Damian Franklin
There is nothing quite like practical experiments nor applications that bring understanding to perplexing concepts, cheered Damian.
He thoroughly enjoyed this opportunity to investigate the parameters of his spells. Adjustments with both the words and intentions had resulted in thrilling results. The crowning gem of this outing for him was that Damien had turned a defensive spell into an offensive one. Better yet, experimentation had led to the synthesize of a new spell. There had been no need to seek the Heartsong directly. The tune and words had just come to him.
The obsidian acolyte had learned that those two weren't the only way new spells could come about. Anastasi had proved they could be created in times of need. Willed into being. The variety of methods to interact with Mana was truely and wonderfully astounding. The process was intriguing enough that Damian was tempted to put everything aside for a deep dive, explore all the different ways spells were capable of being developed. Infinitely tempting.
But, he didn’t want to fall behind. The Sixty that had come into the cavern were rising in power by leaps and bounds. The pressure springing them forward before his very eyes.
It is startling how quickly we have gotten results,” appraised Damian as he surveyed everyone.
Currently, his party was resting and primed to leap in when needed. This period was the perfect opportunity to observe the spell work of others. Even the melee fighters were a joy to watch. Their own interactions with Mana might not seem as grand, but there were depths of information to gain there. How the Mana shifted across the body as Forms switched or reacted to intention.
Julia was particularly fascinating to watch. The curly brunette manipulated the Mana in complete sync with her actions. Only Vincent came close. The swordsman’s skill kept him just ahead on the battlefield.
A warning shriek alerted Damian there was an incoming rat. One of the bulbous rat things had caught the smell of blood, it was waddling towards an active battle. Malachi shifted to engage, but Damian forestalled him.
“Let me start,” he requested.
There had only been one chance so far to use his new spell. The obsidian acolyte was eager to try it out again. The first was hardly a good test anyway. A charging sore-covered monster would be much better. Damian recited.
“O’ Star Burning Bright,
Please Shine Scorching.
Consume All In your Light,
Expanding Star!”
A ball of violet energy shot straight at the Ratsin and upon impact, began to violently expand. The monster tried to flee, but the violet star was latched on. The smell of smoked flesh filled the air as the star grew to consume the monster. The rat thing gave one last gurgle before it was completely eclipsed.
The violet sphere exploded.
When the light faded, the monster was unmercifully alive. Charred to crisp, fat oozing from crags of skin. There were pitiful cries as the Ratsin tried to stand back up. The rest of his party rushed in to finish the monster before it could recover any more. Damian was lost in thought over his observations.
That was the baseline spell, he noted. There is a lot I can do with that. Interesting routes to explore.
Evelyn Merritt
Powerful. That was the feeling that ran through her veins. Though she still hated this place, that didn’t stop her from feeling pretty damn amazing about that. Between that sense of power and her fellow Sisters, it was almost bearable here. Even pleasing at times.
The three of them roamed the edges of the cavern hunting the pony-sized Ratsins. Zeroing in on any rats that approached from the descending tunnels. Each time it was a wonderful slaughter. Their wicked flames cleansed the horrid beasts. Easy as pie.
Her dagger came down into the skull of Ratsin that tried to flank the trio. Blood boiled to reveal the hidden gray matter and the monster seized before slumping lifelessly. She couldn’t help, but to grin with the sense of accomplishment that flowed through her. Unfortunately, that caused the bloody flames to sputter as the bitterness that fueled them dimmed. Evelyn grimaced and forced herself to recall darker days.
Not like that’s hard to do, grumbled the dagger user. Plenty of trauma for fuel.
Despite the past, her life had begun to be decent before being kidnapped. She had made moments to be proud of, a life with some light in it. An escape from the tarnished childhood she had endured. It was a bit embarrassing to be proud of saying no to heroin, especially when your mother was the one to offer. Her father had been equally twisted. His kindest gesture had been offering sympathy meth.
Neither had reacted well to the refusal.
The result being Evelyn was kicked out of the house for the last time. She hadn’t seen a reason to return after tha. Clearly, it would just keep happening. Proof that the duty of blood was a worthless concept.
There were no other attempts at kindness from them.
