RP:Reclaiming Twister Island

From HollowWiki

Summary: The Adventurer's Guild arrives at Twister Island and discovers that things are far worse than they imagined. Immediately thrown into battle against archers, mages, and horned creatures, they only have a small reprieve before they face off against the dreaded blood-mage, Crimson Cloak. Many of the villagers have perished at his hands, and their homes have been turned into rubble, as the shore is covered in wreckage. Thankfully, the Guild had arrived in time, and using their powers, quick thinking, and weapons, they manage to defeat a trio of tornadoes infested with sharks, as well as the villian. Twister Island is reclaimed!


Part of the Sharknado Arc



[Post 1 of 2] Elioyahazer || The journey to Twister island had not gone as expected. The waters had proven perilous, and even a few members of the guild and Aira’s crew have succumbed to it’s treachery. Some fallen victim to the attack in an instant, while others, slipped in the night due to grevious wounds. A certain sort of seriousness has begun to lace the aura of crew members while the island comes into sight. Each and everyone of them preparing for what might come. It’s only with weapons in hand that the ship finally heads on it’s direct course. “Aira, beach us!” Elioyahazer’s voice rings out cold and hard, riddled with an air of authority none thought possible. Upon the very sands of the island itself are the signs of a riot in progress. The people who had suffered and fallen prey to this villainous crimson cloak have risen up against their treacherous master. Fighting with any tool they could muster; it would seem that the guilds presence had not gone unnoticed. The crimson cloaks failed attack against the brave adventurers was news that even he could not keep at bay - which sparked a hope that burned inside of these people. Whether the liberators were ready or not, the ship finally makes land, ramming into a wooden pole that held a black flag and a crimson circle. The guild suddenly finds themselves under attack, without warning. Crimson cloaks vile guards turn their attention to the vessel, releasing a heavy barrage of arrows into the sky. Enough to riddle the deck with deadly barbed tips and destroy maim or kill anyone so unlucky to be caught in the path. Other oppressors fight off the rioters or succumb to their attacks entirely. Those evil doers who survive draw other weapons of steel and head in to meet the group, thinking of nothing but death. A few of the islands torturous mages turn in unison, clasp at their staffs, whispering words of arcane origin - sending a wicked and combined assault in the form of a fiery blast directed at the ship. Suddenly, the beach had a war on two fronts. The villagers, and the guild members, who worked together to overthrow and take the beach. Never mind the tornadoes that loomed further within the island.


[Post 2 of 2] Elioyahazer calls out suddenly, “Take cover!” and pulls the top of a crate off, using it as a makeshift shield as protection. When that barrage ceases he wastes no time, slinging a harpoon weapon over his shoulder, yelling out to Scandal and Khitti; he had seen them both in close quarter combat. “With me, help the villagers!” The sandman draws his exotic scimitar which thrums with excitement in his grip before he leaps from the ship to the sandy ground below. Upon this beach, he is a whirling dervish of death, unstoppable and within familiar territory. Growing up within the deserts of Gualon means that the ever shifting sand beneath his booted feet never once throw his balance off or even dare to slow his figure down. He ducks beneath the first slice meant to take his own head off, whipping his scimitar through the air in a counter blow - cleanly severing his opponents leg just above the knee with a sickening show of force and shower of blood. Just as this man falls, so do two more when his left hand pulls free throwing daggers. Simultaneously launching both items and catching them with ease. “Forward!” He continues on his path into the maddening chaos that exists before him. Ever watchful of those who have come to aid this assault - worrying that the spell from those mages couldn’t be undone by those who can cast. Horrified at the thought that these villagers might not make it much longer if they didn’t press forward with a bold assault.


Lanara was grateful to hear Sebastian's booming voice stating that land was within his line of sight, and it’s then that she rises from her perch atop a barrel and lazily stretches. The past thirty-six hours hadn’t been exactly comfortable, considering a few crew members had perished at the hands of the elemental assailants. There were complaints about the food, the constant sound of retching from those that had come down with sea sickness, the harsh winds that continuously slapped against one’s face, and the dampness that never seemed to cease, regardless of how many times one changed their attire. Lanara wasn’t made for a life at sea, that’s for certain, though she was somewhat in higher hopes than when their journey had begun. She had a heart to heart with Khitti and Aira in her cabin, and she had watched the rising of the sun with Tiber, all of which lifted the despair she had felt in her heart after providing the memorial service to those that had lost their lives. Now, the witch makes her way across the deck, her dark eyes going wide as the ship suddenly lurches, and she nearly stumbles, though she regains her footing at the last second. The villagers were attempting to rebel, however, things were far worse than Lana had imagined, as Crimson Cloak seems to have recruited rangers and mages to do his bidding. The hair rises on the back of her neck, as Elioyahazer gives orders, and everyone seems to come together at once, taking up their positions either on the beach, or remaining aboard the boat. Lana grabs a rope, scales down the side of the ship, and stalks across the sand, trying her damnedest to quell the rage that was building, for she didn’t want it to interfere with her spellcasting. A glance is given over her shoulder, to the trio of mage’s that remain on deck, and they reply with a nod, before lifting their staffs and muttering a repetitive mantra, in an attempt to dispel any negative magic that dares to bring harm to the ship and its inhabitants. The invisible shield of protection envelopes the ship, so that it wouldn’t be amongst the wreckage that was surely to occur on this day. Lanara raises her hands heavenward and closes her eyes, speaking softly in sylvan, though if one were close enough, they’d hear that she’s calling on an ancient spell which would reflect any damage done to those that oppose Crimson Cloak, and return it threefold.


