NationStates Jolt Archive

From The Ashes (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12290683&postcount=1)
(Click Title For OOC Character List and Type Description)

“I want…” Axel said, gazing off at the horizon. “I want to thank you for letting me come.”

“It’s no problem,” Jairdan Jagat replied, smiling as he scratched the back of his head, his arm muscles rippling as they contracted and released. “Besides, you’re her friend, you’ll keep her company.” He shrugged, sitting back against a rock. “You need to get out of this godforsaken town as bad as I do, anyhow.”

Axel Diarmid nodded. Jairdan, of course, was right. Eighteen years old, and Axel still had not yet left Mjrn, the town where they all were born. Jairdan had left many times before, on adventures and conquests and the like, but Axel had always stayed behind. It was not the fate of a white mage to journey.

“I don’t think Ami wants to leave,” Axel admitted, his eyes still focused on the waterfalls over the cliff. The sound of the crashing water was soothing, and the sight was something to behold. The majesty of the Mjrn Falls was known by all of Barheim, and yet unlike similar attraction, the falls remained secluded, untouched by man. Axel liked them better that way.

“I don’t think she has much of a choice,” Jairdan replied, shaking his head. Jairdan too was known throughout Barheim, a prodigy of prodigies, and a man with the potential to be the greatest green mage that history could remember. “This elders fear her. This ‘quest of discovery’ is more about getting her out of Mjrn.”

“And you?” Axel asked. Jairdan smirked, chuckling quietly to himself.

“She’s the first born into the arcane class in a millennia,” Jairdan said, smiling to himself, ever so content. “Ami and I are a perfect team, two mages with exponential ability. Destiny put us together.” He grinned, his smile growing larger. “I don’t have any time for fear.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Axel replied, slouching against a rock. He reached up, parting his odd, pink-colored hair from his eyes. It was, of course, his natural color, however he knew no other who had hair quite like it.

“This will be the biggest adventure you’ll ever see, boy,” Jairdan said, putting his hand on Axel’s shoulder, and apparently ignoring the fact that he was only three years older than his pink-haired companion. Oddly enough, Jairdan saw himself in the oft-withdrawn Axel, even thought their personalities could no have been more different. Axel was no less a prodigy than he, and yet Axel kept to himself, not taking advantage of his god-given talent.

“Yeah…” Axel replied, the reality of his dull life coming back to him. It was quite possible that this would be the only adventure he’d ever see. His role in the world was to be a healer. That was the fate of the white mage, and although Axel was damn good at it, it was far from the life he would have chosen.

All his life, Axel wished he had been born a different class. The black mages were rebels, looked down on with disdain for their destructive power and control over the forces of nature. The green mages, such as Jairdan, were often warriors, enhancing themselves and their allies while enfeebling their enemies. Blue mages were somewhat of an odd class, not having any defining qualities themselves but instead taking on traits of all the classes, being a jack of all trades. Axel would have been happy with any of them.

Instead, Axel was a white mage. It was a class inherently non-aggressive, curative in nature, and yet more than anything Axel longed to be a knight. His white mage peers were mostly girls, another aspect which bothered Axel relentlessly, and the few other guys in his “school” of magic were hardly the type he wanted to associate himself with. Ever since he was little, he resented the calling he was born to, wishing instead to be rebellious, mysterious, or adventurous. But white mages weren’t heroes; they were healers instead.

“She should have been here by now,” Axel said, gripping the hilt of his sword in his hand. His choice in weapon had been intentionally against his magic class. White mages carried staffs, rods, or other typically non-combative weapons, but Axel would have none of it.

“Give her time,” Jairdan replied, staring back out over the falls. In them, he saw power, as if he was looking at himself in the mirror.

“I’m gonna go get her,” Axel said, standing and strapping his sword and sheath to his back. Jairdan rolled his eyes.

“Patience is a virtue,” Jairdan said, shaking his head and laughing a bit. Axel wasn’t amused.

“So is humility,” he muttered in response, but like any insult, Jairdan simply brushed it off effortlessly.

