Young Writers Society

Crys was still sitting on the ground when another Gaelk came in to the group. He was happy that there were other survivors.
"Are there still small parties of the 'Dogs out there?" Crys asked Lance.
"I'm not sure. I don't think so because they moved on but one or two may still be around, sir," Lance replied.
"Okay. We should split up and look for survivors. Two of us should stay here and protect the injured until they're ready to travel," Crys said. Crys stood up and shouldered his rifle. Crys looked over to the APC's.
"I'm gonna look around. Maybe we can salvage something," Crys left the group and headed to the APC's. He unholstered his pistol and opened the hatch. He aimed inside making sure that nothing was hiding.

Lyaim

Murmured mumblings hung in the air. The bustle amongst the battleground was eerily quiet and Lyaim didn’t care much for the deathly silence. Now and then, the clipped military tones of the human soldiers gave orders to each other but no amount of talking could dispel the tense atmosphere.

“Hold still!” The light tones of an Arcanite brushed softly through the background mutter. Lyaim had been squirming his leg away from her without thinking about it. Gingerly he stopped and straightened it out for her to examine.

A flickering light played about the gash in his leg. Small sparkles of Arcanite magic darted backwards and forwards over the wound, gradually pulling the sides of the cut together. Lyaim scooped a handful of the loose soil up in his hand and was about to sit up to rub it around the gash when the Arcanite caught his shoulder.

“You might want to stay down,” he soothing tones slid like silk through his head. But, resolutely, Lyaim shook his head and sat up straight.

He immediately regretted it. The sudden shift in his position made the world swing violently in front of him and it settled back suddenly in a way that made Lyaim shiver.

“Glad to see you're feeling better.” The speaker was short for a human and spoke with words of kindness. Despite his initial prejudices, Lyaim didn’t feel threatened at all by him.

“What's your name soldier?”

“Greld… Greldan,” Lyaim wheezed, his crushed lungs could barely manage to say his family name, yet alone his given name. He leaned forwards and coughed slightly but before he could complete his introduction the Arcanite gave her diagnosis.

“I think he took some damage to his chest. Perhaps his lungs too, sir.”

“You don't happen to have any skill in healing do you?” The question was asked by a tall man with close cropped hair. His scouting power suit gave away his division but something told Lyaim that this man wasn’t a leader.

The Arcanite began to answer but Lyaim’s attention was caught by the movement of the tank’s dilapidated portal. The hinged ‘lid’, as it was known to engineers, swung outwards and the darkness of the tank’s interior disgorged a tall Gaelk lady.

Heads turned to look at her and Dathan staggered over to him before dropping to a half crouch beside Lyaim. Coughs shook through her and she pounded her chest with a pale white hand.

“Rub some earth on his chest,” she spluttered before lying down herself, limbs spread-eagled across the ground.

The quizzical look on the Arcanite’s face showed she didn’t quite understand, so Lyaim lay back down and heaped what loose soil he could onto his chest. Lyaim knew the alleged properties of common dirt, but found it ineffective himself. Still, it was better than doing nothing at all.

Lyaim turned his head and saw Dathan drawing power from the earth’s bedrock into her and channelling it around her body. An effective healing for a Gaelk. She’d been trained well. One eye flicked open and she watched him from her place on the floor.

“Y’all right, Lyaim?” she asked and he smiled.

“I’m made of stout stuff,” he replied gruffly, his chest heaving and shedding clods of earth, “although, if what they did to my engine isn’t a dream, it mayn’t be stout enough.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips and Lyaim was satisfied that she too would be alright.

Alicia

One of the humans, our commanding officer, went in search of more survivors and the Sarge went with him. Lance remained behind and positioned himself a short distance to my right, scanning the landscape for anything that moved. I turned back to the two Graelks and watched Greldan grope for loose soil to pour across his body.

"Here, let me do that," I murmured, gently pressing the Graelk's hand back to the ground. Slowly I began to scatter the earth across his chest and gently rub it into his tough skin. At the same time, I allowed my Arcanite magic to delve back and forth, filtering through his body to sooth bruised flesh and expand crushed, withered veins and arteries. I'm not sure which did the most good or if it was down to strength of will but Greldan's breathing improved.

"Thanks for the tip," I smiled at the female Graelk and moved so that I could inspect her. I was mildly surprised to find that her body was repairing itself, drawing minerals and such from the earth to make up for the damage taken in battle.

