Author: Lokir, Posted: Mon Jun 11, 2018 1:11 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

”You are most welcome.” Lokir replied with a grin, offering the then declined flask with a slight nod of understanding towards Cymbel. The healer mentioned that this was all he was able to do and Lokir smiled slightly. ”You have done your best, more so than that I believe, Cymbel. You have done very well, you deserve the rest.” Lokir spoke calmly as he took another drink, oh this stuff was good!

After a moment Cymbel asked a question of Lokir and the knight nodded. ”For a bit, yes. I was on my way here to speak with the local leader to strike up a deal. I have recently made a new, uh, home in the Plains,” Lokir didn't want to give away who he was right now, he felt that it might undermine of the progress that Cymbel had made with his confidence if he realized that a God had been helping him the whole time. ”and I wanted the Tribes out here to know that we are no threat. I'm a knight, so we have a large group of us out here training and such. We don't want the tribes to think us stealing their game, we'll only take what we need when we need it, and will trade with them if they are willing to do so. In exchange, they will feed us information and rumours that they may hear and we'll help defend their camps if needed from attack. I figured we should extend this idea now while we're still new out here before they start to get the wrong idea.” Lokir explained, of course, about the only new structure that had gone up in the Plains lately was the Fort itself, but it was still fairly new, so maybe Cymbel hadn't heard of it? He'd have to see.

A snort from the door caught Lokir's attention and he stood while taking another drink and opened the door and his mare poked her head in, still covered in full armour. ”Ah, good, you stayed safe.” Lokir grinned and patted her nose as she stepped back outside again to graze in the shade until it was time to leave. ”Really should pick a name for her.” Lokir sighed to himself with a slight shrug and turned back to Cymbel. ”If I'm keeping you from rest, do tell, I don't want to interrupt it.”

But as Lokir finished a local poked his head looking for the God. ”Ah, my Lord, the Elder is ready for you if you are ready?”

Lokir smiled and nodded. ”I'll be there in a moment, thank you.” Lokir looked back to Cymbel with a slight grin and a shrug. ”Well, that answers that. It was a pleasure to meet you, Cymbel, take care of yourself, you're capable of more than you know.” He had that same grin and winked as he left Cymbel to go meet the Elder as was planned from the start, knowing that he would put in some good words for Cymbel at the same time.

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Mon May 28, 2018 9:34 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

A hand was on his shoulder, and he wearily looked up. It was the man from before, Lokir. "Good job today. Damn good job, the villagers will thank you properly I think afterwards. You helped save a lot of lives today, friend." Hearing that from someone like him made the healer smile. Knowing he was able to help eased the fatigue; at least his efforts had not been in vain, regardless of how small they might have been. "I'm glad…" 'I'm glad I could be of use', he nearly said. But Shiloh told him he shouldn't think like that anymore. And she was right–before he only had her, but now there were so many others who cared about him and his well-being.

Unaware of the deity's quiet assistance, he still couldn't believe how he had managed to do what he did. In response to being asked for his name, he responded. "I'm Cymbel. Thank you again, for helping me back there, Lokir. I truly cannot thank you enough." Seeing Lokir offer a flask, he declined politely with a tired smile. "No thank you, sir. It wouldn't be good for my constitution, I'm afraid." Though he was feeling somewhat better, the fatigue from reviving so many people was still lingering. He was wondering if he had enough in him to bring one more person back to life, but his legs were heavy like they were cast in iron. "Seems like that will be all I'm capable of doing for day." He let out a sigh. "If Walter were here, he might speak at length on serendipity."

Not able to move much with his body so tired, he turned to speak with Lokir. With things now calmed down and the initial unfamiliarity of meeting a stranger over, the fey proved to be quite affable when not suffering fits of panic. "Pardon me for asking, but will you be staying here long?" Cymbel himself had mentioned waiting for Walter to come back through the Corval Basin before leaving the plains together, and he had hardly asked anything about the warrior.  

