RP:Orcs of Sylo Alari
Part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Arc
Summary: After receiving a distress call from his homeland, Magikrios enlists Rilla's aid to investigate what has happened in Sylo Alari.
Orcs NPC'ed by Karasu.
Elven Camp
The sounds of the wild merge with the hum of activity as pointy eared children scamper past. A break in the thick forest copse reveals more inhabitants of this woodland camp. Garbed in the same autumnal hues of the forest that shelters them, the elves blend in and out of sight. The camp continues east, while the craggy outlook of the mountain pass begins to the west.
It was just a normal day at the elven camp in Southern Sage. Magikrios had just closed the door of his treehouse as a black wolf appeared at the base of the tree, barking frantically and growling up at the elf. Magik peered over the small deck then looked about the nearby area. "Odd," he thought to himself. It was odd for Ohtar to be on his own and without Magik or Mirshann by his side. The elf quickly descends down the rope ladder and kneels in front of the wolf. "Where's Mirsh?" Ohtar nips violently at the air just inches from Magik's face then steps on a red leaf between them for just a quick second. The elf is quickly filled with dread upon realizing this leaf was only native to his homeland, Sylo Alari. "Oh no.." Without a moment to spare, the elf vaporizes into his smokey form to head up tree and back into his treehouse. Inside, Magik materializes in his bedroom to gather his backpack and Death Stimulant from the chest sitting at the foot of his bed. He bursts through his bedroom door and heads down the spiral staircase in a hurry to the other bedrooms of the treehouse. Inside Mirshann's room, a quick note is scribbled at her desk and is left on her bed. 'If you get this before I return, stay here.' That should do it. He makes for a quick exit once more, skipping the ladder in its entirety to jump and land in front of the wolf, "Go back to Kelay incase she pops up there." The wolf receives a loving pet and scratch before Magik stands with his bow in hand to collect his thoughts for a moment.
One of the side effects of not being on the run was that Rilla finally got a chance to practice again, it had always been the structure in her life. The archery range seemed long abandoned, but that didn’t make it any less of a good spot to practice. Most weeks she was there at least a few times, she pulled her hair into a braid before heading out towards it. The young vampire moved through the trees rather than the ground, she climbed branch to branch in much the way that an animal might. A simple pleasure, drawn by all the things she saw first because of the added height. The familiar voice caught her attention, made her stop and listen, crouched on a branch above and watched for a moment with a tilted head and a wry smile. Without a word, she produced a thin blade from beneath her black leather jacket, cradled the smooth handle between thin fingers, her index finger along the top of the blade. Threw it sideways past Magik. It arced cleanly through the air between branches and into the bark of the tree he’d emerged down from. The black metal caught the light, the soft thud tugged a smile across her face outright before she dropped down from her branch, rolled over her own shoulder to disperse the momentum before she popped up to her feet once more. “And here I thought you were going to find me.” She joked, hands on her hips as she watched him carefully, crystalline gaze flicked between him and the blade she’d impaled into the bark behind him. “Why the –“ she gestured up at down to him, having heard him going back and forth with the animal – “energy? Around here that’s never anything good.”
Magik's focus was broken the moment the blade penetrated his tree. First, a quick glance to the blade and then to the shifting of leaves above to follow Rilla on her dramatic landing to the ground below. Ohtar was quick to step towards the female with bared teeth. As Ohtar reached Magik's side, the elf laid a hand on the wolf's head. "Kelay, Ohtar. Thank you." The wolf was quick to regain his calm demeanor and looked up to Magik for only a brief moment before taking off through the woods back to his destination. The Lyastri studied Rilla for a brief moment before offering her a quick summary, "I think my daughter has gone missing.." He pauses to look around at the elves going about their normal lives. None of them were equipped to accompany him..at all. His fiery eyes fall back to Rilla. "Come with me if you want to possibly use your talents and maybe kill something. I have no time to waste." Magikrios offers Rilla a hand as smoke starts to surround the elf. He's ready to go. Now.
