this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
[attr="class","junescroll"] peacetime suits a war-child ill. that is not to say that he dislikes the celebrations, nor that he bears saturnalia any specific discontent. it is to say, instead, that it grates on him, whether he likes it or not. it is to say, instead, that the thought of a great feast is enjoyable in principle, and only that. he knows the ritual of celebration enough to anticipate an alcohol-addled fight later in the evening, but a drunken brawl is not vicious in the same way that he would like. he is pacing like a tiger exploring the boundaries of its cage, restless in the way his blood tells him to be, because even now it sings of a battlefield long forgotten. it has never stopped, really. it tells him thus -- that there must be hurt for a reward to be all the sweeter.[break][break]
despite his damnedest efforts to fully enjoy the feast --- because really, he had been looking forward to some good food despite it all --- he jumps to action as soon as a mission summons him. perhaps it had been overdue. a well-bred racehorse must be worked to keep it healthy, lest it run stir-crazy. the paint war had been fun, he does not deny, but it is still paint. [break][break]
a smaller team of witches are already gathered, though from what he gleans from the mission, most of them are there to begin the arduous process of removing the food that they already know is poisoned. the bigger challenge is that of determining the actual scope of the operation, and that of apprehending the criminals. he scans the team as they begin to disperse, searching for one particular face. when he smiles, it is all teeth.[break][break]
"how 'bout for today, we try not to cause any buildings to collapse, yeah?" he is lifting the sunglasses to hang them on the front of his shirt instead, dispelling the temporary dampening spell he has on the purification permanents. there is an odd glint to his eyes, curious in the low light ; perhaps a lightning storm sparking in its depths, if a poet is so inclined. there is only so much magic one can imbue a body with before it leaves its mark on the skin.[break][break]
his gaze slips sideways to meet kasimir's properly, and the edges of his smile soften. "i can start tracking them from the ground, if you'd like to take higher ground for a bit?"[break][break]
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 12, 2019 5:22:45 GMT
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[attr="class","ashni-textbox"]he thinks little of eschewing the feast in favour of a mission summons. oh, he does like saturnalia — is a little in love with the idea of peace and happiness and celebrations, of time spent with friends and family, forgetting the darkness of the world just for a little time to live in the moment; but. but, he does not belong, not as an assassin, not as a witch, not as a lonely red-headed boy whose only family is a girl who lives by the sun and is ready to spread her wings and fly. he belongs to adrenaline and fire, wings and steel and teeth and bone; he belongs to the wind, forever chasing after things just beyond his reach.[break][break]
today, he is chasing something more tangible, though. a person, an alchemist and poisoner; and if he is a little too keen about chasing them down, a little too pleased in fulfilling his orders, well. he does not quite like alchemists, that is all. [break][break]
a familiar face catches his eye— attuned, he could pick him out in a crowd of people, always— maddox; he smiles, small and soft and a little hesitant. something warm blooms beneath his chest.[break][break]
the smile turns into a huff of laughter at the greeting. "that was one time! hardly something i make a habit of," he protests with mock indignation. [break][break]
taking a moment to take in the sight of maddox— he looks... good. better than a few days ago, when they were mutually falling apart by the fireside, certainly much better than when he had been getting his arm cut off. he also looks different, in some small subtle way kasimir cannot quite put his finger on, cannot quite identify. but it suits him, like a smile tailored to the curve of his jaw— like the smile he has on, right now.[break][break]
that warm feeling blossoms again, like a rising sun, a peony unfurling her petals. he folds it away carefully, into a little box he has named maddox in the back of his mind; returns to the task at hand. "i thought you were the wind witch, of the two of us?" he quips, then agrees. "kirjava can go with you, for communication? she may be able to help track his scent."[break][break]
his familiar materialises at his words, stretching out in a distinctly cat-like fashion before blinking lazily at maddox. her lamp-gold eyes track to his artificial arm, then to his face. "glad you're okay now," she says casually, before a toothy grin makes an appearance alongside a rather familiar excitement — bloodlust. "time for a hunt."
