A city can change with time. Growing, and changing and shrinking again with the population. Sometimes crumbling, and rebuilding sometimes having a great fire to be build again, and sometime shifting slightly in reconstruction. Leaving behind a lone structure that can be forgotten.
These old ruins were a bit outside of The City Beautiful to the north. With the mountains to west and the forest to the other ways and all around. The forest had overgrown around the ruins.
Posted: Fri May 15, 2026 2:02 pm
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MissyPink
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MissyPink
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Posted: Fri May 15, 2026 2:05 pm
Manusi
The exit! He spotted it and grinned. The arch-shape that gave the door structure must have also kept it more stable than the rest of the building, though in just a few moments that would change. The entire thing was mere seconds from total destruction. Planning his escape as he repaired another beam that threatened to crush him, Manusi solidified the blood "armor" he had formed earlier, making it cover his head, neck and back, and bolted for the door at a speed far different from his usual lackadaisical pace.
Though, his attempt to exit would not go as planned...
[Leaving what happens up to you, Missy Pink]
Warrior Of El
Darius had just finished brushing the dust from his shoulders when the world decided to come down all at once.
The first warning wasn’t sight—it was feeling. A shift beneath his boots. The floor groaned like a living thing, splintering under pressure, vibrations running up through his legs and into his spine. His heightened senses caught everything at once—the sharp crack of beams snapping, the cascading rattle of glass, the deep, suffocating roar of a structure surrendering to gravity. He didn’t hesitate. Darius moved.
He dipped low, pivoting off his right foot as a chunk of ceiling sheared loose where his head had been a fraction of a second earlier. He rolled through grit and shattered wood, the impact jarring but controlled, his body flowing with practiced efficiency. Dust exploded around him in a choking cloud, thick and dry, filling his lungs with the taste of ash and old timber.
The smell hit next—burnt varnish, spilled ale, iron-rich blood, and something else… something wrong. Metallic. Arcane. His eyes narrowed behind the mask.
The air itself felt taut, like a wire pulled too tight. A trap.
Darius came up from the roll into a crouch just as the blood constructs outside began to surge—he didn’t see their full shape yet, but he felt the shift in pressure, the unnatural pull, like gravity had found a new direction. The faint shimmer of gold light bled through the dust, too structured, too deliberate to be random magic.
“...Tch.” He exhaled once, steady.
He didn’t run for the obvious exit. Instead, Darius surged forward at an angle, cutting across the collapsing interior rather than toward the door, reading the flow of falling debris like a living map. A beam dropped—he slid under it. A table flipped—he planted a hand, vaulted, boots scraping across its surface as it collapsed behind him. Splinters grazed his arm, a shallow cut opening along his forearm, but he didn’t slow. Then the wall gave way.
Not outward—downward. The floor ahead collapsed into a jagged sink of broken timber and stone, threatening to swallow him whole. Darius reacted instantly, kicking off a falling plank and launching himself toward the fractured edge. His fingers caught splintered wood—biting, tearing—but he held, muscles locking as debris cascaded past him into darkness.
The roar was deafening now. Outside, the trap intensified—he could feel it trying to reach, to pull, to anchor anything that crossed its threshold. Darius made a choice.
With a sharp inhale, he hauled himself up and back, not forward—dragging his body away from the collapsing edge and deeper along the interior’s remaining structure, keeping just inside the boundary where the trap’s influence felt strongest but not yet binding.
A calculated risk. Dust swirled violently around him, coating his mask, sticking to the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. His heart hammered, steady but heavy, adrenaline threading through his veins like fire. A beam crashed down inches from his shoulder. Another impact shook the ground. Still—he stood. Bruised. Cut. Breathing hard. Alive.
Darius straightened slowly amidst the ruin, eyes scanning through the haze, senses stretched to their limit as the golden light outside pulsed hungrily. “…Not today.”
His voice was low, almost lost beneath the dying thunder of the building, but his stance said the rest.