Rilla’s head tilted at the bared teeth of the wolf before her, but she did not step back. After years of running through forests, she’d learned not to land hard if the plan was to do it over and over, the personal space she invaded was very much an after thought. She looked from the wolf back to the Lyastri who seemingly had him under control. She nodded as he spoke, closed the distance with silent steps, but skirted past him to retrieve the thin, smooth blade from the bark of the tree. It was quickly tucked back into place on a strap around her waist hidden beneath her jacket. “You’re just full of mysteries, aren’t you?” She questioned, studying him with her clear blue gaze as if to decide if she could trust him. It was a split-second decision where she took the final step closer and took the offered hand in her cool, calloused one. The smoke would be a question for later. “Let’s go find your daughter then.” A smile flashed across rose-tinted lips as she gave her agreement – what was the worst that could happen? She died?
Magik takes a firm grip on Rilla's hand and the two are instantly surrounded in thick black smoke. Normally, Magik would take it relatively easy when traveling with someone else, but there was no time to waste. The black cloud takes to the sky and speeds to the south just above the treetops. Inside the smoke cloud, the two feel weightless and see everything a bit distorted and darker in color. Were they to look at each other, the general shape of their faces and bodies can be made out, but instead of skin, they are literally made of smoke. Lots of smoke. Should a tree or any other obstacle come between them, Magik wouldn't lose his grip on Rilla. They would quickly separate on a molecular level but would come back together all the same. #magic. Considering the long trip ahead of them, he would be more than willing to answer any questions Rilla may have from the "Marking" and his secret organization of misfits, to his daughter, ferret, how he's able to allow such a convenient method of travel, etc etc. After a few hours of spoopy smoke traveling, the two finally find ground beneath their feet in the middle of Sylo Alari.
Sylo Alari
The village placed in the middle of a thick forest itself is simple. Trees tower high into the sky with abnormally thick trunks. Houses are scattered about both on the ground and in the trees. There are small businesses but without a need for currency here. Everyone plays an equal part in this village. If not, you are cast out to the forest to survive on your own.
As Magik and Rilla materialize, the elf releases his grip on her hand, "Stay close and visible. If anyone questions you, tell them you are with me." With that, Magik takes a step away from Rilla to cup his hands around his mouth, "Mirshann!!" The elf starts scanning the aftermath of an attack around them as the smell of burnt wood fills his nose. Some houses set ablaze, businesses still smoldering, children still yelling for missing parents, other parents yelling for their kids. Families start finding themselves and hug each other tight. Everyone seems to stop what they are doing as Magik's voice echoes loudly through the village. A middle aged elf comes bursting through the door of the local refreshly extinguished lounge, "Magikrios?!" The white haired and green eyed man rushes to join the Lyastri. "Where is she, Uncle?" Magik asks. Before Uncle Myrdin can answer, Magik turns and faces the burning buildings. He throws his arms out to the sides then up into the air. The flames move out of the buildings and into the sky where they extinguish, only leaving smoke lingering in the air above. He then looks back to his uncle. Myrdin is quick to reply with, "Orcs. Heading east. They have a few hours head start." Myrdin lowers his head, "I tried to stop them but.." Magik places a hand on Myrdin's shoulder, "I know how they are. They would have killed her in an instant if anyone tried to interfere." Myrdin raises his head and nods, "You need to go. Quickly now!" Magik tightens the grip on his bow as he turns to locate his compadre who undoubtedly went to check out the village, "Rilla, we have to go!"
Rilla had travelled in more than a couple ways in her time, but none of them had ever been in a puff of smoke. Until now. After picking his brain for most of their travels, she found herself in a new place. There were trees large enough to make her feel small, and her gaze is cast up initially, taking in the scattered civilization as she parts from Magik. “I’ll be close.” She agrees. The sounds and smells of the attack that had been waged here already pulling her attention away, setting her on edge. In a flash she was within a tree, getting a better vantage on the scene. Pulling herself into the branches, she surveys the chaos that had settled upon the village, listening for Magik’s voice over the others although every new cry threatened to pull her attention. Though she stiffens at the display as the fire is sent into the sky and extinguished, Rilla is only still for an instant. “Impressive.” She mutters but grips the next branch all the same. The buildings in the trees are the most interesting to her, the trunks and branches they rest on thicker than she’d come to expect in the forests she knew. Before she could get too far though, she was being called back. She lowers herself through the branches, catching herself several times until she was just above them, and then she dropped to the ground, bending at the knee to absorb the shock. The easiest way was usually the best one. “Orcs, going East," she repeats with a nod, “you can explain why orcs would kidnap your daughter on the way.”
