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Elementals 3: The White Rose (IC, Sign-ups only)

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Constaniana
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Elementals 3: The White Rose (IC, Sign-ups only)

Postby Constaniana » Wed Jan 09, 2019 6:55 am

OOC thread

Elementals: The White Rose


Western Albrion, United Galllian Federation
28th of October, 1781 G.C.C

Huntspot was always profoundly quiet when twilight fell upon the land in autumn. Huntspot's inhabitants were primarily hunters, as one might have guessed from the settlement's name, or lumberjacks, and neither profession was especially safe during the night. By now the menfolk would be back at home enjoying blackberries and sausage porridge, save for the few lonely souls who stood watch from the unimpressive tower in the centre of the village, or walked along the palisade's perimeter with a blunderbuss in hand and a dirk or axe on their belts. Social calls were a rare thing during this time of year; there was too much work to be done before winter came, and fewer and fewer hours of daylight to see in as the Winter Solstice marched closer a day at a time. In summer the humble folk of Huntspot would dance reel after reel, when the sun wouldn't begin to set until 10 at night and there was all the time in the world to spare. In the long, long winter nights as all the beasts slept the people would sit at the hearths of their kin and friends, sharing jerky and stories. But something was terribly different tonight. For starters, every male old enough to shave seemed to be outside, with a weapon or tool in hand. Some of the women were outside too, clutching bandages and pulling wounded men back to safety. Some held knives now stained black. Normally at this time of year the air would smell of crunchy leaves, with a savoury hint of smoke escaping the smoke-houses busy preparing the next winter's stash of jerky. Tonight the air instead smelled like gunpowder, blood, and burnt flesh.

But on this foul evening horrors had emerged from the woods, with red skin, black claws, and amber eyes. The attack had begun over an hour ago, and the townsfolk were beginning to tire out. The wall had been breached on the western end, and so the humans were falling back to the eastern half of the village, save for one redheaded young man. His broadsword was drenched in the blood of the fell marauders, and his ash shield had a few gouges chipped out of it by now. Five enemies turned their attention to him and charged, only to be struck with a surge of flames when the youth swung his blade in their direction. The monsters fell back, and the swordsman straightened the blue scarf around his neck, his breath ragged. Nevertheless, he still had a cocky smirk and a surety to his voice. Never mind that it was more for the desperate people behind him than an accurate representation of how he was feeling.

"Is that all you have, devils? You'll not go a step further into Huntspot! As Pryastar lives, you'll all go back to the vile plane you crawled out of as nothing more than ashes!" the Fire Elemental bellowed. The red creatures looked at him for a few moments, before they began shuffling back and to the sides, clearing a path towards the breach in the palisade they had made. As their ranks formed Huntspot's champion could see a new foe, wearing a rust-coloured breastplate and a long black coat. The man looked a foot taller than him, with very pale skin and dark grey eyes. His head was shaved, making it clear to see that horns stuck out of his skull as well, "I take it you're the fiend behind all of this evil?"

"I take it you're the nuisance that has kept my forces from cleansing this sad assortment of hovels?" the wicked one replied, casually drawing his own broadsword, "I admit you peasants have impressed me. Even with the element of surprise you've mounted a capable defence. You Northemen are just as stubborn as all the stories I've heard indicated. That'll do against the mindless brutes, but you're hopelessly outclassed against a Daemonne like myself. Prepare to meet your patron," Waves of black and purple began crackling along his form, "Temptation's Chains!"

A group of black tendrils shot up from the ground at the youth. His sword cut through a few of them, causing them to turn to smoke, but several of them managed to wrangle his shield from his grasp. By this point the Daemonne had closed the gap between himself and the Elemental, and thrust his longsword at his trapped foe. But the Northemen managed to lean out of the way, and spat some flames from his mouth back at the hellspawn. It caused enough of a distraction for him to finish chopping his way free from the spell before the Daemonne began stabbing away at him. The Fire Elemental parried back all the thrusts, surprised at his own skill. Their blades locked, and with hands so close to his foe he shot a quick jet of fire from his right hand. The Daemonne snarled in pain, but a moment later fired a loud burst of Darkness that sent the Galllian flying back, his tired body smashing through the wooden wall. Pain erupted in the lad's body, and he found himself spitting up blue blood. He tried dragging himself over to where his sword had fallen from his grasp, but the Daemonne got to him first, and stomped on his chest.

"Any last words, Elemental?" the warrior of evil hissed as he charged up his magic. All that came in reply was a pained, angry grunt, with the boy trying to push off the hellspawn's boot, only to get whipped in the face by his enemy's tail, "Pathetic. What a sad fate, dying without even having something eloquent to say. What a dishonourable, feeble way to-"

The loudest horse whinny cut the Daemonne's sentence off, and all either of the fighters could hear after that was the thunder of hooves from a white destrier at full gallop before there was a brilliant flash of light, and the Daemonne's head was cut off. The Fire Elemental's eyes widened at the sight above him now. Moonlight framed a knight in gleaming plate armour, a pearly glowing sword in her left hand and an indigo cape upon her shoulders. Even though the face was hidden under a helmet, he got the sense she was smiling down at him. The paladin dismounted and went to put her free hand on the lad, when the five demons that had been watching the fight under their master's orders went into a frenzy. She turned around and was upon them in an instant, sanctified blade plunging into their forms. It was over in a matter of seconds. With the interlopers gone the stranger returned to the Fire Elemental's side, sheathing her sword and putting her hands on his chest. Specks of light swirled from them into his body, and his breathing normalised.

"That was very brave of you, protecting this village. What's your name?" the rider asked gently.

"Percy. Percy Cauvson," the lad managed to reply, sitting up a bit.

"A pleasure to meet you, Percy," said the Light Elemental as she got back on her horse, "Now, which way did the demons come?"

"From the west. There's a wet old cave and an eerie wee ruin that way," Percy explained, "What are going to do, my lady?"

"Exorcise the invaders from my realm, and chase them right back to Hell," the knight answered, steel in her voice now. She patted the side of her horse twice, and Percy watched the White Rose gallop into the night.


"I was unable to get any other eyewitnesses to the White Rose's actions from the the folk of Huntspot, but after I was done with my investigation in the village I had young Mr. Cauvson guide me to the cave he informed her about. There were multiple standard demon corpses present, with disintegration wounds, as well as a juvenile crystal demon corpse. The cave itself had a seven-foot wide archway about sixty yards in, freshly broken, with worn-out symbols of Tenaembra carved into it. There was an old hag wearing Order of Malsidrian garb, but she seemed to have been dead for some time. I suppose she was the one responsible for opening the Inferno, even if there was no immediate reply to her pleadings for dark wrath to be poured out upon the world. Judging by the minimal equipment on the lone Daemonne corpse and the complete lack of any armaments among his demons I'd suspect this was the work of another petty warlord. I've yet to encounter any proof of more powerful factions marching upon Gaiaca. That about sums up all I've found since we last spoke, Judas," a tall man softly spoke, reading from a small brown notebook by the light of a campfire. He was seated on a log, while a more broad-shouldered man with black hair sat on a small stool across from him, using a stick to hold some bread over the flames.

"Good work with that, Richard," said Judas. He inspected the bread and was satisfied with how toasted it was. He unscrewed a glass jar that was on the ground next to him and proceeded to spread its content on the toast, "Do you want some for your bread? Or to take with you on the road? Lenya's gotten rather good at making this apple jam, you know." Richard made a combination of a shrug and a nod, and Judas pulled a fresh jar from his pack and tossed it to his friend.

"And where will the road take me next, do you think?" Richard asked, taking a sip from his canteen.

"Carogne would be nice this time of year, I'd say. You could have trouble with some angry tourists in grey, though," Judas smirked. Nothing else was said between the two of them for a minute, as one finished his toast, and the other unwrapped the last of his cheese and finished it off. At last Judas spoke again, "If the ship manifests I've seen are correct then some of that old group should be winding up in Carogne about the same time you'd get there by steamship from St. Veowulf. I'd suggest recruiting their help, both for sorting that city out down there, and the long job up here. Watchtower's after something in all the old ruins here in Albrion." Richard said nothing, only looking up at the cloudy night sky.


The City of Carogne, United Galllian Federation
15th of November, 1781 G.C.C


Carogne was comfortably busy on this Thursday afternoon. The summer tourists had sailed home to the mainland by now, but the pleasant temperature the medium-sized port city was still blessed with this late in the year meant that plenty of the regular inhabitants would be out and about. They were leisurely buying fish and fruit for their larders, gawking at the latest fashions in the boutique windows, or perusing the newsagents. Carogne was a prosperous trade hub, and her people had historically seen much less conflict than the mainland Galllians. The Wide Northern War had thrown them off for a time, when they had to find new places to dock their merchant vessels when the Federal Navy declared they needed to use the best docks in the city, but their natural business rhythm seemed to mostly be back in place. The territories that had formed the Commonwealth of the North hadn't sent much through Carogne before the war anyway. The main northern concern the merchants of this city had was in the timber and wool, plenty of which still shipped out of western Albrion. From here it could be sold off to Southemen for the factories, or to Halvefori ships that would carry it eastward to the rest of the world. This arrangement had existed for centuries, and it showed in the mixed architecture of the city, where the bleached white and light blue paints used by the people of Halvefor mingled with the sturdy brick or stone of Galllia. There was a ship arriving today from the opposite direction, Yuelkelu, but its primary cargo was tanned people back from holiday. There were at least two people on the ship, however, that were starting their trip in Galllia, rather than ending it.

"Ooh, I forgot how chilly Galllia feels, Tristan," Mrs. Lisoette Frost remarked, pulling her stylish new violet coat tighter around her dress. It was only a bit over 60 degrees St. Fairwinheight, but it was the coldest temperature she'd felt in years that wasn't directly caused by her new husband, "I wonder what else has changed since we've been away. And I wonder what restaurants there are too? Let's go look!"

Meanwhile, in a square further inland, some tense-looking folk in grey uniforms were milling about. Some checked the time on their watches, while others put up posters and handed out pamphlets advertising a rally that was going to happen in their square in a short while, promising informative discourse on the evils Elementals inflicted upon society, along with other information about the group they all served: Watchtower.
Last edited by Constaniana on Wed Jan 09, 2019 9:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Olthar
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Corporate Police State

Postby Olthar » Wed Jan 09, 2019 7:57 am

Ever since the war ended, Gwen had been on the run. For nearly a year, she wandered from city to city, never using the same name twice. It was pleasant, in a way, getting to see so much of the world, but it was difficult, too. She was always looking over her shoulder, expecting an ambush. She was hesitant to trust anyone lest they figure out who she was and rat on her to the authorities. No matter where she went, she was always in danger. The small towns had fewer guards, but she stood out more easily, while the larger cities were easier to disappear into but had more frequent patrols. Some of the cities in the UGF even had wanted posters of her up. She could never stay in the same place for long, and she had already been in Carogne for three days. Perhaps, it was soon time to leave.

That afternoon, she was walking through the city square restocking her food supplies at the market stalls. She easily noticed the suspicious folks in grey robes, for when you've been hiding as long as she had, you started to pick up on the signs of other people doing the same. She figured they were up to no good, probably planning an attack since it was still too early in the day for a robbery. However, Gwen wanted nothing to do with it. She needed to maintain her cover and stay in hiding. She couldn't let eleven months of running be for naught. Thus, the cloaked woman ignored them and tried to finish her shopping without displaying any undue haste.
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Hanafuridake
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Postby Hanafuridake » Wed Jan 09, 2019 9:27 am

The room that the entourage had rented would not be considered small by most, nor would it be considered large, but to the proud courtiers who had lived in the grand palaces of their home islands, being forced to rent rooms in an alehouse was little more than a step above the poverty of the undistinguished masses. When their lady had fled into exile, she had taken a remnant of her treasury, which had allowed them to continue their indolent lifestyle. Now the wealth had started to fade, and they were reduced to apartments and inn rooms for residence.

“She dreams of leading armies into battle against the usurper, but has never wielded a real weapon in her life besides that toy bow,” the oldest of the courtiers, Yamashiro murmured behind a delicate white fan. “Perhaps we ought to try and return to Tsubaki, maybe Hayashi-dono will be merciful to us if...”

“You can't possibly believe that,” Kamoshida hissed like a frightened cat. “Hayashi will never forgive us, no matter what we offer her. She is ruthless, she'd have us executed immediately after rewarding us. You had better not talk like that again, if you know what's good for you.”

“Or what...” the youngest of the retinue, Himegawa, a woman of around 26, replied. When her question failed to be answered, she continued. “Will she behead us with a little toy sword like she kills targets with her toy arrows? The Hanafuridake shogunate is dead. We have spent the last five years following a puppet without strings, who has had to go from court to court to request mercenaries from foreign rulers to reclaim her throne.” she threw her cup across the room as though making a point. “I have no intention of living like a pauper. If we can't sell her to Hayashi, let's find someone else who would be interested in a prisoner.”

“Like who?” Kamoshida sighed resignedly. “Pirates? Who would want a captive that no one would pay the ransom for? Are we even staying near a coastline, Kurogiri? I can't keep track of all the places we've been anymore.”

“Not pirates...” Himegawa grinned malevolently. “Bandits. The little lord still has the aura of wealthiness, the outlaws would be none the wiser of her true financial status. We will get Fumi-chan lost in the woods and lead her right into a trap devised by the brigands. After she has been dealt with, we can turn over information we have about the bandits to the law of this land in exchange for compensation. It will be killing two birds with one stone.”

