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Post by moralhazard on Mar 19, 2019 5:24:53 GMT
In the same moment that the gem shattered, so would the collars. In the circus, the collar around Ivor’s neck would disintegrate into nothing, leaving him slumped dead on the bleachers, Marguerite’s soft sobs very nearly the only sound disturbing the air.
There was a clatter of hooves from the far cage, two human-like hands grabbing the bars. “Oh thank Sune!” The satyr cried. “Let me out – let me OUT – please!” He peered over at Arioch, eyes wide.
At the top of the hill, there was a very different scene. Thea stood, all but vibrating with nervous energy, staring down at the circus below. In the dark, she could make out the tent – it seemed to be lit inside, with glowing light leaking out the bottom and through the slit in the side – but not much of the rest of the enclosure, other than a vague sense that there was a fence.
Hopebringer was curled up next to her little grove of trees, wings flat, two loops of her tail wrapped firmly but gently around Pip, who was sitting in the mud, tear-tracks streaking down her cheeks.
In the same moment as Orin struck the gem for a second time, Hopebringer’s collar would crumble away into dust. She lifted her head off the ground, uncurling, then flung herself off the ground in a single joyous motion, wings flapping as she spiraled up – up – up into the air, joy radiating from every line of her body and echoing from her mind as well.
Thea and Pip both froze, staring at one another – but Pip was just a little quicker, and within a moment she was hurtling headlong down the hill, sprinting full out for the tent. “PIP!” Thea cried, and took off after her.
Those inside the tent would hear a loud burst of noise from outside the tent just moments later, like boot-clad feet clattering along the wooden boards that lay from the gates to the tent. Pip burst through the flap, running full-out down the gap between the stands.
“PIP!” Thea burst in after her, half a heartbeat later, reaching out with a desperate hand to snag Pip’s collar and just barely managing it. She held firm, almost swinging Pip around behind her, keeping her body physically between Pip and whatever might be inside the tent.
“No!” Pip shrieked. “No, let me go – Thea – let me go!” She was flailing, twisting and squirming in Thea’s grasp. If possible, she was even more muddy than when Arioch had left her outside her parents’ home in Waterdeep earlier in the evening.
Thea, normally very neat, was even more disheveled than she’d been when going to fetch Orin; her pale blue blouse was smeared with dried mud across the stomach, and her flowing brown pants newly splattered with fresh mud up the back. What looked like a burlap sack with a ribbon sewn through to draw it shut hung from one pocket, making it bulge. Her hair was blowing about her head, fiercely and wildly, and her left arm sported a brand new bruise, almost like a handprint wrapped just above her wrist, purple against her skin. After a moment, the lack of immediate danger in the tent seemed to sink in, and, slowly, she released Pip.
Pip didn’t seem to notice the heads scattered across the corridor, although she neatly dodged them and the pile of vomit besides, hopping up onto the stage and looking around. She looked at the satyr, eyes widening a little, then to the cage further up the stage, and shrieked at the sight of feathery wings. “CITRINE!” Pip sprinted over to the cage, all but diving to her knees in front of it, tugging helplessly at the padlock as though it might somehow break in her hands. She was sobbing again.
Thea came forward, slowly, to the edge of the stage. She did, in fact, seem to notice the heads strewn on the ground, looking at them, then slowly lifting her gaze to find Arioch, his half-plate armor blood-splattered and – were those feathers sticking to the gore? The wind swirling through Thea’s hair settled, slowly, but she didn’t say anything, just – looking at him. Perhaps the heads weren’t that surprising, given the four headless bodies outside, but it was one thing to know the heads had to be somewhere, and another thing entirely to see them.
“You’re – not hurt?” Thea asked, relief and worry mingling in her soft voice, just audible over Pip’s sobs. Relief won out, and she managed a faint smile for him. Her gaze dropped to Arioch’s bloody armor once more, before she glanced around the rest of the tent. “Where is Orin? Are there keys – for the cages?”
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Mar 19, 2019 8:47:46 GMT
"ORIN!"
Arioch would shout getting slightly more angry this time, feeling he was being purposedly left in the dark. He felt he was being cheated and he didn't like it. When he reviewed recent events things weren't looking so hot for the elf. She hadn't help him in the fight. They had their differences. She put the collar on the man without asking. And then the man died before he could answer any question. And without explanation she took off. Moments later after a loud noise the collars would desintegrate. He was beyond confused, if no one cared to clarify he would have to ask Marguerite, and it was quite something to have to keep relying on the person that had moments ago tried to kill him.
And then the voice coming from inside the cell. Arioch turned around to watch whatever was in iside and let out a voiceless "What?", watching the... thing's appeareance. A Satyr? It could talk?. He wasn't a fan of beast-looking nearly-humanoid things but neither was he going to leave a thing that could talk and beg, after being slaved, trapped inside a cell. And he had the keys. He could open them. And then the footsteps, and then the one sound that made him turn around; Thea's shouting for Pip.
Hadn't he left her at her home? What was she doing here?