Magik blinks as Rilla seems to appear from above yet again, "Were you a baby bird in a past life?" Without waiting for answer, he quickly grabs Rilla's hand and they are nothing but smoke yet again. Orcs. East. As they flew above the forests Magik explains that the orcs were a constant threat to Sylo Alari. The war has always waged between the two races even before Magik was born. Magik even metioned to Rilla if he can't be found in Lithrydel he's more than likely in SA defending against another attack or taking the fight to the orcs in whatever encampment they have set up. "Mirshann may just be a random capture," Magik says as they start picking up a possible trail of the small and seperate orc raiding party. Birds scatter and the sound of a rickety cart echo throughout the area. Hopefully this is the group that has Mirshann in custody. As they get closer, Magik and Rilla start to hang back. The smoke cloud soon hovers just above the forest canopy as they try to look through the trees and listen to get a scope for what's ahead.
Rilla rolls her eyes at his words. “You could say that.” She shrugs but takes Magik’s hand all the same as he whisks them away in yet another puff of smoke. Travelling like this was going to take some getting used to, but at least it left time for catching up. “Let’s hope for that,” she mumbles, “I’m sure she’s tough either way.” Hopeful musing wasn’t exactly her strong suit, but Rilla offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile - or the best she can muster while made of smoke. She falls silent as they get closer, unsure of just how likely it was that an orc would understand what was happening if they saw them. She watches and listens for the sounds of them through the trees, already itching just to be back in them. “If you drop me in the trees, we can block them in, keep them from heading back to the village. When they turn to attack one of us, the other can take their backs. If they don’t have her, we kill them and keep looking.”
Grunthurd is a simple orc. The fourth son of a prominent death knight of Rothik, he-- along with the rest of his tribe-- is nothing like their distant Gualon counterparts who have accepted non-orcs into their society. All he has ever wanted was to impress the orc of his dreams, Shagar. Sweet, beautiful Shagar, with her tusks cracked from bare knuckle boxing a crocoturtle, and with thighs that could smash the skull of a crystal dragon. The orc gives a rumble of contentment as he kneels by an unconscious elf inside of a cage. "Pretty skull Shagar like. Make Shagar smile make Grunthurd happy." The warrior seems happy with the spoils of the raid he led, so much so that he fails to notice the appearance of the unusual smoke in the distance that rises above the canopy only to disappear below again. The orc camp is a band of what initially seems to be four, having made a temporary camp somewhere in the forest to rest and recuperate before either moving further east to their hometown or go out in search of more bloodshed."Frug. Xig. Targigoth." Grunthurd orders to his brethren, the fifth, sixth, and seventh sons who rise to attention at their elder brother's call. "Fetch more elf before brothers come back. More bodies make Orgut proud." The three orcs give grunts of acknowledgement to his command, rising from their resting posts and drawing up their weaponry. Frug hoists a woven basket onto his hip full of throwing rocks. Xig takes up an imposing battle-axe, no doubt stolen from its original weilder as indicated by its dwarven craftsmanship. Targigoth raises up a shortsword. All four brothers affix their ceremonial battle masks to their faces as they prepare to venture forth in search of more spoils of war to please either their father or their god.