“That's a bit cruel even for you.” Kamoshida noted, drinking down the last of his tea before setting the cup aside. “But it can't be helped, I will do anything if it means not having to keep going to these peasant bars.”
Last edited by Hanafuridake on Wed Jan 09, 2019 9:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Ameriganastan
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Postby Ameriganastan » Wed Jan 09, 2019 4:16 pm

An old man sat on a lonely dock in the less populated area of the city, fishing lure idly bobbing in the water.

"All these ships today are scaring the fish away. I can't catch anything..."

That proved untrue when something took his bait. It was big, too. He had to stand up as the giant thing beneath the water yanked on his lure.

"Come on you sea devil, get up here! By the Gods, it feels like I'm trying to haul a full grown man out of the water!"

The thing finally breached the water. It was...a fish. A big fish, but a fish.

"Ha! This is a good day."

It had been a good day. Until a growing noise started coming near the dock. Only at the last second did he realize it was coming from...

"LOOK OUT BELOW!"

Above. A man literally falling out of the sky. He smacked hard into the water, the subsequent splash waking the fish up long enough to squirm out of its catchers hand. After a few moments, he floated up to the surface on his back.

"...Damn, I amaze myself. Eric Lumen, victorious once again."

A sword bobbed up next to him. And

"You are such an idiot."

"Oh, I'm the idiot. Your dumb plan was taking forever. Two weeks on that ship and we were nowhere closer to snagging the diamond. I decided to kick ass and take names, and we're off and victorious in 15 minutes."

"And where is the diamond?"

It suddenly dawned on him.

"...Right. I forgot to grab it. So it's wherever the ship is now."

And where is the ship now?"

He thought for a second.

"The bottom of the ocean floor by now I reckon. Unless they somehow patched the holes from when I set off their powder stash."

He grabbed his sword and paddled onto shore, the old fisherman simply staring.

"Oh, hey there. Uh...long story. But a fun one. See, my sword here is-"

Said sword vanished from his hand in a flash of light. Said light became a fuming woman storming off into the city. A woman with wings.

"Uh, Belle? Wings. Belle? Oh, come on. Don't give me the silent treatment...where even are we? Smells like...Carogne."
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Lazarian
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Lazarian » Wed Jan 09, 2019 6:04 pm

"So what exactly are we doing here, miss?" griped Ivan, shoving his way through the crowd. "I don't see how this helps the mission at all.", he continued without provocation, his gold tooth glinting in the sunlight. Ivan was a surly bloke, standing at a rather average height, with a meaty build and an unpleasant disposition. He rolled his eyes, and sighed. While his position as one of the Baron's castle guards wasn't fantastic, it beat the hell out of being a glorified nanny to his bitch of a daughter. His hand reached down to his flask to grab another sip of alcohol, of which his breath reeked. Needless to say, his squinted eyes and stubbly face showed quite a bit of displeasure.

"Aye, leave the lass alone." replied his comrade Alexei, who walked aside him, towering over Ivan. He stood noticeably above the crowd at 6'5, a veritable giant of a man, in comparison to his fellow travelers. The enormous Garmiccian was clad in a dark blue tunic covered by a brown leather vest, with thick leather gloves and a pair of sturdy boots. Seconds later, he smacked Ivan on the back of the head with his meaty hand. Alexei was slightly more palatable to look at than Ivan, asides from the large scar going from the top of his left eye down into his cheek. He had a thick beard and mustache, muddy brown eyes, and a large, clearly previously broken nose, with a cleft in the middle. "We're in no rush." His eyes flirted over the crowd, analyzing and scanning the market. A veteran of several wars, he was well aware of the benefits of vigilance.

"Я полагаю." muttered Timur through his helmet, trudging slowly behind the two, leading the pack mule with a rope. He stood significantly shorter than the other two, with a frailer thin frame. Oddly enough, he was wearing a helmet and a metal cuirass over a dark blue Garmiccian uniform, drawing scowls, muttering, and bitter frowns from the crowd. Obviously, the North still wasn't over their involvement in the war.

"For the love of the gods, vould you take off that damned thing?" said Katya in response, ignoring Ivan's question completely. Katya looked upwards at him disapprovingly (as she was still several inches shorter than the shortest of her guards), gripping the pommel of her rapier, which was sheathed on her belt. She wore pants and yet another dark blue tunic, with a hooded cloak obscuring her short light blue hair, which was tied behind her head. If not for her soft features, it wouldn't be difficult to confuse her for a boy. "Ugh, it's so hot here." she thought to herself, wiping sweat off her pale forehead. Even after a year, this foreign country was nearly intolerable. There was never enough snow, the peasants had no respect for their betters, and it was always too damn hot. At least she didn't have to contend with any suitors here. She stopped in the middle of the road, turning around to face Timur. "I don't think the locals appreciate it."

"Трахни себя и лошадь, на которой ты ехал." he mumbled back under his breath, as he proceeded to not take off the damned thing.

"You know as vell as I do that I don't understand that pissant village dialect. Listen here, Timur - I'm not trying to draw any more attention to us than we need to. They don't like us here, and for good reason." she huffed, gesturing to his military uniform, which was clearly and unambiguously Garmiccian. "I don't know why you insist on wearing it all the time."

"Shut your mouths, laddies. Something's not right here." interjected Alexei with a grave tone of voice, gesturing towards the grey-uniformed men milling about the square with a nod. "It'd be best not to draw attention to ourselves. Would you mind if we sit back and watch how this develops, m'lady?" he said, looking towards Katya for approval. "Let's stick around for awhile."

"Please don't call me that," she sighed, "but I don't see why not."
Last edited by Lazarian on Wed Jan 09, 2019 8:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Woodstovia
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Postby Woodstovia » Wed Jan 09, 2019 7:07 pm

It was a foggy, lazy morning in the town of Celesta: an unremarkable little place which was only notable for being en route to Vildernhelm. Since the war had started the small town which was all Aerion had known had changed drastically, now every day it seemed someone new marched through the town. The only outsider he'd previously known was Tom the local merchant who made trips to smaller villages like his. Now messengers and recruiters rode through and freshly raised regiments of men on their way to the capital came through. Aerion was a blacksmith's son and apprentice, destined for little else than to take over his father's business one day, as he worked with hammer and anvil he stared longingly at each man marching off to war, wishing he could join in with their glory when they crushed the Northern scum.

Today though was different, today it wasn't a regiment flying the flag of the Federation and paying the town no notice, today came a small army flying banners nobody recognized and wearing elaborate, colourful armour from what seemed to Aerion like a different universe. His curiosity was peaked now like never before and when his father went inside for the night instead of finishing up his work Aerion snuck into the local alehouse where the army's commanders were drinking. Unlike some of the Federation troops he'd tried to talk with these men didn't brush him off. They explained they were a mercenary company: The Sons of the Eagle and they'd been hired to fight in the war. Aerion sat and drank and listened to all their stories with childlike naivete, hungry for any insight into what war was like.

Eventually the night broke down into playful competition and tests of strength, they had encouraged Aerion to join in and all those years of working with his father had come in handy. They'd been impressed, one thing had led to another and they offered him a contract. It wasn't worth much and his job wasn't particularly exciting: he'd be an average spearman a classic role and utterly disposable but Aerion was excited now, he'd gotten a taste for the glory of war and when the sun arose his father discovered Aerion was gone.

The City of Carogne, United Galllian Federation
15th of November, 1781 G.C.C


There wasn't a day when his body wasn't in agony. Everything ached all the time and the ravages of war had more than left their mark. he could feel every wound, every injury all the time. His shoulder had been where some son of a fisherman had got him with an arrow when they were raiding one of the smallest, most vulnerable town's they'd ever come across. He remembered falling from his horse, seeing the massive swordsman Haedrius slice the boy in half and they waking up in a burnt out hut. He'd faded in and out of consciousness for 3 days, wracked by feavers and attended to by the company healer Althrius. When he'd first met the man he was completely normal, an older wisened man with kind eyes and a loud laugh. Now his ear was gone, the top of his head disfigured from burns which ensured no hair would grow and he'd fallen into the habit of stitching human flesh to his armour, not at all uncommon by now. Still no matter how grotesque the doctor he'd lived and once he was healthy enough he'd been dragged by the men to view the top half of the boy, hanged next to his father and mother. He remembered how hard he'd laughed.

He slammed the now empty tankard down and threw a few coins at the innkeep, at least he had plenty of those now. His face was thankfully unblemished and he now dressed in beautiful silks and velvets, a beautifully decorated sword at his hip. Most thought he was a lord and he wasn't exactly eager to convince them otherwise. At first after his pardon he'd tried settling down but he could never find work which occupied him, the northerners weren't exactly thrilled with the prospect of integrating him into their army. Once he'd become convinced a few locals had discovered who he was and were plotting to kill him he'd fled, travelling instead from city to city. But the north wasn't ever comfortable for him, he hated it there. And now he had slunk across the border, paying for a ferry to the distant Carogne. Hoping against hope that he could live in some form of anonymity.

But there was no fleeing from the war. He felt that now more than ever. Old greybeards had warned him. Warned him of their pains and aches and of the nightmares which visited them every day. He'd always laughed and informed them he was different, he was special. Now he was like them all at age 21. He was about to ask for another drink when his eye caught a younger teenager sitting with his father. He looked just like the fisherman. He realized, images of gore flashing through his mind. He spun around, trying to look in the opposite direction but there sat a woman, the image of someone who's throat he had slit in Snarpost. He remembered how it felt, human flesh ripping and breaking, the feeling of power. His stomach turned and he left the inn as quickly as possible.

Unlike in the North he knew far fewer people would recognize him here. He hadn't spent a year wiping out villages here. But that feeling was replaced with a new kind of paranoia: a feeling that everyone who's eyes lingered on him had been there at Champions Field. He had heard the Northerners sing so many songs about it, drink to it so many times. But every time he heard the name his thoughts turned to the commander who had greeted the return of his company, some fresh reinforcements. He had smiled so widely, and when he turned to point at the battle Aerion's blade sunk into his back.

Well they had it coming! he thought bitterly. They had all gotten in his way, all underestimated him. He should have been dining with the best of the best, should have been a commander on par with Van Kreigen. He was a genius, a monster in battle, his sword quicker that light itself. His powers, his rulership over the cold had won so many victories. He was the chosen of a god! And they'd treated him like an attack dog, letting him loose on defenseless villages and towns. If he'd been by their side he would have dragged that great knight who wielded the power of light to the ground and tore out his throat! he collapsed onto a bench in the middle of a square where some sort of performance was to be done by a troupe of men in grey robes. What if he was meant to die? The gods had put him on the wrong side, called him to the Champions Field... The sons of Gods don't go turncoat. Perhaps he'd been meant to die there, perhaps he was a dead man walking, prophesied by fate to have died nobly by the light's sword. His cold eyed rested squarely on the men in robes, two black holes filled with nothing but malice.
Last edited by Woodstovia on Wed Jan 09, 2019 7:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Zarkenis Ultima
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Fri Jan 11, 2019 4:49 pm

"Let's go look!"

"Sure thing, Lis!" Replied a young white haired man dressed in a fancy navy blue dress shirt as he smiled brightly at his wife and slipped an arm around her neck, both as a gesture of affection and to keep her from running off into the breezy port city. After all, Tristan knew better than anyone how energetic the disguised Daemonness could be; it was an endearing trait for sure, but it made her somewhat difficult to keep up with at times if he wasn't careful.

"Where do you want to eat? Should we look for one that has a nice view of the sea? Or maybe some restaurant by the square that has tables outdoors?" The Ice Elemental asked in an attempt to make small talk as he walked into the city alongside Lisoette, dragging along a large trunk that easily slid across the floor thanks to a layer of ice below it and taking in the sights that Carogne offered to newcomers such as them, as even though they had seen various places of the Gallian continent during their journey three years ago, those locations had all been on the north of the continent, quite far from where they currently stood.

Still, Carogne was, in a way, familiar. The salty breeze, the hustle and bustle, the ships in port and the trade taking place all around him reminded him of the impressions he had upon first arriving to Eresiln many years ago. Even if the products being traded were not the same and the people around him talked differently, the scene overall seemed to be the same. Of course, back then he was a scared and oblivious boy, not a married man and an experienced Elemental.

Turning a corner as he and his wife explored the city, Tristan saw from the corner of his eye something that made him concerned: people dressed in a familiar gray, handing out pamphlets and putting up posters with a message that condemned his kind. The Ice Elemental scowled, remembering all the foul deeds that he had discovered and all the hurdles that they had placed in his and his friends' path. A feeling of discomfort briefly struck his shoulder, where his clothes concealed a faded scar.

I'll just ignore their presence for now... Getting involved would just sour my time with Lis. He thought, his scowl fading back into a neutral expression. He was not afraid to use force to defend himself and Lisoette if necessary, but he was here for his honeymoon, not to hunt down heretics. If they try something, we'll just have to do what we did back in Yuelkelu.

Despite his distaste at Watchtower's presence, however, there was a certain sense of anticipation in the Ice Elemental's thoughts. Here they were, back in Gallia, just arriving to a city with fanatics lurking nearby. Just like three years ago...

