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Fantasy Bravely Null

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The Dark Knight handled the last enemy, and he also ran stupidly into the next room without listening to any tact. Locke sat with his back to the wall, resting and recovering what energy he could on a slop-filled stomach. As disgusting as the insect-riddled gruel was, he was certain he had more energy than those who chose not to eat. Unfortunately, the porridge still lacked the nutrients his body needed for strength. This was the skinniest he had ever been. His scalp was itchy, and he could feel the layer of filth that covered his skin and gave him an unwashed musk. His hands and the soles of his feet were dried and calloused—their nails dirty. This was also the filthiest he would have ever let himself get. His blond hair obscured his eyes in blades that his blue eyes peered through. The next room was suicide. Only a dark knight would have been dumb enough to charge within.

Locke had a hand beneath the waistband of his pants and was scratching at his crotch, while the women and the weak male discussed a wasted strategy. He probably would have told them about the dark knight if he had given a damn, but they had noticed his absence before he needed to say anything. He brought his scratching hand to his nose to give his fingers an inspecting sniff when the blond dwarf said something that he suspected had been him.

…I believe that our best chance would be to have Sir Adelbrecht and the fool… ( King Crimson King Crimson )

Locke lowered his hand and looked up at the tiny woman with a condescending expression. She was calling him a fool when she just noticed her Sir Adelbrains ( Orikanyo Orikanyo ) had barged into the room on his lonesome. The tiny woman ran into the room next, firing her crossbow.

It was a disaster, especially when he heard the return clatter of bolts. Locke rocked forward onto his hands and the balls of his feet, crouching like a frog nearby the door. He reached a hand out to pick up a fistful of bolts that he piled between his feet. He then grasped the hem of his shirt, drawing the prison garb up and over his head. He tied the sleeves about his thin waist and tucked a few inches of excess shirt into his pants. It was an improvised pouch that he used to hold the bolts, and he slipped the hilt of the sword above the sleeve knot. Locke crept closer to the wall and peeked through the door, watching as a magic fireball slammed into the barricade the tan woman and the pathetic man had been hiding behind.

Her eyes met his as she ordered, You two, get ready to rush with Lan! ( Arcanist Arcanist )

Who did she think she was? His commander (he didn’t have one)? Locke’s eyelids lowered with irritation. He intended to charge any way. As soon as the woman threw her buckler, Locke charged. He sprinted down the walkway, dunking a hand into his improvised pouch to grasp a bolt. He whipped one left at a crossbowman who had been focused on reloading his weapon to see the pointy metal object flying toward him. The bolt glanced off the crossbowman’s helmet, causing him to jump in fright and drop to the ground. Locke saw Ayka’s buckler twirling on the floor and turned in its direction to quickly scoop it up. He then leapt onto the walkway’s railing, using the buckler to deflect a bolt from the other crossbowman before he lobbed a bolt back at him to make him flinch. Rather than try to force his way through the cluster in the middle as the dark knight had, he hopped over and passed a few swords that swung and thrust at his legs. He then dropped back onto the walkway and stood in the middle. With the buckler before him, he stared down the mages who were conjuring their spells. His eyes darted about at the crossbowmen who were aiming their bolts at him. All attention was on him, and he hoped the little girl with the crossbow was paying attention.

A crossbowman loosed a bolt at him and Locke dove into the railing as it pinged into the ground over his head. He used the buckler to block the bolt from the other crossbowman and quickly recovered to his feet, racing to the railing across from him as the mages loosed their fireballs.

The first fireball missed, and he could feel the heat flash at his back as the sphere of magic struck the cluster of guardsmen like a cannon ball. Locke didn’t stop in his dash. He instead rolled over the side of the rail, seemingly plunging to his doom, as the second fireball struck it. The knight was clutching a groove in the edge and hanging above a battle between prisoners and guards. The blond was baring his teeth as he held his weight, mentally cursing how he had gorged on all that gruel. He felt the strain on his arms, and he had to reach down and release the sword to free up some weight. He wasn’t as strong as he used to be. He clung to that ledge only on adrenaline and a strong desire to not die, and so he hoped the other nobles were smart enough to take advantage of his distraction.

I need to shit, Locke mused. It was a random thought, but he could feel the burning in his colon. The straining didn’t help. It wasn’t the time or place to drop a big deuce, and so he was forced to clench every muscle in his body to not just stay alive, but to not crap his pants.
 
Adalbrecht

With the folks behind him being dealt with, he could continue to push, the chaos surrounding them had to be utilized so the sacrifices are not made in vain. To stand still and plan is one thing, but when the world is threatening to crumble all around you.. there is little time for such things. You had to rush, hurry, and cut your way through. War was not simple, it was not clean, you could not predict anything and all Adal knew.. From the trickles of water coming from the walls...

That their time was even shorter than what one might have imagined.

To the present, the adrenaline pumping, Adalbrecht went low, losing a handle upon the blade holding the "shield" he had acquired but holding onto the blade in his right hand still. The crossbowmen had become shieldmen, He knew how to deal with them, his father had given him a lesson on dealing with them.

Those with shields tend to focus to much on them, putting to much weight and effort in holding it steady, they harden up, waiting for the blow hoping to strike afterwards. Do not strike as they expect, they expect you to attempt to strike them, strike the shield away, ruin their stance and footing with the weight of your strike like the force of a river bowling them over, turn them with the weight and momentum, strike where they have been opened up.

But two... that should be an issue.. he had to take one down as the other recoils. For that, he needed to be fast and brutal.

Rushing up he planted a foot down strongly, causing the walkway to creak in protest as he laid both hands upon the short hilted blade and swiping towards the left man's shield in a left to right swipe, forcing his balance off and pushing into the other. Adal struck downwards upon the base of the man's neck, the blade biting deep into the spine and sliding out, but damaged from the bone and the force. Adalbrecht followed with a kick fully on the second guard's shield, kcnocking him back before he thrust he blade into the man's chest.

He only however realized in his haste he did not realize the second guard hadn't been waiting, and had cut a slice into thigh, he was not bleeding badly, but it was a hampering wound.

Adalbrecht withdrew the sword and tossed it at one of the mages, while he did hamper the next round of spell casting.. Swords are not meant to be thrown and it caused no true damage beyond fright. He picked up the blade that cut into him and attempted to stride forward, the pain from his leg hampering his approach.

"Yield!"
 
Arriving at the boat Naoko was the first to get on with Hibiki and Seiichi following shortly after. Both men grabbed an oar each and waited for the other nobles to arrive. The wait was quiet, with each additional noble that got on the presence around the boat got more dour. When the Crane clan noble got on a heavy aura of bloodlust could be felt targeted towards the Tiger clan duo. The forceful demand for a talk did nothing to hide the man's distrust for the two and the Tiger clan man's reply was the same. Hibiki chose to say nothing as he and Seiichi rowed the boat heading towards the village of Miyaori.

Naoko was far from oblivious to mood of the group and felt hopeless as she watched the Temple grow further and further away with the break in the action all of what happened fully hit her. They were now going to be hunted as some of the last survivors of their clans all of the people she was acquainted with were more than likely dead. This boat was likely the sum of the last free nobles and survivors of both the Rat and Crane clan's with this realization Naoko felt her strength leave her and tears well in her eyes as faces of people she would likely never see again flashed through her mind. Unable to stop she wrapped her arms around Hibiki and sobbed.

Seiichi watched as Naoko cried the scene caused his anger to cool into sorrow, for some reason he recalled the oath he swore to both the Rat clan and to Hibiki 'I Seiichi swear on my honor that I shall follow Hibiki as his loyal retainer till my dying breath and through my actions honor both my charge and the Rat clan.' He and Naoko both made that oath surrounded by a field of grass two years ago and had kept it to this day. As long as they had Hibiki the blood of the Rat clan still lived on free from the claws of the Tiger clan. There was still a faint hope that they could avenge what happened this day. It was a hope seiichi clung onto.
 
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Lady Clarabella of Gavenia​

A second staccato of wayward bolts pinged fruitlessly upon the iron door, this time punctuated shortly after with the large, calamitous boom of a fireball colliding fiercely upon it's exterior.
Peering over the side, past the sweltering haze of acrid smoke left behind by the assault, Clara could plainly see that the situation was as she'd feared; Adelbrecht's charge, while effective in initially breaking their morale, was far too early, and now the more experienced of the guardsmen had gotten enough room to retreat and recover.
Looking over her shoulder revealed something even more pressing; the door she had taken cover behind was not long for this world; bent and warped by the wizards' assault, rivers of super-heated slag cascading down it's sides in glowering, orange trails, which cooled quickly into ugly black sludge as they dripped down by the noble's feet.
She would need a window of opportunity to move forward, and soon.

