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<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia returned back to her shy and more reserved self once the confidence from her performance had worn off again. She couldn't believe she'd been accepted and that it had been that easy. Smiling a little, she watched as The Finger made his hasty and rather awkward disappearance with the donuts and raised an eyebrow at his uncouth ways of speech. This was so different than where she came from, but then again, everything everywhere was different than where she had been raised. She'd already come to expect and appreciate that. Out here, she was... dare she say it... free. Dipping her head politely to The Jersey Devil and to Manny, she said her goodbyes and agreed to be back there later that evening. Then she left the room and went outside to call for another ride in order to return to her hotel room. Once there, she sank to the floor in obvious relief and exhaustion from the many emotions that had vied for her attention during the events of the day. It was time to find herself something to eat, take some breaths and meditate for a little while as she readied herself (in mind, body and spirit) for the upcoming challenge and adventure and time where she could finally participate in something she had dreamed of for so many years of her life. Thoughts of the danger that she and her new teammates could be in, was still pretty far from her mind. She wasn't ignorant of there being serious threat, but she seemed unable to dwell on it for even a second before the illusions of grandeur overtook her mind as she began to feel what this type of freedom could mean. She could finally show what she, an Asian female that had been built to be nothing but poise and elegance and quiet, demure beauty, was able to do. She would remain here, readying and preparing herself for the inevitable events of the evening until it was time to return to the headquarters with her new team.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob watched the others go silently. He was homeless, and while he wasn't broke, he couldn't just go blowing money until he got an income. He wasn't sure what to do with himself until 8. Then his lifeless eyes fell on the remaining donuts. Might as well head home for a bit, then maybe do some recon. Scooping up the donuts. The Jersey Devil went to the window, opened it, and with a small hop and bounce was out and gone. He kept the flips and major twirls to a minimum, trying not to jostle the donuts too much as he went from rooftop to rooftop, casting his eery shadow down on the allies and streets below. He navigated the city until he got to his adopted home, the rooftop of an abandoned building on the outskirts of the industrial district. The stairs up to the top couple floors were completely demolished, so none of the homeless that used the building ever ventured to the roof, and Bob had nailed the door shut and braced it shut for good measure. He had nailed up boards around the bottom of the water tower that was there, and had run an extention cord from the powerlines nearby, and had made a nice little shelter for himself. He had also established quite the reputation from the homeless below. He had been called many things from the vagrants. A demon, a ghost, an alien, and eldritch horror, and also rumors of being a super hero or villain who used the roof as a way to get to my secret hideout. If only they knew. He had calmed some of the fears by leaving food and money and random things for the homeless when he didn't need them himself, and had even kept the area relatively safe from thugs, in turn keeping the homeless safe, but he did it all in secret. Just like now. The Jersey Devil hopped down the side of the building one window at a time until he got to his usual drop off, leaving the box of donuts. One of the kids that lived here always watched the window for him, and she was there today. Her eyes wide seeing the creature, but her mouth silent. Bob nodded to the girl, lifting a clawed finger to his muzzled mouth, and with a single bounce, launched himself to the roof. He settled into his shelter, turning up his music and started doing his stretches, going over everything that was talked about at the meeting. A real gig, people have died, and they might kill people... he hadn't really considered that part. He hadn't killed anyone before. Well... that he knew of. He was more a hit and run kinda guy, and didn't stick around for the aftermath... what if he had cut someone up so bad they died.... harrowing thought. Did he Care though, was the question. He would have, before the Lab incident. But something had changed since then. He probably wouldn't go in Trying to kill anyone, but probably wouldn't be too squeamish if it happened. After an hour or so of relaxing, the Jersey Devil was off again, faster this time. Run, hop, flip, roll, pounce, bounce, and run some more. He stopped at the building next to the club they were supposed to go to that night, and took a small look around. He tried to get a feel for the situation, guards, cameras, traps, windows ventilation shafts, and escape routes. It reminded him of the old days when he used to do this with his friends. They would sneak into all kinds of places, from mansions to factories. Now he was going to do it again with a group... hopefully with better results. CHAMPs for the win... he settled into a dark corner, getting comfortable enough to waste the rest of the free time watching the place before heading back out to their meeting.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Only a few moments had passed since the last of the new CHAMPs left Manny's cramped apartment. With no-one to see him he finally let his excitement out. "Yes! YES! The CHAMPs are back in the hero game, baby!" The man exclaimed for the world, or more likely his neighbors, to hear while hopping from one section of the apartment to another in abject glee. Not only had they managed to recruit three new heroes, but all of them had amazing abilities. Not that Manny looked down on the original CHAMPs, but the current roster of heroes were clearly better. Just as Manny went to the tray of untouched coffee for a celebratory caffeine refilling, Paul entered the room. "Manny, what did we agree upon jumping around the second floor? The customers don't like bits of asbestos on their laundry. Or their coffee and snacks for that matter." Paul gently chided his best friend as he leaned on the door frame, arms folded in front of his chest. "Yes, yes. Health inspector said that if we get one more complaint, he'd shut the laundromat-café until we fix it." Manny sighs dejectedly before taking a long drink from the coffee. "I know you're excited for the CHAMP to be back, but does your first job have to be this dangerous?" Manny nearly does a spit-take at the knowledge that Paul knew that he and the others were going to fight a nightclub full of potentially dusted up thugs. "Wait...how did you-" Paul silences any further confusion by simply showing a black ear stud like device attached to his right ear. "You really ought to remember that despite me being only sidekick in name, I still have to keep track of what dumbass shit you're up to." "I'm assuming that you don't want me to go?" "Yep. Kind of obvious that I don't want you to die. You're my best friend and, honestly, the closest thing to a brother." It was now Paul who sighed. "But I know this means a great deal to you so. Here." The Asian man tosses something to Manny. Catching it he realizes it was a set of keys. "Pau, are these...are these the keys for the delivery car? Oh my God, are you serious?" Manny asked almost in disbelief. He'd never been allowed to use the delivery car for hero use ever since it nearly got totaled during a car chase last year. "Yes. As much as I loathe the idea of you going, this is the new CHAMPs debut job and the media can't see you roll up in a bus. Plus it'll be free advertisement when you do." Paul said nonchalantly shrugging the generosity off, getting caught off guard when the Latino man go in for a bear hug and dashing off to get the personal shield generators from the storage place a quarter mile away from HQ. Getting ready for the job later that evening. --- Downtime Results --- The walk to the nearest bus stop was extra embarrassing for Link when Fatty McGreasington rode past the man in a shitty convertible that barely held the girth of the man and giving him a double middle fingered salute as he drove past. But lady luck was smiling at Link and made the walk a little more bearable when the asshole excuse of a land whale promptly lost control of his vehicle and crashed it into a literal dumpster fire. Talia found her zen state while meditating in her hotel room. While not the best hotel in Hero City, that honor goes to the Royal Orchid Hotel in Uptown, she managed to relieve herself from the anxiety and began to fully grasp that she was now truly her own woman and a genuine heroine of the city...despite keeping the truth away from her parents. Bob's pre-emptive scouting would pay off. Even as evening rolled in and the nightclub just began readying itself for their customers, the number of wannabe party goers piled up more and more by the passing hour; allowing the Jersey Devil to keep observing with impunity. From his spot he discovered that the roof was relatively unguarded, while the entrance and back entrance had at least two thugs keeping an eye on it and the visitors. The roof also had a couple of large air vents as well as a pair of industrial grade air conditioning units. But for the interior of the building, Bob had no clue due to the lack of windows and opaque glass for the VIP section. It was also to be noted that the thugs seemed to be lightly armed, at least for the ones outside, with only a few armed with a tonfa each and maybe one pistol toting one. But soon everyone would convene back to the CHAMP HQ to gear up and get ready to take Volk Bucur out.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman The Jersey Devil would arrive the same way, there being an audible *Thud* as he landed against the wall at the window, his claws holding onto the windowframe. Knowing the right window meant he could simply jump from the nearby building and land with confidence that he would peak in on someone he shouldn't. The lifeless eyes of the gas mask peered into the room to see if anyone was about. He wasn't sure how helpful his information would be, but he at least knew how he was getting in to the club. He should probably take some martial arts training if he was actually going to be a super hero. Maybe kick boxing. What kind of effect would his boots have with a kick.... things that make you go hhmmmm.</s> <|message|>Lincoln "Link" Malloy After some time, Link found himself staring at a familiar door. The feeling of déjà vu crept up his spine as he gave it two hard knocks. He probably could have just walked in - familiarity had already been established - but he hesitated to assume.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose Talia had set up the taxi driver to come get her and arrive back at headquarters several minutes early. She did not know what the night would bring, but she had her large overcoat with her once more, with the ribbons in her bag, and was ready for whatever happened... as ready as she could be. She hoped her parents would forgive her for what she was about to do and especially, for the fact that she hadn't even told them about it. Readying herself, she made her way confidently to the door of the headquarters once more only to find that she wasn't alone waiting at the door. The guy so ironically and fittingly named "The Finger" was also outside. She greeted him in a more friendly manner this time as she hoped that they could begin to establish a more relaxed rapport, since apparently the plan was for her to walk in with him in order to get into their first assignment. She still didn't know how she felt about that plan yet, but she had nothing better to offer and even if she had, she wouldn't dare have assumed that her suggestions would be of equal importance.</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia couldn't help but laugh again as she listened to him share his deep, dark thing. "Wait... a platypus?" she asked him, confused but smiling and amused. When she felt his attempt to put her under some pressure to have a response immediately, she went with the only thing that completely clouded her mind... though she wished she was just afraid of a platypus too... "Umm... I'm supposed to just be on a stage doing performances while here and no one knows I've changed the plans." She had blurted out the words fast so that she couldn't stop to take them back. But it felt a relief to actually tell someone. She smiled up at him again, thankful that he was encouraging and reciprocating her attempt to be a little more talkative. She was probably not very good at this when not on some kind of stage, she mused. But then she returned to his first question... "I would have shown what I could do but it wasn't my turn yet. I wanted to see what the guys could do. Are you scared tonight or just excited?" she asked him, voicing what she had wanted to ask each of them since earlier that day.</s> <|message|>Lincoln "Link" Malloy "Mmm," He grunted in acknowledgment. "Making your own destiny. I dig it." The corner of his mouth rose into a crooked grin just before she asked her next question. Then the smile quickly faded. "If I'm being honest, I'm scared shitless," he admitted, his face holding a solemn expression. "My luck hasn't been great, my life has been a bit of a joke, and I'm in the deep end of the pool, hoping to survive with a dog paddle." Why am I saying this, he thought. Not his most motivating speech and certainly counterproductive from his original intention. "But, while my solo act has been a little disappointing, I believe in us. We're going to be stronger together. I've got your back. It's like Musketeers. All for one, One for all." His grin return as he reflected on what he just said. Slowly, however, confusion began to set back in. "Did the Musketeers even have fuggin muskets? Seems like they just sworded shit. Swordeteers. Sworders. The Three Sword Dudes. Whatever." He shot out one of his middle fingers and willed it to grow out three and a half feet while uttering a snikt sound from his mouth. "We're gonna sword the fuck outta these drugged out douches."</s> <|message|>Talia Rose "Aww.." Talia couldn't help but say as she felt his fear and felt her own compassion for him and what lay deeper behind his words. She had suspected as much from people like him… she'd seen them and met them often in her times in performances. A lot of types of people were drawn to those, whether for enjoyment or distraction or to get laid with one of the dancers afterwards. Yeah, she was no stranger to understanding how that went. "Hey," she added quickly to change the mood and also keep things lighter. "I've got your back, too, alright? Each one of us should do that for each other honestly. Even the kid with the claws and gas mask surely wouldn't object to that. We've got this." She'd smile encouragingly to him.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire @Leophael@ShadowsofNight --- Manny had just finished calibrating and adjusting the power output of the last jury rigged personal shield generators when he decided to finish off the last of the coffees. Seemed like the current CHAMPs liked donuts but not so much coffee. But he took no offence to it, rather he was grateful they'd forgone the drinks. His most productive state would be his caffeinated state. As he chugged the drink down he turned to face the kitchen window only to see the Jersey Devil's face-errm-mask. One spit take and another wall stain to clean up in a few months later, he lets the hero in. "Bob, we really need to talk about the window thing. You know that we have a door leading up to the second floor beside the laundromat café, right?" Just then, he heard the knocking on his apartment door. "Just a moment." He excused himself to go open the door but took an extra moment or two to throw away the scattered coffee cups on the sofa. Once the sofa had been sufficiently cleared, he goes to open the door to see Link and Talia. "Welcome back to HQ. Come on in, Bob just arrived a little while ago." Manny left the door open for the duo to enter while he presented the shield generators. They were roughly the size of a portable CD player, if only a little thicker. "As promised, here are the shields. I know they're way bigger than the pocket watch sized ones the President and other officials use, but believe me that these things will save you from getting shot a few times... atleastfrompistolgradebullets ." He places his on his belt and activated the small-ish device, a semi transparent barrier appeared encompassing him for a split second before disappearing. "Just like that I'm safe...ish. Go feel free to try yours on before we leave."</s> <|message|>Lincoln "Link" Malloy Link awkwardly fumbled with the shield generator, nearly dropping it at first, but he managed to make a full recovery. He opened up his jacket and let us snugly drop into his inside pocket along with the other devices. As the barrier activated, he could feel a tinge of electricity in the air that soon normalized. He looked at Bob and fought the urge to ask his teammate to shoot him. As an ear-to-ear grin formed on his face, he found it quite difficult to contain his excitement. Slowly, he started doing karate moves with terrible form and even worse technique.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob shrugged at Manny's comment about using the stairs. "You should try going up and down stairs with any kind of grace with these boots. I can bounce and tumble through allies and roof tops, but I'll friggin pinball my way up a set of stairs if I don't concentrate the whole way." He'd take his seat on the windowsill again, being more comfortable being perched on the rather than lounging on furniture. He'd take the Shield generator when it was given, taking a moment to look over himself for a good place to put it, settling on a nice pocked opposite his one portable radio that was jacked into his helmet. Not bad. Even doubled as a counter balance to his player. Normally he would have to put a roll of quarters or something in his other pocket when he did shows so that his jacket flared out the same way on both sides. He stopped a moment, and smirked, as the dancer came in, not that anyone could see the smirk. Where was She going to put such a device. He quickly started thinking over ideas to make a rig on her. Bob wasn't good with technical stuff, but he was good with ideas. Maybe a special shoe that could be activated with the right kind of tap of the heal or something. Eh Whatever. He looked back in time to see the Finger looking at him, showing the same kind of eagerness he felt, before he started his "moves". He had to admit he was a little scared, but not for himself. Bob had long before lost his fear of death. Hard to have such compulsions when you backflip across 50 story apartment buildings. He was scared for his new companions. They seemed like pretty cool guys, and didn't want a repeat of losing his friends so long ago. He took a long slow breath. This was not then. They were not a bunch of punk kids thinking they couldn't be hurt. They were superheros going Knowingly into danger. They would be okay.</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia watched as The Finger went inside first and then she took the shield piece from Manny with a little hesitation. She greeted Jersey Devil at the window, instantly looking for him there with her quick eyesight and finding she was correct as to guessing his location. She tried to be friendly and welcoming to him and Manny, as she had to The Finger. Then she noticed a problem. As she watched The Finger and Jersey Devil place their shield on, she realized she had quite forgotten to think of how she would attach her own. She chided herself for a moment for forgetting to plan for such an important piece; she was not used to accommodating for anything extra than her own outfit and the sashes. She considered for a moment, wondering if it could be placed on her shoes, which were more like the typical, flat dance shoes (though with some extra ankle and foot support than those akin to ballet shoes) and decided against it. There was the possibility of tying an extra piece of sash material (she did like to keep those around just in case) around her waist and then hooking the shield piece to it that way... She decided to try that and as she opened her coat up to place the other piece of sash snugly about her waist and the shield pinned or buckled into it securely, she looked up to see if the others protested or looked uncertain about her choice. If they did, she'd sigh and ask them if they had any better suggestions. She rolled her eyes inwardly as she prepared and braced herself for their no doubt lewd comments if she had to do that.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- All the anxieties and worries that he felt were washed away when all three heroes wore their respective shield generators and were rather pleased with the gadgets he'd produced. Really made him feel like they could take on the world, but only time would tell if they were going to fare any better than the previous hero groups that tried to take Bucur down. "I guess we're all ready. I know that I said that we would be taking public transportation to our jobs until we could afford a company vehicle...but thanks to my best bro in the world, we going into our fists mission in style." Manny brings out a keyring with a tacky keychain burger from Hot Bunzᵀᴹ and a set of car keys. Manny promptly runs outside of the apartment room and only a few moments later the three heroes he left behind in the dingy apartment room hear a couple of beeps of a car horn from outside the kitchen window. If the choose to look outside, they would see Manny in his Grey Gadgeteer suit driving a...rather plain looking car. With a childlike glee, he contacts his fellow heroes through the ultra sub-compact earpiece. "Come on, CHAMPs. Justice needs to be delivered!" Operation: Breaking Bucur START</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman The Jersey Devil looked between the other two as their eager leader rushed off and had a car waiting for them. He peered down the open window at the street below, wondering if he saw the car or not from there, then back to the two. "I'll probably make better time by rooftop. I don't really do cars anyway." He hopped onto the windowsill, then looked back to them one final time. "Good luck." Then pounced up into the night. He wasn't just talking shit about the car thing. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about going fast, while sitting still, through off his whole world. There was just too much to a car to make him feel comfortable, even if he was driving. He could do a motorcycle better. But even that wasn't his thing. This was his jam. Bounce, Run, somersault, flip, bounce, swing.... oooo he add to ask Manny about some of those flying squirl gliders for his suit.... land, roll, run. This was him, in complete control. He wasn't sure if he would make I before the car, depending on traffic and all that, but as soon as he made it back to the building he spoke over the ear piece, 'highway to hell' playing faintly in the background in his mask. *On the roof. Headed for the vent shafts.* he took out his multi-tool pocket knife and went to work unscrewing the vent, then wriggling inside.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose Talia watched the Jersey Devil leap out of the window and apparently take his own ride to their meeting place. She looked to The Finger and half-laughed, kind of nervously, "Well, though I can suspend myself from these sashes and swing around like I'm on a trapeze, I think I'll vote for the car that Manny is suggesting. And... I am going to get in it the normal way," She'll laugh nervously again and then turn to go back out the apartment door and down to where the car was waiting for them. All the while, her mind conjuring up images and the feeling of leaping through the air like the Jersey Devil, but in her own way. Could she ever come up with something like that herself? Maybe if she knew the layout of the city better... If offered to get into the car, she will and then will try to make sure she understands the plan for when they arrive. Was she still playing as Cinderella, holding onto his arm? The typical, pretty lady all dressed up and acting flirtatious? It was a good thing that she was a performer because this would take some Convincing acting.</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman The Jersey Devil slid slowly through the air vents, snaking his thin fit form as quietly as possible. He would stop, laying comfortably over the vent to the VIP room and watching. As the the group arrived, he would make his replies in soft whispers, grateful that his mask would muffle responses hopefully enough to keep from getting overheard. The mission impossible song playing faintly in the background. *Got eyes on the target. Count about six guards inside. All melee, no guns on them that I see. Will wait for yalls signal* His hope and plan, was when things got into place, he could use his boots to bust him out of the vent, and try to swing straight at the big bad guy. Give him a nice pounce.... God he even described his attacks like a cat. He really was cat man. He didn't even Like cats.... then something dawned on him... *Hey... uh... the guys here are taking pills... didn't you say that dust stuff gave them superpowers?*</s> <|message|>Talia Rose As soon as the car was stopped, Talia would turn to The Finger to make sure their plans were on the same page: that they would enter the nightclub together, per password given at the front, and then proceed to do their own thing (as intuition leads) once inside. After things had been agreed upon, she would ready herself for the walk to the location, all the while listening intently to the news over the earpiece. Grabbing her bag, which discreetly held her sashes and a couple other necessities, she would adjust the large overcoat once more to ensure she was covered. Then she would make the walk side by side with him until they got closer to the front entrance, whereupon she would smile apologetically and link arms with him, waiting for the chance that they could both be able to be let in, due to his knowledge of an apparent passcode that he possessed.</s> <|message|>Lincoln "Link" Malloy Link's fingernails were firmly implanted in the shoulders of the front-side seats as the CHAMPs mobile came to a halt. Eyes wide, looking like his life had flashed before his eyes, his stare bored into the back of Manny's head. Never again, he swore to himself. Manny's driving certainly had a style of its own. Hurriedly, he pushed himself out of the vehicle's back door and firmly placed his feet on the concrete, taking in the glorious feeling of safety and freedom as he stretched out and attempted to chiropractically pop his neck with a few different maneuvers. They were finally here. Time to put on their game faces. He looked to Talia and nodded, affirming that he was ready and their plan was a go. As they walked, he adjusted his earpiece to fit into his ear more comfortably and transmitted. "Let's get it started, ha! Let's get it started in herr!" he quipped, reciting a radio edit from the Black Eyed Peas. His attempt at alleviation was cut short when the sight of his true love came into view. She was parked haphazardly and crooked in a spot toward the front. She was banged up, abused. Her paint was scratched. Link felt his eye twitch and his teeth grind. Don't worry, love, he mentally professed to the 4-wheeled object of his affection. I'm not leaving here without you. As they ventured closer, the serpent of desperation began to come into focus. That's the only way Link could describe the queue of people wrapped around the building, all dolled up and waiting behind a velvet prison for a pass from the security overlords that would likely never come. Link looked to Talia and answered her smile with a smirk of his own before offering his elbow. The two of them continued on, foregoing the line. "Don't look any of them in the eye," he whispered under his breath, intending to enter her earshot alone. No doubt, if she were to meet their gawking stares, she would discover faces of ire, envy, jealousy and hatred that often came when those who are struggling bear witness to those who thrive. As they skipped the line in its entirety, they stopped at the two very burly looking men in black t-shirts who who stood on the inside of a velvet barrier, one of whom was positioned behind a podium. Atop the podium was a notebook whose contents consisted of the identities of the privileged. Within the podium were several keys organized by the valet drivers. Link took a mental note before looking at the twin meatheads. "Name." Meathead Number 1 was all about business, no pleasantries. Link glanced at the notebook and then quickly back up to meet Gigantor's gaze. He wasn't going to be in the book. "Uh," he stammered. His eyes widened for a moment. His mind was blank. Oh, fuck! What the hell was the password, again?! Speedo? Dong wagon? Butt floss? Oh, wait- "Banana Hammock," he said with a forced sense of confidence. Big Boy raised an eyebrow and looked the two up and down. The silence that permeated the air lasted for what seemed like hours. Links hands slowly curled into fists. This wasn't going to wor- "Enjoy your evening," The Big Guy said with a newly sprouted grin as he pulled back the rope and gestured toward the club's entrance. Link let out a long sigh through his nostrils before taking a step forward, Talia still in tow. As they stepped inside, they could feel the rhythm of the music. The bass, the vibrations, the movement of the dancers, the shrieking attempts at communication over all the sound pollution... He loved it! It felt like home. Inasmuch as he had an urge to succumb to his social desires, he had to remind himself that they were there on business. They had a mission. He looked to Talia, pointed at her, and then swung his index finger like a lasso. His non-verbal request was meant to translate to Do you want to go look around? He then pointed at himself and then over to the bar, telegraphing his own personal destination. Finally, he pointed to Talia once more and then rolled his hand into a fist before extending out his pinky and thumb in a shaka sign, shaking it toward his mouth like a bottle - his way of asking if she wanted a drink before they split off. With a final shrug, he awaited her response. Then came the sound of Bob: "Got eyes on the target. Count about six guards inside. All melee, no guns on them that I see. Will wait for y'all's signal." And then, "Hey... uh... the guys here are taking pills... didn't you say that dust stuff gave them superpowers?" Fuck.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- In the Belly of the Beast --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Manny wished the duo luck before peeling away from the two and into an adjacent side-street just before they reached the same block and Link seeing his beloved car. While Talia and Link entered the nightclub through the boon Link got from bedding 'Bertha', Manny had to suffice trying to reach the roof of the Nox via fire escape in a dark alleyway. It wasn't entirely bad, other than the alley smelled of piss and rotting foodstuffs. "I really should have not skimped out on the components for a grappling hook module." The man grunted to nobody in particular as he pushed a dumpster underneath the aforementioned fire escape's folded ladder. Just then Manny would hear Bob confirming visual contact with Bucur and the kind of security he had inside of the VIP area. "Pills? That probably isn't Diamond Dust. Diamond Dust is used with an inhaler, so keep an eye out for any inhalers with stuff that looks like glitter in it. Regardless, drunk and/or drugged up party goers are unpredictable. Keep safe." Just as he finished transmitting the reply to all the other CHAMPs, Manny climbs up the dumpster and finally makes significant progress to reaching the roof. Meanwhile, Bob while waiting for his fellow heroes to get into position he would see something concerning. While some of the other VIPs were enjoying the drink and drugs, an old man holding an Aluminum briefcase approached Bucur and laid a friendly arm over the larger man's shoulder. Rather than get upset, Bucur just smiled amused to the old timer and spoke. "Facade, I assume that you're here for business?" and the old man shifted into a pale man with equally pale eyes and long two-tone hair. "You know it, Bucur. I'd love to stay and get high...but time is money, baby. Last delivery of DD, half the price. Just for you." Facade said with a smirk as he opened the case he had revealing ten inhalers with visible capsules of glitter like substances contained within. Down in the club proper, a small group of inebriated young men approached Talia and Link before they could discuss their plan of action now that they were inside. "Heyyy China-girl." One of the men slurred before slipping an arm over Talia. "Why don't you party with us and ditch the grungy grandpa over here." The other two attempted to flank Link, in an attempt to intimidate the man. "Yeah-*hic*- we can show her a really good time. So...so you think you can get lost, geezer? Like right now?" The other man flanking Link interjected by roughly placing his arm around the older man's shoulder and neck. The wanna be thug lets out a breath. The smell of booze and spit was strong and could almost burn Link's nose hairs. "Or you wanna get your ass kicked and sent to the geriatric hospital?" He drunkenly threatened waving a semi formed fist in front of Link's face.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob braced as he watched what was happening. He wanted to stop the drugs before he lost sight of them, but didn't want to jump the gun. Then he saw the shapeshifter. Shit. *Deals going down. Got a case for evidence, but home dude's dealer is a shapeshifter. Just in case, code word is Peepers, in case there's confusion of who's who. Hate shapeshifters. Makes my back itch just thinking about having a knife in it.* he planned to now pounce the shifter, and take the case. Then figure out what to do next, but waited for the others to make a move.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose The young, Asian woman had moved quickly at Link's side as they got into the nightclub. It had gone off without a hitch that was for sure; she was still a little surprised and definitely admiring of how easily and coolly Link had handled it all and now they were at the intended location, with The Jersey Devil on top with eyes on things, and Manny on his way up there as well. How she still wished that was where she was, able to just leap down on the unsuspecting targets like the other two were about to, but she put all of that from her mind and focused... This, here, was her assignment. Now the only things she needed to worry about was Link and the people around her. She drew a deep breath to steady herself for the plan of splitting off from Link, since they'd likely cover more ground or find out more information separate than together. She had already declined his offer for a drink and was stepping away when the young and completely drunk group of men came up to her and flanked Link as well. When she felt one of their arms around her shoulder, she resisted flinging it instantly off and leaping into attack... That might not be the best plan, but it would certainly cause a diversion, she thought to herself. Then she smiled, amused, as she remembered she had many ways to cause a diversion. The sparkling chandelier overhead only further served her purposes and so, she decided to give the men what they wanted, though perhaps not quite in the way they had planned... Sliding quickly and fairly easily out from under the man's arm, she shrugged her overcoat off her shoulders and then moved gracefully and purposefully to an emptier space in the night club. Her eyes never left the group of men, and she kept up the feeling of luring them in, seeking to entrance them with her movements and expression. As she flowed into her effortless movements, she would hear the Jersey Devil's next report: that the diamond dust was indeed here and a... shapeshifter... She didn't let that distract her though, as she began to swirl and spin with her arms reached out, extended gracefully and then swaying as though she was the wind itself... a soft, gentle breeze at first until the energy built around and inside of her and the movements became more intense, like sudden gusts of wind breaking the stillness. As she danced, she listened closely to anything further coming into the earpiece, but didn't miss a single movement even in her focus and her keen eyesight didn't lose sight of her surroundings or the various people.</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- Lets Get this Party Started! --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Manny finally reached the roof of the building after a significant amount of climbing up of old and unused emergency escape ladders. He lets out a relived sigh before receiving a transmission from Bob. Apparently they managed to arrive just in time for them to possibly catch the drug dealing scum that was selling the drugs to Bucur. But as soon as Bob mentioned that the dealer was a shapeshifter Manny's encyclopedic knowledge of any known heroes and villains finally proved to be useful to the group. Activating his earpiece and transmitting it to everyone he explains his idea on who this villain was. "A shapeshifter that's dealing street level drugs? That must be one of two villains I know...and I doubt The Green Phoney could be out of prison so soon. That must be Façade. No more dangerous than a common thug but I agree with Bob. If Façade is dealing Diamond Dust, he must have some powerful friends." Just then as Manny was going to squeeze into the vent he assumed Bob entered, the door leading to the roof access opens, causing Manny to turn his head and lock eyes with a confused looking bouncer trying to begin his break. "I'll get back to you guys in a bit." "Oi, roof access is for employees only!" The bouncer approached the Latino man aggressively. "And whats with that get up? You a cosplayer or something?" The bouncer was now only an arm's length away from Manny and he towered over the hero easily. Manny knew why he was chosen to be a bouncer of this establishment. "Uhhh...GADGETEER ZAP!" Without wasting a moment, Manny quickly activated one of the suit's many gadgets and jabbed his armored hand forward and onto the bouncer's unprotected chest. The impact itself did little but Sixty-thousand volts was more than enough to cause the bouncer to fall flat on the ground. "Oh God, I think I killed him!" Meanwhile... Talia's performance would have the majority of the dance floor observing her. Never have they ever witnessed such a graceful dance to the cacophonous electronic music, even the piss-drunk asshats were enamored by the dance. Giving Link the advantage of a surprise attack. The wannabe thug was down in an instant, Link's finger gagging him well enough to induce vomiting. The other two drunks notice what Link just did and decide that maybe picking on him was a bad idea after all. Though victorious, Link notice that some of the bouncers noticed his little stunt and were approaching him likely with an intent to kick him out of the nightclub for fighting. Talia would also notice that the bouncers already had their tonfas and batons drawn. If Link were to fight these two alone he'd be in danger but they haven't figured out that they were in cahoots with one another and she could get into the VIP area easier. Bob on the other hand would see that both Bucur and Façade focus more on the happenings on the dance floor to see the mess wrought by Link. "Ah shit balls. Another bunch of idiot drunks getting into fights. That's another mess I'll have to deal with tonight." Bucur said as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You know how it is with boys and their drinks righ-wait a second..." Façade approaches the ledge of the VIP area and squints at Link. "Oh fuck. That's the dude I nabbed the car from earlier today. Sorry Bucur, I gotta bounce before I get my ass whooped." Before Façade could turn away to make a hasty escape, a heavy meaty hand lays itself on the shapeshifter's shoulder. "Relax. Me and my boys have dealt with supers before. Some drunk shit would be a nothing. Now sit while we discuss the deal." Bucur finished by flashing the shapeshifter a semi reassuring semi intimidating smile as the shapeshifter shifted uncomfortably in his seat offered by the larger man.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman That was his que, it seemed. With one final breath, Bob kicked off the top of the shaft, bursting through the vent into the VIP room. He tried to keep a mind on where everyone was, but he was not used to working in tight spaces. So a lot of what happened came across more like someone chunking a super ball in an elevator. Swinging out of the shaft, he would aim both feet at the Facades back, hoping to slam him down, while pushing back off him into a backflip and using his hand springs to shove him feet first at one of the goons with a gun. He wanted to take those out quickly. The spring off that goon, or the wall behind him, was meant to drive him palms first into the big bad guy himself. His trajectories planned, he tried to keep the case with the dust in sight, hoping his bouncing around would bring him close enough to snag it or kick it out of reach. He went from Jersey Devil, to Cat man, to Racket Ball in a single evening. A new record.</s> <|message|>Lincoln "Link" Malloy Slimy. It was the only word Link could think to describe the tactile resonance of his middle finger at the moment. He hurriedly wiped it dry on his jeans before taking in the sight of the aggressively approaching Muscle Squad. Weapons, he thought as he analyzed their bludgeoning instruments from a distance. His hands curled into fists once more, all except for his middle fingers which quickly grew in size, weight and thickness becoming comparable in proportion to the clubs welded by the bouncers. While he wanted nothing more than to fearlessly stare down his pursuers as they approached, he forced himself to break his gaze and look toward Talia, if only to assess her situation in that moment. She seemed aware of the imminent danger. "Maybe we both dance this time," he loudly suggested with a crooked grin before turning back to the bouncers. "The thing is, I only know how to dance one way: Swing Dancing." His grin grew wider as he lifted his finger-bats in the air. "...cuz I'm about to swing these things..." he continued, the confidence quickly vanishing from his voice. "...at their faces. It's sort of a double entandr- you know what, forget it. Let's fuck these guys up!"</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia indeed noticed the danger that her partner, Link was in... seizing the moment of the brief disruption he had now afforded her, she leaped lithely to land next to the bag she had also shrugged to the floor with her jacket before her dance, and quickly pulled out the ribbons from within, though no one would think they were any sort of weapon. She considered for a moment that her pathway to the VIP area where Bob was, now was clear but she could and would never leave a teammate to deal with danger alone when she knew about it. Deciding this was the better course of action for a new heroine in training, she danced her way towards the bouncers, ribbons whipping in snake-like fashion around and above her as she twirled them ever faster and faster. She unleashed them, once near enough to the two bouncers, to coil expertly and neatly around the baton and tonfa and to slip them instantly from their tight grips. She will have done this so quickly and with such a flow of energies and movement that they would not notice her and then she will return to sliding back amongst the crowd, continuing her beautiful and graceful dance once more as though nothing had happened.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- So Far, So Good. --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Manny did his best to check on the vitals of the fallen bouncer...but he was a college drop-out not a medical expert! He poked and prodded the prone form of the seemingly dead man and the lack of reaction raised his anxiety each passing second. He'd just told his companions that he strictly followed a no kill rule earlier this day. He seemed like a hypocrite now. He can already imagine the disappointment! His mother and father were right, he was not hero material! Just as the dread set in, the bouncer finally began breathing. Unconscious, without a doubt, but still breathing. "Oh my God. Thank you Jesus." The moment of relief was cut short by the sound of conflict from the open roof access. He surmised that the others had gotten into position and were already launching the attack. He'd nod his head to pump himself up and looked to the ventilation shaft Bob entered the nightclub with and was ready to jump headlong into the darkness. Unfortunately a rather large spider made itself known and forced the hero to use the more direct approach of the roof access. Bob's surprise attack was successful, Bucur, Façade, and the goons were caught unaware as the blur of a man slammed into them like a human-sized pin ball. Façade's seat was crushed underneath the force and combined weight of the two, leaving the shapeshifting villain to writhe on the floor in pain while cradling his sides. The goon with the gun clutched his crotch as the Jersey Devil's amplified kick ensured that even his great grand children could have felt the kick. Bucur however was another matter, after getting a face full of augmented palm strikes, the large man simply spat out a tooth and grabbed the Jersey Devil by the left forearm. "My turn." Bucur then threw the hero clean across the room, over the drugged out party goers, and into the door leading to the stairs to the roof access. "Another wannabe hero trying to make a name for himself by trying to take big bad me down." Bucur paused as one of his available goons offered him a handkerchief to wipe away the blood dripping from his mouth. "Well. You should haven't gone alone little man." "Who said he was alone!" A voice answered back as the door Bob crashed into was pulled open by none other than the Grey Gadgeteer himself. As brave as he sounded, Bob could see that the sight of so many enemies caused Manny's knees to tremble. Down in the dance floor... The chaos in the VIP area was largely ignored by the blaring electronic music and the dancing bodies of the club goers. Just as the bouncers got close enough to Link and Talia's location, a ribbon from the crowd snagged the weapons out of the hands of the bouncers. Confused they look around for the source of the ribbons but the crowd of dancing people and the swiftness of the disarming caused them to quickly give up and going towards Link; unarmed but undeterred. They approach Link and prepare to tussle with the man and his engorged fingers. The first bouncer throws a straight at Link while the second goes for a grapple. Link only had time to dodge one or the other...unless, that is, if Talia did something to intercept one of the attacks but also risking getting caught up in the melee.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose Talia had kept her keen eyesight on Link and his predicament even though she had gone back to twirling and dancing, doing her best to keep up the distraction for as long as possible. But now, her teammate was still being stalked by the two men and if she didn't do something and fast, he might end up getting attacked! She danced and twirled her way quickly back within striking distance and struck out again with both of her ribbons, this time allowing the metal-tipped ends to coil around both wrists of the man that was aiming a punch straight at Link. The bouncer would feel the silken, cool touch of the ribbons at first but then it would instantly become confusing pain as he becomes aware of something slicing their way through the tendons at the top parts of both wrists. Talia had carefully selected and aimed at her target area, avoiding the risk of accidentally cutting through any major arteries that would cause someone to bleed out if the flow was not staunched. She was not to kill, only... deter... Possibly maim... Using the Chi energy and momentum fueling her moves, she pulled back hard with the ribbons still wound tightly into the bouncer's arms, planning for him to be yanked away from Link but still able to land at a distance from her. If all went according to plan, she'd "call" err... guide her ribbons to release the target and return to her, prepared for the next strike.</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Talia Rose The energies still circling around Talia did much to warn her of the commotion as the entire club emptied, save her and Link and three new thugs. She had only a moment to take in what they were saying, before she used the force of her momentum to try to avoid the suddenly speeding bullet heading towards her. Things were already going in a significantly time-slowed pace for her due to the chi surrounding her, and the forcefield that Manny had given to each of them would stop the bullet if her movements somehow did not, but it was better not to press her luck. She was keenly aware of Link's motion and direction as well and saw that, thankfully, his shield had worked. After sliding nimbly out of the way, she would send one of her ribbons straight up to the chandelier, wrapping around one of its intricately designed arms, then plan to pull herself up, right along with it. Before that, in the same fluid, graceful movement, she will have aimed her other long, swirling ribbon at the guy shooting at both of them and direct the razor metal at the tip to slice his forearm as well, while hopefully plucking the gun from his hands and shooting it over in Link's general direction where she hoped he might be able to at least keep it away from the thugs. Then she will spin herself up in the air, where she was most at ease and comfortable.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- Now the REAL Party Begins. --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Manny immediately took cover once again as the empty pistol hit his helmet. But just as he mustered enough courage to look out once again, a briefcase hit him square in the top of his helmet; causing the man to duck for cover as he thought they resorted to throwing objects at him to bypass the shield. But it only took him a moment to realize that it was the case that had the inhalers of Diamond Dust. Eyes widening to an almost comical degree, Manny grabbed the case and held it tightly to his chest with his unarmored arm as he decided that he was done hiding behind the couch. He was here to give Bob back up! Not to cower behind a couch! "Gadgeteer Bola Zapper!" Manny extends an armored fist outward towards the gap between two thugs as a miniature bola is launched and snags both of their arms together before the weighted ends magnetically lock together. As soon as the weights locked together, an electrical charge electrocutes both the thugs and incapacitates them. "Haha! Justice strikes tru-" Manny's quip is cut short by a thug's fist colliding with his face. Knocking the literal spit out of him. The other thug near the Latino man didn't let up the opportunity and proceeded to kick the dazed hero until Manny hit the ground and curled into a fetal position to protect the case. "Ah God! They're kicking my ass!" Bucur's body may have been enhanced by the Diamond Dust, but even his dust enhanced muscles were no match for the sharp claws of the Jersey Devil. Most especially now that Bob was in a berserk mode. Bob's claws cut into the big man's leg with terrifying ease; even reaching so far to even the bone. "You're fucking dead, pest! DEAD!" Bucur cried as he fell to the floor, clutching his now useless leg as blood freely flowed down to pool on the floor. But the inhuman roar of something will take the attention of those in the VIP area to the dance floor. Down in the dance floor... Talia's actions proved too much for the ill trained thug to keep up, firing his gun three more times without even hitting the Performer. The bullets shattered the intricate and beautiful pieces of glass the chandelier held, but it only compounded to the unearthly grace and beauty the ribbons moved. The metal blade lacerated the gunner's forearm and with the lack of tautness his injured muscles could provide, Talia's ribbon successfully disarmed the thug and tossed the half empty gun over the bar counter and into, hopefully, more friendly hands. Link would see the entire acrobatic maneuvers of Talia, to say it was impressive was an understatement. But it was not the time to gawk at the Asian woman's dexterous grace, but to kick evil's ass! But before Link or Talia could do any more actions, one of the three thugs pulled out an inhaler and inhaled the glitter-like substance and the effects were near immediate. His muscles unnaturally bulked up to the point that it ripped his shirt and pants. Thankfully his underwear was stretchy enough to keep the thug's dignity protected. Veins bulged and his pupils dilated to the extent that none of his irises were visible now. "Pierce, you OD'd you idi-" A fellow thug's disparaging comment was cut short by the massive hand of his former companion slamming into him. The thug that could have easily weighed 120 kilograms was sent flying across the dance floor like a ragdoll would in the hands of a petulant child. The overly muscular and massive thug then looks to Talia and roars in an animalistic manner before taking the injured thug and throwing the man at Talia, intending to hit her or at the very least force her off the chandelier.</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia scarcely heard the gunfire from the other attempted bullet shots as they zoomed around her but could not seem to touch her. The glass rained down around her, also not able to actually touch her, as she continued her airborne acrobatics, hoping that Link would have the chance to grab the gun. A sudden roar down below caused her to direct full awareness back down to the dance floor as she saw and heard that someone had clearly overdosed on the Diamond Dust... She hurriedly attempted to tell the others over the earpiece... "Guys! A thug overdosed out here... He's huge and strong, be careful!" before she had to leap for cover as he aimed the body of one of his own at her. She figured her best bet was to at least join Link's position so that neither of them was alone for this, so she slid her hands up her ribbons (both had already looped around a piece of the chandelier) and she drew them to her once more then aimed her trajectory to land her lithely atop the bar counter and then somersaulted gracefully to be behind the bar, close but not too close to Link. She did not want to fully startle a man that was fighting for his life. The second she had the breath to speak, she would calmly tell him it was just her, if he appeared alarmed and startled.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman The feel of his fingers sliding into the fleshy bits of the big man felt weirdly invigorating. He was Not worthless. He slammed his claws into the floor, leaving bloody paw prints as he kicked his legs over his head and sprang up with his hands. He was Not going to die like his friends. He launched himself feet first at the goons attacking Manny. He was not weak. He prepared to plant both feet into one goon and unleash the momentum stored in the boots into the mans body, hoping to shove him into his buddy and both into the wall. Not helpless. He was going to stop them. He was.... the roaring downstairs ended his thoughts and he smoke into the communicator. *Can you guys stop him? Got a supe up here too.*</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- The Bigger they are... --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Manny could feel the bruises already forming from his beatdown but he refused to let the case go. But after a brief moment, it dawned on him that the beating suddenly stopped. Cautiously turning his head up from the floor, he looked up to see the form of the Jersey Devil. "Thanks." The two goons that Bob launched into one another towards a wall were on the ground writing in pain. One cradling his side as a rib bulged out from his flesh and made an obvious bump under the goon's shirt and the other holding his back while lying as flat as he could on the floor. The strong impact to the wall likely having compounded to an already existing back issue. It seemed that they'd had dealt with the threats in the VIP area. Bucur too busy trying to prevent himself from bleeding out from the severe laceration Bob gave him. The goons unconscious or too injured to fight. And Façade himself opting to just keep down and hope that by staying down, he'd avoid another pummeling; going so far as to even shift his body to make false injuries and act in constant pain to make him even less of a target. But even if they'd secured the VIP area, the dance floor had the biggest threat the new CHAMPs had to face: an overdosed duster. Manny looked to Bob from his prone position as he tried to stand back up. "Bo-Imean-Jersey Devil. I can handle securing these guys for arrest. You go help the Performer and Link out with the big guy. Be careful though, if things get bad you and the others get out of there ASAP, ok? As much as I hate the idea, if we can't stop him, we're gonna have to wait for the police to gun him down." Down in the dance floor, Talia would land behind the counter with Link and see that the rock star hero was still in quite a daze from nearly getting shot and killed but, thankfully, still very much alive and well. Though it may not be the case soon. The overdosed thug began snatching seats and tables off the side of the dance floor and began throwing the projectiles at the hiding duo. With every thrown improvised projectile, the massive superhuman moved closer to where the two heroes hid behind. A chair hitting the displayed alcohol and showering the two with bits and pieces of sharp glass as well as an unearthly mixture of cheap booze and exotic spirits. If the two didn't do something, they'd be going toe to toe against an artificial superhuman that could easily maim or kill with his bare hands.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Police? Wait for the Police? Why, so they can charge us for stupid crap while they let the real bad guys go? Just like they did with his friends? If the lifeless glass eyes of the Jersy Devils mask were able to change color to match his moods, they would be glowing red. He launched himself to the balcony overlooking the main floor, perching on the railing to look below at the chaos. Extending his claws, he focused on the brute. Backflipping off the railing and slamming his boots into the balcony to gain momentum, he rocketed up, grabbed the chandelier in order to swing up and plant his boots on the ceiling, then pushed off to swing for the brutes back. Letting go of the of the chandelier, he sailed down like a cat, feet and claws first. The loose threads of belt and leather straps fluttering behind him. He aimed to plant his claws into the brute's shoulder blades, and his boots into the brute's lower back at the hips. His goal at the moment was to get the things focus off his new team, and on the defensive. He was trying to be somewhere hard to reach, but also somewhere he could jump off if he knew he was going to get grabbed. He'd never tried this before, but his primal hatred at the time made this seem like a good idea.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose Peeking over the edge cautiously, bracing as the back wall behind her exploded in shards of glass that rained down on her, Talia could see that her position was vulnerable now and that the overdosed guy was going to soon corner both her and Link. Turning to her partner, she tried (probably in vain) to snap him out of it but then realized she wasn't going to be able to help him and her at the same time. He was too big for her to try to carry out or use the ribbons to assist her... It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was torn between thinking of leaving him behind and trying to protect herself by leaving, which would also likely cause the thing to turn away from Link and chase her. Just as she was pondering her next move, she saw a blur of movement from the balcony above leap down onto the giant thing... "The Jersey Devil..." she breathed, while in some level of awe at the hero's movement speed and boldness, but then she realized he might still need her assistance in some way. With that final thought in mind, she launched herself away from the bar and to the other side of the room, landing with a graceful roll as she simultaneously sent out her ribbons to lash around one of the overdosed guy's massive legs... She was aiming to trip him at the very least but if she could slice with her razor tips at the end in some way, that was also the goal. She would be a partner and teammate that helped out her others the best she could, no matter what the danger was to her.</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob cursed as he was grabbed, trying to cling in vain to the brute. Thinking fast was pivotal in his line of entertainment, and it hopefully served him well now. *Duck!!* he cried to the performer, flipping in mid flight to aim his shock absorbing boots and gloves at the coming bar. While they should be able to take the impact... the bar was not so fortunate. There was a splinter and cracking seconds before the wood buckles and pops out like it was hit by a cannon ball. Wood, glass, liquid splinters everywhere, and drops Bob hard to the ground as everything rains down on top of him. All he could do was lay there and groan for a moment, not entirely sure where he hurt yet, but that did hurt.</s> <|message|>Talia Rose "No!" Talia's cry was basically silenced at the sound of the crash as she watched the Jersey Devil be thrown into the bar and be showered with the debris that followed... She had to stay focused. Link's and now Bob's lives depended on it... Hoping that she could assist in some way by giving Bob time to get back up, she leaped to the other side of the room, away from the bar to draw the thing away, and swished out one of her whip-like ribbons straight at the brute's face but specifically his eyes. If she could blind him with those razor edges at the ends of her ribbons, surely even a majorly doped up thing like this would feel the effects of razors in his eyeballs and hopeful blindness... She used the other ribbon to give a sharp tug wrapped around the hand closest to her location and direct him her way... She remained a good distance away after her ribbons did their job, letting her leap continue to carry her till she made it safely to the ground away from the bar.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- A Turning Point --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Bob's arms and legs ached badly. His gloves and boots ensured that majority of the force was absorbed and he avoided severe injury, and possibly, death. He wouldn't be fighting at 100% any more, but the fire of determination in Bob kept him running. Was he about to let this dusted up dummy kill him or the others? Hell no! But he still needed time to get up. Fortunately Talia was there to provide the much needed back-up and distraction that Bob needed. The razor tipped ribbons lashed at the brute's face and regardless of how thick his muscles were, his eyes were still the same squishy slimy spheres as when he was still normal. The effect was immediate as crimson life fluid spurted from where an eye should have been. Success! But only a partial one as when Talia's ribbons wrapped around the brute's hand and by sheer power alone, yanked the Performer mid-jump and causing her to be dragged closer to the rampaging mutant. Close enough for her to be in range of the flailing arms of the pseudo super human. Things were looking bleak. Manny was bleeding pretty badly from his arm injury, but from the sound of the Jersey Devil's command to duck and the sound of something breaking and splintering, his allies were getting a worse beating than he was. Talia's cry of disbelief made the dread he felt even worse. Had he led his new companions to their deaths? The man's knees began to shake once more. "What's the matter, chump?" Bucur takes a sharp breath. "Finally realizing you fucked up?" Scowling at the injured man Manny yells at him. "S-shut up!" Façade makes a wheezing sound that echoed a chuckle. "Play time...over, wannabe." He hated how even now the villains didn't take them seriously. How their group was the butt end of every joke in the hero community. Hated how all their blood, sweat, and tears were being disregarded like trash! The shapeshifting villain finishes wheezing out a chuckle and lunges at the seemingly disheartened Manny, intending to kill him...but gets knocked out. Manny had used his armored hand to parry the knife's blade and slug Façade in the face. Leaving Bucur dumbstruck. "No." He wasn't letting his new CHAMPs die here. They were the CHAMPs and champions don't give up! Turning around and leaping from the railings of the VIP area he free falls to the semi-blinded mutant man. "Omega Zap!" He removed the suit's safety limiter and discharged the full wattage the suit had to offer. He was risking his life to prove that they were heroes worthy of respect. But more importantly, he was risking it to make sure his new friends were coming home alive. There was a brief flash of light and a deafening boom as if a lightning bolt had struck the dance floor. As Talia and Bob blinked away the disorientation they saw Manny on the floor alongside the mutant brute, both of them having 3rd degree burns in the pattern of a branching tree...but even after that sacrifice, the over dusted up monster stood back up. Albeit with barely any fight left within it; but it was still rearing to go fight and kill it's opponents. It was up to the two remaining heroes to finish it off now that Manny had knocked himself out and Link was still too shocked to move.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob groaned, pulling himself up slowly from the wreckage of the bar. He hadn't felt like this in a while, but it wasn't entirely new to him. when you misgauge a jump across a rooftop and end up ping ponging down an alley into a dumpster, you learn to suck it up and try again, or go home. Bob clearly sucked it up. Being able to move didn't help him know what to do from here though. Their party of four had been reduced to two, the drugs were missing, the supes upstairs where probably getting away, Link had blown a gasket, and Manny was down. Did he go for the bosses? Did he try to take out the brute? Did he try to help everyone get away? He wished he could move around like the dancer did. Combine that with his parkour, and he could be brutal in dodging and making a distraction. Right now, he was only good on the go. Thinking as fast as he could while still in pain, he released the stored impact of his boots to launch him up to the chandelier, trying to get a look at everything in hopes of figuring out what to do. Where were the bosses? Where were the drugs? What here the people that had been in the room doing? and... he hated to consider it, but he was running low on options... what there a gun that he could see and get to in case he needed to put the brute down. he wasn't good with guns... had never actually fired one... but how hard could it be.</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Disoriented and dazed by the deafening noise and the sudden appearance of their other teammate badly injured and now unconscious on the ground, Talia blinked in shock a few times before shaking her head to clear it and jump into action. She readied her ribbons and was able to wrap one of them around Manny's leg and pull him safely out of the way of the over-dusted supe over to where she was... What else could she do though? She had no idea how they were going to take this thing down... She just knew she needed to get Manny away from it and give The Jersey Devil a chance to get to his feet and recover from his own hard landing. Looking around frantically, desperately, she didn't see any way out of this without trying to fully end this brute's life... but how? She thought of her performance abilities and realized something: perhaps she could be a similar distraction to this brute as she had been to those bullies in the back... She readied herself once more, after yanking Manny some distance away... and prepared herself to reveal a full distraction.</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- One Last Push --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- Bob easily launched himself to the chandelier above to get a better vantage of the dance floor as well as the VIP area. His body ached like crazy but his sheer determination pushed him onward. Thankfully, Bucur was still incapacitated by his vicious strike earlier that fight and Façade was out cold. The thugs were either out cold from the electric shocks dealt by Manny or writhing on the ground from the injuries caused by Bob. The case containing the Diamond Dust inhalers was, miraculously, still where Manny had dropped it when he got stabbed. If the Jersey Devil were forced to do in the false super, a pistol could still be acquired in the VIP area. But he had a plan right to take the brute down non-lethally, right? Bob didn't need to resort to using guns to gun down this beast like those heartless men and women who gunned his friends and family down like animals. Bob was better than that...right? Down in the dance floor, the Brute slowly lumbered forward towards Talia. Even after getting hit with what would have been tantamount to a lightning bolt, it still managed to stand back up. Its roaring bravado reduced to an ember of defiance against the rookie heroes. Just as the brutish monster reached down to use the unconscious Manny as a projectile, the big meaty hand grasped at nothing but the polished hardwood floor. Confused he looks at the Performer and sees her ribbon wrapped around the unconscious man that was a safe distance away from either of them. But rather than go for the vulnerable man, the brute was easily distracted by the graceful movements of both woman and ribbon; its clumsy swings, made more sluggish by its weakened state, automatically failed to snatch even a strand of hair from the woman. If she played her cards right, she could set up the over-dusted up brute to the center of the dance floor and give Bob an opportunity to drop the chandelier on it and end the fight then and there without resorting to lethal means. ...but of course it will be up to them on how they finish this fight.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob almost audibly sighed with relief as he saw that things were still in the VIP room. "Good job Manny" he thought as he focused again on the brute. From this angle he had a good view of things. He just wished he had something large and heavy to drop on the thing..... he would have face palmed if he wasn't holding onto the very heavy thing he was looking for. *Dancer! Guide him under the chandelier!* Climbing to the top of the chandelier, he dug his claws of one hand into the ceiling so he wouldn't fall with it, then extended his claws of the other hand fully, preparing to slice through the support holding it.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose Looking up at The Jersey Devil as he sprang and was now poised atop the chandelier, Talia continued her dancing and swaying and twisting and flurry of movement with the ribbons. She didn't even realize at first that the brute was definitely distracted by it all... that her plan was actually working and saving Manny and Link from becoming targets! She heard Bob call out to her from his position and realized what he wanted... It definitely would be an easy task to continue luring the big brute over to that part of the dance floor while keeping herself out of arm's reach. She did exactly as Bob had commanded and then tried her best to get out of the way of whatever fell, but she didn't know if that would be enough or not...</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Talia Rose The pride that had swelled Talia's heart to almost bursting when she had heard the good news, plummeted below her feet into the floors below as Manny shared the bad news... The blood drained from her face and her knees threatened to give way... She was finished, utterly destroyed if they were on their way here... She wished she could have thought earlier about using a mask or different colored silks or something, anything to hide her identity, but she'd been so blinded by her own desperation to gain freedom and purpose, that she'd failed her team. Her parents heading here meant only one thing: she had to hide or be taken back with them and never trusted again. What could she do? Where could she even go? She would have to change her entire look now to avoid this happening again... It was too much... Talia was strong and determined but not this strong... She stumbled and fell to her knees on the floor, uttering only a soft cry of "no!" as she looked down at the ground, not registering anything else for the moment. Let her teammates see now that she was weak and has always been weak, let them see how incapable she really was and how easily afraid... now it didn't matter anymore. Besides, now she might even need their help, which she'd never been able to ask for before or trust another person to give. As she forced herself to take some normal breaths, she turned to Bob and tried to make her face give a smile and half-laugh as she said, "Guess I should have disguised my identity like you did huh?"</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob was preparing cocky comments and comebacks, as well as a string of compliments to Talia..... then he saw her pale face, and things started making sense in his head. Parents weren't really a subject of talk between them yet. It seemed like a topic that they both wanted to avoid to keep the fun going. But he had seen that kind of look on the face of some of his friends when parents were called, and he figured he knew where this might be heading. There always seemed to be two kinds of rich parents... the ones that didn't care about their kids, and just threw money at them so the parents could continue their work, or play, or drugs, or whatever else they did. That's how his parents were. Then there were the ones that dominated their kids. Molding and training them, often abusively, into what the parents wanted them to be. It's those parents that usually brought on the look Talia wore. When Talia dropped to her knees, Bob went to her, taking off his mask and dropping it to the floor, placing and arm protectively over her shoulders. "Hey, it's alright. We can get you decked out. I know some stores we can get a good deal on costumes and stuff. And you don't have to see your parents if you don't want to..." He turned to Manny with look that said *isn't that right, Boss*</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- The man could only look at his own feet and twiddle his thumbs together as the usually composed Talia let the weight of the news fall upon her. It seemed that it was something beyond the usual parent and child conflict when becoming a hero. From what he could assume, Talia's parents had more pull to the woman's life than he could have imagined to be healthy. Manny quickly glanced at the woman and heard her attempt in salvaging the situation with a little humor. He was rather glad that Bob was there to comfort her. He really didn't know what to do when someone was overwhelmed by grief and disbelief. Bob then looked over to him with that look. A look pleading for reassurance that they'd do whatever they could to help Talia keep her distance from her overly manipulative parents. "O-of course. If you don't want to meet up with them I can probably hatch up a plan before they arrive tomorrow." The Latino man felt a little more confident now. He stopped twiddling his thumbs and stood tall. He didn't know Talia's situation with her parents much but if he could become a hero despite his parents' very vocal protests then Talia could too if she damn well wanted. "Who knows? Maybe your parents will just give up once they can't find you; come to their senses and realize that you're a grown woman now and they can't do squat if you want to keep being a hero." He took a knee in front of both Talia and Bob. "We're not the losers that we were a week ago. We've faced overwhelming opposition and come out on top! Defenders of the innocent and of Justice!" Manny extends his hand towards the two in an offer to perform a team hand stack. "We're the goddamn CHAMPs and we don't give up!"</s> <|message|>Talia Rose 'They cared?' Talia was shocked when her two teammates reached down to be on her level and console her with words and even an arm around her shoulder. She couldn't believe that they actually wanted to help her! 'Maybe, just maybe... she wouldn't have to return to the life her parents had tried for so long to imprison her in... their own personal, stifling and suffocating destiny for her... No, she couldn't do that to them.' She dropped her head and looked away from Bob and Manny. 'She couldn't just disappear and change her appearance so that she couldn't be tracked. Besides, people would pick up on her moves as being from The Performer no matter what she tried to don as her outward appearance. She also couldn't hurt her new friends though. She cared for them, too, and would have defended them if the positions were reversed.' Steeling herself, she looked back up at them again and forced the words to exit her mouth with a semblance of confidence and assurance she didn't yet feel inside. "Yes, we are the CHAMPS and I don't want to give up... I won't!" Her face screwed up with determination and focus. "Whatever ideas you both have for me to try or wear or whatever, I am all ears. I don't ever want to go back to them or that life... ever again." Her voice faltered a little at the end, but she still had finished her statement. She'd spoken it out loud. She was never going back to them, not if she could help it.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob stood, giving his best confident and assured pose. "You don't have to go back. People are scared to do what it takes to get away from situations because they might lose everything and become homeless. But look at me!" He strikes a 'I am awesome" pose. "I make this lifestyle look Gooood." He laughs at himself a litte, but then his smile goes back to being reassuring. "But seriously, I got your back. Even if we have to fight the whole world, you have the Jersy Devil at your side. Plus you got a Job, and friends now. And you can always crash at my place."</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- @myinneroblivion @ShadowsofNight --- This was the stuff of legends. Staunch companions coming together to overcome a great obstacle to help a friend in need, and Talia was definitely a friend in need. "Awesome. Well first things first, we gotta enjoy the highs of our last success." He holds his envelope of righteously earned dollar bills. "We'll meet back up here later this afternoon so we can go into the nitty gritty of things for the plan. In the mean time, lets go enjoy ourselves." Manny knew where he would go first. To Hero City's Industrial Recycling Plant. The best place to get premium scrap and spare parts he'd need to fix and even keep building his Gadgeteer suit. He may even have enough extra bills to pay the plant the extra couple hundred bucks or so to have the privilege of scavenging the parts before they dismantle them into raw material to be re-sold to corporations and such. To Manny, this was akin to a kid visiting a toy store with a huge wad of cash on hand. He could have anything he could find.</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia smiled a little at Bob's fun and jest and Manny's enthusiasm. She tried to imagine what life could be like having true friends that had her back and were at her side... She tried to imagine how much different that life could be and that she could actually feel safe instead of always watching her back or keeping her parents caught up with stories. It had worked for a while, because she hadn't done anything really, truly freeing... Now she had and she loved it! But she didn't even feel safe in her own apartment, and it was no one's fault but hers. 'Enjoy the highs of their successes,' Manny had told them. She didn't even know how to at this point. 'Maybe she could drop back off at home and grab the majority of the things that mattered to her and stow them away at some place where not even her parents would think to look for her,' she thought to herself. Bob had offered to her that it was okay for her to even stay wherever he stayed. She was already accustomed to heights due to her own performances but thankfully the couple days she'd spent on rooftops with him had made her more comfortable with the building heights too. "Bob, is there some kind of nook or overhang or something you know of where I could stash some of my belongings for a while? I don't want my parents knowing where I am and so I'm going to have to find somewhere else to stay. Also, I'm going to definitely take you up on that offer of finding a new look." The thought of hiding away from them, of running, was almost too much for her to allow... it was better not to think too far ahead, or she might crumble and not be strong enough to do this after all. Regaining herself she turned to The Gadgeteer, "Thank you, Manny, for your help and your care. It means more than you'll ever know. I'm sorry if you end up having to deal with my parents. Hopefully, they are more pleasant to you if I'm not around. I will see you again this afternoon." She will leave with Bob when he is finished in the room, though attempt to persuade him to maybe not exit straight out the window...</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman "Heck Yeah!" Bob exclaimed, already getting excited before clearing his throat and trying to compose himself better. He snags the money envelopes and tosses Talia's to her while pocketing his own. "Yeah, I got the perfect place. No worries. Hey... when I ran away from home, I had a chance to empty my bank account of my allowance... do you have something like that that you can do... or need to pick up your stuff? We should probably do that first, if there's still time." He turns to Manny, Showing his excitement and childish glee in his eyes before he slips the mask back on over his head. "See you soon! We'll get this all worked out." Bob would head for the window, then pause. Reaching down, he turns off the boots, and then extends his elbow in a formal gesture to Talia to take her arm, prepared to take the stairs like a normal person. "Sorry, the boots make the stairs and exorcise in patience... which isn't my strong suite."</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose In spite of herself and the current stress of the situation, Talia couldn't help but smile at Bob's recovery as he caught himself before jumping back out the window per his usual exit strategy. Some of the tension fades from her as she takes his proffered arm and thanks Manny again before they walk out of headquarters. "Yes," she says as they walk back down to where the cab was waiting that she took earlier to get here. "Yes, unless they've already drained the account somehow, but I don't think they have because they got on a plane so quickly to come here. So, I do have money kept in a bank and we should also quickly go get my things from the apartment because I also stashed some there in the AC vent." They will make it to her place and get her things and also find that some of her money had already been withdrawn and it was a good thing that she had planned for that ahead of time when she'd first gotten here for her performances, or she wouldn't have had much left. They left the apartment after getting her stash as well, before she looked up at Bob in anxious excitement and curiosity because she now had no idea what kind of plans he had in store for her or where she should now go...</s>

<|description|>Talia Rose Age: 20 Gender: Female Description or Image: Asian 20-year-old woman, lithe and athletic build but not too skinny, attractive but not to a distracting degree, green, piercing eyes and long, flowing black hair Alias/Nick Name: The Performer Background & Reason for Joining: The Performer has traveled far and wide, searching for shows in which she could demonstrate her skills and prowess with her well-trained acrobatic movements. The whip-like ribbons just served as extra extensions of her own arms. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of being able to use her dancing abilities to do more than just perform, but her parents had tried to keep her sheltered and thus (in their eyes) safe from the world's dangers. Longing for a life that truly means something and can help people, she uses her performances on each stage as a ruse so that she could scout out ways to help and she has made this no secret to her followers and supporters (both online and onstage). Thus, it was no surprise when a young man called out to her after one of her performances and told her that there has finally arrived a chance to do some good for an entire city of people. He shared with her a blog from a place called Hero City and once she reached the small apartment she had rented while performing, she sat down to read through the blog post. Once she finished, she promptly sent in her own information and reasons for being qualified for this request. 'I could finally be on a real team of superheroes,' she thought excitedly to herself, as she planned a way to keep up the ruse to her parents and friends from back home that didn't want to see any harm come to her. Personality: On the inside is eager to please and help but gives off the appearance of being shy and reserved and uncertain at times. She does warm up to people and will become more social after a time, but always wary and alert. Powers: - Razor-tipped, whip-like ribbons that she has trained with for years so that they follow every subtle movement her wrists or even fingers make to direct them - Sharp eyesight and hyper-awareness of her surroundings - Strong even though her body type doesn't betray it - Highly skilled in acrobatics, thus excellent dexterity Weaknesses: - Insecurities about herself that make her second-guess her decisions and actions - People-pleasing and will most times go along with others' ideas even when she doesn't necessarily agree it is wisest - Inwardly vain about her appearance</s> <|message|>Talia Rose Talia found herself a bit overwhelmed as Manny went on and on about the different heroes and their stories and the different issues that they were from in each... She had just come from a time of surprisingly enjoying herself with Bob even though it had been under stressful circumstances. He had a way of just keeping her fears at bay and distracting her with one thing after another. She had dared to look in the mirror once, after their haircut appointment, and already scarcely recognized herself... Her usual long, flowing, dark hair had been cropped rather short, and she'd gotten highlights of a light purple/lavender color streaked throughout it now. She'd been forced to forego her previous silken, flowy, sensual outfit from her days as The Performer for something more of a steampunk/goth appearance with shorts and a crop top. It wasn't what she was used to, but it was still form-fitting and made of a flexible enough material to not hinder her typical tricks and moves and that was the important thing. It had been a lot of change and a long day full of strange and new and frightening and as Manny talked on and on, she struggled to keep up. When he got to the part about the pretend kidnapping of her parents, her mouth fell open in shock. She quickly closed it, having been exceptionally well-trained at keeping her opinions to herself and deferring to others that were smarter and wiser than she. Bob had been trying to work on this with her, but she fell straight back into the old, programmed habits in a second. What a loser she still was... she thought to herself. "Oh," she managed to get out and it sounded calmer than she felt... Resigned? Already? "Wow, that's not what I expected. That's an interesting plan, Manny." She had to stop after that. If she kept going, she might accidentally give away everything with a nervous laugh. Talia knew this was a bad idea; that kidnapping her parents under some pretense could backfire on this plan in a million ways. Manny and Bob didn't know her family, they didn't know the heavy dishonor that would fall on them all with such a trick, they didn't know the backlash that Talia would get from it either... but she said nothing. Her desire to not disappoint or hurt her new friends, vastly outweighed her ability to speak her mind in front of everyone.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob kicked back to watch the slide show and listen to the speech. He liked comics. And liked the superheros he had read about in the papers, but he had spent so much time in his parkour that he was no were near educated in the matter. He wished he had popcorn or something, and he was completely enraptured... until the end. He was glad Talia had spoken, because he had to take a second to process this, but when she failed to express what he knew she had to be thinking, he instantly jumped in. His tone and manner was more like friends discussing the plot of a movie, rather than an Actual Kiddnapping. "Dude! That was a twist. I was not expecting you to go there. You were talking about Phoenix, and I Totally thought you were going to try for a 'Fake your own death' skit..." He sat up some, looking a bit more serious. "This is Sooooo much worse... and I know, because disappeared from my own life, and even if I'm found out, I can play it off as a rich kids rebellion... but this? This???? No. Dude no. This reeks so badly of backfire I can smell it from the future. Call it off. I would rather beat up her parents myself then try to pull this off...."</s> <|message|>Talia Rose It was even worse now... She hadn't expected Bob to step up like that and speak her own mind for her, but he'd left something out... and it caused her to find her own voice again for a moment. "Bob, wait, no! I mean... umm... thanks but... well, Manny is just trying to help. I don't want to just refuse the only plan he has if that's all we can do... and he got all these other people to go in on it... I... don't know what to do..." her voice was quiet and subdued, careful, clearly trying to consider everyone's emotions and reactions. She closed her mouth afterwards and swallowed hard, looking down at her hands wringing anxiously in her lap, purposely averting her eyes from everyone else.</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob turned to Talia, mouth open to say something potentially chastising, but closed it and turned to Manny, his mouth open to say something potentially chastising, then just shut his mouth and lowered his head. "Sorry Manny... I didn't mean to, like shoot down you plan like that, I get your trying to help, and I wouldn't be here if I didn't appreciate you... but trust me, I know what can happen when plans go bad." Flashes of his friends dying cause him to close his eyes tighter. "They shouldn't be impressed just because the heroics are personal. If they can't accept she's a hero, they won't accept it. And I know I'm saying 'a hero' a lot, but that's because whatever we do, that's what we need to be. Not staging kidnappings to make ourselves look like heros. If her parents can't accept it, she can stay with me. She's an adult, and is allowed to make her own decisions. They can't force her to go back with them. And I'll pop them in the nose if they try. My vote... Manny... get us some good gigs. Make us heros to everyone. Talia... if they cut you off, or try to tale you... stay with me."</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- @ShadowsofNight --- "Aww...I thought it was a pretty good idea." Manny said with a crestfallen look on his face but it was more than obvious that both Bob and Talia were not keen on the plan he devised. Man...he really hoped that the Curtain Call accepted re-funds. "But I understand, to be honest I was scared to do something criminal. Like what if Talia's parents were secretly maser kung-fu masters and just flat out kicked my and the actors' collective butts. Or worse, the police get involved..." He'd rather eat a bag of moldy bread than become a real villain to be honest. Which is unsurprising considering the man dreamed of being a hero since forever. Manny begins to fix his laptop and projector while fiddling with his smartphone to contact the amateur acting troupe and hoping that he could still get at least 50% of his money back. "If you guys want to make other suggestions, other than working our reputation before Talia's parents arrive, I'm open."</s> <|message|>Jacob Richman Bob will get up, leaning against Manny's desk close enough to show his friendship and support. "Look Manny, I'm pretty sure you're the most moral person in this little Trio. The plan was decent... but it's not you. And it's not us. Honestly, I'm just good at avoidance. If it were my parents coming, You would have to widen the range of our Coms, cause you wouldn't see me in person for a while." He laughed heartily, but there was an edge to it saying he was only half joking. "It's kinda up to her." He nods to Talia. "We can confront them, united as heroes, and refuse to let them take her, which would make them villains and kidnappers themselves, in my opinion.... or We just don't be here at their beck and call, and go on about our business... that's my avoidance plan, if it wasn't clear."</s> <|message|>Talia Rose The Asian girl swallowed hard and hoped it wasn't audible. She was used to being able to drape her long, dark hair over her face and hide, turning basically invisible, but now that ability was missing. So, too, was her desire to be utterly silent and let everyone choose for her. Everyone was trying so hard for her, planning and searching and wracking their brains... for her... she owed them better than this. She owed them her own opinion or thought in some way. Manny had almost been willing to be viewed as a criminal for her and Bob was considering how to make her disappear, like he had. Talia raised her head at the sound of her own name that jerked her a bit from her reverie. Bob was waiting on her input now and so was Manny and so was she herself, if she was being honest. "Umm..." her voice sounded small and weak, even to her own ears and she willed it to be strong and clear and to show the confidence she didn't feel at all. "Okay, so..." she faltered again. 'Come on, girl, get it together and speak your damn mind,' came a voice, unbidden, to her thoughts. It gave her reassurance. "Guys, I appreciate all you're trying to do and willing to do for me. I've never had anyone care this much... We can't kidnap my parents and yeah, my dad taught ME many of the moves you have seen me perform. He would be a challenge and I don't know anything about my mom, which makes her almost more frightening... but that's not the only reason I say "no" to that plan. And Bob?" She smiled gratefully at the young man that had begun to mean so much to her. She couldn't believe that he and Manny had once been strangers. "I know you could help me disappear, and part of me desperately wants to, but I am so sick of trying to run and hide from them. I have people that have my back now and maybe that means I can stand up to them and not crumble." She stopped because she was running out of words as well as the breath to fill them. Her last words were just above a whisper, "I'm so tired of being afraid of them and afraid to be me."</s> <|message|>Manuel 'Manny' Donaire --- @ShadowsofNight --- Manny's downtrodden feelings were erased when he heard Bob's reassuring words and half intended joke about dipping out of the public eye for a while if he were in Talia's shoes. But it seemed that Talia had resolved to stop running from her problems and wanted to be her own woman, no longer moving to the string pulls of her over-manipulative parents like a marionette. It seemed that everyone was growing both as heroes as people the more time they spent time with one another. Perhaps it truly was an act of divine intervention that brought them together. "Direct confrontations are not my forte but it seems that facing this head on is the most optimal solution...regardless how difficult it would be." He could relate with Talia to an extent, when he told his parents his decision to become an amateur hero rather than take the apprenticeship in Solis Ortus LLC they went ballistic and almost forced him to abandon his dream then and there. To this day, they still weren't on speaking terms and the only contact he has with his family now would be the occasional emails his kid sister sends him. He really hoped that he could help Talia get through to her parents and she wouldn't end up like him who has estranged relationship with his folks or Bob who he assumed to be was in hiding from his parents and anyone who knew him from his old life. "But we got your back regardless. We've faced danger and death already, how bad can your parents can be?" Manny ended with a chuckle, despite his temptation of Fate.</s>

<|message|>Talia Rose Talia didn't answer Manny right away, even though it was probably a rhetorical question but... how bad could her parents be? She didn't want to find out. Still, she had to stand up to them once and for all and she felt she could do it since she wasn't going to be alone this time. But to disappoint them to this degree... how could she live with herself after? She was supposed to be everything they'd taught her, not the total opposite. She still didn't know what to do or what it looked like or what would happen, but she tried to sound calm and collected anyways. "I fear I've never seen them at their worst, Manny. I know my father will be angry, but he taught me about Chi from the beginning, so I don't know what he expected to happen after that. Ugh, I don't want to do this... I really, really don't want to do this..." Talia's voice faded away as she cringed with imagining the encounter and the pain, but she regained it once more for just a moment to finish her thought. She looked to Bob and Manny, "Guys, what comes next? Do we arrange to meet with my parents somewhere so I can deal with this? Should it be in public view or in private, away from eyes and ears?"</s>

<|description|>Murata Ayumi (村田歩美) P E R S O N A L N I C K N A M E ( S ) No one has dared come up with one yet, at least not to her face. You will address her as Murata-san A G E 26 G E N D E R Female D A T E - O F - B I R T H January 10 th H E I G H T 160cm W E I G H T 50kg F A M I L Y Murata Takeshi (father), Murata Himiko (mother), Murata Tarou (little brother) P E R S O N A L I T Y Ayumi is a goal-oriented career woman and has an aura of such. She's a no-nonsense employee who lets nothing get between her and work well done, holding both herself and others to an extremely high standard. Expect no praise from her, no matter how well you do; at the end of the day, a cleared out to-do list is its own reward. Only children need constant reassurance. Besides, if she wasn't happy with your contribution, you would know about it. She isn't one to follow rules just for the sake of following them, and doesn't care what people do during their free time. She's uninterested in engaging in a game of tatemae, and will readily share her honest thoughts of the people around her - unless it's a customer, of course. The customer is always right. If they disrespect her or hers however, the customer is right, and soon out of business. Due to her assertiveness, she tends to trample over people who can't stick up for themselves. She's used to being in charge, but surprisingly enough doesn't mind taking a step back and letting someone else handle a situation if it seems like they're well-suited for it. In fact, if someone else is better than her at something, she is the first to bring attention to it. There is no greater sin than inefficiency; right tool for the right job, as they say. She respects people who can think for themselves and don't just blindly follow bad ideas, but also expects people to show respect when and where it's due. Ayumi won't tolerate people breaking any rules that might disrupt workflow or prove an inconvenience for others. What you do in your personal life is none of her business, but if you're late for a meeting, you will find yourself defenestrated at her earliest convenience. It should be noted that despite her coldness, Ayumi does have a sense of justice, and she is willing to protect her own fiercely. She will not let workplace bullying slide, and has been the last thing many corrupt higher ups see before they get reported from here to next week. Do your job and do it well, and you have a place under her wing. When Ayumi feels determined and ready to get down to work, something miraculous occurs...  D E A L I N G ▶ V O I C E O F A U T H O R I T Y Ayumi's primary power lies in her voice. Ever since the magic sip, her already authoritative voice has been enhanced to a supernatural degree. Her shout can stun and cause pain to even the paranormal, and especially those with weaker wills tend to feel obliged to do as they're told, or at the very least, not act in direct opposition. She can only focus her base power on one target at a time, and the greater control she wishes to have, the longer she has to talk to them. ▶ C A F F E I N A T E D Depending on the type of coffee she consumes, Ayumi gains temporary boosts and alterations to her primary power. They wear off gradually until she consumes another cup. The biggest drawback is that she needs access to the various coffees she uses, and while she would like to think she can drink endlessly, even she has her limits... * Black: Her voice booms out many times louder, creating destructive shock waves that can crush concrete. This is not discreet however, nor can she dictate what does and doesn't get demolished. Hope no one's antique vases were that way. * Espresso: A shot of espresso and a quick whistle; those are the ingredients for a high speed, high accuracy sound bullet that travels faster than sound, striking a target even far away with deadly force. Double espresso allows her to fire two shots. * Americano: Diluting coffee with water? But why? Confusing! And so are the enemies that need to listen to Ayumi after she's had a sip of this coffee variant. Those that listen her for too long might even attack their own, or act in an otherwise irrational way. Just like the people who invented this coffee serving... * Mocha: Time for a sugar rush! The non-stop blabbering Ayumi engages in after this variant seems to somehow fuel her and her allies, increasing their productivity for a short period of time. Time to get those reports in before the effect fades and you're left with sore typing fingers. * Macchiato: Ayumi's voice turns into a lure, attracting creatures both living and not towards her. This can also pacify and mellow out some hostile targets. * Irish: Surprisingly enough, Ayumi has low alcohol tolerance. Just a little bit, and she starts speaking in tongues, intermingled with words that would make any grandmother shudder. Coincidentally, this power works on creatures other than grandmothers as well, filling them with a sense of dread that has them flee from her through any means possible. * Water: It's not coffee, but everyone needs to hydrate. Water resets her powers, cleansing earlier effects. M I S C E L L A N E O U S O C C U P A T I O N Secretary at middle management S K I L L S / A B I L I T I E S * Intimidating sort of charisma - when she talks, you listen. * Has dirt on most of the employees - how? That's what you'd like to know. * Did judo as a teen, still got it - you should've seen how that one creep flew. * Resourceful - if there's a problem, there will be a solution. * Can survive on 4 hours of sleep - shut up, she's fine. * Access to middle management's files - they really should keep better tabs on them. * Able to juggle three calls at once - it went up to four once. E X T R A * Goes to yoga class just for the gossip. * Rumour has it she has blackmail on the middle manager she works for, and therefore has a lot of sway on the department. * Hates tea, it's just wannabe coffee with twice the hassle. * Likes cats; they don't like her. Come to think of it, no animals do. * Drinks her coffee black. * AB blood type. You've been warned. * Is a smoker. Go ahead, bring up how unladylike it is. She dares you.</s> <|message|>Kentaro Mishima Kentaro Mishima During the course of the meeting, Kentaro was sipping his coffee while eyeballing the women he found particularly beautiful. Planning on trying to get them on a date with him after this meeting. His job mostly consisted of sending out emails, and monitoring the employees that they are doing their job. Noticing the strange man in the business suit, and the man with the scar his eyes moving over towards them. He was seated next to Netsu. He had not seen them before. The man in the suit looked like an exec, while the man looked like a temp or new hire. Being quickly reminded of his old life, a few beads of sweat ran down his face. There was this bad feeling in his gut from seeing these two. He hoped they were not here, looking for him. He still had some grudges with some bad apples. The horns on one of the man's heads were not a good sign, thinking he was hallucinating thanks to the rum. Taking a moment to look at his flask a couple of seconds. Before quickly snapping back into reality. Sinking down in his seat a little, while taking bigger gulps of his coffee. During the middle of Hanazawa's speech, Kentaro had finished his cup and was drinking from his flask. He especially didn't like that the company was being bought out by another unknown company. He wondered who this Goe group was, he would have to get Ayumi to look into this company. She was always good with finding dirt on people and wondered if she could find something on them. Listening to the man with the scar now calling himself Beritsu answering questions. Kentaro's bad feeling meter was going off the charts. There was something very fishy going on, and he planned on getting to the bottom of it. Kentaro was probably the only one that was not clapping along with the others. After the meeting was over, Kentaro rushed over to his office. Getting onto his computer, and researching everything he could on the Goe group. But he couldn't find anything suspicious about them. He wanted to know more about this mysterious company. Fast walking towards Netsu's office, "Hi, did you notice anything weird about that Hanazawa guy? I don't know if was hallucinating, but I swore I saw devil horn on em."</s> <|message|>Kenji Yamamoto Kenji's conversation with Netsu barely started, when that idiot Kurosawa started talking about a baseball game. Kenji still kept a smile, but inside he was seething. Why does this idiot think I give a flying fuck about sports?! Is that the only thing the men in this company care about? Overly muscular men hitting a ball? How boring! Nevertheless, he still had to maintain a pleasant demeanor. He put on his best customer service voice. "Oh, yes that's unfortunate Kurosawa-san. They'll do better in the next game, I'm sure." Soon it was time for the meeting to begin. Shortly after everyone had arrived, Hanazawa and a handsome man with a scar on his temple had walked into the room. What was odd about this situation was that Hanazawa had two black horns protruding from his forehead, and no one noticed anything odd about that at all… Kenji kept silent about it, since no one else seemed to notice. Apparently, Taishi had been bought by a larger company, and to expect positive changes and blah blah blah. Kenji would believe it when he saw it. Still, he wished for Beritsu to keep talking. Partly because the man was easy on the eyes, and partly because the longer he spoke, the less he would have to be on the phones with customers… But, he eventually left, and Kenji had to return to work. With a sigh, he went back to his desk, and picked up the phone. "Thank you for calling Taishi Corporation. How can I help you?" And was once again berated by an angry customer.</s>

<|message|>Murata Ayumi (村田歩美) 𝒜𝓎𝓊𝓂𝒾 𝑀𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒶 __________________________________________________ At precisely 7 AM, the office doors flung wide open. The heavy click of heels filled an otherwise quiet office corridor, turning the heads of any worker still waffling about over their morning coffees. Some bowed their heads, some scrambled away to their desks and an unfortunate, dumb few approached Ayumi with a greeting. The first was a middle-aged man, holding his oversized glasses in place with one hand, grasping a cup of coffee with the other. "Good morning, Murata-san!" His grip on the glasses gave way for a wave, and they immediately slipped off his face. Ayumi caught them mid-fall and slapped them back on with more force than was necessary. Honestly, Sato would have dropped his entire head if it weren't attached to his spine. "If you've time to run your mouth, I assume your report is finished?" He was taken aback, about to answer, but she was faster. "Clean those glasses and get to work." She managed to take but a few dozen steps more before a man in his twenties sauntered closer. His gnarly blue suit was two sizes too big, and his fingers glimmered with fake diamonds. It seemed as though Maeda's fashion sense grew worse every passing day. "Ah, Murata-san~ how is your morning?" In one quick motion, Ayumi pulled out a stack of papers from her suitcase and pushed them into his chest. "Awful. These need to be on Takayama's desk in five minutes, signed and stamped. Do your job on time, and hopefully we will both have a better morning tomorrow." Just a few more corners, and she'd be at the break room. Coffee first, then she'd find Hanazawa and show him what a true demon was. The man had dared ignore her calls the whole morning, and there was no excuse hefty enough for such behaviour. Well... perhaps death. If he was dead, she'd forgive him. "Murata-sa--" Ayumi whirled around, eyes narrowed into slits at the umpteenth interruption. As her gaze fell on a young, startled woman however, her expression softened somewhat. The intern. She had half the pay of her senpai, but twice the work morale. "Takayama. Good morning. I trust you've been unbothered today?" She bowed, hugging a pile of papers to her chest. "Y-yes, he didn't approach me this morning. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him." And you never will again, Ayumi knew. She'd made sure of it. "And the reimbursement I wanted?" "Done. I sent the copy to Shimada-san just in case." "Good." Ayumi turned on her heel and continued on her way. She'd had way too many conversations before her morning coffee. At the very least, she didn't need to worry about making some; someone always made sure a nice cup was waiting for her in the break room. Black, no sugar, just the way she wanted. -------------------- Conference Room -------------------- Ayumi should have known the day was going to be awful the second she'd poured stale coffee down her throat. But as she watched Hanazawa walk into the conference room daring to be alive, she was about ready to go for his throat. Worse, he was accompanied by an unknown man - when there shouldn't have been a soul within these walls Ayumi didn't know by name. And were those horns on Hanazawa's head? Had he started taking accessorizing advice from Maeda? Then came the real news, and Ayumi crushed the coffee container in her hand with a splat. The Taishi Corporation had been... what?! Why hadn't she heard of this before? The Goe Group? What manner of group was that?! They were instructed to direct any further questions to Hanazawa and oh, Ayumi would. She would. But first, to ensure no one lost their life, she needed coffee. The proper kind. Without a word, Ayumi stood up from her seat and started to make her way to the break room. The click of her heels filled the corridors once more, this time even louder.</s>

<|description|>Aori Nagano Hero Name: Calypso Age: 15 Height: 5'7" Home: Japan --- Quirk Type: Mutant Quirk: Tenta-Hair Aori possesses a mutant quirk that causes her to grow long octopus-like tentacles in place of hair. The tentacles are surprisingly stretchy and almost elastic in texture, with suction cups that allow her to easily attach herself to people, surfaces, and objects. Once she has someone or something within her grasp, it is incredibly difficult to get it away from her. She can use these tentacles in order to restrain opponents, scale buildings, snatch objects, etc. Quirk Weaknesses: Obviously, any sharp objects pose a threat to these tentacles, and they must be maintained properly through a good diet and rigorous hair routine involving a hefty amount of dawn dish soap (though that is more of her preference). Damaged tentacles can regrow within a week or so of loss, provided Aori takes the right measures. --- Strengths: Stealth Cooking Swimming Weakness: Singing Cute Boys Seasonal Depression --- Background/Personality: Aori's mother was a small-gig singer and her father a simple fisherman. It was a loving household and the pair encouraged Aori to be whatever she wanted to be in life, allowing the young girl to form her own dreams and desires. Naturally, Aori wanted to be just like her mother. A beautiful songstress with an enchanting voice. Unfortunately, she inherited neither the looks nor the vocal cords yet was somehow ignorant to this fact. Still, if she wanted to be a singer, then she should reach for the stars. Her parents simply didn't have the heart to tell her it was a dream that wouldn't come true. However, that didn't stop her fellow classmates. Through elementary she was teased and bullied about the outlandish goal, pushing that dream farther and farther into the distance. It wasn't until a certain Pro-Hero visited her middle school and gave a speech at graduation that her life regained purpose. The next day she told her parents that she no longer wanted to be a singer. She wanted to be a hero. Now, with a quirk like hers? That was doable. She began training for exams that very same day and to everyone's surprise, she passed. --- Aori develops crushes very easily, she is quick to mistake kindness for flirtation and is said to be incredibly clingy. As a shy girl who considers herself more a follower than a leader, she finds herself in the shadows watching from a distance. Most who meet her would call her weird or creepy, and she tends to have short-lived obsessions with certain people and or things; often basing her entire personality after a TV show, movie, or fandom she is currently in awe of. --- How did you get into UA?: Exams What was a fateful moment in the exam or recommendation?: Aori does not consider herself to be a Kraken, and neither does U.A. apparently. While she performed decently during the entirety of the exam, it was her ability to save citizens that caused her to be ranked high in support.</s> <|message|>Aori Nagano Aori had been up all night, unable to sleep due to the sheer excitement. Tomorrow marked her first day at a prestigious hero university, U.A. as they called it. The young girl's first step toward becoming a pro-hero. Sure, at one point in time she had wanted something a little different. To be a singer just like her mom, but that's life, isn't it? Things change, ideas come and go... like autumn into winter. She paced around her room, heavy dark bags forming under her eyes. She looked like a mess, a monster befitting the mutant quirk she was born with. Eventually, she picked up a toy she had been acquainted with some time in the past, something she turned too on occasion when she was in desperate need of answers. A magic eight ball. Shaking it violently, "Will I have a good day tomorrow?" She asked, at first in a very sweet and kind voice. Within the blue triangle, words floated into existence. "NO." It read, in all capital letters. "Huh!? What do you mean no! Aori's day will be amazing, I KNOW IT!" "Then why did you ask..." Foreign words for a machine programmed to have the most basic responses. It wasn't Aori's fault her parents had spent the extra dollar on a newer model. A "sassy and sarcastic" magic eight ball. Not really what she needed at the moment! This went on pretty much all night, question after question, annoying answer after answer. When the sun finally came up, Aori had grown exhausted from her debates with the toy but the idea of school filled her with a burst of energy unlike any other. Unfortunately, that couldn't get rid of the eye bags. --- U.A. was massive. It stood before her like a mighty modern castle of education. Her hair rolled out in excitement and she twirled a tentacle in her fingertips. Mystery foam was running down the corner of her mouth as she daydreamed of her future to come. Not only was she going to become a hero, but she was going to meet people just like her. With a common interest. Recently, she had gotten into the art of making paper dolls. Her newly-discovered current obsession. Therefore she always carried scissors and paper with her, for now anyway. In about a week that would be a dead hobby, joining her cemetery of forgotten interests. Therefore the drooling girl walked through the gates, keeping her head on a piece of paper she was snipping away at, attempting to get the "dolls" into heroic silhouettes. Stopped by a robot who demanded her name, she gladly gave it away. "Aori Nagano." After approval, Aori continued onward, talking to herself the entire way. She was still pretty bent up about the events of last night... "Aori will show that stupid magic eight ball, won't she?!? Ahahahahahaha!" Truth be told, she didn't really notice the other students. Not yet anyway. She wasn't used to having friends and found it hard to make them, most people avoided her. Even when walking through the crowd, slits of paper falling behind her as she sliced and sliced, nothing seemed to phase her. When she finally reached the doors to the building, not just the courtyard or the gate leading up to it, she only had a few words to say. Mumbled under her breath. "It's hero time!!!" The words escaped her mouth very slowly, long and drawn out they brought upon a smile, a wicked and evil smile! She had no malicious intent, of course, she just happened to have REF. Resting evil face.</s> <|message|>Ryoshi Inoru Ryoshi walked into the dorm looking around. His arms were wrapped around a overstuffed box, as he wandered inside. Truthfully, for how large it was and how full it was, it seemed strangely easy for someone as lanky as he was. Still, he walked in, sorta in a blank state. "Ah. So this is where I'm staying huh?..." He stated the obvious, completely unsure what else TO say. I mean, he was here! Ryoshi! You know, the kid in class that no one really thought would do anything exceptional. Not that he'd fail... just not excel. And yet here he was attending the most prestigious school for heroing. That couldn't be right... Yeah wait that doesn't make any sense!? Now dealing with his imposter syndrome, Ryoshi stopped, right in the middle of the hallway towards where he believed his room was. What was he doing here? There had to be someone else more fit for his spot right?... He stood there, blankly staring at the box in front of him for a decently long time. Wasn't part of being a hero about being commanding, and enthralling too? Maybe that should be something to work on while he was here. You know, be someone interesting, live up to the notion of a hero. Of course he had no idea what kind of hero he'd try and act like. Was he a Cool Guy? Arbiter of Justice? Lone Wolf? At this point, Ryoshi put his box down, placing his hand against his chin, deep in thought as he was standing there, deep in thought, he was broken from this trance by the sudden shouting from the entrance. "It's Hero Time!!!" He let out an "Ah-" before looking behind him to see the the girl with octopus hair and a foreboding presence standing there. He looked at his box for a moment, and decided it was fine to leave, approaching the girl. He extended his hand. She wasn't exactly a frightening sight to him. After all, he saw how his mom was when mad. And mantises were rich in protein. Hold on... What was he even supposed to say? This girl already exemplified that heroic ideal better than he did. He felt a bead of sweat building on his brow. Eventually he sternly yet gently placed a hand on her shoulder, all the while, he tried to smile. Tried to because inside he was going more like: H-Huh? What am I doing? No stop, there were so many other options! Okay, gotta get outta this one He managed to pull it into an smirk, giving a thumbs up to the girl. "Admirable indeed! Just as a hero should!..." Huh? What are you saying?! Where is this coming from! Damage control quick! He softened into a gentle smile. "J-Just joking!... Gotta go!" Ryoshi, ran back to his box, lifted it up and ran in more of an awkward hop up the stairs with alarming speed before he opened the door to his room, slammed the box on his bed, and slide against the door, hunched into his hands, embarrassed that he did any of that. His social life here ended before it even began.</s> <|message|>Maeda Nadeko Nadeko stood at the gates of U.A. and took a moment to drink it all in. This was the school where the top heroes are forged, and she could be one of them. The uniform was more elaborate than she was used to. She could use specially made metal hooks to put on her slip-on shoes, knee-lenth socks and button up her shirt and skirt, but the tie was undoable. Much like shoelaces, Nadeko was incapable of the dexterity needed to tie her own tie. Between the missing tie and unbuttoned top button, and the short red hair brushed over one eye, there was a slightly rebellious air about her appearence. She was lucky she had no piercings or people might think she was a yankee. She made her way past the robots and up to the dorm, dragging a large, heavy suitcase behind her. In the common room, she saw a praying mantis boy talking to a girl with tentacles for hair. She vaguely remembered them both from the exam, seeing them both also go around saving citizens. She entered the common room, and smiled and waved at the both. Well, by 'waved', she shook her large square, hand-less metal arm at them. From what she heard of the conversation between the two of them, they both seemed exited to be here, excited to become Heroes, but both socially awkward and nervous. The mantic boy then suddenly and abruptly fled the scene. She guessed he was hoping for a more confident first impression. Nadeko turned to the girl. "Hi, I'm Nadeko. Nice to meet you! Man, U.A! We made it! Are you excited? Anyway, I'm gonna go unpack." She gestured to her large suitcase. "I'll see you in class!" Nadeko arrived at her room, threw her suitcase onto her bed and unzipped it. The first thing she took out where her metal hooks. Without her family to help her dress, their importance couldn't be overstated. Plus she'd need them to hang all her clothes up. Once she was finished, she placed them gently on top of her dresser, before fishong out a small rectangular metal box. This was basically her pencil case. Without the specially crafted tools in here, she'd be unable to write anything down. It also contained a smaller set of hooks in case they needed to change into gym uniforms and she didn't have time to come back here. Case magnetically attached to her arm, she left her dorm room and set off towards the classroom.</s>

<|message|>Aori Nagano The mantis boy reminded her of something or someone Godzilla may fight, but seeing a tentacle from the corner of her eye quickly made Aori realize the irony of that comparison, or perhaps the hypocrisy. They both had mutant quirks! That was exciting. He approached her in such a nonchalant way it was shocking, clearly, he was a man of confidence! Or at least that is what Aori accessed. As he extended his hand she could only blink and then of course his hand went to her shoulder... "Human contact...." She shivered, her eyes widening. And just like that, he ran away? What a masterful escape... the tentacles upon her head seemed to dance in frustration, whipping about through the air before slithering across her face in dread. He ran so fast... they couldn't catch him! Not that they really tried to. It wasn't a good idea to use her quirk like that on the first day, but, this was a boy! That one touch told her everything she needed to know. Her eyes were still shut as she pictured it. Walking down the aisle, bouquet in hand, her beautiful white dress, that mantis boy who didn't even tell her his name. That's alright, she didn't need it. This daydream was interrupted by a girl's voice, Nadeko she called herself. Snapping back into reality, she was almost embarrassed. "Aori is excited yes, it is nice to meet you Nadeko..." That Nadeko girl moved fast, especially for a girl with no hands! Aori couldn't even finish her sentence. Well, not to the girls face; leaving her in the middle of the hallway talking to literally nobody but herself. Weird for others, normal for Aori. "Aori just wanted to know if you would be her bridesmaid... guess not." Aori smirked, slouching as she walked all the way to whichever room she was assigned. She had no real preference, as long as she had a bed and a comfortable place to take care of her precious precious hair! Or, well, tentacles. Now the paper dolls she had been cutting were taking the shape of a preying mantis. It looks like a new obsession was on the rise...</s>

<|description|>Maeda Nadeko Picture: Hero Name: Polaris Age:16 Height: 5"6 Home:Tokyo, Japan Quirk Type: Mutation Quirk: Nadeko's forearms are instead two comically oversized magnets. With these magnets, Nadeko can attract metal objects and other magnetic objects, as well as disrupt magnetic fields and electronic equipment. The strength of the magnets is something she can increase with effort. She can generate magnetic fields strong enough that if she points her arms at a nearby building and pulls, she herself will move forward. Her forearms are also large, square, and bulletproof, which makes them useful for protecting her chest and head during possible combat encounters. Getting punched by one is no joke either. It's like running head-first into a metal wall. Quirk Weakness': Nadeko can't control or manipulate magnetism. She can't even repel metal away from her unless it's charged. All she can do is attract, much like a magnet would behave. Her quirk also prevents her from having real hands or fingers, making the most basic of menial tasks an entirely different and possibly much more difficult process for her, and outright impossible without the correct tools Background/Personality: Nadeko was born with magnets for arms. While the other kids could do everything a quirkless could do, and had superpowers on top of that, Nadeko couldn't pick things up, interact with objects properly, or even eat unassisted. Special tools were ordered for her, that allowed her to accomplish different tasks by herself by attaching metal handles to things like hairbrushes and toothbrushes. As she grew older, and became more accustomed and adept to using her powers, she stopped seeing them as the drawback everyone else did. She was gifted. She was powerful. She'd show off to the other kids in the class. This is when she started getting dreams of becoming a Hero. Her powers could help people! But more importantly, and though she won't admit it to herself, it came from a desire to prove to the world she wasn't handicapped by her quirk. She wanted to save them for once. Nadeko is cheerful, cocky and a little bit of a show-off. She's friendly, helpful, kind and a positive person to be around. She can get overbearingly smug and self-centred, or defensive and prickly where her quirk is concerned. It can be a sore subject. Her primary pet peeve is people treating her like she's disable. She doesn't want pity or charity. She wants you to be impressed. In an emergency situation, however, Nadeko isn't flashy. She has a good, just heart and will prioritise stopping people from getting hurt over looking cool. She's quite intelligent, and knows how to use her quirk creatively. She has good potential as a tactician or strategist though lacks the field experience currently. How did you get into UA?: Exam What was a fateful moment in the exam or recommendation?: Nadeko of course took out the smaller metal robots with ease, so didn't focus on a high number count, instead dispatching any she ran into as fast as possible as she gunned it to the biggest robot she could find. She climbed its back with her arms and magnetically pulled its head as hard as she could, messing with the delicate electronics and software. But that wasn't what she was really doing. From this vantage point, she looked around for 'citizens' to assist or rescue. Once she'd felled the robot, she prioritised saving the citizens she saw, for the remainder of the runtime. Despite her impressive feats, she only ranked 13th in Combat. However, she managed to rank 2nd in Support due to her efforts</s> <|message|>Aori Nagano Aori had been up all night, unable to sleep due to the sheer excitement. Tomorrow marked her first day at a prestigious hero university, U.A. as they called it. The young girl's first step toward becoming a pro-hero. Sure, at one point in time she had wanted something a little different. To be a singer just like her mom, but that's life, isn't it? Things change, ideas come and go... like autumn into winter. She paced around her room, heavy dark bags forming under her eyes. She looked like a mess, a monster befitting the mutant quirk she was born with. Eventually, she picked up a toy she had been acquainted with some time in the past, something she turned too on occasion when she was in desperate need of answers. A magic eight ball. Shaking it violently, "Will I have a good day tomorrow?" She asked, at first in a very sweet and kind voice. Within the blue triangle, words floated into existence. "NO." It read, in all capital letters. "Huh!? What do you mean no! Aori's day will be amazing, I KNOW IT!" "Then why did you ask..." Foreign words for a machine programmed to have the most basic responses. It wasn't Aori's fault her parents had spent the extra dollar on a newer model. A "sassy and sarcastic" magic eight ball. Not really what she needed at the moment! This went on pretty much all night, question after question, annoying answer after answer. When the sun finally came up, Aori had grown exhausted from her debates with the toy but the idea of school filled her with a burst of energy unlike any other. Unfortunately, that couldn't get rid of the eye bags. --- U.A. was massive. It stood before her like a mighty modern castle of education. Her hair rolled out in excitement and she twirled a tentacle in her fingertips. Mystery foam was running down the corner of her mouth as she daydreamed of her future to come. Not only was she going to become a hero, but she was going to meet people just like her. With a common interest. Recently, she had gotten into the art of making paper dolls. Her newly-discovered current obsession. Therefore she always carried scissors and paper with her, for now anyway. In about a week that would be a dead hobby, joining her cemetery of forgotten interests. Therefore the drooling girl walked through the gates, keeping her head on a piece of paper she was snipping away at, attempting to get the "dolls" into heroic silhouettes. Stopped by a robot who demanded her name, she gladly gave it away. "Aori Nagano." After approval, Aori continued onward, talking to herself the entire way. She was still pretty bent up about the events of last night... "Aori will show that stupid magic eight ball, won't she?!? Ahahahahahaha!" Truth be told, she didn't really notice the other students. Not yet anyway. She wasn't used to having friends and found it hard to make them, most people avoided her. Even when walking through the crowd, slits of paper falling behind her as she sliced and sliced, nothing seemed to phase her. When she finally reached the doors to the building, not just the courtyard or the gate leading up to it, she only had a few words to say. Mumbled under her breath. "It's hero time!!!" The words escaped her mouth very slowly, long and drawn out they brought upon a smile, a wicked and evil smile! She had no malicious intent, of course, she just happened to have REF. Resting evil face.</s> <|message|>Ryoshi Inoru Ryoshi walked into the dorm looking around. His arms were wrapped around a overstuffed box, as he wandered inside. Truthfully, for how large it was and how full it was, it seemed strangely easy for someone as lanky as he was. Still, he walked in, sorta in a blank state. "Ah. So this is where I'm staying huh?..." He stated the obvious, completely unsure what else TO say. I mean, he was here! Ryoshi! You know, the kid in class that no one really thought would do anything exceptional. Not that he'd fail... just not excel. And yet here he was attending the most prestigious school for heroing. That couldn't be right... Yeah wait that doesn't make any sense!? Now dealing with his imposter syndrome, Ryoshi stopped, right in the middle of the hallway towards where he believed his room was. What was he doing here? There had to be someone else more fit for his spot right?... He stood there, blankly staring at the box in front of him for a decently long time. Wasn't part of being a hero about being commanding, and enthralling too? Maybe that should be something to work on while he was here. You know, be someone interesting, live up to the notion of a hero. Of course he had no idea what kind of hero he'd try and act like. Was he a Cool Guy? Arbiter of Justice? Lone Wolf? At this point, Ryoshi put his box down, placing his hand against his chin, deep in thought as he was standing there, deep in thought, he was broken from this trance by the sudden shouting from the entrance. "It's Hero Time!!!" He let out an "Ah-" before looking behind him to see the the girl with octopus hair and a foreboding presence standing there. He looked at his box for a moment, and decided it was fine to leave, approaching the girl. He extended his hand. She wasn't exactly a frightening sight to him. After all, he saw how his mom was when mad. And mantises were rich in protein. Hold on... What was he even supposed to say? This girl already exemplified that heroic ideal better than he did. He felt a bead of sweat building on his brow. Eventually he sternly yet gently placed a hand on her shoulder, all the while, he tried to smile. Tried to because inside he was going more like: H-Huh? What am I doing? No stop, there were so many other options! Okay, gotta get outta this one He managed to pull it into an smirk, giving a thumbs up to the girl. "Admirable indeed! Just as a hero should!..." Huh? What are you saying?! Where is this coming from! Damage control quick! He softened into a gentle smile. "J-Just joking!... Gotta go!" Ryoshi, ran back to his box, lifted it up and ran in more of an awkward hop up the stairs with alarming speed before he opened the door to his room, slammed the box on his bed, and slide against the door, hunched into his hands, embarrassed that he did any of that. His social life here ended before it even began.</s>

<|message|>Maeda Nadeko Nadeko stood at the gates of U.A. and took a moment to drink it all in. This was the school where the top heroes are forged, and she could be one of them. The uniform was more elaborate than she was used to. She could use specially made metal hooks to put on her slip-on shoes, knee-lenth socks and button up her shirt and skirt, but the tie was undoable. Much like shoelaces, Nadeko was incapable of the dexterity needed to tie her own tie. Between the missing tie and unbuttoned top button, and the short red hair brushed over one eye, there was a slightly rebellious air about her appearence. She was lucky she had no piercings or people might think she was a yankee. She made her way past the robots and up to the dorm, dragging a large, heavy suitcase behind her. In the common room, she saw a praying mantis boy talking to a girl with tentacles for hair. She vaguely remembered them both from the exam, seeing them both also go around saving citizens. She entered the common room, and smiled and waved at the both. Well, by 'waved', she shook her large square, hand-less metal arm at them. From what she heard of the conversation between the two of them, they both seemed exited to be here, excited to become Heroes, but both socially awkward and nervous. The mantic boy then suddenly and abruptly fled the scene. She guessed he was hoping for a more confident first impression. Nadeko turned to the girl. "Hi, I'm Nadeko. Nice to meet you! Man, U.A! We made it! Are you excited? Anyway, I'm gonna go unpack." She gestured to her large suitcase. "I'll see you in class!" Nadeko arrived at her room, threw her suitcase onto her bed and unzipped it. The first thing she took out where her metal hooks. Without her family to help her dress, their importance couldn't be overstated. Plus she'd need them to hang all her clothes up. Once she was finished, she placed them gently on top of her dresser, before fishong out a small rectangular metal box. This was basically her pencil case. Without the specially crafted tools in here, she'd be unable to write anything down. It also contained a smaller set of hooks in case they needed to change into gym uniforms and she didn't have time to come back here. Case magnetically attached to her arm, she left her dorm room and set off towards the classroom.</s>

<|description|>Oba Daichi Appearance: Daichi stands at average height for his age, with a very slim build. His skin is quite pale, but is also not blemished at all. Daichi was born with light violet eyes and lavender colored hair that he keeps decently long. Daichi tends to wear simple, comfortable clothing. When not wearing his school uniform, Daichi can typically found wearing jeans and a comfy sweater. Age: 16 Gender: Male Brief Bio: Daichi was born to the Oba family, formerly farmers that had came to the big city. Daichi was the second son of the family, his addition adding more financial stress to the struggling family. While the Oba's had come to the city to seek their fortune, they were met with limited opportunities and high housing costs. The birth of Daichi's sister would not help matters. Besides the cramped apartment, all the Oba's had to their name was a takoyaki cart. Based on an old family recipe, the cart would be well liked in the neighborhood, if not overly successful. Daichi grew up not wanting to have the same life as his family, always trying to be better than them. To that end he threw himself into his studies. Daichi would consume books and concepts at a prodigious rate. This was noticed by his parents who showered him with praise. But Daichi didn't want anything from them. They were complacent about their lot in life, something Daichi refused to do. He would come to distance himself from his family, and even the few friends he had. Currently Daichi is under a lot of stress as exams are coming up and he had been spending all his time at cram school. Daichi is risking a possible nervous breakdown unless he slows down. Sovereign Connection: Zhuqiaomon Equipment: Messenger Bag with the following inside: * Laptop * Smart Phone with ear buds * Wallet with just ID * Several Textbooks * Notebook * Assorted Pens and Pencils Miscellaneous: While Daichi primarily focuses on language and math skills in his studying, he does have a hidden love for the arts. The problem is that he's come to see them as frivolous, further preventing him from engaging in something that could help him. Digimon Species: DoKunemon Appearance: DoKunemon is a green and purple larva creature with a beak, stinger, and antennae. She stands at about 2'03'' tall, but is 2'09'' long. The underside of her body naturally produces slime, which she has a habit of tracking everywhere. Gender: Female Digivolution Line: Yuramon -> Budmon -> DoKunemon -> Yanmamon -> JewelBeemon Personality: DoKunemon is a diva of a Digimon. She always expects for things to go her way and for others to respect her. This all comes from her delusion that she is meant to be the Queen of a hive, with an army of subordinates performing her every wish. Thankfully, she plans to be a benevolent ruler, trying to help others with her power. By her own nature, DoKunemon will go out of her way to help people, even if it meant going out of her way. DoKunemon tries to get Daichi to be more open, as she views him as cold and distant. She doesn't understand Daichi's need to constantly work toward a goal; in her mind anyone should be able to attain a goal as soon as they want it. DoKunemon also pushes this view on other Digimon, and can chastise them the same way she does Daichi if they don't act like her. Equipment: None Attacks: * Worm Venom: DoKunemon uses his tail stinger to inject a weakening venom into an enemy. * Electric Thread: DoKunemon fires a stream of thread onto an enemy, paralyzing it. * Insect Horde: DoKunemon summons a swarm of digital bees to harass an enemy. Miscellaneous: The slime produced from the bottom of DoKunemon is thankfully not permanent. It should auto-dissolve in about ten to fifteen minutes of being released by DoKunemon. Digimon Species: Solarmon Appearance: Solarmon is comprised of a bronze metal plate for a face with several golden gears surrounding it. Solarmon is about three feet tall and is made of a dense metal. By default Solarmon's eyes are red in color, but they can change color to represent different emotions. Gender: Male Digivolution Line: Jyarimon -> Gigimon -> Solarmon -> Kenkimon -> Valvemon Personality: Solarmon views himself as a scholar, a pursuer of knowledge. To do so he travels the Digital World, trying to learn as much as possible. But this pursuit of knowledge sometimes makes him indifferent to the struggles of others. As such Solarmon is viewed as a pariah in most places. But Solarmon doesn't care, instead focusing on his all consuming quest for knowledge, as he believes that the only point in life is to become the best at something. In Solarmon's case it is being the most knowledgeable Digimon. Equipment: None Attacks: * Shiny Ring: Solarmon spits out a shiny gold ring. The ring generates heat as it moves, eventually hitting an enemy and burning them. * Shiny Tackle: Solarmon begins spinning, generating heat. He then slams himself into an enemy, hitting them with extreme force and heat. * Soul Shocker: Solarmon focuses all the energy in his body, condensing it into a single orb. The orb then explodes, releasing a wave of energy from outside Solarmon, damaging all who come in contact with it. Miscellaneous: Solarmon naturally floats above the ground, generally at two feet high. While Solarmon can increase this floating height somewhat, he is not capable of flight.</s> <|message|>Notable NPCs Oh. The humans were waking up. That was good, Marineangemon supposed. It meant it was too late to safely return the digivices, however. One was approaching, and another one was holding a stick as if he meant to swing it. For some reason, his mouth went dry and he got ready to make a bubble shield before he swallowed down the feeling. One human had raised his voice, and two were swearing, but no hostility had been aimed at him or his sister. Why should he be feeling any fear? He looked at Piximon, who gestured that they should go. He understood. Still, he tossed her the final digivice and drifted down a little, away from his sister. He was certain that if her arms weren't full, she would've snagged him by the collar again, or he would've heard the sound of her open palm collide with her forehead. But he was never good at leaving others to their own devices, was he? "Erm, hello." He spoke up, his voice not quite matching his dainty appearance. He realized two digimon made it onto the scene and knew he wouldn't be able to keep the smile out of his voice - maybe the rest would show soon. These humans would not be alone in a foreign and dangerous world. It was all he could hope for. "I can't answer all your concerns, but I can at least tell you where you're at." He also had a theory on the why, but he didn't dare express it. Not if 'defeat' meant killing. He could hear Piximon mutter behind him, "Oh, give me a break..." He chose to ignore her. "You're in the digital world now - I've been told it's a dimension parallel to yours, and dependent on yours as well for its existence. It's quite odd to think about - imagine if instead I'd said your world was dependent on ours. But I digress. I, my sister, that Frimon-" He gestured to the digimon wrapped around the human's neck. "-and that DoKunemon-" His arm swept over to the DoKunemon who had laid claim to another human. "-we're all digimon, the dominant lifeform of this world. I have no idea how you got here - humans are said to be summoned, and I don't know who could've summoned you. It may be why you were all unconscious though." It wasn't a lot of information, he knew, but it was the barest facts he knew to be true. Well, except- "I would think your partners are around here somewhere as well," he said to the human girl who'd approached and to the human boy who'd asked what the heck was going on. "All humans in the digital world are said to have digimon partners." Also digivices, but maybe the humans wouldn't miss theirs. "I'd suggest finding them soon. Some parts of the digital world are quite dangerous, and not all digimon are open to discussion and reasoning." He knew that from experience. He clapped the end of his tendrils together. "Well, I think that's all I can tell you. I suppose I should wish you well, and hope you have a wonderful adventure!" Not likely, given the current state of the digital world, but hey - he said 'hope'. There was nothing wrong with hoping for the unlikely. "Yeah, have a good time and crap, we gotta get moving." Piximon fluttered down and nudged Marineangemon with an elbow, nearly losing a digivice as she did so.</s> <|message|>May Galaxy May Galaxy --- The human girl stopped as the pink monster bearing a heart on its chest threw something to the other pink creature and began talking. Everything was fine until she noticed something rather... conspicuous. "You're in the digital world now - I've been told it's a dimension parallel to yours, and dependent on yours as well for its existence. It's quite odd to think about - imagine if instead I'd said your world was dependent on ours. But I digress. I, my sister, that Frimon, and that DoKunemon, we're all digimon, the dominant lifeform of this world. I have no idea how you got here - humans are said to be summoned, and I don't know who could've summoned you. It may be why you were all unconscious though." That's what the creature, er, digimon, had said, right? That and 'humans have digimon partners,' and most importantly: 'not all digimon are peaceful.' May was shocked at how quickly the cre-... digimon, had explained something so important. But it raised too many questions. "Hey." she began as she once against started walking towards the two pink digimon. "If this is a parallel world to ours, how do you know about humans at all? Why do you know about us but we don't know about you? What are digimon? Why does your world depend on ours? If this is the 'digital world,' are we inside a computer, or the internet?" She finally stopped a few feet in front of the two digimon. "If this is a 'digital' world, can it be altered by computers? What are those things you're holding, and most importantly..." May crouched down on one knee, her hands still in her pockets and her gaze set squarely on the digimon that had explained their situation. "What's your name, little one?" The other digimon nudged the one with the heart on its chest, and May asked her final question. "What's the rush?"</s>