Author: Lokir, Posted: Wed May 23, 2018 11:06 AM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

The fight was back on and Lokir was doing his part, still unarmed he was proving himself a decent pugilist against armed attackers. It helped that his new God power that allowed him to learn on the fly any martial skilled used that he could see, he started to notice that they all at least in part learned the same techniques. So they had some kind of trainer among them, but they still for the most part had their own styles. That made it even easier for Lokir to move them quickly and disarm and then subdue them, he didn't want to kill what he didn't have to, he'd leave the justice part up to the villagers, justice wasn't his domain after all.

All the time however Lokir was keeping one eye on Cymbel, watching the young looking man as he fought and helped the villagers. He did well, in Lokir's eyes, using his illusion magic to confound the bandits by looking like one of them and then knock them out while they were distracted. In time the bandits were beaten back with some being taken captive, and peace started to return to the village. Casualties for the defenders were low, thankfully, once Lokir found out and helped get things back in order. But Cymbel continued to impress as he helped heal and even revive some fallen villagers, sadly some were beyond is help and would slip into the Soul Stream but such was the way of life.

He watched Cymbel get the tent and for Lokir stayed out and let him work, while at the same time one of the villagers figured out who he was and had one of the elders come to meet him. They spoke at length, thanking Lokir for his aid, but Lokir was sure to put more of thanks towards Cymbel, after all, the young man was healing and reviving as best he could. And if it wasn't for his sleeping fog, even if it wasn't meant to happen, the fighting could have been worse, at least some of bandits were restrained before they fully woke up.

Lokir was offered a bottle of booze to drink, something the locals made, and he happily took it and took a pull, and wow was it strong! But tasty, so he had some more. The bear god made his way over to Cymbel's tent and let himself in, seeing the young man barely able to keep his eyes open. Lokir grinned slightly, he had to hand it to Cymbel, he had a lot of heart. ”Good job today.” Lokir stated simply and held the bottle out in case Cymbel wanted to partake, still, Lokir placed a hand on his shoulder again. ”Damn good job, the villagers will thank you properly I think afterwards. You helped save a lot of lives today, friend.” As he spoke Lokir let trickle some of his magic into Cymbel, a little extra strength to keep him from falling asleep or passing out, at least for a little while longer. ”I never did catch your name, friend, in case you missed it I'm Lokir.” He introduced again with a grin.

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Sun May 13, 2018 10:13 AM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

When Lokir knocked the bandit unconscious he heaved a sigh of relief. Cymbel was glad that his attempt at a distraction was a success. He still had it in him after all. For a moment he was worried that his capabilities in disguise and illusion had failed him. Being praised was something he was gradually growing accustomed to. Although it had been years since he had left to live on his own, the past still lingered like a shadow trailing not far behind. Knowing he had helped make the situation better was a small comfort. With the effects of his mist wearing off the rest of the people, the fighting resumed. Nodding to Lokir, he turned his attention to the new battles beginning around them. With shield in hand, he sought out the wounded tribesmen and restored them back to full health. However his efforts did not go unnoticed by the invaders, and they soon set their sights on him.

Afraid of being cornered, he hastily cast a small spell and used it to trigger the special property that particular shield he had possessed. Shutting his eyes just before the magic hit the silver and black tourmaline, a blinding explosion of light sent all caught unaware in its blast staggering with hands clutching their faces. Quickly he moved on, before the bandits could recover and give chase. All the while he was a nervous wreck, but he wasn't succumbing to paralyzing fear. Whatever small assistance he could lend was given, and he was often pushed onto the defensive. One good turn led to another, and those he had healed were fit to fight often coming to his aid. Cymbel even had to use that shield of his to forcibly disarm a few attackers before putting them to sleep.

As time went on, Lokir's encouragement began to open up his thoughts. Employing his skill in illusion, he mimicked the appearance of the marauders to blend in and proceeded to knock them over the head once they were alone. Teleportation helped keep him out of their reach, but he kept his awareness high to ensure he would never find himself truly cornered. With the deity's efforts and the combined strength of everyone from the encampment, the bandits were beat back and several more were taken captive. Only a few managed to make off with a few mounts while escaping the Bohari's arrows and lances. Finally, peace returned. 