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # here we go again
[attr="class","junescroll"] "it sets a precedent," he returns, a laugh lightening his words. "now we've got a reputation to uphold." the hunger abates ; does not recede, so to speak, but tempers itself to a fine edge instead. with a goal in mind, there is a sharpness to his eyes, an easy confidence that he wears draped across his shoulders. it suits him well. far better than the way he had collapsed inwards naught but a few days prior, buckling under a tumultuous heart. all bodies are empires, and it takes only a single errant cog for it to fall.[break][break]
for a brief moment, his gaze over kasimir turns appraising, guiltlessly so ; then the indulgence is over, and he returns his focus to the mission. shakes his head as if to clear it with a faint chuckle.[break][break]
"i track better from down here," he says by way of explanation, and waggles his fingers in a wave at the ocelot. "plus, i don't think i can call moosely just yet." a sweeping gesture towards the narrow, table-lined streets of the city. every merrymaker sundial has to offer is out in full force tonight, and he reckons summoning a giant moose in the middle of it all, even with the intent of using his element for surveillance purposes, might not be the wisest idea. his grin turns sheepish. "maybe later when we pick up the trail. and when i'm sure moosely won't accidentally gore anyone."[break][break]
with their roles settled, maddox is quick to position himself within the scene of the first crime --- which is to say, he paces the length of the room, and every so often he pauses over a table or countertop and plucks information from the air like a harpist at their strings. [break][break]
"three total," he says suddenly, without preamble. the interface flickers invisible in his eyes. "they're all at least alchemists, from what they've done here, but that's only because i'm looking for direct interference now." there is no telling whether they have other tricks up their sleeves ; a secondary affinity perhaps unused at the site of the crime itself, but pivotal in the execution on a grander scale. "one's decently stronger than the other two. silva, i reckon."[break][break]
"they went east-ish, i think." there is a trail of mana, barely detectable, that fades out in that direction. scarcely a track, more of a residual, left by two witches who were clumsier in their exit. "the two went that way. probably left in a hurry."
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 12, 2019 11:49:33 GMT
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[attr="class","ashni-textbox"]“excuses,” he scoffs, but the edges of his lips twitch up. there is just something effortless about bantering with maddox, something warm and comfortable that makes it far too easy to smile— a rarity from him normally, even so at the beginning of their relationship. but now? and yet, he cannot bring himself to stop, to watch himself, to step back and let distance fill the spaces between them.[break][break]
he shakes the thought loose — he is so easily distracted nowadays! — and turns his eyes towards the streets where his partner had gestured. tries to imagine moosely, ridiculously tall, broad moosely with his antlers towering above, let loose into the throngs of people— and has to stifle a laugh. "perhaps he can let a hand at intimidation, once we have caught sight of the targets." it is a valid tactic; were the moose to appear out of nowhere and charge him, kasimir is reasonably sure he would be quite unnerved.[break][break]
kirjava pads closer to where maddox is casting his spells. she sniffs the ground around his vicinity, trying to parse through all the scents pervading the area. it is not an easy task with all the distractions around, but she is a hunter. she is persistent. [break][break]
kasimir, meanwhile, takes in the information the athenian has gathered, turning it over in his mind, matching it with what little files they had been given. "there may be more accomplices, elsewhere," he muses. "silva is officially ranked as an adept, but there is reasonable suspicion he may be stronger than that. especially with his escape." which means maddox and himself are likely more than enough of a match for the weaker witches, thankfully. less property damage that way.[break][break]
"the two accomplices first?" he looks to the east, tracing out what he knows of the city in that direction. not part of the main festivities, but still decently busy streets — perhaps the two witches are trying to blend into the crowds. or perhaps they are attempting to make their way downtown, or to the hovel beyond.
