ThicreanPhoenix
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Posts posted by ThicreanPhoenix
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It singed. No sooner had Eric lowered his blade in triumph than an intense burning engulfed his body. He muffled a scream through his teeth, but somehow managed to keep his footing, and looked up just in time to swerve out of the way of a follow-up shot. Looking back at its source, he gazed towards the mage who had cast it.
He had to run from that mage. Eric sprinted away, towards the edge of the ship, attempting to plow through anyone in the way.
Eric to (11, 13), Killing Edge Pirate #9.
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Eric fumbled as the boat rocked beneath him.
I am not going to get used to that any tine soon...
He regained his footing quickly, however, and rushed to help out that dear old mercenary fellow, dealing with the man behind the one he finished.
Eric over to (15, 13), Killing Edge Pirate #5.
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Eric would have thanked his healer, but alas, in an instant she was gone again, yelling...something at someone on the other side of the ship and leaving him alone with the pirates.
...Which was not going to be his permanent stance. Lurching backward, he ducked over to the clump where everyone else had gathered.
Nelon to (13, 14), Javelins Thief #3.
Eric does his thing over to (13, 15), helps Nelon equip his Steel Sword, and smacks that there theefy #3 with his Steel Sword.
Accolon to (11, 12) equips Owen with his Killing Edge, and cantos to (13, 11).
Serge serges to (13, 13).
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Eric stood and breathed heavily, staring at his sword. That blue glow...I don't know what the hell I just did, but I really hope I can do it again!
His excitement was short-lived, though, as he was struck by a mage and narrowly avoided another shot from a swordsman. Where did that come from?
And then the boat shook. Eric managed to keep his footing a little better than last time. He hadn't moved this time...though perhaps that was due to the enemy on either side of him.
Eric swung back at the combatant from earlier. Hopefully he was a little more fazed by the boat's quaking.
Eric stays where he is and gives Swordfighter #3 a taste of his Killing Edge.
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Eric goes over to (16, 12) and thwops Mage #6 with his Steel Sword.
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Despite his best efforts, Eric had nearly faceplanted when the two ships collided. However, he did manage to keep standing, and was able to steady himself and reaffirm the grip on his blade handle.
Eric took a deep breath.
Eric phases in at (15, 9).
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Once again faced with the predicament of having nothing to do, Eric had meandered his way back onto the deck. He was carrying his full belt of equipment-in fact, there was no indication he'd taken it off since he got on the boat-and leaning on the deck's railing. He stared off towards the horizon, feeling as his scabbards brushed against his leg.
With each rock, he felt his stomach lurch, if only a little. Maybe it was seasickness? Maybe it was breakfast coming back to haunt him? It wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever eaten, that was a given, but Eric couldn't complain too much. Food is food. Or maybe, the feeling was leftover from the last boat he'd been on...
Eric shuddered and turned his gaze more intently at the sea, a seperate thing from his blank stare. And in the distance...a ship approached. Are black flags normal? I don't remember any-the scurrying of other people around the deck sealed it. This appriaching boat did not contain anyone friendly. Eric steadied his hand on the grip of a sword.
Guess I get to use my one selling point. 'Bout time.
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"Yeah, it's really somethin'." Eric attested, returning to a brisk pace of work.
"...So after all o' this is over, you're going back to Deira, huh? Me personally, I'm not sure if I'll head back. I was never really patriotic towards the place anyway. I never felt like I was more than just...there. Defecting was probably the first standoutish thing I ever did."
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"Sweet." With the leave of all the deckhands, Eric strode with purpose over to a barrel-wonder what's in these things-turning it on its side, ready to roll. As he began to ferry it to its destination, though, his pace slowed considerably when the weight of Accolon's words sank in.
"Brothers and sisters...we were prepared for that from the day we left, though, weren't we, Acc? I mean, we had to fight 'em to leave, let alone come back." Eric paused for a time, as if he were struggling to find words. "I'm sure Engel will forgive us. We're trying to do what's right for everyone, as opposed to the selfish bastards in Deira."
...Are you sure about that?
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Eric was bored. It was still that same busy day, but now that he had time to himself and was quite literally just laying around below deck, Eric was bored. And at a loss for what to do.
I should go occupy myself. I don't really like having a lot of time to think.
...That explains a lot.
...
Eric stood up, paced around the spot to get used to walking on a moving boat, and climbed above deck. He meandered around for a second...and then the group of barrel-lifters caught his eye.
"Hey you guys, need any help with whatever you're doing?" He called out cheerfully as he approached them, "Nobody gave me a job to do and I feel like I need to keep myself busy."
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Eric finally wrested his foot from the dying soldier's grasp and stood up. He put his sword back in his scabbard as his breathing slowed and rational thoughts began to form.
You're an imbecile. First all of those times you almost died today, and now this sorry display? A sheep could do better.
"You know, when I got on this boat, all I was hoping for was a chance to ask if I could learn magic from someone," Eric mused, face pointed towards the ground, "I wasn't looking for a demonstration." With a pause, he sighed, "I-I don't think I should take any logbooks to anyone. My incompetent carcass couldn't do it."
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Now able to see two feet in front of his face, Eric took a look at his assailant. Knowing it was human was a relief. Not a major one, but a relief regardless. Better a human than whatever a frightened imagination could come up with. And he kept panicking, trying to wrest his foot free.
...Until Constance swooped in to heal the poor Deiran. Judging by the blood he coughed up, he needed it, and Eric didn't want to make any of the process harder. He was still too stunned to speak, hyperventilating to no end, and shaking like a leaf, but at least he had stopped actively pulling away.