Not a single one, she noted bitterly. The flames brightened.
Feeding the bitterness to the flame didn’t relieve any of the burden in the memories used. The process made her experience everything again, all the more intensely. Evelyn had concluded, If bitterness can become a source of power for me, then I have a whole lot to use.
The thought tickled a dark laugh from her.
“Ameilia, Marceline, how are you two holding up?” She asked her Sisters. Hunting the edges meant fewer active battles, but also less chances to pause for rest.
No way am I gonna allow us to get messed up due to exhaustion, she vowed sourly. I’m angry all the time, not stupid.
Wispily, Amelia answered, “I am fine.”
The tall woman was lifting her spear free of a Ratsin paralyzed by the purple flames. The pain had apparently cut off the monster’s ability to scream.
“Primed for patrol,” said Marceline with a ghostly grin.
Watching her friend swinging their long sword with ease was equally impressive as it was disturbing. The childish stature and features made the display audacious. The half-withered corpses surrounding her added another layer of creepiness.
Evelyn looked at the two of them with a soft smile that they reflected back. She wasn’t sure when the nickname the Sisters had started, but the title was warmly received by all three of them. They understood why it had come about and were happy to accept the mantle. A strong kinship had formed between them on that first day. It started with a foundation of mutual suspicion. Now the bond had grown deep from then. The Sisters now understood that their kinship ran deep, always had. All three had lived terrible childhoods.
Three different, awful flavors.
For Marceline, her torment began with her mother and ended with her creepy uncles. In quiet confessions, her diminutive friend described a childhood of living as a doll. Dress up and then being hunted. From mother’s demands to her uncles’ appetites. All she got in help from the latter were assurances that’s just how they were, but don’t be alone with them. Adulthood was a dreary blessing with the only light being a chance to escape. For the little sword wielder, there were no happy reflections on the past. She never looked back.
It haunted anyways.
A religious childhood had left deep scars on Amelia. The chains slipped, but the shadow of it hovered over every action. Pressure beyond expectation. That was the spear wielder’s childhood before memory began to record. A thousand and one tears were wastefully spent trying to live up to a deranged set of standards. The tall woman left that life, but there were always judgemental whispers burning her ears. It was no wonder the pressures of professional dancing had been like coming home. Her escape became another shade of the same horror. Straining for perfection, wallowing in her humanity. No matter her success the past was a curse unforgotten.
In Evelyn’s case, she was just another case of terrible childhood. Distant parents, interested more in drugs than an accidental child. Stuck nowhere, in the middle of everywhere with nothing to do. Lost in a sea of chemical-induced emotions or seeking empty pleasures to pass the time.
She had fled rather than be consumed by it.
All three of them had then made something of themselves, despite toxic beginnings. A way of life that soared above all expectations of their tormented younger selves. Actual lives of light and free. Then they woke up in this place. Stolen away.
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Someone is going to pay, swore Evelyn.
“Alright, let's get moving then,” said Evelyn grinning at the thought of revenge. “Each one of these fuckers means an opportunity for practice. We’ll sharpen our blades to be prepared for whoever brought us here.”
“A pleasant encouragement,” smiled Amelia.
Marceline nodded, peering eagerly into the dark.
Soren Hill
The gunman shoved his arm lengthwise into the mouth, holding the young Ratsin back by obstructing the jaw hinge. It gnawed uselessly with an audible popping. The beast was almost frantic, no strength could be brought to bear. Soren’s face was strained from the bruising part of this tactic, but fangs were unable to pierce through the leather of his coat.
This monster had been giving him trouble. Dodging with unexpected swiftness. He allowed this moment of closeness. Created the moment to finish the nuisance off. Pulsing with a charge, Soren swung the crystal gun directly to the rat thing’s head.
A flash of red ended the struggle.
Burrowed through the Ratsin’s head was a tunnel of charred flesh. He spat, trying to rid himself of the vile taste of the rat’s blood. From such a close-range shot, there was surprisingly little mess. The only splatter came from the initial impact before the wound was cauterized.
The gunman reflected, The bolts must hit with kinetically before the heat begins scouring. Note to self: Next time keep your mouth closed.