While the little half-elf ran over to one of the cages Arioch looked instead at Thea. Her muddied appeareance was not so out of place in the midst of the blood, but he figured was still worlds appart from the carnage present outside of limbs and splintered bodies leaving a trail inside the tent. And it had to be by far, the worst he had looked himself to date, with all the blood and gore and feathers sticking to him like someone had just dropped buckets of the stuff on him. It was still fresh, so the metallic smell permeated the air, and he was at least thankful for that. He didn't particularly enjoy the smell of stale blood.
For a split-second he forgot the carnage, and he forgot about Orin, and Pip was just a thing that was happening in the background. It was not that he was ashamed of what had transpired. It was that he realised that he actually cared, however little or much, about what she felt, unlike with Orin and everyone else. It had sneaked up on him. He wasn't sure he agreed with the feeling, being used to not caring. It was the first time he saw her hair moving like that.
"Nothing but a scratch... The blood isn't mine..."
He said then, exhaling, looking to reassure her. Quickly enough however his thoughts settled further on her appeareance. Beyond the mud, beyond the hair, and his gaze sunk into the purple bruise above the wrist, like a handprint. There it was again, that deep fire, waiting to spark into action.
"Are you alright? Vhat happened to you?"
He added then, his tone far from the threatening intonation it had had before, but still hoarse and deep from all the fighting and yelling. Had it been that Phi? If it had... And do think his best chance for finding that bastard had just died because of the elf before he could tell him anything useful. He was not used to either being overly prudent, or feeling impotence about anything, not being able to put his hands to work. It felt like beating around the bush, waiting, idly. It felt like cowardice.
It was only afterwards that he moved on to the subject of Orin.
"I don't know, I think she killed Ivor and then took off, I'm not even sure vhat happened myself. She put on one of the collars in him vhen I vasn't looking, and then he died as soon as I started to ask him questions."
Arioch looked towards the route Orin had taken, and at the mention of the keys he recovered them and had them spin around in his bloodied hand. Mostly, due to how slippery they were.
"These must be the keys..."
He looked back at where Pip was... And then began walking his way, looking to unlock the cage the bird woman was in. He hadn't quite yet decided on what to do about the Satyr, maybe Thea would know more about their kind.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 19, 2019 14:02:23 GMT
The blood wasn’t his. Thea swallowed a little. Well – she supposed – one must get pretty bloody hacking the heads off of those they’d defeated and… what, exactly? Carrying them into a circus tent? Thea felt it wasn’t good to dwell on it too much; she was glad Arioch was okay, no matter how gross she found the remains of the fight. “Good,” she said, softly, finally. “Me?” Thea followed Arioch’s glance down to her arm, and reflexively covered the bruise with her other hand. She’d nearly forgotten about it, but now it started throbbing again, painfully. “Nothing,” She did her best to smile, mostly succeeding again. “Just a bruise.” “Took off?” Thea glanced around, as if Orin might suddenly appear. She had thought Orin would at least stay to see whether Citrine was okay; she couldn’t imagine Orin would just – just leave. “Hopebringer’s collar just – vanished, right before we came down,” Thea glanced at Arioch. “Do you have any idea – why…?” “Hello!” The satyr was practically sticking his head through the bars, or at least thoroughly attempting too. “Hello, lovely lady of the wind and skies! Please – would you release me?” Thea looked up at the satyr, wide-eyed. “Oh!” She paused. “Of course – just – give us a moment to get Citrine out of her cage?” She smiled at him, politely. “For that gracious lady, I would gladly wait!” The satyr gave a little bow. Pip was still sobbing in front of Citrine’s cage, sprawled out on the stage, the lock clutched in two grimy little hands. “Pip,” Thea knelt next to her, pulling her gently away into a cuddle. “She’s going to be okay,” She kissed Pip’s head, rocking her gently. “She’s breathing, see? She’ll be fine – Citrine’s very strong. You know that, don’t you?” “It’s – “ Pip sobbed, “all – “ sob “my – “ sob “fault!” Thea sighed a little, rubbing her back. It had been nearly a half hour of this, although the previous half hour had also been coupled with numerous attempts to escape first Thea's hold, then Hopebringer's. “Okay. Well, how about we start by getting her out of the cage?” She glanced up imploringly at Arioch. One of the keys Arioch held would fit the lock. Citrine was light – very light. Thea had carried her before, and she easily did so now, ducking into the cage and emerging with the battered phoenix-woman carried gingerly in her arms. A surge of fury welled up in her at the state of Citrine's wings, the whip lashes on her body, the crossbow shaft in her shoulder. Slowly, carefully, she laid her on down on the stage, relieved to find that Citrine was still warm, and still definitely breathing. There was a swirl of movement at the entrance to the tent, and Hopebringer glided in, wings angled to easily navigate the narrow space between the bleachers. She landed gracefully on the stage, looking proud and tall; with the collar gone, a certain sparkle and liveliness seemed restored to her. The scales where the collar had been were still scratched and rough, a dull note on her glistening body, but it didn't matter with the joy that shone from her. Thea smiled at the couatl; if Arioch didn’t object, she would take the satyr’s key from him as well, going to let him out. Hopebringer brushed a soft wing against Pip. ‘ Do not cry, little one.’ Her mental voice would be audible to all, even Arioch, out of politeness. ‘ The battle is won, thanks to your friends. The birdfolk will be fine.’ Pip hiccuped a little, rubbing her face and smiling at the couatl. Hopebringer turned to Citrine next, lowering her head to the phoenix woman. She opened her mouth, revealing small, sharp teeth, and clamped down on the shaft, carefully drawing the crossbow bolt from Citrine and tossing it on to the stage with a flick of her head. She turned back to contemplate the prone phoenix-woman. A sort of humming noise emitted from her throat, her head swaying gently back and forth, as she cast a spell of healing over Citrine. After a moment of careful contemplation, she would do it again, slowly and gently.
