Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26
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Post by Aldrid on Apr 22, 2014 0:54:11 GMT
OUTCAST
Noise. It rose up all around him. He couldn't shut it out. The entire city was in a clamor. Master of men was gone; dead. It seemed that no matter how great of a man, no one could escape death. Except for him - E'lir. Such a short name - such a fitting name. He had heard it once, and since then it stuck. It meant pupil, or student; one who learns. E'lir never stoppeed learning. He has learned many things about the people-of-the-stone-and-wood. They hurt. They were mean, and they did not love anyone but their own; and even then, they did not love each other easily. Those-of-the-noise moved about, first happy and care-free, full of the wind-under-wings. And then, they were not moving, but still like the-calm-water. He did not understand their sudden change, until he saw it. Moving in unison the trail-like-black-slug passed along the clean-trail-of-stone. They walked slow. It was silent and sad. It was love and it was death. He knew love, and he knew death - both were old friends; both were bitter friends. E'lir watched as rain-fell-from-eyes. He had been close friends with that too, though as he grew older, they parted. He watched the sky bleed, and the people continue on; and on he watched. Darkness came about him, penetrated by the flickering pyre of flame. It warmed the air, and with it, the spirits of the changing-masked-ones - the men and women of this world. He had only learned distrust, hatred and fear from them. He was E'lir. He smirked. They did not see him while he was with his friend Darkness. They did not fear, or spit or hurt him with their stingers of iron. He would not be bit tonight, nor silvered. As the fire grew and the world dimmed his eyes changed; pupils becoming slits, and the colour of his irises reflecting like molten bronze. Reaching a hand up from his side, he trailed his fingers through the thick black mane of hair that fell to the middle of his back. Tonight it smelt thickly of their odd drink and food and mingled with their putrid waste; all of this was known to him - their deffication and trash. They didn't think of it, didn't care to worry about what mess their congregations bring. E'lir knew though, because E'lir had learned. Some of their own lived in it - and in ramshackle dens. They felt safer there, but it was just as dangerous; this place was wild too but what was the most worrisome was that beyond these walls, the world had a method to its madness, and these people often pretended to live nicely. E'lir began to walk - or rather, skulk from place to place. Men lined the roofs, watching the slug-turned-mud that had spread around the bonfire and scattered off to take care of their own affairs. E'lir was very quiet. They did not see him. He crawled along the roof, the noise below loud enough to muffle the faint click of taloned-feet scraping along the shingled roof. The occasional shuffle of the men-with-barbs made E'lir stop in place and hunker down against the darkness of the night. The Darkness was his friend though and would not easily betray him. On he went like this, finding the occasional place to rest and watch where the ones-with-barbs were few. Rather than watch the people and their silly ways of moving he watched the veiled sky as the occasional cloud passed over the brightly lit moon. The stars twinkled and winked down at him. They were his friends too. They did not laugh and spit and hurt. They laughed with him and they seemed to smile, occasionally showing him secret places to run to, or closing their eyes while he hid. For them, he smiled. Something piqued his interest though. First it was something he had not expected to find - yet the whispers on the wind had been true. One traveled with his kin; or rather, part-kin. They shunned him too, finding him to be impure and an abomination. E'lir had watched as the bare-hatchling parted from the one with the wind-carried-name. Its wings were still soft and fragile, its flight unsure; E'lir knew them though, knew that they would become strong and proud over the span of a full season's passing. E'lir sneered. He was loathed by them, his dragon-kin, and these noisy ones-with-changing-masks. The fledgling left soon after though and he tasted the air for the woman's scent. He would find her later. The second thing of worthy mention was the bitter smell of blood. He scampered behind the men-in-skin-with-barbs, careful to keep out of sight. He couldn't get too close to the edge to investigate as there were many liars-with-changing-masks below, so he carefully slipped over the edge of the roof and dropped to the street below. The height was no issue for him. As he landed, his own cloak billowed outward, momentarily revealing thick muscular legs that reflected the light, as if his legs had been layered with gems. In place of toes and feet, he had powerful talons and sharp ivory claws; from his brow, horns protruded from his skull. His torso was much like the shape of his legs, thick and muscular. He was sun-kissed and weathered, and scars marred his body. Patches of scales glistened with a deep, dark-red hue, reflecting off the torchlight that managed to reach around the corner. The tip of a long tail flickered at the hem of his cloak, keeping him balanced. He skulked forward unnoticed and from his hiding place behind a stack of emptied barrels he watched. E'lir saw the throng gather around, and one of their masters investigating. E'lir quickly lost interest though. Though grim to them, much of life was fleeting and unimportant; especially among these creatures of hate and scorn. Like a shadow, he slipped away. This was good for him though. He tasted the air. She was near. His nostrils flared and he grimaced as the scents of the city washed over him. He did not like this place, but the wind had brought him words - and they had not lied. E'lir continued on, watching from the darkness - the shrowd would hide him, but it could not decieve his eyes. He had her taste - her scent. He could find her now, and she would not get very far without his knowing.