The young man continued taking in the sights, wondering if more familiar faces would appear.
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Ameriganastan
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Postby Ameriganastan » Fri Jan 11, 2019 6:43 pm

"You know you can't freeze me out forever...Belle? If I buy you some pancakes, will you at least acknowledge my presence?"

Eric and Belle had wandered from the pier into the city, his now body having companion still not talking to him.

"Fine. I'll just buy some pancakes for myself. And eat them in front of you just to.."

She held up a hand to shut him up.

""Eric, look. They're here, too."

Eric finally stopped his begging for attention to notice his least favorite people next to those who preached abstinence. The Watchtower.

"Ugh. These guys are like cockroaches."

He ripped a poster off a wall, reading it over.

"Oh, gonna badmouth my pals like that. Hmm...say, Belle. How about a little of the holy terror routine? Put the fear of those Gods I still don't believe in into them?"

She chuckled and nodded, slinking behind a corner and returning to Eric's hand in sword form.

"Okay, let's do this."

Eric walked over to the group handing out pamphlets, dragging his blade along the ground.

"Yeah, I thought I sensed blind idiocy over in this direction. You guys should really watch where you badmouth perfectly nice people. Cause not only could those people kill you a-holes like a Sunday errand..."

He pointed up in the sky.

"You never know who's watching up there."

This got the expected reaction from the cultists. Scoffing, dismissal, laughter. Just like he wanted.

"Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you."

He tossed his sword into the air, the square becoming bathed in a blinding light as Belle morphed into her Angelle form again. Wings out, holy light shining, and voice echoing just for that added coolness. She landed in front of them, the pamphlets hitting the ground as they shook in fear.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"

They didn't need to be told twice. They scattered like the vermin they were, Eric high-fiving his companion.

"Oh, that never gets old."
Last edited by Ameriganastan on Fri Jan 11, 2019 7:13 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Krazakistan wrote: He is a force of negativity for the sake of negativity

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Postby Olthar » Fri Jan 11, 2019 7:07 pm

When one lives a life on the run from the law, one quickly learns to expect anything, for if one does not, one will likely end up dead. However, there are some things that one can never be ready for, and Gwen found herself staring dumbfounded at the sight that now lay before her.

Gwen had just finished her shopping when some crazy old guy confronted the suspicious robed individuals with a sword. Then, right before her very eyes, the sword transformed into a marvelous woman glowing with a holy light. At first, Gwen thought she was the White Rose, come to seek justice on for the ex-knight's role in the war, but she wasn't supposed to have wings. Also, this woman wasn't wearing the iconic helmet, either. Whoever she was, this was still a freakish and terrifying situation that Gwen wanted no part of.

Ignoring her usual care for subtlety and disguise, Gwen bolted out of the market square, running as fast as her legs could carry her. The place was rather crowded, however, and she began fleeing before looking where she was going. Thus, she ended up tackling some guy with white hair and a fancy blue shirt. She didn't stop to apologize, though, and merely picked herself up and continued running.
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Lazarian
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Lazarian » Fri Jan 11, 2019 7:57 pm

As the four foreigners looked onto the square, curious as to what was going to happen next, none of the quartet could have possibly expected what happened. An old man walked towards the greycloaked men, angrily confronting them. The fellow looked positively too old to be confronting them so angrily, but he strode forth anyways. Alexei squinted - this man had a presence about him that differed him from your usual old fool, and he seemed to be still in good health for his age. Perhaps a blacksmith of some sort? A patriarch of some sort? A hunter? Or perhaps, a former soldier? Either way, there was something about him.

"I can't wait to see how this turns out." sneered Ivan, grinning a nasty smile. "It's been a while since I've seen a good beating."

Katya frowned, and started to look away from the scene, not wanting to witness "a good beating". To be quite honest, she disliked Ivan immensely - he was an unrepentant thug and a mostly useless lout, but part of her father's conditions on her departure was that the men of his choice accompanied her on her mission. She wanted to think her father's reason for this was so that she wouldn't have to undertake this quest alone, but she knew that in reality, Ivan was just sent along as a constant reminder that even here, a continent away, she couldn't escape from him.

Suddenly, the square was enveloped in light, and she threw her arms in front of her face, temporarily blinded. Alexei leapt for the mule carrying their supplies in a split second, hands trembling, without thinking. "Ебена мать!!" screeched Ivan, as he dove to the cobblestones of the street, trembling. "I'm too young to die!" he wailed, throwing his hands over his head. Timur didn't react much at all, surprisingly. Katya's eyes cleared slightly, and she squinted. The old man was no longer alone - there was a woman with wings splaying from her body, with light falling from the skies.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"

The grey cloaked men hollered and shouted, scattering away from the plaza like rats fleeing a sinking ship, dropping pamphlets all over the place. Katya stared in disbelief. Incredible. Direct proof of the gods. You didn't see that every day. She remembered long lessons with her sorcery tutor (really, more of a shaman than a professor), and his long-winded tirades on the nature of the gods, the various religions of the world, and if the gods even existed at all. They did. Incredible.

Ivan grovelled on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes. "The gods are real, and they've come for my sins!" he wailed, pounding on the ground with his fists.

"Oh, shut up." griped Alexei, the former sergeant, although he had grabbed his halberd off of the pack mule and was brandishing it tightly. He looked down into his hands, blinking in surprise. He hadn't even meant to do that. Instinct was such an odd thing. "What do you think about all that, lass?" muttered the giant, looking over to his ward.

She was gone. He jolted, looking left and right, fear shooting down his spine, teeth clenched. Suddenly, he spotted her - she was...sprinting towards the old man. His fear fell from his shoulders, replaced instantly by exasperation. Unbelievable. He sighed. She was already nearly across the square from them, and he was too old to chase. He looked over to his comrades, Timur shrugged, not wanting to get involved, while Ivan was still oblivious to the world. Suddenly, he noticed a woman sprinting down the street in a panic - and she was really running. Most of the other citizens in the square were just staring, frozen, but this woman had reacted.

Gasping for breath, Katya stumbled in front of Eric, faltering in an attempt to slow down her sprint.

"That vas incredible!" she gushed, staring up at Belle in awe, hood thrown off, revealing disheveled light blue hair. "Are you a Valkkerigan? What god do you worship? Who do you serve? Why did you scatter those men?" she continued, without pausing, excitement filling her eyes. Such power and beauty! She had never seen anything like it in her whole life!

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Ameriganastan
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Postby Ameriganastan » Fri Jan 11, 2019 8:28 pm

Lazarian wrote:As the four foreigners looked onto the square, curious as to what was going to happen next, none of the quartet could have possibly expected what happened. An old man walked towards the greycloaked men, angrily confronting them. The fellow looked positively too old to be confronting them so angrily, but he strode forth anyways. Alexei squinted - this man had a presence about him that differed him from your usual old fool, and he seemed to be still in good health for his age. Perhaps a blacksmith of some sort? A patriarch of some sort? A hunter? Or perhaps, a former soldier? Either way, there was something about him.

"I can't wait to see how this turns out." sneered Ivan, grinning a nasty smile. "It's been a while since I've seen a good beating."

Katya frowned, and started to look away from the scene, not wanting to witness "a good beating". To be quite honest, she disliked Ivan immensely - he was an unrepentant thug and a mostly useless lout, but part of her father's conditions on her departure was that the men of his choice accompanied her on her mission. She wanted to think her father's reason for this was so that she wouldn't have to undertake this quest alone, but she knew that in reality, Ivan was just sent along as a constant reminder that even here, a continent away, she couldn't escape from him.

Suddenly, the square was enveloped in light, and she threw her arms in front of her face, temporarily blinded. Alexei leapt for the mule carrying their supplies in a split second, hands trembling, without thinking. "Ебена мать!!" screeched Ivan, as he dove to the cobblestones of the street, trembling. "I'm too young to die!" he wailed, throwing his hands over his head. Timur didn't react much at all, surprisingly. Katya's eyes cleared slightly, and she squinted. The old man was no longer alone - there was a woman with wings splaying from her body, with light falling from the skies.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"

The grey cloaked men hollered and shouted, scattering away from the plaza like rats fleeing a sinking ship, dropping pamphlets all over the place. Katya stared in disbelief. Incredible. Direct proof of the gods. You didn't see that every day. She remembered long lessons with her sorcery tutor (really, more of a shaman than a professor), and his long-winded tirades on the nature of the gods, the various religions of the world, and if the gods even existed at all. They did. Incredible.

Ivan grovelled on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes. "The gods are real, and they've come for my sins!" he wailed, pounding on the ground with his fists.

"Oh, shut up." griped Alexei, the former sergeant, although he had grabbed his halberd off of the pack mule and was brandishing it tightly. He looked down into his hands, blinking in surprise. He hadn't even meant to do that. Instinct was such an odd thing. "What do you think about all that, lass?" muttered the giant, looking over to his ward.

She was gone. He jolted, looking left and right, fear shooting down his spine, teeth clenched. Suddenly, he spotted her - she was...sprinting towards the old man. His fear fell from his shoulders, replaced instantly by exasperation. Unbelievable. He sighed. She was already nearly across the square from them, and he was too old to chase. He looked over to his comrades, Timur shrugged, not wanting to get involved, while Ivan was still oblivious to the world. Suddenly, he noticed a woman sprinting down the street in a panic - and she was really running. Most of the other citizens in the square were just staring, frozen, but this woman had reacted.

Gasping for breath, Katya stumbled in front of Eric, faltering in an attempt to slow down her sprint.

"That vas incredible!" she gushed, staring up at Belle in awe, hood thrown off, revealing disheveled light blue hair. "Are you a Valkkerigan? What god do you worship? Who do you serve? Why did you scatter those men?" she continued, without pausing, excitement filling her eyes. Such power and beauty! She had never seen anything like it in her whole life!

Eric and Belle looked around. Finally noticing the scores of other people who had just seen proof of heavenly powers.

"Oh, crap. Uh..."

"Magic act?"

"Magic act. THANK YOU LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! My lovely assistant and I are traveling illusionists. Those wings...hide you damn wings..."

She quickly retracted her wings.

"Were our latest trick. Thank you and feel free to tip kindly! Or come have sex with me...or both. I'm not picky."

They didn't look entirely convinced. But quickly moved on before this situation got any weirder.

"Well, problem solved...I hope."

They finally noticed the rather excited young lady before them.

"Um, in order. No, I was not among the Valkkerigan..."

"I worship no Gods..."

"I was an Angelle of Pryastar..."

"And we scattered them cause they're ignorant twats. I journeyed with a group of Elementals for a time. Fun trip. And you can read all about it in The Many Exciting Quests of Eric Lumen: Adventurer: Vol. 2: In His Element...you know, when I find someone willing to publish it. Oh, yes. Eric Lumen, at your service. That's Belle Lame. Or Belle for short. Pleasure to meet you."

He looked her over.

"Course, I can make it a real pleasure. Ever heard of a move called the Backwards Eric? Complicated, but fun. You take your knee and-"

Belle slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Lecher."
The Incompetent Critic
DENVER BRONCOS fan
Force of nature.
The Ameri Train.
The Ameri song
Tsundere Ameri.
HulkAmeri
Ameri goes to court.
Universal Constant
Edward Richtofen wrote:Ameri's so tough that he criticized an Insane Asylum and was promptly let out

Ameri does the impossible.
Fire the Ameri.
Sinovet wrote:Ameri's like Honey badger. He don't give a fuck.

Krazakistan wrote: He is a force of negativity for the sake of negativity

Onocarcass wrote:Trying to change Ameri, is like trying to drag a 2 ton block of lead with your d**k.

Immoren wrote:When Ameri says something is shit it's good and when Ameri says some thing is good it's great. *nods*

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Lazarian
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Lazarian » Fri Jan 11, 2019 8:46 pm

Ameriganastan wrote:Eric and Belle looked around. Finally noticing the scores of other people who had just seen proof of heavenly powers.

"Oh, crap. Uh..."

"Magic act?"

"Magic act. THANK YOU LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! My lovely assistant and I are traveling illusionists. Those wings...hide you damn wings..."

She quickly retracted her wings.

"Were our latest trick. Thank you and feel free to tip kindly! Or come have sex with me...or both. I'm not picky."

They didn't look entirely convinced. But quickly moved on before this situation got any weirder.

"Well, problem solved...I hope."

They finally noticed the rather excited young lady before them.

"Um, in order. No, I was not among the Valkkerigan..."

"I worship no Gods..."

"I was an Angelle of Pryastar..."

"And we scattered them cause they're ignorant twats. I journeyed with a group of Elementals for a time. Fun trip. And you can read all about it in The Many Exciting Quests of Eric Lumen: Adventurer: Vol. 2: In His Element...you know, when I find someone willing to publish it. Oh, yes. Eric Lumen, at your service. That's Belle Lame. Or Belle for short. Pleasure to meet you."

He looked her over.

"Course, I can make it a real pleasure. Ever heard of a move called the Backwards Eric? Complicated, but fun. You take your knee and-"

Belle slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Lecher."


Katya paused for a moment, still breathing heavily from the run, taking a couple moments to take in the situation. The couple had attempted to deny their heavenly power, but she had seen what she had seen. Magic trick? She had seen a court magician before (a sad excuse for a jester) and his pathetic card tricks and illusions had been nothing compared to this. In her excitement, she had actually almost forgotten about the old man, but he clearly was on equal footing with the Divine Servant, so it would be rude not to introduce herself. Even if he did smell like fish. She didn't quite understand his reference to whatever a "backwards Eric" was - Common Gallican was by no means her first language, but it was most likely a dance of some sort, judging by the context of his words.

