• Solo • A Twisting Tail: Part 2

[Praetorum]

Date: 9th of Ymiden, Arc 719

Status: THIRSTY

Weapons: None

Armor: None

Buffs: N/A

Debuffs: N/A

Part 1

The village of Folkestone greeted them with weary resignation. This was a dance the were all familiar with; greetings were made, money changed hands, and then the company was a bustle of activity as the mercenaries settled in for the night, while Edyn negotiated the purchase of supplies from the mayor. 



Praetorum went to work almost entirely on reflex, helping to set up the large cookfire that would become the center of this makeshift camp. It wasn't until someone actually lit the thing that he realized his mistake. Heat washed over Prae's face, familiar and friendly, and his tail twitched in agitation. There was a burning, a yearning in the back of his throat, hunger for more, more, more—He stood abruptly, drawing a few puzzled looks, and mumbled and excuse as he hurried away, saliva pooling in the corners of his mouth. 



He slowed once he was far enough from the flames, and found a quiet corner in which to steady himself. Eyes flickering shut, Prae clenched a fist, and thumped it lightly against his chest, focusing on the physicality of it, the reassurance that he was in control of himself. Then he did it again, and again until his breathing evened out, the pool of his mind stilled, and the desire in him untwisted. The thirst was stronger now; he suspected it would only grow with every drop of ether he flayed, until it was too strong for even him to resist. 


But for now, it was manageable. Praetorum stood, meditative calm settling over him like a warm cloak, and returned to work, helping the others set up camp. The flaying thirst coiled still within him, but he'd carefully packed it away to a distant part of his mind, so that the rest of him could focus entirely on the dozens of tasks that needed to be done before the company could rest easily.

[Praetorum]

Date: 10th of Ymiden, Arc 719

Status: Concerned

Weapons: None

Armor: None

Buffs: N/A

Debuffs: N/A

For nearly four breaks, a peaceful hush fell over the village and the mercenary camp, as the whistle of the winds lulled them all into a deep sleep. And settled in his bedroll, Praetorum found himself dreaming of spraying colors and winding winds his own excited cries, carrying him higher and higher through the air until he lost all sense of direction.

As he woke, he found reality had saw fit to make his dreams come true.

In a manner of speaking.

“Storm incoming! Appeared out of nowhere!”

The words, tinged through with panic, had Prae grasping for alertness as his sleep fogged mind cleared. Stumbling to his feet, Praetorum found the place in a state of disarray, as villager and mercenary alike scrambled to pack up their possessions, many of them still barely awake. And past the village, a wicked green tornado, bearing down on them with what almost seemed like malice.

The mercenaries were packed within bits; they lived with the threat of attack every night, and knew how to move quickly. The merchants were a little slower, but they were familiar with this as well. The villagers were much slower; the villages were often populated by those who couldn’t cut it as Yari.

There was a single moment, where the mercenaries and merchants were prepared, and the villagers were not, where Praetorum looked at Selyin, and wondered. Villages were wiped out all the time in Yaralon; the Hand was precious to her.

But there was no hesitation in her. “Folkestone! Pack your possessions with our things, we’ll sort them all out later. Mayor, headcount! Make sure you have everyone. Yari, if your mount is strong enough to carry two, grab a villager and head east! Everyone MOVE.”

As the wind picked up, a trickle of people began to head eastwards, out of the path of the tornado, villagers riding in tandem with the mercenaries, saddlebags filled to bursting with their various possessions. Praetorum moved among the stragglers, helping them on their way, until he and Selyin were the last people left.

The tornado was close now, and they didn’t waste a moment on conversation. Within moments, they were both saddled up, still dressed only in their sleeping clothes, and riding fast out of the village as the tornado began to creep over it, following the trail of their escaping comrades to regroup and consider their options.

At least, that had been the plan. But this was not really turning out to be a trial where plans went smoothly.

[Praetorum]

Date: 10th of Ymiden, Arc 719

Status: Injured

Weapons: None

Armor: None

Buffs: N/A

Debuffs: N/A

“Someone’s riding towards us.” Prae had to shout to be heard over the wind. A curt nod was all the sign he got that Selyin had heard him at all, as she continued to ride forwards.