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # shitpostcentral is my hometown
[attr="class","junescroll"] briefly, he thinks that perhaps the ( very likely ) possibility of even more accomplices ought to inspire some sort of caution in him, but there is not. not really, anyway --- there is no anticipation nor fear that settles over him like a second shroud, just the knowledge of further combatants filed away neatly into a corner of his mind. he takes it in stride, as he is wont to do, in the same way he offers a nod at the possibility that silva may be stronger than they originally thought.[break][break]
"the two accomplices first," he agrees, and follows kasimir's gaze towards the streets. it is still busier than he would like, filled with groups slowly meandering their way across town in search of a place for dinner and drinks. to go through the streets would be to take a slow route. their prey may be aiming for stealth --- he is not.[break][break]
"kinda hope he's strong," he adds belatedly, and there is something playful in his voice as he eyes the roof of a low building. "it's been a while." then, without warning, he is launching himself into a sprint straight towards the nearest building, planting a boot firmly along the wall as he springs upwards. it is different, without magic to lighten his step, but it is not as though he is unfamiliar with the sensation. besides, he is not entirely without it --- the new boots he recently obtained are delightfully enchanted, and he finds himself catching the ledge of the roof effortlessly. he is vaguely aware of a few looks that he gets, and he raises a hand to wave, like he's just a regular guy out on a stroll, and not like he's got a giant axe strapped to his back and he's standing on a roof like a madman.[break][break]
the hunt begins ; there is an easy, loping pace that maddox settles into, interrupted every so often as he jumps the gaps between buildings. his eyes are fixed on the crowds ; specifically, the faint cloud of colours that hover above them, mana signatures trailing off outlines invisible to the naked eye. there are two that he looks for, and two that he finds. the faintest traces of grey and blue linger in the periphery of his vision. "they took a left, there." he raises a hand to point. "where's that lead to?"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 15, 2019 5:59:56 GMT
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[attr="class","ashni-textbox"]"i thought you were hoping for minimal property damage," he says drily, but there is a certain gleam in maddox's eyes that speaks of electrified air before a storm, of bared teeth and magic singing through veins — the sort of battle-blood kirjava mirrors as a predator on a hunt. and kasimir understands, too — he may prefer to go unnoticed, but his magic was made to be seen. [break][break]
following after his partner is as easy as breathing— as easy as flying — his wings come to him as naturally as his fire does, as if he were born to the sky instead of from embers and ash. high high high like the aspirations of a dreamer, the entirety of sundial sprawls out beneath him like a living being, veins of colour and blood the flurry of feet, mana running in golden rivets down her streets, breathing with the lives of all her residents cradled within her city walls. the witches down below glow to his witch's intuition, hundreds of them streaming past like fireflies; it feels beautiful. it feels like magic.[break][break]
maddox is hardly a challenge to follow, even without kirjava shadowing him close by — his giant axe is something of a banner, if not the bonfire-glow of his presence. the streets grow quieter as they move along, away from the main festivities; after a while, his intuition can even start to pinpoint individual witches again, sparks against a backdrop of stone. [break][break]
through his familiar he hears the question, and kirjava picks the answer out of their shared mindspace without a break in her stride. "oh," she says, entirely unhurried as if going for a casual afternoon stroll instead of a hunt. "not a smart decision, that. that way is the hireling's keep." her eyes are bright, burning and delighted and a touch too savage for polite company. she flashes him a toothy grin. "our hunting grounds."[break][break]
truly, a terrible decision on the part of the two alchemists, not that they could have known. after all, he and kirjava, they are silvertongue witches, they know the lay of the land intimately, each nook and cranny, each hiding location; they know the people here too, the look of people who belong here. he wonders what the two are thinking, really — are they hoping to blend in with the silvertongue fledglings? perhaps looking to loiter around the somewhat unsavoury businesses nearby? or maybe they are attempting to slip away via the back alleys that wind like snakes through the downtown. [break][break]
whatever the reason, kasimir is really rather confident he and maddox will be able to catch up to them without a fuss.
