Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
Interaction: Jet Lost Echo ZackStop​

ava listened to what Anya said with a hum before realising something.. yeah she was right tho the answer as to why seemed simple enough. "maybe they can't travel THAT far back in time? probably not got enough power I mean control time sounds already super taxing imagine going months back in time... you'd probably break the universe.. or some shit you know? its like deciding that this hammer you've had for 20 years should have been a sword and then going and reheating it to smash it into one, your gonna come out with a mangled mess and not a sword" she'd explain in a really clunky allegory that made sense to her but, probably went over everyone else heads, and if anything didn't exactly apply well considering you can melt the hammer down.

it was only once she finished speaking her mind on the topic that she started eating.. despite her bulk and demeanour the girl didn't shovel food into her mouth like an outright savage she just happily munched away at the various foods in a matter befitting the spread giving a thumbs up of approval. "hmm thanks this is pretty good, don't mind losing an arm for this if that does happen" she'd say with a chuckle.

 

[Jet]

​

"Why should Yua worry? I only have a couple years before my brain turns to mush, might as well help while I can!" He leaned on his cane and smiled as snakes swarmed the warband. The men danced like fools spinning and leaping from the biting mirages, spears twirling and slashing through thin air. Isaac was quite amused despite his discomfort when the man was bitten, though his smile vanished when he spotted the corpse.

Isaac had seen enough death for ten lifetimes. He knew it was necessary when all reason failed, but dealing in death meant killing yourself too — a cancerous suicide of the soul. He understood why Felix resorted to killing these men, there was no argument it was undeserved, but he mourned the dead nonetheless. "Keep them alive if you can," he said to them both. "We can question them, and maybe even convince them of the truth!"

He approached them as another group came from the sides, four men with the same vicious determination as the others. Their mouths were twisted snarls and screams erupted from their lips, blinded by rage with eyes wild like fires. Isaac knew they were killers — warriors born and raised by wasteland laws. They knew about peace like fish knew about the mountains, a concept more distant than stars. He didn't want them dead but death was all that they knew, and was the only way to stop some of them.

"Come now," he pleaded with the warband. "Look at what has befallen your brothers! Leave before meeting the same fate! There is no need for—

He was interrupted by a spear whooshing past his face, a blast of water followed and slammed into his chest, sending him across the street into a wagon. He crumpled on the side as water dripped down his face, following paths well traveled by tears. He groaned and patted his chest as a cough escaped his lungs, gasping for breath as the warrior ran towards him.

"Wait," Isaac said. "This is pointless!"

"You've already lost!" He desperately screamed at the man — though man was a generous word. He was young and there was no place for him on the battlefield, yet like a wandering child he was there.

"Come to your senses!" He said before the man shot water from his hands, a pressure wave smashing the wagon to pieces. Isaac reached in his pockets and found a badge with a kraken in the center, and a shield sprung from the sides as he pressed it down. He raised it up as the man rushed forwards with reckless abandon, swinging his sword in a wide sweeping arc, driving it down like a blacksmith's hammer. The shield hummed with energy and as the sword clanged from its surface, the impact rebounded with a shockwave. The warrior stumbled back holding his arm and staring at his bent blade, unable to understand what happened.

Isaac pushed himself up and shook his sore arm. "It takes strength to challenge your ideas speaking with your enemies, weakness to silence them with steel. We can fix what has happened no matter how regrettable, but we can never restore the ones we lose."

The man stopped his advance and looked at his dueling comrades. His face was solemn as he spoke. "My comrades would fight and die without me by their sides, and you ask me to abandon them?"

"Then help me convince them."

"That would only bring me shame."

"Fool of a boy," Isaac snapped in anger. "What matters shame to dead men?"

The man ignored him and swung his sword with both hands, a low sweeping strike from his feet and hips. Isaac reflecting the attack with another shockwave from his shield, sending the sword clattering to the ground. The man stumbled back clutching his arm as Isaac lowered his stance, throwing the shield at him like a discus. It bounced from his skull with a low metallic ring, and with a thump he collapsed to the ground.

"There is no honor here," Isaac muttered to himself, content to watch the others fight among themselves. His help was unneeded and the taste of violence was bitter on his tongue, even if the warriors deserved it. He found himself leaning against a building counting the seconds until this was over, and crossing his fingers that no more would die.

ManofManyRoles ZackStop

 

[Jet]

"Yeah well," the man mumbled in response. "I wasn't born yesterday, you'll wear him down until he tells you the name."

He smiled imagining them around Kwame like buzzing flies. "Give us the name Kwame! The name! Give us the name Kwame!"

