// Hey everyone! 

I apologize for the inactivity, life’s been a bit hectic recently.

Keep reading

// Hey everyone! 

I apologize for the inactivity, life’s been a bit hectic recently.

Keep reading

// I’m mostly finished moving

// Update: I’ve finished moving into my new place! Gonna spend the next day or two unpacking and settling in, once I have the energy for it I’ll get back to my drafts and replies. I’m still working through Saturday too, so I’m expecting to be entirely wiped out lmao.

// I’m mostly finished moving

// Update: I’ve finished moving into my new place! Gonna spend the next day or two unpacking and settling in, once I have the energy for it I’ll get back to my drafts and replies. I’m still working through Saturday too, so I’m expecting to be entirely wiped out lmao.

// I’m mostly finished moving

Shay rested her head on her arms, a smile crossing her lips at the stranger before her. "You must be a traveler too then. This is a good place for fresh water. And for a swim. I happen to know where a lot of the good oasis' are." she grinned.

"Name's Shay by the way, Shay of Shurima. Where you heading to traveler?" she asked curiously, ears flickering at him.

Shirka approached the water, kneeling before it and setting his pack down. From within, he produced two waterskins, uncapping them to fill.

"That I am, I've been traveling the sands for some time now."

He glanced towards the stranger out of the corner of his eye, a sly grin gracing his face.

"That so? Well, I've been to a few oases myself, but I can't help but feel a little curious if you've discovered any I haven't."

He stood to his full height, placing one hand on his hip and dipping into an over-the-top bow.

"The name's Shirka Balazarr. I'm a native Shuriman, but it's been a while since I came back home, and I've been long overdue for a visit."

// Activity may be intermittent for the next week or so. I’m getting ready to move and the AC at home isn’t working so I’ll likely be staying with family when I’m not packing.

An interesting condition. A display of power to prove her worth. She pondered for a moment which of her techniques she should demonstrate, weighing her options. It would be good if they took her seriously after she displayed her might, but if she tipped her hand too early she might lose a trump card that could come in use, should the more... diabolical rumors prove true.

“Very well.”

Yrsa knelt, rolling her right pant leg up to mid-thigh. She flexed the fingers on her right hand, striking certain acupoints on her body with rapid, precise blows using the tip of her fingernail. She completed the motion almost as soon as it began,  and Yrsa felt a familiar numbness begin to overtake her. A technique to block out pain, to ease the nerves with the healing power of the white dragon. She then drew her finely-made shortsword, unflinchingly cutting into her own thigh as a splatter of blood painted the sandy earth. As she did so, a dark afterimage of the blade followed, calling upon the black dragon’s destruction to inflict the blow twofold.

“The shadow you witnessed is one of my abilities. It uses spiritual magic to replicate the ruin of a physical blow.”

She flicked the sword to the side, casting her blood from the edge before sheathing it.

“And this,” she continued, “is the other side of my magic.”

Yrsa placed a hand upon the wound, crimson lifeblood flowing freely down her bare leg and pooling on the ground underneath, quickly consumed by the greedy and parched sand. A silver light enveloped her palm. As she laid it upon the fresh wound, the flesh began to knit itself back together, the flow of blood rapidly staunching and returning to practically unblemished skin within moments.

@matrotas-muse-hub (Shay starter for you!)

In an oasis, a tan cat Vastaya was swimming around and cooling off from the hot desert sun. She decided to take a small break and lean on the shore when she heard rustling in the bushes. “Hm? Who’s there? Have you come to cool off?” she called out, wondering if they were another traveler like herself.

Shirka hadn’t been back home in some time, and while the desert sun beating down on him from above was a nostalgic feeling, he quickly realized it was not a feeling he had missed. Steered by a mixture of instinct and old memories, he found himself approaching an oasis he’d once rested at. He was not expecting someone to call out to him.

“That, and hopefully to replenish my water flasks,” Shirka said, emerging from the bushes surrounding the oasis as he approached the water. His eyes found the source of the voice - a Vastayan, judging by her features.

“It seems we’re of a similar mind,” he commented with a shrug.

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Partitio smiled and shook Morph's hand. This had all gone rather swimmingly so far. Morph's go-getter attitude was the perfect fit for this project. "I look forward to workin' with ya! If ya need anything, be it manpower or supplies, you just let me know."