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # scrolls used: wings of an angel
[attr="class","junescroll"] he likes this rhythm that they've fallen into, huntsong settling comfortably around their shoulders like a heavy cloak. "silvertongue territory, huh," he muses, and returns the ocelot's smile with one of his own; a wolf-like, roguish thing that matches the lightning in his eyes.[break][break]
"well," he begins, and his eyes narrow as he turns his attention fully towards the crowds of witches, "i do hope that you'll show me around." above, kasimir's own magic blazes beacon-bright, and it takes considerable effort not to drop the hunt and simply admire the summoner's magic. ah -- the pains of being a purifier. instead, he tries to remember what he can of the hireling's keep. it is hardly the most familiar of places to him ; maddox is far more at home in dim-lit back alleys and the light-dappled streets of eclipse town. this part of sundial is fairly unexplored territory, but naturally, it scarcely slows him down.[break][break]
there- moosely rumbles, watching the world through maddox's eyes. the trails grow brighter. they are closer, then. "i'm not sure they've noticed that we're here yet," he says, with amusement curling the corners of his lips. "just ahead, there. there's one you should be able to pick up easily, i think he's still got some sort of active glamour over him." [break][break]
their quarry is still a decent distance ahead, though from here, it is enough to pick them apart from the thinning crowds. there's an air about them, like they're trying to blend in, but their shoulders are held too stiffly, their furtive glances too telling --- that, and the magic recently used, that stains the air like a child caught red-handed in the pantry. "i'll take left if you take right?"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 15, 2019 11:44:10 GMT
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[attr="class","ashni-textbox"]"there's not much to see here," kirjava quips, falling into the rhythm of banter easily like she has not teased him hundreds of times for doing the same, talking too much over fighting — though really, it is only just maddox, and saskia, maybe. "just buildings, alleyways, shady businesses, and, oh, a criminal or two." two criminals to be precise, foolish and short-sighted and very very unlucky. not that criminals in general fare very well around the hireling's keep — silvertongue prefers to keep all suspicious, potentially law-breaking business inside the coven, thanks.[break][break]
a bright presence registers via kasimir's intuition around the same time maddox speaks, then another, decently stronger than the witches around them. kirjava smirks, the expression decidedly odd ( and a little unsettling ) on her feline face. "we sense them. high novice level, is kasimir's guess." he sees them too, a man and a woman trying a little too hard to blend in, looking around a little too much for their swift pace. and the tell-tale hint of blurriness that accompanies a lunar glamour stretched a little too thin, floating around the man like a cape. [break][break]
he lands next to his partner, dismissing his wings with but a thought. if they have not sensed maddox yet— maddox, who is an acolyte boarding on master, maddox, who feels like a stormfront, like lightning caught in motion — then they will not sense kasimir either. a thoughtful looks lights up his eyes as he looks towards their targets, and then the rest of the people on the street. there are enough civilians to be mindful of, though he recognises the faces of a few silvertongue fledglings and apprentices drifting about. [break][break]
"we need them awake and conscious for questioning, yes?" he muses. "and there are civilians to be careful of. perhaps we should, um. intimidate them, a little. i have an illusion that can help in both intimidation and crowd control."aura of the king should be enough to disperse the civilians, especially if the silvertongues around also help out. "do you have anything that could secure the area?" they are trying to reduce property damage, after all.
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # scrolls used: wings of an angel
[attr="class","junescroll"] as kasimir lands beside him, maddox takes the moment to pull the sunglasses back over his vision. it is decidedly odd, to be wearing shades at night, but they are not quite opaque enough to obscure his vision entirely. rather, they are a mundane solution to a magical problem, dulling his vision to a far more manageable degree -- especially in the vicinity of hireling's keep and the structural enchantments that run along the building like creeping vines ; especially in the vicinity of kasimir, who shines with a brilliance that could blind, not unlike the sun itself.[break][break]
"awake, conscious, and capable of speech --- would be preferable, yes," he says lightly, and perhaps as a reminder to himself as well, because he has often been guilty of going a little overboard, so to speak. he runs through a mental inventory, stepping forward until he is at the edge of the roof, crouching as he watches their prey. "i mean- i have a moose?"[break][break]
"i could shut down their magic entirely, but that might be overkill. also might make people panic which is- uh- not ideal." he is thinking out loud now, drumming his fingers against his thigh. clicks his tongue decisively. he's a purifier, battlefield control is his specialty. "if i just hang back a little and keep an eye out, i can probably purify anything they throw out before it hits any of the buildings."[break][break]
he drops into a sitting position, legs dangling over the edge of the building. it is easy to mistake for a casual pose, lazy and relaxed, if not for the way the breeze that was not there before picks up ever so subtly ; below, in the shadows of the buildings, his familiar crosses silently into reality. maddox glances up, moonlight glinting off a playful grin. "ready whenever you are."