Khitti || After the “meeting” that Khitti, Lanara, and Aira had in Lanara’s cabin, Khitti attempted to sleep off some of that whiskey she’d indulged in--and the embarrassment of showing her emotions to the vixen and the elf in a way she really hadn’t wished to, but the whiskey had made it so anyway. With the only bed for Lanara, she’d curled up on the floor, with an extra blanket, and used Circinus as a pillow. Look, Khitti’s slept in worse places, okay? Like, inside of a jar for many months in a dragon’s cave. And at the Frostmaw Inn before the whole place was recently revamped. It’s safe to say that sleeping on that big doggo was the least of Khitti’s worries right now. She really hadn’t minded. Her dreams weren’t as pleasant as using a big ol’ pupper as a cushion to sleep on though. They were fraught with memories from the distant and recent past, and dreams of what might’ve been had she’d not been saved from that mess in Venturil. Khitti woke up in tears, but quickly hid them, then left the sanctuary of Lanara’s cabin to return to her own to gather her things. The call to push ashore was made by Eli and Khitti stood ready on the deck (as ready as she could be anyway). The arrows would begin their onslaught, but anyone standing near her would find themselves protected: Tenbatsu Kaji was swung in a wide arc, the katana’s flames parting from the blade and soaring into the sky to meet head-on with a good portion of the arrows that’d threatened the ship. Still, they fell around Khitti though, a few threatening to nail her feet to the ship itself. Once those same feet were placed upon the land in front of them, she didn’t quite have the same advantage as the guild’s weapon’s expert, for she’d hardly set foot in Gualon’s desert. But, if there was one thing Khitti was good at, it was adapting to change--at least in battle, anyway--and did as commanded by Eli. Brilliant red flames flew from her blade as she fought, while in between here and there, balls of the same holy fire was summoned up and tossed where necessary. When she had nothing more than a mere moment, Khitti’d do the same that she’d had to those strange elementals when they were at sea: her magic armor would be summoned up--in its entirety this time--and the circlet that matched the rest of the half-plate sent soaring towards the mage’s that opposed them. That same whirlwind of fire would make itself known and the heat of the holy flames would attempt to bear down on the Crimson Cloak’s casters as Khitti then moved forward with Eli and the others.


Scandal’s previous engagements over the course of the thirty six hour long journey had not only included a breakfast with a fellow dragon, but had also included a better stronger bond with hopefully his sister's lover, which when it came to family affairs it definitely had left Scandal with a greater liking of the man. Definitely he would contact them on further engagements with exploration various objectives. For now though he had thankfully with the help of sandman had successfully knocked out blue for much of the journey. As he jumped ship, and he soon found himself engaged with several of enemies, it was strange he noticed he felt odd that his speed seemed slightly slower than he had at the start of the journey, perhaps it was nothing, but as he ducked, twisted, he felt less energy in his step, and more of it seemed to be as if he had was suffering the effects of the magical drain at the start of their journey. He needed to be at his best, so he dug deep and unlocked his second storage of mana to draw from. Feeling renewed strength, he looked to his peers to when and where they would need him. If he needed to be a dragon form he would shift but for now he did as he was told.


Tiber is rickety on the ship, the man leans over the railing with a pale hue in his face. The sea is vicious and Tiberius is nauseous. A deep green leather bound book sways in his hand dangerously over the sea while the rest of his trusty linguistic gear rests in a satchel on the side of his body. The gear consists of a map of the island, a journal with common tongue that spells out the words of the foreign tongue, and healing supplies for any stragglers. Around his torso is a bow and on his back is also arrows. One of the crew members is hollering for the archer from afar with a mini pail of ice water. “Mr. Lowell, Mr. Lowell! I got your ice water!” A man that is just a little servant until he got his sea legs. Tiberius did not have legs of the sea. He never would. The water is splashed on the back of his neck to re-shock his system before the rest of the ship landed on the treacherous island. Chaos is creeping up to the shore, however, while Sandy screeches back at everyone to take cover. The lycan crouches low beneath the rail of the ship, tucking the book back inside his satchel and reaching back for the bow and an arrow to strike, but he halts in waiting for the right move to hit the cloaks bidders. The sandman has got it from here, and Tiberius only has one job… to gain the trust from the villagers. For now, he lingers steady behind the rail and waits for orders of the deputy and the leader before doing anything rash which Tiber was itching to do. For now, he stays protected by the magical hoodoo.


