Yup, he needed to get out of here. Veceslav was making a move to get them out of the library and into a hall, but Evander had no interest in finding a more comfortable place to 'chat', so he began to make that clear. “If you'll excuse me, I think I may just leave now,” he told the Witchers. “I've told you and Veera what I think of her idiotic plan, and that's all I have to talk to you about. It was a waste coming here anyway,” he sighed. “If I'd known what that girl was planning I would never have opened a portal here for her. Probably would have aimed it at a lake actually. Or the middle of the ocean, that would have taken care of her.” “Anyway, like I said, enough of this,” he declared, straightening up. “I'll be off and out of your hair.” Evander turned to face the wall and began concentrating. Just as he had gathered sufficient power and focus, he remembered something else he wanted to make clear. “By the way, if I hear wind of Veera or any other Witchers going off to commit mass murder, I'll kill them, okay? Just a heads up.” He prepared to open the portal. It was about three hours before sunset when Ellyn wandered into the small village of Pontarsfork, the long shadows of Oak and herself stretching out before them. Oak seemed to pick up his step as they entered, probably sensing that food and rest was near. Ellyn also perked up a little; she was tired, her armor was beginning to chafe her skin after almost two days of not removing it, and she was yearning for something to eat other than dry bread and overly-salted meat. Spotting a tavern among the houses, not very hard to do in such a small village, Ellyn made a line for it immediately, tying the reigns of her horse to a pole as well as leaving her lance leaning against the wall. She then stepped inside, ignoring Oak's whinny of objection to being left outside tied up and without food. The inside of the tavern was pleasant enough, mostly occupied by locals with the odd Nilfgaardian soldier among them. Ellyn hoped that for their own sake the soldiers didn't try to start anything, as was their habit when confronted by a long warrior, especially when it was a woman. Taking care not to stare anyone too long in the eyes, she made her way to the bar where a woman was working. “Good evening, ma'am,” Ellyn said to her in a friendly manner, at first not entirely sure how to address her. “I'm looking for a hot meal, which I'm sure you can provide, as well as a meal and bedding for my horse. He's just outside,” she asked, pointing somewhat superfluously to the door. “Also, would you know of where I can get a place to sleep? Just for one night, I'll probably be on the road again soon.”
Evander's impatience grew listening to Veceslav's accusations, and decided he had to say something at the very least. “You seem to be extremely confused about the order of events, Witcher. I know of the events that you're accusing me of being a part of, but I can assure you, sixty-seven years ago I was probably dead drunk and in a brothel. The time when I did break into this place occured quite a few years beforehand.” Having dealt with this annoyance, he now turned to face Aaron, who was declaring his intention to kill the doppler who had hurt his sister. Completely understandable, and Evander didn't blame him for this reaction. The young man did seem to have misunderstood Evander's stance on the matter, however. “Young Witcher, I too want this particular doppler dead. I know better than you do the full extent of the wounds he inflicted, and believe me, I wish him a particularly horrible death.” He paused, and coughed slightly. “However, I want him dead because of his actions, not his race. If he was a human I would have exactly the same attitude towards him. I've kill those I consider evil. Humans, dopplers, mages, and,” here he looked Aaron hard in the eyes, “Witchers.” Evander could have gone on, but he was interrupted both by the Witcher girl over to the side suddenly changing the topic and asking about the Mages Council, as well as the arrival of Derrick. Evander sighed, and went to lean against the wall. He was starting to get slightly anxious. He really needed to leave here, and get a drink.