The dirt road from the falls to Mjrn was peaceful, with lush forestry covering both sides and canopy trees hanging over top. The sun shown down on the town as it did everyday, warm but not hot. There was not a cloud in the sky.

Mjrn was a town small enough, but with the falls nearby and the elders deep inside, it was never truly cut off from the world around. Three elders made their home in Mjrn, the Grand Masters of the white, green, and blue “schools” of magic. The Grand Master of black magic made his home elsewhere, and while he reportedly lived in the city of Ardor, his true location was unknown. Still, the Master Council cared little, not wanting to be involved with black magic anyhow.

Black mages themselves were somewhat of a cult. They were the rarest type, outside of arcane of course, and typically kept to themselves. The constant scrutiny of the other forms didn’t help much either, but some things couldn’t be helped. After all, there was no redeeming factor to black magic. It had but one use: destruction. In a civilized world, there was no place for a black mage.

Ami Trepe lived in a typical house on the east side of Mjrn with her parents, both masters of blue magic. While magic types were somewhat hereditary, especially from parents of the same class, it was not the fact that Ami did not share the same type as her parents which amazed them. It was, instead, what she actually was that did. It was not identified at first, for it was everything but expected, but once an elder had brought up the possibility, it was clear as day to identify.

Ami was an arcane mage, a relatively unknown and often misunderstood fifth class that was thought to have died out, as Jairdan said, a millennia ago. Unlike the other “schools,” which held the levels of Student, Adept, and Master to differentiate mages of different abilities, arcane mages had no levels. Instead, they were born with all the powers of the greatest arcane mage, and only had to realize their potential to unleash their abilities.

It was these abilities which the elders, and most everyone else for that matter, had come to fear. Arcane mages of old were said to have been god-like in their abilities, but only the dark lord, the Grand Master of Black, knew for sure. No one else, not even the other Grand Masters who were centuries old, had ever encountered one in life. For this reason, no one was able to teach Ami how to wield, but much more importantly control, her powers.

That was why Ami and Axel had remained such good friends. Her cheery nature was in constant contrast to his own introverted demeanor, but they shared a bond not easily forgotten. When they were children, Ami had experimented with her abilities, and had unknowingly cast a withering plague on herself when playing with Axel in the woods. Axel knew she needed to get to the Grand Master of White, but she was fading fast, and ultimately there would be no time. Fueled by adrenaline, Axel had saved her himself, casting out the arcane scourge from her body, and forever becoming a hero among the people of Mjrn.

Axel scowled as he opened Ami’s front door. Even he, a “hero” as they called him, was still expected to live the life of a white mage. He had demonstrated such power at such a young age, and yet his destiny was that of a medicine man, enabling everyone else to go out on adventures while he sat at home, never to leave. It was a fate he would always clash with, and a clash which would always depress him. Even Ami’s smiling face, cute as ever, could not alter his foul mood.

“Hiya!” Ami said, finding her best friend, one year older than she was, in her kitchen as she walked down the stairs. She waved her fingers at him, flashing him a smile that most boys of Mjrn would have chased after, had they not been afraid of her abilities. Axel, her friend from before she could remember, was the only one not to run away. Axel and Jairdan, of course.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Axel complained, returning her smile with a stern glare.

“Oh!” Ami said, blushing a bit. “I just wanted…I wanted to say goodbye to mother and father. I doubt I’ll be seeing them for some time…” She frowned, the idea of not seeing her parents for an extended period obviously not boding well with her emotions.

It was then that Axel felt angry at the elders. They had left Ami no choice but to leave, trying their hardest to make it seem like it was for her benefit. Ultimately, Axel truly believed that it was, but this wasn’t the time. Ami wasn’t ready. She wasn’t strong enough to leave. Axel frowned. All they cared about was themselves; Jairdan about his legacy, the elders about their power. None of them stopped to think of her, the person instead of the magic type.

“I’m all ready now,” Ami said, smiling as she always did. Axel nodded, standing without a word. He opened the door for her, and out Ami walked before he followed her, shutting the door behind him.