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Post by Faustus on Apr 22, 2014 8:28:07 GMT
OOC note: Sorry beforehand if this seems a bit chaotic and unorganized. I am trying to address several things going on, as so much has happened between my first post and this one.“Well hello there, stranger,” “Come to gawk upon the ceremony of a Thousand Lights as well?” Jericho walked with a hastened gait, as the clouds begin to flip onto their bellies and shimmer somber splotches of purple and dark blue in detest to the suns dipping. It took him about a half hour to walk goofily from his hill, pass the front gate and guards, and into Renmin Square, so he was not surprised. He checked his watch(even though it was broken), as though he had some sort of date to keep before turning his head with a popas he caught the mans attention who had spoken to him. "Well yeah, I s'pose. I was really only passin' through, and caught word of it in a small town just a few leagues over yonder." He pointed off somewhere into the distance. "They said it was a real beauty, this festival or whatever the folks round here call it. Somethin' about a bunch of lights an' a funeral if I hear right?" He spoke with a distinct country drawl and accent that made his words feel heavy, yet precise and particular. Parring his words, Jericho moved with the crowd inward, snaking his way through, not really aware if the other man was following or not, but assumed he was. It was his nature for people to gravitate toward him. He moved in until coming to a clearing, horsemen forming a ring around something or other. He couldn't make it all out past the great husk of the horses, and the various soldiers moving about keeping the onlookers at bay, but his emerald orbs were keen. He bent low, removing his telescope from his pouch, hidden by the feet and dresses of passerby's. Even with the scope trained, he couldn't make it all out, but he noticed something; blood. That, and the feet of a corpse, and the feet of the opposite of a corpse. Jeweled boots flamboyantly professed military rank, and the man was no short order, neither. He could deduce what had happened. A crime, and a murder. The question remained, where's the murderer, and more importantly, the weapon. His scope whirred and clicked as he adjusted the focus with dozens of nobs that had no earthly business on a run-down, personal pirate telescope, fixing and closing in tiny, minute details. Trickles of near invisible blood spatter. The jugular was a good area to target for a quick kill, but not so good if you planned to get away with murder. The trail of almost anatomical crimson led about fity feet away into an alley system. Jericho knew it probably led to the tunnels. His scope continued moving until falling upon a black silk dress. The wearer was nothing short of beautiful. He couldn't think of any other fitting words for her. Gorgeous? Dram-like? They were all fits. She made his breath quicken. Satisfied, he collapsed the telescope again, bringing himself back up to full stock, offering an embarrassed smile to a woman who was keenly watching him spy on the ongoing investigation. He looked back to Mahlo(who he assumed was still there). "You see that girl?" He handed him the telescope and gave him a direction to point it. "Well if she ain't the prettiest thang to ever put on a dress, I don't know what is, son." With a pat on Mahlo's back, without even asking for the telescope back, he trotted off in her direction. "I'mma go talk to 'er. I think i got a shot!" His smile was wide, and pearly, and his hands found themselves back inside his jean overalls again as he made a B-line for the woman. He walked around the crime scene, finding a gap between the back end of one horse, and the front end of another, and for the briefest of seconds, could make out both the majority of the corpse, and the face of the leader of the Peacekeepers, Ari Ishtan. His photographic memory recorded the scene. "Well how ya' doin', My lady?" He greeted her with a wave, and then a humble bow, outstretching his hand in request for her to join him in her dance.
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Post by Paladin on Apr 22, 2014 19:28:12 GMT
A woman, of no distinguishable size, dressed more like your average french maid than a Dark Templar took a seat in the Inn, away from the whirring commotion. She had only arrived several minutes before. What with her huge flop in the Chosen tournament(She ran out of the back of the bath house, duty called!) she needed a relaxer. This place would serve well. She could go for a pint, yes a whole pint of ale or mead. The inn's center hub was abuzz, and lit with merry-making. The door busted open, citizens brinign in some poor girl who had lost her brother outside. She seemed troubled, traumatized, as one would be in that situation. Euphaire noticed, but did not move.
Most of the bar was aflame with testosterone as men fought over games of cards and other forms of gambling.
"Ya idjit! YOU'RE COUNTING CARDS! YOU GOTTA' BE!" One man shouted.
"Oh shaaaaaaaadap you old coot. Take your losses like a man and pay up!" The second man reached the whole way across the table, and pulled all the winnings on the table to his side, to which the other man drew a knife.
"I won't be taken for a fool, Sully! Not again!" He stabbed the knife into the table so deep the blade splintered out through the underside. "One more game. High stakes, winner take all!"
Euphaire raised a brow at this.
"Alright yer on! What's the game?"
"It's simple, really. I'll show ya." The first man withdrew the knife from the table with a loud, sharp shhhhing. He then proceeded to demonstrate, starting by placing his free hand on the table, fingers outstretched. He brought the blade of the knife down between his thumb and pointer, then up and down between his index and pointer, then the middle and ring and so forth.
"You do this, but faster. Every round we up the pace. If you nick yerself or a finger, then let's say you may lose more than your money. Still down, tough guy?" The word tough flicked from his tongue like venom from a snake.
The other man gulped deeply, and a trickle of sweat beaded from his brow. "Y-you bet your ass I'm down. I ain't no pickininny wuss!"
Now Euphaire brought herself to the table. At this point the whole inn was crowded around the two, eager to see someone lose a finger in a drunken stupor no doubt.
"Gentleman, gentlemaaaaan!"
All eyes shot to her, glowing in the firelight of the inn, something akin to a school of hungry piranhas. She gave a nervous smile and wave, then struggled to pick up her sentence where it left off.
"uuuuuuh. Well, ya' see I uh.... Well my luck has been really great of late. I wanna' try this game out with ya'. Room for one more?"
The two men looked at her, then back at each other, then back at her, then each other, then her, then each other, then her, then the table, then the carpet, then the maiden with the huge ass, then her, (You guys need some more? OK, THEN!) then the barkeep, then a peacock, then their mom, then each other, then her. All went silent. Then a giant burst f laughter, that started with the two gamblers that seemed to contageously spread all throughout the inn. Euphaire's expression became a grimace.
"You got a death wish, lady? Well damn, I ain't never met a lady like you. But fuck it, you wanna throw it in the ring with the big boys? Then I won't turn ya away. But if you lose little lady, we might have to take yer clothes for winnings. HAHA-
"You're on."
"Well shit, sit down, we'll show ya how to play. Sully, we'll start off easy for the girl." He replaced his great hunting knife with a butter knife he procured from a waitress earlier. He proceeded to show her, just like he showed Sully.
The first one was easy enough, played with the butter knife and a simple circuit through the gaps between the fingers and back. The existing players looked like they were experienced with a knife, as they did not slip up. The pile in the middle grew, enough to quiver the hearts of men: this amount could make a difference. But as with all high stakes games, the fear of failure made men falter.
This table had more dents in it than one could count.
She played better than expected. Her knife strikes were quick but light, hardly making the noise that the others made. After many turns around the table, the knife was presented to her once more. With a yawn, she looked at the other guys. "Everyone at this table is too good for such low levels. I mean, everyone can do this--" Flipping the knife over and vibrated it, her forearm quivering. The butter knife was nearly as fast as a sewing needle, hitting the woode with a rattatat. The table went quiet at this display.
"Uh, yeah..."
"Well, I was pacing myself so more of y'all's money would be in there..."
"Sorry, but I really can't afford to lose that much. Pass."
Now there were two four at the table. Euphaire, and the big man. Even he could not hpe to keep up with the speed that she displayed. His earlier cockiness had been all but dismantled.