"Well, Sir Eric of House Lumen," she said enthusiastically, shaking his hand with both of hers, "it is pleasure to meet someone as esteemed as you. I am Katya of House Kuznetsov. I have not heard of this 'Backwards Eric' technique, but I would love to learn and dance with you some time."

She paused for a moment.

"Wait, how can you be in the presence of a servant of the Great Fire himself and not worship any gods? Have they wronged you?" she continued, seeming rather confused.

She turned back to Belle, who was...now wingless. Fascinating. The divine truly worked in curious ways.

"So the gods are real? All of them? And not just tales? Incredible. Are you sent here to aid this noble adventurer on a quest?"

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Ameriganastan
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Postby Ameriganastan » Fri Jan 11, 2019 9:30 pm

Lazarian wrote:Katya paused for a moment, still breathing heavily from the run, taking a couple moments to take in the situation. The couple had attempted to deny their heavenly power, but she had seen what she had seen. Magic trick? She had seen a court magician before (a sad excuse for a jester) and his pathetic card tricks and illusions had been nothing compared to this. In her excitement, she had actually almost forgotten about the old man, but he clearly was on equal footing with the Divine Servant, so it would be rude not to introduce herself. Even if he did smell like fish. She didn't quite understand his reference to whatever a "backwards Eric" was - Common Gallican was by no means her first language, but it was most likely a dance of some sort, judging by the context of his words.

"Well, Sir Eric of House Lumen," she said enthusiastically, shaking his hand with both of hers, "it is pleasure to meet someone as esteemed as you. I am Katya of House Kuznetsov. I have not heard of this 'Backwards Eric' technique, but I would love to learn and dance with you some time."

She paused for a moment.

"Wait, how can you be in the presence of a servant of the Great Fire himself and not worship any gods? Have they wronged you?" she continued, seeming rather confused.

She turned back to Belle, who was...now wingless. Fascinating. The divine truly worked in curious ways.

"So the gods are real? All of them? And not just tales? Incredible. Are you sent here to aid this noble adventurer on a quest?"

Eric didn't like being questioned on his disbelief in the Gods. That priest he'd threatened to disembowel 3 years ago could vouch for that. But she was obviously a kid, so he simply sighed.

"Trust me, kid. Faith is tricky. You believe they're looking out for you, that's fine. Me? I stopped believing after killing my 10th man in the name of king and crown. I've seen and done things that would make the most pious man question whether the divines really exist up there..."

He glanced over at Belle.

"And trust me, if you had to put up with her squawking for all these years like I did, you'd believe there's no Gods either..."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, despite what my obstinate companion believes, they're all real. As for a quest..."

"...Well, the last time we followed some random kids we'd just met on a quest, I'd say it worked out for us. Let's see if it works the second time."

Belle returned to sword form, Eric strapping her to his back.

"Alright kid, why not. Consider me your new quest buddy."
The Incompetent Critic
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Force of nature.
The Ameri Train.
The Ameri song
Tsundere Ameri.
HulkAmeri
Ameri goes to court.
Universal Constant
Edward Richtofen wrote:Ameri's so tough that he criticized an Insane Asylum and was promptly let out

Ameri does the impossible.
Fire the Ameri.
Sinovet wrote:Ameri's like Honey badger. He don't give a fuck.

Krazakistan wrote: He is a force of negativity for the sake of negativity

Onocarcass wrote:Trying to change Ameri, is like trying to drag a 2 ton block of lead with your d**k.

Immoren wrote:When Ameri says something is shit it's good and when Ameri says some thing is good it's great. *nods*

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Lazarian
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Lazarian » Fri Jan 11, 2019 9:46 pm

Ameriganastan wrote:Eric didn't like being questioned on his disbelief in the Gods. That priest he'd threatened to disembowel 3 years ago could vouch for that. But she was obviously a kid, so he simply sighed.

"Trust me, kid. Faith is tricky. You believe they're looking out for you, that's fine. Me? I stopped believing after killing my 10th man in the name of king and crown. I've seen and done things that would make the most pious man question whether the divines really exist up there..."

He glanced over at Belle.

"And trust me, if you had to put up with her squawking for all these years like I did, you'd believe there's no Gods either..."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, despite what my obstinate companion believes, they're all real. As for a quest..."

"...Well, the last time we followed some random kids we'd just met on a quest, I'd say it worked out for us. Let's see if it works the second time."

Belle returned to sword form, Eric strapping her to his back.

"Alright kid, why not. Consider me your new quest buddy."

"Yes!" Katya said excitedly, pumping her fists. "Incredible! I am on mission to North Gallica as a diplomat to meet Prince Siegfried! We would love an escort with someone who understands the land!"

Alexei finally arrived at the scene, having jogged over when he realized that Katya was alone and unprotected in the middle of the square. It would go against his duty to leave her alone like that - even though she pretended to be an adult, she still had much to learn. The giant of a man looked over at Katya, towering over her.

"So, lass, who are these folks?" he said questioningly, casually dropping the head of his halberd into the dirt. "What's the story?"

"This is Sir Eric of House Lumen!" Katya replied, grinning. "He is an adventurer who is happy to guide us to our destination! And this," she continued, gesturing at Belle, "is a servant of the Great Fire!"

Alexei cocked his left eyebrow, with the scar running through it and over his eye. "Is he now, eh? You must have been awfully persuasive, m'lady." He extended his hand out to Eric. "I'm Alexei Petrov, leading Praporshchik...er, Captain, perhaps...of the Second Company of Baron Kuznetsov. Pleasure to meet you."

He looked over at Belle.

"Damn. I had hoped the gods weren't real. I figured you were a spellborn, like her." he said, poking Katya in the head.
Last edited by Lazarian on Fri Jan 11, 2019 9:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Ameriganastan
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Postby Ameriganastan » Sat Jan 12, 2019 2:37 am

Lazarian wrote:
"Yes!" Katya said excitedly, pumping her fists. "Incredible! I am on mission to North Gallica as a diplomat to meet Prince Siegfried! We would love an escort with someone who understands the land!"

Alexei finally arrived at the scene, having jogged over when he realized that Katya was alone and unprotected in the middle of the square. It would go against his duty to leave her alone like that - even though she pretended to be an adult, she still had much to learn. The giant of a man looked over at Katya, towering over her.

"So, lass, who are these folks?" he said questioningly, casually dropping the head of his halberd into the dirt. "What's the story?"

"This is Sir Eric of House Lumen!" Katya replied, grinning. "He is an adventurer who is happy to guide us to our destination! And this," she continued, gesturing at Belle, "is a servant of the Great Fire!"

Alexei cocked his left eyebrow, with the scar running through it and over his eye. "Is he now, eh? You must have been awfully persuasive, m'lady." He extended his hand out to Eric. "I'm Alexei Petrov, leading Praporshchik...er, Captain, perhaps...of the Second Company of Baron Kuznetsov. Pleasure to meet you."

He looked over at Belle.

"Damn. I had hoped the gods weren't real. I figured you were a spellborn, like her." he said, poking Katya in the head.

He returned the handshake.

"Nah, no magic here. I thought I was magic for a few weeks once when I was trekking through this mountain pass near Andelhill. But it just turns out the mushrooms I brought with me were the mind fuckery kind...also turns out I never made it to the mountain. When I finally ran out and regained my marbles, turns out I'd somehow wound up in Kriegport. Also somehow slept with the daughter of this really short-tempered pirate captain on the way...and then the captain...and then I think both at the same time. Boy, pirates are freaky...also hold grudges. He hunted me for weeks. Fun story: Ran into the daughter about a year later. Had had a baby. Cutest little thing. Reminded me of someone, but I can't really remember who..."

Belle let out an audible cough to bring Eric back to reality.

"Oh, right. Nice to meet you...did you say Petrov? I think I tried killing a guy named Petrov back in my soldier days...eh, probably a common name. Also, cool it with the 'Sir' stuff. Eric is just fine. Mr. Lumen if you insist on being formal...and if we meet this guy named 12 Toe Trevor on the way, my name is Sven Gramersdorf, and you've never heard of Eric Lumen."
Last edited by Ameriganastan on Sat Jan 12, 2019 2:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Incompetent Critic
DENVER BRONCOS fan
Force of nature.
The Ameri Train.
The Ameri song
Tsundere Ameri.
HulkAmeri
Ameri goes to court.
Universal Constant
Edward Richtofen wrote:Ameri's so tough that he criticized an Insane Asylum and was promptly let out

Ameri does the impossible.
Fire the Ameri.
Sinovet wrote:Ameri's like Honey badger. He don't give a fuck.

Krazakistan wrote: He is a force of negativity for the sake of negativity

Onocarcass wrote:Trying to change Ameri, is like trying to drag a 2 ton block of lead with your d**k.

Immoren wrote:When Ameri says something is shit it's good and when Ameri says some thing is good it's great. *nods*

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Lazarian
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Founded: Jul 14, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Lazarian » Sat Jan 12, 2019 9:41 am

Ameriganastan wrote:He returned the handshake.

"Nah, no magic here. I thought I was magic for a few weeks once when I was trekking through this mountain pass near Andelhill. But it just turns out the mushrooms I brought with me were the mind fuckery kind...also turns out I never made it to the mountain. When I finally ran out and regained my marbles, turns out I'd somehow wound up in Kriegport. Also somehow slept with the daughter of this really short-tempered pirate captain on the way...and then the captain...and then I think both at the same time. Boy, pirates are freaky...also hold grudges. He hunted me for weeks. Fun story: Ran into the daughter about a year later. Had had a baby. Cutest little thing. Reminded me of someone, but I can't really remember who..."

Belle let out an audible cough to bring Eric back to reality.

"Oh, right. Nice to meet you...did you say Petrov? I think I tried killing a guy named Petrov back in my soldier days...eh, probably a common name. Also, cool it with the 'Sir' stuff. Eric is just fine. Mr. Lumen if you insist on being formal...and if we meet this guy named 12 Toe Trevor on the way, my name is Sven Gramersdorf, and you've never heard of Eric Lumen."

"I like this man!" said Alexei to Katya, grinning widely. "Very relatable. Reminds me of my youth."

He turned back to Eric. "No, Petrov is relatively common name in Garmiccia. I never fought Gallicans. Just those bastard Yelhenneiens. Always trying to pick fights and start wars with noble Garmiccian comrades." (This is propaganda distributed by the Emperor, but it probably isn't necessary - the strife between the two nations goes back into ancient history.)

Katya, having finally regained her composure, interjected.

"I apologize for my rudeness, Eric. Do you know where I could find other members for our journey? I don't know if the six of us is enough. We've been attacked by bandits on the roads quite often. Additionally, do you require pay?"

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Kassaran
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Kassaran » Sat Jan 12, 2019 12:29 pm

Somewhere in Northern Gaillia, Two Months Ago

Snow and wind whipped across barren mountainsides, the burnt husks of the few trees that remained were stark reminders of the war that had rages only a short while ago. A few bodies seemed to poke out through the snow, shredded rags hanging from there corpses and fluttering in the wind. The battlefield had long since been picked clean, it's name likely forgotten to the greater battles in the central lands of the continent. The land, however, had not forgotten and nature slowly was making its way back in spite of the elements. This was the scene, as suddenly a great spear of light pierced through the ground, slowly winding its way around. Teleportation magic, the circle slowly carved itself, great poundings of writing and arcane symbols weaving across the great expanse of the circle. Such was his power, but so too was his great weakness, as the light curled upwards into dark tendrils of smoke. It seemed, that for a second, the spell wavered in its strength as light seemed to shudder and shake in imperceptibly uncontrollable fashion. The magic of the Hells, Darkness, had never enjoyed the surface and struggled in the light of Pryastar and the overworld to remain in place. With a great sudden surging upwards, the portal seemed to rush upwards into the sky three meters in height, dark flames, smoke and light, blending together in a rushing wind.

As the great portal retracted downwards, it settled down back below the earth, the spell circle fading as a resounding crack echoed across the desolate valley wastes. As the wind would begin to howl, and the few jagged remains of the trees whistle, the soft flapping of the broken fabric in the wind highlighting the silence that had settled upon the ground within the circle. No more did snow remain present, melted away as with intense heat around the area, as embers of charcoal ghosts stained the earth and in the center of the scorched and blasted clearing was a man. His eyes flamed for but a few remaining second with hell's light, his teeth gnashed together as the heat subsided from his body and the faint tastes and scents of burning flesh subsided from his mouth and nose. Erosen Arnyek, disgraced and fallen from his element and cursed to use the powers of Darkness for the time being, stood alone in the wind. His dark-colored cloak billowing in the wind around him as he attempted to take stock of himself. This place, himself, his senses, none of it was false and non of it an illusion he could sense. Mind and body uniting as one as he slowly flexed cloth-wrapped hands and arms, he reached up and grasped the edge of his cloak's cowl and hood. Hair fluttered violently past his face in the wind, his mind seeming not to care as he simply stared onward, weathering the lashings fully. His body ached with the pain of his travel, t'was not every day he'd managed to make his way to these parts of creation.