<|message|>Oba Daichi O B A D A I C H I --- Daichi wondered what DoKunemon had meant by him being her servant? He didn't feel obligate to work for anyone, always imagining himself running his own business. So why was he supposed to work for this small worm? Especially a slimy one, he thought as he noticed the semi-transparent goo trailing behind DoKunemon. Daichi decided to back away from the creature. He then headed toward the girl in the wind breaker, figuring that she was taking charge of the situation. As he did so, one of the pink fairy creatures began to speak. In less than a minute Daichi had learned that he was in a parallel dimension, one where these creatures called Digimon were the dominant species. It was a lot to take in initially, but then Daichi remembered reading about Multiverse Theory. There were apparently an infinite amount of dimensions, where everything that could potentially happen does happen. The question was how exactly did Daichi and the other humans cross into this dimension? The pink Digimon then mentioned that humans have to be summoned to this world, but had no clue who had summoned. More questions, thought Daichi. Who had drawn this small group here? Why them? As they all seemed to be teenagers, was this something about youth. Surely an adult with a complete skill set would be of more use to the whoever the summoner was. It was then revealed that humans in this world are supposed to have a Digimon partner to aid them. Looking around, Daichi quickly realized that DoKunemon was supposed to be his partner. Great, he thought. This was on exasperated by the fact that some Digimon were hostile and might attack on sight. Daichi didn't think the two-foot tall worm that was his partner would be able to do much in battle. Then the two pink fairy Digimon began to leave, only for the girl who was taking lead stooped down in front of the one who had been explaining. Its sister looked nervous when confronted by the girl. They began to talk, but it was soft enough that Daichi couldn't hear. "Now do you understand? We're a couple, a Queen and her brave Knight," stated DoKunemon as she slid over to Daichi. "I thought it was more of a fifty/fifty thing with being partners," Daichi replied. "Fifty/fifty never works. The one with the power should govern. And since I'm a Digimon and your just a human, I am the one with the power." Again Daichi appraised DoKunemon. While small and slow moving, she had a fierceness to her that intrigued him. That and she wasn't that monstrous looking, at least compared to what Daichi had envisioned when the fairy Digimon had spoken of hostile Digimon. But there was one thing still bugging Daichi. "Do you have to leave a trail of slime behind you?" Daichi asked. "That's a dumb question. It's like asking a Gazimon if it needs to shed its fur," replied DoKunemon, "At least with my slime it doesn't smell, it doesn't stain things, and it dissolves after a few minutes." "That's good to know." Figuring that he should mark some of these details down, Daichi pulled out a fresh notebook out of his messenger bag. It was only as he did so did he acknowledge that whatever had summoned him here also brought his bag. It must of been the same deal for the others, Daichi noting that one of the guys had a skateboard. Daichi then began to write everything he knew about DoKunemon on the first page. As he did so, his Digimon partner slid over to the two fairy Digimon siblings. "So I've heard stories of Digimon and humans becoming partners before, so I get that," said DoKunemon, "But isn't there more to it? Like a wise old Digimon to mentor them? A home base? Or I've heard a few stories of a magical item that links the human and Digimon's connection? Do we have any of those?" As DoKunemon spoke she noticed the light from above glinting off something in the sister Digimon's hand. "You sure you're telling us everything?" questioned DoKunemon. That Daichi heard as he walked over to DoKunemon and the human girl. It had seemed strange that these two fairy Digimon were here before we awoke, only offering the most basic rundown of where we were, and were no trying to bolt. It was awfully suspicious to Daichi, his violet eyes narrowing at the two fairy Digimon.</s>

<|description|>Milton BertelAge 88 Gender Male Anima (If applicable) Debutante -An anima that takes the form of a Victorian doll. Debutante's main ability is to enhance the wielder's physical attributes by taking control of their body. With its strings that sprout from its porcelain body, Debutante can make the wielder more agile or temporarily stronger. It's major ability is its ability to make the wielder unworldly physical feats. Personality Milton has a childish and playful demeanor. Reminiscent of a kitten, he's often distracted by small things and is a little slow on the uptake. He also has an incredible imagination. Alignment Chaotic Neutral Backstory There isn't exactly much to Milton. The first memory that he could recall was walking around the streets somewhere. He had no recollection of comfort from his mother, nor if he had any siblings. All that he knew was that he walked around everywhere and the scenery kept changing by. The concept of pillars or councils didn't exactly matter to Milton since he was, after all, a cat. That was until it did matter when he was caught after being baited into a cage by food. Everything was black after his capturers draped his cage with a black cloth. When he finally saw the light of day again, he saw a little girl before him. In that first little meeting, they were friends. They would do so many things together. Playing dress up, house, dodging pillows, getting yelled at, and trying to learn how to make tea. He couldn't quite grasp how to make it since all he had were paws. Every day brought him joy. Him and his growing lady. She grew to be the beautiful lady in his eyes and he somehow managed to transform into a human himself at times. Learning, chatting, getting yelled at, and having fun. He still didn't know how to make tea even with hands. It was blissful until his lady started to become more faded. Like a wilting plant, she became weaker and frailer. He tried to take care of her but nothing seemed to stop her age. That was until a man came. Milton was ushered out when they spoke and when he came back in, they were gone. He was alone once more. Again, introduced to the darkness that was loneliness, Milton spent his time at his lady's house. Cleaning the rooms, making breakfast, sewing dresses. Milton was intent on wasting in the now ownerless house until the man came back with her. She was smaller and younger just like the day they met. The man introduced her as 'Debutante,' but Milton didn't care. All that mattered to him was that they were together again. Until mutual destruction do they part. Additional information Milton has the ability to change back to his cat to human form at will. A fact that he oftenly frequently forgets despite being originally a cat. Milton's has above human level strength despite looking slim. He also has the senses as a cat in his human form. Picture</s> <|message|>Floyd Cloute Floyd "Flemma" Cloute --- His amusement over the fellow's flustering soon shifted over to the dynamic between him and an apparent talking doll. A small body but quite a character. Her explanation also was very on-point and straightforward, unlike the hundreds of lines that no one would bother reading on the associated instruction manual. And thankfully, despite being behind on the technological front, he wasn't that out-of-date; after all he did grow up in the fast-lanes. It took some refreshers, but he figured it out relatively quickly with the doll's instructions. "Ah it works, thank you thank you. Flemma graciously said, having activated both the PDA and headphones. He put one of them in his pocket and the other over his head, with quite cleverness using only his left hand, before returning the greeting with a nod with the hand on his chest. "A pleasure to meet you both. What's your lady's name, if you don't mind?" He said. "I'm Floyd. Floyd Cloute, but you can call me Flemma." Knowing the rather strange name the green-haired man quickly followed up. "It's an alias from my old job. They call me that too often that I kinda got used to it. Floyd works too if that's a little awkward." Now that he had some free time, Flemma took a quick glance at his new coworker. Quite a young lad they got for the spot. As far as he could tell, guys like these weren't uncommon, which was strange, considering the relative importance of the job. But hey, young talents were always welcome. They didn't have any shortages of surprises, hell even terror for the relatively experienced fighter like he was. "So, I assume I can address you as Mr. Milton. How do you end up here with this diverse band of crime fighters?"</s> <|message|>Rokkit Mechead ROKKIT MECHEAD SHORTY GROTSKY --- Rokkit was already starting to get some nails to hammer his pants on when he heard someone trying to talk to him. The green hulk turned around, then looked down at the smaller human. Rokkit had to fight the urge to smack him, not out of any displeasure, just out of habit. He's been fighting humans for so long that his krump first, talk later instinct was still in him. Then the human, calling himself Julius, extended his hand out to give him a fist bump. Now that Rokkit could recognize more easily. He gave it a solid thump with his fleshy meat hand, figuring that was nicer than bumping with his metal klaw hand, though Rokkit's poor grasp of strength certainly made it feel like he just slugged Julius' arm. "Oi dere, da name's Rokkit Mechead! Aye know I don't need ta put on deez humie clothes, but dey real snazzy, so might as well make em a part of me kit. Black is dead 'ard an I need ta show wotever gits we huntin dat I ain't na softie." Then Rokkit felt something run into him. He was confused for a moment, since it didn't hurt, but he also wasn't sure what just hit him. So he turned around and saw an even smaller human who's first instinct was to beg for forgiveness for bothering him. Underneath his stoic metal helmet, Rokkit smirked. She was just some grot. He supposed that wouldn't be too much of an issue, grots are useful after all. Before the human could hurt herself again and fall, Rokkit reached out to steady her. This would also show that his hand alone was at least the size of her torso: Rokkit was huge. "Wot's yer name, grot? Looks like yer gunna be out dere foightin wif me, an I need ta know wot ta call ya if I need sumone ta do sumthin." Just as he spoke these words, Bosco the flying drone arrived. Rokkit casually continued to converse with the others as the drone began to work on Rokkit, first adjusting the mess of electronics forcefully smashed onto his helmet into something resembling a proper communication devise built into his helmet. Bosco also reworked Rokkit's uniform, first cutting the pants for extra materials, and then tailoring the top into something more akin to a mantle, complete with hood, though it was more for intimidation than secrecy considering that even with extensions, it barely went past Rokkit's hips. Meanwhile Shorty gave Rokkit a simple and concise explaination of what she's doing right now. "Hey boss, I'll be watching you all from here. I'll let you know if anything important happens. Bosco will help you if you need me to do something." Short and sweet, just how he likes it. @pkken</s>

<|message|>Milton BertelAge Floyd "Flemma" Cloute Milton Bertel --- "My lady's name? It's um…" Milton stumbled on his words. What was his lady's name again? It had been such a long time, since he had actually referred to her as such. Though such a scene was an eyesore to the puppet, who smacked Milton on the head. "You've actually forgotten my name!? You fur-brain." The doll scowled before sighing and turning to the green haired man. "You may call me, Margo, Mr. Cloute." There was a small pause from the doll when considering which name to use, before settling on the one that had neither nickname, nor the suggested name that Floyd offered. The green-haired man simply nodded in acknowledgement, shrugging off the ignorance. Milton shook his head before looking up again. "Why am I here?" Milton pointed towards himself. There was a thoughtful expression, before Milton shrugged. "Dunno. I just received a letter and came with my lady." "What they expect from you is unknown even to me." "Ngah! Dotcha think that's kinda rude, my lady?" Flemma's lips curled slightly. "Really? I mean, like…what do you want out of this job?" He said, listing out, "Money? Prestige? Quality of life? All three, I don't know." He shrugged. "Tax exemption?" "Also, I've been wondering." The gentleman looked over to the small doll on Milton's hands, amused but curious. "What's your relationship with Mr. Milton here, Ms. Margo? You seem to be…umm…quite a governess to him." The initial word was babysitting, since she's been way less airheaded than her partner, but he didn't want to sound patronizing. Either way, it was pretty funny. "Oh that? Ngmmm. Well, I guess it's a good opportunity to walk around." Milton simply said, as if being a part of a security team was like taking a stroll around a park. Margo placed her hands on her temple and let out a deep breath before looking back up at Floyd. "I'm his caretaker for reasons you have mostly seen." Margo said while reaching out to pet the back of Milton's head. The heterochromatic boy leaned slightly forward to the touch and had a happy look on his face. "If you gave Milton a crossword puzzle and gave him specific directions, I'm sure he'd answer the Across questions with the Down answers." Though Margo had a few question of her own. "How about you, Mr. Cloute? Unlike Milton, I know the gravity of our situation. Why are you here and why did they recruit you?" From what the two of them had seen, everyone in that room had experience doing dirty work before. "Their offer letter said a guy with my level of experience is very valuable" He curled his hand's index and middle finger in response. "I used to fight people as per my old job, so I guess that's enough reasons for them." "As for why I am here…" He gave a thoughtful look, carefully considering what he were to say. "Let's just say I pissed off some people back then, so they want me dead. I figure why not give them a legit reason to do so, meanwhile hunting them." There was a moment of silence from the doll. It was as if those cold beady were judging him for what he said. Though the doll closed her eyes. "Do make sure that your little dispute doesn't get Milton in trouble." With that, she removed her hand. Realizing the source of his headpats were gone, Milton briefly looked downcast before spotting the apparent lack of a right arm from Floyd's body. "What happened to your arm?" Milton innocently asked as he eyed the stump where his arm should have been. Margo gave Milton a criticizing look for his lack of tact. "Milton…" Margo began. "Oh don't worry." Flemma let out a laugh, waved his hand casually. "I got asked that a lot. It's just a result of weapon unfamiliarity, and a LOT of pissed off people." He pointed to the long sword hanging diagonally on his back. "Don't worry though, I adapted. Now if anything, they'd be unfamiliar with me instead." "Anyway." He gave the two of them a two-fingered salute and a smile. "It's nice talking to you guys. Gotta read up again on what the commander said, so talk to you soon…when the mission starts~" "Okay~ It was nice talking to you Mr. Floyd." With that the conversation was left finished. Margo sighed as she leaned over towards Milton's ear. "You're quite troublesome, aren't you, Milton." The black haired boy beamed at the doll. "You always said that was my best trait." Though in context, Margo said those words with a mix of sarcasm in them. "Just make sure to think before you act. Even if your head is filled with dust, at least it's filled with something. Also refer to him as Mr. Cloute. It's impolite otherwise." "Aww…"</s>

<|description|>Sophia Ward Age: 56 Gender: Female Personality: Sophia is a world-weary, sarcastic, bitter and cynical woman, having been around and having seen a lot of the darker side of the world. She still carries her callous and amoral nature as a professional criminal and murderer, but it was been dulled and worn by time. She feels a self-centered regret at the wasting of her life, but no remorse for the evil of her actions. Anima: Maelstrom Discharger An Anima created from the Soul of an Entity that lived in an abandoned powerplant in the Outskirts. The Gun uses charge to shoot powerful attacks. It uses energy-type "bullets" (akin to rays/lasers) and can be used to do a lot of things energy related- Put up an energy shield that blocks incoming attacks, or discharge for small, low-cost blasts or even large hyperbeams. Attacks are elementally aspected- You can change between electricity, fire, and pure energy. The colour of the weapon changes accordingly (yellow -> red -> blue). Charge is gained over time or by manually charging it with aether cells (akin to ammunition) Alignment: True Neutral Picture: Backstory: Thirty years ago, the illegal Anima trade looked very different to today. It was large, powerful, and based from the 2nd Pillar rather than the 5th, as crime bosses were rich and unabashedly ashamed of their wealth. Sophia was the youngest daughter of one of these families, but when she was merely thirteen, her family was killed and she and her sisters were taken in by the killers. Sophia buried her resentment. She had never felt loved by her parents in the first place. The only thing she was ever truly rewarded for, were results, and her new employers gave her praise for a good job much more readily than her own blood ever did. She remained loyal, and worked hard, rising up in influence, standing and reputation until she was a Lieutenant, with her own men directly underneath her. Sophia had a good brain for organized crime. She made alliances, could turn on the charm when needed and twist somebody's arm when it called for it. But her main strength was her sheer ruthlessness. She killed any who crossed her or her men in cold blood, including Agents. This reputation had it drawbacks, as she became one of the most wanted targets during the crackdown on the Organized Crime of the 2nd Pillar. She was eventually caught, arrested and though they could never tie her to any murders, got twenty years for the few criminal exploits they could prove. Sophia served all twenty years with no complaints. Now a free woman, given one of the cheapest apartments of the 2nd Layer, and no job, she wondered what the future had in store for her. But on her third night as a free woman, she came home to find her door unlocked and a black orb in the middle of her living room...</s> <|message|>Milton BertelAge Milton Bertel --- "Naah, my lady, I think that's enough. We'll run late if you keep doing this." A black-haired youth said. He stood before a tall mirror, looking at his reflection before him. Though he wasn't alone. Two small arms patted down his clothes. "Non! You must look perfect! This meeting is of utmost importance, and I will not have you look like a bumpkin, Milton." Despite being a doll, it 'spoke' to the boy named Milton in a voice that sounded like a lower pitch than his own. After the doll finished, Milton sighed. "But it's been two hours, my lady…." Since he had woken up, Milton had completed all the preparations before the departure, but the doll in his hand insisted on tidying up his already tidied-up outfit. "Two, three, five, time doesn't equate to progress if nothing is done! Especially with that wrinkle!" Before Milton could respond, he jumped at the sound of a clock ringing behind him. Turning his head around, the hands of the clock were at their assigned time. "Well, it looks like it's time to go, my lady! Time to go!" The doll didn't respond as the boy went and picked up his belongings. Opening the door outside his home, Milton shot one last look of longing before turning back around and leaving. It was odd that he had received a sudden invitation to join a security unit in the 2nd pillar. Milton didn't know what that entailed but it seemed like a tough job for someone like him. What exactly were the qualifications? He remembered his lady mentioning security dealt with the 'bad people on the streets. Milton only knew how to sew and make tea to an extent, so he was slightly curious about their decision-making. Regardless, it would be rude not to show up after being invited. Arriving at the train station, he used the special ticket. The number of uses went down to 0, and then he was allowed access inside the train. The building soon became a blur. Milton looked back down at his lady. "What do you think we're gonna do once we get there?" He asked the doll. The doll shifted, looked up at Milton, and placed her hands on her waist. "What do you think? I'd imagine we'd have at least a basic introduction on why, who, and what we were summoned there for." That made sense. His lady's intuition was only wrong when the Earth was flat, so he trusted her. After a wait, the train stopped. The few people on the train filtered out, and Milton followed suit. "Wow, so that's the tower?" Milton said as he spotted the tall structure from a distance. It was incredibly tall. Although redundant, Milton couldn't stop but try to process how tall it was. "Stop looking like a dumbfound idiot and enter in! You're making a scene!" His lady slapped him with her small hands. "Sorry, my lady, I'll get going," Milton said as he hurried inside. The tower inside was as wide as it was tall. It took a minute before Milton moved up to the receptionist. "Hi! I'm here for the errr…." Milton forgot, what was it called again? "IXth SU's δ division." His lady suddenly spoke. A smile grew on Milton's face. "Yeah, that one! You always remember everything perfectly, my lady!" In contrast to Milton's excitement, the receptionist was weirded out by the interaction. However, they did receive directions on where to go next after Milton was verified. Going up the elevator and heading towards the HQ, he entered inside. He introduced himself. "Milton Bertel. This room is for the δ division, right?" Milton's heterochromia eyes darted around the area. There were a few people other than him. The blue man that he saw before and another lady seemed slightly shocked. There were others as well, which meant that Milton wasn't the first to arrive, but he did arrive on time.</s> <|message|>"Change is inevitable." --- Lucasta found herself in a blackened void surrounded by a pit of nothingness. The sound alone was horrifying because there was no sound. The silence was a terrible weapon, but great at instilling fear. The woman's feet were planted as she found herself paralyzed in place. Unable to see anything, as if she had been placed in a coffin and buried alive, but this was no coffin. She could feel the open space, but she was simply unable to reach it. This was the absence of everything, devoid of all life. A reoccurring dream Lucasta had frequently if a dream is truly what you wish to call it. Out of nowhere blue threads began to spin themselves into existence, like thin streams of water swirling every which way, a bright and glowing contrast in the dark room. From the distaff of Lucasta's imagination, the threads formed a feminine figure with no discernable face or features. Lucasta attempted to move her feet, to take some sort of fighting stance, but she was glued to the floor. Whether that be her mind playing tricks on her or a literal trap she stumbled upon, she had yet to find out. The sewn-to-life creation glided forward, levitating just above the concrete sea of black. Etching closer and closer, Lucasta eventually gave up her struggle, those threaded hands caressing her cheek, the creature's featureless face staring right at her, with it's blue body in the strangest of poses. "Do not mess today up, girl. This.... is your destiny." And with those words, it planted a kiss on her forehead and that was that. Lucasta went to ask a question, she had worked up the courage to speak, managed to gain some semblance of strength but the cloud of dreams vanished and Lucasta awoke on a train, but not for natural reasons... "Uhh, are you okay lady?" He looked like a teenager, poking and prodding the sleeping young woman as she appeared to be going through some sort of mental dilemma. A horrifying and confusing nightmare to be exact. Needless to say she had interrupted a passenger or two. "Why would you wake me up!?! I was just about to get some answers!?! Who the hell even ARE YOUUUUU!?!" With that fit of outrage, the teenager just slid down to a farther away seat grimacing as he went. Maybe messing with crazy wasn't a good idea. "At least destiny has been kind to be so far. What would make today any different?" Lucasta shrugged, something of a fatalist, there was no need in worrying over something she couldn't change. If you couldn't guess, she was also something of a hypocrite. Shortly after her rude awakening, the train came to a screeching halt. She was somehow saddened that she had missed all the sights on her way there. The city in all its glory wasn't something she could see very often. The 2nd Pillar. A few weeks ago this would have been so far out of reach, but something changed. The strings of fate had pulled her along like a puppet, leading her out of the frying pan but into a whole new fire. Life as an agent. Perhaps that is what the dream meant, but Lucasta knew it was so much more. Eventually arriving at the building, she stood outside for a second. Ensuring her pointy witch's hat was on and pointed at the best angle it could be before taking a long, deep breath. Beginning to think of everything that had happened in order for her to land right here. Right now. "Go in already, we're gonna be late." Lucasta tensed up. "I was trying to have a moment...." Yes, she was arguing with a voice inside her head. Yes, stares from strangers came with that territory. "You can only have one first impression, remember what we told you?" The voice was stoic and feminine, commanding even. "Yeah yeah yeah, don't mess this up. I know! I know! Chill out." This argument went on for several minutes, eventually becoming very heated before of course, that voice won! It always did. The sound of her high heels hitting the concrete could be heard as she made her way up the steps and into the rather extravagant building. Luckily she had been given a clear set of directions, alongside clearance, so finding the right elevator was pretty straightforward. Seeing the multi-eyed girl at reception, Lucasta knew she was in the right place. Well, that and the several other people who had arrived for the very same thing. This was a new task force after all, not a solo project. The people she was looking at... well they would be her team. Pulling the brim of her hat downward, as if to cast a dramatic shadow on her face before crossing her arms, Lucasta felt no need to announce her arrival. They had her file, they knew exactly who she was. As for getting to know the others, that would come later.</s>

<|message|>Sophia Ward Sofia couldn't sleep. Prison, after curfew and in a reinforced cell, was always silent. On the third floor of the shit-cheapest block of apartments this side of the 2nd Layer, the traffic and voices never truly stopped. Every twenty minutes the train went by. The track being several buildings over. It was too damn loud. All Sophia could so was just lay there and use the opportunity to relax and let her mind wander. She'd gotten out to an almost unrecognisable world. All her old superiors were dead and her underlings were either arrested or higher ups in new gangs. Going back to the criminal world wasn't feasable and without her old connections, would probably just get her killed. It was a funny twist of fate that the same day that she'd resigned herself to the fact she was going to have to start begging and scraping for an ordinary job, she found the orb. She listened to the message and got the printed ticket. Yesterday was a day of making preparations, buying a whole new wardrobe, cleaering out her old accounts and setting up new, up-to-date ones. A quick trip to the seedier alleys she knew of, and she also managed to find the identical model of handgun that she used to own. She always felt safer and more secure with a hidden sidepiece. Old habits. The moment the sun came up, she got out of bed with a sigh. The light coming through her thin, hole-filled curtains made dozing much harder now. She got dressed in her boots, black jeans, large, gaudy silver belt, and leather jacket. It was the same one she was wearing when she was arrested, and was restored along with her other affects. She had noticed that nobody she'd seen walking around wore leather anymore. She remembered a time when you couldn't move for the stuff, but even before she was incarcerated, it was starting to go the way of the grey trenchcoat. Oh well, leather was just all the more appropriate for being a garment out of time, like Sophia herself. Once she was dressed, she made herself a coffee and smoked while she drank it, before placing the used mug in the sink and heading out. She first caught the train to Central, before having breakfast from a street vendor. Some unknown seafood in a wrap with some wilting salad. It was probably healthy. Maybe. Possibly. She sat down and closed her eyes on the scheduled train from platform 15 to the tower. Sophia closed her eyes and tried to use this moment to get some additional rest before her 'work mode' was needed. "Why would you wake me up!?! I was just about to get some answers!?! Who the hell even ARE YOUUUUU?! At least destiny has been kind to be so far. What would make today any different?" Sophia opened her eyes, tutted, and looked a few seats over. Well, at least public transport being full of crazies hadn't changed. She reverted her eyed in front of her and closed them again, trying harder to shut everything out. Thankfully, it quietened down soon after and the rest of the trip was uneventful. The moment the train pulled in, Sophia walked fast past the throng. She wanted to be punctual, if not early. It was drilled into her from an early age that gestures of respect to authority were things it was in your best interest to remember. That's how you get ahead in most lines of work. Sophia approached the reception, and merely uttered the words "IXth SU δ Division" in order to recieve instructions. Once she got out the elevator, she looked around. It started to dawn on her just how unfamiliar any of the technology in here looked, and for the first time, doubt was starting to set in.</s>

<|description|>Fio Appearance: Fio looks fairly similar to your standard Fomantis, with the exception of her head-bulb being white. She has a light green scarf that she's tied around her forehead, just under her foliage. "I hope I can make a difference somewhere, help people…all that good stuff!" --- Species: Fomantis Sex: Female Age: Adolescent Ability: Leaf Guard (Immune to Status Ailments during harsh sunlight) Moves: * Leafage * Fury Cutter * Aromatherapy (Egg Move) * Ingrain Guild Rank: Recruit Equipment: Fio currently has a bag only containing a bottle of water for emergency hydration. Personality: From just one conversation, one can see that Fio is a little ball of sunshine with legs, eager to help others and constantly upbeat. That isn't to say that she isn't capable of being sad, its more that she can be happy without reason as long as the sun shines. Her mood dampens a bit when it gets cloudy, making her something of a literal "fair-weather friend". She gives her all no matter her mood, just…don't be surprised if she's cranky when she can't see the sun. Bio: Fio would never see the land her mother was born in, as it had been completely leveled to the ground by the events of the Oblivion War. What had once been a verdant grove that would make any herbivore cry with joy was reduced to less than dust, made into a place with more sand than Savahara. Thus, the colony of Fomantis she came from lived out of the Vale of Twilight, stealing away what sunlight they could by venturing out and then returning to the cover of the vale by night in herds. While growing up in the Vale of Twilight was difficult in some aspects, Fio would often sneak off on her own to explore during the daily "sunning" trips, getting into trouble with her pack, and generally being a headache for her fellow easy-going Sickle-Grass Pokemon. She'd wind up facing consequences for her constant exploration however, as she was kidnapped by a Drapion in the Vale under the assumption that her unusual bulb meant she was some special breed of Fomantis who's leaves could fetch a huge sum. Whereas most stories had a dashing heroic figure swoop in to rescue the amateur explorer from her fate, it was more dumb luck that her leaves aren't on the market at the moment. You see, Drapion don't exactly have hands that are good at tying bags, so the Drapion's illicit cart of goods hit a rock, and that sent Fio flying from her sack and into the gutter. Now lost, hungry, and scared, the Fomantis would be found by Astram and Tempie and brought to the guild hall where, instead of filing a job request as they might have imagined, she asked to join on the spot. In essence…she's stupidly lucky to even be in Mandalay to begin with. Trivia: Text Color: 9ACD32 Despite being from a nocturnal species, Fio enjoys walking around during the daytime due to her life being spent in the Vale.</s> <|message|>Kick Songstream Hall, Main Hall/Mess Hall --- Kick clapped his hands together as Gale made his way back to the crowd. "Well, it was great meeting all of you. Ting, I've been to Dunescar, and it was pretty bad back then. I can't imagine what it's like now. Fio, I'll admit I've never gotten trapped in a bag before, but as far as making friends and rescuing pokemon go, this'll be a great place to start. And as for you Gale..." His head turned towards the little blue and yellow pokemon, and his demeanor momentarily softened as he resumed speaking. "I'm sorry to hear that. It's a story I've heard too many times these days. I hope you find who you're looking for." Kick's attention turned back to the crowd at large, his previously gloomy disposition disappearing just as quickly as it had arrived. "Now then, I do hope you're all holding on to something steady, because it turns out we may have yet another new recruit or two coming in. I'm just mainly waiting for a few things to be finalized, paperwork-wise. You know how it is. What should take a few hours ends up taking a whole week because permit this, approval that, yadda yadda yadda." He twirled his hand in a circle as to add emphasis. "Anyways, I do believe it's chow time boys and girls. Hector has prepared a fine selection of breakfast foods, as usual. " He raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger gun towards a Heracross in the back, who in turn gave a polite bow. "You all make sure to eat well, and as for our new recruits, come see me in my office afterwards, I'll have your first assignment there." Kick put his legs together, before putting his right hand to his head in a salute. "DISMISSED!" His authoritative voice boomed across the room. Ting flinched as Kick's voiced boomed. He didn't seem angry, just loud. He'd guessed all those years in the war just made him talk like that. But chow time? Did he mean breakfast? He hadn't eaten in a while, so food was near the top of his priorities. He followed the rest of the group down a nearby hallway, following a newfound scent of food. He looked towards the other two new recruits. At least they weren't bigger than him like everyone else here. Hopefully that bodes well. Finally arriving in the dining hall area, everyone immediately scattered in varying direction, some towards the back, some off to the side, some taking a hard turn right at the entrance, but they all seemed to be heading to different tables with varying foodstuffs on them. Some were loaded with pastries and tarts, others had fruits and juices, a few even had a variety of still sizzling meats on them. Ting looked around the room before he eventually settled on a small table that had a few omelets on it, and grabbing a seat there. Was he... supposed to take one and then leave? Was he supposed to grab what he wanted and then head to the big table in the center in the room? He couldn't really carry much by himself. And why were there seats here and at the other little tables? A tour would've been nice. He eventually noticed that many of the others had taken small amounts from one table to another, and sat there, and that the large one in the center was mostly unused. He saw a lone trapinch sitting there with a plate piled high with a bit of just about everything on in. How did he manage to carry all that? Ting looked back down at his plate with an omelet on it. It looked and smelled amazing. Fortunately, the table had some other things with it, namely some toast, jams, and water. Time to dig in! --- Interacting with/Mentioning: @Ammokkx(Gale), @The Irish Tree(Fio)</s> <|message|>Fio With introductions said and done, Fio was more than ready to get her grub on. ...Or rather, her drink. She was glad that even a great hero like Kick realized how scary being stuffed in a bag was, making Fio glad that someone had actually saved her from a bag. Bags in general were evil unless they were like, utility size. Or purses. But big burlap was a no-go. From the sound of it, they might even have more new friends later on, too! And then right at the end of him talking Fio just about bowled over from his voice, needing to flail her leaves back and forth to stabilize. But hey, who cared, food! And by food, Fio's brain meant: Water! Juice! And maybe some sort of sauce-based food because she didn't have teeth. Or...wait, did she have a mouth? She never really thought about it, but she sure must have one if she talked. All she usually ate all day was water, fruit juice, and good 'ol sunshine, so...who knew, honestly. Fio would loud up her four leaves with a drink in each, ranging from apple juice to water as she happily sipped in contentment. She'd take a seat by wherever Gale wound up, thinking that the gloomy looking Minum might just wind up eating by himself if he didn't have a friend nearby. "A conversation makes a friend, that's what...wait, who said that again? Me? I don't know...probably me," she thought, plopping down across from him. "Hi!" There was definitely a level of social ineptitude on the part of the Fomantis, since she didn't have a conversation starter beyond yelling a greeting and staring.</s> <|message|>Gale The dining hall sure was an impressive sight, with the food all lined up like it was. One would have to wonder where they got such an impressive assortment but, really, such musings are not as important as the growling of Gale's stomach. He waddled over to the fruits table, grabbing a couple of the berries for himself. He took a bite of a Wacan berry, his face lighting up a wee bit as he enjoys the sweet and slightly sour juice seeping out. Gale could eat just about anything, but fruits were always nice and sweet. Sweet things were the best. As he enjoyed his berry, Fio waddled up and plopped herself down straight ahead. She gave Gale an enthusiastic "Hi!" but didn't say much else. Gale blinked. With a half-eaten berry in his mouth, he replied with a muffled: "Hai fyo." and only then swallowed the food in his mouth. Gale looked about the room, noticing their fellow recruit by himself. Staring at an omelet- no, wait, he's actually eating it now. For a moment there, Ting looked more pitiful than Gale did up on stage just a little bit ago. The Minun looked at his new friend, then back to the Aron, then back again to Fio. "Do you..." he started, with a bit of hesitation. Gale shot a quick glance back to Ting. "...want to go talk to Ting?" Gale took a bite of an apple, staring at Fio for a few moments. "I'm going to go talk to Ting." With that stunning display of socializing out of the way, Gale rose from his seat, took the plate of delicious fruit with him and then shimmied his way over to the third recruit's table. Once there the Minun quickly realised he had about as much of a plan talking to Ting as Fio did to him. Gale shot the other recruit a glance, then picked up a piece of toast to munch on. The munching was there to help him think through his next move. Gale looked down at the assortment he'd carried over, picked something out and pondered it like one would ponder a mysterious orb. "Fing," Gale said with his mouth stuffed, then stretched out an Oran berry to the Aron. "Wan wan? (Want one?)"</s> <|message|>Kick Songstream Hall, Mess Hall --- The omelet was surprisingly good. The eggs were soft, and it had lots of flavor, so that was good enough for him. The other foods at the table were of little interest to him. Sweet things didn't sit too well with him, and toast seemed kind of boring, but at least bread was filling, so that's what he was used to eating. What he really wanted was some iron. From what he was told in Wude that was supposed to be an essential part of an Aron's diet to make their armor stronger. Maybe that's why his was so dull? Ting snapped back to reality as a voice next to him spoke. It was Gale, one of the new recruits. He was about as tall as he was, and was yellow and blue. He certainly didn't look like any Pokemon he had ever seen before. Most of the pokemon he'd seen were rock, ground, and steel types like himself. But with Narvac's more "lively" terrain, he's seen all sorts of strange pokemon wandering around. Even here, the only pokemon he actually recognized was the Trapinch and the Absol. Though the Absol seemed a lot different than the ones he was used to. The minun offered him an oran berry, with a mouthful of food. "Uhmm..." Ting swallowed the mouthful of omelet he had. "No thank you. Sweet things typically don't sit too well with me. I'm more accustomed to this kind of stuff." He looked down at his single, mostly eaten omelet and stray peice of toast. "But thanks for the offer. So, what do you think our first assignment will be? I bet it'll be something boring like a delivery across the city." In truth, something easy like that was what Ting was hoping for. A simple job, easy pay, and it would give him time to explore the city. He was tired of walking on trails and paths made of dirt and gravel. He ran across the odd small settlement here and there, but nowhere like this. A sprawling, living city. Almost like a glimpse into what the world might've been like before the war. He silently wondered if Kick's influence was what made this place how it was, or if it was such a big and populous place that it was able to resist total destruction. --- Interacting with/Mentioning: @Ammokkx(Gale), @The Irish Tree(Fio)</s>

<|message|>Fio Fio didn't have much reason to not bounce behind Gale as he walked, joining him in greeting Ting at the omelets table. Or rather, former omelets table since there were only a couple left. Thankfully, she was content to keep on sipping her last juice, carried like a little treasure with her leaves curled around it. She drank really fast, but that was mostly because she kind of just...lived off liquids and sunshine. "Hi!" Fio happily greeted Ting in the exact same way she greeted Gale, sipping on some juice right after. "Ooh, I like sweet things. If you ever don't want the ones you have, you can give them to me," she'd happily exclaim after hearing of Ting's dislike of sweets. Gale seemed like the sweet-loving type, so...maybe her and Gale could share! Regardless, Fio would take a seat across from Ting, happily kicking her little stubby legs to and fro as she finished her last drink. When the time came to discussing what they hoped their first guild assignment would be, Fio's eyes somehow got wider at the prospect. "Ooh, maybe we'll go and save some people from sacks!" ...She seemed really hung up on that as an act of heroism. But she also wouldn't mind delivering things like Ting was hoping. "Or maybe we'll go beat up some bad Pokemon...but...that might be a bit scary," she said, quivering a bit. She seemed to be stuck remembering something scary.</s>

<|description|>Gale Gale has a red ribbon wrapped around the base of his left ear. "You're still out there, right Breeze...?" --- Species: Minun Sex: ♂ Age: Adolescent Ability: Minus Moves: Quick Attack Growl Tearful Look Guild Rank: Recruit Equipment: Gale carries around a scrapbook, filled with memories of him and Breeze. The pages are filled with little glued-in trinkets, doodles, and even a picture of the two of them with their adoptive parent, Hurricane. Personality: Far meeker than his twin sister, Breeze. Gale isn't short on courage, but he does lack a certain decisiveness. He tends to waffle and mull things over before jumping into action, which can make him come across as a bit of a coward. Gale's also a bit one-track minded, hyper-focused on whatever goal he does eventually settle on. Still, this doesn't mean Gale is completely alien to the world around him- he's a pretty good listener, all things considered, and very determined. If push came to shove, Gale pushes. Bio: 'Gale' and 'Breeze'- an odd pair of names for a Minun and a Plusle. If they'd ever known their real parents, maybe they'd have wound up with different names. As it stands, though, the one who raised and cared for the two of them was their adoptive father, a Staraptor named Hurricane. Hurricane is a veteran of the Oblivion war, sure, but hardly enough to be called a legendary hero. No, he ended up retiring before the war had even ended, retiring after making a snap judgment to bring back two abandoned pokemon eggs to his home. One hatched first- a girl, and a Plusle, given the name 'Breeze'. Even when she was very very young, not knowing what she was doing, Breeze would spend a lot of time near the other egg. Not long after it, too, hatched. That egg turned out to be a boy this time, the Minun that'd be called Gale. Gale and Breeze would be inseparable, doing anything and everything together, much to the dismay of their adoptive father. He wanted to teach them independence, to have each be on their own two feet. His pride, and his being a different species, made him not understand the siblings' magnetic attitude towards each-other. Still, for a while, they didn't live a bad life, the three of them. Hurricane clearly cared for his children, adopted they may be. Thinking it was best for them, he decided to split the pair up. He made Breeze go out into the world when she was old enough to take care of herself and forced Gale to stay behind. To comfort Gale, Breeze left him their scrapbook, as well as tying a ribbon around his ear. Breeze had both a red and a blue one, so she'd take the blue one. This way, both of them had something as a reminder of the other. Hurricane took care of Gale on his own for a little bit longer, until Gale got fed up and set out on his own as well. He wanted to find Breeze again, not be separated like they were, and so began an adventure to find her. A solitary, rough journey across a slowly healing world. He didn't have much money, or many personal belongings, but he made do, somehow. Taking an odd job here, doing a favor there. The wanderer's life wasn't much sustainable in a land as broken as this one, though. That, and no matter who he asked, nobody seemed to have a clue on who or where Breeze was. At some point, after having taken on a job, Gale heard about these "Rescue teams" being a thing. Pokemon who form teams to aid those in need, travelling all around the world to do so. Given that he needed both a steady line of work and some manner to search for his sister, Gale figured it might be something for him. So he sauntered off to Mandalay, the place he heard had the organisation's guild hall, to apply and become part of one such rescue team. Secret: ?</s> <|message|>Gale Gale continued to chow down on his food. Each time both Fio and Ting took their eyes off him for a moment, he'd grabbed something else to snack on. Currently having his mouth stuffed with one of the ever-shrinking supply of omelettes, the Minun got to thinking. "Hm..." he hummed to himself as the question of their first job hung over the impromptu party's head. Making sure to swallow before speaking up this time, Gale said: "I don't think we'll be sent after a scary Pokemon yet... maybe we'll do something small like look for someone's lost item?" Gale put his paw to his chin again. "Then again... but maybe..." he started to mutter to himself, wandering off from the table for a bit. He looked really deep in thought. You'd think the Minun was considering the question seriously, but in reality, it quickly became apparent he'd just wandered off towards the pastry table to grab a few confections. Not missing a beat after returning to the now-extinct-omelette table, Gale sat down to take a bite out of a tart. "...Mhm. Delicious," he said with an approving nod. The minun then looked up at the other two. "I think we might get the same job. Maybe it'll be like a competition."</s> <|message|>Kick Songstream Hall, Mess Hall --> Songstream Hall, Kick's Office --- As Ting munched on his bits of toast and omelet, he began to consider what the other two said about what their first mission would be. While Ting certainly hoped it would be something easy, given the state of the world, it likely wouldn't be that easy. Granted, this small piece of the world seemed... less affected than the rest. What was the reason for that? Was this place able to recover quicker somehow? Or did the destruction here have less of an impact? He'd store those questions for later, as he responded to his other two guildmates. "Well, I don't exactly think we'll be beating up any baddies. We're just starting out after all. And even if we did, it would likely just be some small-time crook who would probably give up without much of a fight if they found out the guild was on their tail. As for bags, well... I don't know about that either." Ting at this point had finally finished his food, and had felt quite full. He hadn't eaten like that in quite some time. It felt nice to finally have a full belly. "A lost item definitely sounds more like something for first timers. I just hope it doesn't require us trekking all the way to somewhere like Starfall Bay. Even by cart that would probably take a few days, maybe even a week if things don't go well." Then the idea of them all having the same job hit. Did Kick say "mission" or "missions"? A competition would be a pretty weird way to start things off. But then again it might help to see just who is capable of what. "You know, we never really did get told how party composition works here. Given that there's so few of us, solo missions seem like it would get more done, but that would also be extremely risky. Maybe Kick will tell us more? You guys finish up, I'll go wait by his office." Ting gave a short nod, and hopped down from his seat and sauntered down the hallways, until he was back in the main hall, standing in front of the entrance to Kick's Office. The door was slightly opened, and he could see a few details inside. Kick was in there, looking over a few papers at a desk. It seemed pretty cluttered from what he could see, but from such a low angle he couldn't tell for sure. Once his other two guildmates showed up, he knocked on the door, and opened it the rest of the way, stepping inside. "Well, here we go..." Upon stepping into the office proper, he could finally see the rest of the circular room. It seemed... kind of messy. Papers were strewn about haphazardly, along with various bags, trinkets, fabrics and boxes. A few more posters like the ones in main hall were strung up here as well, though these were smaller, and were framed. A banner was also adorned on the wall, with various colored strips of metal in a case underneath it. The banner had gold edges, a purple background color, with the center emblazoned with a large golden star with a light blue circle around it, connecting the points of the star. Was that the emblem of the guild? If so, why wasn't it anywhere else? Kick's head turned towards the door. "Ah, my new recruits! Come in, come in. Forgive the mess, it's been a wild week." He stood up from the chair he was sitting at and stood to meet the Ting and the others. Not being up on stage made him significantly less intimidating, but the size difference still gave Ting a bit of hesitation to move forward. Still, he pushed through his minor fear and walked over to Kick. "So, I trust you all have had a good morning thus far? Anyways, let's get down to business, eh? It's time for your first mission. I'm sure you'd all like to go on some grand adventure to rescue someone from the clutches of evil, but uh..." He looked down endearingly at the three young adventurers, before he continued speaking. "Well, before I can really send you out to do any of that in good conscience, you'll need to be a bit more experienced, and perhaps a bit more uh, 'learned' as it were." Kick let out a sigh and put his hands on his hips, it looked like he was trying to find the right words to say. "Look, long story short, when you go out there, you're not just going out there as yourselves, but you're also going out there as representatives of both the guild and myself. You have to learn to carry yourselves a certain way in a few instances, that way people will take both you and the guild seriously. As you complete missions, I'm sure that you'll learn this through exposure, and you can even watch how a few of our more experienced members present themselves in these situations, Astram or Pandora might be a good place to start. But enough about that, it's time for your first mission." Kicked waved his hand, as to dismiss the earlier conversation, and to start a new one. "About half a day's travel south of Mandalay, or uh..." He leaned a little closer the trio of small pokemon. "...Maybe closer to a day with those little legs of yours. Anyways, there's a farm there called the Azure Orchards. They grow a lot of food there, and are one of many farms that provide the city with food, and in return, we provide them with protection. We've recently gotten reports from some of the merchants that their supplies have been coming up short, and the farmers have reported a series a thefts from the farm as well. Your mission will be to go to the Azure Orchards, and see if you can find any clues that may have been left behind, or see if you can establish any patters, such as what is being targeted, or why." Kick cleared his throat before taking a couple of steps over to a bag on a nearby chair and began rifling through it. "Normally this would be something we could send out someone solo for, but given your inexperience and whatnot, I think it would be safer to send all three of you. Safety in numbers, and all that. Plus, heavens forbid you actually run into our thief or thieves, you stand a much better chance against them. Not to mention the farmers would probably be willing to lend a hand or two just out of revenge." He finished fishing through the bag and pulled out a trio of wooden medallions on red ribbons, each carved with the letter "R" on the front, and on the back, seemed to have some text, stating that they were official recruits of Kick's Guild. He handed one out to each of the three pokemon before him. "These are your recruit rank badges. Once you complete your first mission, I'll swap these out for the bronze ones. These show that you're officially part of my guild, so don't lose them. I'd advise you get prepared in whatever way you see fit, whether that's getting supplies from Cloud Street, or getting your fortune read by Pandora, our resident seer, if you're into that. She should still be here, likely downstairs in the barracks doing someting with that crystal ball of hers. Otherwise, do you have any questions?" --- Interacting with/Mentioning: @Ammokkx(Gale), @The Irish Tree(Fio)</s>

<|message|>Gale Ting left the table, shrinking the part down to two. Still munching on a pastry, Gale somewhat lazily watched the Aron waddle off. "Fyo," he addressed the Fomantis before swallowing, "Is that fruit juice any good?" Gale's food-addled brain aside, it took surprisingly little time for him to finish the rest of his breakfast and join Ting in waiting at Kick's office. Before the Aron ever opened the door, Gale withdrew back into the recesses of his mind. He was still mulling over what their mission could look like, even far after the conversation had died down. Investigating something? Helping someone sort their storage? Looking for stray coins of poké on the floor? Maybe not that last one, but one thing's for sure: Before he knew it, both Fio and Ting had already stepped inside the office while Gale was left there, blinking. He quickly hurried inside to join them, listening in carefully to Kick's explanation. The party was to make their way due south to a nearby orchard, anywhere from half a day to a day's walk. Find out why the stock's coming up short and report back. Sounded simple enough, even if it's not exactly any kind of handiwork gale had done before. Usually he'd had to help harvest the orchard, not go ghost hunting. Come to think of it, didn't he pass that place on his way to Mandalay...? He remembers seeing something of the sort, but couldn't recall how far off from the city it actually was. Or the direction. Gale might have been slightly bad at keeping track of both those things. Either way, first he had to- -snap back to reality, given that Kick just shoved a small little badge in his paws. Wooden, carved with an R and with a ribbon that matched the one around his ear. Proof the three of them are a part of the guild, and all that. Kick gave the party some suggestions on what to do, asked if they had any questions and left the three of them to it. Gale didn't have anything he needed Kick to answer, so he waited until the other two were finished and thanked Kick for his time. Once back outside the office, Gale put his paw to his chin and seemingly took initiative for a change, speaking up with: "If we're going to be travelling for a day, we might want to pick up some food for the road. But I'm also pretty curious about that fortune-telling?" His words made it pretty evident that Gale actually didn't actually have any plans to take decisive action. "Maybe we should split up and do both? We can have our fortune read and go shopping, then meet up in town. What do you two think?"</s>

<|description|>Gale Gale has a red ribbon wrapped around the base of his left ear. "You're still out there, right Breeze...?" --- Species: Minun Sex: ♂ Age: Adolescent Ability: Minus Moves: Quick Attack Growl Tearful Look Guild Rank: Recruit Equipment: Gale carries around a scrapbook, filled with memories of him and Breeze. The pages are filled with little glued-in trinkets, doodles, and even a picture of the two of them with their adoptive parent, Hurricane. Personality: Far meeker than his twin sister, Breeze. Gale isn't short on courage, but he does lack a certain decisiveness. He tends to waffle and mull things over before jumping into action, which can make him come across as a bit of a coward. Gale's also a bit one-track minded, hyper-focused on whatever goal he does eventually settle on. Still, this doesn't mean Gale is completely alien to the world around him- he's a pretty good listener, all things considered, and very determined. If push came to shove, Gale pushes. Bio: 'Gale' and 'Breeze'- an odd pair of names for a Minun and a Plusle. If they'd ever known their real parents, maybe they'd have wound up with different names. As it stands, though, the one who raised and cared for the two of them was their adoptive father, a Staraptor named Hurricane. Hurricane is a veteran of the Oblivion war, sure, but hardly enough to be called a legendary hero. No, he ended up retiring before the war had even ended, retiring after making a snap judgment to bring back two abandoned pokemon eggs to his home. One hatched first- a girl, and a Plusle, given the name 'Breeze'. Even when she was very very young, not knowing what she was doing, Breeze would spend a lot of time near the other egg. Not long after it, too, hatched. That egg turned out to be a boy this time, the Minun that'd be called Gale. Gale and Breeze would be inseparable, doing anything and everything together, much to the dismay of their adoptive father. He wanted to teach them independence, to have each be on their own two feet. His pride, and his being a different species, made him not understand the siblings' magnetic attitude towards each-other. Still, for a while, they didn't live a bad life, the three of them. Hurricane clearly cared for his children, adopted they may be. Thinking it was best for them, he decided to split the pair up. He made Breeze go out into the world when she was old enough to take care of herself and forced Gale to stay behind. To comfort Gale, Breeze left him their scrapbook, as well as tying a ribbon around his ear. Breeze had both a red and a blue one, so she'd take the blue one. This way, both of them had something as a reminder of the other. Hurricane took care of Gale on his own for a little bit longer, until Gale got fed up and set out on his own as well. He wanted to find Breeze again, not be separated like they were, and so began an adventure to find her. A solitary, rough journey across a slowly healing world. He didn't have much money, or many personal belongings, but he made do, somehow. Taking an odd job here, doing a favor there. The wanderer's life wasn't much sustainable in a land as broken as this one, though. That, and no matter who he asked, nobody seemed to have a clue on who or where Breeze was. At some point, after having taken on a job, Gale heard about these "Rescue teams" being a thing. Pokemon who form teams to aid those in need, travelling all around the world to do so. Given that he needed both a steady line of work and some manner to search for his sister, Gale figured it might be something for him. So he sauntered off to Mandalay, the place he heard had the organisation's guild hall, to apply and become part of one such rescue team. Secret: ?</s> <|message|>Gale Ting left the table, shrinking the part down to two. Still munching on a pastry, Gale somewhat lazily watched the Aron waddle off. "Fyo," he addressed the Fomantis before swallowing, "Is that fruit juice any good?" Gale's food-addled brain aside, it took surprisingly little time for him to finish the rest of his breakfast and join Ting in waiting at Kick's office. Before the Aron ever opened the door, Gale withdrew back into the recesses of his mind. He was still mulling over what their mission could look like, even far after the conversation had died down. Investigating something? Helping someone sort their storage? Looking for stray coins of poké on the floor? Maybe not that last one, but one thing's for sure: Before he knew it, both Fio and Ting had already stepped inside the office while Gale was left there, blinking. He quickly hurried inside to join them, listening in carefully to Kick's explanation. The party was to make their way due south to a nearby orchard, anywhere from half a day to a day's walk. Find out why the stock's coming up short and report back. Sounded simple enough, even if it's not exactly any kind of handiwork gale had done before. Usually he'd had to help harvest the orchard, not go ghost hunting. Come to think of it, didn't he pass that place on his way to Mandalay...? He remembers seeing something of the sort, but couldn't recall how far off from the city it actually was. Or the direction. Gale might have been slightly bad at keeping track of both those things. Either way, first he had to- -snap back to reality, given that Kick just shoved a small little badge in his paws. Wooden, carved with an R and with a ribbon that matched the one around his ear. Proof the three of them are a part of the guild, and all that. Kick gave the party some suggestions on what to do, asked if they had any questions and left the three of them to it. Gale didn't have anything he needed Kick to answer, so he waited until the other two were finished and thanked Kick for his time. Once back outside the office, Gale put his paw to his chin and seemingly took initiative for a change, speaking up with: "If we're going to be travelling for a day, we might want to pick up some food for the road. But I'm also pretty curious about that fortune-telling?" His words made it pretty evident that Gale actually didn't actually have any plans to take decisive action. "Maybe we should split up and do both? We can have our fortune read and go shopping, then meet up in town. What do you two think?"</s> <|message|>Fio "Its super good!" Fio asserted, sipping up the last of it as she said that. She looked back to the table where she got it and saw...it was all gone. That made her a little sad...if she'd have waited just a couple seconds on slurping it all up, she could have shared with Gale. "U-Uh...I promise I'll get you some too next time!" With food time over, it was now time to enter Kick's office and get their first jobs! After disposing of her cup and making sure she was presentable, Fio would stroll in with the others to present themselves to Kick. With the Blaziken explaining in very kind terms that they'd get absolutely destroyed if they went after evil clutchers on grand adventures, Fio was eager to hear what they'd actually be doing. Even if he was strong and fearsome looking, the big bird seemed to choose his words very carefully. Perhaps he was afraid of scaring them all off on the first job? With the talk of representation and seriousness, Fio wondered if maybe she should try and look more serious. The Fomantis would have to give making serious stares at the mirror later, but figured that for now she could still be herself. When Kick explained what needed doing and handed over the badges and bandannas, she looked beside herself with happiness, eyes sparkling as the little Fomantis hurriedly tied her new red bandana in place of the green scarf she'd been wearing, right under the white foliage atop her head. She'd keep the green one in her bag for later and would say: "Thank you very much Mr. Kick! We won't let you down!" Fio didn't have any pressing questions and would exit with the others once they were ready. At the mention of getting their fortunes told, Fio looked a bit smug as she proudly said: "I got mine told before we got initiated today, actually! Well, I mean, horoscopes are different from fortunes but...it said I'd have great luck with money today, so I'm more than ready to do some shopping. Maybe we'll get a bargain on food or something! Ooh, or maybe that one dumpster I hid in still has that half-eaten apple..." Fio sort of trailed off at the end there, but would pull out her wallet, taking out the single-digit amount of money she had. "Um...a-at least we should be able to get you two some food! I can just have water and sunshine, and I'll be good to go all-day long!" Fio asserted that she'd be fine without food, which...given her lack of a mouth, might very well be the case.</s> <|message|>Kick Songstream Hall, Kick's Office --- Ting listened intently as Kick explained the mission. It looks like they'll be doing some investigating. Well, that didn't seem so bad. Probably just a small time crook at worst, and somebody who's just stealing because that's all they can do at best. Either that or it's a bunch of kids and this is their idea of a prank. Maybe the farmers knew more. Guess that would have to wait until then. Taking the medal, he swiftly put it around his neck. It dangled a little but otherwise fit fine. At the end of his speech, he was asked if he had any questions. "No, sir. No questions." Any questions he did have were more for the farmers and his two teammates. He watched as Kick gave a salute as the three walked out of his office and back into the main hall. "So... what now?" He listened in as the other two spoke. "I'm mostly in the same boat as Fio. I don't really have any money. I haven't had too much of a need for it on the open road. I have a few coins lying around to maybe get something like a lantern, but I mostly just did scavenging for my food. I'm not really a big believer in that whole fortune telling stuff, but if you guys want to go see this Pandora lady I'm all for it. We probably should stick together though. This way we all know what we're thinking. For now, I'll just follow you guys, do what you think is right. Besides, worst case scenario, we're not going that far away from town, so we shouldn't be in any real danger." --- Interacting with/Mentioning: @Ammokkx(Gale), @The Irish Tree(Fio)</s> <|message|>Gale The input from the other two was taken into account by Gale. Apparently, neither had many funds, nor much interest in going to get their fortune told. A bit of a shame on that last part... Gale wanted to go see what that was all about. "Hm..." he started to ponder, retreating into himself again. He could still go get his fortune told, but it'd mean dragging his fellow recruits around for no reason. On top of that, he really did want to shop for some supplies. Gale should have enough money to cover the three of them for at least the one trip. He could try to get both his fortune told and shop, sure, but that would take too much time. The road to the orchard sounded long, so the earlier they departed, the better. The party might, at that point, even make it before sunset. "I... thiiink..." Gale slowly started to form his thoughts, still mulling it over. Fio already had her fortune, but neither Gale nor Ting had theirs, did they? For safety's sake, the three should at least check it out. But, then again, the time issue was still present. Fortune or shopping, fortune or shopping... that was the dilemma Gale was faced. A dilemma, he realised, was causing him to space out and totally forget about the other two for a moment. "...Oh. Sorry," he quickly apologised, shifting his little feet paws in place. "I think I know the way to cloud street, at least... do you two want to go shopping?" A decisively non-decisive answer, but it was the best he could do.</s> <|message|>Fio Fio tapped a leaf to her chin, thinking about Ting and Gale's suggestions on their course of action. They were like, brokey broke. Barely had two Poke to rub together, and unlike her, the twosome needed to eat normal food to live. Gale seemed intent to visit the fortune teller at least, but...Fio knew her fortune! Luck with money! Balling her arms up at the tips, Fio would say: "Me and Ting can handle shopping! My horoscope said luck with money, so maybe they'll have discounts! Bargains! Buy-one-get-one-or-maybe-two-free!" Fio's ideas were very...optimistic, but maybe there was a chance for some bargain or clearance sales. Maybe even some nearly-expired stuff they could find in a dumpster somewhere. Either way, she seemed convinced they'd at least find some berries for the two to eat along the way. "A-Anyways, go and get your fortune read Gale! Its really neat, I promise," Fio said, proudly showing the fortune slip she'd gotten to the two, showing the picture of a Meowth dancing on it, coins raining down from the sky with "Luck with Money!" on it. ...It...might not even be a proper fortune, but it sure did look like one. Her two teammates would probably have to deal with her perpetual optimism for the entire trip to Azure Orchards and back.</s>

<|message|>Gale "Are you sure, Fio?" Gale would ask of her, considering she turned down Gale's intended offer of joining them in shopping. He wasn't aware himself that he'd made it sound otherwise. "Hm... if you think you can handle it, then I'll leave it to you two." Gale gave both Ting and Fio a nod. He scanned the guild hall, trying to find the exit. "Hm... I think we should meet up right on the exit of town when we're done. Then we can depart for the orchards after." It felt a little weird to the Minun to be giving out orders like that, but the party had been held up long enough. "I'll see you two later then," Gale said, gave his team a goodbye wave and made his way down to the barracks to go see Pandora.</s>

<|description|>Gale Gale has a red ribbon wrapped around the base of his left ear. "You're still out there, right Breeze...?" --- Species: Minun Sex: ♂ Age: Adolescent Ability: Minus Moves: Quick Attack Growl Tearful Look Guild Rank: Recruit Equipment: Gale carries around a scrapbook, filled with memories of him and Breeze. The pages are filled with little glued-in trinkets, doodles, and even a picture of the two of them with their adoptive parent, Hurricane. Personality: Far meeker than his twin sister, Breeze. Gale isn't short on courage, but he does lack a certain decisiveness. He tends to waffle and mull things over before jumping into action, which can make him come across as a bit of a coward. Gale's also a bit one-track minded, hyper-focused on whatever goal he does eventually settle on. Still, this doesn't mean Gale is completely alien to the world around him- he's a pretty good listener, all things considered, and very determined. If push came to shove, Gale pushes. Bio: 'Gale' and 'Breeze'- an odd pair of names for a Minun and a Plusle. If they'd ever known their real parents, maybe they'd have wound up with different names. As it stands, though, the one who raised and cared for the two of them was their adoptive father, a Staraptor named Hurricane. Hurricane is a veteran of the Oblivion war, sure, but hardly enough to be called a legendary hero. No, he ended up retiring before the war had even ended, retiring after making a snap judgment to bring back two abandoned pokemon eggs to his home. One hatched first- a girl, and a Plusle, given the name 'Breeze'. Even when she was very very young, not knowing what she was doing, Breeze would spend a lot of time near the other egg. Not long after it, too, hatched. That egg turned out to be a boy this time, the Minun that'd be called Gale. Gale and Breeze would be inseparable, doing anything and everything together, much to the dismay of their adoptive father. He wanted to teach them independence, to have each be on their own two feet. His pride, and his being a different species, made him not understand the siblings' magnetic attitude towards each-other. Still, for a while, they didn't live a bad life, the three of them. Hurricane clearly cared for his children, adopted they may be. Thinking it was best for them, he decided to split the pair up. He made Breeze go out into the world when she was old enough to take care of herself and forced Gale to stay behind. To comfort Gale, Breeze left him their scrapbook, as well as tying a ribbon around his ear. Breeze had both a red and a blue one, so she'd take the blue one. This way, both of them had something as a reminder of the other. Hurricane took care of Gale on his own for a little bit longer, until Gale got fed up and set out on his own as well. He wanted to find Breeze again, not be separated like they were, and so began an adventure to find her. A solitary, rough journey across a slowly healing world. He didn't have much money, or many personal belongings, but he made do, somehow. Taking an odd job here, doing a favor there. The wanderer's life wasn't much sustainable in a land as broken as this one, though. That, and no matter who he asked, nobody seemed to have a clue on who or where Breeze was. At some point, after having taken on a job, Gale heard about these "Rescue teams" being a thing. Pokemon who form teams to aid those in need, travelling all around the world to do so. Given that he needed both a steady line of work and some manner to search for his sister, Gale figured it might be something for him. So he sauntered off to Mandalay, the place he heard had the organisation's guild hall, to apply and become part of one such rescue team. Secret: ?</s> <|message|>Gale "Are you sure, Fio?" Gale would ask of her, considering she turned down Gale's intended offer of joining them in shopping. He wasn't aware himself that he'd made it sound otherwise. "Hm... if you think you can handle it, then I'll leave it to you two." Gale gave both Ting and Fio a nod. He scanned the guild hall, trying to find the exit. "Hm... I think we should meet up right on the exit of town when we're done. Then we can depart for the orchards after." It felt a little weird to the Minun to be giving out orders like that, but the party had been held up long enough. "I'll see you two later then," Gale said, gave his team a goodbye wave and made his way down to the barracks to go see Pandora.</s> <|message|>Rio Songstream Hall, Main Hall --> Mandalay, Cloud Street --- "Well, I guess that solves that. Come on, Fio, Cloud Street can't be too far. Hopefully at this time of day they'll have lots of stuff to sell, and will give us some good deals." Ting watched as Gale headed towards the barracks, and he began to waddle towards the exit of Songstream Hall. There wasn't anyone in the problem center or at the front gate yet, though Ting guessed that would probably change very soon. Following a few Street signs would quickly lead Ting to the area known only as Cloud Street. It was a broad, straight street, with many merchants at stalls or with caravans displaying their goods, and even more buildings, telling of sales and quality items. There were fabrics, pastries, various shining stones, boxes full of berries, there were even pokemon offering services like locksmithing and transportation. It was like a whole new world from what he had seen in Dunescar and Wude. It was kind of overwhelming for the poor Aron at first. Usually places like this are where you'd hold on to your coin purse a little tighter in other places around the border. And brazenly displaying all your goods was a good way to get them stolen. But the pokemon here all seemed like it was just your average day. What kind of place was this? Ting quickly snapped back to his senses as a large foot stomped in front of him. A Grotle had just run by, carrying a bag in its mouth towards one of the many buildings. He turned towards Fio. "Well, here we are. Guess we'd better watch our step, we probably don't want to get trampled. Any idea where to start? You're the one with the good fortune." What exactly would they need? Food probably shouldn't be that big of an issue. Bread was relatively cheap, and would fill him up for the road, plus he had some iron scraps in his bag, should push come to shove. Maybe the farmers would be willing to pay them in food for their help? If it did get dark, some form of light would probably be a good idea. A lantern or something would help there. Maybe some of the shopkeepers would be feeling generous and give discounts to new recruits at the guild? --- Interacting with/Mentioning: @The Irish Tree(Fio)</s> <|message|>Fio Fio would follow after Ting, definitely of the opinion that the Aron knew his way around town a lot better than she did. Even the street signs didn't exactly prove that helpful when you weren't exactly "literate", so she was glad she had Ting to guide. But thankfully, even if she couldn't read, Fio sure could count! And wow, those were some big numbers on the signs with the two circles around the line thingie that said "hey, its cheap!". It seemed Fio's fortune had come true and there was an abundance of food that needed to leave market TODAY. Of course, even with the good fortune of some discounts, it wasn't like they could really splurge or anything. At best, probably four berries, which would most likely last the non-plant members of the team a day's journey, while Fio was fine with her existing bottle of water. Still, she wanted to make sure she wasn't recklessly spending, and would consult Ting first. "So...I think with our money pooled together, we can get you and Gale two Oran berries each...w-would that be enough?" the grass-type asked, hoping that her friends wouldn't be upset with too little food. She knew how she felt when she didn't get enough sunshine. Fio also seemed a bit worried being in the market, looking over her shoulder on occasion, only to have a look of relief. ...Something might be bothering her...probably something to do with her "stuffed in sacks" schtick that she'd said during her introduction.</s>

<|message|>Gale The barracks of Songstream Hall were pretty barebones in all honesty. Several Bunk Beds were set in rows, in varying sizes, with small bags and chests sat at the foot of each of them in a large rectangular room. Many were unclaimed, but it was easy to tell which bed belonged to whom. Whether it was the small decorations that sat on or around them, or the state of some of them, such as Squegg's unkempt blankets and crumbs of food littering his bed, or Rio's bed being surrounded by flowers and brightly colored dresses. The barracks were empty, with the exception of one lone figure in the dim lights. It was none other than Pandora, who was busy polishing a crystal orb the size of her head to a perfect sheen. She sat near her bed on the floor, surrounded by several other strange objects. There was a deck of cards with strange pictures on them, a map of various constellations, a pair of bent copper rods, and other various fortune telling and divination paraphernalia stacked neatly on the chest by her bed. Her being the only other Pokemon down there made it all too easy for Gale to find the Absol. One small issue still had to be overcome though; the matter of drawing Pandora's attention. She seemed preoccupied to put things mildly, as well as Gale not being the most assertive mousey creature around. A light tap probably wouldn't do; at best he'd be looked at funny, but at worst he could startle the woman. Well, she didn't look like the easily startled type, but if she WAS, then Gale had no intention of paying damages for the crystal ball he might or might not end up being the cause of breaking. In the first place, Gale would need to- -focus, and remember why he came here rather than get lost in his musings. "Uhm, excuse me?" he'd try to reach out. "Are you Pandora, by any chance?" The Absol flinched ever so slightly at the sound of Gale's voice and touch. She looked around, somewhat confused, before looking down at the little yellow and blue creature. She set down the cloth she was using on the chest next to her, amongst the various other tools that laid there before turning back towards Gale. "Yes, that's me, who are… " she cocked her head to the side, eyeing up the small creature in front of her, seemingly taking in every detail. "Ah, you're one of the new recruits. Gale, was it? Do you require my services? If you've lost something I might be able to help you find it. Or I may be able to illuminate what lies ahead." As if for emphasis she looked over and put her paw onto a nearby stack of cards. Gale shot it a quick glance, then back at Pandora. "...Yeah. Gale. I've come here for…" he'd voice, his words petering out as Gale took a hard look at the reason he actually came down here for. Sure, he came to get his fortune told. And, truthfully, he'd appreciate any clues to his personal goals- to finding his sister. His first instinct was even to ask about it, just now. However… he couldn't do that, not now. Both Ting and Fio were preparing for the mission and Gale couldn't just be selfish when others were relying on him. Hurricane always did teach him to be a good brother to Breeze like that. "Actually, I'm going out on my first mission soon," he'd say, "and I'm not doing it alone. I'm going with two other recruits, Fio and Ting. I wanted to know our fortune for the road, if it's not too much to ask." The Absol smiled gently at the seemingly shy boy's request. "Of course, of course. A little illumination for the road ahead. I'll tell you what I can. Now then…" Turning her head once more, Pandora's eyes began to glow a soft violet hue, as the cards she had her paw on began to slowly shuffle themselves, turning in various directions and rearranging their positions for but a brief moment, until the cards were once again still. "Just a little trick I picked up during my travels. Only works on light objects like cards, though." In one swift motion, Pandora swiped the top card off of the deck and onto the floor, face down. "Let's see what fate has in store for you today." She flipped the card over. The card had a picture of a cart, pulled along by two Rapidash in full gallop, the cart containing a thin, featureless bipedal figure holding some sort of golden staff under a starry sky. Although to the young Minun, the picture was upside-down. "The Chariot, in the reverse position. The Chariot in its reversed position usually represents opposition, or roadblocks of some kind. Perhaps you will run into a 'bump in the road' as it were. Or perhaps…" the Absol's voice trailed off as she seemed to explore her thoughts momentarily. "You may encounter a problem you cannot face head on, and you may have to approach from a different angle." She looked up from the card to Gale. "If I were you, I'd be wary of trickery, and try not to focus too much on things out of your control. Focus on the how and why, as you may be focusing your efforts on the wrong problem." She picked up the card and slid it into a random spot in the deck sitting on the chest. "I wouldn't be too worried, all things considered. If anything terrible were to happen to you, Kick would be on the hunt to bring you home safe personally. But otherwise, is there anything else I can help you with?" Gale put his paw to his mouth. "Anything else…?" he repeated after her, pondering the offer over. The offer was tempting enough, but he felt like he shouldn't take too much of the Absol's time. "Well… maybe not now, no. I'd like it if I could come by again later, though. I might want my fortune told again for something else..." Gale would've been lying if he said he hadn't got other things on his mind, but they could wait at least a little bit longer. He shouldn't hold up his team or his senior any longer. Further, he needed time to think about what that prediction meant. From the sounds of it, this first mission wasn't going to be nearly as routine or simple as Gale had hoped. "Thank you for your time," he said with a quick bow of respect, turning to rejoin his teammates. "Of course," The Absol mirrored Gale's bow. "Feel free to come back any time."</s>

<|description|>Gale Gale has a red ribbon wrapped around the base of his left ear. "You're still out there, right Breeze...?" --- Species: Minun Sex: ♂ Age: Adolescent Ability: Minus Moves: Quick Attack Growl Tearful Look Guild Rank: Recruit Equipment: Gale carries around a scrapbook, filled with memories of him and Breeze. The pages are filled with little glued-in trinkets, doodles, and even a picture of the two of them with their adoptive parent, Hurricane. Personality: Far meeker than his twin sister, Breeze. Gale isn't short on courage, but he does lack a certain decisiveness. He tends to waffle and mull things over before jumping into action, which can make him come across as a bit of a coward. Gale's also a bit one-track minded, hyper-focused on whatever goal he does eventually settle on. Still, this doesn't mean Gale is completely alien to the world around him- he's a pretty good listener, all things considered, and very determined. If push came to shove, Gale pushes. Bio: 'Gale' and 'Breeze'- an odd pair of names for a Minun and a Plusle. If they'd ever known their real parents, maybe they'd have wound up with different names. As it stands, though, the one who raised and cared for the two of them was their adoptive father, a Staraptor named Hurricane. Hurricane is a veteran of the Oblivion war, sure, but hardly enough to be called a legendary hero. No, he ended up retiring before the war had even ended, retiring after making a snap judgment to bring back two abandoned pokemon eggs to his home. One hatched first- a girl, and a Plusle, given the name 'Breeze'. Even when she was very very young, not knowing what she was doing, Breeze would spend a lot of time near the other egg. Not long after it, too, hatched. That egg turned out to be a boy this time, the Minun that'd be called Gale. Gale and Breeze would be inseparable, doing anything and everything together, much to the dismay of their adoptive father. He wanted to teach them independence, to have each be on their own two feet. His pride, and his being a different species, made him not understand the siblings' magnetic attitude towards each-other. Still, for a while, they didn't live a bad life, the three of them. Hurricane clearly cared for his children, adopted they may be. Thinking it was best for them, he decided to split the pair up. He made Breeze go out into the world when she was old enough to take care of herself and forced Gale to stay behind. To comfort Gale, Breeze left him their scrapbook, as well as tying a ribbon around his ear. Breeze had both a red and a blue one, so she'd take the blue one. This way, both of them had something as a reminder of the other. Hurricane took care of Gale on his own for a little bit longer, until Gale got fed up and set out on his own as well. He wanted to find Breeze again, not be separated like they were, and so began an adventure to find her. A solitary, rough journey across a slowly healing world. He didn't have much money, or many personal belongings, but he made do, somehow. Taking an odd job here, doing a favor there. The wanderer's life wasn't much sustainable in a land as broken as this one, though. That, and no matter who he asked, nobody seemed to have a clue on who or where Breeze was. At some point, after having taken on a job, Gale heard about these "Rescue teams" being a thing. Pokemon who form teams to aid those in need, travelling all around the world to do so. Given that he needed both a steady line of work and some manner to search for his sister, Gale figured it might be something for him. So he sauntered off to Mandalay, the place he heard had the organisation's guild hall, to apply and become part of one such rescue team. Secret: ?</s> <|message|>Kick Narvac Wilderness --> Azure Orchard --- The Sceptile's face lit up as the small Minun hoisted up his wooden badge. "So yer the little feller ol' Kick done sent over? Well, the name's Sage, and as ye mighta guessed, we been havin' ourselves a little thieverin' problem. Folks've been tellin' us 'bout gettin' incomplete orders. We've been tryin' ta keep an eye out fer any suspicious-like characters, but me and the boys ain't found much. I'll tell ye what I know, though." The Sceptile would go on to explain the timeline of events, occasionally tipping his hat at passing farmers. "At first we just thought some might've fallen off the cart, but as it kept happenin', we thought something was up. It even got to the point where we noticed damade to our fencin' and our cart here got banged up as well durin' the night." Sage pointed to the brokem bit if fence, and the damaged wheel, respectively "I came up with a couple ideas m'self. The first is that they're comin' out under the cover of the dark t' take what they can. The second one is uh..." The sceptile got down onto one knee to get to Gale's level, before lowering his voice. "Well, truth be told, I think my son, Herb, might have something to do with it." Sage looked over to a lone Grovyle lazing about in the branches of an apple tree, eating one of the many dull red apples. He seemed to be eyeing some of the farmers. "He's at that age y'see. He cares more about chasing after girls than he does much else. I'm thinkin' he might be tryin' to impress someone, and usin' our stock to do so. It'd be much appreciated if ye can keep an eye on 'im. I don't want to believe it's him, but... well, what has to be done, has to be done. Fer now though, feel free to have a look around, and let me know if ye need anythin'." Ting watched as Gale hopped on over to the Sceptile in the distance. Looks like it was just him and Fio now. He turned to Fio. "Well, uh..." His head turned as he scanned the surrounding area, looking for a place to start. "Say, Fio, why don't you check over by that bit of broken fence? Or at least around that area? Maybe you can find a clue there. I'll check out the storage sheds, and maybe talk to some of the farmers. Let's regroup here after a while and compare our findings. " He gave Fio a polite nod, and scurried off towards the nearby storage shed. It was quite a big structure, or at least, it was to him. The doors were already open, so he headed into the building. It was much warmer in here than outside for some reason. Maybe all the boxes provided good insulation? Taking a look around, there wasn't much of interest. Empty boxes, spare tools, watering cans, things of that nature. This one was a bust. Time for the next one. While the next shed was a small distance away, Ting's mind began to wander as he made his way towards the next shed. He was really doing this. He was really part of an adventurer's guild. He was making a difference, no matter how small. His heart began to race as the reality of the situation finally began to grasp him. He was finally doing something with his life. He wasn't running away anymore. He was in a place where people didn't hate him. He-- Ting's train of thought was violently disrupted as he walked headfirst into the next storage shed. He should probably start paying more attention to his surroundings. This shed was much like the first, nothing interesting, just more tools, and the occasional sack of topsoil or fertilizer. The third and final shed unfortunately has nothing of interest either. As he tried talking to the farmers, most seemed either confused about what was actually going on, or said they didn't know anything. Though as he was talking to a young Lilligant, he noticed a Grovyle sitting in a tree giving him an angry glare. What was that all about? --- Interacting with/Mentioning: @The Irish Tree(Fio), @Ammokkx(Gale)</s> <|message|>Fio Gale's words made Fio a bit sad. ...Were times that sad, that people stole for money? Then again, she supposed that she'd felt that firsthand already. Someone had tried to steal and sell her, after all. Still, thankfully, it seemed that they'd be able to proceed quickly along the road since it was familiar to Gale. The sun was slowly setting, and with it, Fio seemed to droop just a little bit. She was still peppy and upbeat, just significantly less talkative. She didn't really know what anything around here was like, but it sure seemed like they were growing a lot of berries that other Pokémon might like. Gale seemed to have conversation under control, with him talking to a nice looking Sceptile and telling him they were there to help. Ting had the great idea that they should go ahead and split up to hunt for clues, with Fio eagerly nodding at the suggestion. "Okie-Dokie!" she would chirp before trotting off to find the broken fence section. Once she spotted it, Fio would skip right over to it before unceremoniously tripping, foot caught on an indent in the dirt. Face-planting and immediately getting back to her feet, Fio would grumble and wipe some dirt and grass from her face before looking where she had stepped. It...looked like a big footprint! A big, muddy, three-toed footprint that was heading away from the farm. Fio had only gotten a quick look at the Sceptile that Gale talked to, but this didn't seem like his footprint. The toes were a bit too wide. Satisfied with her clue gotten, Fio would carefully avoid any further potholes, ready to reconvene with her teammates.</s>

<|message|>Gale "Vandalism..." Gale muttered to himself as he listened to Sage's explanation of events. The thieves were not only making off with the cargo, but actively damaging and destroying the infrastructure too. They're going under the cover of night, Sage posited, so would a stakeout be the right call? He's suspecting his son, but can that be right? Gale didn't have enough to go off of, but at least the account gave plenty of insight. After doing his pondering pose for a bit, the minun looked up with some determination. "...Okay. We'll look into it, Mr. Sage." he said to the aged farmhand. Gale was gonna try his best to live up the guild's expectations on the first job, so he got to work straight away with investigating the scene of the crime. Exiting the shed, the first thing Gale did was investigate that broken fencing Sage had mentioned. There wasn't much to the fence itself; it sure did look damaged. The only strange and icky part was that Gale couldn't take two steps without his paw landing in some mud, several puddles of it being scattered all over the immediate surroundings of the fencing. If it had been raining it would be one thing, but it seemed to be concentrated in just the one spot. Not that Gale could really... figure much out from that. Gale continued on to question some farmhands, but none of them really gave much more insight than what Sage had offered. Vexing to be sure, but not entirely unexpected. If anyone knew the source of the thefts then the guild wouldn't have needed to be called to begin with. The Sceptile said he was suspicious of his son, but Gale had a hard time believing that. Sage seemed like a nice father, from first impressions. Even at his worst, Gale never thought to steal something from his own dad. The minun nodded to himself and decided to waddle on over, finding Ting staring up at his target. "Oh, Ting," Gale would address him, "did you already talk to Herb?" Gale would regale what Sage told him about the suspecting theft, but seeing as Ting hadn't yet questioned him, the minun promised to do it himself. "It's probably better if I talk alone... two of us might scare him off," he'd argue. Approaching Herb's tree, Gale would yell: "Excuse me!" up at it. Herb didn't respond, or even look in the Minun's direction. Gale would try again, but to little avail. Crossing his arms in frustration, Gale looked at the bark of the tree, then his paws, and then his muddy paws. He wasn't much of a climber, but when needs must... After an uncomfortable ten minutes of trying and failing to climb up the tree, shaking its branches all the while as he did, Gale heard a "Cut it out already!" from a now-annoyed Grovyle up above. Herb was glaring at Gale pretty fiercely, but the Minun at least caught his attention. "Ha... ha... sorry, I just... ha... had a question!" he'd shout up, sliding back down the bark he'd made some progress up and landing his butt in the grass. "Do you... know anything... about the thefts?" Gale would ask. "What...? No, and just leave me alone." the Grovyle would snap back, leaning back into his spot and having his gaze wander off again. Gale looked and tracked his line of sight, finding a Liligant on the other end of the line of sight. It seemed that Sage was at least right on one thing; Herb didn't seem to care about anything other than eyeing up some girls. Since it was fruitless to try and talk to the grass type like this, Gale got up and dusted off some grass before making his way back to the other two. When reconvening, Gale was the first to share his findings. "So... the owner thinks it might be his son," he quickly reestablished for Fio's sake. "I couldn't get much out of him, though. He ignored me and kept looking at a lady out in the field..." he'd explain. The Minun also made sure to mention that the area around the fencing was really muddy, if only because he needed an excuse as to why the little legs he stood on were covered in ground-goop. "What about you two...? I don't have much to go on, so all I can really think is to maybe stake out during the night and see if anything happens."</s>

<|description|>Arcturus ☽ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ☾ | | | | ________________________________________ Arcturus Deredion 165 | Male | Moon elf _______________________________________________ ❏ BIRTHPLACE: Fraktis ❏ CASTE: Medic and warrior ❏ AFFILIATIONS: The clan under the moon ❏ GOALS: To become a protector and a balanced individual. _______________________________________________ TALENTS: ◆ Communication ◆ Excellent hunter/survivalist ◆ Marks carry moonlight; can control the light ◆ Fluent at the ocarina ◆ Culture/tribal based dancing (ritualistic) EQUIPMENT: ◆ Physical bow and a quiver of 20 arrows ◆ Waterskin ◆ Skinning knife ◆ Arcturus's Ocarina | Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Arcturus derives from the moon elves; he sports violet-toned skin with silver-white locks. His eyes reflect the colors blue, violet, and purple. Upon the slivery-white locks and near his elongated ears are a set of dark horn-like-antlers that curve back. Standing around 6'2" and weighing around; 185 pounds, Arcturus is not lean in physique or extremely bulked with muscle. His athletic figure is from the diet of wild game and foraged foods (mushrooms, berries, etcetera). He has specie-based markings on his body, particularly around his face, which absorb moonlight. Unless magical abilities are present: he and his people can regulate when they light up. The longer he basks in the moonlight, the longer he can use this trait. Rumors about moon elves are that they are a sub-species of drow elves. This causes a lot of tension between moon elves and other species like humans. One can see the multiple scars inflicted on Arcturus from fear or outright speciesism. Arcturus has not been in many battles, but he has fought for and beside his people. A practice that the moon elves partake in translates to "Fallen Souls" and this practice is after conflict. There are five circular burns on the back of Arcturus's trapezius. These burns are memories of who he has caused to fall in conflict or battle. Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Growing up in a close-knit society with unknown tensions with the outside world perplexed a young Arcturus. He was naturally caring and helpful to everyone and everything he met. Only through experience did he see how others may be afraid of his appearance and who he was; he began to dread some people, but he never allowed that fear to turn into hatred for an entire species. When Arcturus brought home wounded creatures to care for before releasing them out into the wilds, his parents were unsurprised. He was sympathetic. Arcturus was a sensitive child, and his father encouraged him to participate in the ceremonies of their people. Although he was first traumatized by the experience, he learned to govern how and who he should be at different times. He struggled at first with the trials but developed into a confident and superior warrior. Arcturus is known to be an observer due to his experiences and who he has always been. If others will let him, he is someone who strives to understand them. He may have inherited this trait from his mother, who was patient and attentive. He began to exhibit these certain characteristics later in his youth. Arcturus usually has a peaceful temperament and is stoic, but when he is not, he is lively. He is confident in himself; he allows himself to be goofy. Making a fool out of himself to see another smile, knowing how to playfully act with an exaggerated style of sarcasm. This tends to make him excellent with children. He is someone who will listen. Voice Reference Arcana ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Major: The Lover When it comes to his arcane power, he is nothing to his other half. He has not experienced what he and his equal are capable of doing together. He is ineffective without his other half. The only abilities he can do without the other are light tricks. Displaying orbs of light or strings, he has been able to control this part of his ability for a while. Occasionally he will make balls of light that dance around to light his way through the forests or dark caverns. Minor: N/a | --- Combat: •••••••••• Going through the trials of the moon elves, he learned how to double-wield shortswords and a bow. They tend to not go to war, but he has experienced small but bloody quarrels in his lifetime. Having to defend himself with force and violence. Arcturus knows how to defend himself from danger. The moon elf techniques are known to launch swift and powerful attacks. Their trained to a precise standard of knowing what shot will kill versus a shot that will maintain someone. Culture: •••••••••• His childhood was mainly secluded except for the occasion of travelers or adventuring by the local towns. He has experienced other cultures in this way and understands that everyone is different. From a young age, Arcturus experienced speciesism from others, but he understood that others might fear him for he is different or demon-like in appearance. His own culture is focused on the moon, knowing the phases, and living within the darkness of night. He comes from a people who are night owls and do almost everything under the moonlight. Commerce: •••••••••• Most might assume his actions to be foolish or him to be unintelligent, but Arcturus is not one to value money. Having little regard for currency or material goods, he knows he can supply himself with what he needs. Hunting, foraging, and overall survival skills were prominent in his clan. His parents have taught him how to live off the land and to be a survivalist. This causes him to only sell or trade things for what he needs at the time. A trait that is a possible flaw with financials. Magic: •••••••••• Moon elves have magic within them; the reason they can absorb the moonlight and use it at will to light up their way. There are different levels of magic throughout his species and clan. Most who show magical properties are sub-classed into healing or fortune telling. He showed magical properties at a young age, so he was trained in the ways of the healers. The elders guided him into herbalism and focused on what was within. The only thing he can do besides non-magic herbalism and healing is to quicken the overall healing process. Survival: •••••••••• This is his most fluent status, survivalist. He was raised in a community that focuses on self-sufficiency and only using what you need. One can find anything they need from the wilds; that is the law of the land. From hunting to the gathering, he knows how to use every part of an animal or what the most poisonous mushrooms are. He knows how to make arrows, spears, a bow, or a hut from scratch Karma: •••••••••• Most of the time, keeping to himself, he might not have much karma coming his way. He is someone who will listen to or comfort a stranger. He is someone who will give what he can to a person in need, but he will not fault himself to help another. Arcturus does not go out of his way to search for people in need, though he does stop if he comes across someone who needs help. ---</s> <|message|>Deidamia Deidamia Deidamia blinked as the cart came to a halt. She was about to ask why they had stopped when she noticed the ogres standing guard, which raised even more questions for her. Why were the ogres not letting them in? Was it because Rooster didn't trust them now- Oh. That was probably it, wasn't it? Deidamia sighed daintily as the rain started to hit her skin and the other passengers started talking, the woman tugging her cloak close to her body as she did. Hopefully, the ogres would let them in soon, and hopefully, she wouldn't have to do anything rash.</s> <|message|>Aelia Arrianus Aelia Arrianus Waiting in the rain and in a city of demons. Aelia was not thinking she would end up in a such situation, and yet here she is. Waiting in the rain for the ogre doormen to let them in, though, luckily, she is wearing a cloak, so at least she will not be soaked. Can't say the same to the others, she thought. As she looked at the diverse group she is now with. Hopefully, having a human with them will not be a problem based on what Rooster mentioned, but the only one that stood out to her was the moon elf, Arcturus. Aelia has never seen a moon elf like him before, and he certainly knows how to take care of himself with that physique. Aelia looked away back to the doormen so as not to stare. Not the time and especially now, and better wait and see how long until they get let in. Just hoping it does not take too long, but either way, Aelia chooses to remain silent. Enough of the party has spoken about it, and she does not think adding her will change anything. But is still cautious just in case this suddenly turns south, she is in a city of demons after all.</s> <|message|>Umara Imaradi Umara --- Rolling her eyes, Umara took several steps away from the plain elf that seemed to be chastising her. What words she had said had been far from vulgar and she saw little reason in his manner. She made no effort to hide her annoyance as she studied the unwelcome interloper. In her thoughts, she marked him a danger by his actions and by his words. His lies were bizarre. His manner peculiar. To endanger their endeavor so soon and without apparent reason, suggested only treachery. There was no quarrel between them. She had not exchanged so much as a single word with the elf throughout the long journey. She did not know him. She knew nothing about him. She knew no name, no title, or even vocation. The measure of his motives eluded her, but Umara was not so guileless as to miss the provocation laced sweetly within his words. "The nomads of the Desert Salts, the G'ana, have saying: 'The Gift of words is the gift of deception.' I thank you for the reminder," Umara said, channeling the kindly knife of politeness practiced by the famed swordsmiths of Nyskal. Umara forced a smile onto her lips, nodding to the blond elf. Let him stew on that, she thought as she turned away from him. She walked slowly, willing no nervousness in her step and stopped next to the tall figure currently interrogating their unfortunate guide. Better a pretty face, than a dull one, Umara reasoned casting a quick glance at Galahad before scowling once more at the beleaguered Farfa.</s>

<|message|>Arcturus 𝔸𝕣𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕦𝕤 ☽ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ☾ Mentions/References/Interactions Germaine Umara Farfa Rooster Aelia ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Location Stonehill District – West Gate ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Glancing up, he swore that the rain was becoming heavier or his body began to absorb the cooling properties; goosebumps were forming around his body from the chilling weather, and he was lucky that he was not with a weak immune system. "Aye, it could certainly be worse." A voice near him grabbed his attention, an older-looking gentleman that appeared to be from a higher class of society. Arcturus dipped his head with a slow blink of his eyes to say that they agreed with each other. Watching the man walk up to Farga, he examined the interaction carefully. This must have been the human that the goblin was smelling, a man that appeared well kept and talked as one would if they were educated. Farfa was giving the moon elf a feeling of untrustworthiness, allowing this group of random adventurers to stand out in the rain. If someone was trying to hire or request their skills, would they want shivering and illness-prone individuals? "Farfa plans to drown us." Arcturus glanced over at the feminine voice speaking. "Why else would he leave us waiting in this weather?" Her tone sounded upset, angry even, and he did not blame her. He was disappointed that this individual was allowing them to wait in such weather in front of a city of criminals. "I doubt that Farfa wants us to drown," replying to the pale individual with sunburst eyes. He did not trust the individual, he did not know him long enough, but he did not believe that the demon was purposefully leading them into a death trap. Stalling seems to be a strong suit of theirs… This thought aimed at Farfa. They were opposite in this way, Arcturus would always go straight to the point or attempt to. Arcturus did not feel anyone's eyes on him right away, but he felt someone linger for a moment. Glancing over to the area that he thought the small glance came from, no one was looking at him. I must be paranoid… this has been a long trip. Sighing as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and brow. He walked the whole trip, the sound of rain caused his body to become tired, and he felt his stomach begin to pinch and poke in attempts to ask for food. Arcturus would most likely not find rest in this city. Barely any protection except what he had on him. A bow with arrows, an ocarina, and a skinning knife was all he had, along with a waterskin. He might want to consider purchasing two short-swords or one at least. Out of his thoughts about what the city had waiting for the group, he did notice a few faces that he had not particularly looked at during the trip. It seemed that the group had a decent amount of fae; he noticed another with darker skin and white hair. He couldn't make out her features, but she was most likely dark with her prominent characteristics. Arcturus found himself staring at the gate once again, seeing what would happen with the individuals who ran up to propose who they were and what they were here for – why Farfa brought them, brought us, here.</s>

<|description|>Arcturus ☽ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ☾ | | | | ________________________________________ Arcturus Deredion 165 | Male | Moon elf _______________________________________________ ❏ BIRTHPLACE: Fraktis ❏ CASTE: Medic and warrior ❏ AFFILIATIONS: The clan under the moon ❏ GOALS: To become a protector and a balanced individual. _______________________________________________ TALENTS: ◆ Communication ◆ Excellent hunter/survivalist ◆ Marks carry moonlight; can control the light ◆ Fluent at the ocarina ◆ Culture/tribal based dancing (ritualistic) EQUIPMENT: ◆ Physical bow and a quiver of 20 arrows ◆ Waterskin ◆ Skinning knife ◆ Arcturus's Ocarina | Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Arcturus derives from the moon elves; he sports violet-toned skin with silver-white locks. His eyes reflect the colors blue, violet, and purple. Upon the slivery-white locks and near his elongated ears are a set of dark horn-like-antlers that curve back. Standing around 6'2" and weighing around; 185 pounds, Arcturus is not lean in physique or extremely bulked with muscle. His athletic figure is from the diet of wild game and foraged foods (mushrooms, berries, etcetera). He has specie-based markings on his body, particularly around his face, which absorb moonlight. Unless magical abilities are present: he and his people can regulate when they light up. The longer he basks in the moonlight, the longer he can use this trait. Rumors about moon elves are that they are a sub-species of drow elves. This causes a lot of tension between moon elves and other species like humans. One can see the multiple scars inflicted on Arcturus from fear or outright speciesism. Arcturus has not been in many battles, but he has fought for and beside his people. A practice that the moon elves partake in translates to "Fallen Souls" and this practice is after conflict. There are five circular burns on the back of Arcturus's trapezius. These burns are memories of who he has caused to fall in conflict or battle. Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Growing up in a close-knit society with unknown tensions with the outside world perplexed a young Arcturus. He was naturally caring and helpful to everyone and everything he met. Only through experience did he see how others may be afraid of his appearance and who he was; he began to dread some people, but he never allowed that fear to turn into hatred for an entire species. When Arcturus brought home wounded creatures to care for before releasing them out into the wilds, his parents were unsurprised. He was sympathetic. Arcturus was a sensitive child, and his father encouraged him to participate in the ceremonies of their people. Although he was first traumatized by the experience, he learned to govern how and who he should be at different times. He struggled at first with the trials but developed into a confident and superior warrior. Arcturus is known to be an observer due to his experiences and who he has always been. If others will let him, he is someone who strives to understand them. He may have inherited this trait from his mother, who was patient and attentive. He began to exhibit these certain characteristics later in his youth. Arcturus usually has a peaceful temperament and is stoic, but when he is not, he is lively. He is confident in himself; he allows himself to be goofy. Making a fool out of himself to see another smile, knowing how to playfully act with an exaggerated style of sarcasm. This tends to make him excellent with children. He is someone who will listen. Voice Reference Arcana ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Major: The Lover When it comes to his arcane power, he is nothing to his other half. He has not experienced what he and his equal are capable of doing together. He is ineffective without his other half. The only abilities he can do without the other are light tricks. Displaying orbs of light or strings, he has been able to control this part of his ability for a while. Occasionally he will make balls of light that dance around to light his way through the forests or dark caverns. Minor: N/a | --- Combat: •••••••••• Going through the trials of the moon elves, he learned how to double-wield shortswords and a bow. They tend to not go to war, but he has experienced small but bloody quarrels in his lifetime. Having to defend himself with force and violence. Arcturus knows how to defend himself from danger. The moon elf techniques are known to launch swift and powerful attacks. Their trained to a precise standard of knowing what shot will kill versus a shot that will maintain someone. Culture: •••••••••• His childhood was mainly secluded except for the occasion of travelers or adventuring by the local towns. He has experienced other cultures in this way and understands that everyone is different. From a young age, Arcturus experienced speciesism from others, but he understood that others might fear him for he is different or demon-like in appearance. His own culture is focused on the moon, knowing the phases, and living within the darkness of night. He comes from a people who are night owls and do almost everything under the moonlight. Commerce: •••••••••• Most might assume his actions to be foolish or him to be unintelligent, but Arcturus is not one to value money. Having little regard for currency or material goods, he knows he can supply himself with what he needs. Hunting, foraging, and overall survival skills were prominent in his clan. His parents have taught him how to live off the land and to be a survivalist. This causes him to only sell or trade things for what he needs at the time. A trait that is a possible flaw with financials. Magic: •••••••••• Moon elves have magic within them; the reason they can absorb the moonlight and use it at will to light up their way. There are different levels of magic throughout his species and clan. Most who show magical properties are sub-classed into healing or fortune telling. He showed magical properties at a young age, so he was trained in the ways of the healers. The elders guided him into herbalism and focused on what was within. The only thing he can do besides non-magic herbalism and healing is to quicken the overall healing process. Survival: •••••••••• This is his most fluent status, survivalist. He was raised in a community that focuses on self-sufficiency and only using what you need. One can find anything they need from the wilds; that is the law of the land. From hunting to the gathering, he knows how to use every part of an animal or what the most poisonous mushrooms are. He knows how to make arrows, spears, a bow, or a hut from scratch Karma: •••••••••• Most of the time, keeping to himself, he might not have much karma coming his way. He is someone who will listen to or comfort a stranger. He is someone who will give what he can to a person in need, but he will not fault himself to help another. Arcturus does not go out of his way to search for people in need, though he does stop if he comes across someone who needs help. ---</s> <|message|>Barbatos Di Comoita Location: Dante's Run - Fito's Ferry // Evening _________________________________________ Yrga was actually going to help him out? That was a relief. Barbatos kept cool, letting her explain. She wasn't going to get directly involved - Fair enough, that's smart. - and instead she produced a key. To a door. "Coy as ever," he commented. Discretion like that, playful or not, was what made her one of the better agents for hire out there though. Barbatos fixed his eyes on the key, examining it visually before he reached out to split it into his hand. It felt as ragged as it looked. His eyes flickered back to Yrga's face as she went on. "Ah... my favorite goblin," he said, clearly facetious. Truth be told Rooster wasn't the worst to deal with, and he would have to talk to the little man sooner or later when dealing with Pepito. Might as well make it sooner. That worked out fine for Barbatos - and perhaps if he hustled he could even catch that band of travelers making their way into town before they got eaten alive by the city. With that thought in mind Barbatos lingered for only a moment or two more before he pushed his chair back and stood. In one swift movement the debt on the table was cleared away and safe in his bag, and the bartender had a few coins tossed his way. The demon blooded man had laughed off Yrga's earlier comment when he mentioned he'd pay, a deep chuckle that he couldn't help. Many people in Goeta couldn't wrap their brain around the fact that a little charity (or in this case, paying one's tab) went a long way. Yrga was proof of that even, she chose to help him because he'd shown her kindness in the past, and now here they both were. "I'd better get going, see if I can catch him in a good mood then." The key and the finger were tucked away on his person. "Thanks. " He offered her a small smile and a corny two fingered salute before making for the door before he could hear those oh so familiar words, you owe me one.</s> <|message|>Umara Imaradi Umara Still in the Stonehill District, still by the West Gate, and still getting rained on. --- "Firstly, I possess no pockets," Umara said to the two gargantuan guards, following after Tennaeus, and then gesturing plainly at her dress. She cast a questioning look back at Galahad, she had high hopes the knight would do something or at least provide a useful distraction, but she knew better than to rely on others, especially unmeasured and untested strangers. The self-proclaimed prophet seemed likely to confuse the ogres and if not, then his substantial strangeness might monsters arouse all the superstitious fears that such dim, dark creatures surely possessed. "Secondly, I am clearly no mere human," she added, holding a finger to each of her eyes in slow succession. Perhaps the mammoth monsters would listen to golden haired speaker and her sweetly placating words, but what little Umara knew of ogres did little to inspire any great confidence in such diplomatic attempts at entering the city. Umara was tired. She was growing increasingly cold. Her hooded cloak, waxed as it was, would not repel water endlessly. Were she not facing monsters several times her size, Umara might not have resisted the temptation to say some quiet rude things to the ogres. But she was no fool. She was no reckless adventurer. And so she waited, stoically next to Tennaeus, trying to adopt the somber, serious bearing of a clearly not human creature, annoyed at the mere implication that she might be something as mundane as a mortal human.</s>

<|message|>Arcturus 𝔸𝕣𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕦𝕤 ☽ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ☾ Mentions/References/Interactions n/a ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Location Stonehill District – West Gate ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Deciding to close the distance between himself and the group, he was monitoring the ogres, the ones that protected the west gate. Glancing around, he was taking everyone in, trying to file new faces into his memory as he thought about the trail ahead. What was lying ahead here? In this city of demons and chaos, was it worth going into this city for a job? These were all good points that were popping up in his head, and he was trying to weigh the pros with the cons. Considering the weather and next village, town, or whatever - Arcturus found that he was in the best position that he possibly could be at the moment with this group. Nothing major was happening, the rain was annoying, but he was mildly used to such weather. His traveling gear protected him somewhat, but he knew he was going to enjoy the roof over his head. Whenever they got under a roof that is. Arcturus looked around, as he tried to figure out what was the next best thing. Humans were the only ones not allowed to walk into the city, but his good side was not allowing him to stray away from the human of the group. The older man, who seemed well educated didn't deserve what was happening. Someone was telling him to empty his pockets, Arcturus wanted to roll his eyes, but he refrained from causing any more hassle for himself or the group. As these thoughts went through his head, he began to find himself closer and closer to the entrance of the gate. He was getting to the point where he wanted to go right into the city and find shelter somewhere. Most likely not a smart idea, so he was trying his best to stay with the group. The group was soaking wet under this weather.</s>

<|description|>Galahad Quaid | | | | ________________________________________ Sir Galahad Wilmont de Vitas Quaid III 38 | Male | Half-Elf _______________________________________________ ❏ BIRTHPLACE: Vitas, Capitol of the Stormlands ❏ CASTE: Noble ❏ AFFILIATIONS: The Quaid Family (Formerly), Knights of the Storm (Formerly) ❏ GOALS: To prove to his family that he is, to be frank, better than all of them. _______________________________________________ TALENTS: ◆ Charismatic Courtier: The Scion of a noble family, Galahad is skilled and working his way through conversation- either through charming and schmoozing those of noble stature, or browbeating and intimidating those of lower standing. ◆ Mage Knight: While of noble birth, Galahad isn't afraid to get his hands dirty and is a full fledged knight of the Stormlands. Though trained in and capable of using a wide variety of armaments and armor, Galahad prefers to wield a polearm. ◆ Lutist: Hands never idle, Galahad has some experience with the arts, as expected of one of noble birth, and is fairly competent with music. EQUIPMENT: ◆ Galahad's Armor - Well crafted and balanced set of armor designed to be protective and mobile. Consists of a base layer of a long gambeson, with a mail shirt and cuirass. Plate pauldrons, vambraces and greaves protect the extremities, and a deep blue cloak bearing the Quaid family sigil wraps around the shoulders. ◆ Shortsword - An elvish shortsword of high quality. ◆ Quaid Sigil Clasp - An emerald clasp with the Quaid family sigil and a 'G' embedded within the gem in gold. | Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Standing in at just over six feet tall, Galahad is a lithe and sinewy individual with the appearance of one who is used to continuous physical exertion, without some of the bulk of his fellow knights. As expected of an Knight of the Storm, his physique is in excellent shape, and his frame is akin to what might be expected of an athlete or career soldier. His skin is a light olive tone and is relatively unscathed. His dark black hair falls in graceful waves around his head, hiding the slight tips of his ears, and his eyes are a cold emerald green, possessing a piercing, almost chilling gaze. Galahad has an expensive taste in attire, often wearing fine silken clothes with bright and vibrant colors, and a borderline gaudy amount of jewelry. Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Snarky and flippant, Galahad is a confident- often to the point of arrogance, and self assured individual. His casual and selfish demeanor is often mistaken for an uncaring and aloof disposition, and his lackadaisical nature and often haughty attitude does little to change the opinions of others. He has a penchant for sarcasm and rarely seems to take things seriously, throwing snide jokes or dashing charm around whenever he sees fit like a flip of a coin. Underneath his cool are careless persona lies a quiet, impotent rage, feelings of inadequacy, jealousy, cynicism and a constant need to prove himself. The weight of expectations placed upon on him by others weighs heavy on his mind. Galahad mingles well with those of genteel birth, and easily works his way through aristocrats and knights alike, though he has difficulty relating to those of poorer circumstances. His attitude does little to garner the sympathies of the common folk and he often seems disinterested or uncaring about the struggles of others. Not quite as vapid and self centered as he portrays himself- though still some measure of each- Galahad possesses a well developed moral compass, and is strongly loyal to those he cares about, though his tone and callousness might suggest otherwise. He cares about folk, in his own way, but one will never hear him admit such in open conversation. Arcana ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Major: The Strength Arcana The third in his family line to have been blessed with the Strength Arcana, Galahad, while no master, is fairly proficient with his abilities, or at least well practiced with his current repertoire of abilities. Like most others of the Strength Arcana, he possesses the ability to fly and jump great distances with ease. While able to manipulate the gravity of others, when in conflict, Galahad is most proficient in manipulating his own. His lance moves lighter than a feather and hits harder than a warhorse, from above he can throw down his lance and leave craters in the ground from its impact. He can generate small singularities to suck in or restrain people or objects in a small localized area or increase the force of gravity on a man's sword so he cannot heft it properly. In general it takes less effort to manipulate his own than it does to manipulate something another person is actively controlling. Minor: The Seven of Swords An ancient relic lance, handed down from from generations, the Seven of Swords was first obtained by Galahad Archemon Vitas Quaid, first of his name. Made from levinstone, a rare and powerful metal native to the Stormlands the weapon is unwieldy and difficult for the uninitiated to use. When properly attuned to its user, the Seven of Swords is easier to control and can even return to its wielder's hand on command. The Seven of Swords can split itself into 7 identical lances, echoes of the original, with each copy holding the same properties. The original lance is held in hand, while it's echos float around the user until actively manipulated. Unless otherwise affected, the echoes fade after a few minutes, and there can only be 7 lances at a time. | --- Combat: 7 ••••••• Culture: 3 ••• Commerce: 1 • Magic: 6 •••••• Survival: 2 •• Karma: 5 ••••• ---</s> <|message|>Germaine Gaulding Germaine "Aye, it could certainly be worse." The actor muttered. It was a quiet response to a quiet statement by a blue skinned fae that was probably not intended for his ears. He heard it nonetheless, and he agreed - things could have been worse. If it had started raining earlier, Germaine would probably have ended up thoroughly soaked to his socks. As it stood, he would arrive in front of his client only moderately soaked. Perhaps he should curse the gods for the foul weather, but it was, he supposed, as much his own fault for not wearing a coat. Germaine breathed deep. Rain brought the smells of the city into sharp relief. Goeta was a city he had wanted to visit for a long time, for the sights of the southern shores, if nothing else. It had been a long way from where he had started, and the anticipation had led to expectations. A little voice in his head reminded him that expectations led to disappointment, but the actor wasn't disappointed just yet. Like so many cities in the realm these days, Goeta's atmosphere was bleak and full of soot. Even so, the city had a rich atmosphere. Goeta was alive, and it held many secrets. Or so his instincts told him. Germaine looked around at the motly band around him. Even for one as well travelled as he, it was rare for him to see one of the fae, let alone two elves at once. Different species of elves at that. And they weren't even the strangest members of the group. More than likely, their reasons for being here was even stranger. The actor couldn't help but smile in spite of himself. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the city, or his love of drama at play, with the tension in the air, Germaine couldn't help but smile. He could feel anticipation in the air. Something would happen soon. He wasn't sure what would happen, of course, or how big it would be, or if he would be caught up in it. But where was the fun in knowing everything? As some of the group began to talk to the guards, the actor turned to the blond haired demon and began to thank him. "I thank you for your timely intervention my good fellow, without which I would have assuredly been sold." Germaine said. "But, if I could ask..." He threw a glance back towards the door, observing the guardians arrayed menacingly on either side. "Is it safe to assume that things are not going according to plan?" (Interacting with Farfa and Arcturus a bit)</s> <|message|>Umara Imaradi Umara --- "Farfa plans to drown us," Umara bitterly said, standing unsmiling in the rain. The half-hearted shrug she shot the silver haired patrician as he stood in his increasingly wet fine clothes implied no apology for her interruption. "Why else would he leave us waiting in this weather?" Fresh anger shook the weariness from Umara's tired limbs as she glared at the damp eyed demon. Frustration drove the faint traces of sleep from her eyes. The journey had been long. The dangers had been many. She could summon no more patience. Sparks of anger flickered to life in her heart. The danger was obvious. The threats freely spoken. Imprisonment. Enslavement. And death, always death. As she stood facing the gates that lead into the City of Demons, Umara thought that a small bag of coin seemed a poor bargain for her services. The carriage had brought only more strangers, strangers stranger still with each passing moment. Umara's right hand moved reflexively to the pendent that she wore. Her fingers traced the patterns etched into the soft gold. She suspected that they would find that the line between life and death among the demons to be too quick and sharp for their liking. She shook her head to drive out the angry thoughts, glancing warily at the oracle. His appearance, although darkly outlandish, barely concerned her. She did not begrudge others their eccentricities, least of all when it came to their manner of dress. There was madness in his words, but it did not bother her. Madness held little mysterious to the young pyromancer. Derangement was not uncommon in a blight and dying land. He had woven no spells. He had spoken no curses. And he had carved no runes into the earth with his staff. The stranger did not scare her. Adorned in bone and hiding beneath a stolen shell, he simply struck her as a sad. She did not relish the smell of his rags, but she did not fear his person. Still, he disturbed her. She did not know the veracity of his claim, but the presence of an oracle demanded greater caution. Prescience was a dangerous science. Prophecy was not without risk. She had no desire to be trapped by a soothsayer's visions. She had burned through the threads that had bound her. She had forged her own fate. And she would not be ensnared again. The diminutive knight had cast new clouds of worry over her thoughts. His introduction threatened to shatter the last mote of restraint that she commanded. In names there was power and the two strangers had offered their names freely to the demon and the monstrous guards. Trust given so freely did not bode well for their shared venture. They would say too much. They would act too rashly. She felt an unwelcome pang of regret deep within her stomach. Unfortunately, it was well past the time for leaving.</s>

<|message|>Galahad Quaid "Just as well, some of us could do with a shower." Galahad chuckled with little mirth as he stood next to the young, blue haired alchemist, "That carriage was not big enough for the lot of us." Galahad stood by the majority of their small congregation of outcasts and oddities. Strange that he might've considered himself one, but these were strange circumstances regardless. The rain beaded on the exposed metal plates of his armor not covered by the luxurious blue cloak and dripped off the locks that framed his face. Draped casually over a shoulder and held in place with a lazy gauntlet was a large polearm, fully covered, sheathed in a wrapping of linens and leather to protect it from the elements. Galahad was used to rainy seasons, back home the rain never seemed to stop- gray and overcast were the norm. The southlands had been much warmer and sunnier in general, but rains like this reminded him of home. Their little gathering was a motley one to be sure, all sorts of freaks and oddities abound. Galahad rarely had the pleasure- or ill luck of working in groups, but on the few occasions he had, they were much like this. Especially in the south, mercenaries, adventurers, wanderers and merchants alike were a strange bunch. While most cities were a generally homogenous of their race and background, on the road the people were as varied as their stories, though most were only fit to addle your brain with their constant droning. People always thought they were more interesting than they actually were- there were exceptions of course, himself being one of them. He hadn't yet deigned to find out the stories of the others with him, but he was sure at least one of them wouldn't bore him out of his mind. Already they had hit a snag. The goblin named Rooster seemed to have an issue with them passing through the gates and into the city itself. Perhaps there was a door tax? Either way, it was surprising that their guide- and 'employers'- were unable to open such doors for them, literally in this case. Some of the others were already on edge. Unfortunately, things could never go as simply as one hoped it seemed. "Are they not expecting us, Farfa?" Galahad called out, his tone amused, but his face blank and bored. A free hand lightly brushed a wet lock of hair out of his face. He took a few steps forward to the relative front of the group, though not as close up as their diminutive fae knight had gone. His gaze rested lazily on the two armored guards in front of them. "If I had known there were going to be complications, I would have asked the carriage to stay a moment longer."</s>

<|description|>Deidamia | | | | ________________________________________ Deidamia 25 Mentally | Genderless(but goes by she/her pronouns) | Rock Golem(usually is disguised as a human woman) _______________________________________________ ❏ BIRTHPLACE: (Well, technically, she was made, not born, but) The Foreboding Forest ❏ CASTE: Wanderer/Adventurer ❏ AFFILIATIONS: Adam Silver(Prior); The Alchemist Society(Prior) ❏ GOALS: To explore, help people, and prove to herself and the world that she's useful/not an inhuman monster. _______________________________________________ TALENTS: ◆ Playing the flute and harmonica ◆ Smashing things(which she usually does in her golem form) ◆ Resourceful; can use almost anything as a weapon EQUIPMENT: ◆ Her harmonica(used to have a flute, too, but accidentally stepped on it in her golem form and broke it) ◆ Bag of Holding ◆ Large, Dark Blue Cloak(it covers her up in either form) | Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Her human form is one of a petite, brown haired woman wearing a dark blue cloak. She has a slim hourglass figure, though also has some hidden muscle underneath the cloak, and also has an athletic figure as well. Her skin is tanned, due to being outside most of the time, and her legs are long and made for running. Her rock golem form, meanwhile, is tall and fearsome…which makes it even weirder when the same feminine, mousy voice that she has in her human form comes from her rock golem form as well. Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Deidamia is a very shy and timid, yet kind and compassionate character. She does like helping people, and finds it much easier to do so in her human form so people don't run away screaming from her golem form, but it takes a while for her to open up to people, as she usually keeps to herself. She's very aware of her golem form's size and strength, and this awareness carries over to her human form as well, even though she doesn't need to be so careful while human. She also has an inferiority complex, usually seeing herself as a terrible monster, and she often tries to prove herself wrong by overly helping people. Arcana ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Major: The Tower Given that she was made to destroy and conquer, Deidamia often avoids using her Tower Arcana, and is often self-conscious about her origins. In fact, she's afraid of using it, due to being worried that she'll accidentally go too far and everyone will fear/hate her, and, as such, only uses it as a last resort. It doesn't help that her power of destruction is much stronger when she's a golem than when she's a human. As for power scaling, in both forms, Deidamia can destroy bigger things, such as doors and tables, but can't destroy anything bigger than that yet, and also can't destroy living things, such as larger plants, animals, and any sapient race. Minor: The Cloak of The Moon(When the cloak is worn, it can transform the user into one specific human form.) | Combat: 5 Culture: 2 Commerce: 2 Magic: 4 Survival: 5 Karma: 4(as a human), 2(as a golem)</s> <|message|>Umara Imaradi Umara --- "Farfa plans to drown us," Umara bitterly said, standing unsmiling in the rain. The half-hearted shrug she shot the silver haired patrician as he stood in his increasingly wet fine clothes implied no apology for her interruption. "Why else would he leave us waiting in this weather?" Fresh anger shook the weariness from Umara's tired limbs as she glared at the damp eyed demon. Frustration drove the faint traces of sleep from her eyes. The journey had been long. The dangers had been many. She could summon no more patience. Sparks of anger flickered to life in her heart. The danger was obvious. The threats freely spoken. Imprisonment. Enslavement. And death, always death. As she stood facing the gates that lead into the City of Demons, Umara thought that a small bag of coin seemed a poor bargain for her services. The carriage had brought only more strangers, strangers stranger still with each passing moment. Umara's right hand moved reflexively to the pendent that she wore. Her fingers traced the patterns etched into the soft gold. She suspected that they would find that the line between life and death among the demons to be too quick and sharp for their liking. She shook her head to drive out the angry thoughts, glancing warily at the oracle. His appearance, although darkly outlandish, barely concerned her. She did not begrudge others their eccentricities, least of all when it came to their manner of dress. There was madness in his words, but it did not bother her. Madness held little mysterious to the young pyromancer. Derangement was not uncommon in a blight and dying land. He had woven no spells. He had spoken no curses. And he had carved no runes into the earth with his staff. The stranger did not scare her. Adorned in bone and hiding beneath a stolen shell, he simply struck her as a sad. She did not relish the smell of his rags, but she did not fear his person. Still, he disturbed her. She did not know the veracity of his claim, but the presence of an oracle demanded greater caution. Prescience was a dangerous science. Prophecy was not without risk. She had no desire to be trapped by a soothsayer's visions. She had burned through the threads that had bound her. She had forged her own fate. And she would not be ensnared again. The diminutive knight had cast new clouds of worry over her thoughts. His introduction threatened to shatter the last mote of restraint that she commanded. In names there was power and the two strangers had offered their names freely to the demon and the monstrous guards. Trust given so freely did not bode well for their shared venture. They would say too much. They would act too rashly. She felt an unwelcome pang of regret deep within her stomach. Unfortunately, it was well past the time for leaving.</s> <|message|>Galahad Quaid Galahad Quaid --- "Just as well, some of us could do with a shower." Galahad chuckled with little mirth as he stood next to the young, blue haired alchemist, "That carriage was not big enough for the lot of us." Galahad stood by the majority of their small congregation of outcasts and oddities. Strange that he might've considered himself one, but these were strange circumstances regardless. The rain beaded on the exposed metal plates of his armor not covered by the luxurious blue cloak and dripped off the locks that framed his face. Draped casually over a shoulder and held in place with a lazy gauntlet was a large polearm, fully covered, sheathed in a wrapping of linens and leather to protect it from the elements. Galahad was used to rainy seasons, back home the rain never seemed to stop- gray and overcast were the norm. The southlands had been much warmer and sunnier in general, but rains like this reminded him of home. Their little gathering was a motley one to be sure, all sorts of freaks and oddities abound. Galahad rarely had the pleasure- or ill luck of working in groups, but on the few occasions he had, they were much like this. Especially in the south, mercenaries, adventurers, wanderers and merchants alike were a strange bunch. While most cities were a generally homogenous of their race and background, on the road the people were as varied as their stories, though most were only fit to addle your brain with their constant droning. People always thought they were more interesting than they actually were- there were exceptions of course, himself being one of them. He hadn't yet deigned to find out the stories of the others with him, but he was sure at least one of them wouldn't bore him out of his mind. Already they had hit a snag. The goblin named Rooster seemed to have an issue with them passing through the gates and into the city itself. Perhaps there was a door tax? Either way, it was surprising that their guide- and 'employers'- were unable to open such doors for them, literally in this case. Some of the others were already on edge. Unfortunately, things could never go as simply as one hoped it seemed. "Are they not expecting us, Farfa?" Galahad called out, his tone amused, but his face blank and bored. A free hand lightly brushed a wet lock of hair out of his face. He took a few steps forward to the relative front of the group, though not as close up as their diminutive fae knight had gone. His gaze rested lazily on the two armored guards in front of them. "If I had known there were going to be complications, I would have asked the carriage to stay a moment longer."</s> <|message|>Ansel, the Wraith Ansel, the Wraith --- Nestled among the diverse band of strangers in the carriage sat one rather unassuming wood elf. His fine blonde hair, his deep blue eyes, his knife-like ears were all normal, standard features one would imagine when they would think of an elf. A "default" elf that wouldn't so much as receive a second glance under normal conditions. It would be difficult to perceive, and perhaps even more difficult to articulate why, but there was something distinctly unusual with this elf. Though he looked around often he rarely blinked. Though he acknowledged things spoken he rarely spoke himself. His breathing was irregular, his hair and clothes ever so slightly disheveled (an uncharacteristic behavior for a wood elf). There were bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days yet he had no struggle keeping his eyes open. Many subtle oddities that most wouldn't event detect but in truth hide a secret. Though this elf was a real, living person he was the ideal disguise for a soul without a body. The vessel by which Ansel had infiltrated the group, the dead hiding amongst the living. Coming to Goeta without such a mask would yield no favorable results. At least not when it came to his mission, as the temptation to reveal himself was an ever-present and amusing urge in the back of his mind. By the Gods, these meatbags don't look very promising at all, Ansel had thought to himself as the carriage came to a halt outside the City of Demons. Maybe they will make excellent distractions one day, should the need arise. As the crew departed from their ride and the guide began their spiel the blonde elf remained silent, eyes forward and attention completely on Farfa. He continued to watch the drama unfold without any commentary of his own, though internally he was already growing annoyed with the delays. When the ogres refused entry to the small crowd a frown finally escaped the elf's lips. This is asinine. I'm ditching this knife-ear the moment we finally meet this asshole, he thought. As the rest of the party began to fidget or introduce themselves, perhaps in a bid to gain access to the city from the ogres guarding the gate, Ansel came up with a way to make this waste of time a little more fun. For himself, that is. Stood next to him was a young human girl, so young perhaps she was not finished growing. She spoke no words but was visibly upset, eyes casting about and body ever-so-slightly fidgeting. Nervous? Perhaps, but even if she wasn't it did not matter. It was her silence that made her an amusing victim. The blonde elf made a shocked expression, perfectly feigning offense at something surely appalling. "Heavens, child," he finally spoke up, his voice lowered as if to speak privately to Umara yet deliberately loud enough that even the ogres at the gate could hear. "You mustn't call them such vulgar names, lest they might hear you." The seeds of chaos had been already been sown when the goblin confronted the guide, but even if they hadn't Ansel would feel no remorse for his practical joke. Even if nothing came of it and it went ignored, or worse still if it went unheard by the ogres, the discontent that he had created between this human girl and this elf he was controlling would surely provide him a punchline in the near future. The poor elf was going to have a lot of explaining to do once Ansel was through, and that thought alone made it all worthwhile. In the meantime he maintained his act perfectly, putting a finger up to his lips as if to hush Umara and prevent her from defending herself or calling out his lie. He didn't even look around to gauge the reactions of the others, further solidifying his act by not revealing that it was the reactions he was seeking. If I have to sit here and waste a few more minutes then I might as well milk it for what I can.</s>

