Water & Fire at War

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Again, this is from an interactive post-for-post chat-forum that allows you to play off other players and their characters, thereby formulating a story either off the top, or based off a plot already in place. It's pretty fun. It's a good way to get your creativity out...like me. It's a fantasy rpg site: myrealms.net. But, you have to register and send in a character for approval. Once approved, you can write to t he forums and play in chatrooms. If anyone from here gets this and goes for it, and ultimately gets approved, let me know! Anyway, my character is Halekial (A philosopher/healer/fire-elemental) and he meets an abrasive elf creature with control over water/sound in a place called the Zephyr Wharf. Also, there are other characters/players here, too. Some are onlookers, and some come in just towards the end, like Nakoshia (a witch), who Halekial has met before (And not a good meeting. She cursed him temporarily).

Submitted: June 27, 2008

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Submitted: June 27, 2008



Rumors paced along the edges of the Wharf. His attired was different, changed. His cloak was trailed with silver ribbons, his swords polished. A high collar, ruffles, it all was trivial. For some time he had observed the comings-and- goings of the seafaring ships, the crews and how the captains acted and controlled their lots. The elf, enjoying the whip of the ocean wind, the storm brewing far off the shore break and the dimming gray skies, no one would suspect he was Captain to the ships used by the Dragon Lord Raumath. Gloved hands touched and toyed at the sword tips of Yeseri and Fiore. The elf stared silently, placidly out across the ocean. The lack of sea would irk him, however he was under his Lordships liege now. It had its uses, benefits. Nothing pleased the swordsman more, the twinkling deception that lay within those emerald eyes.we'll see))
*Walking the Wharf, Halekial lounges in the plush chair of nonchalance, steps paced by ease and choreographed by aimlessness. His satin ceremonial robes billow in the brine-embellished breeze, causing the robes to tumble in an avalanche of fabric. Quietly, he ambles, brown leather boots that reach the shin. Carefree he is, a twinkle in his eyes to rival the stars that begin to emerge as evening wanes and night quickly approaches. *
* Rumors stared across the ocean, the waves crashing and arching below the Wharf’s wooden structures. The feeling of someone, that faint sense of loneliness ebbed away. Turning slightly, blonde locks catching the wind, cold…refreshing with a touch of salt, emerald eyes noticed a man strolling down the docks. Rumors regarded him a moment, then returned his stoic gaze back to the horizon. Several ships were scattered across the horizon line, apparently coming in before the storm actually began to rage the coast. “Do you have a reason to be present here.” The elf asked the man as he approached, his voice would carry over the coastal breeze.
*As Halekial approaches, he notes the tempestuous scape of the sea, crashing against the barnacle-studded docks. And then, out of nowhere, a voice snags at his ears, quite direct, authoritative, and disapproving...as if he's invading the man's territory. And yes, it is a man, Halekial spotting the man, standing there, hearing the tonal quality of his voice -- even if all he saw was him from behind. Hearing is enough. Inclining his head, Halekial closes the distance slowly, his own cinnamon-dusted voice soughing against the man's ears.* 'Why do you ask? I am here for reasons of my own. Just as you are, sir." *Civil, but one can tell Halekial's been irked already. Nice way to start things off.*
The elf enjoyed the feeling of the wind against his face, the soft undertones of salt and froth. Emerald eyes shifted slightly, meeting the man’s auburn aura; everything about him seemed dusty… perhaps a bit worn? Rumors merely smiled, cheerful and handsome, “That is the apparent case, however the Wharf will soon be under a small reconstruction in several moments here after, I suggest you remove yourself,” the elf returned his gaze to the sea, the smile still plastering that handsome face, “For everyone’s sake, my good man. We will be finished shortly, I assure you.”
* Halekial was just about to comply, before he heard the last bit, arching a russet brow high over his right eye.* " 'For everyone's sake'? How so? Sounds a bit ominous, actually. If not ominous...odd." *Halekial crosses his arms over his chest, looking at the man intently, picking apart his features and compiling them into his own whole construction. In short, the result is a man who possesses an authority and cheerfulness at the same time, a man with emerald eyes and elven heritage. Hm, interesting fellow to say the least; he can tell already.*
* Rumors glanced upwards at the almost…irritating man; the smile still remained on his visage. However it faltered slightly, “We are merely searching for something that is in dire need…preferably tonight.” The elf returned his gaze back to the sea, “I am merely waiting for some help,” tilting his head slightly, to view the man, almost sizing him up, “I do implore that you continue your walk, I would not wish to have anything…” there was a pause, perhaps a short breath of a laugh, “Ominous to happen to you,” those green eyes almost smiled, complimented that smile, friendly, welcoming, still remaining on those smooth elven features.