The dark smoke cloud hovers above the trees for only a short moment before the smokey ones find themselves on a sturdy branch back on their feet. Magik drops down to a branch just below them to get a slightly different point of view. The elf squats on the limb, bow held tightly, three fingers gripping a fiery string, “There..“ The elf points his chin in the direction of the orc encampment. Magik watches quietly as Grunthurd gives his brothers their orders and begin to head towards the not-so-smokey-anymore-but-are-definitely-hidden-in-the-trees-..people. As the small group separates, the cage is revealed. Magik, what do you elf eyes see? His daughter. That’s what. The Lyastri manages to keep his cool as he looks up at Rilla, speaking quietly, “When they get closer, I’m going to take one of them out. You can handle two stupid orcs, yeah?” His focus then turns to Grunthurd and Mirshann, taking Rilla’s words into consideration, “Then I’ll get behind them to get Mirshann out of there.” His directions were simple enough, right? Magik brought his bow up as the orc brothers started closing their distance. Xig, the battle-axe weilder is the intended target. The orc party disappears behind a few trees as Magik’s focus remains locked, carefully leading them by just a few inches. As they reappear, Magik pulls back on the bow string slowly. A fiery black arrow forms on the arrow rest as the bow quietly creaks, the curve of the bow bending to Magik’s will. “Rilla..” There is a short pause. “….Go.” Magik lets the arrow loose, aimed for Xig’s head and is quickly consumed by his black smoke once more. The Lyastri flies in the trees and loops back to place himself just behind Grunthurd who was bringing the party up from the rear. Magik materializes and grunts loudly to confuse the orc and turn him around. Should that happen, Grunthurd would receive a violent headbutt and would have Death Stimulant pointed at his face.
Although it had been a while since Rilla was on a mission that wasn’t just to end lives, she was itching for the fight now that it was presented. How this magic travel worked was still a mystery, but once she was in the arms of the trees again she knew what to do. Pulling herself just above Magik in the tree, she follows his gaze to the orcs and the girl who was presumably his daughter. She nods, thin form crouched between the branches, one hand wrapped around one higher, ready to pull herself up and out, on her toes and leaned forward. “Gods I hope so.” Rilla quipped under her breath, shooting Magik a look, wrinkling her nose before silently shifting through the trees to give herself a clearer view, a little above and away from Magik, a little bit closer to them and coiled to pounce. Fishing a throwing knife from the belt around her waist with her right hand, she watched the orcs approach with a tensed form. At his signal she relaxed her grip on the smooth-handled blade, eyes trained on the orcs as she wound up her arm and sent it flying through a gap in the trees towards where she anticipated Frug’s throat to be. Following her blade, she was little more than a rustling of leaves for a split second above them before swinging herself from a branch, falling through the air with her boots aimed for Targigoth’s torso. Her arm raised, from beneath the sleeve of her leather jacket, her hidden blade peeked out, she kept her fingers out of the way from it carefully. Whether he fell or not, Rilla would follow through with a quick jab to the torso with her bladed-arm, using the momentum from her fall to put some real gusto behind it. Getting her feet back under her, she would spring right back from them, drawing a shortsword of her own from her hip.
