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12/31/2023 10:15 PM 

Fixation (Raid Reply)

Fixation
“As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / The Season of The Witch / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

T


empest was not a saint. He was just a man. Weak and desperate. He could not refuse the offering power when he was in such a condition and in this moment it was shown just how very similar he could have been to any other Magister. Was it for the right reasons? He could not consciously say in one way or the other about it.
 


 


Video: Obsession
By: Cinema Bizzare
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
Fixation






H

er question caught him a little off guard. Blood to consume? He smiled a little in brief humor to the thought of himself actually drinking from another person in such a way. The cruel irony to it would have been laughable to him, but Tempest was never turned by Cruenta –when she was around. It hadn’t been as though she didn’t have the opportunity to actually try. It was just that bloodmages couldn’t turn into such things easily due to the magical protections of their blood. Then again, it may have just been due to Tempest’s strong family’s genetics. In either case, Cruenta didn’t even try to turn him. No. When she was around and angry with him, she wanted to make herself known and she wanted Tempest to suffer for it.

“Not exactly. I’m not a vampire.” He chuckled in mild humbleness. “Although, …there are some aspects to the need of fresh blood from a living source that does have its similarities…”

Being without blood certainly didn’t affect him in the way that it affected Cruenta. For Cruenta, it was the hunger that dehumanized her and partially drove away her sanity. For Tempest, it would be hidden power untapped from within fresh living blood that escapes the body. It was an expiring source from the moment when it’s exposed to air but it can be an extremely powerful and versatile ingredient to any spell. This was why, when tracking down a mage, a sealed phylactery of their blood was used. It couldn’t be just any old source of blood either. Blood that still had traces of life from within, was an easily acquired component but with stronger spells, it would also require larger quantities of it. When knowing this, Tempest’s personal need of it didn’t involve any physical starvation. The only thing that starved him over such a thing would have been from a need for power. In this consideration, he was currently aching for more.

He gave into the guidance of her turning his head to look back at her. Finding that such was beginning to be increasingly difficult with every continued conversation. His eyes widened a little from the suggested tone in her voice, and he already knew that her mind had been made up.

“Raid—” He started to immediately shake his head as he reached to steel her but Raid’s movements had been too quick.

He knew what she was going to suggest then and Tempest already regretted speaking further on the subject. Within seconds her arm had been exposed to him and she tempted him with the gift of the dagger held in plain view. It was right in front of him now and all he had to do was take it. The weakness gnawed annoyingly at him, reminding him from the strong throb in his leg that everything could be better if someone—something—could just bleed long enough. Tempest had never taken that much blood in order to heal the reoccurring injury. At best, it was an experiment on his part; because he was not a healer. He only took enough to bring himself temporary relief from the chronic condition. Of course, he healed when taking the blood of his enemies but the spell had never been applied in such a way to “cure” him of that specific ailment.

Raid was offering Tempest exactly that. She was offering him a moment of full concentration to the specific issue; a moment to focus on a very old injury that normally would not have healed well due to the fact that it was indeed old and reoccurring. Because of this, healing it thickened its immunity and retaliation to completely heal by any means. Raid was also offering a lot more than she probably even knew. She was offering her life and the life of their child to rest in the hands of a greedy manipulator. A greedy manipulator who believed that—at best—he was a novice with the power healing.

The strongest power in the world is love. Tempest had heard of the phrase before but he never quite understood it. Raid trusted him because she loved him and Tempest had known this for a long time now. Yet, he sat there frozen and conflicted. His mind racing to calculate the outcomes and probabilities between the two choices in front of him, and wrestling with his greed for power.

Actually, it wasn’t the first time that Tempest had cut her and made her bleed for a spell. However, the first time he had done so was due to a bond between them. He had also cut himself to secure the pact and it was sealed under his full intention of creating a magical memory for the both of them to relive whenever they wished. Why could this next pact not be any different simply because of his choice of focus and the spell? It was because he knew deep down, that he would be hurting her and their child over a very selfish need.

But she looked at him so damn stubbornly! It was as if no matter what he said—no matter what he did—Raid would still think fondly of him. It lead Tempest to wonder if maybe his last influencing spell on her had been starting to wear off. He did make her his thrall at one given time, and then later, he tried to free her from his influence through directly controlling her thoughts. He told her that she was “free” in that moment. Ever since then, it had been a long and experimental test. He kept that realization hidden because he could never deny it. It was easier to just believe that it worked. Easier to believe that her choices were truly her own and not some subliminal summoning to desire him.

After all, if all of his efforts did work, then everything that they had felt for each other meant something. It would have been real and it would have been true. If it was real and if it was true, then to deny her offering now would have been insulting. Tempest was just simply at a conflict between what he wanted and what he believed that Raid needed. Regardless of her quickly given threat of his possible refusal, Tempest wasn’t certain if could have given a verbal confirmation or decline either way.

His eyes bore into hers as he took the dagger into his hand. He held up her arm in between themselves and turned the blade downward onto the scar that represented their bond. Tempest sliced deep into her skin, cutting an artery. The blood flowed downward freely and in response, Tempest tilted the hand of Raid’s injured arm to rest against the side of his head. His eyes fluttered to a close, taking in the moment of actually physically causing his love harm and, in his own way, trying to give a sense of respect. Tempest kissed her open palm and sighed against her skin. Blindly, he dropped the dagger to the floor and instantly seized Raid into his hold. One hand clamped shut over her injury while his other free arm wrapped around Raid to hold her close.

That was when the initial spell began. With his hand clamped tightly over Raid’s new wound, Tempest was using his magic to draw out more of her blood to smear over his hand. The actual pull of someone’s blood through the basic “blood pain” spell would have been naturally painful, but the after affects absorbed into the caster and healed them. It was a common bloodmagic-based healing spell that could only heal the caster, and (usually) it could only heal the most recent wounds. Tempest was going to take a larger amount in order to focus on a very much older injury.

He kissed her in his silent apology and self-loathing. He kissed her in a feeble attempt to numb or distract Raid from the pain that she would have felt. It was a raw exchange where the equivalence law was upheld in unblemished honesty. The more drained that Raid was becoming in his grip, the stronger that Tempest was. He could feel her energy and magic coursing through him. She was making him stronger with the more pain she was in and even this fed into his addiction. His skin felt alive. The muscles in his leg were quickly rejuvenating. He felt instantly recharging and it was so much better than when he first awoke from that corpse cart.