*There is something familiar about the man...his face? Maybe his voice...something! OH! Suddenly, it comes to him, Halekial remembering him in the Ash Grove Cemetary with that vampire he now knows as Mai. He and his tricks! His water-show! The revelation alights in his already lit eyes, spanning across his face like the break of sunshine over the horizon, gilding his features in its revealing light. He brings it into being.* "I remember you.. from that one cemetary. " *Nodding his head, more as a silent affirmation to himself, than to Rumors. But, then, the man continues to speak, what Rumors said causing him to backtrack and pick up where the conversation was left off at.* "Ummm, ominous to happen to me, eh? " *That's all he says, watching the man intently with his weird behavior and even weirder smile, as if it's permanently pasted there, despite the thoughts or mood at the time. Unnerving, to be honest. It just isn't real, seemingly artificial! There is something to be said about somebody always 'smiley', because the world isn't that great at all. Even Halekial, who is quite genial and good-natured, has his dour days. SO, Halekial offers something else, making a deal in the next turn.* "How abouutttt we settle this the old-fashioned way? I leave when/if you beat me. If not, well, I guess I'll be here a long time." *A wink. It sounds ludicrous. How long would the spar last? And afterwards, wouldn't he quite possibly be too hurt to really enjoy the scenery for what it's worth? …for sure. Plus, it'd probably be quite late when they were done, unless somebody got knocked out first. With a smile of his own shot his way, he watches the man intently once more, waiting to hear his respond, quite hopeful.*
* Rumors regarded the man with his candor, politeness, refined. It was almost a reflection of Rumors, with different faults sadly. Raising a slender eyebrow, Rumors let out laugh dripping and doused in mirth, “Beat you? I do not wish to harm one such as yourself, you are even in need of new clothing.” Emerald eyes regarded the clothing upon Halekial, “I was in the cemetery, however that was pure exploration, happening upon that creature…this is business,” a gloved hand gestured across to the Wharf, the ships drawing closer. “I really do dislike when things get in the way of business,” the smile twinkled for a moment in the dying sun, sinking below the horizon. “However, if you wish,” Rumors strolled away, from the main along the wooden Wharf. The ocean below churned and swirled with froth. With an easy gesture, Yeseri and Fiore slid from their sheaths, glittering in the waning sunlight. With a twirl across fingers, gloved digits slipping through the holes, the swords began to hum and vibrate, a soft chiming, a song echoing out into the air, above the sound of the ocean. The water called, arched out of the water, longing to touch the swords. The Song of Endless Depths, rang out, magic infused the swords, it echoed more.

*What was wrong with his attire? Nothing at all, really, for truthfully speaking, the man had on satin robes that looked quite fine, well-tailored and important. Maybe the man just wants to rag on him in general, from his aura to his clothing. So be it! With a twinkle in his eyes, he levels his gaze fully on his face, dropping it from the previous incline. This man has become much more interesting and as the man finishes with his sentence, he is ready, on guard. He watches as the man hums, feeling the quiet thrum of magic that stirs into awakening...into an awakening that fails to fully rouse. A brow is arched, and that is Halekial's cue to attack, for it'd seem he'd already prepared himself to do so. Based off appearances only, it'd seem Halekial was ill-prepared, what with his robes and no weapon in sight. And truth be told, he didn't look like much of a hand-to-hand combatant, much less a fighter in general. But, that is all tossed by the wayside as Halekial bows his head and intones gently. "And so it commences." *Immediately, Halekial calls forth his own bit of enchantment, an invisible magic quickening along the swords and gifting them with the attitude of animation,* "QUINTESSENCE!" *He had yelled it, power filling his voice to overflowing, a soft power that commands respect but isn't overbearing, the kind where leaders are admired by their followers and they want to do what their asked/told, not out of fear. And so, with this uttered spell, tossed into a single word, if the enchantment would so woo the swords, they would be under his control for 3 turns. He'd be able attack singularly with them, or do a multiple attack as the swords attack and he does something else. They are, in short, gifted with conscious thought, and can attack on their own. Just as the man had done, he does nothing else. And if it doesn't work...well, this'd be some slow start to a battle!*