As if to inspire even further anxiety in the young noble, an all too familiar smell returned to plague the small, dark tunnel, and Clara turned her head only to find the oafish Lockeheed staring back stupidly at her, seemingly in the middle of yet another mental episode as he peeked his head lackadaisically through the door's opening, and collected a pile of loosed crossbow bolts strewn about the floor.
Well, at least he's at least capable of cleaning up something. Clara sarcastically thought to herself, curiously studying the man's movements
Strangely enough, Clara noted, as he formed a makeshift satchel out of his prisoner's garb, that there was a certain purpose to his machinations, as though he had some form of plan in store.
Briefly, she recalled the idle gossip she had heard amongst some of her more chatty kin; that the famed son of Zefron had suddenly chosen to abandon his duties as both a dragoon, and as a noble, shortly after his promotion to captain, that he instead chose a frivolous life as a mercenary, selfishly pursuing wanderlust and adventure, instead of serving his country.
As a born and raised Rivienne patriot, to Clara the notion was by far the most vile thing about the man, but at the same time, looking at him now, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had learned, living so far away from the familiar lap from luxury.

Such matters would have to be answered later, however, as noted by her other two companions who had joined her at the door.
Lanthane, at least, seemed to share in Clara's hesitance to brave the path forward, the glowering hand print still lingering on his face, and a far too close for comfort encounter with a second barrage of fiery magic probably doing little to help in such affairs.
His companion, on the other hand, was far more willing, either out of necessity, or because the earlier exchange between the two nobles had done well to lift her spirits.
Whoever she was, she did seem to have a good head on her shoulders, with a firm, steady grasp of the situation, even though for her, the consequences could be far more dire.
...A real shame then, that she let herself be wooed by that...beguiler.
Amongst themselves, the group quickly formed a plan to advance forward, Lanthane hesitantly giving Clara the suggestion of prioritizing the mages.
In response, Clara simply nodded her head, the string of her crossbow locking into place with a hard, satisfying click, a fierce determination in her eye.
She was ready.

Ayka and Lanthane charged first, swiftly taking down the two guardsmen that barred their way.
Locke followed soon after, and after taking a deep breath, Clara fell in behind them, rushing into the fray with crossbow raised and ready, her eyes swiftly calculating who among the guardsmen posed the greatest threat, who would be the most vital target.
She had suspected that he was far more than he appeared, but the feats Lockeheed displayed nearly held Clara in sheer awe, flinging crossbow bolts with naught but his bare hands with pinpoint accuracy, and nimbly using his surroundings to avoid enemy attack.
Still a dragoon, after all, Clara supposed.
...Until she saw that, in his haste, the man had gotten himself surrounded, and in desperation flung himself precariously over the railing to avoid being obliterated by the enemy mages.
...Still a fool as well...
With the Dragoon's charge seemingly quelled, the other guardsmen turned towards the other advancing nobles.
"Quickly!!" the older of the two mages barked, magic wand raised, and glowering with malevolent energy.
"Kill the oth--Hrk!!" A sharp whistling fluttered through the walkway, flying past the flowing curls of Lanthane's hair, and ending with a sickening crack as a bolt pierced through the unfortunate mage's collarbone, sending the man flying back in a pained, wailing fountain of crimson, his spell ebbing away, along with his consciousness.
Lowering her crossbow, Clara boldy states, for both her fallen target, and the men beside him, "You will not!" before hunkering down behind a nearby stack of crates for cover, and preparing her next shot.

Interacting:
Lanthane/Ayka, Arcanist Arcanist
Adelbrecht, Orikanyo Orikanyo
Vivian/Lyari, Takumi98 Takumi98
Lockeheed, The Black Knight The Black Knight
 
Chapter 2
Lurking Darkness

The Jungle of Embers

Pepsionne Pepsionne , Misuteeku Misuteeku , Shadow Dancer Shadow Dancer , RageFactorXIII RageFactorXIII

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Under vine swings and twisting branches, the nobles of Feurey willingly let themselves be borne along the murky river. Either side of the rushing waters, the land of the Jungle of Embers practically waited for the nobles as if on a sight-seeing tour. They could revel in the surrounding sights of green foliage stretching towards the midday sun, reds, yellows, and oranges of flowers, with petals sharp as a kunai peppering the jungle floor. The earthy scene of soil lined their nostrils, the dense air after a short period of rainfall coating their skin in a fine wet mist. Ever present in their ears was the buzz of pesky insects, determined to land on anything warm-blooded, shrill creaking birds, and the low groaning of nearby Floracus - four-legged creatures with tired eyes, moss and flora sprouting from the callouses of its thick skin, horns, and hooves. Placid, but dangerous if at all interfered with, for from the vent carved up and out from their backs released a toxic smoke at whatever they considered a threat. A few lazily lifted their heads, however, regarded the floating nobles, before resuming their feed on leaves with an audible crunch.

Their trip along the river would eventually meet its end when the boat came to a halt, its front hitting land with a sudden thump. From there, each would be forced to depart from it into brown waters climbing past their ankles - further, in Sheridan’s case - and onto land. They would have to travel through the Jungle and onto the village of Miyaori on foot. Inevitable, but at least they could get closer to the sight-seeing portion of their trip.

As they journeyed through the Jungle, the Nobles had a range of options whilst on their path. They could push on through, sight-see and inspect the local fauna, discuss some...rather pressing issues amongst themselves and reflect on the previous battle. No doubt all would have been exhausted - physically and mentally.

A terrible combination with that of the Jungle, where who knew what lurked in the waters or above the trees...
 
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Yui Akai | Ryuichi Kubo​

Yui was unusually silent as the boat churned steadily through the murky waters of the river. Vines and various other flora stretched their long foliage down towards the boat, some of them reaching far enough so as to barely caress the tops of their persons. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the climate of the jungle. After all, she and Ryuichi had grown up traversing through the thick, untamed mess. She had even died in it.

Her eyes followed the slow moving figures of several Floracus as they grazed placidly alongside the riverbank, undisturbed. The other nobles had been just as silent as she had been for the most part. Each person gazed off into the distance with little notice to the presence of the others on the boat. She didn’t mind that, though. Better to not catch the stewing hate that bubbled underneath the one male who approached them earlier. She grit her teeth together. He may be a problem they’d have to solve in the very near future.

Ryuichi was stoic as he sat beside her, moving only occasionally to swat away some of the more intrusive bugs daring to zip a little too close for comfort. She could tell that he was mulling things over, calculating the demeanors of the others and the multitude of bad situations itching to pop up at any second. After everything that happened, maybe it would be best for her to focus on the path before them, not behind. Her brow furrowed at the intrusive thoughts taking their chance to flood into her mind at the slightest sign of weakness. Yui closed her eyes and leaned forward, putting her head into her hands. Ryuichi’s hand startled her as he reached out to block her body from flying forward down into the bottom of the boat as it stopped suddenly, having been lodged in the now too shallow water to keep it from moving forward. She looked up from her hands, heart beating in her throat, and took in the sight of the hungry jungle around them.

“I guess this is our stop?” The sound of her voice was like brittle glass in the air, threatening to break at even the slightest breath laid upon it.

Ryuichi’s expression was hardened into a skeptical expression. He looked around at the river behind them, the jungle to their left and the path on their right. Well, if he could even call it a path at all. The foliage just barely exposed a space that seemed to have seen many feet passing through. He hoisted himself out of the boat, his boots hitting the murky water with a splash. The water barely reached up to his ankles, but he already felt the water finding creases and openings to seep into and dampen the inside fabric and his feet. Ryuichi held out a hand to Yui to help her out of the unstable boat.

“We should hurry,” He said to her, his attention sticking on one spot for less than a second before moving on. "I'm unfamiliar with this area of the jungle, we don't know what could be calling this water its home."

Yui grasped Ryuichi’s hand and splashed down into the water herself, the level rising up slightly past her ankles. She struggled to pull the heels of her boots through the muck and sand at the bottom of the river, relying mostly on Ryuichi to drag them both quickly to the stable compact ground further into the bank.

She looked back at the others briefly. Yui had to tug on Ryuichi’s hand to keep him from barreling them both deep into the jungle without the others. He looked back at her, his eyes lit with an intense fire of impatience. She furrowed her brow at him, the two seemingly communicating just by looks alone.

Yui turned back to the group who were still wading their way through the water behind them. She dabbed at her sweat beaded forehead, the hair of her fringe dampened and stuck messily to her skin. “Ryuichi and I would like to push forward through to the village. We have experience navigating the jungle and I can tell you we don’t want to be in the thick of it once it hits night.”

Her eyes unwillingly bounced between each of their faces, hoping to find similar thinking at the best and begrudging compliance at the worst.


