Great Hunt: Archmage Hagia

Vulcan had very little interest in large gatherings such as this. He hated crowds...well, actually, he just hated other people. Ever since he had arrived in Faline, he had been stared at with great suspicion. People crossed the street whenever he did to avoid him wherever possible. Only a select few have ever looked upon him with kindness. Because of this, he just kept himself to himself. There was no point in bothering with those who didn't want anything to do with him. As long as he had a stable job and a roof over his head, he didn't care about the opinions of others. Except for today. The Feast of Flowering meant a lot to the Kingdom. People travelled far and wide to visit here every year in celebration of their Fortune, Destiny and Grace, ready for a year of opportunity and good prosperity. If Vulcan were seen not attending such an important event, he would be shunned furthermore. So, against his will, he forced himself to attend.

Absentmindedly, he wandered the streets that were buzzing with activity. Every stall was full of wonderful trinkets and wares with sellers shouting back and forth, singing the song of working folk. He looked at what was on offer, admiring the incredible skill that had been taken into making each intricate item. Even the fruit and veg were bright and fresh, the love that had been sown into them evident by the smiles on the farmer’s faces. Vulcan was skilled in one area but could never imagine producing anything as beautiful as these. His craft was more about the practicality rather than the beauty. Vulcan approached one such stall ran by a small, elderly bovine. She was dressed in her finest clothes which were bright red and adorned with golden fibres woven into the fabric. Here and there, the material had been repaired as there were several mismatched red patches sown on. It was clear it was old but very well loved. “Good afternoon,” Vulcan said with a slight smile upon his face. Throughout all the stalls, this one had attracted him the most. The table was filled to the brim with various leatherwork, each hand crafted with their own patterns. The elderly bovine scurried over to greet him. She could barely see with the amount of floppy grey hair that dangled in front of her eyes, her head flicking to the side as she approached so she could see her new customer. “Hello, hello there, young man! Can I interest you in anything?” Her voice was soft and sweet. It reminded him slightly of his mother. He looked at the items on offer and picked out a small leather satchel. It was a dark brown and hand stitched with thin ropes of leather. It had been stamped with a simple design and tassels had been added to the base. He swung it over his neck, trying it for size. It fitted him perfectly as if it were meant to be. “I’ll take this please.” She nodded. “Just 15 gold.” It seemed a fair price so Vulcan handed over the coins, nodded his head in thanks and went on his way.

It was nearing the end of the festivities and everybody was slowly making their way back to the town centre. The final ritual of burning the shrine was to take place. Vulcan hovered near the back of the pack, keeping his head low. Once the speeches were done, he could finally go home. His social batteries had come to the end of their daily usage and it was time he went and recharged ready for the next day. The Archmage Hagia took the stage, setting fire to the wicker beast that stood behind her with one of her magical crystals. She seemed rather pre-occupied as if something were bothering her, her eyes watching the twirling crystal as if it were hypnotising her. Everyone stood in the square waiting for the final announcement but it didn’t come. Instead, her head jerked back, her mouth contorting open as if she were screaming but no sound left her body. The archmage’s body twisted and snapped, every bone in her body breaking as the mutation began. Up and up and up she soared until she was towering above everyone and everything. She thrashed about violently, the stage crumpling beneath the immense weight of the new monster. It was in this moment that panic began to set in for everyone.

Children screamed, the noise echoing around the city. People darted left and right, their hooves clattering on the cobblestones as they fought for a way out. Mages who were trained in combat began to herd people out of the square, wrestling against the crowd to reach those who needed help. Vulcan’s whole body froze to the spot, every muscle tense with fear. He had never seen such a beast. Was this corruption? His mentor had spoken briefly about it, wanting Vulcan to understand the basics behind the reasoning and the importance of not falling down that path. However, he had never seen corruption in action before and he had never fought a corrupted being either. Did this deter him? No, did it fuck. Vulcan was always good at thinking on his feet, wanting to aid in any way he could. Using his magic was strictly forbidden as he was not enrolled into the order but, in this moment, he didn’t care about the consequences. Faline needed him. This was his home now and he was determined to protect it at all costs. Whatever the order wanted to do with him after they had stopped the corrupted Archmage was something that could be worried about afterwards.