Jairdan was waiting patiently when they arrived at the cliff overlooking the falls, most likely praising his own glory. He always seemed a bit lost in himself. Ami paid little notice to the falls themselves, not paying them heed as the two guys did. To her, they were nothing to behold. She could see them every day if she wanted.

Leaving without a word, they would follow the cliff to the right, south and away from Mjrn. Before long Ami stopped, looking back on the village she was leaving behind. After taking a few steps, Axel and Jairdan stopped as well, looking back on Ami.

“I’ve never left before,” Ami said, her timid side showing. She closed her eyes, remembering times more simple.

“I haven’t either,” Axel said, approaching her from behind and touching her arm to comfort her. She’s homesick already? This is going to be miserable…

“Luckily I’ve left Mjrn before enough for all three of us,” Jairdan said, not moving from his original spot. He was anxious to press on, not wanting to spend time with Ami’s personal and emotional affairs. After all, that’s why he had brought Axel along. “I say the sooner we leave the better. Staring at it’s not going to make it any easier to leave.”

“You think he’s right?” Ami asked, quietly so only Axel could hear. “You think our memories make it harder.”

“The past can hold men back as easy as any chain,” Axel said, shrugging. What does this even matter?

“Well then we may as well get going,” Ami replied, her smile returning. She turned around and headed south once more.

Jairdan was lost in himself once again, strutting his stuff as he jaunted down the path. Ami seemed happy, and even if it was just an appearance. Axel didn’t care. For now, at least, he was content, and for him, that was more than an improvement.

http://209.85.48.8/237/117/upload/p699131.png http://209.85.48.8/237/117/upload/p699133.jpg http://209.85.48.8/237/117/upload/p699132.jpg
Axel Diarmid - Ami Trepe - Jairdan Jagat

Ardor

It was another day in the distant city as the people shuffled down the streets, alleys, and the town square. Though this city appeared to be like any other, it in fact held a secret. While the mages from the three other classes dominated the country and every aspect of life, there was another class. A class of magic feared by all the others, it was black magic. The power to control the elements and ultimately: to extinguish life itself. Though they were few in numbers their presence could still be felt in the city. The Grand Master of this magic is rumored to live in or around the city. A being so powerful that none dare challenge him. Even fewer of the black mages can end life. A young troubled man wandered down the streets, his red eyes gazing at the ground before him, a dead expression on his face. In his mind there was nothing to smile about. All his life he was scorned by others. His family recently moved to the city, being a well off family. They moved there so that he could cultivate his skills better, to seek great teachers of black magic. The young man was already showing potential of being a great mage, but not powerful enough yet in his mind. His parents were demanding, suffocating in their desire to make him a black mage. At first when he was young, he desired nothing to do with it. But, other children in school taunted and tourmented him, people stared at him, whispered, scorned. Finally, he gave in and embraced their will. One day he claimed to make them all pay for their crimes. He now dedicates himself to sharpening his skills, countless days practicing either with a teacher but more often than not, alone with ancient text and his own iron determination. He reached a cart with bails of hay in the street. Feeling the need to have some fun he trusted his hand out towards the cart, his muscles tightened and concentrated solely on the cart. His red eyes brightened and a burning sensation crept through his hand. A an nearvy lit a pipe, all of a sudden the pipe exploded in flames and the flames took on a life of their own as he swung his arm over to the cart and the flames obeyed, consuming the cart in a towering inferno. The townspeople screamed and some threw pales of water upon the flames but to no avail. He cracked a smile and continued on his way.

ooc: this is the first time ive rp'ed in ages, so im sorry if its a bit crap
Ardor