Placeholder banner because I'm kinda stumped as to how to make this one look good. In a small clearing within some nondescript woods, a peasant man in tattered clothes lay across an old tree-stump, his arms and legs tied down the roots. He struggled against the bonds desperately, and terror-induced sweat glistening on his brow. He made a few pitiful groans as he squirmed, and then looked up at the knight standing over him. A huge sword, its point planted in the earth, stood inches away from the man's face. It rose to a height of about five feet, and it was held by the hilt by the gauntleted hand of a woman in shimmering steel armor. Her clear brown eyes stared down coldly at the man before her, and then she began to speak. “You, Rowan Untin, farmer, husband, father of one, have been brought here to be judged for your actions.” Her voice rung out sweetly in the clearing, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the barely audible of a brook nearby, but there was a steeliness in her tone that made the man before her shudder. He looked up at her desperately. “Yes, me name is Rowan, but I ain't done anything, me lady,” he pleaded to her. “I's just want to go home, de missus'll -” “You are here today accused of wife-beating, rape, and murder,” she declared, interrupting him. “What say you?” Towan swallowed hard. “I only hit her once, I was angry, righ', and I told her I was sorry and bought her a new broom to prove it an' all,” he swallowed hard again, seeing his explanation had seemingly no effect on the woman. “I'll never do it again, promise... please.” “You freely admit to this crime, and try to make excuses for it,” the knight continued. “And yet it is only one of the charges brought against you.” “I ain't ever killed no one,” Rowan declared vehemently, suddenly glaring up at her defensively. She returned his gaze coolly. “Anna Karwa, fourteen, daughter of a nearby father. Found dead in a stream not too far from here. Raped and killed.” Her eyes blazed fiercely for a moment. “Not necessarily in that order.” This sudden reveal of a crime Rowan had thought he had buried forever shook him to the core. How could this woman know? And a woman to boot. A fucking woman. How dare she confront him like this, Rowan, a proud, honest man who by his birthright had dominion over ALL women? “Fuck you,” he spat out at her. “Anna was a whore, she offered to serve me and I was prepared to pay her double the rate so that I could do anything to her. She tried to back out at the last minute, but she couldn't, how could I let her? It would be bad for her business. So when she tried to run, I hit the bitch, tried to knock some sense into her. She still resisted, so what could I do? I had to hit her again, and then again, and again and again and again. It's not my fault the slut died. She should have let me have me way and taken her pay.” He glared up at the knight. “It was for her own good, you see?” The woman looked away from him, too sickened by his perverted excuses for his crime to look him in the eyes. After a few moments she turned back to him with a new fury in her eyes. “You freely admit to all crimes brought against you. I, Ellyn of Greenwood, judge you as guilty, and pass upon you the sentence of death.” “I TOLD YOU, IT WASN'T MY FAULT, SHE DIDN'T –” “I enact this sentence with this holy sword, Soulblade,” Ellyn continued inexorably, “by what authority has been given unto me by higher powers. If my judgment be amiss, and I taken the blood of an innocent, may this sword take my own life. Any final words?” “FUCK YOU WHORE, WHY DON'T YOU BEND OVER AND I'LL SHOW YOU –” With a rapid motion, Ellyn swirled her sword into a downward arc, and with a clean, slicing blow severed Rowan Untin's head from his body. It rolled a few feet away and stopped to rest among some long grass. Ellyn turned away and began striding out of the clearing. As she reached the tree-line however, she felt her legs quiver and then she was doubled over, retching. Are you ok? a voice asked her. Ellyn nodded weakly. “I still don't like blood, Lilly. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.” That's a good thing, I would say. A warrior shouldn't ever become desensitized to ending another life, Lilly reassured her. It is a hard path to walk, but you are strong enough for it. Ellyn nodded, and straightened up, forcing herself to calm down. She continued on, pushing into the woods beyond the clearing, and went up to a dark colored horse tied loosely to one of the trees. “Lets go, Oak*,” she told him, jumping up into the saddle easily and quickly, tugging to the right gently at the reigns. As Oak walked slowly through the trees back to the road they had come this way by, Ellyn once again consulted the spirit in the sword. “So, you said this village is a few hours ride away. Which way?” East. Pontarsfork is east. You and Oak will be able to get some decent rest for once. Ellyn smiled at that thought. * Oak was called Willow in my app, but since Sam now has a character by that name, here's a name change :p
