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","much_text"] ◥◤ He finds himself standing confusedly in a boisterous crowd once again, perhaps as unwittingly as he had with the pillars. This is the first time he attends the annual Empyreal Cup and he wonders if he's made a mistake in coming. As his grey eyes rove around, he sees people of all kinds but with no faces as his gaze drifts to their attire instead. Over the years, he has acquired an eye for clothing and their affiliations with status and it is a small skill he is proud to have. He sees nobility robed in satin and velvet, the bourgeois in their cotton and wool and the few who choose an odd arrangement of cloths and colours in a poor attempt to hide themselves.
[break][break]A flash of crimson red and it is not fabric. Hair. Mr Burovski, is it? How long has it been since the youth first walked into his shop, asking for a dress of all things? A faint smile graces thin lips and Laurent recalls the memory fondly; the boy was shy and completely out of his depth, extremely cute and a pleasure to serve. Judging by the boy's moving jaw, he can see that Kasimir is talking to someone and there's a tilt of head in curiosity.
[break][break]Then the world stops.
[break][break]His heart stutters in its place, breath leaving his lungs when he sees dark hair, tousled in a manner that he knows so well. ( Too well. ) Surely not. Not here. His eyes are unblinking and wide, a sheen of wet present over silver. Why would he be here? He is frozen on the spot, stuck in a moment of stasis as he is unsure of what to do next. Does he interrupt Kasimir, only to find that the dark-haired figure is not who he thinks he is? Or should he interrupt him and come face to face to with something he is uncertain he is ready for?
[break][break]No. No, he should leave them alone. It's none of his business, he shouldn't impose himself on Kasimir and certainly not that stranger.
[break][break]By now, in the midst of a talkative crowd, there is a drone of noise in his peripheral and it causes a buzz in his head, a low hum of something. It makes him a little light-headed and all too unused to such levels of sound. He retreats to a safe corner by a pillar, placing a gloved hand on the cool stone hoping that it would anchor him and sooth the ache within him. Staring at his feet, he tries not to notice the bodies that move by him, his own posture rigid and trying desperately to remain inconspicuous to any who might want to approach him.
[break][break]He is scared, so very scared and not just for being in the vicinity of Knights and people in general. His familiar remains loyally by his side, reticent and on guard, but even her presence isn't enough to calm his breathing, each exhale heavier than the next. His free hand comes to claw at his collar, as if the fist would draw fresh air back into his lungs. A quick thought passes between their connection, disclosing his innate fear. 'What if Mother and Father are here? Henri and Fabien too?'
[break][break]Gods forbid he sees them.
[break][break]It has been, perhaps, a little over a decade since he had cut ties with his family, retaining only his last name as his sole link to the illustrious House. He has not spoken a word to them and he is sure he will suffer retribution at their hands for daring to show his face to them again. ( Complete eradication from the family tree. His removal from society, from his shop. Oh gods, his shop. ) His hands tremble at the thought of seeing them again; they come together, fingers squeezing tightly to try and stop the shaking.
[break][break]He doesn't know who he is more afraid of; his mother, who would look at him with nothing in her eyes and call him Laurent when she calls his brothers 'her sons', or his father, to whom his last words were scathing and unfilial and might sooner strangle him than welcome him back into the family of Borchardt?
[break][break]"I will not let them hurt you. I will not let them come a step near you." Her soft voice is resolute and promises much with her words and he feels his knees buckle, stretching the fabric of his suit trousers. Uncaring of how he might seem to those around him, he wraps his arms around the neck of Sigrún and buries his face in her fur, inhaling her scent. Yes, with her here, he stands a chance.
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Dec 1, 2017 11:25:59 GMT
she looks up as he slides into the seat next to hers, directly hopping over the backs instead of taking the stairs like a normal person. not that iolani has any room to talk. she offers him a lazy smirk, then lets her gaze drift back to the little knight that had caught her attention. a wriggle of fingers when she catches him sneaking a look back at her; mischief sparks in her eyes like lightning across a stormy sky at the speed with which he turns around to face the arena again. probably gave himself a bad case of whiplash, the poor guy.
