Apologies for the wait. Posted.
Painted_Man's forum posts
Arlen grimaced. "Back to the Core with you. Promised a long time ago I ent gonna give ya nothin'." He growled at the demons. He looked back to the woman and scowled. "Ent got time to teach ya wards. Just fight." As he said this, he caught a wood demon in an armlock, and twisted the arm fully. There was a sound of splintering wood, then something no one should have to hear, then the arm ripped off in a spray of black ichor. Tossing the arm to one side, he lunged at another, catching it in a bear hug. His wards flared brightly, and the coreling shrieked, attempting to pull away. He felt it's insides grow soft, then it collapsed in his iron grip.
"How long till dawn?" He cried over the shrieking of a field demon as he caught it with a right hook, wards on his knuckles flashing at the point of impact. Claw marks began to rip him open, but he healed rapidly. His glow of magic seemed to ebb and flow, his constant expenditure seeming to dull his glow, but he absorbed magic almost as quick as he lost it. He lit up the night, punches, kicks and holds making his wards flare like a pyrotechnics display. He roared, growled, and all manner of feral sounds emitted from him. He watched as the woman's brush spilled magic and ichor alike from the demons. He willed it to him. It would take a lot of magic to keep this up.
Arlen changed his stance as more corelings, albeit ones he'd never encountered before, all teeth, claws, fur and scales, charged in and - tore the other demons to shreds? "What in the Core-?" He looked around and saw, a short way off, a woman. He suddenly became aware that he was almost naked, clad only in his bido. Quickly, whilst her attention was drawn by the new demons, he found his robes and pulled them on, covering himself and pulling his hood up. Some parts of wards inscribed on his face and hands were still visible. He approached her, the corelings being run off by these monsters.
"I didn't ask for your help." He growled at her when he was in earshot. "And these...things," he gestured at the odd creatures, half bear and half large carnivourous fish, "won't be able to fight all night. The best bet we have is finding some succour. Do you have a ward circle?" He was annoyed by his own lack of weaponry. A warded spear, or even Renna's knife would alter the chances in his favour. He looked at the battlefield, then around them. Magic swirled up from the ground. If he could just... He inhaled, and the magic rushed to him. His wards began to glow brightly with magic, and he faced the demons as they rose. If they got too close, he would knock them back with an incredible display of speed and strength.
Year: 333 After Return, Thesa.
As the two warriors plunged over the cliff, thoughts whirled through the mind of Arlen Bales. If he could just let go, it would end here. He'd be reunited with his mother. He could see her smiling at him. Jardir hurled insults, but he knew the Krasian would soon be dead. The ground swelled up underneath them, and Arlen smiled and opened his arms wide, imagining falling into the arms of his mother. The bone chilling sound of Ahmann's body hitting the ground brought him back to reality, and he willed his powers into existence, dissipating into a mist moments before he hit the ground. He passed through it, as insubstantial as a ghost, but this time, he didn't stop just below the surface. Instead, he continued on, into the Core, dragged along against his will. He tried to scream, but had no body with which to create any noise at all. He clawed at any escape route, pulling futilely away from the Core's grasp. He could feel the presence of mind demons all around. Then all of a sudden, the presences surrounding him disappeared, and he moved upwards, towards the light, unhindered.
He broke the surface and resolidified rapidly, taking in great gasps of air. He looked to the west. The sun was setting. Soon night would be upon him. Breaking the Core's hold had exhausted him. There was little chance he could challenge the night in his current state. He set off at a swift run, his bare feet slapping the ground. It was futile. He couldn't outrun the setting sun, nor a host of field demons, but he couldn't fight them either. After the sun had fully set, and the horde on his heels was large enough, he turned, inscribing heat and impact wards in the air, throwing back the demons, and setting the wood corelings alight. He stood, shedding his robe a moment, and the full moonlight shone over his tattooed skin. "Come on then." He growled. "I ent goin without a fight."
OoC for an RP in which the Painted Man teams up with everyone's favourite good turned bad turned good turned - I don't even know anymore - former art thief Persephone Grey.
I think this is the first duo RP I've ever done, and certainly the first time I get to kick it with Port on my lonesome, so I'm looking forward to this.