Auropa wrote:---
"Use the grapeshot you dumb sand baboon, not the round shot! It's much more effective against groups!" Frey shouted at Corven, the gladiator's failure to get rid of the undead ogre with the ship's swivel gun irritating him to no end. Still, there were more important matters to take care of, so he could not spare another moment to berate or assist the man from Tarboh. They wouldn't get another shot at easily dispatching the ogre unless Corven managed to reload the gun, so the rogue quickly went to work. With the aid of his boon, he disappeared from sight altogether, the frail zombie sailors that plagued the deck of Eumenes' ship incapable of using higher senses to spot him - beings greater than them could perhaps sense him, much like Byron had done over a week prior, but these lesser undead possessed no such senses.
Suddenly, a whirlwind of blades tore through the ranks of the undead. Far from targeting only their heads to ensure their swift destruction, the rogue ceased to concern himself with accuracy and merely hacked and slashed a path through the enemy, severed arms and legs piling up on the deck, outnumbering the rolling heads. Four more undead were slain and an even greater number was made far less dangerous upon becoming disarmed, crippled or worse. After that, Frey quickly distanced himself from them, revealing himself once more. His cutlass and dagger were now in their sheaths, and in his hands were a pair of butterfly swords, stained with decay.
The enemy's ranks were thinned enough that they were no longer as great a threat as they once were, but they were a threat nonetheless, and would remain so until the ogre was dealt with. The lumbering behemoth had already crossed over into Eumenes' ship, and seemed to realize the threat posed by the swivel gun, making a beeline towards Corven. Oh no you don't, ugly bastard.
Without wasting another moment, Frey vanished and ran straight towards the undead abomination, his blades inflicting a myriad cuts on the monster, pus and ichor leaking out. Yet, despite his best attempts, his blades did not seem to be able to penetrate deep enough to cripple or seriously harm the ogre, and he could not afford to stay in one place for too long lest he give it the opportunity to strike back.
Quickly getting fed up by the shadow assault, the ogre let out a deafening roar and then swing his anchor wide with speed that defied its form, swiping through the deck in a circle. Frey was caught despite his best attempt to dodge, and was sent flying away, his blades slipping from his grip. He would've easily been thrown overboard had he not managed to draw his dagger and stab it into the living floor of the ship, slowing his descent enough that he simply hit the railing instead of smashing through it.
Needless to say the blow had knocked the air out of him, but the young man quickly took a shallow breath and then whistled loudly. As if on cue, a pair of birds screeched from the sky and then swooped down, harassing the zombified ogre, barely buying just a few more seconds.
Come on, Corven...
Absolon-7 wrote:---
Needless to say, Sylanna was quite surprised to hear that Mircella had arranged to pay for their meals, and much more so when, after some comments by Edward and Roxana, the young priestess of the Laughing Wolf readily offered to take them to a luxurious bathhouse near the world-famous Temple of the Rock, all at her expense as well. She naturally did not object - even if it seemed a bit too much to her, rejecting the generosity of a priestess, and a Mellowmoon no less, would be quite rude, not to mention her teammates would demand her head on a pike if she said anything.
After finishing breakfast, the Snow Elf headed out of the Legion's gated complex alongside the rest of her party, feeling woefully inadequate as they walked through the better-off districts of the city. Amidst the Zarokin aristocracy, all dressed in fine silks and regal colors, a Snow Elf wearing an arming doublet and utilitarian trousers was quite out of place, even more so than Roxana's light leather or Simion's Nurian uniform.
Eventually, after walking through one of the city's beautiful rose gardens, the group made it to the bathhouse, a relatively squat but quite wide asymmetrical building with separate entrances for men and women - that itself was quite common in similar places around the world, though the Zarokin version was unique in that the larger, more complex half was reserved for women instead of men, reflecting their cultural and religious biases. Rather than offer any kind of payment, the priestess simply ushered Edward and Simion towards the male entrance and exchanged a few pleasant words with one of the attendants, who happily escorted the two legionnaires into the building while his partner wrote something down on a sheet of parchment.
With that done, Mircella walked back to the two elf girls who were waiting for her and guided them towards the other entrance, where they were likewise escorted inside after a brief exchange with the female attendants, who Sylanna noticed didn't glance at her or Roxana judgmentally or otherwise treated them as if they didn't belong there at all. I guess hospitality really is An'Zarok's specialty, huh.