Evander glared at Veceslav in response to the other man's accusations, but remained silent. He wasn't particularly interested in explaining how he actually hadn't killed anyone that day, and besides, if the old man hadn't figured that out himself then Evander didn't think it mattered what he said. Veera then explained why they were here, and then Tatiana told the man that it was her fault they were here. Evander muttered something along the lines of 'don't be silly', but his attention was taken by the appearance of a young Witcher, who was, it soon became apparent, Tatiana's brother. He soon turned his mind to what Veera had said, however. The extermination of the doppler race. What a joke. “What makes you think that every doppler is going to turn bad, huh?” he challenged her. “D'you think they're all just sitting there plotting which human they're going to murder next, eh? No, the vast majority of them are hiding in what shelter they can find, trying to figure out how the hell they're going to survive when the next Witcher comes by.” He stood there fuming for a few mintues, glaring at Veera. He had decided that he really didn't like the homicidal bitch. He glanced over at Veceslav and Aaron. The old man would probably be more than willing to go along with what Veera said, but perhaps the younger Witcher would be more pliable. “Young man, Aaron,” Evander called to him, stepping a little closer. “Perhaps you will listen to reason, and answer a few questions of mine honestly. There is some hope that the Witcher code hasn't completely overshadowed your humanity. Tell me, do you believe that all dopplers should die? And I mean all of them, Veera seems to have made it very clear that is who she wants to target. So the killers and rapists among them, but also the farmers and physicians who have integrated peacefully with society. The young and fit, the men, the women, the children, the old and sick and dying. Do you feel that it is right to kill every single last one of them? And if you don't, could you still lift your sword against them, and burn their homes to the ground?” Evander suddenly realized that his voice had been steadily climbing to almost a yell, and took a deep breath. “Before you answer that though, you could also ask your sister what she thinks.” He left it at that. Before any of the killing started, perhaps he could at the very least weaken the Witcher ranks, sow dissent between the old established and narrow-minded Witchers, and their newer less indoctrinated subordinates. With any luck, all of this would end in a few words, or at the worst a schism within Kaer Morhen. Evander knew though that this was likely far from the case.
Evander fidgeted as he waited for everyone to hurry up and go on through the portal. As soon as the last person went through, he figured he would close the portal and go about his business here in Novigrad. The first business being to get blind drunk once again. He fancied blacking out for the next few days, he'd used more magic today than he had in the past few months total. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the light, cool fingers of a woman on his cheek, and before he knew what was happening Tatiana had kissed him on his forehead. He mumbled something incoherent in response to her offer of companionship, and looked down at the ground confused. I wasn't looking for anyone to give a fuck about me, goddammit, he told himself. Evander stared after the three as they went through the portal, and hesitated, unsure of what he should do. He was more than of half mind to simply shut the portal down right away as he had initially planned, but he couldn't for some reason. Tatiana had piqued a wary curiosity in him, and something like warmth inside. It was a strange feeling, not something he could remember feeling in a long while. With a reluctant sigh, Evander stepped through the portal, finding himself inside Kaer Morhen's library. He hadn't exactly planned to land right within the chambers that contains the Witchers most valuable secrets, and it probably would have been much better that he hadn't considering his past encounters with them... but it was too late for that now. He looked around at the shelves warily. “I don't suppose there's some drinks around here?” he asked gruffly.
Evander only half-listened to what Veera had to say, only taking note of the destination she wanted to go to and her obvious hate for dopplers and other such creatures. As for her plan to gather all the Witchers, it didn't really interest or concern him. He would get her, and more importantly to him Tatiana, to Kaer Morhen, and then wash his hands of the matter. The thought of Witcher fortress brought make a mix of memories. “Ah, Kaer Morhen,” Evander sighed, and then frowned slightly. “Last time I was there, I had to break through the walls to get to a pesky Witcher who had gotten herself mixed up in something way over her head.” He glanced over at Veera. “This was a long time ago, of course, but some of your old timers might still hold some grudges. I'm going to need your word that they won't lop my head off.” Suddenly he clapped, and started moving his shoulders back and forth to warm up. “Alright, I'm as sober as I'll ever be, so lets get this portal up and running.” Evander walked over to a wall, and stared at it intently for a few moments. “Mmm, I suppose this will do,” he muttered to himself, backing off a few steps and looking over his shoulder at the others. “One of you go get Tatiana, I'd much rather not have to keep this thing open for too long.” As he said this, he waved his hand casually towards the wall, and all of a sudden a swirling green portal burst out of it, sucking in the air of the room towards it, tugging at the lighter items littered around the room. Evander brushed aside some hair that was blown into his face, and looked at the others expectantly. “I'm dying for a drink,” he added, more to himself than anyone else.
