Post by Amalia Ashenberry on Nov 27, 2018 3:44:06 GMT
”Pathetic little bugs.”
They scurried below her like an upturned anthill, going about their busy little lives with no clue of the greater world. Sure they had their meta’s and their empowereds their technology, but they had no clue of the real power that surrounds them, of the mystical and oft dangerous world that clashes with theirs. They were content with their little “telephones” and “cars” and other marvels of modern television, content to ignore and vilify everything they don’t understand. A small sprinkle of pebbles rained down on the heads of the people, but none looked up, only giving a curious glance around before running off again, perfectly content with their lack of knowledge of the universe.
This was made even worse considering this particular towns unique position. It was nestled on the proximity of three separate ley lines, an intersection that only occurs four times on the entire planet. And of those four places, only one, this one, was even remotely habitable. Of course humans discovered that fact and did what they do best; build, breed, pollute. No wonder magic is fading from the world, humans are destroying it with their destructive habits. That … wasn’t the original point. She could sense them from here, the hundreds of people in this town with powers, with metahuman powers and yet none knew, they were too blind from their greed and all-too-human flaws to discover themselves!
She had to back away, she was getting heated.
That’s fine anyway, she could sense the magic below her. They were entering the building, three floors down. Six guards, each with their own unique power, she could feel. Different threads of magic clung to them, but what differentiated them she couldn’t tell. Still, nothing she couldn’t handle. She had to act quickly, before they reached the vault on the second floor, otherwise it would be insanely more difficult to get the artifact she had been sent here to grab. With a sigh and a muttered prayer, she took a step back. The tarred roof of the office building cracked under her foot. From a holster hidden within her right greave she pulled Mira, a gleaming silver knife. A few experimental twirls and then, with the full strength and force she can muster, slammed the impenetrable blade into the ceiling.
The blade sliced through the shoddily built roof and the shockwave collapsed the floor, carrying Amalia through; her weight slammed through the tiled floor below her and carried her with gusto, straight into the sealed box that was carrying the Iron Crown of Lombardy. The wooden box splintered from the force of her impact and ripped it from the hands of the very large men holding it. This wasn’t enough to confuse Amalia, however, she still landed as gracefully as a wildcat, in a slight crouch, silver blade in her hand. For just a brief moment, they met the bloodthirsty gaze of Amalia, the sliver of a smirk on her face mirrored in their shocked eyes.
And then chaos erupted; Amalia moved, her elbow slammed into the chin of the nearest guard, lifting him a full foot off the ground before slamming to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Another viper-like movement and her knife buried itself in the forehead of another guard. An instant, bloodless death. But now she was unarmed - she couldn’t exactly remain inconspicuous carrying around three swords and a shield - and these men had guns. Or … a razor of a smile appeared on her cheeks, and then she was a blur, wood chips scattering at her burst of speed. Her fists lashed, and three of the four men went flying, chests caved in by the intensity of her blows. By this point, the last man standing was terrified; she could smell the fear, she reveled in. It’s the least these animals deserved.
”If you run now, I will not hunt you.” Only a terrified expression greeted her, the nozzle of the weapon in his hands shaking like a leaf caught in a windstorm. Her eyes flicked, once, to this, then back to the man, the look on her face reflecting her disgust. ”You are no warrior. You are filth, disgusting to even watch pervade the ground. I suggest you leave, now, before I hang you by your own guts.” Each word was punctuated with a step forward, each step ripping the ground and sending shockwaves across the floor. The somewhat short figure of the woman bristled power, her forward march halted only as she bent over to pull Mira from the corpse of his fallen brethren. The sickening squelching sound was too much for the remaining guard and he ran and fled. Amalia only spared him the barest of smirks before turning around. A swift kick to the nearest corpse sent it flying.
”Oh, damnation. Where did that crown go?”
They scurried below her like an upturned anthill, going about their busy little lives with no clue of the greater world. Sure they had their meta’s and their empowereds their technology, but they had no clue of the real power that surrounds them, of the mystical and oft dangerous world that clashes with theirs. They were content with their little “telephones” and “cars” and other marvels of modern television, content to ignore and vilify everything they don’t understand. A small sprinkle of pebbles rained down on the heads of the people, but none looked up, only giving a curious glance around before running off again, perfectly content with their lack of knowledge of the universe.
This was made even worse considering this particular towns unique position. It was nestled on the proximity of three separate ley lines, an intersection that only occurs four times on the entire planet. And of those four places, only one, this one, was even remotely habitable. Of course humans discovered that fact and did what they do best; build, breed, pollute. No wonder magic is fading from the world, humans are destroying it with their destructive habits. That … wasn’t the original point. She could sense them from here, the hundreds of people in this town with powers, with metahuman powers and yet none knew, they were too blind from their greed and all-too-human flaws to discover themselves!
She had to back away, she was getting heated.
That’s fine anyway, she could sense the magic below her. They were entering the building, three floors down. Six guards, each with their own unique power, she could feel. Different threads of magic clung to them, but what differentiated them she couldn’t tell. Still, nothing she couldn’t handle. She had to act quickly, before they reached the vault on the second floor, otherwise it would be insanely more difficult to get the artifact she had been sent here to grab. With a sigh and a muttered prayer, she took a step back. The tarred roof of the office building cracked under her foot. From a holster hidden within her right greave she pulled Mira, a gleaming silver knife. A few experimental twirls and then, with the full strength and force she can muster, slammed the impenetrable blade into the ceiling.
The blade sliced through the shoddily built roof and the shockwave collapsed the floor, carrying Amalia through; her weight slammed through the tiled floor below her and carried her with gusto, straight into the sealed box that was carrying the Iron Crown of Lombardy. The wooden box splintered from the force of her impact and ripped it from the hands of the very large men holding it. This wasn’t enough to confuse Amalia, however, she still landed as gracefully as a wildcat, in a slight crouch, silver blade in her hand. For just a brief moment, they met the bloodthirsty gaze of Amalia, the sliver of a smirk on her face mirrored in their shocked eyes.
And then chaos erupted; Amalia moved, her elbow slammed into the chin of the nearest guard, lifting him a full foot off the ground before slamming to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Another viper-like movement and her knife buried itself in the forehead of another guard. An instant, bloodless death. But now she was unarmed - she couldn’t exactly remain inconspicuous carrying around three swords and a shield - and these men had guns. Or … a razor of a smile appeared on her cheeks, and then she was a blur, wood chips scattering at her burst of speed. Her fists lashed, and three of the four men went flying, chests caved in by the intensity of her blows. By this point, the last man standing was terrified; she could smell the fear, she reveled in. It’s the least these animals deserved.
”If you run now, I will not hunt you.” Only a terrified expression greeted her, the nozzle of the weapon in his hands shaking like a leaf caught in a windstorm. Her eyes flicked, once, to this, then back to the man, the look on her face reflecting her disgust. ”You are no warrior. You are filth, disgusting to even watch pervade the ground. I suggest you leave, now, before I hang you by your own guts.” Each word was punctuated with a step forward, each step ripping the ground and sending shockwaves across the floor. The somewhat short figure of the woman bristled power, her forward march halted only as she bent over to pull Mira from the corpse of his fallen brethren. The sickening squelching sound was too much for the remaining guard and he ran and fled. Amalia only spared him the barest of smirks before turning around. A swift kick to the nearest corpse sent it flying.
”Oh, damnation. Where did that crown go?”