Eyes slowly shifted from side-to-side, noticing the remains of the war that had ravaged even this gods-forsaken stretch of land. He scowled, pulling the scarf about his neck up over his chin to cover his slowly chilling nose and lips. Steam, rising off of his body now too began to finally subside as he felt control of his legs return to him. He stood for but a few seconds longer, before he finally gathered himself and lifted a hand. Shielding himself from the sun that only faintly seemed to blaze through the clouds high above, he grimaced. Pryastar would not be escaped even here he guessed, and the holy light of the sun far above seemed to warm him to a degree just short of being intolerable. Hellfire was his new existence, a bead of sweat rolled down his face before evaporating along the length of his cheek. His mind cleared as closed eyes struggled to help him concentrate on the matters at hand. He had a job, but he also had hunger and thirst. Prevailing winds carried ever so lightly on them, the stench of Hell and grey-blue eyes snapped open to peer in the direction curiously.

Demons.

His mouth curled wickedly to the side as the fires of something far more brutal surfaced for but a moment beneath the man's haunted visage, before his feet began to move. First, just a few staggered steps, struggling to keep his body aloft as he relearned himself and his body and balance. Slowly, his single, strained steps graduated into longer paces, the speed and rapidity of his contact with the snow and earth below increasing imperceptibly until he was finally running forward at a nearly superhuman sprint. Tendrils of darkness whipping at the snow around him as each foot-step seemed to clear and melt the snow around him as he ran. As he cleared the next bluff, the stench slowly began to overpower him and he let his eyes flare for a moment as the man suddenly disappeared mid-step before appearing at the top of the hill proper before him. The sight was something he'd suspected for such a place, and had been his par-for-the-course expectations of the quarry he now hunted as a single demon sat, hunched over an old and broken body. It shuddered in the wind, it's sixth sense telling the infernal being it no longer was alone. The last crack of a bone stretched the distance between Erosen and the demon as it slowly stood.

It's figure hunched over, the dark red colors of the beast contrasted marvelously with the stark-whiteness of the snow. The beast was mindless in its slaughter in typical respects, but to it's great dismay it had been forced to haunt this battleground for it's brief existence upon the surface. Such was it's luck that it had wandered the open and barren fields of this remote place for such a time that it had been reduced to eating the remains of long-since nutrition-starved dead. As the figure slowly did level-best to give the semblance of bipedal form, it turned it's large shoulders to regard the man a hundred paces away, looking down atop it. Beetle-black eyes narrowed, if such a thing could be possible, in scowl, if such an expression were possible, across the demon's face, and the world around it shifted accordingly as it snarled and loosed a growl of truly inhuman origin. The shriek rose amidst the winds of the waste, and the guttural undertones reverberated within the chest of the great creature. A wicked smile crept across it's mouth as jaws parted to reveal an abominable amount of teeth within lamprey-like jaws, the lips of the beast stretching and twisting to wrap up into the outermost set of eyes.

"Try it you bastard of hell, I've taken on your kind and for you? I'd have just as much a reason to try as well."

The beast stopped momentarily, the words of the demons wrapped into its small mind, meaning slowly taking form as it digested the information that must have flooded into its mind at an overwhelming pace. An intrigue settled upon the creature for but a moment's notice, as it struggled to understand how any Human could have learned of its native tongue. Even without a command of a proper mouth with which to speak, the age-old magics gave it but an understanding of the language of hell, the voice of its master long ago commanding it to hunt still echoing in it's addled and blood-crazed mind. Hunting, that was it's purpose and it would do so, and though it knew not what this human was or why it knew Hell-speak, it mattered not as the beast broke the stillness of the stand-off and began to lumber forward. Great, heavy steps collapsed into the snow-bound earth below it, plumes of steam and snow flying up behind it as it moved with incredible speed. As greatly dangerous as such a creature was, there was but a moment it had to register the lack of fear in the eyes of its quarry before suddenly the man was gone.

A shifting of light, the howling of the wind, and as the beast tried to pull to a quick stop, it found itself alone at the top of the bluff. A shifting of light and though it never saw the figure clad in black reappear a meter above it, the last memory it would have upon Gaiaca was the sound of it's neck, crushing beneath the weight of a massive blow. Skull separating within the body from the spinal column, and the pulsing of dark element beneath the skin overrode its body's vitality. For all the work done to ensure that demons were hard beasts to kill, their construction was roughly all the same as what lived upon the surface, and the Hunter of Demons knew this well as the beast collapsed onto the ground with a great and shuddering sigh. Snow sprayed upwards and steam filled the area as the heat of the demon warmed it and melted it. The hand within the hole, neatly punch into the demon's neck slowly withdrew itself and there, straddled atop the demon was Erosen himself. Leaning back against the broad shoulders of the demon's corpse, the body slowly beginning to corrode away, he smiled and raised his hand to his mouth. Turning his head to the side, letting the scarf fall away from his face now, he took a single blood-soaked finger and tasted it. His tongue seemed to fill with glee at the sensation of the sour and vile ichor filling his mouth. A knife slowly coming free of the Darkling's belt, held with a steady and practiced hand, he plunged the blade into the demon's flesh and began to harvest it for the choice cuts of meat. His trip would be long and while the meat would quickly ferment, it didn't matter so long as he used the Dark Element within to it's full strength.

It would be many hours later, perhaps even days, for not even Erosen knew the time keeping for the days in this season, until finally he stood. Night surrounded him, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness long before. Clouds high above insulated the mountains to the south, and so he slowly began to wander, leaving the desiccated corpse of the demon behind, and a trail of melted snow in his wake as he slowly shifted in and out of view with the quickly approaching blizzard hot on his trail...

Cologne, Present Day

He'd never liked cities, but this was the one he'd been told about. He'd been fighting for some time through the wilderness to reach this place, his mind having been wracked by grief at points as his element of origin rejected him to its fullest. Veridaelia had indeed forsaken him it felt, and so he'd pressed on - the ever prodigal-son of the nature goddess herself- struggling the entire way until finally he'd reached the port city of Cologne. His trip had taken him nearly three months of walking, both day and night, and a lack of sleep haunted his thinned and gaunt visage as he drew his cloak about him and trudged ever onward. The scent of demon had slowly been bringing him close and ever closer to the city as it had been, so he felt no qualms with his mission. Old friends were soon to arrive in town, and while he struggled to remember their names and faces, he knew he'd know them when he saw them. As he rounded a corner into a shaded alleyway, he caught sight of a tall spire in the distance. A chapel or temple to Pryastar or one of the gods more than likely. From there he'd be able to reorient himself and mid-step he disappeared.

The world, spinning about him as he focused on that single, solitary point, shifted back into view as wisps of shadow tugged at him from the planes beyond and deposited him beside the ornament atop the chapel's steeple. His legs bent lightly beneath the weight of himself settling back down again with gravity and grabbing hold of the holy symbol's outermost edge, he winced slightly at the warmth which rapidly grew to an uncomfortable heat. He cast a single sidelong glance at the symbol before rolling his eyes away. That damned god was everywhere, indeed it truly seemed that there was an ever-watchful eye on the Dark Elemental's presence, it having long-since been made known to Erosen that he was unwelcome in this place. His first attempt at a campfire many nights ago, perhaps several fortnights on that note, had resulted in a great gout of flame erupting the second he'd managed a spark from his tinderbox, consuming everything and singing his clothes and face with the intense heat of absolute holy indignation. Most repeat attempts had elicited a similar response.

Letting himself ignore the pain for a moment, building in his right arm as he grasped the device atop the steeple, he looked about the city, familiarizing himself with its layout before letting go and suddenly falling backwards and towards the streets far below. For a moment, he seemed to hang in air, before suddenly -once again- shifting out of view to suddenly land atop the partially reconstructed roof of a large building somewhere near the town square. His figure shifted for a moment as he attempted to gain his balance, and failed as the floor gave way and he crashed to the level below. He could hear the scrambling of a worker or two below, and as they burst into the room, he already was dusting himself off. Their incredulous stares and the shifting of one's gaze from the roof to the man, and back at the hole in the roof again brought mixed emotions of fear, curiosity, and exasperation with the situation.

"Sir? What are you doing here? Did you fall through the roof? Do you know how much paperwork that's going to be? How many times do I have to tell you hooded hooligans not to climbing on roofs like that E-C-O stunt artist? It's dangerous to be goofing around, especially on or around construction sites! Just last week ole' Paddy took a tumble and-"

"You're right, I'll be on my way."

Pushing past the men, he soon was on the ground floor, leaving them aghast as they rubbed their shoulders where he'd brushed past. The man had been perceptibly warm to the touch and yet had chilled them to the bone as he'd pressed past, magic suffused throughout him, though it's type and origin unknown to the two construction workers as they considered the situation slowly, and eventually went back to work. On the streets below, the man with the cloak slowly blended into the undesirables and vagrants mucking and milling about on the street, slowly making his way to a nearby tavern as he pushed through one of the crowded squares and towards the working-class area of the city, by the docks where already the smell of the salt seas tinged the air with a pleasant scent. It wouldn't be long though, before he came upon a scene which riddled him with a feeling of disgust, the sight of familiar grey cloaks and robes of a certain organization became centralized in such a place. He withdrew into himself, his eyes shifting downwards and staring at the ground intensely as he did his best to avoid drawing attention to himself. He was here to hunt demons, not heretics, and the scents he'd been long-since tracking had disappeared into the odor of city life. It was as he began to press down into the exit towards the docks from the square, that he heard a familiar voice call out.

As he stopped, and slowly spun on his heels, a flash of searing light made him wince in pain, recoiling in surprise and shock as the intensity of the flare seemed to heat him from internally, his exposed skin growing intensely in pain until suddenly the light was gone and there was an angelle where a sword had once been. A voice boomed out from the feminine beauty as he gazed onward, steeling himself.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"

It was a moment of shock perhaps shared between many in the square as many of the groups milling about, that kept the Watchtower zealots pinned for a moment to their places before the fear of the gods ripped through their bodies and they began to cry out in a great multitude. Panic and awe overtook them as they scrambled to flee, their panic sending a few others into frenzies of their own as several of the perhaps more internally conflicted individuals present also took to running. As he watched one-such woman tear past him, the sudden swelling of the scent of a Daemonness filled his nose and his fists balled tightly. A man and a woman, both vaguely familiar in appearance, were slowly entering the square in the direction he'd only moments before been headed. The scent was familiar as well to him, there was an odd sense of remembrance that etched itself across his mind as he tried to place the time he'd run into whichever one was the disguised hellspawn, until he'd suddenly noted the color of the hair of the man. Images flashed in his mind of the fight that had happened, ice and fire and darkness and Erosen falling... falling ever deeper. He'd been new to the ways of this world at that time, and his mind spun as he stopped and stepped backwards, gripping his forehead as the images of Eric fighting and fading away in the darkness below with the infernal had taken his mind. Stumbling backwards, his hood slowly shifted off of his head until he was exposed to the sunlight again.

Wincing at the pain that quickly began to build across his skin, used to the heat of hell-fire, but hardly acclimated to the intensity of Pryastar and the sun. Steps took him backwards against a wall, and outstretching an arm, he grasped the corner of the building he was beside and pulled himself around the corner into the cool darkness of the alley beyond. He let himself sink to the ground as a wave of emotions at seeing old travelling partners arriving here in just such force, a tinge of guilt for almost trying to hunt one of them. He didn't know if he could call them all friends, not after he'd left them and in the years since he'd never tried to find them again. Such was his tasks that he'd never gotten to the ideas that would have brought him to fairer waters and places where they'd of thrived. Here though, in this place, they all were finally uniting once again, and his hands pulled his hood over his head as he tried to minimize his presence and shifted away, his body disappearing into darkness as he retreated into the depths of the alleyways nearby.
Last edited by Kassaran on Sat Jan 12, 2019 12:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Hanafuridake
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Authoritarian Democracy

Postby Hanafuridake » Sun Jan 13, 2019 11:11 am

“OUT OF THE WAY YOU BARBARIANS! HER MAJESTY OF TSUBAKI IS TRAVELING THROUGH THIS STREET!” Yamashiro, despite his old age, possessed a loud and authoritative voice that proved the reason that he had been made the official proclaimer of the court's will. The old man, wearing the dark court robes of his home islands, guided the trail.

“Uesama, might I humbly impart on you to choose a lighter litter in the future...” Yamada groaned as he held the back end of the norimono that the esteemed ex-shōgun was being transported in through the streets of Carogne. Without servants to hold her palanquin for her, members of the exiled entourage naturally were handed the task of ensuring that Fumi was transported through the streets without having to commingle with the nameless masses who were below her station.

Himegawa, who was sitting in the norimono facing the opposite of Fumiko, took a sip of tea. “I don't know what you're complaining about Yamada-sama,” she said, setting her cup down. “Unless you're saying that Her Majesty is too heavy for you to lift.”

“Actually it wasn't the shōgun I was going to say was fat...”

Himegawa leaped up in anger, bumping her head on top of the palanquin and causing the palanquin-bearers to lose their balance and accidentally send the vehicle toppling to the ground. Fumiko covered her mouth with the sleeve of her kimono to keep from groaning, and while Himegawa lay knocked out, climbed out of the palanquin, where she saw in front of her the strangest sight she had ever witnessed before.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"

A sword had transformed into some sort of spirit or demon or both, and had terrified several armed assailants into fleeing for their lives from the man and female mononoke. It took her several minutes to regain her senses, by which time, another girl along with others had walked up to the stranger and talked with him.