"First you break into a house, now you're tugging the sheets off some lying in bed. You're not good at first impressions are you?" Evander groaned inwardly and looked over at the man standing in the doorway. The words annoyed him because, to be completely honest with himself, they were true. He knew that he was acting like a real creep right now, despite nothing being further from his intentions, but he didn't feel like he could help it right now. He would apologize later on. He answered the man. “Look, I didn't come here to make friends, okay? I know I'm just a fucking drunk old man, but I heard someone being hurt, and I reacted in what seemed like the most efficient manner at the time, if not the best. Now stay quiet for a moment while I heal this girl up, and then I'll disappear from all three of you.” He resolutely turned back to Tatiana, taking in a sharp breath in response to what he now saw. While he had been talking the girl had dropped her blanket, revealing her torn-up body beneath. It sickened him. Forcing himself to stay calm for the moment, he examined the wounds and made a note of their locations. Then he returned his eyes to Tatiana's and smiled encouragingly. “It looks like the worst of it is over, but I'm sure you feel like shit. The side effects of that poison Witcher's call medicine,” he told her, nodding towards the room where Veera was. “Now, I'm going to focus on you for a moment and identify any internal wounds or scarring you may have. The Witcher's potion will have healed them, no doubt, but their medicine leaves scars and complications behind. Mage's healing does not,” he explained. He paused, not really knowing if anything he was saying was registering. She was barely half-conscious, if even that, but he had to say something... “I'll also be able to remove the side-effects of the Swallow. You'll have a clearer mind after that,” he continued somewhat halfheartedly. She really wasn't taking any of this in, he feared. Without further ado, Evander placed three of his fingers on her forehead, and the palm of his other hand on the small of her back. He found that it made it easier for him to deal with the patient, although from a theoretical standpoint physical contact was completely unnecessary. What mattered was that the mage was focused on the target. “This might tingle,” he told her, before closing his eyes. To the casual observer, it would have seemed that absolutely nothing was happening, and that Evander was probably a drunken loony. Not entirely wide of the mark, but a little unfair. To Evander however, it was truly and out-of-body experience. He became completely aware of Tatiana's body; the shaky, shallow breaths, the individual hairs on her arm, the slight beginnings of a wrinkle brought on by stress to a face too young for it, the blood pumping through her veins, the ugly ridges of the scars the blade had left in her flesh. At this point in time Evander was more aware of this other persons body than most people were aware of their own. This also came with the risk that he would completely lose any awareness of his own body, thus becoming severed from it and being doomed to roam the world as a powerless, undying spirit. Or he could just forget to breath. That had also been known to happen. Once he had established this level of awareness, he could use his magic without fear of damaging her further. A warm energy pulsed from his fingers down, through her body, and out of her back into the palm of his hand. It was important that he removed the magical energy; if too much was left behind, it could drive the patient insane. Evander opened his eyes and removed his hands. Tatiana would feel much better and clearheaded now. Probably still tired, but that would be from the stress the days events had inflicted on her. He lifted the blanket and wrapped it around her now smooth body, before standing up. “I remember you now, Tatiana,” he smiled sadly. “Under very different circumstances, of course, and perhaps you don't remember me at all. It doesn't really matter.” He nodded once more and began to leave the room. “One more thing. That doppler, the one who did this to you,” he added over his shoulder. “If you ever see him again, and I'm anywhere nearby, point him out to me. I'll kill him.” He said this calmly as he sauntered out past Kruez in the doorway, but something cold glinted in his eyes. Stopping in the next room, Evander looked over at Veera. “Please don't give her any more of your Witcher medicine,” he told her. “It's not good for humans. You should really refine that stuff. Anyway, you said something about portals and shit. I'm not really interested in what you're planning, but if you're taking Tatiana with you to keep her safe, then I suppose I can help you for a little while. Where do you want to go?”