Elioyahazer || The meager forces upon the beach stood no chance against such an organized assault. The spell cast forth by those mages finds itself blocked and redirected by Lanara’s magic. Khitti’s holy power, further tears into the mages, and balls of holy fire sear and catch others on fire. In a rather hasty moment, the oppressors upon the beach are no more - the guilds brash attack entirely too successful. Even Tiberius and the draw of his bow does not go unnoticed. But quickly, the guards and mages are overthrown, and the beach is littered with a few dead enemies. All that remains are the villagers who clamor to pull wind into their lungs. Eventually the villagers who have survived, gather around their current saviors. Some muttering their thank you’s. Others wondering what took so long? Either way, their disheveled forms are saved, at least for now. In all, the sprawled out village just beyond the beach is in shambles, run down and ill kept. Homes are decrepit, few with broken windows where children try to peek through to eyeball the commotion. Eli turns his head to his fellow guild mates, and then to Lanara. “I think it would best if the villagers board the ship with a small detachment.” He waits for her response and moves to help those as he can, to climb aboard. His gaze flicks to Khitti and Scandal, grateful for their help. Though Elioyahazer knew this wasn’t the only reason they had come to this island. Crimson cloak still lurked nearby - most likely beneath the protection of those swirling tornadoes. When all is said and done, he begins to move further on down the beach.


(Post 1 of 2) Lanara :: There’s a brief respite from their first encounter on the island, and it’s at this moment that the witch looks to Tiber, motioning for him to join her on the beach. Once the translator is at her side, the team would eye the crowd that had gathered around them with curiosity. A middle-aged woman stands out amongst the crowd, and it seems as though she’s one of the few that is capable of speaking common tongue. It’s Renata, the contact that had written to the guild and sought their assistance in this trifling matter, several weeks prior. Her gentle green gaze scans over each of the guild member’s, before she sets her sights on Lanara. A faint recognition is held in her wise expression, and though her accent is difficult to decipher, she speaks broken common, rather well. “You kept word. Of that, I did not expect. I surely thought we were going to meet maker, but you all have arrived. Just in nick of time. It’s rare to find one with beauty and honor. The Island thanks you.” A faint smile is given to Lana, as she clasps her hands together and gives a small bow, a glimmer of hope in her gaze. Once her gratitude has been voiced, she speaks in a language unknown to all, save for the lycan. Renata makes obvious motions to the ship, and though she’d disheartened to leave her homeland, she knows that their are healers that will tend to the wounded. They will have to travel elsewhere to get the necessary supplies to return and rebuild Twister Island, though she vows to her people that they will return in the days to come. This seems to appease the crowd, and in single file, they trek down the beach and begin to eagerly board the ship. They had suffered at the hands of Crimson Cloak and the storms for too long, and they wanted to sail as far from this place as possible.


(Post 2 of 2) Lanara :: The witch is delighted to finally make acquaintances with Renata, as she had the woman presumed deceased in her mind for the past several days. They had barely made it to the island, so she was almost certain that none of the villagers had survived. Lana replies to the woman with a bow of her own, grateful that they have arrive when they did, as they saved a good four dozen lives. Would they be able to reclaim the island as a whole, so they could one day return to their home? It’s a question she’s unable to answer, as they still had little idea what they were up against, but she’d see this through entirely. A grateful smile is given to Tiber, as he speaks in their native language and issues commands. As they all board the ship, Lana takes in the sorry shape of the beach, the rubble of the cottages, and it’s then that a stray dog limps over to the witch, whimpering with his tail between his legs. This image is the stick that breaks the camel’s back, as the animal empath bends and places a kiss on the mutt’s head, before calling to Kartur, one of the healers, “Carry him onto the ship, he will be taken to my sanctuary. Crimson Cloak will pay in blood for this...” The male lifts the dog into his arms, knowing better than to deny their leader, and Lana storms through the sand, and heads to the north. Using both her intuition and her keen witch senses, she follows the trail where the magic feels the strongest, where the tingling is unable to be ignored. “Dear Goddess! Khitti… You were right! The attack on the ship, it was both a warning and a distraction...” Lana’s voice trails off, her guild members at her sides, as in unison they take in the sight before them. Not more than a half mile away, and slowly approaching, are a trio of spirals that swirl along the sand, leaving debris in their wake, and plucking up everything in their path, until it faces sheer destruction. Howling winds, sprays of rain, the inner vortex that consumes the life from those that get sucked up, all of it together are quite devastating, however, the storm itself isn’t the only thing that is formidable. Every so often as the tornadoes move across the land, a fin or tail can be seen, and should a head peek out, the clashing of razor sharp teeth, and the unmistakable image of a shark comes into view. Lana stands there, wincing, as the witnesses the aquatic beasts of every variety, ranging from a small bull shark to a terrifying great white. Turning to Eli, the witch clears her throat, “Thank goodness you ordered all those harpoons…”


Khitti’s katana was resheathed for now, allowing the templar to ready herself at a moment’s notice for either a ranged or close-quarters attack. She readjusted the rose-gold half-plate and the dark brown leathers that she now wore--those that had just magically replaced the torn bits she’d wore the night before--as her attention shifted between both Eli and Lanara, waiting for their decision. As the villagers made their way on board, Khitti mentally counted them, doing her best to take in the numbers that they’d rescued, as well as their faces in case if some got lost on the ship or something worse befell them. She’d eventually follow along behind Lanara, a frown marring her features. Khitti hated being right in instances like this. It wasn’t quite like a witch’s intuition, but more that Khitti’d seen enough bad things in her life to know when something was going to go downhill. Basically, if this were a D&D campaign, Khitti’s perception attribute would have a pretty frakking high number. “So, this is a bad time to mention that I’ve little experience with tornadoes, yeah? Living in the mountains at home, and then Vailkrin, and then Frostmaw for a bit… none of those really get this kind of weather, whether it’s man-made or not.” She squinted at the sharks as they spun around, tilting her head somewhat, “Strange though. I’ve heard of cows in twisters, but not sharks.” Look, she might’ve been on a boat for awhile on her way from her homeland to Lithrydel, but she… didn’t like being on the top deck. It was a little nerve-wracking back then. Things sure did change when Brand got his ship, though.