The fog and his efforts to reduce the casualties had helped. Only a few had passed away in defending the camp, and he began the next portion of his work in bringing them back to life. Each person revived took a great toll on him, and he had to ask the people to keep the fallen bodies from further damage. Any potions to renew his magic were quickly used up, but there were still more waiting to be returned to their families. Sitting inside a tent the Bohari had given him for treating the injured, Cymbel was struggling to keep his eyes open. Everything within him was exhausted, but that was the price one had to pay for returning others to life. 

Author: Lokir, Posted: Fri May 4, 2018 5:02 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

Lokir waited to see what Cymbel's reaction would be to the situation; would be balk and force Lokir to help himself? Or would he take up that small spark Lokir had granted and make into a flame? So when Cymbel spoke Lokir stifled a grin, it was a slow start, but it was a good start, in Lokir's opinion. Go nonlethal first if possible, no need to take a life if possible, but the bandit wasn't having it. Lokir couldn't read minds, so he didn't know what was going through Cymbel's mind at the moment, but there was that pause before he spoke again, trying to use reason first.

That didn't work, however, as bandits weren't known to be into reasoning with anyone. The bandit spoke up, and Lokir watched as Cymbel's reddened a little bit, again Lokir waited to see what Cymbel would do. ~Come on, you can think of something.~ Lokir thought as he watched.

Sure enough, Cymbel did think of something! Lokir watched the beads come out and felt the bandits holding him tense up at the sudden action, and then more so when copies of Cymbel appeared around them Lokir grinned as the bandit started to become afraid. Lokir felt it in the man's body language, easily read since they were up against each other still, he was now on the defensive and probably hadn't thought about magic being used.

As the copies started to pray Lokir looked around as much as he was able to, while the bandit started to panic. Lokir turned his attention to the knife at his throat and as the bandit started to glanced around in his panic, the instant the blade was slightly moved away Lokir made his move. His hands came up in a practised motion and caught the man's wrist and twisted, Lokir avoided using any extra strength, forcing the man to drop the blade. With that done Lokir turned and struck the man hard enough to knock him cold but do no lasting damage, well, besides a nasty headache and bruise.

With a grin Lokir looked up to the copies and, using his heightened werebear senses, found the real Cymbel. With a smile Lokir walked over to him and, carefully, slapped him on the shoulder. ”Good job, got his attention long enough for him to panic and give that opening.” Lokir praised. ”Couldn't have done that without you.” Lokir added at the end. ”Now, how about we help the rest of the villagers out with the rest of the bandits? Could use more of your magic I think.” He left the how to the young man, allowing him to think on his own some more and on his feet.

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2018 11:27 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

What would she do? Whenever he was faced with a situation he had never experienced, or a challenge that seemed impossible–she would be the first thing that came to mind. Seeing the man now at knife-point, he immediately could feel the panic rise again. But something was holding him together, something kept him grounded. He had yet to know this was an act of divine intervention, but at the moment he felt almost unafraid. What would Shiloh do?

Recalling how she had acted so many times, the memories became examples for him to pick and choose. First…remain calm. It was as if he could hear her voice in his mind, familiar and close. The next step to take would be to analyze the situation. A quick glance around told him the three of them were alone at the moment, but this would change soon. Time was of the essence, and he couldn't tarry. This bandit only had a simple blade, which could deal wounds he was capable of healing if he worked quick enough. The most important thing here, was to disarm and bring this bandit to his senses immediately. With his friend's visage in mind, he took his first step to initiate.

"Sir…could you please release him?" His tone wasn't firm, nor was it quaking. It seemed like a silly thing to say in this situation, but he wanted to convince this man if possible to reconsider taking a life. His words had little impact, he saw. But he had to try. The longer he could stall, the longer help could arrive. And the more time he could get, the sooner he could formulate a way to resolve this peacefully. For someone who never was one to attack first, this was as confrontational as he could be. The bandit wasn't having any of it, and he could feel anxiety welling up again. No, he couldn't panic again. That merely delayed the inevitable. And sooner or later, they might realize this too.

