The Republic of Atria wrote:The Custodian: Sveta
Ozella
The Deep Red Water
The vagrant swordswoman swung her attention to the Pretty Maid Lady, first turning her head and then scooting her body to face Sveta entirely, Ozella giving her her undivided attention. Ozella placed her hand over her mouth and nodded as Sveta explained that the horse could be injured, something she also knew nothing about since these beasts of burden would rather keep their secrets to themselves instead of talking about how they feel. Ozma chimed in, asking Ozella, "Do you think the animal should be put out of it's misery? It may not be able to make the journey to find the blade." The worm paused for a moment, "Or do you think this woman is lying to you so she can take it for herself?"
"Ah!" Ozella exclaimed, putting her fist into her open palm, as if she figured out something important. "I was either going to sell the horse or eat it." She smiled wide, "Since I don't know how to ride or take care of it. I took some of the raiders' axes and stuff too, I figure I could get a hot meal at the port for them. Minimally used steel after all, good for a ley or two of work." She continued with a handwave. "Do you want to trade something for the horse? We can have whats-her-name heal it or something too if it's all limpy." Ozma sighed internally, noting that the woman would probably have packed light and thus have nothing of extreme value for the beast, reckoning Ozella was also a fool at working out trade deals. Still, the worm within took notice of Sveta. "Hmm, she seems like she would be a much more interesting host. Someone who doesn't just tune me out because they ran out of scheduled thinking time."
"That's a great idea, let me just tell her that I have worms living in my body and I desperately want to share them with her, the pretty lady."
"...Please don't word it like that, I beg you."
"Ooh!" Ozella said aloud as Sveta summoned her axe and showed it off a tad, the young woman always have been a fan of the Madren weapon summoning ability in action, but in all honesty, found it absolutely useless because she could not comprehend a time when she wouldn't have a sword in arms reach. "A long thing indeed! At least fifteen hands tall!" Rather than utilize an actual unit of measure, Ozella opts to measure things in how many palms she can fit. "Axes are interesting, they are great tools for relieving tree trunks from their stumps, I suppose. But this!" She said, giddily drawing her curved saber from the scabbard on her back and holding it at an angle so Sveta could look at it fully, "Is a tool who's only purpose is to cut down men. Eight palms in total, a proper length! Her blade was interesting, it appeared to be well-worn and used, the grip showing signs of intense, powerful clutching with both hands, and but cleaned and maintained properly nonetheless.
She smiled still, and wanted to keep the conversation going. "How long have you trained with your axe? You must be a fine warrior, having dispatched a few bandits at least." Ozella sighed, somewhat sad she ran off and fought elsewhere, "I got to see no one else's fight but my own. Oh well."
Tomia wrote:The Great Monster Hunt
Oziel
The Prince of Swords
"To train with the sword, first master sweeping."
Having successfully integrated himself with the group and avoided the ire of Shetal, Oziel relaxed a bit, settling into his chair and breathing a sigh of relief, reaching for a mug to drink listlessly as the rest of the crowd continued to ramble on. But, when Shetal and Braddock made the reveal as to what exactly their purpose was, the young swordsman put his hand on his head and rubbed his red hair, stressfully thinking of his options now that their entire plan was to go to Siderat, and kill some lord-forsaken beast roaming there. "Monsters, literal monsters, and we're supposed to get paid to kill them with this lot. Why not just rob all of us at the beach and leave us for dead then?"
Taking a glance around at the table once more, Oziel backtracked his thoughts. "These folks fought Braddock and he chose them. None of them seem like slouches, and none of them seem to be exactly wealthy enough to rob and extort. Perhaps it's a well and honest snipe hunt we're going on." From then, several members of the party began to stand and make their introductions, listing off their names, ability, and giving hints to their personality. Oziel listened and soaked in the information given like a sponge - overanalyzing each and every detail and committing it to memory like the fool he always was. The more he heard from the others, the more he retreated into himself, feeling a wave of self-consciousness wash over him as he sunk his shoulders down and lowered his head.
The bombastic personality of Shelazen spoke to the crowd with such ease, detailing the self-taught arcanum she relentlessly pursues and the contraptions she makes through trial and error alone. Oziel grew jealous instantly, feeling a strong sense of inferiority as he made the stark realization that he simply chased after the accomplishments and power others possessed. It was like he wanted to be an amalgamation of all the things he learned rolled into one man, but not a single piece was simple himself. "When you try something and things click, and it works and you understand why, there's nothing quite like that feeling."
That's it. Those are the words he needed to hear. He didn't need someone to tell him how to swing a sword, he didn't need to learn every way to hold one, to fight with one, to fight against this weapon or that one. Even things like how to breathe, how to stand, how to draw the damn thing and which way it needs to point when this or that is happening. It clicked for Ozark and it clicked for Ozella, and it'll click for him too if he just let's go of all of those thoughts holding him back. Finishing the last of bit of brew in his second mug, Oziel felt like he had drank too much for his small frame. Pushing himself up from the table with his hand, he stood a bit wobbly, face flushed red, and eyes darting around a bit as a few eyes rested on him, awaiting his introduction.
He planned nothing out in advance, no grand introduction beyond what he told Shetal a few moments earlier. He felt like a nobody compared to everyone else gathered, a powerless little sheep at the table with literal lions. He took a deep, sobering breath and spoke, with normal volume and normal cadence, his eyes focused on the two Vilden at the head of the table. "My name is Oziel, and I am the Prince of Swords."