He spat again more at the thought than any lingering taste.
A sensation ran along his Form, alerting Soren that something was hurling towards him. The impression of repositioning automatically appeared in his mind like the echo of a thought to come. He followed the suggestion without hesitation.
Feel the threat, position for it, and prepare a counter. All a continuous reaction.
The defensive aspect of his Form was not skin-tight armor like most. Soren’s Form was aligned with the strategy of avoiding damage altogether. In his new position, the attacking mass completely missed him.
The acceleration of thought from his Form gave him the time to launch a charged shot at the diving Ratsin mid flight. A flash of red and the monster tumbled away to the ground. It rose to its feet warily, hissing. A charred crater marred the right shoulder. He raised the crystal gun to finish it off when a green arrow passed silently through the rat thing’s head. A single spurt of blood before the rat thing limply collapsed.
Soren followed the trail of green light back to the grinning redhead. He frowned back at her, unsure what to make of the woman.
I can’t rightly tell if that’s how she flirts, or just purely for the mischief of it, sighed the gunman.
He waved a sarcastic thanks, which brightened the archer’s grin, and shifted back to his patrol. More Ratsins would be coming soon. There was a never-ending flow of the vile things. Though luckily, most of the time there were only one or two that came up from the descending tunnel. Only when the numbers were higher did the Ratsins have a chance to close with Soren.
The young Ratsins were by no measure subtle creatures. He was able to pick off their waddling forms even in the shadows. The Sisters guarded two of the entrances, but that didn’t lessen the sense of pride. It was refreshing that Malachi trusted him to hold alone, even with Clarissa keeping an eye on him. Better a kill stealing green arrow every now and then, than be overwhelmed alone.
A Ratsin appeared.
Raising his gun, Soren followed the movement until the head came into view. Before his finger could brush the trigger, a green arrow flew. It disappeared between the eyes.
As it fell the gunman cursed and muttered, “Cheeky wench.”
Filling pumped up, he vowed to keep the rest of the kills for himself. A storm of red raged within the orb of the crystal gun.
Kai Cooper
Grinning ferociously, Kai looked victoriously upon the battlefield. His party had targeted another of the territorial Ratsins. It growled over the moist blue flora as they approached. He took a deep breath and let it out with relish.
“Let me start this one,” said Kai, prowling forward.
Phelian nodded.
With a laugh hiding in his tone, the proud acolyte recited for the opening attack.
“Brilliant Shine,
Burst of Might,
A Blessed Smite,
Prideful Impact!”
The world stuttered and became a blur of white light. His Mana rumbled into an explosive impact. Protected in a bubble of force, Kai was already flowing into the next move when the attack finished. The rat thing had been forced off its feet and skittered across the glowing foliage. He rushed forward. Detemindered to follow up before the monster could recover. White light collected at his fist, another spell haughtily passed through his lips.
“Glorious Force,
Overwhelming Might,
Unforgettable Awe,
Lasting Impression!”
The Ratsin hissed in desperation and lashed out. Kai leaped over the swipe of claws, dipped and swayed around the snap of fangs. He arrived parallel to the skull of the rat thing. Their eyes met. One twitched and the other attacked. His fist was a streak of light.
A flash boomed against the Ratsin’s head. The monster was thrown from Kai. White Mana reverberated across the body of the monster. As the effect passed through, lines of light like cracks of glass were left behind. The Ratsin now had a very brittle look to it. When the monster tried to move, the light constricted and slowed the movement.
The rest of the party caught up, ready to dive into the fight themselves. The crippled Ratsin screamed at them as it charged to meet them.
Kai stomped the ground and recited his last spell.
“Sharper,
Swifter,
Stronger,
Surge of the Hunt!”
A shock wave of white and green light began at Kai as he howled. When it touched another person, a stream of Mana lifted off the ground like ribbons. It swirled around the person and sank inside. In an instant, the party was moving faster. Kai grinned at the results of his work.
“Damn it feels good to be alive,” announced the proud acolyte.