Her life’s energy was intoxicating as her blood trickled down over him and into his lap. Seduced by the gesture, the taste of her lips and stricken from his own guilt, his kiss of apology turned its course more into a muffling passion. Her whimpers in between, he voiced over them with a moan of satisfaction and gratitude that he couldn’t escape. Not one life—but two innocents had fallen into the shaky cusp of his responsibility, and it was a great inner struggle to turn away from his lust for power. In any specific concerns over her had nearly all been gone. She had given him her life and he was draining her, absorbing her…and killing her….

…And killing his unborn child. It seemed like something a typical Magister would willingly risk if they were in desperation for power. But it wasn’t what Tempest really wanted, it was a driven instinct after being weakened and exposed of it for so long. So, very – very long. It was inevitable that he would finally broken all reason and self-control. Having the offering of a life force presentable to him didn’t help him to refuse either. So, …all control…and nearly all caring was gone. Then, in a flash of this acknowledgement briefly traced across his consciousness.

The monster within –something even worse than the demons that he wrestle with—he finally acknowledged, and it was not a moment too soon! Tempest immediately loosened his hold from Raid’s arm. His blood infused spell had stopped and he quickly grew an entanglement of vines and elfroot to wrap tightly around the injury to close the wound and heal the given trauma. It wouldn’t be affective as a healing spell at this point, but it would stop the bleeding and buy Raid the needed time to rest enough in order to recover and heal herself properly.

Despite of how exhausted that Raid must have been feeling afterwards, Tempest was overwhelmed by her generosity. He broke the kiss, holding her collectively into his lap. He nibbled at her neck, trailed kisses down the front of her collarbone and pawed at her dress. He pulled and ripped at the seams with need until he could manage to slide out one full breast from over the neckline of her dress. Tempest took the supple flesh into his mouth and latched on like a madman driven by lust.

He should have let her go. He should have gotten up and left the building. But he just missed her too much. He didn’t care how she would feel. He didn’t care of what she would have thought. He didn’t even care that she was sworn to someone else. Tonight, she was his. She offered to him more than she might have known and Tempest took more than he was probably allowed. Yet, in some dark part of him, he found the exchange acceptable. Even justified. She could leave him and be with whoever she wished—that was fine. It was probably safer for her to do just that. He wouldn’t argue…

But deep down, …in the end…, Raid belonged only to Tempest whenever he wished. He’d be damned if the circumstances were any other way.
 
Devious Bloodmage

12/31/2023 08:39 PM 

Transformation (Airi Reply)

Transformation
“As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / The Season of The Witch / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

W


ith Airi’s guidance, Tempest convinces himself that he is ready and willing to take the first step in believing that he could truly be completely free from the Aulkhori and from the Venatori. However, in order to do this, he must accept her gift and face a deep seeded fear by allowing himself to be engulfed in magical-infused flames.
 


 


Video: Ashes
By: Claire Guerreso
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
Transformation






A

iri’s words gently anchored him. Tempest looked to her and his hands limped away from the strange fire that he held. There was a bright wonder that still dazzled in his eyes, for to him this was a first among many “firsts” within a very short amount of time. He came to a new world. He climbed a challenging feat to get here. Now, he was suddenly holding a new element that yielded to his control and it did so without much harm. Of course, Tempest was mesmerized by all of this!

He welcomed her hand when she reached to touch him. His grin turned cheeky when she paused to marvel in how ticklish that his facial hair was to her. “Wanted an excuse to have me all to yourself, do you? Away from the ship and under the stars…? I do see the appeal.”

Airi spoke of her affection for him, a reality that seemed to only grow between them. Though for Tempest, the most common response had always started with lust. An actual friendship was something much harder for him to achieve (–and to keep—) and yet, with Airi the notion of it felt simple. It even felt natural, despite knowing that there were stronger feelings between them even still. Tempest liked to have thought that he understood and that he wasn’t afraid. Perhaps it was because, in the back of his mind, he was always lead to believe that they could never be as lasting lovers. At best, even if the notion were to ever occur, they were two ships passing in the night. He tried to tell himself that he could settle for that.

So, whenever she offered her gift to him in such a wondrous display, Tempest’s eyes widened in disbelief to all that Airi was implying. She announced joyfully of the succulents’ healing properties and she told him that from now onward they could belong to him. It was more than just a method of healing injuries, and Tempest knew this. Airi was giving him a method to attempt in healing his traumatic past.

But she didn’t know! She couldn’t have known! Of course, Airi was bound to have noticed the ugly massive scars on his back and the burn brand that showed --without a shadow of a doubt-- to what cult that he belonged to. Tempest was never ashamed of his body but his scars were sensitive in some areas and he never really spoke much on his burn brand. In truth, Airi still knew even less about such topics on him than even that, and somehow, she still managed to understand so much about him on her own. It wasn’t an assumption on her part; it was a deep intuition and a wish to not upset him with old memories on the subject.

Was it even possible to have been free from the scars and burns? All of them? He was genuinely terrified in thinking on it. As eager as he was to be rid of the printing done upon him, he didn’t know just what all of the affects this magical fire had. It was brand new to him; an unknown element. He would have to put all of his trust—all of his desires and wishes of being spiritually clean—into Airi’s hands and believe in her capability and her promise to him.

“You're just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you, lass?” He stated the fact and swallowed hard before trailing his eyes back across the large budding plant around her. “…I don’t really think…”

His voice trailed off when he blinked after a moment and then looked back into her dark eyes. Tempest could already sense how his words were going to break her heart – again. It seemed that he had a knack for doing that; hurting those he cared about the most. Here she was, presenting him hope and instead of even attempting to try to accept it, Tempest felt himself suddenly frozen with fear as he started to recoil away and nearly refuse. This terrifying disbelief and self-disgust was not what he wanted to reveal about himself. This was her gift to him—and her intent was more wonderful; more pure than even the gift itself! How could he deny something so precious bestowed to him? How could he refuse to even try? Yet, his feet still could not seem to step forward.

“Oh, Airi… It’s not that I don’t want this. I do! It’s just—” He whined, then groaned and finally looked away with a sigh. “—How do I put it? …These scars have been with me since I was a child. They’re…testimonies to my survival. Even if they are unwanted…”

He shook his head idly and frowned.” …Sh*t. This would have been a lot easier to explain if I had some rum…”

His hand that carried the dancing flame seemed to have idly forgotten this tiny detail as he raised it and almost touched his chin with it. Startled at first, the pirate jumped a little and leaned away from the small blue flame in order to keep it away from his face. He then studied it, seeing as how he was slowly learning that the only thing that appeared to have kept the flame burning were the scars that he still had from where magical healing had left them behind. Such things were nearly invisible to the naked and the untrained eyes, but they were there and plenty of them. Tempest knew this for certain because he could still feel the small sting of ice and sharp pain from where the blue flame continued in its very thorough process of healing him.