* Rumors almost scowled as his song was failed; the ocean was not with him today….perhaps it would be later. Twirling his blades, the swords touched lightly, sending out that hypnotic humming sound again. His attention was broken was the man yelled, magic seemed to ebb and flow from him…but something more, the smile deepened upon Rumors face. A sword flickered into existence, then another, and then it was snuffed out only remaining with one. The elf gave a small huff and darted forward, his strides as if he floated over the short distance between them, Fiore was positioned to parry any blow, as Yeseri arched forth longing to caress Halekial’s shoulder blade. The blade soared, a gloved finger traveled lightly over the base of the sword as blue light glittered up the spine of the blade. Rumors prepared for a Sonic Rhapsody, after hoping his blade touched the shoulder, not really caring either way, the elf twirled in the air before Halekial, cloak arching in all directions. He then landed before the man withtawny clothing, the blade level with Rumors nose, face. The smile split by the blade. A soft swirl of air and then a larger pulse was sent out from the elf. Billowing fabrics in all direction, the wall of pure utter magical sound would launch anyone from their position and send them crashing dazed to the ground. Rumors almost began a move forward, something released his grip, relinquished him of Yeseri. The feeling of Yeseri, her soft murmur and touch seemed to drift, go silent. Almost frightened, Rumors tossed the sword to the ground, “Yeseri…my love…” The sword clattered to the ground, however something was different. The elf, the smile gone, emerald eyes blazed towards the man, “You dare take away my instruments?” The elf twirled Fiore into the air and pointed it towards the sea, with a flick an arching wave of water washed onto the Wharf in which they soon. Moisture seemed into the ground they stood, water washing up to ankles, however this was nothing harmful. This, however was, with another gesture, as if conducting, Fiore glittered forward as the water before the tip exploded and expanded, rushing towards the man, the now moisture becoming a pool of water, easily soaking boots and soaks, the blast of water surging towards the man attempt to blast him backwards. Yeseri was lost for now.*

* Halekial watches him absorbedly, the one sword cooed into animation by the whisper of magic, Rumors growing alarmed, tossing it to the ground. And then, he speaks on, Halekial responding,* "I took away your instruments?" *A crazed and shocked look, then one of distaste, spitting out,* "BAH. One can clearly see you just threw that sword away yourself. I had nothing to do with what goes on with you and yours. Must not have been too good a relationship." *A shake of the head. The words are perhaps inflammatory, probably inciting the man to act more violently, for surely he'd take it personally! And just as the spell was hurled, at both swords, he could feel the magical tethering of one, and then the backfire of ~Quintessence~ to his own form, the feeling seeming sprinkled over his person like pixie dust. And so, immediately, body responding to it, (he is now physically inept, and may not respond in a skilled way, could be put in harm's way, if the attacks land.); his torso seems to jerk forward, spasming,
 Halekial's eyes widening at the realization. This sad state of affairs would last for 3 turns, (2 more turns after this one), and so, looking at Rumors, Halekial swallows, watching the man and his now-one sword. He's amazing with it, how he weaves it through the air, only to summon forth a deluge of water in the form of a wave, disturbing the already-tempestuous seascape and making it do his bidding -- to rush at Halekial in a great force, Halekial wanting to move, to run, but his body doing something else entirely. It seems to root him to the ground, the mockery of the magic felt in his bones, rendering him immobile. He is completely vulnerable, Halekial's gaze on the water, noting the ankle-deep level, before he is knocked into yesterday, it sending him backward, Halekial all arms and legs as he is slung afar and away -- fortunately, away from the docks and further up on land, and away from the water. Having barreled toward the shore, he skids painfully along the ground, pebbles and grain biting into his flesh as he viciously comes to a stop. On his back, he groans in his efforts to release himself from the hold of the sand, now all inundated with water. He shakes his head, trying to gather his wits about him. That was too much…too, too much. Not trusting his body right now, he doesn't want to harm himself by sillily attacking him. With the body only being enchanted, that leaves him only with his mind. And so, with his mind, he calls into being fire, fire that would light along his entire body, summoned from thin air, blazing immediately into existence. Clothes would catch afire; hair would go aflame. Skin would char and heat would ensue. And he would burn, burn, and burn; Halekial would make his life hell, figuratively speaking of course. Sitting upon the sands, he watches from a distance, (a great amount of distance considering that hardy blast), and waits to see if the fire would alight. Would it be rebellious, or obey its master?-- truly, an elemental battle indeed. Who and what would prevail? Water or Fire? Only Time will tell.*
