Distribution Delema

[Olvann Coia]

The Season of Winter
Era I of the Pax Imperialis
Era III of the Celestine Mandate
Era XII Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening
Paradigm Shift: Alleria Prime Opens and the new Empire is revealed as Audrey adresses the peoples
Month of Immanis
Third Cycle

Olvann casually strode through the streets of Vortex, his lithe step had purpose and he radiated an air of calm proficiency. He'd covered all the angles for his business except for one. He needed a means of getting his freight out of Vortex and onto the market of the Empire. For the moment, he didn't have the time, energy or contacts to set up his own shipping and distribution network. So... He'd have to pay for one, and he suspected the price would be consequently and irrationally high. He had come to expect very little from the people of this wretched city. The dark elves, in some way seemed more honest in their ways than his crooked brethren within the city. At least they openly cut your purse from its strings.

He had been gliding brusquely along for most of the brightening now, searching for some type of shop, display or advertisement to guide him to a shipping company. He supposed he was in no hurry, but he felt the draw for adventure elsewhere, and simply wanted to remove himself from the filth this city was submerged in. He carefully gleaned the crowd around him, he'd seen and frequently heard of someone getting pulled into a back alley, only to be dead when other people arrived, their boots and coin stolen. He thanked Ioannes for protection and stoically reminded himself that it was the middle of the brightening. Nonetheless, this was vortex...

[Nightmare]

Fethris, the large dracon was running through the streets with a look on his face that seemed to be as if he was being chased by a family of dragons. His dark black scales glimmered as his robes rolled back with the wind passing through him while he dashed across the long alleyways and dark corners. He was practically knocking down crowds of people, recieving a huge amount of dirty looks and a few curses here and there but he hadn't been stabbed yet, and that wasn't even what he was worried about. The fate that would await him if he was late was worse then being stabbed in the streets, it was a fate that he didn't want to meet or even think about as his long strides increased with quickness.

After a short while his breath was starting to run out and his strides beginning to slow, but he was still going strong, until he completely crashed into a blur in his vision. Both of the figures collapsed on the floor in a heap of robes and armor and bodies. It was a huge mess but the dracon struggled as hard as he could to get back on his feet and go, not realizing that he had knocked down a very rare sight in Vortex, a light skinned human.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled. It was easy to tell the dracon was extremely distressed and tears seemed to be making there way down his face.

OOC:Eh this post is extremely crappy becuase I'm very distracted, sorry

[Olvann Coia]

OOC: No problem.

Olvann took remarkably good care of where he was at all times in Vortex, he was walking down a main artery when he heard a rather large commotion down the street ahead of him. Dismissing it as a fight of some sort he continued down the street, taking the opportunity to survey all the interesting architecture around him. It was unwise to maraud down back alleys in Vortex; that was asking for trouble. He sill had not completely come to grips with the sheer amount of buildings and people in a city. He still had not come to grips with how many of them would gleefully cut his purse in this city.

He took a moment to grasp the purse tucked deeply into his cloak when a figure smashed into him with the force of a wagon load of ale crates. Olvann toppled with the rather large figure into a bundle of limbs ad found himself fighting for a breath of air. Quite aware of what a precarious situation he was in, the healer reached down to pull the Elven long knife from his shin and rolled to his feet with the agility of an elf, kicking off the scaly foe. "Stay away or I'll cut he hide from your belly." He stated awkwardly, unsure of how to threaten such a large foe. For that matter, he was slightly unsure of how to threaten anyone.

"Sorry, sorry," Replied the Dracon, seemingly unconscious of the steel barred against him. With tears rolling down it's face the Dracon got to it's feet, dusted itself off quickly and started off again. Olvann quickly returned the blade to his shin, slightly ashamed. "Are you hurt, I'm a healer, let me see." He stated compassionately.

[Nightmare]

The dracon was openly weeping now as he seemed to give up and throw himself down to the ground in a pathetic heap of robes and scales. His wings stretched outwards and tucked back in, they did this until his sobbing began to calm down and his body began to quite and recover from the shakes that just passed through it. At first he tried to speak to the light skin but words would not find themselves and he stayed there a good five minutes trying to compose himself and think of the situation that was surrounding him.

"I...I'm... so so... sorry. I did... well I didn't mean t... to bump yo... you." he stuttered. What was happening now was breaking history, no one in Vortex cried, much less a mature dracon. But here was a perfect specimen of a hardcore fighter in a mess on the dirty ground of a dark alley stammering apologizes to a human. It definitely wasn't an ordinary day, and it didn't seem like the brightening was going to get anymore normal. It was Vortex after all, since when was anything ever normal?