Was the flame going to continue healing even the unseen marks on his body until there were absolutely no more? Was the lack of injuries its own lack of fuel before dying out? There was still so much that he didn’t know but he couldn’t take the disappointment that he was starting to feel from Airi right then. After all, this was all completely for him. Through this gesture, Tempest knew that he meant a lot to her. Without even words upon the subject, she understood that his entire life had been preordained and forced upon him since birth.

All that he had ever wanted was to walk his own path. With the burn scars and the branding gone, wouldn’t that be an easier thing to do? Wouldn’t that grant him a sense of freedom finally? Didn’t he want that? Didn’t he deserve that? Tempest was so ready to believe himself to be a terrible person. The fact that Airi manages to somehow overlook everything about him seemed to only proven this even more to him. The things he had seen and the things that had he had done were stains upon his very soul. Even the things that had been done in his name carried a weight under his responsibilities.

“But I do want this…” He restated in a mumble and lowered his hand back down to his front.

His decision was made. His hands fumbled nervously across the buttons and buckles of his weapons. Tempest placed them on the ground and knelt downward as he removed his jacket next. He wasn’t certain just how the process would have worked, but guessing from watching how the flames reacted to his previous injuries and soon had been snuffed out by Airi when she was in direct contact of them, Tempest only assumed that the healing process would have worked better if he were naked. Luckily, he had no qualms about his own nudity. He took a rather vain-filled pride in his physique.

His body was not overly muscular, but he was lean and fit. What little fatty tissue he had on him separated a healthy distance between bones and toned flesh. Curved muscles appeared even more lean against the shadows the breath of flames around the area. After removing his shirt, medium padded under-armor and undershirt, he took his stand to slip out from his boots. In record time, so too were gone his trousers and the black silken boxers that followed. He stood before the flaming floral completely exposed and vulnerable. The number of times that magical healing had been applied to his body was beyond counting. To the naked eye, he didn’t have many scars aside from the very obvious burned insignia at his left hip and the deep and large burns of wings on his back. Magical healing did wonders to keeping beauty simple but to the trained eye and a seasoned person of magic, Tempest skin would appear more to be more like a road map of old wounds and bite marks.

He stepped towards the largest budding flower and hesitantly reached out for the flames that burned around it. This time, there was no time for his hesitance and fear to shake him away. The smaller flame on the remaining scars of his hand made the initial stretch and joined itself to the massive fire. Within seconds, the flames practically leaped onto him as if Tempest had been covered in ox grease! His body was on fire and reacted to it in a panic. He tried to pat out the flames at first. His unspoken fear of holy fire taking away what remained of his soul pulled out his frantic whimpering. He could feel the sharp ice-covering sensation stretch on all corners and creases of his skin. However, it was his back that received the harshest of that pain. His body reacted to this in its twisted behavior, and for this, Tempest turned away. He crouched down with his arms crossing over tightly in the attempt to cover his already exposed back.

He finally gave in to the pain, feeling what he could only associate with his skin being burned to its core. Yet, he knew deep down that this wasn’t the case, Tempest still could not shake away the illusion whenever he was engulfed in bright blue burning flames. Suddenly, black feathered wings protruded out in a quick jerking motion from his back. Tempest’s hollering finally started to calm down as he gasped for breath and lacked the energy to feed into his own fears. He was transformed. His wings were enveloped by the blue fire soon afterwards. He looked more like a fallen black-winged angel who had recently clawed his way out from hellfire itself. But this wasn’t a fire that could truly damage him. Still, Tempest remained hunched down and shuddering due to the mixed feelings and the cold that eventually reached him.

The fire died down from around him. After every old scar had been healed, the pain of ice had finally ceased. The flames that Tempest had been engulfed in gradually burned down and away into nothing; dispersing against the calm wind that carried what remained away. The breeze had even felt like a gentle kiss caressing his skin and leaving behind goosebumps in their wake. The chill was to be expected. They were high up, after all.

Tempest looked down at his arms and he could see that his old scars there had been healed as well. Much like his hands, new and fresh skin greeted his sight in its beauty. He closed his eyes and started to stand. He felt like a newborn fawn that was just recently attempting to walk again. Tempest closed his eyes; afraid that after so much hope and fear concentrated into one moment that the results would not turn out as he and Airi would have wished. He almost couldn’t bare the thought of that approaching failure. To think that maybe it had all been for nothing. Sliding over his opposite wing from his shoulder, to drape down from the front of his chest, Tempest could feel and manipulate the tips of his feathered wings to bend at his will. In doing so, he covered half of the front of his body and curved to drape around his thighs in order for the thick black feathers to hide the very stiff response that he had at the moment. It wasn’t what he wanted for Airi to focus on about him ---at least, not in that moment. No. He wanted her to see if the burned symbol on his skin had been healed. It was the most stubborn to have been healed due to the magical barrier that it carried with it during its making, and the burns on his back were created with much of the same. If the symbol was healed, then his back was healed. However, Tempest was clearly too afraid to look or feel for himself but he needed to know…

“I-Is… Is the symbol gone?” He asked hesitantly. Tears already began to fill and spill down his cheeks. Whether it was due to the failure of the procedure or blissful joy because of its success, he will know soon enough from her answer.
 
Devious Bloodmage

12/13/2023 11:01 PM 

A Lover's Bond
Current mood:  accomplished

A Lover's Bond
“As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / The Season of The Witch / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

H


e has aged a lot in his long journey but still, Tempest wishes to see her. Just once more, he would give any price to spend time with his Bondmate again. On a stormy night, he may get his wish.
 


 


Video: It’s All ComingBack To Me Now (Cover)
By: Meat Loaf Ft. Marion Raven (Original by : Celine Dion)
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
A Lover's Bond





 
T

he fire was warm from the marble fireplace, but it hadn’t been enough to thaw away the ice from the two deep blue hues staring into it. Tempest watched while the logs from the metal frame, started to shift and rest more comfortable. The small uproar of sparks and ash settled quickly from around the movement. It only caused a small flicker in the man’s pupils, who had been staring into the flames.