Yamada ran up to her. “Uesama, are you alright!?! Please, let me - ”

“Yamada,” Fumi murmured, pointing to Eric and Belle Lame. “Have that man and creature brought before me.” the courtier nodded and issued the order to one of the younger men.

“Milady...” Himegawa whined as she stuck her head out of the upside down palanquin door. “My head hurts.” Fumiko turned around and slapped her.


A young man, not very old, ran up to Eric and bowed down. “Esteemed holy warrior,” he prostrated three times. “I have been authorized by the generalissmo Hanafuridake Tsubaki no kami Fumiko-sama to invite you to converse with her. Her Majesty has witnessed your wonderful exploits and has made it known that you are an honored guest should you choose to accept the invitation.” he prostrated his head to the ground three more times. He pointed to the direction of Fumiko, who's palanquin-bearers had managed to heave the litter back up. She sat in the seiza position, a sulking Himegawa sitting opposite of her, either doing her best not to glance in the courtier and Eric's direction, or having mastered regal indifference enough to where she didn't need to.
Last edited by Hanafuridake on Sun Jan 13, 2019 11:50 am, edited 3 times in total.
Time traveling Heian princess trapped in the 21st century.

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Woodstovia
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Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Woodstovia » Sun Jan 13, 2019 12:35 pm

The first battle had been the hardest, well the hardest until Champion's Field at least. He was greener than grass and didn't know whether to shit or wind his watch in the middle of battle. At first he'd simply done what his commanders told him: "Stand there and hold out your spear!". He'd felt his knees shake and his legs buckle as the first wave of cavalry smashed into him, but he was young and strong and could hold the spear and that was all that mattered. A young, well dressed man rammed his horse straight into his spear-tip. He flew off the saddle and snapped his neck. It was the first man Aerion had killed.

Eventually though holding a spear wasn't enough. As the day progressed his fellow men grew tired and repeated charges and attacks ground them down, by evening all semblance of order had melted away. The spear-men were dispersed and engaged in chaotic melee fighting. Now it wasn't enough to just hold a spear forward and hope someone ran into it, now he was on his own. He still remembered being pushed to the ground. An enemy swordsman glaring down at him. his sword raised up, blocking out the heavens. This was how he'd die. Aerion knew. But he didn't. He had always scoffed at his powers, he knew he had some sort of control over ice but what use was ice? Others were granted power over fire! Water! Metal itself! What could you do with ice? It all felt like a cruel joke: he'd been blessed by the Goddess so irrelevant she didn't even help make the world. The weak, clueless God...

But as the sword came down it froze and froze until it was so brittle it shattered when it fell upon him. Aerion shoved his spear through the man's throat and from there his eyes were opened! he became a tornado smashing through the enemy! Their armour and swords were shattered or their boots frozen to the ground. He saved countless lives but over did things a little... He remembered falling to his knees, barely able to lift his head and the world getting dizzy but he'd saved so many! Killed so many... He was promoted by the next day, moved to the swordsmen. He still remembered getting a fluttering purple cloak, standing by the side of the swords commander who picked him out personally. He still remembered how proud he felt.

The City of Carogne, United Galllian Federation
15th of November, 1781 G.C.C


Everything seemed to explode at once. Aerion had meant to watch the little song and dance of the greycoats. It was a faint sort of amusement but it amused him to see how scared some of them were, how false their information was. He enjoyed feeling superior to others for a change, it provided a nice comfort for him.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"


The noise came like a bolt of lightning to Aerion's head and he instinctively jumped up, sword in hand ready for a fight. But who exactly was he on the side of? He had no love for the anti-elemental zealots but they were influential and popular. Get on their good side and he might not have to hide so much. And if they ever seized more power well they'd say he was "one of the good ones". besides the provocateur was the instigator, he'd be found in the wrong by the law and seemed outnumbered.

As more and more onlookers flooded in Aerion's gaze fell to two young women. They had a small entourage around them and were dressed in such fine clothes... The grey men had dispersed quickly so there was little hope of siding with them but in the confusion he'd be more than able to take two young noble women hostage. He could feel the gold in his fingers as he slinked towards them. There was such chaos nobody would see him and if their bodyguards did catch a glimpse... Well he'd carve them up like cake. He could feel his blood getting hot, the anticipation flowing through him. Well maybe only one needed to be a hostage. Maybe he could afford to kill the other. He needed some blood to sate him and well... A crowd like this could easily trample her right? He'd just take the awake one hostage. He could feel his sword slip out of it's scabbard, sounding like a deep moan of pleasure...

...Angelle of Pryastar

Ice filled his veins and he immediately forgot any plans of hostage taking. Pryastar! Gods why did an agent of Pryastar have to be here?! Fire was the natural counter to ice. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Were the Gods teasing him again? Then another realization struck: He was near an Elemental! He'd trample over the whole crowd trying to rescue a young girl in distress. he needed some kind of excuse to why his sword was out and rushed over to Eric and the others, clearing his throat.

"Aerion! Beloved knight of Froenstia, legendary warrior of the Champion's Field!" he announced to the elemental, trying to sound dignified and confident. "I was just about to run those guys out of here myself truth be told, though I'm not sure I'd have done it quite as flamboyantly as that!" he said with a nervous laugh, his cold eyes scanning the others; hoping none would see through the facade.
Last edited by Woodstovia on Sun Jan 13, 2019 12:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Ameriganastan
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Postby Ameriganastan » Sun Jan 13, 2019 5:30 pm

Hanafuridake wrote:“OUT OF THE WAY YOU BARBARIANS! HER MAJESTY OF TSUBAKI IS TRAVELING THROUGH THIS STREET!” Yamashiro, despite his old age, possessed a loud and authoritative voice that proved the reason that he had been made the official proclaimer of the court's will. The old man, wearing the dark court robes of his home islands, guided the trail.

“Uesama, might I humbly impart on you to choose a lighter litter in the future...” Yamada groaned as he held the back end of the norimono that the esteemed ex-shōgun was being transported in through the streets of Carogne. Without servants to hold her palanquin for her, members of the exiled entourage naturally were handed the task of ensuring that Fumi was transported through the streets without having to commingle with the nameless masses who were below her station.

Himegawa, who was sitting in the norimono facing the opposite of Fumiko, took a sip of tea. “I don't know what you're complaining about Yamada-sama,” she said, setting her cup down. “Unless you're saying that Her Majesty is too heavy for you to lift.”

“Actually it wasn't the shōgun I was going to say was fat...”

Himegawa leaped up in anger, bumping her head on top of the palanquin and causing the palanquin-bearers to lose their balance and accidentally send the vehicle toppling to the ground. Fumiko covered her mouth with the sleeve of her kimono to keep from groaning, and while Himegawa lay knocked out, climbed out of the palanquin, where she saw in front of her the strangest sight she had ever witnessed before.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"

A sword had transformed into some sort of spirit or demon or both, and had terrified several armed assailants into fleeing for their lives from the man and female mononoke. It took her several minutes to regain her senses, by which time, another girl along with others had walked up to the stranger and talked with him.

Yamada ran up to her. “Uesama, are you alright!?! Please, let me - ”

“Yamada,” Fumi murmured, pointing to Eric and Belle Lame. “Have that man and creature brought before me.” the courtier nodded and issued the order to one of the younger men.

“Milady...” Himegawa whined as she stuck her head out of the upside down palanquin door. “My head hurts.” Fumiko turned around and slapped her.


A young man, not very old, ran up to Eric and bowed down. “Esteemed holy warrior,” he prostrated three times. “I have been authorized by the generalissmo Hanafuridake Tsubaki no kami Fumiko-sama to invite you to converse with her. Her Majesty has witnessed your wonderful exploits and has made it known that you are an honored guest should you choose to accept the invitation.” he prostrated his head to the ground three more times. He pointed to the direction of Fumiko, who's palanquin-bearers had managed to heave the litter back up. She sat in the seiza position, a sulking Himegawa sitting opposite of her, either doing her best not to glance in the courtier and Eric's direction, or having mastered regal indifference enough to where she didn't need to.

Eric raised an eyebrow at this odd little gofer, laying eyes on the palanquin in the distance.

"Eric, be nice. He's just the messenger."

"Yeah, I know. Get up, kid. Enough with the bowing."

He hauled him to his feet by the collar, brushing a little dust off his shoulder.

"Tell your majesty, whoever she is and whatever inbred flotsam of a family she inherited her meaningless position from..."

Eric's opinion on nobles hadn't changed in 3 years. If anything, the war he'd been busting his ass to avoid had lessened it even more.

"That if she wants my attention, to get off her entitled rump and come over here herself."

He waved at the waiting nobles...before flipping the lot of them the bird.

"BUGGER OFF!"

Woodstovia wrote:The first battle had been the hardest, well the hardest until Champion's Field at least. He was greener than grass and didn't know whether to shit or wind his watch in the middle of battle. At first he'd simply done what his commanders told him: "Stand there and hold out your spear!". He'd felt his knees shake and his legs buckle as the first wave of cavalry smashed into him, but he was young and strong and could hold the spear and that was all that mattered. A young, well dressed man rammed his horse straight into his spear-tip. He flew off the saddle and snapped his neck. It was the first man Aerion had killed.

Eventually though holding a spear wasn't enough. As the day progressed his fellow men grew tired and repeated charges and attacks ground them down, by evening all semblance of order had melted away. The spear-men were dispersed and engaged in chaotic melee fighting. Now it wasn't enough to just hold a spear forward and hope someone ran into it, now he was on his own. He still remembered being pushed to the ground. An enemy swordsman glaring down at him. his sword raised up, blocking out the heavens. This was how he'd die. Aerion knew. But he didn't. He had always scoffed at his powers, he knew he had some sort of control over ice but what use was ice? Others were granted power over fire! Water! Metal itself! What could you do with ice? It all felt like a cruel joke: he'd been blessed by the Goddess so irrelevant she didn't even help make the world. The weak, clueless God...

But as the sword came down it froze and froze until it was so brittle it shattered when it fell upon him. Aerion shoved his spear through the man's throat and from there his eyes were opened! he became a tornado smashing through the enemy! Their armour and swords were shattered or their boots frozen to the ground. He saved countless lives but over did things a little... He remembered falling to his knees, barely able to lift his head and the world getting dizzy but he'd saved so many! Killed so many... He was promoted by the next day, moved to the swordsmen. He still remembered getting a fluttering purple cloak, standing by the side of the swords commander who picked him out personally. He still remembered how proud he felt.

The City of Carogne, United Galllian Federation
15th of November, 1781 G.C.C


Everything seemed to explode at once. Aerion had meant to watch the little song and dance of the greycoats. It was a faint sort of amusement but it amused him to see how scared some of them were, how false their information was. He enjoyed feeling superior to others for a change, it provided a nice comfort for him.

"VILE HATE SPOUTING HEATHENS! LEAVE THIS SQUARE AT ONCE! LEST I BRING THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS DOWN UPON YOUR EMPTY HEADS! NOW!"


The noise came like a bolt of lightning to Aerion's head and he instinctively jumped up, sword in hand ready for a fight. But who exactly was he on the side of? He had no love for the anti-elemental zealots but they were influential and popular. Get on their good side and he might not have to hide so much. And if they ever seized more power well they'd say he was "one of the good ones". besides the provocateur was the instigator, he'd be found in the wrong by the law and seemed outnumbered.

As more and more onlookers flooded in Aerion's gaze fell to two young women. They had a small entourage around them and were dressed in such fine clothes... The grey men had dispersed quickly so there was little hope of siding with them but in the confusion he'd be more than able to take two young noble women hostage. He could feel the gold in his fingers as he slinked towards them. There was such chaos nobody would see him and if their bodyguards did catch a glimpse... Well he'd carve them up like cake. He could feel his blood getting hot, the anticipation flowing through him. Well maybe only one needed to be a hostage. Maybe he could afford to kill the other. He needed some blood to sate him and well... A crowd like this could easily trample her right? He'd just take the awake one hostage. He could feel his sword slip out of it's scabbard, sounding like a deep moan of pleasure...

...Angelle of Pryastar

Ice filled his veins and he immediately forgot any plans of hostage taking. Pryastar! Gods why did an agent of Pryastar have to be here?! Fire was the natural counter to ice. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Were the Gods teasing him again? Then another realization struck: He was near an Elemental! He'd trample over the whole crowd trying to rescue a young girl in distress. he needed some kind of excuse to why his sword was out and rushed over to Eric and the others, clearing his throat.

"Aerion! Beloved knight of Froenstia, legendary warrior of the Champion's Field!" he announced to the elemental, trying to sound dignified and confident. "I was just about to run those guys out of here myself truth be told, though I'm not sure I'd have done it quite as flamboyantly as that!" he said with a nervous laugh, his cold eyes scanning the others; hoping none would see through the facade.

And here was another little oddball.

"We really gotta stop doing the Holy Terror routine in crowds. It attracts...unusual people."

"Ugh, Froenstia. Frigid cow had no sense of humor."

"Frigid cow? I think I'm rubbing off on your."

Eric chuckled.

"By the way, anyone who announces themselves as a 'Legendary Warrior' probably isn't as though as they say."

He stared him dead in the eye.