(OCC: *kick starts*)

Lyaim

The stocky Gaelk finally got to his feet and the group of survivors turned to watch. He held out his hands to steady himself and then drew himself up to his full height. His full height, however, was barely up to the humans’ chests.

Lyaim cleared his throat and spoke in a quiet deep voice.

“How many do we total?” The question hung in the air and there was no immediate answer. People looked at each other and a few started counting heads but it was the human in the Powersuit that answered.

“Nine,” he muttered as if it was embarrassing for him to answer. “Six humans, one Arcanite, two Gaelks. Nine.”

Lyaim breathed out heavily. Such a death toll was unimaginable. This was only meant to be a scouting mission, no engaging at all. The Battle Master had made sure he was kept out of the way of the best fighters. Lyaim sighed again. He was never going to be trusted again.

“Well, who’s in charge?” Lyaim spoke again, hoping a people would start relaxing. They didn’t.

“Cole and me,” another human spoke up. He ran a hand through his brown hair and looked awkward for a moment before finishing, “I’m Crys.”

The mutterings of general conversation began and Lyaim nodded before striding off towards the steam tank. It was ruined.

Lyaim ran his hands over the buckled metal armour. It had been part of him. He’d been one of the three engineers that had created it. He’d been there through every part of construction: the smelting of the ores, the alignment of the metal sheets, the lighting of the engine rock…

A single tear fell from his crumpled face and landed on the blackened metal. It was then that he became aware of a hand around his shoulders. He looked up and saw Dathan standing there too.

“What do we do now?” She had asked the fatal question. What could they do?

“We need to tell people, make sure they know what’s happened.” Lyaim was firm with his answer. The survivors needed someone to take the lead, even if it was until someone else arrived. He was not going to let things fall apart.

“Sergeants!” Lyaim shouted loudly and with authority, “Sergeants! Get over here and lets get something done.”

The two men looked at each other, shrugged, and hurried down to where the small Gaelk was rummaging inside the ruined steam tank. He pulled out the largest gunpowder weapon they had ever seen.

It was big and it was scary. Four burnished steel barrels beginning at a large wooden handle showed it was not a weapon to be messed with. The stocky Gaelk held it in one hand and the barrels touched the ground.

“Sergeants. We need to get moving.” Crys nodded and Cole simply waited for Lyaim to continue.

“I’ve sent a message to my superiors, they haven’t replied yet.” Crys seemed at ease with discussing plans but Cole was still wary. He didn’t seem to like the idea of Lyaim usurping power.

“Good,” Lyaim’s gruff voice showed approval, “we need to salvage as much equ―”

The Gaelk spun around and faced out towards the open land behind him. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the horizon.

“Shit.” Sergeant Cole’s eyes widened. On the horizon, three black dots were moving, fast. They were coming directly towards them.

Oh good. I'm rather fond of this one...

Alicia

"Positions everyone!" Crys commanded. There was no time to introduce the three humans he and Cole had found but it was clear that they were all relieved to be part of a squad again and what a pitiful group we made. Crys stationed himself at the front with Cole on his left and Lyaim on his right. A step behind Cole and slightly further left was Lance and Dathan stood in a corresponding position on the right. Then, behind those two and a step further out were two of the humans - the woman and the taller of the two men. Finally, furthest to the left, was the shorter of the two men.

"How's your eyesight, Greldan?" Crys asked as the figures moved closer.

"Greldan is my family name actually. Call me Lyaim and I can't make them out yet," The Graelk corrected. I headed for the right flank and peered over the heads of the others who were crouched in the dirt, various weapons ready and aimed.

"They're Blood Dogs," Lance warned and, not long later, we were all certain that he was right.

"Steady your guns men and prepare to fire. Crys, Cole and me will take the one in the middle. Lance lead the group on the left, Dathan the group on the right," Lyaim decided and Crys nodded.

NAME: Llorinlir
RACE: Arcanite
SEX: M
AGE: undetermined
HEIGHT: 7'2"
WEIGHT: 197
EYES: smoky quartz gray
HAIR: black
PHYSIQUE: Very thin, willowy, frail
RANK: N/A
BRANCH: N/A
SECTION: N/A
WEAPONS: His own innate magic

PERSONALITY: Llorinlir finds himself to be superior to those in the military. He finds the lifestyle of such things to be a hindrance, a setback to what could otherwise be a cooperative effort. He treats military personnel with a strained respect. If nothing else, this is due to the fact he travels with them and wishes not to have anything go awry that would cost lives.

