Cerril Vadrimrin, Tuv's Solar

You've been wandering through the Marukani Rangelands trying to make a living for yourself in the years since the horrendous attack on Thorns. Until you took the Second Breath and became one of the Chosen. Since then, you've been learning more about your skills, honing them and finding ways to combine them for better effect. Given the power and ability to make changes in the world, you vow to find a way to bring the oppressor of Thorns to his knees. You presume that Celeren would be a great place to go, but the services you could find there would be too expensive or you'd be too hard-pressed to acquire. So you travel to Mishaka, a smaller city to the northeast of Celeren.

Arriving in Mishaka after the long trip, you find yourself slightly weary, a bit hungry, and wanting some company and entertainment. So, you decide to go to a nearby pub to satisfy all of those needs at once. After eating, drinking, and enjoying yourself for a while, you hear a loud commotion outside. Stepping outside to look, you find the townspeople all stepping to the side as a group of men in various colored Jade armor chase a tan-robed figure down the street.

Hmm, Dragon-Blooded. I wonder why they are running after that man. Not very civilized behavior, I would have to knock 'em down a peg or two if they were in... Cerril shakes his head. I had better get my bearings on what is going on before doing anything crazy...

Cerril strides out into the street trying to look his gruffest, then raises an arm before the mob of multicolored miscreants. "Hey now, what is this all about? who is that, and why are you chasing them?"

This... may not be the best idea ever... we will see

One of the men pushes you to the side. "Out of the way, filth!" he shouts as they continue running after the robed figure.

Cerril sways slightly as the men push past him in a fit. Well, that was rude... I don't like being ignored...

Cerril reaches for his back, grasping the hilt of his precious sword firmly. The sheathe falls away, nothing more than a wrapping of simple cloth to keep it from cutting at his clothing. The newly revealed blade glistens in the sunlight, and quickly falls to the dusty earth.

"Don't just ignore me!" Cerril yells

Then he hefts the great blade up and around, swinging downward and turning it ever so slightly to catch the earth. Trying to fling it forth at the very rude and oddly colored men that just buffeted him about. The sword falls almost naturally to his side after having traveled the large crescent, the tip pointing behind him and away from the men, supported by his right hand, and led by his left.

"How dare you presume to tell me what to do! I'll teach you some respect, wretch!" the man in the red armor fumes as he spins around. His face portrays a bit of surprise in seeing your weapon drawn as he draws his own long red blade. "Do you honestly think you could win against me, peasant?" He stands prepared, waiting for you to make the first move, a look of great confidence and a small amount of amusement playing on his face.

The other men in his group had continued chasing the robed man, now well down the street and around the corner.

You hear a man speaking from the crowd in a hushed voice, presumably to you, "That man in the robe is a murderer trying to escape. You are probably the only one that doesn't know. Now please calm down and let this man do his job."

Murderer eh? That may be true, but that is an outrageous way to treat a murderer. I don't know if they are in an army of some sort, but they should be punished either way.

Cerril spits to the side. "You disgust me, chasing down an unarmed man. Whether I could win or not would not stop me from fighting injustice. But I bet my training trumps your bravado."

"LET US SEE!" and with that Cerril charges forward, bringing his weapon to bear by dragging it forward, a deep carving cut with the blade arcing over his head and back down to his ready position.

I didn't want this, but it seems like common courtesy and honor have rotted from this place.

Bringing his weapon down to block yours, he miscalculates the arc of your swing. As your sword slashes across him, he winces in pain.

Gathering himself from the force of your blow, he spins around and brings his blade down upon your shoulder. You now faintly see the outline of a red dragon, it's jaw open wide surrounding the sword as if it were to bite you as the blade dug in.

Seeing the incoming danger, and not wanting to know what would happen if that blow connected, limps his body, falling downwards and out of the way.

Damn... I underestimated him

Cerril drives his sword into the ground, pushing him closer to the man, and re-righting his body.