"Y-you bitch! You cheated! You must have! Ain't no way you coulda' done that without some help from magic or sumthin, damn sure not a little girl like you.!
Euphaire giggled. "Don't be upset that you were outdone by a girl. I wiiiiin!" She pulled all of the pooled winnings to her side of the table, and was just about to walk off with a satisfied grin as the man literally leapt across the table, and looked to take the rightfully earned money from her.
His hand barely had time to flatten Euphaire's left breast before an armor-piercing slap knocked him off his feet and tumbling to the side. The sharp crack was enough to startle the horses. Anndddd they were off to the races! Men faced off against each other like hoplites, smashing their chairs against each other as they reached for spare clubs. Euphaire's eyes glanced towards Will's game. There was literally money on the table, and lots of it in orderly pouch bags. Seeing as how Will was outed as a cheater, she saw nothing wrong with upgrading herself to Numero Uno and taking the whole pot. She took a step towards it before someone grabbed her from behind.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
"Get off me." She gut checked him with her elbow, spread her feet, and performed a most excellent hip throw on him. Despite being larger than her, he tumbled through the air...and landed on the table. One of the table legs broke beneath the strain, causing everything lying on top to clatter at her feet.
All activity stopped as the patrons watched the gold coins roll on the floor.
Mexican standoff.
"...Everyone, just stay ca--"
She lifted a foot to dodge two divers, kicking one of them away by his shoulder. Most of the money was in the pouches, but some of the gold broke free. People were going for the low hanging fruit though, and playing a game of hacky-sack in midair. She grabbed one in midair, and began ejecting people from her personal space.
"No, mine--" "Give me that!"
She didn't have enough pockets for the money, but she was not going to let these men take away what was rightfully hers. If that man hadn't cheated, she would've won it all! It was all hers! Each of these bags represented a day in absolute luxury!
"ENOUGH!"
She could take it no more. The elegant visage she wore earlier was now replaced by one of absolute fury. She threw one man into another, flipped someone by twisting their fingers, and used part of a segmented table as a zweihander blade. Virtually no one could enter within eight feet without getting knicked. Alas, the very swing of her improvised wooden sword blew the coins away from her. Very counterproductive!
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Post by Sol on Apr 23, 2014 20:03:36 GMT
This was goodbye.
His father’s body had been raised into the flower’s core. Taiji watched the guardsmen fall into place, and could feel the family settling in behind him. He knew his wife was there, on the platform constructed for family members and officials, with her hands folded and her head bowed. His eldest daughter, Yijing, and his son Laozi, stood beside her.
A long ceremonial torch was placed in his hands.
The ball of flickering heat caught his attention, bright-blue at its base. The “fuse” woven towards the lotus-shaped pyre spiraled over the smooth stones of Renmin Square. In small branches and dry kindling, a path was set that curved gently and looped over the ground like the outline of leaves on water. Guard members were already ushering the crowd back from the structure.
The music ceased, and the crowd fell silent.
He searched their faces. Old, young. Tear-streaked and stern. Halflings, humans, creatures and dwarves. A thousand pairs of eyes watched as he stepped forward, and touched the torch to the kindling. It ignited instantly, flame racing towards the wooden-and-brush pyre. He let a Guardsman take the torch, watching as the flames caught and erupted. He did not know if the display had been orchestrated with the help of magic or fuel-powder, but each petal of the lotus caught flame in an inward spiral. It took only a few moments to crackle to life. He watched until smoke and the shimmer of flame hid what little he could see of his father’s body.
Placing his palms together, Taiji ducked his head and bowed low.
Cornelius Unum. Go in peace.
Thousands of candles were lit. First a few, at the front of the crowd. Then it spread like a wildfire throughout the entire congregation. As they were lit, they were set afloat, and rose into the sky like a thousand twinkling stars had risen specifically for the lost man.
The crowd moved as one to follow his example, but a roar of flame caught his attention. He rose, and orange light illuminated a display that could only have been accomplished by a mage. He watched a massive fire-dragon rear back from the lotus pyre, and stretch its neck to the sky. Its jaws opened, and wings unfurled in a rush of flame.
It seemed to cry out, silently, and then evaporated, leaving a plume of black smoke in its place.
Something whistled and sailed overhead in an arch. Fireworks. Like tiny comets, other balls of light followed, firing in the cardinal directions, popping and crackling gently.
Boom.
A streak of sparks leapt into the sky, and then exploded in a shower of gently-falling silver sparks. As if on cue, the crowd broke into cheers and laughter. The music began again.
Boom.
Taiji closed his eyes, feeling the explosion’s vibration in his rib cage. He heard the crackle of another shower of sparks and light overhead, as well as a few hushed “Oohs” from the crowd.
The next burst did not come.
A long pause drew him back into the present. He opened his eyes and glanced over the crowd. They also seemed to wait for something, wondering if it was finished. Instinctively, his eyes searched for Masato.
In that moment, time seemed to breathe deeply.
A great light erupted from the pyre, and Taiji raised his forearm to shelter his eyes.
BOOM.
An inferno unfurled from the pyre.
In less than a second, the world was only light, heat, sound, blaze.
The blast knocked him backwards. For a second, all went black. He awoke from the struggle of his own breath. It barely came to him. He tried to cough, but only succeeded in choking, gasping desperately to take in air. Taiji could open his right eye, but not the left. His ears hummed with tinnitus.
Something flew over him, hit the cobblestones and skipped to a halt. It was a small piece of metal, thick and jagged. His eyes struggled to focus. The square was a sea of black smoke.
Just beyond the metal piece was a human hand, and part of the forearm it had been attached to. The clothing on the sleeve was still burning.
A woman’s screams – or was it a horse’s? -- seemed far away, as though he was under water.
Taiji raised his head from the stone, and tried to sweep his eyes over Renmin Square. Bodies. Many bodies. He could see people or parts of people sprawled across the ground, and a great charred crater where the pyre once stood. Yes, that was screaming. So much smoke. Large pieces of wood, which may have been the structured beams, had shattered as they blew apart into the crowd. Some pieces of wood were still burning. He couldn’t turn enough to see the platform where the family had been, or the guardsmen.
In movements barely under his control, Taiji moved his forearm towards his face. He could smell the burn as much as he felt it. The skin was crackle-white, torn away and malformed, and then a mix of orange and blood-red, with a blackened ring around it. Bits of black cloth smoldered in a gaping hole around the wound.