[Olvann Coia]

Olvann's brow knitted as the Dracon stumbled loosely over his words in utter hysteria. The rampaging sobs of the scaly beast did little but torment his already raw ears. The beast was in sore need of tweaking by a mysticist, the healer mulled. He wondered briefly why the Dracon was crying. It was odd that a fully grown adult Dracon was being so childish. Apparently something was very odd here.

Olvann repeated his original question, "Are you hurt? It's alright. No harm. Are you injured?" His curious tone filled with a still tender note. He was after all, a healer. His profession was helping people. "What’s your name? What's wrong?" He questioned.

[Nightmare]

The dracon shivered uncontrollably now, his sobs just kept racking his body over and over again. His eyes seemed to be glazing over at times and then they would just snap back into reality. His shoulders would rise up and down with incredible speed and his chest just kept rising and falling. The dracon was pathetic and anyone without, or maybe with, a heart would have killed him right there to either end his suffering or end their own suffering. But apparently the human was a bit more compassionate and for that the Dracon counted himself very lucky, although in a few candle turns his luck would quickly run out.

After trying to compose himself he just began to speak, "My sister is in grave danger... If I don't get to... to her in time then she will be turned into an undead! Do you know what that means... she'll be feasting upon our own mo... mother!" he said, not caring who hears. He hoped that there was someway to get help, he knew that if the human got him out of this mess then he would be in Olvann's debt for the rest of his life. The dracon wasn't poor either and had high connections in high places, it just didn't help in this situation.

[Olvann Coia]

Olvann knew very little about the undead, despite the fact that they, were... Well, dead. Inanimate corpses that came to life under the will of a necromancer. His own prowess with the arcane arts could put him at an advantage for a beast willed to life by a necromancer at his skill level. Beyond that, he would be hard pressed to do anything. A corpse was beyond his help, he could not bring the dead back to life. If this Dracon's sister was in fact being turned into a undead, it was likely that she was already dead, been infected with a vile spell, or more likely, this Dracon was simply over exaggerating the situation. Either way, apparently his sister was in desperate need.

"Take me to her." He said stoically, assuring that he had his weapons strapped into place firmly. If he had to, he would kill the girl. If he could, he would help her. The healer did not look at the Dracon's clothes, ask hi9m his social standing or make reference to any payment. His thoughts were focused on getting to the girl. His own interests could wait.

[Nightmare]

The dracon almost seemed shocked when he realized the human wanted to help him. It was so rare for anyone in Vortex to have an ounce of care inside their hearts and here he was with an enemy of his won race, ready to go and help his sister which was in huge trouble. It was a lucky brightening for the dracon that was for sure, well at least it was lucky of him to bump into Olvann. The rest of the brightening was pretty bad, his sister was being turned into an undead after all but some necromancer that wanted to torture him without even laying a finger on Fethris.

"Thank you... so much." he said inbetween grateful sobs,"I'll give you anything you want, just follow me," Fethris said turning around and going at full speed till the end of the alleyway. He made a sharp turn to the right and kept running, jumping over trash cans and cardboard boxes. It wasn't long until the alleyway broke out into a large street, and across from where they were was a small shabby house that had boarded up windows and a door that hung on it's hinges. This was apparently where the dracon was heading towards as he ran across the street and stopped right in front of the home, hoping the human was behind him, as his taloned feet stepped down on what seemed to be a large femur bone laying right out on the floor. He didn't know if it was his sisters but before he could bend down to pick it up a green light began to shine from the cracks in the door. It was going to be to late, but the dracon had to give time for the human to prepare.

[Olvann Coia]

The thanks he had recieved went unanswered as he motioned for the dracon to lead him. Olvann leapt after the dracon, his body pumping with adrenaline, the human glided along the dark alleyways at a comfortable lope, his body easily matching the speed of the distraught dracon. His mind swarmed with the information he had gathered, this dracon's sister was apparently being turned into and undead and apparently his mother was in danger of a much more brutal fate. Olvann had no idea why a necromancer would be interested in a family of dracons, but it really didn't seem to matter for the moment.

The reality of the situation thundered into the human as they came upon a femur bone, evidently humanoid, not that of an animal. The Dracon bent to pick up the bone only to gawk at Olvann in horror. The house across the street started to waver with a green light that eminated from the inside with an ominous brilliance. If there was a necromancer in there, and Olvann had no doubt that there was; he would need some type of protection from spells. Going into a crouch, Olvann fluidly retrieved his two blades. He began to meditate, focusing on the calm cold mountain dell that he and his father had lived in. His time meditating was undoubtedly taking valuable time away from the possibility of the dracon sister living through the ordeal, however, Olvann's life was more important to him than that of some stranger. Reaching a state of calm that allowed him to perceive the arcane forces of Ara and Vis, Olvann began to focus on the astral essence of life he had come to understand and manipulate, linking it to himself. Focusing the life energy, Olvann channeled the essence onto the material plane, reaching for Ara flowing in currents around him and drawing forth his reserve of Vis to mix into the delicate formation of Mana. Olvann then quickly shaped the Mana into the form of the spell Holy Armor, and released it onto himself causing a glowing aura to form and swirl in a torrent over his body. Remaining in a meditative trance, Olvann then re-grasped the state of Clara, repeating the steps and forming a new spell of Nimbility while also placing it on himself.