Citrine regains DU9bLyo61d8+4 HP
plus another 1d8+4 HP
1d8+4·1d8+4 |
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328 
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Post by Citrine on Mar 19, 2019 14:14:43 GMT
Don't mind me, just making wild magic rolls... nbd
kspfwAup1d20 (for using a spell)
1d100 (If above is a one)
1d100 (effect caused by having magic suppressed - self RP rolled effect)
The warming heat of healing magic stirred her back into consciousness.
1 - She stayed perfectly still, eyes closed, the moment she was back in her own awareness
2 - The suffocating presence of the collar wasn't around her throat, but that could be her own imagination. The muscles there still felt tender.
3 - Her shoulder hurt like a fucking bitch
4 - She could use magic again, the oppressive sensation that kept her instinctual and constant use of arcane and wild magic snuffed was gone
5 - A single raptor eye snapped open to look as high as she could go and…
6 - Citrine disappeared in a shimmer of smoke and ember
The adrenaline and wild defiance she had been riding on for the last few hours since she first put on the collar necklace without giving it a second thought was still riding hard through her veins. Her magic, dissatisfied with having been contained flared around her as the spell took her 30 feet up over the heads of the figures around her. Heavy sparks of pure chaotic energy swarmed her and crackled off of her like fireworks as she rose to the highest point of the tent.A firebolt started to form in her hands as she prepared to defend herself, the anger that had been simmering since she was collared rising to the surface without restraint.
The small explosions of chaos magic transformed into four strange creatures with pointed football shaped heads and a mass of tendrils coming off of them. They were glowing green and pink - until they realized where they were. They saw Citrine, hovering there in the air, turned red and yellow - screamed and flew away seemingly terrified of the birdwoman.
Sharp eyes glanced down, ignoring the magic effect as the calming drug of being able to use magic again doused some of her fire, doing a double take once details started making sense. Her chest was heaving with fast paced breaths as her head moved sharply to register, first, that Hopebringer was there. "Hopebringer Aye said… tae…" She trailed off as more people registered. Pip? Thea?
Oh my god there was someone drenched in blood. The only reason she didn't immediately attack was because Thea seemed cool with it.
Her voice went quiet as she hovered there, maintaining her height in a wingbeat sound only sort of silence as for the second time this day she had to let her mind catch up with what was happening around her., firebolt dissipating.
Steadily she dropped 5 feet, then 10, then another 20 before snapping her wings shut to free fall the last 30 feet or so, only catching her decent at the last second to land, still breathing heavily and a sort of paranoid high perception look in her eyes. Fuck her shoulder hurt… a hand reached up to feel the wound, the fresh blood around it and the magic-caused heal over it signaling someone had pulled the barb out instead of pushing it the rest of the way through.
Still silent she looked from one person to the next, mind finally catching up in a sort of fast-forward 'what happened to get to this point in time', then freezing -eyes narrowing- when she saw and registered for the first time the woman, Marguerite, crying in the stands. Ivor, she noticed finally as well, was slumped dead in the bleachers not too far away. Good, she thought with a furious curl snarl on her lips.
Huffing hotly out of her nose Citrine's wings lit with fire, steam rising from her feathers as the moisture still inside evaporated from the instant heat. A kree was the only indication of her next movement. Wings snapping open Citrine turned and hover jumped to close the distance between her and the crying woman. A look of fury reignited in her eyes as more heat and phoenix fire collected on her wings. Stepping up onto the bleachers one sharply taloned foot slammed down onto the woman's chest and throat, clenching tight - just like the collars had snugged tight - and pushed her face mere centimeters away from Marguerite's. "Ye an' Aye 'ave unfinished business gurlie." She snarled, wings still spread wide and on fire. "An let me be clear, this nae be a test this time."
1d20·1d100·1d100
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 19, 2019 15:47:15 GMT
Thea had just turned the key in the lock and opened the cage door for the satyr when there was a sudden flash from Citrine’s cage. She turned, wide-eyed, the satyr stepping out at her shoulder as she, the satyr and Pip all stared up at Citrine. Pip’s tears seemed completely forgotten, and she stared at Citrine with bright shining eyes, admiring the little green-and-pink creatures and almost applauding at the burst of flame, hopping to her feet.
