inheritanceistar

[inheritanceistar]

Alvise Rigo

[inheritanceistar]

Istar chugs, drinking without pause as if the mead was merely water. As he does, he approaches Zagreus in the door frame, resting his free hand at the top. He barely had to lift his shoulder or extend his arm to reach, such was his height compared to the door itself. When the bottle was finally empty, Istar tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, listening to it break while his lone eye hones in on the druid.

"By that logic, you've yet to throw a good party then. I've never enjoyed myself at one of these things," he confesses before licking excess sweetness from his lips. "Consider me a singular exception and leave it at that. There's only so much you can do to give me a good time, your lordship." Istar knew what he was about and it certainly wasn't wasting time cavorting with people so wine-drunk that they felt everything. When soldiers drank, it was usually to block out the world. Istar never did that either for the same reason he felt no cheerier after chugging all that mead. Liquors of this caliber were simply too weak to alter his state of mind. Yet his relaxed expression and steady eye betrayed his engagement, at least at this moment with the host. "I won't get drunk, I won't feel more than I am, and I'm still thinking about my next fight way more than I'm thinking about enjoying myself at your little party," Istart says, neither increasing nor closing the sliver of distance that remained between them. "And yet, I don't think I'm boring you. How could that be?" he teases, the faintest hint of a smirk gracing his features. "I haven't decided if being a bore is the worst thing in the world for me."

"No, it really does go hand in hand. Everyone enjoys my parties." But Zagreus was feeling benevolent. His manipulations weren't required of the night. Everyone was feeling themselves without the genasi's interference. "But calling me your lordship helped, you know." Zag wasn't ashamed of openly flirting, not everyone deserved his attention, and most were too drunk or inebriated to even warrant a second glance from the druid.

The Veridian watched as Istar walked into the cellar like he belonged there, and Zagreus crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, watching the big Iskaran take his pick. "No one said to stop feeling or caring; it's the opposite." Zagreus tilted his head, "Feel everything. Otherwise it's a bore. And no one wants to be a bore in a place like this."

[inheritanceistar]

To lick that delicious vein.

[inheritanceistar]

[inheritanceistar]

who?: @agrcn where?: whatever ship they are on coming back from aventia when?: after they got their asses handed to them and an entire city fell gottem

It was an honor to fight alongside a blademaster, but Istar couldn't even enjoy the moment. All he could think about was the witches he didn't save. Istar had looked up to Prince Leander so much for so long that he naturally began to admire the queensguard who similarly stuck by his side, much closer than Istar could ever get. They did what they could, but Istar needed to know if it was enough. A blademaster would be honest, he was sure. "Was there ... anything I could've done differently?" he interjects through the somber silence. "Did I waste too much time enjoying myself at the beginning? How many bodies did I step over in these last few days. Agron, was I just too weak?"

[inheritanceistar]

Istar did not play the game, but he did know how to exist in it. He'd be the first to admit he was ignorant of the ways of court and politics, but he navigated well hence the invitations he got to events like this. "Do I come across as an ass kisser? I think I prefer the term 'gentleman'. I'd be planning the most covert leave right now if you hadn't come to promise me a stronger drink. Just because I wasn't enjoying myself doesn't mean this was a bad party."

At least his words seemed to satisfy. Istar did follow the other, setting his glass down as well without bothering to finish it. It really did nothing for him, which made the prospect of a secret cellar incredibly appealing. When the door opens, he's actually impressed by the collection Zagreus boasts. "I can see that. You've been to a great many places. Though I must admit, I haven't been to Iskaldrik since I came to this nation and now ... well, now I may not get the chance to again." Istar walks into the cellar and looks around without feeling out of place at all. He finds a bottle with an Iskaran label and lifts it off the shelf, boldly popping the lid and letting it drop to the ground. "Maybe if I stop feeling and stop caring like you want, I'll find it in me to share more stories. But honestly, you may not have enough of the good stuff to get me there," he says, though with mild amusement as he throws his head back and begins chugging the mead he chose like it was water.