"I'll be in town for a couple days, so if ya need to look me up for anything, I'll likely be at the inn or the tavern." With that, Partitio gave his coin another flip, before he started making for the door to the workshop.

"I'll get a list together of what I'll need, most everything I've already got, but I'll let you know."

He immediately began making himself busy, pulling out a notebook and doing some math on how much material he'd need for each specification. As Partitio left the building, Morph looked up with one last grateful grin.

"I'll send word once I get a proof-of-concept model, shouldn't take more than two days, no I'll have it ready by the end of tomorrow!"

Huff, huff. By this point, surprise attacks of this kind were hardly unexpected; troubles seemed to follow the group of adventures wherever they went. But a manticore? This was a first…

The young oracle was talking to the one who seemed to be the captain of the guards unit who aided in the battle. Her hair and clothes were floating around her against gravity, her feet barely touched the ground, and her eyes and skin glowed of a calming and cold blue light. She seemed to be a little injured herself, but the guards seemed to be in worse shape…

Good thing someone showed up. She turned back.

“Ah, any help would be welcome right now, I’m almost fully tapped out of magic… some of the townsfolk were involved when the creature appeared, and some of the soldiers need some treatment. Please, this way!”

Yrsa gladly followed, her focus briefly taken by the way this stranger moved. Her steps were light, weightless, as if she was moving underwater. Yrsa noted that she also seemed to be some form of mage, an uncommon sight even to her.

“Right then, I’ll see what I can do.”

The monk began triage, assessing the injured and making sure to treat the ones who were worse off first. With a deep inhale she circulated her ki, pulling from her core and manifesting a soft, silver light. It took a couple of minutes to see to each injured person.

When the light touched them, broke flesh would knit itself back together and color would return to paled skin. Like a cool breeze on a summer’s day, the energy infused into the healing technique was revitalizing. And, after seeing to all the guards, Yrsa wiped the sweat from her brow and turned at last to the blue-skinned mage.

“Your turn. Luckily you fared better than most, but it’s best to handle these things immediately. Wouldn’t want to get an infection.”

Yrsa obvserved the acolytes with both caution and wonder, eyes immediately drawn to the flowing energy that comprised their lower forms. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was their natural state or if they had once been human. The closer she got to this magus, the more questions she had.

“I am Yrsa Gunnhildr, Sage of the Twin Dragons and the head of the Infinite Circle Martial Arts School.”

She bowed, a customary Ionian greeting. While Yrsa had been born and raised within the Freljord, her surrogate father was an Ionian man, and the martial arts she practiced were Ionian in origin. If she were to meet Xerath, Yrsa figured it would be best to act with formality and declare herself as someone of high standing. Well, she wasn’t necessarily an influential figure, but she did technically bear two such titles. She hoped it would be enough to get her in the door.

“I am on a journey to understand the true meaning of power, tangible or otherwise. Your god-king is regarded as one of the most powerful beings in the land. I wish to meet with him so I may learn.”

It was a person Mors had never seen before.

After hearing such a voice, Mors raises his head, glancing into his eyes, or what seem to be eyes. The room is dim, no light except a candle on the table, the flame reflected in the empty wine glass beside it. The outline of the man in armor is highlighted by the light of the tavern, warm and glowing with lanterns, and so his face is covered in shadows.

"Then sit down." Mors suggested. He made a gesture at the chair across from him, and the heavy wooden chair slid, squeaking across the floor, pulling out to invite the man to sit down.

Mors holds a wooden box on his lap, but lifts it, and sets it down on the table, his hand runs over the dark polished wood, and he glances up again. "What would you like an appointment for? Casket making? Inscription carving? Funeral expenses? I assure you my prices are very fair."

Julian follows the man's suggestion, sitting at the table and listening to the dark-haired individual list his services with close attention.

"An undead mortician of sorts," Julian thinks to himself, "How fitting."

He takes a moment to debate how he should answer the question. Play along, hoping to catch any signs of conspiracy along the way while posing as a customer? Or should he just ask outright what an undead being like himself is doing here? Julian debates this for what might seem like an unusually prolonged moment of silence before clasping his hands together and opening his mouth to speak.

"Are there other services you offer that I should be aware of?" he asks. "I can tell that you're no ordinary grave-digger."