Only Hopebringer seemed largely unconcerned about Citrine’s display; she curled up on the stage, spreading her wings wide with a little mental sound like a happy sigh.
Marguerite had stayed largely out of sight, out of mind, at least since Arioch had finished questioning her. Her gaze snapped up as Citrine dive-bombed her, eyes wide. Citrine’s taloned foot squeezed her neck and chest, tight, choking pressure that didn’t quite restrict her breathing or speech, but felt like it did.
Marguerite felt she should have been afraid, but in truth she was too tired. All the same, some life came back into her eyes as she lifted her gaze to Citrine’s, blazing for a moment. “Your friend there,” her gaze slid to the blood-covered Arioch, “killed my best friend, and the rest of those you left alive yesterday.” Marguerite spat the words. “And that elf-woman – the elf-woman – “ Even in the midst of her anger, Marguerite couldn’t honestly say that Orin had killed Ivor; she had been the instrument of his death, but Ivor had made his choice. Marguerite understood that, whether anyone else did or not.
“So take what you will,” Marguerite lifted her chin a little, struggling to breathe through the monologue, gaze locked into Citrine’s. “I’m done fighting.”
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Post by Ossular on Mar 19, 2019 16:17:38 GMT
The ringing stopped through the air as Orin let herself down to her knees slowly. The broken, fragmented ruby gemstone that was in the dirt some thirty-ish feet away chipped, then blew away on a breeze that came through the trees. From inside the tent, one cry became two, and more, but Orin stayed outside, on her knees, eyes staring into the darkness of the night that had fallen while she had attuned to the Command Gem. Even though the item was broken, there was a thick ichor she could feel across herself, an oozy paint that dripped from her psyche like a molasses candy slowly melting in the sun on a hot summer day, and she herself felt dirty and wrong.
Another set of shrieks, and Orin still wouldn't move. Thea yelled for Pip as Arioch had yelled for Orin moments earlier, and there was more commotion as the child called for Citrine. Even that wouldn't budge Orin. Not that, not the sobs happening on the other side of the flap. Not the explanation she could hear from Arioch's accented voice. Not Hopebringer's voice through her mind. Not Citrine being released, or the creatures she had summoned that flew around. No, Orin was lost to the feeling pulsing through her, the thoughts in her mind, and the realizations that were slowly coming to mind.
Doubt. Shame. Despair. They sunk into the eladrin, the race of elves that could succumb easily to negative emotions because of their connection to the Feywild. Eladrin were, at times, fickle creatures, and she would never know the true reasoning behind why she had been reborn as one. But as she sat there, clearing her face with the back of her hand. Her connection to her matron washing over her, like a shadow in the dark, growing from the negative emotions. Feeding off of them.
"You will have my full and undivided attention."
"Who was it that helped guide you to understanding your own darkness?"
"Saved you from the gnawing pit of self pity you'd thrown yourself in?"
"You seem distressed."
"Do you want to be trapped in the shadows again?"
"No."
"No one else loves you as I do."
"Who could really understand you as I do?"
"After everything you've been through?"
"After everything you've done."
"Stop."
"Darling."
"But disrespectful you continue to be."
"Would it be so bad-?"
"You know what awaits you."
"- to come home and choose me?"
"..."
"The power-"
"...your power..."
"-the glory of battle."
"You took my power."
"I will not punish you for failing in this task."
"...You did this to me."
"You will have my full and undivided attention."
"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Orin would snap herself out of it. She was now standing about where she had thrown the gem, between the sets of cages outside. The echoes stopped, fading away. "You did this! You made me into this!" she was breathing heavily, and the negative emotions slowly became something else- anger. She would look around, pursing her lips, as if her Matron was actually there. "You know what?! I'm not coming back to you!" The eladrin would look down like a child that had just been questioned about what they had just said by a parent. The fragments of the orb were at her feet, a low throb in the back of her head starting to come back to her.
"I... I'm not coming back. Even if you keep my power? I'll find more. Even if you kill me? I'll start over. I'm here-! And I'm gonna start doing things my way!" Orin would say to the air and darkness before looking around, then growing quiet.
Gods her head hurt.
With that, Orin moved back toward the back entrance of the tent, still distraught, still somber, but at least now at the back of the stage, quietly looking around, composing herself. She looked around, but her eyes fell on Arioch, not even coming to Citrine just yet as she was perched with a talon on Marguerite's armor. She would walk toward him, stopping maybe five feet away from him, and quietly look over him for a moment.
"...I'm sorry I didn't help you," Orin would say quietly to him, swallowing her pride nervously before continuing. "I won't try to justify or explain my situation or thoughts, at least not now, but... you were right. I was-" Orin would stop, glancing to either side of her, to Thea, to Citrine, then back to the ground at the barbarian's feet- "cowardly. It appears I've forgotten what it means to-" she would stop herself, not continuing down that tangent for now- "no, it's not important at the moment. You... don't have to accept my apology, but I felt like you of all should know that I'm going to work on... it, if that makes sense?" It probably didn't, but she would close her eyes for a moment, everything was still fresh, still new. She would take a breath.
Her head pulsed again.