The man was mostly bicep, a lack of brain, and a well of charisma. Perhaps the only thing good about his storytelling was the way he wrapped his tongue around every word. In praise of himself, of course. Zagreus was definitely more for debauchery than idle talk, and this one didn't seem to stop. A few hours later – that was dramatic, it was most likely minutes – Istar was once again talking about leveling towns, felling cavalry, and facing cleavage. Or something like that.

Zagreus wasn't sure where he'd given himself up, but perhaps it was the way he was the best dressed out of everyone at the party. Either way, he looked at Istar. Your lordship. He didn't mind that coming out of the Iskaran's mouth, "You don't need to kiss my ass at this party, I'm running it. Now come on, Iskaran, follow me to the mead." He finished off his wine and set the glass down. He turned to ensure Istar was following him, and he pushed open a door to a long, long hall – all sorts of spirits lingered on the wall. "I spent time in Iskaldrik. Might have mentioned that, but...your stories were riveting."

[inheritanceistar]

It was true, Alessia was only just beginning her journey. She had time to pick her patron, but sometimes it was easy to see which path Accepted witches would take from the beginning. Or at least, hope that they would take. Istar had every confidence that Alessia would take the red and join him as a Warrior of Mars one day, but that meant that she'd have to make it back to the Tower. He'd seen enough dead witches by now, he refused to lose any more.

"Spare me, we both know you'd make a terrible damsel," he says, barking out a laugh as he dropped to the ground below, placing his left palm to it. His magic surged through the dirt, weaving the inorganic dirt into frenzied thorns teeming with so much life that they shot out at their enemies. "Don't go thanking me yet, no one is saved. Most of the Warriors who came here are dead. Many witches from the other paths who lent their aid are dead as well. Alessia, we are losing. Appreciate the help, because there are witches getting mauled as we speak. This is no normal fight, we are being targeted."

Istar did not save Alessia because he thought she was weak, he did so because she was strong. But he could appreciate how, as a young witch, it'd be annoying for someone like him to interfere with a fight. As his thorns restrain and harm the Abomination, he turns his eye to it completely, ignoring the hordes of other darkspawn. "Two hoards is nothing to me. Someone at your level can handle them on your own, right? This big, strong man has a beast to manage, but surely you can take care the small fries," he teases, opting to match her energy. Istar doesn't mean it of course, but in the heat of battle sometimes one needs to help fire their comrades up. He was beginning to understand Alessia better over time, which was why he changed his approach. She'd either ignore him or get absolutely pissed at him, but no matter what so long as she started getting serious it was a win. Istar loved seeing younger witches thrive. "Unless you can't, in which case I'll be right here to bail you out. Again." He offers one more grin before Andvari glows to alter forms, covering him completely in the heavy armor of its deep-sea form. "Don't die or I'll kill you," Istar says, slow walking right up to the shrieking Abomination to tear it to pieces.

Istar, large and gentle, was nothing if not an ally and guardian. She could appreciate anyone caring about her - at least more so these days. The witch hadn't really made friends in The Tower, but this fellow Iskaran witch had decided that no matter how much Alessia scowled and turned away from hugs, that he was still going to hover over her. It would have been infuriating, and sometimes it still was, but Alessia could bite her tongue most of the time because Istar was a fully-fledged Olympian, and he was admittedly useful to have around in times like these. But sometimes...

Alessia felt nauseous all of a sudden, and she realized it had everything to do with a man proclaiming he had flown in and saved her. She hadn't even tapped into her full power yet, not in Unseelie Form or using all her spells. She looked at Istar like he was head-to-toe covered in outhouse waste but he seemed blissfully unaware of her disdain, or he didn't care, as he altered his armor and then took out a genlock with Warrior grace. Alessia did not seek to prove anything, not unless there was something in it for her. She definitely didn't need glory. There was no Olympian test here to do her best for.