As he rode by her side, Prae leaned forwards, squinting at the approaching figure. “Myron?”

Their fellow mercenary was riding towards them at a full gallop; no one seemed to be following him. “They’re missing someone!” The human shouted when he came close. Selyin and Praetorum slowed at that, sharing a glance. “A kid, girl of about five! Someone saw her run into the town hall!”

Praetorum’s claws clenched around Sivan’s reins, and he looked to Selyin, silently asking her permission. Tactically, he knew it was a bad move; he was incredibly valuable to the Hand, and the tornado was right on top of the village. The girl was probably already dead. People died all the time, out here. And yet—

“Go.” She said, then snapped her reins, breaking into a gallop towards the rest of their company.

Praetorum pulled at his reins as well, wheeling Sivan around. And then he was riding directly towards the storm, frantically searching for any sign of life amidst the howling winds.

As Praetorum drew closer, closer than he’d ever been to one of these storms before, his scales began to prickle. It was like riding close to a fracture, he realized, wild ether whipping at his hide, swirling with the winds, giving it that eerie color. Sivan could feel it too, it seemed, and balked, trying to turn away.

He spent a few precious moments fighting her, before changing his mind. As loyal as she was, Sivan would go no further than this. Dragging her to a stop, he swung his leg over the side of her saddle, and dismounted. Without even waiting for his say so, the Kheledzan whirled around, and took off, wings flapping furiously as she did her best to put distance between herself and the tornado.

She would be waiting for him when he emerged, Praetorum told himself. And with that small reassurance, he plunged into the tornado.

Everything behind him seemed to disappear, a cloud of dust and debris clouding his view. Even with his natural elemental defences as a defier, the wind was oppressively powerful, and every step he made was hard earned. It wouldn’t have touched him at all, if he could dance with it, but Praetorum didn’t have the ether. He was just running on what little he’d flayed earlier, and even that was running low. So he just gritted his teeth, and powered through.

In this village, as with most, the town hall was easy enough to spot; it was the biggest building in the settlement. Praetorum couldn’t see it from where he was standing, but he remembered its rough direction.

Using the houses for cover where he could, Praetorum quickly made his way towards the town hall, well aware that time was running out, that it might already be too late. And above him, the storm shrieked out, debris twisting and spinning within it, occasionally being flung out.

And occasionally, being flung down. As he came in sight of the town hall, Praetorum caught a flash of movement from above, and activated Taithir’s Enduring scales, moments before the jagged remains of a wooden beam came crashing down upon him. With Ethelynda’s protection, it only scored a long wound across his back, rather than impaling him, but he picked up his pace all the same. As more debris filled the air, this place would only grow more dangerous.

Praetorum burst into the town hall, and a shadow under a table screamed. “Hey.” Prae stepped towards the table, letting the door behind him swing and slam in the wind, and slowly knelt before it, holding out a hand to the quivering girl beneath. “I’m here to help.”

Part 3

[Werewere]

Review Is In!

Prae

Knowledge:
Discipline: Removing yourself from temptation
Endurance: Getting hit from above by a wooden beam
Meditation: Thumping a fist to your chest to ground yourself
Meditation: Compartmentalizing the flaying thirst
Mount (Kheledzan): Knowing when a mount won’t go further.
Taithir (Enduring Scales): Avoiding damage from debris

Loot: N/A
Injuries: Cut across the back, will not leave a scar (Quick heal get a band-aid)
Renown: 10 Renown, Going into the storm to find a girl

Points: 10 May not be used on Magic

Prae is the goodest of boys. Even with a magic storm raging he still feels the need to save someone. The mount was played out well, as animals really do not want to go into storms. It is sad to see the realities of war upon a people, not just the military. Over all keep up the good fight Prae.

roll

32/100 endurance Get under the number +1 advantage for every 10 under or over
Roll 41, 0 success minor wound taken from beam.

Any injures are based on a 1d100 roll using applicable skills