He hadn’t died in the collapse.
And he wasn’t about to walk into someone else’s design.
Darius noted the trap’s structure as both a caveat and a warning, proof that not every escape was meant to be taken at face value.
Even survival here came with conditions, and he intended to read them before making his next move.
Darius stilled, eyes cutting toward the source of the glow with quiet certainty—nothing about this was suspect anymore, and the precision of it all was no longer merely suspicious; he knew exactly who had laid the trap.
ImNoHero
The sudden displacement of the debris cloud in the space in front of him screamed of absence. Though to be sure, Lito swipes his morning star through the space in front of him as he continues to fight his coughing fit, his lungs continuing to scream for air as the cloud thickens with the fall out of the roof landing on the all but compromised structure of the building. Meanwhile a trap is sprung, and the irascible Meta finds himself ensnared!
As the blood magic tightens around his form, he drops his morning star in the process of fighting his newfound restraints. The substance was thin, yet the tension felt against bare skin promised if he pushed hard enough to flay the flesh from his bone. As he grits his teeth, the small, red gems embedded in his chrome teeth scintillate. Their influence working directly against the effect the trap harbors that would impress his mind. He pauses in his struggle, allowing the binding to hold his dead weight; a frustrated chuckle escaping him.
”Betta' not drop me cyka,” he said, profaning in his native tongue again the punk who was now absent while assuming him the culprit just as the glass he’d sent flying at Lito seconds ago.
For it was the lady outside. The one whom had determined that one in this area would make for a fair allied. Her blue eyes were watching events unfold. Having a bounty of 3 so far in her trap that was planned to wish for only the best one. This alliance would not be made public. Being careful and cunning in all factors, not only her trap making. Having already forgotten Darius was the name of the man in the mask. For if the one in the mask did try to make contact, she would conceal him and their prior knowledge of the other. She pulled him out with out letting him get snared in her magical layers of entrapment. For the lady even had enough respect for that one male in particular, she had chosen not to give him an insulting new name that would be less effort for her to remember.
The lady was a bit of a conundrum and a walking contradiction. An outsider who does not go to places in much. Likes to work from a far and keep to shadows. She likes to be seen and remembered. The 3 trapped would on arriving in the trap at their new destination would shortly, eventually see her face. For she would be looking at their minds face to face. The lady did love after the long sea voyage home, when next taking a trip and arriving on new shores, she loved to know over the years some might tell of her exploit and tell the tale of what happens to those who have something she wants.
The trap complete, 3 enclosed, the strange pink hair foreign lady from across the sea had one last task to do in her goal of the study of what fighting happens here. Seems like all the half dozen made it out and fell into the trap, she closed her eyes to reach out for the last man standing who knew to stop. Knew to wait for her. The masked man, who at last would see a greeting. The lady sure took her sweet time. Maybe cutting it a little close but suddenly an orb came in to the crumbling structure. Coming right up to the one who was on the same side. Oddly to people in these part but very normal where the lady came from, it spoke. "As promised knowing to wait and watch can win. Now this is the time to leave. Come along and get in." Too small looking to get in. When or if the male might reach for the bubble he would be taken safely past the line of traps. Be vanished away with only a pop sound that anyone still there might here.
The Lady was glad to have left the City Beautiful. The open terrain, old and traditional like she was. The spell trapped each closed trap off at the new location. As well as who was free. The lady was careful of what she spoke. So to not give away who it was, whom was the witch that's able to catch so many. Keeping out of direct sight she checked if the man in the mask took her invitation. Ready to take any questions he might have. At last she moved through the poorly lit area closer to those who came. Each all disassembled to ensure they were easy to manage.
"Oh, what a nice head. Eyes are like windows into so much. Don't worry everyone will keep both eye balls in the end. Today is not about ingredient to brew a magical concoction." Her voice was female in tone but also in a few deep in a strong, penetrating way.