<|message|>Deidamia Deidamia blinked as the cart came to a halt. She was about to ask why they had stopped when she noticed the ogres standing guard, which raised even more questions for her. Why were the ogres not letting them in? Was it because Rooster didn't trust them now- Oh. That was probably it, wasn't it? Deidamia sighed daintily as the rain started to hit her skin and the other passengers started talking, the woman tugging her cloak close to her body as she did. Hopefully, the ogres would let them in soon, and hopefully, she wouldn't have to do anything rash.</s>

<|description|>Aelia Arrianus | | | | ________________________________________ Aelia Arrianus 76 | Female | Dark Elf(Elf) _______________________________________________ ❏ BIRTHPLACE: City of Evermoor, Isle of Alista ❏ CASTE: Noble ❏ AFFILIATIONS: House Arrianus ❏ GOALS: To claim her birthright as Archon of Alista and get revenge on her half-brother Lyklor _______________________________________________ TALENTS: ◆ Axesmanship ◆ Agile ◆ Sailor EQUIPMENT: ◆ Elvish Axe bearing the sigils of her parents' houses. ◆ Cloak ◆ Necklace that contains a picture of her family | Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Standing at 6'1 and having a muscular build. Having white hair common to a dark elf. Despite her current appearance as a common woman and wearing clothes belonging to a commoner. Along with a common cloak, only how she carries herself, dignified and proud, shows her true upbringing. And her elvish axe that is finely decorated and bears the marks of his parents' houses. Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Despite her noble upbringing and she can act like a proud noble. Aelia can at times engage in commoner behavior like drinking people under the table or some friendly sparring. Still, she has her limits as she is not one to attack unprovoked or cause needless conflict. At times helping those that she finds on their travels and does not speak of her past to strangers. Only to those, she trusts, and she cares about family and is protective of those she cares about. Arcana ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Major: The Lovers Aelia, as it is her magic, is useless without her other half. With her not knowing what she and her partner are really capable of when in sync with each other. This has not stopped Aelia from experimenting with what she can do without her partner. Which she is only capable of making small lights that she uses mainly to guide her path at night or in dark places. Minor: N/A | --- Combat: •••••• Culture: •••• Commerce: •••• Magic: ••• Survival: •• Karma: ••••• ---</s> <|message|>Umara Imaradi Umara --- "Farfa plans to drown us," Umara bitterly said, standing unsmiling in the rain. The half-hearted shrug she shot the silver haired patrician as he stood in his increasingly wet fine clothes implied no apology for her interruption. "Why else would he leave us waiting in this weather?" Fresh anger shook the weariness from Umara's tired limbs as she glared at the damp eyed demon. Frustration drove the faint traces of sleep from her eyes. The journey had been long. The dangers had been many. She could summon no more patience. Sparks of anger flickered to life in her heart. The danger was obvious. The threats freely spoken. Imprisonment. Enslavement. And death, always death. As she stood facing the gates that lead into the City of Demons, Umara thought that a small bag of coin seemed a poor bargain for her services. The carriage had brought only more strangers, strangers stranger still with each passing moment. Umara's right hand moved reflexively to the pendent that she wore. Her fingers traced the patterns etched into the soft gold. She suspected that they would find that the line between life and death among the demons to be too quick and sharp for their liking. She shook her head to drive out the angry thoughts, glancing warily at the oracle. His appearance, although darkly outlandish, barely concerned her. She did not begrudge others their eccentricities, least of all when it came to their manner of dress. There was madness in his words, but it did not bother her. Madness held little mysterious to the young pyromancer. Derangement was not uncommon in a blight and dying land. He had woven no spells. He had spoken no curses. And he had carved no runes into the earth with his staff. The stranger did not scare her. Adorned in bone and hiding beneath a stolen shell, he simply struck her as a sad. She did not relish the smell of his rags, but she did not fear his person. Still, he disturbed her. She did not know the veracity of his claim, but the presence of an oracle demanded greater caution. Prescience was a dangerous science. Prophecy was not without risk. She had no desire to be trapped by a soothsayer's visions. She had burned through the threads that had bound her. She had forged her own fate. And she would not be ensnared again. The diminutive knight had cast new clouds of worry over her thoughts. His introduction threatened to shatter the last mote of restraint that she commanded. In names there was power and the two strangers had offered their names freely to the demon and the monstrous guards. Trust given so freely did not bode well for their shared venture. They would say too much. They would act too rashly. She felt an unwelcome pang of regret deep within her stomach. Unfortunately, it was well past the time for leaving.</s> <|message|>Galahad Quaid Galahad Quaid --- "Just as well, some of us could do with a shower." Galahad chuckled with little mirth as he stood next to the young, blue haired alchemist, "That carriage was not big enough for the lot of us." Galahad stood by the majority of their small congregation of outcasts and oddities. Strange that he might've considered himself one, but these were strange circumstances regardless. The rain beaded on the exposed metal plates of his armor not covered by the luxurious blue cloak and dripped off the locks that framed his face. Draped casually over a shoulder and held in place with a lazy gauntlet was a large polearm, fully covered, sheathed in a wrapping of linens and leather to protect it from the elements. Galahad was used to rainy seasons, back home the rain never seemed to stop- gray and overcast were the norm. The southlands had been much warmer and sunnier in general, but rains like this reminded him of home. Their little gathering was a motley one to be sure, all sorts of freaks and oddities abound. Galahad rarely had the pleasure- or ill luck of working in groups, but on the few occasions he had, they were much like this. Especially in the south, mercenaries, adventurers, wanderers and merchants alike were a strange bunch. While most cities were a generally homogenous of their race and background, on the road the people were as varied as their stories, though most were only fit to addle your brain with their constant droning. People always thought they were more interesting than they actually were- there were exceptions of course, himself being one of them. He hadn't yet deigned to find out the stories of the others with him, but he was sure at least one of them wouldn't bore him out of his mind. Already they had hit a snag. The goblin named Rooster seemed to have an issue with them passing through the gates and into the city itself. Perhaps there was a door tax? Either way, it was surprising that their guide- and 'employers'- were unable to open such doors for them, literally in this case. Some of the others were already on edge. Unfortunately, things could never go as simply as one hoped it seemed. "Are they not expecting us, Farfa?" Galahad called out, his tone amused, but his face blank and bored. A free hand lightly brushed a wet lock of hair out of his face. He took a few steps forward to the relative front of the group, though not as close up as their diminutive fae knight had gone. His gaze rested lazily on the two armored guards in front of them. "If I had known there were going to be complications, I would have asked the carriage to stay a moment longer."</s> <|message|>Ansel, the Wraith Ansel, the Wraith --- Nestled among the diverse band of strangers in the carriage sat one rather unassuming wood elf. His fine blonde hair, his deep blue eyes, his knife-like ears were all normal, standard features one would imagine when they would think of an elf. A "default" elf that wouldn't so much as receive a second glance under normal conditions. It would be difficult to perceive, and perhaps even more difficult to articulate why, but there was something distinctly unusual with this elf. Though he looked around often he rarely blinked. Though he acknowledged things spoken he rarely spoke himself. His breathing was irregular, his hair and clothes ever so slightly disheveled (an uncharacteristic behavior for a wood elf). There were bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days yet he had no struggle keeping his eyes open. Many subtle oddities that most wouldn't event detect but in truth hide a secret. Though this elf was a real, living person he was the ideal disguise for a soul without a body. The vessel by which Ansel had infiltrated the group, the dead hiding amongst the living. Coming to Goeta without such a mask would yield no favorable results. At least not when it came to his mission, as the temptation to reveal himself was an ever-present and amusing urge in the back of his mind. By the Gods, these meatbags don't look very promising at all, Ansel had thought to himself as the carriage came to a halt outside the City of Demons. Maybe they will make excellent distractions one day, should the need arise. As the crew departed from their ride and the guide began their spiel the blonde elf remained silent, eyes forward and attention completely on Farfa. He continued to watch the drama unfold without any commentary of his own, though internally he was already growing annoyed with the delays. When the ogres refused entry to the small crowd a frown finally escaped the elf's lips. This is asinine. I'm ditching this knife-ear the moment we finally meet this asshole, he thought. As the rest of the party began to fidget or introduce themselves, perhaps in a bid to gain access to the city from the ogres guarding the gate, Ansel came up with a way to make this waste of time a little more fun. For himself, that is. Stood next to him was a young human girl, so young perhaps she was not finished growing. She spoke no words but was visibly upset, eyes casting about and body ever-so-slightly fidgeting. Nervous? Perhaps, but even if she wasn't it did not matter. It was her silence that made her an amusing victim. The blonde elf made a shocked expression, perfectly feigning offense at something surely appalling. "Heavens, child," he finally spoke up, his voice lowered as if to speak privately to Umara yet deliberately loud enough that even the ogres at the gate could hear. "You mustn't call them such vulgar names, lest they might hear you." The seeds of chaos had been already been sown when the goblin confronted the guide, but even if they hadn't Ansel would feel no remorse for his practical joke. Even if nothing came of it and it went ignored, or worse still if it went unheard by the ogres, the discontent that he had created between this human girl and this elf he was controlling would surely provide him a punchline in the near future. The poor elf was going to have a lot of explaining to do once Ansel was through, and that thought alone made it all worthwhile. In the meantime he maintained his act perfectly, putting a finger up to his lips as if to hush Umara and prevent her from defending herself or calling out his lie. He didn't even look around to gauge the reactions of the others, further solidifying his act by not revealing that it was the reactions he was seeking. If I have to sit here and waste a few more minutes then I might as well milk it for what I can.</s> <|message|>Deidamia Deidamia Deidamia blinked as the cart came to a halt. She was about to ask why they had stopped when she noticed the ogres standing guard, which raised even more questions for her. Why were the ogres not letting them in? Was it because Rooster didn't trust them now- Oh. That was probably it, wasn't it? Deidamia sighed daintily as the rain started to hit her skin and the other passengers started talking, the woman tugging her cloak close to her body as she did. Hopefully, the ogres would let them in soon, and hopefully, she wouldn't have to do anything rash.</s>

<|message|>Aelia Arrianus Waiting in the rain and in a city of demons. Aelia was not thinking she would end up in a such situation, and yet here she is. Waiting in the rain for the ogre doormen to let them in, though, luckily, she is wearing a cloak, so at least she will not be soaked. Can't say the same to the others, she thought. As she looked at the diverse group she is now with. Hopefully, having a human with them will not be a problem based on what Rooster mentioned, but the only one that stood out to her was the moon elf, Arcturus. Aelia has never seen a moon elf like him before, and he certainly knows how to take care of himself with that physique. Aelia looked away back to the doormen so as not to stare. Not the time and especially now, and better wait and see how long until they get let in. Just hoping it does not take too long, but either way, Aelia chooses to remain silent. Enough of the party has spoken about it, and she does not think adding her will change anything. But is still cautious just in case this suddenly turns south, she is in a city of demons after all.</s>

<|description|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Race: Human Relevant Abilities: "I'm a line cook, so yeah, I'm good at taking orders. Goes without saying that I can cook and clean up afterwards too. By the way, 'Cookie' is just the name the line guys gave me, baking cookies isn't really my thing, just so you know. Combat abilities? Wait a minute... This isn't exactly just chef training, is it? I'm in over my head now, aren't I? Dammit. But I get to be a full-blown chef in the end, right? Okay, fine. Does chasing out thugs with a knife or a meat hammer count?" Tell us about yourself: "I'm already here, so might as well. Grandma always told me to go for it, so that's why she was fine with me leaving our tavern out in the sticks to work here in the city. So when I overheard a pair of patrons loudly praising me ('the fine young women of your kitchen' in their words) to our head chef for dishes I didn't even prepare all by myself, I should've been suspicious right then and there. But as soon as they mentioned they were Fiore retainers looking for candidates for their 'girls-only apprenticeship program,' my boss, ever-hungry for prestige, didn't hesitate to put me on indefinite leave and sent me over here. Yeah, just me. I'm the only girl on our line, you see." Work history: "Mom and Dad are always away doing who knows what for the Empire and they rarely visit if at all, so it fell on my dear old grandmother to raise me. She brought me up on stories of knights-errant going around the Empire putting things right. Don't know why it had to be those kinds of stories and not much else, but when I told her that I wanted to be a knight of the realm too, her eyes grew wide like you wouldn't believe and she told me not to talk about things like that ever again. Naturally, neither did she. She told me I should make a really good name for myself in modern, non-confrontational ways instead, like being a highly-rated chef and eventually running my own place, maybe even work for some royals if I get really, really good at it. As soon as I got old enough, she started training me and putting me to work in our little tavern. Before long, my shepherd's pie was the talk of the town, and my old boss happened to be in town visiting some relatives. Most people would disapprove and call what he did 'poaching,' but Grandma didn't mind at all, saw it as a 'graduation' even. She was really beside herself with pride the day I left our quiet little burg to join the kitchen staff of no less than Chez Bois-Joli." Tools you are skilled with: "Oh, nothing fancy, just regular kitchen utensils. I help clean up too." Occult Knowledge: "Let's see... I heard that my great-uncle Stanislaus was a witch hunter, fancy hat and all. Or should that be 'is'? Nobody's heard from him in quite a long time, you see. Other than that, nada. When it comes to things known to tempt demons, my people think it's better to be safe than sorry."</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine had been sitting in one of the rooms, carefully looking over all of the dolls that she had brought with her. "One through 4 check. Five through seven in good shape. Number eight... How did you stain your apron like that?" The Firbolg woman clicked her tongue, slightly irritated. "I swear, the next time show me before we get on the ship to come out gods know where. Welp, no harm to it. Hard to even see." The woman patted at the doll's apron to see if it was something that'd just come off but to no avail. "Hmm. Well, we're looking fine now. Now, go lets go ahead and get you all your weapons. We need to be ready for the battle ahead." Katherine stood and clapped her hands, and the dolls marched to the back of the room grabbing their weapons. Four of them grabbed some nicely crafted halberds, just about the right size for the three foot tall dolls. The other four grabbed four rifles and beltpouches to facilitate using rifles. "Hmm, hmm. Looking in good shape except a stained apron." And it was, perhaps by fortune, just then that a certain heavily accented Krysa came over the intercom. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" "Hmmm, hmm. Yes, yes. I figured it was about time, didn't I?" Katherine pondered as she gave a sigh. "Two Halberdiers in front, Rifledolls in the middle and 2 Halberdiers as rear guard." And with that, Katherine lead the small troop. It didn't take too long before the sounds of small, in-step marching dolls making their way to the top of the deck. As Katherine reached the deck, the dolls assumed a single file line and set themselves to the side of the airship deck. "Greetings, one and all. Apologies if I've not shown my face topside much, I wanted to make sure my team was in top shape." The Firbolg said as her tail swished back and forth a bit, obviously a small bit excited to get to fight. She waved at her dolls as thin magical looking threads of magic lightly flashed. "They are, of course. And I'll have them patrol around a small bit." With that, the dolls broke formation and started to patrol the deck, looking over the side and making sure nothing was sneaking up on then. "After all, it shall not be long 'til we start our own end of fighting." The Puppeteer Maid checked her own personal weaponry. While her rapier itself wasn't good at fighting bigger monster, she should be fine on that end with the dolls she had backing her up. Her rapier was at it's position on the left side and her pistol on her right. "So, how is our exquisite combat instructor? Doing well, I assume?" The cat smugly smiled at the woman. "As well to you, Bernadetta? And, ummm, Leoniya?" The woman asked. As she introduced herself, one of the dolls patrolling behind the combat instructor gave a soft slap to the butt. The cat had a death wish.</s> <|message|>Senya Fivulwyn It was an opportunity. They always said no. They never let her. Even Big Sister said no. Sure, that one time, that guy had to be hospitalized. Sure, that other time, that lady spent the rest of the day crying and asking why the gods allowed something like this to happen. But that didn't mean she wouldn't get it right this time. And even if she didn't... Well, sometimes it was funny to watch people react to her cooking. When they didn't cry or get sick, the shock and desperate questions about what they just tasted were hilarious. But that was beside the point. Senya was sure, this time, she'd make something everyone would love. As long as she had free, unrestricted access to the kitchen. One of the other maids, a human, had been making something that smelled delicious in there. So she had to time it right. She had to make sure she got a moment to slip in after everyone was done. Then she could work her magic. Then she'd make something unlike anything anyone on the ship had ever experienced. At least, that would be one way to describe it, for good or ill(most likely ill). Lingering near the entrance to the kitchen, Senya idly swept with her broom back and forth. She'd just watch and wait for the human maid to leave, until she had her moment. The tiny dark elf was watching the kitchen intensely, idly shuffling back and forth in the hall and sweeping up random spots that looked like she could plausibly claim they needed cleaning, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice on the intercom. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" "..." Her plans, in that instant, were dashed. On the other hand... --- It was not much later when Senya appeared on the deck. She had traded her broom for an entirely different piece of equipment, currently concealed in a leather case that much resembled a piece of luggage, held in both of her small hands as she walked across the deck to join the others. "Here." It was all the expressionless dark elf said as she came to a halt.</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Did she really mean to do that though? Eleanor caught herself as she was about to comment on the cheeky gesture made by Katherine's doll and decided instead to contemplate the midday sky through the airship's windows. Finding oneself about to be deployed on such short notice without any basic training whatsoever was already plenty of trouble as it is, and Eleanor feared they were all going to get it now - not just the Firbolg. If there's anything the erstwhile line cook knew from experience, it's that speaking out of turn in times like these would only make things much worse.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clematis --- "Santo Cielo!" Lucrecia was scrambling to ensure she had everything in order for the coming mission. She nearly threw a profanity filled fit when she thought the local delivery service wouldn't have her new blades here on time. She was able to help out Mariarca with some last minute paperwork before they had to head out; she wanted to help out her fellow new recruit in the kitchen, what was her name, Polina? Ultimately, she felt that it would be a better use of her time to prep for battle. While Lucrecia was certainly no stranger to combat, she must admit this would be the first time fighting demons. One could even say she was nervous; since they were supernatural entities she at first wasn't sure if her armaments would be sufficient. According to the combat instructor, though, she said she managed just fine so long as she didn't 'fuck it up'. Just to be on the safe side she had Bernadetta look over her weapons and make some adjustments where necessary. Still, she can't let the butterflies in her stomach get the better of her, this was her chance to finally shine. After that excretable baron slandered her name, she thought that her career was over. Fear of going hungry on the street, taking on odd jobs just to make ends meet, it all seemed like a far off dream now. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" She recognized that thick, unpleasant accent anywhere. No more time for treading through old memories, duty calls! Taking note that the chambers on her machete handles were fully loaded, she crossed the blades together a bit, making a satisfying clanking sound until she sheathed them. She lifted her skirt to confirm she had a decent stock of ammunition and knives strapped to her thighs. Molto bene! Confident she was fully prepared for today's tasks, she promptly made her way down to the deck to meet with her veterans and fellow recruits. – – Arriving for the mission briefing, she was met by Polina who was handing out some freshly made macarons to all present. How sweet, pun intended. At first she wasn't sure about eating pastries before a dangerous mission, but since every mission could be one's last she decided to take up her offer. She also felt that it'd be rude to deny someone's cooking, especially when they went through so much trouble to make it. "Grazie, Polina. It smells delicious." She said with a warm smile. She then turned to everyone else on the deck. "Buongiorno a tutti. Recruit Lucrecia Cruz, present and accounted for." She said as she made an elegant curtsy; the tone of her greeting was both professional and polite. Her poise was broken somewhat after one of Katherine's dolls slapped the vet's backside firmly. She blinked twice and looked at Kath with a 'what the hell face'. She felt one of their members would bite the dust before the mission even started. She chose to say nothing, thinking it may just make things worse…</s>

<|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Silently meeting Lucrecia's gaze, Eleanor gave her a knowing nod. By the looks of it, the maid seemed quite accustomed to doing the bidding of overbearing, often unreasonable, authority figures and therefore understood that the only way forward was to keep a stiff upper lip and just take it during certain moments. By the looks of it, this was going to be one such moment. Eleanor remained apprehensive, but at least she no longer felt completely alone.</s>

<|description|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Race: Human Relevant Abilities: "I'm a line cook, so yeah, I'm good at taking orders. Goes without saying that I can cook and clean up afterwards too. By the way, 'Cookie' is just the name the line guys gave me, baking cookies isn't really my thing, just so you know. Combat abilities? Wait a minute... This isn't exactly just chef training, is it? I'm in over my head now, aren't I? Dammit. But I get to be a full-blown chef in the end, right? Okay, fine. Does chasing out thugs with a knife or a meat hammer count?" Tell us about yourself: "I'm already here, so might as well. Grandma always told me to go for it, so that's why she was fine with me leaving our tavern out in the sticks to work here in the city. So when I overheard a pair of patrons loudly praising me ('the fine young women of your kitchen' in their words) to our head chef for dishes I didn't even prepare all by myself, I should've been suspicious right then and there. But as soon as they mentioned they were Fiore retainers looking for candidates for their 'girls-only apprenticeship program,' my boss, ever-hungry for prestige, didn't hesitate to put me on indefinite leave and sent me over here. Yeah, just me. I'm the only girl on our line, you see." Work history: "Mom and Dad are always away doing who knows what for the Empire and they rarely visit if at all, so it fell on my dear old grandmother to raise me. She brought me up on stories of knights-errant going around the Empire putting things right. Don't know why it had to be those kinds of stories and not much else, but when I told her that I wanted to be a knight of the realm too, her eyes grew wide like you wouldn't believe and she told me not to talk about things like that ever again. Naturally, neither did she. She told me I should make a really good name for myself in modern, non-confrontational ways instead, like being a highly-rated chef and eventually running my own place, maybe even work for some royals if I get really, really good at it. As soon as I got old enough, she started training me and putting me to work in our little tavern. Before long, my shepherd's pie was the talk of the town, and my old boss happened to be in town visiting some relatives. Most people would disapprove and call what he did 'poaching,' but Grandma didn't mind at all, saw it as a 'graduation' even. She was really beside herself with pride the day I left our quiet little burg to join the kitchen staff of no less than Chez Bois-Joli." Tools you are skilled with: "Oh, nothing fancy, just regular kitchen utensils. I help clean up too." Occult Knowledge: "Let's see... I heard that my great-uncle Stanislaus was a witch hunter, fancy hat and all. Or should that be 'is'? Nobody's heard from him in quite a long time, you see. Other than that, nada. When it comes to things known to tempt demons, my people think it's better to be safe than sorry."</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Silently meeting Lucrecia's gaze, Eleanor gave her a knowing nod. By the looks of it, the maid seemed quite accustomed to doing the bidding of overbearing, often unreasonable, authority figures and therefore understood that the only way forward was to keep a stiff upper lip and just take it during certain moments. By the looks of it, this was going to be one such moment. Eleanor remained apprehensive, but at least she no longer felt completely alone.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: The Clematis 12.000 hours @AzureKnight@VitaVitaAR@Pyromania99@Click This@Sniblet --- As the announcement blared, the sounds of boots hitting the floor echoed through the ship. The maids aboard immediately stopped any task they were doing, no matter how involved as they'd march quickly, single file in the ships hallways up from the lower decks, until their boots fell upon the open air of the top deck. Some shot Katherine some rather annoyed glances as her and her dolls took up quite a bit of room in the narrow hallways, but ultimately they'd simply decide to find another path or follow quietly behind as she'd meander to the deck herself. Polina would find others eagerly accepting the Macarons, some quickly wolfing them down while others stashed them in their various dress pockets for later. Astreya would in fact, find most of the engineers likely not minding too much as long as she didn't break anything. Bernadette, after all, was the one who modified the engine it and she learned under the best Krysan scholars in the region if one believed her. She had the credentials to back it up. It was in fact, bernadette herself that would take issue with the rat tinkering with her work, but she wasn't here to do that. The fresh, cool air of the skies would greet each of the maids as they'd find themselves on deck, greeted with the sight of the tall, pink haired woman that served as their rather demonic combat training commander, silhouetted by the sun as she'd gaze out over the fields below them. In the distance, the maids could see smoke billowing from the ground. A sword, ornate and colored similarly to her own dress hung from her side. A black blade with a red edge, and a pistol with black and gold ornamentation from the holster on her side. "Privet, morning!" Leoniya greeted the junior maids in her usual jovial attitude while Bernadette simply yawned at Kats introduction, mumbling out a halfhearted morning before shuffling off to check on things in the ship. "Line up, vnimaniye! Not a single recruit out of line! And keep those dolls in line too recruit-" She was cut off by the sight of one of Katherine's dolls, waltzing up behind Myrilla and smacking her right on the butt. Leoniya seemed to stifle a laugh, glancing to the side. Myrilla, initially didn't seem to react, only the sound of her heels clacking against the floor as she turned to face the gathered recruits. Leoniya did not comment as she'd salute, handing Myrilla a paper that was quickly balled up into trash, shoved into her uniform pockets, and ignored. "Good, everyone is here." The woman in question turned, narrowing her gaze at the gathered maids. "Welcome to Cogfell. A lovely little backwater city, I'm sure you've heard of it. Total population about…hmm, several thousand or so? I don't care." The instructor pulled her pipe out of her coat, a lighter in the other as she'd proceed to walk down the line of assembled maids, of which, just so happened to start with Eleanor. "At roughly zero eighthundred hours this morning, a strike team of six maids had been sent to raid what was believed to be a small group of scholars harboring demonic secrets and trying to bring things from Naraheim here." She'd inhale on the pipe, standing right in front of Elanor as she'd breathe out the thick, acrid smoke into the girls face with a scowl. "As you can see, they failed harder than you did to get properly uniformed." Myrillas hand reached out, adjusting some of the aspiring chefs' dress in a mildly rough manner, not bothering to mention what was out of place if anything even was - but this was Myrilla. She wasn't known for being reasonable, or friendly. She'd soon move on, taking another long drag on the pipe as she'd walk down the line, passing Astreya with a hostile glare, followed shortly by Senya who'd receive not even an acknowledgement as Myrilla would stand in front of Polina. "We don't know what went wrong, but we had been coordinating with the local police. They sent us a panic alarm around zero eight thirty five. Forty minutes after the raid began they already started evac protocols and started quarantining the town. As you can tell from the fact the zone is now a smoldering crater, we can safely say the six operatives failed at their job. It should, have been easy." Myrilla took one of the Macarons Polina had prepared, whether the maid had any objections at all the instructor didn't listen or try and stop as she'd bite into the treat, immediately make a disgusted face, drop the confection onto the deck and resume her walk down the line, crushing it under her heel. "Easy to make as a good Macaron, which one of you can't even do it seems." Myrilla walked past Lucrecia, more smoke from the pipe briefly clouding the air as the instructor would now, find herself standing in front of Katherine and her dolls. "Our job is simple. Go in, kill the demons, look for those failures and drag them back if they're still alive, or bury them if they're mercifully dead. Any questions?" That as a distinct lack of any solid information on Myrilla's part, as she stood in front of Kat, seemingly waiting for her to say something. Likely intentional to see if the maids wanted to make their job easier or harder by asking anything that might be relevant, or if they just wanted to get straight to it. It was likely as routine a job as any. Go in, kill demons, look for the missing operatives, and figure out what exactly was going on and how such a simple seeming task went to literal hell so quickly.</s> <|message|>Astreya Astreya has been paying... maybe less attention than would be wise in her position. She's already seen what the deck looks like, but she's also already seen what Myrilla looks like, and assessed her at a glance as "some kind of authority person," so her behavior now is explainable and thus not interesting. She's been more focused on her peers. Though even that needs a qualifier - she's trying to "focus" on all of them at once. Blue-haired cat, looks to be enjoying herself already. Oh- Dark-haired girl (blue or black?) giving the cat a weird look, she was speaking foreign earlier too. Ah- White-haired young lady with a plate of... those are called macarons, right? Uh- Uh, an elf. Interesting. Anyway- What a bright shade of pink! Astreya is something of a sight with her attention darting around like this, her tail swinging left and right in an overstimulated wag. She barely catches the passing glare from Myrilla. She answers it with a grin, entirely out of the loop on why she might deserve that kind of venom. "We don't know what went wrong-" Oh, something went wrong? Anyway, that's got to be a dark elf, right?... "-dead. Any questions?" A few seconds pass without Myrilla saying anything. Astreya blinks, lets her attention shift to where it was supposed to be a minute ago. Well, she's never had a good enough reason not to ask a question when invited. "Who's dead?" she asks.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Once on deck, Polina began to hand out her little ration packets, ahead of the arrival of the officers. This she carried out mostly silently, almost as if she were handing out actual field rations. Depending on how things turned later on, they might actually act as emergency field rations for some. Regardless, it gave her a good excuse to look nearly each maid and fellow 'recruit' in the eye and get their measure. It seemed, at the very least, her cohort was a very eclectic bunch. One, clearly, was a simple chef pressganged for something far over her head; another, a rare dark-elf, and one that seemed to genocide the culinary arts at that; lastly, there was also a cat with a small marching army of dolls. There were a few more that stood out too, though it became very clear that the Firbolg had some sort of the death wish by the way she controlled her dolls. Not that it was a criticism in any way. It was amusing if anything, and Myrilla was the sort of toxic authority figure that commanded more ridicule than respect. That, like many other things, was an opinion that she would keep to herself. Polina did however, decide to go out of her way to stoop down and present the cheeky doll with its own bag of confections, still maintaining her characteristically serious face as she did so. She'd finished handing out most of the sweets when she got into line with most of the other recruits. It was a bit of a jarring change, transferring from a position of relative authority to a junior role once more, but for a temporary assignment, it was not so bad for the sake of the mission and for the pursuit of more experience. From the position of a somewhat older, more experience maid –even if she was in her early twenties, she been a maid for almost a decade now—the mind games that Myrilla played were obvious and far more tolerable knowing what was up. So when the taskmistress of a maid disparaged her cooking and ground her pastry into the wooden decking of the airship, she offered her a raised eyebrow. Polina knew her cooking was good. Especially her baking skills. It was Myrilla's own loss if she tossed out her own macarons. She did, however, use some slight-of-hand to slip the woman a new bag of macarons into one of her dress pockets as she turned away to dress down another hapless maid down the line, which in this case, seemed to be Kat. Well, that would be interesting.</s>

<|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter "No questions, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am!" Eleanor replied, relieved. So relieved that she realized only shortly after the fact that her words came out sounding more enthusiastic than she meant them to be, a little too obsequious even. Never mind. She was only grateful that Katherine's transgression didn't get them all screamed at, or worse. Eleanor accepted Polina's packet with a soft "thanks" and quickly slipped the treats into her pinafore. Foremost on her mind was finding better weapons to arm herself with than just her feather duster; sampling the macarons will have to wait.</s>

<|description|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Race: Human Relevant Abilities: "I'm a line cook, so yeah, I'm good at taking orders. Goes without saying that I can cook and clean up afterwards too. By the way, 'Cookie' is just the name the line guys gave me, baking cookies isn't really my thing, just so you know. Combat abilities? Wait a minute... This isn't exactly just chef training, is it? I'm in over my head now, aren't I? Dammit. But I get to be a full-blown chef in the end, right? Okay, fine. Does chasing out thugs with a knife or a meat hammer count?" Tell us about yourself: "I'm already here, so might as well. Grandma always told me to go for it, so that's why she was fine with me leaving our tavern out in the sticks to work here in the city. So when I overheard a pair of patrons loudly praising me ('the fine young women of your kitchen' in their words) to our head chef for dishes I didn't even prepare all by myself, I should've been suspicious right then and there. But as soon as they mentioned they were Fiore retainers looking for candidates for their 'girls-only apprenticeship program,' my boss, ever-hungry for prestige, didn't hesitate to put me on indefinite leave and sent me over here. Yeah, just me. I'm the only girl on our line, you see." Work history: "Mom and Dad are always away doing who knows what for the Empire and they rarely visit if at all, so it fell on my dear old grandmother to raise me. She brought me up on stories of knights-errant going around the Empire putting things right. Don't know why it had to be those kinds of stories and not much else, but when I told her that I wanted to be a knight of the realm too, her eyes grew wide like you wouldn't believe and she told me not to talk about things like that ever again. Naturally, neither did she. She told me I should make a really good name for myself in modern, non-confrontational ways instead, like being a highly-rated chef and eventually running my own place, maybe even work for some royals if I get really, really good at it. As soon as I got old enough, she started training me and putting me to work in our little tavern. Before long, my shepherd's pie was the talk of the town, and my old boss happened to be in town visiting some relatives. Most people would disapprove and call what he did 'poaching,' but Grandma didn't mind at all, saw it as a 'graduation' even. She was really beside herself with pride the day I left our quiet little burg to join the kitchen staff of no less than Chez Bois-Joli." Tools you are skilled with: "Oh, nothing fancy, just regular kitchen utensils. I help clean up too." Occult Knowledge: "Let's see... I heard that my great-uncle Stanislaus was a witch hunter, fancy hat and all. Or should that be 'is'? Nobody's heard from him in quite a long time, you see. Other than that, nada. When it comes to things known to tempt demons, my people think it's better to be safe than sorry."</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- They had their marching orders, even if the briefing they received was a little less than satisfactory. If anything, it was very unorthodox, and even Polina gave a bit of a start when the catgirl maid was unceremoniously heaved over the side of the airship. All things considered, it was a very audacious move, coming on the heels of disparaging the demons for lacking 'decency or human morals,' but who was Polina to judge? No, screw that, she was going to judge. Not that it was the right time to. She already considered it a win that Myrilla hadn't noticed her new gift, yet. She simply gave a nod at the woman after receiving her parachute and additional supplies before launching herself over the side alongside the rest of her squad. In the air, feeling the wind buffet against her and her billowing maid uniform, she let herself freefall until she was halfway to the ground. Deploying her parachute ahead of many of the others, she trailed almost leisurely behind in the air, giving her time to unsling her battle rifle from her shoulder, affix its scope, and to make sure her weapon was loaded, finishing her little checklist with satisfying rack of the bolt once she was sure that its ten-round magazine was in place. That done, she took in the situation before her from her slowly descending vantage point. The northern quarters of the city had been just about destroyed, as described. Yet Polina knew enough about human resilience and determination that there were likely still survivors in that zone, and the faster they intervened, the more could be helped. She began to look through her scope down towards the north, and then towards the defensive line to evaluate its strength, but then the reverberating sound of demonic roaring took her attention to the east. Just as she neared rooftop level, she spotted it—a strange, large lumbering black mass. Hesitating for a few moments, she squared the butt of her rifle on her shoulder, and three carefully aimed shots rang out in sequence, aimed center-mass at the creature in the distance. With luck, it would do some damage, or at least she could gauge its reaction. Either way, she would likely get its attention. A moment later, she sank below the rooftops and into the landing zone. Quickly cutting herself free of her chute with one of her many bladed weapons, she took stock of the situation around her, spotting the rest of her team nearby. Without any obvious assigned leader, she decided to take charge, having the larger share of experience among a decent number of them… and also the fact that they needed to know about the colossal amount of trouble she had intentionally dumped atop them. "It may not be too late to save some civilians. The problem is big, black, lumbering, and coming to us, I made sure of that. Girls, let's get into defensive positions. That thing is probably the biggest threat all around, and I want to see what it can do before we commit to assaulting it."</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours This@AzureKnight@Pyromania99@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- Whatever Myrilla thought of Lucrecia's words, she gave no indication as she'd stand at the side of the ship, watching each of maids dive overboard with their given mission. It was no doubt in part to see their judgment and function in the field, after all…even if the had all the information in the world, demons were rarely so easily dealt with. As they fell, the could see demons. Some small, some larger, running through the streets. The smell of fire, sulfur and fell heat quickly met the maids as they'd fall, and Polina, saw fit to launch a pre-emptive strike on the demons that she saw, noticeably…the largest one she could currently see. Three shots from her rifle above the howls of demonic beasts and occasionally scream from an unlucky human. Each shot would hit its mark, hitting the creatures centermass even if it was hard to tell what exactly it was this far away, or how much damage it did, but the moment the bullets pierced the creatures flesh, itd stop whatever it was doing, screeching loudly and beating the ground with large hands as it'd furiously turn in the direction of the shots fired. It would not take long for the creature that Polina had antagonized to show itself. The unintelligible screeching and roaring was already heading in their direction. They could feel the ground rumble slightly, loud, fast footsteps as whatever it was charged right for them. A loud, demonic growl as it'd round the corner of a nearby building, slamming into it with its body and knocking what little remained of the building into rubble. It was…some sort of large, black, hollow creature. The size of a tank, and built like a gorilla with shorter legs and large, massive hands used for walking as it slid to a halt, nearly crashing into the fountain as it'd turn its headless, hollow body towards Polina. Instead of a head or any seeming vital organs, it was replaced with a hollow that was as big as the width of its shoulders that was full of roiling, hot magma. Its flesh was black and tarry, smelling of burned flesh. She could see the charred, quickly melting, remains of recently deceased in the beasts 'stomach', if the hollow space could be called that. There was no doubt about it, this was a Greater beast. The shots Polina fired seemed to have done nothing but agitate it for the moment as it immediately charged towards the maid, seemingly aware that she was the one that had attacked it. Katherine and the others could hear other demons howling. A group of demonic hounds bolted into the square, having heard the commotion, numbering about six. Odd, discordant laughter could be heard not far away, too and was slowly getting closer. Seemed this little stunt had alerted a decent number of demons to their location. Perhaps they should finish this quickly. --- "Bozhe…I still can't believe you did that." Leoniya sighed. "And was it wise not to tell them more? They are just recruits, we should be helping-" "I'm not coddling them, rat." Myrilla tersely replied. "Better now they get acquainted with how brutal the denizens of Naraheim can be, especially those of the first circle." She'd chuckle, watching as one of the maids decided to paint a giant target on their collective backs from her perch above. "If they can clean up and find out what happened here, then that means their training and skills are at least passable. If not…then I'm feeding every single one of them to my pet." "Prostite?" "...Oh, nothing. I just have a lovely pet dog back home. He's quite the vicious and voracious little thing." Myrilla turned, dress fluttering in the wind as she'd bring the cigarette pipe back to her mouth. "That said, if things truly turn dire…you have my permission to use that toy of yours." "Pravda?! Oh great serpent I haven't been able to use him in ages!" Leoniya smiled brightly. "I shall go make sure he's ready to drop!"</s>

<|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Eleanor wasn't as scared of heights as she was of things that ought to be familiar to her suddently turning unfamiliar, otherwise she would've been shaking like a leaf as soon as she stepped into the airship. No – it was the moment she was issued her rifle and instructions that she felt her legs start to buckle and wobble. Not that she was unfamiliar with guns altogether, as her grandmother kept a pair of lighter women's rifles for them to use whenever the local lord deigned to invite the two tavern keepers, also famous in their area for the way they prepared fresh game, on one of his hunts; it was when she saw the loading mechanism that the rifle wasn't the single-shot type that she was more accustomed to. At least the newfangled contraption was handed to her pre-loaded but still, what in Hell's Kitchen was she to do once she ran out of bullets, not to mention when those... things would start to come at her? It looked so easy when she watched her squadmates work their weapons, but could she also pull it off as deftly as they did, and in a pinch no less? Could she keep the thing from jamming, or heaven forbid, blowing up in her hands? So long as this one thing kept worrying her, not even ten bandoliers of ammunition around her waist could make her feel better (an obviously stupid idea in any case), especially knowing that they won't be facing the likes of criminals or terrorists, but outright abominations and creatures straight out of nightmares. Jumping from as high as they did was no less scary, but at least it took her mind off her rifle for a while. The thought that the dress with the shorter skirt she picked for herself wouldn't gather as much air as the others' would as they dropped cheered her up, but only a little, and not for very long. Unlike the rifle, the parachute was much simpler to work: just yank the ripcord like so when you feel it's the right time to do so, and – voila! – arrive at your destination looking like an intact human being and not like a pizza that's botched, bloodied and flattened beyond all recognition. That easy! There was still the issue of extricating herself from the limp, clumsy thing once she landed, but thankfully Polina and the others were standing not very far from where she wound up. Free from her parachute, Eleanor unshouldered her rifle, inspected it one more time to the best of her ability, and quickly made her way to her squad. "Polina! Everyone! I'm coming with you!" she cried as she hurriedly let loose one shot, and then another, at the hideous things as soon as they reared their ugly heads. She wasn't really counting on her bullets hitting anything that mattered, but at least maybe she could distract the monsters for a little longer while the rest of the squad did their thing.</s>

<|description|>Astreya Error: a suitable ratgirl image was not found! A blue-eyed Krysa, a little short for her species and sex – still noticeably taller than most humans. Her tousled, curly light-brown hair falls a little further than her shoulders, locks resting on her upper arms. Her left ear is damaged – possibly burned – at the tip. She is smiling brightly and giving the camera a salute. These three lines are written in Krysa glyphs. The transliterations are not difficult. Gender: ♀ Race: Krysa The rest of the application is written in human language, but abominable handwriting. The translations are grueling. Relevant Abilities: I don't do any housework, but I'm definitely stronger than most of you. I'm also an inventor and an engineer and a chemist and sort of a smith and I've dabbled in galvanism. Tell us about yourself: My sister tells me I should just say (A Krysa glyph representing manic energy) for this. I think she's joking. But I do things fast and I don't like to sit still. I'm hard to put down. Work history: I'm Krysa. We do a lot of science here. My science tends to explode, sometimes on purpose. Don't worry, though – the explosions are mostly controlled. I'm mostly careful. And anyway, explosions mean progress! They're basically how steam engines work, you know. Tools you are skilled with: You know how if you focus light it can burn things? I've been playing with that lately. I don't think my prototypes are strong enough, though, so I'll bring a big hammer and a high-powered shotgun. Do you know what a shotgun is? I can show you if there's something you don't mind me destroying. Occult Knowledge: I don't think magic likes me, personally, but I know some designs and materials that it likes. I use it with some of my inventions for energy amping and such. I bet I can guess how your catalysts work.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogfell City 10.000 hours --- Sirens blared, filling every home, business, and street with its cacophonous blares. This, was not something most people were familiar with, but was something the citizens all had been warned of during the war five years ago. A loud, resolute sound that the city was under attack. Several years ago, though, they had been on the lookout for Kyrsa warships, sailing high above the the city. Now though? No, the enemy was already here. Demons. "Damn it!" She hefted her rifle, three quick shots rang out, each expertly finding their mark. She ran, huffing, nearly out of breath as her legs carried her towards the sound of fighting. She had to meet up with the others. It was just their luck the moment they had found the culprits they were looking for, would be right when they had finished their little ritual! If that wasn't all, it was much, much worse then what they had been told. Thankfully the local police had been informed of their operation, and had already been given evac orders and to help evacuate the citizenry. She briefly glanced at the corpse of a kid, no older than fifteen. "A-ah field captain!" She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the familiar uniform of violet garden. "Oh goody, am I ever glad to see you, eheh! Jeez, you'd never believe how hard it was to find you after we all got scattered!" "Where are the others?" She asked the girl in front of her. "Oh, you don't have to worry about them. We managed to regroup not far from here. I was asked to bring you back." She blinked. Relief turned to tension again. Grip tightened on her gun. "...I'm sorry, but I don't quite think I remember your name." Location: The Clematis 12.000 hours @Waylon@Pyromania99@VitaVitaAR@Click This@AzureKnight --- The dull hum of an engine in the background. Laughter as the residents in the ship enjoyed some leisurely time before they arrived at their destination. It was the sort of leisure someone on a ship, marching into a warzone, would be enjoying. Despite the joviality, tension and anticipation was palpable. Some of the maids contented themselves with training, keeping their minds sharp on the top decks training area. Some were cleaning, cooking, or otherwise just relaxing as the ship flew to its destination while the ships usual crew kept the ship on course. It was late morning now, almost the middle of the day. They had been alerted to an incident involving a large scale demon summoning in a small city only a few hours ago. It was impressive they were able to scramble everyone together so fast. Heh, still could use some improvement, though. "Smell that, Bernadette?" "...drinking on the job is frowned upon." "Ahahaha! No, not that little tinker!" The Krysa laughed jovially. "The smell of it! The ash, the smoke…ah, I can smell it from here. That town's been turned into a warzone." "...you can smell that from here?" "You been in the frontlines long enough you get a nose for this thing." Leoniya replied with a chuckle. She'd fold her arms across her chest, gazing at the ground far below them. She could already see it in the distance. Pillars of smoke, rising from the ground. Buildings, fractured and destroyed from here. One could hear the gunshots already, too, if they listened. "Sounds like someone's eager to wet their blade." Behind the two, a rather imposing woman approached, grabbing the Krysa by the shoulder and placing a hand on Bernadette's hand. "Or blowing them to smithereens in your case." She'd release them and walk over to the ships railing. "She's right though, brat. Whatever's going on down there its…heh, particularly vicious." "Are we starting?" Bernadette frowned. "That we are! Leoniya, be a dear and go tell everyone to gather. Bernie, you go and…do whatever it is you do." Seconds later, the Krysa's voice would blare over the ships intercom, her thick accent easily catching everyones attention. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!"</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Eleanor sighed deeply as she regarded her reflection yet again. Thankfully the berthing which she and the other girls shared had a few full-length mirrors instead of just one, for she painfully took her time to make sure not a single part of her uniform was out of place. This was to be her first day on the job – actually, the second first day on the job in her life so far as a freshly-minted burgher. Of all the getups Eleanor vividly envisioned herself wearing ever since she developed a sense of fashion, a maid outfit was not one of them. She wasn't one of those maid café waitresses, nor did she want to be one even though they looked quite pretty and elegant as they went about their business in the themed establishments that peppered their dining and entertainment district. She was a line cook, an aspiring chef even, and thus she was of the conviction that she excelled in the kitchen preparing plats du jour and all manner of confections no matter how complicated or exotic – yes, even her dreaded namesake the cookie, if she absolutely had to – and not in the dining hall serving said dishes and confections with the cutesy flourishes that commanded hefty tips and continued patronage. And if not the iconic white double-breasted jacket of a chef, she would rather look smart and respectable in a dress uniform like the kind she saw on officers who dined in her tavern back in the country as well as some of the Chez Bois-Joli regulars garrisoned in the city. And now here she was, about to do some actual soldiering. Dressed like the help of some upper-crust manor, no less. What would Grandma say? What her dear grandmother might comment on her sartorial, not to mention occupational, predicament was neither here nor there. Rather, the more pressing concern was whether she looked impeccable enough to pass the inevitable inspection that was to come in a few moments' time. Shortly after her acceptance as a Violet Garden recruit, Eleanor was led to a massive closet decked with a diversity of styles and colors, from the frumpily traditional to the titillatingly risqué. The one thing they all had in common was that an attractive young woman dressed in any combination of those articles of clothing (it goes without saying that they have to go well with one another) can be said to at least look like a genuine maid, if she wasn't actually working as one herself. One piece of fashion advice that stayed with Eleanor even though she couldn't for the life of her remember where she read it was to "start with the shoes and work your way up." And so she did, starting with a sturdy pair of black Mary Jane flats – to her the closest thing to the boyish but comfy and practical derbies that she wore as a cook – which she later polished to a mirror shine, and in lieu of socks and trousers were black nylon leggings that fit snugly around her feet and legs. She then picked out a simple black dress with a rounded flat collar, short, slightly puffy sleeves, and a skirt ending just above her knees. Instead of the aprons that she was used to, she decided that for a change she would wear a crisp white pinafore that had very short frills for sleeves and at the sides had pockets and two strips of cloth that she would tie into a bow at her back. Shoes and clothes weren't the only things in the closet, however. On the far end was a rack that carried an assortment of ebony-handled feather dusters, as well as a practice dummy. An arrangement she felt to be strange at first, until she picked up a duster and found that the handle was made of hardwood. Out of curiosity, Eleanor gave the dummy a couple of resounding whacks. The dusters double as batons! Not that she knew how to use such a weapon, perhaps the simplest she and the others were expected to wield, but she surmised that they were to have them on their persons at all times as a sidearm of sorts. That same feather duster now rested nearby on her bed in the berthing as she studied her reflection one last time to adjust the frilly white headdress on her bunned hair and then her white cook's neckerchief, which she wore in place of a tie and onto which she fastened a brooch bearing the Violet Garden crest. "Time to get to work," Eleanor said silently as she clasped the duster to her waist and joined the others making their way to the deck.</s>

<|message|>Astreya Astreya has been in the engine room. Mainly because it was hard to keep her out - she really wasn't allowed in here. She's been spending her time crouched over for a close hands-off inspection of the machinery, interrupted by occasional barks from the ship staff whenever they suspect she's acting too "Krysa-y." Really, one of the staff came over and told her off for acting too Krysa-y. She must've got embarrassed about that term, because she only used it once, and just called Astreya's curiosity about the engine suspicious from then on. Her ears perk up at the sound of her own language from the intercom. She'd kind of been expecting to be alone here. "Great," says miss Krysa-y. "Rat! You've gotta go!" "Yeah, I know," says Astreya. "One more minute." The staff exchange looks. Better not warn her about being late. Best-case, maybe she gets thrown overboard and they never have to deal with her again. Well, this is the story she'll tell if asked. Really the staff were quite nice, but that's boring. Astreya spends a little bit longer bent at the knees and staring silently at a compressor, cupping her chin between her fingers. She's pretty sure she recognizes this design, and it's a design that sucks. Is this an oversight? A cost-saving measure? Do humans really not have anything better? She wishes she could peel this open and be sure that it's as bad as it looks, but she can hardly do that while it's running. From an outside perspective, to those not engaged in her technical review of the airship, the sight of this giant ratwoman in a fluffy maid dress staring at their engine like a crossword puzzle might be comical. It's less comical when she rises and straightens to her full height again. Depending on the viewer's recent experiences, it might be genuinely frightening, despite the dress, to meet a (mostly) fully-grown Krysa female's eyes from on high. She doesn't mean for it to be. "All right," she says. "What was it - top deck?" She is shown the door. It shouldn't take long to find her way.</s>

<|description|>Astreya Error: a suitable ratgirl image was not found! A blue-eyed Krysa, a little short for her species and sex – still noticeably taller than most humans. Her tousled, curly light-brown hair falls a little further than her shoulders, locks resting on her upper arms. Her left ear is damaged – possibly burned – at the tip. She is smiling brightly and giving the camera a salute. These three lines are written in Krysa glyphs. The transliterations are not difficult. Gender: ♀ Race: Krysa The rest of the application is written in human language, but abominable handwriting. The translations are grueling. Relevant Abilities: I don't do any housework, but I'm definitely stronger than most of you. I'm also an inventor and an engineer and a chemist and sort of a smith and I've dabbled in galvanism. Tell us about yourself: My sister tells me I should just say (A Krysa glyph representing manic energy) for this. I think she's joking. But I do things fast and I don't like to sit still. I'm hard to put down. Work history: I'm Krysa. We do a lot of science here. My science tends to explode, sometimes on purpose. Don't worry, though – the explosions are mostly controlled. I'm mostly careful. And anyway, explosions mean progress! They're basically how steam engines work, you know. Tools you are skilled with: You know how if you focus light it can burn things? I've been playing with that lately. I don't think my prototypes are strong enough, though, so I'll bring a big hammer and a high-powered shotgun. Do you know what a shotgun is? I can show you if there's something you don't mind me destroying. Occult Knowledge: I don't think magic likes me, personally, but I know some designs and materials that it likes. I use it with some of my inventions for energy amping and such. I bet I can guess how your catalysts work.</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Did she really mean to do that though? Eleanor caught herself as she was about to comment on the cheeky gesture made by Katherine's doll and decided instead to contemplate the midday sky through the airship's windows. Finding oneself about to be deployed on such short notice without any basic training whatsoever was already plenty of trouble as it is, and Eleanor feared they were all going to get it now - not just the Firbolg. If there's anything the erstwhile line cook knew from experience, it's that speaking out of turn in times like these would only make things much worse.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clematis --- "Santo Cielo!" Lucrecia was scrambling to ensure she had everything in order for the coming mission. She nearly threw a profanity filled fit when she thought the local delivery service wouldn't have her new blades here on time. She was able to help out Mariarca with some last minute paperwork before they had to head out; she wanted to help out her fellow new recruit in the kitchen, what was her name, Polina? Ultimately, she felt that it would be a better use of her time to prep for battle. While Lucrecia was certainly no stranger to combat, she must admit this would be the first time fighting demons. One could even say she was nervous; since they were supernatural entities she at first wasn't sure if her armaments would be sufficient. According to the combat instructor, though, she said she managed just fine so long as she didn't 'fuck it up'. Just to be on the safe side she had Bernadetta look over her weapons and make some adjustments where necessary. Still, she can't let the butterflies in her stomach get the better of her, this was her chance to finally shine. After that excretable baron slandered her name, she thought that her career was over. Fear of going hungry on the street, taking on odd jobs just to make ends meet, it all seemed like a far off dream now. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" She recognized that thick, unpleasant accent anywhere. No more time for treading through old memories, duty calls! Taking note that the chambers on her machete handles were fully loaded, she crossed the blades together a bit, making a satisfying clanking sound until she sheathed them. She lifted her skirt to confirm she had a decent stock of ammunition and knives strapped to her thighs. Molto bene! Confident she was fully prepared for today's tasks, she promptly made her way down to the deck to meet with her veterans and fellow recruits. – – Arriving for the mission briefing, she was met by Polina who was handing out some freshly made macarons to all present. How sweet, pun intended. At first she wasn't sure about eating pastries before a dangerous mission, but since every mission could be one's last she decided to take up her offer. She also felt that it'd be rude to deny someone's cooking, especially when they went through so much trouble to make it. "Grazie, Polina. It smells delicious." She said with a warm smile. She then turned to everyone else on the deck. "Buongiorno a tutti. Recruit Lucrecia Cruz, present and accounted for." She said as she made an elegant curtsy; the tone of her greeting was both professional and polite. Her poise was broken somewhat after one of Katherine's dolls slapped the vet's backside firmly. She blinked twice and looked at Kath with a 'what the hell face'. She felt one of their members would bite the dust before the mission even started. She chose to say nothing, thinking it may just make things worse…</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Silently meeting Lucrecia's gaze, Eleanor gave her a knowing nod. By the looks of it, the maid seemed quite accustomed to doing the bidding of overbearing, often unreasonable, authority figures and therefore understood that the only way forward was to keep a stiff upper lip and just take it during certain moments. By the looks of it, this was going to be one such moment. Eleanor remained apprehensive, but at least she no longer felt completely alone.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: The Clematis 12.000 hours @AzureKnight@VitaVitaAR@Pyromania99@Click This@Sniblet --- As the announcement blared, the sounds of boots hitting the floor echoed through the ship. The maids aboard immediately stopped any task they were doing, no matter how involved as they'd march quickly, single file in the ships hallways up from the lower decks, until their boots fell upon the open air of the top deck. Some shot Katherine some rather annoyed glances as her and her dolls took up quite a bit of room in the narrow hallways, but ultimately they'd simply decide to find another path or follow quietly behind as she'd meander to the deck herself. Polina would find others eagerly accepting the Macarons, some quickly wolfing them down while others stashed them in their various dress pockets for later. Astreya would in fact, find most of the engineers likely not minding too much as long as she didn't break anything. Bernadette, after all, was the one who modified the engine it and she learned under the best Krysan scholars in the region if one believed her. She had the credentials to back it up. It was in fact, bernadette herself that would take issue with the rat tinkering with her work, but she wasn't here to do that. The fresh, cool air of the skies would greet each of the maids as they'd find themselves on deck, greeted with the sight of the tall, pink haired woman that served as their rather demonic combat training commander, silhouetted by the sun as she'd gaze out over the fields below them. In the distance, the maids could see smoke billowing from the ground. A sword, ornate and colored similarly to her own dress hung from her side. A black blade with a red edge, and a pistol with black and gold ornamentation from the holster on her side. "Privet, morning!" Leoniya greeted the junior maids in her usual jovial attitude while Bernadette simply yawned at Kats introduction, mumbling out a halfhearted morning before shuffling off to check on things in the ship. "Line up, vnimaniye! Not a single recruit out of line! And keep those dolls in line too recruit-" She was cut off by the sight of one of Katherine's dolls, waltzing up behind Myrilla and smacking her right on the butt. Leoniya seemed to stifle a laugh, glancing to the side. Myrilla, initially didn't seem to react, only the sound of her heels clacking against the floor as she turned to face the gathered recruits. Leoniya did not comment as she'd salute, handing Myrilla a paper that was quickly balled up into trash, shoved into her uniform pockets, and ignored. "Good, everyone is here." The woman in question turned, narrowing her gaze at the gathered maids. "Welcome to Cogfell. A lovely little backwater city, I'm sure you've heard of it. Total population about…hmm, several thousand or so? I don't care." The instructor pulled her pipe out of her coat, a lighter in the other as she'd proceed to walk down the line of assembled maids, of which, just so happened to start with Eleanor. "At roughly zero eighthundred hours this morning, a strike team of six maids had been sent to raid what was believed to be a small group of scholars harboring demonic secrets and trying to bring things from Naraheim here." She'd inhale on the pipe, standing right in front of Elanor as she'd breathe out the thick, acrid smoke into the girls face with a scowl. "As you can see, they failed harder than you did to get properly uniformed." Myrillas hand reached out, adjusting some of the aspiring chefs' dress in a mildly rough manner, not bothering to mention what was out of place if anything even was - but this was Myrilla. She wasn't known for being reasonable, or friendly. She'd soon move on, taking another long drag on the pipe as she'd walk down the line, passing Astreya with a hostile glare, followed shortly by Senya who'd receive not even an acknowledgement as Myrilla would stand in front of Polina. "We don't know what went wrong, but we had been coordinating with the local police. They sent us a panic alarm around zero eight thirty five. Forty minutes after the raid began they already started evac protocols and started quarantining the town. As you can tell from the fact the zone is now a smoldering crater, we can safely say the six operatives failed at their job. It should, have been easy." Myrilla took one of the Macarons Polina had prepared, whether the maid had any objections at all the instructor didn't listen or try and stop as she'd bite into the treat, immediately make a disgusted face, drop the confection onto the deck and resume her walk down the line, crushing it under her heel. "Easy to make as a good Macaron, which one of you can't even do it seems." Myrilla walked past Lucrecia, more smoke from the pipe briefly clouding the air as the instructor would now, find herself standing in front of Katherine and her dolls. "Our job is simple. Go in, kill the demons, look for those failures and drag them back if they're still alive, or bury them if they're mercifully dead. Any questions?" That as a distinct lack of any solid information on Myrilla's part, as she stood in front of Kat, seemingly waiting for her to say something. Likely intentional to see if the maids wanted to make their job easier or harder by asking anything that might be relevant, or if they just wanted to get straight to it. It was likely as routine a job as any. Go in, kill demons, look for the missing operatives, and figure out what exactly was going on and how such a simple seeming task went to literal hell so quickly.</s>

<|message|>Astreya Astreya has been paying... maybe less attention than would be wise in her position. She's already seen what the deck looks like, but she's also already seen what Myrilla looks like, and assessed her at a glance as "some kind of authority person," so her behavior now is explainable and thus not interesting. She's been more focused on her peers. Though even that needs a qualifier - she's trying to "focus" on all of them at once. Blue-haired cat, looks to be enjoying herself already. Oh- Dark-haired girl (blue or black?) giving the cat a weird look, she was speaking foreign earlier too. Ah- White-haired young lady with a plate of... those are called macarons, right? Uh- Uh, an elf. Interesting. Anyway- What a bright shade of pink! Astreya is something of a sight with her attention darting around like this, her tail swinging left and right in an overstimulated wag. She barely catches the passing glare from Myrilla. She answers it with a grin, entirely out of the loop on why she might deserve that kind of venom. "We don't know what went wrong-" Oh, something went wrong? Anyway, that's got to be a dark elf, right?... "-dead. Any questions?" A few seconds pass without Myrilla saying anything. Astreya blinks, lets her attention shift to where it was supposed to be a minute ago. Well, she's never had a good enough reason not to ask a question when invited. "Who's dead?" she asks.</s>

<|description|>Astreya Error: a suitable ratgirl image was not found! A blue-eyed Krysa, a little short for her species and sex – still noticeably taller than most humans. Her tousled, curly light-brown hair falls a little further than her shoulders, locks resting on her upper arms. Her left ear is damaged – possibly burned – at the tip. She is smiling brightly and giving the camera a salute. These three lines are written in Krysa glyphs. The transliterations are not difficult. Gender: ♀ Race: Krysa The rest of the application is written in human language, but abominable handwriting. The translations are grueling. Relevant Abilities: I don't do any housework, but I'm definitely stronger than most of you. I'm also an inventor and an engineer and a chemist and sort of a smith and I've dabbled in galvanism. Tell us about yourself: My sister tells me I should just say (A Krysa glyph representing manic energy) for this. I think she's joking. But I do things fast and I don't like to sit still. I'm hard to put down. Work history: I'm Krysa. We do a lot of science here. My science tends to explode, sometimes on purpose. Don't worry, though – the explosions are mostly controlled. I'm mostly careful. And anyway, explosions mean progress! They're basically how steam engines work, you know. Tools you are skilled with: You know how if you focus light it can burn things? I've been playing with that lately. I don't think my prototypes are strong enough, though, so I'll bring a big hammer and a high-powered shotgun. Do you know what a shotgun is? I can show you if there's something you don't mind me destroying. Occult Knowledge: I don't think magic likes me, personally, but I know some designs and materials that it likes. I use it with some of my inventions for energy amping and such. I bet I can guess how your catalysts work.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clematis --- Surprised that Kat hadn't been thrown out of the airlock or filled full of lead, Lucrecia pondered for a moment at the information there were given. Or rather, she wondered why it was all so vague, couldn't even be bothered to call this a briefing. "Ah. Un momento, Signora. I'd personally like to know a bit more about the situation. Do we know anything about the enemy? How many there are, what works best againast these ones, can we still expect aid from the local Polizia? I think that's at least worth considering." The freelancer was a stickler for the finer details and always made sure to be well prepared for everything and anything. Of course, it's not as if she couldn't improvise. She just didn't feel it was ideal, more often than not. "Considering our compatriots likely have been met with an unfortunate fate, perhaps a little preparedness would benefit our fight against these spiritos malignos</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine's doll that Polina handily handed a pouch of fresh baked goods gratefully accepted the gift and returned a salute towards the woman. Katherine herself seemed quite intent with not stepping down as the harsh drill instructor of a maid stood and stared her down, obviously in part to the earlier slight. "Now, now, Miss Chef. It's never good to leave without asking questions of your superiors. You can't be the only one constantly on your toes after all." The doll commanding maid held her right hand on her hip whilst her left hung at her side whilst still staring back into Myrilla's eyes. "And Miss... Lu? Lulu? Yes, Lulu. I agree with your spirit in the line of questioning, but I think it's safe to hazard a guess at what our opposition is. Blood demons, the only creatures in the family uncouth enough to destroy so much." The Doll-Maker smirked a small bit. "But yes, you are right on those other questions Lulu, though I would add one of my own. Where were our coworkers last located? Or where they were suppose to be. I feel right as rain going to find them but I rather have a location to look out for as we volley fire down the streets." Katherine then put her hands down to her sides, but slightly away with her digits outstretched as to show off the eight magical catalysts that bejeweled each finger but her thumbs. An eerie light began to glow from the ring as the glow traveled from her rings to each of the dolls through the magic thread that connected them. The dolls then seemed to poof into nothing as the glow returned to the rings. "After those are answered, I don't think I have many questions."</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: The Clematis 12.000 hours @AzureKnight@Waylon@Click This@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- "You, unless you pay more attention, little rat." Myrilla scoffed towards Astreya's question, not even bothering to glance in her direction as she'd instead take a long inhalation on her pipe, regarding Katherine with a scowl. "The cat's probably correct." Myrilla responded to Lucrecia, a thick waft of smoke meeking Katherine's face as she exhaled. The woman stuck her still burning pipe in her headdress as she'd slowly walk around the line of maids. "Scale demons usually would hardly care to destroy. Eye demons are far too slothful. A tear demon would only do so if it caused whoever they're haunting distress. Tongue demons corruption would be far more ethereal in nature…which leaves our likely culprit as Blood Demons." As the instructor moved down the line from behind, she'd stop momentarily behind Senya, adjusting her headdress slightly and tightening the uniform just a bit. "As you should have learned, Blood demons are particularly violent and vicious. A slave to their fell emotions and impulses. They lust for carnage, obscenity and all the vile pleasures a human would reject." Myrilla continued moving down the line once more as she spoke, the sound of her heels on the deck the only sound aside from the dull hum of the engines. "Their magics are the same, and they are tied to Tear demons for raw physical strength. You get into a fight of raw strength with one above Greater Beast, you're gonna end up worse than dead. They don't care for decency or human morals." Kathereine would feel Myrilla's hands on her waist as she'd stop behind them. "Ah, and one more thing. The local police have quarantined the town and have made it very clear - no one in or out the usual routes for fear of a demon in disguise slipping through." Katherine would find herself being lifted, off the ground and hoisted up in a princess carry in Myrilla's arms. "So you will be air dropping on sight. Like so-" Myrilla spun on her heels, doing two full rotations with Katherine in her arms, before quite literally tossing the maid right over the railing, sending her sailing to the ground below. "Ser'yezno!? She has no parachute!" Leoniya ran over to the railing. "I hear cats land on their feet." Myrilla shrugged, nonchalantly. "Consider this a lesson in both teamwork, recruits, and not to smack a married womans ass or she might toss you overboard." Leoniya worked quickly, gathering parachutes and a pack of supplies for the recruits. Ammo, a copy of the usual 'Maids Guide to Demon Hunting' for reference, a MAT-4 pistol, flares, and a spare uniform. "Oh, and one more thing," Myrilla pulled the pipe from her headband. "...my daughter was part of that group of six. I expect word of how she is soon as you find her. Now get going! Don't sit there and gawk at my ass like that one or you all better grow wings!" That was odd. You should all knew she was married from how she would gush about her husband when drunk, but she had never mentioned a kid before. Well, regardless, it was show time it seemed like. The maids had been given their instruction, and that seemed all the information Myrilla was likely willing to divulge. Perhaps she didn't know much more herself, but there was certainly a lot of unknowns left in there. Whenever the maids collected themselves, they'd find themselves jumping overboard, parachute secured tightly along with supplies as they'd get their first glimpse of what remained of Cogsfell below… Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours --- Myrilla hadn't been wrong. The north section of the town looked exactly as described. A smoldering, blasted crater littered with buildings that were still actively burning as thick smoke billowed up from it. Many buildings looked like they had gotten blasted by an explosion. Along the ground fissures and volcanic fire erupted from below, a clear sign of a portal to the first circle fo Naraheim likely having been opened here. The police seemed to have formed a defensive line around its perimeter as best they could, using the untouched southern section of the city as a safehaven and refuge. They could hear an occasional scream, too. Not to mention a number of demons running around as they got closer to the ground. Nothing too concerning from the looks of things. Some low level Demon beasts and Greater Beasts, thankfully no high demons from the looks of things, but who knew what would be found once they hit the ground? Soon enough, unless one would have somehow gotten wildly off course, the maids would find themselves all touching down near and around what was once a fountain in what was some sort of square. It was now split in half, a deep fissure having opened beneath the ground. Ruined and burning buildings surrounded them in most directions. To the north they could hear the occasional sound of gunfire, and a bit to the east they could hear what could only be described as indescribable demonic roaring. The smell of sulfur, fire, and thick smoke permeated the air. Myrilla didn't give them any direction, only intending to find out what happened. Well, they were here now…time to figure out what happened.</s> <|message|>Senya Fivulwyn Senya quietly glanced back over her shoulder when her uniform was tightened, her headband adjusted slightly. She didn't utter a single word, simply holding her case in both hands as she expressionlessly glanced back at the strict drill sergeant. She didn't have much to say, but she thought she'd put her headband on straight... had she not? She listened quietly to the summary of the expected threats. She'd kill them. She'd kill all the demons. That was that, really. She'd shoot them and they'd blow up. She'd cut them up and they'd bleed. None of them were that one, so there was no need to do anything else. When Katherine was shoved out, there were two immediate thoughts in the tiny dark elf's mind. One being that she would most assuredly be fine, so there was no reason to be worried. The other was that it was hilarious. Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Heh." Her amusement at the other maid's terrifying predicament, however, was swiftly cut short when Myrilia announced that her daughter was among the maids that had been deployed. When she heard that, the smile swiftly faded from Senya's lips, and the small maid merely gave a firm nod and waited to be equipped with the parachute. If that was the case, then she'd made sure to bring her back. And kill every single demon in her way, too. Wordlessly, expression still neutral, she stepped to the edge. And then into the air. --- One wind-whipped parachuting trip later, and Senya had landed in the designated square, near the fountain that had marked their landing site. It took some time for her to disentangle herself from the parachute, briefly appearing like some sort of comical sheet-covered phantom as she floundered with it until she freed herself, removing the straps entirely and briefly checking to make sure she still had her pack. Cogsfell was in flames... smoke and destruction were everywhere. And she could hear all sorts of terrible noises, too. It brought forth unpleasant memories, though the sensation didn't show on the small girl's face. Instead, she quietly opened her case. From it emerged an artifice of steel and steam, a smooth, gleaming shape that ended in multiple barrels. From beneath it, a long, sharp, swordlike blade extended, turning once and snapping into place beneath each of the barrels. Senya adjusted her grip on the weapon slightly. It was almost comical, the sight of the handheld gatling gun being held by such a small girl. It was even bigger then she was. "... I'm ready to kill."</s>

<|message|>Astreya Seemingly unhurried but without hesitation, Astreya skips over to the railing to peer over while Myrilla is still talking. They're allowed to murder here? Or is that just a command privilege? Whatever becomes of the Kat, she's still watching over the railing when Leoniya has to tap her for attention to hand off the supplies. Ammo, in Astreya's case, is a belt of 12-gauge shells. Not a bandolier, a belt, in the sense of something belt-fed. She grins as she takes it. "I'm gonna make a biiig mess," she whispers, in Krysa. After a short diversion to actually get her gun - she hadn't really thought it was droptime when she was called up - Astreya runs up to the deck again and leaps overboard without pause, something very large and tubey and brassy cradled in her arms. Pulling her cord without dropping the thing is a bit of a messy affair, but those quick panicky moments of turning a corner and almost bumping into death aren't out of place for her brand. Astreya lands lightly, and settles heavily. She looks around, the grin still on her face - indeed, healthier than before - and something questionable in her eyes as she goes about slotting belt into feed by muscle memory. Her ears lightly swivel to track the various catastrophic noises abound. "North to be too late to save people, east to meet a problem…" Her attention lingering to the east, she hefts the weapon. It clinks and hisses, pressure shifting in unseen chambers as the first round is pulled into firing position. In her application, Astreya used the word "shotgun," but apart from the ammunition it's really a tough thing to stick that word to - asymmetrical and apparently so far from ergonomic one must think the designer was avoiding it, with all visible signs pointing to it using a bizarre and surely unnecessary synthesis - or at least amalgamation - of steam and gunpowder propulsion together. Supposing this doesn't just explode on firing, one must dread to imagine the kick… Astreya's shoulders are shaking, not with strain from the weight, but with laughter. She is imagining the kick.</s>

<|description|>Astreya Error: a suitable ratgirl image was not found! A blue-eyed Krysa, a little short for her species and sex – still noticeably taller than most humans. Her tousled, curly light-brown hair falls a little further than her shoulders, locks resting on her upper arms. Her left ear is damaged – possibly burned – at the tip. She is smiling brightly and giving the camera a salute. These three lines are written in Krysa glyphs. The transliterations are not difficult. Gender: ♀ Race: Krysa The rest of the application is written in human language, but abominable handwriting. The translations are grueling. Relevant Abilities: I don't do any housework, but I'm definitely stronger than most of you. I'm also an inventor and an engineer and a chemist and sort of a smith and I've dabbled in galvanism. Tell us about yourself: My sister tells me I should just say (A Krysa glyph representing manic energy) for this. I think she's joking. But I do things fast and I don't like to sit still. I'm hard to put down. Work history: I'm Krysa. We do a lot of science here. My science tends to explode, sometimes on purpose. Don't worry, though – the explosions are mostly controlled. I'm mostly careful. And anyway, explosions mean progress! They're basically how steam engines work, you know. Tools you are skilled with: You know how if you focus light it can burn things? I've been playing with that lately. I don't think my prototypes are strong enough, though, so I'll bring a big hammer and a high-powered shotgun. Do you know what a shotgun is? I can show you if there's something you don't mind me destroying. Occult Knowledge: I don't think magic likes me, personally, but I know some designs and materials that it likes. I use it with some of my inventions for energy amping and such. I bet I can guess how your catalysts work.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- They had their marching orders, even if the briefing they received was a little less than satisfactory. If anything, it was very unorthodox, and even Polina gave a bit of a start when the catgirl maid was unceremoniously heaved over the side of the airship. All things considered, it was a very audacious move, coming on the heels of disparaging the demons for lacking 'decency or human morals,' but who was Polina to judge? No, screw that, she was going to judge. Not that it was the right time to. She already considered it a win that Myrilla hadn't noticed her new gift, yet. She simply gave a nod at the woman after receiving her parachute and additional supplies before launching herself over the side alongside the rest of her squad. In the air, feeling the wind buffet against her and her billowing maid uniform, she let herself freefall until she was halfway to the ground. Deploying her parachute ahead of many of the others, she trailed almost leisurely behind in the air, giving her time to unsling her battle rifle from her shoulder, affix its scope, and to make sure her weapon was loaded, finishing her little checklist with satisfying rack of the bolt once she was sure that its ten-round magazine was in place. That done, she took in the situation before her from her slowly descending vantage point. The northern quarters of the city had been just about destroyed, as described. Yet Polina knew enough about human resilience and determination that there were likely still survivors in that zone, and the faster they intervened, the more could be helped. She began to look through her scope down towards the north, and then towards the defensive line to evaluate its strength, but then the reverberating sound of demonic roaring took her attention to the east. Just as she neared rooftop level, she spotted it—a strange, large lumbering black mass. Hesitating for a few moments, she squared the butt of her rifle on her shoulder, and three carefully aimed shots rang out in sequence, aimed center-mass at the creature in the distance. With luck, it would do some damage, or at least she could gauge its reaction. Either way, she would likely get its attention. A moment later, she sank below the rooftops and into the landing zone. Quickly cutting herself free of her chute with one of her many bladed weapons, she took stock of the situation around her, spotting the rest of her team nearby. Without any obvious assigned leader, she decided to take charge, having the larger share of experience among a decent number of them… and also the fact that they needed to know about the colossal amount of trouble she had intentionally dumped atop them. "It may not be too late to save some civilians. The problem is big, black, lumbering, and coming to us, I made sure of that. Girls, let's get into defensive positions. That thing is probably the biggest threat all around, and I want to see what it can do before we commit to assaulting it."</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours This@AzureKnight@Pyromania99@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- Whatever Myrilla thought of Lucrecia's words, she gave no indication as she'd stand at the side of the ship, watching each of maids dive overboard with their given mission. It was no doubt in part to see their judgment and function in the field, after all…even if the had all the information in the world, demons were rarely so easily dealt with. As they fell, the could see demons. Some small, some larger, running through the streets. The smell of fire, sulfur and fell heat quickly met the maids as they'd fall, and Polina, saw fit to launch a pre-emptive strike on the demons that she saw, noticeably…the largest one she could currently see. Three shots from her rifle above the howls of demonic beasts and occasionally scream from an unlucky human. Each shot would hit its mark, hitting the creatures centermass even if it was hard to tell what exactly it was this far away, or how much damage it did, but the moment the bullets pierced the creatures flesh, itd stop whatever it was doing, screeching loudly and beating the ground with large hands as it'd furiously turn in the direction of the shots fired. It would not take long for the creature that Polina had antagonized to show itself. The unintelligible screeching and roaring was already heading in their direction. They could feel the ground rumble slightly, loud, fast footsteps as whatever it was charged right for them. A loud, demonic growl as it'd round the corner of a nearby building, slamming into it with its body and knocking what little remained of the building into rubble. It was…some sort of large, black, hollow creature. The size of a tank, and built like a gorilla with shorter legs and large, massive hands used for walking as it slid to a halt, nearly crashing into the fountain as it'd turn its headless, hollow body towards Polina. Instead of a head or any seeming vital organs, it was replaced with a hollow that was as big as the width of its shoulders that was full of roiling, hot magma. Its flesh was black and tarry, smelling of burned flesh. She could see the charred, quickly melting, remains of recently deceased in the beasts 'stomach', if the hollow space could be called that. There was no doubt about it, this was a Greater beast. The shots Polina fired seemed to have done nothing but agitate it for the moment as it immediately charged towards the maid, seemingly aware that she was the one that had attacked it. Katherine and the others could hear other demons howling. A group of demonic hounds bolted into the square, having heard the commotion, numbering about six. Odd, discordant laughter could be heard not far away, too and was slowly getting closer. Seemed this little stunt had alerted a decent number of demons to their location. Perhaps they should finish this quickly. --- "Bozhe…I still can't believe you did that." Leoniya sighed. "And was it wise not to tell them more? They are just recruits, we should be helping-" "I'm not coddling them, rat." Myrilla tersely replied. "Better now they get acquainted with how brutal the denizens of Naraheim can be, especially those of the first circle." She'd chuckle, watching as one of the maids decided to paint a giant target on their collective backs from her perch above. "If they can clean up and find out what happened here, then that means their training and skills are at least passable. If not…then I'm feeding every single one of them to my pet." "Prostite?" "...Oh, nothing. I just have a lovely pet dog back home. He's quite the vicious and voracious little thing." Myrilla turned, dress fluttering in the wind as she'd bring the cigarette pipe back to her mouth. "That said, if things truly turn dire…you have my permission to use that toy of yours." "Pravda?! Oh great serpent I haven't been able to use him in ages!" Leoniya smiled brightly. "I shall go make sure he's ready to drop!"</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Eleanor wasn't as scared of heights as she was of things that ought to be familiar to her suddently turning unfamiliar, otherwise she would've been shaking like a leaf as soon as she stepped into the airship. No – it was the moment she was issued her rifle and instructions that she felt her legs start to buckle and wobble. Not that she was unfamiliar with guns altogether, as her grandmother kept a pair of lighter women's rifles for them to use whenever the local lord deigned to invite the two tavern keepers, also famous in their area for the way they prepared fresh game, on one of his hunts; it was when she saw the loading mechanism that the rifle wasn't the single-shot type that she was more accustomed to. At least the newfangled contraption was handed to her pre-loaded but still, what in Hell's Kitchen was she to do once she ran out of bullets, not to mention when those... things would start to come at her? It looked so easy when she watched her squadmates work their weapons, but could she also pull it off as deftly as they did, and in a pinch no less? Could she keep the thing from jamming, or heaven forbid, blowing up in her hands? So long as this one thing kept worrying her, not even ten bandoliers of ammunition around her waist could make her feel better (an obviously stupid idea in any case), especially knowing that they won't be facing the likes of criminals or terrorists, but outright abominations and creatures straight out of nightmares. Jumping from as high as they did was no less scary, but at least it took her mind off her rifle for a while. The thought that the dress with the shorter skirt she picked for herself wouldn't gather as much air as the others' would as they dropped cheered her up, but only a little, and not for very long. Unlike the rifle, the parachute was much simpler to work: just yank the ripcord like so when you feel it's the right time to do so, and – voila! – arrive at your destination looking like an intact human being and not like a pizza that's botched, bloodied and flattened beyond all recognition. That easy! There was still the issue of extricating herself from the limp, clumsy thing once she landed, but thankfully Polina and the others were standing not very far from where she wound up. Free from her parachute, Eleanor unshouldered her rifle, inspected it one more time to the best of her ability, and quickly made her way to her squad. "Polina! Everyone! I'm coming with you!" she cried as she hurriedly let loose one shot, and then another, at the hideous things as soon as they reared their ugly heads. She wasn't really counting on her bullets hitting anything that mattered, but at least maybe she could distract the monsters for a little longer while the rest of the squad did their thing.</s>

<|message|>Astreya Target assessment isn't the fun part. Astreya takes a quick scan around at the creatures surrounding them, and doesn't exactly decide to delegate, but quickly picks where she wants to shoot and where she'd rather have someone else take care of it. Somebody else can figure out the tactics. She points her big gun center mass at the big thing. One spray of buckshot lets off, accompanied by a puff of steam from one of the more wildly angled pipes on her weapon, and it visibly staggers her. Keeping an eye on the beast's reaction, she adjusts her posture and fires another, then another, then another, getting faster, steam bursts chugging along at smaller and smaller intervals, empty belt feeding out the side. The sound is... louder than gunshots, for sure, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Of course she doesn't. She's laughing now. Cackling, actually, her tail swishing with wild energy. In a fairer contest, against any other opponents, she could possibly be the most disturbing thing on the block right now.</s>

<|description|>Astreya Error: a suitable ratgirl image was not found! A blue-eyed Krysa, a little short for her species and sex – still noticeably taller than most humans. Her tousled, curly light-brown hair falls a little further than her shoulders, locks resting on her upper arms. Her left ear is damaged – possibly burned – at the tip. She is smiling brightly and giving the camera a salute. These three lines are written in Krysa glyphs. The transliterations are not difficult. Gender: ♀ Race: Krysa The rest of the application is written in human language, but abominable handwriting. The translations are grueling. Relevant Abilities: I don't do any housework, but I'm definitely stronger than most of you. I'm also an inventor and an engineer and a chemist and sort of a smith and I've dabbled in galvanism. Tell us about yourself: My sister tells me I should just say (A Krysa glyph representing manic energy) for this. I think she's joking. But I do things fast and I don't like to sit still. I'm hard to put down. Work history: I'm Krysa. We do a lot of science here. My science tends to explode, sometimes on purpose. Don't worry, though – the explosions are mostly controlled. I'm mostly careful. And anyway, explosions mean progress! They're basically how steam engines work, you know. Tools you are skilled with: You know how if you focus light it can burn things? I've been playing with that lately. I don't think my prototypes are strong enough, though, so I'll bring a big hammer and a high-powered shotgun. Do you know what a shotgun is? I can show you if there's something you don't mind me destroying. Occult Knowledge: I don't think magic likes me, personally, but I know some designs and materials that it likes. I use it with some of my inventions for energy amping and such. I bet I can guess how your catalysts work.</s> <|message|>Senya Fivulwyn Ah, it was already time to kill, too? Good thing she was ready. Senya raised her weapon. There was no need to be precise right now, aside from avoiding her fellow maids. All she needed to do was, broadly, aim at the big ugly beast and the other approaching creatures, and avoid hitting any of the other maids. ... Were there people inside its stomach...? Parts of people... With a click, Senya attached the belt of ammunition to the feed on the back of her enormous gun. Then, she placed both hands back on it again and adjusted her aim. There was a whine as the barrels of her weapon began to spin, which only grew in volume as she trained it on the hulking beast and the creatures surrounding it. Steam began to vent from the sides, a hissing sound joining the rising volume of the whining, whirling barrels. "Die." What followed was a roar as the barrels erupted with flames, enormous bullets hurtling towards her target, ripping the air as they did. No further enhancement was required, as one of the approaching hounds was struck in the head and had its entire skull obliterated, jaw sailing through the air and vanishing some distance away before the rest of its body was riddled with holes and spewing all sorts of foul fluids. Senya dragged her aim across the approaching targets, sweeping over them before coming to rest on the largest beast, to fill it with as many bullets as possible. @AzureKnight@Waylon@Click This@Sniblet@Rune_Alchemist</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- The rounds had their intended effect. Polina had hopes that three well-placed shots from a high-power rifle would be enough to put it down. They didn't seem to do much, at least from what she could tell from this distance, though it certainly did not like it. If a couple of good shots could end the beast, though, the local constabulary would have had long since ended the demon threat. It didn't take long to show itself after she landed and brought her fellow maids up to speed. It was a nasty 'little' bugger of a Greater beast, and it didn't even have the good graces to be cute like some demons tended to be. This one was disgusting, feasted on humans, and needed to be permanently ended if Polina had anything to say about it. The ostensibly serious maid –she was serious now, though!—left the lesser demons to her compatriots, briefly watching as Eleanor, Astreya, and Lucrecia mowed down the hounds with their myriad weapons of choice. Senya, meanwhile, indiscriminately mowed them down, which was about expected for a maid with such a ridiculously outsized murder weapon. By the time she had the gatling weapon focused in on the greater demon, Polina had removed her optic once again, and worked her rifle's bolt seven more times, with a speed nearly matching Senya's autogun. Seven high powered rounds smacked into the beast in rapid succession before the maid reloaded with two stripper clips—but she didn't continue to fire. It had now penetrated past her long-range radius of defense, and was now in her medium range, where she had… local control. A quartet of blades appeared from within the folds of her dress, even as she held onto her rifle. With the quickest flick of a gesture –for flair, of course, even now—the bayonets shot at the demon, aiming to cut deep into it. With enough focused firepower, Polina was sure they could all weaken it enough that it could be sealed or ended permanently.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall "I would have appreciated a warning before you draw a giant beast to us like this." Katherine muttered, annoyed. Rather than that even, she was sad that she didn't have anything fun or explosive to blow this monstrosity up. That small matter aside, there was the problem of the hounds that Lucretia currently engaged. Well, it would be no really issue soon enough regardless. Wordlessly, Katherine's dolls took up firing posture. Halberdiers in front with weapons in hand, ready to strike down any foe that dared get close while the Rifledolls kneeled to steady their rifles and took aim between the other dolls towards whatever was left of the demonic hounds which wasn't much. Katherine pulled out her own pistol and took aim. All at once, the five shot their respective guns. The dolls their rifles and Katherine her pistol. Altogether, they peppered one of the hounds full of holes in the first volley. Shots penetrating it's skull and body and putting it down. The others seemed to have taken care of the other ones. Lucretia taking the fairest share followed by Senya liberally blasting one's jaw from it's body and Eleanor firing in what could be described as a random pattern seeming to not hit much. Still, between her shots and Senya's spray fire, the last one was simple to put down. Katherine aimed her pistol and pop. It was the kill shot, stealing most of the glory if one were to be honest. That aside, whilst the big hulking monstrosity was worry enough, there was that eeriely annoying laughter that was getting closer. Using her ears, she directed her dolls to where she had heard the laughter, curious to what it could be. If it was hostile? Fill it full of holes. If it wasn't? Why would it be here?</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight@Pyromania99@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- Astreya was quick to engage the demons, being the first to have her boots on the ground and the first to eagerly engage the creatures. Eleanors bullets whizzed past, a few potshots towards the hounds, grazing one and impacting another in the side but it didn't seem to react aside from a growl, lunging towards the chef turned maid. Nor did Astreya's buckshot seem to do anything immediately to the lumbering mass. The bullets pierced its thick, tarry hide, a few dribbles of lava-esque blood spilling onto the ground and quickly cooling as it continued its bulldozed its way through the onslaught, seeming not even registering any hits or pain that it had. Even the rapid fire slugs from Senya's cannon seemed to do much aside from merely slow it down just enough that it wasn't fully sprinting by the time it was within range of Polina's blades, using one of its massive arms as a shield, causing the seven shots bullets from Polina's arm to embed themselves in its flesh, only one managing to penetrate far enough to bore a hole into its tough hide, another wound leaking molten fire. It didn't slow down much as it made its way finally to Polina to engage in Melee, its lumbering arm crashing towards the maid, heat from its body causing one to instantly sweat from the intense, parching heat as it blacked the ground with its mere steps. Bones would be crushed if she was hit, not to mention the burns. Three of the blades would become stuck fast in its tough flesh, if not for the excellent forging and magical reinforcement no doubt the blades would have simply melted. The fourth caused a mere graze upon its flesh. Unfortunately, things were only going to get worse for the maids, having made such a commotion upon landing. Senya's bullets ripped through several of the hounds, the large caliber projectiles cleanly taking chunks and holes out of their flesh temporarily incapacitating them as they'd fall to the ground. This was accompanied by a second salvo from Katherine's dolls. A line of rifle fire slammed into them, and the halberdiers would find themselves having to deal with several large hounds, three taking to engage them only to be fended off, though none dealt decisive blows. And the source of that laughter? Something that would perhaps, make Kat's little kitty heart pause with potential fright. "Ahahah~? Oh what is this? Little dolls? Ehehe, well aren't you so weak looking little things!" The moment the dolls had come around the corner, one would be snatched up by tendrils, tossed into the air…and then completely crushed and swallowed by the appendages. The others would take note of the corpse of a man being dragged along behind it, one of his arms seemingly having been eaten. He was lacking clothes, though. "So fragile~! Ehehe, oh I'll break you and you and all of you!" The figure had now waltzed into the square. A small looking girl dressed in a black robe, standing just barely four feet five. Eight tails extended from just above her butt that seemed to move and have a bit of a life of their own, able to grow to size and be used as both appendages and seeming to be able to morph into mouths. Her pale red eyes alight with some form of perverse delight, and her odd discordant laughter was easily heard now as she'd step into the square, seeing both the maids and the Dolls. "Ah? Oh, oh look…eheh, little mortals! Little mortals for me to do with as I please!" The voice and her face was completely discordant with what she was saying. Kat could see the remains of one of her dolls in the small things maw before it was quickly swallowed as it'd lock eyes with her. "Hmm, he was getting boring anyways! Why don't you all entertain me instead!" She'd toss the barely alive man aside onto the ground, the eight appendages growing in size, grasping the ground with their maws and flinging herself immediately towards Kat, mouth widely grinning with a predatory, toothy grin. There was no doubt, this was a High demon! A High demon was present!</s>

<|message|>Astreya Alright, but sometimes target assessment is necessary. Many people that Astreya's known have had a hard time remembering the simple fact that she isn't stupid... ...sometimes... ...and that, when something actually has her attention, it damn well has it. Her laughter dies down, that mad stupor of violence fading as she takes in the last few seconds in which she doesn't seem to have, actually, killed the big demon. Her eyes dart all across its mass, scanning for everything worth noting. Cogent thoughts form a group and set to a race through that handful of well-developed pathways in her brain. * This guy's tough! It bleeds, but not very much at all. It's like its skin is armor. Buckshot's not going to penetrate far. Doesn't seem to feel pain, either. * This guy's hot! Anything that embeds in it seems like it's going to melt pretty fast, except for those knives for... some reason. Maybe look into tungsten rounds for next time? * This guy's strong and heavy! All this combined caliber isn't even staggering it. Definitely don't get hit, if it's got the strength to hold itself up, it's got the strength to pulp you. And absolutely don't get grabbed. * This guy's big! I mean, yeah, good catch there, but it means it's got a long stride. That together with nothing seeming to slow it down, means we're never going to have any luck outrunning it. Maybe try sidestrafing its charges? * This guy's NOT DEAD! How do we kill demons again? Do they even have vital organs? No, hold on... we're supposed to just bind them, right? Conclusion: Burrowing through this entity's center mass with sustained fire is not going to work fast enough, so focus on disabling it. It's a quadruped; it will need at least two of those to keep standing, and if it can't move, it doesn't seem like it'll be able to pose a threat. Its rear limbs are smaller, but less threatening, and it'll still crawl without them. Even if it tries to guard it body with its forelimbs, that must be a mistake on its part; shred those arms and it's as good as furniture. Her laughter picks up again, this time starting as a low, devious giggle - she's got it figured out now, she holds all the cards! She shifts her aim to the greater beast's arms, looking for joints to lock in on. Her laughter isn't alone anymore. She sort of notices the newcomer, peripherally, but it doesn't have her attention. It's another demon, probably. Deal with it later.</s>

<|description|>Astreya Error: a suitable ratgirl image was not found! A blue-eyed Krysa, a little short for her species and sex – still noticeably taller than most humans. Her tousled, curly light-brown hair falls a little further than her shoulders, locks resting on her upper arms. Her left ear is damaged – possibly burned – at the tip. She is smiling brightly and giving the camera a salute. These three lines are written in Krysa glyphs. The transliterations are not difficult. Gender: ♀ Race: Krysa The rest of the application is written in human language, but abominable handwriting. The translations are grueling. Relevant Abilities: I don't do any housework, but I'm definitely stronger than most of you. I'm also an inventor and an engineer and a chemist and sort of a smith and I've dabbled in galvanism. Tell us about yourself: My sister tells me I should just say (A Krysa glyph representing manic energy) for this. I think she's joking. But I do things fast and I don't like to sit still. I'm hard to put down. Work history: I'm Krysa. We do a lot of science here. My science tends to explode, sometimes on purpose. Don't worry, though – the explosions are mostly controlled. I'm mostly careful. And anyway, explosions mean progress! They're basically how steam engines work, you know. Tools you are skilled with: You know how if you focus light it can burn things? I've been playing with that lately. I don't think my prototypes are strong enough, though, so I'll bring a big hammer and a high-powered shotgun. Do you know what a shotgun is? I can show you if there's something you don't mind me destroying. Occult Knowledge: I don't think magic likes me, personally, but I know some designs and materials that it likes. I use it with some of my inventions for energy amping and such. I bet I can guess how your catalysts work.</s> <|message|>Astreya Astreya drops her gun as she falls over. It goes off with a wild shot blasted in some direction she doesn't bother to check up on, preferring to quickly crawl out of the Greater Beast's vicinity. If it's a pain even to touch, who would want to be anywhere close to- As she gets up, Astreya reaches for her war-slash-smithing-hammer. The hair on one side of her face is visibly smoldering, but she doesn't seem to notice. Even the smell is pretty well covered up by everything else. It bleeds! Wow, it bleeds a lot! And is it slowing down? Does it suffer from exsanguination? Or is that hypothermia? Okay, reassessment: * The arms are tough. * The legs are not as tough. * Tearing pieces off of it does it some sort of significant harm. * Touching it really hurts. Its blood probably isn't much better. * I want to whack it. Conclusion: I should whack it. She rotates the hammer in her grip, figuring the flat end isn't going to do much good to bleed the monster, and instead presenting the wedge on the opposite side of its head for imminent use. With its back gushing lava and her uniform featuring fire-resistant shoes rather than fire-resistant boots, she decides to go for its flank. She doesn't really want to get close to its arms. She swings hard overhead, hoping to embed the spike and tear open a new wound.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine winced as she was bitten into. "Gah!" This demon was annoying to try and fight like this. Well, at the least she could save her dolls from danger. She recalled them all to her rings as she pulled out her finely sharpened rapier. "Fine. Be an annoying brat, you'll pay for it later." She took a step toward the High Demon and took a stab at her. Grabbing the Demon's attention with her own physical attack, Katherine then summoned her Halberdier dolls (the three left) to one side of the demon that all swung down as soon as they fully manifested. Despite all this, the cat expected the demon to dodge once again, which was fine. Behind her, she summoned her rifledolls to once again fire at the demon if she did. "Stand still so we can seal you easily enough." Katherine complained, frustration filling her voice as she recalled her halberdier dolls so they couldn't get so easily scooped up by the demon.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Cogsfell Aftermath --- 🗡️ Unsurprisingly, The High Demon effortlessly dodged most of Lucrecia's gunfire. It bolstered its agility by using its countless tendrils, bouncing off the walls of surrounding buildings. Lucrecia clicked her tongue at the child-like entity's taunts, being well aware they were getting nowhere with their current assault. The demon make work of some more of Katherine's dolls, but the latter summoned replacements and sent them after it for a counterattack. Seeing that the High Demon was now making its way over to Polina, perhaps they could take advantage of it's diverted attention. Depending on how the demon responded to Katherine's counterattack, Lucrecia would attempt to hurl some throwing daggers at their attacker to supplement the advance from the dolls. If it tried to dodge the dolls, hopefully the knives would be able to hit a vital area while it was still distracted. She also still had plenty of bullets left to fall back on as well, if that didn't work. Lucrecia also shot a glance at Polina for a moment, noticing that she shot a couple of flares into the air. It seemed the dropship saw them, and saw it firing something near their vicinity - something big. Lucrecia was able to get a better look as it drew closer to them. Her eyes widened considerably when she was finally able to make it out; The dropship had sent out a Krysan tank!</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- "Cheeky brat." Polina tsked at herself in frustration as the high demon girl weaved in and out of each attack, neatly defying even her own guided missiles that she sent and continued to reengage. The admittedly cute creature even seemed to take joy in that fact, as it saw fit to insult them with her words. An interesting being, if it seemed to understand human nature. Her eyes narrowed as it took hold of Kat, and she raced to aid the poor cat girl. With her blades still on the girl, Polina finally had some luck as one of her blades landed true, the shock allowing the maid to squirm free. The success, however, meant that she now had the demon's full and undivided attention. Thankfully, it seemed her message had been seen and received, as she caught the change in movement of the loitering airship in the corner of her eye. She was sure that the maids in command would be rather cross with her more… bold decisions of the past few minutes, but what she didn't expect was… a Kyrsan tank being fired at their location. After a split second, Polina decided not to question it. Instead, she simply made sure she was not in the path of the hurtling hunk of steel, and then quickly refocused her attention on the high demon. With her own source of trouble hurtling at her, she immediately jumped back, pulling her weapons back with her, too. The moment she reconsolidated them, her eyes flitted over to the chewed up remains of the cobblestone square. With another flick of her free hand –what was living without some flair, really?—she pulled the loose stones off from the ground, creating both a defensive, fluid barrier in front of her, and a secondary means of offense. Still keeping her sword at the ready, she sent off a mass of the rocks at the demon, mixing in her deadlier blades amongst her little barrage. Well, that better work. At least, until backup was on site in the next few moments.</s> <|message|>Senya Fivulwyn It came off! Its leg came right off! Senya's lips curled ever so slightly in a smug expression as the monster found itself down one limb. But that wasn't the end of it, the creature was still a threat. Between the heat and its enormous, crushing body, it could still potentially kill someone. So, the diminutive maid was going to do her best to make sure that didn't happen. Pushing up and away from the ground beneath her, Senya danced through the air backwards as the bulky monstrosity slammed to the earth less then a second later, crumbling the stone beneath it with its sheer mass. It would have really hurt if it had actually gotten her. But this put it right where she wanted it. Springing forward, Senya jammed pointed her weapon directly at the creature's head before it could even attempt to rise, the barrels already beginning to spin with that familiar whirring sound. She was close. The bayonet was almost touching the beast. At this range, there was no missing. Magical energy thrummed in the air, as a red-orange circle of light spread ahead of her weapon. These wouldn't be ordinary bullets, this time. As the sound of thunder filled the air, the magically-charged explosive rounds ripped their way from each of the barrels of Senya's gatling.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight@Pyromania99@Sniblet --- The greater beast was not longed to remain. Astreya was the first to make use of the opening as it flopped onto the ground, its massive weight falling onto the earth. The hook of her hammer cut into the beasts hide, a deep puncture wound, molten blood spilling from the wound. It shrieked once more, attempting to roll over to crush the Krysa girl, but as it moved the hammer would only rip a deep gash into its tarry, tough flesh causing more blood to spill and quickly cool onto the ground. Senya, would level her weapon near the creatures frontside. Though it lacked any visible facial features or any sort of 'head' beyond the gaping hole between its shoulders that was now seemingly full of much cooler molten stone now…well, if it bleeds, you can kill it as they say, and this thing was most certainly bled. Lightning crackled as she channeled the magical ability latent in most maid weaponry, the bullets ripping into its inside, making more and more holes in its interior and causing more and more liquid fire to leak from its body. A final act of defiance would see it raise its arm, feebly slam its arm right into Senya's body, shoving her backwards from its strength, but it'd do nothing more than singe her dress and leave her a bit bruised. As soon as its arm hit the ground again, it was over. The creature's body began to deflate as the last of the lava left its interior, its body collapsing in on itself as its body began to just turn into a massive pile of sludge and sickly smelling goo. A small victory, but…just how many more of these things were here, was the question? As the Krysa and Dark elf would wrap up their fight, they'd notice their three compatriots still locked in combat with the High Demon who was manically cackling. "Seal? No no, I'm going to kill all but one of you. Dismember, feast, eat, rip and tear! I'll drag the other back to use as my personal plaything, ehehe! That's the only thing you mortals are good for as our entertainment you weaklings!" The demon for now, ignored Katherine's dolls, the demon moving far to fast to even think about hitting with a simple melee attack. The fire of rifles once more, didn't seem to bother it, ducking and weaving, using its tendrils to pull itself in a completely random seeming direction in order to avoid getting shot, but it would still end up right in front of Polina. "Tsk, one of you bugs managed to sting me." She'd hiss as she'd land in front of Polina's hastily constructed wall. Some of Lucrecia's throwing daggers had managed to impale the demon, but she merely casually pulled them from her body, none too bothered by the injuries. "Oh well, I'll just have to return the favor!" The tendrils grew and writhed, growing in size as they started taking the form of individual mouths… "...Ah?" It was then, the little demon became quite aware of the tank hurtling towards them. Right on top of both her and Polina. "What the fu-" A foul word barely cut off as the tanks barrage of parachutes seemed to do little to stop its quick descent. The demon immediately changed course, changing its attention from Polina towards the tank bearing down on them, giving her enough time to clear the landing zone. The demon's tendrils latched onto the bottom of the tank as it neared, the small demon roaring with fury as the tank's incredible weight bore down on her. For a few seconds, the demon looked as though she was going to be crushed, not even the strength of all of her extra tendrils able to stop the crushing weight of the tank. While the tank and demon were in a stalemate, though, the gleeful laughter of a certain former Krysan military officer could be heard from within just as the hatch to the tank's driver seat opened, and out came Leoniya climbing out and observing the area. "Ahhahah! How do you like that warm Krysan Greeting demon!" Upon not seeing the demon in question, her ears fell a bit flat, seemingly disappointed. "...zhdat, where is the demon?"</s>

<|message|>Astreya First kill! Astreya hurries back for her gun- wait, so demons can be killed?- Anyway, she goes back for her gun and reassesses her list of problems. There's the dead demon, the other dead demons, and this demon that's not dead. Right! Point the gun at it! Aaaand- a tank falls on it. Well. Hey, that'll keep it still. She points and holds the trigger. She can't hear Leoniya over the sound of her gun, but her disappointed searching speaks clearly enough. She kind of tries to gesture at it with her eyes. She mouths, "Это под тобой."</s>

<|description|>Katherine Lindall Gender: Female Race: Firbolg Photo ID: Too Large, Attached Seperately Relevant Abilities: Cooking, Cleaning, Dodging, Dexterous Hands, Sewing Tell us about yourself: Some people call me arrogant and a know-it-all, but I'd describe myself as smart, beautiful and rather friendly if you're not an absolute idiot. Hmm? How would I define an idiot? The person asking a question like that first of all. Second, someone that pretends to know what they're talking about when they're nothing but hot air. I think you will find me a hard worker if you give me the proper respect someone making your food and bringing you water deserves. Work history: What can I say? I grew up in a spooky forest with an old hag. Made a friend from the city one day and grew accustomed to it. After a point, I needed more money to pursue my passions. What passions? Well, I rather appreciate when my dolls have a nice proper dress. Tools you are skilled with: Light swords of all sorts but Rapier is prefer, especially when paired with a pistol or hand crossbow. Occult Knowledge: Using magical ring catalysts, I can summon and return my dolls to my rings. Once summoned, I connect them to me by using thin magical threads to control them. They can do a number of things but most notably for a maid's job is that I can use them to clean with 500% efficiency.</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter Eleanor sighed deeply as she regarded her reflection yet again. Thankfully the berthing which she and the other girls shared had a few full-length mirrors instead of just one, for she painfully took her time to make sure not a single part of her uniform was out of place. This was to be her first day on the job – actually, the second first day on the job in her life so far as a freshly-minted burgher. Of all the getups Eleanor vividly envisioned herself wearing ever since she developed a sense of fashion, a maid outfit was not one of them. She wasn't one of those maid café waitresses, nor did she want to be one even though they looked quite pretty and elegant as they went about their business in the themed establishments that peppered their dining and entertainment district. She was a line cook, an aspiring chef even, and thus she was of the conviction that she excelled in the kitchen preparing plats du jour and all manner of confections no matter how complicated or exotic – yes, even her dreaded namesake the cookie, if she absolutely had to – and not in the dining hall serving said dishes and confections with the cutesy flourishes that commanded hefty tips and continued patronage. And if not the iconic white double-breasted jacket of a chef, she would rather look smart and respectable in a dress uniform like the kind she saw on officers who dined in her tavern back in the country as well as some of the Chez Bois-Joli regulars garrisoned in the city. And now here she was, about to do some actual soldiering. Dressed like the help of some upper-crust manor, no less. What would Grandma say? What her dear grandmother might comment on her sartorial, not to mention occupational, predicament was neither here nor there. Rather, the more pressing concern was whether she looked impeccable enough to pass the inevitable inspection that was to come in a few moments' time. Shortly after her acceptance as a Violet Garden recruit, Eleanor was led to a massive closet decked with a diversity of styles and colors, from the frumpily traditional to the titillatingly risqué. The one thing they all had in common was that an attractive young woman dressed in any combination of those articles of clothing (it goes without saying that they have to go well with one another) can be said to at least look like a genuine maid, if she wasn't actually working as one herself. One piece of fashion advice that stayed with Eleanor even though she couldn't for the life of her remember where she read it was to "start with the shoes and work your way up." And so she did, starting with a sturdy pair of black Mary Jane flats – to her the closest thing to the boyish but comfy and practical derbies that she wore as a cook – which she later polished to a mirror shine, and in lieu of socks and trousers were black nylon leggings that fit snugly around her feet and legs. She then picked out a simple black dress with a rounded flat collar, short, slightly puffy sleeves, and a skirt ending just above her knees. Instead of the aprons that she was used to, she decided that for a change she would wear a crisp white pinafore that had very short frills for sleeves and at the sides had pockets and two strips of cloth that she would tie into a bow at her back. Shoes and clothes weren't the only things in the closet, however. On the far end was a rack that carried an assortment of ebony-handled feather dusters, as well as a practice dummy. An arrangement she felt to be strange at first, until she picked up a duster and found that the handle was made of hardwood. Out of curiosity, Eleanor gave the dummy a couple of resounding whacks. The dusters double as batons! Not that she knew how to use such a weapon, perhaps the simplest she and the others were expected to wield, but she surmised that they were to have them on their persons at all times as a sidearm of sorts. That same feather duster now rested nearby on her bed in the berthing as she studied her reflection one last time to adjust the frilly white headdress on her bunned hair and then her white cook's neckerchief, which she wore in place of a tie and onto which she fastened a brooch bearing the Violet Garden crest. "Time to get to work," Eleanor said silently as she clasped the duster to her waist and joined the others making their way to the deck.</s> <|message|>Astreya Astreya has been in the engine room. Mainly because it was hard to keep her out - she really wasn't allowed in here. She's been spending her time crouched over for a close hands-off inspection of the machinery, interrupted by occasional barks from the ship staff whenever they suspect she's acting too "Krysa-y." Really, one of the staff came over and told her off for acting too Krysa-y. She must've got embarrassed about that term, because she only used it once, and just called Astreya's curiosity about the engine suspicious from then on. Her ears perk up at the sound of her own language from the intercom. She'd kind of been expecting to be alone here. "Great," says miss Krysa-y. "Rat! You've gotta go!" "Yeah, I know," says Astreya. "One more minute." The staff exchange looks. Better not warn her about being late. Best-case, maybe she gets thrown overboard and they never have to deal with her again. Well, this is the story she'll tell if asked. Really the staff were quite nice, but that's boring. Astreya spends a little bit longer bent at the knees and staring silently at a compressor, cupping her chin between her fingers. She's pretty sure she recognizes this design, and it's a design that sucks. Is this an oversight? A cost-saving measure? Do humans really not have anything better? She wishes she could peel this open and be sure that it's as bad as it looks, but she can hardly do that while it's running. From an outside perspective, to those not engaged in her technical review of the airship, the sight of this giant ratwoman in a fluffy maid dress staring at their engine like a crossword puzzle might be comical. It's less comical when she rises and straightens to her full height again. Depending on the viewer's recent experiences, it might be genuinely frightening, despite the dress, to meet a (mostly) fully-grown Krysa female's eyes from on high. She doesn't mean for it to be. "All right," she says. "What was it - top deck?" She is shown the door. It shouldn't take long to find her way.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Polina regarded the tray of macarons with a critical eye. Bringing the confections to level with her face, she frowned as she found the desserts lacking, the sheen of its coat a notch or two duller than what passed as acceptable to her standards. The galley of the airship, while well-appointed by the standards of what could expect for a craft of its size, could only be so well equipped, especially for a trip on such short notice and she recognized that fact, however much it galled her. Taking sets of preprepared silken pouches, she emptied the tray of colorful confections into the containers before tying their drawstrings together and carefully placing them into a woven handbasket to later distribute. For Polina, this was not the first time she would be going into battle. This was something that she always found profoundly ironic, considering her entire raison d'etre for being a maid had been fleeing conflict. It had been almost ten years since that fateful day, though, and she had found her purpose since. She could count herself as a veteran maid, but as a battlemaid, she still had things to learn despite her splendid education. When you lived in a state that didn't see an inkling of conflict during your entire span of service there, there was only so much experience you could gain outside of special assignments given by your mistress. Fending off suitors and crazies didn't much count, though she considered it a personal failing that she hadn't been able to prevent the assassination of the Grand Prince. She was still apprehensive about her tour of duty with the Violet Garden. It would do her well in treading new ground, and she was ostensibly among friends to learn and rely on. Yet the mutual pact of trust was not yet there, and likely would not ever be there unless circumstances changed. It was a far cry from her experience at home, but that too was why she was here. Depending on what she learned, the two mistresses she now served would either forge a new friendship that was more than just the simple platitudes it was now, or the relationship would be forever lost with a wall firmly in place between mutual reconciliation. She was a well-rounded maid with a very good set of skills that just wanted to meet new people, but she hated playing the spy. Yet from what her mistress had told her, what was going on in the Maison d'Violette could have wider implications. Such was the cost of living in interesting times. In the meantime, though, she would feed her new maidenly comrades sweets and prepare for battle. As the voice of the Kyrsan veteran barked over the intercom, she slung her rifle over her shoulder after taking it up from its place against the wall. Even with a basket of macarons in her hand, she was combat-ready— she always kept her sword openly at her side, as were her more concealed weapons closer to her body. With a spring in her step, she stepped out onto the deck to hand out her confections—even if she didn't fully trust everybody yet, she would still feed them sweets and be fed the same in return, 'accidents' be damned.</s>

<|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine had been sitting in one of the rooms, carefully looking over all of the dolls that she had brought with her. "One through 4 check. Five through seven in good shape. Number eight... How did you stain your apron like that?" The Firbolg woman clicked her tongue, slightly irritated. "I swear, the next time show me before we get on the ship to come out gods know where. Welp, no harm to it. Hard to even see." The woman patted at the doll's apron to see if it was something that'd just come off but to no avail. "Hmm. Well, we're looking fine now. Now, go lets go ahead and get you all your weapons. We need to be ready for the battle ahead." Katherine stood and clapped her hands, and the dolls marched to the back of the room grabbing their weapons. Four of them grabbed some nicely crafted halberds, just about the right size for the three foot tall dolls. The other four grabbed four rifles and beltpouches to facilitate using rifles. "Hmm, hmm. Looking in good shape except a stained apron." And it was, perhaps by fortune, just then that a certain heavily accented Krysa came over the intercom. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" "Hmmm, hmm. Yes, yes. I figured it was about time, didn't I?" Katherine pondered as she gave a sigh. "Two Halberdiers in front, Rifledolls in the middle and 2 Halberdiers as rear guard." And with that, Katherine lead the small troop. It didn't take too long before the sounds of small, in-step marching dolls making their way to the top of the deck. As Katherine reached the deck, the dolls assumed a single file line and set themselves to the side of the airship deck. "Greetings, one and all. Apologies if I've not shown my face topside much, I wanted to make sure my team was in top shape." The Firbolg said as her tail swished back and forth a bit, obviously a small bit excited to get to fight. She waved at her dolls as thin magical looking threads of magic lightly flashed. "They are, of course. And I'll have them patrol around a small bit." With that, the dolls broke formation and started to patrol the deck, looking over the side and making sure nothing was sneaking up on then. "After all, it shall not be long 'til we start our own end of fighting." The Puppeteer Maid checked her own personal weaponry. While her rapier itself wasn't good at fighting bigger monster, she should be fine on that end with the dolls she had backing her up. Her rapier was at it's position on the left side and her pistol on her right. "So, how is our exquisite combat instructor? Doing well, I assume?" The cat smugly smiled at the woman. "As well to you, Bernadetta? And, ummm, Leoniya?" The woman asked. As she introduced herself, one of the dolls patrolling behind the combat instructor gave a soft slap to the butt. The cat had a death wish.</s>