His eyes were dancing vividly as if a dream or a hallucination had momentarily stolen him. The affects of the bond that Tempest had with Raid were very strong. Ever since their long distance relationship drifted, he found himself missing her even more. She was a grown obsession for him; a drug with no cure. There were plenty of addictions that could have easily clung to him and took its claim but the bond of his lover was a fate cursed to have been the most trifling.

There, her form stood before him, pulling from the weave of the Fade and twisting into the threads of reality. Her vision was perfect to him, just as always. Raid stood in a twirl between echoes of the fireplace and the pale moonlight that filtered into the room. The gown she wore was the traditional dark blue Tevinter piece that she wore only once. The polished fabric still clung to her form a little too tight and vividly begged to ripped off. She was smiling and dancing a familiar dance he had seen her perform once before. In between the steps, Raid held out her hand beckoning Tempest to take it.

But Tempest was much older now and not nearly as capable to move as gracefully as he once had been. His age never really showed due to his gift of bloodmagic, and it’s process of prolonged youth and vitality. Still, there were other complications. Tempest’s left hand was now missing, and what usually took its place was a silver hook. His right leg that never healed in its old war injury, was also getting worse. The nervous system in his leg was collapsing and his posture became more brittle. He needed a cane more often.

Yet none of this processed clearly in his mind. He was driven from the desire to stand before her and touch her hand once more. It was all the motivation that he needed and suddenly, he was on wobbly legs. It felt as if the floor had shifted underneath him; as though he might have been on a ship. The weight around him pulled Tempest downward suddenly and the heavy weight of gravity announced itself to be undeniable. In one moment, he was in the air and meeting her beautiful eyes. Then in another, he instantly sank and fell to the floor. Raid’s smile turned into a sudden worry as she knelt down to him.

The floor felt cold. Unforgiving. Unyielding. Tempest’s eyes were darting back and forth in a wide rapid eye movement. Dreams pulled into reality and suddenly, he could feel every muscle in his body answer to the yearning in order to move. The bloodmage pulled himself up and soon, he was back into Raid’s warm embrace.

He could feel her against him! He could smell the faint scent of fresh blossoming irises and wildflowers awakening his senses. Taking her hand, the two turned towards the center of the grand livingroom, where they began to dance to the silence around them. The sound of the fire crackling in the near background was their greatest peace. When Raid smiled up at him and rested her head against Tempest’s chest, time had stopped. Tempest closed his eyes as his left arm slid tighter around Raid’s back. His hook tilted slightly into the folds of Raid’s sash at her belt and the sound of fabric ripping just a little alerted her.

“Ah!” She yelped in surprise and quickly nudged Tempest away from her. “Are you trying to tear my dress off?” In Tempest’s confusion, she had quickly stepped farther away. With a daunting finger at him, Raid seemed almost to tease him. He looked down at the torn threads of the blue clothing on his hook and then apologetically to her. The sudden embarrassment stoned across his face.

“I’m… sorry, lass—I….” He started to explain and his eyes darted away in uncertainty. He had not really introduced the issue of his hook-for-a-hand to her yet, and here his substitute for the amputation nearly pierced unwittingly into her skin. “I didn’t mean—”

“You’re not going to have me down here on the floor, Naughty Pirate.” Raid teased him more playfully.

She didn’t really point out the fact that he had a hook instead of a hand. She didn’t bring to light of his current weaknesses. Instead, she seemed to push for them both to simply be relaxed and enjoying one another’s company. Raid was always polite in that way. She never to be confrontational when she deemed it unnecessary. She simply wanted to be with him just as Tempest as had always simply wanted to be with her. It was such a simple thing, and in the end their wish to remain close had become so complicated. But not tonight. Tonight, they would finally have their wish.

Tempest paused and looked back to her then, seeing the playful teasing in her eyes and in her gestures. He didn’t question anything anymore. Soon, he grinned in his response and stepped after her.

“Captain,” he corrected and reached out to her.

Raid giggled in an uproar of delight. “’Captain’, is it?”

She spun majestically out of his reach, turned and ran in the opposite direction. Tempest had the abrupt momentum to chase after Raid. The two ran all over the grand livingroom. They circled around the furniture, darted between the ancient sculptures and bookcases, and raced underneath the long red velvet curtains that covered the windows. Tempest almost had Raid within his reach once again before a huge fold of the curtains blocked his sight.

In a sudden flash of lightening from outside, Raid had vanished. Tempest was left with just the curtains clutched in his hands and looking to the direction where he thought he had last seen her. The first emotion that ran through him was panic and then heart ache. He needed to find her! He needed to make certain that he had not just been delirious!

Tempest rushed out of the livingroom and searched down the hallway. His legs were burning with pain from every quickening step. His lungs felt as though they would have given out at any moment, but the bloodmage pushed onward. Driven with only the single instinct to find her, Tempest searched like a mad man. He turned towards the stairs that lead to the second floor. He skipped two to three steps at a time in his run and slipped to his knees along the mid-way before clamoring his way back up to keep moving.

He reached one of the guest bedrooms and flung open the door. Tempest turned towards the window curtains and abruptly pushed them apart. Next, he turned towards the bed and pulled back its heavy comforter. He couldn’t drop to his knees to check underneath the bed, but Tempest could step back several steps in order to look instead. Still, there was nothing. Tempest then looked to the large dresser. He turned and took one door handle into his right hand before moving it upon a sudden jerk. With the sudden flash of lightening that danced from outside, Raid sprung from her hiding place and collided into Tempest’s arms.

“Looks like you found me!” Raid giggled in his triumph.

Though she was still joyous, Tempest was not. He still needed time to process his fear and grief. So, he clung to her tightly. His eyes narrowed with determination as he spoke, “Never do that again.”

Her giggling stilled as she pulled slightly from him to look up in question. “Tempest--?”

“Never leave me.” He restated.

His hold was so possessive that it was smothering. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he kissed her. His lips were so demanding that they had been anything but a suggested compromise. Tempest’s right hand clutched at the fabric of her dress while his left arm continued in a frantic attempt to press Raid against him. A passion that had been snuffed nearly down into glowing embers for so many lost years had found the spark needed to rekindle into a blazing wildfire.

He needed Raid to know how much that she meant to him. He needed to make certain that she would not misunderstand or to think that meeting him this night was a mistake. He needed her and she loved him. There was no question to this.

Lifting back to turn her lips from his, Raid smiled happily. Her hands lifted to run through his hair and she whispered, “I love you too.”