He had to hold the man's attention by any means necessary. "Please, there is no need for this. He is unarmed, and has nothing of value. Your objective was to take the resources of this camp, was it not? If so, then why hold him here?" The bandit scoffed, and laughed. "You think I'm that much of a sap to believe that? We're bandits, see. And we take what we want, break what we can't bring, and make sure there are no loose ends. Or is that too 'unreasonable' for you to get?" Cymbel could feel his face flushing red, and yes he knew it was naive. But those few precious moments he had managed to wrest from the bandit's attention gave him a spark of an idea. If seeing is believing, then he could convince them of something that wasn't real. Perhaps he was no warrior, but he certainly knew how to create a believable facade!

If he could craft and engineer an entire scripted play to make a group of townsfolk think he had chased off a dragon, then how much simpler could this be for a bandit? Taking out a string of prayer beads, he used this action to draw the armed man's focus from the sudden appearance of several copies of the fey now in a circle about him. As all of him began reciting a prayer, the man jerked back in fright when he found himself surrounded. "What in the–?!" The shock factor was more than enough to throw the man on the defensive. Cymbel himself had been teleported away from his original position in exchange with one of his duplicates, and with his mastery of illusion the man wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Surely the bandit would know there was magic at play, but would he risk taking the chance of not knowing where he could be attacked from?

Author: Lokir, Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2018 4:45 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

[OOC: Oh, do I have an idea hehe]

Lokir listened as Cymbel explained what he was doing there; come here to help as a healer to try and improve himself. A noble ideal for sure and one that Lokir could easily respect, and he did, anyone trying to better themselves was worth his time. Cymbel was rather pale, however, saying he was prone to overheating and liable to faint as a result. Lokir had to wonder; was that something that was with him since birth? Or was that something he had happened because of staying inside too often out of the sun? Hard to say and at the moment Lokir wasn't going to ask that question.

Instead he listened to Cymbel's request and nodded. ”Walter, hm? Well, I'll do my best. But, may I ask; why do you need him?” It was an honest question, if not a little forthright as well. ”And it is admirable that you wish to better yourself, we aren't done here, as I said, there are wounded, so your skills are still needed I think.” Lokir observed.

Lokir sensed movement behind him but didn't react as a bandit had woken up behind him and got his arm around Lokir and placed a sharp blade at the knight's throat. “Don't move!” The bandit hissed and used Lokir as a shield as he eyed Cymbel. Lokir raised his hands up a little to show that he wasn't armed, not that he never wasn't and not that he needed to be armed to take care of this.

But, he thought, maybe, faced with this kind of situation Cymbel could use some confidence boosting? Harsh, but there would be no consequences for Lokir either way. ”A little help?” Lokir asked and the bandit shook him and said to shut up as Lokir eyed Cymbel, waiting to see what the young man would do.

More bandits were waking up and more villagers as well and the fight was starting to get underway again. Cymbel didn't have much time to help Lokir with the knife to his throat and the bandit hiding behind him.

Lokir's Divine powers seeped out and just touched Cymbel gently, just adding a little spark courage. But it would be up to Cymbel to turn that spark into a fire!

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 5:33 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

The man called Lokir placed a hand on his shoulder, and asked him if he knew when those who had fallen asleep would regain consciousness. "I'm sorry, but I don't know. It's entirely dependent on the individual. Some recover more quickly than others, some will continue to sleep until others awaken them. But typically those who were exposed earlier tend to wake before those who were exposed at a later point in time." Those who had fallen unconscious first would be the first to rise as well, provided they were no longer being exposed to the sleeping mist. Seeing the people slowly come to their senses, he felt a pang of guilt for adding to the situation. When he saw the Bohari tribesmen round up the remaining bandits without much difficulty, it helped ease his personal disappointment. Maybe it had done some good, after all.

The encampment was rising out of its slumber, and Lokir returned to speak with him. "Can you tell me anything about yourself, friend? We're not totally done with the fight here, need to get the bandits away. Is there anything I can do to help you?" He was about to ask if he could send word to someone, but held back. With a sigh, the fey figured someone would ask, sooner or later. "To tell the truth…I had meant to come and assist the people here as a healer. I know I lack experience, and was hoping this would give me grounds to improve." Cymbel hadn't spent more than a week before his services were greatly needed. Before the ambush, he was having second thoughts about his choices. "Perhaps I should have chosen my destination more prudently. Despite my efforts, it seems I am unable to improve my own constitution. I am not accustomed to long periods of exposure to high temperatures or strong sunlight." He then pulled back a sleeve to show his very pale complexion. "I overheat easily and become liable to faint."

