76th of Ash, 4621
"This is amazing," Arkash spoke in some state of disbelief after cutting the Druskai for the... Seventh time? Eighth? He lost track of how many times he'd cut into the prisoner, but every drop he bled further fuelled the Rathor's magic. "I can just... Keep this skin up, and keep feeding off his weeping wounds." He felt a surge of energy with every fresh wound he opened; he knew there was an excess of energy on every slash he created, and he used that to his advantage well.
"That's right,' Raphael returned with a nod. "Some say that you can use the energy you accumulate through this to power other magics, too. So, if you manage to knock your opponent around enough and quietly slip an ether leech around them, you can power one of your more acceptable marks of control with advantage enough to destroy them... if it's an especially public affair." Raphael cleared his throat then. "When you have a second mark, that is..."
Arkash stayed his hand, then looked over the bleeding, broken man. His heart was beating quicker as his veins emptied of what was left; beating with a certain quickness that his body could not afford. He did his best not to think of the Druskai as a person, however. Instead, he opted to think of the mercy he was delivering. The man was obviously not long for the world, after all. Arkash was doing the right thing in killing him. With a deep exhale, Arkash pressed the tip of his blade to the Druskai's Sternum, right over the quickened beat of his heart, then leaned a little into the blade. He broke through the solid bone with ease, and sunk his sword just a few inches into the man's chest, and speared his heart. Arkash felt the organ spasm and seize around the blade, and some pitiful twitches and broken gasps pulled from the bleeding prisoner... Who expired shortly after.
"What are you doing?" Raphael called as he shut his book. "You killed your battery? Why?"
"...I didn't know how to turn off the ether leech," he explained quickly, then released the etheric skin from the warm, twitching carcass. "So I put the hard stop on," came the other half of his explanation.
"Why did you want to turn the leech off?" The noble continued some air of annoyance about him.
"...I had enough ether to work with?" he returned defensively. "I mean, really. I don't need to leech anymore."
Raphael hummed, then nodded a little. "Very well. You're the Vandikar, not me..." he began with some level of skepticism about him. "How does it feel? To carry that sort of power with you?"
Arkash shrugged, then stopped to think for a moment. "...Feels good, I guess. Like I'm unstoppable, endless. I feel energized, stronger." he grinned, then looked to the noble while that same energy coursed through him. "It's... Strange- Being able to use this in front of someone else." He spoke with something of a grin.
"Well, don't let me stop you," the other mage declared with a clearing of his throat. "Let's try out a razor," he spoke with a motion of his head to the corpse Arkash had buried his sword in. "Were you paying attention to the feel of the blood when you freshly cut the man?"
"Yes..." Arkash began, then pressed his foot to the corpse's stomach and twisted his blade before pulling it out. The hole in the Druskai's chest leaked visibly. "It felt stronger for just a second... Like there was more power in it."
Raphael nodded. "Right, right. You're going to cut him again, but use that power to quickly harden the blood, push it deeper, and sharpen it with suffuse. Okay?" Raphael instructed one step at a time. That was... A lot for such a small window. Nonetheless, he supposed he could try.
"Alright, here goes..." Declared the Rathor with a purse of his lips, then quickly slashed at the front of the Druskai's corpse, and latched his mind's eye on the ether in the blood, hardened it with sway, pushed... And ran out of time. "Almost," he spoke with a furrowed brow. He took the sword with both hands, aimed it at the body, lifted it overhead, then swung downward and to the left. At once, he hardened the blood, sharpened it with suffuse, then pushed it through. The resulting splash of gore utterly covered him, and a thundering crack ripped through the hall as Arkash's razor cut through not only the Druskai's entire torso, but the chair, and even a part of the stone floor. The Druskai's upper half was discarded at extreme speed, propelled across the room in the direction of Arkash's slash, where it hit the ground hard and dragged along to stop with a hard slam of the skull against the damp, grody wall.