Had that been the only thing she wanted to hear from him? Tempest tilted his head and left a trail of kisses peppered along Raid’s neck in return, tickling her with his stubble as he went. “Stay with me…? Please stay…”

He stepped back, once his eyes had glanced down towards the floor behind her. Gathering his courage, he looked back to her and softly spoke. “I… do, you know? …You--…You know I…my feelings… I’ve …loved you for so long—”

Raid reached quickly in celebration of him, pulled Tempest close once more and they two shared a feverish kiss until they were both lost. Lost into a nearly forgotten night of love and lust sanctified into one solitary form. Lost into the memories of one another. Lost into the memories of her.

Lost…and alone…

The floor felt cold. Unforgiving. Unyielding. Tempest’s eyes were darting back and forth in a wide rapid eye movement. Dreams pulled into reality….


The reality was that Raid was never there to begin with. How could she be? Raid was dead. Tempest fell from his chair and he never left the ground. Instead, his eyes danced to the rhythm of the rapid eye movement he continued to have been cursed with. It was a curse all from his own making, simply because he missed his love so much. At least, though, Tempest was happy now. He smiled in a pool of his own drool; drowning to a Lover’s Bond that he foolishly created so many years ago. He never learned to use the spell with moderation and its negative affects of capturing its conjurer finally caught up with him.
 
Devious Bloodmage

11/22/2023 07:40 PM 

Time Out (Scarlet Reply)
Current mood:  accomplished

 
Interrupted
”As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

T


he battle continues on across both ships while Tempest remains still on the front deck, trying to revive Catalina. Before he knows it, he receives a boot to the chest and is suddenly attacked! He is not able to focus on the woman who he is trying to save for the Captain of the opposing ship is hell-bent on killing him. Catalina (Scarlet) awakens to stop the fight, but her strength is noticeably taking a toll on her as well.



 


Video: I Choose Violence
By: Jake Hill
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
Interrupted


B

efore Tempest could react, something crashed into him and knocked him back against the wall of his office. He grimaced and braced his hands at the wall to assist in pushing him back to standing on a better footing. He didn’t think to have time to pause on the confusion of the new name that the man had given Catalina. His eyes at widened as he started to lurch forward at the new horror of the other captain; for he quickly motioned to remove the dagger from Catalina’s side.

“No, don’t!” Tempest started to holler and instantly froze in his shock—for the damage had already been done.

There was a reason to why Tempest had left the dagger to where it rested. He didn’t want Catalina to bleed out anymore from any other injuries. The dagger had been deeply embedded into Catalina’s flesh as well. It would surely have been a quicker death sentence than if the ocean had not already claimed most of her by now. When under water and wounded, the body was likely to bleed out twice as fast than normally, and with this newly acquired hole, Catalina would only have a few seconds to even live.

He tried to reach her but the man in front of him just would not allow it. His dagger clashed quickly against the other Captain’s sword. Seething, Tempest pushed the man back and used his magic in his vines to create a barrier in between them, just long enough so that he could draw his sword appropriately. Though even in between that time, the other man was continuing to hack away at the vine-created shield. With the vines almost split away, they retracted back into his bracelet just long enough in the split second for Tempest to raise his recently brandished sword up in defense.

“You got barnacles for brains, mate! I was trying to save her!” He snapped bitterly in between each offensive strike.

The longer that the sword fight continued, the more dirtier in the art that Tempest had turned into using. His vines from his left hand protruded outward in a secondary strike. With this added weapon, the pointed edges aimed for his opponent’s rib cage. However, the other Captain had proven to be faster than most mortal men. Despite Tempest’s secondary attacks, the other man was capable of blocking with his sword and slicing away at the vines. Still, even this would only work in his favor for so long. Tempest was learning and the fight quickly began to push himself from the defensive and into a more offensive tactic. Tempest’s last swing had left himself pretty wide open, but it wasn’t something that he was much too concerned about. The other Captain raised his sword high while Tempest had turned from his shoulder to use his vines once more, and this time planning a different move.

Just before the final striking blow could have been made, something (or rather someone) had jerked Tempest by the back of his vest and yanked him out of the way. The very air was pushed out of his lungs, when in one moment he was in full control of his footing and then the next, the floor had been snatched up from underneath him. His first view had been the other Captain and then suddenly, it was Catalina in a slight turn to have faced his opponent.

“---The bloody--!” Tempest started to curse but quickly began to quiet down in between the verbal exchange that Catalina had with the other Captain.

What had the dim one called her again? ‘Scarlet’, it seemed. The two knew each other on a closer level, at least…

Tempest’s wide eyes and small mouth slid just slightly at an angle from behind Catalina’s shoulder, from where he tilted his head with an intrigued notion afterwards. “I told you, I was trying to save her…”

He could feel the surge of magic increase from around themselves and shortly afterwards a portal had opened up from behind the other Captain. Before Tempest could even have a say in the matter, Catalina – or rather Scarlet – suddenly pushed the other Captain into the portal and it began to close fairly soon afterwards. Tempest narrowed his eyes to this and tried to move past Scarlet in order to reach the other side of the portal.

“No, no! He doesn’t plow my ship’s ass and gets away with it scott f***ing-free!” Tempest started to scowl once the portal had finally sealed around one of the soldier’s arms that managed to stick out. Finding that now, Tempest was suddenly faced with a severed limb and barely stopping in time to see the arm fall down to his feet in front of him, Tempest seemed to quickly change his tune and lower his blade.

“On second thought…” He mumbled more to himself upon seeing this strong portal magic. It wasn’t by his preference, but the offense was at least away from his face, at the moment.

The sound of the woman collapsing behind him, lead Tempest to turn back around and momentarily sheath his blade. He would have to, if he was to help the woman up. Tempest reached down and offered his head to her, but Scarlet seemed determined to bringing herself back up to her feet on her own. His blue eyes darted over her injuries that still remained and appearing to have been fresh. It was a wonder that she was even standing at all, for Tempest was certain that by now the woman had lost far too much blood.

“Princess—” He began at a wince in between processing just how much he had already been lied to and with what new information that he needed to immediately understand.

After all, it was more than just the fact that she was royalty—(which was something that Tempest had already believed to be true)---it was the fact that she knew magic. The only place that Tempest knew where people of magic could rule over others would have been his homeland. That place was far away—even worlds away---from where he was now. So this meant that magic in this realm probably had a more free reign than his homeland. He wasn’t sure if that would end up being a good thing or a bad thing.