Username: Frosch Character Name: Ellyn Greenwood. Age: 28 Gender: Female. Race: Doppler. Appearance: Click here. Or not. Your choice, I don't own you. Bio: Spoiler As a doppler, Ellyn quickly came to know what discrimination was, and how it could destroy the very soul of a person. Before she had reached the age of five she personally experienced this persecution both kill and drive insane her closest family, leaving only she and her father alive. Having lost the rest of his entire family and being forced into abject poverty, Ellyn's father became a husk of the man he had once been, furious at the world and fate, hating humanity, eager to just end it all, and at the same time fiercely protective of his daughter with a frightening savageness. He was a good father to her, however, and they loved each other. As Ellyn grew older she could very well have learned to hate the world with the same ferocity as her father. However, she rose above this, and instead chose to try to change the world into a place where anyone who lived there would be judged not by their race or appearance, but by their actions. She became a do-gooder, helping the people of her town in small ways, such as helping the peasants in the fields gather their crops in the harvest time, and giving what food she could to those who were as poor as her and her father. In time the townsfolk came to regard her with as much affection as they held fear of her father. Sometime, at the young age of fifteen, when she was wandering through a new part of the nearby woods, she came upon a small, hidden hollow surrounded by trees bushes. Within the hollow was a pond, and on the surface of the pond floated a sword. It was when she realized that the sword was indeed floating on the water that Ellyn felt the magical charge in the atmosphere. Her body screamed at her to leave, to run and not look back. But for some reason she felt as if the sword was calling her, and she somehow new that if she left this place now she would never again be able to find it. So, she waded into the pond, pushed through the water towards the sword and, with the water up to her chest at this point, grasped the sword firmly. Hello child. The voice pierced through her mind, and the sword suddenly burst into a golden flame. She almost dropped it, only barely stopping herself as she felt it would somehow be disrespectful. Don't be afraid, sweet one. I am a friend, or at least mean to be. You have been chosen to do great things. “Wh-who are you?” Ellyn whispered in return, looking around vainly for someone else in the hollow, but all the while knowing where the voice really came from. I am the soul of a long dead warrior who has been imbued into this blade. This sword is called Soulblade. Rather apt, I must admit. Ellyn cleared her throat, staring into the golden flames flickering along the blade. “What's going on?” The voice chuckled, but in a kind, friendly way. It's the start of a new life for you. Powers far beyond those of any mortal have decreed that you and I should work together for good. They have watched you grow, and give, and love, and now it is time for you to grow, give, and love some more, in a greater way. I shall help you in your path, and together we shall make this world a better place. Ellyn's fear began to subside, and instead became curious with a tinge of hope mingled in. “You mean help people help each other? Stop them hating each other and themselves? Stop them killing because of their fears?” A warm glow of approval filled Ellyn's mind. All of that and more, dear one. There is a lot for you to learn, and for me to learn about you as well, but we have time. “What is your name?” The voice was silent for a moment. Someone used to call me Lilly. You can use that name. Under the guidance of the soul within the sword, Ellyn grew strong. She learned to fight both to kill and to subdue, to ride into battle, and how to reason with those who had been driven to violence through desperation. She rehabilitated bandits, slew trolls, and led bands of warriors against those who desired death and suffering upon others. She developed a reputation as a force of good, and became known as Ellyn of Greenwood after the area where she had grown up, and as the Stag Knight after the emblem on her shield. She wandered from town to town, righting wrongs and helping those who needed it, all the while making sure that her father back at home was adequately taken care of. The people also spoke in murmurs of how her sword would burst into a holy flame when the dangers surrounding them were darkest. Occupation: Knight errant. Weapons: An eleven foot lance, and a magical sword named Soulblade. Secondary Weapon: A shield. (I mean, it's not really a weapon, but I guess she could hit you on the head with it?) Powers: N/A Other:Widely known as the Stag Knight, rides a horse named Willow, and wears steel armor.
Without further comment, Evander walked past Veera into the back room. It wasn't a large room, so it wasn't hard to spot the bed to the side and the slim figure huddled in it. Evander crossed over to Tatiana, and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "Hello young lady," he said to her kindly. "My name is Evander. I heard you were in pain, so I came to help you." He tugged at the sheets slightly, indicating that he wanted them removed. "This might be a bit embarrassing for you," he explained to her, "but please cooperate for now. I want to take a look at your wounds and do what I can to heal them. I hear the Witcher already did what she could, but well, Witchers have their own way of dealing with injuries," he grinned. He once again tugged at the sheets. "May I?"
