brother's matter

Jigan Ikaris says, "..."

Kassarus Falkenrath says, "There."

Kassarus Falkenrath says, "East, brother."

Ambrose Roche asks, "Mm?"

Kassarus Falkenrath says, "That is the one."

Ginger says, "There you are."

Kassarus Falkenrath whispers to Ambrose Roche: I cannot handle this one while injured.

Jigan Ikaris asks, "Hm?"

Ginger asks, "Are you ready to face your destiny?"

At the sight of the woman the Drakan's eyes narrow, his attention turning to the young man beside him and he began to speak low as a hand went to a dagger at his belt.

His gaze was cut to her as he conferred in whispers with the young man.
(Kassarus Falkenrath)

Kassarus Falkenrath whispers to Ambrose Roche: The one that injured us before.

"..."

The Prince stares, clearly unamused by the presentation that Ginger puts up for herself. Make his brother meet destiny, yet in such manner, of all things?

How quaint.

"You are surely bold for someone who looks like the most prominent thing they've done is loiter around the Academy."

"What gives you such confidence?"

He steps closer- calm and poised, yet the shadowy amalgamation is quick to take its form; conjured as result of the practiced dark energy that could manifest into something greater, something..

Sinister.

"And I'm hearing that you're the one who hurt my brother, too."

"So I'll be direct."

A pause- the amalgamation readies an arrow, pointed at her.

"Why shouldn't I add you to the Collective, like I've done to many other?"
(Ambrose Roche)

"..."

Jigan folds her arms over her chest as he watches the conversation between the two. She absently brushes her hair from her face. Had she seen this woman before? She seemed familiar.

At the mention of 'my brother' being hurt, her eyes narrow. Was that the intruder from months prior? What did she want now?

A many questions, but she remains silent, waiting to see what is said.
(Jigan Ikaris)

Ginger watched as Ambrose tried to talk down to her, though she wore a grin, and held her hand out. Her chainspear arose out of the earth and into her hand as he spoke, leaving his query in the air for a moment before answering.

"Because you won't be able to."

She said plainly, turning her head to crack her neck.

"Your brother threw the first punch with intent. I assume this one, the crybaby, is your brother."

She gestured to Kassarus with an off hand.

"Of the faces here today, yours is the only one I haven't done battle with. Once I'm finished with you..."

Shadows swirled around the redhead, and she took a stance.

"...I'll be sure to show you what I've done, and seen."
(Ginger)

After the short exchange of whispers Kassarus' gaze turned upon the woman. There still lingered a hint of her foul magic within him and as such he would not be able to properly exact vengeance.

And this was not something worthy of wasting a potion with scouts reporting enemies amassing to come at their gates.

"Ever am, though you are missing one detail, miss Ginger."

He had informed Dietfried and Jigan both: 'I am the least of my brethren.' A warrior, this was true, though his own flames were not in the same league as the conjoined shadows at Ambrose's beck and call.

"I will allow you to discover it on your own, but do spare me any call of 'running for my brother.' Perhaps.. Be more original in your insults you decide to toss out."

There was a far better chance he could handle her, but his 'pride' to do so was practically non-existent. While he was the strongest in Asphodel such was his duty, but now..

Now the balance had been turned again this woman and she could discover she truly had faced the least capable of Asphodel's warriors and narrowly wrought her victory.
(Kassarus Falkenrath)

"...Really, now?"

Unamused. Such threats did little in the way of intimidating Roche - for the sole reason of the fact that most of them could never back it up. Even now..

He's fought stronger opponents of all kind - all have fallen before him.

Their fatal flaw is to underestimate someone like Ambrose, purely because he's younger; yet when the shadowy beast that they witness is already swallowing them..

They have no other choice but to accept their fate.

"I would say I'm almost intrigued, but I'll be the judge of just how good you are."

"Come forth. I'll test you."

Yet, no further delays are allowed.

The first dark arrow is fired - she'll have to face it.
(Ambrose Roche)

Ambrose Roche has engaged Ginger in Dangerous combat, with a capture roll of 1

Ambrose Roche assumes the Caster stance!