Ryrmor awoke to the sounds of screaming, panic and chaos just around a corner from the dark alleyway where he lay in a pile of rubbish and other unidentifieable burnt things. wondering what all the ruckus was about he got up, and immidatly fell back down again. after a couple more tries he slowly managed to get to his feet again and shambled around the corner. The scene that was unfolding before his eyes was one of utter chaos a huge haycart was ablaze, lighting up the street. "fuck" he thought as the blaze jumped from teh haycart to a house beside it, "my baby!" a woman yelled, pointing to the building where the flame had jumped across. "what, baby?" ryrmor mumbled as eh shambled towards the blazing house. as he drew closer to the house he began mumbling arcane words under his breath and making strange movements with his hands. for a few moments the lines on teh outside of his body started to shift slightly and bend a little as the charm started to take effect. to onlookers he must have seemed insane to go inside a burning house no ordinary green adept could make a charm powerful enough to protect from the heat radiating from teh hay and the house together, but nevertheless he walked on with his shambling gait into teh flames. about a minute later he walked out with the barely breathing baby,placed it on teh ground, and wanderd off wondering what all teh people were yelling about...

The sun was well up by the time Richard crossed the official southern border into the nation known as Barheim. It was late morning and Richard found himself nearly collapsing from his saddle as he finally realised where he was. Whilst being relatively well rested, the fact that Richard had been on the road for at least a year now beared down on him, sapping the energy from his muscles.

Despite his physical condition, Richard couldn't help feel excited to finally reach the home of his people. Here in Barheim he could begin to master his natural talents and the schooling of experts. Whilst his father had been able to teach Richard a reasonable amount of Black magic, he had only been able to help his son reach the level of competent student. Richard would need a more knowledgable teacher if he were to become anything but a student of his school.

Despite being what his parents termed as 'unnaturally gifted', Richard had lived a reasonably mundane life compared to the other gifted within Khadrim. Whilst they all went off to schools for instruction in their gifts, no one in Khadrim could teach Richard and so he was left to learn his father's trade, being a blacksmith.

Richard's mount, Bill, sensed his rider's excitement and decided to prance for the occassion, elaborately hopping down the dirt road as if crowds of people were watching him. Richard merely smiled as he rubbed Bill's neck.

"Do you have to do that?"

Bill snorted as if to say 'yes'. It was still some distance to reach Ardor, the city rumoured to house a master of his school, yet Richard didn't want to push it. From the rough map his parents had given him, Richard knew there was a town called 'Mjrn' nearby, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop there. It was early in the day and he had plenty of supplies. Either way, he'd make that decision when he came closer to the settlement.

Now that Richard was finally within the borders of Barheim, his journey had taken on a new twist. It was time to learn of his heritage and further his skills.

Kisuke scrapped a piece of flint along a small piece of steel generating a shower of sparks which immediately converged into a small flame which promptly lit a fire. As the blaze began to release the aromatic smoke, he looked to his two companions and asked, "What shall we have for supper?"
"Marille, get the bag of food. Beef and potatoes are good. Oh and make sure you don't try cutting them yourself. We all remember what happened last time." Suimaru commented from the shade as he'd been sitting since shortly after the trio had set up camp. The white mage was often considered lazy, but it was more of a case that he was indifferent and knew that if he didn't bother that Kisuke would.

After dinner Kisuke unrolled a rough map. Whoever had drawn it had quite obviously spent a great deal of time estimating as many of the proportions were off. It looked like a half day's journey north to Mjrn. As it was, they'd see where they were headed in the morning.

Outside of the town of Mjrn, secluded and yet not, stood a small wooden dwelling of little standing. The falls of Mjrn were legendary, drawing many to look about their beauty and power, but equally as alluring to some was the quiet serenity of nature. Though impossible to fully block out the roaring sounds of the falls when anywhere near the town, by the small wooden dwelling it had become naught but a faint background noise, soothing but fading. Instead the inhabitants of the abode were greeted by the lesser force of a small ten foot 'fall' if one could even call it that; a small creek that ran over the side of a cliff and continued on after the short fall through the sparse sightings of trees. The area was mostly undisturbed by society and only two humble beings aside from nature's children called it their home.