"i would hardly call him defenseless," she drawls, finally sitting up a little straighter and turning her attention to maddox. his hair seems to be shorter than she remembered it to be, features half-hidden by his grey hood - probably in accordance to the 'disguise' or whatever her fellow coven members ( and still, it is such a weird thought! ) have been encouraged to don - and that iolani has unashamedly ignored. "more... cute. innocent, like little puppies, guinea pigs, or whatever."
she eyes him, gleaming grey above curved red lips. "besides-" she grins, a hint of predatory intent peaking through her expression. "he's practically edible, don'tcha think?"
and the two witches take to the stage: medeia trevil is dressed head to toe in gold- against her darkened skin and under the daytime sun, it seems to gleam with unparalleled vigor and power. her face is lit by a bright, disarming smile. from the opposite end of the stadium enters rowenna shephard- her cape has fiery as her hair, yet the burning red overshadowed by the sheer fire in her cerulean eyes. there is no smile but the one she offers her opponent. [break][break] trailing behind them are their familiars: a great andalusian in full panoply, and a fire-feathered pheasant, both with jaded, sea-green eyes. [break][break] the crowd surges with excitement, the announcers begin their long list of titles-- but it seems to be drowned out in the shouts and the thudding of hearts. there is a count and the duel begins- the first to magical contact wins. [break][break] the witches bow- and wands are drawn faster than the eye can see. two explosive trails of magical lightning burst from the tips of winding wood- a red and gold VIBRIONOUS connected midair, and the crowd was electrified. the explosion made both witches recoil their outstretched arms and rewrestle for control. medeia twisted the wand in her hand-- instantly, an army of shining SWALLOWS appeared and descended upon rowenna as though she was already prey: a swish of the wand, however, and the MANA turned to DUST... [break][break]
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ooc notes
congratulations for posting for the first round- all successful completions will be rewarded with 300gold (when the monetary plugin has stabilized). apologies for the inconvenience. this post marks the second phase of the empyreal cup which will be taking the form of a RAFFLE with a rather interesting twist. [break][break]every post made exceeding 300 words will earn that character a raffle ticket, for a maximum of five raffle tickets per character. the prize for the raffle will be a randomly generated scroll---- but to have this scroll included in the pool, it needs to be mentioned in this thread whether by (relatively) explicit referencing or stating the name of the scroll. (as seen above in the duel with medeia and rowenna). the total number of raffle winners will depend on the number of participating characters. if your character's name is drawn, they will be given any usable scroll or a general scroll if no applicable affinity scrolls have been mentioned. [break][break] you have until December 7th to collect tickets and add scroll names to the existing list which can be found here. extensions may be added, and updates to the thread will be posted here.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Dec 2, 2017 13:58:12 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
sunlight spins gold with the fire of his hair; it dances between his fingers with the impish delight of a wild fae-child, glittering and gleeful and free. the stadium is alive in a delirious euphony conducted by an orchestra of summer-sung chords - four thousand pairs of hands and bright eyes and fragmented rainbows in the shift and shimmer of fabric caught in the west-wind breeze - a living, breathing sea of festivities distilled into a single moment. to this great symphony, kasimir bears witness; to this consonance of people, kasimir bears part.
he blinks, disconnecting himself from the beat and pull of the crowd sea, when a man slips into the seat besides his. ink-dark hair and golden-tan skin and eyes bluejay-bright, kasimir manages a small but genuine smile at the unexpected appearance of his friend; kirjava brushes past his leg in greeting, a quicksilver blur of materialisation-greeting-dematerialisation that vanishes before she can be fully seen. ninos looks healthy, looks far better than when they had last met - for that, he is relieved and glad. "it has been adequate," he reponds with a minute shrug, because he has never been one for grand statements. "and for you?"
before ninos might be able to respond, the crowd suddenly surges forth in excitement and electric anticipation: medeia trevil and rowenna shephard have entered the arena. kasimir is as breathlessly awed as every other witch - as a summoner himself, medeia trevil is almost inevitably one of his idols in the field of their shared affinity; political beliefs have no impact on one's ability and skill, after all. following her summoning of sky swallows ( a scrollbook he himself is also quite partial towards ), the helios knights leader sweeps her wand up and twirls it in a complex manoeuvre. and yet, nothing appears to happen...?
no, something has changed - the air has become charged with potential. electric potential. the previously sunny skies are now clouding over in grey, rapidly swelling into the dark, lightning-charged belly of a thunderstorm. kasimir's eyes are wide. stormcalling...?
[attr="class","gearcore"] The stadium cheers like a huge, unified hivemind, clearly announcing that the history lesson had come to an end. It wouldn't be long before the first duel began. The group Zeph was with decided that this was their cue to get themselves into the stadium so they could see the fight. Unfortunately, the crafter was able to catch the names of the participants who'd be in the demonstration fight, and he couldn't help but be a bit disappointed. Of course they'd pick the two most uptight, rule-abiding Knights in all of Salem, which would likely result in a fight of impressive power, but bland tactics.