"There... was a food tent outside, right?" Orin would ponder, moving past the group of them, stepping around the heads. She didn't remark on Citrine with her talons at Marguerite's neck, Pip and Thea, Hopebringer or the satyr. Orin would just... start walking toward the other entrance of the tent. A sniff would escape, and she would at least wait until everyone was behind her before nervously biting her lip. Appearances were important after all, right?
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Mar 19, 2019 16:46:46 GMT
"Nothing?"
He replied, it was question, though rethorical he meant to keep asking when a series of circumstances ended up taking the spotlight. First there was the issue of the flying snake coming at them... Which, luckily didn't attack. For one moment Arioch thought she was going to bite Citrine... But then it pulled the bolt out, and with some of the strangest magic he had seen she was healed... And she opened her eyes and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Up in the tent of the ceiling was the show now where even stranger creatures began to appear.
"Vhat the fvuck is that!"
He yelled, understandably distraught by the strange, tentacled, colored creatures that had appeared out of thin air and then began to fly out. That wasn't normal, there was no way on Faerun they could sell that to him as normal. Arioch gripped the greatsword again, great, the bird woman was crazy too. And then... To his suprise she calmed down and descended slowly. For one moment he thought she was going to start attacking them with some unholy magic. That she attacked Marguerite was a surprise at first, but when he thought about it, made sense.
Specially given the poor condition she was in; she looked like she had been getting tortured. And that strange bird-like shriek had probably been her's. Arioch felt a strange pang of responsability. He thought he should have trusted his instincts and go straight for the men instead of wasting time. In the end... He had learned nothing that helped him at all in his battle by talking with the flying viper. It was not precisely out of empathy and concern for Citrine either, it was simply a judgement he was passing over himself. He had been uncertain. What would he have thought then if instead of mangled and wounded Citrine had been dead when he arrived, too late?
Thankfully it hadn't been the case but the thought now dwelled on his mind.
Marguerite pleaded her case, which could be resumed in "Do what you will". It was understandable, given her circumstances. And, also considering the way the bird was looking at her it wasn't looking like trying to inspire pity would do her any good either way. Better to face things head on then. He didn't bother trying to justify himself as she let on that he had killed her "best friend". He had no need to, and neither did he care.
But, of all the strange things that had just happened the weirdest of them all was when Orin walked back inside the tent of crazy happenings, came straight to him and apologized. It took him a bit to process, during which time he was mostly analyzing her deeply looking for traces of sarcasm in her voice, of some kind of trap that would let him in on the fact that she wasn't being genuine with her words. But he couldn't find any. So it was just, really unexpected. It was so brutally different from the way she had been before that he had no idea what was going on. No one he had ever known, or could imagine knowing, would do a one-eighty turn like that.
Arioch inhaled, slowly, mantaining eye contact.
"It's good, then."
He said.
"Your friend is alive and vill recover, and no one vas killed."
A small pause.
"No one that ve cared about vas killed."
Arioch said.
"So things are not so bad. I don't know vhat you make of you really, Orin. So I vill let your future actions speak in your behalf."
He knew what the fear of death was, and what a terrible guilt it was to succumb to it. But he respected the will to improve oneself. It was one of the things that he respected the most. However, he still didn't trust her fully, nor her word... But he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt until then, which was more than he would have given many past the first chance.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 19, 2019 16:53:55 GMT
Her head cocked to the side, Thea wasn't an elf, but to someone who imprisoned and enslaved sentient beasts? She could have been a half elf. But Pip? Pip was elven. Citrine's talons dug deeper. They'd tried to enslave Pip too, this very woman who had directed them both to the booth after buying food, by tricking the both of them into the 'grand prize.' Only Pip's bracelet from her father had protected her. Trying to blame the young girl? After having the gall to bind her as well?
Slavers. She couldn't stand to a slaver to exist once she knew of their existence. Neverending Story? Gozreh's Firebird, then on the Blood Red Rose? That had been her ship's main prerogative. Eliminate those, particularly those that used mind magics on others, with no mercy. The smell of sulfur flooded the area with a potent wave of crackling embers and solar flares of fire off her wings as if they were the sun themselves.
"Give nothin' back." Citrine grinned maliciously with a hundred years plus of fury towards people like her and Ivor. Her anger was like horse blinders, unable to see anything else around her but for her target. It was the fury she'd told Thea about in the cave during the winter storm. It was the fury that sang in her war cry each morning as she sang to the sun. It was the pulsing fire of a primal celestial taking what it despised and turning it to ash underfoot.
Her talons closed around her throat, piercing through the thin flesh, then dragged down slowly and with a precision that showed this was not the first time she'd ever done something like this. Blood weld up as three lines opened up on her neck, letting the woman bleed out, but slowly. The fire around her wings traveled down to her claws, cauterizing the wounds somewhat. It was not a quick death.
She bent her head to whisper, like a lover, into the woman's ear. "Ivor missed out on me promise ta him, tha' next time Aye saw him he'd be ended by me claws, slowly, takin' me time. Sae ye'll do. Bid him 'ullo fer me when ye see 'em en teh circle o' hell meant fer slavers like yeselves." She pushed into her neck, claws still hot like a poker in a fire, to draw out the sentencing. Her eyes never moved from Marguerite's.