(mentions: RageFactorXIII RageFactorXIII Interacts: all Feurey nobles)
 
Sheridan Sasaki
​
The journey down the river was a tense one, one might say. It was clear that at most of the nobles didn't hold a sense of comradery for each other and only trusted their close companions. The tiger kid and her vassal, The ninja man with his cohort of friends, and the samurai who was practically oozing with revenge. It was quite sad that out of all the things that were to be held in common was that she and the samurai were both alone. That and they both held the interest in solitude, more so with the obsessed samurai. Until then, the tense silence would be put into use. Taking out her bird puppet she began to work on it again. She had nothing to do and her dog puppet was going to be a liability from hereon. Having a puppet that was actually useful was going to be a necessity. Closing her eyes once more she bestowed the memories of the bird she had observed many times in the past.

The boat came to a sudden. Looking out from the boat made Sheridan remember that she had one particular thing. Swamps. Icky and wet places where no man would dare build a home, and if they did they were most likely crazed hermits. Her master took her out one time for her studies in the dark artes. Those were the worst days of her life. Water constantly swam up past her knees and made her extremely uncomfortable. It was so bad to the point that her master had to carry her for the rest of the lesson which lasted to three days. Now she was faced with her sworn enemy once again. Taking a glance of surroundings she considered her options.

Ask the nobles to carry her: Hardly. There was no bond of trust or companionship that would allow her to ask for such an audacious thing. Especially from the samurai. He would bisect her given the chance.

Call for her puppets: She looked at the dog puppet, that didn't even reach to her knees, that was now on her shoulder. It make wood like creaking sounds as if it was whining about going into water. The bird puppet wasn't even considered an option.

Go into the swamp-

She jumped down from the boat and into the swamp and was seized with an extreme feeling of uncomfortableness. The water traveled up past her knees and up to her waist. The helm of her skirt was awkwardly floating onto the surface of the water but she didn't pay mind to that. A sigh was let out for her situation before slapping a soggy dark talisman onto the shoulder of her shirt. A dark presence slowly enveloped Sheridan before fading away. The last thing she needed in her life was to deal with mosquitos and leeches. Never again will she have to deal with them ever again. Following the tiger girl's lead, Sheridan would attempt to walk up but with a little difficulty. The soilish water was a like a force that held resistance against her movements. In other words it was a pain to move in.
 
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The remaining guards on the walkway glanced at one another. Their hands trembled like cornered mice as the focused gazes of the imprisoned nobles tore holes into their hearts. One dropped their weapons, and turned, fleeing the other way. After this first man ran, the others followed behind him. "This isn't worth it! We're all going to die down here anyway!" One cried as they fled along the walkway, and eventually through another metal door at the end on the wall. Now, the nobles were left alone on the high metal path with a moment to catch their breathes before continuing on. Below them, the wave of prisoners had overrun the guards and had begun moving into the next area of the prison. The amount of bodies lying motionless on the ground signaled that the victory hadn't come without incredible loss. One with a keen eye might notice water starting to pool around the bodies, a foreboding sign for anyone in an underwater prison.

When the nobles did continue forth, they'd find that the door led to a steep flight of stairs leading downwards. After hustling down the stone steps, they'd hear the sounds of yelling and combat grow louder and louder, until they emerged from another door way below in a flash of swinging blades and splatters of blood as prisoners continued fight the guards tooth and nail for their freedom. However this time, the nobles were right down there in the carnage with them. An orange wave of hair flashed in their peripherals just before a voice called out to them.

"There's the royal bloods! Took y'all long enough!" It was Morgan, fit with a brand new wound across her torso. It didn't seem to be too deep, but it bled steadily. Her clothes were wet, and she held a broadsword in her left hand. Although her face still possessed that confident attitude from before, it was plagued by a tinge of worry by the way her eyes were tensed. "We're pushing through a crossroads! To the right is the armory. We've already busted it wide open, so go grab your weapons before some other prisoners snatch them. There's also a surprise in there for y'all too!" Morgan turned back towards the battle line, which in the time of this conversation had been pushed farther towards the second checkpoint. "Hurry up and get back here to help us fight! We don't have too much longer!"

Once the nobles made it to the armory, they'd find a set of big wooden doors busted wide open. One of the pair being knocked all the way to the ground somehow. Inside was all the weapon collected by the prison over the years. Many were already gone, and wielded by prisoners in the fight. Some prisoners were still emerging with more weapons, carrying extra for their comrades as well. Inside, there were torches illuminating the corpses of several guards. But what no one expecting to find, was the group of familiar individuals sitting in the armory waiting.

There sat Gerran, Hiro, Ashe, and Shaia. All there ready to help. They would no doubt tell their noble friends that they had joined a force breaking in from above. It was relatively easy since most of the guards were below trying to contain the prisoners. However, the Warden had initiated the failsafe in the case a prisoner riot could not be contained. The warden was going to flood the prison, and everyone in it. Now they had less time than ever to escape.

The Black Knight The Black Knight King Crimson King Crimson Orikanyo Orikanyo Arcanist Arcanist Takumi98 Takumi98
 
Adalbrecht

The people were of no consequence to Adalbrecht, he hardly looked at them, he had to collect his luggage. In the back was a chest, a faint feeling of familiarity drew him to it, not for the chest but the thing inside seemed to call for him. he pushed on the chest's lid, awaiting to hear the click of it being locked... Seems not. How foolish to leave it unlocked. But so was the same foolishness to leave IT in the prison that he was locked in aswell. With a lift with both hands the lid popped open, to reveal cloth wrapped around his old gear. Plate and mail, blade in sheath and the prize he longed for...

His eyes glanced behind him to the others, before taking off his shirt to return to his old, more familiar, and comfortable, clothes. Off came the drab clothing he wore in this prison, he ripped off a sleeve of the sack cloth clothing and wrapped it around his leg wound, sealing the flow of blood. Tight, but not constricting, his father taught him that much about dressing his own wounds. He learned alot about them in practical swordplay practice. The many cuts to his arms were important lessons, but he was never left to fend for himself if he did it wrong.

It was a tough lesson with care, one you cried and laughed from.

He missed that old man... Wherever he may be..

With silken hosen upon his body, finally covering his undergarments, he began to dress himself in steel. First the mail, then the clasps, the breastplate was last as it had to be strapped in, the boots were tricky but had to be so to allow good range of movement. He wish he had gloves to help when the plates pinch, but without an aide he had to do his own by hand and he needed that extra bit of dexterity in his fingers.

His upper body was still uncovered, allowing the room to see the dark marker upon his back, the mark was an angry thing, a swirling sigil of dark wispy smoke that clung to the skin like a fresh smouldering brand. It was circular in nature, almost like an archery target with smaller rings procedeing inwards to a central point that had a skull in it's midst. To those who know of magic, this hex had been there for a long time, and was near expiration. For those who know further, it is a hex that holds back terror, holds back is the key word... As that seal is about to blow under pressure.

Unfortunately, it was soon covered by a silken shirt and vest, then mail, then plate.

Oncde finished with his armor, Adalbretch would pick up the blade... It was... Not quite the blade of legend one might imagine.. It was little better than a standard fare bastard sword. A steel crossguard and a sturdy blade that needed a good oiling and care.

The final prize... Was the one he was most thankful to have back. Unwrapped from the bundle it was stored in, marked with a note for disposal that none seemed to get around to, was the focus... A beating red sigil. The last boon from his mother. It was cast in metal, a stylized eye shaped talisman attached to a chain that one could wrap around your arm for ease of access. He would be able to utilize the magic again, but he had no time to fix the hex upon him... he just hoped it would last until he was out and safe.
 
Vivian Grivois | Lyari Morcant | Ashe Starvos​

When Lanthane asked how she was holding up, she gave her brother a small smile that didn't quite reach her tired eyes.

"As well as one can be while stuck here. What about you? I saw that guard picking on you earlier..." She replied, a frown forming a moment. She didn't like the guards bullying her brother, but there wasn't much she could of done. Prisoners or not, they were still humans after all.

Once they made it to what appeared to be the first checkpoint of sorts, she frowned as the woman close to her brother mentioned there being at least a dozen or so guards. When she brought up Vivian being a healer, the Princess drummed her fingers of her free hand along her thigh a moment.

"I'm still in training, still using what I know in practice, so if you have a wound that's life threatening I will only be able to do so much for you. I can stitch the skin back together if you're cut and stabbed no doubt." She replied.

While the two bickered, Vivian glanced to Lyari and Clara a moment. They could, at least, have a moment of surprise and take out the mages like Ayka suggested. Yet, Lanthane's concerns about the retaliation against them couldn't be ignored, especially when it came to the crossbowmen.

Lanthane being slapped, caused Vivian's blue-green eyes to widen as she glanced between both Clara and her brother. Lanthane's following comment about the noble's parents asking for him shook her out of her silent surprise causing her to suddenly snort in amusement before covering her mouth as her shoulders shook in quiet laughter. Lyari had sucked in her lips as if she had eaten a lemon in an attempt to keep her own quiet snickers from spilling out from where she stood.