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 15, 2019 12:42:57 GMT
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he glances at the sunglasses — he had not asked before, but obviously they serve as more than mere accessories, or sun deterrent — but now is not the time. later, he tells himself, after the fire and the fight.[break][break]
kasimir huffs in amusement, and kirjava snorts, a far more indelicate sound than one might expect from her if they knew not what she is truly like, what she truly is — that is, starfire and bloodthirst and defiance forged into flesh. "recalling our previous conversation," he says, a touch wryly, "this is probably the perfect opportunity for moosely to shine."[break][break]
following maddox's thought stream and remembering the events that have battered salem in the past few months, he has to concede the point. "probably a little overkill, yeah," he agrees, thinking of the chaos that had broken out at erza virgo's demonstration. not that kasimir can talk — half his skillset is practically the definition of overkill, he simply cannot deny it anymore, while the other half is centred around killing people quietly. an odd combination, but then again, he has not had the most usual life.[break][break]
but his overkill might actually be an asset today. moosely materialises in the shadows, and kirjava smiles again, a toothy thing accentuated by the glint in her eyes. "if you are taking the back, i think i might appear in front of them. from the sky," he says, and there is a thrill of excitement, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. this tactic is something new to him, something he has never done before, but... he thinks it might be fun. just a little. "wish me luck."[break][break]
he takes to the sky in again, skimming just over the rooftops before he leaps, descends from the sky in front of the two witches in question. this time, he allows his wings to shine forth in full luminosity, massive appendages arching from his back like he was born to them. hints of fire flicker between the feathers, around his hair, and his aura of the king unfurls over the street like a banner, a wave of sunlight. [break][break]
the street stills, falls completely silent. everyone in the vicinity is looking at them, at him. including the two targets. "hello," he says. he does not smile, and his eyes are burning, but his tone is pleasant still, polite. to the crowd, to the civilians, to the silvertongue fledglings staring his way, he says, "please clear the premise." to the two alchemists, who have yet to recover, "you are under arrest. please surrender peacefully."[break][break]
at their backs, kirjava readies for a fight.