Scandal coughed audibly as he sat on his knees having swiped a sword from one of his enemies, whom he had removed head and spine with. He wasn't physically injured, sure there a was a nick or two across the scales, but not really anything too much to worry about. His eyes shifted towards the twisters incoming and inhaled sharply. "Oh yeah, those, okay if i can have..." He gave a odd yawn as he spoke. "Can i have your attention, Twisters, can be destroyed by two means, magical, and physically. I can shift to a dragon form, try to get the cyclone to suck up some of my fire, that should heat the storm to where it ought to break down, but i will need someone to be able to go after the other one, I can't be in two places at once." He sighed, trying to stand his feet, second storage yes but, he didn't feel like he once did. He would shift, his form inflating his back arching his arms becoming forelegs and his body elongating, He left he shook his head trying to get over the exertion, as he would be directed to the twisters and to whomever was going with him.


Tiber launches more arrows that fly and sink into chests and legs to weaken the enemy. Tiberius was not much of a fighter than a smooth-talker business man who did the dirty work. He, however, would do all he could to help. As each man perished underneath the guild’s organized attack, Tiberius finally rises fully from the rails, placing the bow around his torso. Amber eyes linger on Lanara’s chocolate hues, the villagers were expressing their gratitude and concern. He knew what to do. The language bounces in his ear and he walks over to the rope that Lanara used to hoist herself to land. Sweet, sweet land. If the lycan could kiss the ground, he would in this very moment. The man sways a little, but ends up walking near Lanara to Renata. The man smiles with charm and nods his head to the woman, however, her broken speech makes him shake his head. Tiberius slowly reaches out and gently places hands on her clasped grateful ones. Renata is shooketh, but altogether, still thankful. He then turns to the guild to translate what Renata is saying towards the rest of the villagers. “She’s having them board the ship… Letting them know that the wounded will be attended to,” he mutters to Lanara. Without another word, he moves forward towards villagers speaking in the foreign tongue. Some of them laugh because he butchers the language because his own language is broken. I think he said “we are going to help all you chickens” or something silly like that. Certain words also sound similar to others. With this, he gives a dopey grin. He then looks over his shoulder at the healing crew and other guild members and commands, “Assist the wounded on board. Children and elders first.” Once that shindig is done, Tiber would address the familiar red-haired woman. “Oh, I’m with ya.. Venturil… maybe Cenril, but never had to experience that. Do twisters only happen in farmland? You know, like that one story--“ he cuts off due to Scandal’s attention-seeking. Best to get back on track, anyway. With Scandal’s request, he automatically says, “I think it might be best for me to stay with the villagers, for now. I don’t know what else I need to be doing.” He would look towards Lanara in that moment.


[Post 1 of 2] Elioyahazer || What greets the eyes of those gathering is one of terrible deeds and horror. At the base of a haphazardly created hall stands a man dressed from head to toe in black robes - emblazoned with a crimson circle. His old weathered face is littered with the foul etchings of a price paid for his dark ways. A sickening, snaggle toothed grin besmirches his visage and arms spread wide. Behind him lies three individual humans strapped to separate tables - spikes hammered into their wrists which further pin them in place. They cry, attempting to call out for help, but the gags they are forced to wear, keep them from ushering anything beyond muffled screams. Those powerful tornadoes loom in the distance with their intense winds, answering to the beck and call of three other arcane users who stand ready to summon them and cause devastation. A menacing laugh escapes Crimson Cloaks mouth before his words spew forth with rage - like liquid spilling over the sides of a mason jar. “Fools,” his voice beckons. “This is -my- island and my work will not be undone.” His near hawk like gaze presses over each member gathered. “Blood of the unwilling.” His voice calls out. Strands and streams of crimson vitae answer his beckoning - being pulled straight from the imprisoned individuals behind him; the source of power behind this bloodmage. It pools and bubbles before him and that sick grin, while his words switch to something that even a knowledgeable translator would not know. In moments, the toll has been paid, tearing into the void of the world are monsters which step through those blackened rifts. Horned, covered in spikes and as grotesque as their master. They sweep forth, four in all, and raise their deadly claws in an attempt to end the lives of those nearby - Khitti, Scandal, Elioyahazer and even Lanara. The tornadoes twist as they are called, releasing the sharks which swim as freely through the air as they do in water. Their forms lunge, as if carried by an unknown torrent of wind. Their sharp teeth seek to rend flesh from bone and enjoy a tasty snack. However, the master has yet to stop, and pools more vitae, to summon a near opaque red shield to protect his form.