Through your dodgings and maneuverings, he still manages to strike you with his dragon-surmounted sword. The blade itself doesn't seem to do much, but when his strike hits you, the essence-dragon bursts into flames, searing your flesh for the short time it burns.

Accuracy: 12 dice = 8 Successes - 5 PDV = 3 Threshold
Raw Damage: 9L + 3 Threshold + 4L (Dragon-Graced Weapon) = 16L
Damage: 16L Raw -9L Soak = 7L Damage dice --> 2L damage levels
2Lhl of damage dealt. -1i penalty to all following actions

With a smirk and an overconfident maneuver, he pulls his Daiklave back, then thrusts it forward again trying to impale you, the blade surmounted again by the glittering dragon trails.

So much for subtlety...

Cerril stand still, and the man thrusts forward, his blade seemingly finding purchase. A flash of bright white light issues forth, leaving Cerril unscathed and unimpressed.

"You have chosen the wrong foe to think so lightly of" Cerril says, a toothy grin dominating his face.



(Seven Shadow Evasion, using Peripheral Motes)

Dazzled by the light, he blinks a few times and seems surprised as he realizes that his attack had no effect. After a moment, he notices the glittering mark on your forehead, his eyes widening and his stance wavering. Fear begins to creep into his features as he stands in front of you, unable to speak.

((Your action))

Time to finish it...

Cerril lowers his stance, pulling his legs into position. His boots drag across the dirt of the street making the faintest of scuffing noises. The sound of his movement is immediately apparent, the crowd and men before him are deadly quiet. Cerril can't quite tell if they were this quiet before his flashy dodge, but it did not matter any more.

"You sit in your decadent life, sure of your power and position. You opress those weaker than you, bully those that don't like it, and kill those who oppose you. But when one has the strength to stop you, what do you do? What will you do when your armies fail and your power wanes? You will be but one of many."

"I grew up, knowing to respect your kind above all others. That there were beings of pure evil, the Anathema, that sought the downfall of all that I loved..."

Cerril raises his fist in front of his face.

"But now I know what to truly fear, not you, not the Anathema, I... Fear... NO ONE!"

He can feel a kind of power, like a fire bursting from deep within himself, it becomes a tidal wave, and sweeps all thought from his mind. Cerril bursts forward, straight at the frightened Dragon-Blooded, seemingly about to collide, he stops short and uses the momentum to his advantage letting his feet leave the ground and he begins to spin. The Blade... His Blade... Skits along the ground below him kicking up dust, until his first revolution has come to an end.

The blade crashes down upon the quivering man, like a wave of death, but that is not the end of the act. The blade meets the ground again, but Cerril does not yet fall, he keeps himself aloft with the force remaining from the last blow, as he begins to twist his body and spin again. Another bladed wave strikes and then another, but this time, when the blade hits the ground it digs in with a loud *Shk*, catapulting Cerril up and over, to land on the other side of his foe.

Combo - Steel-Leaf Shower: Hungry Tiger Technique, Peony Blossom Attack, Seven Shadow Evasion
3 attacks, 9m 1w - Motes spent from Peripheral pool. Anima effect now activated automatically

Eyes widening at the sudden increase in your stature, but steadying himself for the incoming attack, the man pulls his blade above himself at just the right moment, catching your sword upon it and causing a multitude of gold and blue sparks to go flying from the clash of metal directly into your eyes, blurring your vision.

Attack 1
Accuracy: 12 dice - 1 Wound Penalty = 2 Successes + 2 Stunt - 5 PDV = Parried
Blinding Spark Distraction: Cerril's Wits 2 + Dodge 4 = 2 Successes = Success (-2 die for all attacks until next Action)
Spent 2m for Blinding Spark Distraction from Peripheral

Delightfully surprised that he was able to parry your first strike, his face became that of horror as you continue your assault. He flails in a futile attempt to block your continuing strikes. Unable to match your prowess with the blade, he is forced to burn off his essence.

Your second slash hits him squarely in the shoulder. Large billows of flame erupt from his body, forming abstract images of a dragon curled around him causing the blow that should have been fatal to cause nothing more than a small laceration.