<|description|>Katherine Lindall Gender: Female Race: Firbolg Photo ID: Too Large, Attached Seperately Relevant Abilities: Cooking, Cleaning, Dodging, Dexterous Hands, Sewing Tell us about yourself: Some people call me arrogant and a know-it-all, but I'd describe myself as smart, beautiful and rather friendly if you're not an absolute idiot. Hmm? How would I define an idiot? The person asking a question like that first of all. Second, someone that pretends to know what they're talking about when they're nothing but hot air. I think you will find me a hard worker if you give me the proper respect someone making your food and bringing you water deserves. Work history: What can I say? I grew up in a spooky forest with an old hag. Made a friend from the city one day and grew accustomed to it. After a point, I needed more money to pursue my passions. What passions? Well, I rather appreciate when my dolls have a nice proper dress. Tools you are skilled with: Light swords of all sorts but Rapier is prefer, especially when paired with a pistol or hand crossbow. Occult Knowledge: Using magical ring catalysts, I can summon and return my dolls to my rings. Once summoned, I connect them to me by using thin magical threads to control them. They can do a number of things but most notably for a maid's job is that I can use them to clean with 500% efficiency.</s> <|message|>Senya Fivulwyn Ah, it was already time to kill, too? Good thing she was ready. Senya raised her weapon. There was no need to be precise right now, aside from avoiding her fellow maids. All she needed to do was, broadly, aim at the big ugly beast and the other approaching creatures, and avoid hitting any of the other maids. ... Were there people inside its stomach...? Parts of people... With a click, Senya attached the belt of ammunition to the feed on the back of her enormous gun. Then, she placed both hands back on it again and adjusted her aim. There was a whine as the barrels of her weapon began to spin, which only grew in volume as she trained it on the hulking beast and the creatures surrounding it. Steam began to vent from the sides, a hissing sound joining the rising volume of the whining, whirling barrels. "Die." What followed was a roar as the barrels erupted with flames, enormous bullets hurtling towards her target, ripping the air as they did. No further enhancement was required, as one of the approaching hounds was struck in the head and had its entire skull obliterated, jaw sailing through the air and vanishing some distance away before the rest of its body was riddled with holes and spewing all sorts of foul fluids. Senya dragged her aim across the approaching targets, sweeping over them before coming to rest on the largest beast, to fill it with as many bullets as possible. @AzureKnight@Waylon@Click This@Sniblet@Rune_Alchemist</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- The rounds had their intended effect. Polina had hopes that three well-placed shots from a high-power rifle would be enough to put it down. They didn't seem to do much, at least from what she could tell from this distance, though it certainly did not like it. If a couple of good shots could end the beast, though, the local constabulary would have had long since ended the demon threat. It didn't take long to show itself after she landed and brought her fellow maids up to speed. It was a nasty 'little' bugger of a Greater beast, and it didn't even have the good graces to be cute like some demons tended to be. This one was disgusting, feasted on humans, and needed to be permanently ended if Polina had anything to say about it. The ostensibly serious maid –she was serious now, though!—left the lesser demons to her compatriots, briefly watching as Eleanor, Astreya, and Lucrecia mowed down the hounds with their myriad weapons of choice. Senya, meanwhile, indiscriminately mowed them down, which was about expected for a maid with such a ridiculously outsized murder weapon. By the time she had the gatling weapon focused in on the greater demon, Polina had removed her optic once again, and worked her rifle's bolt seven more times, with a speed nearly matching Senya's autogun. Seven high powered rounds smacked into the beast in rapid succession before the maid reloaded with two stripper clips—but she didn't continue to fire. It had now penetrated past her long-range radius of defense, and was now in her medium range, where she had… local control. A quartet of blades appeared from within the folds of her dress, even as she held onto her rifle. With the quickest flick of a gesture –for flair, of course, even now—the bayonets shot at the demon, aiming to cut deep into it. With enough focused firepower, Polina was sure they could all weaken it enough that it could be sealed or ended permanently.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall "I would have appreciated a warning before you draw a giant beast to us like this." Katherine muttered, annoyed. Rather than that even, she was sad that she didn't have anything fun or explosive to blow this monstrosity up. That small matter aside, there was the problem of the hounds that Lucretia currently engaged. Well, it would be no really issue soon enough regardless. Wordlessly, Katherine's dolls took up firing posture. Halberdiers in front with weapons in hand, ready to strike down any foe that dared get close while the Rifledolls kneeled to steady their rifles and took aim between the other dolls towards whatever was left of the demonic hounds which wasn't much. Katherine pulled out her own pistol and took aim. All at once, the five shot their respective guns. The dolls their rifles and Katherine her pistol. Altogether, they peppered one of the hounds full of holes in the first volley. Shots penetrating it's skull and body and putting it down. The others seemed to have taken care of the other ones. Lucretia taking the fairest share followed by Senya liberally blasting one's jaw from it's body and Eleanor firing in what could be described as a random pattern seeming to not hit much. Still, between her shots and Senya's spray fire, the last one was simple to put down. Katherine aimed her pistol and pop. It was the kill shot, stealing most of the glory if one were to be honest. That aside, whilst the big hulking monstrosity was worry enough, there was that eeriely annoying laughter that was getting closer. Using her ears, she directed her dolls to where she had heard the laughter, curious to what it could be. If it was hostile? Fill it full of holes. If it wasn't? Why would it be here?</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight@Pyromania99@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- Astreya was quick to engage the demons, being the first to have her boots on the ground and the first to eagerly engage the creatures. Eleanors bullets whizzed past, a few potshots towards the hounds, grazing one and impacting another in the side but it didn't seem to react aside from a growl, lunging towards the chef turned maid. Nor did Astreya's buckshot seem to do anything immediately to the lumbering mass. The bullets pierced its thick, tarry hide, a few dribbles of lava-esque blood spilling onto the ground and quickly cooling as it continued its bulldozed its way through the onslaught, seeming not even registering any hits or pain that it had. Even the rapid fire slugs from Senya's cannon seemed to do much aside from merely slow it down just enough that it wasn't fully sprinting by the time it was within range of Polina's blades, using one of its massive arms as a shield, causing the seven shots bullets from Polina's arm to embed themselves in its flesh, only one managing to penetrate far enough to bore a hole into its tough hide, another wound leaking molten fire. It didn't slow down much as it made its way finally to Polina to engage in Melee, its lumbering arm crashing towards the maid, heat from its body causing one to instantly sweat from the intense, parching heat as it blacked the ground with its mere steps. Bones would be crushed if she was hit, not to mention the burns. Three of the blades would become stuck fast in its tough flesh, if not for the excellent forging and magical reinforcement no doubt the blades would have simply melted. The fourth caused a mere graze upon its flesh. Unfortunately, things were only going to get worse for the maids, having made such a commotion upon landing. Senya's bullets ripped through several of the hounds, the large caliber projectiles cleanly taking chunks and holes out of their flesh temporarily incapacitating them as they'd fall to the ground. This was accompanied by a second salvo from Katherine's dolls. A line of rifle fire slammed into them, and the halberdiers would find themselves having to deal with several large hounds, three taking to engage them only to be fended off, though none dealt decisive blows. And the source of that laughter? Something that would perhaps, make Kat's little kitty heart pause with potential fright. "Ahahah~? Oh what is this? Little dolls? Ehehe, well aren't you so weak looking little things!" The moment the dolls had come around the corner, one would be snatched up by tendrils, tossed into the air…and then completely crushed and swallowed by the appendages. The others would take note of the corpse of a man being dragged along behind it, one of his arms seemingly having been eaten. He was lacking clothes, though. "So fragile~! Ehehe, oh I'll break you and you and all of you!" The figure had now waltzed into the square. A small looking girl dressed in a black robe, standing just barely four feet five. Eight tails extended from just above her butt that seemed to move and have a bit of a life of their own, able to grow to size and be used as both appendages and seeming to be able to morph into mouths. Her pale red eyes alight with some form of perverse delight, and her odd discordant laughter was easily heard now as she'd step into the square, seeing both the maids and the Dolls. "Ah? Oh, oh look…eheh, little mortals! Little mortals for me to do with as I please!" The voice and her face was completely discordant with what she was saying. Kat could see the remains of one of her dolls in the small things maw before it was quickly swallowed as it'd lock eyes with her. "Hmm, he was getting boring anyways! Why don't you all entertain me instead!" She'd toss the barely alive man aside onto the ground, the eight appendages growing in size, grasping the ground with their maws and flinging herself immediately towards Kat, mouth widely grinning with a predatory, toothy grin. There was no doubt, this was a High demon! A High demon was present!</s> <|message|>Astreya Alright, but sometimes target assessment is necessary. Many people that Astreya's known have had a hard time remembering the simple fact that she isn't stupid... ...sometimes... ...and that, when something actually has her attention, it damn well has it. Her laughter dies down, that mad stupor of violence fading as she takes in the last few seconds in which she doesn't seem to have, actually, killed the big demon. Her eyes dart all across its mass, scanning for everything worth noting. Cogent thoughts form a group and set to a race through that handful of well-developed pathways in her brain. * This guy's tough! It bleeds, but not very much at all. It's like its skin is armor. Buckshot's not going to penetrate far. Doesn't seem to feel pain, either. * This guy's hot! Anything that embeds in it seems like it's going to melt pretty fast, except for those knives for... some reason. Maybe look into tungsten rounds for next time? * This guy's strong and heavy! All this combined caliber isn't even staggering it. Definitely don't get hit, if it's got the strength to hold itself up, it's got the strength to pulp you. And absolutely don't get grabbed. * This guy's big! I mean, yeah, good catch there, but it means it's got a long stride. That together with nothing seeming to slow it down, means we're never going to have any luck outrunning it. Maybe try sidestrafing its charges? * This guy's NOT DEAD! How do we kill demons again? Do they even have vital organs? No, hold on... we're supposed to just bind them, right? Conclusion: Burrowing through this entity's center mass with sustained fire is not going to work fast enough, so focus on disabling it. It's a quadruped; it will need at least two of those to keep standing, and if it can't move, it doesn't seem like it'll be able to pose a threat. Its rear limbs are smaller, but less threatening, and it'll still crawl without them. Even if it tries to guard it body with its forelimbs, that must be a mistake on its part; shred those arms and it's as good as furniture. Her laughter picks up again, this time starting as a low, devious giggle - she's got it figured out now, she holds all the cards! She shifts her aim to the greater beast's arms, looking for joints to lock in on. Her laughter isn't alone anymore. She sort of notices the newcomer, peripherally, but it doesn't have her attention. It's another demon, probably. Deal with it later.</s>

<|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine watched as the... The THING had ate one of her dolls. A frown instantly crossed her face and her eyebrows furrowed. "How dare you, eating one of my precious little girls." If it was just broken, Katherine had the capacity to fix them, but to eat them!? How despicable. Was the Firbolg scared? Yes. Absolutely. More than that however... She was pissed off! She returned the melee dolls to her ring, and raised her pistol to aim at the High Demon. Damnit it all if she wasn't sure if she could do much to this thing on her own. She and her rifle-totting dolls fired on the Demon. No matter how cute she was, she was still a demon and, therefore, an enemy. "There's a high demon!" Katherine yelled, wondering if any of them would even pay attention. Really, she wondered if she had enough bullets to seal this one. It was small and hard to hit in comparison to that hulking monstrosity the others had been dealing with. She prepared herself, though. If the demon had grabbed any more of her dolls, she'd recall them to her ring. It was much too late for the other one, but she could save the others before they were devoured. She and her dolls executed a retreating barrage taking steps backwards while keeping up the shots. Rather than a full volley, they had all started staggering their shots, keeping the demon on her toes. "Why is she here..." Katherine asked herself.</s>

<|description|>Katherine Lindall Gender: Female Race: Firbolg Photo ID: Too Large, Attached Seperately Relevant Abilities: Cooking, Cleaning, Dodging, Dexterous Hands, Sewing Tell us about yourself: Some people call me arrogant and a know-it-all, but I'd describe myself as smart, beautiful and rather friendly if you're not an absolute idiot. Hmm? How would I define an idiot? The person asking a question like that first of all. Second, someone that pretends to know what they're talking about when they're nothing but hot air. I think you will find me a hard worker if you give me the proper respect someone making your food and bringing you water deserves. Work history: What can I say? I grew up in a spooky forest with an old hag. Made a friend from the city one day and grew accustomed to it. After a point, I needed more money to pursue my passions. What passions? Well, I rather appreciate when my dolls have a nice proper dress. Tools you are skilled with: Light swords of all sorts but Rapier is prefer, especially when paired with a pistol or hand crossbow. Occult Knowledge: Using magical ring catalysts, I can summon and return my dolls to my rings. Once summoned, I connect them to me by using thin magical threads to control them. They can do a number of things but most notably for a maid's job is that I can use them to clean with 500% efficiency.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz 🗡️ Cogsfell Aftermath --- A salvo of bullets echoed throughout the desolate guard station as Lucrecia did her part in covering her comrade. She was surprised to find that a little girl had managed to survive this hell. Unfortunately, the desecrated corpses that laid before her insinuated that she was the only one among them who did. Polina has used herself as a barrier to keep the girl in the red dress safe from the horde of demons advancing on them. "Polina, we won't be able to stay here for long! As soon as we find any more survivors we need to find an opening and make a break for it!" She said to her comrade. A lone hellhound had broken through the bullet barrage and lunged itself at Lucrecia, its razor fangs bared and covered in drool. The maid instantly flipped one of guns to where the blade part stuck itself into the beast's chin, the other end srickimg out of its head. The creature struggled for a moment, but its body soon when limp. Lucrecia quickly threw the beast to the floor and stomped on its head, making a satisfying splatting sound. "Lurido cane!" She snapped.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall "Gah!" Katherine cried out as she was splashed by some of the acid. "Bitch!" She exclaimed as she reloaded her pistol. Her dolls dodged the demon's attack rather that get pulled back into the firbolg's rings. They dropped to the ground and, if they had a good angle, would aim at the demon before opening fire once more. Katherine, for her part, imbued the bullets in her gun with magical power. She then fired off multiple rounds and each looked as if a bolt of fire shot from her gun, soaring towards their target to tear into flesh and sear it from the inside out.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours --- @Pyromania99 Katherine's bullet slammed into the side of the demons large body, a few hitting impacting the creatures uninjured tendril, ripping holes right through it and searing the fleshy insides of the beast. While most dolls managed to avoid the blow not all were swift enough as they were clipped and launched backwards, a few breaking from the impact as another volley pierced the demons flesh. The one targeting Senya managed to finish charging, another torrent of acid being launched towards her! If she didn't dodge or do something, she was going to get drenched and there was no telling how powerful that acid was or how much her dress would protect her. The demon itself, was still wrestling with the tanks cannon, making use of its impressive strength to pry the barrel away, and keep it pointed away from itself while its smaller main body repeatedly punched and pulled at the metal, managing to even put a few dents in it. "Ahaha, what's the matter! Quit hiding and come-" "Soyti!" The tanks lid suddenly popped open, and slamming into the demons face, was a large, mechanical wrench. "You wanted me out! Then here I am, demon!" The demon said nothing, only responded by leaping towards Leoniya, who managed to barely avoid the lunge by side stepping, In one sift motion, she'd slam the large wrench back into the creatures head, but the uninjured maw was coming up behind the rat woman, aiming to make short work of her. --- This@AzureKnight Polina acted swiftly, blades shining in the sunlight impaled themselves in the demons flesh. So focused on the girl and potentially tormenting her, they did not immediately hear the approach of the maids. One blade sunk itself inside one close to the girl, crying out in guttural pain as its flesh was pierced, its tough leathery hide bleeding fire as it would swiftly turn around in a somewhat unnatural manner, its long, gangly limbs twisting and turning towards the maid that attacked it. At Polina's questions, the girl barely turned her head towards the maid, lifeless eyes simply gazing towards the ground, gripping a torn piece of the older womans dress in her hands. She at least, seemed fine physically, but she didn't seem like she was going to be going anywhere on her own at the moment. Which proved to be a problem. Lucrecia was correct - the demons had immediately set upon the two maids the instant they had made their presence known. While there were only five of the humanoid demons, now that they were in the thick of it, at least eleven hellhounds, barking and snarling aggressively. The one that had been impaled earlier, made a harsh whistling noise three of the hounds immediately leaping towards Polina and the girl, fangs snarling and poised to rip and tear while the humanoid stamped its foot on the ground, lowered its upper body, and made to charge Polina. Another two snapped their fingers, a thin trail of fire appearing on the tips of their crooked fingers, which would turn into a thin beam of fire that fired towards Lucrecia, while a number of hellhounds charged her. The one that had been gorging itself on bodies, managed to get back to its feet, firey blood dripping from its body as it snarled at the maids, seemingly angry that two of the hellhounds had been killed in their ambush while fifth laughed jovially, making a high pitched, shouting noise before seeming a bit confused that there were no hellhounds that seemed to be responding to it...</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall "Tch, damnit. More work to do." Katherine grumbled as she saw about half her troops inoperable. Still, that left half of them useable for now. The Firbolg recalled the broken dolls to their rings as she turned her attention to the rat exiting the hatch of her tank, preparing to deal a blow to the demon's head. That much would have been fine if one of the maws that the demon made itself a constant annoyqnce with wasn't going to try taking a bite from Senya's mousy body. "Damnit rat!" Katherine exclaimed, recalling her last Halberdier doll to it's ring while channeling a bit of strenghtening magic to it. She ran towards Senya all the while and summoned her doll behind the rat, where it was empowered hopefully enough to break the bone inside the tentacle like appendage. The Firbolg also held the metal sphere that the rat threw at her earlier, waiting for the perfect moment to use it. If her doll managed to cleave the maw from the rest of it's body, she was sure that would be aboit it for the demon and her rampage.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Unfortunately, it seemed like the young girl was too traumatized to respond to her questions. Polina was only able to spare a few moments to speak to the girl; just a moment later, she was back to fending off the demons. Lucrecia was also right, and Polina knew as well that their position here was not very tenable. They would have to pull back soon. Seeing the humanoid creatures' unusual regenerative properties, the maid switched strategies. She quickly unslung her rifle as one of them charged at her, working the bolt of her rifle twice as two high-power shots rang out to slam into it. Relying on the tendency for the high power slugs to chunk its flesh on exit, she then directed a pair of blades to finish the hounds. Thankfully for their situation, Polina was uniquely suited to rescuing little girls without compromising too much on her offensive and defensive ability. The moment the immediate threat was gone, she swooped up the crying girl in one quick motion, before jumping back to regroup with Lucrecia. "Hang tight with me, okay? We're getting out of here." Keeping her in a princess carry, she gave her a pat on the head. If any additional demons continued to approach as she left, she would direct more projectiles at them.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz 🗡️ Cogsfell Aftermath --- "Merda!" Lucrecia spat a swear at the oncoming onslaught heading her way. As the little devils let loose a beam toward her, she dodged to the side to narrowly avoid them. Not missing a step, she then let off another volley of piercing rounds at the hellhounds closing in on her. She aimed precisely to ensure she would hit a few of them in the head. These ones had a peculiar regenerative ability, much to her chagrin. But hopefully well placed bullets to the head would at least slow them down. "Oh diavolo! Polina, we need to leave now!!" She exclaimed. Her comrade regrouped at her side, child on tow. As soon as an opening presented itself, they would make a break for it. She was starting to wonder if it was even worth it to continue looking for survivors. They had their orders, but the situation was looking less than favorable. All Lucrecia could do for now was provide cover fire for them as they made their escape.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours --- @Pyromania99 Katherine's doll appeared behind Rat, immediately swinging forth with its halberd, catching the demons maw mid swing and stopping it mostly in its tracks long enough for Leoniya to grab something from her belt. Spinning on her feet, she'd toss it into the air, a oblong, roughly oval shaped object. She immediately swung her wrench at it, catching it on the flat end of it as she'd slam both the object and the wrench into the creatures maw. Grabbing the doll, Leoniya followed through by slamming her foot into the demons head, sending her stumbling off the tank and to the ground, followed by the rat woman, leaping down on top of the demon and impaling her with the spike on the end of her wrench. "Katherine! Now!" The demon tried clawing at the weapon that was holding her down, growling ferally at the rat woman as she'd struggle to wiggle out from under her. The last uninjured tendril would swing around, making to knock Leoniya off…only for an explosion from something embedded in the creatures soft flesh to immediately explode, blasting the thing completely apart and giving Katherine enough time to seal the demon. --- This@AzureKnight The girl didn't struggle, or do anything really. Didn't make any attempts at moving, speaking, or even acknowledging what was happening around her. The fact it made carrying her easier, was barely even a small blessing. Polina's bullets ripped through the demons flesh, impacting their relatively weak and not very well put together joints, ripping off chunks of flesh and briefly stopping its movements as it'd stumble to the ground, spilling its blood as it'd try and get back to its feet, its body shuddering and painfully snapping as its flesh and sinew would try and return to form. The bullets Lucrecia loosed towards the hellhounds struck true. Thankfully, if the Hellhounds themselves did not have such regenerative abilities and with the well placed shots the demons fell to the ground, lifeless as their humanoid handlers would hiss angrily in a manner that seemed to suggest they didn't quite like the hounds dying. They would back off from the maids lightly, seemingly considering the fact that the maids clearly were more formidable foes then they thought. "...ah…" It was in this brief lull that the little girl would make a quiet sound somewhere between a sob and a shout. "Are…you with the other maids?" She'd squeak out.</s>

<|message|>Katherine Lindall It was time to seal it. Katherine put her pistol in it's holster as she closed in on Leoniya, her doll and the demon. "Twisted creature from Naraheim, trespasser and destroyer of civilization. For thy foul deeds and wanton destruction..." The firbolg trailed off as she got up and close to the demon. "Of my dolls..." The maid raised the orb high before bringing it back down in an aggressive physical attack, "Just get in the damned orb."</s>

<|description|>Katherine Lindall Gender: Female Race: Firbolg Photo ID: Too Large, Attached Seperately Relevant Abilities: Cooking, Cleaning, Dodging, Dexterous Hands, Sewing Tell us about yourself: Some people call me arrogant and a know-it-all, but I'd describe myself as smart, beautiful and rather friendly if you're not an absolute idiot. Hmm? How would I define an idiot? The person asking a question like that first of all. Second, someone that pretends to know what they're talking about when they're nothing but hot air. I think you will find me a hard worker if you give me the proper respect someone making your food and bringing you water deserves. Work history: What can I say? I grew up in a spooky forest with an old hag. Made a friend from the city one day and grew accustomed to it. After a point, I needed more money to pursue my passions. What passions? Well, I rather appreciate when my dolls have a nice proper dress. Tools you are skilled with: Light swords of all sorts but Rapier is prefer, especially when paired with a pistol or hand crossbow. Occult Knowledge: Using magical ring catalysts, I can summon and return my dolls to my rings. Once summoned, I connect them to me by using thin magical threads to control them. They can do a number of things but most notably for a maid's job is that I can use them to clean with 500% efficiency.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz 🗡️ Cogsfell Aftermath --- "I'm afraid it will have to wait till next, Madonna!" She quickly retorted to Lyssa. Merda, what is with this girl...? Running to catch up beside Polina, Lucrecia held Lyssa with one arm while the other held her firearm. She fired at any lesser devils that felt brave enough to try and halt their advance. She couldn't much aside from barely avoid the debris falling around them, thankfully Polina with her abilities had them covered for the most part. But as the building began caving in around them, so did the futility of the effort. There was no time to lament or think about other options, the only thing they could do was make a break for the exit and pray for the best. Holding on to Lyssa as tightly as she could, Lucrecia put her toned legs to work and ran as fast as humanly possible. Deftly dodging falling chunks of rubble, she could just see the entrance. Just a little more and they'd be home free!</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Leoniya took the words out of the Firbolg's mouth. She didn't have much to add on the fronts the rat had mentioned. A well dressed old man in this town? How odd. "If you don't mind a few questions, sir? My name is Katherine, would you share yours as well as your wife and daughter's?" Katherine asked. Perhaps if she had some names, if the ones that went ahead hadn't found the missing squad yet, she could keep her ears open. If the family lived here, well, there was already a good chance that they were... She pushed that though aside and continued with another question. "And how exactly did you arrive here?" She looked at his flawless outfit and then the hellscape around them. Her estimations.... He just appeared here. It didn't hurt to ask. "Like the Rat said, it's a bit odd at how you look so... Spotless."</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours --- "Ahaha, when you're as old as I am you learn some tricks to keep yourself spotless, as you say." He'd respond with a chuckle. "Though, I fear the response I'll give you to my name is less than satisfactory. You may call me Sir S, if you must have a name. I can give you no more than that, and as for my family…" He shook his head. "Its too late. I've already confirmed that myself." "...Hm. While I can not say I trust you, Sir…S," Leoniya responded. "If that is true then you have my condolences. That said, may I request you accompany us to our airship for an interview." "That is a request, I will have to refuse for now. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off." He briefly glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly. "There's little reason for me to stick around if the maids have this handled." --- This@AzureKnight "Eh, but I haven't done any of that since-ah, momma said I can't talk about that." Lyssa coughed, blood splattering the front of her dress. Though she was injured, Lyssa wasn't content to settle down and be treated like such. She couldn't do much, but she could at least use her large gauntlets to deflect bits of smaller debris as the old theater slowly crumbled around them more and more - and just as the trio would burst from the front entrance, stumbling from the debris, demons nipping at their heels…the entire thing would thus, come down. Burying the theater, the demons, and anything else that might have been inside. "...nngh…thanks you two…" Lyssa would say, tone faltering as she was still being held up by the other maid. "Ugh…anyone have any food, I could use a pick me up…"</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Somehow, they all made it out intact, and not missing any limbs, extremities, or other human body parts. Conveniently, the same could not be said of any of the demons that might have otherwise still been in pursuit of Polina and the other two maids. It certainly had been a close call, though, and even she had to let out a breath of relief as she stopped to catch her breath once they were a safe distance from the still collapsing theater. What a waste of a grand old building. "You got lucky," she shrugged. Really, the pink-haired maid should have bailed long before her rescuers showed up. Polina produced yet another silk bag of macarons and passed it over to the injured maid after she checked to see how her young charge was doing. Had she never eaten her own bag of sweets? "Here. Don't eat it all at once or you'll get a stomach ache," she advised.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Sir S? What a name. Katherine wondered a small bit about the secrecy and if it was really necessary. She merely shrugged at the thought as her continued to mention he already confirmed about them. She really wondered when he managed that. "Hmm, yes, sorry to hear." Katherine mentioned, giving her condolences in her own way. That said, everything about this man still felt off. The Firbolg wasn't really sure what she should say to the man, really. It was fairly obvious that he was no ordinary man if he could come here with nary a speck of dirt on his person. If they tried to detain him, Katherine wasn't sure exactly what he would do. "Very well then, Sir S. Do try to not get eaten yourself on your escape from this ruin. I would hate for us not have the chance to meet again." Katherine looked to Leoniya and shrugged. "I doubt if we even managed to take him in somehow that he would tell us anything without being really cryptic anyway. And that is assuming, again, that we even manage it. You can just blame me when we do our report, if you want." The Firbolg said, shrugging towards the rat and shaking her head. "We'll have more pressing matters anyway. Like wondering when our other recruits show up."</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz 🗡️ Cogsfell Aftermath --- Some girls were fans of everything falling down around them, Lucrecia wasn't one of them. Carrying a girl who was wearing metal armor that was bigger than both of them, the recruit ran with Lyssa as fast as her legs would allow. The horrid sound of foundation crashing drowned out the sounds of any demons that may have been chasing them; part of her thought they weren't going to make it. However, through perhaps a divine stroke of luck, the maids along with civilian in tow narrowly made it out of the theatre. Hopefully any pursuers were flatten along with the building. Her strength failing her, she let down Lyssa with labored breathing. "Merda!!" she uttered. Despite her advice toward Lyssa earlier, she didn't have the energy to protest. Since they survived, quite frankly, a hopeless situation, why not let the little lady enjoy a sugary snack or two. Actually? Ah, what the hell. "Polina, I think I'll take some of those myself, if you don't mind."</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours --- This@AzureKnight "Ahaha, luck didn't have anything to do with it." Lyssa replied with a giggle, with a somewhat dopey, happy smile as she detached herself from Lucrecia, managing to stand mostly on her own and didn't seem too bothered by what was likely a few broken bones now. "They just couldn't handle my cuteness-ah, Macarons~!" She'd gratefully take the treat, smile never fading as she'd proceed to completely ignore Polina's instruction about not eating them all at once, stuffing one in her mouth and nearly eating the whole thing in a single bite. "Eheh, oh, I almost didn't see the cute little girl." Lyssa said, walking around Polina to look at the girl clinging to her back. "Oh, I think I saw her earlier…she was running with her family. Hey hey, little girl, its okay you're all safe now." The girl was none too enthused, burying her head in Polina's back and ignoring the pink haired maid. She otherwise seemed fine, aside from trauma she'd likely need to work through after this. "Eeeh….I think I'm scaring her." Though Lyssa seemed to do nothing but laugh about that, nibbling on another Macaron as she'd walk up to Lucrecia and proceed to present her with a few out of her own bag. If Lucrecia would let her, Lyssa would proceed to feed the other maid the sweet. Regardless though, it was likely a good idea for the trio to make it back to camp sooner rather than later. They had the only survivor of the forward operating unit and the rest of the maids would likely be sent in to help with cleanup, along with certain members of the church. --- @Click This@AzureKnight "I'm of the same opinion, Katherine." Leoniya replied to the fellow maid, earning a chuckle from Sir S. "Well, then with your permission I shall be off." He'd bow, a deep, formal bow. "We shall likely run into each other again at some point, do stay safe until then." And with that, he'd walk away from the pair, off into the distance before disappearing behind some rubble not to far away. Thankfully Leoniya and Katherine would not have to wait too long for the others to show up. Now that the main demonic threats had been taken care of, there was nothing left to do except make sure the LZ was secure and wait for extraction. Lyssa would spend the time tending to her wounds and eating the rest of the macarons. Leoniya repaired her tank, and the little girl mostly kept to herself, though seemed to avoid Lyssa and cling close to Polina. After an hour or so of getting the radios back up and working from Bernadette, the maids would find themselves receiving extraction orders as another squad would be soon arriving to secure the area now that the place had been mostly taken care of. The Clemantis would land just on the outskirts of town, just on the eastern end near the evac zone. Lyssa wasted no time in running ahead of the others, seemingly totally fine now from her injuries as she'd bound up the gangplank, quickly arriving on the deck of the airship. "Mom~!" A certain foul tempered maid was there to greet them - and was giving all of them a glare as they arrived, but her stern visage was soon shattered by the sight of her daughter it seemed who proceeded to just…tackle her, burying her face in Myrilla's chest and wrapping her in a tight hug. "Bweh-lyssa!" Myrilla coughed, her cigarette falling to the ships deck. "Not while on duty!" She'd hiss, though she couldn't help but to sigh and soften her voice a little. "I was worried sick, you know. Are you hurt?" "Nope. A demon smacked me around a bit but its all dead now and I've had worse during training." She'd giggle in response, pulling away from the hug. "Good, good…" Her stern visage returned, looking at the other maids that had returned. Leoniya, Polina, Lucrecia and Katherine. "...I'm assuming there were no other survivors from the squad?" Lyssa walked back over to Polina, giving her a somewhat expectant look. "...actually, before that. Just who in their right minds," Myrilla interjected before either could answer. "Thought it was a tactically sound decision, to draw every single demon in the vicinity to the Landing Zone!? Do you have any idea how foolish and stupid that was? You're lucky you didn't end up as that High Demons plaything for eternity!" She'd snarl. "Got any more? Please? I'll give you hugs…or something else!" Lyssa whispered to Polina, a somewhat sly smile painted on her lips. The little girl was clinging to Polina's legs now, trying to hide from the others. Leoniya was directing some other maids onto the ground.</s>

<|message|>Katherine Lindall As suspicious as this Sir S was, there was little reason to try and keep him down. He didn't ostensibly seem like a demon or anything of the sort. It seemed that, despite causing quite the ruckus on landing, Polina managed to get two girls attached to her. She looked between the small girl she found and the maid she and the other rescued. Well, whatever worked. For the moment, she just stood on deck ready for a debrief more than what they got. "Looks like mommy has her daughter to hug again~" She teased a small bit, trying not to be thrown overboard this time. Then she asked about drawing the entirety of the demons to the Landing Zone? "As if it were me. I already had my hands full with bringing myself to the ground safely without being squished on the streets below. I am glad Leoniya came as support or I think my "squad" and I would have been ripped apart like some fluffy cake." Katherine shrugged with a sigh. "We did take care of it in the end, however." Meanwhile, off to the side, the dolls were looking at each other and studying the damage done to each individual. One of them had managed to put on a hat that seemed like it'd belong on a combat medic of sorts and seemed to help bandage the others up. One an eyepatch and another a splint.</s>

<|description|>Katherine Lindall Gender: Female Race: Firbolg Photo ID: Too Large, Attached Seperately Relevant Abilities: Cooking, Cleaning, Dodging, Dexterous Hands, Sewing Tell us about yourself: Some people call me arrogant and a know-it-all, but I'd describe myself as smart, beautiful and rather friendly if you're not an absolute idiot. Hmm? How would I define an idiot? The person asking a question like that first of all. Second, someone that pretends to know what they're talking about when they're nothing but hot air. I think you will find me a hard worker if you give me the proper respect someone making your food and bringing you water deserves. Work history: What can I say? I grew up in a spooky forest with an old hag. Made a friend from the city one day and grew accustomed to it. After a point, I needed more money to pursue my passions. What passions? Well, I rather appreciate when my dolls have a nice proper dress. Tools you are skilled with: Light swords of all sorts but Rapier is prefer, especially when paired with a pistol or hand crossbow. Occult Knowledge: Using magical ring catalysts, I can summon and return my dolls to my rings. Once summoned, I connect them to me by using thin magical threads to control them. They can do a number of things but most notably for a maid's job is that I can use them to clean with 500% efficiency.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight --- Being handed a bag of macaron, Lyssa gave a fist pump and a chuckle as she'd snatch it eagerly. The rookie maid would proceed to well, start quickly stuffing her face with the pastries, listening to the exchange between Myrilla and Polina. The pink haired instructor, in turn, merely took a long drag on her cigarette, listening to Polina make her case. "I should have expected the maid that didn't know her place was the one I'd have to beat more training into." She responded gruffly. "You think this was a 'critical success'? You not only put the whole mission in jeopardy fighting a high demon when you're mere rookies that could barely fight these common animals." She'd snarl. "Not only that, you didn't even manage to save a single member of the recon team aside from Lyssa. And did you even see if you could find anything that happened? No, you just went in shot every demon you saw and didn't use your bloody brain to figure out-" "Moooom we get it you were worried about them!" "Bwehf!?" A quite uncharacteristic choking noise came from Myrilla as she'd cough up cigarette smoke. "L-lyssa?!" "Ehehe," Lyssa bounced over, giving Polina a playful wink and a smirk as she hugged her mom, nuzzling the top of her head against the older womans arm. "C'mon, stop being so grouchy. I'm fine! Not a scratch on me! I got some good field time, too! And now I'm just hungry…fighting makes me really hungry, ugh…" "A-ahem, w-well," Myrilla, cleared her throat, turning on her heels and walking away from the group. "Lyssa, go have Viatrix give you a checkup. The rest of you…well, you have free time until we return to the Maison. Dismissed!"</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clemantis --- Lucrecia made a small sigh as she prepared to be chewed out by their combat instructor. However, much to her surprise, Myrilla's entire rough-and-tough persona disappeared when her daughter chimed in. Citing her anger that at first seemed to be stemming from a show of insubordination, was actually from a show of concern for their fellow maids. Realizing that, it put the instructor in a different light in Lucrecia's eyes, and made her feel a little worse that they unfortunately couldn't save them. Although, seeing the instructor's heart melting so easily when faced with Lyssa made her chuckle a bit. With that, they were all dismissed and had some free time before they arrived back at the Maison. With a bow to Myrilla, Lucrecia excused herself from their instructor. "Gracie Madonna." She said. She walked over to Polina for a moment. Thinking it'd be nice to build a bit of rapport with her, since they worked together for a large part of the mission. "Seems the mission worked out rather nicely, all things considered." She started. In my opinion, I don't necessarily feel that the action you took was wrong. Sure, it got more than a little hectic dealing with a sudden swarm of demons. But, being lessers means they're easier to take out, and with most of them coming out of hiding it meant less chance of ambush for us. It certainly made it easier to find Lyssa and this little one." Lucrecia said, looking at the little girl clinching to Polina's leg with a warm smile. If the little one would let her, she'd attempt to rub the top of her head as a means of comforting her. "You know, I hope making sure you always have enough ingredients to make more macaroons doesn't become too difficult in the coming days. I feel the young Madonna...may become a frequent patron due to them." She warned the farisian maid. She glanced at Lyssa, who was still stuffing her face full of pastries. "Does she always down sweets like that, I wonder? How does she stay so small?" Noticing Kat and her dolls, she looked with curious eyes as they scurried about. Some of them were repairing each other, sewing limbs back on or stitching cuts back up. "Well Kat, it seems you and Leoniya were able to subdue that high demon. Nothing we seemed to threw at it." She said to her Firbolg comrade. "Although, I didn't see a body or even a cinder outlining one. What exactly did you do? I can't imagine that it ran away.."</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Quite frankly, Polina thought going in and shooting every demon she saw was a viable and effective strategy, and it clearly was already demonstrated to work perfectly! She wasn't going to go ahead and intentionally dig her grave further –she'd already intentionally done that, after all—but why bother when she would be saved by bribery any moment now? Ah, there it was. Polina quickly noted that she would have to have a large selection of sweets ready at a moment's notice –not that she didn't already—to bribe Lyssa with to keep her mother away, because the Farisian maid was sure that the older women would likely have more problems with her in the future. Having stoically met Myrilla's snarling up until now, she couldn't help but to derive amusement from her interaction with her daughter even as she kept her outer façade stone-faced. Polina did have to agree with Lyssa, though. She was getting pretty hungry. "It did," she nodded, once Lucrecia approached her. "Less time spent being overly cautious meant there was more time to exterminate the threat. The young lady here was saved because of that." What Polina didn't know what to do with, though, was the young girl that was still clinging to the frills of her dress. Considering that she'd just narrowly avoided more than a tongue-lashing from her superior, she didn't try to reengage the woman. Instead, she turned to the girl, kneeling down and giving her a pat on the head as well. "Would you like some food? You must be hungry after all this while."</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall With free time now, Katherine took a quick look at her dolls and made sure they were being taken care of properly. Medic Doll seemed to be taking care of them all fairly well so Katherine moved over with the large spherical capsule containing the high demon to where the other maids were gathered. Lucrecia had asked what happened to the high demon. "Ahh, yes, that high demon. Well, I can tell you that there were some casualties on our end but we managed to subdue it between Leoniya's superior firepower and my volleys." She held up the capsule containing the demon. "I'll give you three guesses on where she is now, though the first two don't count." The Firbolg giggled before a doll that had been finished getting treatment came over, offering to hold the orb as she talked. "Thank you, dear." The puppeteer said as she handed the orb to the doll and it stood there with an eyepatch over it's right eye and a bandaged up midsection. "Anyhow, Leoniya managed to pin her and I ran over with this before landing a decisive blow... On her head. Anyhow, she's neutralized for the moment." The firbolg said before looking at Lyssa and then peering up and down. While the maid was busy with Polina, the Firbolg walked around her and gave her a firm slap on the ass. "Come now, you should get yourself looked at by the nurse. Of course, if you're feeling brave, Medic Doll here can give you a check-up. Can't promise results though." The firbolg mentioned with a wink. She was two for two, mother and daughter, now. She's been thrown off the ship once, what could be worse this time. "That said, who's the girl? Think you should get her checked up too?"</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight --- Lyssa jumped, body going stiff and giving a little squeal as she'd feel Katherine's hand smack her butt. "Nyep-Hey save that kinda stuff for the bedroom." She'd giggle a bit, a coy smile given towards Katherine. "Oooor bribe me with something sweet and cold if you wanna do that sorta thing in public." She'd rub her butt just a bit where she was smacked before turning towards her would be assailant. "So kitty cat, what's your name and are we gonna get a room oooor are you just gonna leave me hanging?" The small girl in the red dress responded with a frown, glancing warily towards Lyssa and Katherine before looking up at Polina and Lucrecia. "...I-I…uhm…y-yes…" She'd quietly reply. "A-akantha…my name. Akantha…" "My my, aren't you all quite rowdy this evening." A voice, familiar to the maids would interrupt their conversation as the resident nurse and long range fighter would make herself available, stepping out of the ships lower deck and onto the main deck. "Hmm…oh, it seems we have a new guest, too." The white haired maid offered Akantha a smile. "Lyssa, I believe your mother requested a checkup by me before anything else, yes?" "Aww, but I wanna do other things." She'd pout. "Not until I check you for injuries." Viatrix grabbed the pink haired maid by the wrist. "Is the little one in need of some medical attention as well?" She'd ask Polina and Lucrecia.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- "That should mean I get a free pass with the number of sweets I've been feeding you," Polina idly commented, her lips curling slightly upwards before giving a more appreciative look for her intervention earlier. "Thanks for that." Turning back to the young girl, she nodded at her response, although she still didn't quite know how to care for the unexpected guest for the moment. She could play bodyguard very well, but Polina had never taken care of children or interacted with them very much, even in her childhood. War had a habit of interfering with such things. "Very well, Akantha… let's get you a good meal and some proper rest for you." Turning, they nearly ran into the maids' resident nurse. She'd made a very timely appearance, though it would seem that Akantha's well-deserved rest and recuperation would be slightly delayed. "She needs rest and a proper meal and time to process what has happened today, but otherwise she appears unharmed," Polina explained. "But giving her a checkup would be a good idea either way. What do you think, Lucrecia?"</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clemantis --- Upon hearing that familiar sound of slapping, Lucrecia turned and gave Kat a mean squint. As if the mother wasn't enough, she felt the need to mark Lyssa's backside as well! "Kathrine, cara, it's a wonder how you haven't gotten a charge yet for your antics..." She scolding the Firbolg. What surprised her more was the fact that Lyssa seemed not only bothered by it, but requited her sauciness. Lucrecia could only dismiss it with a head shake; she was in the business long enough to know that you'll see that every place has its eccentrics. Her attention quickly turned to Viatrix, the maid in charge of nursing, coming up from the lower deck. "Buon pomeriggio, Viatrix. I do indeed agree that Lyssa could stand some time spent in the infirmary." Lucrecia said, giving a gentle but solemn look at the pink-haired recruit. She then looked over at the little one. "In addition to any possible physical injures, little Akantha has been through quite the emotional and mental ordeal. I don't see why a quick check up wouldn't be the correct course of action. Food and rest will come afterward, of course." She looked at Akantha, gently rubbing her cheek to comfort her. "Akantha, my dear, please go with Ms. Viatrix. She is nothing less of a saint, and wants to make sure you're not hurt. We promise it'll only be for a little while, and Polina and I will be right here when you get back. Then, will get some good food in you."</s>

<|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine looked to Lyssa with a sly smile. "Well, what a shame I don't have something cold and sweet to give you." Her brows furrowed though, at being called a kitty cat. "I am not one such 'kitty cat' and it's shameful of you to call me as such." Katherine mentioned as if it were common knowledge that one should not call a firbolg a cat. She was about to add something else before the little girl, named Akantha, introduced herself and then Viatrix cam up on deck where everyone else seemed insistant that Akantha and Lyssa get a check-up with the nurse. "Yes, I agree with the sentiment. Both of you should get an immediate check-up. That said I probably should probably make a visit some time after we return." Katherine mentioned before turning toward the accented girl that tried to scold her. "Now, dear Lucrecia, it's all about being discerning about who you do things to. Though being tossed overboard was a miscalculation on my part, truthfully. Or do you try to warn me because you're jealous I've not done anything to you?" The catgirl maid teased as her dolls in the back were managing to finish up whatever first aid they needed to do.</s>

<|description|>Katherine Lindall Gender: Female Race: Firbolg Photo ID: Too Large, Attached Seperately Relevant Abilities: Cooking, Cleaning, Dodging, Dexterous Hands, Sewing Tell us about yourself: Some people call me arrogant and a know-it-all, but I'd describe myself as smart, beautiful and rather friendly if you're not an absolute idiot. Hmm? How would I define an idiot? The person asking a question like that first of all. Second, someone that pretends to know what they're talking about when they're nothing but hot air. I think you will find me a hard worker if you give me the proper respect someone making your food and bringing you water deserves. Work history: What can I say? I grew up in a spooky forest with an old hag. Made a friend from the city one day and grew accustomed to it. After a point, I needed more money to pursue my passions. What passions? Well, I rather appreciate when my dolls have a nice proper dress. Tools you are skilled with: Light swords of all sorts but Rapier is prefer, especially when paired with a pistol or hand crossbow. Occult Knowledge: Using magical ring catalysts, I can summon and return my dolls to my rings. Once summoned, I connect them to me by using thin magical threads to control them. They can do a number of things but most notably for a maid's job is that I can use them to clean with 500% efficiency.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine looked to Lyssa with a sly smile. "Well, what a shame I don't have something cold and sweet to give you." Her brows furrowed though, at being called a kitty cat. "I am not one such 'kitty cat' and it's shameful of you to call me as such." Katherine mentioned as if it were common knowledge that one should not call a firbolg a cat. She was about to add something else before the little girl, named Akantha, introduced herself and then Viatrix cam up on deck where everyone else seemed insistant that Akantha and Lyssa get a check-up with the nurse. "Yes, I agree with the sentiment. Both of you should get an immediate check-up. That said I probably should probably make a visit some time after we return." Katherine mentioned before turning toward the accented girl that tried to scold her. "Now, dear Lucrecia, it's all about being discerning about who you do things to. Though being tossed overboard was a miscalculation on my part, truthfully. Or do you try to warn me because you're jealous I've not done anything to you?" The catgirl maid teased as her dolls in the back were managing to finish up whatever first aid they needed to do.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Clemantis 13.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight --- "Oh goodness, a saint? I do believe you're exaggerating, you flatterer." Viatrix responded with a light giggle. "Come along you two, now. I won't have Myrilla shouting at me if you have a little hair on your head singed off." Viatrix knelt down, putting her arms around Akantha and holding her. "And you, little one, will be just fine." "...Uhm…yes, I'll be fine…" The girl responded quietly, glancing towards Lucrecia and Polina, seeming a bit uncertain but would ultimately allow herself to be carried off. Lyssa offered everyone present a slightly impish smile and a wave bye before heading off after Viatrix. "Da, that mission could have gone much worse, I think." As Viatrix left, Leoniya would walk up to the trio. "Good work you three, especially you two." She'd say, giving Polina a friendly, somewhat rough pat on her back. "...its a shame about the forward team, but not much we can do aside from cleanup and move on. Anyone want a drink? I was planning on helping out in the kitchen for some food on the way back to the Maison." "Mhm…Leoniya. You three." The sleepy voice of Bernadette was next to make herself known. "Comms units are fixed-" "Ah, Bernadette! Perfect timing!" Leoniya immediately grabbed the small girl by the shoulders. Bernadette's expression was unimpressed, to say the least. "We're just about to all head to the galley to celebrate! I'm going to make my signature Stroganoff!" "...drowning it in alcohol is not cooking." "Nonsense. Everyone loves it!" Leoniya was now dragging Bernadette off. She looked at the other three, a somewhat pleading if sleepy expression. Well, they had a few hours before they arrived back at the Maison later tonight. Maybe they could join Leoniya or save Bernadette from a fate she did not seem interested in. Viatrix would probably have Lyssa and Akantha both out of the infirmary soon enough to join them in whatever it was they wanted to do on their way back.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clemantis --- "No grazie, Senora." Replied Lucrecia to Kat "Though quite flattered, I'm against workplace romances. Too problematic for my tastes." Viatrix the responded to Lucrecia's earlier comment, feeling that the maid gave her a little too much credit. She carefully took Akantha into her arms as she prepared to go off with her and Lyssa to the infirmary. The child glancing at her and Polina, Lucrecia returned the glance with a reassuring smile before the three went off. Leoniya then walked up to the three recruits, congratulating them on a job well done. "Ah, t'was nothing Madonna." She replied with a humble bow. "It was a matter of, how you say, "Teamwork makes the dream work." I believe that's the way the saying goes?" Bernadette was the next to make her presence known, confirming that she was able to reestablish communications. However, before she could finish she was snatched up by the Krysan maid, who declared she was going to cook up her apparent "signature" Stroganoff. "Truthfully, I am no stranger to cooking dishes using wine and ale. You'd be surprised how popular it is among certain affluent socialites." Replied Lucrecia to Leoniya and Bernadette "If I'm not overstepping my bounds, I'd be more than happy to- Gruhh!" She cut herself off making a sudden pained grunt, holding her back. It seemed the back wound she received during the mission hadn't fully healed at this point. Wincing a bit, she decided that it may be in her best interests to reunite with Akantha a bit early and pay the medical officer a visit. "Perdonami, Madonna, but I think I'll see Viatrix for a moment." She wasn't as familiar with demons as some of her other companions, but she imagined untreated wounds inflicted by them spell particular trouble down the line. She went in the direction the other three went and arrived at the entrance to the infirmary, seeing Viatrix beginning to attend to the other two. "Ciao Madonna!" Lucrecia said. "I hope you don't mind the sudden intrusion, but hopefully you're equipped to tend to a third person. I have a nagging back pain, from a demon wound no less..." She looked over at Akantha, waving a greeting at her. "Hello dearie, looks like we both could use a bit of a check up." She then looked over at Viatrix, her expression becoming more serious. "You haven't found any issues with her, have you?"</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Polina give the little Akantha a nod of encouragement. "Go on. Viatrix will take care of you," she said, giving her and the pink-haired maid a wave as they departed, leaving her with Lucrecia, Kat and Leoniya, who walked up and patted her back. Losing the rest of Lyssa's team was indeed a shame. She didn't know them very well, Polina was a recent 'transfer' after all, but there were only so many maids. "I'll join you in the kitchen once I've freshened up," she acknowledged positively, just as Bernadette reappeared from the bowels of the airship. Then, Lucrecia had to bow out from the injury she had received earlier. "Have that checked," she agreed. It would be a shame, though, if she missed Leoniya's signature Stroganoff. Polina had perked up at the mention of it. "I am looking forward to it," she nodded, overruling Bernadette in approving of the dish. She left the poor maid to her fate. She was more than willing to help her prepare the meal as a way to wind down from the high intensity fight in the city, but she would join them in galley a little bit later. A shower was in order after that fight, and she needed to repack all of her weapons into their proper folds. But she would be helping with making that Stroganoff.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Well, that girl and Lyssa were going to be taken care of. "What do you even mean by romance? It's nothing to do with romance." Katherine mentioned in response to Lucrecia doing her best to hold her hand back from delivering a blow. Luckily, Leoniya had came up and started speaking to them about the mission. Telling them that despite the loss of most of the forward team it was a job well done. She lost her chance, thankfully, to tease Lucrecia and her rear end. Then, Bernadette appeared and mentioned that the comms were back up which was a good thing for the maid troops. Leoniya seemed excited to make Stroganoff to which Bernadette seemed to no exactly seem excited about. "Drowning in alcohol?" It's not like Katherine was too bothered by alcohol but drowning food in it...? Well, Polina and Lucrecia went off on their own thing. Lucrecia to get her wounds treated and Polina to clean up a bit. Katherine wasn't really sure what to do with herself. Perhaps she'd save Bernadette from her fate. "Hold yourself, Leoniya. I needed to speak to Bernadette a minute if you wanted to head down first. I'll come help out as soon as we're done talking." Katherine mentioned, walking up to the pair and trying to stop Leoniya from dragging the poor girl down. "It'll just be a minute." She would add, trying to give a sneaky wink to Bernadette.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Clemantis 13.000 hours --- Seeing this as a good excuse as any, Bernadette wiggled herself out of the rats grasp, earning a pouty huff from Leoniya as the head engineer expressed her displeasure by sticking her tongue out at Leoniya in a somewhat childish manner. "Ne Veselo, both of you." The rat replied with a dismissive wave. "Fine! I shall make it myself! And eat it myself! None for you!" The rat laughed, walking off and heading to the galley. Bernadette merely watched her leave, giving Katherine a nod before heading back to the ships engineering and maintenance areas, certain that the Firbolg had nothing to actually talk about. Of course Katherine could always ruin Bernadette's day as Leoniya had planned to. She wouldn't do that, would she? --- This Whenever Polina found herself cleaned up and presentable, she'd find Leoniya toiling away in the kitchens along with a few other maids, preparing an admittedly rather lavish looking dinner to be eaten on the way back to the Maison. A few other maids expressed apologies, almost running into Polina as they scurried about, cleaning, cooking, and generally doing their duties. "Ah, Stroganoff, my mouth waters just thinking about you-hm? Ah, Polina! You are here! I was wondering if you'd be a spoilsport like the others, ahaha! Katherine dragged Detty away and here I am, making dinner just for me. Help a little rat?" She'd turn her head towards Polina as she'd walk into the kitchens, a bottle of half empty vodka sitting next to the stove she was using to cook, no doubt having used it on the sauteed meat currently being prepared to be served. --- Finding the infirmary wasn't hard, mostly thanks to well documented signage. Upon pushing open the door to the infirmary however, she would have something of a surprise…or rather, a lack of surprise. Lyssa and Viatrix weren't in the infirmary. Not the main sickbay area, it seemed, rather they were in the dedicated on board surgery room, door locked and the two seemed to be discussing something but nothing Lucrecia could hear. She had taken just long enough for Viatrix to get started in her examinations it seemed, though it was a bit odd she had taken Lyssa into a more private area… This would leave Lucrecia alone with Akantha. "U-uhm…sorry…she took the erm, scary one back there…" Akantha quietly replied. "She told me to sit here for now…" Akantha tucked her knees against her chest in the chair she was sitting in. "...uhm…m-miss?...what's going to happen to me? Mom and dad…I don't have any siblings or…close relatives…I think."</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clemantis --- Walking over to Akantha, Lucrecia sat down beside her and gently stroked her shoulder, attempting to comfort her. "Worry not, little one. We're on our way back to the Maison de Fiore, where you'll be cared for safe and sound." She said in a kind tone. "Love, why don't chat for a bit? Tell me a little about yourself? Are you originally from Cogfell? What was life like before...all this happened? If there's anything you'd like to share withme, I'm all ears." Lucrecia tried her best to give the girl dome attention, as she was sure she needed it. Too much happened to fast, and it was doubtful that she knew how to process any of it. She also wondered if Akantha had even been tended to yet. "Has the doctor tended to you yet, Love? Are you feeling all right, does it hurt anywhere?"</s>

<|message|>Katherine Lindall With Leoniya gone, Katherine walked over to the now leaving Bernadette and wrapped her up in a hug. "Come on, Bernadette~ I gave you a real easy out. Can't you at least give me a little thank you?" Katherine was internally smirking as she stopped the poor girl from going off to where she wanted but that wasn't the Firbolg's problem. She deserved a small thank you, didn't she? She rubbed her cheek against the smaller girl's as she was being quite obnoxiously annoying about it. Still, if Bernadette just said thanks that would be enough for Katherine to just stop. "Alternatively, I could just show you what got me tossed off the ship earlier first hand. It was a little fun. Not the thrown off the ship part, of course." She continued to tease. It wasn't an empty threat though. She would follow through quite happily.</s>

<|description|>Senya Fivulwyn * Gender: Female * Race: Dark Elf * Photo ID: "..." I know she looks young, but looks can be deceiving. Especially since she's an elf. Believe me, you'll be able to rely on her. * Relevant Abilities: "I can clean. I can cook too. And I can kill things." Don't believe her when she says she can cook. Trust nothing she makes, unless you want to experience suffering words cannot describe. She is excellent at cleaning though, and you can trust her ability to aim and shoot well enough to compensate for her weapon's unique properties. She's quite agile as well. * Tell us about yourself: "..." I know she rarely shows it, but Senya is a much more compassionate and sensitive girl then she lets on. That stoic-looking pokerface is hiding a lot of feelings. If you ever hear her raise her voice, something's wrong, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel anything otherwise. Admittedly one of her bad points is that she enjoys seeing people stumble and get in trouble a lot more then she should, I'd keep an eye out for her playing pranks on people she disagrees with. But she won't let people get hurt. Not intentionally. She might even go a little too far to protect someone, so keep an eye on her. When things are bad she stops taking care of herself properly, so watch out for that too. If you ever need to get her to do something for you, try something sweet. She'll try and hold out but the temptation will be too much. * Work history: "..." This is going to be her first real work. But I've kept my eye on her and watched her progress, she's an excellent maid. As long as you don't let her cook. She won't show it. She might even act like it's a bother. But she wants to be here. Badly. She'll be loyal. She won't give up, even to her own detriment. So don't let her get herself killed, okay? There's someone she's looking for, after all. * Tools you are skilled with: "She gave it to me. It can really tear things apart. Heh." You might recognize this weapon. Or at least, some might. A portable gatling gun with a bayonet that big isn't common after all. Everything's still in place, so she doesn't have any trouble wielding it even if it's as big as she is. * Occult Knowledge: "... They won't stand a chance." She's better at it then I was. Her favorite trick is magically charging her bullets, so that they explode on contact, but she can apply it to the bayonet too so that she can cut through things even more effectively. You won't have any issues here.</s> <|message|>Astreya Astreya has been in the engine room. Mainly because it was hard to keep her out - she really wasn't allowed in here. She's been spending her time crouched over for a close hands-off inspection of the machinery, interrupted by occasional barks from the ship staff whenever they suspect she's acting too "Krysa-y." Really, one of the staff came over and told her off for acting too Krysa-y. She must've got embarrassed about that term, because she only used it once, and just called Astreya's curiosity about the engine suspicious from then on. Her ears perk up at the sound of her own language from the intercom. She'd kind of been expecting to be alone here. "Great," says miss Krysa-y. "Rat! You've gotta go!" "Yeah, I know," says Astreya. "One more minute." The staff exchange looks. Better not warn her about being late. Best-case, maybe she gets thrown overboard and they never have to deal with her again. Well, this is the story she'll tell if asked. Really the staff were quite nice, but that's boring. Astreya spends a little bit longer bent at the knees and staring silently at a compressor, cupping her chin between her fingers. She's pretty sure she recognizes this design, and it's a design that sucks. Is this an oversight? A cost-saving measure? Do humans really not have anything better? She wishes she could peel this open and be sure that it's as bad as it looks, but she can hardly do that while it's running. From an outside perspective, to those not engaged in her technical review of the airship, the sight of this giant ratwoman in a fluffy maid dress staring at their engine like a crossword puzzle might be comical. It's less comical when she rises and straightens to her full height again. Depending on the viewer's recent experiences, it might be genuinely frightening, despite the dress, to meet a (mostly) fully-grown Krysa female's eyes from on high. She doesn't mean for it to be. "All right," she says. "What was it - top deck?" She is shown the door. It shouldn't take long to find her way.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- Polina regarded the tray of macarons with a critical eye. Bringing the confections to level with her face, she frowned as she found the desserts lacking, the sheen of its coat a notch or two duller than what passed as acceptable to her standards. The galley of the airship, while well-appointed by the standards of what could expect for a craft of its size, could only be so well equipped, especially for a trip on such short notice and she recognized that fact, however much it galled her. Taking sets of preprepared silken pouches, she emptied the tray of colorful confections into the containers before tying their drawstrings together and carefully placing them into a woven handbasket to later distribute. For Polina, this was not the first time she would be going into battle. This was something that she always found profoundly ironic, considering her entire raison d'etre for being a maid had been fleeing conflict. It had been almost ten years since that fateful day, though, and she had found her purpose since. She could count herself as a veteran maid, but as a battlemaid, she still had things to learn despite her splendid education. When you lived in a state that didn't see an inkling of conflict during your entire span of service there, there was only so much experience you could gain outside of special assignments given by your mistress. Fending off suitors and crazies didn't much count, though she considered it a personal failing that she hadn't been able to prevent the assassination of the Grand Prince. She was still apprehensive about her tour of duty with the Violet Garden. It would do her well in treading new ground, and she was ostensibly among friends to learn and rely on. Yet the mutual pact of trust was not yet there, and likely would not ever be there unless circumstances changed. It was a far cry from her experience at home, but that too was why she was here. Depending on what she learned, the two mistresses she now served would either forge a new friendship that was more than just the simple platitudes it was now, or the relationship would be forever lost with a wall firmly in place between mutual reconciliation. She was a well-rounded maid with a very good set of skills that just wanted to meet new people, but she hated playing the spy. Yet from what her mistress had told her, what was going on in the Maison d'Violette could have wider implications. Such was the cost of living in interesting times. In the meantime, though, she would feed her new maidenly comrades sweets and prepare for battle. As the voice of the Kyrsan veteran barked over the intercom, she slung her rifle over her shoulder after taking it up from its place against the wall. Even with a basket of macarons in her hand, she was combat-ready— she always kept her sword openly at her side, as were her more concealed weapons closer to her body. With a spring in her step, she stepped out onto the deck to hand out her confections—even if she didn't fully trust everybody yet, she would still feed them sweets and be fed the same in return, 'accidents' be damned.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine had been sitting in one of the rooms, carefully looking over all of the dolls that she had brought with her. "One through 4 check. Five through seven in good shape. Number eight... How did you stain your apron like that?" The Firbolg woman clicked her tongue, slightly irritated. "I swear, the next time show me before we get on the ship to come out gods know where. Welp, no harm to it. Hard to even see." The woman patted at the doll's apron to see if it was something that'd just come off but to no avail. "Hmm. Well, we're looking fine now. Now, go lets go ahead and get you all your weapons. We need to be ready for the battle ahead." Katherine stood and clapped her hands, and the dolls marched to the back of the room grabbing their weapons. Four of them grabbed some nicely crafted halberds, just about the right size for the three foot tall dolls. The other four grabbed four rifles and beltpouches to facilitate using rifles. "Hmm, hmm. Looking in good shape except a stained apron." And it was, perhaps by fortune, just then that a certain heavily accented Krysa came over the intercom. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" "Hmmm, hmm. Yes, yes. I figured it was about time, didn't I?" Katherine pondered as she gave a sigh. "Two Halberdiers in front, Rifledolls in the middle and 2 Halberdiers as rear guard." And with that, Katherine lead the small troop. It didn't take too long before the sounds of small, in-step marching dolls making their way to the top of the deck. As Katherine reached the deck, the dolls assumed a single file line and set themselves to the side of the airship deck. "Greetings, one and all. Apologies if I've not shown my face topside much, I wanted to make sure my team was in top shape." The Firbolg said as her tail swished back and forth a bit, obviously a small bit excited to get to fight. She waved at her dolls as thin magical looking threads of magic lightly flashed. "They are, of course. And I'll have them patrol around a small bit." With that, the dolls broke formation and started to patrol the deck, looking over the side and making sure nothing was sneaking up on then. "After all, it shall not be long 'til we start our own end of fighting." The Puppeteer Maid checked her own personal weaponry. While her rapier itself wasn't good at fighting bigger monster, she should be fine on that end with the dolls she had backing her up. Her rapier was at it's position on the left side and her pistol on her right. "So, how is our exquisite combat instructor? Doing well, I assume?" The cat smugly smiled at the woman. "As well to you, Bernadetta? And, ummm, Leoniya?" The woman asked. As she introduced herself, one of the dolls patrolling behind the combat instructor gave a soft slap to the butt. The cat had a death wish.</s>

<|message|>Senya Fivulwyn It was an opportunity. They always said no. They never let her. Even Big Sister said no. Sure, that one time, that guy had to be hospitalized. Sure, that other time, that lady spent the rest of the day crying and asking why the gods allowed something like this to happen. But that didn't mean she wouldn't get it right this time. And even if she didn't... Well, sometimes it was funny to watch people react to her cooking. When they didn't cry or get sick, the shock and desperate questions about what they just tasted were hilarious. But that was beside the point. Senya was sure, this time, she'd make something everyone would love. As long as she had free, unrestricted access to the kitchen. One of the other maids, a human, had been making something that smelled delicious in there. So she had to time it right. She had to make sure she got a moment to slip in after everyone was done. Then she could work her magic. Then she'd make something unlike anything anyone on the ship had ever experienced. At least, that would be one way to describe it, for good or ill(most likely ill). Lingering near the entrance to the kitchen, Senya idly swept with her broom back and forth. She'd just watch and wait for the human maid to leave, until she had her moment. The tiny dark elf was watching the kitchen intensely, idly shuffling back and forth in the hall and sweeping up random spots that looked like she could plausibly claim they needed cleaning, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice on the intercom. "Vnimaniye! All maids report to the deck at once! Povtoreniye! All Maids report to the deck at once for mission briefing!" "..." Her plans, in that instant, were dashed. On the other hand... --- It was not much later when Senya appeared on the deck. She had traded her broom for an entirely different piece of equipment, currently concealed in a leather case that much resembled a piece of luggage, held in both of her small hands as she walked across the deck to join the others. "Here." It was all the expressionless dark elf said as she came to a halt.</s>

<|description|>Senya Fivulwyn * Gender: Female * Race: Dark Elf * Photo ID: "..." I know she looks young, but looks can be deceiving. Especially since she's an elf. Believe me, you'll be able to rely on her. * Relevant Abilities: "I can clean. I can cook too. And I can kill things." Don't believe her when she says she can cook. Trust nothing she makes, unless you want to experience suffering words cannot describe. She is excellent at cleaning though, and you can trust her ability to aim and shoot well enough to compensate for her weapon's unique properties. She's quite agile as well. * Tell us about yourself: "..." I know she rarely shows it, but Senya is a much more compassionate and sensitive girl then she lets on. That stoic-looking pokerface is hiding a lot of feelings. If you ever hear her raise her voice, something's wrong, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel anything otherwise. Admittedly one of her bad points is that she enjoys seeing people stumble and get in trouble a lot more then she should, I'd keep an eye out for her playing pranks on people she disagrees with. But she won't let people get hurt. Not intentionally. She might even go a little too far to protect someone, so keep an eye on her. When things are bad she stops taking care of herself properly, so watch out for that too. If you ever need to get her to do something for you, try something sweet. She'll try and hold out but the temptation will be too much. * Work history: "..." This is going to be her first real work. But I've kept my eye on her and watched her progress, she's an excellent maid. As long as you don't let her cook. She won't show it. She might even act like it's a bother. But she wants to be here. Badly. She'll be loyal. She won't give up, even to her own detriment. So don't let her get herself killed, okay? There's someone she's looking for, after all. * Tools you are skilled with: "She gave it to me. It can really tear things apart. Heh." You might recognize this weapon. Or at least, some might. A portable gatling gun with a bayonet that big isn't common after all. Everything's still in place, so she doesn't have any trouble wielding it even if it's as big as she is. * Occult Knowledge: "... They won't stand a chance." She's better at it then I was. Her favorite trick is magically charging her bullets, so that they explode on contact, but she can apply it to the bayonet too so that she can cut through things even more effectively. You won't have any issues here.</s> <|message|>Eleanor "Cookie" Cutter "No questions, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am!" Eleanor replied, relieved. So relieved that she realized only shortly after the fact that her words came out sounding more enthusiastic than she meant them to be, a little too obsequious even. Never mind. She was only grateful that Katherine's transgression didn't get them all screamed at, or worse. Eleanor accepted Polina's packet with a soft "thanks" and quickly slipped the treats into her pinafore. Foremost on her mind was finding better weapons to arm herself with than just her feather duster; sampling the macarons will have to wait.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Aboard the Clematis --- Surprised that Kat hadn't been thrown out of the airlock or filled full of lead, Lucrecia pondered for a moment at the information there were given. Or rather, she wondered why it was all so vague, couldn't even be bothered to call this a briefing. "Ah. Un momento, Signora. I'd personally like to know a bit more about the situation. Do we know anything about the enemy? How many there are, what works best againast these ones, can we still expect aid from the local Polizia? I think that's at least worth considering." The freelancer was a stickler for the finer details and always made sure to be well prepared for everything and anything. Of course, it's not as if she couldn't improvise. She just didn't feel it was ideal, more often than not. "Considering our compatriots likely have been met with an unfortunate fate, perhaps a little preparedness would benefit our fight against these spiritos malignos</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine's doll that Polina handily handed a pouch of fresh baked goods gratefully accepted the gift and returned a salute towards the woman. Katherine herself seemed quite intent with not stepping down as the harsh drill instructor of a maid stood and stared her down, obviously in part to the earlier slight. "Now, now, Miss Chef. It's never good to leave without asking questions of your superiors. You can't be the only one constantly on your toes after all." The doll commanding maid held her right hand on her hip whilst her left hung at her side whilst still staring back into Myrilla's eyes. "And Miss... Lu? Lulu? Yes, Lulu. I agree with your spirit in the line of questioning, but I think it's safe to hazard a guess at what our opposition is. Blood demons, the only creatures in the family uncouth enough to destroy so much." The Doll-Maker smirked a small bit. "But yes, you are right on those other questions Lulu, though I would add one of my own. Where were our coworkers last located? Or where they were suppose to be. I feel right as rain going to find them but I rather have a location to look out for as we volley fire down the streets." Katherine then put her hands down to her sides, but slightly away with her digits outstretched as to show off the eight magical catalysts that bejeweled each finger but her thumbs. An eerie light began to glow from the ring as the glow traveled from her rings to each of the dolls through the magic thread that connected them. The dolls then seemed to poof into nothing as the glow returned to the rings. "After those are answered, I don't think I have many questions."</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: The Clematis 12.000 hours @AzureKnight@Waylon@Click This@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- "You, unless you pay more attention, little rat." Myrilla scoffed towards Astreya's question, not even bothering to glance in her direction as she'd instead take a long inhalation on her pipe, regarding Katherine with a scowl. "The cat's probably correct." Myrilla responded to Lucrecia, a thick waft of smoke meeking Katherine's face as she exhaled. The woman stuck her still burning pipe in her headdress as she'd slowly walk around the line of maids. "Scale demons usually would hardly care to destroy. Eye demons are far too slothful. A tear demon would only do so if it caused whoever they're haunting distress. Tongue demons corruption would be far more ethereal in nature…which leaves our likely culprit as Blood Demons." As the instructor moved down the line from behind, she'd stop momentarily behind Senya, adjusting her headdress slightly and tightening the uniform just a bit. "As you should have learned, Blood demons are particularly violent and vicious. A slave to their fell emotions and impulses. They lust for carnage, obscenity and all the vile pleasures a human would reject." Myrilla continued moving down the line once more as she spoke, the sound of her heels on the deck the only sound aside from the dull hum of the engines. "Their magics are the same, and they are tied to Tear demons for raw physical strength. You get into a fight of raw strength with one above Greater Beast, you're gonna end up worse than dead. They don't care for decency or human morals." Kathereine would feel Myrilla's hands on her waist as she'd stop behind them. "Ah, and one more thing. The local police have quarantined the town and have made it very clear - no one in or out the usual routes for fear of a demon in disguise slipping through." Katherine would find herself being lifted, off the ground and hoisted up in a princess carry in Myrilla's arms. "So you will be air dropping on sight. Like so-" Myrilla spun on her heels, doing two full rotations with Katherine in her arms, before quite literally tossing the maid right over the railing, sending her sailing to the ground below. "Ser'yezno!? She has no parachute!" Leoniya ran over to the railing. "I hear cats land on their feet." Myrilla shrugged, nonchalantly. "Consider this a lesson in both teamwork, recruits, and not to smack a married womans ass or she might toss you overboard." Leoniya worked quickly, gathering parachutes and a pack of supplies for the recruits. Ammo, a copy of the usual 'Maids Guide to Demon Hunting' for reference, a MAT-4 pistol, flares, and a spare uniform. "Oh, and one more thing," Myrilla pulled the pipe from her headband. "...my daughter was part of that group of six. I expect word of how she is soon as you find her. Now get going! Don't sit there and gawk at my ass like that one or you all better grow wings!" That was odd. You should all knew she was married from how she would gush about her husband when drunk, but she had never mentioned a kid before. Well, regardless, it was show time it seemed like. The maids had been given their instruction, and that seemed all the information Myrilla was likely willing to divulge. Perhaps she didn't know much more herself, but there was certainly a lot of unknowns left in there. Whenever the maids collected themselves, they'd find themselves jumping overboard, parachute secured tightly along with supplies as they'd get their first glimpse of what remained of Cogsfell below… Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours --- Myrilla hadn't been wrong. The north section of the town looked exactly as described. A smoldering, blasted crater littered with buildings that were still actively burning as thick smoke billowed up from it. Many buildings looked like they had gotten blasted by an explosion. Along the ground fissures and volcanic fire erupted from below, a clear sign of a portal to the first circle fo Naraheim likely having been opened here. The police seemed to have formed a defensive line around its perimeter as best they could, using the untouched southern section of the city as a safehaven and refuge. They could hear an occasional scream, too. Not to mention a number of demons running around as they got closer to the ground. Nothing too concerning from the looks of things. Some low level Demon beasts and Greater Beasts, thankfully no high demons from the looks of things, but who knew what would be found once they hit the ground? Soon enough, unless one would have somehow gotten wildly off course, the maids would find themselves all touching down near and around what was once a fountain in what was some sort of square. It was now split in half, a deep fissure having opened beneath the ground. Ruined and burning buildings surrounded them in most directions. To the north they could hear the occasional sound of gunfire, and a bit to the east they could hear what could only be described as indescribable demonic roaring. The smell of sulfur, fire, and thick smoke permeated the air. Myrilla didn't give them any direction, only intending to find out what happened. Well, they were here now…time to figure out what happened.</s>

<|message|>Senya Fivulwyn Senya quietly glanced back over her shoulder when her uniform was tightened, her headband adjusted slightly. She didn't utter a single word, simply holding her case in both hands as she expressionlessly glanced back at the strict drill sergeant. She didn't have much to say, but she thought she'd put her headband on straight... had she not? She listened quietly to the summary of the expected threats. She'd kill them. She'd kill all the demons. That was that, really. She'd shoot them and they'd blow up. She'd cut them up and they'd bleed. None of them were that one, so there was no need to do anything else. When Katherine was shoved out, there were two immediate thoughts in the tiny dark elf's mind. One being that she would most assuredly be fine, so there was no reason to be worried. The other was that it was hilarious. Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Heh." Her amusement at the other maid's terrifying predicament, however, was swiftly cut short when Myrilia announced that her daughter was among the maids that had been deployed. When she heard that, the smile swiftly faded from Senya's lips, and the small maid merely gave a firm nod and waited to be equipped with the parachute. If that was the case, then she'd made sure to bring her back. And kill every single demon in her way, too. Wordlessly, expression still neutral, she stepped to the edge. And then into the air. --- One wind-whipped parachuting trip later, and Senya had landed in the designated square, near the fountain that had marked their landing site. It took some time for her to disentangle herself from the parachute, briefly appearing like some sort of comical sheet-covered phantom as she floundered with it until she freed herself, removing the straps entirely and briefly checking to make sure she still had her pack. Cogsfell was in flames... smoke and destruction were everywhere. And she could hear all sorts of terrible noises, too. It brought forth unpleasant memories, though the sensation didn't show on the small girl's face. Instead, she quietly opened her case. From it emerged an artifice of steel and steam, a smooth, gleaming shape that ended in multiple barrels. From beneath it, a long, sharp, swordlike blade extended, turning once and snapping into place beneath each of the barrels. Senya adjusted her grip on the weapon slightly. It was almost comical, the sight of the handheld gatling gun being held by such a small girl. It was even bigger then she was. "... I'm ready to kill."</s>

<|description|>Senya Fivulwyn * Gender: Female * Race: Dark Elf * Photo ID: "..." I know she looks young, but looks can be deceiving. Especially since she's an elf. Believe me, you'll be able to rely on her. * Relevant Abilities: "I can clean. I can cook too. And I can kill things." Don't believe her when she says she can cook. Trust nothing she makes, unless you want to experience suffering words cannot describe. She is excellent at cleaning though, and you can trust her ability to aim and shoot well enough to compensate for her weapon's unique properties. She's quite agile as well. * Tell us about yourself: "..." I know she rarely shows it, but Senya is a much more compassionate and sensitive girl then she lets on. That stoic-looking pokerface is hiding a lot of feelings. If you ever hear her raise her voice, something's wrong, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel anything otherwise. Admittedly one of her bad points is that she enjoys seeing people stumble and get in trouble a lot more then she should, I'd keep an eye out for her playing pranks on people she disagrees with. But she won't let people get hurt. Not intentionally. She might even go a little too far to protect someone, so keep an eye on her. When things are bad she stops taking care of herself properly, so watch out for that too. If you ever need to get her to do something for you, try something sweet. She'll try and hold out but the temptation will be too much. * Work history: "..." This is going to be her first real work. But I've kept my eye on her and watched her progress, she's an excellent maid. As long as you don't let her cook. She won't show it. She might even act like it's a bother. But she wants to be here. Badly. She'll be loyal. She won't give up, even to her own detriment. So don't let her get herself killed, okay? There's someone she's looking for, after all. * Tools you are skilled with: "She gave it to me. It can really tear things apart. Heh." You might recognize this weapon. Or at least, some might. A portable gatling gun with a bayonet that big isn't common after all. Everything's still in place, so she doesn't have any trouble wielding it even if it's as big as she is. * Occult Knowledge: "... They won't stand a chance." She's better at it then I was. Her favorite trick is magically charging her bullets, so that they explode on contact, but she can apply it to the bayonet too so that she can cut through things even more effectively. You won't have any issues here.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @AzureKnight@Click This@Sniblet@VitaVitaAR --- The beasts arms slammed into the ground with enough force to smash the cobblestones in the now ruined street as Polina barely managed to evade the blow, sweltering heat coming from the beasts body. The rippling muscles retracted, pulling the creatures arms back up as it'd move to make another strike, this time aimed towards the nearest one attacking it…which just so happened to be Astreya. The ratgirls shotgun blasted into its thick, leathery arms, the bullets sinking into the things skin. As far as she could tell though, it did not exactly have 'joints' in the same way humans did. Its arms lacked bones, it seemed more akin to a giant, walking hollow carapace filled with lava. Even so, as the bullets sank into its arms, occasionally one pierced deep enough to cause a stream of fiery lava to leak, quickly cooling as it'd fall to the ground and yet, it did not stop. It barreled towards The rat, lumbering forwards with its arm and making a swipe towards the rat - "GGGRRRRGGGLLLL!" A gurgling, low, rumbling and bubbling howl as Senya's bayonet pierced the creatures tough legs. Smaller than its arms, it was both incredibly top heavy and unbalanced. It shrieked, immediately turning its attention from the rat to try and turn, but the bayonet had stuck itself fast in its leg. The heat from the beast turned the blade red-hot, and the barrel too, as the bullets began unloading started to steam and smoke as an entire round of bullets had emptied themselves into its legs. "RRRGGGGLLLLL!" The beast, however, didn't seem worse for wear as it'd grab ahold of the ground and pull straining against the weapon impaling it and the bullets ripping through its legs. With a sickening snap, the entire leg finally was pulled free, sending the beast stumbling forwards, slamming into Astreya in the process and knocking her roughly aside leaving a harsh burn on the side of her face. "Lllrrrrggggghhhh…" The beast, struggled to its feet, large hands keeping itself afloat. Lava poured liberally from its wound, the total amount contained in its body having lessened significantly, and it seemed a bit lethargic, now, its movement slowed…It turned towards Astreya and Senya, its body lighting up with flame and fury as it'd lunge forwards, slamming the entire force of its body towards Senya, intent on using its body to crush her. Katherine, Polina, and Lucrecia had a far less easy time of it. The demon had flung itself full force towards Katherine, and each volley that rang out, the demon would use its tail to latch onto the ground and quickly yank herself in some direction to avoid most of the bullets, weaving, jumping and expertly dodging any major wounds as she'd land on the ground just in front of Katherine, having simply leapt over the dolls. "Slow, you're slow, ahaha~!" The demon's tendrils lashed out, three taking a doll into their maw, intent obvious as one latched onto Katherine's arm, sinking its fangs deep into her flesh, but before a second could lash out the demon hissed, retreating with just as much agility as she had before as one of Polina's blades sunk into the flesh of one of her tendrils. Thankfully for Katherine, she'd also drop the dolls except for one. "Hmm, is this the best you guys can do? Aren't you supposed to be good at this? Why are you so weak?" She'd focus her attention on Polina now, maneuvering in the same way she had approached Katherine. She was mostly using physical attacks for now, it seemed, but Blood Demons were known for their destructive, elemental powers, so it would be a good idea to remain cautious still. Location: The Clematis 12:00 hrs --- Atop the Airship, overlooking the town below, Myrilla was idly leaning over the railing, tendrils of smoke slowly rising from her cigarette as she'd slowly inhale. A blue and red Flare, huh? Had something gone wrong? A high demon being present, hm…well, it was fine. Unexpected twists like this were good to teach the maids to remain cautious and keep them on their toes. The fact it had resulted in a fire fight so quickly after landing though…hmph, she'd have to reprimand that one. A maid should learn what their dealing with before committing to an assault like this. "Leoniya, looks like that toy may get to be used sooner rather than later." She'd speak into the comm system on the deck. "Eh? Really? Has something happened?" "High demon, it seems." "A high demon!? Are you certain?" "No, because Bernadette hasn't fixed the personal comms units yet." "...almost done…" A sleepy voice interjected. "If you have time to eavesedrop, you have time to work!" Myrilla hissed. "Leoniya! Get down there and help them!" "Da, comrade!" A few moments later, the maids would see the ship make a hard turn to the right. There was a thunderous sound of something like a cannon being fired, a trail of smoke as something was launched from the ship, and hurtling towards the square at an alarming rate! It looked like…a Krysan Tank!?</s> <|message|>Astreya Astreya drops her gun as she falls over. It goes off with a wild shot blasted in some direction she doesn't bother to check up on, preferring to quickly crawl out of the Greater Beast's vicinity. If it's a pain even to touch, who would want to be anywhere close to- As she gets up, Astreya reaches for her war-slash-smithing-hammer. The hair on one side of her face is visibly smoldering, but she doesn't seem to notice. Even the smell is pretty well covered up by everything else. It bleeds! Wow, it bleeds a lot! And is it slowing down? Does it suffer from exsanguination? Or is that hypothermia? Okay, reassessment: * The arms are tough. * The legs are not as tough. * Tearing pieces off of it does it some sort of significant harm. * Touching it really hurts. Its blood probably isn't much better. * I want to whack it. Conclusion: I should whack it. She rotates the hammer in her grip, figuring the flat end isn't going to do much good to bleed the monster, and instead presenting the wedge on the opposite side of its head for imminent use. With its back gushing lava and her uniform featuring fire-resistant shoes rather than fire-resistant boots, she decides to go for its flank. She doesn't really want to get close to its arms. She swings hard overhead, hoping to embed the spike and tear open a new wound.</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine winced as she was bitten into. "Gah!" This demon was annoying to try and fight like this. Well, at the least she could save her dolls from danger. She recalled them all to her rings as she pulled out her finely sharpened rapier. "Fine. Be an annoying brat, you'll pay for it later." She took a step toward the High Demon and took a stab at her. Grabbing the Demon's attention with her own physical attack, Katherine then summoned her Halberdier dolls (the three left) to one side of the demon that all swung down as soon as they fully manifested. Despite all this, the cat expected the demon to dodge once again, which was fine. Behind her, she summoned her rifledolls to once again fire at the demon if she did. "Stand still so we can seal you easily enough." Katherine complained, frustration filling her voice as she recalled her halberdier dolls so they couldn't get so easily scooped up by the demon.</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz Cogsfell Aftermath --- 🗡️ Unsurprisingly, The High Demon effortlessly dodged most of Lucrecia's gunfire. It bolstered its agility by using its countless tendrils, bouncing off the walls of surrounding buildings. Lucrecia clicked her tongue at the child-like entity's taunts, being well aware they were getting nowhere with their current assault. The demon make work of some more of Katherine's dolls, but the latter summoned replacements and sent them after it for a counterattack. Seeing that the High Demon was now making its way over to Polina, perhaps they could take advantage of it's diverted attention. Depending on how the demon responded to Katherine's counterattack, Lucrecia would attempt to hurl some throwing daggers at their attacker to supplement the advance from the dolls. If it tried to dodge the dolls, hopefully the knives would be able to hit a vital area while it was still distracted. She also still had plenty of bullets left to fall back on as well, if that didn't work. Lucrecia also shot a glance at Polina for a moment, noticing that she shot a couple of flares into the air. It seemed the dropship saw them, and saw it firing something near their vicinity - something big. Lucrecia was able to get a better look as it drew closer to them. Her eyes widened considerably when she was finally able to make it out; The dropship had sent out a Krysan tank!</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- "Cheeky brat." Polina tsked at herself in frustration as the high demon girl weaved in and out of each attack, neatly defying even her own guided missiles that she sent and continued to reengage. The admittedly cute creature even seemed to take joy in that fact, as it saw fit to insult them with her words. An interesting being, if it seemed to understand human nature. Her eyes narrowed as it took hold of Kat, and she raced to aid the poor cat girl. With her blades still on the girl, Polina finally had some luck as one of her blades landed true, the shock allowing the maid to squirm free. The success, however, meant that she now had the demon's full and undivided attention. Thankfully, it seemed her message had been seen and received, as she caught the change in movement of the loitering airship in the corner of her eye. She was sure that the maids in command would be rather cross with her more… bold decisions of the past few minutes, but what she didn't expect was… a Kyrsan tank being fired at their location. After a split second, Polina decided not to question it. Instead, she simply made sure she was not in the path of the hurtling hunk of steel, and then quickly refocused her attention on the high demon. With her own source of trouble hurtling at her, she immediately jumped back, pulling her weapons back with her, too. The moment she reconsolidated them, her eyes flitted over to the chewed up remains of the cobblestone square. With another flick of her free hand –what was living without some flair, really?—she pulled the loose stones off from the ground, creating both a defensive, fluid barrier in front of her, and a secondary means of offense. Still keeping her sword at the ready, she sent off a mass of the rocks at the demon, mixing in her deadlier blades amongst her little barrage. Well, that better work. At least, until backup was on site in the next few moments.</s>

<|message|>Senya Fivulwyn It came off! Its leg came right off! Senya's lips curled ever so slightly in a smug expression as the monster found itself down one limb. But that wasn't the end of it, the creature was still a threat. Between the heat and its enormous, crushing body, it could still potentially kill someone. So, the diminutive maid was going to do her best to make sure that didn't happen. Pushing up and away from the ground beneath her, Senya danced through the air backwards as the bulky monstrosity slammed to the earth less then a second later, crumbling the stone beneath it with its sheer mass. It would have really hurt if it had actually gotten her. But this put it right where she wanted it. Springing forward, Senya jammed pointed her weapon directly at the creature's head before it could even attempt to rise, the barrels already beginning to spin with that familiar whirring sound. She was close. The bayonet was almost touching the beast. At this range, there was no missing. Magical energy thrummed in the air, as a red-orange circle of light spread ahead of her weapon. These wouldn't be ordinary bullets, this time. As the sound of thunder filled the air, the magically-charged explosive rounds ripped their way from each of the barrels of Senya's gatling.</s>

<|description|>Senya Fivulwyn * Gender: Female * Race: Dark Elf * Photo ID: "..." I know she looks young, but looks can be deceiving. Especially since she's an elf. Believe me, you'll be able to rely on her. * Relevant Abilities: "I can clean. I can cook too. And I can kill things." Don't believe her when she says she can cook. Trust nothing she makes, unless you want to experience suffering words cannot describe. She is excellent at cleaning though, and you can trust her ability to aim and shoot well enough to compensate for her weapon's unique properties. She's quite agile as well. * Tell us about yourself: "..." I know she rarely shows it, but Senya is a much more compassionate and sensitive girl then she lets on. That stoic-looking pokerface is hiding a lot of feelings. If you ever hear her raise her voice, something's wrong, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel anything otherwise. Admittedly one of her bad points is that she enjoys seeing people stumble and get in trouble a lot more then she should, I'd keep an eye out for her playing pranks on people she disagrees with. But she won't let people get hurt. Not intentionally. She might even go a little too far to protect someone, so keep an eye on her. When things are bad she stops taking care of herself properly, so watch out for that too. If you ever need to get her to do something for you, try something sweet. She'll try and hold out but the temptation will be too much. * Work history: "..." This is going to be her first real work. But I've kept my eye on her and watched her progress, she's an excellent maid. As long as you don't let her cook. She won't show it. She might even act like it's a bother. But she wants to be here. Badly. She'll be loyal. She won't give up, even to her own detriment. So don't let her get herself killed, okay? There's someone she's looking for, after all. * Tools you are skilled with: "She gave it to me. It can really tear things apart. Heh." You might recognize this weapon. Or at least, some might. A portable gatling gun with a bayonet that big isn't common after all. Everything's still in place, so she doesn't have any trouble wielding it even if it's as big as she is. * Occult Knowledge: "... They won't stand a chance." She's better at it then I was. Her favorite trick is magically charging her bullets, so that they explode on contact, but she can apply it to the bayonet too so that she can cut through things even more effectively. You won't have any issues here.</s> <|message|>Astreya First kill! Astreya hurries back for her gun- wait, so demons can be killed?- Anyway, she goes back for her gun and reassesses her list of problems. There's the dead demon, the other dead demons, and this demon that's not dead. Right! Point the gun at it! Aaaand- a tank falls on it. Well. Hey, that'll keep it still. She points and holds the trigger. She can't hear Leoniya over the sound of her gun, but her disappointed searching speaks clearly enough. She kind of tries to gesture at it with her eyes. She mouths, "Это под тобой."</s> <|message|>Katherine Lindall Katherine watched as the tank dropped from the sky and expertly landed on the demon... Apparently unintendedly as the rat seemsd to havr clue where the demon even was! "Rat! The demons under your tank!" Katherine barked as her gun dolls aimed at the barely visible demon and opened fire. If they missed, it shouldny even put a dent in the tank. On the demon? Every shot mattered. "She's barely keeping you from squadhing her like a crepe!" Her own gun went up and fired as well, hopeful that there might be enough bullets to be effective.</s> <|message|>Polina Laye Polina LayeFarisian Maid --- It seemed like the demon took great offense that Polina had managed to scratch her. Really, what a poor sport of a demon it was. Wouldn't a self-respecting powerful evil being respect an opponent that could actually land a good hit on its own self? The maid thought the creature was a petulant sore loser, but Polina didn't think it was a particularly prudent move to judge the cute beast in public when it was already pissed off. Oh, there was merit in pissing off opponents further to make them slip up, but as a good professor from her courses always said, there was a time and place for everything. The Farisian maid braced for contact, forming up her cobblestone shielding as tightly as she could… until she noticed the… flying tank aimed right for her position. Had Polina been a less composed maid, she would have uttered the very same obscenities as the cute demon had, but she certainly mirrored the creature's words in her thoughts. Instead, she immediately pulled back, effectively throwing herself out of harm's way as she crashed to the side, somewhat less gracefully than she had intended. It was still passable, considering that she hadn't been turned into maid-paste by a flying Kyrsan tank. Polina quickly recovered, springing up on her feet and dusting her now slightly soiled dress with a brush of her white apron. Her eyes flitted over, searching for the demon and the tank, raising an eyebrow upon seeing the demon in a rather compromised position, with the Kyrsan maid, amusingly, fruitlessly searching for and failing to find the threat right beneath her. She decided to respond by arching an eyebrow and firing her wall of cobblestones in a single large fusillade at the pinned demon. Two others had already pointed out the issue, after all.</s> <|message|>Demonic Bestiary Location: Cogsfell 12.000 hours @Click This@AzureKnight@Pyromania99@Sniblet --- "Eh? Under-?" The demon hissed, a barrage of bullets piercing the demon's flesh from Katherine's dolls, blood spilling from the wounds as its tendrils grew in size, its multiple maws roaring with strain. "Ah, I see, under me, ahaha! Squashed like a bug! Thank you kinswoman!" Her mirth was cut off, though, as the demon started laughing, too. "Ahaha, a surprise attack? Trying to squish me, huh? You guys are irritatingly clever! Fine, I'll get serious!" The maws of the demons many mouths lit up with magical energy, running alongside their bodies. A slight electrical whine as the energy quickly reached its peak - a torrent of liquid expelled itself from every single maw of the creature at high speed along with a near ridiculous level of volume as the red, foul smelling liquid slammed into the tank that was crushing her with enough force to shove it back, spraying the liquid everywhere as the vehicle was forced back enough to be rammed into the wall of a building a few meters away. It was about to seemingly follow it up with another attack, just in time for the cobblestones to slam into the demons back. "Grrah, Stop with the sneak attacks you pests!" She'd cry, the tendrils growing in more size as she was knocked around from the attack. The crimson colored liquid expelled from her was eating holes into the ground, and even Leoniya's tank seemed to be having its body tarnished and eaten into - but it was no less operational. "Good! Ahaha, its shown its hands, hm! Astreya! Katherine! Senya!" Leoniya popped her head back out of the tank, having quickly ducked back inside as it was knocked around. She'd toss something in Katheirne's direction - a metal sphere with an intricate design carved onto it. "Myrilla says you'll seal this demon or she'll take away your catnip privileges! You other two will support us!" The demon was getting back to its feet, growling as it'd focus its attention on the tank, the thing clearly the biggest threat here. Now that its full attention was gotten, it had engorged its tails to three main heads, all fixated on the Tank, Katherine, and Astreya, and it was already seemingly charging more of whatever corrosive liquid it was capable of making. "Polina! Lucrecia! You'll go find the other maids and clean up any demons in the area while we deal with this! A few good whacks with my toy here should bring her to heel, haha! Be careful though, whatever that liquid is, is highly corrosive! Go on, get going!"</s> <|message|>Lucrecia Cruz 🗡️ Cogsfell Aftermath --- "Merda, Madonna, you're sitting right on top of it!" Lucrecia said, responding to Leoniya's inquiry about the demon. She had to admit, it was rather amusing to see the monster squirm in frustration. Still it seemed far from helpless as it gathered deadly energy from it's countless maws, readying to let loose on them all. Astreya and Kat fired their weapons at it while the tank had the monster pinned down, while it seemed to do some damage it was more annoyed that injured from the looks of it. Even Polina's sneak attack did little to change the situation. Lucrecua grimaced as the demon displayed it's supernatural strength in casting away the tank and Leoniya along with it against a nearby building. Taking care to dodge the corrosive liquid spewing from the demon's body, Lucrecia readied her blades and prepared to strike. She was however, stopped as Leoniya emerged her head from the tank and gave her new directives. "Ai suoi ordini, Madonna. We won't let you down! Polina, we go!" She said, turning to her Farisian comrade. She began making a break from the current battle. A couple of lesser demon had been attracted by the commotion, making their way toward her from some windows. Gracefully jumping over any instance of the corrosive substance in her way, she sliced a couple of the monsters in half with her machetes. One was about to jump down from the rooftop above them, but it was met with a couple of well placed rounds right in the head before it got the chance. It toppled over and fell straight to the ground, making a splatting noise as its disgusting blood started to flow onto the street. As she made more headway, she could only hope that there were at least some survivors left. Hopefully Myrilla's daughter would be among them...</s>