The creature seemed dazed, unable to comprehend what had transpired. It seemed to be writhing around as if in pain. If Vulcan could get close enough, he could hurt it further. Would this make it angry though and make matters worse? He didn’t have time to consider the drawbacks of his plan. It was weak and he needed to strike now if he had any chance of crushing it before it crushed everyone else. Vulcan galloped forward, weaving in and out of the bodies. He stayed low, head down. Hopefully, the worm was too busy to notice him. It still seemed confused, trying to grasp onto its new reality. He hid behind a fallen wagon, waiting for a moment of stillness. A muffled voice tried to scream from the wagon but Vulcan was engrossed in watching the creature to hear the pleas for help.

Finally, Vulcan had his chance and raced forward. He touched the worm’s purple tail with his sparkly horn, a flame appearing. Now, he was in his element. He urged it to grow, his eyes lighting up in the presence of the burning inferno he had created. He watched as it sprouted upwards, the smell of singeing hair filling his nostrils. He urged it on and on, watching it grow and spread. It engulfed the lower body of the worm. He broke his concentration now, letting the fire burn wildly as he turned and ran to safety back behind the wagon. He did not want to be too close as the creature thrashed about wildly.

Words: 1207
Vulcan attacks the monster.

It was a regrettable thing that Málmr had missed most of the Feast of Flowering. He was assigned the duty of keeping station near the west side, meant to be in a constant place to keep watch over that portion of the festivities and to be a reliable point for anyone who needed aid. He had been able to part from his position for breaks and for helping a young camel find his father, but his shift hadn't been one to patrol, so most of the day had passed him by. Of course, if one of his many acquaintances or friends stopped by to say hello and bribe kindly offer him a cold cider for the warm spring day, he asked and received a good description of the events going on, the treats being sold, the trinkets for sale in the many market stalls. He wanted to go see it, but even if he didn't get the chance before his shift ended, he enjoyed his post. The day was calming, and so was the laughter and bubbling atmosphere, and his friends made the time pass by quickly enough, when he wasn't busy shooing them away for dallying too long and distracting an Officer of the Realm (and yes, he did say it with just as much emphasis, wiggling of his brows, and laughter as implied). It was a beautiful day, and though he couldn't enjoy it as a civilian, it was still good to contribute to it.

He was wearing his helm and half his plate armor today, the metal acid etched with curling knot-work and runes from some of his past exploits. It'd seen him through many battles down to the south, made just for him, (broken by him on occasion), and repaired by his old friend Tamir in a much more fitting fashion than he'd thought possible. He could've worn the standard armor granted to the mage protectors and saved himself more than a few stares. Málmr loved his friends dearly here in Faline, but he cut an intimidating figure on first glance to passers-by, which he didn't blame them for. He had scars aplenty and he was a Wild mage from the Stalhúð, who were renowned for their heavy dislike for Ivras. The thought often crossed his mind that accepting the standard armor would go at least a small way to lessening his impression, but there was no denying the craftsmanship of his kindred and Tamir both. Accepting the Order's standard issue armor might soothe his self-image a bit, but if something happened and he needed to rely on Geirr-carved iron, he'd never forgive himself.

....May the Son of Iron never let that day pass. Not here.

The day was drawing to a close, and Málmr was patiently waiting for the bell to toll the end of his shift. Thomelin, a young page boy who liked to cause a fair bit of mischief, was teasing him about how he hadn't taken more than a few sips of his cider and let it get warm, knowing full well that Málmr was, shockingly, still on duty, and, even more amazingly, still bearing the alcohol tolerance of a spratling of maybe seven years. They went back and forth if seven was too generous a number when he'd found Tamir in the crowd by the good will of Destiny, as Ivrans oddly liked to say, and they kept each other company until Málmr was free to see the last moments of the day, Thomelin absconding when music started to play a few stalls off.

What he wanted most, though, was to see the bonfire that would end the day. Together with his friend, he ambled down the maze-like paths lined with market stalls and various acts that were closing for the afternoon, and by that point, the bonfire was already well lit. Speeches had been made, wishes thrown into the blaze, and there was a merry, but tired, air around the main square. Mothers were ready to take their children home, and those who had been hawking their wares or performing for coin all day were ready to go, but still, this one last event was treasured. Some danced, some drank, some laughed. It was a day to remember fondly.