Starting with one. A male who felt a need to try and do quite alot in the detached moments with in the mind. Taking a brutal straight forward way into the mind. To everyone else it looked like a female standing infront of a head. At last feeling done, the man vanished into the forest. With out being sure what happened. But not all of the man went free into the forest. She kept apart. A small and insignificant part of the body. She did love taking a souvenir of everything she does.
Not tall in stature, she still some how had a way of seeming to look down on others. Her cold blue eyes look on as the detached of the Bishop, ready to see if the next catch could giver her a greater insight. Having missed this man's first comment in another foreign tongue. Not there to hear the moment, the lady was yet to know if she would recognize it, from all her traveling. Closing her eyes for a moment as she waves one hand around in the air. From the way she so much of the time casted spell, this behavior would give no clue if this was her dominate hand. Next looking at the man, her eyes almost had a glow, a dark glow to them, but now, abruptly at random it stopped. "Lets hope everyone can feel free to verbalize all our feeling. There is no point screaming. The area is cloaked for the moment. To keep out unwanted eyes and ears. Starting an ear collection can sound fun but is pointless to carry around on a long journey."
Sounding strange in what she thought was important to tell. And infact good at talking about nothing to break people. When someone wants to give her info, simply to make her get to a point. Today was not about info it was for a demonstration. "Don't worry about the last male." Ready for if the Bishop Lito asks. Such a being is far from here now and not coming back. She should really give the explanations, Lito should assume he got the better of the punk and sent him running deep into away from this place.
"Let me take a look. At this time, here is one with real power. Or does that mean skill." Letting go of the fragments she was trying to look at from Lito's fight. "A demonstration would clear that question up." Talking aloud but not to the Bishop. Next almost behaving like his feeling matter "If that would not be too much trouble."
Starting with the other hand then she last used she pointed at the symbol that made the trap. Starting by pointing at the body within. Till this moment the Bishop Lito would have felt rather beside him self. Now his body starts to come together. He still needed a good head on those shoulders, but the head was still tied up, else where. Then with both hands widen the space of the trap, to give some mobility. Switching from her more typical pointing magic casting and eyes casting. To casting the spell from her palm. pointing it up and forming a ball that turned into fire. Calling on any of the elements is one of the first things one learn with magic, it still might look impressive. She next moved her arm and let the fire ball fly up a little and hover.
"Only a worthy foe will do? Or else it seem disrespectful of your clear skill. Try not to get burnt. Do try your best." Giving her full attention back to the fire. She spoke as if the fire was a pet. "Fly away." Sending the ball away from where she stood with the detached heads and sent it at the traps, that also reappeared off to the side in the old ruins. The fire seemed to vanished at the line but really broke appear. Being now 3 balls of fire flying around inside of the sealed off trapped space. Coming right at the Bishop Lito. For the man to battle and put on a show of his strength for this lady witch.
((Welcome to this new place for a new side plot. Manusi is safe and off to the side. For when the character can react. No rush. Also like the old days, when leaving. Asking someone else to put the body somewhere safe till returning.))
Posted: Mon May 18, 2026 3:04 am
MissyPink
The ruined inn disappeared behind Darius with a soft pop that barely sounded louder than a bursting bubble, yet the sensation of displacement hit like cold water poured directly through his spine. One moment he had been standing amid collapsing timber and choking dust, the next his boots settled against uneven stone slick with old rain and moss. Ruins.
Ancient ones. Darius straightened slowly as the orb dissolved around him into drifting motes of pale light. The air here smelled entirely different from the city—wet earth, dead leaves, old stone, and the faint mineral scent of stagnant water somewhere deeper in the overgrown remains. No smoke. No ale. No burning wood. Just the heavy breath of wilderness reclaiming something forgotten.
Wind whispered softly through broken arches and collapsed pillars swallowed by vines. Somewhere in the dark forest beyond, insects chirred in uneven rhythm while distant branches creaked against one another overhead. The moonlight barely touched the place; most of the illumination came from strange magical glows reflecting off cracked stone and fragments of old runes buried beneath moss.