Raphael was ecstatic, pressing a balled fist to his mouth while he grinned with a wide-open mouth and wide eyes. "Ulen have mercy, that was... Incredible!" he called, laughing as he doubled in awe of what he'd just witnessed. Speechless, the mage walked across the prison's floor to inspect the discarded upper half of the Druskai and found it mangled from the force of the collision. The lamp's light revealed all the details to the mage, who stared gobsmacked in awe. "Absolutely incredible," he spoke with a giddy smile.
Arkash could hardly believe it himself while he stared at the clean-cut abdomen of the man he'd carried onto that chair. He saw the man's spine, cut clean, level with the cuts of meat and guts that piled in the stomach. The wood of the chair's backrest was also gone, sawn clean through... From just a surface-level scratch. After a moment of silence, those trunkless legs fell from their seat, collapsed in a pile of flesh. Arkash stared for a moment, then looked back up to the noble who still stood in awe of what Arkash had done. "Is it supposed to be that powerful?" Arkash asked, somewhat confused.
"No," Raphael returned. "I've read accounts of blood mages cleaving through mountain-like Jindai with such a strike, but never through anything behind them, never propelling the other half in this fashion... You could do quite a lot of damage, Arkash." The mage declared as he fully rose, then looked to the Rathor. "Is there a mutation affecting the hardness of your sway? Maybe your sharpness suffusion?" He asked as he stepped closer.
"...I think my sharpness is really strong; everything I make sharp tends to be extra dangerous," the younger male answered truthfully. "Like I can cut through things that ordinary steel can't, and I can do it really easily."
"That must be it," Raphael spoke with a nod. "Razor is going to be an invaluable tool for you; you'll be destroying mountains with grazes by the time you're a master." Raphael held the lantern over the damage in the ground then and whistled with a tune that relayed how impressed he was. "I want to keep going, just to really work your mark, but I'm worried about mageblight. Have you been sick at all this season? Like throwing up corrupted ether?"
Arkash shook his head. He hadn't. "What is mageblight, by the way?"
Raphael grinned with a half-squint for a moment, then tilted his head. "You don't know?" Again, the Rathor shook his head. "Well, little lizard..." Raphael scratched his chin. "Marks of control allow us to harness something called Ether, which I'm sure you already know. Ether is... Chaotic and dangerous unless harnessed correctly, and misuse... overuse, even, can lead to very serious consequences."
"...Like what?" Arkash returned, then thrust his sword into the ground and leaned on the pommel.
"...Well, it damages the soul for one. if you pull too much through it at once, it can break your soul with little cracks that pour raw ether into your body... Slowly at first, but quicker with greater strain. That strain is what we call 'Overstepping'." Raphael's translation of the cause wasn't completely accurate, but it did make sense to the Rathor, who'd learned what a soul was when he met Taelian. "When you overstep too severely and too frequently, it has an effect on you. Your body starts to break down while it tries to cope with the invading forces of corruption, and you become weaker as a result. When you start to feel those effects, it's a good idea to stop."
Arkash nodded in response. He understood, even if Raphael's perception of the process was flawed. Then again, who had a totally accurate understanding of the soul and all its intricacies? "I get it..." Arkash started, but he did feel fine. If anything, he felt completely fresh with no strain at all. "Alright, but I'm totally fine. All the ether I've used I've gotten from leech so far. I think I can keep going."
"Are you sure?" Raphael asked. "I've got some more Druskai in the cell just up here for you to test it out on if you've got it in you, but mageblight can be fatal, so seriously take it easy if you're even a little bit tired."
Arkash drew a deep breath through his nose, then sighed before shaking his head. "No, I'm fine... What was that last one you said? Like... Hemorrhage?" Arkash took a moment to look behind the noble to the cell he'd referenced but found no beating hearts. "...We're the only ones alive in here. You know that right?"
Raphael took a glance over his shoulder, then rolled his eyes. "Fucking elves," he spat in annoyance. "Can't even go two weeks without food and water."
Arkash pursed his lips in the dim lamplight of the prison. He sincerely doubted Raphael could go even two days without food or water.