Halfway through the Witcher's 'proposition', Evander was already getting bored. He had absolutely no interest in going off to save the world and its inhabitants, assuming that was what she even had planned, as she hadn't exactly given any detail on what was so urgent that she needed half the goddamn mages and Witchers in the world. No, he would much rather turn around without any more discussion and head to the nearest brothel for a good helping of ale, and at the very least three women. He wasn't about to leave however. He still hadn't figured out who had been hurt and why. Perhaps this Witcher had simply forgotten to mention it, but she could very well be hiding what she had done and was now trying to make him forget what he had come here for. Her name stirred a faint memory in his mind though. “Veera of Velen,” he said pensively, looking at her closely for some visual clue as to why he would know of her. Then he snapped his fingers as remembered. “Otherwise known as the White Lady. Pleasure to meet you.” He paced over to the side, away from the door, and leaned against the wall in a position that allowed him to watch both Veera and the newcomer at the door. He didn't know if the two were working together, or it was some random guy wondering what was going on, but he Evander didn't particularly feel comfortable standing with his back to him. “So, your plan with the portals and scrying is all very interesting, although you haven't mentioned at all what the hell it's for, but none of that is what I came here for.” His gaze became much more serious now. “The girl who was in pain. Where is she?” he demanded. “Then maybe we'll talk some more.”
No sooner had he stepped through the door than a crazy girl with a sword was all up in his face. His body jerked backwards in an instinctive reaction away from the arcing blade, but the sword still sliced through his clothes leaving a shallow cut on his chest. After taking two or three rapid steps backwards, Evander assumed a combat stance, his right hand going to the hilt of his own sword, and his left stretched out palm down, drawing on his power to lift the earth from beneath the house through the floorboards to attack the woman from beneath. A flash of yellow stopped him though. Now that he'd taken a proper look at his opponent, Evander could see that this was a Witcher. He cut the channel of power to the ground beneath and dropped his hand from his hilt, stretching his palms outward to signify that he meant no harm. "Let's chill for a moment, shall we?" he proposed. "I wasn't coming here for a fight. I heard some screams, and thought I'd better come check them out," he explained. Evander knew that, for the most part, Witcher's weren't the sort to attack random townspeople for the hell of it. Meaning that whoever that woman who had screamed was, this Witcher had either helped alleviate the pain by now, or had killed the ones causing it. In that case they were on the same side, even if she didn't know it. However, there was always the possibility that this woman was not a friend. Perhaps she was the one who had attacked the person he was trying to help. He blinked hard as a wave of pain pierced through his head. The sooner he calmed this chick down and established what the hell was going on, the sooner he could go get a beer. Preferably this would all be solved without more bloodshed, but if it came to it, well, he'd killed Witcher's before. He felt a trickle of blood pass down his torso. "So, you want to put that sword down now?"
