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Post by Isla Paledragon Sun Aug 29, 2021 12:49 pm

Friendly Neighbourhood Lioness 95174beb83cd329be00c6ea0bb93dbac


“Plyvi k dalekim beregam, Vstan' na nos, Blagorodnyy bark, kotorym ya upravlyayu, Vernyy kurs v gavan’, On mnogo vragov-muzhchin”. The beat of the track was like a second heartbeat as it played into her ears, the rhythm a personal favourite and bringing a slight smile to the corner of her lips. It was a recent remix, one that drew inspiration from some Otherworlder folk poem supposedly but she didn’t know anything fact or fiction about it beyond how cool she thought the vocalist made her feel when listening to it. The pace quickened and as the song sped up so did the step of the listener by accident, making her way down the street far quicker than she had been intending. Power walking was fine after all but she was only after a coffee, maybe a snack or something, nothing that demanded a rush.

Her appearance further backed up the notion she was not in the mood to be running anywhere. An oversized baggy blue hoodie hung from her shoulders and draped her body with such space that her build was almost entirely unpredictable underneath. Her Ashen silver hair was tied back in a rather rough but comfortable ponytail, even if much of her fringe still hung loose framing her face, the occasional curl spiking up to signify how little she had done to it since rolling out of bed. Yet despite the slight signs of bags under her eyes, the result of a late night in front of her screen yet again, Isla seemed happy and her slouch was carried by the slightest of skips in her step from knowing she was finally home once again.

The last trip over to the mainland after all had been eventful sure but it had been short, travelling north west from the Port to do a few jobs, escort duties and culling some beasts before once again heading east. Early in her adventuring ‘career’ she had seen each trip to the mainland as an epic quest, one that required months away from home, but that was no longer the case. The more comfortable and confident she felt, both in herself and in life, she realised she need only spend as much time in either life as she get at that time. Months away from home sometimes were weeks, yet someday they may become years, but that was a matter to decide when it arrived. For now though she was in Rivengate once again, the concrete underfoot somehow just as beautiful to her as the trees and fields of the mainland, both lands bringing adventure and challenge in their own ways.

The corner shop she was heading for was not too far, maybe another corner or two, the only sop for her that morning that had been planned, but as anyone in Rivengate knows that is rarely something that stays intact once you leave your door. “Relocating sale, Relocating sale! Come inside and grab some stock before it’s gone.” The words every tired, non rich young human feared more than any other. Sure she wasn’t poor, and sure she didn’t lack all self restraint, but what if she needed that Vyldergold next week? What if something in her apartment broke, or she made friends suddenly who wanted to go out at night, what if she decided she wanted a dog suddenly and needed to afford food for them? So many possibilities, possibilities that perhaps could forgive her just a quick look inside since she was in no rush and was already there anyway.

Isla used her free arm to return the earpieces to their places, another track beginning just in time for her to leave the store as she waved in only slight shame at the man out front. The bear now under her arm was hardly a breaking investment so she knew she could get away with it at least, not that anyone would judge her for it anyway. She had a habit of collecting similar creatures, those who were otherwise made perfectly and looked quite adorable but were funny in how derby the solid black eyes looked, like they had been drawn so shocked or fed up that they were now void of any expression. It was a joke she didn’t have many to share it with, but her dads pretended to get it and that was something at least.

The rest of the journey on foot was uneventful, passing people of great variety heading to either work, home, the shops or simply heading wherever their feet took them. That was one of the fascinating things about the people of Rivengate, you could never be so sure. On the mainland people were not more predictable but there were less possibilities usually on what they were intending, where hey were headed, but on the island there could be too many destinations to count and too many intentions to understand. Her destination was simple though, and it was now only a stone’s throw away.