<|message|>Senya Fivulwyn The monster was dead. She'd shot it right where its head would have been, and now it wasn't moving and it was leaking a lot. Senya was quite sure that usually meant dead. But the fight was hardly over, now. There was still the other demon to worry about, the one who looked like a girl but had all the tentacles and stuff. That was definitely no good, demons looking like that were the worst. The small dark elf took a step forward, raising her gatling again. It whirred once more. Targeting the main body of the demon wasn't the best idea at the moment. She was likely very maneuverable, and made a small target. Hitting her simply wouldn't be easy. But Senya certainly felt confident in her ability to reduce the demon's fighting capacity, and her orders only encouraged her to do just that. The rotating barrels of her gun were once again surrounded by the glow of magical energy, flaring and flashing as bullets exploded through the air, tearing towards their target. As long as they hit their mark and embedded themselves in the demon's tentacles, they would explode just like the ones she'd fired into the other monster.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was well and truly flummoxed. Not just confused, or bewildered, but outright flummoxed. He had just gone from what had been the worst possible treatment in his life, to being scurried via cramped back allies and byways into the single most auspicious 'human home' he had seen since his dad had taken him past the ruins of 'that damned #%@&ing tower'. His dad had not really wanted to say anything about it, except that it was a monument to the hubris of 'civilized' races, was a 'gaudy death trap', and 'no-one sensible would get caught dead in it.' Unlike that tower though, which had practically glowed from top (it stretched up higher than seemed possible, and the actual top could not even be seen) to bottom with arcane magics, this place was just fancy wood and plaster set inside ornate but common stone masonry. Lots of stone masonry. More than he ever had seen in a single dwelling before, and the shere size of it? There couldn't be a rational explanation for a single man to need a house like this. It was a confusing and jarring mix of long hallways, high and low ceilings, doors that must have taken whole trees to fashion, and others that did everything imaginable to try and blend into the walls. Hallway, after hallway, after hallway, after hallway, and more stairs than he wanted to see in his life ever again. He literally had no idea how to even get back out again, yet all the people he was with seemed just fine with it. No wonder dad cursed like he did about 'rich #%$&ers'. At least he had some idea of where all the wood the loggers insisted they needed likely ended up. He silently agreed with his dad, this was just shamelessly and brutally wasteful, for not readily discernable reason. Anything that wasn't made of a dozen hills worth of quarried and shaped stone, at least a square mile of forest's timber, or enough plaster to coat every surface in mystville 3 times over, was swaddled in the most brightly colored fabrics, garish of paints, or gaudy of metal foils. He recalled that his dad had compared that tightly and magically sealed tower's interior to a 'castle' like this when he had asked about it. 'Gaudier than a #%&$ing castle! Glowing jewels and gold encrusted like SH*T in an outhouse on every %#&$ing surface!' An' the stairs! Don' get me started on them %#&$ing stairs!' He remembered asking what a castle was, and was told 'a big assed house for people with more money than they has sense, built ta keep people out, and ta make emselves look more fancy 'an theys needs ta. Noplace for nobody decent, 'ats fer sure.' Looking at the insides of this one, he could not help but agree. WHY WOULD somebody actually NEED a house like this? The king, he had been told, was 'like a mayor, only for an entire nation of people,' and could command thousands of people with weapons and magics to march on small settlements like mystville, burn them to the ground, and kill everyone there with ease, if they felt it wss needed. That's what the villagers had described as 'war' to him. it was shortly thereafter that he had agreed it was for the best that such a thing not come about, now nor anytime soon, and had impressed upon him how important it was to prevent. And it was why he was here, now. In this house that nobody sensible could possibly want to live in. His thoughts momentarily reflected memories of his own place; a simple one-roomed wooden structure, where the floor gave way to a nice, big cozy hole stuffed full of cottonwood fluff, and in the rest of the room, just a single wooden bench, a wide flat table, a fireplace, some shelves, and some hooks to hang things on. It was far more sensible to a single person's needs than this place, that's for sure. He really felt very, very out of place, and that he simply did not belong. Being too big for any of the furnishings only magnified this feeling. He very much wanted to sit down to digest these thoughts, and to reflect on the mission this 'king' fellow had given him, but he could tell just by looking that not a single one of them was anywhere near strong enough nor wide enough for his ass. The comedic and tragic death of a chair would certainly be the only plausible result from such an attempt. Somehow, that only made the 'lack of usefulness' of the place more poignant. He was interrupted from these thoughts and observations by the oddly tall and quiet woman who had done NONE of the things miss Matilda had strongly impressed upon him were 'required honors and protocols when meeting the soveriegn', (such as calling him 'your highness', or 'your majesty' (despite being neither tall, nor majestic..), kneeling when in his presence, and other silliness, and had remained oddly quiet the entire meeting), who was now standing up tall, boldly asserting a loudish 'Greetings', and blasting him with some kind of magic that made him feel more naked than he did in just his fur-- somehow. He couldn't tell if the glow in her eyes was blue or purple, but there was a definite glow. He timidly leaned on his staff in leu of finding a chair, looked at the woman (who had pointed ears and smelled... different...), and then gruffed back "Is there .. something I can help you with, Miss? You seem to be.... looking... for something."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark For someone this big... and druidic, the fellow named Cedar was surprisingly courteous. Not everyone might be able, or willing to see past his ragged appearance and gruffness of his voice, but Jazdia tried to be not very judgmental. She of course was still taking into account how unpredictable and sensitive these types of forest watchers were. She had worked with the druids on a few occasions in the past. Excellent tracker, but very fussy, moody, and their behavior can be a total hindrance when you were on a total pursuit. 'No, I am not looking for something..." the elf gave everyone, especially the female orc next to the druid a heartfelt smile. "Except of course our Madame Matilda!" Jazdia waved at her. Hoping that cordial gesture would make the orc paladin ease up for a bit. After what happened with her master and his son, that would certainly put anyone on edge. Not that Jazdia blamed her, especially not after what she did in Fredricus's chamber. She was, however, almost tempted to explain that she was also roped into this motley band of investigators, and had to make do with whatever they had now. But that can wait. Really...</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Well you best get used to it, yes? Cant have the imperial tutor skimping on basic manners." Not like that would help much at the moment, considering the student he's supposed to be tutoring was missing. Antigone shrugged, not really having the energy to talk too much about it. "Is this related to what his highness is planning- no, dont answer that." She had some idea, after having to perform auguries related to a certain man-bear the druids were hyperventilating about, but the duchess wasn't part of whatever plan cooked so it must be relying on secrecy. Far from her to accidentally spill the beans, but no harm in taking precautions. "I have sufficient rest, Ser Henri. Now, on to this spellbook - I am unaware that you are qualified as a magus."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Enough rest, his bottom. Well, if Antigone's going to be stubborn about it, there's nothing Henri could do. He pulled out his pocket watch, hovered it above Antigone's desk and then flicked its center with his other hand, shedding bits of glass and clockwork until only the rose-gold frame and the chain remained, dangling from his hand. "Unusual for you to be unaware. I wasn't exactly trying to hide it." Henri said as he cast Inorganic Repair on the pocket watch. No visual or audible cue, for that is inefficient and needlessly indicative. The scattered pieces of it slowly fly back towards it, filling their needed spots. The shattered glass too had its cracks just vanish. In no time, it looked more brand-new than when he pulled it out in the first place. Then, with Core Spreading followed by Telekinesis, the watch stayed suspended in mid-air even as he let go of it. He smiled as his hands hovered near the floating watch, as if presenting it. "Haven't you wondered how I've fixed every broken item in this castle without fail?" Henri's smile dissipated quickly though, as he leaned with his elbow on the desk, his other hand pawing the floating watch to make it swing. "I can only this much, and I fear it wouldn't even get decent mileage due how niche it is... Am I overthinking it?"</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword During the whole meeting, Matilda was silently listening to the king's debriefing. Listening to everyone's inquiries, and rather disrespectful manners from some of the other group members. More specifically the elf who did not bow to the king, and spoke to the king in a disrespectful manner. The paladin however was more focused on the mission at hand, with the search for the prince being paramount. Although finding who tried to murder the king was equally as important. She had to agree with the man-bear, war with Meche would be a terrible idea. It would not only cause more suffering and losses for his people, but it would negatively affect the economy. Even though she was loyal to the king, she was close enough to the king to try and change his mind. "If I may speak plainly milord, I believe that a war with Meche would only create ruin for your kingdom. There could be a possibility an outside force is responsible, but we should reserve such harsh judgement until we learn the truth." She remembered that was exactly the word she said when His Liege Fredricus devised this plan. And still, to this moment, she hoped that drastic action would never come to fruition. regrouped back in the main hall, Matilda's eyes for a brief moment looked towards the sitting man, he didn't speak much and judging from his clothing he fit the description of masked warrior. The last time she had seen him was during the skirmishes in Mor'groot months ago. Having assisted her with the battle, and saving her life when an enemy was about to decapitate her. The man proposed if he would be given some time to fetch his weapons and equipment, which Matilda dully permitted. "I will be supervising and heading the mission," she stated. "Giving any information that we find to the king. Please do whatever you need to do before we leave, after that all of you will meet me at the stables near the eastern gate. I am sure you have many questions, which I will try to answer to the best of my abilities." The orc turned around when someone mentioned her name. Immediately she exchange a look at Jazdia, who apparently was not with them when the king ordered them to leave. A surge of instinctual alertness almost overwhelmed her, but after seeing the elf having the papers with her, that anxiety subsides. They should focus on the task at hand. Nodding her head to acknowledge the wave, the orc woman spared no time to fill her in. "I assume you would like to know what the first step is? Firstly, I want to investigate the last known area where the prince was seen. He went on a hunting party with the Vessier, along with some guards. I assume that Cedar and maybe Henri, could smell or find any clues the investigators may have missed." She started to walk towards the stable. She didn't need to purchase any supplies, she had brought what she needed earlier in the day. "But perhaps with your elven eyes, you could see something the others or myself may have missed." Matilda walked out of the castle, hoping that Jazdia would keep up with her. It was quite surprising that despite the heavy armour she was wearing, she was surprisingly quite fast</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "What-" The golden glint was unmistakable, and Yvonne for a moment was struck dumb. Not about the amount of wealth, which to be fair wasn't a small sum but nothing major to her, no. It's the casual, guillible ease of which Cedar pulled them out. Recalling an earlier thought, she wondered how many times he'd gotten scammed on his way here. "Put that away, you big lug. I ain't the one to ask for supplies, I can point you out to vendors out in the market but that'd be the opposite of discreet. The kitchen should have most of what you need, ask either of them." Yvonne gestured at Mattie and the elf, not far off from the door. "Shouldn't be flashing gold everywhere, that's how you get either robbed or scammed. Those coins of yours? You'd get a wagon of seed and fruit with that." And then came the introduction of the hooded old fella that lurked surprisingly close without her noticing. That's some talent right there. And the name. Yvonne heard some wild tales of the man. Didn't actually think the fella existed, but here he stood. "Why, a legendary figure ain't cha? We'll be in your care, doc."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Is it due to Henri being soft-spoken that this elf hadn't heard him amidst the voices of these other three people? He sighed in exasperation then raised his hand. "I think I know how to solve this problem. Let me swing by the Royal Garden for a bit. No need to spend your coin, Mister Ceddy... Cedrick?" He then skated away. A constant application of Telekinesis on his body allowed his shoes to just glide along the ground without taking an actual step. --- The Royal Garden... Yes, this should do nicely. Assortments of odd-looking plants you would rarely find from the market. Although, how would you extract the seeds from this... Henri approached the Royal Gardener. "Hello. It's a bit urgent, but could you get me seeds from these plants? Yes, just all of them. All of them. Let me water the plants for you. Actually, do you also have a water barrel I could use?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "It's Jazdia. Fred-- uh, the King hired me as an independent investigator." Battling the desire to unravel the mystery of the stone man in front of her, She intended to reach out for a handshake but something tells her that it wouldn't be a good idea. "Also, I wanted to inform you that I have spoken with our mutual acquaintance, Madame Matilda and you will be working with her. Please consult with her about your inquiries." But the man was already gone as if he was sunken down to the concrete floor below. Another disturbance, bearing the very question that sounds as ridiculous as asking what if an archer forgets to bring his arrows. Jazdia was unsure what to say and the only quick response she would give was "I am afraid don't have anyone I can spare to do my bidding." When the little noblewoman turned away without saying anything, Jazdia immediately knew her answer was disappointing. She searched for Matilda, who shook her head, and Jazdia answered the courtesy by shrugging pensively. Nope, not my concern. She wondered where the heck this Chounan guy was. High time for him to return, and she wasn't so thrilled with the idea of using her power to find out that this gentleman was hiding somewhere. No, that would cause severe consequences.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "Of couss mistah 'Enry. Please, follow me." The royal gardener was a man named Charon. A black-skinned fellow hailing from the Maghribi region. Over the years of service in Kindeance Palace, he had befriended Henri the painter due to having a similar profession as men of arts and craft. If Henry was in the business of paint and canvas, then Charon projected his artistic value in sculpting overgrown and greeneries alike. The royal gardener guided Henry to a small storage room, where he immediately scooped seeds from three different containers. He didn't specify what kind of seeds they were but the sample from the first container was a small, black seed with a faint trace of tangy aroma. The second was medium-sized, rough, and brown in color. The third was small and silky white. "These ar gud for youh." he said, again with a funky Magribal accent. Of course, three types of seed barely counted as all of them like Henry ordered, but as a friend, Charon gave him the types of plants that were easy to maintain and... nutritious, because he always looked so pale. When Henry reminded him about his second request, the man Charon frowned. "I kan give you de barrel, but mistah 'Enry must know that the supervisor is a difficult man to deal with. All tools are to be accounted for, every missing spade, every broken bucket, always in every Saturday." Regardless, Charon removed a few sacks from an old wooden barrel and swiped the dirt and a swarm of black ants who apparently nested there. "But! I kan just say to the supervisor that old Charon requested mistah 'Enry to repair the old barrel. We good?"</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Charon. This man, he hasn't aged a day. He does know of the former Henri the painter, but he doesn't yet know of his current circumstance, of being a non-human, non-painter. Henri made a mental note to divulge this to Charon, one of these days. These must be seeds for fruits and vegetables, with the way he said it. Hmm, he cares not for nutrition for he cannot eat... No, he supposes the others would like to eat healthy. "Thanks, how thoughtful of you." As for the barrel... "Yes, this barrel will do perfectly. Thank you." Henri grabs the barrel and turns it upside down, invoking his Telekinesis to shake off the rest of the dust. "I doubt any such supervisor would be able to do anything to either of us, although, I might not be able to return this barrel in the next few days if at all... You know what, just tell them that I stole it. What are they going to do? I'm not one to pull rank but... Well, I do not have a rank, to be honest." He jested. The barrel doesn't have a spigot. Henri might have to design something that can resist the force of a 10-foot bear, lest he drown these seeds. For now, a blob of molten iron seeps out of Henri's hand. Then, he lightly punches one of the metal rings of the barrel to weld some kind of handle onto it. Charon witnesses this and simply nods in admiration. Henri side-eyed him. Charon won't question this odd feat? Hm. He was going to use this as an opportunity to ask how Charon hasn't aged... Holding the barrel by this new handle with the seeds inside, Henri offers his other fist to be bumped with another fist. "Well, then. Good to see you again, Charon. I might not be here for the next several days. Take care." Charon answers the fist bump. "I'll see you soon, Mistah 'Enry."" Henri then skates away, towards the stables where he presumes the rest of the team already are. This post edited with Pakde's help because forum posts aren't allowed to be less than a paragraph long.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan The ronin gave a small bow to Matilda, then traveled quickly to the stable to collect his horse. He needed to see the smith and time was running out, so he had to travel quickly. When he arrived at the blacksmith's, he was greeted by the man, and they talked about the amount of time it had taken to fill his order. The unusual time consuming nature of the work had resulted in a very high price, but he recieved a full order of a family of blades ranging from Katana to Tanto. Next was the armor. It was a full set of samurai armor, with a luxurious surcoat, embelished with artistic stylings: The Kabuto featured a pair of horns from a real minotaur, and the face mask was carved to resemble an angry demon. Finishing the ensemble, were a selection of throwing knives including Kunai and Shuriken. As if flaunting his wealth, he casually counted out the tendered amount, then handed the smith a nice bonus for his efforts, before quickly getting into his new armor. He decided not to wear the head armor while still in town, to avoid alarming the locals-- and instead tied his hair back in a traditional hair knot. Regrettably keeping his handsome facial on public. Departing the blacksmith's shop, he made a quick detour of his room at the inn, where he collected his personal papers and effects, in case they might be needed, then proceeded back to the stable. As he arrived, he found out that there are still no one on the stable neaeby the eastern gate. He head back quickly into the palace. He returned to the group where Matilda and Jazdia still remained. "Sorry to keep you wait Madame Matilda." He made a small bow with respect . "I haven't introduce myself to everyone in group. I'm Chōnan, Gold Ranking Adventurer."</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Turning to face Yvonne trying to get her to stop for a moment, the orc paladin stopped for just a brief moment to speak, "We can introduce and get to know each other on the ride over to the hunting grounds. I would rather not waste time exchanging pleasantries, I do not want to miss the opportunity to find the prince." She understood why Yvonne wanted to know the people she would be working with, but time was of the essence. Then there is this elf, who expressed her positive opinion in a thinly veiled sarcasm. They couldn't see the expression she was making behind her helmet, but it was one of annoyance that Jazdia was right. She should not be talking about the mission out in public, in case an enemy was listening in. The elf then described her own plan, which Matilda must admit sounds very reasonable, save for one matter. "But I am curious why you assume that Hdur would be such a safe place to discuss such sensitive matters. It does have a reputation of being quite nefarious." "It is not the safest." the elf could be seen sighing before adding some emphasis to her words. "Nothing sensitive I am sure you know. But we still need a checkpoint. The closer to the venue the better. Then if you like it we can scout for a better place to make our own campfire." Matilda immediately gets the message. "Better than picking a random node in the wilderness and expecting everyone to know where exactly the place is. Got it! I am willing to go to Hdur, as long as we stick together. And not speak of this plan to anyone." She had a serious tone in her voice. She would personally decapitate the person that stopped her from saving the prince, including her would-be comrades. The elf smacked her armoured shoulder. It would be pretty painful, and Matilda was delighted to see her grimacing after that exchange. "We have everything planned. Let's move out people!"</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location:Rascade, Kindeance Royal Capital --- Solomon only stared at Henri as his fist flew inches from him. Solomon knew that his sudden appearance could garner a reaction, but the state his hand was in was not that of any human he knew. Was this man an artificer of some kind? The idea of personal augmentation with magical devices was not unheard of, but it was generally impractical. Actually, there was more to Henri than just his hand. This was the first time he had seen him so close. It was slight, but the sheen of his skin and the lines along his cheeks looked very inorganic. This was more than the work of an artificer, if not a being following orders, than Henri was a soul combined with the body of a golem. Solomon could not prove it, but Henri showed some of the signs. Solomon had spent some time studying the possibility as one method for immortality. Solomon ultimately decided against furthering his research into it, thinking it would make him too disconnected. Solomon's eyes drifted back to the others as he continued his greeting to Matilda and Cedar with a new awareness of Henri. Solomon could appreciate another looking into ways of extending their life, and thought nothing more of it. He was a personable fellow, and even acquired seeds and a barrel for Cedar. Matilda didn't seem too enthused about it one way or the other. Her face was focused, and she seemed eager to get going. Cedar, on the other hand, looked at the group with both wide eyed marvel and caution. He lightened up once the seeds and barrel were presented. Cedar wandered away just out of sight probably to try out his new seeds. Solomon chuckled. The desires of druids was not one Solomon was well antiquated with. "So, my factitious friend, what seeds have you gifted him?" asked Solomon. Even had Henri answered, it was clear by the bears excitement that something wonderful must of grown. The sound of slurping juice and fruits cracking open was not discreet. Part of the woodwork that made the stable and fence creaked as the vines gripped along them for stability. Solomon wandered over just in time to see Cedar bite into a green vegetable. Looking at the multitude along the ground, it appeared to be a cucumber. The adjacent wall was covered in passion fruit. For a test grow, he had enough harvest to feed a family trough the season. Cedar seemed engrossed as he plucked another cucumber. Solomon wandered back to the group, leaving Cedar to enjoy himself. His large body must demand plenty of food. "The seeds were acceptable from what I could see." said Solomon. Not long after making his comment, Cedar came into view again. He had the barrel on his shoulder, his head moving back and forth, air quickly coming and going through his large nostrils. He was smelling for something. "If you are looking for a well, it is at the other end of the stables."</s> <|message|>"Cedar" A huge gloved hand signals a "thumb's up" just before the huge snuffing nose disappears from sight behind that side of the stable, followed by shuffling footsteps, as Cedar, unperturbed, sauntered back into view. "thanks feller!" he beams, before crossing to the indicated position, setting the barrel down, then hauling up the bucket. "'Ere's produce ov'r dere if'n ya wannit.." The bear-man looks troubled for a moment, realizing he had left the food on the other side, while he busied himself with filling the barrel. "Think they'd care if'n I'd stealed some o' da grain from this 'ere stable?" he mused out loud, with water splashing near his feet. The notion of giving himself a wash right then an there also crossed his mind, but he reminded himself that they were kinda in a hurry.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "You may take just a few. The horses still need to eat." Henri comes into view, donning on his chest some kind of kite shield that's taking a meticulous duration to fully form. Around one-third of it is still missing, gradually being filled with red-hot iron flowing from Henri's body. There are no etchings or carvings on it that serve a design-like purpose, as he thought it might be easier to break if he did. The amount of fruit Cedrick just produced would give the stableworkers a delightful surprise once they come back. Henri raises his hand. "I'll have to pass, I don't really eat." Full-stop. What a weird thing to say. Then again, Henri wasn't really secretive about his circumstance. No one just cared to ask him directly. "Well. If everyone's done with their preparations, let's head to the forest."</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda made her way over to the stables, only making brief greetings and small talk with the people in the village. Told the commoners that she wanted her to fix their mess, she would get a guard to help them. She did not have the time to try and solve every petty squabble in the city. She had much more important matters to attend to. Not wanting to waste any more time, she jogged over toward the stables. Quickly arriving at the stables, speaking with the owner about where her steed was located. She knew where the hunting grounds were, she had been there multiple times with the prince and others in the court. Having gone many times as a child with her adopted father. As she headed inside the stables to retrieve her horse, she noticed an older man petting her steed. At first, she was hesitant, thinking that this man was going to steal her horse. But on closer inspection, it was her adopted father. "Papa? I thought you were working at the bakery today?" The older man smiled walking over towards Matilda, "I have Janus taking over the shop, I just wanted to say goodbye and good luck." The sentiment was greatly appreciated by the orc." "Thank you, papa. Although I should have joined the prince during the hunt, then none of this would have happened." This expression of doubt was met by her adopted father rubbing her back. "Mattie, you should not doubt yourself for such things. You will be able to find the prince, you have friends who are willing to help you." Motioning with a nod towards Cedar, Henri, and Solomon. Matilda nodded her head with a smile. "Your right, I believe that Qunmir will bless our group with good luck to find the prince." Once again her adopted father patted her on the back, "That's the spirit. Now go and may Qunmir bless you." Hugged her adopted father before quickly letting go. And with that Matilda left the stables with her horse. Looking over at the group assuming the others were ready to leave. "Let's go." She said getting on her horse and started riding off towards the hunting grounds. There was not a lot of conversation between the four of them, Matilda was mostly silent during the trip. The group soon arrived at the royal hunting ground, the surrounding area was eerily quiet. There was a dense forest surrounding them, with thick tall grass leading into the forest. There were a few openings among the trees of the forest, leading to the eerie darkness of the forest. The wind was chilling to the bone, something that Matilda and perhaps Cedar could feel. The site in the forest was a semi-permanent camp in a slight clearing where sunlight fell for a good part of the day, banishing much of the murky gloom. There several guards in light armor and Kindeance's emblem awaited, generally resting and taking a break. A man jogged out as the party approached, saluting in recognition at Matilda's figure. "Hail, Dame Matilda! I've been expecting your arrival." The young man is Squire Anderson, Matilda's own squire that she picked a few years ago. Matilda got off her horse with a loud thud, that shook the ground around her. "Anderson, do you have anything to report about your findings?" She had hoped that Anderson and the other guards may have found something that was missed in the initial investigation. " Unfortunately not much, ma'am. It's evident that the perpetrators went off in one direction at first, but they scattered at some point and much later some of the trails just faded. Intentionally erased. My trackers are making progress, but there's only so many of them but a lot of ground to cover." Looking annoyed at both Anderson and the guards around him, she had hoped that would have found some useful information. "I need you to guide us to the site of the kidnapping, I assume my team members want to know more about what happened as well." She turned her head towards the others, assuming they wanted to know as much as Matilda on what was going on. Anderson took a glance at the motley crew, nodding without any unnecessary comment. "Very well. How much am I allowed to disclose?" The crew on site was on a need-to-know basis, and they weren't informed of what exactly transpired. Matching the story would be prudent to avoid unnecessary rumours from spreading. "You are allowed to fully disclose the information, these men can be trusted." Matilda shook her head. "Understood." Confirmed the squire, before turning his full attention to the investigation party. "I shall lead you to the site. In the meantime, ask away gentlemen."</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" There should be some kind of magical bullshit at work here, because the guardsman's vigilance was slipping like a pebble rolling downhill. And the fact that she couldn't remember any sort of credentials given to the fox, yet there he went flashing one like it's the most natural thing in the world. Yvonne kept with the party, the corner of her lips twitching as she had to hold back a cackle. Why, Sparky was practically smoldering there. She's looking forward to the time they're leaving the premise later. "Geito" squirming and weaseling out of the hole he dug himself should be an entertaining sight. "Good luck, mate." She patted the aforementioned fox's shoulder, flashing a brief grin. Then back to the job. "How long do we have?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Plan? Oh, she had a lot of plans alright! Strangling this Fox demon and carving the word Civet on his forehead using a flaming arrow was totally not one of them, honest! Maintaining enough dignity to not hiss, she answered. "Why, of course, mister Geito," Despite the apparent sarcasm, that pseudonym irked her more than it should Jazdia had to fight the impulse to incinerate the document along with the fox youkai in front of her. "Why don't we start with keeping up with the deception?" beseeched Jazdia in a calm tone, yet her mannerism suggested she was about to feed Kaito the documents she was now giving. "Go get your story from those soldiers and compare their testimony with the report." Then, without any threat or violent misconduct, she left, walking down the path leading to the mausoleum. As much as she hated it when the guard leered at her no thanks to Kaito's unnecessary remark, she had to keep it cool. It was all just a part of the job, nothing personal. There would be plenty of chances to get even with that crafty fox. Just wait... "How long do we have?" asked the Rosenving daughter as she catched up with Jazdia. The elf stopped at the tile that had a faint yellowish stain, taking her time to kneel before answering the question. "Until that guard realizes we are pulling the wool over his eyes. Probably will take a while." She stroked the powdery compound, it smelled like sulfur, and there were some metal fragments residing in the withering grass. The casing of a smoke grenade? Quite a high-quality one it seemed. Bandits usually encase them with buffalo skin, and they didn't produce smoke in the intensity enough to make trained royal guards break their formation. According to the report, after an assailant had his head split open by Matilda and the other killed by Fredricus himself, their priority was to quickly evacuate the king out of the smoke screen. The third assassin tried to shoot the escaping monarch with a poisonous arrow, but Matilda deflected it with her shield. It seemed the orc woman wasn't so slouchy she lunged at the ranged assassin at neck-breaking speed and literally broke his neck, face and all against the nearest vertical surface she could find. A nasty blood stain on the chapel wall confirmed this account. Jazdia briefly activated her eyes. "Miss Rosenving, would you mind to look at the hedge near the tree?"</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chōnan decided to be an eye for the approaching guards and other people that may suspected them when they get caught. He activate the ki-sensing that widen the range of his awareness and will detect anyone on his range. Not being awakened with ki, people and other living that have life energy won't feel his detection. He will warn the party when someone is suspected to be coming in their place. In meantime. He looked on the things that Jazdia's inspecting with. He believes that it is smoke bomb as he also been using the kind of it when he was on past adventures. The casing seems unfamiliarfrom the way he use, local product nor even Kindereance's armory. It's either a customized from different kingdom or supplied by it disposal.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito could see the fury in Jazdia's eyes. The kitsune had managed to get under her skin once again. Usually that would result in a lot of scolding or some other furious reaction of the elf but not this time. Apart from a bit of sarcasm as she directed him to interview the guards, she kept her cool remarkably well. Much to the disappointment of the fox. However he was sure that Jazdia would exact retribution on a more appropriate time. She was a professional after all and would not attract unwanted attention with shenanigans. Kaito stared at the elf as she turned around and walked away, contemplating the fact of how much their personalities differ. Jazdia always seemed super serious and hyper focussed on the task at hand while the kitsune took life less seriously and breezed through it with witty remarks, often childish and sometimes crude humor and an attitude that does not seem to care about the consequences of his actions. And yet Kaito found himself staring at the back of the elf as she pretty much ditched him the moment they entered the cemetery. The fox watched how Yvonne followed Yazdia and Chounan retreated himself to keep watch. Apparently his companions would leave all the talking up to him. Luckily for Kaito that task was right up his alley. Quickly he approached the guard that was moving towards him and introduced himself with a small bow. "Greetings sir, I am Geito Brown. Chronicler of the Helvetian Daily Horn. We're here to document the heroic defense of our king for the annals of history and of course the population of Rascade. Could you tell me the details of the cowardly attack on our king? Like how many assailants there where and where they sprung their ambush from?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark One of the guards snorted. "Nay, twasn't me. They put me on the south gate that day." He beckoned to the younger guards next to him, who, in Keito's judgment had a rather unassuming look; he was no taller than him, with a physique so average he looked like an armored scarecrow. He wore a non-standard oversized helmet with a loose visor, causing it to fall and covered his face as he walked. "Aye, right away sir." And without further ado, he testified. "I was in charge of keepin' the crowd off the fence sir, it wasn't that much that day, so we had it easy, twas always easy. His majesty was on his way to give a speech and we had a few wee crowds inside the fences as well, part of the holy congregation, but surely there were ordinary folks as well. The ceremony always opens for the public." He tapped his helmet and corrected his visor. "So we ain't suspected a thing that day, until we saw three men jumped from the crowd, brandishing sword and dagger. Death to the marauder king! they cried. I's a good soldier so I rushed into the fray, swords in me hand." "So what about the crowds?" Asked Keito. "Weren't you supposed to keep them out?" "Yes. But folks scattered about as soon as the swords started clanging' and bolts and whatnot flyin'. I was the closest with the Majesty and besides, I've got friends in the back. The only thing on me mind was bringing His Majesty to safety. "And killing His Majesty's pursuer?" "If I could, but alas when I got there, the three Mecheans were dead, one killed by His Majesty's sword, and Madame Matilda was busy pummelling the archer. There was an explosion, and yellow smoke afterward. We were confused, but Madame Matilda got His Majesty escorted back to the Palace immediately. Then when I swung me sword against empty air I heard someone shouting: By the Blessing of the Ouroboros! We have reclaimed what is ours! and after that, there was a blinding flash and those basterds were gone in thin air." "I see. How many of them that was escaped?" The guard paused. He straightened his posture and then spoke with a defensive pride. "Damn if I know, sir, If they ran through the fence we could'a seen 'em. Or if they climb the monastery, our watchers would ave shoot em. The smoke was thick and putrid a dragon could've taken a stroll there and I might not'a see it. They say it was two. And there were like, four dead bodies not including our lads which I recalled was three, taking arrows to protect His Majesty. Bless their souls dyin' in a great service like that. Please write that in your pamphlet or whatever." "I quickly joined the other guards, thinking we might av missed them passing through the fence, so we scoured Rascade to every blade of grass, and twas to no avail. Some of my superiors were disciplined afte that futile search and a few more were demoted. Now here we are, guarding this place as a reminder and punishment." The guard sighed, waiting for Mister Geito to finish his scribbles before giving a closing statement. "That's all I know, sir. You can ask others the same questions and get the same answers. Not a great story if ye ask me."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Yes... It would be easy to assume that they've been betrayed by someone from deep inside... Yet, at the same time, this is a world of magic. If they have someone like this man-bear Cedrick who Henri remembers scried the assassination attempt on Fredricus' life on the way here, or like Antigone who scries a myriad of scenarios every passing moment... Realistically, would they ever know? Henri scratched the back of his neck, and then raised a hand to catch Anderson's attention. "Did you recover any other items? Could you please just bring all the evidence in here? We'll review it as we walk." Then, back to the other three. "Are you planning to revive a dead horse? That aside, let's follow the blood closest to the prince's scent and see how far it takes us."</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "Wai' whut? Revive?... " Cedar boggled. The idea of bringing ANYTHING back from being actually DEAD-DEAD was... He could not wrap his head around it. He could not wrap his head around doing that to some poor critter that already had a terrible death to begin with- The idea was just flooring to him. "I thought ya was gunna track down the ones as survived or summat-- They won' be 'at far off-- Prolly all tagether 'nyhow-- Horses likes to pal around ya know. Safety in numbers." Then more earnestly-- ".... How you gunna talk ta a DEAD horse inna firs' place? -- Secon' thought, I dun wanna know...(only thing a dead horse 'good for is eatin'..)" He pushed the repulsive thought from his mind. He would DEFINITELY have to talk to his dad about this when he got back... "I thinks its a good idear ta be trackin that dumb shit as likely got a arrow stuck in 'im, afore it rains or sommat, and we lose the scent. The horses as run off might be able ta tell yas where they was stabled at afore they got rode here. Worth a shot-- I CAINT be the ONLY one as can ask em a simple 'nuff question, can I?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Well the estimated time was completely inaccurate then, ranging from "immediately" to "never". Yvonne wasn't really magically inclined to know. So gotta make every second counts. As for digging through the hedge? Not sure what she'd find there, personally, but the mercenary shrugged and knelt next to the hedge before carefully trying to find anything. ....and tried. And tried. "Is there something I'm supposed to see here or are ya pulling my legs?" She had even parted and poked at the greenery to no avail. Anything further would've damaged it, and that's probably gonna attract more eyes here.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword She walked with Cedar as he was interrogating the animals. Listening quietly to their conversation, she was curious about what he could find from these animals. Again assuming that he would not find much, perhaps she could persuade him to instead try to track the prince. After Cedar had interrogated the dogs' Matilda spoke up, "What information did the dogs and birds tell you? Where does what you found lead?" She felt stupid saying such a sentence, but this was the only lead they had so far. Matilda scanned the area for any other clues. Turning to face Anderson and the others, "These bastard must have been watching the prince's every move. Finding the right opportunity to strike. Or perhaps there is someone in the court working with the kidnappers." There was a possibility that someone in the court had given the kidnappers the prince's schedule. Or those inside of the court were a part of the plot. "I have seen this arrow before, it is specially made by a blacksmith in Rorthgaard a few miles from here." She wondered if the kidnappers had gone to this blacksmith for supplies. Solomon had a similar theory to Matilda, and she worried that this theory could be true. Crouching down once again placing her armoured hand on the ground, closing her eyes while moving her hand through the trampled grass. Breathing softly, she mentally tried to connect the pieces of what had happened. Noticing that the footprints were heading further into the forest, she turned towards Anderson. "Let's not waste any more time we need to move quickly."</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri grabbed the map, cross-referenced it with the lake, and figured out their heading. This has to be where Young Master is kept, right? No... This is probably a mere meeting point at best. Five days removed from the incident, there's probably nothing left in it to check. It wouldn't quite hurt to look though, being this close by. If there's any danger, he's confident in his own abilities. A bear of his size should be no slouch in combat either. Henri thinks of this, unknowing of Cedrick's age or actual combat experience. "We should swing by it. Just us two. I don't quite feel like calling on Matilda and the others, they're far away at this point." At worst, they'd be hindrances that Henri would have to protect or struggle to coexist in battle with. At best, he'd have wasted their time for nothing, after already having agreed to split up. Having already memorized the map due to his eidetic memory, he hands the map back to Cedrick and basically wills the items to sort themselves onto the mat that unfurled itself from previously being a saddle bag. Metals rolled on the right, and non-metals found themselves on the left. "We should sort all of this out first, though. Which one's yours, mine, or evidence. For starters," he grabs one of the small bottles of unknown powder. A potent irritant, seeing how affected Cedrick was by just a whiff of it. This should serve useful in the future, somehow. A force of habit. Henri drank from his metal flask that he pulled from inside his jacket, remembering the lake and the possible moistness of the air near it and the eventual marsh.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "Distance isn't an issue, I know men that could pull trick shots with longbows. They just need an elevated vantage points... I'd put archers on top of the mausoleum if I have the time, but otherwise they'll just need to scramble on top of the tombstones." "I don't think they were on the top of the mausoleum. But you are right. One archer stayed near its door, shooting at Fred effortlessly because nobody was there to guard it. One archer moved closer to ensure his arrow hit the mark, which wasn't served him well in the end. Four flankers came from the crowd, providing distraction and an element of surprise. It should had been a sound plan if someone didn't lose their nerve and throw the smoke, messing up the archer's aim. When they realized that Matilda and her lackeys were unmatched in melee combat and the King himself was no pushover, they retreated before the smoke dispersed and nobody at that time had any inkling on how and to where they escaped." Jazdia wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Nobody huh?" She tried to bypass the runic warding again and could only see a little bit more of that door. Apparently, it was the classic Tretagorian locking mechanism where the door can only be opened by the key with identical runes. Now here was the neat part; it can be opened from the inside with a lever. An old-age design in case the beloved ones resurrected on the seventh day like ancient messiahs, or simply to minimize accidental entombment... "So somebody was waiting for them behind the door, and the challenge code was 'By the Blessing of the Ouroboros! We have reclaimed what is ours!'" Meanwhile at the front gate, an officer could be seen reprimanding his subordinate. "You fool! There is no such thing as Helvetian Daily Horn!" lashed a blonde man wearing a decorated cuirass and iron gauntlets. His voice thundered like an old god described in an ancient manuscript, and rightfully so as a captain with power over his men. Tall and imposing, every aspect of his action bespoke absolute authority the guard in front of him looked like a child playing a tin man, and when his eyes fixed on the group, they glowed in immeasurable ire. "I will see you at the brig!" he raised his index finger at that poor guard then stormed off. His stompings on the paved path did very little to hide his exasperation with the situation, but the man tried to appear professional; His posture was straight, and his face showed no unnecessary emotion save the tranquil rage in his eyes. When Jazdia faced the man, he asked sternly: "Good afternoon. May I insist you to explain your business in our sacred ground?" Watch out, this sounded like a question that could earn you a one-way trip to Rascade dungeon if answered incorrectly.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito watched patiently as Yvonne and Jazdia discussed the intricacies of archery. Apparently one of the assassins had been shooting arrows from close to the mausoleum at the king. What interested the fox more was the fact that the elf noticed that there was some sort of passageway under the mausoleum. If that was how the assassins got in and out, they had to find a way to get in the structure. For a moment he inspected the lock and came to the swift conclusion that picking it would not be an easy task. The actual mechanism was very complex. Usually not the kind of lock you'd place on a mausoleum. Kaito judged that that trying to pick it would be difficult. Better find someone who could actually open the door for them. Just as the kitsune was about to ask Jazdia about who has the keys to the mausoleum a ruckus at the front gate caught Kaito's attention. Apparently a captain of the royal guard had come to inspect his men and wasn't too pleased with the fact that they let them in. His arrival could be troublesome. The captains of the royal guard weren't exactly your run of the mill guards like the pipsqueak with the armor that was a couple of sizes too big. No, the captains were on a completely different level. All highly trained and experienced professionals. They would not be easily fooled nor quickly beguiled by magical charm. Give such a man the impression that you're trying to bewitch him and the situation could escalate quickly. A fight with the royal guard was the last thing they needed right now. For a moment the fox pondered about what strategy they should choose. He wasn't sure if they could trust the captain. As far as Kaito was concerned everyone in the royal court could be a traitor. Giving too much information might endanger the mission. Trying to fool the man might escalate the situation and endanger the mission as well. They would have to walk a tightrope and hope to reach the end without falling. As the captain addressed Jazdia, Kaito stepped forward. "Good afternoon sir. You certainly may insist that we state our business. However I hope that you understand that, concerning the grave events that transpired at this site, that our business is on a strictly need to know basis only." Spoke the fox in a serious tone. For a moment he studied the captain's facial expression and quickly came to the conclusion that a 'it's none of your business' would not be sufficient. The man in front of him would probably not be satisfied with anything less than some official documentation. If anyone had some form of documents in the group it would be the elf. Yet Kaito was also aware that she was a very private person and very unwilling to share any personal details. Details that might need to be redacted or blurred out before the captain could see whatever Jazdia was holding on too. "But perhaps you're high enough up in the chain of command to be informed on our business. I think we are at liberty to share some of the details, don't you agree miss Jazdia?" Spoke Kaito as he held up his hand for any documents hoping that his comrade trusts him enough to keep her private details a secret.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Well the jig was up, a lot sooner than expected in the form of a captain coming in with righteous fury. And now they're on the frying pan because a certain fox employed trickery to gain passage, joy. The man initially tried to weasel out of this one, too, but cap'n thin goatee here wasn't buying none of it. And then it's back to Jazdia. Oh, wait. She recognize this fella. His name was... "Hold up. That you, Delving junior? You look so much more like your father now." Yeah, man aged about two decades in eight years but the shape of his face and that annoying voice of his remain unchanged. Looks like he climbed up quite a bit since last time. "This should be easier to explain then. Short version, Mattie assembled us. Crown business. Your boy up front wasn't keen on that and we ain't got the time to waste, so we had to persuade him a different way. No hard feelings, yeah?" Might as well own up to it, but also play it down. Leave as few leverage as possible for the other party to make use of. "Go send a runner to the castle if you want a confirmation or something. Or detain us, and Mattie's coming for your ass sooner than later. Ain't make a difference for me."</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda took a moment to absorb all the information that was being spoken to her. There was a defiant correlation between the attack on the king and the kidnapping of the prince. This was a good indication that someone in the court was working with the enemy. "I will follow the tracks to wherever they lead to, hopefully, they lead to any stragglers that are still alive." The group could see her hand tightening into a fist, it was very obvious she wanted to beat the information out of them. She quickly looked through the pouch carried by her horse, giving Henri. Gave him a small medallion, the medallion had an image of a tree skillfully burned into the wood. (Picture of the medallion- image.spreadshirtmedia.com/image-serv…) "This should be enough for Cedar to easily find me." She looked at the medallion that Cedar was now holding, "Please be careful with that medallion, it is a family heirloom." She felt empty handing Cedar the medallion, it was found on her person when she was found by her adopted father. Looking over at Henri who had done something with her armour, "Very well. Let us not waste any more time, I will meet with you hopefully soon." She quickly told Anderson to watch her horse, walking off toward the forest. Carefully following the footsteps of the kidnappers.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Placidly padding along, the big lumbering form of the bear-man slowly made its leisurely way first up along the edge of the lake, to collect the tiny shriveled black berries that had been overlooked by the birds last winter from amidst the dangerous coils of prickles that were known as "GreenBriar." Birds and deer subsisted on the things during the winter months, as the perennial vine was semi-evergreen, and kept foliage on even in the winter-- or so his dad told him. He had never seen it himself. Whenever the weather started getting cold, the urge to go to sleep became overwhelming, and without even realizing it, he would just wake up several months later in time for spring. The nasty little vines would serve their purpose quite well here, and would be a buffet for the birds this winter. Deer did not really like wading through the marshes, though he supposed the ice and snow would harden it up well enough for them to consider foraging among the ruins this winter. Tucking quite a number of the shriveled little black bastards into the small pouch he had retained, and laced to the inside of his right arm, he had long since begun his long, shuffling and investigatory plod all around the ruins. There WERE a few edible roots and small fish hidden among the muck, and he was still very famished from his stay in the dungeon. It didn't hurt any to actually play the part he was 'pretending' to be-- especially since he knew how to do it, and it would serve several roles at once. It was a good hour or more before he was satisfied with having seeded the area with the vicious little horrors he had 'just so happened' to drop into the foraging holes he had been digging, while discretely prompting them to germinate, and greet the summer sun. He had continued 'subtly' coaxing their growth, while doing his lumbering "bear shuffle" amongst the muck and puddles, urging their roots to go deep and wide into the surrounding environs. The whole damn ruin site was now ringed in, like one giant bear trap, ready to be sprung. Lazily, he waddled back up to the lake, carefully removed the small sack, then took a nice refreshing dip in the water to get all the mud (and old dungeon stench) off. "Are you done yet?" was the complaint he was greeted with when he returned to Henri, who was wearing his clothes in a most peculiar manner. Almost comical. "Yup. I thinks so. I'm ready when you is."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark He listened, but not to understand. To him, their words were discordant noises, rambled by criminals either to rat out their partner-in-crime or to vaunt their innocence. Be it a plea, confession, or reason, he ignored it all as he toss them into the Rascade dungeon. And today, he expected it to not be any different. But the first person to speak had brought a certain irregularity, and it started to get on his nerve. How dare they come to this place, deceived his men, and then stated, right in front of his face that they hold the information he was unworthy to hear? His anger reached its peak when a certain former noblewoman spoke up and reinforce what the first trespasser said. Even more so when she brought up the name Matilda. Too long that she-orc had been the thorn in his side. So what? His Highness trusted her and now she acted like she owned Rascade. "Be silent!" he rebuked, harsh and efficient. "I am not here to bandy words with an ungrateful daughter who ran away. How is Rosenving now? Did you crawl back to His Majesty's feet asking for His favor while your family begged for table scraps?" Yvonne strode a pace forward, but suddenly Jazdia's clutched her by the shoulder, and she halted, glancing at the elf with clear disdain. "Greetings, Constable Delving. I wholeheartedly acknowledged that the timing was less than ideal. But my friend was right, we are here on Fredricus' order." Jazdia opened her bag and reached for a transparent tube, which contained a piece of document, neatly rolled and tied with a red ribbon. She unknotted the ribbon and presented the paper so he can read it himself. But the man furiously struck the elf's palm, causing the contract to be released from her grip and flutter away before landing on the grass. The captain whirled at Keito, before continuing his admonishment loudly. "Listen here, you cheap idiots! I asked a question, plain and simple and all of you made a fucking song and dance about it! I don't care who ordered you. I ask a fuckin question and you fuckin answer. Now is there any of you, in this sorry group who can answer, in plain Common? Please? Thank you!?" As he speaks, a dozen of guards had made their position around them. All were armed, and they only waited for the Constable's order. "Or maybe I should just haul all of you to Rascade Dungeon myself!"</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chōnan snapped from both for stroking the Captain's man strength on the lady's palm and desecrating an important paper that had been sealed by the King himself. "Mind if I put something first?" He said and pulled something from his bag and it was his mask during his prime on Knight's career. As he did a knight salute, an overwhelming ferocious aura has been released and those who caught feel flinches and recognize his prime status as a knight before. "Ex-Knight of cavalry unit, Kagetane Chōnan... Late Sergeant, definitely going to haunt you down as you stroke that paper with the King's sealed into the ground. A yelling that pierce into your soul. Whole day of running around until your feet give up" He walked toward the place where the contract fell off. The surrounding guards that were meant to block him started to shaken and Chōnan felt disappointed. "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." He picked up the contracted and handed back to Jazdia instead. He felt that the Captain himself can't be trusted to hand the contract. "It is classified from the top and I'm overseeing our guests for their work under Madame Matilda Ironsword. We had a business here and also I visited my late units and my superiors." Yes. He paid them a vist before he catch up with his party on the investigation area. "As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." "As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough." Few recognized that mask, but their number was insignificant compared to those who feared the wrath of the Delving. The Constable had his mouth agaped slightly, both in anger and bewilderment. Though he could find the gist of whatever this Ex-Knight Cavalry was saying, he still heard it as a slightly clear gibberish. An impudent one. One that does not respect his authority. In a fit of newfound anger, he brandished his pike and thwacked the Ex-Knight Cavalry at the back of his knee, immediately ending his dramatic posturings and forcing him to kneel. And soon it was apparent that the soldier was not trembling in fear, but instead waiting for an order, and they just got one. Two soldiers joined the fray, then one more, probably annoyed by the warrior's condescending remark, or they wanted to prove him wrong, all working in unison to pin Chounan to the ground and had him cuffed. The contract escaped the Samurai's grip and stretched out again on the grass.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "No, Junior. I dont think I will." Well ain't today just going real real bad. Yvonne sported a lopsided grin, something her brothers in arms would've recognized as the prelude to violence, but this far off her hunting grounds there's no one capable of noticing the threat. "What make you think I care about my family, daddy's boy? Looks like you still have no brains between that ears of yours - crown business. Maybe try listening sometimes. I'd say if you hurry you can run to father dearest to beg his majesty for some breadcrumbs before the day ends." And the damned foreigner just went and spouted some convulted nonsense. Then he got taken down by surprise. Good fucking job man. Yvonne ain't letting that happen though, dude's about a third of their fighting strength by her estimate. The mercenary took one step forward, twice, swing her leg back, tap into her inner strength, and kicked the dumb schmuck trying to cuff her coworker. Not a big boost, she's not planning to kill the footman, but enough to lift him a foot into the air. Catching the idiot by his cuirass strap, she utilized the man as a bludgeon to knock away the other two before tossing him toward Aaron - who saw it coming and stepped aside, but all it achieved was the improvised projectile crashing into the gathering rank of the guards. That should do for warm up. "Up you go." She grabbed the downed adventurer by the scruff of his neck, pulling him to a standing position before retreating out of the pike's range. Yvonne escalated alright, but no steel were drawn on her part. Who knows? Maybe the show of force will get the other side to reconsider their stance. She didn't fancy the thought of fighting through the entire garrison of Rascade.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda walked off in the direction of the footprints, the kidnappers thought themself pretty clever that there could try to cover their tracks. But she was a much more skilled hunter than Anderson and the others. She thought this was now turning into a hunt, she was the predator searching for her prey. Standing in between some trees, she stopped and stood there for a moment. She was placing her hand on the tree, wanting to know what they saw during the incident. Getting quick flashes of what happened, seeing the kidnappers waiting for the right time to strike. Gets into a skirmish with the guards, and during the confusion stole the prince. Having to run on foot northwest. "Where did they go? Is there a safe house they ran off to with the prince?" Communicating with the trees, wanting to know where the kidnappers could have gone. Hearing a distant voice of the kidnappers, mentioning something about a submerged ruin west of here. She knew what they were talking about, it was a lookout formerly used by the Kindence forces during a war with some dark elves a long time ago. "So that is where they are keeping the prince. Thank you Sar Echia." Patting the large oak tree, walking off towards the direction of the ruins. The trip did not take long for Matilda, once she was a few meters from the ruins. She crouched down behind some trees. Watching the ruins to make sure there was no one patrolling the area. Her eyes looked over at the marking Henri made to her armour, remembering that she could hear every word. "If you hear me Henri, I have followed the trail to some submerged ruins. It does not look like they are any patrolling guards, so perhaps they could be hiding inside the ruins. The ruins are located west of the hunting grounds, I do not know where you are, but the ruins should be located by a large body of water. So just follow the river near you, which should lead towards the ruins." Heading carefully towards the ruins, noticing that half of it was submerged in the lake. It has not been abandoned for almost seventy years. Matilda searched for someway inside the structure. Finally finding the main entrance that was not submerged in the water. Moving as stealthfully as she could inside, finding it eerily silent. Part of her thought no one was here, becoming increasingly worried that the prince was not there.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Watch Tower Ruins, Kindeance --- Hdur. The elf woman, Jazdia, had already made plans for them to regroup in Hdur. What a strange coincidence. However, given the town's reputation, perhaps not all that strange. Solomon stood listening to the words coming from the newly awoken corpse. He called himself Birk, and he was a hunter of sorts. Whether he was a part of the group of assassins had yet to be determined though. He knew where they holed up in, but did not see the prince. Solomon looked towards Matilda and then back at Birk. Something might have gone lost in translation. "You say you hunt in the royal grounds in secret. Were you at the royal forest five days ago? Were you a part of a plot involving the royal prince? Tell us of what you might have seen that day."</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito listened quietly as Jazdia put him in his place. She was right, whatever happens he would manage. For the fox it was easy to slip away and lay low. Not many bridges to burn, maybe just one. The others had more to lose, or so he assumed. "Alright, storming through the front door and kicking ass it is!" Spoke Kaito as the elf was done with addressing his concerns. He watched quietly as the others retreated to get some rest. At the eve of battle the kitsune always felt a bit too restless to sleep. It was not that he necessarily felt afraid or doubted his own skills. It was more that he just didn't like combat. The fox simply did not get any enjoyment out of the act. Kaito ordered a bottle of hot sake, kicked the seat back a bit and placed his feet on the neatly cleaned table. In that pose he waited for the others to come back</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] Delving's disdain only grew at the way his "guest" behaved, much closer to a common thug than an imperial tutor. Peasants. They were all lacking from the very get go, regardless how much polishing was done. Give them an inch and they let it get into their filthy heads. Then Henri dropped the bombshell that the prince's actually gone and gotten himself kidnapped. That's not something the constable would've expected, though in hindsight it made sense why Matilda wasn't present at the scene earlier. Still, Aaron regained his composure and leaned back on his seat. There's no confirmation yet. He regretted not reading the elf's order earlier on, but only a bit - the authenticity itself was suspect if they had to weasel their way in like that. Of course, the short moment was filled with the lowborn continuing to prattle as if he's Fredricus himself. To him, a Delving. Not even the king would disrespect him to his face like this. Aaron's temper flared, and the accusation and obviously magical phenomenon only pushed it over the top as wrath superseded any hint of fear and sense. "You dare come and threaten me in my own office?! Know your place, worm!" Aaron stood, his chair shoved behind him as his hand reached for his sword. His bellow was loud enough to somewhat shake the mounted animal heads as hurried footsteps rapidly approached from multiple directions. "Men! Arrest this renegade at once!"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Five days..?" For the first time, the zombie-corpse showed sign of confusion. It faded quick enough though, as the dead hunter decided on an answer. "No. Preparing at home." It absentmindedly reached for its pocket, glancing and squinting down with confusion to find it turned inside-out. One berry still stuck on the fabric. Birk the zombie jerkily took it and popped it into its mouth. "No. No prince." The rotten berry summarily slipped out and splattered on the ground. The zombie continued chewing at nothing. "Roof leaky. Need fixing soon. Bread and egg breakfast. Food low. Few coins. Trees browning. Winter close. Checked trap. With Reinhold. Three r-r-rabbits. Trail muddy. Some fence rotting. A few goats grazing. Old barn. Even older Gerhard. His wrinkle. Trade in. Farm. Flour and eggs and milk. Some sausage. Saw Hilda. Her tits very nice. And the hips. She smiled at us." A staggering, uneven smile crept on the zombie's visage. "Chickens. Rotting fence. Muddy trail. Two huts. Roof leaking. Bertolf and I-I-Ingmar. Not happy. No catch. Into h-h-hut. Map. The royal forest. We see path. We see mark. Where d-d-deer goes. Reinhold and Bertolf argue. Ingmar quiet. Take coins. Back out. Muddy trail-" There seemed to be a lot more to be said, if one were patient enough to hear of the hunter's entire day.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword @wierdw The orc was looking quite frustrated by the lack of clues that could lead to saving the prince. "They may have gone to Hdur, but perhaps Hdur has no relation to the kidnappers. But it is best we search there. Perhaps Jazdia's group has found something useful." Impatiently waiting for the others to finish questioning the corpse. Matilda could not help but want to get some straight answers out of the corpse. But realistically it looked like there were not that many avenues to explore in the fortress. While the others were questioning the corpse, she noticed Cedar coming back with a pigeon on his shoulder and a note in his hand. Reading the note she felt both frustration and some relief. She was glad that Jazdia's group was able to find some information on the assassins. Feeling a bit of shame that her group was not able to find anything of use. They will have to gather what information they could gather here, and then meet with the others. If they got there earlier than the other group, then they could idle around the city for the time being. But she hoped they would reach the city at the exact same time. "Anderson, I need a quill and ink. Do you or any of your men have anything I can use to respond to this message." She interrupted his interrogation of the corpse. Stepping a little closer towards him.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "What did it say if I may ask, Ma'am?" Anderson glanced at the message with curiosity, before alternating to Cedrick and the pigeon. There's other group, it seemed. Likely the one that included Miss Rosenving. It's a good thing that not all avenue of investigation was stymied, at least. Coordinating with the younger Delving so far had been nothing but a collosal waste of time. "Will this suffice?" From an inner pocket the squire produced a leatherbound notebook, flipping to an empty page before carefully tearing it out. There's no quill or ink, but he did carry a pencil.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri leaned at his chair and shrugged. "Now, now. Don't just spout typical villain lines. I didn't threaten you with anything." He then glanced at the guards. "Gentlemen. There's been a change in command, you all now work under me." This is a lie. "Kneel." Their armors begin to grow heavy, pulling them towards the ground and truly forcing them to kneel. "You too, Aaron." The Delving's chair shoves itself forward, slamming on Aaron's knees and making him sit. Henri then flicks Aaron's sword downward at the same time, taking advantage of the imbalance in his stance, to disarm him. What a mess. Is this how the Delving deals with opposition? Someone like him shouldn't have been a noble to begin with... Unless there's someone backing him. Henri squinted. "I suppose you weren't fully at fault if you chose to ignore the Seal... Hmm. With how steadfast your guards were," case in point, Henri's own interaction with them minutes ago, "they must have tried to lie to get into the mausoleum, did they not? Everyone just wants to take the easiest path." He shrugged, again. "So am I. Thus, tell me where they are, Aaron. I'm not against your side, you know? For the sin of injuring royal guards, I'll be dealing with them myself."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Aaron? What's going on here?" Aaron's expression had went through a shade of rage, fear, and hummiliation within the span of a few seconds before his gaze locked at someone by the door, all his emotion immediately doused by joy. It was a curt yet modulated tone of someone well used to commanding others. Even when off duty Admiral Silas Delving's debonair charisma was apparent, with a charming smile and flowing golden locks to complete his princely outlook. His steps confident unlike most sailors that walked with the expectation of the floor buckling under their feet. This was the true champion of House Delving, and he entered with a hint of concern and alarm as he took in the sight. "Brother! This renegade attack me!" The Admiral merely raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the supposed renegade not unlike an eagle looking down on a rabbit. "Ser Henri, if I'm not mistaken? Cease your assault on my brother and his men, would you kindly?" That was not a request.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda took the pencil and notebook from Anderson, jotting down a quick note before ripping the piece of paper. The contents of the note if looked at, would be summed up as what clues Matilda's group found. And that they would be heading to Hdur. Handing the letter to Cedar once he was finished speaking with the corpse, "Give this message to that bird, and tell it márnanwen, meldë." She hoped that the message would be able to be successfully delivered to Jazdia. "And where the hell is Sir Henri? I thought he was with Cedar?" She turned to speak with Anderson. She worried that he had gotten himself into serious trouble exploring the fortress. Or had run into some unsavoury characters.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda took the bottle from Anderson, looking quite annoyed that Henri would leave her group. What was especially annoying to her was that he left to join Jazdia. "Jazdia and the group with her, are investigating the assailants that tried to assassinate the king. I am not sure if he used the same method to communicate with me, with that Jazdia woman. So I do not know how he can contact her." Not mentioning to Anderson she was an interloper that would need to be monitored. Matilda was unsure what her true intentions were. A very small part of her was worried that Henri had gotten himself in trouble. "I believe we are done here, I do not think we can gather any more information from that…corpse." She turned to walk out of the fortress, unless someone had some new information that should be shared with her.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "Hey, uhm-- The locals at least filled me in on whats they looked like at least.." ventured Cedar timidly, while working on the leather goods. "But not like I can just pop in in ya heads like I kin when talkin with other critters... Aint no good at drawin neither. But I does know whats they looks like. The locals right hated 2 o'em too. Shit on one. Theys real proud o that one.-- Not sure it helps none, but if I sees one o'em, I'd know."</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Watch Tower Ruins, Kindeance --- Technically, Solomon could spend as much time as he wanted listening to the entirety of Birk's day. Unfortunately for the mission and the sanity of the others, time was not a luxury they could waste. While it's wasn't as conclusive as Solomon would have liked, there was a lead to Hdur. And as a bonus the group was already headed there. And there were some names to go on. The last confirmation was the man was at the royal forest on the day, but any specifics were lost to his ramblings. Solomon continued to listen to the man as Cedar returned to the room with a new bird friend that was not a crow. Solomon could tell Cedar was a little discomforted by the zombie's presence, keeping his distance as he presented Matilda a note. The pigeon was a carrier pigeon. Perhaps from the king, or even Jazdia. Solomon turned his attention to the still rambling zombie. At least for the next quarter hour as Cedar worked on the leather and Anderson returning with news of Henri's disappearance. "That is enough." Said Solomon, the zombie ending its play by play. Matilda was ready to move out. Solomon rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He followed Matilda out of the ruins, having Birk follow them out. Cedar was apprehensive about the idea of the zombie joining them, but Solomon reassured him that he was simply going to put him to rest. As the sun lay low in the sky and long shadows reached towards the horizon, Solomon had Birk dig his own grave, lay in it, and Solomon ended his hold on him, letting Birk once again return to the eternal slumber of death. With a few mounds of dirt, Solomon finished the grave. Solomon could see Matilda was eager to keep going, but by the looks of Anderson and the others, it was perhaps time to make a camp for the night. It would be well after dark by the time they reached Hdur, and there was no guarantee of shelter. At least with Anderson and his men, they had camping gear and tents.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was a bit perturbed by the sudden and brisk desire Matilda had to pack up and move. While this was a rather odorous location, it was also sheltered and defensible. Not every floor was stinky, and in general, it was quite serviceable. Also, he hadn't finished repairing the tack yet. What, did she want to just abandon this much kit? Leave the horses to starve to death in the winter? Those horses didn't know how to survive in the wild, they were domestic beasts. It would be a slow and debilitating death for them. But he also did not want to go back to the dungeon, and she really was his only reason for being out of it. Nobody seemed all that interested in a person like him-- aside from negative interest that was. He had been warned about this from his dad, and had felt the sting of it a bit in town, but his stint in the dungeon was like nothing he had ever encountered. The sounds of the inquisitor 'questioning' people still haunted him. He was grateful to have just been beaten, and even that was a rude awakening. His dad had punished him, of course-- but his dad was actually a very kind, loving and gentle man, and the lectures were the worst part of his punishments-- try as he might, his dad's attempts at physical punishment were rather amusing, in hind sight. He very much wished he could be home right now. At least Solomon had put the poor creature of that reanimated corpse out of its misery. The stench would still take quite awhile to air out though. Solomon and Anderson seemed more sensible, in their attestations to stay for the night. That would work and suit him fine. He could get these mended by morning, and if the note was any indicator, the delay would not be a big issue. but GODS was he hungry...</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Of course, ma'am." Far beyond Anderson to question his dame's decision. While there's likely more things to be gleaned from the corpse, like how did he ended up dead here, it's not that hard to deduce the details. Must've wandered in at the wrong time and place, bless his unfortunate soul. He wasn't much comfortable having the dead up and speaking like they forgot they're dead. The squire watched with morbid fascination as Birk dug a grave for himself to lay in, not really sure at what point did he turn from undead into plain dead, but he'll take Solomon's words for it. He helped the necro-doctor bury the corpse, too. Daylight was waning quickly, this time of the year. "You can stay at the camp if you'd like, ma'am. We dont have much spare room, but if it's only for the night the men wont complain overmuch having to stuff in. On the other hand, your horses would've rested enough to take you back to the city. I'm sure the night watch wont make things difficult for you." Matilda was rather well known, and quite distinct to boot. As long as she's on the lead they'll let the group in no problem. "Ser Cedrick, you can leave the kits in the ruin and I'll have someone come collect it on the morrow. We'll take good care of the horses." Anderson noticed the druid's plight and offerend his assistance. These were fine horses, the guilt of their last riders shouldn't transfer to the animals.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Well, time to get absolutely wild. If the implication was proven the entire gang would be rounded up and executed anyway, so no need to spare the chaffs. It's probably mercy compared to what execution awaits for attempted regicide, so she'll be sure to properly send them off. The party started with a literal bang with about a third of the enemy ranks instantly vaporized. Way to go, boss! Cackling in amusement, Yvone jogged forward to meet the three opponents left. Was it fear or stupidity? They just saw about a third of their rank splattered into giblets and here they come. All rabble, too. Bad foorwork, overly wide swing, nowhere near enough attention to defense, and they're not pacing to keep up with each other. These were thugs at best, never even seen one remotely life-threatening fight in their sorry existence. They were taller with longer arms, but Yvonne's mace had better reach than their makeshift bludgeon so it evened out. At the fastest thug she swung straight up to the chin, the impact more felt than heard as his teeth jarringly knocked into each other before the overwhelming force shattered both the upper and lower jaws. One down, she pushed the thug lightly to send him crashing toward one of his friend. The next one came down on her, but a well-placed blow on the wrist fractured the bone and dropped the weapon. Before the pain caught up with him Yvonne brought the mace back down, on to the skull, where metal met bone and metal won. Red and white splashed in the general area, the body convulsed once, twice, before falling still. The third guy barely got up when Yvonne strode past, sweeping through his face with a two-handed swing. Another firework of red and white bloomed, this time the giblets tossed far off to paint a sizeable section of the courtyard. The first man wasn't dead yet but he's drowning in his own blood. In a small gesture of mercy, the mercenary draw her dagger and stabbed through his heart. And that's all done on her part. Barely take ten seconds. "Where next, boss?"</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, messing about in this fortress only achieved wasting their time. She wanted to ride off toward Hdur, but she did not know what would happen to her during the night. Although she could handle herself in a fight, there was something frightening about wandering out in the fortress. Having that corpse walking around did not help her anxiety. "We can rest here, and head for Hdur when the sun rises." She glared over toward Anderson. Even though she couldn't see her expression, he could tell she was staring at him. Sitting alone in another room, the room she was sitting in was partially open letting the moonlight fill half of the room. Resting up against a wall, her sword was standing near her upright. Taking off her helmet while taking a deep breath. Taking in the sound of the fauna outside. Her sense of tranquillity was disturbed by a noise coming from the other end of the room. Thinking it was some sort of creature hiding in the fortress, she gripped her sword hilt. "You know, you will never find him. He's as dead as ol Birk." The voice was familiar to Matilda, it was an entity born from her family's curse. Those who were unable to conquer the curse, ended up utterly insane. "Be silent, we will find the prince. I know he is still alive, it would not make any sense for the kidnappers to kill their hostage." She shook her head, as the eyes in the darkness seemed to roll in annoyance. "Highly unlikely, they could have off em. Could have killed him once they had run his course. I would ave loved to see what they would have done to him, cutting off his fingers and toes. Enjoying his squeals while they cut off his peter. All because you could not save him." The voice changed to the prince crying for Matilda to save him, before changing back to the voice laughing sadistically. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH CUR." Matilda screamed out, her voice echoing throughout the fortress. Her hand tightly gripped her sword. 'You should be searching for him right now, you would have a better chance of finding him yourself." The voice said which made Matilda shake her head. "I don't know if I could find him myself, which is why I have people helping me." She waved her hand back and forth. "Oh like that bumpkin bear, the necromancer, and that snooty tin man? They have done nothing to help your investigation. Tin man ditched you, and the other two were found squat except for talking to birds and dead bodies." The voice's voice was speaking to Matilda in a mocking manner. "They have been quite helpful, so don't underestimate their abilities. I believe in them.' This made the voice chuckle. "Ha, I highly doubt that. You would be better off without them, the rage is what get's things done. SMASH AND RIP." The voice seemed to disappear, its voice echoing in her ears. Matilda took the bottle of whiskey out, chugging the contents. Feeling a bit of her sanity starting to fade away.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri followed the trail of blood, bodies, and debris that started at the unguarded large door, hanging ajar at the end of a disused looking alleyway, then moved further in. Another door hung ajar, this one made of sturdy iron. There were two dead bodies inside-- clearly slaves, given the leg irons-- who had been killed by some kind of sharp weapon. One had a nasty wound to the center of its head, and another had bled out on the floor from a nasty gash through its neck. Many empty cages and leg irons remained, either sprung open, or laying chained to the wall, but unshackled. He followed the trail of carnage with his eyes, and out another door to the side, where he saw familiar faces, and the sounds of a jeering crowd. What was this, some kind of arena? The realization that he had come here with no weapons at all irritated him, and made him seethe. He looked at the slaves in the pen again. His anger only got worse. Who in their right mind murders innocent people like that? Angrily, he touched the iron of their bondings and chains, willing them to come unraveled, then form a pool of red hot 'goo' at his feet, along with the door, then willed it into a new shape to go with the kite shield he had over his back: A rather large, and frightening double bladed broad axe, with deep beards. His eyes glowed a dull red from the combination of using his powers and being angry enough to rip this place down himself. If this was Jazdia's work, he would have choice words with her about this. Another door, with the peep window opened, was near to the one that had been left ajar, unopened. He could feel magic subtly humming inside, but not from the walls. He rocked up on the balls of his boots, and looked through the slit. A very young girl was inside, chained up, with her head tilted to the side, extolling a drug-dazed expresion from behind a blindfold into the otherwise empty room. Further, enraged, he considered his options. Trying to save her now would cost valuable time-- He wondered if that was why the group had not released her-- but the corpses in the prior room still bothered him. Perhaps it was GOOD that the door had not been opened? A loud baritone voice like a pit-boss announcer bellowed from the empty hallway. "There she is! Fiesty lady and her companions! Welcome! Welcome. I see that you are very eager to start! A shame that you are a bit late! Today's match should have been done-and-done! We had seen plundering! Crazy battles! Tight escapes and desperate chases! But fret not! It seems the fight is far from over Ladies and Gentlemen." FUCK. There was not any time left, it looked like those bumbling fools had gotten themselves ensnared in the arena-- He closed on the gate at the end of the hall. The portcullis gate had slammed down, but it lifted easily. A quick examination showed that the locks had been destroyed. What the fuck? Were they in there ON PURPOSE? He didn't give a shit, he would get his answers soon enough. Shouldering the still blistering hot axe over his shoulder, where it sent small tendrils of smoke from contact with his coat, he stomped toward the open arena door. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!" he demanded angrily as he stormed in, the gate crashing down again behind him. He felt an odd tingle as he passed through the doorway, which sent a momentary flutter through his core....</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!" The two other butcher-knight looked at each other dumbfoundedly. Though their metal helmet showed no expression, they seemed to be flabbergasted by the new guy's bizarre entry. One thing for sure though, they were not one to answer a question, they were here to fight and they would just deliver that. The trawlers managed to net the unsuspecting Henri, and it seemed to be their biggest catch today. Wasting no time, the Butcher-Knight leaped forward and bring down his mighty poleaxe to the ensnared man before he could defend himself, mercilessly hacking his hardened body.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito was relieved that Jazdia seemed a bit calmer after he had talked to her. He had kind of expected to get scolded by the elf but much to his surprise she told him not to worry and called him 'my little fox'. Much time to think or even respond to Jazdia words weren't given as the elf turned around and kept on moving forward. Leaving the fox behind with a blush on his face. The spectacle at the end of the tunnel was both terrifying and repulsive. It instantly answered the question on what the slaves in the other room were used for. The black Serpent Guild let them fight to the death for the entertainment of the crowds. And the last victim was turned to shreds by two tigers. Luckily Jazdia took care of those magnificent animals before they could become a threat to Kaito and his companions. However they now found themselves in a rather dangerous situation. Kaito looked around the large arena. The walls were too high to scale and above them was a large crowd of people that had been enjoying the sight of people killing each other. Despite them being uninvited guests, the commentator just spun it in a way that they would be the next entertainers to prove their merit in the arena. The fox took a step backwards as their opponents appeared from the other side of the room. Three buff guys with poleaxes and a bunch of midgets with nets to ensnare them. What worried Kaito the most was the fact that there was some magic at play that intervened with his powers. It felt as if he would not be able to use them at all in this arena. For a moment the Kitsune contemplated if they should retreat. He felt nothing for participating in this kind of entertainment and the odds didn't look in their favor. Especially with the magical barrier that intervened with their magic. However much time to strategize they didn't get as the Wirjurgen Crews made the first move. Two of the midgets threw their nets at Jazdia which she managed to dodge. However at the same time one of the burly men jumped forward and attacked her with his poleaxe. Sending Jazdia crashing into the pillar. They had to move now and move smart, Otherwise the situation would become very bleak. Ignoring the man who came rushing through the door shouting something about what was going on here, Kaito made his move. Quickly he pushed his wakizashi the first inch out with his left tumb and circled the burly man that had attacked Jazdia, placing himself between the elf and the man. Quickly the fox dashed forward, holding the tsuka with his right hand. Ready to attack with a draw cut while always keeping the other enemies in his peripheral vision. Just as the kitsune was about to enter the range of the poleaxe, Kaito leaped forward while executing his draw cut. Rather than striking at the man's body he used his wakizashi to strike at the poleaxe, pushing it aside while continuing to move forwards. Quickly he grabbed his dagger with his left hand and duck to attempt to cut the burly man's achilles tendon. He wasn't sure if the move would work but at least it would create an opening for either Chounan or Yvonne to strike and buy some time for Jazdia to retreat to the back.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" THUD A very heavy metal cleaver on the end of a dark wooden pole came down hard on his shoulder, shattering his shell, and threatening to dislodge his entire left arm. Henri was livid. His eyes glowed brilliant crimson, as did the blade under the intense heat Henri subjected it to. The steel melted, and burned through his coat, then integrated with the damaged arm, forming a make-shift repair-- destroying the enemy's weapon in the process. The gladiator drew back a smoking and charred shaft in confusion, as Henri grasped the axe over his right shoulder with both hands, sending the hot iron back to a dull shade of red. The tension of the net pulled the rope down over the blade, and the combination ignited it, making it fall off him with a pop. Not missing a beat, the angry tutor decided to help these gentlemen get "A head" of the class, and swung the massive metal instrument right into his attacker's neck.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Sending Jazdia crashing to the corner might be a sound idea if you are not big and brandishing a big stick for a weapon. So when Kaito stood between the butcher-knight and Jazdia, the man did not have an optimal room to swing his mighty weapon, allowing Kaito to skid beside him and leaving a slashing wound on his forearm. The butcher spun around, but the foxy youkai was faster. Taking the advantage of his enemy's limited field of vision he ducked out of sight and used his wakizashi to tear his achiles tendon. Spurting blood all over the graveled ground as the burly man struggled to keep his balance. Nobody knows where those men came from, what they really were, and how Ulgad trained them into fearsome fighting slaves. One thing for sure, they were tougher than any human. When the heated metal struck his neck, the butcher-knight still managed to muster an incredible amount of strength to hold it by tilting his head sideways, using all the fat and muscle to cushion the impact, just like what his enemy just did. Behind that strange helmet came a muffled roar, and unexpectedly, he grabbed Henri by his arm and brutally pound him against the wall before succumbing to his fatal wound.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Being a burdened to the elf made him pissed to himself. Being alone wolf during adventurer made him dull his coordination for as team as he kept soloing. He tighten his grip and went to focus. With Kaito's distraction and losing the big man's posture. Chounan slipped in, made a posture in order to deliver a devastating stabbed with a katana for the finisher showing no mercy to a struggling big man. He actived his Ki to be caution on the surrounding especially for the responding foe to ensure countermeasures.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Welp, no plan it is. Tis' fine. The more chaotic, the better. In to the arena the mercenary went, only to be greeted by the most distasteful setup she had ever seen. There's one slave-looking man mauled by tigers there. Her eyes narrowed. That guy couldn't have been in here for long, so who fetched him from the previous room? Was there a secret door in the corridor? Well, the portcullis slammed down and cut off that thought so Yvonne had to switch her focus to the more immediate issue. "Once we find a way up there there'll be a lot of heads bashed in." Generally speaking, there's one rule in pitched combat. Your own safety comes first, and actually taking down the enemies was secondary. This group, among other things, was exception. The big lugs had their torso practically naked, showing multitude of scars from previous combat, and attacked with abandon. They're not here to play it safe, they're going with abandon to make a good show and hope to survive. Fools. Fools, and corpses. Yvonne angled her sword, partially absorbing the initial blow as she took a few steps back. Sparky was tossed away, but no blood. Good enough. Then foxxie and the adventurer went to town with the guy. Another stomped past to deal with their newcomer - Henri? How did he get here- no matter. Focus on the more immediate issue. That left the third of these so-called knights. In a flourish Yvonne sheathed her sword, taking out the mace to deal with this man. She charged in at the slave-knight nearly half a fold larger than herself, knowing full well how the reaction will be. He had the reach, so if he's any good he would try strike her down the moment she came in. Anticipating such blow, Yvonne primed up her inner strength - quite a bit more than the little scuffle with Aaron's henchmen. She'll be quite sore after all this, but that's just Tuesday. The moment the swing comes in she'd strike, not at the wielder but the weapon itself. This would not be advised for most people, for the momentum of a two-handed swing wouldn't so easily be overcome. But Yvonne's strength was nowhere near normal. If it connect, her own blow would've strike with the impact of a veritable battering ram. As for what'll happen to the weapon or the wielder, well, it tend to be not pretty at all. Her own weapons do suffer from this treatment though. Unfortunate, but it is what it is.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword "There was no issue with the weapon delivery, I am conducting an investigation. And my findings brought me here. Would I be able to look over your ledger? I want to make sure if the perpetrators came to your store six days ago." She assumed that the kidnappers could have bought a large supply of weapons. But there could also be a possibility that they could have bought a few weapons. When she was given the ledger from the blacksmith, she started looking over the contents. Looking for any large purchases in the last six days. There was also the possibility that the kidnappers didn't visit the blacksmith, if that was the case then she would visit the general store and the inn after this. Flipping through the pages of anything that sticks out to her. The large knight was silently going through the ledger, speaking only a few moments later. "Is there a man called Birk living around here? What is he like?"</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark The attack deflected with a twang, for normal humans that recoil alone would have shattered the bone, but the noblewoman, either she was above normal or just due to sheer of ingenuity used the push to feed her own momentum and swing the poleaxe back to the bear's unarmored crotch. Nasty burns he had there! Holly shit! —Hold on! Something's happening here! The small lady is at it again! The two of them are at a standoff, but she is using the weapon thrice longer than her size! What is happening here?! Is she hoping to take on Ted's gigantic bulk with that?! Unbelievable if you see how enormous the difference in both size and power! I can't emphasize this enough—! The balls! Right onto the balls! We have witnessed many nuts busted in this sorry arena but the bear's nut! Holly hell! What an ugly sight! But we all must bear it together!" It was Stritzel turn to rush from her throne. Despite her butler attentively ushering her, the old hag outpaced him. As she arrived at the edge, she watched in horror as the small lady from the newbie team castrated her occasional nightly comfort with a nasty-looking halberd. "NOOOOO!!! MY TEDDY BEAR NOO!!" angry and sad, she turned to Gerrald! "Forfeit this match, now! Gerrald! Don't you see these newbies are not ordinary people?! *** The bear did not howl, did not growl, nothing. The pain was so immense he was not even registering his master's cry. But when he did, he had already made his stance, and when fully woke up, he held the polearm with his injured arm and let his body fall, giving the little lady tough choices; either abandon her weapon or get mauled. The noblewoman failed to make her call in time and the bear's paw swatted her aside. Sending Yvonne flying and tumbling across the arena. It was due to pure sheer luck that she didn't move from her original position and get the paw instead. Had she tried to dodge backward, she would have faced the full wrath of the bear's claw, and the result would have been much more grisly. Still, she took the full brunt. Some broken ribs and dislocations were in order.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri reached the dead giant while the bear was curled and nursing his battered groin. The lumbering creature probably wouldn't stay down long, so he worked fast-- once more searing off the steel helmet and pauldrons, filling the air with the acrid stench of burned meat. He could not smell it himself, having long ago lost that sense-- but he remembered well enough. The heavy plume coming off the giant would have risen a stench to heaven. As the metal flowed into him, he felt his legs begin to work, and the damage to his chest subside from the metal sealing the gaps between the cracks, and filling the shattered empty voids. He looked like an irregular jigsaw puzzle, of broken white shards and dark grey bands between them where the iron had solidified. He chuckled, then staggered up onto his feet. The repairs were not that great; Iron was tough, but lacked the hardness and strength of the ceramic, and was much heavier. His legs threatened to bend in ways that were not conducive to walking with each step, but at least he was upright. Yvonne looked spent, clutching her arms against her body with a grimace of her own. He waved at her and smiled. She only looked at him for a moment as the hairy brute stood up and once more started to lunge, a thick trickle of blood going down its rear legs, matting the fur. He crouched, then propelled himself forward by skating on the sandy ground, to dart between those legs, before turning over, and reaching up with both hands to grasp the breast plate in a bear hug. The bear had the metal he needed, and he intended to have it. The bear tumbled from the sudden increase in mass on his chest, and fell forward on top of henri-- an event he made full use of, despite several hundred pounds of usine bulk crushing him into the sandy floor. The beast bellowed, then tore at Henri's back with its clawed hands, but to no avail-- he had fused himself with the breastplate, and the center of it glowed red hot as it flowed around him like a shell, leaving the corners pristine and shiny, with an ugly blue, purple, and orange banding pattern surrounding where he had stuck himself fast to his opponent. He looked like a crucified man, stretched out over the beast's chest. "GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF!!!" roared the creature, as it rolled and tossed while tugging at the straps of the breastplate.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Looking over at the records of what had been shipped out, she could find nothing of use for her investigation. Although she did wonder if a load of armour and speartips had made their destination. "And could you direct me on a map where his house could be? Or perhaps you could write some directions of where his home could be?" Her eyes quickly looked over at the apprentice. Investigating Brik's house could bring some useful clues. But that would have to wait as she needed to investigate what she could in the village.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" There was a pregnant pause as Yvonne's strike found its mark, the announcer and the hag's voice a dull echo in a faraway place. Then the mercenary saw the bear regained his (heh) bearings, and for a split second she recognized what a bad spot she's in - attack already fully committed, now within mauling range of a very pissed off bear who just lost his crown jewels. Who's fault was it to land her in this situation? Riiight, it was past Yvonne. What a bitch- A heavy swipe filled with rage and little sense. The arena spun, the mercenary oddly serene as she reflected over the blow, noting that it's all blunt with no claw involved. Too angry to properly kill her, huh? Though, to be fair, this was normally enough to shatter an average man- Her thoughts was interrupted again, this time by the sandy gravel of the arena. Bounced once. Twice. Found orientation, didn't matter, bounce a third time. A final fall, and she's still. Ow. That hurts. Okay, let's see. Nothing was stomping over to finish her off. That's good enough for now, either the bear was in too much pain to move or her team managed to occupy it. Yvonne laid on the ground face-up, assessing her own condition for the time being. Quick version: Not good. Not good at all. In fact, she's feeling fucking terrible. Been a while. Anyway. Sore was the first thing she felt. Sore and bruised. As for where the bruise was, well, it's probably faster to ask where the bruise wasn't. Yvonne can only be sure that it's her neck - just about everywhere else throbbed with pain. Could taste iron in her mouth, huh. Must've split her lips in the impact. Elsewhere... Head felt fine. Can think. No pain from within, so brain should be fine. Breathing hurt. More than it should. And more difficult. Fracture there, then. Next, limbs. Right shoulder... didn't felt right. Heh. That's what impacted ground the first time. Probably dislocated. Gotta fix that soon. Left arm was struck by the bear, but no bleeding. Hurt like a motherfucker though, it'll bruise real bad soon enough. Legs were functional, likely with an additional mace-shaped bruise where her own mace was pressed to the flesh by the impact. First thing first, the shoulder. Boss - of the mercenary company, not Sparky - showed her how. Step one, sit up. Pain. But she sat. Right leg folded up, clasp both hands around it. Lean the head back, roll the shoulder forward- Click "Fuckshitbitchdamncocksuckermotherfuckingdirtywhore- that hurts-" It felt like she blacked out for a split second there. Yvonne very much would like to collapse back into a bruised heap, but the enemies wont wait for her to recover. Wobbling, she slowly and carefully returned to her feet before surveying how's the battle going on. The polearm wasn't around anymore. Didn't matter much, she doubt she can wield it effectively in this state. Sword drawn again, the mercenary glared at the faint trace of bloodstain on it. Tch, cleaning the scabbard will be such a pain. But that's for future Yvonne to worry about, after she survive this whole debacle.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Well ain't that a lengthy walk!" Quite a bit. Most travels were done on some sort of draft carts or wagons. "Cant say we've got special deal or nuthin', ya pay what ye eat but we've got a lot. Manifold your weight, I'd wager!" The farmhand gestured at the stall, before pointing at the field not far away. A good portion had been harvested, but the remaining was looking very much bountiful. "We have pork in here, if that's yer thing. Got lots of pumpkin and squash. And potatoes, never could'a go wrong with taters. All sorta beans too! For vegs, lettuce and spinach and cauliflower. Ya can pick what ya want and tally it up later, or say how much ye wanna buy an' I'll tell ya when it's reached."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The blacksmith didn't look bothered at Matilda failing to find anything. Well, it would be weirder if she could find some dirt, as far as he knew there's nothing shady going on. He's making good living already, no need to dip fingers into muddy water. "Dont have map or anything here, I'm afraid." He noticed the glance. "But we can guide you. Oi, Timmy!" The apprentice in question immediately stood straighter. "Guide the good dame to the hunters' place, would you kindly? You know where it is, aye?" "Yesser! Right away! Uh, this way ma'am!" The youngster walked a total of three hurried steps before stopping, almost stumbling in the process, as he turned around to check if Matilda was keeping up. His ears reddened from the sheer embarassment as the other apprentices definitely saw it all happening.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito assessed the situation. The wolf was preoccupied with getting out of the net Chounan had tossed and would soon be free to attack the samurai. The werebear was a totally different story. That creature had managed to swat away Yvonne like a fly but had found himself in an even worse spot. The strange latecomer had somehow managed to fuse himself with the bear's armor and turned it into a frying plate. The creature was in absolute agony and tried frantically to get rid of the glowing hot torture device that was strapped to his now burning chest. Judging both creatures, it was clear that the bear was paying the least attention to his surroundings. The fox circled around the top right pillar, making sure to stay out of the rolling bear's field of vision as much as possible. For a moment he quietly observed the werecreature's movements from behind the pillar. Kaito knew that he had to deliver an instant fatal strike. If he would give the bear the chance to retaliate, he would be in grave danger. The moment the suffering bear rolled with his head into the direction of the pillar Kaito initiated his strike. Lunging forward from behind the pillar the fox thrusted his wakizashi with all his might into the exposed head from the bear. The fox could only hope that he has enough strength to pierce through the werebear's tick skull.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword The knight nodded her head, glad that someone would be able to show her where Brik lived. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your assistance in helping me with this investigation. Your efforts will be greatly rewarded." She said bowing towards the blacksmith in appreciation. Walking out of the building with the apprentice. Not speaking to the young man during the duration of the walk over, but occasionally she would glance over towards the apprentice. Despite her heavy armour, she was able to keep up with the apprentice. When they arrived at the house, she thanked the apprentice. Handing him a single coin for his troubles. Heading towards the house, hoping that she would be able to find a crucial clue in the house. Opening the door and heading inside the house.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar thanked the man, then shoved a fist full of the raw bacon into his mouth like a greedy child eating sweets. It was smokey and salty, but the fat was amazing. His dad had told him that he REALLY SHOULD cook pork first, to avoid getting real sick with achy muscles, but right now he did not care, and was beyond hungry. Really, if the bacon was cured right, the salt and smoke should have solved the issue on their own. He followed it up with one of the whole cauliflower, enjoying the satisfying crunchiness. It was by no means "A meal", but it would have to do. Solomon was clearly very eager to get on the trail, and spending a few hours cooking did not seem like his idea of a good time (No matter how much Cedar felt differently-- It was bad manners to upset the person that just paid for dinner, after all.). Instead, he grabbed the large cast iron cauldron the man heaved and rolled out of the door, stuffed the majority of his swag inside it, then tottered off toward the far edge of the farmer's field, where it abutted the treerow, near the path they had walked up. It would make a decent spot to cook up dinner later, with ready access to deadfalls for the fire, and wood to work with to make bowls and spoons with. He snatched out some carrots, before putting the large water barrel down next to it, happy to get it off his back for awhile, then sat the smaller half-barrel of salted bacon down beside both, then laid the hood of his robe over the top to keep dogs and bugs out. He really should have asked for a canvas to put down, but he was so fixated on dinner, the idea of "Not Stopping" did not occur to him until the transaction was completed. He would just have to go around with his head uncovered for the time being. Crunching on 3 carrots at once, he tottered up behind Solomon, and wandered further up the path to go interview the locals.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Whoa! Aww shucks ser, that's very generous of ya. Ah'll be right back, kind sers!" He weighted and then bit into the coins and ascertained that they were, in fact, gold coinage. With a significant pep to his steps the farmhand disappeared further into the compound, before came lugging back a sizeable rendering vat at record's time. He watched with a hint of confusion as Cedar moved the stuff to somewhere else before the idea came to him and he naturally blurted it out without reserve. "Oh, ya 'ave business with Birk innit? Ya can leave me ta' stew these if ya wish." Well, he'd ask Hilda because he had no idea how to cook but really. With the amount of tip the entire farm crew wouldn't mind sparing a couple hours to help with this. "Thankya kindly mister!" Was the real cheerful reply. "Muh friend here seems ta be in a right hurry--- I'm much abliged! Be back later, fo sho!" As Cedar trundled further and further away, the young farmhand rolled his sleeve and set to prepare enough meal for twenty.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword "Before we left, I will do a quick search for any more clues. There may have been a clue you may have missed." Matilda wanted to search for any clues that she could relay to the others. Hoping that she would finally make some progress, even though meeting Reinhold was a good discovery. The large knight started searching through every cupboard, drawer and container in the house. Returning a few moments later to the three men, keeping her findings on her person. And unknown to others. "Okay, I am ready to go. Lead on." She eyed Reinhold, making sure he does not do anything rash. She did not want to harm a potential lead.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] There's really nothing special in the house. It looked like it's lived by two people, looking at the simple bed at the cutlery. A part of the ceiling was leaking and had been left leaking for days end, looking at the puddle accumulating underneath of it. All in all, it was practically destitute. Not an uncommon sight among the peasantry, unfortunately. "Uh, ma'am. He fell asleep." Pointed out one of the two tag-alongs. Reinhold was seated on a chair by the table, but he's quite obviously out of it if the light snoring was any indication. "He was rubbing him eyes, said gonna rest it for a sec. Then he's out like a baby. Man prolly 'aven't slept for damn near a week." The other added helpfully.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark " If I may be so bold as to suggest-- we should take some of these fools alive, so they can sing about their keeper to the inquisitor." "If you can do that, be my guest..." Despite saying that, the prospect was laughable at best, but she didn't fancy explaining that the alignment of these soldiers couldn't be determined by the action of their captain alone. Sure they might be crooked, but the best answer you can get from them would be a defense that they were just following orders, and they were here to exterminate bandits and traitors. And here right now we were the bandits and the traitors. Jazdia peeked from her cover and saw them reloading. Taking a stance to aim her bow, she downed two musketeers before ducking back into her cover. At that time, suddenly there was a thick fog covering their side of the hall. Two muzzle reports echoed, but their shots failed to find any target and punched the walls, ricocheting, and eventually landing in a loud clang. With her eyes, Jazdia saw a soldier on their side of the platform rolling on the floor, groaning in pain, the ricocheted bullet struck him. It seemed to the other two also had been dealt with by Chonan and Kaito. "Heya boss. Quite deep up in shit creek we are today." Indeed, but it surely couldn't get any worse than that, right?</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Regulating her breath to be more steady, Jazdia tried her best to ignore the foul stench and stayed focused. The haze had been dispersed, but the darkness remained, and she started to feel a burning sensation in her eyes. To prevent the situation of having to choose between ultravision or enchanted arrows, Jazdia blinked and downgraded her vision. The perfect see-through view was replaced by a more mana-efficient vision that could still show general terrain and people, but not through the walls. And once again, she jumped from that pillar, shooting an enchanted arrow at the wooden railings that protect Aaron and his men. The arrow exploded, but it did not shatter the barrier. There was a faint light spreading in that area, and Aaron was standing there unmoving with a sword drawn. At the tip of the blade, a brilliant light manifested and then spreads into a protective dome made of light that grows slowly. This kind of barrier was the worst. Every attack directed at it would strengthen and prolong the duration. And now those musketeers were retreating inside it. Where they could aim their shot without fearing retaliation. Jazdia canceled the enchantment and shot her regular arrow toward the running musketeer. It hit the side of his torso, but the man kept going and reached the barrier. Who would have thought he brought the weapons of his fallen comrades with him?</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "If you can do that, be my guest..." "Heya boss. Quite deep up in shit creek we are today." Henri positively beamed. " My lady, I would be positively delighted to." The fog began lifting as he sacrificed some of the metal surrounding him, mostly from his back (which he presumed would not need as much protection for this plan), to fashion a long metal rod, which he poked into the water from above, producing an audible hiss, and lengthening it until he had determined the depth of the river. " Goodness, That is quite deep, --with a deep current too. Try not to fall in, kids." he mused, as he continued working, withdrawing the length of iron rod, then altering it to have alternating triangular flanges along its length where one could step or climb, and a long 90 degree flattened hook on the end, before leveling it over a shoulder, and dropping into the inky black filth with a sploosh. Undaunted, and weighing several hundred kilograms, he could feel the current tugging on him, but could resist its flow. He marched as close to straight forward as the combination of features allowed, until he could detect the metal of Delving's uniform, and his men's weapons, altering his course to correct for the flow of the water, and the otherwise complete lack of landmarks to navigate by. As he got in range, he reached out with his will, and willed the musket from the remaining mook's hands, toward the back of Delving's head, as hard as he could. Something-- he could not really see what, due to the turbidity of the water, prevented the attempt. Irritated, and undaunted, he lifted the hooked pole up, and swept it along the edge of the canal, aiming to snare a foot.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Up above, Aaron Delving was completely unfazed by the spectacular show. "What a dork!" Indeed, there were several unexpected things happened. He looked at the other side of the platform and glanced at Gerrald's mangled body with a certain amount of condolences. His father will not like it, but at least one potential witness was 'out of the picture' and that was what mattered. Now, for the optional one; he needed to clear out the trashes. His only regret was he didn't bring enough archers to keep them pinned. But his men had redistributed the musket and regrouped around him. Inside his barrier. Sadly the time was insufficient to salvage the spare gunpowder and bullets. But this would do for now. They just needed to dig in. His reinforcement will arrive soon. "Steady! Don't shoot unless you have them in your sight." Yes, Go ahead and try it! Once they ran for the tunnel, they would have nowhere to hide and no space to dodge. Deep below, Henri the golem trudged to the other side of the canal, walking slowly toward the other end of the bridge where Delving and his men are making their stand. After a long and tedious journey of swimming in filth, he arrived at his destination. Using his telekinetic power he tried to snatch their metal weapons, but something negated that attempt. Not giving up, the golem launched his hook and had it swept along the edge of the canal, aiming to snare a foot. Something repelled the metal thing and tossed it sideways, yet, it caused the hook to snag something that wasn't a human foot, rather, it was a metal pole that held the wooden railings near Aaron's company. *** Jazdia retreated back to the pillar. Biting her lips as she realized that the only hope was through the south tunnel, but Aaron's men seemed to have marked it as the only place to spend their bullet. "Miss Rosenving. Would you kindly move to that pillar?" She pointed at the middle pillar closer to the mouth of the south tunnel. "Go! While they are still reloading their weapon!"</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri swept with the pole, and collided with an invisible force, that slightly moved the pole further away. He felt the wall, but found that it did not extend through it-- only the stone of the wall. This was curious. Either the barrier was spherical, or some other shape that was confined to its radius. A cylinder with a hemispherical top, or some other form. The simplest would be a sphere, and would be the most likely. Curious. He moved further down the ledge of the canal, then deployed the hook to climb up just enough to peek above the water.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword The orc nodded her head, she understood that Reinhold was quite tired from being up for six days straight. But she needed any kind of information she could. Turning towards the two men, she pointed an armoured finger at them. "I assume you two are Bertolf and Ingmar? What were you doing hunting on the royal grounds? Did you see any suspicious character's while you were out there?" She ignored the fact they broke the law for now, she wanted to know what Reinhold and Bertolf were doing there. And if they had seen anything that could help with the case.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chounan was still on crouching ready to fire position between Kaito's and Jazdia's pillar, having a blind spot from Delving's musketeers and could peek the right side if he is ready to shoot his arrow. He quickly covered his ears when Henri made an explosion. The area began darker as the lits got weaken. When Delving's group began to retreat he quickly drawn his yumi again. Unfortunately, he can't make a call for a shot since everyone from the other side became a silhouette figures and his Ki is out of the range. Sighed and stood up with his feet. He checked the condition of the rest of the party. He kept cautious and kept his awareness active from the party's surroundings. Still with his yumi but will change to melee when it's clear.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword "You know it is a crime to lie to a guard, especially the head of the guards. If you do not want your head removed from your shoulder, I would suggest you start telling the truth." She walked closer toward the two men, making sure to close the distance. Being able to grab them by their shirts, if they could stupidly think they could outrun her. "What did you see when you were out hunting? Did you see anything strange or any OTHER criminal activities going on?" Towering over the two, she had quite a menacing presence to her.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Matilda's sheer bulk alone was intimidating enough close-up, the two idiots very unsubtly had their eyes on her teeth the entire time as they shrunk and shrunk like a pair of shriveled testicles. The claim of being the head of guards and beheading threat simply pushed them past the panic point as their eyes widened, near-synchroniously trying to step back only for her grip to be ironclad and they just rebounded back to the original place. If there's fight or flight instinct raging in their mind, well, it was summarily and handily defeated by the "give up and beg for mercy" instinct. If that's even a real thing. "L-l-lady- I mean, ma'am- ahmean, Sire-" "Sire is for men ya dork! Dame, yes? Dame Hilda, ah've heard of yer name, yer' the bestest and strongest knight-" "Ah saw a fight! Ain't got nothin' ta do with me, I swaer on me mum!" "Yer mum's dead! B-birk an' Reinhold went for closer look! I ain't dealin' with that shit, I went straight home! Ne'er shot even a rabbit, for real!" If they're not held tight by Matilda's iron fist, they probably would've ended up fighting each other to toss the other to the chopping block to save their own skin.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Hdur, Kindeance --- As the houses belonging to the hunters grew closer, so did the forest they were near. It seemed dense enough to supply Hdur with enough game for decades to comes. Though it was clear some of the forest was cleared away, probably for lumber, it didn't seem to leave any sore of dent in the size of the forest itself. The sky was clear today, with slight breeze. "I'm sorry to have cut your meal short. I was not expecting you to make a stew. I hope you were able to get some satisfaction from the bacon and vegetables you were snacking on." Solomon addressed Cedar as they took another turn on the dirt road that lead more directly to the hunter cottages. "On the bright side, with the farmer offering to make your stew, you'll have a hot meal waiting for your return." Not long after, they approached the hunter's houses. Solomon stopped. The house appeared occupied, but through the window, it looked like some kind of struggle. People looked to be backing away from someone, as thought they were trying to create distance. It didn't seem to work as their assailant blurred past with arms outstretched moving out of sight. "Take care here, Cedar. It looks as though there might be some trouble in that house."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Goodbye Mr. Henri, your service will never be forgotten... After making a personal vow to tell Fred what the prince's loyal tutor had done in his (probably) last moment. Jazdia could see the dome strengthen, but then rapidly lose its integrity. The musketeers only realized it after Jazdia impaled one of them with an arrow, the rest, including Aaron scamper to the wooden railings next to them. Before today, the last time Jazdia killed a soldier was twenty years ago, during the Tretagor crisis. Not the proudest milestone in her life, to be honest. To her, soldiers were the most pitiful profession a man could ever take. They didn't have the right to choose; a chain of commands bound them and the order was their sacred codex. They were disposable pawns, a perfect asset to discard to suit their commander's needs. And when their commander fell, they too fall with him. So, let's give them a chance. Jazdia fired an enchanted arrow with a remote trigger at the wooden frame on the northwest entrance then shouted at the hunkering Aaron. "Constable! What a sorry state you are in right now. I see that your shield is shrinking. That's a shame! Tell your boys if they retreat they will be spared! If they retreat with you they will be killed. And if they stay with you for too long, they will die. Do you see my arrows? It will explode in five minutes! Or when they violate the rules! As for you, Mr. Delving, God willing, I will not let you leave this tunnel unscathed! Time is running. Go and make your choices!" One of the musketeers unneighbourly responded by blindly firing his musket. An arrow flew in retaliation, but it hit the side of his helmet and deflecting the arrow off of its course. Two of his friends took advantage by running for the exit. Probably under Delving's order. Didn't matter. They didn't violate the rules. "What a lousy shot! Never do that again if you value your life!" *** A half kilometer away from that, in a cold chamber, a shackle shattered. waking up from her pitiful slumber, a woman cried. Agony shot through her, agony such as she had never known, and it concentrated in a brand on her nape. At first, she thought her master was angry at her, punishing her for a mistake, and she was willing to accept. But as the pain subsides, she found no sign of her master. The young woman shambled for the exit, moved by unexplainable anxiety, and it grew stronger when she opened the unlocked door. There was a faint trace of magic, one that didn't belong to anyone she knew. She shivered, a whisper came, and it brought faint ill news. She tried to shrug it off as the usual useless lure from the lingering spirit who haunted this place. At first, she walked, and with every step taken the anxiety turned into fear, and the fear turned into sadness, from sadness, came anger. The memory of her master started to fade in her mind, the master that had taken her in and liberated her from the torment of her so-called parents. The master who raised her and gave her purpose in life. She feared she would lose his touch forever. Terrified beyond reason, the young woman now hovered over the bloodied, broken corpse of her fellow servants. She stopped, yowling incoherently about where the master was and why his throne was empty, but nobody answered. As she strode past the broken trapdoor, unexplainable emotion surged through her. For the first time in her life, she felt impatient. As another wave of pain pulsed from her nape, her back arched in agony, and another scream was torn from her, and she realized with a racking, raging sense of grief that her master might have met his demise. The wall before her crumbled in an explosion, there, she rushed deeper. Tunnel after tunnel she knew so well, now all would be the victim of her unadulterated rage; crumbling and caving in in her wake. As she reached the place where her master's life force have once lingered, her eyes-- or rather, senses, were immediately fixed on the elven woman with a bow and wicked magic. Sensing the same magic from her and the residual life force of her master. The hate grew inside her like a living, parasitic thing. With trembling hands, she gathered her magic. The pride and joy that her master would never spare his kind words to praise her talent. "Talent, not disaster, not a terrible affront." To think that she would never hear those words again hurt her more than anything, and in sheer malice, she unleashed her power toward those who have robbed the world from her.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark One of Aaron's goons rushed for the dead navy near the northeast tunnel to loot the spare gunpowder, while the sharpshooter drew a bead at her, preventing Jazdia to shot at the running soldier. Commendable teamwork, but either miscalculated or simply desperate, they forgot that it wasn't a one-way trip. And on his way back, the elf fired her explosive arrow. That one soldier smashed onto the wall before bouncing back to the floor and lying unmoving. Aaron, who was ready to receive the gunpowder thrown backward and could be seen squirming in pain behind the undamaged railing. It was almost like shooting fish in a shallow barrel. "Well, I guess Time is up, Gentlemen!" That enchanted arrow on the northwest tunnel exploded. Its structure had sustained partial damage from the previous explosion before and now it had reached its peak stress. The entrance collapsed, and the explosion coupled with falling debris overwhelmed the navy sharpshooter, rendering him unconscious with substantial head trauma. Aaron was now the last one standing, or moving? Jazdia notched an arrow in her bow, and again, the radiant purple flame engulfed its crystalizing head. She risked a little bit more energy into her eyes and scan the walls, to ensure nobody would interrupt their last dance. To her disappointment, however, Jazdia saw a lithe silhouette approaching from the now-collapsed tunnel. And as the unknown actor hover closer, The debris, small or large was shoved violently and pushed aside like dried leaves. The figure was getting clearer to see, showing a very young girl in her early teens. Jazdia already had her bow drawn and aimed at her, but, for a half second, the elf hesitated, and she doubted her own eyes. It was a mistake. A white flash of energy hurled from that breached tunnel, and in the last attempt to correct her error, Jazdia released her arrow. Almost instantly, an enormous crackling ball of white and purple fire exploded in front of her. The blow flung her body backward and crashed to the floor. The world was spinning, all the noises were now replaced with an annoying ring in her head. Her chest contracted as she gasped for breath, and as she partially gathered her wit, the pain was so severe she unable to move her body. Perhaps the most grueling part of her injury was when Jazdia realized she suddenly had an extra finger.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword "A fight? And who did you see fighting? Stop bickering and tell me what happened!" She raised her voice, feeling like a mother scolding her children. She looked at Reinhold, wondering if she could get some answers from him. She assumed that the two may have seen the royal guards fighting with the kidnappers. "Did you see where the other party ran off to?" The large orc was starting to get impatient speaking with the two men.</s>

<|description|>Matilda Ironsword Species: Orc Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: A large woman standing at 6'2 and weighing around 166 pounds. Having short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes. Her body type is very muscular, comparable to her male counterpart. Wearing a large black suit of armour, with a helmet that is shaped like a skull. Bio: Matilda was found by the previous head of the guards named Hilman as a baby, being adopted by Hillman and trained to be a warrior. At a young age, she was in battle with her adoptive father. Carrying his supplies and weapons, killing his first person at the age of 14. Working hard to become the current head of the guards, with her predecessor retiring. Skillset: Matilda is skilled in swordplay, and archery, and is skilled in battle tactics. Skilled in hand to hand combat. Spells: Curse Of The Ironsword Clan (Passive) Matilda's family has been cursed with going into a berserker like rage, increasing their strength and durability at the cost of them attacking enemies and friend. Most orcs do not use this ability because of how dangerous it is, only a small amount of orcs are able to control their rage while using this ability. Botanical Communication (Passive) Matilda has the racial ability to communicate with any form of plant life. Equipment: -Her suit of armour is called Drakhjärta, is an heirloom like her sword. It is rumoured that it is made out of the skin of a dragon. -Her sword is called Oändlig Törst, which means Unending Thirst. This sword has killed many people and is the signature weapon of the Ironsword Clan, passed down from generation to generation. -Crossbow that is mounted on her right gauntlet. Other: None</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Well, shiiit. Nina could only hope that there's really nothing illegal going on, she didn't want to implicate Father into this. But what choice did she have? She cant just let the girl waste away out there in that indecent piece that barely qualified as clothing. Her morality wouldn't allow that. "Yes, I'll have it prepared. I think I can find some of my spare clothes, will be too long on the sleeves but better than. That." Warming the water would take some time though. Nina glanced at the bear, who so far sounds very much like a decent man. But cant just trust first impressions. "No funny business while I'm gone, understood?" She mustered her everything to sound as menacing as she could, even if the end result was practically akin to an angy kitten. Still a long way to emulate Father, she suppose.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar put a paw on the tavern girl's shoulder. It was heavy, but he did his best to be gentle. "......Thank ya..." The words came out with more emotion than he really wanted, but it was hard to keep them in check. He was glad to have these feelings, even though they hurt. He was glad to be has father's son. The tacit implication of the girl's voiced concern and admonishment stung, but he had become used to such things. It always hurt-- he had never hurt anybody, nor been with anybody. Ever. But people had feelings about him all the same. His brother took it harder than he did, but right now, he had to push it aside. Truth would win out in the end. It always did. .. Usually. He left the door open, then carried the unconscious girl inside, before looking for a comfortable sitting chair to set her down in for her bath.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Nina came around a minute later, a water ladle loaded with bathing supplies in one hand and a half-full bucket of cold water in the other. Slung across her shoulder was one of her old clothing, and she promptly began placing the stuff around wherever appropriate. "I'll bring the hot water soon enough! Is there anything else?" It's hectic, juggling both the kitchen need and now this. But if anyone could do it, it's Nina! And, well, Father for sure. And big sister. But neither of them were here at the moment, thus she need to pick up the slack.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "Naw, 'ats gud. I dun tooked enough o yo' time. Thankya ageen miss--" "Nina." "Thankya ageen Miss Nina. I'll jus sit 'ere in da door until yas can get i' in 'ere."</s> <|message|>Kaito As they approached the village Kaito had regained enough mana to once again disguise his more unique physical features before making contact with what appeared to be the other half of the team. Jazdia had already mentioned that she was working for madame Mathilda and there she was in the flesh. Apparently she was in the company of what looked like the fox's worst nightmare of today, another man-bear and a rather old looking fellow. They arrived at a farm first but were quickly escorted to an inn further in town. Apparently the bear and old geezer were competent healers and they went straight to work. The fox's injuries were rather minor compared to those of his companions so he decided to deal with a different problem first. The fireplace was burning brightly and the inside temperature was way too nice to keep walking around in a long cloak but being shirtless wasn't exactly the proper custom for the common room of an inn. That would be a problem if he actually cared about proper customs. So Kaito quickly dropped the cloak at some chairs and casually walked around bare chested. The kitsune quickly noticed how the innkeeper barked out some orders at one of her staff who brought out plates with food to get more food. Before the man had the chance to get to his task Kaito tapped him on his shoulder and gave him a friendly smile. "Hey, you're going into town to do some shopping, right? If not, can you arrange to get someone to run an errand? I need a new tunic. I prefer good quality and a dark red color. That goes well with my hair. Anyway, if you can't find something that specific anything else will do." Said the fox as he placed five silver pieces in his hand. "That should be enough to get something propper for me. You can keep the change for the inconvience i have caused." Before the man had any time to respond Kaito grabbed a few pieces of bread from the tray and walked off. Looking around he noticed how the bear took care of the girl they had brought with them. His fatherly way of tending for her was as adorable as it was naive. That girl was unbelievably powerful and rather unpredictable. There was no telling how she would respond when she would have regained some of her strength. Just seeing her as a helpless victim that needed care looked like a good way to lose your life. Watching the bear take off with the girl, Kaito approached his elf boss who was sitting with Madame Mathilda at the fireplace. "The bear seems to be rather fond of the girl we brought back, in an almost fatherly way. He's walking off with her right now but I doubt he has any clue about what he's dealing with. Want me to keep an eye on them?"</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda had arrived at the inn along with the others, the knight made her way toward Jazdia first. "What happened to you, What delayed your arrival." She wondered what they ran into that could cause them to be badly hurt. She wondered if they had found or interacted with someone quite powerful. "I really hope you did not do anything stupid and angered any noble. And where the hell is Henri?" Her eyes focused on Jazdia. Messing with a powerful and well armed Nobel would be the last thing she would want. It would only further hinder the progress of the investigation. Her tone of voice was very demanding, she did want answers, and she hoped these answers would not anger her even further. Taking a moment to breathe softly, she spoke in a whisper."Although I am glad to see you are still alive." Jazdia could not see it, but Matilda was smiling underneath her intimidating helmet. Even with the string of demanding questions, she was glad to see that Jazdia and her group are still alive.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia nibbled the garlic bread and let the food pass through her throat first before answering Matilda. "Our investigation demanded more hours than what was initially allocated." Even if his face was only slightly visible behind that helmet, Jazdia knew the orc captain was not very pleased with that short answer. It wasn't Jazdia's intention to be cryptic, honest! Only old habits die hard. The orc leaned forward, resting her forearm and causing the table to creak. She didn't directly press her, but obliquely did so by studying deeply at Jazdia, her answer, her appearance, and her refusal to elaborate, and thus arrived at a certain conclusion. "I really hope you did not do anything stupid and angered any noble. And where the hell is Henri?" "No, we are not. On the contrary, it was a noble who was trying to kill us." Jazdia sipped her tea and sighed as if letting the suspension settle. "Matilda, has it ever come to your mind that your King's political allies would want him dead? Had the pleasure of getting acquainted with one of them. And turned out it was the Constable himself. Aaron Delving. Name rings any bells? When we investigated the Black Serpent, He demanded to hand over the captured guild master. We complied like law-abiding citizens would, despite our suspicion about how he could gain access and navigate through the tunnels belonging to a nefarious organization. He then ordered us to be killed. Can you believe that?" For a better grasp of the clarity of the event and its chronological order, Jazdia told her what happened at the Memorial Park, how the constable refused to grant them permission to investigate, and how it escalated into almost a full-blown fight. Then the assault at the Black Serpent and how their arena was filled with high-profile patrons, then the standoff with Delving and his goons at the sewer. Henri's disappearance, and the aftermath. Of course, Jazdia excluded the part where her group razed the guild's warehouses. "I understand that you would want more than just my words on this." Jazdia beckoned Kaito to be with them. A sack of documents hit the table with a thump. And Jazdia too handed to her the most incriminating evidence from her satchel bag. Matilda, by Jazdia's recommendation, opened the letter detailing the infiltration plan, and the mention of a secret passage from the sacred mausoleum. The orc captain's face turned even sourer and disgusted. There was a long pause until she folded the letter again and shifted it aside. When she was about to reach for another piece of evidence, she took a moment to breathe softly, then spoke in a whisper. "Anyway. I am glad to see you are still alive." Jazdia rubbed her bandaged hand and smiled. "The pleasure is mine, Matilda. If you can spare some time, you might want to question that guard. He was a part of Aaron Delving's subjugation team." The guard walked forward and saluted Matilda. "Gordon Eorl, at your service, Ma'am." As the report partially concluded, Kaito reached Jazdia and spoke close to her ear. "The bear seems to be rather fond of the girl we brought back, in an almost fatherly way. He's walking off with her right now but I doubt he has any clue about what he's dealing with. Want me to keep an eye on them?" Jazdia did look troubled by the news. Troubled and... confounded. She let that man-bear lay his hands on the girl because his dossier said he was a healer. Never expected him to go to such length to bring the girl to a room, using her money no less! The elf quickly seized a sealed syrette of morphine from her bag and hand it to Kaito. "As we both know, she is still unstable. Yes, please check them for me. You have my permission to sedate her if you think she is about to go on a rampage again. My deposit does not cover the entire inn, and my pocket is not bottomless either."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" The inn's chef came out with a platter of mystery stew, the smell attracting Yvonne's gaze before he even got in view. Claiming a bowl of it, as well as several bread from the first batch of food, the mercenary scooted closer to the table where Jazdia and Mattie sat for their discussion. Not close enough that she'll be intruding, but sufficient to listen in without having to focus too much. She need a lot of food, and didn't wait for any fanfare before assaulting the stew with great relish. Taste better than usual too. This inn was surprisingly nice.</s>