Clasping his hands together so his fingers interlocked, he did his best not to fidget in the other man's presence. He was still feeling anxious, but not nearly as bad as before. "If it's not too much of a bother for you, could you send word to a tracker by the name of 'Walter'? He's a friend of mine…" He didn't want to call Shiloh all the way over from Parvpora, especially after he had decided to come to the plains himself. Walter would understand when he arrived. He was a good confidant, and didn't jump to conclusions easily. The hunter also had accompanied him from Adeluna to the Bohari camp, parting ways to attend to his other duties. He'd rather have Walter come than to pull Shiloh away from more important matters. If she were to find out, there would be no end to her worrying. Cymbel was sure of it. After all, if their positions were reversed he would do the same.

"He typically frequents the woodlands to the east, or can be found on the road between the Highlands and Adeluna. About this tall in height, with brown hair fading to grey and a trimmed beard. He also has a thin hairline scar across his face." That was the best he could do in describing the other man's features and whereabouts. He chose to omit the part about the man being a lycanthorpe, unsure if bringing it up would do more harm than good. Adding such a detail wouldn't necessarily raise the chances of finding him either.

Author: Lokir, Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 8:46 AM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

He got a shake of the head to indicate that the young man he was talking to wasn't hurt, that was good at least. But he didn't open his eyes yet and still appeared to be scared so Lokir kept talking, trying to calm him down and show that the danger was over. The man's breathing started to slowly return to normal, which was a good sign, and at the same time the fog coming from his mouth started to slow as well, which was a better sign.

Hyperventilation stopped as the breeze started to push the fog away from the area allowing Lokir to stop watching his breathing. He was able to see again and glanced around, no one else was awake, and he had to wonder how long they'd be asleep with the fog gone. The young man finally opened his eyes and looked around and Lokir kept quiet for now allowing him to take in and adjust to the scene around him.

At the thanks from the young man Lokir smiled and reached out to put a careful hand on the man's shoulder. ”You are most welcome.” He replied with a nod. ”Can you tell me how long they will be asleep for before they wake up? We may need to be ready in case the bandits started to wake up first.” Lokir said as he stood and moved from the young man and went to a native who was asleep. Carefully Lokir shook the man until he started to wake up. ”Wake up, come on.” Lokir spoke as the man eyeballed him for a moment before trying to get to his feet. ”Easy, I'm on your side, I'm the one you were expecting to come here for a meeting anyway, sorry I was a little late.” Lokir explained. ”Listen, everyone will start waking up soon I think, get to your people and start waking them and tying up the bandits before wake up. I'll keep an eye in the mean time for them to wake and protect those I can.” Lokir instructed and the tribesman nodded and got up shakily for a moment before starting to rouse his people.

With that done Lokir went back to the other young man but kept his eyes on the look out. ”Can you tell me anything about yourself, friend? We're not totally done with the fight here, need to get the bandits away. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2018 12:49 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

For what felt like forever, he had his eyes shut in darkness as the panic washed over him in waves. Everything else around him, the screams, the shouts, the fighting–it all became drowned out by his own thoughts and fears. He hadn't realized just how much his soporific mist had affected the fight outside, and how it had disturbed the attackers enough to flee at the end. His hands, his legs, his arms were all shaking. Then, he heard a voice that pierced through the fog of his own crippling thoughts. It wasn't familiar. A male voice, one that sounded like it came from someone who was older and perhaps wiser. There was something calming, comforting about it. The words this person spoke began to gently roll away the dark clouds, bringing him back to the present. "My name is Lokir, I wanna help you, friend." 