“Get down!” The cry of warning came too late, it’s importance only made apparent by the screams that followed moment’s later. Isla, her eyes wide in shock but without context as to how she should react, dived but not far enough. The force of the explosion rained dust, ash and papers across the street in every direction, small stones rolling off her sides as she cradled to the floor, protecting her face with her arms and the music only barely drowning out the sound of the explosion which otherwise would have likely caused severe ringing in her drums. When she opened her eyes and looked up she could see the group that sprinted across the street, most of them armed with small knives, clubs and a crowbar or two but one carrying a weapon that she could only scarcely recognise. It was a two handed rifle of some kind, like those shown in her textbooks as a kid, but as to the nature or name of it she was short of knowledge. Whatever it was though it didn’t take he long to know it was that which caused the explosion, breaking down the front windows and doors of the shop she had been so close to entering. A weapon like that could have been used for far grander purposes but maybe this was only a test run, maybe it was a warning, whatever it was… it was a threat.

Word Count; 1071
Total Word Count; 1071
made bycapt. meows
Isla Paledragon
Isla Paledragon

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VylderGold : 4788
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Join date : 2021-08-04

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Post by Isla Paledragon Sun Aug 29, 2021 4:49 pm

Friendly Neighbourhood Lioness 7c6876b3fdec73cb70209ecc8503a22a


“Grab the box, grab the box!” the first man yelled as he entered the now shattered storefront, pointing off towards the counter on his left as he brandished a mace in his right hand, his face hidden behind a mask designed in the stylistic and stereotypical assumption of a demonic face. One of many depictions used in artwork whether or not it was in fact based in reality of any demons seen on Vyldermire or simply attempts to make their kind appear as monstrous as possible. The whole gang seemed to be wearing such face coverings, their identities secret from the eyes of those now fleeing for their lives from the danger of their new weapon.

Following his order without hesitation, another member of the group vaulted the counter top and kicked the already prone cashier. He stood up straight moment’s later with the key to the till’s tray in his hand as he gestured for the others to scatter around and see what else they could grab. The store for the most part was your usual corner shop, filled with drinks and snacks for those in a rush between home and work. It had a coffee machine in one corner, a wall of basic hand to hand weapons for street security and several shelves full of books and magazines detailing news from the continent which was about as reliable and honest as it was unbiased. That is to say most folk avoided them from memories of their parents or colleagues being mislead by many of their exaggerated contents.

The last to approach the shop was one standing just under six feet in height, brandishing a crossbow in his hands as he looked around the far side of the street for any sign of the authorities. In fact he was so busy being a watcher, a rearguard for his accomplices, that he didn’t even to think to check to his right. A thought that only emerged moments before he noticed a short, casually dressed young women appear inches away from him. “Eat shit”, she said in a low and threatening introduction.

The crossbowman whipped his weapon around, caught off guard and seemingly wanting to use his only armament despite the close range, an action that was very easily countered. Isla using one of her forearms to bat the end of the bow aside as it’s bolt loosed, striking into the wall behind her as it clattered to the dust coated path. Any hope of reloading didn’t have chance to cross his mind as the ashen haired warrior drove the bottom of her palm with force at the side of his throat, the force driving him straight against the wall as he spat and cried out for breath. He clawed for a moment as his neck, gasping for air but was stopped in his tracks by a jean covered knee driving into his nose with enough force to leave him with his ass on the floor and a small trail of blood running down his lip as he lost consciousness.

Whether it was the cracking of cartilage, the crossbow bolt clattering to the floor or the faint sound of music calling out from a pair of earphones left lying on the ground beside a now dirtied teddy bear, the two men closest to the doorway turned around and peered out. Curious as to what had happened moment’s earlier and greeted first by the sight of their now defeated ally. “Boss, we got trouble” the skinnier of the two called out, a dagger in each hand as he crouched out from the rubble and looked down the street for whatever might have attacked them, his sight only turning left in time to see a fist spinning toward’s his temple. The blow sent blood splatters and teeth onto the floor, a warning to his friend they were in a fight just in time for him to raise his crowbar.

The first attack swung wildly, gritty teeth emitting a cry of aggression as the deceptively athletic girl stepped backwards, expertly avoiding a following two slashes from the crude iron tool. “You know, learning to fight would be very helpful for you right now.” Her taunting words were followed by her right hand catching the bar’s next attack mid swing, stopping their weaker assault in its tracks just in time for a savage head butt which staggered them onto their heels. The two now bloodied and disorientated men regrouped, weapons in hand as they looked at each other, then back to the hoodie and coffee deprived young warrior. “What is that thing you shot at the shop, it hurt.” Isla rolled up her sleeves, a scarily excited look on her grin as she did so, the grazes on her hands and wrists from the fall not as severe as she had expected after first feeling them.

