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","gearcore"] The mechanic leaves a Gate tucked away in the engine room in case he needs to return to that place (or escape from another) quickly. He then begins making his way to the front of the train, past the passengers, the dining area, and the rest of the assortment of cabins, "undercover" Mirrorlight police presence increasing all the while.
"Ya won't hear any complaints from me," Zeph murmurs in reply to his brother's call for objections, crouching down to check (with only partial seriousness) the connections between the cars as he speaks. They'd picked a good train for this transport: plain enough in its mechanics to make sabotage difficult to hide, and with multiple engines to prevent having a single weak point. It was sturdy. Reliable. Much more so than a human, to be sure. Tricky creatures, those.
Sirius would have been able to see the blond approach the nearest uniformed officer guarding the most heavily secured cart, with both the officer and mechanic illuminated by the lights within the second and third carts which they stood between. " 'Mornin, mate," greets Zeph, "I've got the rest o' the train checked out. Just got these couple o' carts left b'fore I'm out o' your hair."
"Not for this ride," the gruff officer insists, "For this ride, you stay in the back."
"Listen, I get that this ain't a typical transport. I'm just tryin'a do my job here. I'd be happy t'--"
"Are you resisting a direct order?" the officer interrupts, tone chilling.
Before Zephyr has a chance to make a coherent reply, a startlingly quick series of events occurs.
First, from Sirius' perch atop the train car, he may have noticed two limp bodies tossed from the gap between the first and second cars.
Next, they all feel a lurch as the entire train suddenly slows. Only subtly at first, as if the back engines had suddenly halted, but then abruptly, with the shift in energy accompanied by a jarring screech of the breaks.
The undercover officers in the 3rd and 4th carts suddenly go on high alert, while those remaining in the second cart, from what Zeph could see, were unnervingly calm.
Zephyr realizes, too late, that he is not talking to an officer.
The uniformed man stomps down on a switch to disconnect their cars from each other, causing the front two cars, now unburdened by the rest of the halting train, to pull away.
Shit.
Spock, who had been more or less keeping up with the invisible assassin as she did her own investigation of the vehicle, leaped across the now-widening gap, easily grabbing hold of the edge of the second car's roof. Zephyr, meanwhile, vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Hey!" the fake-officer barked, realizing there was a chance that a rat had just snuck into their viper's den. There was little time for him to look around the outside, however, since the real-officers, catching on to what was happening, began shooting spells in the direction of the escaping locomotive. The back door of the second car slams shut with resounding conviction.
A hissing whisper sounds through the group's earpieces, though it was nearly drowned out by the sound of spinning metal wheels and the rush of air from the tracks speeding past the mechanic's face, far too close for comfort. "Sirius, which side'd you land on? An' Mads, who th' fuck messed with th' back engine?"
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Apr 4, 2018 6:14:10 GMT
moosely, as usual, is largely pleased with and further encourages the use of violence. maddox, trying to sit as inconspicuously as possible and already questioning the threadbare nature of their plan, is for once not simply barging his way through a carriage full of dangerous and very likely armed guards. he crosses his legs. uncrosses them. folds his arms. looks speculatively out the window. wonders if he should get a pair of fake glasses.
he waits, and he doesn’t have to for long, because a lot of things begin to happen in rapid succession. he feels his heartbeat thumping high up in his chest, rapid drum-of-war as he stands up, one hand clutching the overhead rail for support as the carriage jerks and lurches. with a sigh caught in his throat, he realises that either he ended up getting the wrong guy, or there was more than one. the latter would be less embarrassing, certainly, but he doesn’t exactly put it past himself to have attacked the wrong target. ah, well.
he’s right at the back of the fourth carriage, and with the actual police officers beginning to stumble their way to the front, spells arcing through the air, it’s not overly difficult for him to slip back into the engine carriage. the door is locked, still, but that sort of obstacle becomes considerably less challenging when one forgoes stealth. it takes three good hits before the door gives way, metal screeching and contorting, revealing another stranger.
“hi,” he says, taking two steps forward. “fuck you.”
there’s no greeting more eloquent than a fist to the face, really. plus, if you move fast enough, you can circumvent the fact that the opposing party has a sword and you do not. he has a knife, to be perfectly honest, but in a situation like this it’s likely only marginally better than a butter knife.
knife to face - miss - dodge, get slashed. close-quarters don’t treat him kindly, and two seconds into the scuffle finds him pinned against the assortment of dials and knobs that dig into his back.
into the earpiece, over sounds of a stifled struggle: “it’s ok! i’ve totally got this.”
he lets himself drop, feels the hot air of the engine rush dangerously close; it’s a move that imbalances the other just enough, and he presses the advantage stubbornly. grabs the stranger by their shoulders and shoves, hard.
there’s a shattering of glass and a strangled yell - the number of occupants in the engine room dwindles down to one single slightly frazzled maddox rothscus. the whistling of wind through a broken window bleeds through the earpiece. “the hell is going on, anyway?”