He could hear there was pauses in between, as if he was taking care to pace his breathing. "Are you hurt in any way? That's a rather unique way you have of defending yourself there." As the paralyzing fear began to dissipate, Cymbel slowly shook his head. He still wasn't ready to open his eyes, and the other man continued speaking to him. "It's worked rather well, the entire camp is asleep, tribes people and bandits alike." They…were asleep? Then that must mean he… The small spark of courage the deity brought to light was like a flickering candle in pitch darkness. He grasped onto it, and as he held it fast his breathing began to return to normal. The wisps of vapor emanating from his breath had begun to lessen as his fears subsided. Soon he was no longer hyperventilating, and all was quiet. The mist had ceased billowing, and with the aid of the local breezes it began to thin out. Visibility was returning gradually to the camp. Opening his eyes at last, he saw the mists recede, revealing the others lying unconscious on the ground. 

Clasping his hands, he looked around him seeing the aftermath of what succumbing to his fears wrought. The fighting had stopped, and the only ones he saw still standing were him and the stranger standing close. Having only recovered from a severe panic attack moments before, he found himself speechless. His eyes glanced at the ground, and darted to the sides to see if anyone else was stirring. Everyone else was sleeping soundly. "T-thank you…" The fey managed to stammer, his voice barely above the loudest of whispers.

Author: Lokir, Posted: Mon Apr 9, 2018 3:18 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

More bandits had fallen to Lokir in a short time and the rest had learned that they were out matched here no matter their numbers against him. Lokir had the last man by the throat and tossed him aside like a doll into a tree with casual strength. But then the fog started to roll in and Lokir could sense the magic in it, this wasn't normal fog, and it wasn't smoke either, which had been his first thought on seeing it.

It brushed passed him and Lokir looked around to see that the bandits who had inhaled were getting wobbly on their feet before they fell down asleep. So, someone with the tribe then did have a last ditch defence then? Or was this something else? Lokir inhaled and his head swooned, right, seemed while he would be able to resist it he wasn't totally immune either.

He watched some bandits turn tail and run, so, the threat seemed over, but fires still raged and now everyone was asleep but him. He thought a moment and came upon a great idea to avoid succumbing to the fog himself; don't breath! He was immortal now after all, so he didn't really need to breath, he thought anyway, it was just a natural and automatic thing his body did.

Using his left hand to pinch his nose shut to stop him from accidentally breathing through it and using every part of his discipline to not breath through his mouth Lokir headed deeper into the fog to find the source. As the knight made his way into the encampment more and the fog became thicker he saw the sleeping laying about. From in combat to asleep in seconds they had dropped on top of each other, sadly, some laid asleep wounded and bleeding unable to tend their wounds. Lokir wanted to help but he'd only have so much time in this fog himself before he would be asleep as well.

His senses allowed him to carefully walk through the fog as he came to a tent that seemed to contain the source of the fog. At the entrance lay a snoozing bandit with a spear that Lokir picked up and tossed aside, the bandit, not the spear, before poking his head inside of the tent. There he found a young looking man in a panic, face in hands he looked terrified. So, this wasn't a last ditch defence of the tribe, this was a panicked defence reaction of one man who was an outsider of the tribe, yet was no bandit either.

Lokir spoke in a soft voice, not wanting to further scare the man, but needing him to stop producing the fog. ”Hey, no need to be afraid of me, okay? I'm not one of the bandits, I was coming out here to meet the tribe when I saw the fires on the way here.” Lokir explained, his voice weird from holding his nose, but now that he was speaking he was inhaling a little each time. He wondered about his horse for a moment but figured the mare would be smart enough to stay out of the fog. ”My name is Lokir, I wanna help you, friend.” Lokir smiled and held his hand out for the young man to take. ”Are you hurt in any way? That's a rather unique way you have of defending yourself there.” Lokir asked and observed with a small grin. ”It's worked rather well, the entire camp is asleep, tribes people and bandits alike.” He informed, hoping that might help alleviate some of the young man's fears. Lokir wanted to try and help him help himself before he'd call on his God powers to help ignite some courage in the young man. It was a gift Lokir had gained on ascension, but hadn't used too often, preferring to have people find that courage on their own. But now and then someone needed that extra little spark to get them on the right track.