* Nakoshia had been underway to the confines of a board where only the valley of mist could hide her, having been given a room to create the next batch of potions and study her art form so that it could be perfected entirely. When she was given a break today she snuck out without telling the one who had poisoned her with one of her own potions, but she knew it was alright for the sheer fact she was doing them a favor with all of her efforts. The dress she wore was floraled in the extract of dark rouge, feet clean, shown in their sandals that tied from ankle to calve in lace of reflective ruby silk. Hair bundled upward in a multitude of black spirals and straighter blends that imaged a careless and yet prim confection of pitch cascade; lips ambiancing in a gloss of sweet honey that softened the scars at chin and bottom petal. A casual pace carried the young woman through the streets, taking her time to enjoy the day that she had not seen in weeks, till the cobblestone had become planks of dock where she found herself in the vicinity of two conflicting men as a wave threshed through barely missing her. Back trotting the woman hoisted brows and peered around the corner of building to what had been discarded, and to her surprise it was a man that she was very familiar with. Hesitating with her own appearance here she stayed back but ideally watched, that selfish part of her wondering if she could intervene in some way without being caught and causing Halekial even more trouble in this battle.

-Sooty- The soft skittering sound of claws upon tiled roof, as the cat crept over the rooftops, slitted eyes busy, it had gotten away! The rat had been so plump, so tasty, and it had managed to sneak away from her, how mean! Now she had no lunch, the sleek, black felines nose twitched, and a soft sneeze left the cute little nose, something, she had smelled before, something that ran rampant within the streets of her city, the feline slunk closer to the edge of the roof, those slitted eyes taking in a woman, and the two fighting men, eyes widening, and back arching slightly at the sight of all that water... But the Feline shrunk back against the roof, to observe in silence, and boundless curiosity, something she did not know was happening, something that she had smelled in the liquid she had lapped up, something she smelled every day! It was magic, and it made small sparkles dance within her brain, as her long, dark tail swished gently at the air behind her, hindquarters lifting slightly, as she prepared to jump out of the way should the worst happen!

* Rumors stood ankle deep in the large pool of water that had flooded the top of the larger portion of the Wharf corridor. The boxes around the edges and ropes became soggy. Rumors merely scowled, clearly annoyed, his temper tickled (funny…) With an elegant jump, cloak shifting slightly from all directions, Rumor’s landed lightly on the watery surface, the reflection swirling back at him, the water acted as if solid ground… his innate ability to walk on water. Rumors let Fiore arch into the air, water trailing lazily from her teeth. As the sword rested at his side, into his cloak, Rumor’s sprinted forward along the expanse of water, now stretching completely to the beach that Halekial was present on. A gloved hand moved out from the cloak and fingers held pose over the water as it moved below him. Ripples exploding from his soft footfalls, tendrils of water longed to touch his fingers swirling into a twisting orb of pure water—however that was cut short. Flames erupted all over, Rumors skidding to a halt, hair faltering slightly in the wind; he lets out a gasp. There was an exasperated howl of pain, and he tripped backwards, the flaming mass of elf splashing into the water. However he was not twitching in a dripping, fiery inferno. Gone, Rumors was, as if having sunken into the water. The wind howled across the Wharf, the ships almost near the piers. After some portion of nothing, the water off the shore of where Halekial was positioned exploded into a typhoon of showers. Swirling up and out, the center of the whirlpool dissipated into the ocean around, Rumors standing atop the oddly placid water, emerald eyes blazing with fury, this was not how he planned his night. His joints ached, pained with the effects of the fire. A deep scar of black started from his left eye and traveled over into a brief line of shriveled, dead golden hair. Fiore arched into the air again, twirling, the water followed her movements as he sent a torrent of water, almost like a tendril…tentacle of water…tendrils of water swirling upward to form another ball of orbiting water. The water itself white-capped and frothed, almost as if razor blade edges would cut any it hit. With a flick of his wrist, a twist of palm and fingers clenched the orb swirled along the water towards the fire starter. The water parted at its passing, finally reaching sand throwing it up in the air, creating the worst possible condition for delicate eyes. Rumors hoped Halekial knew that nothing could stop his water you? )