"Finally, a brave, strong man," she said more loudly, looking back at her fellow Iskaran and putting a hand to her heart. There was overwhelming sarcasm there if he cared to look more deeply, but she didn't mind if he did or didn't. "Thank you for saving me, Istar." Alessia looked around, her eyes landing on a hulking Abomination. She'd probably killed all his parents, siblings, cousins, uncles and drinking buddies back in Ymir's Spine but why deal with it now when she could avoid getting covered in its smelly guts. "I can handle more but... that one's pretty big. :("

[inheritanceistar]

She was exhausted but she was not finished. Istar could feel her intense fighting spirit immediately upon entering her space. While he would never begrudge Lysaran's their skill and battleprowess, that unwillingness to yield was something that could only be learned in the harsh environment of his former home. She was fighting like an Iskaran with tools of magic most Iskaran's would denouce. She was worthy of his respect, protection, and aid on this field of battle there was no doubt in his mind.

Magnetic pulses surged from Andvari's four arms, weaving the earth itself to Istar's command. Four large boulders rise around them and begin spinning in each palm to gain momentum. As Istar gestures with his hands, each boulder fires with the force of a cannon right toward the approaching enemy. In this armor form, with his entire body exposed, his attunement to magic was at its peak. No darkspawn would get close to her so long as he was at her side. "Istar Sturluson, Warrior of Mars," he tells her, his accent thick despite his years in Lysara. "Fredydis then. We will not fall here today, I refuse to allow it. I know you have lost many, but I will shield you and those who fight for you. Now that I have arrived, there will be no more casualties. You have my word."

Since the start of the siege on Aventia Freydis had witnessed more fighting tactics and magical capabilities than she could have ever hoped to conceive. In the early days, it had strengthened her resolve that Aventia would survive the onslaught. Now, as numbers dwindled her wonder remained, but the bodies of so many of those same skilled allies littering the land outside of the cities as far as the wall could see stoked her fears that their fight was futile. In the few moments she had been granted a moment to even hope to catch her breath, she had seen the boulder-sized fists wielded by someone she was glad to have on her side of the war wreaking havoc on the hordes of darkspawn. The present moment was not one of these moments. 

Glaceor nearly rattled with excitement as she held him out before her, and her right arm coiled back as she poised the dream blade she now wielded to clip the great ogre’s head from its shoulders. She took in a deep breath, eyes focused, and her body ready to spring into action at just the right moment; her instincts would spur her to violence when the right moment to act arose. And then, suddenly, the ogre was gone. Well, not gone, but not solid any longer. Perturbed, Freydis wheeled around on her heels and shouted out, “That one was mine!” If she hadn’t seen the way the darkspawn had been struck from the world she might have assumed she would have turned to find Eivor behind her, smug and pleased with himself for taking a kill away from her count for the night. For how much she hated the funeral pyres and last rights that came when morning’s light broke, the violence of the fight itself fed something primal and hungry within her. 

Commander? Her head cocked to the side only slightly. It wasn’t an inaccurate assessment, but it was the first time someone had labeled her as such. The way Freydis saw things she was merely a proxy for Aurea. Commander held too much import for her to accept so easily. As humble as she was when it pertained to the title of commander, ally, or otherwise she found herself somewhat shocked that this man, who struck her as distinctly Iskaran in some way, did not know who she was. Commander was preferable to Icefang, though. “Well then tell your commander your name,” she responded, though she nodded her head in the direction of another hulking darkspawn charging toward the pair of them–toward its death–from just over the man’s shoulder. She kept her wits about her, her sword tightly gripped and ready to strike if it came to it until the threat had been neutralized. “Begin serving with our force by calling be Freydis.”