Once she regained her composure and there was talk of their next course of action against she almost suggested that they go with Ayka's plan and once some of the mages were out of the way, use them as human shields and let her try her hand at using one of their tomes, even if it likely wouldn't work she could still use it as a blunt force weapon of some sort then follow up with her blade. She hesitated on that suggestion, it was a bit distasteful to even think of using someone who could likely be dead or dying or injured in the next few minutes as a shield of all things.

She startled from her thoughts when she saw Adal practically kick the door ajar and charge into the enemy line, making a meat shield out of one of the mages before targeting one of the crossbowmen. Her mouth had been opened slightly in her surprise, but snapped shut when Clara took position and fired from her own crossbow before retreating for cover. Immediately her eyes scanned the other noble for any injuries, but sighed heavily through her nose when the other wasn't injured. While glad, she was starting to have an anxious knot begin to form in her stomach.

It all went to hell quickly. Vivian sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as Adal was quickly under fire, but luckily the others came up with some semblance of a plan.

Lyari nodded when Ayka suggested she charge in with Lanthane and Locke, and as the group advanced on the remains of the guards along the walkway she stuck as close as possible to provide support for Lanthane's safety in the least.

Once the rest of the guards had fled, Vivian had returned to her brother's side to make sure he and Lyari were alright, and once the group as a whole moved on-once they got Locke back onto the walkway-she perked up the moment she saw that familiar head of red curls.

Nearly bouncing in place in her excitement, she glanced briefly to the bodies on the floor and faltered for just a second. Her smile grew slightly strained, but her gaze went back to the redheaded archer in the room as she made her way to him.

"Ashe! We knew you'd come." She spoke up, before noticing the man was holding something, instantly brightening as he held out the hardcovered object. Her tome, undamaged and intact, light blue in cover and pages still in good condition all things considered. He even had a much smaller book in hand, leather bound and on first glance could be mistaken for a diary or journal of some sort. Lyari took it from his hands with a smile.

"Sir Gerran, hello to you too." The princess spoke up as she noticed the Knight as well. She couldn't remember if the two ever spoke for more than a few moments when she found the time to steal a few minutes of her brother's time before.

And then she notice Adal dressing from the corner of her eye, and quickly averted her gaze to instead bury her face into Ashe's chest. The redhead blinked down at her in slight confusion for a moment, but a quick glance at Adal and he put two and two together with a shake of his head.

"My Lady, best make sure you and Lyari have everything you need, we need to leave soon." He huffed softly, earning a nod from the blonde. Meanwhile, Lyari had gathered her staff and their clothes, simply throwing her's on over her prison garments for the time being and slipping on her boots without much fanfare.

Ashe gently pried the Princess from his chest, while Lyari handed her her dress. From there, the man unbuckled the belt where a sword rested in it's sheath, handing the object to his charge the sheath itself wasn't anything too fancy, a dark blue in color with silver along its end, the blade itself had the royal crest near the base, yet it needed to be drawn to be seen. She didn't want an overly fancy sword on her person and as such this was the sword she had kept and owned ever since she was considered skilled enough to even own or carry one.

"Call me Vivian." Vivian pouted and simply slipped her dress over her head and buckled the belt securely to her waist then turned on her heel to leave the room, stopped, turned and grabbed her shoes and slid them on before heading to the door. Tome tucked under her arm, she drew her blade and took a moment to inspect it before glancing briefly to her brother and her companions. She never wanted to turn her blade on her people, but at this point and in this situation it seemed inevitable. That was a saddening thought.

InsaneAsylum InsaneAsylum Arcanist Arcanist Orikanyo Orikanyo The Black Knight The Black Knight King Crimson King Crimson
 
Gerran Perall | Lanthane Grivois | Ayka Galani
Gerran-Lan-Ayka.jpg

Tags: (Locke) The Black Knight The Black Knight (Vivian) Takumi98 Takumi98 (Adal) Orikanyo Orikanyo (Clara) King Crimson King Crimson ​
Lanthane was not made for the frontlines. Everyone knew this, Ayka knew this. He was waiting to land in front of the Crystal at any given moment. From the moment he charged with Ayka, him knocking into the injured man, and her into the other, he expected a sword to come from behind and skewer him like the human kebab he was. It never came, thankfully, but he kept expecting it.

Everything seemed to go by in a whirlwind. Fireballs shooting past, Locke - or was it Lockheed? He seemed to bear some significance to the missing Highwind noble - showing off his prowess for fighting, Adal taking the brunt and attention off the ones in the back.

Surprisingly, the bolt that whisked past, catching a brown lock of his on the way, brought him back to the reality. It was enough to make him remember that Vivian followed close behind him, both eager to do her bit, and yet, just as hesitant. He reached for her arm, squeezing it, whether for his own comfort or hers, he wasn’t quite sure.

The fighting didn’t last long at all. The remainder of the guards seemed to flee, terror seizing their hearts, and a substantial number of prisoners had burst into the next area of the prison. Lanthane made the wrong decision of glancing over the railing, and grimaced at the pile-up of bodies, soon to be wet, no doubt, with the water surrounding them.

“Hey...a little...help here…?!”

Lanthane glanced to the sound of a straining Ayka, attempting to help a hanging Locke back onto the walkway. With the aid of Vivian, they just about managed to get Locke back up, and soon, they left the walkway, and descended into the chaos once again, before meeting the General.

-

Gerran leaned against the wall, tapping his finger on his arm, biding his time. He glanced to the entrance, thrown off its hinges, with an expectant look. Had he the choice, he would have made his way through the prison to collect Lanthane and Ayka himself. It had been his fault for landing the prince in prison, and though Ayka had took Nanoo’s place for her, it had been him that brought Lanthane to their home as a lodger in the first instance. But he wasn’t a man who would rush blindly in without a plan, and not when he was told to stay put on the General’s orders.

It was only in the two weeks he had been trying to think of how to get them both out that he came across those mobilising to bust out General Morgan. They were lucky it hadn’t been any other soldier who found them, and he was lucky to have found them first. Since then, he acted as a double agent. His stoicness, as per, gave little away.

Gerran glanced up at at the ceiling, water seeping steadily into the armoury. Back to the entrance. And returning to the ceiling. Though his visage didn’t give much away, it was clear he was beginning to unease. Time was slipping away. Each second counted.

His hand moved to his sword hilt when a group emerged through the entrance. One man, with a particularly dark expression, had moved forward into the armoury, presumably to grab what little remained. The knight’s eyes counted the heads, inspected faces, a few of whom he recognised, until his eyes locked upon a head of brown curls.

“Oh, Gerran!”

Ayka had almost appeared from nowhere. She grabbed onto the man’s arm, enough to drag him down slightly, and hoisted herself onto her toes, planting a large kiss on the man’s cheek. Though he groaned at the gesture, she continued with thankful fervour, “How we’ve both missed you! Come on now, at least show some relief on that face of yours. You’ve had two weeks worth of worrying!”

Gerran absentmindedly reached a hand to his cheek, rubbing at it as he replied, “Good to see this hellhole hasn’t broken your spirit.”

“Mine? Oh, please. Not even the battlefield could do such a thing,” Ayka grinned.

Lanthane was next, walking forward with the brightest grin of all and an arm out to him. “Gerran.”

Even Gerran could not keep up his stoic expression. He broke it with a small smile, reaching his hand out to grab Lanthane’s arm in familiarity. “Milord. I’m glad to see you’re safe.”

“And you,” Lanthane squeezed his arm, his words carrying genuity. “I feared the worst happened to you.”

“The worst that happened was Father Barthlowmew making me put on a few pounds.”

“For once, I’d be eager to dine with that man…” Lanthane mumbled, his mouth watering at the thought of the spread of food Bartholomew often laid out for himself. He wished he had never taken such delicacies for granted after his time here.

“First, I want to get out of this prison alive, before I dream of eating,” Ayka butted in, looking between the two. “Gerran, you haven’t seen our stuff, have you?”

“Ah, yes,” Gerran, a seriousness overtaking his expression having been alerted to the current situation, nodded to two different sets of clothes. “I don’t think anyone went through your things.” At the sound of a familiar voice, he turned his head to find Vivian had also arrived, and he nodded in response. “Lady Vivian. It’s a relief to see you safe. I’m sorry you wound up in here in the first place…” He had spied Vivian a few times, even stood across from her when Lanthane had graced her with conversation. In a sense, she reminded him of Sela back home. He had pushed down the thoughts of whether he’d see his sister again. He had to remind himself he made his decision, when he decided to come and save Lanthane and Ayka.

Atop each one was a bag with several compartments. In each were a range of herbs or other strange ingredients, and some with small vials peering out of them. The other held a red leather tome, its cover worn, its spine peeling off, and the corners of its pages ripped off as if chewed upon by tiny moths. Both owners of said items were over to them in an instant.