"Plus, you don't have warriors eyes. You have the eyes of...A FUNNY LITTLE MAN! Ha! Oh, the 'Eyes of a warrior' bit. I once made a guy piss himself just staring him in the eyes. Good times."
Last edited by Ameriganastan on Sun Jan 13, 2019 5:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Hanafuridake
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Posts: 152
Founded: Sep 09, 2018
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby Hanafuridake » Sun Jan 13, 2019 6:03 pm

The courtier had expected either silent apathy or amiable agreement, he had not expected to be roughly handled, nor have the ruler who he had worshiped since birth callously disregarded. “B - b - b,” he stammered, failing to find words which could convey the confusion. It was inevitable that the sentence he would finally be able to utter was one which revealed how bewildered he was. “What's a flotsam?”

Back at the palanquin...

“Your Majesty, I do believe that the warrior is signalling us with a rude gesture.” Yamada said as he stood at the side of the palanquin, while Fumi was expressing indignation to Himegawa about how sticky the floor of the litter was now that she had spilled all of the tea in the little stunt which had just occurred. “Should we cut off his hands?”

“When a hairy monkey flings waste at you,” Fumiko stated, remembering a childish poem from her youth. “You don't fling it back.”

“HOW UNDIGNIFIED THAT HE SHOULD - ” Yamashiro shouted, puffing out his chest. The old courtier had been barrel chested in his youth and seemed to think he still was. The shōgun quickly disabused him of that notion.

“Oh shut up Yamashiro,” Fumiko cut him off. “The insult was paid to me, not you.” she sat with her arms crossed in her kimono sleeves, thinking to herself about what she should do. She did not want to appear weak by obeying this man's crude request, but at the same time, if he were the kind of warrior she could recruit to reclaim the archipelago, wasn't it worth setting aside her pride? The kimono clad teenager rose up and climbed out of the palanquin effortlessly.

“Milady - ” Himegawa stammered in surprise. Despite her and Yamashiro's plan to betray Fumi at the soonest opportunity, she couldn't help but feel worried about the slight paid to the Shōgunal authority. They had all served the Hanafuridake dynasty for their entire lives of course, some for several decades.

Fumiko walked past Yamada, the line of her kimono trailing behind her as she walked up to Eric and Belle Lame, the young courtier prostrating before her twice as many times as he did Eric. “So you're the man and the mononoke... excuse me, spirit,” she said, glancing at Belle Lame and nodding courteously. “Who drove away those armed bandits a few moments ago.” she paused for a few seconds. “I'm looking for men to reclaim my lands in the southern island of Tsubaki. I was exiled as a child and have spent years wandering from place to place. If you enter into my service, I promise that you will be well rewarded when I reclaim my throne. Any desire you have will be granted. I give you my word as a child of the Hanafuridake line, may heaven and earth hold me to it.”
Woodstovia wrote:Ice filled his veins and he immediately forgot any plans of hostage taking. Pryastar! Gods why did an agent of Pryastar have to be here?! Fire was the natural counter to ice. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Were the Gods teasing him again? Then another realization struck: He was near an Elemental! He'd trample over the whole crowd trying to rescue a young girl in distress. he needed some kind of excuse to why his sword was out and rushed over to Eric and the others, clearing his throat.

"Aerion! Beloved knight of Froenstia, legendary warrior of the Champion's Field!" he announced to the elemental, trying to sound dignified and confident. "I was just about to run those guys out of here myself truth be told, though I'm not sure I'd have done it quite as flamboyantly as that!" he said with a nervous laugh, his cold eyes scanning the others; hoping none would see through the facade.


Fumiko turned and faced this man, her expression icy and intensive for someone who was a Fire Elemental. “I put my stock in actions and not words, Aerion, whatever your family name might be.” she said, clearly unimpressed. “The military genius Aizawa Musuko met more than enough braggarts with swords to be able to tell that none of them have the metal when actual fighting breaks out, and I have no intention of disregarding her words.”
Last edited by Hanafuridake on Sun Jan 13, 2019 6:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Lazarian
Envoy
 
Posts: 345
Founded: Jul 14, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Lazarian » Sun Jan 13, 2019 6:17 pm

Right as Katya started bringing up payment (which Alexei figured was foolish, because if the man wanted payment, he'd ask for it), a servant boy ran up and started bowing. Eric proceeded to grab him and haul him to his feet. "Tell your majesty, whoever she is and whatever inbred flotsam of a family she inherited her meaningless position from that if she wants my attention, to get off her entitled rump and come over here herself." he shouted, before flipping off a woman sitting in a palanquin across the square. "BUGGER OFF!"

Katya squinted. Interesting. The type of dress was quite unfamiliar - definitely not the work of the Gallicans, nor the Eresilnicans, nor even the disgusting Yelhennei. She'd seen something similar to it in one of her textbooks once, when she still was taught the "womanly arts". She scoffed to herself in remembrance - that was all a useless waste of time. Perhaps she came from the Yuelkelu islands. The Yuelkelu peoples were "foreign" and "strange", and the women which Eric had flipped off certainly could be described as that, with their weird squinting eyes.

"Ha! Take that, useless nobles!" Alexei chortled, slapping his knee. "I've always wanted to say something like that." he said, but Eric completely ignored him, as yet another stranger had run from the crowd. Katya looked up at Alexei, glaring, but knew it would be wise not to say anything. It certainly seemed like Eric would be useful company on her mission, and to reveal herself as the daughter of a baron would hardly be advantageous in this circumstances, seeing as these were his feelings on nobles. Thank the gods she had packed useful working clothes for this trip rather than those stuffy dresses she hated! Although, to be fair, she had heard similar sentiments from her father: "A general who isn't at the front of the line isn't a general at all." He had always emphasized getting his hands dirty, and his men loved him for it. Still, it was disrespectful to speak of your superiors in the way that Eric had...but mercenaries were often like that. It wasn't a dealbreaker for her, by any means.

"Aerion! Beloved knight of Froenstia, legendary warrior of the Champion's Field!" the new man loudly proclaimed to Eric, before continuing on. "I was just about to run those guys out of here myself truth be told, though I'm not sure I'd have done it quite as flamboyantly as that!" he said with a nervous laugh. Alexei squinted. "That man isn't confident enough to be a legendary warrior, and I'm not buying the act." he thought to himself, but he didn't say anything. Katya, however, was less skeptical. He certainly looked the part - the man was quite handsome, with long flowing blonde hair, a strong frame, and striking features. How dashing. He looked like he was right out of a legend. "This man might be worth my time as well." she thought to herself - but Eric clearly had other opinions.

"By the way, anyone who announces themselves as a 'Legendary Warrior' probably isn't as though as they say. Plus, you don't have warriors eyes. You have the eyes of...A FUNNY LITTLE MAN! Ha! Oh, the 'Eyes of a warrior' bit. I once made a guy piss himself just staring him in the eyes. Good times." snapped Eric back at Aerion with a look that made Katya honestly believe that last bit.

"Uh, Mr. Eric," she said, trying to get his attention, "would you like any sort of payment for the journey?"

However, this went unnoticed as well, as the woman from the palanquin across the plaza had also arrived in front of Eric. Despite her strange eyes, she was also beautiful in a strange way, with her long flowing sleeves and light dress, and Katya almost was jealous for a moment - until the woman confronted Eric as well.

“So you're the man and the mononoke... excuse me, spirit,” the foreigner said, glancing at Belle and nodding courteously. “Who drove away those armed bandits a few moments ago.” she paused for a few seconds. “I'm looking for men to reclaim my lands in the southern island of Tsubaki. I was exiled as a child and have spent years wandering from place to place. If you enter into my service, I promise that you will be well rewarded when I reclaim my throne. Any desire you have will be granted. I give you my word as a child of the Hanafuridake line, may heaven and earth hold me to it.”

She then turned to Aerion and started talking to him as well, although Katya didn't pay any attention to what she was saying. Katya was livid, her features turning into a bitter scowl. Who did this woman think she was, to barge in here in front of her and throw down a claim like that. Who gave a damn about some islands? She had been here first, and her mission was more important!

"Отвали, сука!" she snapped, while drawing her rapier from her side in an instant. "I think you'll have to find another adventurer, because I was here first, you useless courtier!"

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Constaniana
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 24880
Founded: Mar 10, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Constaniana » Sun Jan 13, 2019 6:29 pm

"I think I would like further inland, Trista-boo. Maybe somewhere inside with a window seat? I've seen enough of the sea for now," Lisoette chortled, "I think I'm in the mood for some roast beef, or fried chicken like Aldraniri used to go on about. Beef was hard to come by in Yuelkelu, wasn't it? Not that the shrimp and lionfish and all the rest was bad, but you know what I mean? All the trendy tourists liked to brag about how they were "purifying their bowels and humours" with their latest seafood diet, but I miss the great big juicy squares of beef, with the hunks of cheddar on toast to go with it. And baked beans! Coming back to Galllia was a wonderful idea," the blonde went on. She didn't notice the Watchtower members in the square, or that Tristan was scowling at them for a few moments. She probably would have kept on going about Galllian cuisine and then on to some other tangent were it not for Belle Lame's surprise transformation. A flood of reactions went through her mind in its wake.

First was the incredible surprise at the sight of an Angelle appearing. For a moment she began to think she recognised the old man, but this train of thought was derailed when her man was knocked over by some panicked woman. Lisoette's reaction was now one of indignation, and she began to chase after the rude stranger with brown hair to make her apologise. But as she reached her magic senses out she first detected the presence of Fire magic within that woman, whoever she was. That might have explained why she reacted so strongly to the sight of agents from Watchtower. Then her senses began detecting more and more arcane auras. There was one of Wind, another Fire, another Ice...and a strange, incomplete presence of Darkness behind a nearby building. Lisoette quickly spotted the first four Elementals she had sensed, but the Darkness Elemental remained out of sight. Which way to go? The Daemonness managed to restrain herself enough to walk back to Tristan to plan with him. As she did so she watched with curiosity as one Elemental after another approached the old man, treating him with great deference. He introduced himself to the blue-haired girl as Eric Lumen, and recognition dawned upon Lisoette.

"It's old Eric! And...Belle Lame? Wasn't that his sword? Does it do more than talk now?" Lisoette whispered to Tristan as she looked around, trying to think of what to do next. The Wind Elemental spoke of gathering more party members for a quest up north, and the blonde smiled a bit at the thought, remembering her own time doing such a thing over there. Granted, she had still been questing with Tristan throughout Yuelkelu, but it was a different dynamic fighting as a couple compared to a group. Then some very loud foreigners interrupted her train of thought, with declarations of very long names indeed, and formal requests for Eric's attention to turn over to their leader, who was sitting over in palanquin and did not look especially interested in what was going on around her. If she was acting like that then why did she want to talk with Eric?

"I'm not sure if you already felt it, but there's someone around here who can use some Darkness magic. But it's...not entirely there. It reminds me a bit of how I felt that odd Ero-San from ages ago, but it's a heck of a lot greater than he ever displayed during all our battles," Mrs. Frost whispered in her husband's ear, "Oh, and that chap an Ice Elemental too? If you're Froenstia's champion does that make you his boss? I don't think he's got a mageforged weapon from an actual goddess," she added with a smirk. Surprisingly, the foreigner got out of her fancy chair and walked over to converse with Eric. Lis couldn't help wincing a bit when she noticed the elaborate clothing the Fire Elemental was wearing was dragging along the ground. The dress was going to get ruined like that! Hearing that Hanfurrycake (or whatever her name was) was an exile from childhood made her feel a pang of sympathy, reminding her of all the torment and trials she and her brother had to endure through their childhoods after Kayarost's defeat and the revolutions and civil wars it set off in Hell. As the Wind and Fire Elementals started arguing the Daemonness felt the moment to interject had come.

"Sorry lassies, but I found him first, three years ago!" Lisoette declared, head held pompously high as she moved towards Eric. Her stern, regal expression broke into giggling after a few moments, and she held up her ring-clad left hand, "Imagine seeing you after all this time, Eric! It's us, Lisoette and Tristan! We got married! How have you been since that mess at the resort?"
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Ameriganastan
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Posts: 42554
Founded: Jul 01, 2008
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Ameriganastan » Sun Jan 13, 2019 6:42 pm

Hanafuridake wrote:The courtier had expected either silent apathy or amiable agreement, he had not expected to be roughly handled, nor have the ruler who he had worshiped since birth callously disregarded. “B - b - b,” he stammered, failing to find words which could convey the confusion. It was inevitable that the sentence he would finally be able to utter was one which revealed how bewildered he was. “What's a flotsam?”

Back at the palanquin...

“Your Majesty, I do believe that the warrior is signalling us with a rude gesture.” Yamada said as he stood at the side of the palanquin, while Fumi was expressing indignation to Himegawa about how sticky the floor of the litter was now that she had spilled all of the tea in the little stunt which had just occurred. “Should we cut off his hands?”

“When a hairy monkey flings waste at you,” Fumiko stated, remembering a childish poem from her youth. “You don't fling it back.”

“HOW UNDIGNIFIED THAT HE SHOULD - ” Yamashiro shouted, puffing out his chest. The old courtier had been barrel chested in his youth and seemed to think he still was. The shōgun quickly disabused him of that notion.