The first stop was a comparatively small room with various niches on the walls for placing one's clothes before heading further into the building. Several benches were available for the customers' comfort, and Sylanna noticed several cotton towels folded on top of one of them, likely for those who preferred to maintain some degree of modesty. The Snow Elf hesitated at first and waited for the other two girls to move on - which they did after Mir paused to whisper something to one of the attendants - before undressing, wrapping a towel around her waist once done.
Stepping into the next room, the knight immediately noticed the change in temperature. It was not so steep as to be harmful, but there was still quite a contrast between the cold, pleasant air outside and the warmth within, not too hot but enough to make her sweat. Mir had taken Roxana to the middle of the room, where stone benches were laid out in a hexagon, so Sylanna walked towards them - she noticed that the priestess had decided to forgo the towel and quickly looked to the side.
"You know, this actually feels kind of familiar, like-" She started, only to be cut short by a gasp from the shorter elf. Sylanna grimaced, knowing what this was about.
"Syl are you okay? What happened there? Did the beast do that?" Roxana hastily questioned as she looked at a large scar on the Snow Elf's chest - it began above her left breast, nearly touching her collarbone, and ran down her chest diagonally, ending just above and to the right of her navel.
"It doesn't look recent, so it couldn't have been the beast. I'm sure it's not causing her any suffering, either." Mircella spoke afterwards, not losing her collected air. It was eerie at times, how calm she could seem despite the circumstances, though she did note the priestess was no longer smiling.
With a sigh, the knight walked over to a stone bench across from the other two girls - Roxana made a motion to stand up and help, still very concerned, but the taller elf raised a hand to stop her and sat down facing her and Mir. "I'm alright, yeah, and Mir's correct, it wasn't the beast." She explained, looking down and running her fingers across part of the scarred flesh. "I got this... over four years ago now, in Fellhollow. You think this is bad but, honestly? I was extremely lucky to survive with only this to show for it."
"I had no idea..." Roxana's ears drooped slightly as she spoke, but Sylanna quickly shook her head.
"It's fine. I'm not ashamed of it, but I don't exactly go around showing it off, so very few people in the Legion know." She explained, hoping to ease the High Elf's concerns a little. "In any case, that your gut reaction was concern instead of disgust really says a lot about you." She smiled warmly.
"I'm surprised a wound like that wasn't lethal. You must have had quite a bit of recovery time, or the aid of a powerful healer." Mircella remarked after a moment. "Do tell more, please. I've heard the story of Fellhollow, but never from someone who was there to see it, let alone participate in the fight."
"Ah, well..." The Snow Elf offered a few more details to satisfy the priestess' curiosity even as they moved on to another room with a milder temperature, where water basins and soap were available for the customers to wash and rinse as needed. The topic of their conversation quickly shifted to less grand, more mundane matters and they soon moved on to the third and seemingly last room, where they were free to relax in a pool of cool water after the previous rooms.
Much to Sylanna's surprise, however, that wasn't the end of it. Instead of leading them back to the first room to get dressed again, she took them to a fourth one, much smaller than the rest and seemingly reserved for special customers. There, they sat down on chairs next to raised basins, and a group of servants dutifully washed the girls' hair before anointing it with special oils, leaving them with a pleasant scent and sheen.
When the girls finally returned to the very first room, they found out that instead of their own clothes, a trifecta of fancy dresses were waiting for them, prepared ahead of time: emerald green for Roxana, fiery red for Sylanna and an exquisite purple for Mir.
Needless to say, when they finally met up with Simion and Edward - who had likewise been offered finer garments than the ones they wore previously - again, the knight was in a much brighter mood than before. "Either of those sound wonderful, but haven't we benefited enough from our friend's hospitality already?" She asked after hearing Roxana's proposals for their next stop. However, the priestess was quick to step in.
"Oh, not at all, I'm happy to entertain distinguished guests such as you." She smiled sweetly at the legionnaires. "And in fact, I think I know just how to continue our afternoon together. There is a massage parlor not far from here, and if we don't linger too long we'll be just in time to see the Tragedy of Philaretos at the Royal Theatre." She said cheerfully, referring to a play that was quite popular among the upper echelons of Zarokin society.
"You're really set on this, huh..." Sylanna sighed, but quickly perked up again. "Well in that case, why don't you come with us to see the King of Soissons tomorrow? It's the least we can do to pay back your generosity and, with how you helped us take the beast down earlier, I'd go as far as to say you deserve a part of the reward." The knight stated, before looking at the others. "What do you all think?"