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Apr 6, 2018 16:03:03 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
if there is one thing kasimir has learnt of life very early on, it is this: if something is going remarkably smoothly, the state of matters will not persist for long. thus, when the mission abruptly takes a turn for chaos and anarchy and the destruction of any semblance of a plan, he allows himself a second of dismal resignation before kicking his brain into high gear to deal with this new change of situation.
it all happens startlingly fast: two dead bodies are tossed from the carriage in front of him ( police corpses both ), then the entire train lurches as something evidently interrupts its journey; kasimir leaps nimbly onto the roof of the second carriage right before it if forced to disconnect from the trailing half of the train. swiftly double-checking his invisibility illusion and layering a cloaking spell on top of that for good measure, he focuses and dismisses his illusionary clone from earlier ( the time for infiltration is over ) and feels kirjava dematerialise back into their mindscape. that done, he crouches down next to spock and updates the group in a cautious whisper.
"roof of second carriage," he answers zephyr succinctly, glancing at the rest of the train being rapidly left behind. a brief pause as he considers their options, then: "keep attacking the second carriage - try to draw out the guards. my familiar will slow down the train." and speaking of which, the night lights up in a blaze of bonfire glory as kirjava leaps ahead to the very first carriage and parts the heavens to call down a rain of scorching fire from the sky. the train driver, whoever they are, evidently has aspirations towards self preservation and slams on the breaks.
"hold on tight," he murmurs to spock and braces himself right before the train screeches to a halt. he hears a long string of thuds followed by a truly vicious amount of cursing from the carriage below him, while kirjava is the epitome of smug and satisfied as she leaps down in a flash of fur and flame and sends a phoenix screeching down upon the driver. kasimir does not even blink; "go find cover," he says to the monkey familiar right before he, too, reaches for the heavens to pull down another rain of fire.
their surroundings are alit in blazing, dancing, beautiful fire, as is the train itself. kasimir stays where he is, perched on the roof of the carriage and wrapped in illusions - he, after all, is immune to his own flames. but no one else is, and that is what he is counting on. whether the fire drives the residents of the carriage out in fear of their lives, in search of their attacker, or whether they stay cowering inside the carriage in hopes it will protect them: the results will be the same. come out, and he can deal with them. remain inside, and eventually they will burn alive.
if there are any skilled water elementals or purifiers inside, his plan may be in jeopardy, but. well. kasimir is not alone either, and both he and spock have some very nice knives.
[attr="class","gearcore"] Zeph probably wouldn't have been too concerned about Mads if his brother hadn't made a point to insist that he had everything under control. The struggle happening through his earpiece was, unfortunately, completely drowned out by the sounds of the train's wheels whirling across the tracks since he'd teleported beneath the second cart to avoid any direct confrontation.
"From what I'm gatherin', some gang's taken over th' front two carriages t' ride it away from the back-- fuck" Zeph stops answering Mads' question abruptly as Spock warns him that the front portion of the train is about to stop as well. Being in one of the worst possible places to lose his grip, he blinks again -- this time materializing between the gap between the first and second cart. Thankfully, no one else was standing there at the moment. "Anyway, 'parently this is turnin' into an all-out battle. I got a gate here linked t' the one I left in th' back engine room where I'm guessin' you're at if ya wanna jump in." The crafter, more comfortable in his utilitarian magical ability than his combative ability, opts to wait out the rain of fire instead of joining in. To protect himself, he lifts a section of cool earth and lets it hover above his head, keeping his body crouched down and out of sight between the slowing carts.
Spock, for as much as she resents being bossed around, thinks the assassin is offering some solid advice, and swings herself under the overhang of the carriage roof, taking a quick peek inside through a window.
However, the train would not burn. Instead, ice begins to spread swiftly across the roof and walls of the second carriage, thick and glistening in the light of the flames which had set the surrounding grassy fields alight. And then, glacial spikes begin shooting out from the roof's surface.
"Spock says that's Ace," Zeph hisses, "He's near th' middle of th' cart, tellin' his people t' start the front engine back up."