As they near the entrance, the distinctive crack of lightning sounds from the core of the stadium, putting even the energetic crowds to shame. It was starting.
Unexpectedly, Zeph spots a familiar face moving in the opposite direction. "'Ey! Ling!" He raises one arm up high to get her attention, more quietly noting to his current group "Go on, I'll catch ya in a bit," before breaking off and matching the stride of the younger Jester. Ling was a good kid, and, if Zeph was being honest with himself, he had a slight soft spot for her which was usually reserved for Leviathans. They both had their own passions, but there was just enough overlap for the two witches to nerd out to each other about magical theory without losing the other. In addition to this (though Zeph had never spoken to Ling about his own situation, and didn't ever plan to), each had undergone some level of memory rewriting or erasure, and were looking to get their proper memories restored. Though her memory loss seemed much more extensive than his own, he could at least understand the feeling of missing something in your own brain. It fucking sucked.
"So? Ya still plannin' on joinin' the fight?" he asks with a grin.
Charani was sitting in the stands not five feet in front of Ling without even realizing it. He was literally the seat in front of her and it wasn't until he heard her name shouted by some other man that he realized the name sounded familiar. He looked back, dog familiar in his lap to come eye to eye with a girl. A girl who had gotten him back ages ago during a certain jester festival. A girl who was female and a girl.
"OH!" he said rather loudly in surprise. Well this was... a weird place to see someone again. He had long since gotten over such trivial pranks. It was all in good fun after all and nobody really got hurt right? Not like the nightmares. Not like anything else that had happened since the innocent little prank encounter. She was probably a nice girl after all. Her aura would probably be light and happy... not that he could read it after all(Divination: Aura Reading).
He shouldn't interrupt the two. They seemed friendly... the way they spoke being familiar... her and the boy with blonde hair. If only he could worm his way into their thoughts it would be so much easier to speak to them... to know what to say and when to say it (Divination: Telepathy). Heck he'd love if he could just see how this little interaction would go even... just a few glimpses into the future to know how it'd all turn out (Divination: Third Eye). Things didn't work that way though. Things never worked that way. He should just speak. Just say something.
"Hi... um... I mean hello again.. um... I... uh... yes hi?" Was that all he could get out. There were battles raging on down front... sparks flying as things went back and forth during some match of magic. That was all he could say though. That was it. He wished he could be easily understood. He wished he could just say something and have everyone understand his intent... what he meant (Divination: Tongues) but that was to easy.
"Nice to... see you again...?" Charani said looking down to his familiar. He pet the canine as he tried to gather his own thoughts. Thoughts that often went away and made him hurt. Thoughts that were just dreams but felt like visions. He didn't want to know. He couldn't. He had to live in the moment right now. This moment with a strange boy who talked weird and a girl who pranked people. Yes.
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Dec 4, 2017 14:25:58 GMT
his gaze remains, lazily indulgent, on the knight iolani picks out; compared to her, his own half-hearted smile is tame, bearing little of the quicksilver sharpness that often makes itself a constant on his features. “you’re gonna hurt his cute little neck, then,” he says, conceding; concern for the fate of the poor knight’s neck is notably absent in his tone. but it would be a blatant lie to say that maddox cares little for cute animals, but there is an undeniable fragility to their tiny fluffy forms that terrifies him. that, and the inexplicable urge to protect them all. he can’t quite say he thinks the same of this knight.
he can think of better things to do.
it is at that moment that medeia trevil and rowenna shepard enter the ring, one a gilded golden statue and the other fire given shape -- picture perfect knights. he might not like their pomposity or ideals, but maddox cannot deny that they do know how to put on a show. “practically,” he agrees, his own smile playful, but despite himself, his attention has shifted to centre stage. he can feel the mana buzzing through the air, electric and addictive; he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes intent.
flashy as medeia’s summoning may be, he finds himself more fascinated by rowenna shephard’s transfiguration, the technique almost akin to something of purification -- the first scroll from the mana reversion series, perhaps. as the storm gathers at the summoner’s call, he idly considers the ramifications of attempting to redirect or reflect such large-scale attacks. he is fairly certain that it would be disastrous in his case, the latter particularly so.
maddox has always been a bit of gambling man. “trevil or shephard?” his gaze flits leisurely between the tiny figures in the arena and the magnified, athenian-assisted displays that detail the duel.