"This is amazing," Arkash spoke in some state of disbelief after cutting the Druskai for the... Seventh time? Eighth? He lost track of how many times he'd cut into the prisoner, but every drop he bled further fuelled the Rathor's magic. "I can just... Keep this skin up, and keep feeding off his weeping wounds." He felt a surge of energy with every fresh wound he opened; he knew there was an excess of energy on every slash he created, and he used that to his advantage well.
"That's right,' Raphael returned with a nod. "Some say that you can use the energy you accumulate through this to power other magics, too. So, if you manage to knock your opponent around enough and quietly slip an ether leech around them, you can power one of your more acceptable marks of control with advantage enough to destroy them... if it's an especially public affair." Raphael cleared his throat then. "When you have a second mark, that is..."
Arkash stayed his hand, then looked over the bleeding, broken man. His heart was beating quicker as his veins emptied of what was left; beating with a certain quickness that his body could not afford. He did his best not to think of the Druskai as a person, however. Instead, he opted to think of the mercy he was delivering. The man was obviously not long for the world, after all. Arkash was doing the right thing in killing him. With a deep exhale, Arkash pressed the tip of his blade to the Druskai's Sternum, right over the quickened beat of his heart, then leaned a little into the blade. He broke through the solid bone with ease, and sunk his sword just a few inches into the man's chest, and speared his heart. Arkash felt the organ spasm and seize around the blade, and some pitiful twitches and broken gasps pulled from the bleeding prisoner... Who expired shortly after.
"What are you doing?" Raphael called as he shut his book. "You killed your battery? Why?"
"...I didn't know how to turn off the ether leech," he explained quickly, then released the etheric skin from the warm, twitching carcass. "So I put the hard stop on," came the other half of his explanation.
"Why did you want to turn the leech off?" The noble continued some air of annoyance about him.
"...I had enough ether to work with?" he returned defensively. "I mean, really. I don't need to leech anymore."
Raphael hummed, then nodded a little. "Very well. You're the Vandikar, not me..." he began with some level of skepticism about him. "How does it feel? To carry that sort of power with you?"
Arkash shrugged, then stopped to think for a moment. "...Feels good, I guess. Like I'm unstoppable, endless. I feel energized, stronger." he grinned, then looked to the noble while that same energy coursed through him. "It's... Strange- Being able to use this in front of someone else." He spoke with something of a grin.
"Well, don't let me stop you," the other mage declared with a clearing of his throat. "Let's try out a razor," he spoke with a motion of his head to the corpse Arkash had buried his sword in. "Were you paying attention to the feel of the blood when you freshly cut the man?"
"Yes..." Arkash began, then pressed his foot to the corpse's stomach and twisted his blade before pulling it out. The hole in the Druskai's chest leaked visibly. "It felt stronger for just a second... Like there was more power in it."
Raphael nodded. "Right, right. You're going to cut him again, but use that power to quickly harden the blood, push it deeper, and sharpen it with suffuse. Okay?" Raphael instructed one step at a time. That was... A lot for such a small window. Nonetheless, he supposed he could try.
"Alright, here goes..." Declared the Rathor with a purse of his lips, then quickly slashed at the front of the Druskai's corpse, and latched his mind's eye on the ether in the blood, hardened it with sway, pushed... And ran out of time. "Almost," he spoke with a furrowed brow. He took the sword with both hands, aimed it at the body, lifted it overhead, then swung downward and to the left. At once, he hardened the blood, sharpened it with suffuse, then pushed it through. The resulting splash of gore utterly covered him, and a thundering crack ripped through the hall as Arkash's razor cut through not only the Druskai's entire torso, but the chair, and even a part of the stone floor. The Druskai's upper half was discarded at extreme speed, propelled across the room in the direction of Arkash's slash, where it hit the ground hard and dragged along to stop with a hard slam of the skull against the damp, grody wall.
