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.
Cassius wiped the sweat off of his brow with a towel as he went into one of the back rooms of the gym, Beck riding his shoulder. Making his way into the practice room, Beck hopped off, walking off to the center of the room as Cassius set down his duffel bag in a corner, taking a swig out of his water bottle. Once he finished cooling off, he made his way over to Beck in the center.
The familiar focused the mana that composed him, combining his already blackened body with the shadows, and engulfing his form in them further, rising up as a humanoid silhouette, the dim red glow of his eyes penetrating, and being the only sense of the shape’s sentience. “It’s been a while since we last trained,” Beck said, flexing his arms and hands, readjusting himself to their length and feel. Cassius himself conjured up his own solid shadow arm, getting used to its feel as well. They both stretched out, getting used to the feeling of their limbs before bowing to each other and taking fighting stances.
What followed was almost dance-like as Cassius muscle memory and Beck’s manipulation of the shadows clashed. Cassius blocked punches and shadow whips from Beck, and likewise the familiar did his best to do the same, testing his master’s resolve and concentration in the midst of conflict. “Focus,” echoed its voice. “Don’t rely on one sense alone, you must use them all to truly be a fighter.” Cassius chuckled between breaths, jumping over a quick sweep performed by Beck, and knocking aside a few punches. “Water has many forms, right?”
“As do shadows. One must see the dark, in order to recognize the light.”
They went at it for a few minutes, the rhythmic sound of combat filling the tiny, wood-floored room. After a while, Beck called break, and Cassius walked back to his bag, hands over his head. He picked up his towel and bottle, getting a quick sip and wiping off his neck and forehead, preparing himself for the next round of exercise.
(Personal Note: This takes place after The Lighthouse Thread)
Izrail had suggested she go to a gym, learn to actually punch before she started a fight with a random bloke and his two chums were, and would of course jump to his aid. Might as well be good at it, Izrail said, if you are really set on being a healer; cruel to be kind as they say.
Problem was, she'd never been to a gym. She'd never really dedicated herself to exercise aside from standing on her feet all day for the morning or double shift at the Sun Cafe. She'd also never gotten into a fight before. She'd had a black-eye before, but never from a fight she instigated.
Having properly covered the two-day-old bruise with concealer, she sauntered into the gym with what she assumed would be the attire of gym-going folk: denim shorts, a loose-cotton shirt, leg-warmers, and old tennis shoes. She tensed. It was uncomfortable to not wear something that completely covered her legs, not wear a sweater so that she, who always ran a little cold, could actually be warm. It was uncomfortable to be in a crowd. But what was a crowd to Elijah was a well-spaced room simply filled with people doing their own thing. She sped through the lobby after she paid for her membership, and went where her feet would take her, co-incidently into one of the more spacious rooms, a practice room, she thought. Out of her element and self-conscious, she went to a bench and dropped her drawstring bag to sort through what she had brought, a ploy to get acclimated and simply survey her surroundings.
What if I get hit-on? What if I do something stupid? Izzy, why did I even come here? I could do this at home; some people are just running in place or jump-roping.
Actually, it looks fun. Some even have their familiars training too. I wonder if that actually works.
Training? You mean them two lifting weights over there? She was staring hard at the sight of a man struggling to lift some small-looking amount of weights on a single dumbbell while his gorilla familiar was working near him with the barbells. She giggled and looked away. I think it only really works with magic.
And that's when it happened. The hairs on her neck rose as the room dimmed just so. She swore she could have heard the sound, that hum, mana blackening the space around it as a familiar flung solid shadow at its partner, a dance ribboned with cruel ripples that cascaded through the air and vanished in smoke. It was beautiful to behold, and in tandem with her familiar, they thought:
"We've got to try that." / We've got to try that.
She left her bag on the bench and walked to an open space, a good few meters away from where the duck familiar and the man had started. Her familiar materialized beside her as she walked, and he galloped ahead of her, slowing, turning to face her. Elijah faltered only a moment, having been a while since she ever saw her familiar as an opponent of any kind; it felt strange to return to that, but she stood firm. She spaced out her feet, she kept her palms open, and nodded.
Whatever one usually regarded as reflex training must have been easier in some respects. Izrail charged, his spiral horns pointed out, charged at a full gallop, Elijah flinging herself out of the way, no words and only surprise. landing on her arms and sprawled legs on the wood, she meant to quip back sharply, but she turned to see her familiar gone. C'mon! Get up! It'll be like a game! I charge, you dodge, I charge again!. Elijah shook her head, smiling widely, wondering what fates on this walled world put a jester with a square as cubed as she. Perhaps that's why she joined Jester's Den. She stood, and Izrail materialized to her side, galloping, his horns still coming into being as he advanced. Elijah flung herself again, stumbling, but remaining upright. For minutes this went on. No magic, but Izrail blinking back and forth from existence as he charged, Elijah jumping and side-stepping out of the way, her own movements becoming less exaggerated as she played with the space between her familiar and herself, until--!
Izrail's horn grazed Elijah's side; she hissed, and he gasped. He pulled himself from existence and then reformed ahead of her. "Are you okay? It stings, I know. Gosh, I'm sorry," Izrail's front hooves moved anxiously.
"Hey, Hey." Izrail stilled as Elijah held out a hand. "It's good, see?" she removed her hand, the graze merely a generous scrape.
"Oh that's bad."
"No, it's good. Now I know and will certainly get better at judging distance. And that was all me--you connecting like that, 'cuz I know you're tying to miss me; so, don't! 'Kay?"
He bashfully pawed at the ground, nodding, with as goofy a smile as a goat might be careful of. "A break though?"
"Yeah, lemme get my water," and she moved back toward the bench.
She Acts. / He Follows. "She speaks." / "He responds." She thinks. / He whispers his thoughts.
Elijah Sreca Ksyusha Ira Zhibog Rasputinovna
Last Edit: Sept 6, 2017 14:40:15 GMT by Deleted: >w> Spiffying it up~
Their fight was a long one, full of moves that relied heavily upon trust. Both gave their full strength, neither holding back, but it was in their trust of their read off of each other that made their fight look more like a performance than training. Their blows skid past one another, with brilliant acrobatic leaps and spins, both taking in every bit of their surroundings. Dark waves of shadow flew by with only millimeters of clearance from the other's form.
It was after a bit of this that they realized they had company in the form of a young woman and her goat familiar. The two took a break for a moment and watched as Cassius got a swig of his water and wiped some sweat from his brow. They made a good show, the ram familiar charging from nowhere as his witch attempted to dodge out of the way. Handy for the body, if not using magic.
They're pretty good, well in synch.
But they are not experienced in combat. Not like us.
Cut her some slack, Beck. We are a rare case and you know it.
True, but her form is a bit off, and her back foot slips on the wood. A true warrior should know where their body is at all times, be aware of every modicum of movement.
She just needs some training is all.
He turned to his familiar. We could give her some pointers. After all, "The best method of learning is to teach," right?
The duck sighed, realizing that this conversation had reached its conclusion and that, regardless of his own answer, the young master would do as he pleased regardless.
"Hey, you're doing pretty good, nice form!" He walked over to the young woman, towel around his neck, his arm loosely holding on to the edge of it as he approached. "You seem to be a little new to familiar training, do you want some help?"