*Way up on the shore, and too involved with the battle, Halekial pretty much didn't see the mad hag known as Nakoshia; he had never forgotten that bi--, I mean, witch, who had used his kindness against him (as so many people had). If he had seen her, he probably would have set upon her immediately. He had a score to settle with her. In any case, just as he was forcing from the sand, seeming to strain with the effort, he was knocked back into the sand once more, the sand having banked and built into a great heap after having been transported from its placid state near the shore and deposited farther up on land as a stretch of seashore earth (just a more exotic form of dirt), he was knocked back down and into the heap, like someone falling into a wall of snow. Luckily for him, the sand held the attitude of a uniform force, staying together and put, providentially remaining on the farther reaches of the land, held together by the water; it avoids tumbling into an avalanche and suffocating. Though, that does nothing for him as the tendril of water meted out its punishment. Great. Oh, and OW!… mustn't forget the ‘ ow’…. it's quite important. Just as he thought he was out of the clear, he was assailed by an orb that pushed him further into the near-hard compaction of sand (comparable to a stone wall), his back banging into it as he makes an effort to gather himself and get himself away from the silt-sewn edification. May the gods help him! He is racked with pain, his body warring against him as it shoots off every amount of pain imaginable, from his toes to his toenails. He...is...aching. Enchanted by -Quintessence- STILL, (1 more turn to go), his body had completely disallowed him to avoid it (as if he could), and it left him sitting there like a duck. A sitting-duck, if you will. Shaking his head, he is nearly out of it already, the battle completely having shifted right from the very onset of it, right at the beginning. Oftentimes, for Hale, Luck wasn't on his side. And as Luck would have it, things weren't landing, opportunities given, but soon taken away, it'd seem. Life is such a BITCH! Gritting his teeth, conscious enough to feel frustration, he forces himself past his various obstacles, and prepares for another attack…another mental attack! Closing his eyes, he bites back all the pain, digging through all the mire of battle and all that comes with it, and concentrates solely on what is coming next, immersing himself in a world that is made up of colors and textures and all things imaginative -- his mind. A mind that is guarded by wards and protected, yet lissome and strong. It's a beast unto itself… a great thing. A phenomenon. And to make known what Halekial knows himself, this psychic that doesn't openly claim to be, gears up for his next attack by simply laying against that wall with his eyes closed, lips grimly set. It would seem as if Death Angel had visited him and snuffed the light of his life with a single sweep of the darkly dutiful scythe; but no, it isn't so, for with the passing of time, almost in an instant, a spark is formed, and then a tong of lightning, and then a full out thundercloud of mental energy. Gathering the psychic mana from within, he forms his imagination into actuality, all the pizzazz and winsomeness and flamboyance is pulled into what is first a cumulonimbus of thought, that then changes into the suggestion of some animal, a suggestion that is then made known with the beautiful solidification of a ram's head, floating in the air a few ways from Halekial (level with his forehead), in a blaze of brilliant iridescence, bright and burning, much like the Flame itself. It eats up the space that divides the two, rushing at the man animalistically, the ram looking like simple light, but is quite tangible, charging at him with head held low, aimed somewhere at his core (his torso, specifically, his stomach). Right at the last few moments, it adjusts its charge and swings its head upward into what Halekial hopes is his stomach, (if not, it'd land higher, hopefully). What should be made known is that this little psychic attack is a double-pronged thing, for, obviously, Rumors would be sent sailing into whatever he is near, feeling like he is racked from the inside out, totally discombobulated from that horrific charge, but with this onslaught of mental energy comes an overwhelming surge of more energy that would probably scramble, scatter whatever mental processes that Rumors has, physically speaking (neurologically, and psychically), disorienting him and disturbing his equilibrium. Just...not cool. Mind you, that sword was not forgotten and awakened, clanging to life as it rattles against the ground and jets from its prone position and instantly swings itself, point-first straight at the small of the man's back, the speed in which it travels speaking of a vengeance it so rightfully seeks. It was trying to make up for the first time! And Halekial, tiredly, doggedly, watches it all, hoping for the best, yet expecting the worst. He's a realist....*