[Post 2 of 2] Elioyahazer only smiles to Lanara’s comment, hoping she will answer Tiber’s words. His bow could be used in battle, but that’s up to her entirely. “Do what you can to help stop Crimson Cloak, Scandal.” When the group who chooses to go, arrives where their target resides, he cannot describe the menace that Crimson Cloak truly is. Nor does he have the words to even express his surprise at the summoning technique used by their formidable foe. He grits his teeth hard, refusing to give in to any form of fear that might threaten to grip him. He is an ex assassin, and a spellblade to boot. There are things he would do or so he thought, until he realized the folly of his attempts. His form sidesteps the attack from the creature threatening to end his life. His weapon lashes out, not once but thrice. Each one an expertly crafted offensive that should tear his opponent apart and disable it. But this is not what happens, and he casts an awkward glance to where his attacks should have hit. What he finds are only minor wounds, closer to scratches upon their hellish flesh. Perhaps basic weapons could do little against such terrible foes, where holy and magic might just end things entirely? Instead, he wastes no further time, breaking into a mad dash of a scramble for one of the three mages. This time, his blade meets flesh and ends his foes life - leaving him as nothing more than a crumpled mess. The particular tornado he had controlled, ends abruptly, casting the sharks back out into the seas from where they came. He’s satisfied finally, but there is plenty more.


Lanara gives a shrug in regards to Scandal’s idea about how best to deal with the storms. She wasn’t a meteorologist, though she was toying with the idea of how to put her magic to use and maybe pull the elements apart, somehow. Khitti and Tiber are overheard, and she sighs heavily, as none of them were experts in this field. She’d have to hire a weather expert or something, at some point. “Tiber…” She knows the male isn’t a fighter, and that he had -not- signed up for this, so she softly speaks to the lycan, “Why don’t you go and tend to the villagers? They won’t understand how the healers are merely trying to help. You can speak on their behalf.” As he leaves the group on the beach, Lana scowls at Crimson Cloak as he finally makes his grand appearance, the witch not the least bit surprised to see that blood magic was at play. How else would he have gotten such power, were it not from a life source? Dark magic was not to be toyed with, and the witch wrinkles her nose in disgust, hating that she didn’t plan for such an encounter. Surely, she would have brought a plethora of tools, along with others that had the ability to cast holy magic. Perhaps she would have called upon some of her fellow witches? That isn’t the case, and Lana glances at Khitti, knowing that it would be up to the two of them most likely, to attack their foe with a holy type of magic. In good time, as they had other matters to tend to, such as the horned beasts that were prowling along the beach and viciously attacking. Battling against the storms would be futile, as more and more sharks would manifest, and they’d be depleting their energy. Going for Crimson Cloak, directly, is the wisest choice, but Lana knows that the nearer they get to their creator, the worse the attacks would be from his creations. Assessing the situation, an idea strikes the witch, and she hugs her athame to her chest, sending up a silent plea to her Goddess. Lana jumps into the fray, and aims to slip a dagger into the side of the one nearest her, though the effects are minimal, if at all. The creature of darkness whips around and snarls, before a hand snakes out and reaches for Lana’s throat. It’s then that her spell is completed, and the tip her blade emits a golden glow which the horned beast is absorbing. It thrashes from side to side, its claws grabbing at the air, as it falls onto its back and dies within a matter of seconds. The witch doesn’t waste any time, as she pulls out her dagger, and leaps onto the back of another that crosses her path, only to die by her hand, much like the first beast she had slayed. Lana smirks, pleased with her work, as she looks to see where else she may be needed.


Khitti laughed at Crimson Cloak. She laughed! Clearly, Khitti must be insane. Nah. Well maybe a little. But seriously, though. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you?” The redhead seemed wholly unafraid of the terrors that’d been summoned. Eli would tend to the bloodmages and Lanara made her decision to go after those creatures, “I think you’ll find that it’s a good idea to fear those with fiery swords, just as many in the past have learned.” Khitti was, of course, not entirely speaking of herself, but that of her adopted brother, Lionel, as well. He’d taught her a great deal of the sword fighting that she knew and likewise Brand with her magic. She drew on the teachings of both Catalians as she joined Lanara, making sure to keep the witch safe in between strikes of blade and flame, “You’re not the first evil here and you won’t be the last.” Supervillains were stubborn folk; they never seemed to listen to when their downfall was imminent. Khitti liked to taunt them with this knowledge, however. Even if they didn’t heed her words, they still heard them. It served as a distraction and gave Khitti much enjoyment, “I’m a bit disappointed in you, though. Scary monsters? Try fluffy bunnies next time! No one’ll expect it.” She paused in her thoughts, and grinned mischievously at Crimson Cloak, even as she fought the monsters, “Wait, I forgot. There won’t be a next time.” In moments of necessity, she’d grab hold of Lanara, pulling her here, pushing her there, only to keep the woman from getting maimed. It was almost as if they were dancing. Except there was death and destruction around them. It certainly made Khitti miss partnering with Brand on adventures for the Warrior’s Guild.