The following scuffle was quick, hectic, but ended in the outcome Isla had confidence she would achieve. A step to the left, several parries with her hands at their wrists, keeping their weapons away from her whilst also letting them waste their energy. A minute or two later they were on the ground just like their friend, both groaning to show they were conscious but unlikely to be on their feet anytime soon, leaving them in her dust though Isla entered the shop. Dagger in one hand, crowbar in the other.

“Hey kid, back off before you regret it,” were the first words that greeted her upon entering. Her eyes scanned around the crumbled, slightly burnt shop as she coined and analysed each of the enemies within. One man behind the till, too busy throwing the vyldergold into a bag to care what she was doing. Two men armed with clubs, simple but likely enough to leave a bruise or even a break if swung hard enough, one man with a mace and the other with that strange rifle. The rifle itself was aimed at her chest from what she could tell, it’s large barrel unmistakably what fired whatever caused the explosion earlier, the man wielding it wide eyed with fear and excitement as he fought the itch to pull the trigger.

“At what point in kicking ass did i imply backing off was an option, dumbass.” whether it was the blunt and rhythmic nature of her accent or her disarming appearance wasn’t clear, but when her left arm darted forward it somehow caught the men off guard, the dagger leaving her grip with an expert throw before any could even react by ducking. It’s blade coated through the air, leaving a gash across the arm of the man wielding the rifle, not enough to take him out of commission but enough to cause him to turn, his body spinning from the shock and pain of the cut as his muscles spasmed slightly and his finger pulled the trigger. Whatever came out the front was only small, but it was quick, it’s raw destructive potential shown clear as day as he accidentally sent the shot arcing across towards the till, striking the roof just above his money grabbing comrade. It’s explosion tore through stone and plaster, the counter itself being demolished from the force easily as the man behind it was sent flying where he couldn’t be seen, the only remnant of him being the Vyldergold that sprayed out in the air like feathers from a struck bird.

The cries of pain and the many swear words from the others in attendance were a new backing track to her movements, the smaller girl sprinting forwards towards the bomb shooter as they took time to adjust to what just happened. When she slid along the floor beside him, her hair blowing out from behind her as it fell loose from it’s tie, he went to kick or stamp on her but was met only by the crude iron of the crowbar. It’s solid frame stopping his shin with a vicious crack, the high pitched squeal that it stirred in him even making her wince slightly, moment’s before she darted back to her feet and brooch it down across the back of his shoulder blades with enough force to make him too hit the floor.

The first to run at her next was one of the club wielders, his charge stopped in an instant as the crowbar was thrown between his leg’s with enough force to knock him off his feet, his head slamming off the floor underneath and his likelihood of starting a family treaty reduced. Whether she could have taken the last two was, though not a difficult question, a question that didn’t need to be answered. The sound of footfalls and dialogue from outside drawing all their eyes just in time for the city officers to arrive, their weapons and restraints ready to stop whoever had assaulted this building in broad daylight.

It was a couple hours late of her preferred lunchtime when Isla left the station, her hands bruised from the morning’s activities but her mood seemingly unaware of the harm it had done her body. Her hair rolled down to her shoulders, her fringe falling in front of her face enough that she had to blu it away from her face given both hands were in use. One carrying the bear, still dirtied from the explosion but otherwise unharmed, and in her other hand a hot travel cup of coffee thanks to the station’s cafeteria. Being an adventurer and several eyewitness accounts she was thankfully able to get away from the encounter innocent of wrongdoing and with some minor rewards to boot, but she couldn’t help but dread what such a weapon that morning meant. Would more weapons from the old days turn up? Would Otherworlders be treated with fear and disrespect more than they already were? She didn’t know the answers even if she wanted to. But what she did know was she was hungry, and there was the best Anthro run takeaway just round the corner who always gave her extra on the side. The best idea she had all day soon stirred into action.

Word Count; 1690
Total Word Count; 2761
made bycapt. meows
Isla Paledragon
Isla Paledragon

Rank : Initiate
VylderGold : 4788
Posts : 41
Join date : 2021-08-04

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