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Sept 28, 2018 7:49:35 GMT
chaos breaks loose.
or more accurately, it is as though a dragon, a phoenix, a pyromaniac madman of an assassin has swept down from the heavens to rain flames down upon them. he is within the engine room, but even then, he sees the tongues of fire lick past the windows and illuminate the night sky in a dazzling display, just as the train driver slams on the breaks and the carriage jolts; he slams into the wall, bounces off it to hit the opposite wall with a yelp. he’s stuck in a metal box too small to materialise his familiar, and somewhere up at the front sirius is having the time of his life raining havoc down on their targets. not gonna lie, he sulks a little at the idea.
but zephyr, glorious zephyr, all-time favourite brother zephyr, offers him a way to jump in. he doesn’t think moosely can materialise on the top of a train, nor does he have any weapons ( a stupid decision on his part, really ) so he grabs the nearby fire poker just in case, finds the aforementioned gate, and jumps through. “bless you, zeph.”
momentum almost carries him a tad too far; he catches himself on the metal railing and flashes zephyr a grateful grin, before turning his attention to the ice spreading across the train carriages and hauling himself up by the ladder on the side to get a better view. the glacial ice spikes transform the previously flat train roof and, squinting against the blaze of fire, he can barely make out the silhouette of their third mission partner. a glacial spike makes as if to explode out of the roof -- maddox clicks his tongue and makes a dismissive motion with his hand -- the spell is knocked off-kilter, spinning off into another direction.
he’s not sure if a full-out battle was part of the plan, but it’s where they’re at now.
“if i get to the people around him, can you get to ace?” he asks, eyeing the ice-covered train roof. he doesn’t wait for an answer, already sliding back down the ladder and barging open the cart door presumably holding ace. no point in trying to solve the problem from the outside, anyway.
he jabs the improvised weapon forward into the first hostile he encounters; he’s far more accustomed to the weight and heft of an axe, and this is a little weird, but he’ll make do. ( an icicle flies at him; he swipes it aside, courtesy of purification - ha! ) he isn’t exactly spoiled for choice right now.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Sept 28, 2018 16:10:36 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
ice coalesces on the walls of the train, twisting up and up and cooling it from where the flames lick. kirjava continues with her determined assault, distraction and taunting with fire curling around her paws. as the dark-haired man lands beside him, kasimir glances at him, considering his options. "do you think it would any worse if i just melted the roof off?" he murmurs, half in jest, half utterly serious. but no, perhaps it would be best to keep the damage to something that could feasibly be repaired.
he follows the man down, landing with a soft thud and invisibility wrapped tight around him; as the other witch bursts the door open and tackles the first person he sees, kasimir takes advantage of the distraction and slips further in. each guard he comes across he lays upon a subtle touch, an illusion coaxing them not to breathe, that there is not enough air, that the smoke is thick and their lungs are seizing. he sidesteps one of blackwood's guards as she rushes out towards maddox, whatever soft rustling his clothes make drowned out by the yelling, the fire, the smoke. stronger, he coaxes the illusion, your lungs are failing, there is not enough air, you cannot breathe, do not breathe-
another guard rushes out, all but hyperventilating as he charges at maddox with a sword; and then, there are only two left in blackwood's carriage. eyeing it critically, kasimir readies himself, and then lunges forwards with a sword materialising in hand. blackwood meets his strike with truly impressive reflexes for one surprised and suffocating, pushes back with strength that could only be from augmentation; he changes tactics, whirling around to slice through one of the guards' head with mercy channeled through his blade, dodges blackwood but takes a hit from the other guard in return, and stabs that one too. and then, it is just the two of them, with his mission partners occupying the other guards and blackwood's two unconscious on the floor.
blackwood blocks his next strike with a wall of ice, eyes dark and cruel as he squints past kasimir's failing invisibility and pierces into his soul. "now, there's no need for such rudeness," he comments softly, persuasively, though the atmosphere is broken somewhat by the spell-enforced breathlessness edging his words. "how much are they paying you? i guarantee i can pay more."
kasimir stabs him in the chest. ( there are certain advantages to being able to materialise and dematerialise swords at will )
he taps the gate still hooked to his ear as he nudges kirjava to begin to muffle the fire. "blackwood is dead. i have two of his guards unconscious with me. we are putting out the fire now," he reports succinctly.
notes: tell me if i went too fast - i can always edit scrolls used: 1 - illusionist's handbook, scroll #1 2 - scroll of duality 3 - cloaking scroll 4 - a subtle touch, scroll #14 5 - the merciful sword