<|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda looked very suspicious of Jadzia while she was answering her questions, Staring into Jazdia's eyes as if she was trying to pull the truth out of her. "I really hope you are not hiding any information from me." The orc relaxed in the chair she was sitting in. Listening in to what Jazdia's team had found. Clenching her hand into a fist, she felt a surge of anger hearing whom they fought. "Aaron Devling?" She felt angry they would fight someone like Aaron, but she calmed down once Jazdia explained herself. "The thought has not escaped me, I have noticed how traitorous certain people in the court can be. I am starting to think that Devling may be working with the Black Serpent." Things were starting to click in her head, the apparent procrastination of the investigation would be a good reason for Devling to hide his involvement. "If Devling is involved in all of this mess, then this has to be informed to the king. I am sure he would want to know why the general of his navy wants him dead." If this information was true, she would personally want to torture him. The orc captain was glad that Jazdia was not just spouting bullshit, there was proof of their claim that Devling was involved. Reading through the documents that Kaito sent down on the table, Some of the papers were starting to become cramped. Her hands were shaking from the rage and anger starting to build up. In her head, she definitely needed to show this to the king, Reading as much of the document as she could, in a short amount of time. After a while, she set the document down, because she did not want to rip up the paper in a fit of rage. "The protection of these documents is paramount, we need to make sure these documents are not destroyed." Her eyes looked over at the guard, at first she was suspicious that this guard was an unreliable source. But perhaps he could be helpful in their investigation. "What is your master planning, I want to know what the next step of his plan is. Do you know if the prince is still alive?"</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "What-" The golden glint was unmistakable, and Yvonne for a moment was struck dumb. Not about the amount of wealth, which to be fair wasn't a small sum but nothing major to her, no. It's the casual, guillible ease of which Cedar pulled them out. Recalling an earlier thought, she wondered how many times he'd gotten scammed on his way here. "Put that away, you big lug. I ain't the one to ask for supplies, I can point you out to vendors out in the market but that'd be the opposite of discreet. The kitchen should have most of what you need, ask either of them." Yvonne gestured at Mattie and the elf, not far off from the door. "Shouldn't be flashing gold everywhere, that's how you get either robbed or scammed. Those coins of yours? You'd get a wagon of seed and fruit with that." And then came the introduction of the hooded old fella that lurked surprisingly close without her noticing. That's some talent right there. And the name. Yvonne heard some wild tales of the man. Didn't actually think the fella existed, but here he stood. "Why, a legendary figure ain't cha? We'll be in your care, doc."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Is it due to Henri being soft-spoken that this elf hadn't heard him amidst the voices of these other three people? He sighed in exasperation then raised his hand. "I think I know how to solve this problem. Let me swing by the Royal Garden for a bit. No need to spend your coin, Mister Ceddy... Cedrick?" He then skated away. A constant application of Telekinesis on his body allowed his shoes to just glide along the ground without taking an actual step. --- The Royal Garden... Yes, this should do nicely. Assortments of odd-looking plants you would rarely find from the market. Although, how would you extract the seeds from this... Henri approached the Royal Gardener. "Hello. It's a bit urgent, but could you get me seeds from these plants? Yes, just all of them. All of them. Let me water the plants for you. Actually, do you also have a water barrel I could use?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "It's Jazdia. Fred-- uh, the King hired me as an independent investigator." Battling the desire to unravel the mystery of the stone man in front of her, She intended to reach out for a handshake but something tells her that it wouldn't be a good idea. "Also, I wanted to inform you that I have spoken with our mutual acquaintance, Madame Matilda and you will be working with her. Please consult with her about your inquiries." But the man was already gone as if he was sunken down to the concrete floor below. Another disturbance, bearing the very question that sounds as ridiculous as asking what if an archer forgets to bring his arrows. Jazdia was unsure what to say and the only quick response she would give was "I am afraid don't have anyone I can spare to do my bidding." When the little noblewoman turned away without saying anything, Jazdia immediately knew her answer was disappointing. She searched for Matilda, who shook her head, and Jazdia answered the courtesy by shrugging pensively. Nope, not my concern. She wondered where the heck this Chounan guy was. High time for him to return, and she wasn't so thrilled with the idea of using her power to find out that this gentleman was hiding somewhere. No, that would cause severe consequences.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "Of couss mistah 'Enry. Please, follow me." The royal gardener was a man named Charon. A black-skinned fellow hailing from the Maghribi region. Over the years of service in Kindeance Palace, he had befriended Henri the painter due to having a similar profession as men of arts and craft. If Henry was in the business of paint and canvas, then Charon projected his artistic value in sculpting overgrown and greeneries alike. The royal gardener guided Henry to a small storage room, where he immediately scooped seeds from three different containers. He didn't specify what kind of seeds they were but the sample from the first container was a small, black seed with a faint trace of tangy aroma. The second was medium-sized, rough, and brown in color. The third was small and silky white. "These ar gud for youh." he said, again with a funky Magribal accent. Of course, three types of seed barely counted as all of them like Henry ordered, but as a friend, Charon gave him the types of plants that were easy to maintain and... nutritious, because he always looked so pale. When Henry reminded him about his second request, the man Charon frowned. "I kan give you de barrel, but mistah 'Enry must know that the supervisor is a difficult man to deal with. All tools are to be accounted for, every missing spade, every broken bucket, always in every Saturday." Regardless, Charon removed a few sacks from an old wooden barrel and swiped the dirt and a swarm of black ants who apparently nested there. "But! I kan just say to the supervisor that old Charon requested mistah 'Enry to repair the old barrel. We good?"</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Charon. This man, he hasn't aged a day. He does know of the former Henri the painter, but he doesn't yet know of his current circumstance, of being a non-human, non-painter. Henri made a mental note to divulge this to Charon, one of these days. These must be seeds for fruits and vegetables, with the way he said it. Hmm, he cares not for nutrition for he cannot eat... No, he supposes the others would like to eat healthy. "Thanks, how thoughtful of you." As for the barrel... "Yes, this barrel will do perfectly. Thank you." Henri grabs the barrel and turns it upside down, invoking his Telekinesis to shake off the rest of the dust. "I doubt any such supervisor would be able to do anything to either of us, although, I might not be able to return this barrel in the next few days if at all... You know what, just tell them that I stole it. What are they going to do? I'm not one to pull rank but... Well, I do not have a rank, to be honest." He jested. The barrel doesn't have a spigot. Henri might have to design something that can resist the force of a 10-foot bear, lest he drown these seeds. For now, a blob of molten iron seeps out of Henri's hand. Then, he lightly punches one of the metal rings of the barrel to weld some kind of handle onto it. Charon witnesses this and simply nods in admiration. Henri side-eyed him. Charon won't question this odd feat? Hm. He was going to use this as an opportunity to ask how Charon hasn't aged... Holding the barrel by this new handle with the seeds inside, Henri offers his other fist to be bumped with another fist. "Well, then. Good to see you again, Charon. I might not be here for the next several days. Take care." Charon answers the fist bump. "I'll see you soon, Mistah 'Enry."" Henri then skates away, towards the stables where he presumes the rest of the team already are. This post edited with Pakde's help because forum posts aren't allowed to be less than a paragraph long.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan The ronin gave a small bow to Matilda, then traveled quickly to the stable to collect his horse. He needed to see the smith and time was running out, so he had to travel quickly. When he arrived at the blacksmith's, he was greeted by the man, and they talked about the amount of time it had taken to fill his order. The unusual time consuming nature of the work had resulted in a very high price, but he recieved a full order of a family of blades ranging from Katana to Tanto. Next was the armor. It was a full set of samurai armor, with a luxurious surcoat, embelished with artistic stylings: The Kabuto featured a pair of horns from a real minotaur, and the face mask was carved to resemble an angry demon. Finishing the ensemble, were a selection of throwing knives including Kunai and Shuriken. As if flaunting his wealth, he casually counted out the tendered amount, then handed the smith a nice bonus for his efforts, before quickly getting into his new armor. He decided not to wear the head armor while still in town, to avoid alarming the locals-- and instead tied his hair back in a traditional hair knot. Regrettably keeping his handsome facial on public. Departing the blacksmith's shop, he made a quick detour of his room at the inn, where he collected his personal papers and effects, in case they might be needed, then proceeded back to the stable. As he arrived, he found out that there are still no one on the stable neaeby the eastern gate. He head back quickly into the palace. He returned to the group where Matilda and Jazdia still remained. "Sorry to keep you wait Madame Matilda." He made a small bow with respect . "I haven't introduce myself to everyone in group. I'm Chōnan, Gold Ranking Adventurer."</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Turning to face Yvonne trying to get her to stop for a moment, the orc paladin stopped for just a brief moment to speak, "We can introduce and get to know each other on the ride over to the hunting grounds. I would rather not waste time exchanging pleasantries, I do not want to miss the opportunity to find the prince." She understood why Yvonne wanted to know the people she would be working with, but time was of the essence. Then there is this elf, who expressed her positive opinion in a thinly veiled sarcasm. They couldn't see the expression she was making behind her helmet, but it was one of annoyance that Jazdia was right. She should not be talking about the mission out in public, in case an enemy was listening in. The elf then described her own plan, which Matilda must admit sounds very reasonable, save for one matter. "But I am curious why you assume that Hdur would be such a safe place to discuss such sensitive matters. It does have a reputation of being quite nefarious." "It is not the safest." the elf could be seen sighing before adding some emphasis to her words. "Nothing sensitive I am sure you know. But we still need a checkpoint. The closer to the venue the better. Then if you like it we can scout for a better place to make our own campfire." Matilda immediately gets the message. "Better than picking a random node in the wilderness and expecting everyone to know where exactly the place is. Got it! I am willing to go to Hdur, as long as we stick together. And not speak of this plan to anyone." She had a serious tone in her voice. She would personally decapitate the person that stopped her from saving the prince, including her would-be comrades. The elf smacked her armoured shoulder. It would be pretty painful, and Matilda was delighted to see her grimacing after that exchange. "We have everything planned. Let's move out people!"</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne was quiet for a moment as the motley crew split into two groups, but then she realized how lopsided it was. Two to five? Sure, a gold rank cant be pushover and the elf probably have honed her skills longer than Yvonne herself had lived, but number was important. Even a swordsmaster would have problem dealing with several novices with pikes. Of the other group Mattie should be able to hold her own while Cedar was likely as strong as a literal bear with human intellect on top. Doc Solomon was there to patch thing up. Dunno about the unassuming Henri but from what's displayed so far he should be able to hold his own. "Just one moment there, blondie. You looks like you need extra muscle. I'll come along with your group, yeah?" Yvonne very much would like to catch up with Mattie, but the job comes first. This should be a long-term gig anyway, she'd get the chance further down the line.</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri was simply there by the stables, sitting on the barrel he carried to there, a mere three feet next to someone's horse. He might've came here too early. He exhaled. It bored him. There was an odd lack of a stableworker today, either. Alright then, might as well do something. With the town on edge during the recent events, it was oddly quiet in these stables while he embarked in the throes of cleaning this eternally unused water barrel. His telekinesis could only keep up appearances, he needed actual water. Well, he could also use telekinesis on the water, creating a localized cyclone inside the water barrel. He then dumped the dirty water out, and rinsed it again. Nicely done. Now, for the sprinkling system... It has to be something large enough for Ceddy's paw hands to just pull up, and a diligent spray of water would pour out on the side. Henri began to carve a large rectangular shape out of the side of the barrel, then filled the carved side with steel which he then poked small two-millimeter holes onto at the lower half, alternating to form diamonds if connected. Then, he added a frame outward that would tightly hold another sheet of metal only one-third as long as the first one. This sheet can be moved up or down to seal the watering holes. Then, the last thing is to attach a small hoop to the sheet to tie a long leather rope onto, and tying the other end of it to a smooth metal ring to pull easily from the shoulder. A few more checks to see if the external sheet slides smoothly, then filling up the water barrel to make sure water stays in when closed. Pulling the sheet up creates multiple tiny streams of water, much like a watering can. Amazing. After that exciting ordeal, he's back to simply sitting on the water barrel, now with a pony harness by his feet and a Scroll of Arcane Bolts in his hand. It would seem hasty and prone to misshaping if Henri were to turn this pony harness into a backpack sling for this Ceddy, as he knows not of his measurements and might build it too small. For now, he focused on studying this scroll, which if he guessed at the mechanics, should be as simple as pooling your mana at a spot and hurling its condensed form at your enemies... He wouldn't know until he tried, though. It's not safe to test this scroll in this area. Jazdia, huh... Where has he heard that name before? It's quite the unique name, but he couldn't pinpoint from where.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark 2:10 P.M. Rascade city outskirt, Kingdom of Kindeance. Once a bustling hub of commerce, this town was now rarely seen by outsiders. The rumor of imminent war and their recent policy to tighten their border control had made most people steer clear. No longer merchant flocks and the ship docks in their street and harbor, causing the economy to stall considerably. People didn't seem to be troubled by it, however. Maybe because the lockdown was just announced five days ago and a dent in the kingdom's economy was barely felt. With the help of the swordmaster Chounan guiding them through the city maze and alleys, the trio finally arrived at the... less sophisticated part of the city. A ghetto if you may, but don't let the average citizen hear you saying that. Those Nouveau Riche would gasp in horror before telling you that you are an imbecile and there was no such thing in this prosperous city. The others, however, would nod to that notion and blame that on the influx of immigrants from their neighbor Meche who then formed their own destitute community, giving a stain on the face of their great city. With discrimination and prejudice becoming more rampant these days, who could really blame them? Their destination was a very busy middle-class tavern named The Black Swan. Which, based on Jazdia's analytic mind, had positioned itself cleverly on the market. As long as they have thirst and coin, everyone was welcomed, from nobles to paupers, immigrants, travelers, and natives alike. And while this gave a sense of inclusivity, it systematically encourage its patrons to flaunt their wealth for everyone to see. Really, it was not showing off if you couldn't rub it in someone's face, and this tavern facilitated you to go wild with your petty ego. Still, it was a tavern. Information circulates as much as coins and drinks. Coins lure all kinds of people including those with dishonest hearts and scheming minds who sedulously taking the advantage of the addling nature of liquors, which needless to say didn't mix very well with one's financial acumen. Sauntering through its main hall, Jazdia fixed her sight on a room with decorated walls located on a slightly elevated floor. The so-called VIP area, reserved exclusively for those with a more prominent background they even had a well-dressed bouncer guarding the entrance. The bouncer, to their surprise, immediately welcomed them upon seeing the expensive (and gaudy) armor Chounan was wearing. Jazdia didn't even need her power to find what she was looking for. The table in the middle of the room was so loud it attracted the attention of the other patrons. There were four men, three gentlemen were obviously nobles, and the person who was shuffling the cards was an ancient being wearing heavy illusion makeup from head to toe to make himself look like a whimsical noble boy in his late teens. As the coins piled up and another round began, the noblemen watched with sneer and anticipation. Jazdia approached the table. A foul game was at play and the victim would be these three seemingly obnoxious aristocratic gentlemen. She was rather undecided if she should intervene. Placing her hand between two invisible fox ears, the elf decided that she just need some fluff to ruffle. Whatever happened next was up to chance... as any gambling should. "Are ya winning, son?"</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito was so focussed on playing his victims that he did not notice the three people closing in from behind. It was only in the moment that Jazdia put her hand on his head that the kitsune noticed the presence of that elf. Just hearing her voice sends shivers down his spine and for a moment Kaito loses his concentration on his elaborate web of illusions revealing his fluffy fox tail for just a split second. Although the kitsune was sure that the men across the table would not notice, the two friends of Jazdia's might. Kaito always felt a certain tension, nervousness when Jazdia was around. Maybe it was because she had the ability to see right through his illusions or maybe it was her piercing gaze that seemed to go right through to the darkest depths of your soul. Seeing those bits of you that you desperately hide far away while convincing yourself that it isn't there. He couldn't put his finger on what it was but the Kitsune knew one thing for sure, the elf knew how he felt and she was thoroughly enjoying it. It took a few seconds before he regained his composure and turned his head towards Jazdia. With a bit of an annoyed look on his face he spoke "I see you still carry the same attitude towards proper etiquette, miss.... Sparky" Not that he had expected anything different from her. If Kaito had learned one thing about Jazdia since their first encounter, it was her absolute lack of respect for any form of authority and etiquette. She would even refuse to bow in front of the gods themselves. A character trait that Kaito certainly appreciated. "Anyway, I certainly hope that I am going to win. I betted a fair deal of money on this game and don't want to explain to my father why our families coffers have shrunk a bit today. But since you're here, it is safe to assume that my presence is required at the estate, right?" Spoke Kaito as he pretended that the elf was some sort of servant of his noble house. He was sure she would understand that he was dragging her into his web of lies and could only hope that Jazdia would play along. The three men at the other side of the table were flabbergasted about the exchange. In their perception Kaito was a young nobleman that should have been addressed by a servant with the proper respect. What the elf had shown was utter contempt about etiquette to the point that a proper punishment would be in place. Yet the young master let her get off easy. The kitsune turned towards his victims again. With Jazdia here, he knew he had to wrap things up quickly. Her visits always meant business and you never knew what was cooking in her head. The pretty elf might intervene if he made her wait too long. Not to mention that she had brought two friends. Must be serious business. "Gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption. It appears that there is some business that requires my presence. This will be the final round for today. Anyone want to raise their bets?" With much anticipation the three men stared at Kaito. All were waiting for the final card to be drawn and placed open on the table. All had strong hands and were confident that they had a good chance of winning. Not to mention there was a good deal of money at stake. The kitsune slowly picked the card from the deck and placed it face down on the table. He quickly looked at the three men who all tensed up. Then Kaito revealed the card. Lord Baltimore jumped up from his seat and slammed his cards on the table in the most un-lordy fashion possible. "Go beat that!" he shouted in excitement as he revealed the second strongest combination of cards possible in the game. The two others looked at the cards that were revealed on the table and then to their own hands. The excitement drained from their face, making room for frustration. A few annoyed growls could be heard as mister Ridgeway and mister Conway accepted their defeats. Lord Baltimore was about to grab the pile of gold coins when he realized that Kaito had not yet revealed his cards. All three men turned their heads towards the kitsune who sat there just silently with a straight face. "no, you're not going to tell me that you have a royal straight, right?" spoke lord Baltimore. Then Kaito revealed his hand, card by card until a royal straight, the strongest combination of cards was laid out in front of him.</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" On the way out Yvonne collected the belongings she handed over earlier, finally feeling adequately protected with the weight of weapons in their holster. She had to modify her appearance a bit, removing the multicolored adornment to leave the hauberk plain. The riveted mail wasn't exactly a common thing due to how pricy it was, but still plentiful enough among the more well-off soldier and mercenary that it wouldn't draw much attention. The heirloom sword wasn't adorned much in the first place, wrapping some rag on the handle was enough to conceal it as a standard arming sword. Everything else can be find in any decently large armoury, thus was of no issue to wear in the open. Their de-facto leader brought them to one of the better inn in the city, pricy enough to bar the less savory (or the destitute) while still affordable enough to see plentiful traffic. Off to the side room she followed, past several gamblers toward the one that probably had more wealth staked than the rest of the room combined. There's a flash of furry ears and fluffy tail, but all it earned was a raised eyebrow from the mercenary. Far from her to point it out for no one's benefit. She had an inkling of what this man was worth to them, if it's even a man under the glamour. Yvonne wasn't unfamiliar with the type, always seems to have a pair of extra ears whenever something interesting occured. Jazdia's contact, then? For the most part Yvonne kept quiet, though upon the grand reveal she had to struggle from cracking a grin. Now that's a hedged deck if she ever saw one. Dunno how it's arranged, but the odds of just one good hand was rare enough - much less four in the same round, and right at the closing game with the highest stake? If someone tried something like that in a low-end tavern they'd get knifed within the hour. Sometimes right then and there, by the outraged players. Nothing that helped the investigation so far, but at least Yvonne got a new nickname for the elf. Sparky rings so much better than Blondie.</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri exhaled. It should be noted that he really does not need to breathe, but this is exasperating. Sure took Matilda her sweet time to speak up. So these arrows are special after all? Additionally, where did that map come from? This guy... Had he not the initiative to show us that from the start? Henri at least felt a relief that Matilda looked steeled to pursue these footprints further and instead leaving Rorthgaard to these minions, but is everyone glossing over the fact that Cedrick mentioned about the escaped horses? Henri raised a hand. "Matilda. Let's split from here. Cedrick and I will track down the escaped horses." If it's as the man-bear says, he could talk to them and find out where they're stabled, and the horses might be saddled up with important items as well. This endeavor shouldn't be a problem with the both of them. Their speeds could easily outpace any horse. "Mind giving Cedrick something that carries your scent? Also," Henri taps Matilda's shoulder, casting Core Spreading on her shoulderplate. A streak of cyan lightning appears briefly on it. "I'll be able to hear you when you're nearby." A small pool of molten iron wells up from Henri's hand, preparing to drop them sparingly on the ground as breadcrumbs.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chōnan kept an eye on the demon fox until leaving on his range. He remain his position nearby Jazdia without being an obstacle on her. As the time running out, he decided to help Jazdia with the clues. He approached Yvonne and said. "Milady, I shall give you a hand." She paused for a while and nodded. Her identity is familiar by him despite she doesn't know him back. Adventurer's Guild assassins spreaded rumors about her and also they had admiration with her work. Also, an exchange letter between him and the prince back then about being kept mention her name, possibly his childhood crush may say. The hedge seems to be a good route for the victim to fled off from the assassin, maybe he can find something around under the range of the area that Miss Jazdia's mentioned. He removed his shoes and attached it on his sliding line of his bag. Finding some luck by using his sense of touch of his bare feet inside the grassy yard.</s> <|message|>Kaito "I see, thank you for the information. It will surely help with documenting the events here. May your fallen comrades feast in the hall of the gods for all eternity." With those words Kaito finished up the interrogation of the young guard. The fox went on to talk to some of the other guards but they all gave similar answers for the ones that were around during the attack. There were some points in the testimony from the guard that the kitsune found intriguing. First and foremost was the point that all guards seem to refer to the assailants as Mecheans and yet the official report never stated that fact. The kitsune assumed that the authors of the official report also questioned the guards on site and yet somehow omitted their testimony about the assailants being Mecheans from the report. Did the guards not share that information or was it kept out on purpose? A question that certainly needed to be answered. There were some more details from the guard's testimony that did not match up with the report. The report never talked about any casualties among the guards, also the report explicitly stated that the king was around till the smoke went off and yet the guard mentioned that madame Mathilda immediately escorted the king back to the palace. Also the guard spoke about the assassins disappearing into thin air while the report mentioned them escaping in the crowds. There were too many discrepancies between the testimony of the guard and the official report that drew suspicion. Someone seemed to be lying. After finishing up the questioning of the guards Kaito walked back to Jazdia. For a moment the kitsune played with the idea of calling her by a nickname again but decided that he had infuriated the elf enough already. Pushing her buttons a bit more would be asking for more trouble than he could handle. "Miss Yazdia, got a minute or are you busy?" Spoke the fox with the sweetest smile he could muster. "Who wrote the official report? There are a lot of differences between what the guards told me and what was written down. It's pretty suspicious in my opinion. We might have to look into that a bit further." Spoke Kaito in a more serious tone. He paused a bit before he continued to speak. "The little pipsqueak guard over there had some interesting quotes about what the assassins shouted. Apparently one of them yelled death to the Marauder-king. Do you think that the Mecheans are blaming Fredericus for the shit his grandpa pulled? Or does the beloved king of Kindeance has some dark secrets?" As Kaito was informing the elf on the further differences between the testimony of the guards and the guards he brought up one more subject. "The guard mentioned that someone shouted 'By the Blessing of the Ouroboros! We have reclaimed what is ours!' after the smoke went up and just before a blinding flash that made the last assassins disappear into thin air. It seems that the Black Serpant guild might be playing some role in this."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "All right, move aside you two!" Jazdia winced, trying to hide her frustration as she leaned forward and rustle the hedge. She didn't even use her power to find what they were supposed to be looking for. Buried inside the hedgerows was a fletched shaft almost broken in two pieces. Its head telescoped inward, damaged to the point it was more like a piece of blunt metal, a sign of a heavy impact. Jazdia looked at the surrounding elevation and pictured where the archer was supposed to be. If the first archer was an amateur. The other one seemed to be more... professional? "This arrow was fired from a full-sized long bow and gained full momentum before hitting Matilda's shield." mused the elf, muttering the conjecture to anyone who was willing to listen. "It could only be done with sufficient range. Was that from the rampart on the left side? Or the terrace near the mausoleum? One thing for sure though, It was not something you can shot in the crowd." Before anyone could answer that, Kaito rejoined them. "Miss Yazdia, got a minute or are you busy?" Surprisingly Jazdia did not correct the mispronunciation of her name, something she usually took very seriously. "Not at all. What did they tell you?" "Who wrote the official report? There are a lot of differences between what the guards told me and what was written down. It's pretty suspicious in my opinion. We might have to look into that a bit further." Spoke Kaito in a more serious tone. He paused a bit before he continued to speak. "The little pipsqueak guard over there had some interesting quotes about what the assassins shouted. Apparently one of them yelled death to the Marauder-king. Do you think that the Mecheans are blaming Fredericus for the shit his grandpa pulled? Or does the beloved king of Kindeance has some dark secrets?" "Not as dark as those Tretagor monarchs during their heyday, but Kindeance was a militaristic country a century ago. The usual rape, pillage, and burn were one of their modus operandi. One hundred years was quite a long time for a country to change its ways, but not long enough to mend the scars, and sometimes it festers and I think that's how..." After what seemed to be a full minute of troubling thoughts, she continued. I don't know who wrote that. Could be Fredricus's spymaster. It was very common for a report to be written anonymously. Suspicious? Not really at the first glance since that kind of documentation usually redacts a number of crucial detail for political reasons." And that was why CSA was so good at their job, they didn't have to deal with such hogwashery on daily basis. "Still though, if the missing details are in a very abnormal number, there might be a schemer." Jazdia chuckled. "Classic. But I don't think Fred was that stupid to let potential usurpers any closer to his neck. So, tell me the glaring differences you've found so far." Kaito then explained about the casualties being redacted from the report, and Fredricus's involvement was somewhat embellished. The usual stuff. The part about Meche and the origin of those assailants was interesting, to say the least. So someone was trying to stir up the hearts of the people. For the better or for the worse. "What else can you tell me?" "The guard mentioned that someone shouted 'By the Blessing of the Ouroboros! We have reclaimed what is ours!' after the smoke went up and just before a blinding flash that made the last assassins disappear into thin air." "Another omitted details huh..." "Yes, It seems that the Black Serpant guild might be playing some role in this." The theory that someone inside his circle was betraying him sounded even more plausible now. Jazdia approached the mausoleum, trying to see what secret it contained, but her eyes failed her. "Warding runes?" he scoffed, finding it ironic how ancient runes, one of the subjects she despised so much during her college days was proven relevant to not only ward off evil spirits but also be able to repel her power. "I Guess Serensiel was evil after all." So she diverted her attention around the space that was supposed to be the mausoleum's interior and found there was a passage down there, almost ruined and caved, but definitely still passable. Suddenly everything seemed to make more sense. "After the failed attempt, they threw the smoke to cover their escape... or someone messed up and throw it prematurely, causing the other assassins to abandon their mission and retreat." "So that was how they escaped. Pretty clever huh?" She scanned again, this time around the twelve monuments. Whoever buried down there had been reduced to ashes, leaving empty stone caskets and other funerary goods. There was no hidden passage from any of those graves, so that left mausoleum as the prime access, and although she could not examine the interior, she concluded that the passage was linked to it somehow. "Where did that tunnel lead to? Unfortunately, it was beyond the range of my empowered sight." "How did they gain access to the catacombs? It was unimaginable to leave such an important building unlocked." "Did they steal the key? No... Fredricus would have called a manhunt, secrecy be damned."</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne stared with bafflement as the elf seemingly reached in and took out a broken arrow from the hedge as if she knew that it was there from the get go. What. How. The mercenary scratched behind her ears, still having a little bit of decency left to look sheepish at her failure. "How'd you even- nevermind." She shook her head, more than willing to put that little hiccup behind. "Arrows shot from a longbow would punch into a standard shield. Wouldn't put it past Mattie to wield a slab of iron, but this should be a ceremonial event." Glancing around to take in the surrounding, Yvonne visualized where would one be if they were to stage an ambush. Not much spots, and what's available weren't that good, but passable. "Distance isn't an issue, I know men that could pull trick shots with longbows. They just need an elevated vantage points... I'd put archers on top of the mausoleum if I have the time, but otherwise they'll just need to scramble on top of the tombstones." Definitely not a common skillset, but training someone to perform archery under high pressure wasn't exactly a difficult prospect. Time-consuming, yes, but not difficult. She'd wager that horseback shooting was higher on the difficulty ceiling.</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "Alright, just roar if anything comes up. I'll follow you from a distance" Alright. Time to sort out the items from the saddlebags, and then Cedar's items. It's quite interesting, looking at how similar Cedar's inventory is to these kidnappers. Hand axes, knives, these... If he remembers correctly, these are called knapping tools? He himself quite never saw his need for these things used to create sharp stone tools. After all, he's able to pull a sizable supply of iron from within his own body. Cedar... Right, Matilda did call him Cedar, didn't she? Henri shrugged, realizing that he misassumed that his name is Cedrick because he once heard that Yvonne girl call her 'Ceddy'. That man Anderson was calling him Cedrick too, most likely because of Henri. Yet, he felt no obligation to fix this mistake. He will just let it be, as a tiny future source of hilarity. After melting the unnecessary metal tools and throwing away the saddle bags, sackcloths, and any non-metal parts of the knapping tools; he began equipping Cedar's gear with much care. The cloak of a 9-feet-tall bear is expectedly too long for his normal human size, and so he wrapped it partway on his neck like a thick scarf. His hand axe and knife are then sheathed on the right hip. His flints, placed in the left pocket. His leather-wrapped knapping tools, attached to his left hip. His rope, slung to his right shoulder. His ball of twine... This is quite an unusually-shaped item, this ball of twine. He reached for Cedar's barrel and attached a diagonal rod to the side of it, and hung the ball of twine onto it. He then wore the barrel on his back. It's good that they added this leather harness to it, turning it into quite a bulky backpack. Finally, his oversized boots and gloves are simply worn directly, even on top of his own shoes, and he'll just hold Cedar's shovel in the open and his big stick as a walking stick, he supposes. Henri began to walk, following Cedar from a huge distance as he said.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Placidly padding along, the big lumbering form of the bear-man slowly made its leisurely way first up along the edge of the lake, to collect the tiny shriveled black berries that had been overlooked by the birds last winter from amidst the dangerous coils of prickles that were known as "GreenBriar." Birds and deer subsisted on the things during the winter months, as the perennial vine was semi-evergreen, and kept foliage on even in the winter-- or so his dad told him. He had never seen it himself. Whenever the weather started getting cold, the urge to go to sleep became overwhelming, and without even realizing it, he would just wake up several months later in time for spring. The nasty little vines would serve their purpose quite well here, and would be a buffet for the birds this winter. Deer did not really like wading through the marshes, though he supposed the ice and snow would harden it up well enough for them to consider foraging among the ruins this winter. Tucking quite a number of the shriveled little black bastards into the small pouch he had retained, and laced to the inside of his right arm, he had long since begun his long, shuffling and investigatory plod all around the ruins. There WERE a few edible roots and small fish hidden among the muck, and he was still very famished from his stay in the dungeon. It didn't hurt any to actually play the part he was 'pretending' to be-- especially since he knew how to do it, and it would serve several roles at once. It was a good hour or more before he was satisfied with having seeded the area with the vicious little horrors he had 'just so happened' to drop into the foraging holes he had been digging, while discretely prompting them to germinate, and greet the summer sun. He had continued 'subtly' coaxing their growth, while doing his lumbering "bear shuffle" amongst the muck and puddles, urging their roots to go deep and wide into the surrounding environs. The whole damn ruin site was now ringed in, like one giant bear trap, ready to be sprung. Lazily, he waddled back up to the lake, carefully removed the small sack, then took a nice refreshing dip in the water to get all the mud (and old dungeon stench) off. "Are you done yet?" was the complaint he was greeted with when he returned to Henri, who was wearing his clothes in a most peculiar manner. Almost comical. "Yup. I thinks so. I'm ready when you is."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark He listened, but not to understand. To him, their words were discordant noises, rambled by criminals either to rat out their partner-in-crime or to vaunt their innocence. Be it a plea, confession, or reason, he ignored it all as he toss them into the Rascade dungeon. And today, he expected it to not be any different. But the first person to speak had brought a certain irregularity, and it started to get on his nerve. How dare they come to this place, deceived his men, and then stated, right in front of his face that they hold the information he was unworthy to hear? His anger reached its peak when a certain former noblewoman spoke up and reinforce what the first trespasser said. Even more so when she brought up the name Matilda. Too long that she-orc had been the thorn in his side. So what? His Highness trusted her and now she acted like she owned Rascade. "Be silent!" he rebuked, harsh and efficient. "I am not here to bandy words with an ungrateful daughter who ran away. How is Rosenving now? Did you crawl back to His Majesty's feet asking for His favor while your family begged for table scraps?" Yvonne strode a pace forward, but suddenly Jazdia's clutched her by the shoulder, and she halted, glancing at the elf with clear disdain. "Greetings, Constable Delving. I wholeheartedly acknowledged that the timing was less than ideal. But my friend was right, we are here on Fredricus' order." Jazdia opened her bag and reached for a transparent tube, which contained a piece of document, neatly rolled and tied with a red ribbon. She unknotted the ribbon and presented the paper so he can read it himself. But the man furiously struck the elf's palm, causing the contract to be released from her grip and flutter away before landing on the grass. The captain whirled at Keito, before continuing his admonishment loudly. "Listen here, you cheap idiots! I asked a question, plain and simple and all of you made a fucking song and dance about it! I don't care who ordered you. I ask a fuckin question and you fuckin answer. Now is there any of you, in this sorry group who can answer, in plain Common? Please? Thank you!?" As he speaks, a dozen of guards had made their position around them. All were armed, and they only waited for the Constable's order. "Or maybe I should just haul all of you to Rascade Dungeon myself!"</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chōnan snapped from both for stroking the Captain's man strength on the lady's palm and desecrating an important paper that had been sealed by the King himself. "Mind if I put something first?" He said and pulled something from his bag and it was his mask during his prime on Knight's career. As he did a knight salute, an overwhelming ferocious aura has been released and those who caught feel flinches and recognize his prime status as a knight before. "Ex-Knight of cavalry unit, Kagetane Chōnan... Late Sergeant, definitely going to haunt you down as you stroke that paper with the King's sealed into the ground. A yelling that pierce into your soul. Whole day of running around until your feet give up" He walked toward the place where the contract fell off. The surrounding guards that were meant to block him started to shaken and Chōnan felt disappointed. "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." He picked up the contracted and handed back to Jazdia instead. He felt that the Captain himself can't be trusted to hand the contract. "It is classified from the top and I'm overseeing our guests for their work under Madame Matilda Ironsword. We had a business here and also I visited my late units and my superiors." Yes. He paid them a vist before he catch up with his party on the investigation area. "As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." "As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough." Few recognized that mask, but their number was insignificant compared to those who feared the wrath of the Delving. The Constable had his mouth agaped slightly, both in anger and bewilderment. Though he could find the gist of whatever this Ex-Knight Cavalry was saying, he still heard it as a slightly clear gibberish. An impudent one. One that does not respect his authority. In a fit of newfound anger, he brandished his pike and thwacked the Ex-Knight Cavalry at the back of his knee, immediately ending his dramatic posturings and forcing him to kneel. And soon it was apparent that the soldier was not trembling in fear, but instead waiting for an order, and they just got one. Two soldiers joined the fray, then one more, probably annoyed by the warrior's condescending remark, or they wanted to prove him wrong, all working in unison to pin Chounan to the ground and had him cuffed. The contract escaped the Samurai's grip and stretched out again on the grass.</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "No, Junior. I dont think I will." Well ain't today just going real real bad. Yvonne sported a lopsided grin, something her brothers in arms would've recognized as the prelude to violence, but this far off her hunting grounds there's no one capable of noticing the threat. "What make you think I care about my family, daddy's boy? Looks like you still have no brains between that ears of yours - crown business. Maybe try listening sometimes. I'd say if you hurry you can run to father dearest to beg his majesty for some breadcrumbs before the day ends." And the damned foreigner just went and spouted some convulted nonsense. Then he got taken down by surprise. Good fucking job man. Yvonne ain't letting that happen though, dude's about a third of their fighting strength by her estimate. The mercenary took one step forward, twice, swing her leg back, tap into her inner strength, and kicked the dumb schmuck trying to cuff her coworker. Not a big boost, she's not planning to kill the footman, but enough to lift him a foot into the air. Catching the idiot by his cuirass strap, she utilized the man as a bludgeon to knock away the other two before tossing him toward Aaron - who saw it coming and stepped aside, but all it achieved was the improvised projectile crashing into the gathering rank of the guards. That should do for warm up. "Up you go." She grabbed the downed adventurer by the scruff of his neck, pulling him to a standing position before retreating out of the pike's range. Yvonne escalated alright, but no steel were drawn on her part. Who knows? Maybe the show of force will get the other side to reconsider their stance. She didn't fancy the thought of fighting through the entire garrison of Rascade.</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Hokay. Bear, mauled. Wolf, sliced into ribbons. And to top it off, the opposing portcullis blew up. Yvonne, as the only one that's on a very temporary break from all the fighting, saw everything. And their target's barely contained panic. She chuckled as she took a few tentative steps. The pain was still there, but had faded into a persistent dull throb in the background. She laughed. And laughed. Her steps turned into a stride, before breaking into a sprint. Straight for the gaping opening made by Sparky. Ooh, got to be quick, quick. While those audiences still clogging the venue's exit. The mercenary rolled her shoulders as she went, feeling the reduced range of motion. Shush, endure a bit more. Just a bit more. Rest will come later, when these fucks were dead under her boots. Yes, all she need to do was to find a way up there. After that? Like a rabid fox in a henhouse.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] There was a commotion in the house as Matilda draw closer, sounds like a few people arguing very loudly. The voice overlaid with each other to the point that it's difficult to make out what's being said, but insults were about alongside bits like "escape" and "dead". The apprentice blacksmith received the coin and stood there, unsure of what to do, even when the knight ignored him and entered. Three pair of eyes turned toward the intruder. Two of them didn't look any different than ordinary peasants, simple but durable and practical clothing commonly worn by just about every lowborn. The third one wasn't dressed much differently but was absolutely filthy, eyes bloodshot like he hadn't slept for quite some time. A quiver of arrows hung on his hips and more were packed on a table next to a backpack he's in the process of filling with all manner of preserved food, the handle of a few daggers visibly sticking out on the edge. "Who the hell are you?"</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chounan saw Yvonne rushing on the open gap that Jaz made. He performed Chiburi and sheathed his blade. "Suffer no more... You are free now." he prayed with his one hand for the deceased Werewolf. The three should be fine and enough, the more important thing to do is to escort the noblewoman. He then started to accelerate and chased Yvonne from getting in. He slipped through the gap and slide smoothly with his two feet to reduced the acceleration. He found Yvonne alone inside the interior, looking around for way up.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri felt the bear finally tear the plate free, as it tossed it, and him, aside like old garbage. This suited him fine-- He really just wanted the metal the beast was wearing. Needed it in fact-- he was so damaged, he needed a heavy coating to be able to withstand walking for any distance. He really did not pay much attention, as he commenced assimilation of the steel, and the make-shift full-body reinforcement. He plucked the eyeball from his throat, where it had been shoved down when he had been slammed into the pillar, and popped it into his dull grey eye socket, letting it spin and click into place, before getting up and observing the room-- The frenzied cries of the announcer being quickly cut off by a deafening explosion. He was thankful to have been thrown behind the third pillar, as the debris rained on either side of him. He surveyed the room-- Yvonne sprang up like a rabid animal, and dashed up the stairs through the enormous gaping wound in the wall. The samurai slew the wolf that had foolishly tried to pick him up earlier-- and the bear lay on the ground gurgling and snorting blood with his scalp peeled back like the skin of a ripe fruit. His thoughts once more returned to the kindly, and childlike bearman he had been acquainted with the day before. It struck him how at once, both of them could be so similar, and yet so different. He supposed circumstance played a great role, and he wondered how this bear might have lived, had things been different. It was not like they were a common sight-- Creatures like the two of them were so rare as to be myth, which is precisely why they sometimes ended up in places like this. For a single, solitary moment, he was sorry he had burned the beast the way he had. Carefully, and with great deliberation, he tottered rather than walked, toward the prone bear, who only growled at his approach, before cursing at him. "GO ON AND FINISH ME THEN, YOU FILTHY LUMP OF CLAY." Being angry was an entirely natural reaction to having your body beaten, battered, torn, and burned-- He himself was so angry he felt he could rip somebody's head clean off their shoulders, and he knew exactly which head he wanted-- but it really wasn't this bear. "I didn't come here for that." said Henri coldly and flatly. "So I will do no such thing. I just wanted you to know, you are not alone." The bear snorted a disgusted laugh, before speaking again. "THE FUCK YOU'RE GOING ON ABOUT-- MUST HAVE MARBLES FOR BRAINS, THE WAY YOU PRATTLE." "There's another bearman, you idiot." Henri retorted flatly. "Outside. Free. I met him yesterday. I thought you might want to know." "... WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THIS, ...FUCKING MUD-HEAD... TO RUB SALT IN MY WOUNDS? TO GLOAT AS I DIE?" "No. To give you hope." Finished with his good deed for the day, he levered his now considerably heavier frame to turn around, and slowly ascend the stairs behind the group that had dashed up earlier. An insanely crazed looking old crone dashed through the wide door and around him, cursing "BUTCHER!" at him, as she passed, rushing up to the downed bear man in a flurry of tears. He didn't care. He had his own fish to fry, and she wouldn't get away so easily.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia followed. As she reached the stairs, the interference felt weakened, rapidly. She could use her enchanted vision again, and immediately, as she hiked from one stair to another, the elf utilized her power to scan the entire place. There he was! Hhite-haired, prominent jaw! Jazdia climbed two more stairs and reached Yvonne's wrist. "That's not the way! Follow me! Gerrald is heading toward the catacombs. It seemed our guy doesn't want to leg it to the surface. He has five goons blocking the way for him." As the elf passed Henri, she took a moment to look at him with a mix of amusement and confusion. His bulky and unnatural interior no longer amazed her after the whole debacle. "Mister Henri. I am surprised to see you here. I presume Matilda sent you? You are... quite resourceful to be able to find us here." Then Jazdia rushed toward the aisle, noticing how the pathing, the lighting, and the overall atmosphere gradually changed as they went deeper into the guild's massive tunnel system.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Hdur, Kindeance --- The farmer offered plenty of stock for Cedar to consume. Being one of the farms along the outer reaches of the village, it had more access to the fertile lands, and as a result, was able to grow a plethora of crop in such abundance. A testament to the prosperity of Hdur. "I should have enough coin to cover whatever my friend fancies at the moment. I see you're familiar with the hunters, what can you tell me about them? Has their pattern of behavior changed in recent memory?" Asked Solomon. "I'm not sure how privy you are to their schedule, but anything you can share would be appreciated." Solomon wandered nearby as the farmer collected various stock for Cedar. It was good for Cedar to finally have a proper meal. He seemed ecstatic about it, anyway. While he ate, might as well see what the farmer knew, if anything.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan As the elf instructed, Chounan went ahead from the two woman. Two long straps of cloth can be notice as were tied each of the hole of the handguards flowing opposite that Chounan's heading to. Those cloth belong to slaves he accidentally killed. The slave man's cloth tied on the katana's handguard the slave-woman's cloth tied on the wakizashi's hand guard. Chounan want the rest of the party have breathing so he voluntary himself break the odds who were obstructed their way. He blended on the darkness of pathway and with his Ki his awareness enhanced. Hunting down the Guild Master Gerald without killing him.</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne stopped as the elf caught up with her, inwardly annoyed at how everyone seems to move faster than her short legs. Still, looks like whatever magic bullshittery clouding Sparky's vision had been lifted if she can now track Gerralt down. Good enough, cant wait to break his legs for all the trouble he caused. "Just five? If they're only men it's nowhere near enough." Any one of them can probably take the whole lot. "Lead the way, boss."</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan "You guys better to stay away when she regain back her strength. The potion will revitalize her and regain stamina. With Ki and Jitsu, I will seal her will to fight in both physical and magical by hand striking her meridian." Chounan warned the two, he was concerned the two's condition and their combant effectiveness are low. He waited kaito to do his job and later he will give the blind girl the vial to sip it slowly after the fox's medical attention.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "Not the best time to be compassionate here, Sparky." Kindness to an enemy was cruelty to one's allies. "Hope you know what you're doing. Even if Edgy here can block spellcasting, she's one of the strongest mage I've ever seen." Jazdia heard her loud and clear, but she remained determined. "I will deal with her myself if she tries anything." she answered, as clearly as she could. The girl's red eyes glared at her with rekindled anger, but Jazdia looked back unbothered. "Listen... you. I have registered 15 milligrams of morphine into your bloodstream, you will remain calm until I am done patching your wound. You will die if I let you." Jazdia touched her cheek, a gesture of reassurance, but her deadpan expression said otherwise. "I want to help." She heard someone sighing behind her, it was Kaito, who immediately squatted next to her. The sudden movement down caused him to grimace in pain. "You can't give her a potion before taking out the arrow. That will lead to infections later. Your hands are in no condition to take it out. I'll do it." "If you pull the arrow now, she will bleed to death in minutes. That health potion does wonder to staunch the bleeding, but it takes time to be absorbed and take effect." Jazdia shook her head and continued in a grim tone. "She has lost so much blood, and we can't afford to spill more. She will get the potion first, then we will take it out when the potion has started to take effect. At least we will have some insurance. How is that sound?"</s> <|message|>"Cedar" @A5G Cedar opened the door a bit, then popped his head inside while hunching over. Looking around the room, he saw Matilda holding one of the gentlemen he had come to politely ask questions from up by the collar like he was a misbehaving puppy. While he could certainly do the same thing himself-- He was more than strong enough-- it was just not something you were supposed to do with PEOPLE. At least, not fully grown ones, like that one. (Ornery, misbehaving kids-- like his baby brother and sisters, were an exception if you wanted to avoid having teeth in your shins, or getting bowled over.) "uhm.. Miss Matilda, why ya got that fellar up in th' air like at? We's came ta ask 'ese fellars some questions, not scare em tills the' wets 'semselves... Put the fellar down.. ---You allright up there fella?" he drawled, trying to take in the situation and salvage it with as much polite decorum as he could muster. He turned his attention to the other terrified man in the room. "How 'bout you fellar-- Ya knows anythung about an ugly bald fellar wit' a big nose an' a jaw out ta here?" He made almost comical gesticulations with his paws near is own head, as he made the description. "Mebbe a silver headed fella wit' a smirk an' a cleft chin? Got one eye, like muh pappy?" He paused a moment, as if trying to process something he might have missed. "We's lookin' fer some fellars named Gerhard, Reinhold, Ingmar, and Bertolf--This *IS* a right place right? I mean, If' it ain't, I DOES apologize-- but the nice fellar down at th' farm as a said 'is was da place ta find em-- Don't worry none, I ain't gunna bite-cha."</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan "I believe that's an Opium, Better to be quick. Life is at stake and we need to hurry." Chounan get closer to the blind girl. Transferring his energy to her senses with a friendly approach. He uncapped the potion and let her sips slowly until she empty the vial."Pull." He give Jazdia the signal when the ki senses her life energy got revitalized. He then prepared a clean bandage roll for stopping the bleeding and to wrap it on punctured wound.</s> <|message|>Kaito Of Course the elf disagreed with him. Jazdia always had a strong mind and equally strong opinion. It was one of the qualities he admired in her. For a moment he contemplated her points. It was true that the girl had lost a lot of blood but it was hard to tell how much she did and how much more she could afford to lose. Giving the potion first would likely result in less bleeding but you'd run the risk of tearing things that have closed open again if you waited too long. The fox wanted to argue about it some more but before he could open his mouth the samurai started to administer the potion. "Chounan! We were discussing…" stated the kitsune as he looked rather annoyed at the samurai but stopped his sentence halfway. "Well, the deed is done, we'll have to roll with it now." Kaito quickly started to inspect the arrow. The arrow didn't go all the way through her chest. This meant that the arrowhead could be stuck behind bones or in important tissue. The fox quickly cut open the girl's shirt to make some room for removing the arrow. Before touching anything he disinfected his hands with the spirit and slightly turned and twirled the arrow to feel how much space he had to work with. Feeling that the arrow wasn't stuck behind bones the kitsune slowly started to pull it out while keeping a remarkably steady hand to avoid doing additional damage. As the shaft started to leave the body in a slow pace he could only hope that it had not broken on impact. If that would have happened, that would mean that the arrowhead would be buried somewhere deep in her chest and her chances of survival would be slim. Slowly but surely the fox pulled the arrow further out of the girl's chest. Inch by inch it came out till the point that the arrowhead became visible. This girl sure was lucky that Jazdia didn't use a barbed arrow on her. Such arrows are way more difficult to remove. "It's out, in one piece. We can patch her up now."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] Reinhold woke with a jolt, struggling wildly as words washed past like fine brush before his brain registered it five seconds later. Then he stopped struggling, though he did glared at Matilda with enough intensity to set dried wood on fire. Thin line between bravery, stupidity, and plain old running out of fucks to give, but it's probably easy to tell which one's taking hold. "...I fell asleep again, huh?" He clicked his tongue. "Damn it. Put me down." The two other hunters were cowering even more in the corner when a freaking bear out of all thing came strolling through the door, though the terror quickly was replaced with wondrous bafflement as the bear speak with some thick hick accent. Enough to temporarily form some coherent answer. "Uh, Gerhard would be the farm owner. e's old as heck, more wrinkle than man." One chirped. "This one's Ingmar. I'm Bertolf. The one the dame holdin' up there is Reinhold."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark The girl surprisingly imbibed the potion without much fuss, probably recognizing the bottle and the taste. Not sure if this was a good thing. Could it be that she wanted to recover quickly to continue his payback, who knows? Her smile seemed to have annoyed the girl, but both exchanged no word. They waited a bit. The girl was still paralyzed but wide awake. The sedating drug should have reached its onset now, and usually would have knocked a grown man out cold in a single dose. When Kaito touched the arrow, the girl growled faintly and twitched her body. Her persistence to fend off unconsciousness and showing resistance was laudable, yet also foolish. And her rescuer had no time to entertain her uncooperativeness, Jazdia pinned her wrist with her knee and covered her eyes. "Chonan, secure her other hand, would you kindly? Kaito, you can do it now." The girl's body tensed as the arrow pulled out and tossed aside. Quite slower than she had imagined but it was done anyway. Now checking for the wound, it was frothy and blood was still oozing, but not profusely. Kaito attentively sealed the wound with his hand. Good boy! Biting open something from an aluminum wrapping, Jazdia then laid a special, waxy membrane over her wound and secured it with an occlusive dressing. "How is your breathing?" Of course, she didn't answer, and even if she wanted to, the girl seemed to suffer deafness too. So Jazdia checked it herself, she breathed alright, but short... any shorter than that and she would have reopened the dressing again. She waited, and all seemed well and nominal. "She is all yours, Kaito. Apply more dressing on her chest, remove her upper clothing, and apply some on her temple too." she heaved, then turned to Chonan. "And best not cause any unnecessary alteration on her body. She is as helpless as a kitten for six hours to come." Then she approached Yvonne and smiled wryly. "Anything hurt?" A dorky question indeed, and a bit late too.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne watched the treatment with some interest, a bit disappointed that it actually went well. Oh well, blind girl hated Sparky the most somehow as if she knew who landed the killing blow on that prick Gerralt so if anyone's getting offed first that would be her. Small comfort if the rest of the party would be next, but still. Better than none. "Think it's faster to list out what doesn't, yeah?" The mercenary quipped with a lopsided grin. "If I got to pick though, left shoulder broke. I think it's the collarbone. Need to get out of this mail and bandage it good." Ribs broke too, but that'll heal by itself just fine. Shoulder break needed proper bandaging or it'll heal wrong.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "If I got to pick though, left shoulder broke. I think it's the collarbone. Need to get out of this mail and bandage it good." Jazdia activated her eyes but barely managed to see through Yvonne's hauberk. It was all bruises all over her shoulder, and aside from broken bones, there was probably internal bleeding too. It was indeed very concerning. Jazdia groped through her bag and placed a roll of bandage on Yvonne's lap before retrating her bandaged hand to somewhere out of the noblewoman's line of sight. "A spare bundle from our samurai friend. I suppose you don't need assistance to dress it?"</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "A sling will do in the short term." Setting it up would be a bit complicated with one-hand, but doable. Yvonne set to do just that, slowly rolling the thing around the back of her neck and to the injured arm. "Another pair of hand would be great, but not necessary. Just give me a few minutes." It's not something that require much focus, really, so she could still chat up and whatnot. Now that she got a closer look on Sparky, the boss was much paler than earlier this morning. Everyone's banged up good, eh? "So, what's our plan going forward? Aaron will turn the city inside out to find us." A brief glance flickered to the hidden hand. A bit too late for that, Yvonne already got an eyeful during blindy's treatment. "We're not in a good shape for another fight."</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "I presumed that it is not an urgent matter to discuss with, all things considered. But let's go with the introduction." Matilda gestured at the three hunters, seemingly isolated from the rest at their own table. "Reinhold, Ingmar, and Bertolf. Witness to the kidnapping, if they're telling the truth. Reinhold even doggedly tracked them down to their lair, for... personal reasons." Then, to Veronica. "This is lady Veronica. She's a covert operator that frequently works with the crown, and myself personally. I value her skills highly, especially in this kind of investigation." The fox took a perfect timing to rejoin the group, just as they're discussing him. Was he waiting for it? Probably not. But it's a good coincidence nevertheless. "We were just finishing up, we depart right before midnight. Miss Jazdia here is about to introduce yourself to us, perhaps you'd like to share your own words?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark When the bear walked in, Jorry was no longer frightened, though her heart beating unpleasantly fast. Instinctively she remembered one of those so-called fateful days when she and a few othe girls on her age were herded onto a platform, exhibited in front of many eyes. At that time she tried to not think about anything, not even when the potential buyer stepped in and gripped her chin. Then another, who touched him in many places. She did not dare, or rather care to see their faces, though, at that time her eyes and ears were okay. Her buyers were lucid figures with power over her, and they are buying meat, and she should just act like one. Best to get this over with quickly so she could see what fate had prepared for her. Turned out, it wasn't so bad at all. And today, strangely, her new master was no longer a lucid figurine. Though obedience had robbed her sight and hearing, it was sharper in a different sense. A bear with soft words and gentle steps. The vibrations he made were clumsy and innocent, and his words were intelligible for now, partly because her sense was not used to the throaty vibe of his and it did not demand an answer. Jorry... Jorry wanted to trust him. Simply because that was just how it is. I don't think they are bad people. Nina said that. The word of a servant often weighed less, but somehow it resonated in her mind. She touched her chest, savoring the memory of pain, strangely the last part of it was warm and fuzzy. Though her power was exhusted and her sight blurred, she could still identify talent, and it belonged to the hulking, more gentle version of Teddy in front of her. With a bit of a hand sign, she pointed at herself, then to whoever was in front of her. "Why help?" Silly question, of course, they wanted to keep her alive so she could be theirs, and--- The elf she remembered had no desire to dominate. Her aura and vibe told nothing but a sliver of rage and pity. And now when her grief for her master's demise had been suspended, it was understandable why. It was like an arena fight. She hurt her and in return, she hurt her too. So why she was alive? "Are you the elf's friend?"</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar smiled gently, with his head still tipped to the side. He approached the girl, looking for a spot to sit down next her without destroying the bed, cratering the mattress, or destroying a chair. Sadly, like basically every place that catered to wholly human, or at least, baseline human-like clientel, none of the furnishings were "really" made to suit somebody of his proportions. A bit dejectedly, he sat on the floor in front of the bed, and just to the side of where the girl was seated. He only had to look up at her slightly at least, despite sitting on the floor. "I' ain't 'bout why sumbody woul', I' about why sumbody woundn'." He straightened the posture of his head and looked at her with glittering brown eyes. "Unless ya gots a reason tuh, ain't no reason not tuh. Anybuddy wit' a heart in 'er ches', an feels like a person aughta-- 'Ey aint gunna leave a lil' girl like yas hangin'. Like 'at girl Nina-- All I dids was le' 'er know, and she dun all dis." He chuckled, and smiled warmly doing his best to not show any teeth, while gesturing at her new clothes, the bucket of water on the floor, and the room in general. "She a real nice girl, uh think. I's jus' di' muh bes' ta fix 'at hole in ya ches'." he continued, gently pointing at her bodice where the hole once was. ".. Gots ya aways from 'em lou' people's downstarrs." The smile and glittery eyes returned. "Glads ya feelin' be'er..." When asked if he knew the elf downstairs, his expression darkened a little in confusion, and he blinked rapidly, trying to think of how to answer such a question. "Well.. I dun know 'er at well. Jus' met 'er yes'erday. She seem nice enough on firs' glance 'dou."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "She seem nice enough on firs' glance 'dou." "She reeks of old hatred!" the girl declared tensly, then she looked down, and trembled again as if realizing that she might have uttered something she shouldn't. "I--I am sorry. Thank you for helping me--" Her voice was muffled, and Jorry clutched the hem of her dress. "Your kindness will never be forgotten... I will do my best to be of use." The situation became awkward and only eased up when Nina suddenly returned with a tray. "Heeey, it's lunch time!" The three stared at each other for a moment. Bear was sitting on the floor and was in a deep conversation. It was impolite to interrupt, but the door was open and she did say she would return. Ugh! "It's heavy. Hurry and take it!" Nina grumbled, then Cedar stood and reached for a table so Nina could place the tray safely The menu was soft bread, vegetable soup with chicken and colorful beans, fried potatoes and onions garnished with salt, garlic, and pepper, roasted beef with sauce and fruit cake as dessert. That was the usual in this inn. Plain and simple food but homey and wholesome. "Dig in you two!" Said Nina, smiling, but soon she smacked her forehead after realizing how big Cedar was. "Err... maybe call me later if you need something else?" There would definitely be a call later, but Nina just put up the last defense from bankrupting her entire kitchen.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan "Hmm? Me?" "I suppose it's an old story now. Short version, my parents didn't want me to play knight. Gotta be all prettied up nice and tidy, you see? They're bad with their finance. Like, really bad. Who even hold a party every month? Not even the royal family throw around that much money. They're trying to marry me off to some upstart noble that's trying to establish their position in the high society." "Ain't having none of that, yeah? What kind of life is that? Basically dead inside. Grabbed great-grandpa's sword and left with a few stuff I can pawn off easily. Never looked back." *** "I don't really understand how nobles do such things like that. They are failure as a parents too. I going to outlive them too if that happened to my case. Even commoners are better than that. Anyway... What about now? Do you have any plans after this mission?" Chounan replied.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar sighed almost exasperatedly. He did NOT like the ... Implications... of the girl's choice of words, and felt it needed immediate, but gentle correction. "Hey naow..." he said softly, but slowly. "Ain't nobody gunna be 'of use' 'roun' 'ere. I dunno w'at all's happen'd ta ya lil' miss-- But I only wants one thang from yas, and one thang only." He looked her square in the face, gentle, earnest, but dead serious. "I want ya's ta be yaself-- Knows yaself-- owns yaself-- decides fo' yaself-- and knows what yas likes, dislikes, and wan's fo' yaself. ... ... I kin tells this a big thang ta ask fer. .. .. Dun wurry 'bout it. I kin tells ya ain't ne'er done nut'n like at afore. But I'l be aright---'ats w'at I wants, and all I wants from ya. Nuttin' else. " He gently put a hand on her shoulder, and leaned toward her a little, then tilted his head a little to one side with a soft, but tender expression. "In return, I'll help ya when'er ya needs it-- anyway ya needs it. I's'l teach ya hows ta care fer ya own self. Hows ta protect yaself. How ta treat odder peoples, and hows odder peoples is SUPPOSED ta treat ya. ANYTHANG ya need. Hell-- Ya can live with me if'n ya wanna-- I'd be happy ta have ya 'roun'. But the plan is fer ya to come ta unnerstan' and choose fer yaself, an' be yaself. I don' wan' nuttin' else from ya. Ya dun has ta gimme nuttin', ya don' has ta do nuttin' else fer me. I don' wan' it. I want yas to live a long, happy, an' fullfillin' life, makin' ya own choices, and doin' what makes *YA* happy.--- ... Unnerstan'?" He smiled at her again, and once more the sparkles in his brown eyes glittered at her. "Bein' free ta choose be da birthrigh' of E'ERY thinkin' bein', lil' lady." His head tipped down, and he chuckled. "An 'at include you too." There was a long, pregnant pause. "Naow-- What' ya name?"</s> <|message|>Kaito For a moment Kaito looked around the table. He had sort of expected that Jazdia would have received some flak for bringing in an outsider but that did not seem to have happened. "Ooh, you guys were talking about me? My timing seems to be impeccable. I hope Jazdia has told you guys some good stories about me. Anyway, I'm Kaito. I work for Jazdia." Spoke the fox as he put just a little bit of extra emphasis on the working for Jazdia part. It wasn't that he had problems working for the crown or anything but if some sort of conflict would arise, his loyalty was with the elf. The kitsune looked at the big orc, the doctor and the pale girl that had gathered around. "I'm pretty sure that you're madame Mathilda but from you two I haven't catched your names yet."</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "That's how nobles and monarchs stays in power, yeah? It's all in the blood, and that makes the blood precious commodity. I'm just an outlier that'd throw it all away to do what I want, most people ain't gonna toss aside stability for freedom. Even commoners do marry for convenience, more often than for love. That's the world we're living in." Bowl cleaned and bread consumed, Yvonne licked her lips to savor the last bit of aftertaste from the stew. It was actually real pleasant, she'll probably stop by this place frequently if she somehow ended up active in the area. "After this? I'm a mercenary, bud. I'll spend some of the reward money on a nice little break, then back I go to the next battlefield. Conflict never ends, and with it the coins always flow." She chuckled darkly. "On and on again, until a grave claims me. Or maybe I'll luck out and live long enough to retire, who knows. People dont usually grow old in this profession."</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Kaito "You think Fred is going to send an army without definitive proof that his brat is in Fanghorn? We only got tracks from the location to Fanghorn and barriers blocking our vision. Certainly very suspicious but moving an army against one of your Barons will put all the nobility on edge. Stability of the kingdom vs safety of your son. That's a difficult call." There was still a degree of uncertainty about the prince's location. For a moment he wondered if he could come up with a way to get more definitive proof. Kaito pondered the idea to infiltrate the castle, using his ability to magically disguise himself. But if they had magic barriers to keep prying eyes out, they might have also implemented defenses against his illusion magic. Going in there alone would be taking huge risks. Something he'd rather not do if not entirely necessary. Looking over his shoulder the kitsune noticed that the doctor was following them. Based on what he said Kaito deduced that he had used some form of necromancy to resurrect some forest being in order to finish the bear's druidic magic. Quite an ingenious way of using necromancy he had to admit. Getting rid of all those plants would certainly be a drag for whomever was in that castle. They might just have to get beyond the walls to cut it away by hand or dispel the magic. Suddenly an idea started to form in the fox's head "I have an idea but it is a little bit risky. It will require us to get closer to the castle again but might give us more information then we have now. With all that druidic magic going on outside of the castle and the village, some people have to get beyond the walls to clear it all up. We could try to capture one of them and see if we can get any additional information out of that person."</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Fanghorn-Pesti highway, Kindeance --- "Agreed. Hopefully Cedar also returns. I do not believe August would be too keen on replacing him. Then again, if we require it, there are more than August among my acquaintances." said Solomon. In the brief moment of silence that followed, Solomon pondered what Kaito had said. The purpose of this diverse team was to keep the political factions from knowing of the prince's absence. There was enough pressure to declare war against Meche, so having someone work in the background to secure the prince was ideal. Though their methods thus far had been flashy, there was not much evidence to indicate the crown had any dealing with it. Should an army be sent, then there was no hiding it. And like Kaito said, it would not do well in the political relations internal or otherwise to instigate a civil war. Kaito spoke again, with a plan to help gather more information from Fanghorn Keep, "I have an idea but it is a little bit risky. It will require us to get closer to the castle again but might give us more information then we have now. With all that druidic magic going on outside of the castle and the village, some people have to get beyond the walls to clear it all up. We could try to capture one of them and see if we can get any additional information out of that person." "It is too late for that." said a voice harshly. It was clear, deep, and seemed to have come from below Kaito's feet. Near by, the earth separated as two pairs of horns attached to an elk skull glided across the path leaving a tail of raised dust. Like a crocodile with their head exposed above the water, August had appeared, much sooner than expected. Miraculously, the horses did not seem disturbed by his presence and he even managed to keep up with their pace. Despite the soil parting by his jaw, August spoke again without obstruction, "I was driven away. Some pathetic mandrake attempted to purge me. Just before I left, mana wrenches began murdering the thorns. I would have gone back and buried them all in roots, had I the freedom." there was some contempt in his voice. If it were not for Solomon, he would have leveled the fort. Even with the spell caster and his purge undead spell, August would have seen to its destruction. At times, Solomon's compassion, if it could be called that, was a real thorn in August's side. But still, he owed much to him for his second chances. "They are more focused on the bridge it seems. They left the southern gate free to thrive. They'll bottle neck themselves by sunrise." August's voice calmed down as he finished his report. "In the mean time, I shall join you towards Pesti."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Yvonne glanced at the mercenaries trying their best to pen her in. Then her sight flickered toward Chounan, much in the same situation on the other side. The heat from the fire baked at her back, contrasting the cold plate of Matilda's armor in her grasp. She sighed. Oh well, one last attempt, then it's mass murder. She let the orc captain go, as gently as it's reasonably possible under the circumstances. Then, mace in hand, she charged into the enemy ranks. A few spears were thrusted in response, a very textbook maneuver, but their timing and reach were mismatched. Drilled and experienced in combat, but mostly not quite veteran yet. Come to think of it, now that the fire brought some extra illumination, most were young faces. Maybe this will work after all. Judging the distance, Yvonne halted and built up her inner strength as she swatted the spear that extended furthest. It didn't break but was ripped out of the wielder's grasp with a yelp of pain, the return swing repeated the feat on another. The spears flew in an arc to clonk the people around, a moment of chaos that she perfectly utilize to tear through into their ranks. A different power built up in her lungs as Yvonne howled, an inhumanely loud cacophony closer to a beast than a human. The effect was immediate, the mercenaries seized in sudden terror before almost at once they turned tail and fled. "I'LL RIP YOUR ARMS OFF AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH IT, MOTHERFUCKERS!" Some shook off the effect sooner than others, but the sight of their companions fleeing (and the threat they're hearing right behind them) kept the rout going strong. Most of them stumbled on the fence, but it wasn't built to keep humans out. Within moments they climbed over and vanished from sight, leaving terrified screams behind. That was easy, for once. Stretching her arms, Yvonne went off for a repeat performance to relieve Chounan before finally managing to drag Matilda into relative safety. ***** Several minutes later, the communication device on Jazdia buzzed for attention as the paired device reestablished connection. "Is this bloody thing working? Hello? Oh finally! Whoever designed this need to get a spanking, I swear." Yvonne's voice could be heard from it, somewhat distorted and a bit high-pitched in a way that resembled a chipmunk but at least it's connecting. "Short version, it all went to shit. I think Matilda got a face-full of explosives, she's got shrapnel all over. Currently unconscious again, but she got some scrying orders out to missus Verny here. Supposedly prince's in Fanghorn. For sure this time. Small fort on a hill, there's stone wall, village attached next to it, in view of the river yeah? He's in the garret up there. What to do now, boss?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "So it is either they are not really aware of what happened in Pesti, or simply trying to keep us out of their city..." There was a powerful mage warding the entire place. That explained the curtain and anti-scrying magic deployed in Fanghorn. Once again the unconventional agent had proven his worth. Unlike Matilda and-- When Jazdia busied herself contemplating a certain orc captain, she heard a ping on her communication device. Huh, it seemed the commpass was not as damaged as she had imagined. "Yes, come in!" At first, it was a distorted voice akin to a dying chipmunk. "Is this-- yiikk working? Hello? ---- wiikkk yiikkkkHello? ----" "I cannot hear you. Grip the device tightly then speak." Oh finally! Whoever designed this need to get a spanking, I swear." Oh, she would be more than happy to deliver the feedback on this obsolete piece of junk to Old Man Anderson himself just for the fun of it. But that could wait. "Cut the chatter, Miss Yvonne. What's happening over there?" "Short version, it all went to shit. I think Matilda got a face-full of explosives, she's got shrapnel all over." "Is she dead? Currently unconscious again, but she got some scrying orders out to missus Verny here. Supposedly prince's in Fanghorn. For sure this time. Small fort on a hill, there's stone wall, village attached next to it, in view of the river yeah? He's in the garret up there. "The description matches, yes. What to do now, boss?" "First is to make sure you are clear to move out from Pesti. How is the situation over there? How many of them you are dealing with, and who are they? The prince can wait. We are currently on our way to provide you with some assistance."</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Uncanning Matilda was surprisingly easier than expected. Some of the screws were tightened beyond normal means to remove, but a bit of extra juice and it twisted out just fine. Then it's a matter of removing the plates off the orc. Some part didn't look pretty of course, and by that Yvonne meant the mounted crossbow, but eh. Mattie will not have any problem getting replacement. "Kindean mercenaries, they're paid to guard the mysterious cargo by a shell company. Their leader was caught in the explosion, and unfortunately he didn't have plate armor to protect himself. We scattered the rest of the company, about twenty or so. Amateurs, got no armor and a few weapons. Dont think they'll rally but who knows, I'd rather not stick around." Now that their situation was reversed, it's not impossible for a strike from the dark to inflict damage in a moment of carelessness. Even with Verny's darksight. "Say, if you're coming here maybe get the cart we hid earlier? Ain't no way to move Mattie on a horse. Ah, would be great if our bear can leg it faster too."</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar blinked in confusion as he landed on .. ... something? ... wearing kinderance parade armor. It's head was a glowing orb of mysterious animated fire, and it smelled like something long dead. The implication that this was one of Solomon's abominations danced across his mind riding the scent like a dance partner in a rapid 2-step routine. "Ya wan' summa dat? He harder'n he looks." He asked cheekily of the newcomer, who responded only with the impression of a 'smile' within the burning radiance that was the 'head', and a deep menacing chuckle. Cedar 'smiled' back, a rather frightful display of jagged and sharp ivory teeth that could easily have been mistaken for a snarl if not for the sparkling of his eyes and the alert and forward posture of his ears. "Heave-Ho fella!" He chortled, grasping the abomination by the bottom of the breast plate and a pauldron, then 'lance throwing' the creature right into Ragnar the Red's arrogant visage. He quickly looked around the room to see where he was now. The mysterious brute of a man had flung him near the door leading in, which was conveniently behind the false wall, and a short distance to the window. The table was a mess, but several of the beverage ewers were still standing. A man dressed like he shopped at the same store as Flo's brother, and nearly as old as his dad came tottering into view. He had learned from experience with his dad that appearances were deceiving when it came to the 'pulpiness' of such features. Sure, Vanquis was pretty spongy, but his old man was anything but. (Though the latter would only wear a getup like that around the house as lounge-wear.) The obviousness of his being a magician registered a split-second later. "Got a crooked ol' conjuror inna room!" he growled, hurriedly casting the well practiced spell to retune his senses to detect magic, while darting for the red linen curtains draped over the tiny window.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Well, and here she thought both were on equal footing. After some dramatic lifting, the bear was thrown away like a potato sack and collided with a summonsed undead that Solomon had conjured from God knows when. The specter's reaction to his summoning was equally boastful, befitting his masculine voice and a full set of armor. Knight in... err ghostly armor? Good thing he didn't seem as difficult as his mannerism suggest. --until Cedar grab the guy and avenged the throw-away he received earlier to an unrelated bystander. Well, at least it closes the gap between them. Jazdia did not have enough attention to see the aftermath of their little game of undead ping-pong, her eyes caught a silhouette of an elderly man entering the room. "Got a crooked ol' conjuror inna room!" "Yeah, I can see that." Like the previous unexpected guests, this particular wizard pranced into the battlefield with an equally prideful boast as his big lackey was. Only less swaggering and more pompous. A quick ultravision on that wizard revealed a copious amount of magical nodes, probably coming from artifacts with unknown properties. As for Ragnar, the magical aura was more uniform and intense. So that explained his immense durability. Even when having one of his legs bent like a crooked branch, the man didn't seem bothered. The arrow was still lodging there, and she had imagined its glowing head would burn inside the man's neck-- cauterizing the wound. Wait.. did she miss his jugular? Or was the enchantment so sophisticated it was able to ignore physics? The fatigue in her eyes did not allow Jazdia to activate her ultravision right now, unless if she was willing to pay the price. Didn't matter! The enemy was here, and she had enough power to demolish the entire tower if she needs to. Drawing another fully enchanted arrow, Jazdia aimed at the wizard. "Hold it right there, not one incantation or you will see hell! You don't want me to be your enemy!" And there she was, joining the trend involving conspicuous remarks and prideful one-liners.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito smiled as he saw how Yvonne sended the big dude flying. The fox was still hidden well within the illusionary fake walls and the giant advisory did not seem to be able to see through the illusions at all. However his insane durability was certainly a drag. Even having its leg torn and an arrow in his neck did not seem to bother the guy at all. He either was some weird creature or greatly enhanced by magic. However, judging from the fact that he did not even seem to notice the illusions and utter lack of other magical properties displayed, the kitsune deduced that the enhancements would likely come from some external source, like that wizard that just entered the room. Jazdia seemed to be in a talkative mood, considering that she did not immediately put an arrow through the white bearded man's head. However Kaito did not share his boss's judgment regarding not immediately ending the old man's life. In the fox's book, wizards are a drag as they often have ways to mitigate his illusions. Unlike the big beefy dude, the Kitsune considered the old man a serious threat. Suddenly four Kaito's came rushing out of the fake illusionary walls, attacking the old man from four different directions. Three of them were illusionary. The first illusion came in from the left and went for the wizard's head. The second illusion came in from behind and stabbed towards the heart. The last illusion came in from the front with an attack towards the throat. All these illusions had one purpose, to draw the man's defenses away from the real target that Kaito was going for. As the fox rushed forwards, drew his sword and in one smooth motion slashed towards the hand holding the staff in an attempt to cut it clean off.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "There's no need to be uncouth now, is there?" Asevor scoffed dismissively at the bear, his attention diminishing as other, more pressing matters presented themselves. That one's... not bad, for a hedge mage, but nowhere near enough for a mage of his caliber to take on seriously. Next, the elf. A smidgen more polite, this one, in the gruff soldiery-type ways. Brimming with magic too, shame that she took the martial path. Well, no matter. It's only proper to reply, for communication was the sign of civilized men. Even if they're still going to try kill each other the very next moment. "Unfortunately my honor cannot allow me to comply with that, eternal one. So let's do our best and see who comes on top, shall we?" Grey eyes flickered toward the latest addition, the disdain almost palpable as eye contacts was established with the original Kaito. The free hand extended, dismissively flicking in the fox's direction akin to shooing a persistent fly. "I dislike interruptions." A plain grey ring lit, forming a relatively simple tesselated pattern that erupted with pure force - throwing Kaito back, the sensation akin to getting punched by air turned solid. On the other side, Ragnar met the thrown Tempest with a wild bellow of laughter even as the battleaxe bit deep into a muscled arm. Little droplets of blood sprayed from the impact, way too little for a wound that went deep enough to reach bone. The two bruisers clashed there, the man steadily overpowering the undead, hint of crimson slowly tinting the air around him. "Must I do everything around here?" A leatherbound book floated out of an inner pocket, hovering in front of Asevor as the pages flipped rapidly. The arrow was shot, yet as it neared the trajectory swerved wildly before impacting the floor a few feet in front of the elderly mage. Another arrow from the vampiress fell to the same fate, clattering powerlessly onto the stone floor. Unconcerned by the projectiles, he traced multiple times to form a glowing tesseract that shot and merged into Ragnar's being. "Gaster's Mandate of Impetuous Strife should fit someone like you, now do your job. And try not to maul the baron in the process, he still have his uses." He didn't even finished the sentence when the balance broke, the northlander momentarily blurred before punching Bartholomew hard enough to dent his chest plate. Yvonne's attempted to attack the brute while he's busy, but her strike went astray and missed the heart from the sudden burst of speed. A backhand caught her before she fully retreated, the woman bounced twice over before managing to kill the momentum. "I feel POWERFUL! Where have you been all my life, old man? Gahahahahaha!" Pearls of blood floated in the gash of Ragnar's arm, slowly pulling itself together until only a jagged red line was visible. Shin broken inward, an arrow in his neck, and a sword sticking into his back and out of the front, he's completely unfazed as he stomped forward to pummel the Tempest some more. To Cedar's newfound detection, the two figures glowed brightly with magic albeit at different form. The brute of a man was a self-contained cycle of vigorous energy, the sheer amount of mana coursing through him only a fraction weaker than the old man beside. It pulsed alongside the heartbeat, the injured spots slightly brighter than the rest as the magic slowly leaked out of those pinpoint locations. The buff from the old mage ran like electric current within Ragnar's stream of energy, a simple yet effective method to boost his already heightened physical capabilities. Meanwhile, Asevor was like a deep well that kept his magic inward, only a few tendrils connected to the various bright stars of enchanted objects that he wore - a ring on each finger, three different necklaces, the book, and finally the cane being the brightest of the lot. Another tendril temporarily snaked out of his fingers as he traced the tesseract before the pool stilled again, the old man in near-perfect control of his magical side.</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "Gah- ow! Godspit, now I'm pissed off!" Everything hurts, and Yvonne gained a newfound hatred toward wizards. She had squared up with Ragnar before. Several times. Bastard was resilient as a cockroach, but he's not quite that powerful. Or fast. Yeah, normal people wouldn't stand a chance, but she ain't exactly normal. She's perfectly capable of overpowering him for a few moment, usually enough to land a crippling blow before disengaging. Crippling enough that even some new conscripts would have no issue staying away from his grubby hands. "Can anyone cut off his leg? Stab him through the heart maybe? That'll slow him down quite a bit." She could hardly believe the words coming out of her own mouth, but that's the plain unpleasant truth. "Or cave his head in, if you can. That's the only part the bastard ever bothered to protect." Scrambling to her feet, Yvonne wiped the blood going down her eyes as she reached for the decorative weapon rack. The... billhook will do just fine. It's actually quite well-made, if looking old. Probably older than her, if she had to hazard a guess. It'll work just fine. Hopefully.</s>

<|description|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Species: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Appearance: Shorter than average, dark hair, somewhat sun-kissed skin from outdoor activity, and way less scars than one would've expect. Usually clad in mail hauberk adorned with pieces of banners from felled foes (or a pretty dress, at rarer occasion), and always with at least one weapon in her person. Bio: When Yvonne was born she's the only child to the opulent but very much declining house Rosenving, it took less than two more decades of ridiculous parties and all-around bad financial management before it was driven to the verge of bankruptcy. Naturally there comes the talk of marriage upon which Yvonne, an oddball obsessed with distinctly unladylike things like driving the business end of a weapon into someone's soft flesh, all but absconded with her great-grandfather's blade. The rest of her life was spent in a wild ride of mercenary work and avoiding (more commonly, well, thoroughly violencing) the men hired by her family and/or her would-be fiance to bring her back. Her journey brought her all round the three kingdoms and more, even after her ancestral home collapsed and pursuers stopped coming. Invited by promise of great reward and, among other thing, to try save the little henchman boy that used to follow her around (yes, that would be the prince), and the fact that she happen to be lurking around the border already, Yvonne stepped back toward the royal court of Kindeance once more. Skillset: Well versed in outdoor survival, knack for murder and violence, oddly high spatial awareness, dancing, easily thrives in chaotic situation, very good at intimidation, weaves pretty dang well, and is proficient using common melee weapons. Personally prefers the mace despite her title. Spells: -Mansplitter (Self-buff. Gain inhuman strength for a very short period. The stronger the effect, the greater the backlash.) -Warcry (AoE debuff. Inflict terror in a wide area. Greater effect on closer target, and greater effect on direction Yvonne is facing.) -Bloodlust (Passive. Haste, pain tolerance, and resistance to mental effect. Starts off weak but ramps up as the fight goes on.) -Resilience (Passive. Harder to injure, less affected by existing injuries, and heals a lot faster than normal at the cost of increased calorie usage.) Equipment: Daily necessities (preserved rations, a tin pot, medical supply, knapping, change of clothes, etc), adorned mail hauberk, the sword her great-grandfather wielded that probably never saw use since then until it landed in her hands, a heavy flanged mace, a rondel dagger. Other: Can be inserted to the plot any time it's convenient (or fun) to do so.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Fanghorn, Kindeance --- It was much quieter up at the second floor. The faint sound of combat and further explosions shook the floor beneath Solomon was evidence enough. Dust scattered down from the ceiling and wafted in the air through the beams of sunlight from the near window. The room was obviously some kind of bed chamber, probably the baron's with how well furnished it was, with rugs and tapestries, and a large bed. After a quick look around, and finding the room empty, he noticed a magical box on the nearby table. It rested with runes glowing over its surface. What magic was contained inside Solomon wasn't sure. However, he did deem it best that the inhabitants of the keep not have access to it, with swift movement, Solomon tucked the box away. Now, as to his current mission to locate the prince. He held out his hand as another stream of energy radiated from the large tome near his back. It streamed in ribbons of silver and black mist culminating within his palm before dispersing into the air, as opposed to that of the ground. Slowly a white aura appear and then formed into the figure of a hideous woman. She was without legs, had long arms that ended in frail looking but lethal claws. Her skin held tightly to bone in form, warts and lashes about her angled face. Hair like static frilled all around, flowing general behind her head. Tattered dress with shredded frills around the hem covered her figure. She cackled before her eyes went wide and the form diminished back into a misshapen mass of ethereal ectoplasm and reconstituting into that of a child. An unassuming child in leggings, traveling vest, and short skirt entirely white with as her skin, the scenery behind visible through her form. She levitated inches above the ground, however her feet remained flat like she was standing on a flat surface. "Violet." "I know." She said softly. She looked up at the necromancer through the shadow of his hood. "I'll help find him." The ghost of a little girl then disappeared. Violet was more or less a ghost for the purposes of what Solomon was doing. Freely able to travel through walls much like a shadow, Violet was able to do so completely invisible even if her movement was considerably slower. Likewise, she held more power within herself, hopefully able to better withstand the purge spell Solomon felt earlier. No wonder his shadows were so easily dismissed. Likewise, his skeletons were probably also gone. For now, it was him, his tempest, Bartholomew, and Violet. For now at least, it would be her and he searching room to room. Violet would head to the third floor while Solomon would remain at the second. Finished with his plan, Solomon once again became incorporeal and traveled through the door out into the hall. At the same time, he called upon the two shadows still on standby near August and also had them come to the keep. Should Asevor cast another purge, they would cease to be, but the more eyes within the keep the better. The quicker he could find the prince, the quicker he could evacuate him and return to aid his allies. As it stood, the battle quieted down, but Solomon doubted that meant the fight had ended. Though weak, he could still feel Bartholomew, and his fighting spirit was still burning. Speaking of the tempest Bartholomew, the purge spell had done a number on his already failing structural integrity. The flame upon his head diminished in luminosity, no longer burning white, but instead a cooler deep red in color. In no time, he was bent in half, collapsed to the ground, and shortly after used as a flail. As it was, he was not much use, but as he was caught in the vines, he reached out with his free hand and attempted to pull himself from Ragnar, should the redirect not free him. He was prepared for even if it meant losing the arm he was being swung by. Even without his legs and potentially missing an arm, Bartholomew would not give in, yet. If it was possible, he would swing himself using any remaining vines roots above and body slam the barbarian.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Well now this was quite the pickle. Six of the mercenaries had perished, and just as many lost limbs in the short altercation. The baron, too, was part of the casualties. Asevor clicked his tongue in annoyance, that one death meant he no longer did the perfect job. And Antigone wasn't even present! By all right there's no mage that could match him in the surrounding area, yet they snuck a low blow on him regardless. Unacceptable. "Bah, give a druid a moment and- Quit yammering, this is nothing." As the magical bulwark was overlaid with vines, it darkened inside until the only source of light was the tesseract Asevor was constructing. The distraught mercenaries stopped their hushed whispers at the order, though the death and dismemberment half their rank just experienced had rendered their morale wavering they still had enough trust on the archmage's prowess. For now, at least. It took some time to construct this one, the elderly mage needing to consult his notebook multiple times in the process. He couldn't see what's going on outside, what's with the vines physically and magically hindering the sight, but it's quite unlikely for his foes to have blown the door open. The clean up wouldn't be pretty, but this particular surprise wasn't an easy one to defend against. Tracing the final line into a vaguely serpentine abstract shape, Asevor pushed out the magical construct as it phased through the barrier and emerged outside. "Caustic Cloud of Ruzpin." A few moment earlier, Ragnar's swing of the makeshift bludgeon was interrupted by the vines. It missed, the excess force separating the Tempest at the elbow joint. Bartholomew's attempt to swing back, meanwhile, also failed just as hard as the vines weren't made to support the still significant momentum of steel plates. The root came off the wall, the undead clattering back down on the floor. At least he's away from Ragnar at the moment. The northlander wasn't having a good time either. He abruptly realized that the electrifying current within his blood had dissipated, rendering him only as strong as he normally would. He stepped back again, this time picking up a chair for a weapon, but the experienced combatants wouldn't miss this chance. A few probes and they confirmed that the magical power-up had ran its course. Yvonne hooked the chair before dragging it down, making enough opening for Chounan to slash through an eye while Veronica landed a deep gash through the neck. There seemed to be some tug-of-war as the blood was pulled between the weapon and the juggernaut's veins, but in the end a glob was split off as the scythe greedily drank the crimson essence. At that time, the glowing tesseract emerged from the shell. Veronica's eyes widen before it even took effect, stopping her assault to shout at the rest of her team. "Acid fog incoming! We need to get out of here!" ***** Not far away, Solomon's search would find some more rooms. The presumably heirs' rooms were empty and seemingly unlived for some time, though it's kept clean and spotless still. There's a few guest rooms, empty save for one - it had a number of magical wards enclosing the entire room, Asevor's mana signature littered all over the formation. These weren't meant to be particularly strong, but enough that it'll take some effort to physically dismantle. Magical intrusion still would met some resistance, though not as severe, yet the biggest issue was that any trespassing attempt would've alerted Asevor of the fact. The third floor was a rather clear split. About a third of it were servants' quarters and kitchen and whatnot, currently filled with cowering peasants unsure of what's going on with a number of them sporting injuries. The rest of it seemed to be where the mercenaries were housed, enough bedding for fifty men yet currently completely empty. A stairs up led to the battlement, the door leading up locked tight.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" The bearman stopped dead in his tracks as the glowing tessaract emerged from the vine encased barrier, then bloomed into a slowly spreading vapor that clung in the air. More unbidden, but potentially useful memories drifted through his head then back out again. He and his dad had been trying to contain and reclaim the 'fungally overgrown' section of their home forest. His dad had warned him about the dangers of inhaling mists and particles, but had offered him one of his shirts, which he had plunked in the nearby stream. "Don' breath 'at shi' in boy" he had said, while extending the wetted shirt. "Wrap dis 'round ya head, an' breaths through 'at." The memory left as quickly as it came. The ominous cloud of mist continued to slowly rise into the room, causing the leaves on the vines to wilt almost on contact. He DEFINITELY did not want to breathe that in. The pulled down curtain adorned the floor under his feet, which he quickly snatched up before scanning the room for something to wet it with. The elf woman's antics with the table had toppled all of the remaining drink decanters onto the floor rendering them useless for the task at hand. He needed something to wet it with, and soon-- As he hurriedly scanned the room, the realization that he had not gone to the little bear's room since Hdur came home to roost. He did not like the idea at all, but it was all he had to work with. Drawing and huffing an irritated breath, he hiked up the front of his robes, shoved the brilliant red curtain into place with one hand, leaned against the wall with the other, then relieved himself of the fluid fraction of the stew he had ate the previous day, until the curtain was sopping wet, and the pungent odor of "male bear" hit his nose-- which wrinkled at the prospect of what had to come next. He gave the wad of cloth a momentary queeze to distribute the 'moisture' evenly, paused half a moment, then draped the odorous rag over himself as if it were a table cloth, and he a table. The only thing he could see was red fabric, and the scent of "his own brand" dominated his offended nose. He growled, then turned toward the barred entrance door, and began to body slam it.</s>