Raphael was ecstatic, pressing a balled fist to his mouth while he grinned with a wide-open mouth and wide eyes. "Ulen have mercy, that was... Incredible!" he called, laughing as he doubled in awe of what he'd just witnessed. Speechless, the mage walked across the prison's floor to inspect the discarded upper half of the Druskai and found it mangled from the force of the collision. The lamp's light revealed all the details to the mage, who stared gobsmacked in awe. "Absolutely incredible," he spoke with a giddy smile.
Arkash could hardly believe it himself while he stared at the clean-cut abdomen of the man he'd carried onto that chair. He saw the man's spine, cut clean, level with the cuts of meat and guts that piled in the stomach. The wood of the chair's backrest was also gone, sawn clean through... From just a surface-level scratch. After a moment of silence, those trunkless legs fell from their seat, collapsed in a pile of flesh. Arkash stared for a moment, then looked back up to the noble who still stood in awe of what Arkash had done. "Is it supposed to be that powerful?" Arkash asked, somewhat confused.
"No," Raphael returned. "I've read accounts of blood mages cleaving through mountain-like Jindai with such a strike, but never through anything behind them, never propelling the other half in this fashion... You could do quite a lot of damage, Arkash." The mage declared as he fully rose, then looked to the Rathor. "Is there a mutation affecting the hardness of your sway? Maybe your sharpness suffusion?" He asked as he stepped closer.
"...I think my sharpness is really strong; everything I make sharp tends to be extra dangerous," the younger male answered truthfully. "Like I can cut through things that ordinary steel can't, and I can do it really easily."
"That must be it," Raphael spoke with a nod. "Razor is going to be an invaluable tool for you; you'll be destroying mountains with grazes by the time you're a master." Raphael held the lantern over the damage in the ground then and whistled with a tune that relayed how impressed he was. "I want to keep going, just to really work your mark, but I'm worried about mageblight. Have you been sick at all this season? Like throwing up corrupted ether?"
Arkash shook his head. He hadn't. "What is mageblight, by the way?"
Raphael grinned with a half-squint for a moment, then tilted his head. "You don't know?" Again, the Rathor shook his head. "Well, little lizard..." Raphael scratched his chin. "Marks of control allow us to harness something called Ether, which I'm sure you already know. Ether is... Chaotic and dangerous unless harnessed correctly, and misuse... overuse, even, can lead to very serious consequences."
"...Like what?" Arkash returned, then thrust his sword into the ground and leaned on the pommel.
"...Well, it damages the soul for one. if you pull too much through it at once, it can break your soul with little cracks that pour raw ether into your body... Slowly at first, but quicker with greater strain. That strain is what we call 'Overstepping'." Raphael's translation of the cause wasn't completely accurate, but it did make sense to the Rathor, who'd learned what a soul was when he met Taelian. "When you overstep too severely and too frequently, it has an effect on you. Your body starts to break down while it tries to cope with the invading forces of corruption, and you become weaker as a result. When you start to feel those effects, it's a good idea to stop."
Arkash nodded in response. He understood, even if Raphael's perception of the process was flawed. Then again, who had a totally accurate understanding of the soul and all its intricacies? "I get it..." Arkash started, but he did feel fine. If anything, he felt completely fresh with no strain at all. "Alright, but I'm totally fine. All the ether I've used I've gotten from leech so far. I think I can keep going."
"Are you sure?" Raphael asked. "I've got some more Druskai in the cell just up here for you to test it out on if you've got it in you, but mageblight can be fatal, so seriously take it easy if you're even a little bit tired."
Arkash drew a deep breath through his nose, then sighed before shaking his head. "No, I'm fine... What was that last one you said? Like... Hemorrhage?" Arkash took a moment to look behind the noble to the cell he'd referenced but found no beating hearts. "...We're the only ones alive in here. You know that right?"
Raphael took a glance over his shoulder, then rolled his eyes. "Fucking elves," he spat in annoyance. "Can't even go two weeks without food and water."
Arkash pursed his lips in the dim lamplight of the prison. He sincerely doubted Raphael could go even two days without food or water.