It wasn't until her gurgles and death throws stopped sounding and shaking did Citrine release her claws, the phoenix not even offering the curtesy of closing the dead woman's eyes or saying a prayer of safe passage for the spirit. "Ye've gone an made me late tae me date tanight with me Neach-Gaoil." She snorted a tuft of flame from her nose, the anger and Firebird's rage satisfied from the gift of blood on her claws. Her offering for being unable to resist not only once, but twice, and fall victim to the suppression of her magic. His fire.
Speaking of her Neach-Gaoil…
It was only when she dragged her foot on the ground to clear some of the blood off her foot did she look up without blinders on to see her elven woman approaching the proper entrance of the tent. "Oi! When did ye get 'ere?" She questioned, mostly to herself as she popped from where she stood to reappear next to Orin. Her adrenaline was fading, reducing even quicker than normal at the sight of her favorite person. It was like no one else mattered, Hopebringer, the saytr, Thea, Pip, Arioch. She'd say hello soon enough. But something, she sensed it the moment she reappeared from her misty step, was deeply troubling the warlock. And instead of saying something, filling in the quiet with chatter or pressing twists of phrases to get her to speak, Citrine stayed quiet and kept pace with Orin's strides - concern in her eyes and her fire quieted down to a warm crackling of comfort off of her wings. Candlesmoke, ash, clove, and wood polish.
She smelled bad, the flash-dried water that had soaked her now dry on her skin and hair. A rank smell that didn't quite get covered fully by the perfume off her wings. Her lashes were bold red welts still, feathers disarrayed and embarrassingly unkept, throat raw. But Citrine didn't pay them any mind, concerned about something far greater. Thanks to Hopebringer she was at least not prone on the ground, but it'd take a bit more to get her into top health.
((OoC note, the fire is from the cantrip firebolt, creatively applied to her claws as fire damage mixing with the slashing, fyi in case anyone's wondering how that can happen. Also, since there are a lot of people in the scene, I just want to be clear I fully intend on writing Citrine to join back into the group for our shaurma scene XD))
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 19, 2019 17:19:37 GMT
Marguerite gurgled for breath as Citrine’s claws sank into her neck, thrashing, spasming, slowly choking to death on her own blood. Finally, she collapsed on the bleachers, joining Ivor, Petrus and the others in death.
Orin came into the tent, and Thea experienced a little wave of relief; she would honestly have felt terrible if Orin had left without seeing Citrine, if somehow this – rescue had come between them, driven a wedge into the new understanding they had so recently bridged. Much to her surprise, Orin walked up to Arioch and – apologized? Thea didn’t entirely understand what was going on, but she kept her eyes on the two of them, intently. Arioch didn’t know Orin’s – problems. He couldn’t know or understand what she was going through, but Thea hoped, rather desperately, that he’d show some compassion.
Thea found herself smiling at Arioch at Orin walked away, a surprisingly soft smile considering the circumstances.
Citrine popped off to Orin, and Thea let her go. They would need to have a reckoning later – how could she possibly have been so stupid as to drag Pip into this? – but for now she didn’t begrudge Citrine wanting to see Orin first.
The satyr was talking, Thea realized a moment too late. She turned back to him, smiling.
“… and more beautiful rescuers I could never hope for,” The satyr was saying. Somehow he’d taken her hand, and was bowing enthusiastically over it. “I am Knyr, and I am forever in your debt. To be set free by your lovely hands is the greatest pleasure one could ever hope to feel.”
Thea giggled, slowly drawing her hand back. “Thank you, Knyr. I really didn’t do very much. You should really be thanking Arioch and Orin.”
“Of course! Of course,” Knyr turned to Arioch, bowing to him as well. “Thank you, Arioch or Orin. I am most thoroughly grateful to you – a gratitude which can never be expressed with mere words – a gratitude which fills my heart and soul with such unending joy – “
Thea giggled, glancing over at Pip and Hopebringer. Pip was curled up more or less in Hopebringer’s coils, murmuring sleepily to the couatl as her tail stroked Pip’s back gently. Her excitement at Orin’s entrance – an eladrin! In armor! So cool! – had more or less faded as the exhaustion of the last day caught up with her, and she looked on the very edge of a nap.
“If you would excuse me,” Knyr bowed. “I will step outside – I am hopeful that I may find some of the things which were taken from me when I was first captured. I will return, of course, to give my thanks to the lovely eladrin and the beautiful rescuer who so graciously declined to kill me when we faced one another in combat yesterday. I will return!” He clip-clopped off the stage, disappearing out the back of the tent.
Thea was still giggling a little, turning to Arioch with another soft smile.