<|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Acid? Godspit. Yvonne had seen what a magically conjured glob of those could do to flesh, she wasn't about to linger around and find out how painful exactly it was to quite literally melt off your own bones. There were two exits. One's at the other side, beyond the damnable mage's barrier and out of reach. The other was the entrance that was locked earlier. Would it be easier to break the windows? No, those were all stone and way too narrow. The entrance, then. "Someone hold back Ragnar, go!" Disengaging, the mercenary's eyes locked on the heavy axe forgotten in the corner. To think that it's useful now, huh? She picked it up, grimacing at the sheer weight of the weapon and the insanity of someone who crafted the whole damned thing out of metal, but that's a boon now. The door was at least two inches thick, regular axe just wouldn't make it. With an angry yell, Yvonne tapped into her inner strength as she swung the axe with as much force as she could. Over and over. Then Cedar came barelling with his bulk, the two taking turn axing and slamming to the stupidly sturdy door. Will they make it? Yvonne didn't quite felt like turning back to look.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri was simply there by the stables, sitting on the barrel he carried to there, a mere three feet next to someone's horse. He might've came here too early. He exhaled. It bored him. There was an odd lack of a stableworker today, either. Alright then, might as well do something. With the town on edge during the recent events, it was oddly quiet in these stables while he embarked in the throes of cleaning this eternally unused water barrel. His telekinesis could only keep up appearances, he needed actual water. Well, he could also use telekinesis on the water, creating a localized cyclone inside the water barrel. He then dumped the dirty water out, and rinsed it again. Nicely done. Now, for the sprinkling system... It has to be something large enough for Ceddy's paw hands to just pull up, and a diligent spray of water would pour out on the side. Henri began to carve a large rectangular shape out of the side of the barrel, then filled the carved side with steel which he then poked small two-millimeter holes onto at the lower half, alternating to form diamonds if connected. Then, he added a frame outward that would tightly hold another sheet of metal only one-third as long as the first one. This sheet can be moved up or down to seal the watering holes. Then, the last thing is to attach a small hoop to the sheet to tie a long leather rope onto, and tying the other end of it to a smooth metal ring to pull easily from the shoulder. A few more checks to see if the external sheet slides smoothly, then filling up the water barrel to make sure water stays in when closed. Pulling the sheet up creates multiple tiny streams of water, much like a watering can. Amazing. After that exciting ordeal, he's back to simply sitting on the water barrel, now with a pony harness by his feet and a Scroll of Arcane Bolts in his hand. It would seem hasty and prone to misshaping if Henri were to turn this pony harness into a backpack sling for this Ceddy, as he knows not of his measurements and might build it too small. For now, he focused on studying this scroll, which if he guessed at the mechanics, should be as simple as pooling your mana at a spot and hurling its condensed form at your enemies... He wouldn't know until he tried, though. It's not safe to test this scroll in this area. Jazdia, huh... Where has he heard that name before? It's quite the unique name, but he couldn't pinpoint from where.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark 2:10 P.M. Rascade city outskirt, Kingdom of Kindeance. Once a bustling hub of commerce, this town was now rarely seen by outsiders. The rumor of imminent war and their recent policy to tighten their border control had made most people steer clear. No longer merchant flocks and the ship docks in their street and harbor, causing the economy to stall considerably. People didn't seem to be troubled by it, however. Maybe because the lockdown was just announced five days ago and a dent in the kingdom's economy was barely felt. With the help of the swordmaster Chounan guiding them through the city maze and alleys, the trio finally arrived at the... less sophisticated part of the city. A ghetto if you may, but don't let the average citizen hear you saying that. Those Nouveau Riche would gasp in horror before telling you that you are an imbecile and there was no such thing in this prosperous city. The others, however, would nod to that notion and blame that on the influx of immigrants from their neighbor Meche who then formed their own destitute community, giving a stain on the face of their great city. With discrimination and prejudice becoming more rampant these days, who could really blame them? Their destination was a very busy middle-class tavern named The Black Swan. Which, based on Jazdia's analytic mind, had positioned itself cleverly on the market. As long as they have thirst and coin, everyone was welcomed, from nobles to paupers, immigrants, travelers, and natives alike. And while this gave a sense of inclusivity, it systematically encourage its patrons to flaunt their wealth for everyone to see. Really, it was not showing off if you couldn't rub it in someone's face, and this tavern facilitated you to go wild with your petty ego. Still, it was a tavern. Information circulates as much as coins and drinks. Coins lure all kinds of people including those with dishonest hearts and scheming minds who sedulously taking the advantage of the addling nature of liquors, which needless to say didn't mix very well with one's financial acumen. Sauntering through its main hall, Jazdia fixed her sight on a room with decorated walls located on a slightly elevated floor. The so-called VIP area, reserved exclusively for those with a more prominent background they even had a well-dressed bouncer guarding the entrance. The bouncer, to their surprise, immediately welcomed them upon seeing the expensive (and gaudy) armor Chounan was wearing. Jazdia didn't even need her power to find what she was looking for. The table in the middle of the room was so loud it attracted the attention of the other patrons. There were four men, three gentlemen were obviously nobles, and the person who was shuffling the cards was an ancient being wearing heavy illusion makeup from head to toe to make himself look like a whimsical noble boy in his late teens. As the coins piled up and another round began, the noblemen watched with sneer and anticipation. Jazdia approached the table. A foul game was at play and the victim would be these three seemingly obnoxious aristocratic gentlemen. She was rather undecided if she should intervene. Placing her hand between two invisible fox ears, the elf decided that she just need some fluff to ruffle. Whatever happened next was up to chance... as any gambling should. "Are ya winning, son?"</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito was so focussed on playing his victims that he did not notice the three people closing in from behind. It was only in the moment that Jazdia put her hand on his head that the kitsune noticed the presence of that elf. Just hearing her voice sends shivers down his spine and for a moment Kaito loses his concentration on his elaborate web of illusions revealing his fluffy fox tail for just a split second. Although the kitsune was sure that the men across the table would not notice, the two friends of Jazdia's might. Kaito always felt a certain tension, nervousness when Jazdia was around. Maybe it was because she had the ability to see right through his illusions or maybe it was her piercing gaze that seemed to go right through to the darkest depths of your soul. Seeing those bits of you that you desperately hide far away while convincing yourself that it isn't there. He couldn't put his finger on what it was but the Kitsune knew one thing for sure, the elf knew how he felt and she was thoroughly enjoying it. It took a few seconds before he regained his composure and turned his head towards Jazdia. With a bit of an annoyed look on his face he spoke "I see you still carry the same attitude towards proper etiquette, miss.... Sparky" Not that he had expected anything different from her. If Kaito had learned one thing about Jazdia since their first encounter, it was her absolute lack of respect for any form of authority and etiquette. She would even refuse to bow in front of the gods themselves. A character trait that Kaito certainly appreciated. "Anyway, I certainly hope that I am going to win. I betted a fair deal of money on this game and don't want to explain to my father why our families coffers have shrunk a bit today. But since you're here, it is safe to assume that my presence is required at the estate, right?" Spoke Kaito as he pretended that the elf was some sort of servant of his noble house. He was sure she would understand that he was dragging her into his web of lies and could only hope that Jazdia would play along. The three men at the other side of the table were flabbergasted about the exchange. In their perception Kaito was a young nobleman that should have been addressed by a servant with the proper respect. What the elf had shown was utter contempt about etiquette to the point that a proper punishment would be in place. Yet the young master let her get off easy. The kitsune turned towards his victims again. With Jazdia here, he knew he had to wrap things up quickly. Her visits always meant business and you never knew what was cooking in her head. The pretty elf might intervene if he made her wait too long. Not to mention that she had brought two friends. Must be serious business. "Gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption. It appears that there is some business that requires my presence. This will be the final round for today. Anyone want to raise their bets?" With much anticipation the three men stared at Kaito. All were waiting for the final card to be drawn and placed open on the table. All had strong hands and were confident that they had a good chance of winning. Not to mention there was a good deal of money at stake. The kitsune slowly picked the card from the deck and placed it face down on the table. He quickly looked at the three men who all tensed up. Then Kaito revealed the card. Lord Baltimore jumped up from his seat and slammed his cards on the table in the most un-lordy fashion possible. "Go beat that!" he shouted in excitement as he revealed the second strongest combination of cards possible in the game. The two others looked at the cards that were revealed on the table and then to their own hands. The excitement drained from their face, making room for frustration. A few annoyed growls could be heard as mister Ridgeway and mister Conway accepted their defeats. Lord Baltimore was about to grab the pile of gold coins when he realized that Kaito had not yet revealed his cards. All three men turned their heads towards the kitsune who sat there just silently with a straight face. "no, you're not going to tell me that you have a royal straight, right?" spoke lord Baltimore. Then Kaito revealed his hand, card by card until a royal straight, the strongest combination of cards was laid out in front of him.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" On the way out Yvonne collected the belongings she handed over earlier, finally feeling adequately protected with the weight of weapons in their holster. She had to modify her appearance a bit, removing the multicolored adornment to leave the hauberk plain. The riveted mail wasn't exactly a common thing due to how pricy it was, but still plentiful enough among the more well-off soldier and mercenary that it wouldn't draw much attention. The heirloom sword wasn't adorned much in the first place, wrapping some rag on the handle was enough to conceal it as a standard arming sword. Everything else can be find in any decently large armoury, thus was of no issue to wear in the open. Their de-facto leader brought them to one of the better inn in the city, pricy enough to bar the less savory (or the destitute) while still affordable enough to see plentiful traffic. Off to the side room she followed, past several gamblers toward the one that probably had more wealth staked than the rest of the room combined. There's a flash of furry ears and fluffy tail, but all it earned was a raised eyebrow from the mercenary. Far from her to point it out for no one's benefit. She had an inkling of what this man was worth to them, if it's even a man under the glamour. Yvonne wasn't unfamiliar with the type, always seems to have a pair of extra ears whenever something interesting occured. Jazdia's contact, then? For the most part Yvonne kept quiet, though upon the grand reveal she had to struggle from cracking a grin. Now that's a hedged deck if she ever saw one. Dunno how it's arranged, but the odds of just one good hand was rare enough - much less four in the same round, and right at the closing game with the highest stake? If someone tried something like that in a low-end tavern they'd get knifed within the hour. Sometimes right then and there, by the outraged players. Nothing that helped the investigation so far, but at least Yvonne got a new nickname for the elf. Sparky rings so much better than Blondie.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was still feeling anxious about having at least some kind of seeds to work with, while he and Mme. Matilda walked to the stables. The stench of the city was overpowering, and the stable did not smell much prettier. At least both were better than the dungeons, he crossly thought to himself-- but it didn't really help much. He would be very glad once they were out of the city-- Not only would the smell be significantly less, but the risk of his being seen and causing rumor (and maybe panic-- He'd noted that humans sometimes became uncontrollably afraid upon seeing him for the first time) would also be substantially less. Maybe there would be an opportunity to get really, truly, and properly clean too? He really hoped it would pan out-- the lingering reek of the dungeon clung to him like a fat bloated tick. Sure, the others probably couldn't smell it, but human noses were next to useless-- he knew he stank like the dungeon, and the stink was not a good one. After more hurried shuffles through back alleys and side streets, they came to the stables at long last.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne stared with bafflement as the elf seemingly reached in and took out a broken arrow from the hedge as if she knew that it was there from the get go. What. How. The mercenary scratched behind her ears, still having a little bit of decency left to look sheepish at her failure. "How'd you even- nevermind." She shook her head, more than willing to put that little hiccup behind. "Arrows shot from a longbow would punch into a standard shield. Wouldn't put it past Mattie to wield a slab of iron, but this should be a ceremonial event." Glancing around to take in the surrounding, Yvonne visualized where would one be if they were to stage an ambush. Not much spots, and what's available weren't that good, but passable. "Distance isn't an issue, I know men that could pull trick shots with longbows. They just need an elevated vantage points... I'd put archers on top of the mausoleum if I have the time, but otherwise they'll just need to scramble on top of the tombstones." Definitely not a common skillset, but training someone to perform archery under high pressure wasn't exactly a difficult prospect. Time-consuming, yes, but not difficult. She'd wager that horseback shooting was higher on the difficulty ceiling.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Royal Hunting Forest, Kindeance --- The longer Solomon remained at the forest, uncovering what the guards already knew. It is true that some time had passed between the incident and now. Perhaps it was enough for the scents to fade even for Cedar. Yet, with much of the evidence from the intrepid attack still present, the golden apple of progress lay just beyond the reach of the investigators. Solomon felt out of his element, as neither the injured nor the dead were present anymore. That possibility was one of the main reasons he continued. Since they had since been removed, buried, and not available, Solomon pondered different methods of uncovering the true trail. "It was an idea. Not a popular one in more ways than one it seems." said Solomon, dropping the idea of involving the horses, living or dead. The only true clue they had was Cedar eliminating the red herring trails in favor of the one lead by blood. A promising lead, but in the time it took for them to lead, that trail would only go so far. At least it could lead to a direction and maybe down a road. At least there, Solomon could direct the group the likely towns. Another clue surfaced with Matilda recognizing the arrows Henri had collected. So far the arrows were the only thing the abductors left behind. Made in Rorthgaard. Solomon had been there several times, the smith Matilda had mentioned wasn't world renown, but for the many who knew of him, his work was unmistakable. However, the village was only a few miles away. It would take a horse less than an hour to travel that distance, even if they rode straight avoiding the roads. At best, the information there would confirm the assassins may have passed through. Unless the bloodied trail led that way, it was best if Anderson's men looked into it. Solomon looked over the map Anderson had presented. His trackers had covered an extensive amount of ground, but there were still a couple paths left unchecked. "You managed to investigate half of them it seems. It may be too late to gather anything useful from the other trails at this rate. You have the arrows from Rorthgaard, a potential enemy informant at the castle, and the bloodied trail, which Cedar could lead us through. If its manpower you need, I can provide, as so long as it's not a technical skill you require. Otherwise, I don't see much more usefulness staying in the forest itself."</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" "I dun' need anythung as smells like em' dipshits-- i's the dogs as needs at--- Yas can fin' a splotch er two o'er yonder... Not that yas can see it 'spose... If'n ya wants ta track the idjiots as napped the boy, I keen help with tellin' the dogs-- but I's agrees with the funny white man on thisa one." Cedar rumbled. "If'n we split up, we's can cover more ground. Miss Matilda keen take the doctor an' Mr Anderson an his dogs to chase down the idjiots-- This feller an' me can go track down the missin' horses. We kin catch up la'er." Cedar paused for a moment, as if contemplating an impossible task, before attempting to emulate Anderson's whistle, and failing miserably. He tried again several times. "Gull-darnit-- Mr Anderson, kin ya call the boys o'er agin? I ain't ne'er been able ta do 'at... --On accounta muh mouth looks like 'is-" Cedar pointed to his face then opened his mouth wide, revealing a rather frightening compliment of very sharp, meat tearing teeth with gaps between them where they would meet when closed. There were differences with what a keen observer would identify as being 'properly bear'-- false molar surfaces lined the insides of the last 4 incisors, before the real molars, indicating his human parentage-- but in all other ways, that mouth was "Decidedly Bear", with a dark colored and corrugated roof, a long and slightly purple tongue, and a long narrow shape. It was decidedly not suited to whistling in any capacity. Anderson made a bemused wince and shook his head, then put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Once more the dogs bounded up in a jumble of excited bawling, drooling, and tail wagging. "Your show Master Cedrick" chuckled the man with a smirk. "Thank'ya kindly Mr Anderson" retorted Cedar with his own. After a few minutes with the dogs looking between Cedar and Anderson confusedly, he led them off to various parts of the scene, pointing out the particular scent they should be tracking. Anderson knew they had picked it up when they made their characteristic 'alert bawling' and animated pouncing with false starts down the trail. They were indeed good boys, and had not been given the signal to track, but eagerly wanted to. Satisfied that the dogs knew what to hunt down, Cedar walked back up to the congregation in that lumbering shuffle of his, with the dogs trotting behind. As he reached where Anderson and the others were standing, they made furtive looks and whimpers between Anderson and the area Cedar had indicated, amid tail wags and excited eyes. "'ere-- At'll do it. I got's muh own trail ta follow, ifn' we gunna fin' dem horses." Cedar smiled, and probably shouldn't have. It looked more like an aggressive display than a grin. Only the alert posture of his ears gave it away as something different, besides his body posture and chuckling. " 'is Way Mister Henri!" he chuckled, swinging his big head in the direction of preferred travel. He had already scoped out a good portion of the scene, and between it and what he remembered of his interview with the bird, he had a good idea which way to go. The horse tracks would almost assuredly all re-converge into a single path at some point, but it would save time to take the most likely and most direct set of tracks, which headed West. -------- (some time later) -------- Cedar's tracking of the animals took a meandering path through the trees, then over a clearing beside a rather lovely lake. The horses were together, but spread out just enough to be little shits about being caught, grazing on the grass leisurely. They did not really seem to appreciate Cedar initially either, acting spooky and stupid-- taking off with snorts, flagged tails, and farts amid squealing neighs to trot away from him repeatedly before he managed to finally get though their thick dumb heads that he wasn't there to eat them. They were robust, if squat little animals (to his perspective anyway), between 1.1 and 1.6 meters to the tops of their backs. Far too small for somebody like him to ride-- but maybe Henri could use one. Some of the animals had managed to get their saddles and other tack free of themselves-- tearing the straps that had held them on, via aggressive rubbing and 'clever' use of low lying tree limbs. Thankfully it was fairly conspicuous and easily located in or near the offending foliage. The saddles and gear that were still in place were encrusted in dried grass and mud, from where the animals had tried to roll in the soft earth near the lake. It would take a whole day for each saddle to get them clean again. One of the horses was clearly the Venerer's, given its very different livery. Cedar was glad it had made it, and the horse itself was surprisingly happy that its 'person' had survived the frightening encounter. Cedar liked 'happy endings.' It took a reasonably long time to rifle through the contents of 6 horses worth of saddle bags. Most of the contents were camping supplies and 'abduction kit'-- Ropes, cloth gags, and small bottles of a curious powder that made Cedar's nose tickle, before making him go nose-blind. Lots of sneezing and boogery snorts later, it slowly started to return, but the momentary disability worried and troubled him-- He worried that the dogs might run into such an obstacle. Perhaps it was for the best that the abductors had been cut off from their supply. Henri did not act like he found the sight of Cedar having a snotty sneeze attack at all amusing. If anything, he looked rather put off by it, and recoiled a bit when Cedar located, then proceeded to try and offer the last item he dug out of this latest bag. Among the miscellaneous odds and ends of camping and abduction kit, there was a curious bit of parchment, emblazoned with a map with a curious X on it. The map depicted a lake, not unlike the one they were currently next to, with what looked like some ruins in a marsh to the south, with the ruins clearly indicated. " 'ere-- *(SNORT)* -- 'Ave a look at 'is--"</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark He listened, but not to understand. To him, their words were discordant noises, rambled by criminals either to rat out their partner-in-crime or to vaunt their innocence. Be it a plea, confession, or reason, he ignored it all as he toss them into the Rascade dungeon. And today, he expected it to not be any different. But the first person to speak had brought a certain irregularity, and it started to get on his nerve. How dare they come to this place, deceived his men, and then stated, right in front of his face that they hold the information he was unworthy to hear? His anger reached its peak when a certain former noblewoman spoke up and reinforce what the first trespasser said. Even more so when she brought up the name Matilda. Too long that she-orc had been the thorn in his side. So what? His Highness trusted her and now she acted like she owned Rascade. "Be silent!" he rebuked, harsh and efficient. "I am not here to bandy words with an ungrateful daughter who ran away. How is Rosenving now? Did you crawl back to His Majesty's feet asking for His favor while your family begged for table scraps?" Yvonne strode a pace forward, but suddenly Jazdia's clutched her by the shoulder, and she halted, glancing at the elf with clear disdain. "Greetings, Constable Delving. I wholeheartedly acknowledged that the timing was less than ideal. But my friend was right, we are here on Fredricus' order." Jazdia opened her bag and reached for a transparent tube, which contained a piece of document, neatly rolled and tied with a red ribbon. She unknotted the ribbon and presented the paper so he can read it himself. But the man furiously struck the elf's palm, causing the contract to be released from her grip and flutter away before landing on the grass. The captain whirled at Keito, before continuing his admonishment loudly. "Listen here, you cheap idiots! I asked a question, plain and simple and all of you made a fucking song and dance about it! I don't care who ordered you. I ask a fuckin question and you fuckin answer. Now is there any of you, in this sorry group who can answer, in plain Common? Please? Thank you!?" As he speaks, a dozen of guards had made their position around them. All were armed, and they only waited for the Constable's order. "Or maybe I should just haul all of you to Rascade Dungeon myself!"</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chōnan snapped from both for stroking the Captain's man strength on the lady's palm and desecrating an important paper that had been sealed by the King himself. "Mind if I put something first?" He said and pulled something from his bag and it was his mask during his prime on Knight's career. As he did a knight salute, an overwhelming ferocious aura has been released and those who caught feel flinches and recognize his prime status as a knight before. "Ex-Knight of cavalry unit, Kagetane Chōnan... Late Sergeant, definitely going to haunt you down as you stroke that paper with the King's sealed into the ground. A yelling that pierce into your soul. Whole day of running around until your feet give up" He walked toward the place where the contract fell off. The surrounding guards that were meant to block him started to shaken and Chōnan felt disappointed. "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." He picked up the contracted and handed back to Jazdia instead. He felt that the Captain himself can't be trusted to hand the contract. "It is classified from the top and I'm overseeing our guests for their work under Madame Matilda Ironsword. We had a business here and also I visited my late units and my superiors." Yes. He paid them a vist before he catch up with his party on the investigation area. "As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." "As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough." Few recognized that mask, but their number was insignificant compared to those who feared the wrath of the Delving. The Constable had his mouth agaped slightly, both in anger and bewilderment. Though he could find the gist of whatever this Ex-Knight Cavalry was saying, he still heard it as a slightly clear gibberish. An impudent one. One that does not respect his authority. In a fit of newfound anger, he brandished his pike and thwacked the Ex-Knight Cavalry at the back of his knee, immediately ending his dramatic posturings and forcing him to kneel. And soon it was apparent that the soldier was not trembling in fear, but instead waiting for an order, and they just got one. Two soldiers joined the fray, then one more, probably annoyed by the warrior's condescending remark, or they wanted to prove him wrong, all working in unison to pin Chounan to the ground and had him cuffed. The contract escaped the Samurai's grip and stretched out again on the grass.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "No, Junior. I dont think I will." Well ain't today just going real real bad. Yvonne sported a lopsided grin, something her brothers in arms would've recognized as the prelude to violence, but this far off her hunting grounds there's no one capable of noticing the threat. "What make you think I care about my family, daddy's boy? Looks like you still have no brains between that ears of yours - crown business. Maybe try listening sometimes. I'd say if you hurry you can run to father dearest to beg his majesty for some breadcrumbs before the day ends." And the damned foreigner just went and spouted some convulted nonsense. Then he got taken down by surprise. Good fucking job man. Yvonne ain't letting that happen though, dude's about a third of their fighting strength by her estimate. The mercenary took one step forward, twice, swing her leg back, tap into her inner strength, and kicked the dumb schmuck trying to cuff her coworker. Not a big boost, she's not planning to kill the footman, but enough to lift him a foot into the air. Catching the idiot by his cuirass strap, she utilized the man as a bludgeon to knock away the other two before tossing him toward Aaron - who saw it coming and stepped aside, but all it achieved was the improvised projectile crashing into the gathering rank of the guards. That should do for warm up. "Up you go." She grabbed the downed adventurer by the scruff of his neck, pulling him to a standing position before retreating out of the pike's range. Yvonne escalated alright, but no steel were drawn on her part. Who knows? Maybe the show of force will get the other side to reconsider their stance. She didn't fancy the thought of fighting through the entire garrison of Rascade.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda walked off in the direction of the footprints, the kidnappers thought themself pretty clever that there could try to cover their tracks. But she was a much more skilled hunter than Anderson and the others. She thought this was now turning into a hunt, she was the predator searching for her prey. Standing in between some trees, she stopped and stood there for a moment. She was placing her hand on the tree, wanting to know what they saw during the incident. Getting quick flashes of what happened, seeing the kidnappers waiting for the right time to strike. Gets into a skirmish with the guards, and during the confusion stole the prince. Having to run on foot northwest. "Where did they go? Is there a safe house they ran off to with the prince?" Communicating with the trees, wanting to know where the kidnappers could have gone. Hearing a distant voice of the kidnappers, mentioning something about a submerged ruin west of here. She knew what they were talking about, it was a lookout formerly used by the Kindence forces during a war with some dark elves a long time ago. "So that is where they are keeping the prince. Thank you Sar Echia." Patting the large oak tree, walking off towards the direction of the ruins. The trip did not take long for Matilda, once she was a few meters from the ruins. She crouched down behind some trees. Watching the ruins to make sure there was no one patrolling the area. Her eyes looked over at the marking Henri made to her armour, remembering that she could hear every word. "If you hear me Henri, I have followed the trail to some submerged ruins. It does not look like they are any patrolling guards, so perhaps they could be hiding inside the ruins. The ruins are located west of the hunting grounds, I do not know where you are, but the ruins should be located by a large body of water. So just follow the river near you, which should lead towards the ruins." Heading carefully towards the ruins, noticing that half of it was submerged in the lake. It has not been abandoned for almost seventy years. Matilda searched for someway inside the structure. Finally finding the main entrance that was not submerged in the water. Moving as stealthfully as she could inside, finding it eerily silent. Part of her thought no one was here, becoming increasingly worried that the prince was not there.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri then headed towards the ruins at a walking pace, following from a distance Cedar who's naked and on all fours, inconspicuously posing as a bear. Well, by all accounts, he's at best part-bear, but this way he looks no different than actual bears in the wild. Whether or not bears could actually be found in the marsh, Henri had never cared to remember. Quite the quiet stroll. Nothing but the sounds of their gentle footsteps, the marsh insects, and the flowing lake not so far away from them. Dry footsteps even if they're in the marsh, as Henri actively rids the mud of its moisture with every step, via a combination of his telekinesis and temperature increase. Suddenly, as they get closer, a peculiar voice starts to ring. Matilda? Large body of water? No way... Henri smirked. She actually got to the exact place they were heading even if they took a different route? So, the kidnappers convened in there after all... Wait, she didn't rush in alone, did she? With merely the frail lanky man on his side? Henri hurriedly skated with his oversized boots, reaching within Cedar's earshot. A steadily loudening ring of 'Cedar. Cedar.' could be heard, until Cedar turned his head towards Henri. "Cedar. Run. I can hear Matilda, she's already in there." It is quite urgent, but he's quite too chill to shout about it. It should come without saying too that no one's patrolling the entrance.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar's ears popped up with alarm and his bright brown eyes sparkled with bits of white surrounding them. He shot a glance at Henri, blinked, then tore up the ground on a mad-dash sprint toward the ruins, sticking to areas he was certain were free of hazards, leaving the the odd man behind in a flurry of flying mud chunks. Henri caught up shortly after, as Cedar was shaking off the last of the mud chunks from his feet. The man seemed eager to get the gunk off the boots he had borrowed as well, as he kicked it off, then scraped it on the few exposed paving stones of the ruins, before the two of them searched for the entrance.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] The day could've went better for one Constable Aaron Delving. It was supposed to be a quick check up to ensure no trouble had come to pass, yet it turned out there's a bunch of nosey no-gooders stomping around what's arguably the most important site under his responsibility. Unfortunately he had went in expecting a bunch of scammers that could be easily hauled into the dungeons with some harsh words, and that led to the noose of various circumstances tightening around his neck. For one, he had the mistake of acknowledging the rabid dog of Rosenving as a noble. That alone massively reduced his options, considering that his men would be very much disinclined to dip hands into nobility conflict. Then there's the royal seal that now unfurled on the ground for all to see, and he could practically feel the unrest building up behind him. Just as the soldiers were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the constable too were torn between keeping his hard stance or accepting the implied ceasefire. "Men, escort these people off the premise. No one is to enter until I personally permitted otherwise." The constable eventually said, stomping the butt of his pike twice on the paved ground. There's audible sigh of relief from the rank, but he pretended he didn't hear those. "The court will want explanations on how these mannerless scums managed to acquire a royal seal." It wouldn't be too late to arrest these lot after the king was pressured to deny the knowledge of their existence. With a gruff snort, Constable Delving stomped off the premise as most of guards hurriedly jogged to follow. Was it sheer noble pride that caused this behavior, or were there more sinister motivation lurking underneath? Regardless, as the marching footsteps faded into the distance, the rest of the guards politely but sternly showed the party the exit. One of them even very carefully retrieved and patted the dust off the order before handing it back to Jazdia. With the prickly constable gone, it's probably best to not cause any further disturbance for now.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The fort by the river was, at one point, one of the various defensive installment to prevent unwanted naval presence from sailing inland and wreak havoc in the underbelly of Kindeance. As time passed and the kingdom's navy grew in strength, however, the facility gradually lost importance until a great season of deluge many decades ago caused the river to shift and engulfed most of the fort. The wooden structures had long since decayed and swept away, leaving no more sign of the great hall. The outer wall had all but collapsed, though the two towers at the land-side still persistently stood albeit slowly sinking and tilting over time. The keep too had partially collapsed as the motte it stood on was eroded by water, but somehow it wasn't uncomfortably tilted unlike the two surviving towers. Matilda entered through a collapsed wall, into what should be the lord or commander's mess hall. The entire place was devoid of furniture, any trace of it already taken away when the fort was abandoned. The stench of horse dung permeated through the room, coming from the far side where a pile of feed and an open barrel filled with now stagnant water. The last bit seemed to be a slightly more recent addition to the aged fort.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Keeping up with Cedar's bear-like speeds, Henri was then caked in mud and it irritated him, slightly. Nothing that can't be fully undone, however. He began walking towards the entrance of the ruins. As he did so, steam rose up from the mud on him, drying up quickly into fine dirt which then began collapsing off of his body. It looked quite like Henri walked out of a dirt-coloured smoke cloud, and he was then fully clean again. The amount of control it must have taken to remove every speck of dust at the same time... Training his control for decades with the thousand minuscule parts of this pocket watch is worth it. Truly, he can repair it himself without having to use Inorganic Repair. He looked at the collapsed wall, then glanced at Cedar. This wouldn't quite do. He held out his hand and began tearing off as much brick as he could to make Cedar fit without collapsing the ceiling. At the same time, he cast Temperature Increase on Matilda's left shoulderplate that was affected by Core Spreading, not enough to burn her but just to signify that they've arrived. The cyan marking on the shoulderplate faded slightly, but it's still quite there. He walked in, fully unable to smell anything, much less horse dung, but could at least tell that the water in the barrel is dirty and not potable. They haven't been here for far too long. He sighed. Even now, the only thing they could do is find more clues? Invoking his Metal Sense to look for traps and anything useful in the ruins, as well as Matilda's unique armor.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan As the situation settle downed by a ceasefire. Chōnan make a small bow on his party after exiting the park. By reflecting himself from action before, he keeps being quiet and focuses to guide the party as the team leader's wish. Still on his awareness on his surrounding and never let his guard off. He keep guiding the party with the shortcuts and will cover the fees for showing a compensation from his action and show more hospitality to his party.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia watched the man depart with mixed feelings but then decided not to make more fuss of it. Well, wasn't that just nice? That constable left, nobody got hurt and they both can preserve their pride. The only lamentable things about this state of affairs were Jazdia swatted hand and their access to investigate the site had been cut off. She tied the ribbons and left, thinking about how Fredricus would deal with the incoming storm. *** Nobody knew what Jazdia was thinking right now, not even herself. As they walked down the street of Rascade, the elf remained quiet, and her companions too until someone broke the ice by informing them that he will go for an errand. The Chounan guy did it again, asking to do questionable deeds at the worst possible time. It was apparent that Jazdia started to question the cohesion of her group. "What a prick. That Delving." gruffed Yvonne, both seemed to ignore Chounan who already excused himself to God knows where. "Oh, you know him? I guess such feud is indeed common amongst every house across this continent." "Yeah. Not too well though, and it's been eight years." She shrugged. "The man wasn't incompetent or anything, but he's at best above average in just about anything he put his hands on. The Delving name carried him far though, and he ain't shy about flaunting it. From what I've seen, he's practically unchanged." Yvonne hardly needed to remind Jazdia of that. Their brief investigation alone had revealed a sheer incompetency so blatant it looked very unnatural. The other half of the explanation suggested that it could be the case, however; a prominent house means great political bargaining power and support, something that Fredricus couldn't afford to lose. And Jazdia knew a man like him would not think twice to pander a noble oaf by giving him a strategic position. And that decision had almost proven to be his undoing five days ago. Jazdia patted her shoulder. In order to give them a sense of progress, and encouragement Jazdia couldn't help but be technical with her words. "What happened back there was indeed regrettable, but let's not get sidetracked. We got what we needed, that Black Serpent sounds like a solid lead." The elf looked at the red sundown at the west and wondered how was the investigation going on Matilda's side. She hoped they have reached Hdur as planned. It was such a shame that she, as the one who planned the rendezvous couldn't keep her word and be there as scheduled. Their stroll from the Memorial park to the city boulevard, again, was uneventful, to say the least. Jazdia brought them to a place called Angel's Share. A large, three-story building, with extravagant decorations that made it look like a bordello. There was a sign on its door that read Closed, but the lower windows showed lights behind thick curtains. As they hesitated to get inside, a spacious common room greeted them, with a hearth, long tables, and the smell of ripe cheese, beers, wines, and fresh loaves that makes it feel homelike... or tavern-like? Upon closer inspection (if one could bother). the inn looked well-maintained and seemed to be designed with the utmost sense of hygiene in mind. The floor was tightly nailed, the tables were stainless, and the bar, Instead of wooden, its surface layered with granite tiles, ensuring no detritus or any kind of filthy scraps unfit to be mentioned resided. Jazdia told them beforehand that this inn underwent a partial facelift to make it more presentable and up to the standard she had back in Helvetia. "Good afternoon, Miss Jazdia! The meeting went well I assume?" At the counter was a handsome young man that seemed to be in his early twenties. He wore a dull evening shirt with a black tailcoat and had his face adorned with gold-framed glasses. Behind him were large cabinets with the usual assortments of kegs, flasks, and clean mugs shelved neatly. Among other things were a dozen or so bottles of wines that seemed to be added just recently, and a full-sized calendar nailed at the beam. The artwork for September presented a certain elven blondie clad in questionable two-piece swimwear posing with an irritated expression. The elf immediately had herself seated. "Afternoon, Lucas. It was, yeah, as expected from Fredricus's court." Jazdia looked around before placing her bag on the table. "No angry mob stormed this place in my absence I assume?" The bartender shook his head, smiling as he headed into the kitchen. When returned, he brought with him a tray laden with kettle and other crookeries. "I saw no patrons, let alone undesirable characters walking through our door today, milady." The tea was served in a blue porcelain cup, followed by a slice of freshly baked Helvetian-style spekkoek not long after. Jazdia then asked for a pen and paper and requested Lucas to prepare a pair of homing pigeons. After providing all of her requests and the elf began to compose her letters, the bartender faced Jazdia's newfound companions and humbly asked. "How can I be of service?"</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword @A5G @Grade Matilda was glad that her helmet was blocking out the smell of horse dung and mold. Scanning the area where she should go next, heading towards the middle door. Treading carefully as she made her way further into the fortress. The sounds of water drops and other strange sounds did not help with her paranoia. But she assumed that she could be heard, because of her heavy armour. Stopping to check her surroundings, making sure there was no one waiting to ambush her. After a few silent moments, she could see the mark on her shoulder plate starting to glow red hot. Signifying that the others had arrived, walking further out towards what she presumed was the commander's office. The large orc was searching everywhere for any kind of clue, it didn't matter if it was some sort of paperwork. What would be even better if she could find one of the kidnappers to interrogate. She hoped that the culprits were here, just so she could give them a well deserved beating.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Shaking off the last bits of muck before heading through the widened wall opening, cedar wished he hadn't. The interior was rank with the stink of horse manure and urine. In the foul deposits on the floor, he spotted the recent footprints of who was most certainly Matilda, if Henri's report was accurate. He traced them deeper into the compound and found his mark. She was quite edgy, and rounded on him before scowling and hissing under her breath not to sneak up on her like that. He just dropped his ears a little and frowned at her, but got the hint about staying quiet for the moment, instead just shadowing her discretely. If there WERE any assholes in here, he would back her up with the little surprises he had sewn all over outside. In fact, he paused a moment to help grow the root system deeper inside, through the gap in the wall, just to be on the safe side. So far though, the search had turned up no sign of recent habitation besides their own presence there.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Wow, that's a lot of bottles. He can't quite tell what liquid it contains, but following the theme, this has to be some really old wine. He bets this tastes good... Taste... It's been far too long. He can't remember the taste of anything anymore. He stacked two of the crates on top of another two, then carried them close to his chest as he carefully scaled back up the stairs, and into open air. He lay there at the floor beside the stairs, ridding himself and these crates of any water by evaporating them into steam or pouring the water in the crates back into the stairs. Now that he can see, these are whiskey and vodka. Each crate seems to have a piece of paper but it's unintelligible due to the water swirling the ink. No way in hell he's carrying these throughout this entire journey. It wouldn't be quite a good thing if the team gets drunk at an inopportune time, either. However, disposing of these wines would be such a waste. An idea pops in his mind. He takes out one bottle of whiskey, and places it near the first step to the sunken stairs, above a metal plate that he just freshly minted, with writings etched onto it that will hopefully be read later. He carries the four crates of wine and skates out and away, back to Rascade. He tears through the marsh, a wall of mud emerging in his wake, yet he himself was dry, for it is physically impossible for him to be behind or beside himself. On the way to Rascade, he trips once on a rock and hurtles down the ground, rolling. However, with his experience and presence of mind, he makes the four crates stay afloat with Core Spreading and Telekinesis while recovering from his roll back into proper standing position, gently catching the crates that floated into his arms, without losing any speed. ~ Two hours later... "Henri Dominique Gentileschi. I am the one you call the poltergeist of the castle, the repairman... the prince's tutor." His iron kite shield floats on its own, pressing on the northern gate guard's neck. It's not sharp, but the speed at which it flew from Henri's back, as well as his demeanor -- his forward lean, his facial scowl -- unintendedly caused by the exhaustion of using Telekinesis on himself and four other large objects for two straight hours... It all worked out to be quite intimidating. "Have I refreshed your memory yet? Let me in." The shield gently flew back to Henri's back, and he was about to walk past the guard when he remembered. "Ah. Did you happen to see an adventuring group of three? Two short teens led by a blond elf?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Please pardon the youngster, Ser Henri. We're all quite on edge after recent development." The gateguard captain hurried out at the commotion, waving for the rest of them to stand down. The man let out a sigh of relief as the signs of hostility slowly bled out of everyone. Great, he didn't need any more incidents. The very top of the totem pole had been rather antsy, and the anxiety had thoroughly bled down the ranks. Just about any mistake can lead to harsher punishment these days. "I can tell you that there's no elf among the traffic in or out through here today. We've inspected everyone thoroughly."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. ... Recent development? Henri raised an eyebrow. Ah. So he didn't miss the three of them on the way. They must've not left yet... Or they took a different exit? Hm... It's no use overthinking it. "Ah. That's good to hear, then. Keep up the good work." It's curious, seeing them all anxious like this. He might've went overboard with the intimidation. He felt like making it up to them, it seemed like his fault after all. He sat two of the crates parallel beside each other, then placed a third one perpendicularly so he had an impromptu chair to sit on, then opened the fourth box on his lap. "I can't remember if you're allowed to drink while on duty, but I found a box of..." He pulled out a bottle to look at the label. "Oh, whiskey. Alright. Here, share it amongst yourselves. I won't tell your higher-ups." He smiled, gesturing a shush with a finger hovering his mouth. "What is this 'recent development' about, though?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Gosh, thank you-" The captain's eyes widened as he took in the faded label, still clearly legible despite. "I'll be darned, this is almost eighty years! Thank you ser!" Then he comically covered his own mouth, turning and shushing to the rest of the guards as if it wasn't him that just yelled. Thankfully traffic was scarce around this time, and those same contingent of guards will soon enough be accomplice that benefit from the aged liquor. They'll keep mum alright. "Ah. Well, I'm sure you know that there was an attempt on the king's life not long ago." The captain not-so-discreetly passed the bottle to one of his men, with pointed instruction to hide it well until they're off-shift. "There's some kind of commotion in the mausoleum ground earlier. Not sure what happened exactly, but heard that there's royal guards injured there. There's no manhunt order though, so I guess it's resolved already? Or it's some nobles that got into the scuffle and they're keeping it covered. Ain't got nothing to do with us lowborn here, ser."</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword @Grade @Randomness Matilda's attention was turned toward the dead body in the room. Assuming that it could be one of the kidnappers, She turned to Cedar, Henri, and Anderson who just arrived at her location. "I have found some parchment, it looked like they did not have time to burn the evidence." She handed Anderson her findings. She was joining the other two toward the corpse. Her heart dropped seeing some tools that would be used for torturing someone. The thought of the prince being horribly tortured caused her heart to skip a beat. Her hand gripping into a fist, feeling helpless that she could not find the prince. She made her way toward the corpse and the bag of equipment. Searching for anything that could be used for the investigation, thinking that Cedar could track. Salvaging any tools and medical items for them to use. She checked the crockpot. Picking up the unburnt paper and handed it off to Henri. Watching him perform some sort of spell to try and recover the burnt document. Watching Henri soon leave for the submerged part of the fortress, she knew she would not survive thanks to how heavy her armour was. Watching Solomon performing some unholy spell on the corpse to reanimate it, she thanked Solomon before asking her questions. "Firstly where are your other cohorts? Where did they take the prince? And is he safe and unharmed?"</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Eighty years? Is that good? He regretted a bit that he knew nothing about wine, not even having drank any while he actually lived, for he died young and inexperienced. He touched his forehead and chuckled a bit, hearing that some royal guards got injured. It was definitely those three, they tried to enter the mausoleum to investigate... If he were to guess, the guards didn't believe them because Matilda wasn't with them? They really shouldn't have split the team up like this. That leaves the fact about injured royal guards... It must be that Yvonne girl. That notorious, avid purveyor of violence, to a point that even Henri knows. "Hey, don't demean yourself like that. In the end, we're all humans in the face of death." As someone who was merely adopted into nobility, that oddly struck a nerve with him. He lifted his three remaining crates of wine and began walking away. "Well, I'm off now. Drink those after your shifts." ~ "Gentlemen." Henri approached the guards at the memorial park. "Heard some of you got injured. Where did the assailants head off to?"</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was taken aback by the 'resurrection' of the corpse. He could tell from the lingering odor that it was NOT true resurrection, and the implication that .. it .. could not meaningfully lie, meant its mind was not its own. Things that troubled and upset him in a visceral way he couldn't put into words. He quietly collected the leather working tool roll, and left, asserting he was going to go bring the horses up. Anderson asked if that meant that he had been successful, while matilda commenced her 'interrogation'. This was something he did not have much stomach for. He responded the affirmative at Anderson, then shot a glance up at the angry cawing crows, before making contact. The birds cawed even angrier at him at first, torn between peevish umbrage of being forced off of their meal, and severe vexation at his unwanted presence in their heads. They seemed somewhat comforted that the bearman shared at least some of their displeasure over 'dinner' getting up and moving again, at least. Cedar offered them a 'consolation prize' if they would follow him outside and answer a few questions. At first they did not seem interested, but his mind wandered to the taste of the exotic fruit with the gelatinous seed pulp again, with its lovely sweet and floral flavor. They were more interested in it being soft, and easily eaten by beaks, and by the implication that this bear could just make some grow on demand. They'd be interested in seeing that latter trick, before accepting any such exchange. Cedar huffed without saying anything aloud, and just let them know to meet him outside, near the ruined wall. They cawed at him some more, then took off to witness the promised spectacle. Not missing another beat, he headed downstairs then back outside through the way he had come in. The crows had perched at safe locations on the sides of the tumbling wall, and were looking up at him expectantly. He looked at the wall, looking for the right combination of 'intactness' and 'well fertilized' that the makeshift stable afforded, then planted and guided the growth of another of the lovely vines that produced the soft yellow spheres, guiding it up the wall along the more sturdy of its masonry as its terrace. The crows seemed to laugh in delight at this development, before fluttering onto the vine near some of the fruit to sample the wares. Excited cawings rang kut as the discovered the bear was not full of it, and had recalled accurately. He smirked. The stupid louts, and their choice of stables has tainted the water here, making it unsafe to drink. He made contact again with the crows, who were once again put off by having meal time interrupted, before bemusedly telling them he intended to plant grapes too, for his own reasons. He was interested in clean water, not fruit at this time. Despite feeling like he was a bottomless hole inside, he had been seriously put off the idea if eating by the reanimation of the human corpse. The crows laughed, and extended their own vexations about it, but felt his loss of appetite to be their gain-- if he didn't want the grapes either, they would happily eat them for him. He looked further along the wall for a suitable place to grow them, with a fairly dry patch nearby that could safely hold a drip catch container, then planted a few grape pits and set to work while the crows ravaged the lovely yellow spheres adorning the wall. A lovely table grape cultivar revealed its identity, with large purple grapes maturing under his care in the waning afternoon sun. Gingerly, he plucked one, and sampled it. It was lovely, but that strange feeling of mingled disgust, unease, and hunger was all that really met his effort. The crows, having gorged on fruit, eyed the grapes appraisingly before flapping down near him making short calls, apparently satisfied with the peace offering and considering him 'all right' after all, unlike the meal thieves. He sat down beside the wall to ask them his own questions...</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Come on in." Aaron Delving was seated by his table, frowning on a piece of paper that he placed face-down as Henri entered the office. The table was made of some hardwood with a dark furnish, heavy and opulent with decorative carving filling most of its front. The surface was mostly immaculate, a few decorative tinkets artfully lining the place. The walls was adorned with various trophy, the crest of Delving family the first and most prominent thing to see on the far side as one entered the room. It looked less like a constable's office and more like the personal study room of a noble, but considering the Delving's position this much wouldn't be much out of place. "Please take a seat, Ser Henri." His intonation was curt, offering the exact amount of respect demanded of an imperial tutor and not an ounce more. "You've come a long way from the castle."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "You sure our target will be there? It's well past midnight in eight hours." "After the commotion? Chances are high that he will be in his command post, coordinating things and making sure he is present at the place where almost all of his wealth is concentrated. If he decided to be careless by monitoring his damaged assets in person one by one, we will know it and our work will be a lot easier." Who do we present the evidence to?" Now it's Kaito's turn to speak. He brought up too many ifs in his assessment, and honestly, it was a fair skepticism. "We work with Fred. All of our findings will be directly presented to him." What Jazdia did not say was what if Fred, for whatever motive and reason found their report unsatisfactory. If that happened, all bets are off for them, and her leverage was not as substantial as it used to be. She hated to admit it, but right now, all she could do was to have good faith in that human king, and that should suffice, for now. "I will deal with the guild if they are not involved." said Jazdia. It was an open-ended statement. Her usual answer could also be perceived as her subtle way of saying that should be none of your concern... Kaito, as someone who basically worked with her, should be familiar with that kind of speech. "I feel that your disquietude is quite misplaced. You are an outlaw that tangoes with authorities on a daily basis. If another party goes on the dance floor, I am sure you will manage." "I think that will conclude this meeting." *** After some more railleries, Jazdia went upstairs to rest. She had instructed Lucas to show Chounan and Kaito their room if they feel like sleeping and informed Yvonne the number of her room. The room was spacious and cozy, lit by four oil lamps that radiates warm light. It had two beds with white sheets and blue-navvy blankets, a large cupboard, and a decorated partition. At the end of the room, close to the door that led to a private bathing chamber, was a long square table with white clean towels. The room was scented with a faint sandalwood aroma, and if one feel the perfume was too overpowering, or just wanted the breeze of fresh air, they can always open the large window situated at the west of the room. Jazdia spent fifteen minutes soaking her body in the tub which had its water warmed by her power. Putting on her pajamas and placing the bow and quiver next to her bed, the elf rolled her body onto the bed and slept.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "Henri greets the Constable." If this is one of those stuck-up nobles, he needs to to present himself at least this much. Although it was irritating, not everyone's as carefree about these insignificances as Antigone. The door opens and closes by itself, away from Henri's preoccupied hands still carrying the three crates of wine. He did think the room looked nice, but he never understood this pride the humans took from killing animals, so much that they'd plaster their heads on a wall like this. Especially that elk. Henri sets the crates down the carpeted floor as he sits. "Indeed. Would you care for some eighty-year-old wine? I have whiskeys here," he reaches in the crates and holds up a bottle of the whiskey slightly above the height of Aaron's desk, "or is vodka more to your liking? By the way, I heard about what happened in the mausoleum. Per chance, did it involve a blond elf and two teenagers? Please spare no details."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Satisfied with Sparky's planning, Yvonne faded from the discussion as she returned her attention to her meal. She did catch the room number, finishing the food quickly and feeling the familiar tingle of alcohol in her fingertips. Yeah, that's some nice and strong stuff right there. Definitely would recommend. Upstairs, the mercenary found herself in a double room with presumably Sparky inside the bath. Not really feeling like waiting, she simply strip the armor and gambeson layer and leave them on the available hanger while her weapons went on a bedside table save for the rondel dagger. Now that she felt much lighter without all that weight, Yvonne stretched before collecting a bathrobe and a towel and descended back down to the communal bath. It's completely empty. There didn't seems to be any other guests beside their little party, so she's got the whole place for herself. Nice. Letting herself relax, Yvonne sighed wearily as she cleansed herself of the grit accumulated through the day. She sported more than a few scars than a woman her age normally have, various deep cuts that left pale lines once they healed. Minor injuries hardly leave a mark somehow, otherwise she'd have way more than these. But even then there's still a significant number lining her body, though none were anywhere near recent. It's an undeniable indication that she's gotten better over time, if nothing else. Stretching once more, Yvonne set to work on cleansing her hair. It's the only source of vanity she kept despite the risk, braided and bunned out of the way. It now spread across the water like soggy seaweed, just combing it into an acceptable will take so much time. Then there's the actual washing and whatnot... About an hour later, a tired Yvonne barely registered the unoccupied bed before falling on it like a log. She's out cold almost immediately.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] The constable didn't like Henri very much. It's unthinkable for someone with unclear background to be tasked with tutoring a member of the royal family, yet Fredricus was strangely adamant about it. And beyond that, the man himself unnerved him for a reason he couldn't quite put his hands on. He felt human, but only slightly bit off the mark. It's like... something that pretended very well to be a man. But it's not one. "No need. State your business." Delving eyes the stacks of sodden trunks with distate before staring back at Henri, his brows scrunched even further at the inquiry. "I am unaware that this issue have anything to do with the imperial tutor. I will need a good reason to disclose an... ongoing investigation with you, Ser Henri."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri slapped the desk. This guy, seriously... "Tch. Obviously I'm not here as an imperial tutor, if the one I aim to teach has been missing for a week." He side-eye glared at this blond oaf. "I'm here under the direct employ of His Highness to investigate the kidnapping of the Young Master and the attempt on His Highness' life." No, he's only entasked to bring back the Young Master, but if he were to guess what excuse Jazdia's team gave the guards, it'd probably be somewhere along these lines, or at least the part about investigating just the assassination attempt. "Those three probably said the same thing, right? No, it makes complete sense that you didn't believe them, since Matilda wasn't there." He leaned back from his chair, holding the whiskey bottle upside-down, balanced on merely his right index finger. He notices Aaron's expression change with the mention of Matilda. Hmm. So it's like that, huh? "But then, she must've seen ahead of time and handed them the Royal Seal... Hm." He lazily pointed a left-hand finger at Aaron. "Did that Yvonne Rosenving injure your knights because you chose to ignore even His Highness' Royal Seal? You let your petty disdain towards Matilda impede His Highness' business?" The lights in the room dim, and Henri's eyes glow a hot orange. At the walls of the room too, the animals whose heads adorn the walls as a trophy, their eyes too shone orange, and began emitting smoke. The lengths he has to go through just to get a prissy noble to talk. This Aaron's been eyeing Henri cautiously ever since he went in. If he were to guess, it's this same unnerving feeling everyone gets when they meet him, when the subconscious just screams that Henri's not human. He noticed it from Jazdia too. If it's to speed up this farce, then Henri shall reinforce Aaron's fear.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" **Elsewhere, near the tower** Cedar thanked the crows, then collected himself and his tools, before heading back out over the marsh back toward the lake. The horses were still milling about, nibbling on grass, and being generally ornery about his approaching them. They still did not appreciate his being half bear, despite fully knowing he was not going to eat them. If they had been humans, he would have considered bigotry, but as it was, he knew it was just nature forcing its way to the top. It was a good, natural, and reasonable instinct to have, given how his mom would have handled this. He chuckled to himself. The idea of his mom deciding that she had had enough of their bullshit, and just eating one of them to make the point, brought a smile to the corners of his face. Despite the wry humor of the situation, it was still an annoyance, as he herded them back toward the tower and into the "stable", where he unsaddled and brushed them down-- wide-eyes and snorts be damned. Some of them had saddle and strap galds from having their gear on for too long. Absently, he used the modest healing magic he knew to correct it, as he did the brushing. They still distrusted him, but slowly the nags started getting the hint more clearly. He was climbing up the stairs with a saddle over each shoulder, (the first of several planned trips) when a small grey and black bird noisly landed in front of him and started cooing, walking back and forth, blocking his path. "What'ya want, lil bird? Ya in the way!" It just continued moving back and forth on the stair, blocking his ingress, cooing at him. Irritably, he put down the saddles on the stairs, then crouched down to look at the silly thing more clearly. There was a tiny capsule on its leg, which it was earnestly trying to make conspicuous with its repeated movements on the stair. A sudden spark of cognition hit him, and he realized it was a messenger pigeon. Carefully, he teased the extremely tiny capsule open and extracted the thin, light bit of folded paper inside. Reading was not his strong suit-- he had quite a bit of difficulty with it at times. His dad told him it was not really that important, except when dealing with dishonest merchants, tax collectors, auditors, and other "official" humans-- For the most part, if he could muddle through reading the signs outside shops to know what they sold, it was likely good enough, and better than a lot of peasants could do. He squinted at the tiny text... -------- Madame Matilda, It pains me to inform you that I cannot regroup with your party at Hdur at the scheduled time. We had a situation with the city Constable, and the uncooperativeness he and his men displayed cost us valuable hours. Fortunately, we managed to secure crucial information regarding His Highness' assassination plan, and it involved a local group with extensive knowledge of the city's underground tunnels. We will work on this clue and see if we can regroup with you tomorrow. PS: the pigeon is trained to not leave your side immediately in case you wanted to reply to this letter. If you wished to do so, the password to send him home will be márnanwen, meldë -------- He looked down at the bird, which looked up at him expectantly, before fluttering its wings. He sighed, nodded at the bird, then picked up the saddles again. The pigeon fluttered up and landed on his shoulder, continuing to coo expectantly at him. 'The things humans trained animals to do', he thought to himself. He would give the note to its intended recipient, Miss Matilda. HOPEFULLY she was done with, and had dispatched, that shuffling horror Solomon had conjured.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia was furious. For a split second, she considered the option to plant an arrow on this man's knee and drag him out to be judged. Seeing the dead again, her heart sank, and she felt cheated, her idealism shaken to the core. No matter how to look at it, their operation had costed innocent lives. How could she claim the moral high ground after this? "On your feet!" Even when the elf grabbed the samurai by his collar, she was still torn between continuing this mission or bringing this man into the light. Nah... it was too late for that. Now was the time to think pragmatically, but for pity's sake, she hoped the man would show some remorse. "Hey Samurai! Chonan!" But the man was in a... psychedelic mess he kept grinning from ear to ear. Yet his eyes were empty, and he trembled as if being overpowered by a mysterious being. Jazdia, who had no time to deal with this kind of bullshit finally had had enough and punched the man square on his lower jaw. "Enjoying too much killing aren't you? It's their blood in your hand! Shouldn't you at least feel sorry about it?!" She had no idea if that punch was enough to mend her ire, or to make Chonan return to his sense. Something very wrong was at play here, and Jazdia, in anticipation clutched the handle of her long knife.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito was the last one to enter the room. For a moment he looked at the corpses. Samurai-san had managed to slay a few slaves who had been chained to a beam with some shuriken. To kill someone with a shuriken was honestly a rather impressive feat. Those things were far too small to actually cause lethal wounds. You had to be really lucky to hit some artery and let the victim bleed out. However it was clear that the oriental knight had made a huge error of judgment by rushing in and attacking everything that moved. The boss elf was certainly displeased by the act as she reprimanded Chounan instantly. However there was something wrong with the samurai. It was clear that he wasn't himself. The empty eyes, the grin on Chounans face made the kitsune feel quite uncomfortable. It felt as if the samurai could explode in senseless violence any moment and Jazdia was the nearest potential victim. Kaito's facial expression changed from relaxed and friendly to very serious and laser focused. Instinctively the fox placed his left hand on the top end of the saya and slowly pushed his wakizashi the first inch out. The kitsune would not hesitate to kill the samurai right on this spot if he would lay one finger on the Elf. However, before resorting to violence, Kaito made one attempt to influence the Samurai's mind. Dropping his illusionary disguise, the kitsune focused all his power on his charm magic. "Chounan! Snap out of it! you're stronger than this!" Commanded the fox with his magically infused words in an attempt to get through to Chounan.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne was all prepared to move on, but apparently her allies were not. She turned back to the sound of commotion just in time to see the adventurer getting punched in the jaw. "Hey hey hey, ain't the right time for disciplinary action now-" She paused, finally noticing the man's state. It's different. What, exactly, the mercenary couldn't tell, but it's giving her goosebumps and her instinct was screaming at her. This wasn't the same man from one minute prior. "Wait. What's wrong with him?" Her mace returned to the buckle, in its place the heirloom sword of the Rosenving. If push comes to shove, a cut should be easier to heal than blunt force trauma.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan The elf's punched was enough to turned his head to the side and almost lost his balance as he kept stepping backwards. It gripped the katana and executed an instant stroke onto the elf. As the kitsune made a full power charm, the katana stopped right on the elf neck. A demonic growl can be heard. One of his hand let go the handle of the katana and it reached the conceal part on his back. Revealing a tanto and rose it up. He quick stabbed his own arm that handling a katana. The body knelt down on the front of the elf, disarmed as it gentle landed to the ground. "Tch..." he produced a small demonic tone. He released the tanto on his arm and bleed. Chounan snapped out, his pupil eyes came back to normal and started a heavy breathing and sweating. "G-Gomen nasai..."</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan -snip-</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Henri left the constabulary office of the Delving estate, with the crates of aged liquor in tow. He HAD intended to sell them for a tidy profit, but the lack of leads on where to meet his associates had left him with a different use for the aged liquor products. Starting a circular path from the city's edge, around its perimeter, then moving inward on each pass, he would eventually cover the entire city. If somebody was foolish enough to try and jump him for his cargo, they would certainly regret it, and most likely, not live to tell about it. Thankfully, this proved to not be the case. The plan was simple-- Ask about the one thing he knew about with certainty. A young elf woman with blue eyes, and prematurely graying blonde hair, who was a retired adventurer, and was connected with the events at the mausoleum earlier that day, going by the name of "Jazdia." Public houses were a likely good place to dig for such a lead, as drunken men were often quite eager to part with what they knew-- or thought they knew-- in exchange for yet another round. In the cases where the patrons were probably not suitable to ask, the proprietor of the establishment could likely be 'convinced' to part with what they knew for the right price. Given the extreme age of the liquor he was hauling-- and thus worth a small fortune for each bottle-- such persons would likely talk once they saw the contents. Nearly every place he went to either had no useful leads, incoherent or inconsistent information, or knew nothing at all, much to his frustration. The sun was very red and low in the sky by the time he sauntered into sight of the Black Swan-- a mixed class 'dive', from what he could tell-- and showing signs of many drunken brawls, openly displayed gambling, and even more shameless displays of public drunkenness. He initially just milled about within the establishment, tuning his hearing for any and all of the latest gossip. Apparently, 3 men were enraged about a 'rat of a nobleman' who had cheated them at cards. Others were furtively questioning if the perp had gone off with the part owner of The Angel's Share, and some even questioned if she had been involved in the disturbance at the royal mausoleum later that day. Rather than risk causing a brawl over high priced liquor, he had taken the time to unbox a single bottle of the fine "Delving Family" whiskey, and secreted it in the deep inner pocket of his coat before entering. After a 'discrete' conversation and exchange with the owner, he finally got a solid lead on where Jazdia might be. A rather posh and prim little flophouse near the city's central square, called "The Angel's Share." Apparently, she was an "Angel Investor", who had bought into the nearly insolvent business, and had started enacting changes that were not very welcome at the Swan, as it had started drawing away some of the Swan's customers. Henri thanked the man, and exchanged him the agreed to bottle of prize liquor as payment, then headed out into the street, to make for the city's center. He remembered thinking that he had recognized her, since he owned property in that neighborhood, and he kicked himself for not acting on the hunch sooner. The sun had already set by the time he left the Swan, but he hoped that perhaps he could catch up to the other team there, if they had stayed for the night. If she was a partial owner of the establishment, it would make sense for her to board her crew there, and avoid paying and having room ledger paperwork that could be confiscated and investigated by corrupt officials. He had made it about halfway down the nearest avenue leading toward the square, when a loud explosion rocked the streets, followed by furtive cries and screaming. Ducking into an alleyway, and temporarily hiding his burdens there, he carefully climbed up the wall and onto the nearest building to get a good view of the city's rooftops. Fire could be seen clearly in the gloom of the skyline at night, and shortly thereafter, another explosion, and finger of orange glare popped up quite some distance away... Then a third. This was a highly irregular series of events, and with the city locked down, the odds of it being somehow connected with the abduction of the prince and the failed assassination of King Frederick, seemed more than just "highly probable." Sliding down the wall with a loud scraping, and landing with a cross between a thud and a clang, he threw his coat over the hidden chests to hide them further, then skated as quickly as he could to the site of the nearest explosion. The city guard was all over it like flies on a dead horse, as were the fire brigade, and several angry but well dressed men with stern, stony, and scowling faces. They had gathered at the demarcation line set by the guard commanders and the fire brigades to keep townsfolk and gawkers out of the scene, while the buildings were extinguished and investigated. Henri made discrete inquiries with the guards about the attacks, who owned the warehouse, and what was stored there. He discretely left the scene of the first warehouse, then once more hightailed it to the next-- repeating his discrete investigatory inquiries, then moved on to the third. Nothing seemed to indicate a real motive, but a pattern in ownership did present itself. All of the warehouses belonged to a group known locally as "The Black Serpent Guild". They apparently dealt with just about any and all classes of merchandise, in addition to a number of shady and ethically dubious services, but sufficiently 'above board' to be able to operate in the open. The cause of the explosions were believed to be foul play, as none of the warehouses really contained explosive materials that could spontaneously detonate, but many did contain flammable trade goods, such as wax, bottled oil, and bundled fabric yardgoods. No evidence of how the warehouses were bombed was readily apparent to the initial investigators however. Whoever was responsible, had chosen a very discrete method, but the police lieutenant believed there was magic involved, due to the lack of material evidence. It was well into the earliest hours of the morning by this time, and he was furious that he had essentially wasted hours of precious time chasing after a particularly elusive goose. He returned to the alleyway where he had hidden the cache of old booze, recollected his coat, then headed for The Angel's Share. It was well into the morning by the time he arrived. While the owner, A gentleman named "Lucas" with more pomp and posh than a man should ever display in public without a license, acknowledged that Jazdia was a partial owner, and had roomed guests for the night, he had no knowledge of where she had gone. Only that she had done so with some degree of practiced expediency, and was expected to return. Henri was pleased that at least she would return here later, and asked the man if he could secure the old, moss-eaten trunks he was carrying. The man initially behaved as if Henri were a deranged beggar man with such a request, but quickly changed his tune after learning of the trunk's contents, and examining them himself. He staunchly refused to hold the merchandise, asserting he would not be responsible for holding stolen goods. Irritably, Henri left the establishment, and secreted the trunks at his own private residence nearby. Shoppers, merchants, haulers and tradesmen had already taken to the streets and stalls long before, so he took the time to ask about the most conspicuous among them-- the disgustingly overdressed foreign warrior, "Chounan." With smiles and generally pointed fingers, the booth and stall merchants pointed him down the road his quarry had taken, and he moved with haste and purpose. It did not take too much more time, before he came within earshot of yelling, screaming, and the clashing of weapons. Pausing for a moment, he was SURE he recognized some of the voices. Gathering up the front of his jacket, he skated as fast as was realistically possible over the uneven cobblestones of the street, and toward the source of the disturbance...</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" If it were possible to frown any harder, Henri would have done so. He was too old for this shit. Instead, he propelled himself from the back flank, and up the right side to function as cover against musket fire. He was already damaged to hell and back- a few lead slugs would only mar the iron coating a bit more. "Mobile cover" was not really what he had intended this day, but it would have to do. Several rounds hit him in the chest and face, peeling the iron back with loud pings, before it once more molded over the top of the shattered ceramic underneath. Jazdia leveled her bow, sucked a breath, and pulled back the string before making a carefully timed release. "Well, miss Jazdia, quite a pickle we seem to be in. And the birdie is getting away. We should have made him sing when we had the chance. Do you have any more ideas, or should I start showing the constable how much he has bitten off this morning? His majesty will be most interested in this turn of events, I am sure. If I may be so bold as to suggest-- we should take some of these fools alive, so they can sing about their keeper to the inquisitor."</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito quickly followed the leader through the corridors and tunnels until they reached the canal hall where they would be greeted by a familiar but rather unwelcome face. Somehow Constable Delving managed to be just at this particular spot at this particular time. How surprising. It was as if he knew they would come through here. The fox simply guessed that this was the reason that Gerald did not put up a fight back in his bunker. He was counting on his fellow conspirator Aaron Delving to save the day. The kitsune sighed as he knew that they would have just another fight at their hands. Clearly their involuntary participation in Gerald's gladiatorial wasn't enough to please the gods into giving them an easy escape. However this time there wasn't any magic field that interfered with Kaito's abilities. Delving and his goons would be in for a nasty surprise. However before he could do anything the whole situation went to shit when Jazdia ordered the release of the guild master. However the moment Gerald made his way across the bridge the elf just shot him to pieces. "For fox sake, we were supposed to take him alive!!" Yelled Kaito in frustration. However there was no time to argue about the necessity of Jazdia's action. Three soldiers armed with muskets had taken position on their flank and took their aim. They were ready to shoot them on the spot. But before the soldiers pulled the trigger, the fox created a thick illusionary fog in the entire hall, reducing everyone's vision to less then half a meter. Well, not everyone's vision. The kitsune knew that the boss elf could see through it with ease. Also Chounan would be perfectly capable of locating anyone with his ki sense. Not to mention that Kaito himself was not affected by his own creation. Yvonne might have a hard time but at least the soldiers would not be able to take a clear shot unless they somehow had a way to see through his illusions. Quickly Kaito moved to the side to flank the most left soldier. With his sheeted sword in his left hand the fox dashed at the soldier to suddenly pop up from the fog. The kitsune drew his wakizashi and launched a strike against the soldier's sword, pushing it aside while remaining in contact to prevent a counter attack. This attack was quickly followed by a left handed strike with the scabbard aiming at the side of the neck, trying to knock the soldier out in one swift blow to the vagus nerve.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan With the hinder vision for the enemies under the mist and also to prevent the Musketeers to fire on concealed area. Chounan close his eyes and release a calm breath. As the Ki has been activated. Everything goes dark around him. A glowing circle appear under him. Being on the center of the circle with a radius of seven meters. The silhouette of two confused flanking soldiers appear on the circle. He sheathes his blade and makes a ready posture. A quick draw of the blade's stroke cuts the first flanking soldier following up a dashing two handed heavy stroke on other flanking soldier.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] The hunter silently looked at Matilda, the tension building up as every second passed. What was he thinking? It didn't quite showed on his face, any other emotion smothered by the burning rage, but eventually he broke eye contact and returned to packing. A wrapped package was put into the bag, then he went and took out a bear trap lying underneath the bed. "I dont know." He cranked it open nearly all the way through before carefully shutting the jagged teeth, the contraption creaking alongside the motion. "Follow along quietly an' dont cause a scene, whatev's." "Uh, Reinhold, my friend. When was the last time you slept?" "I can rest when I'm dead."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" What were the odds of this prick Aaron showing up here and now? Yvonne had always pegged him for a major pain in the ass, but not the treasonous sort - which, from how he's planning to bury them all here, was looking all nice and likely. The moment the violence started, Yvonne randomly tossed the bottle of liquor across the bank before legging it behind a pillar. Nah, she ain't fancying standing in the open against entire squadron of musketeers. She had seen what those thing could do to armor and flesh. A decision that soon was proven correct with the thick mist that unnaturally filled the cave within seconds - she ain't fighting jack shit with vision this bad. Sparky happened to join her cover moments later, which was greeted with a lopsided grin. It's just one bout of shitshow right after another today, eh? "Heya boss. Quite deep up in shit creek we are today." Yvonne couldn't see much, but she could listen still. Wont be infallible, but she at least had some estimate to identify approaching presence as friend or foe. Her current group was rather distinct after all. "If Aaron ain't involved in some sort of conspiracy I'll eat my boots."</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar thanked the man, then shoved a fist full of the raw bacon into his mouth like a greedy child eating sweets. It was smokey and salty, but the fat was amazing. His dad had told him that he REALLY SHOULD cook pork first, to avoid getting real sick with achy muscles, but right now he did not care, and was beyond hungry. Really, if the bacon was cured right, the salt and smoke should have solved the issue on their own. He followed it up with one of the whole cauliflower, enjoying the satisfying crunchiness. It was by no means "A meal", but it would have to do. Solomon was clearly very eager to get on the trail, and spending a few hours cooking did not seem like his idea of a good time (No matter how much Cedar felt differently-- It was bad manners to upset the person that just paid for dinner, after all.). Instead, he grabbed the large cast iron cauldron the man heaved and rolled out of the door, stuffed the majority of his swag inside it, then tottered off toward the far edge of the farmer's field, where it abutted the treerow, near the path they had walked up. It would make a decent spot to cook up dinner later, with ready access to deadfalls for the fire, and wood to work with to make bowls and spoons with. He snatched out some carrots, before putting the large water barrel down next to it, happy to get it off his back for awhile, then sat the smaller half-barrel of salted bacon down beside both, then laid the hood of his robe over the top to keep dogs and bugs out. He really should have asked for a canvas to put down, but he was so fixated on dinner, the idea of "Not Stopping" did not occur to him until the transaction was completed. He would just have to go around with his head uncovered for the time being. Crunching on 3 carrots at once, he tottered up behind Solomon, and wandered further up the path to go interview the locals.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark " If I may be so bold as to suggest-- we should take some of these fools alive, so they can sing about their keeper to the inquisitor." "If you can do that, be my guest..." Despite saying that, the prospect was laughable at best, but she didn't fancy explaining that the alignment of these soldiers couldn't be determined by the action of their captain alone. Sure they might be crooked, but the best answer you can get from them would be a defense that they were just following orders, and they were here to exterminate bandits and traitors. And here right now we were the bandits and the traitors. Jazdia peeked from her cover and saw them reloading. Taking a stance to aim her bow, she downed two musketeers before ducking back into her cover. At that time, suddenly there was a thick fog covering their side of the hall. Two muzzle reports echoed, but their shots failed to find any target and punched the walls, ricocheting, and eventually landing in a loud clang. With her eyes, Jazdia saw a soldier on their side of the platform rolling on the floor, groaning in pain, the ricocheted bullet struck him. It seemed to the other two also had been dealt with by Chonan and Kaito. "Heya boss. Quite deep up in shit creek we are today." Indeed, but it surely couldn't get any worse than that, right?</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Regulating her breath to be more steady, Jazdia tried her best to ignore the foul stench and stayed focused. The haze had been dispersed, but the darkness remained, and she started to feel a burning sensation in her eyes. To prevent the situation of having to choose between ultravision or enchanted arrows, Jazdia blinked and downgraded her vision. The perfect see-through view was replaced by a more mana-efficient vision that could still show general terrain and people, but not through the walls. And once again, she jumped from that pillar, shooting an enchanted arrow at the wooden railings that protect Aaron and his men. The arrow exploded, but it did not shatter the barrier. There was a faint light spreading in that area, and Aaron was standing there unmoving with a sword drawn. At the tip of the blade, a brilliant light manifested and then spreads into a protective dome made of light that grows slowly. This kind of barrier was the worst. Every attack directed at it would strengthen and prolong the duration. And now those musketeers were retreating inside it. Where they could aim their shot without fearing retaliation. Jazdia canceled the enchantment and shot her regular arrow toward the running musketeer. It hit the side of his torso, but the man kept going and reached the barrier. Who would have thought he brought the weapons of his fallen comrades with him?</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "If you can do that, be my guest..." "Heya boss. Quite deep up in shit creek we are today." Henri positively beamed. " My lady, I would be positively delighted to." The fog began lifting as he sacrificed some of the metal surrounding him, mostly from his back (which he presumed would not need as much protection for this plan), to fashion a long metal rod, which he poked into the water from above, producing an audible hiss, and lengthening it until he had determined the depth of the river. " Goodness, That is quite deep, --with a deep current too. Try not to fall in, kids." he mused, as he continued working, withdrawing the length of iron rod, then altering it to have alternating triangular flanges along its length where one could step or climb, and a long 90 degree flattened hook on the end, before leveling it over a shoulder, and dropping into the inky black filth with a sploosh. Undaunted, and weighing several hundred kilograms, he could feel the current tugging on him, but could resist its flow. He marched as close to straight forward as the combination of features allowed, until he could detect the metal of Delving's uniform, and his men's weapons, altering his course to correct for the flow of the water, and the otherwise complete lack of landmarks to navigate by. As he got in range, he reached out with his will, and willed the musket from the remaining mook's hands, toward the back of Delving's head, as hard as he could. Something-- he could not really see what, due to the turbidity of the water, prevented the attempt. Irritated, and undaunted, he lifted the hooked pole up, and swept it along the edge of the canal, aiming to snare a foot.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Up above, Aaron Delving was completely unfazed by the spectacular show. "What a dork!" Indeed, there were several unexpected things happened. He looked at the other side of the platform and glanced at Gerrald's mangled body with a certain amount of condolences. His father will not like it, but at least one potential witness was 'out of the picture' and that was what mattered. Now, for the optional one; he needed to clear out the trashes. His only regret was he didn't bring enough archers to keep them pinned. But his men had redistributed the musket and regrouped around him. Inside his barrier. Sadly the time was insufficient to salvage the spare gunpowder and bullets. But this would do for now. They just needed to dig in. His reinforcement will arrive soon. "Steady! Don't shoot unless you have them in your sight." Yes, Go ahead and try it! Once they ran for the tunnel, they would have nowhere to hide and no space to dodge. Deep below, Henri the golem trudged to the other side of the canal, walking slowly toward the other end of the bridge where Delving and his men are making their stand. After a long and tedious journey of swimming in filth, he arrived at his destination. Using his telekinetic power he tried to snatch their metal weapons, but something negated that attempt. Not giving up, the golem launched his hook and had it swept along the edge of the canal, aiming to snare a foot. Something repelled the metal thing and tossed it sideways, yet, it caused the hook to snag something that wasn't a human foot, rather, it was a metal pole that held the wooden railings near Aaron's company. *** Jazdia retreated back to the pillar. Biting her lips as she realized that the only hope was through the south tunnel, but Aaron's men seemed to have marked it as the only place to spend their bullet. "Miss Rosenving. Would you kindly move to that pillar?" She pointed at the middle pillar closer to the mouth of the south tunnel. "Go! While they are still reloading their weapon!"</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri swept with the pole, and collided with an invisible force, that slightly moved the pole further away. He felt the wall, but found that it did not extend through it-- only the stone of the wall. This was curious. Either the barrier was spherical, or some other shape that was confined to its radius. A cylinder with a hemispherical top, or some other form. The simplest would be a sphere, and would be the most likely. Curious. He moved further down the ledge of the canal, then deployed the hook to climb up just enough to peek above the water.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword The orc nodded her head, she understood that Reinhold was quite tired from being up for six days straight. But she needed any kind of information she could. Turning towards the two men, she pointed an armoured finger at them. "I assume you two are Bertolf and Ingmar? What were you doing hunting on the royal grounds? Did you see any suspicious character's while you were out there?" She ignored the fact they broke the law for now, she wanted to know what Reinhold and Bertolf were doing there. And if they had seen anything that could help with the case.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito's strike to the neck of the soldier landed and the man collapsed unconscious on the ground. The fox quickly disarmed him and collected the weapons of the two soldiers that Chounan had slain and tossed them into the canal. For now that threat was neutralized however on the other side there was still an Aaron Delving with some remaining men. And with the bridge destroyed, reaching him would be difficult. They could try to swim across but just the idea of diving into the with feces infested sewer water made the kitsune sick. Not to mention that cleaning his brush tail afterwards would be a drag. It might smell for a week. Only the golem didn't seem to care about the risk of attracting unwanted odors. But the rest seemed stuck at the other side of the canal. To make matters worse, that prick of a constable had raised some kind of barrier that made him and his last few men save from their attacks. The Golem tried to sweep underneath it but by the looks of it the barrier covered all their angles while the two soldiers with muskets could still fire potshots at them. Kaito could feel the fatigue setting in. He had been covering the entire room into an illusionary mist for quite some time now and it started to drain his mana. The fox wasn't sure if his illusion was still affecting the enemies inside Delving's barrier. There was a magic barrier in the underground arena that had been messing with his abilities and the constable's one looked somewhat similar. Quickly he assessed the situation. Delving and his men were waiting at the other side. Clearly they were waiting for them to make a move. Kaito and his companions could try to retreat but then the musketeers would most likely open fire on them when they would enter the narrow pathway that they had used to enter the canal room. If they would try to cross the feces canal they would be exposed to the same musket fire. And as long as Delving has his barrier up, there was nothing they could do about it. Kaito quickly took cover behind the rear pillar and gestured to Chounan to do the same. For now the fox did not see any options to either advance or to retreat. The only thing to do was to wait for an opening. It would be unlikely that constable Delving could hold up his barrier of an indefinite amount of time. With everyone having taken cover, it would be best to conserve his mana so the kitsune ended his illusion. Speaking from behind the rear pillar, Kaito decided to taunt the constable. Maybe Delving would make a mistake if the fox could manage to get under his skin. " Hey Delving, I always knew you were a crook but you turned out to be also a coward. Hiding like a scared little baby behind a barrier isn't exactly knightly. Why don't you come over to our side and fight like a real man?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne took a glance around as Sparky left cover and traded some shots. Oh boy, a barrier? That ain't looking good. With how Aaron being completely and utterly eclipsed by his brother in every single way possible, it's easy to forget that he's not actually a complete waste of oxygen and had House Delving's extensive resource to improve himself with. The barrier looked simple, but for such things it didn't need to be complicated. The boss returned to cover soon after. There's the order to move, Yvonne didn't question and sprint toward the directed pillar, keeping her stance low in a zig-zag to minimize chance to hit. Were the enemies reloading? Probably. Would she make it easy for them to shoot at her? Hell nah.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Henri could barely peek above the rim of the ledge from his current position. He could see Delving and his men taking shelter inside the glowing dome-like barrier he was projecting from his sword. He was using some kind of gaudy looking claymore. The men under his wing were all wearing metal breastplates, but inside the barrier, they were beyond his reach. One of them appeared to be having a hard time breathing, and another was leveling his musket to fire at the group cross the waterway. If the swing with the hook earlier had been indication, the barrier is what had arrested his prior attempt to smack Delving in the back of his damn head. Cowardly prig was cowering behind that glowing curtain like a smug little bastard. Well, There was more than one way to deal with somebody like him--- Like trapping him over here, and forcing his pansy ass to get his hands dirty himself to get loose. And he knew JUST the way to make him do it. Timidly and very slowly, he rose from the water enough to hang over the side of the canal ledge, first the left side, to get access to the iron covering his hip and torso on that side. The heating would make a bright light, and that is unfortunate, but it may also distract Delving's goons for a moment. The heat conduction through his body would begin to boil the water still surrounding his right arm and right leg, still submerged where he was clinging to the side of the canal. This was risky shit, but it was necessary. Work was slow and difficult, due to trying to equalize the draw of material from that side of his body to avoid having a total and complete hole in the reinforcement, and due to the heat losses from partial submersion, but he commenced work on construction of a melon or large pumpkin sized "sphereoid", with a complex dimpled and form-stiffened surface from the sacrificed metal.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Up above, Aaron Delving was completely unfazed by the spectacular show. "What a dork!" Indeed, there were several unexpected things happened. He looked at the other side of the platform and glanced at Gerrald's mangled body with a certain amount of condolences. His father will not like it, but at least one potential witness was 'out of the picture' and that was what mattered. Now, for the optional one; he needed to clear out the trashes. His only regret was he didn't bring enough archers to keep them pinned. But his men had redistributed the musket and regrouped around him. Inside his barrier. Sadly the time was insufficient to salvage the spare gunpowder and bullets. But this would do for now. They just needed to dig in. His reinforcement will arrive soon. "Steady! Don't shoot unless you have them in your sight." Yes, Go ahead and try it! Once they ran for the tunnel, they would have nowhere to hide and no space to dodge. Deep below, Henri the golem trudged to the other side of the canal, walking slowly toward the other end of the bridge where Delving and his men are making their stand. After a long and tedious journey of swimming in filth, he arrived at his destination. Using his telekinetic power he tried to snatch their metal weapons, but something negated that attempt. Not giving up, the golem launched his hook and had it swept along the edge of the canal, aiming to snare a foot. Something repelled the metal thing and tossed it sideways, yet, it caused the hook to snag something that wasn't a human foot, rather, it was a metal pole that held the wooden railings near Aaron's company. *** Jazdia retreated back to the pillar. Biting her lips as she realized that the only hope was through the south tunnel, but Aaron's men seemed to have marked it as the only place to spend their bullet. "Miss Rosenving. Would you kindly move to that pillar?" She pointed at the middle pillar closer to the mouth of the south tunnel. "Go! While they are still reloading their weapon!"</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri swept with the pole, and collided with an invisible force, that slightly moved the pole further away. He felt the wall, but found that it did not extend through it-- only the stone of the wall. This was curious. Either the barrier was spherical, or some other shape that was confined to its radius. A cylinder with a hemispherical top, or some other form. The simplest would be a sphere, and would be the most likely. Curious. He moved further down the ledge of the canal, then deployed the hook to climb up just enough to peek above the water.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword The orc nodded her head, she understood that Reinhold was quite tired from being up for six days straight. But she needed any kind of information she could. Turning towards the two men, she pointed an armoured finger at them. "I assume you two are Bertolf and Ingmar? What were you doing hunting on the royal grounds? Did you see any suspicious character's while you were out there?" She ignored the fact they broke the law for now, she wanted to know what Reinhold and Bertolf were doing there. And if they had seen anything that could help with the case.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito's strike to the neck of the soldier landed and the man collapsed unconscious on the ground. The fox quickly disarmed him and collected the weapons of the two soldiers that Chounan had slain and tossed them into the canal. For now that threat was neutralized however on the other side there was still an Aaron Delving with some remaining men. And with the bridge destroyed, reaching him would be difficult. They could try to swim across but just the idea of diving into the with feces infested sewer water made the kitsune sick. Not to mention that cleaning his brush tail afterwards would be a drag. It might smell for a week. Only the golem didn't seem to care about the risk of attracting unwanted odors. But the rest seemed stuck at the other side of the canal. To make matters worse, that prick of a constable had raised some kind of barrier that made him and his last few men save from their attacks. The Golem tried to sweep underneath it but by the looks of it the barrier covered all their angles while the two soldiers with muskets could still fire potshots at them. Kaito could feel the fatigue setting in. He had been covering the entire room into an illusionary mist for quite some time now and it started to drain his mana. The fox wasn't sure if his illusion was still affecting the enemies inside Delving's barrier. There was a magic barrier in the underground arena that had been messing with his abilities and the constable's one looked somewhat similar. Quickly he assessed the situation. Delving and his men were waiting at the other side. Clearly they were waiting for them to make a move. Kaito and his companions could try to retreat but then the musketeers would most likely open fire on them when they would enter the narrow pathway that they had used to enter the canal room. If they would try to cross the feces canal they would be exposed to the same musket fire. And as long as Delving has his barrier up, there was nothing they could do about it. Kaito quickly took cover behind the rear pillar and gestured to Chounan to do the same. For now the fox did not see any options to either advance or to retreat. The only thing to do was to wait for an opening. It would be unlikely that constable Delving could hold up his barrier of an indefinite amount of time. With everyone having taken cover, it would be best to conserve his mana so the kitsune ended his illusion. Speaking from behind the rear pillar, Kaito decided to taunt the constable. Maybe Delving would make a mistake if the fox could manage to get under his skin. " Hey Delving, I always knew you were a crook but you turned out to be also a coward. Hiding like a scared little baby behind a barrier isn't exactly knightly. Why don't you come over to our side and fight like a real man?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne took a glance around as Sparky left cover and traded some shots. Oh boy, a barrier? That ain't looking good. With how Aaron being completely and utterly eclipsed by his brother in every single way possible, it's easy to forget that he's not actually a complete waste of oxygen and had House Delving's extensive resource to improve himself with. The barrier looked simple, but for such things it didn't need to be complicated. The boss returned to cover soon after. There's the order to move, Yvonne didn't question and sprint toward the directed pillar, keeping her stance low in a zig-zag to minimize chance to hit. Were the enemies reloading? Probably. Would she make it easy for them to shoot at her? Hell nah.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Henri could barely peek above the rim of the ledge from his current position. He could see Delving and his men taking shelter inside the glowing dome-like barrier he was projecting from his sword. He was using some kind of gaudy looking claymore. The men under his wing were all wearing metal breastplates, but inside the barrier, they were beyond his reach. One of them appeared to be having a hard time breathing, and another was leveling his musket to fire at the group cross the waterway. If the swing with the hook earlier had been indication, the barrier is what had arrested his prior attempt to smack Delving in the back of his damn head. Cowardly prig was cowering behind that glowing curtain like a smug little bastard. Well, There was more than one way to deal with somebody like him--- Like trapping him over here, and forcing his pansy ass to get his hands dirty himself to get loose. And he knew JUST the way to make him do it. Timidly and very slowly, he rose from the water enough to hang over the side of the canal ledge, first the left side, to get access to the iron covering his hip and torso on that side. The heating would make a bright light, and that is unfortunate, but it may also distract Delving's goons for a moment. The heat conduction through his body would begin to boil the water still surrounding his right arm and right leg, still submerged where he was clinging to the side of the canal. This was risky shit, but it was necessary. Work was slow and difficult, due to trying to equalize the draw of material from that side of his body to avoid having a total and complete hole in the reinforcement, and due to the heat losses from partial submersion, but he commenced work on construction of a melon or large pumpkin sized "sphereoid", with a complex dimpled and form-stiffened surface from the sacrificed metal.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Aaoron counted that it had been ten minutes of grueling stalemate. Stalemate, the word itself felt exaggerated. Those imbeciles barely held their ground; they were helpless, desperately hiding behind the pillar like a cornered rat. Even then, he thought about an alternative plan. Something his brother had taught him but he kept forgetting. But that day in the office had given him a valuable lesson, to always come prepared, and be introspective. And that had served him well today. That elven woman was no ordinary archer and the amount of destruction she could dish out in a single spell was staggering. But again, he had come prepared, this protection spell will not fail him. This was his signature, one that he had honed over the years. While his father always had a bias toward the old adage that the best defense is the good defense, his brother had told him everyone was born with different gifts, and he should just be himself and improve what he was good at. In the middle of his self-admiring, the constable saw something was steaming in the murky water below. He stepped forward to peer at it and found that pesky tutor hanging for dear life on the rim not far from him and his men. He was holding a glowing metal sphere. Whatever it was, it revealed his figure rather clearly "You! Sailor," he commanded, and the best shooter in the group responded. He lowered his musket, and Aaron only needed to point at the hanging nuisance below. "Put one between his eyes! The rest of you stay on your targets" And he fired. Henri's head jerked backward, indicating a bullet hitting its mark. Smiling, Aaron expected the tutor to slip down and lost in the filthy stream, but he was not dead yet. He glanced at them with one eye missing and full of vengeance. "So, my brother was correct." He gripped his sword tightly and with his left hand, spread some of the light onto his breastplate. His heart raced, but not in fear. Anticipation! He was ready to pay back the humiliation he suffered that afternoon. "Come here if you dare, you renegade!"</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Henri smiled viciously in the warm amber glow of the metal sphere, and continued his work. He positively SEETHED inside, thinking he had unintentionally tipped off the investigation to this sniveling little dog of a man, who cowered like a frightened puppy, practically wetting himself in his brother's presence. His opinion of who's head he would like to liberate from their shoulders changed identity. He would very much like to make this little shit squeal like the pig he was. To think, this little oaf of a man was one of the "Geniuses" behind the abduction of his ward, the erstwhile prince he had grown so fond of for his pluck and wit. "Or are you afraid that you might get grime and dirt underneath those perfectly manicured little nails of yours? Clearly, never seen an honest day's work in their lives--Oh-- Or perhaps, since you're so salty, that you might melt? Hmm? Funny, how little rats like you always come for the cheese, isn't it Lord Delving? What's the matter, your big brother too busy to do his own dirty work today? Or does he not know where you are right now? Quite the pity." He dunked the sphere into the water, where it hissed and sizzled, then filled it most of the way full with the fouled river water, then heated only the top part to seal it closed. "I even went so far as to make you a little present. SOME of us pay attention when we read things in the library, and got promoted to the royal court on MERIT, instead of who their daddy fucked. Oh, I am quite sure you paid a lot of money for that gaudy little pig-sticker you have, but I MADE my shell-- ALL. BY. MY. SELF. Now, I feel I must part company, Lord Dipshit. I have a tunnel to collapse." Henri then spread his core into the metal of the sphere, then willed it to soar into the air and nestle into the masonry above, seeking a stony overhang to tuck it behind, before slipping back into the water with a sploosh, leaving just his hand exposed through the water. He began heating the canister. He rather hoped delving would become so furious that he would drop the barrier and storm at him-- He'd pull that little prig into the drink with him and drown him right then and there.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan Chounan was still on crouching ready to fire position between Kaito's and Jazdia's pillar, having a blind spot from Delving's musketeers and could peek the right side if he is ready to shoot his arrow. He quickly covered his ears when Henri made an explosion. The area began darker as the lits got weaken. When Delving's group began to retreat he quickly drawn his yumi again. Unfortunately, he can't make a call for a shot since everyone from the other side became a silhouette figures and his Ki is out of the range. Sighed and stood up with his feet. He checked the condition of the rest of the party. He kept cautious and kept his awareness active from the party's surroundings. Still with his yumi but will change to melee when it's clear.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword "You know it is a crime to lie to a guard, especially the head of the guards. If you do not want your head removed from your shoulder, I would suggest you start telling the truth." She walked closer toward the two men, making sure to close the distance. Being able to grab them by their shirts, if they could stupidly think they could outrun her. "What did you see when you were out hunting? Did you see anything strange or any OTHER criminal activities going on?" Towering over the two, she had quite a menacing presence to her.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Matilda's sheer bulk alone was intimidating enough close-up, the two idiots very unsubtly had their eyes on her teeth the entire time as they shrunk and shrunk like a pair of shriveled testicles. The claim of being the head of guards and beheading threat simply pushed them past the panic point as their eyes widened, near-synchroniously trying to step back only for her grip to be ironclad and they just rebounded back to the original place. If there's fight or flight instinct raging in their mind, well, it was summarily and handily defeated by the "give up and beg for mercy" instinct. If that's even a real thing. "L-l-lady- I mean, ma'am- ahmean, Sire-" "Sire is for men ya dork! Dame, yes? Dame Hilda, ah've heard of yer name, yer' the bestest and strongest knight-" "Ah saw a fight! Ain't got nothin' ta do with me, I swaer on me mum!" "Yer mum's dead! B-birk an' Reinhold went for closer look! I ain't dealin' with that shit, I went straight home! Ne'er shot even a rabbit, for real!" If they're not held tight by Matilda's iron fist, they probably would've ended up fighting each other to toss the other to the chopping block to save their own skin.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Hdur, Kindeance --- As the houses belonging to the hunters grew closer, so did the forest they were near. It seemed dense enough to supply Hdur with enough game for decades to comes. Though it was clear some of the forest was cleared away, probably for lumber, it didn't seem to leave any sore of dent in the size of the forest itself. The sky was clear today, with slight breeze. "I'm sorry to have cut your meal short. I was not expecting you to make a stew. I hope you were able to get some satisfaction from the bacon and vegetables you were snacking on." Solomon addressed Cedar as they took another turn on the dirt road that lead more directly to the hunter cottages. "On the bright side, with the farmer offering to make your stew, you'll have a hot meal waiting for your return." Not long after, they approached the hunter's houses. Solomon stopped. The house appeared occupied, but through the window, it looked like some kind of struggle. People looked to be backing away from someone, as thought they were trying to create distance. It didn't seem to work as their assailant blurred past with arms outstretched moving out of sight. "Take care here, Cedar. It looks as though there might be some trouble in that house."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Goodbye Mr. Henri, your service will never be forgotten... After making a personal vow to tell Fred what the prince's loyal tutor had done in his (probably) last moment. Jazdia could see the dome strengthen, but then rapidly lose its integrity. The musketeers only realized it after Jazdia impaled one of them with an arrow, the rest, including Aaron scamper to the wooden railings next to them. Before today, the last time Jazdia killed a soldier was twenty years ago, during the Tretagor crisis. Not the proudest milestone in her life, to be honest. To her, soldiers were the most pitiful profession a man could ever take. They didn't have the right to choose; a chain of commands bound them and the order was their sacred codex. They were disposable pawns, a perfect asset to discard to suit their commander's needs. And when their commander fell, they too fall with him. So, let's give them a chance. Jazdia fired an enchanted arrow with a remote trigger at the wooden frame on the northwest entrance then shouted at the hunkering Aaron. "Constable! What a sorry state you are in right now. I see that your shield is shrinking. That's a shame! Tell your boys if they retreat they will be spared! If they retreat with you they will be killed. And if they stay with you for too long, they will die. Do you see my arrows? It will explode in five minutes! Or when they violate the rules! As for you, Mr. Delving, God willing, I will not let you leave this tunnel unscathed! Time is running. Go and make your choices!" One of the musketeers unneighbourly responded by blindly firing his musket. An arrow flew in retaliation, but it hit the side of his helmet and deflecting the arrow off of its course. Two of his friends took advantage by running for the exit. Probably under Delving's order. Didn't matter. They didn't violate the rules. "What a lousy shot! Never do that again if you value your life!" *** A half kilometer away from that, in a cold chamber, a shackle shattered. waking up from her pitiful slumber, a woman cried. Agony shot through her, agony such as she had never known, and it concentrated in a brand on her nape. At first, she thought her master was angry at her, punishing her for a mistake, and she was willing to accept. But as the pain subsides, she found no sign of her master. The young woman shambled for the exit, moved by unexplainable anxiety, and it grew stronger when she opened the unlocked door. There was a faint trace of magic, one that didn't belong to anyone she knew. She shivered, a whisper came, and it brought faint ill news. She tried to shrug it off as the usual useless lure from the lingering spirit who haunted this place. At first, she walked, and with every step taken the anxiety turned into fear, and the fear turned into sadness, from sadness, came anger. The memory of her master started to fade in her mind, the master that had taken her in and liberated her from the torment of her so-called parents. The master who raised her and gave her purpose in life. She feared she would lose his touch forever. Terrified beyond reason, the young woman now hovered over the bloodied, broken corpse of her fellow servants. She stopped, yowling incoherently about where the master was and why his throne was empty, but nobody answered. As she strode past the broken trapdoor, unexplainable emotion surged through her. For the first time in her life, she felt impatient. As another wave of pain pulsed from her nape, her back arched in agony, and another scream was torn from her, and she realized with a racking, raging sense of grief that her master might have met his demise. The wall before her crumbled in an explosion, there, she rushed deeper. Tunnel after tunnel she knew so well, now all would be the victim of her unadulterated rage; crumbling and caving in in her wake. As she reached the place where her master's life force have once lingered, her eyes-- or rather, senses, were immediately fixed on the elven woman with a bow and wicked magic. Sensing the same magic from her and the residual life force of her master. The hate grew inside her like a living, parasitic thing. With trembling hands, she gathered her magic. The pride and joy that her master would never spare his kind words to praise her talent. "Talent, not disaster, not a terrible affront." To think that she would never hear those words again hurt her more than anything, and in sheer malice, she unleashed her power toward those who have robbed the world from her.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark One of Aaron's goons rushed for the dead navy near the northeast tunnel to loot the spare gunpowder, while the sharpshooter drew a bead at her, preventing Jazdia to shot at the running soldier. Commendable teamwork, but either miscalculated or simply desperate, they forgot that it wasn't a one-way trip. And on his way back, the elf fired her explosive arrow. That one soldier smashed onto the wall before bouncing back to the floor and lying unmoving. Aaron, who was ready to receive the gunpowder thrown backward and could be seen squirming in pain behind the undamaged railing. It was almost like shooting fish in a shallow barrel. "Well, I guess Time is up, Gentlemen!" That enchanted arrow on the northwest tunnel exploded. Its structure had sustained partial damage from the previous explosion before and now it had reached its peak stress. The entrance collapsed, and the explosion coupled with falling debris overwhelmed the navy sharpshooter, rendering him unconscious with substantial head trauma. Aaron was now the last one standing, or moving? Jazdia notched an arrow in her bow, and again, the radiant purple flame engulfed its crystalizing head. She risked a little bit more energy into her eyes and scan the walls, to ensure nobody would interrupt their last dance. To her disappointment, however, Jazdia saw a lithe silhouette approaching from the now-collapsed tunnel. And as the unknown actor hover closer, The debris, small or large was shoved violently and pushed aside like dried leaves. The figure was getting clearer to see, showing a very young girl in her early teens. Jazdia already had her bow drawn and aimed at her, but, for a half second, the elf hesitated, and she doubted her own eyes. It was a mistake. A white flash of energy hurled from that breached tunnel, and in the last attempt to correct her error, Jazdia released her arrow. Almost instantly, an enormous crackling ball of white and purple fire exploded in front of her. The blow flung her body backward and crashed to the floor. The world was spinning, all the noises were now replaced with an annoying ring in her head. Her chest contracted as she gasped for breath, and as she partially gathered her wit, the pain was so severe she unable to move her body. Perhaps the most grueling part of her injury was when Jazdia realized she suddenly had an extra finger.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword "A fight? And who did you see fighting? Stop bickering and tell me what happened!" She raised her voice, feeling like a mother scolding her children. She looked at Reinhold, wondering if she could get some answers from him. She assumed that the two may have seen the royal guards fighting with the kidnappers. "Did you see where the other party ran off to?" The large orc was starting to get impatient speaking with the two men.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar shrugged at Solomon before responding. "aww, dun worry tuh much 'bout it-- The nice fellar said he's a gunna cook it fer us no-how-- I'd prolly eat half o' it while fixin' it up-- Prolly works out better thisa way no how." When solomon mentioned the potential for a fight brewing inside the cabin they had walked up to, it made him frown. He was raised to not start fights, or to try and get involved in them without very good reason, because it was how you invariably just got hurt. (or worse, hurt other people when you didn't really mean to, and have unending knock on consequences.) He approached the small wood-framed home with some trepidation. It was "larger" than his single-roomed wood frame cabin, in that it had more rooms, but it was also "Smaller", in that it was not designed for his proportions. Getting inside and moving around would require stooping to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, and other hazards-- fighting inside would be at a great disadvantage for him, unless he went down on all fours, --but he couldn't swing his walking stick that way. He looked at Solomon, who had a similar look of trepidation on his own face, but for different reasons, clearly-- The building would be just fine for a person of his stature. He sighed, then knocked politely on the door. "Hey, uhm... Is this a good time?" he asked loudly through the closed door after knocking. If there really WAS a fight starting to brew inside, it just showed a need to be mannerly more than ever. "Polite and neighborly when dealing with strangers or meeting new people" his dad had stressed at him. "Try not to scare 'em" He really hoped they would be affable and civil with a visit from a stranger, if they were so indisposed.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar came downstairs, just in time to see a meeting concluding. Solomon was talking with the fox-man, Kaito. He wondered what kind of plan was in the mix this time. Regardless, it would likely involve hard travel, but exactly when he couldn't say. He'd have to ask discretely later. For now, he simply strolled past, and out the door into the sunlit street outside. Strange, he was fairly sure the windows had been OPEN when he arrived. No matter. The sun suggested noon on this early September day, and he could smell the stew from here, reaching out for him, and practically pulling him down the street like the song of a siren. He did not resist. A few minutes later, he arrived outside old Gerhard's farm once more, to the jubilant fanfare of the staff. Apparently, it had become a team effort, and having thrown in so much effort, they wanted to see the spectacle of him actually "trying to EAT all that." He merely joked with them that they should get him a trough, and stand back, which was met with a counter-joke along the lines of "This *IS* a pig farm you know.", implying that 'it could be arranged.' He declined the suggestion, and asserted it was only a joke-- but to please bring him a large wooden bowl to use. It turned out they didn't have one, but they did have a sturdy milk bucket, and he felt that it would be sufficient for his needs. Helpful as always, the gentleman that had sold him the food rolled up the well used and divoted wooden log that served as the farm's chopping block for splitting logs into firewood for him to sit on, and the show started. ... ...</s> <|message|>Veronica Blackwater Location: Hdur, Kindeance. --- Veronica had lapsed into silence after her conclusive acceptance of the Guard Captain's statements. Matilda's final word on the matter was all she needed to hear really. She wasn't sure if the elf's words to her were meant to be provocative, but she had no intention of humoring them presently. The matter of when the team left was the mandate of Matilda alone, not the vampire, and certainly not this elven upstart. So, she ignored the elf's attitude. It wasn't like her opinion really mattered anyway. It was adorable that the elf thought she was somehow leading "people" in this operation. Although, it became sufficiently clear thereafter that Matilda did not seem to have as tight a hold on the reins of this operation as she should. Veronica could understand negotiation for the sake of the team's health and effectiveness, but the elf seemed more insubordinate than not. Then again, this operation being as "off the books" as it was, how much of a formal structure could she really expect. There was the King's orders, Matilda as a contact and, in theory, nothing more than that. A command structure might as well have been a suggestion. Regardless, it seemed as though a plan had been finalized. They would depart shortly before midnight. Veronica nodded, despite wanting to shake her head. Even though such conditions couldn't have possibly been more favorable for herself, she was less confident in the capacity of her far more "living" members of the team. She certainly hoped they all at least planned on having a power nap before departure, or things might get ugly if they ran into trouble. "Reinhold, Ingmar, and Bertolf. Witness to the kidnapping, if they're telling the truth. Reinhold even doggedly tracked them down to their lair, for... personal reasons." Apparently, the hunters were active assets? So, this must have been Matilda's so-called "contact". Hopefully, that meant that this "Reinhold" would be the final nail in the coffin in terms of locating the Prince. Between the narrowed likely locations and his guidance, success seemed closer than ever. Veronica incrementally ratched up the sleeping hunter's survival on her protection list. If it came down to a fight before they could reach their goal, there was now clearly a priority for protection. "This is lady Veronica. She's a covert operator that frequently works with the crown, and myself personally. I value her skills highly, especially in this kind of investigation." Starting a bit from her thoughts at the introduction, Veronica only nodded, as she finally rolled up her marked map and slid it back into its case, screwing on the top. Not particularly one to revel in status and praise, she restrained a bloodless little flush at Matilda's words. "You flatter me, Dame Matilda, but I would be able to do little without the gracious confidence of the Crown. All I do is to repay our King's kindness." The corner of her closed mouth quirked upward. As the room became intermittedly more crowded, Veronica quietly slid her stowed map back into her pack, observing the exchange between the now named Solomon and the boyish man with the annoying musky scent. The latter named himself Kaito, and Veronica's brow briefly pinched at a good portion of his introduction. So, it would seem the elf did already have her own web she was weaving within the team, in spite of the King's orders for secrecy. Yes, Veronica was starting to get a good idea of who was responsible for the bombings in the Capitol, and she wasn't a fan by any stretch of the imagination. She restrained another frown at yet another new person who wasn't included in the team's original structure. Not only did they have some sort of "rescue" stashed upstairs, there was also this Kaito. Just what sort of careless web of security was this team weaving?! They were catching classrooms in this thing! "I'm pretty sure that you're madame Mathilda but from you two I haven't catched your names yet." Though it didn't show in her expression, it almost felt a herculean effort to restrain any expression of her displeasure, as Veronica plastered on a measured -if pleasant- smile towards the newcomer and followed up on Solomon's initiative. "Veronica Blackwater," she responded simply. "I specialize in clandestine operations such as these. Information gathering is my forte." As was bloody slaughter, but that would become apparent in its own time. If anything, it might have gone without saying, considering the present company. The sound of wooden steps protesting loudly briefly turned her attention to the… bear padding down the stairs. For a moment, in spite of having heard of his existence, she couldn't help but discreetly stare a little out of the corner of her eye. The man-bear it seemed, however, was on a mission, passing through without a single word. As he opened the door of the inn, Veronica briefly dipped into the watery sensation of her magic, just in case the sun's rays got lucky, before releasing it with the door's closure once more plunging the area back into candlelight.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan I see. 神様のお恵みがありますように... May the God be with you. Who knows, maybe twisted fate give you a better future. Well then, want for another round? You should eat plenty for your recovery. Once you brought back into good shape, let's have some drink. I noticed you are a good drinker back then." Chounan replied and smiled.</s> <|message|>Kaito For a moment the fox observed Veronica Blackwater as he tried to get a bit of a read of her emotions. However the pale girl turned out to be pretty proficient at masking them. Not that it was too surprising for someone who was doing shady stuff for the king himself. The girl probably received pretty much direct orders from and directly reported to the guy on the throne himself. A loyal tool to the king was Kaito's guess. As Cedar made his way to the door, the kitsune noticed how just for a very brief moment her senses sharpened as she followed the movement of the bear. There was this slight change in her posture when the door was opened and it changed again the moment it closed. ""Blackwater, eh? I'm pretty sure I've heard that name before somewhere not too long ago. Three, maybe four decades or so. There was this farmer who used a story about a certain Lord Blackwater to scare his kids into behaving. If you misbehaved he'd come out at night to take you back to his lair and feast on your blood." The fox paused a bit and gave Veronica a friendly smile " It must be a total coincidence that you share a family name with a vampire from a folk tale. Just as the curtains happen to be closed in broad daylight for some added secrecy of our operation." Kaito could not help but wonder about the colorful cast of their party. The king certainly had gathered a bunch of outsiders and anomalies to search for his son. From a bearman to a presumably vampire to a mythical fox creature. Not to mention that the doctor seemed to have a funny smell around him. It sure made the orc and the elf look like normal ones. "Anyway, since we're departing half an hour before midnight. If there aren't any specific questions you want me to answer I'm off to grab some extra food and take a nap."</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Hdur, Kindeance --- "I believe I know whom you are speaking of, Mister Kaito. He is more than the villain of folktales. I once had the pleasure to make his acquaintance. To say he was less than hospitable would be putting it nicely. Last I spoke with him, he was in search of something. A protege perhaps. I do not really know. He was cordial enough during my encounter, so I don't think much ill of him. If I remember correctly, he probably still lives at the Tretagor convergence." said Solomon, his head tilting to the side as he was attempting to remember details about the one time he had encountered Lord Blackwater. He then lookws forward, his head slightly shaking from side to side. "I cannot say what he is up to these days. We didn't have much to offer each other to maintain communication." Solomon leaned forward in his chair, his eyes looking intently at Kaito, "Not any questions relating to the mission at hand. I am curious, however. Jazdia spoke of your mastery of illusory magic, with whom did you study?" Solomon's voice didn't carry any hints of interrogation, rather, he seemed to have genuine intrigue. The study of magic wasn't a well distributed occupation, so to have someone be a master in the school of illusion was impressive.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Despite exuberant cheering and being pressured to eat more, the poor bear was experiencing the strange mix of sensations that frequently accosted him this time of year. Being physically stuffed to bursting, while remaining ravenously hungry. Well, at least the mind-altering edge had been taken off. He had polished off a good 2/3 of the cauldron by himself, but the large quantity of water in the stew had bulked it up. He would have practically sloshed when he walked, causing him to have a rather profound need to find the little bear's room. (Do bears go in the woods? Yes. Yes they do.) Given that he could not physically consume any more, but would certainly be able to finish it in a few hours, he asked if they could move the remainder to the inn, where the rest of the group was holed up. "better check with them on their end first-- They aren't usually keen on outside food being brought up." In hindsight, it seemed like a sensible enough objection, given the nature of their business, but on the other... He looked at the cauldron with a sad expression. He REALLY wanted to eat the rest of it, but was already suffering the effects of fluid overload. "I'ma go fin' out 'en" he moped. "You SURE you can't finish it Mr Bear?" chortled the farm-hand that had sold the lot. "Eyes too big for your stomach?" Cedar rolled his eyes at the comment. "I saids i' woun'na be all at oncet! Dayum! Ain't no ways 'at whole thang gonna fit in muh gut!" "I dunno, it's pretty close! You got most of it in there!" The entire crew got a chuckle out of that at his expense. "Let us know if they say it's OK Mr Bear. We'll hold on to it a bit longer until then." Cedar thanked them kindly, stood up, and immediately had to lean on his walking stick. The need to find a secluded tree was very pronounced. He waved at the farmers, then started hobbling down the road, before dipping to the side into a densely wooded copse of trees to see to his business. One of the farmer's dogs had followed him in curiosity, but took off terrified the moment it caught wind of what he was discretely letting out back there. Cedar chuckled at the dog, finished his business, then sauntered back onto the road, and toward the inn. The sun had moved noticeably in the sky, and he guessed it was early afternoon. Feeling like a new bear, he went through the door.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] Matilda watched impassively as the baker introduced himself. She kept her silence through the exchange, eyes narrowing with mounting paranoia as it passed. The knight waited for the two elves to finish, but Jazdia went upstairs instead of returning. That suited her just fine. Briskly following after, Matilda spared a glance to ensure no one followed before disappearing from the common's view. "I will not pry into your past, or your network." The orc caught Jazdia before the latter entered a room. "But I require your words that it will not negatively affect the mission at hand."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia was clearly not pleased with this untimely interruption. Though Matilda's suspicion was probably justified, they had all the chance in the world to join in and listen when she had a talk with Baker. Heck, it even would save her time from explaining to their team leader how the devices works. "No, it will not," she replied with a deadpan expression. "On the contrary, I just solved our communication issue and ensured we can leave safely. From what I heard we probably have multiple targets, so splitting might be an option. Anything else? If not, I will take my leave and rest."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "None. That will be all, miss Jazdia. I will see you tonight." There's nothing but the elf's own word to it, but Matilda had to be satisfied with that much for now. Returning downstairs, the orc sat alone and glowered at the rest of the room as she had her meal and waited for Anderson's delivery. She'll make sure no mistake will happen before the departure. After that? Maybe she can catch some sleep. ***** Time passed. People were roused an hour before midnight, to fully prepare for the rescue mission. Reinhold was already up and awaited, still rather haggard but with a hint of sharpness that was absent from his earlier form. As promised Anderson had horses and a wagon delivered earlier, though not in person considering the other tasks he had to do. Cedar shared the wagon with Veronica, the horses seemingly too distressed by the latter's presence to allow riding, everyone else having their own horse to ride. At the forefront rode Reinhold, the hunters' words rang true as he traced the terrain without much difficulty despite the limited lighting. The half moon offered sufficient illumination to reveal dark silhouettes. Still, it made for a slow travel. The horses couldn't move quickly, for even an errant pebble or branch could prove hazardous should they trip on it. Besides, Reinhold regularly had to stop and wander sideways to ensure that they're on the right track. Progress, however, was steady. It was about four hours in when the first issue arose. Reinhold's guidance had slowly led the party toward the village of Fanghorn, where one particularly lowkey baron Otto von Kruber resided and ruled from. Around five miles out, Matilda ordered for a scrying for confirmation. This particular scry seemed to have punched through a veil as she abruptly gained direct vision of the prince sleeping in a well-furnished room. He looked unharmed at a glance, but that's not the issue - it was the location, which pinged not from Fanghorn but from Pesti instead, about seven miles to a different direction. That village was governed by one Sir Caspar, who received the land for contribution on quelling a potential rebellion a few years ago. What to do?</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark It was three or less in the morning when Veronica reported her finding. It was the pinpointed location of the prince himself and his general well-being which apparently remained unspoiled for the past six days. What concerned them was the part where her finding conflicted with the hunter's account, which pointed to Fanghorn as the location where the kidnappers went. Jazdia huffed and dismounted from her horse. It was not really a big deal for her, but she wanted to hear what the team leader had to say about this information, and the intel gatherer herself. So the elf opened her pocketwatch and called for an emergency meeting. The map of Kindeance opened, and her enchanted arrows provided the light. Ten minutes at most. "How much is the enemy on each site?" she began, eyeing Veronic. "In Pesti especially."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] Of course it wouldn't be a smooth sailing. Which path would be the right one? It'll take at least half an hour to get to either villages, so checking both was still within the time table but that relied on one important thing. Which, considering how competent their enemies had been so far, was probably some wishful thinking. "Veronica, what are the chances of our enemies noticing the scrying?" Matilda wasn't well-versed in matter of magic, but she had better general knowledge than most. Skilled far-seers were great boon, but nowhere near impossible to predict and counteract. "And as the elf said, try check the amount of potential hostile on both sites. Surprise may no longer be on the table now, if we are to divide our force we need to split it accordingly."</s> <|message|>Kaito The journey through the night had so far been rather uneventful. Sight was sufficient enough to not have the horses break their legs but the journey was still slow. Kaito could not help but find the whole ordeal of traveling through the wilderness at night rather boring. Rather odd considering he was born as a nocturnal predator. Throughout the years the fox had grown rather accustomed to the human way of life. However the night was about to turn more eventful as the party stopped due to Veronica spotting the prince with her scrying. "Well, isn't that convenient, that the captors of the prince drop their guard after learning that we are on their tail." Spoke the kitsune sarcastically. It wasn't that he didn't trust his teammates, however the result of the scrying was rather fishy. "Aaron Delving has already seen us fight and should be aware of Mathilda's prowess as well. He knows that he isn't dealing with just the run of the mill soldiers. If I was him I would try to have us split up and ambush 1 group at a time with my full force. But that is just me. Maybe I give him and his cronies too much credit."</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar rode in the back of the wagon, not of necessity, but of quiet amusement and silent comfort. (For the most part.) It had never occurred to these folks that he did not NEED to ride a horse at all to keep up, or even to ask him about it. It had occurred to him that the only person to see him naked and moving about on all fours, really moving about on all fours, (Dame Matilda had gotten a glimpse the day before, at the rendezvous at the old fort tower, but had said or remembered nothing. Maybe she was wanting to keep him fed and rested? She clearly didn't understand bears at this time of year.) Had been Henri, the tutor. That fellow had been chagrined to watch him sentry, investigate, and rig for hostility all around that tower for well over an hour in that condition. What, did they think he could only run on two feet? That the thick pads on his palms he concealed with gloves, were just ornamentation? He had hastily inhaled the last of the soup, after he had talked with baker about the matter earlier in the late afternoon. Had convinced the long eared man that he did not want to overwork Nina, when the same work had already been done elsewhere. He had been civil, he remembered, to Nina's relief, if the reactions he caught (from just out of eye shot) were an indication. Regardless, his dinner was still settling, so he was indeed quite content to laze in the bed of the wagon for the time being, though he felt a bit at odds about letting Reinhold do all the tracking in the dark. Full humans couldnt see like he could. Smell like he could either. He giggled, dodging a lurch from the wagon, at the double meaning, remembering the farmer's poor dog getting its first whiff of bearman urine hours earlier. 'Bigger and scarier than you thought huh, boy? Not like a man at all, am I right?' He had chortled inwardly then, when it had taken off like a terrified rabbit. He yawned lazily, then tugged off his gloves. Then his boots. He really was NOT accustomed to wearing them this long, and they constricted and bit at his extremities, especially the boots: ornaments meant for public exhibition, not for actual use or protection, they only forced his paws into shapes more pleasing for human eyes, rather than affording protection. He wore them for the benefit of others, rather than his own. Well, outside of being accidentally shot anyway, by terrified townsfolk and zealous guards. They, and the robes served a fine purpose for that. Ordinarily, he preferred to be unencumbered and unclothed. Movement through the woods was as sleek and easy as a fish in water that way. It was the way he had spent his early childhood, and was the way his younger siblings were right now, almost certainly-- snuggled up in a pile on the floor of his dad's cabin, with Mama, and his dad buried in the heap someplace. This would have been their last year denning at home; dad would have been working hard to finish their cabins in time for winter. He was suddenly homesick, and contemplated removing his robes. He felt out of place, out of touch, far from home. There was a chill in the air, but it wasn't that bad yet. It would just prompt his fur to thicken, like always. Bushier, thicker, floofier. Not like the sleekness of spring and summer. He looked down at the sleeves of his robes. The hand woven fabric, made from hand spun thread. Somewhat clumsy stitching down the seams. It, along with the boots and gloves, were not meant for, nor made for long term use. A tool, like a knife, or a walking stick. A thing, a sign to indicate civility to humans, that they would otherwise be blind to. A physical embodiment of the love and protection his father had for him. All hand made by him. He struggled between the urge for physical comfort, to remove them, and the longing for emotional comfort, to keep them on-- as he huddled and tucked up like a big brown ball in the back of the wagon. Abruptly, the wagon stopped, ending the reverie. Veronica (he was having difficulty with all the names-- another newcomer who's silent, still movements sent instinctual wariness, if not waves of terror down his back, sending the fur bristling whenever she was around. The decidedly nonhuman scent didn't help. He wondered how she managed to ride the horses... Maybe that's why she was in the wagon's front?) had gotten down and performed a far more skilled augury in a cup of water in the moonlight than Vanquis would every be capable of, (It didn't even explode! Not even steam!) As they approached a forlorn and somber fortress town. He could smell the smoke of the chimneys. The animals the people kept. All towns smelled like that. (Even though this one was still some distance off.) Even Hdur, where they just left, and where he had left Jorry, sleeping peacefully on that bed. He had dared not disturb her when he saw her that way. The shopping could come another day. Now, people would be in beds here too, unwary and unaware of the group of frightening people parked in the edge of the woods in the silver light the moon was shedding, like furtive beasts in the night. He would know; he was one. Well, half anyway. He overheard her talking with the others, mostly Matilda and the long eared woman, Jazdia, about the prince having been moved, and for the need to split up. He looked down at his robes once more, then decided. He folded them neatly, tucking the removed gloves into the folded parcel of fabric, then placing the large boots on top in the front of the wagon, before tying the seed pouch to his left wrist again, then languidly oozing off the back of the wagon on all fours. He figured being spotted and identified as a civilized creature was not what they really needed right now, since they would need to split up in secret. With his nose to the ground he was a better tracker anyway. He lazily plodded up to the small knot of conspiring group leaders to let them know he could take the task of finding the path the kidnappers had taken from here along with Reinhold, who was struggling in the dark, while they decided among themselves, giving them a bit of a scare in the process.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The fort was a lonesome structure on top of the hill. Its surrounding was empty and open, save for a well-populated stable off to one side. It had a number of horses in there... quite a lot of horses, in fact, one particular specimen was at least two sizes larger than the rest and built so muscularly one may suspect that it's used to a diet of meat. The stone rampart was underpopulated, with only one sentry every twenty-something meter and they seems to be paying more attention to the bramble removal team than their surroundings. The walls itself was exactly how it looked, stone with some copper veins that diffused magic, yet from this close it's possible to peer through the gaps to view the people making slow progress through the overgrowth. The same could be said about the castle wall. While the crack was at southeast side, putting it out of direct line of sight for now, there's sufficient gaps to get some idea of what's going on inside. The previously concealed first floor looked to be a great hall, currently populated by one person sweeping the floor slowly. A few people was talking in a room on the second floor, including the guard that went to deliver their report. One of them went to the window to presumably peer down on the party, a glimpse of wrinkled skin and grey hair revealed itself for a few seconds before the people dispersed. Then it's a flurry of activity. Servants came down to the first floor, preparing various tables and refreshment. The third floor had less people than earlier in the day, presumably a portion was out dealing with the brambles. They seemed to be mostly unmoving at the moment, as if resting... or waiting for something. Beside a section of the floor that seems to be the kitchen, of course. That part was busy as beehive, as evident of the faint smoke of cooking fire that soon started to emerge from the nearest chimney.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] There was a small commotion when the guard at the fort's gate asked for the party to surrender their weapons, of which Matilda flat out refused. The poor man seemed at lost, caught between a rock and a hard space until the baron himself came to bail him out. "No need for such formality!" He said. "The king's own herald wouldn't wish us any harm now, would they?" Baron Otto was a middle-aged man that didn't age quite that well, already more white than black on a head that seemed to be permanently stooping forward. He wore a formal outfit that might've been a tailor-fit a few years back but now pressed tightly into his flesh, the buttons fighting for their life to keep him modest. Yet despite all that he remained jovial at a glance, like a harmless neighborhood uncle that was more than eager to share a story or two. "My apologies for the lacking reception dear heralds, but your visit was on a short notice!" He chuckled nervously, showing the way to a long table with a dozen seats arranged around it. "Please, take a seat! You must've rode through the night, I'm sure you wont mind a modest breakfast?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia formally smiled back at him, before shifting at Matilda with nudging glance. "I am sure madam guard captain would appreciate that. Though, our initial intention was to request a service from your physician so our Captain will be treated with more than just first aid." The Baron gasped. "By the Gods, how did the good dame received such injuries? I'll have the village doctor summoned at once, worry not. There's a room available-" "That will not be necessary." the orc paladin said bluntly. "We do what we came here for." "Ah, come on capt', there is no harm in it." Jazdia turned to the Baron again, who now smiling nervously. His reaction to Matilda's injury was pathetic to the point she wondered if the old coot knew how obvious it was. The elf however wanted to prolong this tango and subtly dismissed Matilda's objection. "Appreciate it, Baron... I am sure our captain can enjoy some breakfast while she waits for your personal doctor." Steadily, in a way that involves hidden carefulness yet masked with deliberate politeness, Jazdia walked inside the room, followed by the others. Some creaking could be heard when the half-bear druid walked past her toward his own seat. The faint glow in her eyes activated, and in the effort to search for a trapdoor or other nefarious contraptions, she found a very ordinary cellar, below it was an empty dungeon. "Well, good luck finding a chair for you, Mr. Cedar." she quipped before their host could notice her intense stare toward his basement. The Baron entertained them at a long table in the middle of the room where he sat at the right end. As he clapped his hand, several servants came from the door at the north side of the room, bringing trays of food and drinks. A very deadpan yet courteous servant handed Jazdia a pipping-hot oatmeal porridge with blueberry and apple topping, while the others were to help themselves with various loaves of bread, soup, and meats. Pretty wholesome indeed.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The nervousness faded a bit from the baron's countenance as his "guests" eventually took the invitation, mentally reassessing the pecking order here. Clearly the dame was the leader, yet so far it's the elf taking the reins. An expert, perhaps? Well, no matter. He just need to do his part. "Men, summon the good doctor, please! Make it quick." He ordered to no one in particular as the servants filed in on his command, carrying trays of freshly made food. Say whatever about Fanghorn, but when it comes to food there's few place that could be their match. "Ah, and get a sturdier bench for our big friend here. I'm afraid the chair wasn't built for one so big." Thinking back to the one broken by Ragnar, it'll probably not hold the larger bear-man. Even if he seemed more polite than the northener. "I'm sure you know who I am, but let me introduce myself. Baron Otto von Kruber of Fanghorn, at your service. How may I be of assistance to the crown?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne was skeptical at their decision, but far from her to question the team leader. Just, no one would fault her for looking around to see potential escape routes and whatnot. You know, just in case. A mercenary always had to be on lookout for their own well-being or they die quickly and usually embarassingly. The door's the most obvious one. It only fits one person to create a bottleneck for the defenders, but that meant it opened outward. She'll probably be able to force it open as long as it's not barred from the outside. Then there's another door at the other side of the room, deeper into the structure. Desperate, but it's an option. The windows were too narrow to even consider, damn the sensible construction. Not as much options as she liked, but plenty. Worst come to worst, she can always take the baron hostage. "Fancy breakfast there." Whistled the mercenary, looking at the vast array of foodstuff in front of her. Was the food poisoned though? That's the issue here.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar nodded appreciatively at the baron, but said nothing until after the servants had displaced several of the chairs, and replaced them with a low but sturdy bench. He had something similar in his cabin, but with a much less elaborate (and much taller) table. He would have to lean over to use this one. The cutlery was fashioned for much smaller, and more delicate hands. So much for manners. He moved to the edge of the bench, such that most of his weight would be over one set of its legs, then sat down; a loud creaking being the only voice if opposition to his presence at the table. He had to admit, that was more hospitable than he was used to, and for some reason that made him wary and uneasy. This 'baron' von 'whatshisface' was being TOO hospitable. He discretely sniffed at the air, taking in the room, the food, lingering scents from prior occupants and activities, while glancing about. ... Why did they try to distract him with food? That had to be the most uncivil thing about this: teasing a poor bear like this, and especially in the fall! He HAD to keep his head about this. HAD to.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito looked at all the food that was being served by the baron to their party. For a moment he wondered if it would be poisoned. That would be an easy way to dispose of his little group. And would not make less of a mess then decapitation, stabbing through the heart or getting quartered. That would certainly be his preferred method if he was in the Baron's shoes. Somehow judging from Yvonne's hesitation she was thinking the same thing. For the moment the fox decided not to start gobbling down on the food and wait to see what the others would do. For now focussed on the Baron instead. There was always something to be learned from engaging in conversation with your enemy. " Baron Von Kruber. Let me first thank you for your generous hospitality and your unwavering loyalty to the crown. Something our king greatly appreciates in these times. My name is Sir Jurgen Von Drexel, knight to the king's court. It's an honor to reside at your court." Kaito had deliberately chosen a similar sounding fake name of a lesser known noble house in order to create a sense of familiarity between him and the baron. His next move would be to engage in friendly conversation, building up the relationship and softening up the baron's defenses before moving on to topics where the good old baron did not want to slip his tongue. "You have two sons right? How are they doing? I heard your youngest is going to come of age soon. Has he found a good tutor to squire for?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The massive arrangement of food was a treat to the eyes and nose. With farming as their main industry, Fanghorn's produce was on the top of the line. Among those, only the best of the best made their way to the baron's pantry. The porridge was piping hot with sweet milky smell to it. Freshly baked loaves of bread in various size came alongside soft golden butter. Rich assortment of fruit was sent in various bowls, berries of different shade and apples and figs and half a dozen more. Cold cuts of meat with faint fragrance of smoke and salt was served next to savory bacon, its oil still sizzling from the heat. Eggs, too, was aplenty, from softboiled to scrambled and everything inbetween. While the choice of drink wasn't as plentiful as the food, there's still quite a bit. A servant stood attentively on the side, a small table holding various glass pitchers on it. There's chilled water, for one, and what looked like milk, but the rest were a riot of color that reminded one of the fruits on the table. One only need to ask to get their cup filled. Whether encouraging or suspicious, none held any trace of malevolent addition. Whether to human, elf, or bear senses. "An honor to have you at my table, Sir Jurgen!" If the baron noticed any apprehension from his guests, he didn't show it. He took a bread from the nearest basket, slicing through to reveal the white insides before generously lathering butter on it. "Why, my good sir, you know a lot about me! It shames me that I cant say otherwise. My boys are... doing very well, they're currently visiting a distant acquaintance with my wife. As for tutor, well, I had some talk with Sir Caspar a while back. Nothing decided yet of course, but it's looking good I'd say!"</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Cedar eyed the baron cautiously, and waited for the man to actually take a bite before even permitting himself the very idea of taking any of the food. If there were to be a torture special made for a being such as he, this would be among the top contenders. A powerful instinct to lay claim to the entire table and eat like a beast until he could no longer swallow (then continue trying to eat anyway, should any food still be present) was clawing and howling in the back of his psyche like a rabid dog, while the dignified and human part of him struggled and fought to retain composure and control. Remaining quiet and dignant in posture and poise amidst this assault on his senses was pure existential agony. He doubted his companions truly realized the degree to which his self-control was being tested by this exchange. Had this truly been a genuinely friendly invitation to dinner, from a truly trusted friend, he would have been at ease, and indulged in a way only a true and real friend would have understood, but that was not what this was. This was a fattened hog placed over a vicious trap, hungry and eager to ensnare... or at least, had every potential to be. The cruel memory of being trapped in the Rascade dungeon was about the only mental defense he could bring to bear against this most heinous crime of civility. He did his best to not shake, and discretely swallowed the drool that was threatening to baptize his face if not attended to. 'For fuck's sake, don't drag this out!' He cursed inwardly at his companions. They were likely completely oblivious to the thin vaneer of composure that was holding back the flood...</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" The bear's head swam, shapes distorted, and the whispers became a deafening cacophony from everywhere and nowhere at once. Mere moments later, he awoke with a start face-down in the fancy oatmeal he had been served. Lightly salted with butter and honey, with crunchy streusel and black currant jam on top. It had invaded his mouth and nostrils, and had his entire face coated up to his ears, where he had fallen in face first. 500lbs of bear, fallen in, face first. The table setting was in shambles where the cereal had slopped over the sides from the sudden ursine addition, and plates and cutlery had gone airborne after being catapulted by his left arm slamming down limp on the table beside it. A section of wall behind bore the remains of a platter of over-easy eggs, their yellow yolks oozing down the plastered edifice, while the nearby tray of thick cut bacon was completely unharmed. "GUH! NO NONONONO!" Bellowed the bear amid bubbles and a spray of oatmeal, as he fumbled blindly on the table for something to wash the offensive comestibles from his maw and visage. Blindly, he grabbed a ewer at random, and poured the contents, before roaring louder, and much more bear like, as a bright red fruit punch doused him, staining his face bright pink and leaving a terrible mess. "Guhaaa! NOOOO I' BURNS!" [Roar] He quickly stood away from the table in a blind stumble, sending the bench backward with a loud scrape, and the table forward with a jostle andvratyle of plates and glasses. He repeated the desperate, blind clamor at the table, this time successfully obtaining the serving ewer full of water, then vigorously and grotesquely washing his face and mouth out in the poured stream, before ending with a disgustingly strong exhalation through his nostrils that sent trapped oatmeal out in a viscous spray, followed abruptly by a vigorous headshake that sent saliva chasing it afterward in the air. The horrible spectacle ended just as abruptly, leaving a snot nosed bear with red eyes and stained facial fur boggling and trying hard to remember what the hell had just happened. Blinking behind very irritated eyes that had just moments before been subjected to a wash with what smelled and tasted like elderberry wine, he examined the toom. The elf woman was looking at him in stark horror, while the sedate doctor solomon merely wiped strewn spittle from the side of his forehead with an amused smirk. Veronica's eyes were glittering black pits, in a stony marble face, festooned with what was probably once oatmeal. He looked around the table quickly, noting several others face down on their plates. 'So it werent just me' he mused to himself, while still fighting back the panic of near drowning, and resuming the visceral battle of will to avoid returning face down onto the breakfast table. "Wadda hells jus' happen!?" he bellowed. "I's been tryin' ta FUGGIN AVOID goin's all face-daown in muh damn dinner, an sum sunsabitch goes an' plunks me innit anuhways!? I'll KEEL im! ... ... I gots it up muh damn nose!" "We noticed." Veronica's cold deadpan tone could have shattered every goblet at the table.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia was so damned sure the food wasn't spiked she could literally bring it to her restaurant and it would pass quality control by Anderson himself. So what gives? Either the Baron knew their MOs and deliberately set up the serving. She looked up, the danger was closing in, but as her sight descended back to the current room he saw a wizard incanting some spell from a wooden box on the second floor. So either spiked or the place was filled with paralyzing hexes. The big guy started to collapse, but then struggle to shake it off, causing a ruckus on the table and even more when he bellowed before attempting to wash off the mess from his muzzle, which caused even more clamor. At this point, between the host and the guest, whoever violated the sacred hospitality was no longer discernable. "We noticed." "About time." She murmured. An arrow, enchanted with less-than-usual-magic embedded itself on the floor near the door. Acting as a trip mine. "Wadda hells jus' happen!?" he bellowed. "I's been tryin' ta FUGGIN AVOID goin's all face-daown in muh damn dinner, an sum sunsabitch goes an' plunks me innit anuhways!? I'll KEEL im! ... ... I gots it up muh damn nose!" "Snort it out. We've got more company to entertain us." Another arrow nocked on her bow. Realizing that they were not in optimal number, Jazdia kicked Rosenving's chair, causing the sleepy noblewoman to fall over.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar scowled, then turned his head and snorted loudly again, this time discharging the remaining foreign matter discretely at the floor, before examiing the room for items he could improvise into a billy club, or just straight up use. There were decorative rapiers installed on the wall near some colorful curtains on the other side of the table. There was a long but altogether too thin wooden dowel holding them above the window. It would likely break on the first hit. He turned his head and looked behind. There was another decorative weapon stand, with several long but dusty pole arms poking out of it, and a lonely kukri knife hanging high above on the wall. He shoved the bench toward the wall, and claimed the latter two items, leaning on the pole arm like a staff, while tucking the kukri into the belt sash of his robes.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito had expected the baron to spill it all out but much to the fox's surprise he kept his composure. Was that turd at the end of the table able to resist his magic by his own will power? Or was someone else mind controlling him? There could be some powerful magic at play. The latter explanation certainly would bruise Kaito's ego a bit less. However what happened next was certainly unexpected. Suddenly the baron and many others at the table started to drop like flies, face forward in their plate of food into a deep slumber. The fox could not happen but to let out a big yawn. But as he was about to close his eyes he shrugged the effect off. Maybe it was because he did not give the whispers his full blown attention or maybe he was just naturally more resistant to such types of magic being an ancient mythological creature and all. Before Kaito had any chance to assess the situation a mixture of porridge, bear saliva and other foods came flying into his direction. Cedar had woken up from his slumber and was violently cleaning his fur from the food he had fallen into. As the fox whipped the porridge from his face he spoke sarcastically "Thank you for sharing your food Cedar. Just next time don't throw it in my face. "The party is starting eh? Well, let's give whomever is coming a welcome they sure aren't going to forget." Spoke the kitsune as he threw his bowl of porridge to Chounan's head in an attempt to wake him up. "Everyone on your feet and against the walls. We're going to give them what they are expecting. A table full of sleeping people." Whispered Kaito as he created an illusionary copy of himself that was fast asleep in the chain he used to sit on. The same he did for Jazdia. Now a perfect illusionary copy of her was sleeping in the chair. At the same time he created another illusion that made a copy of wall to the left and placed it just enough in front of that wall that he and others could hide behind it. "Jaz, can you see how many people are coming?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia suddenly regretted giving that suggestion. Not only the valuable food was haphazardly tossed, but now there was a bear snorting... a mixture of nasal and food matter onto the floor. Regardless of the despicableness of its owner, a dining room was supposed to be a sanctuary free from any filth and misbehavior. And now it has been soiled so badly she almost felt sorry for the Baron. "Jaz, can you see how many people are coming?" "Two dozen or so. It's like a bloody convention up there." As critical as their situation seemed to be, it took those henchmen a while to descend to the second floor. Enough for Kaito to cast a spell to make a copy of themselves. The bear stood close by, now brandishing a polearm stolen from a nearby display, instead of, you know the old-fashioned maulings and biting. "That's very human of you. And piked weapon?" the elf groaned. "Why does everyone in this country so obsessed with polearms?!"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" The breakfast went on... and on... and on... What's the baron saying? It's rather distorted, like trying to listen underwater. Speaking of the baron, he's so round. A giant hamster sat at the head of the table, munching on a piece of oversized lettuce. Then suddenly the wall broke down in a shower of rubble, where a massive lindwurm entered with a deafening roar. The oversized lizard kept roaring for a while, spittle flying all over the place like rain. Yvonne covered her face to shield it from the worst splatter, peeking once it's over to see captain and the others surrounding the beast with long pikes. It's cornered, good. The mercenary hefted her own pike, aiming for the face as she- -fell right through the earth, into the deepest pit of the void, jolting awake just as she unceremoniously tumbled on to the cold floor. She caught the tail end of the fox's instruction. Blinking the confusion away, her body moved before her mind fully caught up as she briskly moved and plastered her back against the wall. A glance around. Table full of sleeping people, including the baron. The table itself was a mess, as if someone had tried their best to flip the entire thing. A fast-approaching stomping from the stairs. The exit closed shut. Huh, they've been had. And if none of them started dropping from poison, the food must've been a distraction. "Polearms are great, Sparky! Stab the foes while remaining safely far-ish away, what's not to like?"</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" He gruffed and took position near the wall opposite the others, where he would get full room to swing when cracking heads. "O'er half's man. Don' be fergittin. We kin talks about it la'er, af'er we kicks sum good-fer-nuthin's butts." "Naptime's o'er ol' timer. Ya kin sleep when ya dead." He huffed at Reinhold, before gently prodding him in the butt with the point of his new toy.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark When her arrow exploded, Jazdia could sense something breaking from the wizard itself. She activated her eyes and saw one of his glowing artifact crumble and disintegrate, and what remains was the expanded glow that encased himself before it too faded into thin air. All that to guard a single arrow, and the wizard obviously didn look happy with that revelation. Even more so if he could count the number of flethed shaft jutting out of Jazdia quiver and the amount of energy she has and regenerated. Anyway, the crews were here. By the wizard's order they immediately worked on to 'keep them occupied' and how they would do that was by forming ranks and setting up a firing line. Before a bolt could be fired, a glowing arrow flew across the table and harmlessly stabbed one of the guard's shield. Predictable, and they should have laughed, but the arrow only gave them one second before blasting the formation with fiery explosion. While the explosion claimed several of them and disoriented a few more, the crew on the right side of the formation returned fire. Jazdia leaped to the right and take cover behind the table. Leaving the stray projectile to the gentleman behind her. She could hear several twang and thunds and all bolts had been masterfully deflected, and the one responsible for such art was none other than Chonan. The arrow enchanted in no time, while the arbalesters were cowering behind their shieldguards, occupied themselves with reloading their inelegant wooden bolt launchers in fear. Lurea was already aimed and ready to sing. Jazdia kept her finger holding the string for now, however. She had two options; either to continue decimating the formation, or blast the damn wizard some more. She picked neither and called out loud. "Baron! We are here for a certain prince you have been unlawfully held hostage in this tower. Leave this room and you will be the enemy of the state-- no, your doom will come a way sooner! We will not leave this keep without any brick unturned. I'm only three fingers away from turning this ordeal into a complete bloodbath. But if you willing order your men to stend down and let us do our job, I guarantee you we can work this out. Make your choice!"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The baron paused at the bottom of the stairs, the words from the herald bringing his doubts into surface. Was it truly the best outcome? He had chosen after much deliberation, yet the spectre of doubt never quite went away. If he turned to have made the wrong choice then his lineage might very well ends, but still. Was there even a choice at all, in the first place? No matter. The die is cast. "Do you want to see them again, Otto von Kruber?" Asevor quipped, his words laced with annoyance. "Up. Now." Otto sighed, turning to look back to Jazdia's distant figure. He shook his head once before resuming his pace. "These are not my men, miss Crystalspark."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark The elf sighed. Her fingers held the bowstring tightly as she added additional draw and released the arrow with impunity. It whistled past the henchmen, and the Baron himself and ended its trajectory on the magically reinforced wall near the spiral wooden stairs. The wall survived the blast, but the same could not be said for the stairs, or the Baron. Another arrow nocked, and the encroaching glow on its head blared like a prelude to an impending carnage. The surviving henchmen were still there, and some of them were ready to fire their crossbows frantically. They had to be eliminated first. And thus, the arrow released.</s> <|message|>Kaito A sudden wall of force struck the fox as he tried to attack the old wizard, sending him flying across the great hall, crashing in one of the turned over seats and bumping his head against the ground. For a moment Kaito felt dizzy, as if the world was spinning around him. Nauseous from the blow he tried to pick himself up from the ground only to feel a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder. Looking at it the kitsune noticed something was stuck right in there. A sharp metal bolt that was shot by one of the crossbowmen. This was certainly turning out to be a bad day. Bleeding from the back of his head and with a crossbowbolt stuck in his shoulder Kaito stood up again, sheeted his sword and sighed. "Pfff, That is why I hate wizards, they are such a pain in the ass. Guess I'll go bloody murder him and his cronies now. Spoke the fox rather agitated. As Kaito pulled out the crossbow bolt from his shoulder he retreated into the fake wall. The fox was pretty sure those mildly annoying henchmen could not see through the fake wall but that stupid ass wizard most definitely could see through his illusions, something that infuriated the kitsune. But as long as those henchmen were around getting close to the old fart would be difficult. He needed a plan and for the moment he assessed the situation. There was the annoying wizard, a whole bunch of crossbowmen, the big dude hugging the dead guy, a really long wooden table, lots of spilled food and chairs all over the place. Cedar's chair was pretty close. That big guy was rather interesting. He was powerful but it was clear from the way he acted and spoke that much of his strength came from the wizard. Another interesting thing about Ragnar was that the only place of his body he had been actively shielding was his eyes. Kaito guessed that if there was any body part of him vulnerable, then it would be his eyes. All the kitsune needed was to keep the crossbowmen just distracted long enough for him to close the distance. Kaito dashed towards Cedar's chair and hurled it towards the wizard. While the improvised projectile was in mid air it suddenly multiplied into a dozen chairs that all went flying towards the different crossbowmen. As this all happened the Kitsune jumped on the table and dashed towards the hugging Ragnar, stabbing towards his eye.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" The hall was in complete pandemonium. Crossbow bolts sung and whizzed past him, as he did his best to hug the wall. The false illusion in the room had not been dispersed, and the soldiers must not have seen him by the window, or they would surely have pincushioned him quite forcefully. Moments later, the elf woman issued a challenge at the Baron, who was fleeing toward the exit at the back behind the absurdly dressed old man and his one-legged stooge. The man ignored her, seemingly in terror about the threats of the wizard, and very shortly after, she converted him and many of the crossbowmen into steaming piles of shredded meat with more of her explosive arrows. This was the first time he had ever seen humans being killed like this. He did not like it at all. (Focus Cedar... Focus!) He drew on the thin trickle of power he could slurp through the vines he had guided out into the field outside the palisade, then directed it into the rag-tag assemblage of plants he had scratched into the dirt just outside the window; his body still hugging the wall miserably, with his arm stuck out of it-- fingertips barely touching the ground. A small hedge of sturdy wild roses spread haphazardly as he carefully entwined the root system of the greenbrier with theirs, letting the slow trickle get slowly absorbed by them. They were not the 'best' to use for this-- something sturdier, like a copse of elm trees, with their natural root sharing properties, would have been far superior--- but this is what he had, and it was what he had to work with. Lovely green vines spread out on the courtyard bearing little yellow flowers, and lovely purple ones accompanied them, clinging delicately from the exterior, where they snaked up the wall on either side of the window. Next, he needed to do something about that stupid old fuck-- who had just backhanded the small fox man like he was nothing. The latter proceeding to unleash a hail of illusory benches at the one legged ruffian still grappling with the flame headed conjuration, then pressing an attack on same... He was feeling tired-- This much growth magic, this fast, using little more than his own reserves was not a fun experience. ... Especially after having not slept, and having to 'skip' breakfast. A smouldering ire burned in his belly along with the gnawing hunger-- the audacity of using food in this way! If that old fuck was behind this, he'd get a right whoopin' for sure. He hoped the little 'insurance' he had just sewn outside would be sufficient to nitpick the old coot while the next phase of his plan slowly wore away the old man's reserves, much as his own were getting drained. With any luck, the old man would pass out first. He took a deep breath, then took the plunge on enacting that plan-- Grape vines dug deep into the soil, seeking deeper water supplies to use than the shallower rooting plants they were struggling to share with at the surface, then coiled in through the window, up the wall, grappled and sent small streamers down from the ceiling, then coiled down the opposite wall in a wide, diagonally coiling advance up the room, before ducking beneath the table, and resuming the slow circuit, moving steadily toward the exit to the stairs, and the old man at the egress. He did not have time to waste-- The coiling tendril he was guiding needed to branch out-- fill all the space on the walls, ceiling and floor- leave no gap where any outside energy could get in-- Smaller shoots branched off the sides of the larger one, covering the whole room in green, as the main shoot rapidly grew a thick woody bark as it thickened and fattened under his exertion. The ones near the feet of the remaining foot soldiers slithered like vipers around their feet and legs, continuing their coiling around bodies and arms while they were distracted by the false flying benches soaring at them. He new better than to try and ensnare the wizard at this time-- He needed to really reinforce and imbue the 'cage' first-- Let the old man think he is not the target by distracting with the hired help first. Let his obvious hubris be his undoing. If he attacked that way first, the old man would likely effortlessly burn the whole room in retaliation, and ruin the entire plan. No, it needed time to work magic in a subtle way like this...</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was not amused, and doubly so at expending energy only to have the dodgy bastard just float a smidge higher to miss the vines. As the lumbering imbecile approached, he slipped the pilfered kukri out of his belt, palmed the handle 'fight-style' in one hand while holding the vine still in the other, then waited for the inevitable attempted tackle. As the moron lunged, he instead dodged to the side, swung his weight against the vine to close back behind the bludgeoned mass of bloody streaks that called itself Ragnar the red, pulling the vine tight in the process like a rope, then quickly wrapping it around him, all in the same movement, before bringing the blade down hard across the back of the man's neck, then kicking him in the butt toward the window he had slung mud through earlier. "I AINT GOT TIME FER YA DUMB BULLSHIT. FUCKOFF."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark The room was clear, and she did not waste a moment pondering about it. Third floor, eyes activated... Jazdia usually never bothered with vines and overgrown proliferating around her. But this time they grow so quickly that she instinctively slowed her pace down. When the next floor reached, however, she started to despise it even more. "A friendly... magically enchanted construct, great!" And true to that, besides making her feel rather squeamish, those overgrown were an active veil to her vision, and having to exert more power to pierce those layers was always a bother, especially when done in a place where the access to the sunray was limited. After treading through the moss-layered floor that felt like cheap, soggy carpet, Jazdia climbed another set of stairs and reached the door. It was opened but blocked by the overgrown. In sheer frustration, she unsheathed her long knife, channeled magic until the blade was glowing hot, and slashed the moss, vines, and all. She was half expecting an ambush but found that the welcome was rather lukewarm. Carefully her eyes spied the coast. She saw the spectral doctor Solomon near another room, smaller than the floors below with myriads of magical emitters installed between it and another internal room in which the prince could be seen sitting and reading without a care in the storming world around his small cubicles. The wizard was up there... Was he really that snob he thought of himself as ascended being or something? The elf grabbed her arrow in a batch of six and took her time to enchant them with the explosive spell that would automatically explode after reaching a certain distance. A bit more expensive than usual, but look where she was now! The sun was shining directly above her head making the cost almost negligible. When the wizard finished his summoning, Jazdia had already finished her arsenal. The first one nocked and the bow was drawn in full, it whistled in the air before blasting its target with fire and crystalized shrapnel. She betted the wizard never heard about surface-to-air missiles before.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Fanghorn, Kindeance --- This box. Well, if it was premature to assume the sealed room was worth investigating, this box was certainly not. It lacked an easy was to quickly access, with the only entrance like areas lacking an obvious means of opening. A notable discovery. Solomon noticed that the rest of the room lacked any supplies, making the ballista useless. By now, he could see the servants summed by Asevor, and the preparation of another spell. So, for the time bring, Solomon's priority would have to switch again. What lay in the box would probably be safest within. Solomon turned his attention towards the sky back out within the open air, embers blowing across the lower sky, Asevor flying well enough away from the flames. Violet floated listlessly where Asevor was previously located. Unfortunate his altitude was much farther than Cedar's plant tower could reach. Solomon began preparing another spell. He needed range, and he lacked his own. Likewise, the shadows were useless in combat and Violet was out of sorts. Likewise, many of his allies also lacked range, at least from what he could see. Jazdia had her bow, but Cedar's beanstalk seemed to be the extent of his range. The others were either incapacitated or close range fighters. The only other archer he was aware of was Veronica, but her whereabouts were unknown to Solomon. Black wisps of magical energy twisted with silver began to coil around his arms, collecting within the palms of his hands. "August, leave the brambles, give aid here. Violet, come to sense." said Solomon needlessly. Yet, he spoke anyway to help give him some clarity. The range of that spell was unknown to Solomon, but he saw the effects it had when it was contained within the dining hall. If Asevor could magnify its area of effect, then such a caustic cloud would be detrimental, not only to his allies, but to the servants and citizens who remained in the village, fighting the fire. Up until now, August fed mana into the brambles, growing them even as Asevor's wizards burned them. He remained below the ground, making it very difficult for them to drive him out. When Solomon called, he positions the thorny vines over as much flammable material as possible and then immediately drew the mana from within. This effectively killed the vines, letting the fire burn them into ash, raining embers onto various buildings. Though most of them were evacuated, the ensuing uproar of fire could still keep the mages busy leaving them to deal with the fire they started. This action also helped supplement his own mana stores along with the pools Cedar had created funneling them towards the keep. The ground rumbled as August gave Cedar's sky scraper another burst in height. The growth of the structure was no where near as far as Cedar's initial burst, but should be just enough to attempt another grab at the floating mage. The remaining mana went into the pool for Cedar's access as well as reinforcing the stalk as to not topple over its own weight. Violet momentarily remained still unaware of what had occurred. The three effects cast upon her were of little consequence, but it left her mind scattered. Aware but not observant, she took a moment to realize how inactive she was being. After regaining her composure, Violet resumed what was requested earlier. She flew higher to match Asevor's altitude, though a fair distance father than her previous encounter. He was surrounded by some odd raven human hybrid monsters. If they do not engage, Violet was to deliver another ear piercing shriek. As for Solomon, he was finalizing his spell, calling upon yet another of his undead allies. Despite being several stories above the ground, the floor broke as another entity formed from a mound of newly formed soil, as though it had always been below the surface. The figure of a woman, dressed in a formal dress rose. The dress was yellow and white, a large bow tied around the waist. Puffed fabric was held at her shoulders leading to fine silk sleeves. The front of the skirt held several frills, and outfit trimmed in lace. Her features were fair, though grayed. As one of the dead, she was very well preserved. She had blond hair with a single braid that flowed down over her shoulders. Suddenly, her body lurched forward as the back of the dress tore. A ghostly mirror of the woman, joined by the hip, almost like a soul escaping from her own body emerged. The physical body and ghostly upper body of the same woman remained conjoined in this way. The only difference between both forms was the spectral woman was dressed in under clothing, of simple loose fitting garb and less than neat hair. Likewise, unlike the color that made up her dress, the ghostly apparition was entirely pale white. Two bodies it appeared to be, yet only one entity she was. "No!" the odd undead spoke. The voice came very much from the spectral head, the physical body displaying very little animation. Whatever she did, it was the ghostly torso, the physical body not acting at all. "No, I swear whatever it is you call, I refuse." The woman folded her arms, turning away from Solomon, the physical puppet turning shortly thereafter. "This is not up for discussion. I need your skill in the arcane arts to combat Asevor. How you fair afterward will rely on it. If you so require, I will speak indomitably. Favor is earned, and otherwise you leave me without choice." Solomon spoke softly, yet sternly. As so much he had allies that saw him favorably, circumstances of their past where Solomon could not save them, there were those who looked upon him with disdain. Petra was one such person. If one knew of the atrocities Petra was a part of, her fate might not seem so undeserved. However, it mattered not. If it were not for Solomon's binding, she would nary care for what was happening. Yet, his words were true. Even without the control Solomon had over her, she was still bound to him. "Fine. You want to bring down the man surrounded by Xelthos birds? Don't call me again once that's done." No longer heeding any of Solomon's words of advice about Asevor or otherwise, the physical body moved for once. Her arm latched onto a small book once stashed under the thick ribbon tied around the torso of her dress. Flipping through the pages, she held the book up in which her ghostly hand laid upon one of the pages. She quickly lifted her hand off the page. Bright light emanated off the page, streaked from it to her hand, and then from her hand it flew straight towards Asevors location like an arrow. Shortly after the ray of light, Petra also took flight in a similar manner Asevor demonstrated.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Ragnar rampaged through with the grace of a rolling boulder, missing the bear in the first pass as his maimed leg prevented proper turning. The vines touching him rapidly sizzled and burned, his protective aura preventing both following blows as he swung the axe with abandon. It bit deep into Cedar's arm, the tips of his furs curling from the blazing heat emitted... yet the strength displayed seemingly pale in comparison to the previous performance. The northlander was, inevitably, burning out. Far above, one of the crow spirit reacted as it swiped at the incoming arrow, the following explosion engulfing it almost entirely. Yet by the time it dissipated the creature was still there, a bit translucent than before and missing half of a wing with body full of holes yet otherwise remained floating in the air. Another met the banshee head-on, the two semi-incorporeal beings descending on each other in a tangle of claws. The third went for the conjoined Petra, but the light blast struck it head-on as it disintegrated with a shrill shriek. More than half of it vanished on the spot, but the rest of the crow spirit seemed to be gathering together to reform into a smaller version of itself. Asevor, floating away from the next vine outburst, added the last stroke onto his tesseract. "Caustic Cloud of Ruzpin." The spell construct lazily floated forward, belching sickly-green cloud of acid that spread and slowly descended over the fort proper. It wouldn't be as concentrated out here compared to the indoor usage, but it should cover a much wider area. Not taking any more chance of surprises, his spellbook flipped to another page as the archmage began tracing yet another imitation construct from his apparent safety. At this point the walls was completely abandoned as the fire spread with abandon, blood-splattered Yvonne and Reinhold descending away from the heat. The latter seemed grimly satisfied with whatever they've had done in the past five minutes, the previously defended rampart now littered with corpses of the mages and mercenaries. The two noticed Ragnar going wild on their bear companion, the hunter nocked and fired an arrow at the crimson brute to no apparent effect. Meanwhile, Yvonne caught the expanding green far above and could only mutter one word. "Fuck."</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" Loud snarling and a roar were the only sounds the bear made before transitioning into a foul torrent of curses and epithets about what ragnar did with his own mother. The futile arrow shot by Reinhold did at least buy a moment of distraction that he used to grab hold of the nearest set of vines near the wall, which he willed to begin an all out assault on the mostly naked idiot, in the form of multiple vines lashing like bullwhips. As each hit and caught fire, another came in right after, in a dizzying blur of green and smoke, as he did his best to control them while dodging the axe. Healing would have to come when an opening presented itself, until then, not letting up the pressure was the only option. Ragnar was strong, but not fast. The vines however, were very fast indeed.</s>

<|description|>"Cedar" Species: Half-Bear Age: 8 (physically adult) Gender: Male Appearance: 10ft, 550lbs. Unusually long torso. Tawny brown fur with dark brown grizzling. Claws are aggressively trimmed and filed down to thick nubs. Concealed in thick holocaust cloak/robes, gloves, and heavy boots. Carries a coarse wooden staff. Cloak decorated with typical druid paraphernalia. Colorblind (Yellow-green) If disrobed, and on all fours, would pass easily as just a very large bear. Bio: Offspring from the "sordid" (depending on who you ask) relationship between a forest hermit and a she-bear. Learned his craft and appreciation for honesty, integrity, and reverence for natural beauty from his dad. His "Good looks" from his mother. Shy/sentimental. Has a brother the same age, and numerous younger siblings. Due to events in his home province before his birth, his father is magically connected with a rather expansive magical woodland, which suits him fine. Local logging town and his dad have a 'mixed feelings' relationship about each other. Cedar helps with diplomatic solutions. Is still young and naive in many ways, but shockingly adult and mature in others. Skillset: Woodcraft, basic potion lore, basic anatomy, ecology. Possesses "Speak to animals" spell-like ability. Superhuman strength. Superhuman sense of smell. Low-light vision Spells: "Enhance/grow vegetation" "Entangling roots/vines" "Light heal" "Detect magic" Equipment: Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Other: Will arrive 'later' than other players.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark After what seemed like a long dash, Jazdia reached the edge of the battlement and looked down. Uninterested in the explosion above and more concerned with creating more of it. "Hey! You two," she shouted to a particular Samurai and the newcomer girl. "Use my arrow and bla--" "FINE! IYULL DARKEN YA FUCKIN' SKY FER YAH, YA FLYING FAT FUCK! IF'N I GOTTA DANCE FER YA TOO, SO FUCKIN BE IT YA PRICK!" Jazdia knew it was not for her, but standing here in the line of fire of a cursing druid made her hold her breath. Anyhow, that should be the least of her concern; the air's changing all of a sudden, adding more to the dark overcast above. The wind whistles unnaturally and became more intense in seconds. She had no idea what deity Cedar worshipped, but apparently, they were incredibly lenient they answered his prayer even if it was laced with foul epithets. "Hey, you! Listen to me! Use my arrow and shoot that mage!" Two of her arrows kindled in bluish flames before Jazdia tossed them down to Veronica and Chonan.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Fanghorn, Kindeance --- An explosion? Asevor is certainly pulling out the stops now that he is outside the keep. Solomon didn't worry too much about it. Not due to a lack of care, rather he knew that at the moment, he had no reliable means of reaching him, and even if he did lacked any methods of actually dealing with him. It was unfortunate, but it is as it is. Even so, Solomon exited the garret to assess the progress of the battle. Several of the wooden structures crackled as small fires ate away at the timber, small bits of blackened foliage drifted from the remains of the bean stalk, what remained limp leaning over the keep. Jazdia was also there, burned and beaten, her exposed skin blistered from magical acid. "Prince?" questioned Solomon. He took pause. So the prince is in the box? Solomon turned back to face the box covered in script. The door and slot made sense, and the device? The device might have been a part of what confused Veronica's scry. But something else was bothering him, he look back out through the door towards the battle above. Violet was holding down one of the death creatures while Petra all by annihilated the others. But the sky, it was getting dimmer. Without clouds in the sky, yet the sun was filtered. Solomon didn't know specifically what was going on, but it didn't look good. Time working against him more so than before Solomon had to risk opening the box to rescue the prince. Sensing August nearby, he called for his presence. From what remained of the beanstalk that overhung over the building, August emerged having used the vines to elevate himself up from below ground. Walking part Jazdia shortly after she set fire to the source of the acidic fog he ripped the door off the hinge to join Solomon within the garret. "So, your herbicidal king's heir is in there you suppose? Don't want to confirm?" asked August. He was a little annoyed at the lost of Cedar's glorious beanstalk creation. Though he was confident he could restore it once the fighting was over, the damage it sustained cut off his reach against Asevor. "Alright, let me see what I can do." Vines covered much of the side of the keep as well as penetrating deep within each of the floors. A byproduct from Cedar's growth spell as well as necessary to support the stalk. Concentrating on those vines present in the keep, August was able to nurture their further development. The wood along the floor creaked and split as thin stems sprouted from below. Soon they widened into thick vines, boring out the floor, collapsing it beneath the box. At the same time, the vines grew around the box to support it instead. "We will need to get below ground." said Solomon, "I fear the spell Asevor has cast may lead to stark devastation." August only nodded as the vines took the box below into the third floor. The vines slithered abound the floor digging into existing crevices and imperfections, widening them and ruining their integrity, boring down through the keep. The abundance of vines helped. Still at the third floor, the vines began to compress the box continuously applying force hopefully to the point where it would split open, but not be crushed. Enough to create an opening for whatever was inside to crawl out. If it was indeed the prince, then he could take him and follow the path August created down through the keep. The goal was to get underground, perhaps among the roots of the giant stalk if the ground could be cleared away in time. At the very least, find as much cover as possible. Above, Violet was clueless to the change in sky, working to keep the remaining death bird from interfering with the others, but Petra looked onward with knowing eyes. She scowled, but knew that in the end, it didn't affect her fate. Even so, she was compelled to keep the pressure on Asevor. He may have been able to cast his spell, but the Xelthos birds could only last so long before Petra could resume casting rays towards the wizard. She had some time before the spell came to fruition. She laid a hand on the book but when she raised it off, the ray that accompanied the motion instead curved its path so that it circles her person. She repeated this a couple times. It along with Blur would make approaching difficult, and at the same time would allow her to fire the rays in quick succession should it be required. Given the sudden and quick formation of storm clouds, she might need to in one way or another.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan "Hey, you! Listen to me! Use my arrow and shoot that mage!" Two of her arrows kindled in bluish flames before Jazdia tossed them down to Veronica and Chonan. Chounan caught the arrow and readied his yumi bow. He began his Mushin phase. He executed an artful stance from his origin with his archery skill. He drew his bow with the elf's arrow. Aimed his elevation towards to the mage. The gathered up Ki made his archery blessed with unexplained source of power. He released the arrow towards to his target. The velocity was surprisingly fast that it went straight to the mage's head in a blink of the eye.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] An explosive arrow detonated right at the spell construct, a smaller and farther explosion consumed the acid cloud. Either running its course or hastened by the attack, the tesseract had shrunken into the size of bean before sizzling out of existence as the lightshow faded. That's one threat settled. Another one to go... probably. "Oh no you dont." The garret collapsed from the architechtural abuse, something that Asevor did not miss. Waving his hands like a conductor, a blindingly bright pinprick of light fell from the sky over first Violet, then Petra, Solomon, and finally August's exposed figure. Those pinpricks abruptly expanded, a massive beam of scorchingly concentrated sunlight burning through the four undead. "What the- NO!" Then dark cloud materialized in the sky, to Asevor's dismay. Glancing at the sinking box, knowing that it would hold for some time, an ugly rictus formed on his visage as he dove straight toward the dancing bear. Chounan, Reinhold, and Veronica attempted to shoot him out of the sky while Yvonne in particular decided to toss Ragnar's rusty axe to the old man. All projectiles missed, veering off-course from some enchanted item though the heavy axe was noticeably less affected than the arrows. Explosions bloomed where the enchanted arrows ended up, one high at midair and another at the stone wall surrounding the fort. "Bastards, out of my way! Judgment!" A fluidly forming shape materialized on the old man's palm, before turning into a massive beam of raw arcane might that he swept through the opposition. Veronica dragged Chounan out of the way, as if predicting the beam's path before it was fired as the blast narrowly missed and moved on toward the next. Reinhold and Yvonne wasn't so lucky to take the brunt of it, their streams of expletive cuts off by the scorching force. Another tesseract were forming in Asevor's hand, his open spellbook floating exactly twelve inches from his face despite the rapid movement. Sweat dripped down his brows, off the disheveled hair that was so finely combed just an hour ago, as fat beads of rainwater and hailstone started falling from the sky.</s>