Despite her taunts he would avoid that mistake. "While you chase down leads we'll be holding this corner because of its—

"Strategic importance," he said with a sharply humorless laugh. "We're at a high traffic crossroads between hab sectors and industrials, so me and this lot are meant to hold the line. There's not a chance in hell we'll succeed, but I suspect that's the point — someone wants me dead because of my investigation."

"That might be the most important clue of all, but my words only travel so far... clearly."

He returned her terse smile. "Come to your own conclusions after looking into Irina, that's all I can ask of you."

Kwame nodded in agreement. "That is precisely what we will do. You strike me as honest but a mind reader I am not. Kilderkin could be right about your motivations."

"Aye," the man said. "I hope you come around to my way of thinking, but you have my thanks for looking into it. I'll die happy knowing there's a chance she sees justice."

"Tis the least we can do," Kwame said with a small bow. "I wish you luck in the wars to come, but I believe it's time we speak amongst ourselves."

"Of course," the man said. "I have my duties as well, and take whatever you need from the evidence I compiled, better in your hands then burning with the building."

With that he turned and walked deeper into the building, planning and encouraging his men for the coming battle. The three were left alone with the many files and pictures about Irina and her operation, along with a detailed map of the island.

"I would argue the merits of this lead," Kwame said to Kilderkin. "But what alternatives do we have? It's better to have a direction even if it's the wrong one, and maybe this Irina character has the answers we seek?"

"Though I have one more topic to broach," he said to them both. "My voice is one of three with the same importance as yours, so my final command is we vote from now on."

Emphoa Fred Colon

 

[Fred Colon]

Kilderkin rolled her eyes at the Knights statement. As if they were children and Kwame their father. But Kilderkin held her tongue. It was time to wrap up. The fool wanted to keep his secrets? Fine. They would manage without. It didn't sound like he expected to last long anyways.

Kilderkin kept her mouth shut until the knight left, and then turned to the others, speaking in a low voice.

"Oh, no. I agree, Kwame. I think this lead is quite interesting, actually. But I was hoping to get the name of his informant out of him. The fool, wanting to keep it secret from the people he's asking to investigate this very thing. It's as if he doesn't trust you Kwame, or at least thinks you so weak-willed that you would cave to someone asking you the same question over and over again. It makes me a little suspicious, though personally I think he's just stupid." She shook her head, but without malice. People were stupid sometimes. That was just the way of the world. "This Irina could very well be involved in the death, and it would at least allow us to cross her off the list if she wasn't. And at least he promised to tell the informant about us, though I wouldn't rely on that much."

At Kwame's suggestion they vote, Kilderkin nodded. "I appreciate the trust you're placing in us. It shall be so, then. I vote to pursue this lead. The question is, how? Do we continue to the site of the killing with this knowledge in our minds? Or do we pursue this Irina more directly. Or, perhaps, if this document holds this information, corner one of her associates."

While she waited for the other two to respond, Kilderkin glanced around the room, and just to be sure, extended her senses out, looking for trickles of free flowing blood that might indicate someone lurking nearby, or a knight listening in on them.

Jet Emphoa

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas, as predicted, shuffled away from the table full of food and moved to stand near a wall rather than allow herself to be tempted by it. Let the others eat if they wanted... they were mostly barely more than children. They had yet to learn the harsh lessons of not allowing potential enemies to feed you. You never could be sure they wouldn't poison such offerings or else expect grandiose payment at a later time for its generous existence. Narzas had meant what she had said about not giving this bastard anything if it wasn't deemed in their best interest, and she wasn't going to allow some morsel of food or kindness given to be used as a chink in emotional armor later to try and gaslight them into working against their own ends.

She had her travel-capable rations and she could always pick up more of those the next time they were in a town if necessary. She didn't eat that much anyway. A proper assassin kept their figure sharp and their wits sharper.

For now, she merely watched and allowed her attention to be somewhat tugged away by the procession of time outside of the windows that seemed both ages-old, and yet current. How was it possible? Was it a trick? She didn't and couldn't know, but if nothing else... it was curious.

Jet ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3 Lost Echo

 

[ZackStop]

​

Spivey had calmed down at last, nearly at the drop of the hat simply by giving them a potential punching bag, and a wonderful punching bag that was. Huracan, despite being a native with a relative understanding of English and one providing them with shelter, couldn't seem to get on their good side. Something about the man rubbed them the wrong way. It wasn't as obvious to the others what he was doing. Clearly he thought himself as silver tongued, some ladies man trying to cozy up to every hot blonde within a mile radius, which just so happened to be 50% of the party before this cowardice mud man arrived. Spivey was the womanizer here, not this guy!