Evander was lost. He had been sure of where he was before, especially when he had spotted over the roofs of the nearby buildings the twin spires of one particularly fancy public building, but apparently his route of right left right right up the stairs and left did not lead in the direction he had supposed. Which was very very annoying. Right now he wanted an ale and at the very least three belly-dancers performing in front of him, but it seemed that fate had decreed that he could not have those things right now. Cruel, cruel fate. "Dammit, I'm starting to sober up as well," he groaned to himself, rubbing his now aching head. And the screams of the woman weren't helping either. What the hell was she even screaming about? What reason could there possibly be for- He cut this train of thought short, and listened more closely. From what Evander could tell, those were screams of pain, and while it wasn't really his business, and he really wasn't in a condition to be doing anything other than drinking himself into a coma... he grudgingly made his way towards the noise and, after a few minutes triangulating the exact position of the area where the sound was coming from, ascertained that its origins were from within a particular house. He thought so anyway, the screaming had by now ceased. Which meant that the person was now not getting hurt, or had been healed, or perhaps was simply dead. Either way, there wasn't much point in knocking on the door, Evander decided, so he took the next best, most natural and cool headed approach, and simply kicked the door down. Well, attempted too. The door, while perhaps not the sturdiest, thwarted Evander's half-sober kick, causing him too stumble over and hit his head on the door frame. "Bollocks," he explained, rubbing his head vigorously. "Alright door, you wanna take me on?" he asked the inanimate object threateningly. "Well then lets go, bitch." With his weight and strength, drunk Evander slammed his fist into the center of the door, pouring all his rage into the strike as well. It was a blow that would have slain titans and made the gods flinch. Evander instantly crumpled into a fetal position, his whole body wrapped around his fist in a futile attempt to ease the pain. After a few moments of cursing and tears, Evander slowly raised himself up, still clutching at his throbbing hand. Fuck it. Evander would much rather have not used magic, it was a great way to get noticed and have a thousand bloody peasants suddenly turn to him and plead for him to find something random like fifteen bear hides for gods know what. It was like these people thought it was a game or something. However, looking up and down the street, there didn't seem to be anyone around right now, conveniently enough. Using the hand that wasn't suffering from door-inflicted injuries, Evander brought his arm slowly up, palm facing upward. The earth in front of him rose and stretching into a four foot high column in front of him. Evander then waved his hand quickly over to the right towards the door. The earth-column slammed against the door, knocking it off its hinges and several feet across the floor. After quickly returning the earth column to the ground and smoothing it so that there were no traces of what he had done, Evander stepped through the now empty doorframe, the splinters crunching under his feet. It suddenly occured to him that perhaps this house was empty. After all, he had kicked and then punched the door, and received no response. On the other hand, if the woman had been screaming that much and now was not, she could very well be unconscious. Only one way to find out, really. "All right, bitches, Evander is in the house! The hell is going on in here?"
With a blast of light and a resonating rumble throughout the house, Evander appeared spectacularly and unannounced within the home of some poor sod. He was tall, he was reasonably handsome, at least when he was in a good mood, and he was ready to smack some succulent booty. As such, he let his presence be known, as if it wasn't already, to the rotund middle-aged lady staring at him from the corner of the room. "Greetings, fair mistress,” he grinned, “It is I, Evander, and I am here to partake of your establishments services! Eh, I take them slim, mind you,” he added delicately. “You what?” the woman asked him incredulously, fingering the frying pan in her hands. Evander began to feel a little disconcerted at this point, and looking around realized that he was in a kitchen, not at all the sort of place he had hoped to end up in. “Ehm... I was hoping this was Henry Holden's Honorable Whoring House... have I taken a wrong turn?” The woman turned red in the face and put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like a prostitute to you, young man?” she demanded. “Well, not my personal taste perhaps, but they come in all shapes and sizes you know, demand and all that, certain people wou-” He ducked to avoid the flying missile that the pan became after the woman threw it. “GET OUT!” she demanded, grabbing a pot and a knife that were nearby. “I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE YOU PERVERT!!!” Rather than face an angry woman with a knife, Evander preferred to make good his escape. Luckily, there was a window directly to his right, and he dove headfirst through it. Unluckily, it was a second story window overlooking a busy street somewhere in Novigrad. As he slowly flipped over through the air, Evander could easily have put his centuries of magical knowledge to good use, or conjured up some sort of moving rock thing to catch him, but he didn't really want to attract any more attention than a random mad falling out of a second story building would attract. However, he couldn't help but ask himself, why in the goddamn hell was there a kitchen on the second story of a building? With a thud and what to him sounded exactly like the cracking of exactly all of the bones in his body, Evander landed on his back in the middle of the street with dozens of people all around looking down at him in confusion, up at the window from where he had flown and the angry woman yelling incomprehensibly from it, and back down to him. None of them offered to help him up though. They were much too confused for that. After several moments of groaning and ineffectual attempts to get to his feet, Evander finally managed to rise and make good his escape among the crowd before any of them could figure out that the angry red-faced woman was trying to tell them that he was a dirty teleporting pervert that had tried to seduce her. All things considered, Evander probably shouldn't have attempted the teleportation while blind drunk. But at least he had arrived at Novigrad, and that meant that Henry Holden and his whores were within reach.