“Thank the Goddess…” Ayka sighed, running her hand over the familiar feel of toughened leather, before she set it aside for her clothing. She lifted them and turned, taking herself off to a corner to get undressed.

Lanthane lifted his own clothing. He caught a glance of Adal’s backside before he looked away and groaned to himself. Most definitely not as satisfying. To relieve some tension in the air - or at least in his twisted mind - he began as he undressed, “Now, ladies, no peeking. I know some of you must be sorely tempted, but I’ll have to ask you to control yourselves.” The woman, who had been with that strange hooded man with fluffy ears - perhaps the lack of slop was sending him into mad delusions - was most certainly a looker. He hoped she heard him loud and clear, or maybe even disregarded such a warning from him.

“I’d rather shove daggers into both my eyes,” Ayka muttered under her breath, shimmying her top over her head.

Eventually, the two had gotten undressed and back into their normal attire, both feeling much more comfortable. Ayka leafed through the pages of her book, finally ready to put herself to good use, and Lanthane’s hand had been running over the potions that were stowed away inside the bag hanging from his shoulder. Leave the frontline fighting to the people who actually had experience on the frontline.
 
Locke had been convinced that he had been forgotten—taken one for the team and now hung by the threads of his muscle fibers and the mental torture of giving up and needing to shit. He imagined his plummet, falling upon hard, armored bodies, or even hitting the stone floor while crossbowmen riddled his body with bolts. If he fell hard enough, he would be lucky to die instantly. Before that could happen, he wanted to take care of business first. He was alone. His team had abandoned him. Whatever. Locke released the buckler, allowing the disc to go plummeting to the bustling ground below (maybe some warrior would put it to good use). It took some weight off his body as he reached down with his free hand to loosen the strings on his trousers. Once his pants fell passed his pale, sun-deprived ass, he raised his legs so his pants didn’t fall passed his ankles and returned his hand to the ledge. It all came rushing out of him at once. Gushing, bubbling, and sputtering at times on burps of flatulence. A shameless and content smile stretched across the warrior’s face as he felt himself become lighter. Beneath him, a chorus of screams and roars in horror rose.

Fuck… he thought in elation. If he was going to let go due to the bout of euphoria and relief he felt, then he wouldn’t have minded, but instantly, his thoughts ceased when the dark-skinned face of a woman appeared over the rail. The muscles in Locke’s face immediately constricted with shock. What was she doing? As soon as Ayka snagged his arm to try and help him up, Locke internally screamed, YOU’RE HELPING ME ALL OF A SUDDEN!? WHAT THE FUCK!? Now he was wishing to die. He didn’t make any effort to help her as the horror of her figuring out what he had been doing emotionally threatened him.

“Uh, run! Save yourself! It’s too much effort. You’re wasting time!” Locke told her, attempting to sound heroic. But then a blonde girl appeared over the rail, taking his other arm. Locke’s face instantly paled. Now she was pulling him up and against his lack of effort to help them, he felt them succeeding.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!!!! Kill me! KILL ME NOW!

Locke was pulled over the rail to flop facedown and bare ass up. His hips were still on the rail, legs hanging over the side. His pants were at his thighs. Locke didn’t move or even lift his face from the stone floor. He kept it down as he felt the overwhelming humiliation, the cold air against his bottom, and he only imagined what those poor girls were thinking. My pants fell down when they pulled me up, Locke thought as he planned his lie. He reached back to grasp the back of his pants, yanking them up before he kicked and pulled his legs over to the floor.

The knight rose onto his knees. His cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment as he thought how evil fate was. Death would have been kinder. He would have been revived at the crystal and could have escaped the dreadful moment. Locke eventually followed the rest of the nobles, staying at the rear as he tried to recover from his trauma. Internally, he was crying like a child who had been laughed at by the entire class. Damn them.

Locke wasn’t as excited to see General Morgan as the others might have been. He just wanted to escape and reunite with his old party. She instructed them to retrieve their things from the armory. Locke didn’t own anything special. He didn’t have any named weapons or special gear so he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was all taken. As he neared the armory with the others, lagging behind. He heard a voice so familiar that he felt a jolt in his heart:

Locke!

The warrior stopped and saw the silver-haired archer, Shaia, standing in the doorway with a smile beaming on her face. Hiro stood behind her, looking as indifferent as ever to one who didn’t know the demi-human, but Locke knew Hiro was happy to see him. Locke felt the sting of tears at his eyes and the warmth of love and camaraderie filling his chest. They had come to save him!

“Guys!” Locke cried as he happily ran toward them. The heart-touching moment was abruptly brought to conclusion when Hiro rushed forth and whirled in the air. For a second, Locke gawked in surprise at the heel that swung around until it connected with the side of his head and sent him staggering and tumbling over onto his side. Shaia had swiftly drawn an arrow and knocked it against her bow as she aimed it at him. A grimace of disgust marred her face, while Hiro had a hand clapped over his nose.

“You smell terrible,” Hiro told him. Locke’s odor made his nose burn.

“You smell like shit, Locke! Don’t come near me!” Shaia exclaimed.

Locke, rubbing soothingly at the bruise to his cheek, glared at his friends. “Wow! What the hell kind of a ‘I miss you’ is that? You think they have baths down here? They didn’t even have decent food!”

Shaia did note how skinny Locke had become. She was certain she could wrap her arms about him twice and she could almost see his hip bones protruding through his skin. She still wrinkled her nose at him. “We’ll be taking a bath soon enough if we don’t hurry and escape this place.”

Now, ladies, no peeking. I know some of you must be sorely tempted, but I’ll have to ask you to control yourselves.

Shaia narrowed her eyes and peered over her shoulder to not look at Lanthane’s skinny-ass, but Ayka. A perverse curl came to her pink lips as she thought about how easy it would be to help her change. Girls did it all the time. She was wondering if she was going to struggle with her bodice with that sizable rack she had, did she even wear a bodice? Shaia blushed at the thought. She then smelled something foul and turned her head to see Locke standing right in front of her. She gasped and brought her hand against his cheek, only for her wrist to be caught by the warrior. Locke wore an impish smirk as he glanced between Ayka dressing and Shaia who had been peeping at her.

“Nothing has changed it seems. You’re still the perv-mmf!”

Shaia clapped her other hand against his mouth and started forcing his head back. “Shut up! You shit-smelling stray!”

Locke started pushing back against her hand, scowling at her. Hiro sighed. He had a nice two weeks respite from all the bickering and feeling like a dad taking care of children. It hadn’t even taken five minutes for him to resume his role. “Can we not do this right now when our lives are on the line? We found Locke, so now we should focus on escaping.”

InsaneAsylum InsaneAsylum Orikanyo Orikanyo Takumi98 Takumi98 Arcanist Arcanist King Crimson King Crimson
 
Hibiki watched the swamp with weary eyes, he remembered the last time he was traveling through a swamp it was less than pleasant. Evading creatures that were masters of stealth, flora that took to visitors with open hostility and many other dangers ensured his numerous and painful deaths during that training all those years ago. Now that he thought about it those times were so much better then now. Now death meant capture and an unknown fate at the mercy of the Tiger clan, now he had two companions that would stay dead if something happened. The thoughts made the swamp all the more oppressive as the new burden on his shoulders started to set in.

The jolt of the boat shook Hibiki away from his thoughts, this was as far as the boat will go. Hibiki looked around the swamp was deceptively peaceful, on wrong move would mean the end. So when the Tiger duo volunteered to act as guides he had no objections. Looking at Naoko who was shook awake and Seiichi who was as alert as he was. Hibiki silently prayed to whatever gods that would listen for the safety of his companions. "Sounds good, my group will follow your lead." Hibiki climbed out of the boat and into the stew of sand dirt and water. With a mischievous smile he reached over and picked up Naoko in a princess carry "eep!" her face lit up bright red. Seiichi only rolled his eyes as he followed the pair out of the boat onto solid land.

Back on mostly solid ground Hibiki put Naoko down and worked on getting rid of any leeches that decided to make his legs home, most did not find skin but his armor with a few biting through the thinner parts of his clothes and happily feasting. Seiichi did not have to worry about the leeches his thick armor gave no place for the pests to take hold. Naoko handed Hibiki a small packet of the salve she was carrying "Here use this, don't need you dying from an infection or disease from a simple leech bite" Hibiki wordlessly took the small packet and applied it.
 