[inheritanceistar]

Again, he laughs, enjoying himself too much for their current predicament. "Commander. I tend to still lose myself in the excitement of battle. Old habits die hard, eh?" Yes, Istar had a bad habit of showmanship. The self-aggrandizing nature of his magic during fights like these were certainly a weakness. He threw himself into the fray, defended his fellow witch with pride, and relished in his ability to keep up with a superior like Leander while death and carnage rained down around them. This battlefield was no different than any Istar had come across while Lysara clashed with Astoria. In the end, that cheery smile of his was both a tell and a weakness. Even now, Istar was holding back.

Taking the cue, the blows stop so that Istar could use Andvari's hands to tear the ogre in half, finishing it off finally. He leaps and as he rises, his armor's form changes shape and function, sprouting the wings of its flight form. "Forgive me, I know the situation is dire," he says as he joins Leander in the air, only now seeing the full scale of Aventia's devastation. "Targeting us? Almost sounds like you're suggesting they have a strategy." Istar didn't have much experience with darkspawn, but he did know they were mindless. Or rather, they were supposed to be mindless. "If that's the case, aren't the more ... inexperienced volunteers at risk? I'd like to be able to protect them if you want to continue an advance."

This fucking guy. Istar had once been a knobby-kneed boy scratching at the doors of the Tower. Leander was a few years his senior, but he'd grown up on the stacks, and he'd already been Accepted when Istar arrived at the gate. The Warrior had known just as everyone else did that Istar would take the red and submit himself to Ares eventually. The passion of his rage was undeniable and while Leander cared for few and tolerated less, he would always have room at his table for a fellow Warrior of Mars.

Their stories could not have been more different, but they fought on the same battlefields, against the same enemies, and for the same causes. That meant something to Leander, it was more than he cared to articulate, but as molten flames erupted around him, he took a beat to appreciate the wall of indomitable force that was the Olympians in their glory.

"Save the novelties for Court, it's Commander." Leander amended, the darkspawn were relentless and they continuously pressed their advance. "They're targeting us." That much was clear, the Warriors were powerful but their strength was not unlimited. Ten could hold back an army but this was unlike any force that they'd faced to date.

[inheritanceistar]

who?: @theegonurcan where?: right in the muck of all this fightin when?: when things get hairier than istar's biddies

Chaos ruled everywhere his eye could see, but Istar would not slow down. He would protect those who struggled against the threat that seemed to grow in strength as they weakened. The witches who've been putting their lives on the line, regardless of their allegiance, had suffered enough. Istar would end their suffering and sending these darkspawn straight to Hel would be where he started. With the mistilteinn tree he transmuted on the battlefield illuminating the area behind him, he felt empowered by the ever-growing roots that stretched out from it, following his steps. With the eye he plucked out for the divine peering into Muspellsheim, his incantation fills the world tree roots with the power of the realm of fire:

"��ᚷᚷᛞᚱᚨᛋᛁᛚ ᛋᚺᚨᚲᛖᛋ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᛋᚺᛁᛖᚱ ᚨᚾ ᚺᛁᚷᚺ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚨᚾᚌᛖᚾᛏ ᛚᛁᛗᛒᛋ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᛇᚷᚨᚾᛏ ᛁᛋ ᛚᛟᛉᛖ; ᛏᛟ ᚦᛖ ᚺᛖᚨᛞ ᛟᚠ ᛗᛁᛗ ᛞᛟᛊ ᛟᚦᛁᚾ ᚷᛁᚠᛖ ᚺᛖᛖᛞ, ᛒᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚴᛁᚾᛋᛗᚨᚾ ᛟᚠ ᛋᚢᚱᛏ ᛋᚺᛁᛚᚨᚤ ᚺᛁᛗ ᛋᛟᚤ."