The pair’s planning pays off well. The disappearing arrow aimed for Xig is nearly deflected as he hefts the axe from one shoulder to another. A clink from the impossibly sharp arrowhead grazes the edge of the blade of the weapon, creating a sharp crack in the craftsmanship. Derailed from its trajectory, the arrow bounces upward and pierces straight through the side of eyehole in the mask of the sixth eldest orc, the point piercing straight through one eye to the other and blinding him completely. Frug, who would have rather been playing mudball than being dragged along by his siblings, sees the arrow peirce his brother’s mask. Xig lets out a scream, and Frug raises a hand to partially cut his mouth and shout that enemies are near. The beginning of a shout is quickly silenced as the knife thrown by the young vampire simultaneously slices the muscle between his forefinger and thumb and embeds itself into his neck. Frug stumbles and throws the entirety of the basket in the knife’s direction, spraying the stones out in a wide arc before he falls forward. As he falls, the young orc somehow finds himself wondering if he was going to be on time to the mudball game at dusk. Then, he hits the ground, impaling the knife through his neck fully. Xig manages to scream out again as he hears his elder brother hit the ground and the rocks smash into the surrounding green. Enraged, he begins to swing wildly as he stomps back in the direction he thinks the camp may be in. So severe is his rage that he never realizes that his thick soled feet have smashed the spine of his late brother as he charges. Closer to Mirshann’s prison, Grunthurd gives a cruel smile behind his mask as the young elf stirs. Mirshann wakes up to see a hulking muddy green orc, face concealed by a tribal mask of a hostile gang. When the de facto leader opens his mouth to speak, he hears a grunt from behind. He turns and receives a prompt headbutt from the pyromancer. The thick wooden mask gives a loud crack as the piece splinters apart under the force. The face of the furious orc is revealed, and he gives a loud roar, pulling a stone war hammer from the side of the cage. “Elf man has good skull for Shagar trophy. Grunthurd SMASH PRETTY SKULL!” He bellows, swinging the weapon at Magik. The roar of his brothers causes Targigoth to look back in the direction of the encampment, a distraction just long enough to prevent him seeing Rilla’s feet aim square for his chest. Despite her vampiric strength, the orc only gives a slight stumble backwards. “Hurg!” Targigoth grunts, assuming a battle stance to parry the jab to the chest. A parry and a feint to the left is as far as the poor orc goes, before the fight is cut short. There is a brief moment where he wonders why the world is upside down, then his head smashes into the ground and eyes lose focus forever. Xig gives a victorious scream, not knowing what it was he hit, but rejoicing in the shower of blood as he continues to swing wildly in Rilla’s direction. In the distance, there is a deep rhythmic rumble of something getting closer.
Magik wastes no time in loosing his arrow. However, the arrow is just off mark and is sent towards the orc's ear. Hit or miss, the elf is quick to react to the swinging war hammer. As Grunthurd pulls back the hammer Magik closes the distance between them with a forceful leap. As Magik's arrow zips by Mirshann's cage, the young D'Chath realizes what's going on. With whatever energy she has left, Mirshann extends both of her hands forward towards Grunthurd. Black and muddy vines manifest and quickly extend out to wrap around the orc's hands and weapon. She grabs the vines and pulls back, preventing Grunthurd from following through with his swing. Mirshann puts her full weight and strength into it as both of her feet are pressed against the cage, her frame nearly completely horizontal as he pulls on the vines. The Lyastri lets a hand off of his bow but only to swing it behind the orc's head and grip it once more. Fiery bow string, meet the back of an orc's neck. Magik pulls the bow towards him violently in an attempt to decapitate the orc as he follows up with more headbutts to try and get this over with as soon as possible. Magikrios let's out a primal yell/scream as he fights through his own pain of repeatedly bashing his own skull into an orc's. Hopefully the bow strings cuts through the thick skin and muscle before Magik passes out. After all, something else is headed towards them.
Springing up, Rilla wastes no time getting away from the orcs trying desperately to hit her. The bodies left behind are nothing but an obstacle for the might lighter vampire, and she puts as much distance between herself and them as she begins to lead Xig to clearer ground - and closer to the low branches of a smaller tree. Bracing her shortsword in front of her, she keeps it between the axe and herself, watching his scattered rhythm and only once letting him close enough for it to glance off of her blade. Though her steps are forward and back, never in one spot for long, her approach is quick. With her sword raised in the interest of not losing any limbs, she ducks beneath the next swing, crouching low and striking along the back his ankles with a dagger as she swings around him once more, counting on her speed and his relative lack of it to keep him going forward as she searches for his throat with the blade of her dagger. Feeling for flesh and pulling back towards her and through as much of it as she could. The flat of her shortsword pressing into his back between her form and his, she guided his weight onto it as she pulls back with her dagger. With a final tug towards him, Rilla pulls the blade away, pushing him forward with the other one, leaving the sword to clatter to the dirt with a dull thud as she jumps for the branches and pulls herself up into them to relative safety, disappearing behind cover of leaves - surely an injured orc can’t climb - as she searches for the source of the oncoming sound. “Time to get the girl and go, Magik,” Rilla calls out from above, before finally deciding to check on the status of her last-orc-standing and if he still would be. “We’re about to be really outnumbered.” She warns, calling to him over her shoulder.