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 9:29 AM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

It wasn't until he realized he was seeing the air condense in front of him that Cymbel noted he was succumbing to panic. Pulling up his hood tighter around his head, he told the others to go on ahead of him. Right now he had to find a place to hide out of sight where he could calm down. It was hard not to become overwhelmed by the current situation–he had no way to effectively assist in extinguishing the fires, or to defend against the invaders. The only time he could be of use was after the damage was done and it was all over. Wanting to help but knowing you would likely put others in danger if you did so, it was painful. He wasn't very confident in his swordplay, and his magic would end up affecting everyone indiscriminately. 

'What can I do?' If she was here, she would be pushing the invaders back while directing people to quell the flames as fast as possible. If only he had someone with him. If only… A terrifying shout brought him to his senses, and he shrieked while narrowly dodging a jab from a spear! There was a man in a mix of leather and cloth armor with a torn bandanna around his head. The man's lips curled into a snarl as he charged after him, intent on running him down. Finding himself backed into the tents, he thrust a silver and black shield in front of him in time to block another blow. This wasn't good, he couldn't keep backing away here. The enemy had a range advantage, and he wouldn't be able to disarm him physically. His stress was rising again, and he felt his pulse quicken. What if he couldn't escape? How could he face her? After deciding to go off on his own, only for her to receive the worst news possible? He was afraid for himself, but more for her. She wouldn't take it well, she might even close herself off from everyone. 

 It was too late, all his efforts to keep his emotions contained were falling apart. Overwhelmed, he didn't even hear the screams of shock coming from those around as fog began to fill the area. He was beginning to hyperventilate, exhaling large quantities of rolling fog with each breath. Shutting his eyes closed and holding his head in his hands, soon visibility in the immediate area was reduced to nothing. But that wasn't the greatest potential danger of the fog; should anyone else other than himself breathe it in, they would become beset with an overpowering urge to sleep. Their senses would become dulled, movements sluggish, until finally they would fall unconscious. The fog was spreading outwards to other areas, aided by the wind. And as long as he was in distress, the number of people who would fall under its spell would rise. 

The marauders on the edges of the camp soon took notice of this unnatural phenomenon and took it as an ill omen. Those that weren't already in the thick of the mist turned tail and fled, taking what they could before they made their escape. The fires were still smoldering, and the damage to the encampment had been done. 

Author: Lokir, Posted: Tue Apr 3, 2018 5:27 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

[OOC: Hm, time for some pure hand to hand I think!]

Lokir's mount galloped hard down the trail, he hadn't regretted getting a warhorse since the he had finally decided to get one. Once the mare had become used to him not being human like those who trained her, she had been loyal to him and prove her own bravery several times over.

The Tetrarch came in view of the camp he took in the scene quickly, wasn't hard to tell one side from the other. He got his steed on the right path and got his feet loose from the stirrups and release the reins, he was going to make a quick dismount in a moment. He knew his horse, once he was away, would bolt for a safe place not too far off, he wasn't worried about her.

There was a grin his face as he jumped from his mount when he was close enough, the bandits hadn't heard him coming over the fighting until it was too late. One turned in time to see Lokir coming towards him in the air and catch Lokir's knee across the chin dropping him to the ground. Lokir landed and rolled coming back up to his feet in a smooth motion while at the same time knocking the feet out from under one bandit, and sure enough his mount now free of him turned and took off into the trees away from danger.

Lokir was on his feet and turned and kicked the prone bandit in the stomach before he was able to get up. This set the bandit up and flying over the trees as Lokir had forgot about his newly acquired strength, Lokir blinked. ”Oh, oh shit, uh, right, I'm stronger than I was before.” He observed with a satisfied grin on his face as some of the bandits who had seen him kick the man over the trees stared.

Turning to face them Lokir chuckled and charged them, obviously he had no fear in a fight anymore, so even without an actual weapon he would be fine. One bandit turned and slashed at newcomer but Lokir batted it aside with his palm and, toning down his Godly strength, gripped the man's wrist and twisted until he dropped the weapon before using his free hand to deck him across the chin. With one down Lokir turned as he sensed another blade coming his way and turned catching the man's arm at the elbow and snapping it like a twig before driving his fist into the man's chest. With some added strenth behind the blow it ruptured the man's heart and he dropped like a stone to the ground dead.