*Plop* Username: Frosch Character Name: Evander the Stonemason. Age: 368 Gender: Male Race: Mage Appearance: <This is a risky link, probably> Bio: Evander was the child of two stonemasons, owners of a reputable and profitable business in the town of Aldersberg. They loved their son very much, spoiled him rotten, and dreamed of him becoming a famous and much a more skillful stonemason than they could ever be. They did not quite expect just how skilled with stone their son would become. It was the way that Evander could squeeze pebbles into different shapes and the gouges he would take out of the brick walls with playful kicks that alerted his parents to the fact that he was a special child, a Source. His parents gave him up to a school of sorcery, and for many years he trained in and later worked for the school, always being remarkably adept with the manipulation of earth and rock. Evander's first major career position as adviser to the King of Aedirn, carrying out the usual duties of a court mage as well as assisting in military strategy and taking part in operations within the Nilfgaardian Empire. It was around this time, at the age of one-hundred and twelve, that he was given a prominent position within the Council of Mages, and soon after was promoted to the more powerful Chapter of Mages. Life was relatively simple, his wealth and influence increased, and he established his own school of sorcery upon Mount Carbon. Then he met Iaspis, a young, talented swordswoman, during a mission in Nilfgaard. They fell in love, and began a life together. Evander's various duties meant that Iaspis tended to be constantly tagging along with little to do, but to occupy their free time she took it upon herself to train him to use a sword, and how to not die in a brawl. Iasipis, however, was only human. Age crept up on her, and towards her latter years she wasn't able to cope with the long journeys and infrequent stops Evander had to make, and so she began to more regularly wait in their home upon Mount Carbon, making the most of the times when Evander was actually home. Until she died. When this happened Evander immediately returned home to bury her and mourn, dropping even his most urgent errands. It was during this mourning period that the Thanedd Coup occurred, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers was destroyed, and the mages became fragmented and hostile towards each other. Evander blamed himself for a great part of this, and fell into a deeper depression than that he already felt from Iaspis' death. Drink and whores became his companions, he abandoned his duties to Aedirn, the school upon Mount Carbon that he had invested so much into fell into ruin, and Evander himself became a wandering wastrel taking on quick, easy jobs to rake in enough gold to pay for the next alcohol fueled orgy. Occupation: Odd jobs. Weapons: Steel longsword. Secondary Weapon: N/A. Powers: Earth manipulation. Evander can shift and pull the earth into different shapes and forms. Rock golem: Can create a golem. With more time and concentration he can create larger and more powerful golems. Rock armor: Evander creates a protective armor of stone, as well as a large stone sword to wield. Pulverization: With powerful kicks and thrusts, Evander can disintegrate stone instantly. Handy for when he wants to break through a wall, or when some other mage hurls a boulder at his head. Plus all the other magic mages can use that take a while to set up (like teleportation and scrying, for example). Other: I like bagels, and I'm starving as I type this out, so you should probably send me bagels through the post, kk? Kk.
Rennette used Barrier Surge,and blocked for Gaius. Oh no. This makes me so anxious.
Rennette used Esuna on Veilen. Mizuki just kinda glared at Baltazar (that is not how you spell his name but I don't give a flying ****). Time is ticking, or something.
Peter suddenly remembered that Rennette had Esuna equipped. Whoops! Rennette used Esuna on Charlotte.
Pablo had thrown Rennette off several times now, and attacked her comrades further. He even attacked her, although with a spell that did no damage, even if it did look awesome. Perhaps there was a lingering reluctance to harm her specifically. Perhaps. However, Rennette knew that this fight couldn't be resolved merely by talking to the Sheep King who she once knew as a lamb. Invoking memories didn't always work was well as she would like. "Rennette is sorry Pablo, but you are behaving really badly," she told Pablo sternly, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "Rennette is going to have to punish you for this. Sorry." Rennette used Barrier Surge, blocking for Gaius. (I've seriously got to stop forgetting to block for peeps.) Mizuki went down the Dark Red End, I guess.
Rennette used Aero on Pablo. She is very disappointed with him. :c Mizuki glared at Malkira, surprise!, and went to explore the blue dead end.
Mizuki went North and around that corner. She still glaring, and still hates everyone's guts. Probably an F-bomb muttered every now and then as well. Good times.