He touched a finger to the left side of his face. When it came away, a piece of charred flesh came with it.
His hand trembled.
Someone was still screaming.
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Post by Sirius on Apr 23, 2014 20:58:50 GMT
The green eyed male continued to look towards the seemingly country born male as he attempted to analyze him the best way he could. Looking into his eyes, it would seem that while he could be pinned as the average country hillbilly, he was definitely more calculating and intelligent than he let on. Mahlo’s eyes narrowed a slight bit, listening to the other’s voice and taking note of the obvious drawl in his speaking. His head nodded slowly, looking towards the bright lights shining within the skies.
“I believe so. I heard word of some funeral for a man who has built himself a legacy around these parts. Seems like quite the celebration.” His accent was the polar opposite of Jericho’s. He obviously was harboring a sophisticated tongue, although he had no definitive accent.
As the country male walked inward along with crowd, Mahlo followed along slipping through the crowd as best as he could without sullying his fresh suit. He kept following the blue hue of Jericho’s overalls until they came to a clearing, surrounded by a ring of horses and soldiers making the attempt to keep the curious eye from looking upon whatever had happened. However, this would prove in vain as Jericho kneeled down and took out a complicated looking contraption that Mahlo later hypothesized was that of a highly updated telescope. He stayed in that position for a few moments with Mahlo looking down with nothing short of curiosity.
Once Jericho finally stood upright again, he looked towards the suited male and placed the telescope within his hands before pointing at the direction for him to look with a smile. Mahlo instinctively brought the contraption to eye level, looking through the scope until it was focused enough to make out an astonishingly beautiful woman adorned in a black silk dress that greatly fit her physique. The beauty seemed to radiate off of her, and just one look would have any man star struck. For Mahlo, a man who has not had the liberty of obtaining many women in his day, it was certainly a sight for sore eyes.
With a pat on the man’s back and a wide smile on his face, Jericho had left the telescope in his hands and walked over to greet the woman himself, hoping to have a shot with her. Mahlo let a light chuckle escape from his lips as his attention moved from Jericho to the progression that had begun. Using the telescope to get a closer look, he noticed the faces of thousands of people, stern and tear stricken as the fire began to move across the various lotuses to create an astonishing fire that was laced with the ashes of the legend that he wished he could have gotten to know. It was followed by the music beginning to sound throughout the square once more, and the familiar sound of fireworks that sent him and the telescope’s vision to the skies. They were simply beautiful. The crackle of bright lit shapes within the sky created a stunning visual that seemed to fit perfectly with the star lit skies of this summer night. Other than what seemed to be a crime scene only a few meters to his right, it was almost as if this night could not possibly be ruined.
Oh, how wrong was the poor man.
After the unusual time gap between the second and third sound of the firework, Mahlo knew something was wrong. He brought the telescope away from his eyes and turned to Jericho’s direction. But by then it was too late to warn him. As the blinding light began to consume the city square, all Mahlo could do was raise up his arms.
He felt himself be flung backwards into the brick building from the force of whatever explosion that had just combusted, his body cracking against the wall as his eyesight struggled to come back to focus from the bright white lights that had been accompanied with a deafening sound and screams. The pain within his back and arms was evident, but it was not anything extreme.
Once his eyesight finally returned back into focus and his ears stopped their incessant ringing, the male first checked his back, arcing it and testing it out. While there was obviously bruising and pain, there did not seem to be any muscular or skeletal damage, which was lucky. He then lifted his arms upwards and looked at them. While the black suit had been seared to patches, it seemed he only suffered the blistering type of burns. If he had been right up next to the progression, he probably would not have the benefit of being alive and only bruised and battered.
He struggled to stand back upright onto his feet, but eventually did so, allowing his body to rest against the brick wall that he had collided with a few moments earlier. The very first thing he could see was the bright lights. It was no longer from the lights across the city, but from the various fires that were spread across the cobblestone ground and the buildings that surrounded the entirety of the square. These fires not only lit up the night sky, but gave visual to the bodies thrown around the grounds. Crimson puddles and decapitated limbs were everywhere, with their owners writhing in pain and sorrow. Plumes of dark black smoke covered the starry skies. The smell of death was so sudden, and so overwhelming, that it made Mahlo suddenly have the urge to vomit on the ground beside him. The only question on his and probably everyone’s mind was; Who could have done this?
The emerald hues of the male darted to the direction in which Jericho and the beautiful female had been located only a half minute before, but now there were only bodies. Based on the fact that he was alright, however, it could be assumed that these bodies were only knocked unconscious.
“Jericho,” He called out, stopped mid-sentence as he began coughing through the smoke, “Can you hear me?”
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Post by Sirius on Apr 23, 2014 22:21:11 GMT
Logan could not blame the poor male for ignoring both of his siblings and even his apologetic statement. Not only was he assumingly a family relative of the deceased male, but was also plagued with another crime scene that Logan had heard about through the sociality of the citizens that resided within the square. The man was acquitted with sorrows and still being forced to deal with variations of problems that seemed to only bring him more to the brink. While Logan understood, the children did not. Once the grieving male walked away and more towards the center of the square, Joey elicited a disappointed noise, his head bowing down and looking towards the cobblestone ground. Loretta grew a pout on her face, and turned to her big brother.
“Whyyy? Why was he being mean to us?” She asked, a childish anger welling within her words.
Logan’s lips curved upwards into a small smile as he looked at the both of them. “Aw, don’t be sad little ones,” He spoke in a calm, soothing voice, “I think he’s just sad. He didn’t mean to be mean.”
The male leaned forward and scooped up his baby brother Joey in his arms, pressing his lips against his cheek and then sticking his tongue out at him. To the child within his arms, this was the most entertaining thing on the planet. He broke out into a hysterical laughter that oozed with an innocence only found within that of a small child. Loretta and Marcus followed suit, all of the children’s laughter putting a much wider smile onto Logan’s face. While he did not always adore and love the idea of taking care of the three when he could be out doing something much more fitting to one of his age, he was always appreciative of the smiles on their faces. The laughter from their lips. It made him feel as though they could get through anything with enough effort, if they could laugh through the challenges that the family was constantly faced with.
Looking at the watch that he held on his wrist, he immediately took notice of the time, and how late it was in the night. He had made sure that they were all fed until their little stomachs were about ready to pop. He could feel himself beginning to get heavy eyed as well. “I think it’s time to go, kiddies. It’s waaaay past your bed times.”