“Oh shut up Yamashiro,” Fumiko cut him off. “The insult was paid to me, not you.” she sat with her arms crossed in her kimono sleeves, thinking to herself about what she should do. She did not want to appear weak by obeying this man's crude request, but at the same time, if he were the kind of warrior she could recruit to reclaim the archipelago, wasn't it worth setting aside her pride? The kimono clad teenager rose up and climbed out of the palanquin effortlessly.

“Milady - ” Himegawa stammered in surprise. Despite her and Yamashiro's plan to betray Fumi at the soonest opportunity, she couldn't help but feel worried about the slight paid to the Shōgunal authority. They had all served the Hanafuridake dynasty for their entire lives of course, some for several decades.

Fumiko walked past Yamada, the line of her kimono trailing behind her as she walked up to Eric and Belle Lame, the young courtier prostrating before her twice as many times as he did Eric. “So you're the man and the mononoke... excuse me, spirit,” she said, glancing at Belle Lame and nodding courteously. “Who drove away those armed bandits a few moments ago.” she paused for a few seconds. “I'm looking for men to reclaim my lands in the southern island of Tsubaki. I was exiled as a child and have spent years wandering from place to place. If you enter into my service, I promise that you will be well rewarded when I reclaim my throne. Any desire you have will be granted. I give you my word as a child of the Hanafuridake line, may heaven and earth hold me to it.”


Lazarian wrote:Right as Katya started bringing up payment (which Alexei figured was foolish, because if the man wanted payment, he'd ask for it), a servant boy ran up and started bowing. Eric proceeded to grab him and haul him to his feet. "Tell your majesty, whoever she is and whatever inbred flotsam of a family she inherited her meaningless position from that if she wants my attention, to get off her entitled rump and come over here herself." he shouted, before flipping off a woman sitting in a palanquin across the square. "BUGGER OFF!"

Katya squinted. Interesting. The type of dress was quite unfamiliar - definitely not the work of the Gallicans, nor the Eresilnicans, nor even the disgusting Yelhennei. She'd seen something similar to it in one of her textbooks once, when she still was taught the "womanly arts". She scoffed to herself in remembrance - that was all a useless waste of time. Perhaps she came from the Yuelkelu islands. The Yuelkelu peoples were "foreign" and "strange", and the women which Eric had flipped off certainly could be described as that, with their weird squinting eyes.

"Ha! Take that, useless nobles!" Alexei chortled, slapping his knee. "I've always wanted to say something like that." he said, but Eric completely ignored him, as yet another stranger had run from the crowd. Katya looked up at Alexei, glaring, but knew it would be wise not to say anything. It certainly seemed like Eric would be useful company on her mission, and to reveal herself as the daughter of a baron would hardly be advantageous in this circumstances, seeing as these were his feelings on nobles. Thank the gods she had packed useful working clothes for this trip rather than those stuffy dresses she hated! Although, to be fair, she had heard similar sentiments from her father: "A general who isn't at the front of the line isn't a general at all." He had always emphasized getting his hands dirty, and his men loved him for it. Still, it was disrespectful to speak of your superiors in the way that Eric had...but mercenaries were often like that. It wasn't a dealbreaker for her, by any means.

"Aerion! Beloved knight of Froenstia, legendary warrior of the Champion's Field!" the new man loudly proclaimed to Eric, before continuing on. "I was just about to run those guys out of here myself truth be told, though I'm not sure I'd have done it quite as flamboyantly as that!" he said with a nervous laugh. Alexei squinted. "That man isn't confident enough to be a legendary warrior, and I'm not buying the act." he thought to himself, but he didn't say anything. Katya, however, was less skeptical. He certainly looked the part - the man was quite handsome, with long flowing blonde hair, a strong frame, and striking features. How dashing. He looked like he was right out of a legend. "This man might be worth my time as well." she thought to herself - but Eric clearly had other opinions.

"By the way, anyone who announces themselves as a 'Legendary Warrior' probably isn't as though as they say. Plus, you don't have warriors eyes. You have the eyes of...A FUNNY LITTLE MAN! Ha! Oh, the 'Eyes of a warrior' bit. I once made a guy piss himself just staring him in the eyes. Good times." snapped Eric back at Aerion with a look that made Katya honestly believe that last bit.

"Uh, Mr. Eric," she said, trying to get his attention, "would you like any sort of payment for the journey?"

However, this went unnoticed as well, as the woman from the palanquin across the plaza had also arrived in front of Eric. Despite her strange eyes, she was also beautiful in a strange way, with her long flowing sleeves and light dress, and Katya almost was jealous for a moment - until the woman confronted Eric as well.

“So you're the man and the mononoke... excuse me, spirit,” the foreigner said, glancing at Belle and nodding courteously. “Who drove away those armed bandits a few moments ago.” she paused for a few seconds. “I'm looking for men to reclaim my lands in the southern island of Tsubaki. I was exiled as a child and have spent years wandering from place to place. If you enter into my service, I promise that you will be well rewarded when I reclaim my throne. Any desire you have will be granted. I give you my word as a child of the Hanafuridake line, may heaven and earth hold me to it.”

She then turned to Aerion and started talking to him as well, although Katya didn't pay any attention to what she was saying. Katya was livid, her features turning into a bitter scowl. Who did this woman think she was, to barge in here in front of her and throw down a claim like that. Who gave a damn about some islands? She had been here first, and her mission was more important!

"Отвали, сука!" she snapped, while drawing her rapier from her side in an instant. "I think you'll have to find another adventurer, because I was here first, you useless courtier!"

Well, this a development. Two cute girls fighting over me. It feels quite flattering.

"Ladies, ladies. No need to quarrel over me. There's enough of ol' Eric to go around."

I can hear your thoughts, Eric. What are you up to?

Up to nothing. They want my help. Plus, they're both offering payment. I may detest nobles, but my travelling funds are starting to run a little low. Say we help out these two lasses. We'll have enough cash to travel for years to come...or maybe buy that nice little shack by the sea. I hate to admit it, but retirement might not be a bad idea. Even you're having trouble keeping me up and running lately...

He cleared his throat.

"Let's make a little deal. You both clearly want we to help you. So let's have us a little team up. One big, margianlly functional party. I help her, then I help you get your stupid kingdom back..."

He very overtly scoped Fumiko out.

"Maybe cash in on that fulfilled desire bit, everyone wins."

Constaniana wrote:"I think I would like further inland, Trista-boo. Maybe somewhere inside with a window seat? I've seen enough of the sea for now," Lisoette chortled, "I think I'm in the mood for some roast beef, or fried chicken like Aldraniri used to go on about. Beef was hard to come by in Yuelkelu, wasn't it? Not that the shrimp and lionfish and all the rest was bad, but you know what I mean? All the trendy tourists liked to brag about how they were "purifying their bowels and humours" with their latest seafood diet, but I miss the great big juicy squares of beef, with the hunks of cheddar on toast to go with it. And baked beans! Coming back to Galllia was a wonderful idea," the blonde went on. She didn't notice the Watchtower members in the square, or that Tristan was scowling at them for a few moments. She probably would have kept on going about Galllian cuisine and then on to some other tangent were it not for Belle Lame's surprise transformation. A flood of reactions went through her mind in its wake.

First was the incredible surprise at the sight of an Angelle appearing. For a moment she began to think she recognised the old man, but this train of thought was derailed when her man was knocked over by some panicked woman. Lisoette's reaction was now one of indignation, and she began to chase after the rude stranger with brown hair to make her apologise. But as she reached her magic senses out she first detected the presence of Fire magic within that woman, whoever she was. That might have explained why she reacted so strongly to the sight of agents from Watchtower. Then her senses began detecting more and more arcane auras. There was one of Wind, another Fire, another Ice...and a strange, incomplete presence of Darkness behind a nearby building. Lisoette quickly spotted the first four Elementals she had sensed, but the Darkness Elemental remained out of sight. Which way to go? The Daemonness managed to restrain herself enough to walk back to Tristan to plan with him. As she did so she watched with curiosity as one Elemental after another approached the old man, treating him with great deference. He introduced himself to the blue-haired girl as Eric Lumen, and recognition dawned upon Lisoette.

"It's old Eric! And...Belle Lame? Wasn't that his sword? Does it do more than talk now?" Lisoette whispered to Tristan as she looked around, trying to think of what to do next. The Wind Elemental spoke of gathering more party members for a quest up north, and the blonde smiled a bit at the thought, remembering her own time doing such a thing over there. Granted, she had still been questing with Tristan throughout Yuelkelu, but it was a different dynamic fighting as a couple compared to a group. Then some very loud foreigners interrupted her train of thought, with declarations of very long names indeed, and formal requests for Eric's attention to turn over to their leader, who was sitting over in palanquin and did not look especially interested in what was going on around her. If she was acting like that then why did she want to talk with Eric?

"I'm not sure if you already felt it, but there's someone around here who can use some Darkness magic. But it's...not entirely there. It reminds me a bit of how I felt that odd Ero-San from ages ago, but it's a heck of a lot greater than he ever displayed during all our battles," Mrs. Frost whispered in her husband's ear, "Oh, and that chap an Ice Elemental too? If you're Froenstia's champion does that make you his boss? I don't think he's got a mageforged weapon from an actual goddess," she added with a smirk. Surprisingly, the foreigner got out of her fancy chair and walked over to converse with Eric. Lis couldn't help wincing a bit when she noticed the elaborate clothing the Fire Elemental was wearing was dragging along the ground. The dress was going to get ruined like that! Hearing that Hanfurrycake (or whatever her name was) was an exile from childhood made her feel a pang of sympathy, reminding her of all the torment and trials she and her brother had to endure through their childhoods after Kayarost's defeat and the revolutions and civil wars it set off in Hell. As the Wind and Fire Elementals started arguing the Daemonness felt the moment to interject had come.

"Sorry lassies, but I found him first, three years ago!" Lisoette declared, head held pompously high as she moved towards Eric. Her stern, regal expression broke into giggling after a few moments, and she held up her ring-clad left hand, "Imagine seeing you after all this time, Eric! It's us, Lisoette and Tristan! We got married! How have you been since that mess at the resort?"

"...YOU'RE NOT DEAD!"

Eric managed to wrap both of them up in a hug, lifting them off the ground in joy.

"I'VE BEEN HOPING TO SEE YOU GUYS FOR THREE YEARS! I ALMOST GAVE UP...hope...uh..."

He dropped them both, quickly applying a very forced bit of soldier composure.

"I mean, hey guys. Been a while. Totally didn't miss you or anything..."
Last edited by Ameriganastan on Sun Jan 13, 2019 6:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Incompetent Critic
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Hanafuridake
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Posts: 152
Founded: Sep 09, 2018
Authoritarian Democracy

Postby Hanafuridake » Sun Jan 13, 2019 7:06 pm

Lazarian wrote:"Отвали, сука!" she snapped, while drawing her rapier from her side in an instant. "I think you'll have to find another adventurer, because I was here first, you useless courtier!"


This was more that the courtier could bear. The swordsman and the spirit confused him with their words, but here was a woman who had clearly disrespected his liege and referred to her as no more than a mere attendant. “You shut your mouth,” he shouted, pointing a closed fan at her in a way that was intended to be threatening but would only seem comical. “Her Majesty the Shōgun is higher than you will ever be. Her ancestor Öpo-kuni-nö-para-hayashi-no-miköto came down from heaven on a rock and created the Empire of Tsubaki. Her great-great-grandmother was Ayame mikado. How dare you refer to her with such dismissive language! Why you're just a - ”

Fumiko simply gestured for the boy to stop shouting and glared at Katya with sparks flying from her pupils. “Hey bitch,” she hissed. “You don't want to know what happens to people who cross me. I spent much of my life on the run from trained assassins. If you want to try my patience again, I'll happily send you to your next life.” the courtier shuddered at his mistress' rage, she was usually so withdrawn and indifferent. To see her express sheer hatred was startling to say the least.
Ameriganastan wrote:He cleared his throat.

"Let's make a little deal. You both clearly want we to help you. So let's have us a little team up. One big, margianlly functional party. I help her, then I help you get your stupid kingdom back..."

He very overtly scoped Fumiko out.

"Maybe cash in on that fulfilled desire bit, everyone wins."


In an instance, Fumiko's attitude completely changed. “How wonderful!” she said with an overjoyed look on her face, revealing two pointy canine teeth that were the traditional fashion of her home court. “Of course, I understand you cannot set sail with me to reclaim my title immediately, I will certainly be prepared to wait for however long you need.” his last bit made her uncomfortable, but she tried her best to convince herself it was an entirely innocent reference to money.

Then someone else interrupted...
Constaniana wrote:"Sorry lassies, but I found him first, three years ago!" Lisoette declared, head held pompously high as she moved towards Eric. Her stern, regal expression broke into giggling after a few moments, and she held up her ring-clad left hand, "Imagine seeing you after all this time, Eric! It's us, Lisoette and Tristan! We got married! How have you been since that mess at the resort?"


The interruption from the disguised daemonette allowed Fumiko to return to the original serene way she presented herself, neither enraged nor overjoyed at the news. She could only listen to the outburst as the excited woman began to reminisce with the swordsman, who had excitedly embraced her and the new boy Tristan. Fumiko glanced at him, admiring his white hair for a moment, before quickly averting her eyes lest the woman or her husband mistake her glance for amorous intention.
Last edited by Hanafuridake on Sun Jan 13, 2019 7:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Time traveling Heian princess trapped in the 21st century.

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