<|message|>"Cedar" He could feel that floating fucker coming down like a comet right towards him. The festering spew of angry profanity did not let up, as his peripheral vision caught the bright flash of light as the twisted levitating man cast a spell and swept through his comrades with it, before starting another. He continued his dance, and whirled into arm's reach, reached out, and snatched the floating spellbook angrily, before shoving it down his belt, opposite the kukri, then brought the (Woefully inadequate for the task) flagpole to bear against the man's head, feeling it careen off his barrier, before he felt the magic in the spell grip him again. His vision blurred and his voice became deep and resonant, as he intoned another set of quatrains: "Exchange of blows from mages dive; Frenzied bodies-- invictus strive-- A wall of light- no strikes arrive." A momentary pang of fear rippled through him, as he felt the magic cloying inside his intrails, drawing the last gasps of magic out of him, then pulling on his very vitality instead. The thought he had bitten off more than he could chew assailed him, and he felt his steps start to falter, before more thoughts and feelings replaced them-- a sense of dutiful resolution that even if this spell turned him into a corpse, if it took this fucker out with him, it would be a perfectly fine trade. The next wave of forced incantation hit him... "Lightning crashes-- The duelists vie-- Whirlwind throws the mage on high-- Tossed between the Earth and Sky." His guts wrenched, and he felt sick as his breath caught in his chest as it tightened against the force of the spell, but his body continued against his volition, moving with a mind of its own as he whirled and danced with the unseen gale, exchanging places with it as it intersected Asevor, then suddenly roared into a cyclone, sending the man right back up where he came from with vengeance, rain and hailstones going right up behind him. As soon as the breath returned to his lungs, the festering spew of angry profanity resumed, this time a little wheezy and hoarse. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YA SONOVABITCH!"</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. After being dismissed by His Highness and heading into the reception room, Henri leaned and whispered to Matilda as she reached the door. "Please introduce me to them in my stead, I have things to obtain first." He then proceeded to walk in a different direction than the rest. From this action, it would not be wrong to guess that Henri doesn't exactly approve of this team, possibly going so far as to believing that he could do this task on his own. Yet, he also knew that he wasn't exactly outward with his abilities, and wasn't even considered for this task until he personally asked for it. It might be too early to have notions of splitting away from them just yet. --- In front of the door of the Royal Mage's office. He knocks. "It's Henri. I need spells." Quite the curt request.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan "I'll fetch up my prepared things from smith shop. Where are we gather to departure, Dame Matilda?" The black haired man with a demon mask and oriental attire finally speak with a calm tone of voice.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] The door to the office creaked outward, opening without any visible mechanism to reveal an... office. It had no window, with a mahogany bookshelf much larger than the door itself occupying every inch of the far wall. The desk of the Royal Mage was L-shaped that hugged the wall before abruptly turning to slice through the room, filled with various parchment with partially finished arcane scribbles and whatnot. It stood mere three feet from the door, and considering the arrangement of chairs already occupying space it left not much room for "guests" to stand at. Instead there's plenty of gap between the desk and the bookshelf where a haggard middle-aged woman in dark dress sat. Her own chair was obviously custom made, puffy and soft with leather cover and adjustable back and footrest. The entire edifice was tilted nearly ninety degree backward, where the groaning mage slowly straightened up as she took stock at the tutor. "Ser Henri, please take a seat. How may I assist you today?" Well-oiled clank subtly echoed as the sinfully comfortable chair straightened, allowing a full view of dark eyebags underneath bloodshot eyes. Days of running around performing various augury hadn't been kind to Duchess Antigone Steinwall, though her commitment to the crown outweighted back pain and sleep deprivation. Still, there's only so much a single woman could do.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark The elven woman closed the door behind her with a fair amount of respect she could muster, deciding it would be in everyone's best interest to not anger the poor Fredricus even more by slamming the door. The chamberlain, however, looked very surprised when he saw her, showing a mix of confusion and fear as he scurried back to the King's chamber and make audible door noises in his entry. A series of angry yellings could be faintly heard afterward. Still leaning against the wooden railing, Jazdia observed the main hall below and focused her attention on the group. She saw a very pale man leaving the premises after exchanging words with the King's trusted Knight. Not a very... fleshy fella. Prosthetic? Animated doll? Golem? Before she managed to investigate further, the man had already headed to the east wing, far beyond the range of her vision. Investigate. She repeated the word under he breath. Looking at the records she swiped from Fredricus's desk and matching them with the personas below, Jazdia would soon find few of those documents were lamentable at best even an intern in the Delta Two could do better. Some track records were lacking, and the details about family, origin, and analysis, many were left blank. No one, for instance, bothered to type out the detail that two of the invitees were a decaying old man devoid of any living energy... and the other was a half-stone man. They, however, had a very thorough report about the druid, who apparently was not just a bipedal bear but also an offshoot offspring of an unholy union between an intelligent bear and a druid. They detained him a few weeks earlier and had him released just recently. The report somehow made Jazdia recall one of the bizarre accounts her apprentice Linea testified when she returned from a rescue mission in a remote misty village 10 years ago. Two other hirelings apparently had a certain connection with the royal court. The small woman was a scion of a failed clan, who might or might not have retained its status had this child didn't dwell too much in the art of severing heads and limbs and mindless carnage. The other guy, wearing oriental-styled armor, was an ex-royal knight, but for whatever reason took early retirement to join the Adventurers' Guild. He claimed to be a close friend of the king, but according to the report, did not present when the king was attacked, nor when a certain group ambushed and kidnapped the Prince. The reason for his absence was unknown. See, this was one of the glaring mistakes she mentioned earlier. This whole report lacked any presumptions of motive. A good intelligence service realized that it was their job to find the worst in every human being, to find a potential threat and a way to subdue it regardless of the accuracy of the allegation. There were too many unknowns in this report Jazdia partially believed it was filled by the invitees themselves. Jazdia normalized the color of her eyes and took a series of very regulated breaths as she walked down the stairs to regroup with everyone, not sure if any of them saw her on the balcony, but she greeted them regardless. "Greetings!"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri's eyebrow raised as he saw Antigone's face. It's like she hasn't slept for a week. "Antigone... I mean Duche-- Egh, I'm not used to formalities. I'm sorry." Henri enters and takes the seat, cautious to not hit anything in this narrow space for he wouldn't be able to feel something break until it's too late. "I would like to borrow a book with as many spells in it as possible... so as to not be a burden to the rest." If it's her, then she most likely knows this mission of theirs even if kept in utmost secrecy. "I'd ask whether you augured our success but you look like you've already done far too much auguring. If only I'm in a position to order you to take a rest..."</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was well and truly flummoxed. Not just confused, or bewildered, but outright flummoxed. He had just gone from what had been the worst possible treatment in his life, to being scurried via cramped back allies and byways into the single most auspicious 'human home' he had seen since his dad had taken him past the ruins of 'that damned #%@&ing tower'. His dad had not really wanted to say anything about it, except that it was a monument to the hubris of 'civilized' races, was a 'gaudy death trap', and 'no-one sensible would get caught dead in it.' Unlike that tower though, which had practically glowed from top (it stretched up higher than seemed possible, and the actual top could not even be seen) to bottom with arcane magics, this place was just fancy wood and plaster set inside ornate but common stone masonry. Lots of stone masonry. More than he ever had seen in a single dwelling before, and the shere size of it? There couldn't be a rational explanation for a single man to need a house like this. It was a confusing and jarring mix of long hallways, high and low ceilings, doors that must have taken whole trees to fashion, and others that did everything imaginable to try and blend into the walls. Hallway, after hallway, after hallway, after hallway, and more stairs than he wanted to see in his life ever again. He literally had no idea how to even get back out again, yet all the people he was with seemed just fine with it. No wonder dad cursed like he did about 'rich #%$&ers'. At least he had some idea of where all the wood the loggers insisted they needed likely ended up. He silently agreed with his dad, this was just shamelessly and brutally wasteful, for not readily discernable reason. Anything that wasn't made of a dozen hills worth of quarried and shaped stone, at least a square mile of forest's timber, or enough plaster to coat every surface in mystville 3 times over, was swaddled in the most brightly colored fabrics, garish of paints, or gaudy of metal foils. He recalled that his dad had compared that tightly and magically sealed tower's interior to a 'castle' like this when he had asked about it. 'Gaudier than a #%&$ing castle! Glowing jewels and gold encrusted like SH*T in an outhouse on every %#&$ing surface!' An' the stairs! Don' get me started on them %#&$ing stairs!' He remembered asking what a castle was, and was told 'a big assed house for people with more money than they has sense, built ta keep people out, and ta make emselves look more fancy 'an theys needs ta. Noplace for nobody decent, 'ats fer sure.' Looking at the insides of this one, he could not help but agree. WHY WOULD somebody actually NEED a house like this? The king, he had been told, was 'like a mayor, only for an entire nation of people,' and could command thousands of people with weapons and magics to march on small settlements like mystville, burn them to the ground, and kill everyone there with ease, if they felt it wss needed. That's what the villagers had described as 'war' to him. it was shortly thereafter that he had agreed it was for the best that such a thing not come about, now nor anytime soon, and had impressed upon him how important it was to prevent. And it was why he was here, now. In this house that nobody sensible could possibly want to live in. His thoughts momentarily reflected memories of his own place; a simple one-roomed wooden structure, where the floor gave way to a nice, big cozy hole stuffed full of cottonwood fluff, and in the rest of the room, just a single wooden bench, a wide flat table, a fireplace, some shelves, and some hooks to hang things on. It was far more sensible to a single person's needs than this place, that's for sure. He really felt very, very out of place, and that he simply did not belong. Being too big for any of the furnishings only magnified this feeling. He very much wanted to sit down to digest these thoughts, and to reflect on the mission this 'king' fellow had given him, but he could tell just by looking that not a single one of them was anywhere near strong enough nor wide enough for his ass. The comedic and tragic death of a chair would certainly be the only plausible result from such an attempt. Somehow, that only made the 'lack of usefulness' of the place more poignant. He was interrupted from these thoughts and observations by the oddly tall and quiet woman who had done NONE of the things miss Matilda had strongly impressed upon him were 'required honors and protocols when meeting the soveriegn', (such as calling him 'your highness', or 'your majesty' (despite being neither tall, nor majestic..), kneeling when in his presence, and other silliness, and had remained oddly quiet the entire meeting), who was now standing up tall, boldly asserting a loudish 'Greetings', and blasting him with some kind of magic that made him feel more naked than he did in just his fur-- somehow. He couldn't tell if the glow in her eyes was blue or purple, but there was a definite glow. He timidly leaned on his staff in leu of finding a chair, looked at the woman (who had pointed ears and smelled... different...), and then gruffed back "Is there .. something I can help you with, Miss? You seem to be.... looking... for something."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark For someone this big... and druidic, the fellow named Cedar was surprisingly courteous. Not everyone might be able, or willing to see past his ragged appearance and gruffness of his voice, but Jazdia tried to be not very judgmental. She of course was still taking into account how unpredictable and sensitive these types of forest watchers were. She had worked with the druids on a few occasions in the past. Excellent tracker, but very fussy, moody, and their behavior can be a total hindrance when you were on a total pursuit. 'No, I am not looking for something..." the elf gave everyone, especially the female orc next to the druid a heartfelt smile. "Except of course our Madame Matilda!" Jazdia waved at her. Hoping that cordial gesture would make the orc paladin ease up for a bit. After what happened with her master and his son, that would certainly put anyone on edge. Not that Jazdia blamed her, especially not after what she did in Fredricus's chamber. She was, however, almost tempted to explain that she was also roped into this motley band of investigators, and had to make do with whatever they had now. But that can wait. Really...</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Well you best get used to it, yes? Cant have the imperial tutor skimping on basic manners." Not like that would help much at the moment, considering the student he's supposed to be tutoring was missing. Antigone shrugged, not really having the energy to talk too much about it. "Is this related to what his highness is planning- no, dont answer that." She had some idea, after having to perform auguries related to a certain man-bear the druids were hyperventilating about, but the duchess wasn't part of whatever plan cooked so it must be relying on secrecy. Far from her to accidentally spill the beans, but no harm in taking precautions. "I have sufficient rest, Ser Henri. Now, on to this spellbook - I am unaware that you are qualified as a magus."</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Enough rest, his bottom. Well, if Antigone's going to be stubborn about it, there's nothing Henri could do. He pulled out his pocket watch, hovered it above Antigone's desk and then flicked its center with his other hand, shedding bits of glass and clockwork until only the rose-gold frame and the chain remained, dangling from his hand. "Unusual for you to be unaware. I wasn't exactly trying to hide it." Henri said as he cast Inorganic Repair on the pocket watch. No visual or audible cue, for that is inefficient and needlessly indicative. The scattered pieces of it slowly fly back towards it, filling their needed spots. The shattered glass too had its cracks just vanish. In no time, it looked more brand-new than when he pulled it out in the first place. Then, with Core Spreading followed by Telekinesis, the watch stayed suspended in mid-air even as he let go of it. He smiled as his hands hovered near the floating watch, as if presenting it. "Haven't you wondered how I've fixed every broken item in this castle without fail?" Henri's smile dissipated quickly though, as he leaned with his elbow on the desk, his other hand pawing the floating watch to make it swing. "I can only this much, and I fear it wouldn't even get decent mileage due how niche it is... Am I overthinking it?"</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar turned his head the other way, and his ears went forward, with a bewildered expression on his eyes. He looked down at her. Appraised her size. Looked again. "Ya know-- Some critters is pretty durn big... I don't doubt ya, but fer the most parts, critters jus' wants ta bluff ya into thinkin' twicet-- Dont really proper want ta start up a fight unless yer messin' em up, or screwin' round wit' der kids or summat... --Then you better watch out-- Mama'll fuck ya up... Why you go around killin' critters fer nohow? They usually ain't doin' nuttin' ta nobody anyhoo..."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Hmm, okay. That's better. Looks like the critter talk was more in Cedar's element than whatever's going on in the castle. Yvonne shrugged at the inquiry, it's supposedly obvious but then again Cedar sounded like he'd been living in the middle of nowhere for his entire life before stumbling in here somehow. "To be fair, it's mostly men." For every job involving wild beasts, there's at least ten that involved brigands and whatnot. "I ain't get paid to ask questions, but if someone's willing to fork the coins to have them dead they've probably caused an issue somewhere."</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar's face seemed to become rather sad and withdrawn. "Aww... Dat's a shame... Lotsa people seems ta think critters is just simple things as just does whatever likes they don' gots feelin's nor wants, nor dreams a dere own or nuthin... But they does.. They does... " His expression became a little sterner, and cheekier shortly after though. "People's a diffren' story though. Lots a people is right assholes at gots 'der heads jammed up betwix der damn legs, smellin' there own farts all day. I's has had ta deal with more an' muh fair share o-em muhself, but is usually them darn logger fellas as thinks I's dumb or summat. Might be young, but not born yest'rday-- thinkin theys can pull a fast-one on me. Paps says not to bean em in the head with muh stick, as that'd knock em dead as hell-- just wrap em up real good and remind em that we's aint playin' no games with em, and that they's needs ta stay on their side an' such..." He scratched his chin, and looked up at the ceiling again. "Though, I s'ppose em fellers 'd be willin' ta pay a person like yaself ta try an' do a feller like me in, now's I think about it...." He looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes, and a bit of a wry smirk. "If'n I's ya, I'd be a bit more keen on askin' questions, afore sayin' "yes" on some o' dem jobs people's wants done, if'n ya knows what I mean. I's can fuck a kid up what good, if'n they tryin' ta cut up muh hide--- A fair bit more dang'rous than yer normal bear, if'n ya gets muh drift."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "That... does make sense. Thanks." Henri felt slightly more confident about his position in the group. He made sure not to visibly display his disappointment as Antigone pulled out what could be considered disposable. Essentially, these are magic scrolls, aren't they? He could already feel how much longer it'd take for him to reverse-engineer this and add it to his spellset. Unless... Is it as easy as just redrawing the diagram itself? Henri carefully took the tome out of Antigone's hands, shook her hand and stood up. "Ah, nothing else. Thank you for assisting me, Your Grace. I'll be going now." Just before closing the door... "Please take care of your health." --- Disassembling the book into its rawest parts. The metal parts, melted and absorbed into him; the bound leather shredded and fused into his clothing. Then, he placed the sheets of parchment into his torso cavity, save for one of the Ward scrolls. This should be the safest to analyze on the way, although, this ink... It could be seen glowing in the shadowy parts of this hallway. Damn. He hoped he wouldn't have to procure this unknown special ink just to cast this spell beyond these scrolls. A detour. Instead of taking the stairs, Henri instead came out of the window and began sliding down the wall at a safe pace, casting Telekinesis on himself and maintaining friction with the wall with his left hand and shoes. He placed the Ward scroll along with the rest of the parchments in his torso. None of the diagram made sense to him anyway, he could only rely on how the mana is being converted during usage. Wait, is that Matilda? The rest, as well. He was correct to intuit that they'd be heading towards the stables, but he didn't quite expect it to be this soon. Henri hopped off the wall once he got five feet near the ground, and briskly walked up to them then matched their pace. "Hello. Are we heading out already?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark I assume you would like to know what the first step is? Firstly, I want to investigate the last known area where the prince was seen. He went on a hunting party with the Vessier, along with some guards. I assume that Cedar and maybe Henri, could smell or find any clues the investigators may have missed. Matilda was about walk towards the entrance, but realizing that Jazdia was not following her, she turned. "Well?" The elf sighed. This orc woman apparently was a stranger to a saying that patience is a virtue. When Jazdia heard her uttering the word 'prince' she wondered what in the Terra she was thinking. Prattling about the plan on her way to the stable so every unfriendly eye and ear can see and hear? So far there had been too many elements being overlooked and it was rather concerning, but for the sake of decency, and solidarity of this motley crew, she did not bother to explain. "That was an astute plan. Madam. But could I offer you my view about how we organize this event?" This event. Organize. Jazdia reread the documents and tried to remember as much as she can. Then, in an effort to put another failsafe, she continued. "I agree that Mister Cedar would be a great help to design a venue that will meet the standard for ecological sustainability. Also to ensure that any undesirable 'animals' are to be kept out or handled in a proper manner. Mister Solomon can provide medical assistance for both the organizer and... those who are already there." Jazdia shot a glance toward the young woman who seemed too occupied with flaunting her killing ability to the bear-man. Not sure if they could hear her, but she continued anyway. "For security details, you can entrust that task to young miss Yvonne as well as giving her the responsibility to provide questions and answers should our contestant have doubts. As for mister Henry, I am sure you have your own consideration." Jazdia flipped the documents again down to the most decorated one. "To ensure the success of this event. I offer my service to survey possible guesthouses for our contestants. For that, I will need Mister... uhh... Chounan's assistance to aid me in navigating the Rascade, and also his position as the representative of the Adventurers Guild will prove useful for security details. With the current situation, I am sure you understand we need that now more than ever." Throwing another fake smile, Jazdia lowered the document and made a mental note of what she just said, expecting Matilda to do the same. "Needless to say what we discuss here is confidential. It would be unfair if some contestants got wind of our plan and have an early start". That was all of her plans. And Jazdia emphasized that she would do her part in her own way. "We will meet at the Village of Hdur. Assuming everything went smoothly. What a lively bunch of misfits we are." Jazdia tapped Matilda's pauldroned shoulder and immediately regretted it. Despite a bit of pain in her palm, she still maintained her cordial attitude, for now. "Mister Henry! Glad you could join us!"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "What, you think critters cant be assholes? Not as often as men, yeah, but they could be." There's this particularly infuriating donkey that just didn't like her, not long after she started bashing heads in. Kicking and even tried to bite once and whatnot. She took great relish watching the men butcher it after the literal dumbass broke its leg on a rough terrain. "Your pap is wise there. So long as no one's dead or maimed, people's only gonna think business. They'd grumble and try to reach for more anyway, cuz people are greedy, but killers for hire are expensive yeah? And they dont always succeed. Ain't gonna waste months of saving on a gamble." The good mercs were expensive, whereas the dubious ones tend to run away with the down payment if things get rough. Yvonne grinned at the bear, giving a thumbs up at the humblebrag. This kid's alright. They can get along juuust fine. "People do get irrational when it comes to their life. Village would endure brigands harrassing them every other week, then one farmer dies in an accident and suddenly whole place dig out their family heirlooms to pay off the mercs. Common story, really." As the talk went, Yvonne kept an ear open to the elf who took to organizing the motley band so smoothly that she must've done it dozens of times before. Fancy code words too. She wont remembering all that, but Yvonne's job description was "security". She can do security. The only other important bits was the location. Ain't heard of Hdur before, probably should take a peek at the map before the day's over.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar looked up at the tall woman with the pointed ears, and picked up that he was being mentioned. Something about designing a venue, or something. Sounded like she was being needlessly cryptic-- but then the notion of being 'discrete' about their activities 'clicked', and he got it-- she was subtly trying to suggest that everyone should keep their yaps shut. "Guess we'll pick this up la'er, when we aint in town.." he gruffed at the small lady without looking at her. He frowned again. He still hadn't gotten the stuff he needed... who did he have to bite to get the point across, without causing a scene by simply shouting it?</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri's eyebrow raised. It feels exceptionally long ago that anyone was this friendly and upbeat, upfront. Especially not an elf, if stereotypes would dictate. "It... Yes, glad to be here, miss...? Forgive me, I know not of anyone's names." He noticed the man-bear's mumble. Seems he has a need to procure something. But, before that, the document in the elf's hands. He glanced at Matilda, then back at the elf. Guess she's in charge? "Is there anything you'd have me do?"</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "What-" The golden glint was unmistakable, and Yvonne for a moment was struck dumb. Not about the amount of wealth, which to be fair wasn't a small sum but nothing major to her, no. It's the casual, guillible ease of which Cedar pulled them out. Recalling an earlier thought, she wondered how many times he'd gotten scammed on his way here. "Put that away, you big lug. I ain't the one to ask for supplies, I can point you out to vendors out in the market but that'd be the opposite of discreet. The kitchen should have most of what you need, ask either of them." Yvonne gestured at Mattie and the elf, not far off from the door. "Shouldn't be flashing gold everywhere, that's how you get either robbed or scammed. Those coins of yours? You'd get a wagon of seed and fruit with that." And then came the introduction of the hooded old fella that lurked surprisingly close without her noticing. That's some talent right there. And the name. Yvonne heard some wild tales of the man. Didn't actually think the fella existed, but here he stood. "Why, a legendary figure ain't cha? We'll be in your care, doc."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Is it due to Henri being soft-spoken that this elf hadn't heard him amidst the voices of these other three people? He sighed in exasperation then raised his hand. "I think I know how to solve this problem. Let me swing by the Royal Garden for a bit. No need to spend your coin, Mister Ceddy... Cedrick?" He then skated away. A constant application of Telekinesis on his body allowed his shoes to just glide along the ground without taking an actual step. --- The Royal Garden... Yes, this should do nicely. Assortments of odd-looking plants you would rarely find from the market. Although, how would you extract the seeds from this... Henri approached the Royal Gardener. "Hello. It's a bit urgent, but could you get me seeds from these plants? Yes, just all of them. All of them. Let me water the plants for you. Actually, do you also have a water barrel I could use?"</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "It's Jazdia. Fred-- uh, the King hired me as an independent investigator." Battling the desire to unravel the mystery of the stone man in front of her, She intended to reach out for a handshake but something tells her that it wouldn't be a good idea. "Also, I wanted to inform you that I have spoken with our mutual acquaintance, Madame Matilda and you will be working with her. Please consult with her about your inquiries." But the man was already gone as if he was sunken down to the concrete floor below. Another disturbance, bearing the very question that sounds as ridiculous as asking what if an archer forgets to bring his arrows. Jazdia was unsure what to say and the only quick response she would give was "I am afraid don't have anyone I can spare to do my bidding." When the little noblewoman turned away without saying anything, Jazdia immediately knew her answer was disappointing. She searched for Matilda, who shook her head, and Jazdia answered the courtesy by shrugging pensively. Nope, not my concern. She wondered where the heck this Chounan guy was. High time for him to return, and she wasn't so thrilled with the idea of using her power to find out that this gentleman was hiding somewhere. No, that would cause severe consequences.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "Of couss mistah 'Enry. Please, follow me." The royal gardener was a man named Charon. A black-skinned fellow hailing from the Maghribi region. Over the years of service in Kindeance Palace, he had befriended Henri the painter due to having a similar profession as men of arts and craft. If Henry was in the business of paint and canvas, then Charon projected his artistic value in sculpting overgrown and greeneries alike. The royal gardener guided Henry to a small storage room, where he immediately scooped seeds from three different containers. He didn't specify what kind of seeds they were but the sample from the first container was a small, black seed with a faint trace of tangy aroma. The second was medium-sized, rough, and brown in color. The third was small and silky white. "These ar gud for youh." he said, again with a funky Magribal accent. Of course, three types of seed barely counted as all of them like Henry ordered, but as a friend, Charon gave him the types of plants that were easy to maintain and... nutritious, because he always looked so pale. When Henry reminded him about his second request, the man Charon frowned. "I kan give you de barrel, but mistah 'Enry must know that the supervisor is a difficult man to deal with. All tools are to be accounted for, every missing spade, every broken bucket, always in every Saturday." Regardless, Charon removed a few sacks from an old wooden barrel and swiped the dirt and a swarm of black ants who apparently nested there. "But! I kan just say to the supervisor that old Charon requested mistah 'Enry to repair the old barrel. We good?"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Charon. This man, he hasn't aged a day. He does know of the former Henri the painter, but he doesn't yet know of his current circumstance, of being a non-human, non-painter. Henri made a mental note to divulge this to Charon, one of these days. These must be seeds for fruits and vegetables, with the way he said it. Hmm, he cares not for nutrition for he cannot eat... No, he supposes the others would like to eat healthy. "Thanks, how thoughtful of you." As for the barrel... "Yes, this barrel will do perfectly. Thank you." Henri grabs the barrel and turns it upside down, invoking his Telekinesis to shake off the rest of the dust. "I doubt any such supervisor would be able to do anything to either of us, although, I might not be able to return this barrel in the next few days if at all... You know what, just tell them that I stole it. What are they going to do? I'm not one to pull rank but... Well, I do not have a rank, to be honest." He jested. The barrel doesn't have a spigot. Henri might have to design something that can resist the force of a 10-foot bear, lest he drown these seeds. For now, a blob of molten iron seeps out of Henri's hand. Then, he lightly punches one of the metal rings of the barrel to weld some kind of handle onto it. Charon witnesses this and simply nods in admiration. Henri side-eyed him. Charon won't question this odd feat? Hm. He was going to use this as an opportunity to ask how Charon hasn't aged... Holding the barrel by this new handle with the seeds inside, Henri offers his other fist to be bumped with another fist. "Well, then. Good to see you again, Charon. I might not be here for the next several days. Take care." Charon answers the fist bump. "I'll see you soon, Mistah 'Enry."" Henri then skates away, towards the stables where he presumes the rest of the team already are. This post edited with Pakde's help because forum posts aren't allowed to be less than a paragraph long.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Charon. This man, he hasn't aged a day. He does know of the former Henri the painter, but he doesn't yet know of his current circumstance, of being a non-human, non-painter. Henri made a mental note to divulge this to Charon, one of these days. These must be seeds for fruits and vegetables, with the way he said it. Hmm, he cares not for nutrition for he cannot eat... No, he supposes the others would like to eat healthy. "Thanks, how thoughtful of you." As for the barrel... "Yes, this barrel will do perfectly. Thank you." Henri grabs the barrel and turns it upside down, invoking his Telekinesis to shake off the rest of the dust. "I doubt any such supervisor would be able to do anything to either of us, although, I might not be able to return this barrel in the next few days if at all... You know what, just tell them that I stole it. What are they going to do? I'm not one to pull rank but... Well, I do not have a rank, to be honest." He jested. The barrel doesn't have a spigot. Henri might have to design something that can resist the force of a 10-foot bear, lest he drown these seeds. For now, a blob of molten iron seeps out of Henri's hand. Then, he lightly punches one of the metal rings of the barrel to weld some kind of handle onto it. Charon witnesses this and simply nods in admiration. Henri side-eyed him. Charon won't question this odd feat? Hm. He was going to use this as an opportunity to ask how Charon hasn't aged... Holding the barrel by this new handle with the seeds inside, Henri offers his other fist to be bumped with another fist. "Well, then. Good to see you again, Charon. I might not be here for the next several days. Take care." Charon answers the fist bump. "I'll see you soon, Mistah 'Enry."" Henri then skates away, towards the stables where he presumes the rest of the team already are. This post edited with Pakde's help because forum posts aren't allowed to be less than a paragraph long.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan The ronin gave a small bow to Matilda, then traveled quickly to the stable to collect his horse. He needed to see the smith and time was running out, so he had to travel quickly. When he arrived at the blacksmith's, he was greeted by the man, and they talked about the amount of time it had taken to fill his order. The unusual time consuming nature of the work had resulted in a very high price, but he recieved a full order of a family of blades ranging from Katana to Tanto. Next was the armor. It was a full set of samurai armor, with a luxurious surcoat, embelished with artistic stylings: The Kabuto featured a pair of horns from a real minotaur, and the face mask was carved to resemble an angry demon. Finishing the ensemble, were a selection of throwing knives including Kunai and Shuriken. As if flaunting his wealth, he casually counted out the tendered amount, then handed the smith a nice bonus for his efforts, before quickly getting into his new armor. He decided not to wear the head armor while still in town, to avoid alarming the locals-- and instead tied his hair back in a traditional hair knot. Regrettably keeping his handsome facial on public. Departing the blacksmith's shop, he made a quick detour of his room at the inn, where he collected his personal papers and effects, in case they might be needed, then proceeded back to the stable. As he arrived, he found out that there are still no one on the stable neaeby the eastern gate. He head back quickly into the palace. He returned to the group where Matilda and Jazdia still remained. "Sorry to keep you wait Madame Matilda." He made a small bow with respect . "I haven't introduce myself to everyone in group. I'm Chōnan, Gold Ranking Adventurer."</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Turning to face Yvonne trying to get her to stop for a moment, the orc paladin stopped for just a brief moment to speak, "We can introduce and get to know each other on the ride over to the hunting grounds. I would rather not waste time exchanging pleasantries, I do not want to miss the opportunity to find the prince." She understood why Yvonne wanted to know the people she would be working with, but time was of the essence. Then there is this elf, who expressed her positive opinion in a thinly veiled sarcasm. They couldn't see the expression she was making behind her helmet, but it was one of annoyance that Jazdia was right. She should not be talking about the mission out in public, in case an enemy was listening in. The elf then described her own plan, which Matilda must admit sounds very reasonable, save for one matter. "But I am curious why you assume that Hdur would be such a safe place to discuss such sensitive matters. It does have a reputation of being quite nefarious." "It is not the safest." the elf could be seen sighing before adding some emphasis to her words. "Nothing sensitive I am sure you know. But we still need a checkpoint. The closer to the venue the better. Then if you like it we can scout for a better place to make our own campfire." Matilda immediately gets the message. "Better than picking a random node in the wilderness and expecting everyone to know where exactly the place is. Got it! I am willing to go to Hdur, as long as we stick together. And not speak of this plan to anyone." She had a serious tone in her voice. She would personally decapitate the person that stopped her from saving the prince, including her would-be comrades. The elf smacked her armoured shoulder. It would be pretty painful, and Matilda was delighted to see her grimacing after that exchange. "We have everything planned. Let's move out people!"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Yvonne was quiet for a moment as the motley crew split into two groups, but then she realized how lopsided it was. Two to five? Sure, a gold rank cant be pushover and the elf probably have honed her skills longer than Yvonne herself had lived, but number was important. Even a swordsmaster would have problem dealing with several novices with pikes. Of the other group Mattie should be able to hold her own while Cedar was likely as strong as a literal bear with human intellect on top. Doc Solomon was there to patch thing up. Dunno about the unassuming Henri but from what's displayed so far he should be able to hold his own. "Just one moment there, blondie. You looks like you need extra muscle. I'll come along with your group, yeah?" Yvonne very much would like to catch up with Mattie, but the job comes first. This should be a long-term gig anyway, she'd get the chance further down the line.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Ah, the first objection. Jazdia was starting to feel the urge for subterfuge was a bit pushing it and this lady being forthright was just something she needed. There was a hint of hesitation however when she confirmed this last-minute decision. "Are you sure? My plan to distribute the manpower was carefully thought out. But surely I might not have the most accurate assessment of your capability." Being already this technical, Jazdia reminded herself that the urgency to maintain the secrecy would give her fewer options to tell this petite noble lady why was it so important to stick with the plan. But no, there was no clear chain of command in this motley group, only recommendations. Except of course without disregarding Matilda's position as Fredricus' right-hand woman. So she asked her opinion, and the orc, showing the sign of someone being tunnel-visioned with her duty glowered back at her and then snorted. "Do whatever you wish." The crudeness of the answer surprised Jazdia, especially after hearing her deep, but otherwise professional tone earlier. The orc finally left the room for real. Without looking back, without repeating the order that it was time to move on. And those... people who agreed to be under her command should have known better to not dally any more. "Well I guess you heard her." ____ Entering the hall was the short oriental man wearing a newly forged piece of armor and multiple swords on his waist. He immediately introduced himself as Chōnan, Gold Ranking Adventurer. He was told by Matilda on the aisle to report to Jazdia... Who clearly wasn't so happy with his lack of punctuality. Those irritating minutiae were starting to erode the cordiality she showed so far, making her default stern expression even more apparent. "I guess we can skip the pleasantries for later. We must go before Fredricus decided to take these matters into his own hands."</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri was simply there by the stables, sitting on the barrel he carried to there, a mere three feet next to someone's horse. He might've came here too early. He exhaled. It bored him. There was an odd lack of a stableworker today, either. Alright then, might as well do something. With the town on edge during the recent events, it was oddly quiet in these stables while he embarked in the throes of cleaning this eternally unused water barrel. His telekinesis could only keep up appearances, he needed actual water. Well, he could also use telekinesis on the water, creating a localized cyclone inside the water barrel. He then dumped the dirty water out, and rinsed it again. Nicely done. Now, for the sprinkling system... It has to be something large enough for Ceddy's paw hands to just pull up, and a diligent spray of water would pour out on the side. Henri began to carve a large rectangular shape out of the side of the barrel, then filled the carved side with steel which he then poked small two-millimeter holes onto at the lower half, alternating to form diamonds if connected. Then, he added a frame outward that would tightly hold another sheet of metal only one-third as long as the first one. This sheet can be moved up or down to seal the watering holes. Then, the last thing is to attach a small hoop to the sheet to tie a long leather rope onto, and tying the other end of it to a smooth metal ring to pull easily from the shoulder. A few more checks to see if the external sheet slides smoothly, then filling up the water barrel to make sure water stays in when closed. Pulling the sheet up creates multiple tiny streams of water, much like a watering can. Amazing. After that exciting ordeal, he's back to simply sitting on the water barrel, now with a pony harness by his feet and a Scroll of Arcane Bolts in his hand. It would seem hasty and prone to misshaping if Henri were to turn this pony harness into a backpack sling for this Ceddy, as he knows not of his measurements and might build it too small. For now, he focused on studying this scroll, which if he guessed at the mechanics, should be as simple as pooling your mana at a spot and hurling its condensed form at your enemies... He wouldn't know until he tried, though. It's not safe to test this scroll in this area. Jazdia, huh... Where has he heard that name before? It's quite the unique name, but he couldn't pinpoint from where.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" On the way out Yvonne collected the belongings she handed over earlier, finally feeling adequately protected with the weight of weapons in their holster. She had to modify her appearance a bit, removing the multicolored adornment to leave the hauberk plain. The riveted mail wasn't exactly a common thing due to how pricy it was, but still plentiful enough among the more well-off soldier and mercenary that it wouldn't draw much attention. The heirloom sword wasn't adorned much in the first place, wrapping some rag on the handle was enough to conceal it as a standard arming sword. Everything else can be find in any decently large armoury, thus was of no issue to wear in the open. Their de-facto leader brought them to one of the better inn in the city, pricy enough to bar the less savory (or the destitute) while still affordable enough to see plentiful traffic. Off to the side room she followed, past several gamblers toward the one that probably had more wealth staked than the rest of the room combined. There's a flash of furry ears and fluffy tail, but all it earned was a raised eyebrow from the mercenary. Far from her to point it out for no one's benefit. She had an inkling of what this man was worth to them, if it's even a man under the glamour. Yvonne wasn't unfamiliar with the type, always seems to have a pair of extra ears whenever something interesting occured. Jazdia's contact, then? For the most part Yvonne kept quiet, though upon the grand reveal she had to struggle from cracking a grin. Now that's a hedged deck if she ever saw one. Dunno how it's arranged, but the odds of just one good hand was rare enough - much less four in the same round, and right at the closing game with the highest stake? If someone tried something like that in a low-end tavern they'd get knifed within the hour. Sometimes right then and there, by the outraged players. Nothing that helped the investigation so far, but at least Yvonne got a new nickname for the elf. Sparky rings so much better than Blondie.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar was still feeling anxious about having at least some kind of seeds to work with, while he and Mme. Matilda walked to the stables. The stench of the city was overpowering, and the stable did not smell much prettier. At least both were better than the dungeons, he crossly thought to himself-- but it didn't really help much. He would be very glad once they were out of the city-- Not only would the smell be significantly less, but the risk of his being seen and causing rumor (and maybe panic-- He'd noted that humans sometimes became uncontrollably afraid upon seeing him for the first time) would also be substantially less. Maybe there would be an opportunity to get really, truly, and properly clean too? He really hoped it would pan out-- the lingering reek of the dungeon clung to him like a fat bloated tick. Sure, the others probably couldn't smell it, but human noses were next to useless-- he knew he stank like the dungeon, and the stink was not a good one. After more hurried shuffles through back alleys and side streets, they came to the stables at long last.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location:Rascade, Kindeance Royal Capital --- "Legend only in the stories, I'm sure. Though I suppose the stories cultivate from the seeds of truth. You may rest assured. My care will never fail you." said Solomon softly. Solomon had heard of Yvonne's exploits, and has witnessed the aftermath of her carnage first hand. Stories existed about Solomon and his either various miracles or crimes against nature depending on who is asked. Solomon anticipated stories about Yvonne's ferocity and thoroughness would soon be written. Perhaps Solomon being quick to switch plans there was not the best move. Though his role in either plan hardly changed, Matilda's body language was slight, but it gave Solomon an impression of intrigue or perhaps annoyance. The similarities of the plans highlighted a potential rivalry between Matilda and Jazdia. Solomon did learn of the independence Jazdia had on the matter at least. Matilda agreed to Jazdia's modification of the plan with some reservation. In the meantime, the oriental figure that Solomon had not seen since leaving the king's chambers had returned. With what the samurai decided to prepare himself with, he certainly didn't attempt subtly. He was dressed in fine armor of questionable design. Not a design of function, but of form. He must not be from the lands of Kadeance, nor Meche for that matter. Armed to the teeth, the figure must be expecting battle to come in the near future. Chounan was his name, and his rank within the adventurer's guild didn't matter. At least to Solomon. Further introductions had to wait as people were still coming and going where it seemed to grate on Matilda. Solomon remained quiet for the time being not wanting to stir up any more hostilities for now. All things considered, first impressions were not impressive, but hopefully once things got underway, everyone would warm to each other. Yvonne switched teams and Henri departed else where. Beyond that, it was time to go. Jazdia took her two companions and Solomon stayed with Matilda. Onward to the stables. Enough time had been wasted. Cedar seemed anxious as they walked a more indirect path towards the stables. The main roads might have brought too much attention to Cedar given his appearance and size. Solomon was not in a position to comfort or even say anything to Cedar as they walked along the alley ways. The reason for it was as soon as the group had left the palace gates, Solomon was once again lagging behind the group. However once all eyes were away from him, his form darkened and he sunk into the ground, blending into the shadows. Even as they took the side roads, it still might be suspicious if several odd figures were spotted traveling together through the city. Solomon took a more direct route towards the stables, occasionally crossing paths with that of Matilda and Cedar. Upon reaching the stable, he still remained hidden among the shadows and nooks created by the overhanging beams and tools. The stable hand was no where to be seen, but several horses stood around, stamping, or nibbling on the oats the hung oaks near each stall. Henri was already there, however, sitting on a barrel staring intently at the piece of paper. Solomon recognized the paper, and wondered why Henri was so focused on studying it. He stopped pondering it when Matilda and Cedar came back into view. Now that everyone was at the stable, Solomon materialized out of the shadows, walking into view from around a wall behind Henri, "I see we all made it here without incident. From here I follow your lead, Guard Matilda."</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri perked up from his examination of the Scroll of Arcane Bolts and waved at the man-bear as his shadow was in view. "Ah, Matilda. Cedrick. Here you are." He slid the scroll into his arm and grabbed the seeds from the inner pockets of his coat, and placed them on the water barrel. The pony harness is still beside the water barrel. "I don't know what seeds these are, I'm guessing fru--" Henri aimed his right fist at the old man that just emerged from the shadows. A plate on his backfist is elevated to reveal several arrays of needles. Realizing who it was, Henri dropped his arm. Curse him, this pompous old man. He exhaled. He scooted over to Matilda's side. "I'll never get used to seeing such a lack of people in this area. Shall we go, then?"</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location:Rascade, Kindeance Royal Capital --- Solomon only stared at Henri as his fist flew inches from him. Solomon knew that his sudden appearance could garner a reaction, but the state his hand was in was not that of any human he knew. Was this man an artificer of some kind? The idea of personal augmentation with magical devices was not unheard of, but it was generally impractical. Actually, there was more to Henri than just his hand. This was the first time he had seen him so close. It was slight, but the sheen of his skin and the lines along his cheeks looked very inorganic. This was more than the work of an artificer, if not a being following orders, than Henri was a soul combined with the body of a golem. Solomon could not prove it, but Henri showed some of the signs. Solomon had spent some time studying the possibility as one method for immortality. Solomon ultimately decided against furthering his research into it, thinking it would make him too disconnected. Solomon's eyes drifted back to the others as he continued his greeting to Matilda and Cedar with a new awareness of Henri. Solomon could appreciate another looking into ways of extending their life, and thought nothing more of it. He was a personable fellow, and even acquired seeds and a barrel for Cedar. Matilda didn't seem too enthused about it one way or the other. Her face was focused, and she seemed eager to get going. Cedar, on the other hand, looked at the group with both wide eyed marvel and caution. He lightened up once the seeds and barrel were presented. Cedar wandered away just out of sight probably to try out his new seeds. Solomon chuckled. The desires of druids was not one Solomon was well antiquated with. "So, my factitious friend, what seeds have you gifted him?" asked Solomon. Even had Henri answered, it was clear by the bears excitement that something wonderful must of grown. The sound of slurping juice and fruits cracking open was not discreet. Part of the woodwork that made the stable and fence creaked as the vines gripped along them for stability. Solomon wandered over just in time to see Cedar bite into a green vegetable. Looking at the multitude along the ground, it appeared to be a cucumber. The adjacent wall was covered in passion fruit. For a test grow, he had enough harvest to feed a family trough the season. Cedar seemed engrossed as he plucked another cucumber. Solomon wandered back to the group, leaving Cedar to enjoy himself. His large body must demand plenty of food. "The seeds were acceptable from what I could see." said Solomon. Not long after making his comment, Cedar came into view again. He had the barrel on his shoulder, his head moving back and forth, air quickly coming and going through his large nostrils. He was smelling for something. "If you are looking for a well, it is at the other end of the stables."</s> <|message|>"Cedar" A huge gloved hand signals a "thumb's up" just before the huge snuffing nose disappears from sight behind that side of the stable, followed by shuffling footsteps, as Cedar, unperturbed, sauntered back into view. "thanks feller!" he beams, before crossing to the indicated position, setting the barrel down, then hauling up the bucket. "'Ere's produce ov'r dere if'n ya wannit.." The bear-man looks troubled for a moment, realizing he had left the food on the other side, while he busied himself with filling the barrel. "Think they'd care if'n I'd stealed some o' da grain from this 'ere stable?" he mused out loud, with water splashing near his feet. The notion of giving himself a wash right then an there also crossed his mind, but he reminded himself that they were kinda in a hurry.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "You may take just a few. The horses still need to eat." Henri comes into view, donning on his chest some kind of kite shield that's taking a meticulous duration to fully form. Around one-third of it is still missing, gradually being filled with red-hot iron flowing from Henri's body. There are no etchings or carvings on it that serve a design-like purpose, as he thought it might be easier to break if he did. The amount of fruit Cedrick just produced would give the stableworkers a delightful surprise once they come back. Henri raises his hand. "I'll have to pass, I don't really eat." Full-stop. What a weird thing to say. Then again, Henri wasn't really secretive about his circumstance. No one just cared to ask him directly. "Well. If everyone's done with their preparations, let's head to the forest."</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda made her way over to the stables, only making brief greetings and small talk with the people in the village. Told the commoners that she wanted her to fix their mess, she would get a guard to help them. She did not have the time to try and solve every petty squabble in the city. She had much more important matters to attend to. Not wanting to waste any more time, she jogged over toward the stables. Quickly arriving at the stables, speaking with the owner about where her steed was located. She knew where the hunting grounds were, she had been there multiple times with the prince and others in the court. Having gone many times as a child with her adopted father. As she headed inside the stables to retrieve her horse, she noticed an older man petting her steed. At first, she was hesitant, thinking that this man was going to steal her horse. But on closer inspection, it was her adopted father. "Papa? I thought you were working at the bakery today?" The older man smiled walking over towards Matilda, "I have Janus taking over the shop, I just wanted to say goodbye and good luck." The sentiment was greatly appreciated by the orc." "Thank you, papa. Although I should have joined the prince during the hunt, then none of this would have happened." This expression of doubt was met by her adopted father rubbing her back. "Mattie, you should not doubt yourself for such things. You will be able to find the prince, you have friends who are willing to help you." Motioning with a nod towards Cedar, Henri, and Solomon. Matilda nodded her head with a smile. "Your right, I believe that Qunmir will bless our group with good luck to find the prince." Once again her adopted father patted her on the back, "That's the spirit. Now go and may Qunmir bless you." Hugged her adopted father before quickly letting go. And with that Matilda left the stables with her horse. Looking over at the group assuming the others were ready to leave. "Let's go." She said getting on her horse and started riding off towards the hunting grounds. There was not a lot of conversation between the four of them, Matilda was mostly silent during the trip. The group soon arrived at the royal hunting ground, the surrounding area was eerily quiet. There was a dense forest surrounding them, with thick tall grass leading into the forest. There were a few openings among the trees of the forest, leading to the eerie darkness of the forest. The wind was chilling to the bone, something that Matilda and perhaps Cedar could feel. The site in the forest was a semi-permanent camp in a slight clearing where sunlight fell for a good part of the day, banishing much of the murky gloom. There several guards in light armor and Kindeance's emblem awaited, generally resting and taking a break. A man jogged out as the party approached, saluting in recognition at Matilda's figure. "Hail, Dame Matilda! I've been expecting your arrival." The young man is Squire Anderson, Matilda's own squire that she picked a few years ago. Matilda got off her horse with a loud thud, that shook the ground around her. "Anderson, do you have anything to report about your findings?" She had hoped that Anderson and the other guards may have found something that was missed in the initial investigation. " Unfortunately not much, ma'am. It's evident that the perpetrators went off in one direction at first, but they scattered at some point and much later some of the trails just faded. Intentionally erased. My trackers are making progress, but there's only so many of them but a lot of ground to cover." Looking annoyed at both Anderson and the guards around him, she had hoped that would have found some useful information. "I need you to guide us to the site of the kidnapping, I assume my team members want to know more about what happened as well." She turned her head towards the others, assuming they wanted to know as much as Matilda on what was going on. Anderson took a glance at the motley crew, nodding without any unnecessary comment. "Very well. How much am I allowed to disclose?" The crew on site was on a need-to-know basis, and they weren't informed of what exactly transpired. Matching the story would be prudent to avoid unnecessary rumours from spreading. "You are allowed to fully disclose the information, these men can be trusted." Matilda shook her head. "Understood." Confirmed the squire, before turning his full attention to the investigation party. "I shall lead you to the site. In the meantime, ask away gentlemen."</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri, visibly exhausted and hunched over, tapped his shoes, sizzling from the friction of skating towards this area for two straight hours to match the pace of Matilda and Solomon's horses. This man-bear with his size was expected to keep up even without a horse. Bears really are something. He placed this newly forged iron kite shield at his back. Lacking the skill nor passion for art that he once had, it's fully undecorated, but maybe that's for the best. He raised a hand at this opportunity to ask questions. "Are there any items left over by the Young Master? Anything that would have a scent. Cedrick," he referred to the man-bear whose name he still wrongly assumes, "how good is your sense of smell as a bear?"</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Thank you for the confirmation, Ser Cedrick. The trackers surmised as much." Anderson nodded, completely oblivious that the bear's name he heard was completely mistaken from the beginning. He now more-or-less had better trust on the investigators if one of them can do the work of several trackers and bloodhounds by himself, and even asking the local wildlife for assistance no matter how unreliable the critters were. He turns to Solomon's cloaked figure, slightly hoping that the man can further shed light on the way-too-well-planned debacle. "It is as surmised, the prince and his escort was ambushed. Of the three escorts, two were slain here and the last one is still unconscious by last report. The assailants are well prepared." He paused, before adding. "Way too well prepared, in fact. The prince's schedule is not something widely known even among the castle staff."</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito chuckled as he watched Jazdia's futile attempt to get past the guard. She tried to boss him around in her usual stern manner but the man was having none of it. It was clear that he took his position as royal guard very seriously and that he would not bulge in the face of the fiery elf. Jazdia certainly had her skill set but for this kind of task she was less suited. Getting past the guard would require someone with charm, social intellect and being good at telling lies. Quickly the fox nudged the elf aside and gave her the most disappointing look he could muster. "No! That is not how you talk to an honored knight, tasked with protecting our glorious king, miss Jazdia!" Spoke Kaito in a belittling tone as he pretended to be angry at her. Quickly Kaito turned towards the guard and made a deep bow while infusing his words with his charm magic that would make him more susceptible to his suggestions. "No need to get agitated. My deepest apologies sir for the behavior of my partner. She spoke out of turn." Kaito moved closer to the man and whispered "A new gal, got the job just yesterday. She's tagging along so that she can learn the ropes. She's got a pretty face and all but no skill. You know how that goes when old men are in charge, right?" Kaito extended his hand and spoke swiftly. "Geito Brown, chronicler of the Helvetian Daily Horn. We would like to hear the great tale of how our glorious king Fredericus and his royal guards gallantly fended off the ambush, publish it for all of Rascade to read and document this tale for the annals of history. I am sure that just this tale will cement the legacy of King Fredericus and his brave knights for all of eternity." 'Geito Brown' paused a bit as he looked at the guard before placing his hand on his shoulder, lowering his tone and letting his bewitching words sink deeper into the guard's consciousness. "Perhaps you were there my friend and could give us a first hand account of the events? I can already see the headline 'King Fredericus and you fend off the Mechian attack and save Kindeance from peril. That does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?" The fox paused and smiled. "Perhaps we can help each other out here like friends do. I can put out a good word for you and the boys. Make them part of the publication and get the story of their great deeds out. You and your pals certainly deserve some of the spotlight, don't you think? All you have to do is let us in so that we can get the details right. That way we all win. Sounds like a plan, don't you think?"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. An unusual fletching, huh... Henri pulled one of the brown-feathered arrows and placed it in his left arm after breaking it in half due to its length. He exhaled, as he metal-sensed the rest of the arrows. "These are just regular arrowheads..." Nothing traceable about them except these feathers. Throughout this walk, he couldn't find anything else even with his metal-sense and thirty-foot perception. Anderson and the men under him must've already swept this place several times over. One could wonder what Matilda was thinking of when he recommended Henri to help in the matter of procuring evidence; he was pretty sure he submitted his application as a combatant and some sort of backup blacksmith for their equipment...</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark One of the guards snorted. "Nay, twasn't me. They put me on the south gate that day." He beckoned to the younger guards next to him, who, in Keito's judgment had a rather unassuming look; he was no taller than him, with a physique so average he looked like an armored scarecrow. He wore a non-standard oversized helmet with a loose visor, causing it to fall and covered his face as he walked. "Aye, right away sir." And without further ado, he testified. "I was in charge of keepin' the crowd off the fence sir, it wasn't that much that day, so we had it easy, twas always easy. His majesty was on his way to give a speech and we had a few wee crowds inside the fences as well, part of the holy congregation, but surely there were ordinary folks as well. The ceremony always opens for the public." He tapped his helmet and corrected his visor. "So we ain't suspected a thing that day, until we saw three men jumped from the crowd, brandishing sword and dagger. Death to the marauder king! they cried. I's a good soldier so I rushed into the fray, swords in me hand." "So what about the crowds?" Asked Keito. "Weren't you supposed to keep them out?" "Yes. But folks scattered about as soon as the swords started clanging' and bolts and whatnot flyin'. I was the closest with the Majesty and besides, I've got friends in the back. The only thing on me mind was bringing His Majesty to safety. "And killing His Majesty's pursuer?" "If I could, but alas when I got there, the three Mecheans were dead, one killed by His Majesty's sword, and Madame Matilda was busy pummelling the archer. There was an explosion, and yellow smoke afterward. We were confused, but Madame Matilda got His Majesty escorted back to the Palace immediately. Then when I swung me sword against empty air I heard someone shouting: By the Blessing of the Ouroboros! We have reclaimed what is ours! and after that, there was a blinding flash and those basterds were gone in thin air." "I see. How many of them that was escaped?" The guard paused. He straightened his posture and then spoke with a defensive pride. "Damn if I know, sir, If they ran through the fence we could'a seen 'em. Or if they climb the monastery, our watchers would ave shoot em. The smoke was thick and putrid a dragon could've taken a stroll there and I might not'a see it. They say it was two. And there were like, four dead bodies not including our lads which I recalled was three, taking arrows to protect His Majesty. Bless their souls dyin' in a great service like that. Please write that in your pamphlet or whatever." "I quickly joined the other guards, thinking we might av missed them passing through the fence, so we scoured Rascade to every blade of grass, and twas to no avail. Some of my superiors were disciplined afte that futile search and a few more were demoted. Now here we are, guarding this place as a reminder and punishment." The guard sighed, waiting for Mister Geito to finish his scribbles before giving a closing statement. "That's all I know, sir. You can ask others the same questions and get the same answers. Not a great story if ye ask me."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Yes... It would be easy to assume that they've been betrayed by someone from deep inside... Yet, at the same time, this is a world of magic. If they have someone like this man-bear Cedrick who Henri remembers scried the assassination attempt on Fredricus' life on the way here, or like Antigone who scries a myriad of scenarios every passing moment... Realistically, would they ever know? Henri scratched the back of his neck, and then raised a hand to catch Anderson's attention. "Did you recover any other items? Could you please just bring all the evidence in here? We'll review it as we walk." Then, back to the other three. "Are you planning to revive a dead horse? That aside, let's follow the blood closest to the prince's scent and see how far it takes us."</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "Wai' whut? Revive?... " Cedar boggled. The idea of bringing ANYTHING back from being actually DEAD-DEAD was... He could not wrap his head around it. He could not wrap his head around doing that to some poor critter that already had a terrible death to begin with- The idea was just flooring to him. "I thought ya was gunna track down the ones as survived or summat-- They won' be 'at far off-- Prolly all tagether 'nyhow-- Horses likes to pal around ya know. Safety in numbers." Then more earnestly-- ".... How you gunna talk ta a DEAD horse inna firs' place? -- Secon' thought, I dun wanna know...(only thing a dead horse 'good for is eatin'..)" He pushed the repulsive thought from his mind. He would DEFINITELY have to talk to his dad about this when he got back... "I thinks its a good idear ta be trackin that dumb shit as likely got a arrow stuck in 'im, afore it rains or sommat, and we lose the scent. The horses as run off might be able ta tell yas where they was stabled at afore they got rode here. Worth a shot-- I CAINT be the ONLY one as can ask em a simple 'nuff question, can I?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Well the estimated time was completely inaccurate then, ranging from "immediately" to "never". Yvonne wasn't really magically inclined to know. So gotta make every second counts. As for digging through the hedge? Not sure what she'd find there, personally, but the mercenary shrugged and knelt next to the hedge before carefully trying to find anything. ....and tried. And tried. "Is there something I'm supposed to see here or are ya pulling my legs?" She had even parted and poked at the greenery to no avail. Anything further would've damaged it, and that's probably gonna attract more eyes here.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword She walked with Cedar as he was interrogating the animals. Listening quietly to their conversation, she was curious about what he could find from these animals. Again assuming that he would not find much, perhaps she could persuade him to instead try to track the prince. After Cedar had interrogated the dogs' Matilda spoke up, "What information did the dogs and birds tell you? Where does what you found lead?" She felt stupid saying such a sentence, but this was the only lead they had so far. Matilda scanned the area for any other clues. Turning to face Anderson and the others, "These bastard must have been watching the prince's every move. Finding the right opportunity to strike. Or perhaps there is someone in the court working with the kidnappers." There was a possibility that someone in the court had given the kidnappers the prince's schedule. Or those inside of the court were a part of the plot. "I have seen this arrow before, it is specially made by a blacksmith in Rorthgaard a few miles from here." She wondered if the kidnappers had gone to this blacksmith for supplies. Solomon had a similar theory to Matilda, and she worried that this theory could be true. Crouching down once again placing her armoured hand on the ground, closing her eyes while moving her hand through the trampled grass. Breathing softly, she mentally tried to connect the pieces of what had happened. Noticing that the footprints were heading further into the forest, she turned towards Anderson. "Let's not waste any more time we need to move quickly."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "We didn't find anything belonging to the kidnappers, sans the arrows." Given enough time they'd probably try recover that too, but perhaps going into a prolonged shootout wasn't in their plan and they ended up firing more than it's possible to clean up. Anderson really wished he had more things to show, but there had been minimum development for the past five days. "With all due respect ma'am, the timing coincides too much with the attack on the king." Interjected the squire. They didn't wait and strike at the most opportune time. This was a coordinated strike. "Rorthgaard? I'll have people look into it." And at the order of moving out, Anderson took out a rolled up parchment map from a tube. It depicted an area of the forest, the map itself a precious thing yet as it stood it's filled with scribbled markings. A section of it was lightly greyed out with a pencil, and there's an X somewhere near the edge of it. "We've combed the greyed area so far." The marking splayed like stubby zig-zag roots, indicating the trails left behind by the kidnappers. Two of them were much longer than the rest. "These two were duds, we found the boot in here. They're not making it easy to follow either."</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri exhaled. It should be noted that he really does not need to breathe, but this is exasperating. Sure took Matilda her sweet time to speak up. So these arrows are special after all? Additionally, where did that map come from? This guy... Had he not the initiative to show us that from the start? Henri at least felt a relief that Matilda looked steeled to pursue these footprints further and instead leaving Rorthgaard to these minions, but is everyone glossing over the fact that Cedrick mentioned about the escaped horses? Henri raised a hand. "Matilda. Let's split from here. Cedrick and I will track down the escaped horses." If it's as the man-bear says, he could talk to them and find out where they're stabled, and the horses might be saddled up with important items as well. This endeavor shouldn't be a problem with the both of them. Their speeds could easily outpace any horse. "Mind giving Cedrick something that carries your scent? Also," Henri taps Matilda's shoulder, casting Core Spreading on her shoulderplate. A streak of cyan lightning appears briefly on it. "I'll be able to hear you when you're nearby." A small pool of molten iron wells up from Henri's hand, preparing to drop them sparingly on the ground as breadcrumbs.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Solomon Sparrow Solomon Sparrow Location: Royal Hunting Forest, Kindeance --- The longer Solomon remained at the forest, uncovering what the guards already knew. It is true that some time had passed between the incident and now. Perhaps it was enough for the scents to fade even for Cedar. Yet, with much of the evidence from the intrepid attack still present, the golden apple of progress lay just beyond the reach of the investigators. Solomon felt out of his element, as neither the injured nor the dead were present anymore. That possibility was one of the main reasons he continued. Since they had since been removed, buried, and not available, Solomon pondered different methods of uncovering the true trail. "It was an idea. Not a popular one in more ways than one it seems." said Solomon, dropping the idea of involving the horses, living or dead. The only true clue they had was Cedar eliminating the red herring trails in favor of the one lead by blood. A promising lead, but in the time it took for them to lead, that trail would only go so far. At least it could lead to a direction and maybe down a road. At least there, Solomon could direct the group the likely towns. Another clue surfaced with Matilda recognizing the arrows Henri had collected. So far the arrows were the only thing the abductors left behind. Made in Rorthgaard. Solomon had been there several times, the smith Matilda had mentioned wasn't world renown, but for the many who knew of him, his work was unmistakable. However, the village was only a few miles away. It would take a horse less than an hour to travel that distance, even if they rode straight avoiding the roads. At best, the information there would confirm the assassins may have passed through. Unless the bloodied trail led that way, it was best if Anderson's men looked into it. Solomon looked over the map Anderson had presented. His trackers had covered an extensive amount of ground, but there were still a couple paths left unchecked. "You managed to investigate half of them it seems. It may be too late to gather anything useful from the other trails at this rate. You have the arrows from Rorthgaard, a potential enemy informant at the castle, and the bloodied trail, which Cedar could lead us through. If its manpower you need, I can provide, as so long as it's not a technical skill you require. Otherwise, I don't see much more usefulness staying in the forest itself."</s> <|message|>"Cedar" "I dun' need anythung as smells like em' dipshits-- i's the dogs as needs at--- Yas can fin' a splotch er two o'er yonder... Not that yas can see it 'spose... If'n ya wants ta track the idjiots as napped the boy, I keen help with tellin' the dogs-- but I's agrees with the funny white man on thisa one." Cedar rumbled. "If'n we split up, we's can cover more ground. Miss Matilda keen take the doctor an' Mr Anderson an his dogs to chase down the idjiots-- This feller an' me can go track down the missin' horses. We kin catch up la'er." Cedar paused for a moment, as if contemplating an impossible task, before attempting to emulate Anderson's whistle, and failing miserably. He tried again several times. "Gull-darnit-- Mr Anderson, kin ya call the boys o'er agin? I ain't ne'er been able ta do 'at... --On accounta muh mouth looks like 'is-" Cedar pointed to his face then opened his mouth wide, revealing a rather frightening compliment of very sharp, meat tearing teeth with gaps between them where they would meet when closed. There were differences with what a keen observer would identify as being 'properly bear'-- false molar surfaces lined the insides of the last 4 incisors, before the real molars, indicating his human parentage-- but in all other ways, that mouth was "Decidedly Bear", with a dark colored and corrugated roof, a long and slightly purple tongue, and a long narrow shape. It was decidedly not suited to whistling in any capacity. Anderson made a bemused wince and shook his head, then put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Once more the dogs bounded up in a jumble of excited bawling, drooling, and tail wagging. "Your show Master Cedrick" chuckled the man with a smirk. "Thank'ya kindly Mr Anderson" retorted Cedar with his own. After a few minutes with the dogs looking between Cedar and Anderson confusedly, he led them off to various parts of the scene, pointing out the particular scent they should be tracking. Anderson knew they had picked it up when they made their characteristic 'alert bawling' and animated pouncing with false starts down the trail. They were indeed good boys, and had not been given the signal to track, but eagerly wanted to. Satisfied that the dogs knew what to hunt down, Cedar walked back up to the congregation in that lumbering shuffle of his, with the dogs trotting behind. As he reached where Anderson and the others were standing, they made furtive looks and whimpers between Anderson and the area Cedar had indicated, amid tail wags and excited eyes. "'ere-- At'll do it. I got's muh own trail ta follow, ifn' we gunna fin' dem horses." Cedar smiled, and probably shouldn't have. It looked more like an aggressive display than a grin. Only the alert posture of his ears gave it away as something different, besides his body posture and chuckling. " 'is Way Mister Henri!" he chuckled, swinging his big head in the direction of preferred travel. He had already scoped out a good portion of the scene, and between it and what he remembered of his interview with the bird, he had a good idea which way to go. The horse tracks would almost assuredly all re-converge into a single path at some point, but it would save time to take the most likely and most direct set of tracks, which headed West. -------- (some time later) -------- Cedar's tracking of the animals took a meandering path through the trees, then over a clearing beside a rather lovely lake. The horses were together, but spread out just enough to be little shits about being caught, grazing on the grass leisurely. They did not really seem to appreciate Cedar initially either, acting spooky and stupid-- taking off with snorts, flagged tails, and farts amid squealing neighs to trot away from him repeatedly before he managed to finally get though their thick dumb heads that he wasn't there to eat them. They were robust, if squat little animals (to his perspective anyway), between 1.1 and 1.6 meters to the tops of their backs. Far too small for somebody like him to ride-- but maybe Henri could use one. Some of the animals had managed to get their saddles and other tack free of themselves-- tearing the straps that had held them on, via aggressive rubbing and 'clever' use of low lying tree limbs. Thankfully it was fairly conspicuous and easily located in or near the offending foliage. The saddles and gear that were still in place were encrusted in dried grass and mud, from where the animals had tried to roll in the soft earth near the lake. It would take a whole day for each saddle to get them clean again. One of the horses was clearly the Venerer's, given its very different livery. Cedar was glad it had made it, and the horse itself was surprisingly happy that its 'person' had survived the frightening encounter. Cedar liked 'happy endings.' It took a reasonably long time to rifle through the contents of 6 horses worth of saddle bags. Most of the contents were camping supplies and 'abduction kit'-- Ropes, cloth gags, and small bottles of a curious powder that made Cedar's nose tickle, before making him go nose-blind. Lots of sneezing and boogery snorts later, it slowly started to return, but the momentary disability worried and troubled him-- He worried that the dogs might run into such an obstacle. Perhaps it was for the best that the abductors had been cut off from their supply. Henri did not act like he found the sight of Cedar having a snotty sneeze attack at all amusing. If anything, he looked rather put off by it, and recoiled a bit when Cedar located, then proceeded to try and offer the last item he dug out of this latest bag. Among the miscellaneous odds and ends of camping and abduction kit, there was a curious bit of parchment, emblazoned with a map with a curious X on it. The map depicted a lake, not unlike the one they were currently next to, with what looked like some ruins in a marsh to the south, with the ruins clearly indicated. " 'ere-- *(SNORT)* -- 'Ave a look at 'is--"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri grabbed the map, cross-referenced it with the lake, and figured out their heading. This has to be where Young Master is kept, right? No... This is probably a mere meeting point at best. Five days removed from the incident, there's probably nothing left in it to check. It wouldn't quite hurt to look though, being this close by. If there's any danger, he's confident in his own abilities. A bear of his size should be no slouch in combat either. Henri thinks of this, unknowing of Cedrick's age or actual combat experience. "We should swing by it. Just us two. I don't quite feel like calling on Matilda and the others, they're far away at this point." At worst, they'd be hindrances that Henri would have to protect or struggle to coexist in battle with. At best, he'd have wasted their time for nothing, after already having agreed to split up. Having already memorized the map due to his eidetic memory, he hands the map back to Cedrick and basically wills the items to sort themselves onto the mat that unfurled itself from previously being a saddle bag. Metals rolled on the right, and non-metals found themselves on the left. "We should sort all of this out first, though. Which one's yours, mine, or evidence. For starters," he grabs one of the small bottles of unknown powder. A potent irritant, seeing how affected Cedrick was by just a whiff of it. This should serve useful in the future, somehow. A force of habit. Henri drank from his metal flask that he pulled from inside his jacket, remembering the lake and the possible moistness of the air near it and the eventual marsh.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Keeping up with Cedar's bear-like speeds, Henri was then caked in mud and it irritated him, slightly. Nothing that can't be fully undone, however. He began walking towards the entrance of the ruins. As he did so, steam rose up from the mud on him, drying up quickly into fine dirt which then began collapsing off of his body. It looked quite like Henri walked out of a dirt-coloured smoke cloud, and he was then fully clean again. The amount of control it must have taken to remove every speck of dust at the same time... Training his control for decades with the thousand minuscule parts of this pocket watch is worth it. Truly, he can repair it himself without having to use Inorganic Repair. He looked at the collapsed wall, then glanced at Cedar. This wouldn't quite do. He held out his hand and began tearing off as much brick as he could to make Cedar fit without collapsing the ceiling. At the same time, he cast Temperature Increase on Matilda's left shoulderplate that was affected by Core Spreading, not enough to burn her but just to signify that they've arrived. The cyan marking on the shoulderplate faded slightly, but it's still quite there. He walked in, fully unable to smell anything, much less horse dung, but could at least tell that the water in the barrel is dirty and not potable. They haven't been here for far too long. He sighed. Even now, the only thing they could do is find more clues? Invoking his Metal Sense to look for traps and anything useful in the ruins, as well as Matilda's unique armor.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan As the situation settle downed by a ceasefire. Chōnan make a small bow on his party after exiting the park. By reflecting himself from action before, he keeps being quiet and focuses to guide the party as the team leader's wish. Still on his awareness on his surrounding and never let his guard off. He keep guiding the party with the shortcuts and will cover the fees for showing a compensation from his action and show more hospitality to his party.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark Jazdia watched the man depart with mixed feelings but then decided not to make more fuss of it. Well, wasn't that just nice? That constable left, nobody got hurt and they both can preserve their pride. The only lamentable things about this state of affairs were Jazdia swatted hand and their access to investigate the site had been cut off. She tied the ribbons and left, thinking about how Fredricus would deal with the incoming storm. *** Nobody knew what Jazdia was thinking right now, not even herself. As they walked down the street of Rascade, the elf remained quiet, and her companions too until someone broke the ice by informing them that he will go for an errand. The Chounan guy did it again, asking to do questionable deeds at the worst possible time. It was apparent that Jazdia started to question the cohesion of her group. "What a prick. That Delving." gruffed Yvonne, both seemed to ignore Chounan who already excused himself to God knows where. "Oh, you know him? I guess such feud is indeed common amongst every house across this continent." "Yeah. Not too well though, and it's been eight years." She shrugged. "The man wasn't incompetent or anything, but he's at best above average in just about anything he put his hands on. The Delving name carried him far though, and he ain't shy about flaunting it. From what I've seen, he's practically unchanged." Yvonne hardly needed to remind Jazdia of that. Their brief investigation alone had revealed a sheer incompetency so blatant it looked very unnatural. The other half of the explanation suggested that it could be the case, however; a prominent house means great political bargaining power and support, something that Fredricus couldn't afford to lose. And Jazdia knew a man like him would not think twice to pander a noble oaf by giving him a strategic position. And that decision had almost proven to be his undoing five days ago. Jazdia patted her shoulder. In order to give them a sense of progress, and encouragement Jazdia couldn't help but be technical with her words. "What happened back there was indeed regrettable, but let's not get sidetracked. We got what we needed, that Black Serpent sounds like a solid lead." The elf looked at the red sundown at the west and wondered how was the investigation going on Matilda's side. She hoped they have reached Hdur as planned. It was such a shame that she, as the one who planned the rendezvous couldn't keep her word and be there as scheduled. Their stroll from the Memorial park to the city boulevard, again, was uneventful, to say the least. Jazdia brought them to a place called Angel's Share. A large, three-story building, with extravagant decorations that made it look like a bordello. There was a sign on its door that read Closed, but the lower windows showed lights behind thick curtains. As they hesitated to get inside, a spacious common room greeted them, with a hearth, long tables, and the smell of ripe cheese, beers, wines, and fresh loaves that makes it feel homelike... or tavern-like? Upon closer inspection (if one could bother). the inn looked well-maintained and seemed to be designed with the utmost sense of hygiene in mind. The floor was tightly nailed, the tables were stainless, and the bar, Instead of wooden, its surface layered with granite tiles, ensuring no detritus or any kind of filthy scraps unfit to be mentioned resided. Jazdia told them beforehand that this inn underwent a partial facelift to make it more presentable and up to the standard she had back in Helvetia. "Good afternoon, Miss Jazdia! The meeting went well I assume?" At the counter was a handsome young man that seemed to be in his early twenties. He wore a dull evening shirt with a black tailcoat and had his face adorned with gold-framed glasses. Behind him were large cabinets with the usual assortments of kegs, flasks, and clean mugs shelved neatly. Among other things were a dozen or so bottles of wines that seemed to be added just recently, and a full-sized calendar nailed at the beam. The artwork for September presented a certain elven blondie clad in questionable two-piece swimwear posing with an irritated expression. The elf immediately had herself seated. "Afternoon, Lucas. It was, yeah, as expected from Fredricus's court." Jazdia looked around before placing her bag on the table. "No angry mob stormed this place in my absence I assume?" The bartender shook his head, smiling as he headed into the kitchen. When returned, he brought with him a tray laden with kettle and other crookeries. "I saw no patrons, let alone undesirable characters walking through our door today, milady." The tea was served in a blue porcelain cup, followed by a slice of freshly baked Helvetian-style spekkoek not long after. Jazdia then asked for a pen and paper and requested Lucas to prepare a pair of homing pigeons. After providing all of her requests and the elf began to compose her letters, the bartender faced Jazdia's newfound companions and humbly asked. "How can I be of service?"</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword @A5G @Grade Matilda was glad that her helmet was blocking out the smell of horse dung and mold. Scanning the area where she should go next, heading towards the middle door. Treading carefully as she made her way further into the fortress. The sounds of water drops and other strange sounds did not help with her paranoia. But she assumed that she could be heard, because of her heavy armour. Stopping to check her surroundings, making sure there was no one waiting to ambush her. After a few silent moments, she could see the mark on her shoulder plate starting to glow red hot. Signifying that the others had arrived, walking further out towards what she presumed was the commander's office. The large orc was searching everywhere for any kind of clue, it didn't matter if it was some sort of paperwork. What would be even better if she could find one of the kidnappers to interrogate. She hoped that the culprits were here, just so she could give them a well deserved beating.</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Shaking off the last bits of muck before heading through the widened wall opening, cedar wished he hadn't. The interior was rank with the stink of horse manure and urine. In the foul deposits on the floor, he spotted the recent footprints of who was most certainly Matilda, if Henri's report was accurate. He traced them deeper into the compound and found his mark. She was quite edgy, and rounded on him before scowling and hissing under her breath not to sneak up on her like that. He just dropped his ears a little and frowned at her, but got the hint about staying quiet for the moment, instead just shadowing her discretely. If there WERE any assholes in here, he would back her up with the little surprises he had sewn all over outside. In fact, he paused a moment to help grow the root system deeper inside, through the gap in the wall, just to be on the safe side. So far though, the search had turned up no sign of recent habitation besides their own presence there.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Beyond the barren hall-turned-stables was the two sets of staircase, as well as what must've been the lavatory. The path down was filled with water after the third step, but the way up remained open with some bats scattering away upon sensing movement nearby. If one were to investigate the lavatory, they'd find a recent trace of use - all dried by now, but the stench was still present. In the current floor the only trace of metal was the band around the barrel and Matilda's equipment. There's various presence above, small things roughly gathered on one side of the room. So far nothing moved beside the orc knight.</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "Am I the only one who can explore this...?" Henri stared at the water-logged stairs to the lower floors. There's probably nothing to explore in there, unless the kidnappers were a certain breed of mermen... It wouldn't hurt to explore later. He sees Cedar and Matilda convene, and chooses to merely pass by the room they were in silently. It's good that Cedar's boots don't make even a quarter of the sound that Henri's shoes with bronze soles would be making. Right now, he'd rather climb the stairs above. He chose the closest one where he could sense the most metal objects.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Kagetane Chounan -snip-</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito watched how constable Delving stormed off. The situation seemed resolved for now. The Fox was pretty sure that Aaron Delving would make a fuss about it in the future but that would be a problem for later. For now it was good enough that they managed to get out without being hurt or thrown into the dungeon while still getting some information from the crime scene. However the fact that contable Delving was so unhappy with them snooping around raised suspicion with Kaito. The Kitsune quietly followed Jazdia and the others to her restaurant. As they entered it was clear that Lucas and Jazdia's group were the only ones in the establishment. With the thick curtains closed and no patreons around Kaito felt comfortable enough to show his true form. "Aah, it feels good to be myself once in a while." Spoke Kaito joyously as he ended the illusions that obscured his fox ears and tail while waving at Lucas. The fox's eyes followed the young bartender as he poured the tea and placed the deliciously smelling spekkoek on the table. He quickly took a sip from the tea and a bite of the spekkoek. People had their opinion about the Angel's Share but the sweets were top notch just as the service. "How can I be of service?" Asked Lucas as he looked at the group. "Well, I can think of a few ways." Spoke Kaito with a smirk as he playfully wagged his tail. "but…Jaz always demands of me that I am on my utmost best behavior when I'm here so I'll just have to settle for the chicken and fried tofu again." Said the fox as he playfully pretended to be dissapointed. "And don't listen to this angry lady over here, she has no idea how great your hot leaf juice tastes." As Jazdia gestured to sit down, but a comment from Yvonne grabbed the Kitsune's attention. Following her eyes, Kaito noticed the calendar with a rather revealing picture of a certain elf. He could not help but to smile about it. He had always thought that Jazdia would not even be remotely interested in doing such a thing. Judging from her annoyed look on the picture she was clearly out of her comfort zone. It made the Kitsune wonder what kind of coercion the creator of the calendar used on Jazdia. Even more interesting was the fact that the calendar was still hanging in plain sight. Lucas must have some strange magical powers to be able to get away with it. "Wow, that swimsuit looks good on you, Jazdia." Spoke Kaito as he gave the elf a genuine compliment. "I never expected you to be into such stuff. I guess you have a wild side after all." Spoke Kaito as he finally sat down at the table. As usual the elf directly started to talk business and this time it was the Black Serpent guild. It was pretty clear that they were somehow involved in the assasination attempt. But how exactly and if they indeed had some connection with the royal guards wasn't entirely clear. "Aah yes. The black Serpent guild. Friendly bunch of people, except when you want to get a share of the spice trade. Then you end up six feet under. They practically own the streets of Rascade. Most shops, traders and artisans pay them protection money. If you don't, you will get in trouble. They walk a fine line between enforcing their rule and attracting too much attention from the guards." Kaito paused a bit before he continued. "I think they have around 500 members in and around Rascade. Many of them get recruited from orphanages at a young age or where homeless kids. The guild offers them protection, purpose and a family like bond. They let them start out with running small errands, pickpocketing and later on enforcing their rule on the markets. Some others were recruited at later ages because they offer specific skills. The organization is strictly hierarchical. Their top brass are called dragons. There are 3 dragons, each has their own area of responsibility." Kaito raised his hand and an illusionary mugshot formed above it. The illusion showed a male human with well formed facial features and well kept long gray hair. "This is Gerald Grey. He's the current ancient dragon, highest leader of the Black Serpent Guild. He has a large tattoo of a black serpent acros his arms and back. The tail end starts at his left hand and the head of the serpent is at his right hand. He joined the black serpents around 38 years ago. He was in his early teens back then. By the time he was 21 he attained the position of Dragon. He has been the ancient dragon for 20 years now. Nobody knows where he came from, however he is an extremely powerful man." "The Black Serpent guild owns many properties in Rascade and the city's outskirts. Many are warehouses for the various goods they trade in, others are used for housing members, gambling dens, taverns, brothels. You name it and they have a few of them. Their main base of operations is the old Royal Rascade Trading company building just behind the market. The ground floor acts like a lousy tavern called the Drunken Dragon. 90% of the people you see hanging around in the tavern are guild members. The other ten percent are there to do business with the guild. At the back of the tavern is a door that gives access to the backrooms and other floors. The top floor is where Gerald Grey holds office. The rest of the space is mostly office spaces, meeting halls and stuff like that. The basement is absolutely off limits for everyone except the dragons. The door that gives access to that area is sealed off with powerful magic." "Usually there are a few dozen members hanging around in the tavern. Those guys are the run of the mill small time crooks. The door that gives access to the rest of the building is always guarded by one or two people. The people selected for that job are competent and not easily fooled. The headquarters also holds a dozen or so staff. These people are mostly administrators as many of the guilds activities are at least pretending to be legal businesses. The offices of the dragons are always guarded by at least two guards if they are on site. However the lower dragons do much of the important deal making in the city and beyond. Their whereabouts are unknown" "If we want to find some information that can link the involvement of the black serpent guild to the assasination attempt on the king we'll need to get into their headquarters. There are basically two ways in. First we can walk in through the front door of the tavern for all to see and ask to do business with the dragons. We'll be needing a serious business proposal. I heard some whispers that the Black Serpents are looking for high end slaves. You know, people with speciality skills or dashingly good looks, like an elven beauty." Spoke Kaito as he looked at Jazdia. The fox was pretty blatantly implying that they could use their leader as a pretend bargaining chip to get in. A plan that might be good enough to get in, but getting out would be difficult. "Or we can try to sneak in at night. There is a small window in the back alley that leads to the staircase to the basement. Slender people like us can squirm through it. Chounan will need to keep his armor home. The door at the bottom is the magically sealed door. The door at the top of the staircase only has a regular lock that I can pick. After that we can look around a bit in the office spaces. The headquarter staff will be home at night and the dragons all have mansions in the best parts of the city and are unlikely to be around either. We only have to watch out for the guards that are patrolling the place. However, if we get caught we're toast. The dragons simply cannot allow such a transgression to go unpunished. They have a reputation to keep up. We'll suffer a horrible slow and painful death and will never be heard from again." The fox paused once more as he was sharing a lot of information about a criminal organization that was supposed to be rather secretive. He was sure that his companions would certainly have questions on how he knew so much about the inner workings of the Black Serpent guild. "Any questions?"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Decks of cards, huh... This'll be good to pass the time. It's not as good for throwing as metal ones, though. He'll take one of the 52-card decks, nevertheless. The bottle of an unknown, unlabelled liquid caught his eye. He wouldn't know that it's bug repellent, because he never had a need to use one. A dead person. He scratched the back of his neck. It bothered him. He checked the wound. Looks like a deep stab. He never did quite check if Inorganic Heal worked on corpses. Looks like it really doesn't. No matter how much he wills it, the stab wound refuses to close. He could close it another way with Telekinesis and then cauterize the wound with Temperature Increase, though, but best to not tamper with evidence. It's not because his spell has stagnated, right? He just used Inorganic Heal this morning in front of Antigone. He grabbed the broken hunting bow beside him, and tried to cast it again but it also didn't work... Wait, this one's not broken. It was intentionally unstrung. He snapped the bow in half then cast it again. Oh, that worked. He walked back to the center of the room. So many items to sort out. Seems like they've prepared themselves to live here for weeks before the attack. So much food. This fortress seems quite a considerable distance away from the capital, so he wondered how they could coordinate the attack so well. Were they delivered the attack orders through mail? There are no papers to be found here, though. They must've thrown it away, or burned it...? Henri approached the toppled cookpot, and the pile of ashes mixed with tiny scraps of miraculously unburnt paper. This does look quite like a dead end, these pieces are blank... but he hadn't been taught by the great Smoldering Ember for nothing. He scooped up as much ash and paper as he could with his hands wearing Cedar's oversized gloves, and cast Inorganic Heal on them.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "Uh, one question. Wouldn't it be more feasible to grab the man in his mansion? Or better yet, when he's on the way home." "If you ask me, I don't believe this entire Mansion thingy. In the times like this, strongmen usually will be more vigilant than ever. They wanted to be closer to their empire. Making sure it runs smoothly while at the same time remaining low profile. Remember that Gerald's face and his rank were barely known. This means the man is paranoid and rarely makes a public appearance. He would stay on his throne even if his empire is on fire. And don't forget, if the assassination attempt is any indication, they seemed to have a very extensive tunnel system, and they can and will use those passages as their primary means of transporting. "On a side note, I'm against walking up on their front door. They'll inevitably recognize us, and when it comes to these kind of folks they can hold grudge for a really long time. Unless we completely uproot the entire band in one go." "Our options are either that or have one of us cuffed." Jazdia shrugged. "Why? Do you fear those kinds of riffraff? If we can prove their involvement in Fred's assassination, I am damned sure Kindeance would have the entire guild purged until there is no single snake scale left."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" "Our man need to sleep somewhere, yeah? Good point though, so we go in fast and hard. You got our exit planned?" This felt kinda rushed, unless Sparky here secretly already kept a plan to assault the target. Wont be too surprising if she did, honestly. The elf had way too many obstructive layer to be just a disposable pawn like the rest of the team. Just what kind of company was she running? Yvonne took another bite out of her chicken. Whatever company it was, they made some damn good chicken. "Yeah, nah. Let's just attack them as your initial plan. If it goes well there should be no tangible way to connect it to us." As if any plan ever went well. If it require more than two steps it's less of a plan and more of wishful thinking, but Yvonne just shrug. She'll improvise on the fly if it's necessary, it's nowhere near her first time up shit creek with no paddle. "You sure our target will be there? It's well past midnight in eight hours."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The idea was solid, but plain physics dictated that it wasn't a possible outcome. Converting the ashes back into paper was a slow, energy consuming process, but as it went there's clearly something wrong with it. The reproduced paper was based on the remaining corners - ergo, completely blank. Combustion tend to be a one way street after all. A fly buzzed and landed on the paper. It rubbed its front pair of legs impertinently.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. The fly was incinerated upon approach, and he irritatingly shot the ashes and paper in his hand forward, making a cloud of black smoke and a decent smear on the wall. His usefulness to this team at this point was already questionable, but it only seems to dwindle further. No, there's one more foray left to tackle. Henri moved closer to the stairs and carefully discarded all the items that weren't his but Cedar's, then headed down the stairs, meeting the other four members mid-way. As he took something off from inside his coat, "Cedar, I left your stuff in there. Matilda," he handed back her family's medallion, and walked past them. "I'm going to check the submerged floors." His shoes make an awful amount of clacking noises without Cedar's boots, huh. Putting bronze soles on his shoes for easier sliding and skating... It definitely is one of the ideas of all time. After making sure that all the items within his body are fully sealed to prevent water damage, and depraved of air to prevent buoyancy, he walked down the waterlogged stairs and into the water.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The submerged level was pitch black. Moss grown on just about any surface, while tiny fishes lazily floated around the room without much care to the world. The layout was much the same as the floors above, and equally empty. Seemed that this level wasn't instantly flooded back then, allowing the content to be evacuated before the water took them. The structure itself was relatively well-preserved despite decades sitting underwater, though the great logs holding up the ceiling had shown some signs of rotting by now. The stairs still continued down, to what must've been the cellar.</s> <|message|>Kaito Kaito listened quietly to Jazdia's plan. It was pretty audacious to just blitz in through the front door, grab the man and get out. However if they could manage to lure away enough people, they might make it to the target and get out. However, the aftermath could become problematic. The Black Serpent's guild would see it as a declaration of war. "I think it is plausible. With the distraction and the element of surprise to actually get in and get out. No one in the Black Serpent guild is going to expect anyone storming through the front door. So far so good. But the plan hinges on if we can find evidence of their involvement and if we can persuade the royal court to make a move. If we fail on that second part we'll have the entire guild coming for our heads. I doubt constable Delving would be very pleased to raid the Black Serpent guild for us after today, in the case he's not involved with them himself. Who do we present the evidence to?"</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Invoking Golem Automaton's 30ft-radius perception to be able to 'see' solid surfaces and temperature in the water. As he walks deeper in and the mineral oil grease seeps upward out of his body, he wondered. What exactly did he expect to find here? These lower floors must have been submerged for an innumerable amount of years, exploring this has a massive chance of being completely fruitless in relation to finding the prince. Nevertheless, he pushed on, down towards the cellar. He was curious.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] An actual door actually barred the cellar entrance, though the once solid wood had rotten soft and the hinges rusted brittle. It detached and slowly fell backward with the slightest push, impacting the ground with a dull thud. There's many objects here - barrels by the dozens lined the walls on both sides, whatever it contained had long since compromised by the rotting wood. There's a sizeable wooden table down at the center, flanked by long benches, equally rotten to the rest of the room. On the far side was what looked like a well, its purpose made obsolete by the sheer amount of water available in the immediate vicinity. On closer examination, a few chests were stacked at the corner next to the barrels. Rot had started to afflict the wood, but nowhere as severe as the rest of everything in the cellar. Was the wood treated before?</s> <|message|>"Cedar" Cedar gladly reclaimed his clothes and boots-- then set about washing the remaining bits of muck (and filth, from the way he came in) from his extremities before re-clothing himself. "Nice ta get my clothes back on--" he murmured. "Nasty way in though-- an' I JUST had a bath!" He frowned in that inscrutable way he did when displeased. He turned to face Matilda. "Looks like 'is place is all cleared out a'eady. Shame-- I werent none too sure if'n there was bastards in 'ere stills er not-- Spent a good hour planting surprises for em, if'n they was... Had jus' gotten all clean from walkin' the marsh all in muf fur for disguise reasons, when Henri said ya was in here aready. Glad ta see ain't no harm done... Lesee what the dumbshits lef' fer us." Reclaiming his walking stick and leaning on it in his usual manner, he began his own inspection of the room he and Matilda were in.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] Some part remained relatively untouched. The bedrolls was still laid out in order on one side. The one cookpot with a layer of moldy something at the bottom was still by its lonesome at the corner after someone kicked it off the spit a few days ago. The face-down corpse and unstrung bow hadn't moved at all from its previous position, near dead center amidst the pool of dried blood and a veritable swarm of flies. And some crows, that took stock of the party for a grand total of three seconds before returning to their feast. A few things changed. The ash that was gathered by the cooking fire had been dashed against a wall, leaving a white-grey splotch and a few scattered scrap of paper. The rolls of tools have been, well, unrolled to reveal their secret. Empty backpacks piled on one side, its content regurgitated and rearranged in an obsessively neat manner across the floor. A few adventurous flies were crawling over the recently unveiled preserved food, impertinently rubbing their front legs together like a group of evil masterminds.</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. By this amount of barrels... How much of this waterlogged room is just wine? If someone else swam in here, would they get drunk? He grabbed one of rotten barrels and cast Inorganic Heal on it. Yeah, that would work. He tossed the repaired barrel aside, back into where he found it, as he focused on the two chests beside the corners of the barrel racks. Wait. He walked a little around the table, and saw a third chest, and a fourth. Ah. He summarily kicked the table and chairs aside, disintegrating them into nothing but a disheveled wood pile on one side of the room, and willed the chests to scoot closer to him so they're all at arm's reach. These chests... It's probably safe to open them underwater, right? These chests don't exactly come waterproof. Henri began opening them, one by one, with his own hands so as to naturally dismantle any such magical traps laid on them, while using Telekinesis to basically command the locks to release or be shattered.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Wow, that's a lot of bottles. He can't quite tell what liquid it contains, but following the theme, this has to be some really old wine. He bets this tastes good... Taste... It's been far too long. He can't remember the taste of anything anymore. He stacked two of the crates on top of another two, then carried them close to his chest as he carefully scaled back up the stairs, and into open air. He lay there at the floor beside the stairs, ridding himself and these crates of any water by evaporating them into steam or pouring the water in the crates back into the stairs. Now that he can see, these are whiskey and vodka. Each crate seems to have a piece of paper but it's unintelligible due to the water swirling the ink. No way in hell he's carrying these throughout this entire journey. It wouldn't be quite a good thing if the team gets drunk at an inopportune time, either. However, disposing of these wines would be such a waste. An idea pops in his mind. He takes out one bottle of whiskey, and places it near the first step to the sunken stairs, above a metal plate that he just freshly minted, with writings etched onto it that will hopefully be read later. He carries the four crates of wine and skates out and away, back to Rascade. He tears through the marsh, a wall of mud emerging in his wake, yet he himself was dry, for it is physically impossible for him to be behind or beside himself. On the way to Rascade, he trips once on a rock and hurtles down the ground, rolling. However, with his experience and presence of mind, he makes the four crates stay afloat with Core Spreading and Telekinesis while recovering from his roll back into proper standing position, gently catching the crates that floated into his arms, without losing any speed. ~ Two hours later... "Henri Dominique Gentileschi. I am the one you call the poltergeist of the castle, the repairman... the prince's tutor." His iron kite shield floats on its own, pressing on the northern gate guard's neck. It's not sharp, but the speed at which it flew from Henri's back, as well as his demeanor -- his forward lean, his facial scowl -- unintendedly caused by the exhaustion of using Telekinesis on himself and four other large objects for two straight hours... It all worked out to be quite intimidating. "Have I refreshed your memory yet? Let me in." The shield gently flew back to Henri's back, and he was about to walk past the guard when he remembered. "Ah. Did you happen to see an adventuring group of three? Two short teens led by a blond elf?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Please pardon the youngster, Ser Henri. We're all quite on edge after recent development." The gateguard captain hurried out at the commotion, waving for the rest of them to stand down. The man let out a sigh of relief as the signs of hostility slowly bled out of everyone. Great, he didn't need any more incidents. The very top of the totem pole had been rather antsy, and the anxiety had thoroughly bled down the ranks. Just about any mistake can lead to harsher punishment these days. "I can tell you that there's no elf among the traffic in or out through here today. We've inspected everyone thoroughly."</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. ... Recent development? Henri raised an eyebrow. Ah. So he didn't miss the three of them on the way. They must've not left yet... Or they took a different exit? Hm... It's no use overthinking it. "Ah. That's good to hear, then. Keep up the good work." It's curious, seeing them all anxious like this. He might've went overboard with the intimidation. He felt like making it up to them, it seemed like his fault after all. He sat two of the crates parallel beside each other, then placed a third one perpendicularly so he had an impromptu chair to sit on, then opened the fourth box on his lap. "I can't remember if you're allowed to drink while on duty, but I found a box of..." He pulled out a bottle to look at the label. "Oh, whiskey. Alright. Here, share it amongst yourselves. I won't tell your higher-ups." He smiled, gesturing a shush with a finger hovering his mouth. "What is this 'recent development' about, though?"</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] "Gosh, thank you-" The captain's eyes widened as he took in the faded label, still clearly legible despite. "I'll be darned, this is almost eighty years! Thank you ser!" Then he comically covered his own mouth, turning and shushing to the rest of the guards as if it wasn't him that just yelled. Thankfully traffic was scarce around this time, and those same contingent of guards will soon enough be accomplice that benefit from the aged liquor. They'll keep mum alright. "Ah. Well, I'm sure you know that there was an attempt on the king's life not long ago." The captain not-so-discreetly passed the bottle to one of his men, with pointed instruction to hide it well until they're off-shift. "There's some kind of commotion in the mausoleum ground earlier. Not sure what happened exactly, but heard that there's royal guards injured there. There's no manhunt order though, so I guess it's resolved already? Or it's some nobles that got into the scuffle and they're keeping it covered. Ain't got nothing to do with us lowborn here, ser."</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword @Grade @Randomness Matilda's attention was turned toward the dead body in the room. Assuming that it could be one of the kidnappers, She turned to Cedar, Henri, and Anderson who just arrived at her location. "I have found some parchment, it looked like they did not have time to burn the evidence." She handed Anderson her findings. She was joining the other two toward the corpse. Her heart dropped seeing some tools that would be used for torturing someone. The thought of the prince being horribly tortured caused her heart to skip a beat. Her hand gripping into a fist, feeling helpless that she could not find the prince. She made her way toward the corpse and the bag of equipment. Searching for anything that could be used for the investigation, thinking that Cedar could track. Salvaging any tools and medical items for them to use. She checked the crockpot. Picking up the unburnt paper and handed it off to Henri. Watching him perform some sort of spell to try and recover the burnt document. Watching Henri soon leave for the submerged part of the fortress, she knew she would not survive thanks to how heavy her armour was. Watching Solomon performing some unholy spell on the corpse to reanimate it, she thanked Solomon before asking her questions. "Firstly where are your other cohorts? Where did they take the prince? And is he safe and unharmed?"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Eighty years? Is that good? He regretted a bit that he knew nothing about wine, not even having drank any while he actually lived, for he died young and inexperienced. He touched his forehead and chuckled a bit, hearing that some royal guards got injured. It was definitely those three, they tried to enter the mausoleum to investigate... If he were to guess, the guards didn't believe them because Matilda wasn't with them? They really shouldn't have split the team up like this. That leaves the fact about injured royal guards... It must be that Yvonne girl. That notorious, avid purveyor of violence, to a point that even Henri knows. "Hey, don't demean yourself like that. In the end, we're all humans in the face of death." As someone who was merely adopted into nobility, that oddly struck a nerve with him. He lifted his three remaining crates of wine and began walking away. "Well, I'm off now. Drink those after your shifts." ~ "Gentlemen." Henri approached the guards at the memorial park. "Heard some of you got injured. Where did the assailants head off to?"</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [GM Post] The crows were intelligent animal, enough to hold gratitude and grudge, but they're also simple animal. Some fat, juicy eyeballs were great and all, but the dinner was face-down so they couldn't get to it and now that it's walking and talking again they'll probably not get any chance again. The grapes were nice alternative though, different taste palate but still good all the same. Not to mention the sheer quantity of it! All thanks to the rather unusual bear, who provided food instead of competing for it. This one's alright. Thus, when asked about the bunch of arseholes that inhabited the ruin, the crows were more than gleeful to share what they knew especially knowing that the bear and his friends had a couple bones to pick with them. Six different faces were mentally sent back, the features surprisingly clear for a bird's memory. All were accompanied with at least a hint of dislike, but two in particular the crows really hate above the rest. Apparently they took shots at the fellow crows, actually taking one down before. There's a rather pride(?)ful impression from one of the crows that it actually manage to shit right on one of them in recent times. The crow can tell that its target was very, very, displeased by the act. That pleased the crows immensely.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "Hm." Henri hated dealing with the stuck-up royal guards, but understands that they're just doing their job, after all. Yet, it irritated him a bit. He thought he held enough rank for them to not redirect him and waste his time like this. He began walking away from the royal guards, but not before he subtly punished the one that spoke, by willing his armor to suddenly tighten at the 'lower' area, inflicting pain in his nuts. ~ This is the constable's office, right? Assuming it hasn't changed in the last several years. What's this kid's name again... He knocked at the door. "Aaron. It's Henri." Right, Aaron Delving. One of those nobles who tout their nobility like it makes them superior to those that are not... Or so they say. He never witnessed it first-hand.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Come on in." Aaron Delving was seated by his table, frowning on a piece of paper that he placed face-down as Henri entered the office. The table was made of some hardwood with a dark furnish, heavy and opulent with decorative carving filling most of its front. The surface was mostly immaculate, a few decorative tinkets artfully lining the place. The walls was adorned with various trophy, the crest of Delving family the first and most prominent thing to see on the far side as one entered the room. It looked less like a constable's office and more like the personal study room of a noble, but considering the Delving's position this much wouldn't be much out of place. "Please take a seat, Ser Henri." His intonation was curt, offering the exact amount of respect demanded of an imperial tutor and not an ounce more. "You've come a long way from the castle."</s> <|message|>Jazdia Crystalspark "You sure our target will be there? It's well past midnight in eight hours." "After the commotion? Chances are high that he will be in his command post, coordinating things and making sure he is present at the place where almost all of his wealth is concentrated. If he decided to be careless by monitoring his damaged assets in person one by one, we will know it and our work will be a lot easier." Who do we present the evidence to?" Now it's Kaito's turn to speak. He brought up too many ifs in his assessment, and honestly, it was a fair skepticism. "We work with Fred. All of our findings will be directly presented to him." What Jazdia did not say was what if Fred, for whatever motive and reason found their report unsatisfactory. If that happened, all bets are off for them, and her leverage was not as substantial as it used to be. She hated to admit it, but right now, all she could do was to have good faith in that human king, and that should suffice, for now. "I will deal with the guild if they are not involved." said Jazdia. It was an open-ended statement. Her usual answer could also be perceived as her subtle way of saying that should be none of your concern... Kaito, as someone who basically worked with her, should be familiar with that kind of speech. "I feel that your disquietude is quite misplaced. You are an outlaw that tangoes with authorities on a daily basis. If another party goes on the dance floor, I am sure you will manage." "I think that will conclude this meeting." *** After some more railleries, Jazdia went upstairs to rest. She had instructed Lucas to show Chounan and Kaito their room if they feel like sleeping and informed Yvonne the number of her room. The room was spacious and cozy, lit by four oil lamps that radiates warm light. It had two beds with white sheets and blue-navvy blankets, a large cupboard, and a decorated partition. At the end of the room, close to the door that led to a private bathing chamber, was a long square table with white clean towels. The room was scented with a faint sandalwood aroma, and if one feel the perfume was too overpowering, or just wanted the breeze of fresh air, they can always open the large window situated at the west of the room. Jazdia spent fifteen minutes soaking her body in the tub which had its water warmed by her power. Putting on her pajamas and placing the bow and quiver next to her bed, the elf rolled her body onto the bed and slept.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. "Henri greets the Constable." If this is one of those stuck-up nobles, he needs to to present himself at least this much. Although it was irritating, not everyone's as carefree about these insignificances as Antigone. The door opens and closes by itself, away from Henri's preoccupied hands still carrying the three crates of wine. He did think the room looked nice, but he never understood this pride the humans took from killing animals, so much that they'd plaster their heads on a wall like this. Especially that elk. Henri sets the crates down the carpeted floor as he sits. "Indeed. Would you care for some eighty-year-old wine? I have whiskeys here," he reaches in the crates and holds up a bottle of the whiskey slightly above the height of Aaron's desk, "or is vodka more to your liking? By the way, I heard about what happened in the mausoleum. Per chance, did it involve a blond elf and two teenagers? Please spare no details."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" Satisfied with Sparky's planning, Yvonne faded from the discussion as she returned her attention to her meal. She did catch the room number, finishing the food quickly and feeling the familiar tingle of alcohol in her fingertips. Yeah, that's some nice and strong stuff right there. Definitely would recommend. Upstairs, the mercenary found herself in a double room with presumably Sparky inside the bath. Not really feeling like waiting, she simply strip the armor and gambeson layer and leave them on the available hanger while her weapons went on a bedside table save for the rondel dagger. Now that she felt much lighter without all that weight, Yvonne stretched before collecting a bathrobe and a towel and descended back down to the communal bath. It's completely empty. There didn't seems to be any other guests beside their little party, so she's got the whole place for herself. Nice. Letting herself relax, Yvonne sighed wearily as she cleansed herself of the grit accumulated through the day. She sported more than a few scars than a woman her age normally have, various deep cuts that left pale lines once they healed. Minor injuries hardly leave a mark somehow, otherwise she'd have way more than these. But even then there's still a significant number lining her body, though none were anywhere near recent. It's an undeniable indication that she's gotten better over time, if nothing else. Stretching once more, Yvonne set to work on cleansing her hair. It's the only source of vanity she kept despite the risk, braided and bunned out of the way. It now spread across the water like soggy seaweed, just combing it into an acceptable will take so much time. Then there's the actual washing and whatnot... About an hour later, a tired Yvonne barely registered the unoccupied bed before falling on it like a log. She's out cold almost immediately.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] The constable didn't like Henri very much. It's unthinkable for someone with unclear background to be tasked with tutoring a member of the royal family, yet Fredricus was strangely adamant about it. And beyond that, the man himself unnerved him for a reason he couldn't quite put his hands on. He felt human, but only slightly bit off the mark. It's like... something that pretended very well to be a man. But it's not one. "No need. State your business." Delving eyes the stacks of sodden trunks with distate before staring back at Henri, his brows scrunched even further at the inquiry. "I am unaware that this issue have anything to do with the imperial tutor. I will need a good reason to disclose an... ongoing investigation with you, Ser Henri."</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri slapped the desk. This guy, seriously... "Tch. Obviously I'm not here as an imperial tutor, if the one I aim to teach has been missing for a week." He side-eye glared at this blond oaf. "I'm here under the direct employ of His Highness to investigate the kidnapping of the Young Master and the attempt on His Highness' life." No, he's only entasked to bring back the Young Master, but if he were to guess what excuse Jazdia's team gave the guards, it'd probably be somewhere along these lines, or at least the part about investigating just the assassination attempt. "Those three probably said the same thing, right? No, it makes complete sense that you didn't believe them, since Matilda wasn't there." He leaned back from his chair, holding the whiskey bottle upside-down, balanced on merely his right index finger. He notices Aaron's expression change with the mention of Matilda. Hmm. So it's like that, huh? "But then, she must've seen ahead of time and handed them the Royal Seal... Hm." He lazily pointed a left-hand finger at Aaron. "Did that Yvonne Rosenving injure your knights because you chose to ignore even His Highness' Royal Seal? You let your petty disdain towards Matilda impede His Highness' business?" The lights in the room dim, and Henri's eyes glow a hot orange. At the walls of the room too, the animals whose heads adorn the walls as a trophy, their eyes too shone orange, and began emitting smoke. The lengths he has to go through just to get a prissy noble to talk. This Aaron's been eyeing Henri cautiously ever since he went in. If he were to guess, it's this same unnerving feeling everyone gets when they meet him, when the subconscious just screams that Henri's not human. He noticed it from Jazdia too. If it's to speed up this farce, then Henri shall reinforce Aaron's fear.</s>

<|description|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. spoiler, this character is set to 'die' and be inactive for the remainder of the game Species: Half-automaton, half-golem. Age: At least a century (factual), thirty-something (appearance). Gender: Male. Appearance: Looks like a regular handsome middle-aged man with greying black hair. When viewed from relatively close, his skin has several slices throughout, and the reflective sheen of the inflexible ceramic material it's made of could not be mistaken. Dons any such variety of male medieval formal wear. Bio: History tells of a great human painter from more than a century ago. Henri Dominique Greene. His works, signed 'H.D.G.' at the back, still adorn the walls of Kindeance's castle. Portraits of old monarchs. Images of nature, oddly lacking for animals. A medical document stating that he began coughing out blood, whenever he painted animals who'd then come out alive from their canvases. A letter to the royal mage whom he courted and was later engaged to, informing of his decision to isolate from society. A second letter, an invitation to his funeral, held at the Greenes' mansion. None but the King have yet made the connection between that painter of old, and this non-painter who shares nearly the same name, aside from the surname of his true mother before the Greenes' adoption after her passing. Nowadays, he roams the kingdom as a mage and handyman, and, since very recently, lecturer to the prince. Traits: Golem Automaton - Inorganic body. Immune to physical pain. Immune to poison and disease. Immune to basic needs like food, water, air and sleep. Absorbs mana within close range. Converts most sources of energy into mana. Resistant to most forms of magic. Has a 30-foot radius of perception (via a low, constant emission of infrared; has a byproduct of perceiving temperatures) around his core's center of mass. Hears by picking up vibrations on those in contact with the core. Metal Sense - Can sense most metals and the global north direction. Not a spell. Artificial Qi Vessels - Spells only affect those under at most indirect physical contact. Skills: Eidetic Memory Lesser Occult - Limited knowledge on witchcraft and demonology. Arcane Aptitude (mastery, source) - Can mimic others' spells, given enough exposure or instruction. Spells: Telekinesis (innate) Temperature Increase (innate) Core Spreading (innate) - Injects a piece of his golem core into an object, qualifying the object as himself for the purposes of other spells. Lasts for up to 2 spells. Inorganic Repair (100%, Ember) Ward (2%, Scroll of Ward) Flash (0%, Scroll of Flash) Arcane Bolts (5%, Scroll of Arcane Bolts) Detect Magic (1%, Cedar) Enhance/Grow Vegetation (2%, Cedar) Ultravision (1%, Jazdia Crystalspark) Incorporeal Form (1%, Solomon Sparrow) Equipment: Bottle of a curious powder, small - Inflicts sneezing and nose blindness. Cedar's inventory - Dark brown and green 'holocaust cloak'/robes. Large wooden staff. Small hand axe. Small boot knife. Ball of twine. Antler knapping tool. Flints. Modified water barrel. Rope. Shovel. Crate of vodka bottles × 2 Crate of whiskey bottles × 1 Deck of cards - 52-card deck, made of cardboard, paste and paper. Henri's Eye × 2 - Enchanted orbs of ivory, used to see. Has to be within 3 meters of user. Iron kite shield Ironsword Family Medallion - Belongs to Matilda's birth father. Map to the ruins Metal flask - Mineral oil. Pocket watch Scroll of Ward × 3 Scroll of Flash × 3 Scroll of Arcane Bolts × 3 Other: Insides made of mostly iron. Black shoes with bronze soles. Loud clacking footsteps on hard surfaces. Keeps calling Cedar 'Cedrick'. Has never killed anyone. Yet.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "What did it say if I may ask, Ma'am?" Anderson glanced at the message with curiosity, before alternating to Cedrick and the pigeon. There's other group, it seemed. Likely the one that included Miss Rosenving. It's a good thing that not all avenue of investigation was stymied, at least. Coordinating with the younger Delving so far had been nothing but a collosal waste of time. "Will this suffice?" From an inner pocket the squire produced a leatherbound notebook, flipping to an empty page before carefully tearing it out. There's no quill or ink, but he did carry a pencil.</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri leaned at his chair and shrugged. "Now, now. Don't just spout typical villain lines. I didn't threaten you with anything." He then glanced at the guards. "Gentlemen. There's been a change in command, you all now work under me." This is a lie. "Kneel." Their armors begin to grow heavy, pulling them towards the ground and truly forcing them to kneel. "You too, Aaron." The Delving's chair shoves itself forward, slamming on Aaron's knees and making him sit. Henri then flicks Aaron's sword downward at the same time, taking advantage of the imbalance in his stance, to disarm him. What a mess. Is this how the Delving deals with opposition? Someone like him shouldn't have been a noble to begin with... Unless there's someone backing him. Henri squinted. "I suppose you weren't fully at fault if you chose to ignore the Seal... Hmm. With how steadfast your guards were," case in point, Henri's own interaction with them minutes ago, "they must have tried to lie to get into the mausoleum, did they not? Everyone just wants to take the easiest path." He shrugged, again. "So am I. Thus, tell me where they are, Aaron. I'm not against your side, you know? For the sin of injuring royal guards, I'll be dealing with them myself."</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "Aaron? What's going on here?" Aaron's expression had went through a shade of rage, fear, and hummiliation within the span of a few seconds before his gaze locked at someone by the door, all his emotion immediately doused by joy. It was a curt yet modulated tone of someone well used to commanding others. Even when off duty Admiral Silas Delving's debonair charisma was apparent, with a charming smile and flowing golden locks to complete his princely outlook. His steps confident unlike most sailors that walked with the expectation of the floor buckling under their feet. This was the true champion of House Delving, and he entered with a hint of concern and alarm as he took in the sight. "Brother! This renegade attack me!" The Admiral merely raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the supposed renegade not unlike an eagle looking down on a rabbit. "Ser Henri, if I'm not mistaken? Cease your assault on my brother and his men, would you kindly?" That was not a request.</s> <|message|>Matilda Ironsword Matilda took the pencil and notebook from Anderson, jotting down a quick note before ripping the piece of paper. The contents of the note if looked at, would be summed up as what clues Matilda's group found. And that they would be heading to Hdur. Handing the letter to Cedar once he was finished speaking with the corpse, "Give this message to that bird, and tell it márnanwen, meldë." She hoped that the message would be able to be successfully delivered to Jazdia. "And where the hell is Sir Henri? I thought he was with Cedar?" She turned to speak with Anderson. She worried that he had gotten himself into serious trouble exploring the fortress. Or had run into some unsavoury characters.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] "I'm pretty sure he said he's checking the submerged part a while ago." Anderson reiterated, brows scrunched. "I believe he wont overestimate himself and get drowned, but I'll take a look." With one last glance at the zombie still sputtering endlessly, the squire headed downstairs... ...and he came back a minute later, looking very troubled as he held a bottle of whiskey with faded label and a small metal plate on the other hand. "It said here that he found some cases of hard liquor down there. He left to offload it and join Jazdia's group." Anderson passed the metal plate etched with Henri's message to the knight. "Who is this Jazdia? Did he have any way to contact her?"</s> <|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Admiral Silas Delving... Publicly known as one of the strongest man in the kingdom, and equally skilled in command. Apparently, Aaron's brother too? They've only met once or twice, so it completely crossed his mind. Did he coast off of his brother's fame to get to his position? It'd fully explain his behaviour too. Well, that's just his guess, though. The telekinetic hold on Aaron's guards wavers. "They weren't in any bodily harm to begin with, but I'm not submitting to an unjust arrest." He stands up with a slight bow. "Henri greets the Master Admiral." He shrugged, for possibly the third time already. "I just wanted to know where my companions went. I didn't want to leverage the fact that Ser Aaron ignored His Highness' Royal Seal." Even with his eyes closed, he could expect a change in Silas' expression. It's that much of a grave offence. "You must have heard it too, right? The incident at the mausoleum earlier. Those were His Highness' people employed to investigate the attempt on His life, you know? The Young Master's kidnapping as well. Whiskey?" Henri offers the whiskey bottle in his hand.</s> <|message|>Yvonne Rosenving, "The Mad Blade" [NPC Post] The admiral kept his eye on the guards, who slowly rose back to their feet with clear uncertainty on how to proceed from there. On one hand, their direct superior hadn't retracted the earlier order. On the other hand, well, this was clearly above their pay grade. "Well met, Royal Tutor; Clear the room, all of you." Technically an admiral have no jurisdiction over the constabulary, but in practice it's as if the footmen couldn't wait to obey as they filed out of the room with springs in their steps. Momentarily there's only the three of them left in the room, receding footsteps slowly fading in the background. "That is an unusual request, Ser Henri. And a grave accusation." The elder Delving smiled pleasantly in contrast to what he's saying, stepping to the side of the desk where he began tapping on the hardwood as his glance switch between his brother and the royal tutor. "What says you, Aaron?" "There were some... unsavory elements that deceived the guards to enter the hallowed mausoleum." He withered a bit under the gaze of Silas. "Only after confronted and cornered that they brought up the royal seal. Otherwise I would've arrested the whole lot." He looked like he had been forced to eat a sour lemon. "I was occupied with my duty at the admiralty for most of the day, such news take time to permeate that far." Silas accepted the bottle, raising an eyebrow at the shape and the label. "Huh, I didn't know you like our product, Ser Henri." He popped the waxed cork, perusing Aaron's liquor cabinet for three shot glass before pouring for them. At a glance the content was perfectly equal. "The prince is missing, you say? You do know realize that we cannot stay silent about this matter, yes?"</s>

<|message|>Gentileschi, Henri Dominique. Henri surmised correctly... What a relief, and it looks like Aaron will have to expect a scolding from Silas, quite soon. 'Our product'? This is whiskey from the Delvings' distillery? Especially with it being apparently eighty years of age, what a coincidence. Ah... Silas poured him a glass before he could say anything. Well. If this furthers their relationship, then he has no reason to correct it. Then, he was greeted with the question. He answered briefly after he poured the shot of whiskey in his mouth. It tasted of nothing, as with anything he would ever ingest. "I plead that you would, for His Highness' sake. There is good reason to believe that both these acts intend to spark a war. It wouldn't be good to panic the people." It seemed quite like common sense. The way that talking bear innocently pleaded with Fred too, it rings in his mind. The rumours will begin on their own anyway, as Young Master's absence grows of note. Henri saying all of this now will only slightly hurry the inevitable. These next few lines, coordinated with A5G. As if it's a complete afterthought, Silas turned to Aaron again. "Say, you haven't given Ser Henri any answers. Do you know where his companions went?" "I do not. I have some men looking, but it takes time and they could be anywhere in the city at the moment." It's hard to correlate the sputtering and angry Aaron earlier to the almost meekly obedient one right here, but there he sat like a little duckling. << The answer disappointed Henri, quite. Not that Aaron was either petty or vindictive for sending out men, that much was expected, but the incompetency of it all. Just across the door, a horse speeded past. What caught Henri's attention however was what the horse carried. He momentarily glimpsed with his metal-sense a spectre clad in oriental armor, with a long curved sword on his hip. How odd. It's not who he thought it was, right? More importantly, the last rays of this day's sun were dimming beneath the door. He steadily stood up as he spoke. "Ah. It seems I've taken far too much of your time. Thank you for indulging me. Master Admiral." Their hands meet in the middle, shaken. Henri's hands in particular have always adorned these pure black leather gloves... so as to mask the material with which his body is made of. What a radiance this Silas emitted from just this handshake. To a point that it physically irritated his core. Holy magic? It'd be best for Henri not to get close to him. "Constable." Aaron hesitated to shake hands for only a half-second, before Silas' gaze fell on him. "I'll take my leave now." He holds his arms out and the chests full of whiskey and vodka bottles jumped up to him like his own babies, and he promptly left the room.</s>