Málmr, much to his regret in hindsight, wasn't paying attention to the Archmage when she made her wish. Too busy trying to make the stoic Tamir smile before they had to part ways. But he did hear the screams, the eruption of magic, and he did see when her twisted form rose above the courtyard, bleeding and twisting in pain and rage. She - it - was horrifying, and for one long heartbeat, Málmr was locked into place. Why was this happening here? He was so far from the coast, so far from the wild lands, but all he saw was death waiting in those jagged teeth, those swirling stars around that beastly maw. His shield mates were in danger, the ship was going to sink---

No. No, no no no, he wasn't with his kin now. It was worse here - the square was full of civilians who would die if he didn't act.

He pressed his hunting horn to his lips without another moment's hesitation, and the sound pierced the square and echoed over the festival. It was enchanted - ironically by the Archmage herself - and standard issue amongst the mage protectors, and gods above and below he was glad to have it on him now. Hopefully it would bring more of the Order to help. Many things happened in short order - there was rushing and screaming, and he was pushed back by a tide of frightened individuals, separated from Tamir. He shouted for Tamir to seek shelter and help whomever he could while he pushed forward towards the beast and towards a wagon that had turned over.

He was standing near a horned stallion who brought fire onto the beast and when Málmr saw he stayed to help and defend himself, Málmr decided to aid him with his magic. He cast a ward over him wordlessly, feeling the ward take the cost of it out of his hide like a knife ripping into his shoulder blade before he turned toward the twisting, blazing Archmage. The ward was made of luminescent lines and runes, easily seen through to keep control of the battlefield, but sturdier than plate mail. It hurt to cast, and blood ran down his shoulder because of it, but if the stallion stayed to fight and came out of it whole, it was worth it.

It was only then that he heard a muffled sound from under the turned wagon. With a sick twist in his stomach, he bellowed out, "There's someone trapped under this! Those able-bodied, to arms!"

The beast's coiled body was thrashing wildly under the flames and its own blind pain, and one of its coils was dangerously close to the wagon. He needed to keep the coils from smashing the wagon and whoever was underneath. With a quick breath, Málmr charged the near coil, digging his many horns into sickening burning flesh, ripping into it before turning off, readying for his next action, or to keep on the attack.

Word count: 1209 words

Málmr attacks the monster.  

Vulcan was startled by the appearance of another who silently joined him beside the wagon. He wordlessly cast a protective ward over him, the cost of his magic clearly a physical one as he began to bleed. They both sidled up to the overturned wagon, the thrashing monster getting closer and closer to them. The suid bellowed a sentence before scurrying off to attack the beast, digging his horns into the worm’s tail. Slightly bewildered, Vulcan was shocked that another being was aiding him. He didn’t seem to be wearing any Order uniform but that didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t part of the order. Vulcan did not have time to worry about why this other mage was offering him assistance. It was a peculiar circumstance that they were in and it was probably the least of that guy’s worries that Vulcan was a mage practicing magic illegally. Priorities.

Following the suid’s orders, he heaved his body weight against the cart. The splintered wood dug into his side, scratching his skin harshly. He pressed against it hardly, shifting his body with the movements of the broken vehicle. The wheels had shattered in the fall which made it easier to move but the main frame was slightly warped from the massive force that it had been subjected to. It began to crack as it moved, threatening to collapse once again. “Just a little more,” Vulcan muttered under his breath. He pressed even harder, rushing to get the cart moved before it crushed the poor soul trapped underneath. The broken pillars pierced Vulcan’s skin, red liquid oozing out of his fresh wounds. His face winced under the pain but he continued to push until a body-shaped hole appeared. “Come, quickly!” Another suid wormed her way out slowly. Her front leg was held limply in front of her as she struggled to her feet. Once clear, Vulcan pulled his body away quickly. The cart collapsed, shattering further as it hit the ground hard. She was lucky.

“Are you alright, mam?” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Her whole body was covered in cuts – minor but it would still be painful. Her leg seemed to be broken and she was now just another target for the corrupted to kill. He needed to get her out of here. “Quickly, go to the mages. They will be able to get you out of here.” She nodded her head in thanks to him, hobbling away as quickly as she could manage. He watched her, ensuring the worm wasn’t in her path.