Scandal growled as a horned beast leapt as him biting down on his wing as he prepared to lift off the added weight offsetting his flight for the first time in his life since childhood, he tore to his right to shake off the creature only to hear and feel the tearing in the membrane of his wing, he reached out with foreclaw and attempted to shake it off, but to no avail. He breathed and grew larger attempting to make the creatures lose grip under his sudden growth to which he was met with enough success that as he rose with difficult from his shredded wing, he sent the horned beast falling from his back towards the ground below breaking itself upon the rocks. But the twister was dead ahead, He struggled to flap his wings, normally he wouldn't have to as much, he had relied on the mana flowing within him to keep himself afloat, but now with it wanning, he realized that, he hadn't stored enough of his reserves into his third, he had even considered that he could have and now he was suffering for it. As he flew closer to the twister the winds tore at him trying to engulf him, and suck him in. It was only by gradual increase of his mass that allowed him to be able survive the twisters onslaught, but this wasn't the end of his problems, hundreds of sharks from within the twister descended upon him, biting and biting, some breaking their teeth on the scales while others succeeding on feasting on his red scaled flesh, He felt the pain, for the first time he had begun to feel the pain again of injuries other than shapeshifting, as his silver blood fell away from his body to be sucked into the twister. Elsewhere the arcane mage in control of the twister smiled broadly feeling the dragons blood fuel his twister even more. Scandal struggled in the air, then focusing on his third storage and what he presumed was his last, he funneled the magic into a single blast of fire from his mouth, the light setting the twister ablaze and the searing the flesh of all things within the twister, including blackening the scales and sealing the wounds on Scandal's own hide. The mage in control eyes first glowed with the massive energy being absorbed and smiled with a giddy delight, but then the man staggered, the veins of his body glowing, radiating with power. He gasped under as the internal skeleton began to radiate. He cried out with a shout as his twister broke up, and he too along with it his body exploding in a flash of magical energy causing the mages robes to fall to the ground aflame. The skeleton had turned to diamond and radiated a greenish glow. Then Scandal exhausted feeling blood loss, tried to steer his way back hopeful that someone would be able to stop the other. His eyes closed and his last feeling was, falling.


Tiber keeps a stoic face now as Lanara speaks to him. This moment was before Crimson Cloak said all of his evil words of threat. His eyes remain soft and serious and he nods in agreement. “I think that’s best for now. I think that is where I’m most needed. If danger nears the boat, I’ll keep on guard with the others. I think most of us are armed,” the Catalian finishes. To the rest of the guild he gazes around the swarm of members. “Good luck, to all of you,” amber eyes dance over to Lanara one last time, “and stay out of harm’s reach.” A long stare now moves to Elio. A knowing stare, a respectful one. He then hollers something in the foreign language that finishes getting everyone on board before he walks around translating for healers and attending to minor wounded villagers. His deed was done.


(Post 1 of 2) Elioyahazer || Scandal succeeds in destroying one of the tornadoes, and its mage along with it despite his free fall and unconscious body where he might land part way in the water - cushioning his blow. Lanara is kicking but in her own way, while Khitti’s protective nature and chiding words of verbal taunts and gestures do not go unnoticed. The grin upon his visage dies and he twists his thoughts into action. The protective spell of blood ripples and hisses, before finally coming to an end with a single archaic word uttered by Crimson Cloak. In an abhorrent display of dynamism, his guardian solidifies and explodes outward - sending a wave of concussive force and hardened blood in a full circle around him. The blast is strong enough to knock unprepared foes to the ground or simply impale them with those shards. He smiles once more and pulls free the last reserves of blood from those unwilling sacrifices. His beady eyes switch to Khitti and her alone in these moment, too arrogant to realize that he was making a serious mistake. “Let’s end this then, shall we?” Once more his words switch to a language of unknown origin. The sky darkens, even without the coverage of clouds - the sun being covered by a red, unmistakable veil. The air crackles and pops in an ominous display of what might come shortly thereafter, but the spell he is using has caused an opening; for its casting time is rather long. Is he even still protected? Had Khitti’s words really gotten to him and muddled his thoughts?


(Post 2 of 2) Elioyahazer still finds himself rather busy - fending off those sharks as they swipe through the air upon invisible puffs of wind. The ex assassin grunts, trying to keep his balance in such close proximity to high winds. He pulls free the harpoon strapped to his back, aims and fires. The shot whips through the air, curving with the wind and impales the bull shark that had just tried to claim him as a meal. He pulls free the rope attached to the device and attempts to chamber another. However, a natural born killer, a predator of the deep finally claims a nibble. Or rather, clamps its jaws down over the shoulder and left arm of Eli. Even with the chain he wears to protect himself, he lets out a wail of agony and finds himself being lifted into the air against his will. In moments he’s dragged from the beach, shark still attached to him, where it opens his jaw once to reassert its grip; Elioyahazer however, slips free and finds himself tumbling through the air - splashing into the ocean just beyond the fight. He clamours to bring himself to the surface, gasping for breath while waves pound his frame. Luckily, their power is enough to drag the ex assassin back towards shore, instead of further out to sea. He musters the strength to kneel upon the sands, using his one good arm to aim his harpoon. His sights look down the barrel, eyeing the last arcane mage himself. His shot released and his target destroyed. All that remains now is the ring leader himself. He hoped the group realized that now was the moment to attack their circus freak of a ruler.