Your previous food bonus has expired.

You have gained a 24 hour vitality bonus of +2, and a power bonus of +5

You eat your Jerky. (+465 ENERGY)

"Insults?"

She asked with a grin, her face lighting up. She couldn't help herself. He asked for it after all.

"Very well, your flames are cold and your passions are feeble and meaningless, you believe in false ideals and are a general nuisance in a world of nuisances. And most of all, your hair is greasy and thin, and will likely all fall out before the turn of the bi-centennial."

When did her insults become so clean? She was shocked she didn't swear at all.

"Now sit down, bitch-boy."

She said, turning to solid rock, embodying a statue once again, eyes fierce, and a grin permanently shining on her face. It was time for action. Ambrose wouldn't be picking this fight if he weren't confident. However, Ginger knew overconfidence better than anyone. She had already been scarred by the very squad standing among them. She wouldn't make the same mistake.
(Ginger)

Ginger assumes the Conjurer stance!

{RP BATTLE} Ginger is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} Ambrose Roche is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} (COUNTDOWN: 10)

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{RP BATTLE} (COUNTDOWN: Go!)

{RP BATTLE} Ginger wants to cancel the battle! (Everyone must type /cancel for the RPB to end)

{RP BATTLE} Ginger is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} Ginger is no longer ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} Ambrose Roche is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} Ginger is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} (COUNTDOWN: 10)

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{RP BATTLE} Ambrose Roche is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} Ginger is ready for battle!

{RP BATTLE} (COUNTDOWN: 10)

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{RP BATTLE} (COUNTDOWN: Go!)

Ginger has lost 14 vitality from this battle for three hours.

Your bloodpool has been lowered by 1! It has gone from 3/10 to 2/10.




You have received an INJURY:

Name: "Blood Withdrawl"

Desc: The world is cold. You feel dry. Hollow. Nothing but bitter, dangerous anger. Your heart feels like it runs on empty, and sometimes gives an irregular twitch. Your throat feels unbearably, miserably scratchy.

Inflictor: Ambrose Roche

Class: PERMANENT





You feel your strength ebb as Cain's essence is used up in battle!

{RP BATTLE} YOU ROLLED ABOVE 2: You've sustained an injury in battle! -10% VIT for 1 year. It's up to you and your opponent to determine the specifics of the injury.




You have received an INJURY from Ginger:

{RP BATTLE} YOU HAVE ROLLED 2 OR OVER: You have evaded capture by your enemy! (Unless otherwise specified, your character may escape captivity)

The battle was fierce again, as Ginger expected it to be. Anyone that had the nerve to step to her like this certainly had a reason to fight. Again, she was pleased to fight someone who truly wanted battle, rather than a spar. She moved across the field completely still as a statue, as magic burst from her instantly, with no sign of conjuring or casting.

As she moved, her chainspear seemed to come alive as it moved around her being, as though being swung, curving and twirling the blade on its chain to produce crushing force as necessary. The prince was no weakling, and the redhead was eager to see him grow.

Crushing stone and violent shadowclaws struck at Ambrose until a vulnerable point was visible to the redhead. Once she saw her opportunity, the statue dashed with hyper velocity towards the target, Ginger crumbling back into stock as all her mana was poured into her fist, bursting the prince down with a mighty strike.

She stood over him, wiping her lip, grinning at the royalty. She got to her knees, and placed a hand onto his forehead, closing her eyes.

The prince saw what Ginger had been through. Being kidnapped by gangsters, stealing precious treasures from Achyonian convoys, dueling eldritch horrors on the moon, she had done plenty. The visions ended soon as the redhead got back to her feet.

No need for mana or weapons to punish this pupil.

Only words.

"You will never be king."

She said tenderly, stomping onto the ground to produce a pillar that thrust the prince back to his feet.
(Ginger)

Name: "Hurt Ego"

Desc: "Other than a few scrapes, bruises, and scratches, the prince seems okay. His ego, though... He grapples now with feelings of inadequacy, the crushing anxiety of expectations disappointingly unmet. He hears Ginger's words ring through his brain whenever he finds a moment of peace: 'You will never be king.' And that grin... That tone of voice... Enough to drive anyone mad."