Once completed, he exited his meditative trance, throwing it off like a blanket. Appraising the Dracon momentraily, he simply stated, "Your bigger than me, I'll be right behind you as you break through that door, whatever you do after that, get out of my way." His holy armor would protect him against a few physical blows, but he was counting on his quick reflexes, enhanced by his spell Nimbility to aid him in finishing the necromancer quickly, before any spell casting could occur. He was also hoping for the initial shock of the door being broken in to throw the necromancer out of his state of Clara. That would allow Olvann the time required to kill him.

[Nightmare]

The dracon kept an eye on the door to the house while also making sure Olvann wouldn't get cold feet and run the opposite way. he dracon knew that the necromancer inside wasn't strong enough to kill a whole house of people, but that was if he hadn't already gotten to his sister and mother. The dracon was preparing himself for the worst as he turned and nodded to Olvann in agreement. It seemed like he was going in first, but Fethris didn't mind. If he died, then let him, just as long as he wouldn't have to see the fate that fell upon his family.

It only took him a few moments to suck it up and begin walking slowly at first. Then he quickly increased his speed and shoved his shoulder into the already breaking door. It wasn't anything tough and the door flew off it's hinges with ease, it flew far enough to knock over a chair that held an young female dracon. Infront of the female was a black robed figure which was apparently in the midst of casting a spell until his concentration was broken. At the other side of the room was Fenris's mother, who was shackled up in what seemed to be shadow bonds.

"How dare you interupt me you foul green blooded filth!" the necromancer yelled and quickly entered clara. Olvann needed to act fast if he didn't want himself bound up against a wall.

[Olvann Coia]

The dracon nodded to the healer in a hysterical fashion and readied himself to charge through the door. It took a moment for the dracon to work up the nerve and then begin his run towards the door, picking up momentum as he charged forward.

Olvann easily loped behind the scaled humanoid, barreling in directly behind the dracon swords drawn. As the behemoth crashed through the door, Olvann leapt in over the tumbling dracon and took the situation in hand. The door crashed into a seated dracon and smashed her to the floor in a most obscene fashion. Taking the draconess out of the picture had left a clear ominous being, obviously the necromancer as a target. Splinters from the door flew across the room, disrupting his spellcasting.

Across the way, a draconess was shackled against the wall, apparently another impending victim of the necromancer.

The threat from the necromancer directed at the dracon was all he needed. He continued with his momentum directly towards the necromancer, hopping right and coming across left to slash both blades across from right to left at about chest level. Then stopping and pushing off from his left foot, blades up to again cross slash in the opposite direction. He was taking no chances.

[Mevius]

A genuine hero. Olvann was a rare one to walk the streets of Vortex, having pity for crying dracons, helping them without payment up front, risking his very life to save two mere souls. The human had gotten himself in an odd predicament and how this would help him with his goal of contracting a shipping agent was as of yet unclear. Sometimes, the path to a goal was filled with curves. Sometimes, paths led to different goals.

In any case, Olvann had made his decision and the fight was now upon him. The dual wielder chose the correct strategy of engaging a spellcaster: overwhelm before he can reach Clara and cast his spells. Nonetheless, the necromancer was not without his defences either. The cloaked figure -it was difficult to gauge of which exact race the necromancer belonged- had prepared for unwanted visitors as much as Olvann had prepared himself before storming in.

As our hero attacked the evildoer, his blades did not cut the soft garment and flesh of his opponent, but stumped unto something else. If he paid attention to it, Olvann might hear a far shriek as his blades hit the Spirit Armor of his foe, weakening the protection spell and sending a few spirits back to the Aeternian Plane. The second series of blows never occured, for the necromancer had reached Clara and managed to cast a spell.

Suddenly, everything was black. Shock hit Olvann with a blow; was he hurt or blinded? But he did not feel pain. No, the darkness was caused by the spell of the exact same name. Apparently, while the necromancer felt tough enough to yell demeaning at the dracon, he was not so certain about confronting Olvann and the crying baby at the same time.

[Olvann Coia]

His time was early in this world of corruption, angst and untimely sin. His naivety was genuine, he had been within Vortex for less than three cycles and had swiftly awoken to the destructive and selfish nature of civilization. If you could call it that. Vortex was perhaps amongst the most notorious of all the cities within the Empire, and truth be told, Olvann had done quite well in staying alive these past three cycles. The largest group he had met prior to entering this city filled with wondrous but filthy spectacles was a hunting party of eight Rhaghrnd, and he was quite amazed by the large group. Now, dwarfing that number was a simple matter of looking down any street.

