[Astylind Name: Shadow Serf]
[Astylind Level: Level-2]
[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]
[Anima Affinity: Dark]
[Gender: Male]
[Description: Natives of Yurnawa. Bottom feeders of the shadow plane. They live in flocks, hunt in flocks. Unskilled in both melee and spellcasting but they excel at climbing.]
……
Ewan stretched his hands out, hovering an inch above the ground with the tip of his boots grazing the ravaged asphalt.
Ice Daggers!
He cast the spell with all his Ice-Anima, it was the current strongest form of the spell, and six razor-sharp ice daggers soon floated around him. His ‘Yurn’ gaiter covered half his face, its effect dampening his presence and enhancing his stealth.
“Nuisance,” he murmured, squinting at the pestering serfs climbing the pile of debris all around, his green-glowing eyes radiating a predator’s breath.
They were humanoid yet far from Starons. Parched ashen skin, long twig limbs, bony claws, rotten teeth, bulging eyes, semi-bald with a few strands of straw-hair jutting out top—they were the definition of repugnance, their shrill cries even more so.
His daggers shuttled around, white blurry streaks trailing their flash. Ewan managed his enhanced Ryvia, one dagger rent the air and stabbed a serf through the temple, jamming into the concrete. He focused on it and yanked back with a gesture. Dark blood spurted with the dagger’s departure, and the serf’s dead body plummeted to the ground.
A serf on the opposite side screeched and vaulted at Ewan. Two daggers zipped at it; they sliced the serf apart in the air. Its corpse plopped and slid before Ewan in pieces, his Ryvia defense preventing the blood splatters.
The violent deaths halted the rest of the serfs, they cried at Ewan but backed away.
“I need your cores,” he said, staring at them. “Please die and hand them over.”
The daggers zipped all over the area, leaving dead serfs in their wake. Dark blood painted the concrete, corpses covered the ground. Gore, brain matter, intestines, organs, chopped limbs—his spell unfurled mayhem all over the place. It only stayed for a bit though, the all-encompassing spell circuit ‘cleaned’ it all soon.
“Is it done?” Nana asked, shivering behind the ice wall Frost created to protect her.
“Almost,” Ewan said, pulling the gaiter down, and his breath steamed. The continuous usage of ice spells had dropped the temperature, the surrounding was back to Frosthelm again.
Fireball!
Ewan aimed and hurled. A couple of fist-sized fireballs zoomed and exploded on contact, they took care of the fleeing serfs and helped with the cold.
“It’s done now.” Ewan released his Ryvia as the flash of the explosion died. His heels dropped to the ground; the daggers also melted away. “I did the hunting; you do the gathering. Get to work,” he said, letting Nana take over the stage.
She might be rich and didn’t need the cores, but he did. He couldn’t let even a tiny amount of profit go.
……
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[Astylind Name: Blind Spider]
[Astylind Level: Level-4]
[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]
[Anima Affinity: Dark]
[Gender: Female]
[Description: Natives of Yurnawa. Predators of the shadow plane. They gave up on vision in the race of evolution and chose vibrations and other extra sensory methods to perceive the world.]
……
The spiders blocked their path, crawling on the ground, climbing the rubble. Each came to about Ewan’s waist, but one was larger than the rest. The night obscured their ebony bodies, they melded into the darkness, and only their hisses echoed.
“Yurnawa again…,” Ewan mumbled and clicked his tongue, pulling the gaiter up, covering half his face. Its effect once again stifled his presence.
Frost, take the lead.
Frost marched ahead, positioning himself between the spiders and Ewan. His tail swayed; the Ice-Anima bellowed. He waved his hand and froze the incoming web in their tracks, they glittered under the violet-silver moonlight. The larger spider screeched, and the other spiders advanced.
“Orange, protect Nana,” he said.
Ice Daggers!
And the six ice daggers condensed again, rotating around Ewan.
Frost aimed and shot several icicles. Some stabbed in their heads with dull thuds, killing them on spot, some missed. The remaining spiders shrieked, their chelicerae wide opened, venomous saliva dripping in long slimy strings as the concrete hissed beneath. The stink wafted and hit Ewan who stood far away; he reacted and blocked the air out. Frost was close, so he suffered the most. He groaned and stumbled back, covering his nose, his bloodshot eyes tearing up. It took him seconds, but he also recovered when Ewan shielded him.
The larger spider cried and curled her body, aiming her spinneret at the sky. Her stomach wriggled, she squirted a heavy amount of silk, spreading it in the air up high. The nigh invisible strands of web feathered down, sticking to Ewan and everyone around him. Each individual filament was thin and weak, but the accumulation would soon reach a dangerous level.
Fireball!
Ewan nudged the fireballs with his Ryvia and spiraled it around to burn all the web floating down on them. He gestured forward, and three daggers launched at the incoming spiders—the other two went to defend Frost, and the last one remained with him.
Trap them.
Frost roared a war cry and pushed both his hands forward. The Ice-Anima surged, and the ground froze around him, pinning the spiders down. They screeched, struggled, but couldn’t break the ice shackles. The daggers bore through their heads then cleaved them apart with no resistance, dragging the area into its initial silence.
Her pack was down, the larger spider scuttled for Frost with a cry, her pointy legs chipping the icy ground.
She came in range and shrieked, but her corrosive breath couldn’t pass Ewan’s Ryvia. She sprung, her fangs out and taut, she aimed for Frost. Ewan pointed, his daggers defending Frost zipped and blocked the fangs. The daggers chipped and cracked but her attack stopped.
“Freeze her,” he said.
The Ice-Anima frenzied around Frost, storming. He reached for the spider and touched her eyeless head. The tick of the second halted as her body iced up with a snap. All six daggers positioned around her and shanked her, snuffing any life she might have left.
Ewan heaved a deep breath with eyes drooping, staring at the moons… Another battle over.
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Status: Healthy
Step-0 [4th Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 1.5
Spirit: 7.3
Anima: [Fire – 1.2 | Ice – 0.0 | Blood – 7.3]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [4th Awakening]
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Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-4] [Grade-C]
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Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-4] [Grade-B]
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Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-4] [Grade-C]
Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 111
Crelith: 4984