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Mar 19, 2019 17:55:14 GMT
And the expected came to happen. What he didn't expect was for Citrine to be that cruel. But harpies were supposed to be like that though, weren't they? He didn't bother to hide the fact that it wasn't entirely alright with him to see someone's death so prolongued, mostly because he did not feel any particular anger towards the woman after she had surrendered, but neither did he move to end her life any faster. Seeing Citrine's mangled body had been enough to convince him her time in the circus had not been pleasing by any standard, and the woman-thing was entitled to her revenge. He was undecided yet whether he would have let her go or not himself however.
And when Citrine and Orin were finally being reunited, Arioch's attention fell on Thea. He smiled as well, a reflex thing. And he was about to say something when the satyr began talking. And talking. And grabbing her hand. And talking. And when he thanked him he just stood there looking at the Satyr not sure whether to laugh or just arch his eyebrow in gracious awkwardness. By the time the Satyr left he was chuckling. What a strange little thing that beast was. It would be hilarious if it came back with an instrument that allowed him to put them all to sleep and then kidnapped them all. He mistrusted the satyr on principle, but so far he didn't feel like he had stepped outside of his boundaries; yet.
"Vell..."
He turned back to Thea then, finally allowing himself to relax, if only just a little bit. He had been in the middle of something when PIp had come running to them and the current situation was definitely not how he thought his day was going to go. He brough one of his hands up towards his face and removed something from under his eye.
"I need a bath"
Those were not the words he had actually wanted to say, but he knew that it was true and context appropiate. And he did not find any pleasure either in being drenched in blood and gore... It was a long walk to the river but if the next morning was warm it wouldn't be bothersome having to clean all that up.
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Post by Ossular on Mar 19, 2019 18:16:25 GMT
"Thanks," Orin would quietly say before asking about the food tent, making her way toward the front as Citrine's fiery claws pierced Marguerite until she choked on her own boiling blood.
Citrine would call after her before popping after the warlock. Orin would be distraught, closing her eyes and rubbing the side of her forehead as the two of them would move through the entrance, outside. Stepping off to the side, out of sight of everyone else within the tent. She wouldn't look at the phoenix just yet. She wouldn't do much other than take shaky breaths quietly. The cold, dark night air felt nice enough, even through the plates of armor she was wearing, and this would probably be the closest to "the old Orin" that Citrine had of her, at least physically. Looking over at the tents, Orin would move in the direction of the smaller tents instead of saying anything right off the bat.
"Which one of these tents-?" the eladrin would grumble to herself before opening the right tent. Her head would be pounding at this point, and the eladrin would rub her head, hissing to herself. She'd move over the edge of the booth, ignoring the unprepared food in an ice trunk and instead, she'd grab a waterskin. It would be opened, Orin would sniff it, pour a little bit out, and then take a swig of it. That swig would become a chug as Orin drank the water before pulling it from her lips, catching her breath and quietly offering the water to Citrine by setting it on the edge of the booth. It would be apparent that something was wrong, but she would, instead, finally speak.
"You missed our date," she'd start out, finally looking at Citrine before looking around, finding a little flint to start the fire under the grill. "But it's fine. I'm just... glad you're okay." Orin would speak, rummaging through the cooler for the little skewers of meat and dumplings. "Are you hungry?" She needed a distraction from this headache, having waited far too long for any proper amount of water after her hangover.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 19, 2019 18:17:36 GMT
Thea laughed, unable to help it – not just a giggle, but a full out burst of laughter, hard enough that a few tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Something about Arioch often seemed to take her that way. In this case, it was the combination of his delivery and the release of the tension from the last few hours, the feeling - finally - that things would be okay. She shook her head a little. “Me too.” She wasn’t anywhere near as dirty as Arioch – not by any remote stretch of the imagination – but she was still dirtier than she’d like to be. Thea would absolutely bathe before sleeping tonight, preferably a long hot bath.
“You still have – um – ” Thea bit her lip, studying Arioch’s face. She reached out, delicately brushing a few bits of gore from his chin, and carefully plucking a feather from his cheek, flicking it to the ground. “I’m not sure I want to know where that came from,” her nose wrinkled a little. Where had the feathers come from? It was pretty obvious he’d fought at least four other people – Thea didn’t think Orin would have decapitated anyone, although maybe Arioch had decapitated the people she’d – but in her apology, Orin had said… Thea decided not to think about it too deeply.
“Arioch…” Thea trailed off a little, not quite sure how to say what she meant. After a moment, she rallied. “Thank you. For – coming here, for helping. I just – thank you.”
On the other end of the stage, Pip nuzzled her cheek into Hopebringer, yawning, and finally gave up and succumbed to sleep. Hopebringer laid her head down on the stage as well, glowing eyes flickering shut; it didn’t look like she was quite sleeping, but she was certainly resting.
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Arioch
Approved
Level 6 — Barbarian
Posts: 333
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Post by Arioch on Mar 19, 2019 18:38:19 GMT
Thea's laughter had that contagious effect in him, a kind of uninvited warmth that was not unwelcome. "What?" he was about to ask, but by then he was starting to laugh as well. He wouldn't deny she needed a bath too, among other things. His eyes briefly passed over the purple mark on her skin only to swiftly go to her face instead, puzzled by the way that phrase was going to end, seizing the moment to steal one straight look at her face, his eyes on her's as she approached to remove a... Was that a feather? He silently hoped he was not covered in feathers without knowing. That would be so indignified.