Lanara slides her athame from the fourth horned creature she’s managed to successfully take down, using her superior intelligence and quick reflexes to dodge and counter their attacks. The light magic seems to be the trick in dealing with the hellish beasts, though their efforts don’t seem to be making too much of a dent in Crimson Cloak’s shield. Several of the fighters are filled with fatigue, as the battle continues, only for a further display of power from the blood mage, in an effort to deter and maim his opposers. The darkening of the sky and the rising intensity of the waves to their backs, all are signs that something awful is about to happen, and Lana braces herself for impact. It’s at this precise time that Eli and a bull shark are both drug into the ocean, a stream of blood in their wake, as the weapons expert takes damage to his shoulder. This gives the witch pause, as her instinct is to chase after the male and attempt a rescue, however, Lanara wouldn’t be saving his life, as she takes a hit of her very own. The final tornado seems stronger than the two that had been dispelled, and as the storm rages over the sand, the tail of a great white shark makes contact with the small woman’s side, sending her flying a good fifty feet to the west. Thankfully, the wire material that is wrapped around her torso saves Lana from any severe internal damage, though she seems to be a little disoriented. Miraculously, her fiery haired friend steps in, and as her warrior-like movements across the sand are so similar to a ballroom dance, the witch follows suit. They cling to each others forms, Khitti using her sword, whereas Lana uses her magically fueled dagger to take hits at the monsters that cover the sand. Their synchronized footwork helps them to overcome those that wish them harm, though it brings them nearer and nearer to Crimson Cloak and his wavering shield. Her fellow guild mates are covered in sand and gore, and Scandal lay unconscious, a short distance away. Being an expert at throwing knives, the witch waits until she’s as close as possible to where the blood magister stood, and using her last reserve of strength, she flicks her wrist and hurls it into the air. The athame spirals forward, at the speed of light, as Lana uses the element of air to ensure a direct hit on her target. The blade pierces the bubble of protection that encased Crimson Cloak, and a display of bright light covers the area, as the darkness in the sky seems to dissipate. Sharply inhaling, and feeling as though she just might spill over, the witch looks at Khitti, her dark hues pleading. “Finish him. Use your faith. You got this.” Lana’s slender arms would slide from the redhead’s form, as she takes an unsteady step back, and glares at the man that had caused this mayhem.


Khitti was still grinning like a madwoman, keeping up the facade of mirth. In truth, she was angry. Angry that these people had been harmed. Angry that yet another bad guy had dug his greedy little hands into their world. Was that sort of thing ever going to stop? Or was Khitti fated to deal with the likes of him until the day she died (again)? “That’s a nice trick! I’d hire you for my kid’s first birthday party if you weren’t, you know, entirely frakking evil and not worthy of mercy of any sort. It’s a shame really.” The fighting began to wind down and Lanara’s words were heard, a genuine smirk finding Khitti’s lips now as the witch parted from her. “Seika? I can tell you’ve been itching for a fight, since you’ve not been with me much lately,” Khitti said to her sword, or rather, the sprite within it. “Well? Here’s your chance.” The sword was then flung towards Crimson Cloak, the pointy end aimed for the bastard’s chest. They were close, but not close enough for something like a katana to be thrown. And yet… the sword as a whole glowed. It shifted in power from gold, to orange, to red. It would seek out the literal heart of evil and attempt to pierce it. And if everyone had been right, if Crimson Cloak was indeed no longer protected? The sword would run him through and those familiar holy flames would erupt from the blade and consume the mage.


Scandal’s eyes fluttered briefly open. The pain was wretching he vomited as he awoke, silver blood poured from his mouth in torrents, formerly seared wounds some gashes meters across, torrents of silver blood filling the water of the cove he was in and mixing into the sand or shore. He barely could move, three of his appendages were limp, and pain was unbearable from them, with his right fore claw he dragged himself ashore, his body putting up much a fight to prevent him from moving, But he managed to pull himself enough. His eyes were darkening yet again. With the last of strength his form rapidly shifted and collapsed in on itself deflating into the 7' tall form of his draconian self. The wounds while smaller were still grevious on his body. He heard his hearts the three of them pounding one right after the other, and then, he remembered no more, as the blood pooled in the crater of where he lay.


Elioyahazer /|| Crimson Cloak had made his last and final mistake. His summoning stops, eyes drift to the wounds upon his flesh in horror, flames licking at his chest. Had he lost favor? His mouth goes agape, and hands grasp at the sword buried into his chest. For moments he struggles, finally pulling it free from his center mass and drops it to the ground - still ablaze. A rift opens nearby in the air, a giant clawed hand reaches forth and grabs the blood mage - squeezing what little life remained in his veins. He screams out in terror before collapsing and is pulled into the void to find his ‘just’ rewards for a life spent in such dark servitude. The portal closes and everything shifts to that of serenity. Eli finally musters the will to stand, once everything has cleared. Wobbling past the group and eyeing each with a pride that stretches over his visage in the form of a smile. No matter how far the group was from him in these moments he still words “Well done.” Elioyahazer says nothing further and begins the long trek back to the ship, wounded, but refusing to speak further while Lanara tended to the group. They were not prepared for this and he had injuries he needed taken care of. The desert born drops the harpoon, where it falls into the sand, and presses his single good hand against the wound he had received from the shark; covering those digits in crimson vitae. Without any further words other members of the guild come to claim and gather Scandal at Eli’s request, where he might be healed. He couldn’t carry him himself right now.