Now that the civilian was taken care of, he turned his attentions back to the worm. His new friend had been battling it and he could definitely use the help. This beast was big and it would take more than a little fire to subdue it. He whipped around the shattered wagon, racing towards the boar-like mage that came to his aid. It was time to repay the favour. His fire still raged on; the monster too dazed to pat it out properly. Its lower body was engulfed in the flames, the air now smelling like a BBQ feast. It was a sickening scent but Vulcan put it aside, racing head on to the burning body of the ex-archmage. The heat was incredibly potent, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. The heat wasn’t an issue though as he spent his whole life surrounded by heat. Working in a smithery wasn’t the coolest place to be. He speared the creature with his horn, sinking it into the soft, fatty flesh of its tail. It writhed in pain, pulling away from his strike but he continued, following the monster’s movements so he could stab it again. Blood dripped down his horn, running down his face. But it wasn’t blood, certainly not the blood that Vulcan had ever seen. It was green! It shocked him a little, especially as it was pouring down his face and dripping off his nose. Nevertheless, he still continued his pursuit, stabbing the creature over and over again. Every time it pulled away, he followed it. His fire had finally persisted now, smoke being the only presence now but the smoke was thick and black, the smell of burnt skin filling his nostrils. His brain was fogged, his senses overstimulated now. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to clear his mind of everything.

BANG!

Unfortunately, this was a bad call of judgement. The worm had moved again but not away from him this time. The worm had swung its tail towards him, swinging its massive weight into the side of him. He was knocked sidewards, his body hitting the ground with a thud. He was winded, his head spinning. He felt sick. Was he injured? The adrenaline was pumping – Vulcan was unsure. So, for now, he stayed on the ground, waiting until it was safe for him to get up again.

Words: 821
Vulcan attacks the monster.

Asteria had been in the courtyard with everyone else to view the end of the festival. The archmage was giving a speech, only, it certainly didn’t end the way it likely should have. Corruption had found its newest victim, and the small mare shuddered in horror as she watched, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight of the massive worm. Only when a horn sounded, one she recognized as from a member of the Order, did she shy away. She had been towards the back of the crowd, consciously doing her best to avoid any obvious signs of Order members, or anyone else who might be of danger to her. She had her cloak on, the hood up, concealing most of her features, in particular those that betrayed her status as a mage.

She knew attitudes towards wild mages had…well perhaps not necessarily improved, but had mellowed somewhat in recent times, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to still be wary, and avoid showing herself whenever possible. Though she desperately wanted to run and hide, she couldn’t very well do that when so many were still in the path of danger. Small as she was, she slipped through the chaotic crowds fleeing the beast, and tried to find anyone who may not be able to get away on their own. There were some young children, separated from their parents, stranded behind some fallen debris. They were, thankfully, more or less unharmed, and Aster carefully pushed, prodded, and pried her way to them, to allow them to escape.

Fortunately for them, their parents weren’t far off, lingering nervously, calling desperately for their babies. They scurried off with a frightened haste, and she turned her attention to the fight against the monster. There were three or so that she could see, though she knew there were undoubtedly more. She didn’t observe any further, however, because she saw the worm’s massive body land a hard blow against a stallion who had been fighting it. He went down hard, and when he didn’t get back up right away, she knew he likely had been injured.

Against her instincts of self-preservation, Asteria darted towards them, the hood on her cloak falling back in doing so, as the pony hurried over towards the downed stallion. He seemed dazed, and it was hard for her to tell how badly he was injured, what with the monster’s blood all over him. “Careful, easy now. Can you get up? We can’t stay here.” She said, voice loud enough to be heard over the monster’s chaos, but just barely. She gently pressed her, comparatively small, nose to the draft stallion’s shoulder, her magic casting a soft glow about her, assessing his injuries. She knew they couldn’t afford to linger any longer than necessary, but she knew she could spare some effort towards healing him. With focus, the mare was able to begin the healing process, primarily offering pain-relief and perhaps a bit of clarity, enough to hopefully allow him to get to his hooves, so they could perhaps find someplace that was a bit safer so she could finish healing him.

Word Count: 524

Asteria attacks the monster.