Lady Clarabella of Gavenia ​
~~~
In a hot midsummer's day, a group of affable noblemen and women gather together.
There to drink and gossip and laugh and be overly merry, although, if asked any one of them would declare proudly that their official reasoning was to hunt in preparation for the upcoming festivities, as was the tradition of the mighty Gavenia house.
However, amongst them, there was one peculiar noble, well-dressed the part, her fair skin protected from the harsh summer rays by only the richest of fine silks, and exquisite, navy-blue leathers, an elegant crossbow of priceless, light, yew wood ingrained with a dazzling silver inlay at her side, a majestic hornicorn of only the finest breed beneath her and her blonde hair having grown back to shoulder-length after a certain "incident" required it to be cut.
Unlike her cousins, she had little love for these gatherings, politely feigning interest in the frivolous stories they told her of goings-on in the kingdom, and when far enough away from their prying eyes and ears, letting her dissatisfaction be known to the wind with a rolling of eyes, and heavy-hearted sighs of dissatisfaction.
And yet, part of her still looked forward to it, if only for one reason; the man riding at her side, his pale blue eyes thoughtful and reticent, looking far off into horizons unbeknownst to her.

She rarely, if ever, had the chance to be alone with her father like this, so consumed by their own, noble responsibilities.
Even rarer, was for him to personally request such a rendezvous, as he had today.
And yet, despite his insistence, he spoke nothing, hardly even giving a glance towards her as he lead her deeper into the woods.
And Clara, despite her desire to hear his voice, knew well that proper etiquette demanded she not speak unless spoken too, and obediently, she followed behind him, her longing eyes quietly boring holes into his back.
"Hold," the lord suddenly commanded, signaling to his daughter with his arm as his mare came to an abrupt stop.
As demanded, Clara reigned in her steed, her heart and mind racing in anticipation.
What in the world would her father have to show her, to bring her so far out into seclusion?
The man then simply pointed outward, as if answering her thoughts, and following his line of sight awarded Clara with a spectacular view, the likes of which she had never seen before; perched atop the hill they stood on, she could see through the thin thicket of trees, and see the great, sprawling plains of her homeland spread before her, and beyond that, far in the distance, the fiefdom of the Gavenia family, and the chateau she called home overlooking it.
It was breathtaking, and Clara couldn't help but gasp softly at the wondrous sight.
"Clara..." her father's stern, gravel-like voice reached her ears, tearing her away from the scene.
He still had that distant look on his face, looking at horizons greater still than the one she had just been awakened to.
"Tell me, do you love our fiefdom, the land that we have here?"
A rather strange question, not what she had been expecting, nevertheless, she answered, dutifully and earnestly,
"Yes, sire...I believe it one of the most beautiful in all of Rivienne."
"...And of Rivienne? Do you love it as well?" he replied, without missing a single beat.
An even stranger question, one which raised several within her mind.
Still, she answered,
"I am forever loyal to the crown, to the kingdom, and to it's people, as my forefathers were before me."
Her father hummed thoughtfully at that, a sound which made young Clara's heart drop to her feet.
Was he testing her? Had she failed? Was he disappointed in her answer?
After an agonizing moment, the man turned his eyes on the young girl.
They were focused now, looking away from those horizons, and directly at her, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
"Tell me, young daughter..." he spoke, his voice carrying an even greater seriousness than before.
"Do you love Lunacresta?"
This time, she was completely unprepared, indecision and confoundment robbing her of her voice.
With the barest hint of a smile hidden behind the dark curtain of facial hair upon his lip, he answered for her,
"...Because I do not. At least, not in the poor state that I find it in."
"F-Father?" Clara fearfully murmured. His words bewildered her beyond all sense of reason. What on earth brought all of this about?
"It is a beautiful land to be sure..." he continued on, "But it is...broken. Mired by so many dark, little cracks."
Once more, he extended his hand, directing Clara to look once more, this time into the thicket of trees.
"There, you may see one such scar upon our realm."
Hesitantly, she peered down from the cliffside, becoming acutely aware of a peculiar commotion somewhere within the woods; sounds of some strange beast grunting and growling, the likes of which she couldn't recognize.
That was when she saw it; it's sickly, green, gnarled skin, it's beady, animalistic eyes, red like burning hot coals, feeding upon a raptor chicken with a filthy, red maw filled with dagger-like teeth.
She had only seen them in her studies, but there was no mistaking what it was.
Gruesome. Horrible. Darkborn. Only an hour's trip from the place she called home.
A fearful gasp tore, unabashededly from her throat, and her trembling hand flew quickly towards her crossbow, but suddenly, the weight of her fathers arm upon her own stopped her in her tracks.
"Hold, child," he commanded, his voice calm, reassuring.
After reaching into his saddle bag, he draws out a peculiar item, it's long shape and form shrouded beneath the dark blue of the Gavenian standard it was wrapped in.
"I wish to show you, how we shall fix those cracks."
~~~
Once more, she clutched it in her hands, it's familiar weight, and the velveteen feel of her family banner wrapped carefully around it whisking her away from the suffocating walls of her prison, and deep into memories of yesteryear.
Her reverie was cut short, however, by Lanthane's ever provocative chattering amongst his fellow peers, and the horrid stench still emanating from Lockeheed replaced those happier, innocent moments of her past with the multitude of traumas he had inflicted upon her in the previous room.
...A shame she was now an enemy of the church, otherwise she would see a preacher to wash away the curse that now plagued her whenever she closed her eyes.
...And a small, bittersweet sorrow that none of her kin had come to find her.
She could only hope that they had had a better success at escaping than she did.
Shaking off such thoughts, Clara stepped forth from the small space she had claimed for herself for the sake of privacy, exchanging her tattered prisoner's robes for an elegant, embroidered gown, covered with a thick coat of supple leather, designed to protect her from the elements, or anything worse that may come her way.
In her hands, she clutched tightly to the prize she had fought so hard to reach, to some, it's alien appearance might make one mistake it for a stave, to others, perhaps some bizarre manner of club.
It wasn't until her hand swiped across a small, hidden switch atop it's handle, causing the instrument to fold neatly in half, revealing a complex structure of crystals within, did it become clear that the thing in her hands was something altogether unique.
After a moment of inspection, she flicks the weapon upwards, and with a small click, it snaps shut, returning to it's original position.
"While it is certainly cause for celebration to be amongst friends and allies..." Clara begins, her voice grave and serious, the ever-present, and foreboding sound of dripping water getting more urgent by the second.
"We must save time for happy reunions for a later hour, at the moment we are all still in great peril."

Interacting:
Lanthane/Ayka, Arcanist Arcanist
Adelbrecht, Orikanyo Orikanyo
Vivian/Lyari, Takumi98 Takumi98
Lockeheed, The Black Knight The Black Knight
 

Vivian Grivois | Lyari Morcant | Ashe Starvos​

As reunions were had, Vivian stayed near the door to keep watch as the rest gathered their things and changed, back to the group and eyes trained for anyone else that may try and come towards the armory with sword in hand. As. Locke was kept at a distance by his friends, Vivian's head bowed slightly, tears slowly running down her cheeks as she recalled the scene from before with blank eyes.

She deeply wished what she saw would stay in the darkest parts of her mind and stay there, and not be prompted to return to the forefront with Shaia's angered exclamations.

Sniffling wetly, she blinked when Ashe was at her side with a clothe for her nose, bow in his other hand and ready for use. His green eyes flicked to her briefly in question, but she shook her head as she took the handkerchief and blew her nose. With that their silent conversation came to a close.

"I agree with Lady Clara and the tall man in the hood." Lyari spoke up, rocking slightly on the heels of her fee as she held her staff in one hand and tome in the other. She was anxious to leave, both for a change of scenery but also because she couldn't swim.

InsaneAsylum InsaneAsylum Arcanist Arcanist King Crimson King Crimson Orikanyo Orikanyo The Black Knight The Black Knight
 
Adalbrecht

​
The man stretched and cracked his neck, it is as they said, it was time to leave. The dam was breaking and they couldn't stay here any longest lest they be sleeping with the fishes. he was pretty certain that was a pirate saying, not fully certain where he heard it though. Suffice to say, having others breaking their way in certainly helped them breaking out. "Let us all go if we have grabbed our things. We have time to lick our wounds later..." Marking his words true he set foot outside the armory and set towards their next objective.

"If they have fought their way in we should meet little resistance.. unless they have rallied." he regarded the folks who recently joined this group.. A good few of them at that... "The warden, have you seen them?"
 
Yui Akai | Ryuichi Kubo​

Yui’s eyes were filled with an unknown look mixed with frustration, pain and worry as she watched the other nobles struggle through the thick mud of the river behind them. Their attitudes were as blank and unreadable as they had been on the boat. Inner tension had built up so tightly in her chest that it felt like one wrong breath and she would crack in half.

To her relief, the Rat Clan noble spoke favorably of their decision to plunge into the jungle, his companions following behind him silently. The mage with them seemed shy, her face bright red at being carried through the water. Yui eyed her curiously. Maybe she could start to learn healing magic from her. She had focused so intensely on her combat skills for so long that her magic fell far behind.