Llorinlir's magic is powerful, though he concentrates mainly on offensive spells. Healing comes naturally but it is not strong enough to bring people back from the dead. People are lucky if he can heal a shattered bone. A neat fracture is no problem. The Arcanite's arsenal of offensive spells ranges from stone spikes sprouting out of the ground, to gale-force winds, to fireballs with heat so intense it melts armor to flesh and sears flesh from bone.

He chooses to keep his sense of smell rather diluted due to being around humans and Gaelk all the time. He thinks they smell bad.

Llorinlir refuses to wear any sort of armor, instead using protective magical shields to keep himself (and sometimes others) out of much harm.
----------------------

He had hung back through all of the heavy lifting, the incessant speaking the military seemed so content to participate in. The ranks were spat out from between fleshy lips, falling upon deaf ears. No one would be called 'sir' by Llorinlir the Arcanite.

The three specks in the distance grew larger and the man graced the others with his presence, ignoring any stares, any attempts at introduction they threw his way. Instead he craned his sinuous neck, squinting his small, gray eyes and pursed his thin lips.

It was then that he began to chant.

It was as if the earth sang a duet with the wind, circling the group with an eerie whistling. A wind in the reeds. Llorinlir knelt and put one hand on the ground, feeling the heartbeat of the earth beneath him. It was alive and he could control pieces of it at a time. He could bend it to his indomitable will.

Rocks started to shudder on the surface. Metal creaked nearby, moaning as it toppled. The ground shook lightly, not near enough to knock anyone on their feet.

"What's going on?" someone asked, though Llorinlir did not much care who it was.

"It's the Arcanite. He's doing something." The reply was equally unaddressed.

In the distance some twenty yards in front of the specks came a massive wall. It lurched from the ground like the rising hope of the weary, casting a long shadow over the land. It was smooth on both sides; a work of art in stone.

"We must flee," he said with a flat tone. Unlike Alicia, Llorinlir did not show emotion around military personnel, despite his willingness to accompany them. "In our state there is no way we can win unless ... you all rely on the Arcanites to save you." There was obvious disdain in his voice, an unerring sense of superiority over all involved.

Without waiting for any sort of retort, Llorinlir began to walk away, not offering his name, rank or anything else to those gathered.

Lance keyed his powersuit's optical enhancers to zero in on the approaching vehicles. Three red reticles encircled them as they were confirmed hostile. The level of detail in the enhancers never ceased to amaze Lance.

"It's just a recon force. They're probably heading back to the main army to give them an update as to what's going on," he said slowly and clearly, so that the Gaelk and Arcanites present could understand.

"Sir, I suggest they never receive that update," Lance said to the Sergeant present via private comm-link.

"Excellent. We'll set up positions, organize groups, and let 'em have everything we've--"

"Sir, I don't think that's wise, sir." Lance was getting annoyed.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Sir, if we attempt to attack them here, they will merely redirect--it seems that they have enough protection to repel our attacks and continue on unimpeded if they see us before we open fire. Their magic is potent and their armor is thick--we simply don't have the firepower. Sir."

"...Then how?"

"Sir, I suggest we not let them see us. The Arcanites could easily take one of the vehicles with concentrated magic, if properly concealed--"

"We hardly have time for this, Corporal."

Lance grimaced, then took a deep breath. He keyed his comm-link for public conversation.

"All of you, listen to me--this is a recon group, not a combat group. They exoect this area to be clear of threats, so they'll be moving through without scanning too closely. Arcanites, I want you to use your magic to cloak your presence. Gaelk and MI forces, get under cover in the wreckage and keep and be ready to act when the shooting starts. We need to his them hard and fast, or we lose the advantage and they'll get away. Target drivers first, spellcasters second, if they have any."

"How will we know when to act?" One of the Gaelk asked.

"When the first vehicle explodes," Lance said with a grim smile. "Now move out."

Alicia

I moved closer to the other Arcanite, recognising him as Llorinlir, and smiled up at him. He returned my greeting with a slight nod before casting a concealing spell upon himself. His body took on an opaque hue and only the trail of magic showed me where he was. Nervously, I cast my own concealing spell and followed after him.

"Take out the one on the right, Arcanites," Lance whispered through the comm link. I sensed Llorinlir frown and shake his head.