Everything was chaos, and it was hard to keep track of things happening as he pulled away from the beast, his tusks bearing green blood amidst roars of pain. As black rabbits ran through the crowd, the horned stallion he'd shielded with his magic lifted up the cart next to him, and Málmr was filled with painful relief that they were freed as he rushed to attack once more. It was in the charge that the stallion was attacked, and Málmr knew his shield magic held - he had to be alright, he would stand again. Someone small ran over to the stallion to help him, and Málmr had to turn away, had to focus on the fight.

The beast had thrashed again while Málmr was distracted, and it was only Reuwel's warning call in the crowd that allowed him to narrowly dodge it, just by mere inches that whished the wind past his nose. Málmr glanced to the source of the warning, but Reu was gone, lost in the chaos.

In his looking, though, he saw that the call with his horn had worked - members of the Order who were stationed throughout the city for the festival were pouring in as innocents were still screaming to hurry away, and hope bloomed in his chest to see it. The Order would see this disaster through, it was only a matter of time, and keeping the beast here in the square to mitigate damage.

He saw mages cast their magic on the beast as many things came to life, from thorned vines that tore to maelstroms in the air, but what gave Málmr an idea was an unarmored mage off to his left - a grey bovine who stood stock still in the chaos, a hazy glow around him, and as he did, the beast looked heavy, weighed down, unable to toss its rearing frame and furious at the restraint. All it took was one glance from the contained worm to the tall burning effigy next to it, and his hooves moved of their own accord.

"Keep the beast still!" He bellowed to the bovine as he ran past him, granting him a shield as he did to protect him and his necessary casting, ignoring the new sharp pain across his back. "Anyone able-bodied, to me! Push the effigy onto the beast!" 

Andel's words rang in his head, telling him to branch out with his magic, and when necessity calls, it calls. With a whisper of magic, he created a short wall against the base of the effigy to keep the flames from biting him as he shoved against it with all his might, feeling bruises tenderly bloom over his legs. It groaned, but it wasn't enough with just him.

Soon he was joined by both a helmeted stallion joined him, reeking of a quiet death and bells that wanted to sound against their prisons, and a cervine with fractured antlers and golden fangs, pushed against his shimmering runic wall that in turn pressed against the base of the effigy. Its groans became louder and louder, and it began to topple, slowly, slowly, too slowly.

WC: 525
Note: Mentions of Reu, Dainn and Uwe were done with permission.
Málmr attacks the monster.

As the oxygen rushed back into Vulcan's lungs, his head began to clear. The sickening feel began to fade and he could finally assess the damage. Thankfully, his new protector had his back and the shield that was cast upon him had worked. Apart from the wind being knocked out of him, he was uninjured. Just as he was about to stand, a small being appeared at his side, hurriedly urging him to move. He nodded his head silently, clambering to his feet. "Thank you, my dear. I am fine." He smiled, his eyes soft with appreciation for her concern. "I need to continue with the fight. You should go, my dear. I would not want you hurt." The mare was so fragile in stature. He would never be able to live with himself if this sweet, kind soul got caught up in this and killed. Now it was his turn to usher her away.

As he was about to continue to fight, he heard his protector yell to those in the nearby surrounding. He had a plan. A good plan. Knowing he was still able to continue on, he rushed to his aid. Others had already joined him by the time Vulcan reached him but their efforts were slow. The worm was starting to gather its strength, ready to attack the rest of Faline. With a grunt, the orange stallion swung his whole weight into the effigy. His hooves scraped against the cobblestones as he slid, struggling to get traction on the ground. He pushed harder, head down. It was working! The effigy creaked as it gave way, the wood snapping. The stallion stepped back for a moment and backed up. It needed one last push. With all his might, he jumped into a gallop and rammed the effigy's leg as hard as he could. The last branches snapped, it tumbling over. He stepped away, not wanting to be caught by the flailing sticks. The corrupted screamed...what he guessed was supposed to be a scream anyway. It writhed beneath the weight of the burning effigy.

Vulcan focused on the small, baby flames that struggled to keep ahold of the kindling. It was dying but not for long. He willed it on once more, the flames greedily lapping up the imaginary fuel that it needed to survive and thrive. It spread once more, licking out at the monster's trapped body. It wasn't powerful enough to kill but it would definitely subdue the worm whilst the mages regrouped and planned their next attack.

Words: 422
Vulcan attacks the worm.