“—you are still injured. Are you able to heal yourself at all?” He finally asked; addressing ‘the elephant in the room’, as it were, and casted a closer eye over the battle from the ship across from the Krisselex. “We can discuss the remaining details later, but right now there are still more pressing matters to attend to. I could heal you quickly, but it would come with a price. Otherwise, --if not, then I would suggest that you allow me to take you back to my office, where you can rest until this battle sorts itself out.”
Devious Bloodmage

11/22/2023 02:42 PM 

Interrupted (Fenris Reply)
Current mood:  accomplished

 
Interrupted
”As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

H


aving his special time interrupted, Tempest is not happy with this. Anyone who dares to interrupt him during a moment seeking to escape his high stress is held responsible for their own damages. He leaves behind a warning to others who thought maybe it would have been worth continuing to hunt him or those who traveled with him this night.



 


Video: HVY MTL DRMR (Visual Experience)
By: Des Rocs
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
Interrupted


H

er promises spoke volumes to his loins despite where his attention had remained. His fingers pressed against the metal clasps of the corset to loosen it and he had no intention of stopping until he was met with her bare breasts. Having that skin to skin contact was something that he equally longed for, regardless of any further hidden intentions.

However, it was an event that would not last for tonight. The faint sounds of the distant tapping on his window. Suddenly the glass had broken and the vines from around Tempest’s wrist grew at a high alert. The growth created a wall of collected vines that stretched and presented a blocked mass of itself between the flying glass, the unseen arrow and Tempest, who remained standing in front of his current prize for the evening.

“Okay…” He sighed in frustration upon turning around to face the wall of vines behind him. “I’ve been dealing with way too many emotions in one day, mates.”

He pulled back his wrist and retracted the vines back into the bracelet. Meanwhile, men had started to climb into the window. One by one, Tempest was using his throwing his roots attached to his wrist like a retractable spear. When the climbing of new people had stopped and the bodies had started to pile by the window in a bloody mass, Tempest dared to rush towards the window to look out.

“OI! That ain’t the elf!” One of the men shouted from the ground below.

“Even I had better manners than to disrupt a good sex session.” Tempest grumbled and with a wave of his hand, summoned roots down from the ground.

It happened as quick as a snap; for in the ground there were usually plenty of plants to exploit under an earth wielder’s command. The roots grew triple in size and length. They sprung forward from the ground and sank their pointed edges directly into the last remaining men’s faces. Some that wore helmets had roots sink in past the small openings of their decorated plates or the eye slits. Coiling in small threading throughout the slavers’ skins along their faces, the roots continued to grow despite the tortured screams.

The bodies started to flail and desperately grab at the roots that clung from their faces. However, the roots’ growth kept each captured man roped to the ground, which prevented them from going anywhere. In a sudden violent jerking motion, the roots carved and sawed at the skin along each slavers’ faces. With each violent tug, they quickly peeled off their skin. Some of the men attempted to touch the shredded clumps of muscle and exposed tissue, but this proved to be even more painful to them. Their screams and struggles with the vines continued while Tempest had turned away. For now, he was satisfied with the given warning.

“The rudeness these days.” Tempest shook his head and approached the woman who he had bound for his prepared time.

Though his instinct had been strong and the pheromones around him remained wafting sweet, he struggled against his plain and base nature. Reaching for the back of her head, he gripped at her hair in an intended and yet comforting grip. He kissed her fiercely, and insisted to protrude at least one finger in between the softness past her inner warmth. The notion was brief and in particularly a rather selfish reaction, for he did this only to collect a small taste of her. Pulling back, he took a bold initiative to stare into Shae’s eyes. He sank the taste of her from his fingertips, past his lips and savored what he could obtain.

“Mm…What I wouldn’t give to f*** you right over their backs.” He teased with a lustful wickedness of a demented necromancer’s desires. But this was just only a tease. His attention was quick then to simply untie the bindings from around Shae’s wrists to set her free. “Unfortunately, I do have other companions to look out for…and they will certainly owe me after this.”

He took his attention to quickly getting the remainder of his clothes back on; which were wet from a previous washing but at least clean. Then he looked back to the woman who he had gathered with him. He helped her in pulling the metal clasps of her corset. With his eyes staying low, he reached then for the slim frame around her waist in preparation of placing her back to the floor.

He needed to do this just to test just how drunk that the woman was and whether or not it would have been best to simply leave her in a new room somewhere. The idea was a brief panicking stream of logic; for Tempest didn’t really suspect that she was the target of these hunters. More than likely, they were after Fenris. It was a constant chase; something that Tempest was rather accustomed to although not nearly so… quickly. He needed to figure out how Fenris was being tracked down so fast….and deal with it.

“Can you walk at all, lass?” He started to ask. “Perhaps you should rest in another room while I lead the rest of these party crashers away from the building.”
Devious Bloodmage

10/28/2023 12:28 PM 

Hunting Ghosts (Contest Entry)
Current mood:  adventurous

 
Hunting Ghosts
”As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

T

empest confronts a ghost and tries to intimidate it into giving him information about the location of someone he is currently trying to find. (This is a contest entry to apothecary found from this share banner.)
 


share us here
 


 


Video: No Light (Cover)
By: Mother Of Millions (Original – Florence The Machine)
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
Hunting Ghosts
S


moke filled his lungs when stepping into the ground floor of the parlor. The people that inhabited this place were mostly scattered about or dead. There was not a living soul that remained within the building. Tempest looked at the robins egg colored walls and saw where the wallpaper had all but fallen to ashes; completely burned down to the floor. He could see the claw marks of tiny fingernails that dug into the wood from underneath. There was so much smoke damage. Soot and ash filled the carpet so deep that it may as well had been a sandbox.

The fire had taken everything within the building. He had only wished that the flames took more. He could still feel the chill in the air from memories long wished forgotten. He could still hear the screams of many tortured souls that once dwelled within that room. How many passed by under the silver chandelier dressed up in silks, looking for protection or a new home? Faces behind masks stood by the curtains of the second floor parlor. Their predatory gazes glared down upon the many elves and humans too poor to own their own homes. It was more than just judgement. It was a moment the masked villains had waited for; only to strip down and auction off their prey like cattle. He didn’t come here to reminisce.

Taking the nearest piece of burnt rubble, the bloodmage took to using it as his clubbing tool. He smashed the smoke stained glass in the parlor. The glass had shattered in a spray of tiny glittering pieces while Tempest raised his weapon again to smash it against the wall. He managed to penetrate a hole into it. There had not seemed to be any response.