He had not been polluted by the darkness in this city. Yet.

Above all else, he was a healer, a man of soothing comfort, dedicated to the wellbeing of any individual requesting his aid. He was no hero, he was simply following the only route he knew, the only route he had been taught to know. He was an intelligent man, not taken to the singular vision of his future and certainly open to change, but for now, this is what he had and what he was.

Olvann's blades flashed in and the healer knew instantly that he would connect, however, the resonating clash was not that of flesh, bone and steel, but of something less distinguishable and Olvann was taken aback momentarily by the squealing of escaping souls. He knew little of the necromancy sphere, but he understood that it was probable the necromancer had used a spell of protection quite alike his. Then just as quickly, the healer launched into another flurry of attacks but was abruptly halted by an overwhelming blackness.

He stood blankly, blades still poised to attack and wondered briefly if he was still alive. Then he was aware of his breath; inhaling, exhaling; the sweat dripping off his brow; the muffled sobbing of the dracon. Finally, he knew what had happened, the room had been submerged in a spell that caused blackness. The necromancer was seemingly skilled in his sphere of arcane. While limited in his training within the sphere of thaumaturgy, Olvann understood the principles of meditation and clara intimately. If the necromancer was able to so easily and quickly enter clara he was at least a journeyman, perhaps even a master at his craft. That fact alone could easily spell the doom of the humble healer. However, those thoughts were quelled rapidly for the more imminent threat of a follow-up spell being cast in his direction.

He was not afraid. His sight was but one of his senses, senses that had been honed in the rough tundra. When the cold wind blew so loudly in your ears that it deafened you to the crunching of your own footsteps, you quickly learnt to differentiate sound. Everything made sounds, including the breath of the necromancer, his shuffling feet, the whispering of incantations and spell combinations. He was far from crippled, and this battle was not over.

Olvann quickly side-stepped away from his current location and took a brief moment to listen for anything that could give the necromancer away. Leaving his last known position put him less at risk at being at the receiving end of a spell. He was unsure as to if the necromancer was blind as well, so it seemed a reasonable precaution. If he could differentiate any sound that seemed likely to be the necromancer he would lunge and thrust forward towards it. He was fairly sure that all the necromancers victims, including his downed friend, would remained downed, having been under the instruction to stay out of his way.

However, if no sound was distinguishable, the same maneuver would be performed to the last known area that necromancer had been in. Hopefully, if anything, he would be able to prevent an additional spell being launched into the room.

[Mevius]

Not a hero then, but at least a good guy. Or at least not a downright evil guy. Even those were rare in Vortex. That combined with his thaumaturgist skills might cause people to think that he was indeed a hero, though.

Olvann decision to step away from his location was a good one. As he stood barely two feet away, he could hear a small object flying by with high velocity. The object flew over his old location and landed in the wooden wall with a vibration. Presumably, it was a throwing knife or dart, but nothing arcane of construction. Unfortunately, the darkness prevented the healer from knowing the location from where the projectile was launched.

This happened in the first few chaotic moments of the darkness. Now, everything was quiet, except for the sobs of the two draconness, aswell as the occasional one from the male. Apparently, the necromancer had adopted the same tactic as Olvann: be quiet and let the other betray his position.

[Olvann Coia]

The bleakness weighing heavily on the room was only further amplified by a projectile that moved passed the healer with a resounding thud into the back wall. Apparently, this necromancer had no intention of fighting him on fair terms. Not that he would be any means consider himself a fair fighter, he had been taught to use every advantage he could. Fairness had no place in a real battle. No sound was heard, and still the blackness of the necromancer's spell held the room in a state of stillness. The helpless sobbing of the dracons continued to erupt in sporadic bouts of dread. Olvann was swift in determining that the necromancer held similar ideas of discovering the location of his enemy. So be it, he would have to use a different tactic.

He could play waiting games; it was only a matter of time before the necromancer revealed himself to the healer. But while he was waiting on the necromancer, he could be meditating. In truth, this was the perfect atmosphere to meditate, not even the distraction of sight plagued him, and in this state, he would easily be able to break his meditation and launch yet another assault on the necromancer. He was forced to take a different approach on the situation, and so he waited patiently for the opportune moment to enter clara, or to strike out at the shuffling feet of his enemy.

He had untold reserves of strength, he could in reality probably stand in the same place for the better of a brightening. However, he understood that the necromancer's spell would have to soon dissipate and he didn't leave that possibility out of his mind. If that happened, all the better, he would finally be able to see his opponent, and then... be able to kill him.