbled just enough for the tip of the blade to cut Paltra’s cheek. The man recoiled slightly, and then began his strikes with earnest as strike after strike was parried or blocked narrowly by Paltra. He could tell that the other an was by far the more skilled of the two of them, both powerful and clever. Several of the strikes were weak, followed by a punishing blow that Paltra had difficulty blocking. Paltra cursed, his annoyance and fear coupling to form a misbegotten anger that seemed as irrational and incoherent as the man’s attacks.

The next strike the man threw was not met by blade or body, but instead by open air as Paltra managed to duck the strike. He dove forward, hesitating for but a moment as he pulled the blade off to the side, sending a far more powerful and fierce punch upwards, slamming the man in the jaw as hard as Paltra could manage, using his legs and his entire body as momentum behind the assault. The impact caused a wracking jolt of pain to course through his wrist, hitting the man wrong. But for as much pain as it caused him, the man certainly experience more as his feet left the ground, his body fell backwards. The man lay upon the ground, unmoving after a moment, while Paltra with his hand close to his body, tight jaws cringing at the pain. He was sure he’d either just fractured something, or he’d jammed his wrist and hand together far too hard. Either way… it really petching hurt….

A gutteral shout met his ears without hardly another warning. Paltra dodged back, failing to avoid some of the other man’s blade strike, only infuriated by Paltra’s blow to his man-hood earlier. The tip of the blade cut into his shoulder, luckily the one that did not bear his sword. Still though, Paltra shouted in pain, recoiling again, this time stumbling a bit. The man charged again, though this time Paltra stepped forward, slashing with his own Scimitar and catching him in the right arm, forcing him to back off. The two remained like that, staring each other down as Paltra cringed at the pain, the feeling of warmth slowly oozing out of his shoulder and wetting his clothes. He spared a glance to the man he was with, hoping that he would be finished soon… otherwise, Paltra wouldn’t last for much longer. Especially since he wasn’t sure if the bald man was going to get up soon…

[Guido Faragas]

The reimancer had only been dimly aware of the swordfight raging to his left, for he had needed to devote all his attention to firing off the bolt of flame. Now, a quickly glance revealed that his companion had managed to down one of his assailants but was still battling with the other. The bow in his hand felt heavy: the conjouring of the res had taken its toll, leaving a mixture of tiredness and exhilaration. He knew the signs – the desire to do more ate at his soul but the words of his master concerning the dangers of overgiving echoed in the back of his mind. With a grimace, he resisted the beckoning allure of using further magic and wearily attempted to knock an arrow into his bow.

The leader of the ruffians was still sprawled on the ground, his neck and lower face badly burnt. However, he was attempting to lever himself up – clearly not yet finished. Hoping that Paltra would be able to deal with the other men, he finally fitted the feathered arrow into place and raised his bow. Slow, easy, fluid – the mantra he used when using his bow came quickly to mind. He partially pulled back the bowstring, focusing on the man on the ground. He aimed the arrow for the ruffian’s unprotected and burnt neck, before fully extending the string and letting fly with the arrow. Fortunately, the man presented a close and easy target – the archer’s aim was true and the arrow buried itself in the throat of the wounded man. With a strangled cry, he flopped back on to the ground and lay there unmoving.

He felt even weaker now but he still searched for another arrow in case his companion needed any assistance. Guido's emerald eyes were misting over and he could scarcely focus on the swordfight. The youth shook his head, trying to clear the fog but the cloud of weariness continued to build.

[Guido Faragas]

OOCA shame but the thread has been dormant for a month, so I have just rounded it off with a short post

The fog slowly cleared from the reimancer’s eyes as he had levered himself up from the ground. He wasn’t sure what had happened – perhaps it had been the effects of the manipulating the res, perhaps it had been some blow to his head.... perhaps...there was no point speculating, he simply didn’t know.

The campfire smouldered with only a faint orange glow. Two of the men who had attacked the group lay dead on the ground. There was no sign of the third, the dog or Guido’s two companions. It was if they had vanished into thin air – an air that was heavy with the stench of death. He took a swig of water form his bottle and the last few charred remains of meat to help him regain his strength. Slinging his bow over one shoulder, he lifted his rucksack onto his back and slowly trudged his way back in the direction to Syliras, anxious to see the back of the campsite.