In unison, the three of them let out a heavy groan that made a chuckle escape from his lips. Reluctantly, they agreed to leave the celebration. He placed the toddler back on the ground and held his hand, as he held onto Loretta’s hand, squeezing them both tightly. Assuming that Marcus was right behind the trio, the two sets of tiny feet along with his own clopped against the cobblestone streets as he moved them away from the square and back into the narrowing streets. The smile had never left his lips. But, just as he was about to exit back into the narrow street ways, he looked over his shoulder.
Marcus wasn’t there.
At first glance, the child could not be found anywhere. The smile on his lips that was only there a few moments before suddenly faltered as his mind began to rush into a state of panic. After looking all around them in a rush, he turned fully and looked outwards. He did not want to believe that Marcus was taken by some sort of criminal within the shadows.
The sigh of relief that escaped from his chest could be heard throughout the entire square, as he saw the eleven year old, still near the center of the square and the crowd in his suit. He had a look of awe on his face with a dumbfounded smile. At first, Logan concluded that he was daydreaming. Upon closer inspection, it was found that he was only looking at the ceremony for the man who was being celebrated on this star filled night. Logan did not move, nor make any attempt to call Marcus back. His eyes were focused on the crowd of people surrounding the structure, and the structure itself. He could vaguely hear Loretta and Joey’s collective gasps as the structure became engulfed in flames. The bright orange and yellow hues swallowed the structure as it grew, the flames licking upwards into the air that was fueling it. Although it could not be seen from how far Logan was, he knew in his mind that within those bright flames were the ashes of the man. It was such a beautiful ceremony that caused the tear stricken individuals to clap with a sense of happiness. It seemed as though the bright stars and the moon became brighter with his soul joining the ranks of the heavens.
The boom of the fireworks were just as beautiful, barreling into the sky before exploding into a flurry of bright colors. Two explosions of the fireworks left the citizens in awe, as the music began to play and it seemed like the celebration was beginning once more on this beautiful summer night. The love for this man was obviously immense. It seemed as though the surrounding citizens as well as Logan himself began to get confused as the third explosion did not sound off. Most firework shows lasted much longer than only two. A bad feeling sunk into the pit of the young male’s stomach. He felt the sudden urge to vomit. His body began to shake, but he didn’t know why. He had a horrible feeling that the delay in fireworks wasn’t a coincidence.
He tried to call Marcus back, tried to do something, but he never had the chance. Him and the entire crowd finally got the BOOM they were waiting so impatiently for.
Everything transformed into a bright white, and a moment later into a dark black. His ears began to ring and block all sound. He had no time to call Marcus, or to even protect the children that were grasping his hands. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was flung backwards by an unknown force. To him, his body was flying for hours before he felt his body crash against the ground below. Pain flew up his spine, and it felt as though his face and arms were burning.
He had landed on his back. When his eyes had finally come back into focus after about thirty seconds, he was looking up at the sky. Except, the sky wasn’t clear anymore. Black smoke was all he could see when he looked up. The incessant ringing in his ears was consistent, leaving him dazed and confused. He almost forgot where the hell he even was. All he heard was screams and the crackling sound of fires, in place of the music and cheers that were there only a few moments ago. All he wanted to do was lie back and get up on his own time. But there was one thing that made him sit upright so suddenly. One thing that caused the pain on his back, the blood trickling from the back of his head and blistering burns on his arms, torso and face to not matter. One thing.
The children.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins like a gushing waterfall. His pain was alleviated, and his mind was suddenly focused on finding his siblings. He got to his feet in quick fashion, paying no mind to the sudden light headed feeling that came along with getting up much too fast. He looked from left to right as the panic began to set in once again. Right next to him sat two of the children, sprawled on the ground. They were lucky enough to hold tightly onto his hands when the explosion occurred. He was lucky enough to keep the hold through it all.
He looked at both Loretta and Joey for a few moments. The first thing he noticed was the skin, red and already beginning to blister from the intense heat. The burns, luckily enough, were not severe enough for the skin to be completely charred. However, what worried him to the core was that they were knocked unconscious, but still breathing. The feat set in. Who knows where they first landed on. They could have broken their legs, damaged their brain, or hurt their back. He knew that there was pain in his back and blood trickling from the back of his head, but other than that and the burns, he was okay. He was hoping for the same thing.
For a moment, his head turned back in front of him, his dark brown hues focusing in on the square. The horror that stood before him was unfathomable. Fires had broken out in various buildings and pieces of splintered wood. Metal had been thrown every which way. The light from the various bright orange fires only gave light to the lake of crimson red that lay on the cobblestones. Decapitated pieces of bodies sat in the lakes of blood soaking into the cobblestones, while their mutilated owners writhed in pain, or were just plain dead. The pyre, which was where the explosion originated from, was destroyed. Smoke barreled into the sky and hung low enough for Logan to begin feeling pain in his lungs. The overwhelming sight, sound and smell of bloody death gave him the urge to vomit once again, but something stopped him. His head darted back to the two children. His ears had finally stopped ringing, and the light headed feeling had gone away. Now he had to find his last sibling. He did not want to leave them, so he scooped them in his arms, one in each, and ran further into the square’s center.
“MARCUS!” He screamed out, his adrenaline causing him to run faster than any man in his condition should have the ability to. “MARCUS, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”
He continued to sprint with the two children held safely within his arms, attempting in vain to remember where he saw Marcus last. Where he was standing, watching the celebration at a much closer distance.
God dammit! He thought to himself, frustration of not being able to find him fueling the panic in him further.
After a minute or so of searching aimlessly for his little brother, his eyes looked down at a body, close to the structure that had been burned. His eyes slowly glanced the body over. The bottom half of the person was now completely nonexistent, as if he had been cleanly cut into half exactly. Blood gushed from the exposed pelvic bone and onto the blood drenched ground. The person’s torso was charred in some spots, completely black while some spots remained a dark red color. It was concluded that he was a male, at this point. Looking at his face, patches of his blond hair were gone. Half of his face was about as charred as a good portion of his torso, leaving one eye completely fried. Looking at the other eye, however, Logan knew who it was.