“who d’ya think is gonna win?”
SCROLLS MENTIONED: REVERT MANA #1 / REDIRECT / REFLECT
[attr="class","lucystars"]for a moment -- and it is an odd, odd moment -- ninos thinks there is someone watching him, and not in the cursory glance that one tends to give other event-goers out of mere curiosity. the sensation flits by, brushes by the back of his neck ghost-like and fleeting just as kasimir’s familiar greets him, so light he is certain it is but a byproduct of an overactive imagination. but years and years of avoiding assassins has taught him not to simply ignore his instincts, and ninos turns around.[break][break]
he sees no one; no one is staring at him, not a face in this crowd of strangers. they blur together, a beige motley of the unknown. it is both a blessing and a curse to not recognise people and not be recognised. his long absence has reduced the name of ninos knight to something like the passing traces of a whimsical daydream, intangible and only half-real. he hopes, at least. there are many parts of his past he does not wish to confront this day.[break][break]
many parts, generally speaking, save for one. one, who lingers in his thoughts whether out of guilt or of longing or perhaps both. a flash of pale blond hair vanishes behind a pillar. he does not see this.[break][break]
he turns back as the crowd rises, surging forward in a wave in a display of such incredible team spirit and electric excitement that he, too, ends up perched on the edge of his seat as he watches. a crack of lightning through the air and, as unfamiliar as he is with both summoning and transfiguration as he may be, the raw power possessed by the two witches is undeniably incredible. between the now-dark clouds and the duel below, operating on some post-human level that is dizzying to comprehend, as though he had downed a vial of disorient. [break][break]
belatedly, he turns to answer kasimir’s question, a laugh bubbling beneath his words. “better, now that i’m watching this,” he quips, eyes quick to refocus on the duel. [break][break]
“the knights are impressive as ever, huh.”[break][break]
SCROLLS MENTIONED: MERLO’S MISCELLANY #1: DISORIENT / TEAM SPIRIT
I press the button and[break]it bursts into life[break]This time nothing will escape my sight
She's only about halfway out of the stadium - the thick press of the crowd and the steady flow of people coming and going make for a very difficult environment to navigate and manoeuvre past - when everyone surges to their feet, hands and banners and flags thrust into the air as excitement swells from a background murmur to a tidal wave of cheering and screaming. The high priestess of the Helios Knights - Medeia Trevil - has entered the arena, and the famous transfiguration master Rowenna Shephard appears from the other side; a bolt of electric energy and the match begins!
All thoughts about leaving for the training grounds forgotten, Ling watches, enraptured. It is a blur of skill and talent and mana saturating the air below; she's entirely happy with her affinity, wouldn't trade it for the world, but honestly, what teenage witch hasn't dreamt about being able to fight like the two Knights below?
She thinks she hears her name shouted above the din; Ling automatically looks up, scanning the sea of people for any sign, any person- There! "Zeph!" she shouts back, expression lighting up as she waves enthusiastically. Fighting through the crowd to get to his side, she beams up at him. "Hopefully, they'll let me join," she replies cheerfully. "I can't throw around cool spells and all, but maybe I can set down a reverse-Uruz or two to confuse my opponents. Are you planning on joining?"
A startled exclamation from a few seats away catches her attention, and Ling turns around to see a semi-familiar face. It... takes a few moments to place where she had seen him before, but it's honestly hard to forget a witch you'd not only pranked, but also frantically worked with when you thought Sundial was falling to monsters a la Valerus' prank. "Oh," she says, then smiles. "Hi! I'm Ling. Ahaha, sorry, I guess I should apologise for the last time we met, yeah? Sorry for pranking you." She pats the seat next to her and Zephyr, eyes bright. "Come sit down with us! This is Zephyr - he's really cool."
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Dec 5, 2017 3:56:42 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
"this is quite impressive," kasimir agrees, the corners of his lips quirking up at ninos' laughter. it is... not often that they may be free to let loose their guards and simply enjoy a moment as they are now, but the festivities and an entire stadium of enthusiastically yelling people - not to mention the attention-riveting duel taking place below - offers them an anonymity unable to be obtained elsewhere, elsewhen. ninos' eyes are cornflower-bright; the sun weaves him a crown of gold.