A bandit with a spear stabbed at range at Lokir who backed stepped it and moved his upper body to the side as he did. He snapped out and grabbed the lance at the bottom of the blade and pulled it and the man holding the other end towards him. As the man stumbled forward Lokir clocked him in the face and sent him sprawling back out cold. The Tetrarch tossed the spear aside as he grinned while waiting for the rest to take their brave pills and try their luck. Or, do the smart thing and retreat.

Author: Cymbel, Posted: Mon Apr 2, 2018 12:21 PM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

He wanted to strengthen himself, and become better as a healer and a person. But no matter how much effort he had put in, somehow it would fall short. Cymbel knew he had many friends who supported him and cared for him, yet he couldn't help but think at times he was a burden. Shiloh wasn't very deft with elemental magic, yet she found ways to work around her weaknesses. Walter had been born a lycanthorpe but had found how to balance both man and beast within. Nerine had almost fully recovered from being abandoned by a man who could have been her fiance, and was back on her feet. But him? He was a skilled healer, but that was all he had to his name. 

"Hey, do you want to go with Walter back to Canelux?" She had asked earlier. "I used to run back and forth through the Corval Basin back before I bought the airship. If you mention me to the tribesmen there they'll be willing to let you go along with them for a while." He took the chance and went. There wasn't much for him to do as he followed the nomads. The occasional ailment or treatment for injured animals was the most work he had. Traveling was tiring, but they were kind enough to allow him to ride on a covered cart. Sitting out in the direct sun still made him faint. After a while he had to sleep during the daylight hours when it was warmer, and stay awake in the cool evening. It helped alleviate the heat exhaustion symptoms for the most part. It wasn't easy, as he had to cover himself up more so he wouldn't have sunburn. Compared to the swarthy Bohari tribesmen, he was as pale as moonlight.

One afternoon, he was resting in one of the tents when an alarm was raised in the camp! "All men to arms! Ambushers from the plains!" Voices shouted. Spearmen and archers flooded out to the walls, fighting to protect their people and their precious horses. One of the men rushed inside and shook him awake, and told him to quickly get outside. The smell of smoke was filling the air, and when Cymbel followed after the man he saw flames spreading through the tents! "What's going on? Why are we being attacked during the day?" This didn't make sense! Launching an attack under the cover of nightfall would be far more reasonable than during broad daylight! He pulled his hood around his face as he was led out with the rest of the evacuees. 

Author: Lokir, Posted: Mon Apr 2, 2018 7:30 AM, Post Subject: Stressful Negotiations[P,R]

Making an alliance with the Tribesmen of the Bohar Plains had been a plan that the Knight had been planning almost since day one. With Scarwood Fort located to the North East portion of the Plains, and housing any number of people at any given time, it was a bet that, unless an agreement was made, the locals may see the Fort dwellers as stealing game. He didn't know that for sure would or could happen, but it was better to deal with him it before hand than afterwards.

The Tribes would know who the Fort belonged to in due time, if they didn't already, word did travel fast when new Gods rose to immortality. So Lokir had that going for him, but he would rather them know that he and his people would pose no threat to the local tribes so long as they left the Fort alone unless they needed his help.

So it was that Lokir was riding out on his own from the Fort on his warhorse, the mare wore her full armour set while Lokir wore plain clothing and carried no weapons. Not that he needed either anymore, but it was still something he felt like he needed to do. He had arranged to see one of the Tribes who were camped closest to the Fort, knowing that all of the Tribes were allied so one could speak for all.

He rode for hours until he found the camp, right where they said it would be, a nomadic people they'd probably only spend a night or two here and move on. But as he neared he could see a strong glow of fire, well, they would need them for cooking but this seemed too bright to be multiple smaller fires. He got his mount to move faster and soon found that the camp was alight in fire! Tents burned and people were screaming, the Tribe was under attack!

”Shit.” Lokir swore and got his steed to run as fast as she could, he needed to get there and see what the hell was going on and help the Tribe if they needed it. This put a bit of a kink into his plan, but if things worked out, fighting alone side of the Tribe to defend their home would give him an extra advantage in talking with the locals when the time came.