Darius’ eyes narrowed behind the mask as his heightened senses adjusted. He could still feel the residual magic in the air—Lady Ev’s work lingering like invisible threads stretched through the ruins. Refined. Controlled. Dangerous. His breathing slowed.
Then he saw her. The pink-haired woman moved through the dimness with that same unsettling grace she always carried, as though the shadows themselves made room for her. Cold blue eyes glimmered faintly in the low light while distant fire from Bishop’s containment flickered across the edges of her dress in orange and gold.
Darius watched in silence for a moment as she manipulated the traps and separated the captives with clinical patience. Detached heads. Floating fire. Fragmented bodies. To someone less experienced, the scene might have looked like madness.
To him, it looked calculated. Cruel perhaps—but precise. A low crackling sound echoed from the sealed trap nearby as the summoned fireballs circled Bishop’s confined space. Heat rolled outward in waves, carrying the bitter scent of burning air and scorched debris across the ruins. Darius finally stepped closer, boots crunching lightly over loose gravel and broken pottery fragments half-buried in dirt.
His forearm guards hung loose at his sides now, polymer wraps stained with dust and blood from the inn. A shallow cut along his arm still leaked slowly beneath the fabric, though his breathing remained calm, controlled. The masked man tilted his head slightly toward the woman.
“...Thank you for saving me,”he said at last, voice low and even beneath the mask. His gaze lingered on her glowing eyes before flicking briefly toward the trapped figures in the distance. “Whatever your name is.” The faintest pause followed.
Then Darius glanced around the ruins again, senses still alert despite the temporary calm. The old stones radiated age. History. Forgotten things. Even the silence here felt intentional.
A nearby flame reflected across the dark lenses of his mask as he folded his arms loosely over his chest.
“And somehow,” he added, watching the fire twist around Bishop’s prison, “I get the feeling this still isn’t the real reason you brought everyone here.” Darius adjusted the edge of his mask with two fingers, dark eyes flicking toward the distant glow of the sealed traps as smoke drifted through the ruined locale. “At your behest or as a favor.”
Darius slowly scanned the ruined area, boots grinding across ash and broken stone while the distant sounds of battle echoed through the shattered precinct. “Whole damn place feels cursed now,” he muttered behind the mask, venomous eyes narrowing through the drifting smoke.
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ImNoHero
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Posted: Tue May 19, 2026 11:07 am
MissyPink
Warrior Of El
Whether he wished to comply, Bishop was ejected through time and space away from the carnage he’d just wrought. Though at least he carries the solace of knowing he chased that punk off. On paper, the punk likely outclassed the irascible Meta. Though in practice Lito remains a maverick, an enigma. Once upon a time, he’d forged a reputation for himself as an underdog. Rife with violence.
As his eyes dilate, he remains poised, his blue hazel eyes first finding the true culprit to his detention. A woman. He grins wryly, exposing his chrome teeth as he snickers in response to her mild compliment. Whoever she was, whatever her cause, she needed muscle. Not just, but also something hard to kill. Resilient, like a roach.
His eyes narrow sharply despite his wry grin, and without rebut he faces the flame committed to him. His fingers uncurl and curl one by one against the handle of his modified morning star as the solemn fireball splits into three. As they approach, Bishop charges them. A moving target was harder to hit, though more importantly he was committed to facing his challenges head on whether self-imposed.
His hyperkinetic mind counts the fireballs, gauging each for distance, speed, and trajectory. He prioritizes them by order of proximity with himself. While he’d focus using his morning star first, Bishop was not beyond punching these fireballs. To him, there was a difference twixt merely being burned and fighting flame with fist. Regardless, by the time he bats the first fireball away with his morning star, Lito is seen inhaling deeper and swifter than his appearance spells is possible.