The Feline purred for a moment, as she saw the combatants move their battle from the wharf itself, a small flicker of disappointment, that she would not get to see the end of the fight of course! But on the whole, at least she wouldn't be struck with an errant lightning bolt...or drenched in seawater or something, she skittered for the edge of the roof, and dropped to the ground, on those four paddy paws! Tail waving happily in the air as she caught the scent of her rat again! The cheeky thing was watching her! Those feline ears twitching, as she heard the pitter-pattering of those tiny feet! It was funny, to see a rat walking on its hind legs, and it looked so much like a little person, even down to that twig that looked like a spear! A fuzzy tush swept the air again, as she prepared to pounce, furry legs propelling the feline towards the Mausus warrior woman, paws seeking to pin the tiny woman to the pavement in a clatter of abandoned boxes, but she missed, as the agile rodent woman darted to the side, that little spear digging into her flank, driving a yowl from the feline! Dear goodness, that hurt! -- such a little stick, and so much pain! The feline’s back arched, as she glared at the Mausus, turning quickly enough that the spear was jerked from the little woman’s hands, leaving her unarmed! A long rough tongue licked out gently, as she washed her nose, mmmm, this would be tasty after all this effort! Another pounce! And the furred paw pinned the Mausus warrior, if the feline could smile... that was definitely a smile on her face!

Nakoshia was without mistake in a complete stay of pleasantries with the outcome of this, in her mind Halekial had been the tyrant, demanding of her the thing she was supposedly horrible to and if she knew he felt against her in such a way she would call him a fool. At the moment though she was the young maiden, the hag could always be conjured to appearance its self if she deemed it worthy but at this moment in time she was careless and thought it well enough since his attention was diverted to this other man who pelted upon him relentlessly. Skirts shuddered and she crouched suddenly, a long nail hooking inward to an apposing wrist where she pricked the flesh to seep out from the fresh wound her own vitae. It would drip continually till a pool the size of a several coins had been made and then forgotten as she went to work. Lips swayed in whispers of under-toned spells, fingers dancing in to the blood where she began to scribe out the incantations she so desired. Hands slammed down against the docks with the last words and erupted a rubicund glow to a flourish, a faint smile touched her features that lit up with this mark that was soon radiating with a force. Whispering down to it she spat, sizzling up a heat of misted saliva before turning her gaze up and over towards the two fighting. Drawing her self to her feet slowly, she raised the hand that had been cut and gestured in the direction of Halekial, an audible cracking of wood resounded from beneath sandaled feet as the mark was ripped from its place still attacked to a hunk of plank, and then hurled in to the direction of the two where its prime target was Hal. If it missed the glyph would stay hovering about, in a constant intent to make contact, though if it hit it would quaintly brand the mans body clear through the wet clothing with a violation of heat and implicated painful etching to skin.
* Rumors ignored the assault from the unseen witch; his focus was the man who set him on fire and stole away Yeseri. Never part him with his weapons… never…EVER! Rumors strode forward, the wind picking up his cloak and giving him that actual ‘cool’ look. The sea was like flat placid ground. Fiore itched to flick more water in the direction of the man. However, his dreams of grandeur were short lived. Light burst from the man, could nothing make his fool sit down? Rumors glared at the light; with a flourish he twirled avoiding the light. It sizzled past him, was…that a Ram? The water reared up around him, Fiore ready to send another liquid assault, that was stopped short. Rumor’s thought process halted, stopped…. wait…no it was turned around, no…this was. This way! NO THAT WAY! The knelt violently, Fiore slammed into the water as if ground, impaled, the blade seen through the water. Trippy. Rumors moaned and leaned down, his forehead barely above placid reflection of himself suffering. Thrashing a bit more, almost turning over, his head, blurry the vision blurring even more he felt a slash across his back. There was nothing he could do, these mind tricks, his head…it arched with pain again, confusion, jumbled efforts of thought thrown about. The pain at the small of his back ached, however the blade and touched part of its own sheath, so the cut was minimal. “Yeseri…my love! You fool…back to me now!” Rumors righted himself, Fiore now in gloved hands. His other hand reaching out to Yeseri, however Halekial’s control only made the sword swipe, miss and float away, clearly annoyed at its old master. “You idiot piece of nothing!” Rumors shouted, to the sword. Whirling around, head aching, scar making his pretty face no so much pretty, Fiore pointed directly at the man, “I am finished with you,” Water began to swirl at the hem of Rumor’s cloak, tendril of glowing watery light arching forth and beginning to surround Fiore, the sword, as the sword left Rumor’s own clenched embrace the water began to waterfall across the sword expanding into a glittering sheet of water. It almost resembled a mirror and it was a spell only used rarely, called: Twisted Reflection. If the man resisted, the mirror would stay and Rumor would still be in the same position on the water; however, if not, the elf would appear before the man, gloved hand reaching for his head, palming the damp hair. Halekial is pushed towards the mirror the man standing before the mirror. Rumor channeled his aquatic magic; Halekial’s reflection would appear… however