There is no magic quite as powerful as the unspoken coordination between a father and daughter. Grunthurd continues the swing, but Mirshann’s pull is enough to loosen the grip of the hammer out from his leathery palms. Without the weight of his weapon, the orc stumbles forward with palms outstretched to bounce back off the ground, leaving his neck open for the Lyastri’s attack. A strangled grunt is quickly cut off as the fiery bow slowly cuts its way through his skin. Beads of blood stain the string, turning it into a macabre imitation of a winterberry branch in full bloom. “Make… Shagar proud…!” Grunthurd manages to say before another headbutt forces his head back, allowing the string to cut clean between his vertebrae. The body of the warrior falls towards the cage, splintering the wooden barricade into pieces and freeing Mirshann. Near Rilla, the frenzied orc continues his battle cries as he swings forward. He follows the sound of snapping twigs with glee. His prey is fleeing! The screech of metal parrying metal only renews his vigor, and he begins to hack away at what is in front of him. Alas! What he believes to be the tough armor of an opponent is really just the bark of an innocent tree caught in the crossfire. His axe becomes lodged in the trunk of the tree just as his tendons are slashed open. A snarl shakes the trees around them as he falls to his knees, unable to remain standing. Wounded and blinded, Xig can only give a pleading grunt as the dagger sinks into his flesh and silences him forever. A pair of glowing golden eyes peers out for just a moment from the bushes, barely noticeable by the trio, if at all. The eyes disappear, and a rustling of undergrowth retreats into the forest, where a voice calls out a short phrase in orcish. A scout! In reply to this message, a roaring voice echoes, nearly drowning out anything the heroes would have tried to say over it. “BLESS ROTHIK, FOR BAERMONT WILL SMASH IN ROTHIK HONOR.” More trouble was coming their way, and it sounded like more than the already weary trio could take; the warning of the vampiress is spot on.
Magik’s final blow puts the elf into a little bit of a haze. The Lyastri stumbles towards Mirshann as the orc's body falls limp and to the ground. "Papa.." The word echos through Magik's spinning head as his daughter weakly calls out to him. The elf looks towards the cage, blood leaking from his forehead and nose. As Mirshann manages to squeeze between the broken bars of the cage, Magik starts to regain his focus. Rilla's words do not fall on deaf ears nor does the scurrying of the scout. As Magik hesitates, Mirshann lays a hand on his with a slight smile. No words are needed. A quick nod from Magik and he calls up to Rilla, but his words are drowned out by the scout's loud warning/threat..something about leading them away from the village.They had to start moving. Now. Instead of taking the road back towards Sylo Alari, Magik and Mirshann dip into the forest as a misdirection. Making a bunch of noise was the goal. Give them something to follow. Magik's slow jog was heavy as he smacked his bow against any passing trees. Occasionally he would look back or up, depending on how Rilla decides to follow. Eventually, the grip on Mirshann's hand would tighten as black smoke started to surround the two. "Rilla.." His free hand reaches behind him, "Quickly now.." As soon as Rilla takes his hand they would be nothing but a thick cloud of smoke once again to blaze a longer trail before taking to the skies one last time for this adventure.
With Magik and his daughter in sight, Rilla follows from above automatically. Not bothering to hide her steps any more than Magik was as she swings and leaps through branches above. Bright blue eyes flashing back to meet the dark ones below checking on her. Things were likely about to go to hell here, and three people versus however many orcs were coming as reinforcements wasn’t what she’d signed up for today. With Magik and his daughter’s heartbeat hammering in her ears, she followed mostly by sound. At the sound of her name she dropped from the branches, lower and lower until she dropped out of them altogether with a soft thud as she fell into pace with them. “Remind me not to piss you off.” She quipped. The copper of his blood stung her nose, as she got a better look at his face. She clenched her jaw, taking the offered hand only to disappear once more into smoke and into the sky. Definitely not the normal means of transportation, but when were things normal in and around Lithrydel?