The blue iris stared straight at him, tears beginning to trickle out of the one good eye. Logan could tell that he was just barely alive. The pain he felt could not possibly be measured by anybody else. That he cannot even scream, or cry for help. He can only sit there, silently crying as he bleeds out.
“Marcus…” Logan said quietly in utter disbelief, his body beginning to shake violently.
All in one moment, the adrenaline that had kept Logan going suddenly vanished. The pain in his head and across his entire body returned as his knees buckled. He fell to his knees, still holding Joey and Loretta in his arms. He stood next to Marcus, looking down at him. Now, it was his turn to cry. Salty tears fell from his eyes and trickled down his red blistered cheeks. Once the first tear fell, it was accompanied by what seemed like a waterfall of them. Joey and Loretta would be okay, with enough hospital assistance. But, Logan could not even call for help for Marcus. All of his blood on the ground…His face charred. His left eye completely destroyed. He was too far gone. How he had even lived this long was a complete mystery.
The tears continued, dripping down onto the cobblestones. He slowly and carefully put Joey and Loretta down next to him, in the few spots where there was barely any blood. With his hands now free, Logan leaned forward and grasped Marcus. He cradled his head within his arms. The tears were becoming strong to the point that he was sniffling as well.
Marcus…His only fully 100% biological brother. The one that had gone through the most. The seizures…the stroke…the transplants. He even had Aspergers. Logan had tried to be there for him as best as he could. Usually he would succeed. But this time…He had failed. He had failed his entire family. How he would even live with himself after this travesty would be a complete mystery.
He began to rock Marcus back and forth in his arms, as he felt his pulse slow, and his body begin to slowly but surely lose it’s life. As he heard the paramedics begin to draw closer, he decided to sing his favorite nursery rhyme when he was a child. This one would put him to sleep, for the last time.
“Hush little baby…Don’t say a word,” he began, his voice cracking from the sniffling and tears, “Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…”
The pulse began to slow further. The blood trickling from his torso was beginning to slow.
“And if that mockingbird don’t sing….Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring….”
“And if that diamond ring turns brass…” Suddenly, Logan felt his pulse stop entirely. Logan looked into his eyes, and he knew. The blue eye had glossed over. The medical personnel had finally made their way to him, but it was too late. Logan fell into a fiery flurry of tears. Marcus, after his short and ripe life, was dead, in his arms. And to Logan, it was all his own fault.
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Aldrid
Nu Guardian
"Bitch, I'm a bus."
Posts: 26
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Post by Aldrid on Apr 24, 2014 2:04:09 GMT
Basil roused from her shock when a guardsman came in, wading through the roudy patrons and knelt down beside her. His gauntletet hand rested over hers, and she looked up from the cup into gentle brown eyes. His mouth moved, but no words came out; or rather, she couldn't hear what the lawman was saying. The bar went quickly into an uproar, and Basil looked over his shoulder with a dumbfound expression. Recognition reflected in her eyes at the violence. It never seemed to stop. Her gaze fell on the source of the fighting - a young woman who had decided to include herself in a bit of gambling. Always gambling; why did anyone bother with it knowing it could get them killed? She slowly rose to her feet and waved the guard off, handing him her cup before retiring up the stairs and to her room. She felt exhausted. Collapsing on the bed fully cloathed, she simply lay there in the darkness listening to the sounds down below. They were all idiots who-
She couldn't even finish her thought. The window lit up brightly, like the time she had accidently dropped phosphorus into a candle, making a large explosion of blinding light. Luckily her face had been burried in the crook of her arm, only catching it on her peripheral. Then the explosion resounded, blowing the glass out of the pane and rattling the walls. Then there was nothing but the sound of her ears ringing. Dazed and confused, she pulled herself up into a sitting position and looked at the darkness outside. It was too dark. Then she heard it. Screaming, and the panicked sounds of people running for fear of their lives. The city was in absolute pandemonium. This snapped her from her dull state of mind, clearing away the shock. Basil began to act. Grabbing the bag from the floor, she ran out of the room, slipping it over her shoulder; it was heavy with the wares her brother and her had meant to sell, but it was a weight she was accustomed to.
Basil didn't look at the other patrons - the explosion had forced many to be knocked violently around, as well as the fight they had been previously part of. She didn't care. Brushing past them, she tore out of the inn and staggered down the street, slipping and stumbling on corpses and bits of ones. She brought her hand up to keep from breathing in the acrid stench of burnt flesh. People were scattering about and the remainding guards struggled to uphold the peace. Amidst the chaos, Basil took her time to stomach the scene before her. She had to do what she could. If people didn't die in the blast or from grievous wounds, they would be trampled by each other. The young woman took her time to pick out people who had fallen, though had not yet gotten up. Some - many were dead, their limbs falling limp and flesh peeling away.
It was a nightmare picking the living out from the dead. She noticed she had not been the only one though after many had gotten to their senses. They picked through the living among the dead, pulling them off to safety. Basil noticed one man in particular simply sitting there. It was gruesome to look at how some of his face had begun to tear off. Running over to him, she knelt in front of the man, one hand grasping his shoulder firmly, "Can you tell me your name!?" She shouted over the clamour, her eyes looking into his with a strange calmness. How she held it together she didn't even know. Dropping her bag, she removed a small vile from a pouch. Before he could stop her, she quickly applied it to a fresh bandage, and applied it to his face.
It was cooling to the touch, soothing the burn-pains. At least it will be of some help for now. Basil only recognized him after she was halfway applying the salve and bandage - the mayor of this town. It was a miracle he survived, having been so close to it. She didn't pause though, only looking at him with a grim expression. Once she was done, she rose to her feet and hooked her arm under his arm, pulling him up. "Can you walk? If not, I'll take you somewhere safe, but someone needs to get things in order." She looked back to see men rushing with buckets in an attempt to douse the flames. Where the hell were the damned mages!? Something felt awefully awry - something more than just this explosion.
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Post by Alchemist on Apr 24, 2014 6:06:59 GMT
By the time the song had reached its’ climax, Kayana was covered with a light sheet of sweat and gasping for breath. She’d never gotten a chance to actually engage in activity that took her breath away… for anything. It gave her a sense of release, and she cursed herself for not being able to move her feet for longer. The disguised priestess leaned on a stone pillar for support. A toddler no taller than her knee tugged on the hem of her dress for a dancing partner, but the exhausted woman had to decline.
She watched the festivities from the pillar, waiting to catch her breath.