The wooden house was, as its owner, reserved and yet filled with the experience of ages. The floorboards creaked with every step, proudly stating their age, and the windowpanes were brittle with a thousand winters' ice. There were only three rooms, with the kitchen doubling as a living room; however, often one would find some other being resting on the couch as if it were an infirmary cot. The house had long since been known as a place of healing for the ill, blessing for the cursed, and mending for the broken. For generations the Diesta family had given aid to anyone who wandered weak and weary to the doorstep, and so the word spread of the hospitality. Some say that the water that runs nearby has magical healing powers, absorbed from all the energy that was gathered and diffused in the name of blessed health. Now, Angelica Diesta (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/AngelicaDiesta.jpg), the only remaining descendant of the lineage, took up the proverbial sword and led the house of healing.

A fitting name, both in appearance and personality, was bestowed upon her at birth. She grew and blossomed into a fair and beautiful maiden with compassion and kindness for all. Though young in age, she seems to have wisdom beyond her years, gaining experience helping the needy since she was a young girl. For at least fifteen years she has practiced her "school" of white magic and now stands on the edge of mastery. It has been said by a few thankful patients that even the slightest touch of her hands has the power to quash fear and dismiss pain. "The Angel of Diesta Lineage is the very source of holy light... in all matters and manners," remarked a venerable monk who had crossed from one plain to the next as he passed through. However, there has been one that has always had a very... different relationship with the maiden.

Young Beck (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/Beck.jpg), an orphan who Angelica took in off the cold streets of Mjrn, possesses a knack for getting into trouble and naturally causing trouble. While his parents left him to die, he somehow survived on his own even at the youngest of ages; that is not to say well, but he survived nonetheless. When the Maiden found him one treacherous day, he was shivering, bones clattering, and dying of some terrible and yet common disease. Malnourishment had nearly done him in, but Angelica worked her magic and within days he was regaining his old fervor. In no time at all he was adjusting to his new situation in her humble abode, and, not a particularly shy chap, causing his savoir a bid of trouble with his tricks. However, the Maiden, the angel that she was, did not get mad or even upset, but instead recognized his ability to control different spectrums of magic: a blue mage she observed. She tried to get him to learn through books and her own guidance, but alas he was a stubborn and not particularly devoted student. Beck picked up a few things here and there, but he remains at the lowest rung of the magical ladder. Nonetheless, despite all that they say and do to one another, the two have a unique relationship, but one not far off from mother and child or at least older sister and brother. Perhaps guardian and prince...

"Beck... Beck..." the Maiden said, a little louder the second time. Some would have grown impatient now, having called for the umpteenth time, but Angelica was still as calm as a placid lake.

Finally, the young boy's red hair appeared peering over the edge of the small cliff. Obviously he was attempting to hide himself as he checked on what she wanted - chores were a particular sore spot - but alas her keen eyes had caught sight of the red tuft of hair against the blue sky. "I see you.." she said slightly teasingly. "Come on. I promise you'll like it," she said, adding the second part as if anticipating his hesitation. If there was one thing the rascal knew about her was that she wouldn't lie and promises were certainly not to be broken or misleading.

The tuft of redness disappeared behind the rock cliff for a moment before reappearing as Beck ran and lifted off into the air. This kind of behavior - reckless - was something Angelica was displeased with, but had come to accept. The boy flew through the air, seemingly to slow ever so slightly in his decent, before landing in the small, shallow creek. Despite the height, he was fine.

Beck walked over to where the Maiden stood on a small grassy knoll and stood before her. Within seconds he was already getting fidgety and impatient as Angelica allowed herself a moment of fun, toying with him. After a minute as the breeze died down and birds seemed to keep quiet, she spoke, "We're going on a small trip..."

Immediate euphoria swept through the young boy; he lived for adventure, always dreaming of tails of warriors, pirates, and mages. Quickly he dashed off into the house and returned a moment later with his cloak - and a small dagger hidden beneath - and a smile on his face. "Ready!"

Angelica grinned slightly, "Alright... let's go then." She turned and began walking, Beck scampering behind with limitless energy...


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Angelica Diesta - Young Beck