Toxins and dark arrows.

The means of combat for the Prince was evasive, allowing for the dark amalgamation to do most of the attacking- firing arrows and spreading vile poison, it did a fine work in ensuring that Ginger would not walk away completely unscathed.

Practiced, brilliant.

Yet the earth was a difficult thing to oppose- the pillars of sharp stone and grasping mud was all too difficult to avoid with ease - a testament to such found in the ever weakening gaze of the watchful dark creature which he conjured for himself. If anything..

It could only protect him for so long.

"Ah.."

There are no defeats - there are only victories and experiences. Now, he sees a folly of his ways.. and it is not the means used to fight her- it is not the means used to weaken the body of another magi and whittle her down, no.

His grace, his evasiveness..
Lacking.

Today, he would pay the price for that- a single moment of weakness, and it is enough to incapacitate him, briefly; here, where he struggles to get up and move away, it is far too late - too little strength, and by far not enough time to escape.

Visions.

Is it strange to think that he'd smile at it? Is it strange to think that such only amuses him... for the mind of an Occultist was often a warped thing - even at such young age. Yet it is hurtful all the same- a twist, a harmful thought, an illusion even, perhaps..

One that will haunt him for a bit.

"Hahahaha…"

"Haah.."

In pain, both mental and physical, he rises- a pillar that thrust him upward, with the dark amalgamation being quick to protect its royalty.

As it always tries to do.

"--Interesting."

"I'll look for you.. I'll find you.."

"You'll see.."

A murmur. Still, the body of the Prince was young, and in comparison, fragile.

He needed respite, for now.
(Ambrose Roche)

Their fight was difficult to follow at first with each trading decent blows, but he saw the stumble that led to the mana-charged blow that rendered his brother incapacitated and a mana-charged hand went to his head. Its contents were unknown to him, but considering his own experiences he knew it was nothing good.

The Drakan's eyes were enveloped in darkness save for those twin burning suns that were set upon the woman. His entire form was set ablaze with a sweltering heat that engulfed the trees around him as he rushed forward bearing a mask of rage.

It was not her playground insults which belonged in the schoolyard of the Academy rather than anywhere serious, no.. They were easily ignored and slid right over his thick skin. It was the sheer audacity that she exuded in coming before the court of Asphodel and threatening to kill those who were innocent.

Whether in jest or earnest desire it still rankled as it was a stark reminder of what they endured on a constant basis- The threat of zealots that refused to see their legitimacy. Those that would see them die simply for their existence without ever questioning why or how they came to be nor what their intentions were.

"You presume we would wish to rule." Theirs were an immortal kind, destined to live eternally, and to rule would mean they had suffered a great loss. "You offer him a blessing, not a curse." His hands drew out the daggers with the distinct rasp of steel and he whirled them dexterously fanning the flames that engulfed him.

A whirlwind of fire lurched outward feeding into that which was devastating the flora and send a puff of ash in the air which mingled with the flow of his fire that even now sought the woman. It seemed he was controlling even the very ashes which twirled through dotting the flames with speckles of black and white.


(Kassarus Falkenrath)

Kassarus Falkenrath has emerged victorious!

{RP BATTLE} {INJURY} Ginger has rolled 4 for injury!

{RP BATTLE} {CAPTURE} Ginger has rolled 1 for capture!

Ginger has sustained an injury in battle...

Ginger has rolled 1 or under: they may be captured!


The daggers whipped out toward the woman seemingly missing and burying into the dirt near her. As the earth moved at her summons, disturbing them, an outburst of previously dormant mana began their fight with a flair that continued throughout.

No matter how he was pelted his fury still came upon her unrestrained and unrelenting. Waves of mud were met with gouts of flame that hardened the rocks leaving fast-cooling magma burning which in turn he moved against her.


"It was not the plan, but it works."