After batting the first fireball, he exhales violently, releasing a burst of gale force wind that assails the remaining fireballs. These fireballs were not as large or slow, though experience tells him he affects their trajectory all the same. Such was the way he defeated an actual draconic being. To think some half-cooked hybrid punk thought he could contend. Lito had nearly proved incapable of meaningfully damaging said draconic adversary, though they were more vulnerable when faced with their own prowess turned against them.
"I'd kill f' good head right 'bout now," he admits shamelessly, butchering the application of the Lady's words and rebranding them in varied context.
Posted: Wed May 20, 2026 6:56 pm
ImNoHero
the Bishop Lito.
Warrior Of El
the masked man Darius.
Old and partly still standing but many of the old stone walls had fallen in. The ruins could hardly be called building. No one could deny these are structures. Likely worth exploring in other circumstances. Anyone else outside this group could find what was standing in The Forest beyond The City Beautiful, that has stood there for who knows how many countless years. With stone floors of old thick stone slabs, that when walked on made a sound. When the lady was walking made a higher click sound with each step as her heels of shoes hit the ground with each step.
The traps moved many who each were caught on crossing the line into the traps the seals brought the ripped apart body parts to their designated spots. Too dark to notice if she had any ally traveling with her. Who was an ally left to wait here. The golden glowing lights arranged everything for the lady's next task to come. The body parts on each body placed and in separate traps based on priority and usefully-ness. At last what she found useful. As even in her many years of traveling to far off places, so few could follow her planning and logic. Even less were helpful. With sections of each body trapped to the side, each in a separate trap contained in a seal. As were some parts of wall that were also trapped in the moment the fight at the bar moved outside.
Where one wall had come partly down and was only partly still standing was a flat surface. That was the point where long row of heads each rested facing upright were lined up. Being like arm's length apart for their comfort but more for her working space too. The lady had paid almost no attention to her final arrival. She was willing to give Darius a glance, turning slightly on the heels of her shoes. That man was telling her something in the unspoken words in this dim light in the old ruin.
Ready to keep working, she same days loved to talk. To teach, to share. Especially with a captive audience that would rather not listen. Today she was working with in her thoughts and keeping the thought to her self. She could of shared there is no way out. Apart from through her. As her body and outward appearance was mostly only that, her magic within was the gate to being spit out of this cloaked area of the old ruins. Back out into the forest to likely keep running. Or risk the chance the lady might change her mind.
She had moved closer glanced at each who was here. One male among the heads looks to have chrome teeth.
She did not get the screams this time that would be for her and the group alone. Moves closer to the row of heads. Starting with the thought but also invoking thought by investigating the head's phantom limbs. For each would still feel the near by body off to the side, while also feeling the missing body parts as if still connected to the head. To the watchful eye, it looked like the lady only moving her arm around in the air. Done with one man, the mind was not informative. Seemed to not know what even he did in the fight, and with nothing to teach.
Standing looking at the head of the Bishop Lito, this man might be only second so far but was much better. She noticed him even grin back at her ad snicker as she made comments on her opinions. She did not miss, that his eyes were telling another story.
Those icy cold blue eyes were ready to learn. Wanting to know the events inside the bar, even if she would never go inside of such an establishment to see events happen first hand. What was more interesting, he was not like too many. Ready to yell at her, make idle threats. All because she was meddling in his mind. Now it was time to observe how the body would move and wait for how a counter attack starts. Being successful was in fighting back was besides the point.
Watching the headless body charge forward in the widen shape provided inside of the trap. The male taking on the first fireball as he was flying through the air. When the male the Bishop Lito, next chose to exhales. As the head and mind seem to already be feeling the burden... to possibly fight again so soon. The wind blowing over by the walls was strange as it moved through the old ruins not at a direct angle to where the spectacle was unfolding. What the lady had yet to lean from the Bishop Lito's style, this male had not been entune enough to pick up on the fire balls have zero trajectory. All soaring around to want to hit the target. Being the man in the trap, they did not move with any straight path.