Large, gnarled roots shoot forth and cut down all enemies that surround Nurcan as Istar approaches, heat causing them to combust with otherworldly flames upon impact. Odin's satisfaction was the furthest thing from Istar's mind. He would use the power at his disposal to save those he could. "I do not want to expend my power manifesting a second world tree. Come, I will bring to beneath the light of that one back there. A hurlock made for excellent fertilization material," he informed her once the firey wails of the burning darkspawn died down. "Or shall I carry you to your allies instead? It isn't wise to continue fighting alone given the circumstances and I cannot be a shield everywhere on this vast battlefield."

[inheritanceistar]

who?: @freydis-freydat where?: deep in the battlefieldussy when?: when things went uh oh spaghettio

With the four fists of Andvari's earth form pulling magnetized threads and crushing multiple enemies at a time, Istar looked wide open. That fact spoke to whatever uncharacteristic intelligence these darkspawn possessed as he supported the forces from Haven. They continued to charge towards him and each time those who got close met the same fate: their bodies forcefully transfigured into inorganic constructs when his right hand took hold of them. To use Odin's power on such pathetic creatures felt like a slight against his skills earlier in the battle, but at this stage Istar had released such banal sentiment. He would not be holding back any longer. He could see an ogre barreling toward a fearless woman who had her shield and weapon raised in preparation. She was a true Iskaran, Istar could tell just from a few moments of watching her fight. Back in the fatherland, his next actions may have been interpreted as a slight against her battle prowess, but not in Lysara. Magnetically zipping over the ground so the creature could be twisted into a nonliving mass with one touch before it could reach her was simply just the kind of Warrior Istar was. "Apologies, but a commander has no need to put herself in harm's way," he states, noting how the few remaining fighters from Haven orbit around her as if she were the authority here. As Istar addresses her, Andvari shifts into its flame form. Istar is already holding this form's bow and a white hot bolt of heat forms an arrow as he draws the string. He fires, sending it right past Freydis to the heart of an approaching horde from behind. "That's what we foot soldiers are for. I shall do what I can for your forces now that I am here."

[inheritanceistar]

[inheritanceistar]

who?: @emissaradia where?: the battlefield when?: while all the things are getting dicey

The fun Istar was having began to disappate as he realized how brutal this battle was for many of the brave souls who chose to stand there. People were dying all around him, and he could no longer handle that. Istar had no more smiles or laughs, he was no longer holding back to enjoy himself. He wasn't fighting for the thrills or to further hone the strength that dwelled in his muscles, he was fully calling upon Odin's wisdom to guide him. The natural rhythm of battle had been disrupted and command continued to break down as their forces thinned. Istar acted on his own instincts and authority, finding himself barreling through hordes of darkspawn, ripping them to shreds with the swirling currents of Andvari's water form. Though as he roars and throws his fist into the face of a hurlock, the armor pulls back and condenses into four bands at his wrists and ankles, allowing Istar's bare fist to force its way straight into the monster's mouth. Even as it bites down, he recites his poetry:

"ᚨᚾ ᚨᛋᚺ ᛁ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ, ᛇᚷᛞᚱᚨᛋᛁᛚ ᛁᛏᛋ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ, ᚹᛁᛏᛖᚱ ᚹᛁᛏᛖ ᛁᛋ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚷᚱᚨᛏ ᛏᚱᛖᛖ ᚹᛖᛏ; ᚦᛖᚾᚲᛟᛗᛖ ᚦᛖ ᛞᛖᚹᛋ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᚠᛟᛚᛚ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛞᚨᛚᛖᛋ, ᚷᚱᛖᛖᚾ ᛒᛁ ᚢᚱᚦ'ᛋ ᚹᛖᛚᛚ ᛞᛟᛋ ᛁᛏ ᛖᚺᛖᚱ ᚷᚱᛟᚹ."