Lanara :: The witch honestly didn’t believe that everything would have run as smoothly as it had, that the island would be reclaimed, and that Crimson Cloak would be defeated. It wasn’t that she doubted her fellow Guild members, she just believed that they had arrived too late, and that after the elemental beings attacked their ship, that they were doomed. With the portal now closed, it’s safe for everyone to lower their weapons, reboard their transport, and tend to the many that were wounded. Standing tall, Lana surveys her own injuries, which thankfully are minimal. Nothing more than an occasional scrape and some bruising from tackling the horned beasts, and being thrown across the beach by the powerful shark’s tail whip. Blood pools through her leggings, where her stitches from the night before had come undone, though it wasn’t too serious. The leader trails her gaze over the wreckage of the area, before a grateful smile is given to each of the Adventurer’s Guild cherished members, for without them, all surely would have been lost. Scandal is tended to by several medics from the Healer’s Guild, while a few archers from the Ranger’s Guild carry him in the direction of the ship. Opening her mouth to say the small speech she prepared, she’s cut off, as a high pitched bark interrupts their moment of silence, and Circinus is seen prancing along the beach with one of the villagers carrying a large chest. Their treasure that they all had rightfully earned, with their blood, sweat, tears, magic, and above all, faith. The dog and chest are loaded onto the massive boat, and Lana knows that it’s time for them all to head home, recover, rebuild, and plan their next grand adventure. “We did it! I’m so proud of all of you, and of all we have accomplished. Thank you all for risking your lives, and realizing it means so much more than the gold and glory. Aira… Please ready the ship, it’s time to head back to Cenril.” Lanara locks eyes with Khitti, hoping that her faith had been restored, that she’d see the odds were in their favor today, and that there had to be some higher power lending them aide. “I cannot thank you enough… You saved my life.” Her expression is sincere, before she glances towards the boat, where Tiberius is given a curt nod, for manning those aboard the ship. The witch held a hand out to Eli, concerned about his injury, “I will tend to it, personally. Are you alright?” The look she gives the desert born is filled with worry beyond what a leader would feel for a fellow guildmate, as there’s a genuine softness in her gaze. However, the weapon’s master breezes on by, heading off to the ship on his own accord, lost in his thoughts. Lanara quickly follows suit and heads towards the massive boat, wanting to divide the gold in the chest evenly amongst the team, and to plan a celebration party in the near future.


Khitti watched as the mage burned and was then stolen away to some other dark realm. Her attention shifted from Eli, to Scandal, to everyone else on the beach, and finally to Lanara. She definitely felt a bit better, albeit not entirely so, but she did manage a smile for the witch, as well as a nod. The templar would then move to retrieve her sword. She stared at the scorch marks on the ground beneath her where the katana had been dropped, observed the curdled blood from Crimson Cloak that had hit the earth and boiled from the holy fire’s heat. There was still that little bit of longing for the darkness. A twinge of jealousy. What he did is not what she wanted though. She’d wanted to use the darkness for good. Always for good… even if she was not a wholly good person. The magic armor she’d donned just before the fight faded away, revealing the torn, soft leathers she’d been wearing from the start. She squinted at the blood, in thought, then shook her head, and wiped it off onto her pant leg before returning the sword to its sheathe. Khitti would be one of the last to board the ship, taking her time to mull over what had happened and what might be to come for her, and possible the rest of them.


Scandal :: As the medics dragged Scandal aboard they callously simply tossed him into the hold of the ship, he was only a dragon.


Aira was exhausted from her fight, all the arrows in the quiver upon her back were depleted and she was sporting a cut lip, limping on her leg, unsure of how she even sustained those injuries in the first place. Still, seeing what they were up against, she counted herself blessed. She didn’t know what those hellish horned figures cloaked in darkness were, she hoped to never find out again. As Lana expresses her pride in the group for their accomplishments, the huntress exhales, raking her hand over her face and smearing a bit of blood along her chin. She’s not quite meeting anyone’s eye, and is thankful when the witch bids her to ready the boats where the villagers were finding their bearings, with the aid of the mates on board, lead by Sebastian who the navigator had instructed to remain. Limping, Aira tugs her bow over her head and meanders over to the shoreline where she briefly checks in on the fleet of ships before climbing aboard the main one. Sebastian looks at her with concern which she quickly waves off. “Are they alright?” she mumbles, meaning the villagers. He nods and looks out at shore as the other members of the guild make their way back to the fleet, ready to head back to Cenril in what they could only hope would be an uneventful journey. “Shaken. They’ve seen and been through a lot. But they’re relieved. Thankful. Lanara did a good thing here. You all did.” Nodding curtly Aira sighs and rubs the back of her neck with a wince before clearing her throat and calling out, “Ready the sails!"