Attack 2
Accuracy: 12 dice - 3i Penalty (-1 Wound, -2 BSD) = 8 Successes + 2 Stunt - 4 PDV = 6 Threshold
Raw Damage: 12L + 12 (Threshold x 2) = 24L
Damage: 24L Raw -12L Soak - 10L (Five-Dragon Fortitude) = 2L Damage dice --> 1L damage levels
1Lhl of damage dealt. -1i penalty to all following actions. Spent 10m for Five-Dragon Fortitude from Peripheral

Disoriented by the ferocity of your attack, his attempts to parry your final strike are met with failure. As your blow hits him in the arm, the roar of flames around him explode again, the dragon-image snapping viciously at you. The fire sears your skin painfully as you stray too close to this raging inferno of a man. Landing once more on the ground, you notice realize that the final blow doesn't seem to have affected him.

Attack 3
Accuracy: 12 dice - 3i Penalty (-1 Wound, -2 BSD) = 3 Successes + 2 Stunt - 3 PDV = 2 Threshold
Raw Damage: 12L + 4 (Threshold x 2) = 16L
Damage: 16L Raw -12L Soak - 2L (Five-Dragon Fortitude) = 2L Damage dice --> 0L Damage
-1i penalty to all following actions. Spent 2m for Five-Dragon Fortitude from Peripheral
Anima Flux: 1 Damage die = Success
1Lhl of Damage dealt to Cerril

Thoroughly shaken and terrified by the beast of a man that now stands in front of him, he has lost all the composure he once had. "You have not seen the last of me, Anathema! I will find you and kill you!" Fuming at his humiliation and quivering with the last few moments' actions, weakened by his enormous essence usage, he hardly seems willing to fight any longer. Flames still billowing from him, he runs off down the street and around the corner leaving fires lingering where his feet touch the ground. There is no chance of pursuit due to the speed of his movement, easily twice what you know you could manage.

Spent 2m for Billows-Pumping Stride

Looking around, you see all the villagers either hiding or unable to move, simply staring. As you turn your gaze at them, they duck behind something as if it would protect or hide them from you.

Hmm, feared. They fear just like I used to.

Cerril stands still for a moment, staring at where his foe had been, and at the trail of dust from where he had fled at a breakneck pace. He looks down for a moment, kicking at the ground. He still seems to be wreathed in white flame, but just ignores it, lifts his head, and starts following the road to the edge of town.

I wonder where that lazy mutt got off to...

No sooner than you turn around and start walking off, you hear a voice call out from behind you, "Hey! Excuse me! I'm uh... I'm sorry about lying to you about that robed man earlier. I was only trying to keep you from getting yourself hurt, really. I'm truly sorry. I would like to pardon myself in some way. Is there anything I could possibly help you with?"

Turning to look at the man, you see a young figure about the same height as you, draped in a dark brown cloak with the hood up. He slouches slightly as he walks to catch up to you.

Feh, pushing myself so hard for one man... I'm going to have to go and take a long rest before I... hold on a tic, who is this now? Did I flush every rat from every alley in this damnable place?

The voice grated on Cerril's mind, when for a moment all he wanted was solitude. Rage began to well up inside him, threatening to make him lash out and flay the man where he stood. But Cerril held his temper, and stopped dead in his tracks, shot a strange and angry look at him, and then calmly but with a measure of rage replied.

"No"

Having a great need to heal himself, but no the time to do so due to his "antics" Cerril opted for the most expedient method. Cerril tapped into some of his remaining power to speed his healing. As Cerril's Essence flows forth like a tidal-wave from his body, it coalesces, swirling beneath him. It bursts forth, a wolf of brilliant white flames, jumping through his body, and landing before him, snarling and snapping. It then jumps back, into his body, a shower of shining sparks flying in every direction, and leaving his body coated in alabaster flames.

If anyone had a doubt in their mind, it is gone now.