An ash tree seed was in his fist, and it merged with the hurlock thanks to Istar's invocation. A world tree manifests right there, its roots stretching far to clear away immediate enemies as it sprouts. Healing waters beneath the roots steam up in the surrounding area, healing Istar's arm as he withdraws it. For now, all allies that stand within the dim green glow of the tree he transmuted are protected and begin recovering strength, but Istar only charged there to safeguard one witch in particular. "Do not worry. I've chosen to come here while the Olympians head in the other direction. You will not know pain while I stand with you," he says to the nearby Feronia forces, but specifically to Aradia as his large hand comes to rest gently on top of her head. "It's good to see you alive. Stay by the tree, it shall protect you in my stead," he offers with a gentle smile before walking past her with murderous intent. The next darkspawn he got his hands on would pay dearly for backing Aradia and her comrades into a corner.

[inheritanceistar]

who?: @alessiathepath where?: on the battlefield, he just superman zoomed to her bc that's his new baby sis she just doesn't know it yet when?: while the siege is siegeing

Bravery was always to be commended, but this battlefield was no place for a beginner. There was no doubt she had powerful magic coursing through her veins, but even Istar could tell that raw power was all she had going for her currently. That and determination to fight. Good, she'd need that if she was going to make it in the Tower. Lysaran's would always look down on her for being an Iskaran witch, but Istar would never. Thinking he was better than her had nothing to do with why he was flying across the battlefield to her aid. Years of experience gave Istar finely honed combat senses and he could see her becoming overwhelmed before she was actually boxed in. Her back wasn't clear and there was no way she'd be able to turn fast enough to attack the genlock bearing down on her. Faster and faster, the wings of Andvari's flight form worked overtime to get him to her before she could meet perilous harm. He barely made it, there wasn't even a second to spare to change his armor's form. Istar towered over her from behind, metal wings folding over them both to form a shield against the axe bearing down on her. "It's alright, I made it in time," he says, the strain clear in his voice as he concentrates intensely on maintaining the structure of his wings. Flight form was not built for defense, but he would not allow the strike to break through his wings. "You're doing fine. There's no need to "prove" you can do it all alone. You've only just been Accepted. Survival should be your priority." As he speaks, Istar's armor slowly alters shape, remolding from flight to earth as the metal pulls away from his torso to shift the wings into arms. Two throw the axe away while the other come together to smash the genlock's head with a thunderous clap. But they couldn't relax, two more hordes of darkspawn were heading right toward them. He wanted to get her out of her, but there didn't appear to be time for that. "Stick close to me and I'll keep you safe, but we're going to have to fight our way out. Can you handle more?"

[inheritanceistar]

Istar has to turn his entire head to get a good look at the chatty stranger. Was the liquor here strong enough to get his lips flapping or was he expressing some part of his nature? It was all the same to him, so Istar didn't ponder long. Instead he dove into a light recounting of his time in Astoria, everything about his body language loosening as he spoke.

"How many witches does it take to level a town of hundreds? Because the answer is one, but I'm rarely sent out on my own. I've stopped ritual burnings, felled entire calvaries, and even faced down the cleave more times than I can count. Yet when I want to make larger sacrifices to my power, even I am stifled. Staying in the fray against greater and greater threats is the only chance I get to go beyond my limits and see new worlds." Istar sincerely hoped his words were compelling enough because at least now he knew he may have slightly put his foot in his mouth before. He never attended parties where the host remained anonymous. A good look was all he needed to mentally remind himself it was time to reign in slightly. "I really wouldn't bother the host with my selfish requests. I didn't mean to suggest the wine is bad, your lordship."

"Yes, yes, the Olympian gracing the Cove with his presence." Zagreus had to laugh, looking at Istar, the Iskaran so far from home acting like he belonged in Lysara. The genasi had never been one to stray so far from the neutrality he'd been raised with, but he always did have more fun than others of his kind. "That's because you're looking for mead. And you've never asked that host nicely for it, have you?" Zag leaned against the wall now, tilting his head, "Never see? You're right. Enthrall me with all the tales, I'll listen."

He leaned a little closer, "I hear the host is one of those Veridians. Tell me a story and maybe we can find that mead stash – should be the best of the best."

[inheritanceistar]

[inheritanceistar]