Ryuichi began pushing his way through the thick brush of the jungle, using a fixed knife that had been holstered against his hip to chop away at some of the more stubborn vegetation. Yui followed close behind, throwing back a concerned glance behind her to ensure that the other nobles were following suit. The white noise of the jungle, filled with wildlife calling out high above in the trees filled the silence of the group members. Left alone with this empty cacophony and a head full of thoughts she didn’t want to hear, Yui’s chest burned with the need for conversation.

She turned behind, taking in the small frame of Sheridan walking along with them. The woman seemed the least bothered by the events that had transpired back at the temple, making her the most ideal conversationalist and least likely to hate her for what her clan did.

“Your puppets,” Yui began, “What type of magic do you use to animate them? I’ve never seen something quite like it.”

From first guess at the monstrosity that the woman had summoned during the battle, Yui had a pretty good suspicion that it was nothing short of a nefarious type of dark magic, yet she still pretended none the wiser.


(mentions: Naoko, Hibiki Shadow Dancer Shadow Dancer Interacts: Sheridan Misuteeku Misuteeku )
 
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Itsuo Murato

Screams echoed in the back of Itsuo's head long after the vessel he sat upon led him and the group he currently travelled with far away from the blood soaked ground of his home and into a new area teeming with vibrant green plants and active wildlife. The black haired young man was exceptionally quiet throughout the entire boat ride, even as the local insects of the new area began to nip at his flesh and buzz about his face. Rather than brush these pesky flying nuisances aside, Itsuo allowed the insects to indulge themselves as he kept his gaze focused upon the same two individuals he had all but demanded to speak to later. His blue eyes continued to remain glued to the Tiger Clan traitors even when the group's boat came to a halt, forcing everyone to pile out. Fury burned deep inside of the young samurai as he uncharacteristically remained seated within the vessel, more than content to allow the other nobles to step out into the foreign water. It was the only way Itsuo could ensure he kept his desire to fight, to kill, in check.

Itsuo finally removed himself from the boat once all of the others had stepped out and made a few paces progress away from him. The young samurai's intention was to remain at the group's rear so that he could watch the Tiger Clan traitors and the child who had desecrated his family's corpses. This intention did not hold for longer than a single moment, shattering after the female Tiger Clan traitor began speaking casually to the puppetmaster. It did not matter that Itsuo was unable to actually hear what the two females were discussing, for the mere act of the two conversing was what rekindled the black haired young man's desire to act. My clan perished this morning, yet those two wish to speak as though nothing has transpired!? Itsuo's left hand reached for his lower left hip as he quickened his pace to catch up with the two leading the group.

The young samurai's hand was clenched tightly around the scabbard of his Wakizashi as he brushed past the Rat Clan survivors, offering the three a curt apology as he did so, his eyes focused solely upon the backs of the three other nobles ahead of him. Itsuo did not plan to kill any of the three individuals ahead of him, even if he wanted nothing more than to lash out and initiate a fight. That is why the young samurai reached down with his right hand to pull his Masakari from his sheath to carve through the limbs of the plants obstructing the group's path, instead of putting the weapon through the Tiger Clan archer. "We are in a safer area." Itsuo began speaking, his voice's tone hardened from the rage swirling inside of him. "I would speak with you now." Itsuo allowed his hand holding the Masakari to rest at his thigh as he turned his blue eyes to glance at the other dark haired male beside him.

Tags: Pepsionne Pepsionne (Ryuchi), Every other Feurey person was mentioned.

Location: Within the Jungle of Embers
 
Sheridan Sasaki
​
Blasted swamp it should go rot in the deepest level of whatever hell is out there for being the sheer fact that it exists. This was the most uncomfortable Sheridan had been in a long time as she pushed her legs through the deep waters of the swamp. The amount of detest she had for the swamp was immeasurable as she stumbled into another rock hidden within the swampy floor. Not to mention the pesky weight of a certain puppet dog on her shoulders. Why did dogs hate to be in water? A sigh was about to let out as she stumbled into another damned when the tiger girl spoke to her. A faint, uncharacteristically glimmer of hope glittered in her eyes. Was she going to save her from this-

“Your puppets, what type of magic do you use to animate them? I’ve never seen something quite like it.”

Immediate disappointment and a frown surfaced within Sheridan. The sigh she had withheld from releasing was let out as she began to address the girl's question. "It's dark magic, but I suspect you know as well considering what I did," Sheridan said with her same monotone voice. "Dark magic puppetry is a practice used by a few people within Fuerey. It only involves bestowing memories upon a vessel for it to mimic whatever said memories were placed in there." A type of sentience was displayed among all puppets, however, it wasn't the type of sentience that Sheridan was looking for. She had a long way to go before reaching her goal.

However her attention was stolen away by a certain bloodthirsty samurai. Her eyes narrowed at Itsuo when he came up and began to talk to the tiger boy. Whatever they wanted to talk about, she did not know, however she knew from the bloodthirst that it was something not good. She could somewhat understand now why the girl wanted to talk to her considering their background. "Though you should be more careful, puppets are nothing in comparison to those chained by their beliefs," She said in a quiet voice, so that the samurai couldn't hear them
. Whatever the case she would have to do something in order to deal with that bloodthirsty samurai.

Pepsionne Pepsionne (talk) RageFactorXIII RageFactorXIII (mention)
 
Yui | Ryuichi​
At the sound of the Crane samurai’s voice, Ryuichi’s gaze bounced to three places in quick succession. First, to the weapons held with a tight grip in the samurai’s hands, both the sheathed and currently wielded. Next, his gaze slid over to Yui, whose expression paused mid speech. Finally, his gaze found its final destination in the young samurai’s face. At this point, he had already calculated what to do in case the man’s fragile hold on his temper managed to finally shatter. Ryuichi lowered his knife from the vegetation he had been in the process of cutting through. He turned the blade in the direction of the samurai, putting little to no care or effort in remaining subtle or peaceful. His expression was less than excited.

“Clearly you’ve never explored the Feurey jungles,” Ryuichi stated emptily. “There is no such thing as a safer place. Not until you’re out of it.”

Sensing the hostility practically dripping off of Ryuichi’s tone, Yui stepped in quickly. As much as she loved a good fight, doing it in the middle of the jungle while daylight rapidly disappeared before them wasn’t wise. Even she had to admit that.

Her eyes flicked quickly over to the woman she had been talking to, huffing in amusement at the sly comment. The woman's tone was low enough that she was sure it was deaf noise to the samurai. Yui swallowed down her own agitation before she turned to the Crane noble. “We can speak here, whatever you have to say to us can be heard by everyone. Everyone here already knows what it must be about anyways.”

Ryuichi’s brow furrowed as he listened to her speak. The usual fire was back in her eyes, dissipating the empty pool that had been there for so long. As happy as that sight made him, there were other worries that he now had to calculate. When there was that fiery gaze, there was usually a fight soon after.


Yui sighed. “Ryuichi’s right, anyways. We don’t have time for this. So let me summarize everything quickly for you. Yes, we’re Tiger clan, yes I saw what that means to you now. It might mean massacre, and bloodshed, and evil to you. But not--not to me.” Yui’s voice wavered slightly before she cleared her throat, her nerve seeming to steady out. “Whatever that was back there, that wasn’t Tiger Clan. Not the one I knew.” She shook her head. “You're not the only one who watched your clan die before your eyes. I watched everyone I love become monsters. The people I grew up with kill mercilessly and with greed. But I’m telling you all now that I, Yui Akai, will restore the Tiger Clan’s name. That’s a promise. So we can either argue about it further and all get hunted in the jungle, or we can continue on our way, yeah?” She raised an eyebrow questioningly at the crane noble, the look on her face expectant for a favorable response.


(mentions: Misuteeku Misuteeku Sheridan, Interacts RageFactorXIII RageFactorXIII Itsuo)
 
976995e20a92a70af91a660bb1f05405.jpg

Itsuo Murato

Itsuo was not surprised to find that he did not care for the Archer's tone, or the knife being pointed his way. In fact, the black haired male already had half a mind to simply lash out at the Tiger Clan member, yet he did not due to the interference from the Tiger Clan female. The young samurai gave a small nod in acknowledgement to the woman's words as he removed his baleful glare from her clanmate and instead focused his sharp gaze upon the Tiger Clan female. Still, Itsuo did not sheathe his Masakiri as he allowed the Tiger Clan Traitor to speak her piece. It was a well spoken speech too, one that had made Itsuo feel sympathy for someone he was nearly convinced was his enemy. However, just as the black haired young man was about to stow his weapon and agree to set aside his vendetta for the time being, he remembered the name the young woman had uttered. Akai.