His smile softened when Vivian walked up to stand next to him. She had already sung her buffs and now waited until she was needed. Kai loved her hawk’s eyes. They tracked everyone minutely. He adored what this new world offered him, but it was seeing her again; that was the greatest gift of all. It was a miracle.
Too many years slipped past me since the last time I saw her, Kai thought. So much time was lost when we were forced half a world apart. Now, together on an entirely different one.
Few back home would believe Kai could smile with such affection. even should they have seen it.
“Kai,” said Vivian lightly. She didn’t look towards him, but smiled secretly.
“I am here,” he assured her.
“That’s great, dearest,” said Vivian with the roll of her eyes. “But shouldn’t you be over there in the fight? Not staring at me, as flattering as that is. Please, your job is to protect them.”
“As you wish,” grinned Kai. Laughter bubbling, he recited Prideful Impact and was gone with a blur.
John Harken
Harken watched his fellow members of the Sixty and felt fulfilled.
A life of seeking purpose and meaning almost seemed misspent. His scholarly pursuits didn’t allow much time for a social life. His crusade for answers had been all-consuming. A relentless pursuit of proof of the divine, any at all.
Coming to the Pit was the miracle that finally proved them real.
It filled him with equal parts wonder and relief. Yet all that emotional weight paled sometimes to his new found friendships. A promise of Purpose was elating, but communing with others was something else. Truth of nature. In discovering the worth of companions, he had also revealed an unknown quantity of compassion within himself. The priestly man had been surprised to find how much he cared for their woes.
Without the distraction of my research, I have found this new aspect of myself, considered Harken. This revelation makes me wonder if I would have ever found a satisfying answer on Earth. Or if I had, would it have meant as much as these relationships? I spent a whole life missing a grand piece of the human experience. Missing entirely the worth in speaking with others. I placed words written by the dead at greater heights than words spoken to me personally. Is it any wonder that I was lost? Never finding any meaning… any validity of truth... How could I understand the human experience if I couldn’t even find the value in my fellows?
He breathed in to hold against the froth of emotions stirring within him.
It wasn’t something Harken was used to. A career as a researching scholar had been one of cold logic, that was where value lay. When dealing with dusty subjects, excitement was a rare thing. A few flares here and there. Mostly just dogged pursuits of one line of thought or another. Hunting desperately for some reference in a thousand seemingly unrelated writings.
From day one in the Pit, Harken had been overwhelmed over and over by an emotional swell. He felt like a child before this experience.
Supercharged with these feelings, Harken tried his best to maintain his normal calm. Perhaps that’s why his words had such positive effects on the Sixty. The cryptic Roseline suggested that his words and presence were needed. He had given his best effort and had still been surprised how well it worked out. The priestly man didn’t always know what to say. To him, it almost seemed all babble. Still, it did seem to help those that opened up to him.
Harken hoped he could maintain that success.
Now that I reflect on my spells, I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise that I have a depth of compassion. Each one is a reflection of my desire to see them doing well. Yes, they are my ticket to finding this Purpose set out for us… but it can’t be denied I care for their well being. If my concern for them was purely selfish, the spells would have to take a different form.
For them most of all, I wish I could use Foresight.
On several occasions, he had reached for the words to cast Foresight, but halted each time. Using the spell felt like it would deplete everything and he would only pass out again. Even when his Mana seemed “full.” Putting aside the danger of losing consciousness out here, Harken very much wanted to avoid the experience. The last time had been horrifying. Like standing in an endless black void where everything was numbed away from him. No sensation. Not even thought. Just existing. The spell was effectively useless if he couldn’t pass on what he learned.
The priestly man wondered if he simply had taken the spell too soon. It had been what he wanted, yet it couldn’t be used at all. Harken wondered if there were maybe special limitations to the spell. If perhaps, there were times it would cast for less.
I may not even know the spell like I thought I did, contemplated Harken. I will have to discuss it with Damian. His growing understanding of Mana is inspiring.
He tried his best to put the concerns aside for now. There were better things for him to think on and do his best with. Seeing the Sixty through their journey was number one. The climb upwards would be long, with so many steps to go. Harken swore he would see that each step was as smooth as possible. By every ounce of his best.
The priestly man prayed, “May we all see the sky again.”