This week’s Hunter story is Roland Fawkes, the fire-mage of the group. He’s a wandering sorcerer with a brooding streak and a talent for roasting monsters. Some of this snippet overlaps with Mercy’s. The Relic they’re concerned with is an actual game mechanic that allows “killed” players to re-enter play, but they have to be collected before the shadows over-take them or else they’re lost for good.
Hunters: Battle of Arkady still releases May 1st, which is only 2 weeks away! This means it’ll be available for sale the day after our last Character goes live! We’ll also be doing some other fun things around that time, so keep your eye on this space.
Roland Fawkes
Playable Character
The mage slouched against a wall of the alley, eyeing the ornate building across the way. A courthouse? Probably, all those columns; governments seemed unusually attracted to columns. This one sported the pseudo-Greek variety. The slight young man pulled out a cigarette and slipped it between his lips. It dangled casually and he snapped his fingers, a tiny gout of flame coming to life and dancing on his thumb-tip. The cigarette end glowed red as he lit it, still staring at the courthouse. Shadows gathered about the columns, and he could feel the dark energies moving through the building. Beneath the stomach-turning fetidness of the demon-auras was something else… It pulsed in time to his own heartbeat, glowing in his mind like the end of his lit cigarette.
Just my goddamn luck. A Lazarene Relic, surrounded by one, two, four… five Hellspawn sons-of-bitches.
There was nothing for it; if he wanted the Relic–and he definitely did–he’d have to wade in there and blast the whole lot of them before he’d be able to find it. The relics almost seemed semi-sentient in their ability to hide in plain sight while hellspawn were nearby–and reveal themselves once a Hunter was close enough. It wouldn’t do for a hellspawn to gain the power of a relic, and its ability to return life–true life–to corpses; they had enough undead among their ranks as it was.
Roland dropped his cigarette to the pavement, stubbing it out with a sneakered toe. He stretched his arms out, fingers interlocked in front of him, cracking his knuckles.
“Let’s dance, bitches.”
He strode up the broad steps, pausing in the grand entrance for just a moment. He could handle this, he was sure, but it never hurt to have some backup on the way. He puffed into his cupped hands, then made a releasing motion into the air. A wisp of smoke flew up then flared to life, becoming a tiny bird of flame before vanishing, searching for the nearest Hunter to deliver its message to.
The mage’s fingers glowed reddish orange as he brought them back down before his face. Flames sprang up, dancing around his fists and licking up his forearms, illuminating the entranceway–and glinting off the eyes of an attractive young woman lounging in the door. Her black hair flowed about her body like water, her tight dress clinging in all the right places, and she had an unmistakably lascivious smile on her lips. Roland’s body tried to react to the waves of alluring energy flowing off of her, but he stared back into her dead-black eyes, pits to hell, and suppressed the sensations. Without a word, he flung the flames at her. Her dress shimmered in the glow, and she hissed at him, but it became a shriek as he hit her square in the chest. She disappeared into smoke and ash which crumbled to the steps.
He moved cautiously further into the building.
His room-by-room search wasn’t bogged down by too many monsters–a few townsfolk who had been unlucky enough to end up as walking corpses–until he came to the largest courtroom. It was empty at first glance–until the statue of Blind Justice stepped down off her plinth and swung her bronze scales at him. He leapt back out of the way just in time.
“Son of a bitch!” He cursed. The bitch was big–who in the hell needed a statue that big in their courtroom anyway? He threw flame at her, but it merely washed over her bronze skin and flickered out. Not good.
Without fanfare, Mercy appeared in the doorway behind him. Now, there was a sneaky wench, but she was on his side. At least, as far as he could tell. So far.
“About time!” He barked. Not the most friendly greeting, but he was too busy dodging sword-thrusts to worry about social niceties. “Any time you want to help, Spooky!”
‘Spooky’ flowed into graceful motion, her sword squealing on metal and setting his teeth on edge. Fire and steel combined to take the monstrous statue out of commision for good. As the dust settled, she looked him over.
“Hurt?” She asked.
“Nah, I’m fine. A little worried, though.” Fuck, he wanted another cigarette. No time now, though. “There’s two other courtrooms, and I bet she’s got sisters in ‘em both.”
“I see.” She answered. “We should save our strength for what’s coming. This is a Crossing.”
“Hell.” He cursed again. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then we definitely want to clear this building. Didn’t you feel it when you came in? There’s a relic in here, somewhere.”
Mercy nodded her understanding. “Deacon’s here, and a new Hunter on her Trial–a psychic. They’ll be along any minute.”
“Oh!” Roland broke into a grin. Now, Deacon was a right proper Hunter to have on your side. Big enough to hide behind, and full of firepower. “Great; we’ll clear this place out in no time, then we can search for the others.”
“Have you seen anyone else?”
“Nah, but you know Renata will be here, eventually. Especially if this is a Crossing. She’s always looking for a chance to join that God of hers in the afterlife–or at least send as many hellspawn back down as she can in the process.” Roland shook his head. “Honestly, she scares me–and I throw fire.”
Mercy didn’t answer.
Roland shrugged. “Yeah, good talk. Let’s collect the relic and get out of here. Maybe this new psychic of yours can help find our lovely psycho zealot before she gets herself killed.”
Flames sparking to life around his hands, he led the way deeper into the courthouse. The shadows were gathering, but he meant to light up the darkness with the impromptu funeral pyres of a few hellspawn.
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All content is the property of Roan Arts LLC. Copying or reproduction for profit or without attribution without permission is not permitted. The authors are Lia Wolff and James Weimer. The artist is Caytlin Vilbrandt.
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