The hands moved, she answers "No, that was too quickly. So hard to see. Let us try this again. Are those your real hands? With all the correct fingers in place." Still watching her mind questions aloud "Would this fall under mussel memory? Or is this a trained and practiced style being reenacted." Looking forward to testing which guess is right when the time is right.
Giving a small bit of attention to the only guest she brought here who was not trapped. Answering the masked man's comment "A destination is not evil or cursed. Landscape like lifeforms are always capable of good and evil. With all being mostly defined by terms used in books. Like how it is all through the eyes of beholder. Or that is all depends on who might use it. Or depends on how the life and location is used by each entity on any given day."
Almost ready now to give a hour long lecture, the lady moves on to explain "An evil old hag like me, back home most see curse." Willing to call her self that, even with out young she looked. That fact could be clear even with the dim shadow filled area. "My travels have show me some seemed cursed with drinking away time with some substance abuse. So a place with dark energy and angry feels that was residual from a life time ago does not always mean the worst. Maybe it is a helping hand to separate and protect work that is playing out." Oddly admitting to everyone, even she thought the old ruins seemed dark and intense.
Ready to get back to work, "Who had not killed to get ahead." Sometimes saying throw off the foreigner but a well placed play on words was something she could work with. Giving how much time she spends reading. And how many types of languages she could read in. She looks to the head and said "What is the name for that attack?"
(())
MissyPink
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Warrior Of El
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Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2026 10:49 pm
MissyPink
Darius stood in the ruins with dust still clinging to his jacket and the faint sting of smoke and blood lingering beneath his mask. The old forest air felt cooler here than it had in the collapsing inn, carrying the damp scent of moss, wet stone, and crushed leaves beneath the sharpest trace of magic still hanging in the space like invisible threads. Around him, broken arches and half-fallen walls rose from the dark like the bones of something long dead, their surfaces slick with age and shadow, while beyond them the forest waited in a hush broken only by the low crackle of trapped fire and the distant, muffled noise of struggle sealed away somewhere inside Lady Ev’s workings.
He had not missed the fact that she had chosen him differently. Darius’ eyes stayed on the strange field of containment, watching the way the golden lines held fast and the way the trapped fighters seemed separated from the world by more than distance alone. It was not just a prison. It was an arrangement. Inspection. A controlled study. He could feel that much in the air, in the tension of the spellwork, in the way the light seemed to bend and pool around the outlines of bodies and fragments of motion. The whole scene carried a strange stillness despite the violence inside it, as if the ruins themselves had become an examination chamber hidden in plain sight.
He remained quiet, posture loose but ready, letting his breathing settle as he took in every detail. The ground beneath his boots was uneven and cold, threaded with old roots pushing through cracked stone. A faint metallic scent drifted up whenever the magic surged, mixing with the earth and the lingering sting of scorched wood from the inn’s destruction. Somewhere nearby, something hissed softly as another magical effect shifted shape.
Darius watched Lady Ev with the same careful attention he gave any danger he could not yet name. She moved with the certainty of someone who already knew how this ended, and he understood enough to know he had been spared on purpose. That fact sat in his chest like a stone: not comfort exactly, not trust, but awareness. She had pulled him out. She had left the others in her design. And now she was studying what remained. He said nothing.
He only observed, dark eyes steady behind the mask, as the ruins held their breath around him. Darius watched the strange spectacle unfold across the ruined precinct, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to adjudicate whether Lady Ev was truly an ally or simply another danger wearing a calmer face. For the moment, he could not determine her ultimate intentions, so he remained silent and observant, trusting his senses more than anyone's words.
Darius let his gaze travel the length of the ancient ruins, tracing every fractured wall, broken archway, and flicker of contained magic as he searched for details others might overlook. To him, the night's chaos felt less like separate events and more like a single continuum, each battle, trap, and decision flowing into the next with unseen purpose connecting them all.
((Sorry for the wait I had some serious writer's block.))
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