"The one on the left," Llorinlir whispered. "Take a look. It has the most spellcasters." I turned to the other vehicle and probed it's contents and sure enough, it held three spell casters while the right vehicle had just one and the middle had only a driver. I clenched my fists as I threw pure magic towards the vehicle. I felt the other Arcanite's powers join with mine and take control, directing the flow a touch further to the right.

"Aim central and watch for blood dogs trying to escape," He ordered. I followed his suggestions and suddenly the vehicle blew apart with a deafening roar. The driver and two of the spellcasters were thrown by the explosion and landed mere metres from where I stood. All three were dead but the other had thrown up a shield and stood not far from the wreckage. The middle vehicle slowed and the survivor climbed onto the roof and began casting spells.

Lance growled behind his faceplate--they had gone against orders. He always knew the other races were too independent and headstrong to be part of this army. It was unfortunate that they were needed to battle the Blood Dogs' own innate magic, for if Lance had it his way, they would not be included in the military units. Too unpredictable, too arrogant to follow orders.

His own shot had been drowned out by the premature assault of the Arcanites--he had had the fuel can of the enemy vehicle in his sights, ready to fire, when they'd destroyed it. Now, with the right vehicle undamaged and the driver of the central vehicle casting spells, the plan was ruined.

The arcanites would get a piece of his mind, if they all survived this encounter.

He quickly worked the bolt on Emergence and took aim at the driver of the right vehicle, who suddenly accelerated as his bodyguard leaned out the side of the jeep and began to cast bolts of fire back toward the arcanites, whose magical assault had left them vulnerable.

He squinted one eye and exhaled, and the world disappeared--nothing existed but him, his target, and his rifle.

And the blood.

The crimson stuff splattered across the windshield of the Blood Dogs' jeep as the driver's head was thrown forward by the force of the Rail Gun's bullet, and the jeep spun out of control.

Alicia

"Drivers first," I reminded Llorinlir as he returned fire on the spellcaster on the roof of the middle vehicle.

"And let him kill us?" Llorinlir snorted. I ducked a fire bolt cast by the driver of the central vehicle and clenched my fist, channeling my remaining power into a final attack as I observed the battle.

"The other spellcaster is approaching the Graelks and another driver is down," I noted as Lance took out the man in the vehicle on the right.

"Get the last one," Llorinlir commanded. I nodded and finished building my power before taking aim. A white bolt jumped the distance between me and the central vehicle and lashed at the figure inside. The vehicle swerved and ground to a half as the driver tumbled out. Her chest rose and fell rapidly before she was gunned down by one of the others.

"Now get the two spellcasters!" A voice roared across the comm link.

Name: Zenbell
Race: Arcanite
Age: 20
Hair: Silver
Eyes: Black
Appearance: Tall and slim. Wears special black robes. Though not physically strong, he does have some muscles.
Personality: Does not trust people easily. Not very friendly to those he hasn't gain a respect to.Cunning, yet quite physically weak. Prefers duels over wars for it is a better measure of who is the stronger.
Abilities:

High level shadow magic
-Maniuplate shadows and confuse the enemy
-Conjures globes of darkness that conceals himself and anyone in the AOE from foes
-Haunts a target with shadows
-Shadow magic can be infused with his other spells
Has a low level in casting other elements of spells

*Sorry I haven't posted on this yet, i don't know if it is dead or not but i'll give it a try*


Yanna watched as several others searched for survivors. She looked to her left. THere was one other person with her. They had run to the sides and started knocking out drifters of the blood dogs when they had come in. They were lucky that they survived and weren't about to show themselves until they were sure that it was safe. It wasn't known that they had followed this group. They were Cover Ops Specialists, both were small girls but they could pack a punch just as powerful as most of the men.

"Should we go help?" The girl next to her asked,

"I don't know what their orders were, we can take whatever dogs out from a safe distance." Yanna replied. THe girl nodded and they moved through the trees and got a good aim at the on coming dogs. Yanna pulled her lazer gun out. Aimed and fired, a jeep blew.

"Was that your shot?" The girl asked,

"I don't know, all that matters is that it is gone." Yanna said, "Watch out for the Arcanites.

"You forgot I am a Arcanite, I can see their majic trail." THe girl grinned,

"Lucky you," Yanna fired again as did the girl.

i know u said no mixes between the races, but can i be a Blood Dog?