Cerril turns back to his previous direction, ignoring the fool, and continuing his march out of town.

(Body-Mending Meditation)

Stopped in his tracks by your short refusal and anima burst, he stood there watching as you walked away.

Walking for some minutes before reaching the edge of the city, your anima has begun to dim.

Gained 6 Exp for end of scene

Cerril left town, still glowing like a man-sized candle, though it had gotten considerably dimmer, and starting searching for his lazy mutt of a wolf Rijo, all the while distancing himself from the town. Finally he found the beast, a large White Wolf, resting underneath the shade of a tree. Cerril walks up, and pats the wolf on the head. "Lotta' help you were, oh well, you can help me now I guess... Keep guard for me while I rest, 'kay boy? I need to heal up a bit."

Cerril tunes himself to the wolf's keen sense of smell, drives his weapon into the ground next to the tree, and leans up against it, trying to get some sleep.

When next you wake, the sun has passed below the horizon, though recently so. Rijo is still faithfully awake and sitting guard. Feeling somewhat better, though still aching, you feel that if you continue healing at this rate, you should be healthy within the next half a day. However, Body-Mending Meditation will wear off in another couple hours. You consider whether to remain there to meditate for another hour to activate it again, or to find your way back into the city.

One -1 Lhl healed, 2 Lhl remain filled leaving you at a -1i penalty. All motes respired.

Cerril ponders for a moment about returning to town, then waves it from his mind. What a stupid idea that was. Cerril crosses his legs, and pushes his back up against his sword again before calling Rijo over and laying a hand on his back. Cerril taps into the stored power within his canine familiar, and uses it to aid his body during this meditation.

(Body-Mending Meditation - 5 Motes from Rijo, 5 Personal from self)

After the requisite hour of meditation and focus, you needn't worry about healing anymore. You'll feel good as new soon enough. Not quite as good a fortune can be said for the Child of Hesiesh with whom you fought. He'll probably be bed-ridden for another couple of days unless he finds somebody to care for his wounds. Looking around once more, you find everything nearly as it was before you slept.

If I am ever going to re-take my homeland, I'm going to need to get stronger. But I can't very-well keep fighting in cities, and fighting Dragon-Blooded is just gonna get me killed... I need some place wide-open, and with few people to stop me. But where... where?

Cerril pondered for a moment, considering as many places as he could that would be suitable training-grounds. Then it dawned on him.

I could go to the Wyld... but it is such a very long way... I should ask for directions and buy supplies... I never thought I would, but I need to go back to that town.

Cerril motions to Rijo, telling him to do whatever he wants while Cerril is gone, then grabs his sword and heads back in the direction of the town he had not a scant few hours ago, managed to alienate.

Entering the town for the second time, you walk through the streets of Mishaka, unexpectedly busy for this time of night. You notice some villagers turn around quickly and walk the other way. Some stop and whisper into another's ear before they both walk away. Otherwise, you seem to have no problems getting the food required for a long journey. You aren't certain exactly how much you'll need, but you are certain you'll have enough to get to the next village east. You feel a need to get out of the city quickly. Something feels odd, but you're not sure exactly what to expect.

Cerril gets a strange feeling, and decides to act upon it. He runs to get out of town, planning to sprint east for a few miles, then head straight for the next town, keeping off roads.

He cannot explain this sudden urge, but acts on it fervently.

After running from town, you continue walking east to a nearby village you know of. The village, named Tirith, is a few days' journey away and is at the foot of one of the tallest mountains in the region.

As the hours march past, you begin to think your instincts were simply playing tricks on you since nothing happens the whole night. As the first rays of sunlight peek over the horizon, you decide to stop for a short while to rest and eat. After an uneventful break and meal, you pack up and continue onward again. The sun is shining it's refreshing pale morning glow over the landscape and you are exhilarated by the light that resonates with your anima.

A few minutes down your path, you notice another traveler that is sitting beside a small fire and eating. Looking for a moment, you recognize him as the man that approached you after your short fight.