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[RP] The Second World

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Yume Tsuki:
Neicha sat straight up on the pile of hay she had slept on.
"Sorry for worrying you."
She stretched her arms. She wasn't really sure how much she was allowed to tell.
"I'm from a place where magic is not that strong. I guess the strongest kind I had seen there so far was our transformation from humans to beasts. Most of the people from my village wanted to become elves, and now they really regret their decision, they kind of turned to me for help into reverting this 'curse'. I myself didn't really mind the transformation, I wanted to start anew, somewhere nobody would bother me. Man is too greedy and wasteful in my opinion. Of course not all of them. I just had a bad experience with most. Anyways, I couldn't find an answer to their problem in the forest where we lived, so I decided to travel."

The-Blades-slave:
They weren't going to listen to reason, Daylin decided, scowling as he sized up his newest opponent. The orc wasn't as big as the others, and the drug fogged his vision. He was sure he could overpower him, if it came to that.  He sprinted forward, axe clutched tightly in his white-knuckled grip, and swung.

The orc stopped his mocking and stepped backwards to avoid the attack, then rushed back in before he could recover, striking twice at his abdomen.

The first blow bounced harmlessly off his breastplate, but the second ripped through a chink in his armor, leaving a long cut on his stomach. Daylin grunted in pain and roughly shouldered the orc away. The wound stung. He hoisted his axe up between them, glaring at his opponent.

The orc was back to taunting him now, pounding his fist against his chest. Drops of blood flew off the blade that had cut him,  meshing with the sand below. He stared blankly at it and the captain grinned. "What's wrong human, never seen your own blood? I knew your kind was only good as slaves. Frail little things, but your woman have nice, tight littl-"

Daylin tackled the captain with a guttural roar. They both went down in a flurry of limbs, swinging wildly at each other. The orc stabbed at him viciously, but he couldn't compete with the farmhand's raw strength. After several blows to the head he went limp, but Daylin continued to beat him until his face was an unrecognizable bloody pulp.

When he was finally done punching, he stood up and snarled at Zang, "I'm done with this!" He picked up the body of the orc he had beaten, lifted him over his head, and threw him at the Orc Chieftain. "Face me yourself, coward!"

WhistfulSoul:
@Daylin

The Chieftain frowned. The sight of one of his captains so mangled was not something he was accustomed to, but he had to applaud the human for doing such a good job in getting him to see it. I told you of the rules! The only way you'll face me is if you face the others, and come out standing! NEXT! Another captain stepped forward, this one much bigger than the rest. He towered over Daylin, making the giant seem like a regular height for once. The captain bore a huge club, fashioned out of a thick wood, and wore armor made of the same bone material the others had worn. He lifted the club, but seemed to struggle slightly as he did so. Now you pay!

The-Blades-slave:
The first swing glanced Daylin's shoulder, knocking his pauldron out of place. He noticed too late that it was a feint, though, when a headbutt smashed into his face and sent his helm flying backwards.

It was a hell of a shot. Outside of throwing his helmet off, which left him feeling exposed, his nose was busted and his vision swam. Blood dripped into his mouth and he spat out the coppery tasting fluid, stumbling backwards for his axe.

Fortunately, the orc had been drugged and, though he resisted it due to his massive statutre, it slowed him down. By the time he mustered to give chase, the former slave was across the arena and grabbing his axe.

Daylin stood straight, eyes red with rage, and stared his opponent—some mindless ogre who couldn't see straight—right in his big bleary eyes. The captain tried to intimidate him, but he was beyond the point of fear. He wanted revenge for the still-bleeding wound.

“You... are..." Daylin took a lurching step forward with each word. On the third, he swung: “dead!”

The blow was going to hit, the farmhand knew the second he swung it. It shattered green-skinned bastard's breastplate, lodging the head of the axe deep in his chest. He didn’t fall—sweet Maker how was that possible—but he was sent reeling back.
 
The farmhand pulled the axe free and winded back for another shot. The orc beat him to it, the heavy club smashing into his side. He struggled to stay on his feet. The club rose and fell again, and this time Daylin collapsed.

Then, he stood again.

It was unreal. Between the pain in his chest and the general confusion (he felt drunk), the sight of the human on his feet after the patented Tudagub-club sent the orc into a panic. He threw another swipe that Daylin ducked, then another that the man swung under again—and then responded in turn with a strongarmed uppercut.

Click. The sound of the captain’s upper and lower rows of teeth making unplanned contact rang out. Still, he kept his feet. Daylin stared in horror, how was it poss- slowly, chest gushing blood and eyes rolling, the orc fell backwards. He sighed in relief, using the axe as a makeshift-crutch and gazing around the gathering, face stained with blood. His vision fell upon the reason all of this was going on.

“Coward,” Daylin swore again at the chief, his throat sore from the effort of speaking that single word.

Humen:
Jacob
His curiosity was raised at the appearance of yet again another mysterious woman who carried insight in the current situation. As she introduced herself Jacob waited and then did as she had done introducing himself. “I am Jacob, Marethari, what do you know of herbs to make such a bold claim. New species of plant do not simply appear out of thin air." He tried to put some authority in his voice, he had to at least sound like he knew what he was talking about pretending to be a master herbalist and all. He shifted the bag draped around his shoulder farther to his backside when she pointed it out.' It shouldn't be too hard to figure an herbalist would carry books on herbs but...' Jacob thought as he opened the flap to his bag seeing if any of its contents had been tampered with. "Should I assume you also know why i am here?"

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