He stuck his hand into the center of the hole he had made. It wasn’t enough to have penetrated completely through to the other side, but it would have been enough to rest his hand in between the layers of the wall. His gloved fingertips expanded and he could sense the risen dust and destroyed particles of plaster. His magic released a layer of energy and from this, his birth-given element grew. The vines quickly coursed through sections of the wall that he had smashed. Each thriving growth sprouted a section of leaves as it traveled. Tempest closed his eyes momentarily and his brow furrowed upon opening them once more. The milky whites of his hues stretched over to newly claimed territory while he used his magic to search for the entity here.

“You cannot run from me…” He warned, as though the entity was near him. “I know you’re bound here. I don’t care what you do with it but if you want it remain, you will tell me where the dragon girl went.”

Nothing.

Tempest’s eyes dimmed and returned back to normal while his vines soon retracted back to the bracelet that he wore. He stepped back, looking up at the wall towards the marble ceiling above him. Taking the burnt rubble back into his hands again, Tempest swung it to smash the nearest burnt end table. He stepped into the living room next; looking across the open space from where the burned rug and charred furniture remained as the surrounding pieces of the room while a large black piano rested at the center of it all. The piano held value, for even after all of the flames, this instrument remained unharmed. Taking the obvious clue for what it was, Tempest walked towards the fireplace to grab the fireplace poker into his hands next. Not even missing a step in his actions, the bloodmage turned towards it, ready to strike.

“You think the fire was all I’d do?” He started to shout and marched closer.

Just when he was about to bring down the rod hard across the piano, the air had a sudden shift. Cold air rushed like a solid hit upon his back. From the corner of his blue eyes, he saw burned and melted portraits fly off from the walls to hurl at him. The shift in Tempest’s shoulders turned and his arms swung outward. Instead of hitting the piano, his aim had changed to the portraits; knocking them away from his direction.

“Where is she?” He raised his voice slightly in an outburst.

He saw the tattered clumps of heavy melted fabric fall from the bare ribcage of the couch and the loveseat as it began to levitate off from the ground. His eyes narrowed at the furniture being thrown in his direction. Tempest backed away from the piano for the moment in order to jump and climb. Tempest ran towards each piece of furniture and wielded the fire poker like a club. He didn’t need to necessarily smash everything (even though doing so angered the ghost), he just had to knock things out of his way. From the center of the risen tornado of objects being risen and constantly thrown, the source of the energy decided to take some visual shape. It was a silhouette of shadows and haunted faces. The being took a rusted blade from the wall and clashed it against Tempest’s weapon. The two fought until some of the dinning ware had been flung in the bloodmage’s direction next.

Tempest ran up the wall to dodge the jagged objects next. He dropped to his knees, sliding fast and into a backbend in order to dodge an oncoming table. However, gravity was sure to call upon him immediately after and Tempest fell less gracefully onto the scorched floor of the building. He groaned and coughed as he turned; breathing in dust and soot from the room around him. He could see the entity stalking its way closer towards him then. Tempest reached into his coat pocket and soon pulled out black sphere. He reached to his knees and stretched his arm out to the entity’s direction.

Suddenly, the mana from within the mansion began to shake and thicken with the very air. For a mage, it would have been like a surge of an energized breath; however, the focus was just as quickly being drained towards the orb. Like a funnel into a round-shaped bottle, all of the ghost’s energy and efforts were being drained. The magical artifact seemed to negate all magic and instead absorb it. Tempest marched closer towards the ghost while holding the orb out, in one hand, and using the fireplace poker in the other to knock away an oncoming objects that threatened to crash into him.

With a screech, the ghost leaped up towards the ceiling of the room. Tempest looked up in the direction that the ghost had ran and tucked the orb back into his coat. The furniture immediately flung at him and slamming him staircase from into the next room. He groaned upon kicking off the reading chairs. He just barely had time to turn onto his stomach before jagged and burned floorboards of the stair began to uproot itself. The protruding nails and splintered ends turned viciously upon him as they too were being hurled. The grip on his weapon tightened as he used it to latch onto the railing of the staircase. His body was abruptly flung over the sides with just the fireplace poker giving him his only life-line to the second floor. Debris, broken glass and ashes were in a constant rain upon him while his body dangled from his grip. Tempest felt the air pull at him as he mistakenly looked down below him. The floor had been replaced with what looked like a gaping mouth with rows of bloody teeth spinning into a flaming abys. The ghost was either attempting to devour Tempest or bind him to the mansion.

Tempest hollered from visual of the many spinning rows of teeth that threatened to be his Hell. He looked and saw then that a darkness began to pull at the walls of the mansion; making the structure begin to collapse into nothing and disappear into the shadows as the darkness within the mansion grew.

He looked up towards the opening to the second floor that remained still positioned over the staircase. Tempest switched his hands from holding onto the fireplace poker, extended his left arm and used his magic to grow his vines more. The vines grew quickly towards the second story of the building and acted as a retracting rope. After pulling the firearm poker free, climbing over and leaping against the wall of the mansion, Tempest flung himself up into the opening of the second story. He was greeted by porcelain dolls hurling at him. Tempest’s magic retracted back conveniently into his bracelet again while he simultaneously swung the fireplace poker to smash the oncoming new threat. Of course, he fell from the wall of the second floor and onto the wooden floorboards, but this time, Tempest was more prepared and landed on his feet.

Tempest aimed his vines to the floor. The vines grew and pierced the floor first before growing and spreading like a large vine-infused web. Each intricate vine twisted and clasped around either a piece of the second story or the main posts that kept the mansion still standing, despite the violent shaking and collapsing debris.

Screeching again, the ghost rushed to him. The collection of feathered tendrils still relied on the rusty sword as its weapon of choice. The two fought while pieces of the floor that Tempest reattached a form of stability with began to tear. The fight had started to move throughout the upper floor of the mansion. It reached the guest bedroom eventually, and it was here that the ghost had ripped a door off from behind, just to fling it at Tempest. He was thrown into the guest bedroom from behind him. Tempest’s vines had torn and his body was thrown once again to the floor. The ghost flew after him with its sword raised high. In a piercing lunge, it shoved the sword through the wood of the door.

Tempest gritted his teeth and growled from feeling the blade pierce into his flesh. It was the first mortal wound he received in this endeavor thus far. His blue eyes flashed with a red aura. He reached for the orb again and thrust his gloved hand past the wood of the door. Using the strength of the demon from within himself, Tempest had managed to punch through the door like a hot knife poking through butter. Exposed to the black orb once more, the ghost screeched in anger. The main posts of the mansion began to crack and start to collapse. The ghost could not escape from the orb this time, for it was too close to the object itself. It let out a piercing scream while its body was soon being sucked into the enchanted capturing object.