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # scrolls used: wings of an angel, aura of the king
[attr="class","junescroll"] "good luck," he calls out cheerily as kasimir takes flight. "have fun!" maddox takes a moment to watch, ever indulgent, before he too slips off the roof, static crackling along the edges of his own wings. it softens the fall when he hits the ground, boots impacting gently, but what he does not bother to hide is the way the air around himself grows heavier, tinged with ozone. [break][break]
he crosses his arms over his chest, and lightning arcs through the ephemeral wings spread wide behind him, fanning out and up like a great crown. kasimir's magic washes over him, as it does the rest of the street; he feels a shiver run down his spine as silence drops over the people like a shroud. stands a little taller, spine a little straighter. it's a funny mix of sensations. some part of him is sorely convinced that he ought to be kneeling, a prayer upon his lips. some part of him thinks he's marching to war, shoulders back and chest out and hands tight around a blade. in the end, he does none of those, only idly wonders what it would feel like to feel the full brunt of the spell if it were directed only at him. [break][break]
"please surrender peacefully," says kasimir, and he sees the two alchemists tense, their glamour wavering. the crowd is already parting, scattering to the sides and seeking shelter within nearby buildings, though their eyes remain fixed on kasimir --- maddox can hardly blame them. neither does he blame their quarry for the look that they give him, wild-eyed and desperate and a glint in their eyes like they're picking the weaker of the two, because one is suspended above them glowing like some kind of avenging angel and, well. maddox probably would've made the same choice, in their position.[break][break]
he'll give credit where credit's due, though ; the witches move fast. one snaps out a wand and a bolt of lightning-like magic streaks towards him. maddox isn't particularly worried about that, though. what catches his attention, instead, is the atheneum interface that flickers into existence around the witch. interesting. he raises a hand and the vibrionus reflects harmlessly off it, streaking instead towards its origin. doesn't quite make contact, though, because he fully intends it to be a warning shot. the ground at the witch's feet is scorched instead. there's a flurry of movement that he doesn't quite catch, and he catches sight of the other witch drawing back to strike instead at kasimir.[break][break]
what is it? an explosive vial? a prepared spell? he can't quite make out the details, but it scarcely changes the confidence he has in kasimir. when he calls out a warning, it sounds disconcertingly blase, casual as though they are playing frisbee in a field somewhere instead of in the middle of a fight. "heads up!"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 16, 2019 5:16:55 GMT
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the air is heavy; not just with kasimir's magic, but maddox's too — he senses more than sees wings of storm-winds and ozone unfurling, the purifier standing solid and strong and terrifying as the eye wall of a hurricane behind the two targets, electric potential buzzing in their bones. it is a moment suspended in time, in mana, balanced on the edge of a precipice just waiting for the signal to fall.[break][break]
and fall it does. the crowds scatter, unusually hushed still for all their rapid movement, eyes fixated on the fight; their targets glance back and forth as if caught between a rock and a hard place — or an immovable object and an unstoppable force — desperate to seek an out that does not exist. a spell fired swiftly at maddox, and a vial thrown at himself — fast, but not fast enough. [break][break]
"got it in hand," he says to his mission partner with a similar lack of concern. a casual flick of fingers sends a phoenix of fire screaming towards the vial, beak wide open to swallow it whole. the potion detonates in its stomach and kasimir lets the construct explode up and out like a supernova burst, flames sloughing harmlessly off his skin, vanishing before they hit the ground. it is overkill, perhaps, but then again, so is this entire exercise. [break][break]
the alchemist ends up a little bit singed. kasimir frowns at him. "that was a fire hazard," he scolds disapprovingly, even as he casually steps out of the way of another vial thrown his way. kirjava has fun detonating it with a fireball, at least. "explosions are an unnecessary risk to not just yourself, but also others." [break][break]
having seen the flicker of athenian screen around maddox's target — and oh, that is a rather hilarious matchup — his one, he is fairly certain, is the illusionist. his suspicions are confirmed as an iron maiden appears, opens its maw ready to trap him. he steps through it, unconcerned, and summons a merciful sword to hand even as kirjava intercepts another vial and phantom pain stabs him in the heart. it is a pretty good attempt, all things considered — the only problem is, kasimir is an illusionist too.