If she’d known the night air would smell so crisp, and the stars were so bright, she would have begun sneaking from her chambers ages ago. The burly men swearing and grabbing all the pretty women, the energetic children with curious, sticky hands, the luxuriously baked goods, all of it was enough to die for.
The priestess had become so enthralled by the activities that she hadn’t noticed the man with green orbs for eyes and olive skin approach her with a wave and hearty smile.
"Well how ya' doin', My lady?" His accent startled her, as she had never heard anything outside of the Avalonian articulation.
The gesture he made next made her go rigid. He bent low at the waist, then extended his hand towards her, palm outstretched. Her brown eyes went wide, curious, full of an irrational amount of fear.
Did he know who she was?
What was this?
She was so shocked, in fact, the lighting of the pyre had escaped her, but the explosion of the fireworks hadn't.
Kayana had never experienced the rumble that shook her entire being, and the crackle of lights.
She had taken the strangers hand and held it, running into his significantly larger frame instantaneously. Then she was enveloped by the smell of apples, hay, and grass.
There was a moment of pause, and she moved away from the stranger quickly, only to shake violently when the second firework came crashing into view.
“Kay. My name…is Kay. I apologize for my odd behavior. May I have the honor of asking your name?” Her voice was quiet over the awe of the common folk, pointing excitedly at the lights.
Too formal.
She was entirely too formal.
The need to evade became top priority. He’d know.
The priestess gave a small nod and smile and dipped out of the way, trying to potentially escape the encounter.
BOOM
Kayana was knocked off her feet, hitting the beautifully crafted pavement with a hard thud. Her ears rung out, but there was silence. And slowly but surely, like the first droplets of a rainstorm, screams came tumbling around her.
In an instant Kayana was on her feet, whipping her head about in the confusion. From the pyre, she could no longer see the royal family and a crumble of white and silver robes lay scattered around dead horses.
To her right there was a man cradling a corpse with both hands, eyes bright with tears; a pillar of serenity in the chaos. Two small children stood around him and the body, petrified.
“My people…” Suddenly she was filled with a sense of rage.
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Post by Faustus on Apr 25, 2014 19:21:02 GMT
Jericho was shocked when the woman crashed into him like a barrel o' grapes , enveloping his frame. He wrapped his arms around her, smelling her hair(he was considerably taller than her)and twirling about rhythmically. The music that played all across the square, from violins to bassoons provided more than enough to dance to.
Jericho might not have looked it between his dirty overalls, moppy blonde hair and crooked teeth, but he had the efficiency to maybe even be a ballroom dancer. He took her hand and controlled her body like it were attached to string and he were a puppeteer. Laughs jubilated out from his gullet of true happiness, dancing with and around her.
After a while of this, the old man had to take a break, and he released her from his masterful display, though not without a comical flair. In his grand finale, he untwirled her from his body by the hand, allowing her gathered momentum to lurch her into a large pile of hay just a foot or so away. He laughed hartily, and rushed over to help her.
"And you can call me Jericho, little lady. Or Jeryy fer short. But that's just between us, ya' hear?"
Through the guise of merrmyaking, Jericho's eyes missed nothing. The subtle way she moved, the elegent dress, the way she spoke, the name "kay", how her skin was softer and better cared for than any commoner he'd ever met, and most importantly, the smell of blossoms in her hair. Kotaka Blossoms only bloomed near the temples of Sura. Growing that particular fauna was only possible through their enchanting divinations. She was no commoner, that was for sure. Though who, or why she was pretending to be someone else was uncertain to the country bum.
Then, a crackle. A flash, followed by a wave of heat that could sear flesh and turn metal crimson hot. This wasn't like the other fireworks. This was a blast. Jericho was lifted backwards off his feet from the shock, though somehow managed to impossibly meneuver himself forward, tackling Kay to the ground, and make a human shield of himself. His jean overalls were not bulletproof, but the little , super speeding debris that punched through only embedded themselves a sixteenth of an inch, saving him from potentially lethal damage. The heat seared his open flesh; the lover arms, hands, and neck, and a shard of flying glass punched through the right side of his cheek, and out the side of his face.
*******
He stirred to his feet. His ears were ringing, and his body ached, and the world was moving in awkward dimesnions, and everything had a strange afterimage. And suddenly, everything became as it should be. He shot back to reality, realizing his body was against charred pavement. Pavement, when he was on top of Kayana. He searched around frantically, before catching sight of her ripped, tattered dress flowing off of her legs in the wind as she stood before the destruction.
"My people..."
Her people....
Her people?
It hit Jericho like a sack of bricks. Well I'll be damned.
He lurched up, and grabbed her forearm, pulling her away from the center of the destruction.
"I know who you are." He paused for a moment. "Your secret is safe with me, Miss Queen of Avalon. Matter of fact, this might even be a boon for us that you are alive and well."
He searched the piles of debris and bodies. Suddenly, the horses whom were forming a ring around a crime scene literally just moments earlier came into view. He ran beside them, finding a sword sheathed to its side, and a large array of equipment and supplies, rationing some off of the corpses. He heard Mahlo in the distance, and placed a hand on his shoulder, before becoming fully aware of what had happened.
"Well shit, best count your lucky stars, kid! We all should. No idea how you managed to survive that. Either you are quick on your feet or just a lucky sumbitch." Jericho had to yell over the sound of screams and roaring flames that were creeping out from the center of the square and out over more of the city. It was chaos.
He looked around, and noticed how many survivors there were. In comparison to the dead, there was about one percent, most of them being civilians, the others the actual guardsmen. Most of the guard was centered in the Square, and were killed instantly. The few who remained scrambled to fight the flames, and to help rescue those who were trapped or injured. Jericho hadn't seen the bodies of the peacekeepers. They probably survived, and were off helping however they could, or looking for the mayor and Kayana's clever duplicate.
"I imagine you wanna' help the people, right?" He spoke aloud to Kayana, speaking primarily to her church teachings. "But I ain't goin' that direction. I reckon somebody's gotta' figure out who did this, or what. Bein' a priestess from the church and all, I know you know your way around a fight, and you must be good with that fancy healing magic and whatnot. You wanna' use those powers to help everybody, I won't stop you. But I am gonna' find the men responsible. Your identity needs to stay a secret."