"i wonder if any part of this duel is scripted," he muses, watching as a storm atronach is summoned. or, at the very least, what limitations and sanctions have been put into place. summoning can be... quite destructive, what with wildfires and whirlwinds and earthquakes being entirely possible; the caster's scrolls scrollbook is far less damaging while still able to be visually impressive - perhaps they will be seeing vines (caster's scrolls, volume 1: scroll 5) sprout from the ground to entangle their opponent. or perhaps medeia trevil will be demonstrating more skyward summoning with luminary or a horn of judgement - it would certainly be a spectacular show as well as tying in well with the image the helios knights wish to present.
part of kasimir - the part that is born of fire and blood and fury, born of a red sunrise with incandescence in his veins - itches to fight and dance and let his heartbeat fill his ears with a battlecry like the witches below. he is a creature of flame, he is not meant to hide as if he had cloaked himself from existence and exiled himself to a life of the shadows. but the logical part of kasimir, the much bigger part, the part molded by experience and steeped in rationality, knows that it is with anonymity that he is safe.
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Dec 5, 2017 4:45:48 GMT
"i'm not a vampire!" iolani protests playfully, entirely over-the-top hurt saturating her voice. she places one hand over her heart, a melodramatic look of outrage and offense on her face as she turns towards her fellow leviathan. "his neck is quite safe from me, thank you very much." a pause. this time, the glint in her eyes is wicked as she leers down at the knight. "the rest of him though..."
their delightful conversation - and the little knight's constant glances back at her ( she blows him a kiss and snickers when he almost trips over his own feet ) - is unfortunately interrupted by the beginning of the flashy, showy, entirely predictable duel between the leader of the oh-so-honourable knight order and the equally stuff politician. it's not that iolani dislikes them or anything.... just what they stand for and represent. honestly, the sheer pretentiousness of it all is enough to make her want to corrupt it into debauchery and other fun stuff - and she's only been in sundial for a week or two!
something to think about for another time, maybe.
meanwhile, she can't be bothered getting up, so she's stuck watching this extravagant and probably partially choreographed fight; is subtlety dead? because that's a real shame if it is, but it's also advantageous for iolani, so...
“trevil or shephard?” her companion asks, and she glances his way with the same half-amused half-bored expression she's had since the duel started. gaze flickering back to the two figures below, iolani considers the question briefly.
"trevil, probably," she responds with a shrug. "an exhibition match like this, leader of the little knights can't lose otherwise there'll be demoralisation and panic and questions of her ability to lead." that's why 'fighting' like this where there's such a political agenda underlying everything has never really interested her.
[attr="class","shockwave-lyrics"]laugh as she attempts to give you what you cannot give herself
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It is not easy to navigate the crush of people, the constantly moving, constantly shifting sea of limbs and legs and clothes - more than once Aisling fears for her own safety as she walks into a stranger who had changed position before Lyze could warn her. This is the problem with crowds; this is one more reason why she does not particularly enjoy the festivities that all but everyone else in Sundial adores.[break][break]
'Perhaps you should just sit down,' her owl suggests after yet another collision. At this point, his feathers are all but permanently fluffed, and he has lost the ability to look at people with anything milder than an unblinking amber-red glare. As apparently satisfying as terrifying the man who had just crashed into her is, her familiar is far more concerned with her continued health and safety. [break][break]
She considers his suggestion. 'Perhaps I should,' Aisling concedes. Coincidently ( or not so, her beautiful, sneaky familiar ), there is an empty seat only a few steps away from her current position. [break][break]
It is a relief when she sits herself and no longer must deal with the chaotically shifting world in her quest to navigate towards the training grounds, and is doubly so when not a few moments later comes the announcement of the commencement of the duel between High Priestess Medeia Trevil and Master Rowenna Shephard. The crowd around her temporarily drowns her world in noise, so loud she cannot hear anything but their shouts; then, mana crackles - Aisling can almost taste the first spells being cast.[break][break]
'Vibrionus,' her familiar reports. 'From both of them. High Priestess has summoned swallows. Master Shephard reduces them to dust.'[break][break]
She listens to Lyze's succinct recount carefully, trying to match up each mentioned spell with the sounds she hears, and with the feel of the mana in the air. The former is... less successful than the latter, given the interference of the crowd.
She moves as if to leave, but Desmond's eyes do not follow her. There's a painful ache in Grendel's heart as he has to part with her again, but he holds back from making any foolish suggestions about how to maneuver over to her. Desmond feels that pain as well, as was natural across a link between witch and familiar. Or did this hurt stem from within himself? Either way, he resents it. He had been meticulous, all those years ago, in tracing the consequences of his choices. In the decision he'd found, the mother would not guide her daughter into the long night. At least, not too soon. But, then, Des had to cut her from his life and set her free from his influence. It was for the best.