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Eric had followed everyone into the depths of the ship, just as he had followed them onto the ship in the first place. Claire and Constance seemed to have heard something in specific. Their sudden reactions-especially the where did that come from-implied such. Odd; other than the groaning and rustling we've been hearing, I've got nothing.
Constance dimmed the lantern, and Nelon warned once again to be on guard. Eric didn't need to be told twice. He was gripping his blade tight enough that his hand was starting to los-
And then something grabbed his ankle. All of the preparedness and self-control in Eric's body couldn't have stopped him. Every ounce of dread building up in the man's body, in that skipped heartbeat, turned to panic.
"WHAT THE HELL!!!" he screamed at full-blast, drawing his sword and turning around, hoping to see what exactly had just given him a heart attack. It was fruitless, though, as not only were they in near-total darkness, but between the suddenness of the turn and the grabbed leg, Eric lost his footing on the pivot, falling backwards and hitting the floor. Hard.
Eric was lucky he hadn't impaled himself with his own steel, but that was of no concern to him. He sat up with a start, ignoring his newfound splitting headache, to attempt a second time to see just what had gotten him so worked up.
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With his hand on the hilt of his sword, Eric quietly followed everyone else onto the ship, his stomach churning more with each step. Being on the boat was like looking at it. It was a boat. But he couldn't shake the dread. And the apparent contents of the captain's log did nothing to put him at ease. Screwed up, that's what that is
"Aren't there, like...diseases that make you delirious at sea?" Eric attempted to justify, "And maybe they got so crazy that they threw themselves off the boat, or someone else threw 'em off. 'Cuz I could see that happening."
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"Aye," was Eric's simple response to being told to stay on guard. His hand darted to the hilt of one of his swords. "Truth be told, I don't wanna stay back anyway. That kind of crap makes me feel extraneous."
Who the hell is this Malaphar guy? I don't remember any commander or anything by that name. Apparently he's dangerous, though...
"Queasy stomach or no, I'm ready to board whenever the word's given. And..." He paused, remembering the chilling scream, "For the sake of whoever the hell that was, I'd rather we get a word soon."
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Eric put himself on standby during the boat conversation. He had no idea what he could do on a boat. His expertise was limited to swinging pointy metal sticks.
However, his ears perked up when Constance offered to go inspect the boats with Claire. They're both spellcasters, right? Yeah, that feels right...Having two in the same place..."Uh...You mind if I help out with that, too? I know three's a crowd, but...I dunno, I don't have any seaworthy skills or knowledge or whatever, and hey, maybe if Deirans hid something on the boat, I'll recognize a hiding spot or...something." It's a pretty obvious and flimsy excuse, but I can't think of a better one.
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Eric lowered his hands, fists unclenched. Shadowboxing wasn't going to do anything. Hell, would anything else do anything?
...It doesn't matter if anything does anything. I just have to fight. I can't worry about anything else. Fighting is simple. Fighting is what you know. Just stick to it. All you need to think about is how to do it better.
Putting any other thoughts as far out of mind as possible, Eric took a moment to self-examine. His wound where the lancer had struck him still stung, but otherwise, everything seemed to be in working order. His footwork could have been better today, it seemed like. If it weren't for all the random medicine and healers...No. I'm not thinking about that.
Most everyone Eric had come to blows with today was a pain in the ass. They were bigger, more endurant-looking, and bulkier than him, and Eric himself seemed to hold little high ground. He only had his dancing feet, and that boon wouldn't last forever, if today was any clue. How could I...wait. Could I? Maybe, I'd have to ask someone how to. But it's a tempting thought. Hmm...
Eric snapped his fingers, almost as a show of resolve. Next time he got a chance, he'd ask someone about spellcasting. It can't be that hard...
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Eric returned blade to scabbard as the opposing forces surrendered. Breathing a sigh of relief, he took a look around...at the smoldering piles of rubble that were houses before they got there. And then, off to one direction, another bang rang through the air.
Eric started to approach and see what had caused it, but he didn't commit to the action, stopping in his tracks instead. He didn't need to see any clearer. He didn't want to see any clearer. Another bomb had gone off. Another...
...It all made him sick to his stomach. Those explosives that the Deirans used just cost so many people so much for...what? Living in the area? What the hell kind of reason is that for...This isn't how fighting should be. This isn't...
Eric let out a frustrated shout and threw a punch at the open air, stumbling forward as he did so. Hanging his arms for just a moment, he took a deep, albeit shaky, breath, and threw another.
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Eric to (13, 16), hit Soldier C with the Killing Edge.
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Once it opens up, Eric meanders over to (15, 15).
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Eric to (15, 12).
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Eric felt much better after being healed(Wait, don't I still owe her for the whole mess with Accolon?...), but didn't have much time to revel in his good feeling, as he jumped almost a foot when the house not too far away spontaneously went up in flames. The screams were horrific in nature, and upon looking up, he noticed...that that wasn't the only one. There were three buildings, all reduced to smoldering ash. Not a comforting sight.
Eric to (14, 9).
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I thought I told myself to stop being careless! Ugh...that really hurt...
Eric to (10, 10), trade Owen the Wingclipper and thus make ever having it in the first place moot.
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Eric to (9, 6), smack Curate #1 with the Armorslayer.
Angelcynn: The Myrcian Conflict - Act 5
in Roleplay
Posted
Eric stepped back from his felled rogue friend and watched in his usual silence as familiar faces ran ahead of him and then about faced and left towards the other side of the boat. He smacked the side of his head with his palm.
Don't run off on your own. Be smart.
Eric to (12, 15), Steel Sword Pirate #2.