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Far From Home

A rickety carriage ride, a pair of snow white siblings and a Moogle. Without knowing it, you all started the same way. This is the beginning of your story, all of you,during your first trip to the City State that would change your lives.

Whether it be under the lush canopies of the Shroud, through the busy thoroughfares of  Ul'Dah or amongst the whispering sea winds of Limsa Lominsa, each one welcomes you, feels like home.

With only the weapon you scampered away with, the clothes on your backs, and an inexplicable feeling of purpose - You have arrived. 


 

Re: Jesus christ this is going to be ridiculous.

Date: 2018-05-02 07:21 pm (UTC)
talkingtrashtank: (Fight Me You Coward)
From: [personal profile] talkingtrashtank
Naturally aggressive creatures are drawn to corrupted Aether, this is a fairly basic principle in Conjury. When those monsters like, say, morbols, absorb that aether, it magnifies everything about them: aggression, size, appetite, strength-

“It reeks,” and stink. Definitely stink. Rhalgar’s Fists this thing has a stench to it as Pinya and Connor reach the edge of the fray. The Bannock is right nearby and the Wailers can be heard scrambling to form up and rush to stop the wild vilekin from getting any further into the settlement.

He doesn’t argue against Pinya’s strategy, it’s solid, just like the stones that rise up with the golden call of aether from Connor’s cane and feet. The rod twists between his hands, eyes sliding shut before he asks and the earth agrees to fire into the body of one banemite, the next clod beating a buzzard out of the air for a few moments. He feels air gathering soft and warm against his palm, taking a deep breath and then releasing the sharp zypher of bladed wind that threads and cuts at wings and legs.

He can’t exactly... move... while doing this. His staff points the way but it’s following the lines of aether that Connor can’t quiet see without closing his eyes and blocking out things that aren’t important. Fences, boxes, kedtraps, buildings- kedtraps?

With a yelp Connor sticks his arms out and the water sitting in one of those barrels erupts our in a rodent to blast the murderous plant sideways over a fence, hopefully easy prey for more arrows. That’s when they all hear a tell-tale gurgling sound come from deep inside the maw of the morbidly itself.

“Move- move! Everyone away from that spray!” Because it’s coming and if they think it reeks on the outside then none of them want to get hit with what’s coming from the inside.
Edited Date: 2018-05-04 04:40 am (UTC)

That's all folks!

Date: 2018-05-08 05:07 am (UTC)
talkingtrashtank: (Casting)
From: [personal profile] talkingtrashtank
The eruption of putrid bile is absolutely nothing compared to the onslaught caused by one charged arrow laden with explosive powders. Connor escaped the actual attack but he and Pinya are both too exposed to get away from- hang on.

Hell no!

Both hands on his staff, he slams the end into the ground and the earth responds with a sudden heave and rise: a wall of earth, not particularly powerful or efficient, rises up and takes the brunt of the acidic, goopey rain. Morbol chunks and flailing vines, sour stink and puss and rot. It hits the dirt, not the lalafells, and thank the Matron for that.

It's suddenly all very quiet. Connor can hear his own panting breaths and little else. That was... a rush!

"Haha- oh wow..." and here comes... a battle high? "That was- wow, that was something..." It really was, and as the barrier crumbles away it looks like the damage to Bentbranch is minor- a few smashed crates, a lot of unfortunate gunk.

"Matron, help!" And a set of familiar woodwailers who got a face full of bile.

"Mm, I should take care of that. You're not hurt, are you?" He asks Pinya.

*is bad*

Date: 2018-06-07 04:04 am (UTC)
talkingtrashtank: (Deeply Concerned)
From: [personal profile] talkingtrashtank
Connor does what she says, taking her at her word and hurrying off. He's not the only healer around, thankfully. A few other conjurers, maybe two or three, are here, along with a mage from a party of adventurers who jumps in to be of assitance, their carbuncle sniffing curiously at the rancid remains of the morbol.

Not many are hurt, but several are shaken. Connor can quickly assess who needs what kind of help, and it's part of making those rounds that leads to him turning around to scan the area and- uh. Hmm.

"I thought you said you weren't hurt," He says, walking back to Pinara with his cane in hand. She's got a brave face, but hornet venom swells and it burns and through an armoured doublet it's no surprise she's in some considerable pain. He taps the end of his cane on the ground and a soft swell of aether coils and collects around the wooden crook, small branches waking up and unfurling their leaves as he offers a hand to her. "Just let me help. I won't be an ass about it either."

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