Finally, the floating furniture fell to the ground. The dark shadows from around the room began to disperse to seem less claustrophobic. Only his mana remained. Relaxed, Tempest rubbed the onyx orb against the cotton shirt of his chest and observed the trapped ghost inside. He grunted while grasping the dull blade into his free hand and pushing it and the door off of him and out of his body. The rush of warm blood answered to this action, and for the moment, all that Tempest could do was press his palm that carried his bracelet to his wound. He used magic to quickly fill the wound up with vines and leaves in order to clog it and slow down the bleeding. Breathing hard, Tempest slowly rolled up from the floor.

He smiled to himself, thinking that the ghost should have just told him instead of forcing the bloodmage’s hand on the matter. Soon then, he spoke to the ghost directly through the orb on the matter. “You’ll be back in your haunted mansion once I have what I want.”
Devious Bloodmage

04/22/2023 11:01 PM 

Adrenaline

Adrenaline
“As I am devious, cruel, cunning and addictive.”
Character: Tempest
Original Display Name: Devious Bloodmage
Verse: High Fantasy / Medieval / GOT / Dragon Age / Crossovers / Horror / Drama / Trigger Warnings
Writing: Semi-Para / Multipara / Novella
Description / OOC

F


enris comes to Tempest’s rescue while Anders is busy fighting Lasher. With earnestness exploited, high on lyrium and a multitude of other unknown substance, Tempest struggles on the verge of Vince being revealed and trying to remain convincing enough to his rescuer in what method that he needs to be released from the magical restraints that bind him.(A Storyline Reply.)
 


 


Video: Dessumiis Luge
By: Eluveitie
Original Coding Credit: Bitchcraft (Link Broken)
Adrenaline

T


he bloodmage’s hands was beginning to feel in a rushed mixture of cold and hot surging through every freshly exposed skin. In a springing motion of his limbs being loosened, the fell to his sides and Tempest started to fall to one side near the fire. He hit the floor; needing to be dragged away from the flames. Somewhere in the process, the tubing that had been lodged down his throat, was pulled out and dripping the liquid blue substance almost continually. He was gasping, gagging and dry heaving just to struggle in trying to make himself throw up any of the liquid.

Any normal person would have surely been killed three times over with how strong the mixed unknown substances he had been forced to ingest. That wasn’t even glancing at what damage that his back was beginning to have taken. Though he was not one to really question his mortality—or otherwise—it was clear that he could be durable even still.

Tempest crawled only for a short moment. Having to remember every moment of how the muscles worked was a chore. He couldn’t seem to find his center of gravity when everything around him was still spinning. His skin was still pricked with extra sensitivity. It was like trying to move without skin and having his flesh peeled and raw to the elements around him. He needed a release and the high from the drugs taunted him with the known torment.

“D-don’t touch…” He rasped, looking at Fenris’ bare feet and then back to the bracers around his wrists.
 
It was the cursed shackles that bound him that had been the only thing capable of stunting the bloodmage in anyway. He might have been strong and his battle intelligence was extensive, but none of it would have mattered when his weaknesses were exploited so gravely. Poisons and magical restraints were probably the more obvious ones but they were the first steps that normally would have resulted into a presumed death. Death was something that Tempest could face and escape. However, being trapped in a numb stasis for how ever that his longevity promised him; that was a whole other reality to be feared.
 


“My hands… cut them off past the cuffs.” Tempest’s voice cracked in a bitter snarl.

The cuffs couldn’t be removed by anyone other than the one who had put them on – unless the other person had died and all that remained had been the dust of that mage’s bones. Tempest knew very well of these magic canceling cuffs. They were very rare, made by Tamassrans and they were very difficult to escape from, should the one wearing them have magic. Tempest knew of his only hope to be free of them would involve dismemberment.

Tempest also knew that he probably wasn’t the most convincing sight to remain civil either. He became a fueled weapon; a trapped container of sulfate and dry ice threatening to expand its contents into a bomb if only there had been a cracked seal. It was because of the drugs running through him and the high was exceedingly painful when there was no given release.

Meanwhile, Justice had managed to crack through Lasher’s magic cancelling barriers, but it was not without increasing his exhaustion in the process. The Reaver charged forward with his blade crashing into the mid-guard of Anders’ staff. The two fought brutally in their exchanges of blows. Lasher reared back his sword and carved in a tall gash along Anders’ side while Justice grabbed Lasher’s face with the palm of his hand burned his imprint onto his face.

Weakened from this and stunned from being suddenly blinded, Lasher hollered and stumbled backwards a few steps. His focus remained mostly with Justice because he was the only one to have been attacking him right in that moment. When Justice spun his staff around and attempted to give a final strike, Lasher moved swiftly in a dodge and leaped onto the staff in order to push Justice’s arms downward.

“That’s enough---from you!” Lasher hollered and swung his sword in a sweep to aim for Justice’s head.

Justice dropped the staff and extended both of his hands outward quickly. In a spell of rage and desperation, he released a gout of arcane fire that abruptly forced Lasher backwards a few meters and up against a tree behind him. Lasher hollered and laughed while his flesh cooked within the metal plating of his suit of armor. He looked down at his, from where his flesh had started burn and peel off in black ashes.

“Another abomination…!” He laughed and slowly started to pull himself up by leaning against his sword. “Well, … no f***ing wonder… Figures you lot stick together!”

Tempest’s soul-less eyes flashed their hollowed whites up towards Fenris while he remained sprawled out on the ground. His hands raised out in the offering to have been chopped off. “No time to explain… Just cut my hands off past the cuffs. Set me free!”
 
Devious Bloodmage

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12/13/2022 02:07 PM 

𝕯𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖚 𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖊 𝖂𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉
Current mood:  adventurous

 
 
 
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location_on New Orleans, LA

Swiped Right/ October 23, 2022

WP Seeking WP



*I am currently working on a profile for the appointed WP (Lady Dimitrescu) and all I require is someone willing to grant Tempest this Christmas Present. This is not intended to become a permanent page; but it can be depending on the storyline involved. If interested, DM me in messages or Discord. If not, then sharing for others to see would be appreciated. Thank you all in advance! ~ Devious Bloodmage roleplayer.me/462824


 

Hi there, my name is
Ser Tickleherbum

I enjoy long walks at the beach, burying treasure and the occasional plundering of booty!

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