distorted; his other self would be tortured, aching, paining -- such mental distress. What are you, really, Halekial?, Rumors figured if they were to play mind tricks, he would. Magic was his next best bet; Yeseri was currently in an affair with another lover, putting swordplay to a minimum. Rumors’ hand left the back of the head. The reflection of the man looking back at him, pained, from now, to the future to the past, to it all over again and again. The connection between Yeseri had returned. Stepping back, with twitching fingers, the sword flew into his grip, another hand, and grabbing claws wanting. The mirror ‘shattered’ relinquishing the man of his brief pain. Fiore soared into his other hand, twirling them both, water slinging off Fiore in a beautiful arch of beaded light, they returned to their sheathes, safe…silent. Rumors turned, eyes smoldering slightly, irritated…dispatched, distraught. His head swam; the pain at his back stung, longing to be healed. Slender gloved fingers curled around the nape of Halekial’s neck, a small pulse of magic going through the man…a gift from the elf, so he did not drown in his mindful wandering of his past, present and future of the Twisted Reflection.
*It's safe to say that Halekial is on the verge of being comatose; yet, and still, he musters enough strength to hang on for God knows how much longer. Woozy-eyed and loose-lipped, it's apparent that he has taken a beating. But, the fighter in him won't let him quit. He must be a sucker for punishment, or one with too much pride, not knowing when to gracefully bow out. Such is the case with many men, sadly, but in the twisted sense of self-righteousness, a certain respect was given to them. Even with lids half-mast, the witchery that is conjured and blasted his way in its maddening magics fails to come to fruition, hovering just on the outskirts of actuality. God forbid if it is accrued into substantiality, substantiality enough to utterly further ruin his night. With some unseen force, or power, he hangs on. The spell of Twisted Reflection is an innovative one, Halekial being affected in the instructed way. He hadn't really caught Rumors being hit with his attacks, too involved with his own plight, lifting those lids that are as heavy as rolled carpet, catching sight of a shiny stretch of water that resembles a mirror in all intents-and-purposes. And what he sees there sets his imaginative mind a-whir, overactive imagination causing Halekial to sponge up the image and run with it, the image of Halekial being beaten and hurt in the present, defeated in the future. He is trapped into thinking he has been defeated, calling into being his own fate. Clever attack, for with the defeat of the mind, so shall follow the defeat of the man, and so he falls, figuratively speaking, from what pedestal he was upon, for however short a time it was. He tumbles into the horrible land of obscurity, whatever gloriousness he had trickling into nonexistence. With one last heave of breath, he falls back against the now-overly-sodden wall, a wall that is flimsy and shaky enough to fall upon him at any moment. Yet, Luck isn't that horrible to him, for it doesn't, abstaining from the intercourse of misfortune. The fight is over, and the sword that had a life of its own merely gives up the ghost and drops where it is, to the ground, in a metallic clatter. Almost immediately, those guardian angels that so often accompanied such good creatures as Halekial, a holy priest, Priest of the Light, is inscribed into the very fabric of the realm, passing through from their celestial embellishment into something much more tangible. Yes, the cherubs that suckle their fingers greedily in their cloth pampers and rosy cheeks, play Ring-Around-the-Rosy about Halekial, cooing some song that is sent aflutter on good tidings. The aura that was around the man upon the onset of this battle had languished almost to fantasy, regaining its soft thrum with the healing magics of the angels. Bright-eyed and spry-mouthed, they do their duties, righting most of the damage done to the man quickly enough. In their efforts, left behind in their wake, is a reformation of Luck that had warred against Halekial…a reoccurrence of Fortune, which had been evading him…enough to where he isn't some poor sap. Shaking his head, he stirs…awakening… face slick with sweat. Shakily, he rises, just about to fall over again, looking lost and confused. Blinking once, he beholds the angelic creatures and then Rumors. He remembers! They had been sparring...and Rumors had knocked him. Great. What a bruised ego he had now. With a sigh, the cherubs are seemingly blown away back to their heavenly home with the release of the internal sough. Halekial calmly says to the man, bowing his head reverently,* "Wonderful battle my friend. You inspire me. May we meet again, Water-Weilder". *It's at this point that Halekial notes the blazing beacon of magical buffoonery that hangs in the air, usurping all the happiness that can be ascertained. So horrible it is. And Halekial didn't like it. He looks around, wondering who is the cause of it, and his eyes fall upon the witch -- Nakoshia. Immediately his lips are set a-tremble, and Halekial wished not to fight; no, not this night. He had had enough.