He paused, absorbing everything from around the area. The soot and destruction, the radius of the explosion. Where there was once a pyre, was now a giant debris filled crater of bodies and roaring flame. Jericho slowly made his way toward it, using his arm as a shield from the black ash and soot falling like rain on the Square. With every step closer, the desolation became thicker. Buildings had crumbled atop of people, and the flash of heat was so hot that those closest to it were petrified, or reduced to dust in an instant.
Jericho leapt into the crater, and fumbled through the crumbled concrete and ashes, until he had found what he was looking for; A large, shattered shard of something metalic, and shimmered against the orange glow of the fire. The crater had to be something near a hundred feet deep, but Jericho too a long leap from its bowels, raising up through it with little to no effort, and landed just on the edge of the bowl with a light flutter, and a slowing, magnificent descent that could easily raise question as to who the country bum really was.
He held the metalic object up, showing it to everyone around. "See this? This is Uru. I've only come into contact with it one time before this, and in much less a quantity. This is just a shard, probably less then half of the original." He made some quick calculation, jotting down odd, angular markings on it with a dull pencil from his pocket. The shattered metal fragment was almost the size of his whole hand. "It is an arcane metal, or more specifically, it is something that can only be created naturally in areas with great amounts of magical influence, and even harder to be mined correctly, much less used as an explosive."
Jericho's mind wandered. How exactly did they explode the device. Was it remotely detonated? That was likely. There was also the off chance that somebody, somebody close and on the inside could have activated it on the pyre. If that were the case, they were also a suicide bomber and long dead. Jericho opted the section option out. It must have been remote detonated. Question was how?
"I'm thinking remote detonation. These things can be used like giant glyphs; holders of magical power, and could have been detonated by a device, or magic link from kilometers, or hell, even cities over, depending on the level of skill the magician using the thing was. Thing was, they prolly' weren't countin' on someone like me passing through."
Jericho's emerald spheres traced over to Mahlo. "I could use a helping hand with this investigation. Don't look like nobody else is pitching out trying to find the attackers. You coming with us?"
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Post by Corpse on Apr 26, 2014 1:00:14 GMT
Mark stood outside the larger mass of people, who had collected themselves around the fireworks display. He stood, well dressed for the occasion, sipping his drink which he had bought at a nearby bar. Drinks obviously weren't allowed leave the bar, but what they didn't know couldn't hurt them. He was wearing a black suit, black leather shoes, and a white shirt with the top button undone. Each time a firework exploded in the air, its vibrant colors would dance across his face, emerald green eyes, and messy brown hair.
Excited children ran past him, nearly knocking the drink out of his hands, while a clearly irritated mother walked past him at a very fast pace, begging for them to wait. He gazed upward, and focused on the fireworks, shooting upward, before exploding, and letting the sparks reach every direction before vanishing. He had been to such a display as a child, but recalled little. However, he did remember being there with a friend, although he could not remember her name no matter how hard he struggled. They stood in the crowd, letting out sounds of amazement. He remembered it being such a happy time in his life... but he still could not remember her name, come to think of it, he couldn't remember much at all.
A firework larger than those previously brought him back to where he was. He looked for those children he saw earlier, finding them easily. They jumped up and down, and shouted to their mother about what was there. He couldn't help but smile at the general relaxed, and light-hearted feel in Renmin Square. At least, compared to the drunks he found elsewhere. The gleeful "Oooh"s and "Aaah"s of the crowd were silly, but he found himself joining in.
Suddenly, the fireworks ceased their launch. It seemed that everyone was wondering whether it was over, or if there was something else? What felt like about 30 seconds passed, people were beginning to turn away... When suddenly, a "BANG" that sent his ears ringing and his body flying. When his head hit whatever wall there was behind him, he lost consciousness.
With a jolt, he came reeling back to the chaos surrounding him. He felt heat, only saw darkness, and only felt a distant pain numbed by adrenaline. He was by no means a religious man, but briefly considered that he was in hell.
He attempted to stand, and immediately fell over. His body was now rested with his back against the wall. He waited a few seconds before trying to move again. He realized that he could move his arms, but only weakly. He tried to open both eyes, it felt that his eyelids had pried open, however it dawned on him that he was only seeing through his right eye. The thought that he may live with only one good eye scared him to no end, but he decided to check for more life-threatening injuries before worrying about an eye. He reached around to the back of his head, and held his hand to his face. Though it had only bed a light touch, his hand was now quite bloody, and he was worried about brain damage... no matter, he must live for now and worry about later, later. Using the wall to prop himself up, he slowly rose and leaned against it. His breathing was heavy and his body rather burnt. He brought his foot up against the wall, and used it to push himself forward. His walking was little more than a limp and first, but he slowly adapted and was at a steady pace soon.
By now the smoke had begun to clear, and Mark scanned around at the horror that surrounded him. Charred bodies everywhere, some writhing in pain, most, limp. There were people leaned over some, Mark saw a man crying over a boy, embracing him tightly. He saw others speaking to and helping those that still lived. He noticed almost immediately that those in the first ten or so rows of people closest to the display had all been reduced to mere black shapes, hardly describable as human. Earlier, he wondered if he truly was in hell. Now he knew that this was as close as he would get to it.
The center of the Square was no more than a crater. There was a man digging around for something in its ashes and rubble.
"What in God's name are you doin'?" Mark called out to the man.
He was a length away, and could not hear, and so Mark began to close the distance between them at walking pace.
The man began to shout, while holding some object aloft. "See this? This is Uru. I've only come into contact with it one time before this, and in much less a quantity. This is just a shard, probably less then half of the original."
What? Mark stood where he was, waiting for this man to say something more. The man seemed to take something from his pocket and begin writing down one thing or another. He seemed to speak to himself before calling out to someone. "I could use a helping hand with this investigation. Don't look like nobody else is pitching out trying to find the attackers. You coming with us?"
Before whoever he was addressing could respond, Mark approached the man at a faster pace.
"I don't know what you're up to, but I'll assist with anything to find the bastards that must have done this." Mark said, raising his voice quite a bit.
The man turned on his heel, looking up as Mark loomed over the crater's edge.
"Good t' see the community pitchin' in," he said with a heavy country accent, and a smile "name's Jericho"
Mark held a hand down toward the man, "Mark, Mark Edgley" he announced, returning the smile.
"Now then," Mark began "can you explain to me what the blazes has just happened?"
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