It had to be.
His gaze wanders, evidently disinterested in the preliminary duel which had the stadium's collective spirit channeling a fiery energy. He didn't appear to be the only one here not focused on the games, however. Not too distant from his current seat, a designer and tailer whom the seer was acquainted with seemed to be clinging to his familiar as if the lynx was his only companion in the world. It was an odd sight, mostly because Des hadn't expected someone as reserved as Laurent to show up at all to an event like this.
After a quick swig of a flask (which was not permitted on the premises, but, technically, neither was he), the Silvertongue stood and took a new seat behind his covenmate. Though his long, black and crimson jacket was easy enough to overlook in the sea of Helios Red, the man himself was perhaps even more out of place than Laurent. As he addresses the tailor, his tone is leisurely. "Mr. Borchardt, forgive me for noticing, but these festivities don't seem to have you terribly enthused."
laurent borchardt & any others (plus more mentions of líng lù-xī ) scrolls mentioned: guide, spirit channeling
Last Edit: Dec 5, 2017 12:29:34 GMT by Desmond Grey
The stranger seems reluctant, and Milo suppresses a swath of sympathy. He had at a point taught himself how to hold back, but that was a strategic maneuver in the realm of people and politics. This was a stranger, and mery was too high of a price, even for the young heir.
“Boxing?” he asked, incredulous at the mention of such a vicious sport. To be honest, the idea of it was ungraceful. But to each their own-- the sword was complex and he could not fault anyone for prefer the more natural of weapons. But then he remembers that the sword is as natural as breathing, that the blacksmith’s sword is a part of him…
“Oh. Hi Vani.” Milo’s grip on the handle laxes, his wrist loosens. “Where’s Clair--”
But the woman makes her presence known soon after, and Milo smiles at her gesture. She looks at the stranger when she asks her question and Milo pouts. “Do I not get a say in this?” he asks, lips quirked into a smile.
His grip tightens again and he waits for the man’s response. “Are you ready?” Milo asks, and then stares at his opponent as an opponent. Nothing more and nothing less. He will not be given the advantage of the first strike unless he can take it himself.
And then, after her receives the confirmation, Milo strikes.
before the crowd can blink, rowenna is on the offensive again: her familiar's feathers burn brightly as several pillars of flame shoot out towards the lady commander- they crash against an eerily invisible barrier and look, for a brief moment, as though they've been suspended in time. the flames flare out against the barrier which remains unharmed- the two ladies begin to circle and the barrier moves along with them. [break][break] the crowd is suspended in silence for a brief moment before rowenna pierces the air with her wand- at first there is nothing. but then the barrier spontaneously shatters and her familiar attacks again with a burst of fire. medeia dodges, and as she makes a round of the arena dozens of summoning circles appear at her feet. seconds later, dozens of copies of her familiar appear. all at once, the cavalry attacks. [break][break] a burst of lava from the ground, however, and both rowenna and her familiar have taken to the skies. several craters appear across the arena and explode into fire. medeia retaliates immediately with shining golden arrows that speed towards their target. [break][break] knees bent to ride the lava plume to the best of her ability, rowenna trains her wand on a nearby statue- one of the four draconic figures that surround the arena. its eyes flicker green, and it comes to life[break][break] medeia seems to blink for the first time since their duel has begun. ah. now that wasn't in the script. she peers above to find that the corners of rowenna's face have morphed into a smile. medeia returns the gesture, and a summoning circle about the size of the dragon glows beneath her. impromptu is sort of her forte.
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ooc notes
you have until tuesday, december 19th to post for the raffle and for TEC in general. [break][break]every post made exceeding 300 words will earn that character a raffle ticket, for a maximum of five raffle tickets per character. the prize for the raffle will be a randomly generated scroll---- but to have this scroll included in the pool, it needs to be mentioned in this thread whether by (relatively) explicit referencing or stating the name of the scroll. (as seen above in the duel with medeia and rowenna). the total number of raffle winners will depend on the number of participating characters. if your character's name is drawn, they will be given any usable scroll or a general scroll if no applicable affinity scrolls have been mentioned. [break][break] you have until December 19th to collect tickets and add scroll names to the existing list which can be found here. no further extensions will be entertained.