There was a happy smile, and a waving tail, and the sound of sucking before the feline wandered out from behind the boxes, skull prickling, senses tugged by the lady nearby, a greatly pleased expression upon her lips as she wandered towards the witch-woman, a stuttered gait, after that wonderful meal, and a soft, sleek body rubbed against the woman’s shins, a small limp however, as the tiny spear still protruded from her flank, it hurt, but she would need to wait to remove it. The Feline looked up with slit feline eyes, before curling up behind the female, to watch the lady use her magic again, or so she hoped! She couldn't wait to see why the ladies magic prickled her spine so much, but it was odd! It also tugged! And that was strange too! But it felt good; it would give her a mystery to puzzle over while she waited for the pain to settle down a little!
Leaning down, soft lips came close to the ear of the man of fire…of mind. Blonde locks cascading down, almost brushing the tips of the mans soak cheek, “You are glad you parted Yeseri from me…” there was a pause within the whisper, something menacing, as if changed…not from the elf, “Or else I would have parted your soul times over and over,” his mind ached again, causing emerald eyes shut briefly, “Mind your own business.” With a shove, Rumors stood straight and glided along the water, clearly appear unhurt. Standing, silently among the placid water made solid ground by his magic, Halekial would feel the same sensation for some time, enough for him to return to shore, since he was transported by the spell. Rumors then sank into the water, returning to his Lord’s tower in Coldera. Work would have to wait.
 * Nakoshia raged when she saw her mark had been missed, fingers outstretched in dual while sister thrice nimble digits stayed curled in. Keeping the glyph afloat with an effort she had only one more chance to make contact with him before the glyph gave in; it was mind numbingly outraging that she still could not cast her spells with fervent affect. Keeping the mark at bay the young woman finally gave her full attention to the two where she watched the foreign man take Halekial in to the imagery of lackluster failure, the young woman giving him one last stare that was riddled with the heathenish disposition of a rotten child. The glyph would suddenly explode, dismissed with the outward flick of her wrist, slowly turning her self around to where eyes fell to become attached to the feline. Batting lash the girl stared at it for a long moment in silence.
*He had heard the whispered words carrying a menacing lilt. The chirpy disposition he had previously had is quickly dispelled and drawn back into the wary, annoyed one he had upon their initial meeting. Inspiring Rumors may be, but he sure was annoying. No, Halekial didn't much like the man…that horrible man and his horrible water! Having had enough of this whole scene, Nakoshia included, Halekial shoots her an angry look that says, 'wait till next time', and then vanishes into thin air. So, so unremarkable in its brisk and featureless display, so unlike what ha previously taken place. The juxtaposition is welcoming, stark. He is gone, gone, drifting upon the ceaseless winds of Destination. And where was the current destination? His bed, no, some bed. Some bed...wherever that may be. Sleep visits him and carries him to the Land of Nod. Gone, with the wind.*

 The feline opened a single eye lazily, as she looked up to the woman above her, gently licking around her wounded flank the small spear still imbedded in her flesh, at least it didn't seem to be too serious! It hadn't hit anything vital, those long eyes fluttered slightly, as she looked to the woman towering over her, affecting a rather innocent air, as she looked to the woman, maybe she could go somewhere warm if the lady helped her... it would help her heal! She licked carefully at her wound, a small, and pitiful look perhaps, sinking to the lowest common denominator. She hoped it’d work!
*** Da

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