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # scrolls used: wings of an angel, aura of the king, the merciful sword
[attr="class","junescroll"] well, he thinks, watching the phoenix detonate safely above, that certainly is a way to handle things."show-off," he calls out, and doesn't quite dignify the athenean he's facing off again with any attention. rather, he lets them take the time to run their analytic scans; lets the lightning arc down the metal of his arm, and watches their interface spark in response. truth be told, it isn't the most offensive of affinities, though, there is one spell-[break][break]
there isn't much of a warning, and it is a little odd to be on the receiving end of this spell, but he recognises it well enough. there is a presence within his mind, sudden and scrambling, and maddox waits for a second --- lets them have a moment where they think they've got him, before he snaps the connection gracelessly, and fixes them with a grin that has too many teeth. "from one athenean to another," he says, his voice sincere despite it all, "it's a bit more effective when people don't see it coming."[break][break]
he lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. watches the witch's brows furrow in confusion. then, raising a hand, almost in a wave, "you know, like this." serpent-quick, he reaches forward, plants his presence firmly within this unfamiliar mindscape, and shoves. the witch reels backwards with a strangled cry, and maddox retracts back into the comfort of his own head. he is playing with his food, he knows, and in any other situation he might have tried to be kinder about it, but look --- if someone's looking to avoid trouble, they really shouldn't be trying to poison a city. [break][break]
his smile shifts towards a mockery of magnanimity. "see? works a little better that way, you know?"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Nov 17, 2019 8:30:25 GMT
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maddox calls out to him and kasimir only barely resists the urge laugh. "pot, kettle," he says drily, glancing very pointedly at the lightning arcing off his metal arm, the air twisting around him like a living cape. it is all very dramatic. intimidating. which is, exactly what they want. [break][break]
breaking through yet another nightmare attempting to warp their surroundings into something dark and twisted, he glances back at his own opponent, a little exasperated. surely the witch will have realised the futility of trying illusions by now? the alchemy vials make a semi-decent fireball shooting game for kirjava, at least. or, it did. 'just finish it already,' she says, sounding rather amused. 'i'm getting bored here.'[break][break]
a ripple of mana washes over them, carrying with it the suggestion of command, of authority. kasimir and kirjava pause, incredulous. "stop!" shouts his opponent, drawing himself up to full height as he flares his *aura of the king* out across the street, pressing mana down across all their shoulders. "stop fighting us, and leave us be!" [break][break]
he spends a moment just staring. the witch flares out the illusion again, pouring more magic into it even as his shoulders relax and a relieved smile begins to spread across his face, evidently believing in the success of his tactic. "leave!" he commands again. [break][break]
"did you just—" kirjava has to stop before she starts laughing, though he can feel her dying on the inside. "um," says kasimir, taking a small step forwards. "you... do realise that i am an illusionist too?" he takes another step forth and the alchemist falters, previous confidence gone. magic gathers, and kasimir slams the spell down with full force, pinpointing the two criminals specifically. "stop," he says, his own aura blazing out like the fire at his core. "no more casting. surrender."
[attr="class","ashni-tags"] @ maddox rothscus ✨[break] # scrolls used: wings of an angel, aura of the king, the merciful sword
[attr="class","junescroll"] he feels the familiar getting restless, the moose pacing up and down the breadth of the street, head lowered, eyes glinting ominously. it all boils down to the admittedly non-lethal nature of their mission, and maddox, who has earned his name by his dealings in blood and bone, is often not suited to blunted weapons or offerings of peace. it is good, thus, that he is not sent here to negotiate or to heal --- it is good, then, that they are here to demand a surrender.[break][break]
there is a brief compulsion that washes over him, but it is an insult, really. it does nothing but sharpen his grin, and in the instant that kasimir takes to reassert his illusion, maddox is upon the athenean like a tiger unleashed on a gladiator. the distance between them closes within the blink of an eye, two rapid steps and maddox shoves his shoulder firmly into the centre of witch's chest ; feels their breath rush out in a gasp as they stumble back, falling gracelessly backwards -- and then the air around them is thin, suddenly, because with air witches, you really ought to be watching their hands. [break][break]
which is to say : maddox thins the air around the two witches with a gesture, fingers curling slowly into a fist. not enough to choke, not enough to suffocate, but enough for the heaviness to grow in their limbs and for them to reach up to their throats in alarm. "we told you it'd be better if you surrendered peacefully," he says, his tone sing-song. the lightning and the wings, though, that he lets fade.[break][break]
there is no need for overt means of intimidation now, after all; he lets it settle in their lungs instead. he jerks his chin upwards in a nod towards kasimir. raises his other hand, fingers splayed, palm up; an invitation. moosely pointedly moves forward, and rests a single hoof above the athenean's chest. presses down very, very lightly. the threat is barely implicit.[break][break]
"now," he continues, and he does not release the spell, "i believe we have some questions, if you'd be so kind as to answer them."