Blood began to pump furiously throughout the young samurai's body. Itsuo's eyes changed from their hardened blue to a more stormy hue as he looked upon the Tiger Clan Traitor before him with sheer hatred. Akai. The name of the Demon who slaughtered my Uncle. The Leader of that Clan of Traitors! Idly, in the back of Itsuo's mind, a small voice was urging the young man to remain calm and rational. Itsuo killed that voice as he drew his Wakizashi, pulling the blade free from its scabbard with a fury filled roar. Then, the black haired male swung the newly freed weapon at Yui. Unfortunately, the young woman's reflexes were exceptional and the Tiger Clan Traitor was able to avoid his attack. "Draw your blade, Akai!" Itsuo spoke with pure venom in his words as he readied himself into a combat stance. "I shall send you back to the rest of your monstrous family."

Tags: Pepsionne Pepsionne

Location: Within the Jungle of Embers
 
The Warden​

Eventually, as the nobles made their back to the field of battle, they would find the prison guards in a retreat. They scrambled over the bodies of prisoners and guards alike as they made their way to the second and final checkpoint. After the second checkpoint was a route towards the surface, and the only way to escape this hellhole. Now, there was only one last obstacle in their way. The orange haired riot leader Morgan knew this, and she had a plan. She brought the prisoners to a halt, as she waited for the nobles. "This is the lasts strech of the journey. Give it your all. The future of Rivienne is counting on your sacrifice." Morgan said this to no one in particular, but it seemed she was preparing for the worst by the lack of her confident smile. With a nod to the nobles, Morgan led the charge into the second checkpoint.

Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a small group of the remaining guards was the largest man anyone had ever seen. At the very least, the man stood over seven feet tall. Not only that, he wore incredibly heavy armor. It was primarily metal, with several deep gashes and scrapes all over it. In his right hand he held a large halberd type weapon, one he wielded single handedly with ease. This was the Warden. A man who had seen so many battles that even in retirement he was one of the most feared warriors of Lunacresta. Now it was this legend that stood in the way of the great escape.

With every step the nobles took, they would no doubt feel the water rise higher. If they looked up at the ceiling high above, they would literally see spouts of water bursting from cracks above them. They had little time to waste unless they wanted to swim their way out of the prison.
 
Yui | Ryuichi​
The fire in Yui’s eyes had remained a dull flicker for the majority of her lengthened speech to the crane noble before her. As the look in his eyes began to sink and dim into a darkened hatred, it only strengthened the fire within her own.

His injury made his movements slow and predictable, giving more than enough indication that he was gearing for a swipe at her. Yui stepped to the side to avoid the sharp gleam of his sword. By now, Ryuichi’s brow had furrowed into the deepest form of scorn towards the clearly unstable noble. Judging by his injured and outnumbered state, Ryuichi wasn’t concerned for the threat the man posed as he yelled out, "Draw your blade, Akai! I shall send you back to the rest of your monstrous family."

Ryuichi slipped silently through the copious amounts of foliage, putting a decent amount of distance between him and the rest of the party. He drew his bow, notching an arrow aimed directly for a weak point at the crane noble. The man’s own tunnel vision and hatred allowed for Ryuichi to set up his ideal situation in combat to assist Yui most fully. He could only scoff to himself in disbelief.

“Let this be a learning lesson for you,” Ryuichi thought to himself.

Yui smirked at the crane noble’s bold remarks. “My my, that bears an awful similarity to Mimi’s battle cry to Hideki now wouldn’t you say?” She knew that his wounds were still raw, both physical and emotional. Out of reach of his physical wound, she decided to begin pressing her thumb into the emotional one. The less he was thinking clearly, the better for them. She had already noticed Ryuichi’s absence from their small group, no doubt having positioned himself optimally to assist her in battle.

“I may share her blood but you, my dear friend, are most closely resembling the monster.” Yui pushed the hilt of her katana with her thumb, unsheathing it slightly. “If it is a battle you want, I will give it to you. Judging by the look of that wound on your shoulder though, I don’t suggest it.”


(Interacts: RageFactorXIII RageFactorXIII Itsuo)
 
Locke followed the rest of the group back to the fight. As he walked, stepping over strewn bodies and weaponry, he reached down to scoop up a spear. He inspected it just beneath his sapphire orbs, holding it with appreciation and familiarity.

“Hey Shit Stain, do you even know how to use that thing?” Shaia asked with an arched argent brow.

A vein of irritation pulsed above Locke’s right brow. How long was she going to keep calling him names? She acted like he wanted this smell. He wanted desperately to bathe, eat, and drink a large tankard of cold beer. His grip tightened on the spear as he turned a narrowed eye over his shoulder. “Make a poop reference at me again, and I’ll fart on your pillow tonight,” he threatened.

Shaia’s face paled and a chill of disgust raced up her spine. “Bastard! I’ll kill you in your sleep!”

Hiro’s ears folded flat to his left and right as he uttered a muffled growl from behind his down-turned lips. “Can we focus on escaping with our lives please?” he begged.

This is the last stretch of the journey. Give it your all. The future of Rivienne is counting on your sacrifice.

I’m not sacrificing shit, Locke thought, his bottom lip turning upward in annoyance. He followed the fiery-headed general into the next chamber, and instantly stopped upon noticing the armored titan standing in the center of the room. A hand rose to his face as he grasped it in frustration and moaned, “Are you serious? Why the hell would there be a giant at the last level?”

Locke dropped his hand from his face and with a raised fist, shouted at the goliath, “Hey dumbass! Do you want to die down here? Why couldn’t you have been at the top? You know, give us some glimmer of hope that we actually made it out?”

Shaia gave Locke a wide berth as she slipped passed him. The sight of The Warden made her tense as she nocked an arrow against her bow and aimed it at him. “Will you stop giving him ideas? He’s obviously willing to die making sure we don’t escape, idiot.”

She then lowered her voice as she muttered her strategy to herself, “I can’t see any openings on this guy…I may have to aim for the joints. I just might be able to slow him down.”

Hiro, on the other hand, didn’t know what his punches would do against all of that armor. “I do not know how much help I will be against a foe so large. I will seek an opening and take advantage of it when opportune.”

Locke looked down once more at his simple spear, and then glanced across the way at the halberd the elite guard was holding. Two thoughts ran through his mind: how much would a prize like that sell for; and who was the better spearmen? A determined grin parted his lips as he started leisurely walking toward the enemy. He twirled the spear in his left hand, passing the whirling weapon behind his back, and into his right hand.

Both Shaia and Hiro watched Locke’s spear play in disbelief. Wasn’t he the shitty swordsman in their party? How did he wield a spear so well? After tonight, they realized that there were several things they didn’t know about him. They didn’t know why he was captured among a group of nobles.

“Shaia; I want you to shoot this guy only at the moment he tries to attack me,” Locke instructed.

Shaia nodded. For once the two weren’t arguing. When it came to battle, they had each other’s backs like siblings would if they had been kin.
InsaneAsylum InsaneAsylum Orikanyo Orikanyo Takumi98 Takumi98 Arcanist Arcanist King Crimson King Crimson
 
Lady Clarabella of Gavenia ​
Imagine the aether of the world, surging and swirling around you.
Wild, free, untamed. The ebb and flow of all mana dancing in an endless waltz.
Capture it then. hold it in your heart, in your mind, in your soul.
Focus it there, into a singular point, a distant star far upon the horizon.
And when the time comes, let it fly free once more, and rend new paths to distant shores.
---
The often vague and whimsical instructions of her former magic teacher echoed incessantly within Clara's head, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she waded through the ankle-deep waters and piles of bodies left behind from the previous battle.
It was a daunting task, focusing on that single point, when there were so many distractions about; the smell of wet, fresh corpses mingling with the lingering scent of that foolish dragoon, t constant chattering amongst him and his comrades, and of course, the treacherous, unsteady ground, masked beneath ever-rising water, a reminder of their impending doom.
And yet, her eyes still remained determinedly focused ahead of her, the prospect of freedom so close at hand serving as her star.

Eventually, the company of nobles and escaping prisoners stopped short, their path blocked by a mountain, clad head to toe in hardened steel, and surrounded by a garrison of equally armored troops.
It was the last hurdle standing between them and freedom; the infamous Warden.
With spear in hand, and a stylish flourish in his step, Lockeheed was unexpectedly the first to step forward to challenge the mighty foe, seemingly unfazed by the overwhelming odds he faced against.
A part of her was anxious to see what more that fool had lurking beneath his grimy exterior, what else besides madness fueled such confidence, but of greater interest to her was the plan he put forth.
"Grant me but a moment of opportunity," she interjected, her eyes baleful and strained as she focused that point once more, directly in the center of that mountainous man's ironclad head. Her rifle was drawn and at the ready, a threatening glower lurking deep within the weapons barrels.
"...And I shall lay him low with a singular strike!"

Interacting:
Lanthane/Ayka, Arcanist Arcanist
Adelbrecht, Orikanyo Orikanyo
Vivian/Lyari, Takumi98 Takumi98
Lockeheed, The Black Knight The Black Knight
 
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