And when she mentioned his name, he could see the struggle. Not unlike the one he had felt once before. By the time she reached the "I just-" third pause into the sentence, Arioch had brought his left hand up; his index finger, the only one yet untainted by the blood was soflty pressed against her lips then. A soft, warm touch, to stop her right there.
"It's okay"
He said with a smile, warmer than he realised, without moving his gaze aside. A small pause, in that contact.
"Just don't make a glass sign vith the dead chicken"
He requested then, his smirk broadening with a sharpness to it.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 19, 2019 19:03:48 GMT
Watching Orin out of the corner of her eye, never quite looking away even as she helped direct them towards where the food tent was, Citrine started to get the unease feeling that somehow. In someway. She'd done something wrong. Not morally of course, that'd just be silly. But wrong in the sense of 'ya done fucked up Ce-It-Ron' kind of way. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened - impossible considering the number of lovers and suitors she'd had in her lives - but, to have this feeling between her and Orin?
She truly felt remorse. Despite the fact she still didn't even know what she'd done wrong.
A fluxation of scents came from her wings, steam, burning nutmeg, even a bit of spicy cinnamon. But Orin kept drinking water, prolonging the feeling that was eating at her gut. Shifting onto her feet Citrine hesitantly took the offered water, hybrid fingers drumming on the waterskin but not taking a swig. She'd had enough circus water to last a lifetime.
"Aye wut?!" She keened in a disbelieving voice, the pitch going high as her crest feathers poofed up and her heartbeat pulsed fast enough to destroy Undermountain. She stood there, struck stupid at the accusation, alchemist fire overpowering the other scents for a moment. "At most Aye'm late, we were' meeting as sundown creeps en - at Boduccio's Dockside. Ye were gonna be wearin' ah dress, which ye stated after Aye'd already promised tae be there, sae et was nae't ah promise made just tae see ye en said outfit. An' it's just past sundown, sae.. Aye… Late could be apt… o' which then, aye, Ye would be en e'ery right tae be upset." She still held the waterskin as Orin busied herself with rummaging for food.
"An, aye, ne'er got tae eat anythng Aye'd bought Pip an' Aye." She answered automatically, too shocked still at trying to figure out how she had 'missed' her date of all things. "Aye apologize fer bein' late Luv, Aye thought Aye'd be out at intermission an' be all set…. Then when things went all tae teh brig o' the Seawraith an... well... Aye then thought tha' Aye'd be able tae snatch teh controlling artifact, kill teh slaver, an' get us all out before tae long… didn't count on me magic being suppressed." She started to ramble now, the word damn breaking as she tried to speed figure something out that would sooth the ruffled feathers of being late.
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Post by Ossular on Mar 19, 2019 20:16:40 GMT
Orin would look over Citrine as she reacted. She didn't interrupt the avian's reaction, opting to instead busy herself with food. She would wait and occupy her hands, moving the set of skewers onto a board closer to the fire. Picking up a little slotted jar, Orin would sniff the top- black pepper- and sprinkle some on across the various meats. Picking up another one and repeating the process with salt, the eladrin would turn her hand, wafting it over the fire. Not hot enough yet.
"Right," the eladrin would lean against the bar, looking over. "Like I said, I'm not upset. I was upset last night when I drank a bottle of elvish wine and chased it with a bottle of dwarven whiskey," Orin would tell her. "I was kinda miffed this afternoon when Thea woke me up because I, for the first time in as long as I can remember, had a hangover- still do, actually," she would continue, though she brought a towel that had been there in the area up, wiping her face with it before throwing it back down to the counter. "But it's fine. You got captured and thrown in a cage. It's not like you bailed town and tried to have a friend apologize for you or something." That would have been silly to assume, right?
"I know about the circus. The slaver. The Control Gem," the eladrin's ears would go flat. This entire time, she hadn't been looking at Citrine eye to eye as much as she had been just looking in Citrine's direction. "Arioch- the kid with the greatsword- cut through everyone. I snuck around behind back. I tried manipulating everything. I tried to do everything... just like Lady Susan would. I-" Orin would stop, taking a breath, then continue- "I put a collar on Ivor. I used it. I tried to force my will on him- having that power over people- it was... enthralling," the eladrin would recollect.
"I didn't know the collar had a backlash effect, though," she'd press one, picking up some of the skewers. "He resisted, and I felt anger- sadism- like I wanted to punish him. The collar, the gem, that's what killed him but- but it felt like- like I had done it. It felt like I enjoyed it, and I remembered everything that happened to me- my brother, the Walker, Lady Susan- and I saw myself in their place, and I- it felt... soooo good... to just do to someone else... what had been done to me," Orin would admit, only to Citrine, as the first sizzle of meat hit the hot grill. "And I hate myself... for ever feeling that way.
"I destroyed the gem- out back. I took a moment... and here we are," the eladrin would be looking over the meats between the two of them, like she was shamed. "Just... next time, at least tell me your flying off? Please?"
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