The Prince's voice rang out through the roar of flames mingling with the blows. A set of explosions sent the daggers back twirling through the air and he caught them with a flourish before pummeling against the statue.

His strikes were well-practiced and enhanced by the Blood of Cain he had imbibed, an after-image of flames following each strike of the blade against her stone carapace.

Slowly cracks began to form across the surface marring it as he chipped away. Tremors were sent through and as the earth shifted beneath his feet he rode the waves with well-honed balanced continuing to deal blow after blow with feverish intensity.


"Ah!


A final snarl left his lips as the shell was cracked revealing the softer portion of the woman and the mithril dagger fell from his grip as a glowing hand shot forth with serpentine precision and force, burning fingers wrapping around her face and sharpened claws digging into the meat.

The intrusive mana that yet flowed through his veins sought their master and carried with them the memories she had forced to the surface, invading her mind and working against the natural flow of her circuitry.

The rings of steel was over now though it still reverberated in her ears as if it was still fresh, a ring of tinnitus marred only by the heavy pulse in their ears thumping hard and fast.

her flesh was hot in stark contrast to the ice and numb fingers gripped feebly for some handhold, but once she raised up it took a moment to process what she beheld through bleary eyes.

The faces of loved ones, eyes cold and glazed over from the kiss of death, lay broken and bloodied all across the slope. A few groans broke the silence but soon those too went dull.

A hundred men now lay utterly decimated caught by a hidden flank of archers from above that had pincered the momentum of their downward charge. No scouts had been dispatched after the letter was received.

It was all her fault..

The memories that came flooding into the woman's mind ceased all consciousness rendering her completely at his mercy. The Prince's breathing was heavy, his body and armor alike worn down by the encountered yet he turned to offer a single nod toward the others before kneeling to pilfer through her belongings.

To the victor go the spoils.. First to him and next.. She would answer to the Queen.
(Kassarus Falkenrath)

The last time she had faced Kassarus, they had been almost evenly matched. She acknowledged this as he approached to fight her. She was slightly spent from her battle with the prince, and she feared she no longer could sustain his flames. Still, she battled on, moving in her bizarre way across the field.

The stone met flames, hotter than she had remembered, and a clash of earth and fire set the field into chaos, jagged pillars of rock and stacks of black smoke were present all around as the two clashed. She was pleased he was giving her a good fight, though her desire to defeat him was far too great.

Though the prince's nasty plan seemed to have worked. She couldn't sustain him as she had before, and her stance began to crumble. Before long, she felt the sting of flames, and was soon growing desperate. She growled as frustration began to seep into her mind, though it seemed she would not walk away this time.

A firm strike shattered her stance, and soon she was prone and at Kassarus' mercy. Images now flooded her mind, as she had done for him previously, though in her exhausted state, she hardly had the force to withstand them. Another cavalcade of misery to plague her...

Darkness overtook her, unfamiliar, not comfortable like the shadow she cast.

In her last moment of consciousness, her only desire for blood.

As Kassarus picked up Ginger's spear, he would feel the world around him grow still, as if the planet were part of his body. The stability granted by the weapon was almost dizzying. She'll be furious to find it missing.
(Ginger)

Languid.

It's a rare circumstance for the Prince to be this injured and weak, and yet it occurs to him all the same- perhaps he should know better than to find himself in the trouble while his body is still young and fragile, as well as the weakness that came with the blood offering, but...

It could not be helped, could it?

With the several assassination attempts that he had to survive already, it's only a matter of time until more of their enemies would come after him. It would mean that he must be prepared, even if his trial would be set upon the mental and physical torment alike.

Though, surely..
He'll still grow.

Weakened, but not entirely out of commission, the dark amalgamation maintains its posture to support Roche- he stared at the battle between Kassarus and Ginger with certain anticipation, and then..

She falls.

"How quaint..."

He murmurs quietly under his breath, yet a remark follows relatively soon.

"Brother, if you would..."

"Our mother will need to feed - and I would need an offering, myself." Starving, an unfortunate occurrence.

"But first..."

"Let's take her back."
(Ambrose Roche)