That's at least what Spivey was picking up on his scent, figuratively speaking. That man literally smelled like the native soil. Truly the audience is anticipating when he will clean that off. Perhaps the Merc was just paranoid, or maybe Huracan truly was trying to win over some sort of affection from a pretty face.

Despite the mild irritation he was causing, the group was ready to saddle up and take on the trek through an unpredictable wilderness of predators and prey. Spivey ended their merge with their shelled fellow and reached out a hand towards it.

"I am a merc of my word." Turning to Esther. "I will carry you through the jungle... on the back of this wonderful creature." On cue, the air underneath the turtle began to lift him off the ground and hovered just a couple of feet, awaiting their passenger. "Welcome aboard, hot stuff. Watch your step."

---

Finally, through noon until sundown, and after many encounters with the jungle's less than welcoming wildlife, Huracan had successfully lead them to his home. Looked straight out of fantasy, an entire community living above ground in the tall jungle trees. Above all the creatures who want to eat them alive. No doubt this was how they have survived.

By this point, Spivey had been letting out raspy breaths, far too layered up for this climate, but with great use of their magic was able to cool off. Their coat flowed as air passed underneath it, giving the appearance that a hard breeze was blowing through them before the fabric settled once more. A big sigh left their lips before warriors began to drop from above, and in response they reached down instinctively. Fortunately nothing came of it, but it had been a long walk and they were all about as irritable as the sobered up drunk was.

Huracan had his uses after all, and soon they were hoisted up into the network of huts and ropes that made up this village in the branches. They were to see 'her' whoever it was he was referring to. Spivey hoped they would at least be hot but as expected, they were not. Just old and hag-like, and seemed to enjoy giving the mud man a hard time. That alone made up for the Merc's wishes to meet fine women. She spoke English, so they could clearly communicate with this one which certainly would put pep in the scientist's step.

They waited until the woman was finished speaking, listening to what she had to say first, the irony of returning Huracan unharmed even nearly got a laugh, but as soon as she stopped, all Spivey had to say to her was more or less a line of nihilism.

"Alright lady, you had a dream about is getting out of this hell hole? We're not here on vacation we're here on business." There was absolutely no plan to stick around for a mercenary. It was get in, do the job and get out, and this detour was not in the contract. "I'm sure you can understand, with whatever insight you have and all." They said waving their hand a bit.

Jet Lost Echo Arcanist

 

[Jet]

Damian was surprised when Ava approached the truth of his time travel, perhaps her muscles didn't use all the energy meant for her mind. He nodded at her with a raised brow and a lipless smile at her simple explanation, for even in its rudimentary fashion, she was closer than most would ever come.

"It seems there is wisdom in lifting heavy things and putting them down again. If only I could sustain this on a wider scale—" His dreamy statement trailed into a breath. "It would be much simpler to bounce you through time arranging pieces how I please, but alas, my realm is like the submarine you'll inhabit. The past squeezes against it like the deepest parts of the ocean, and it took much to achieve even this."

He snapped and the scenery changed outside the building, a time lapse of changing fashions and techs and different races of men, flashes of orange when battles ravaged the land, armies filled the streets and vanished a second later. The lapse finally stopped when Nye was first created, revealing grassy planes with tall spires in the distance, airships with no engines or wings or balloons to keep them afloat, but nevertheless they did. The horizon was dominated by a ship even more monstrous than the rest, a mile long made of steel and shaped like a cylinder. Her warhorns were audible from miles and miles away, shaking the very ground beneath them.

"Fascinating isn't it," Damian said. "You live in a world without a memory of itself."

"But alas you cannot explore it. Have you ever heard the expression that nothing can be destroyed, only remade?" His gaze moved over to Anya. "It's a literal statement of fact. The matter within you is out there right now, from the water in your blood to the calcium in your bones—

He gestured out the window. "Your molecules would super-impose on themselves and you would disintegrate. So you can only exist within the bubble I've made."

"But now that you've had the grand tour, don't you think it's time for you to settle your payment?" Damian winked and he vanished along with his shop, leaving them in the ruins where they began. Far away a man approached wearing overalls and obnoxious yellow boots, and he walked with a pronounced limp.

Johan slowly looked around to check that everyone was present, releasing a breath when he saw everyone there. "That's a lot to unpack," he forced himself to sound chipper. "And does anyone have a headache or is that just me?"

He smiled despite the throbbing pain carving into his head, like he was diving deep underwater. It was almost a good thing though. He could focus on the pain instead of his existential crisis. There was history and civilizations forgotten or hidden away, and they traveled through time... through time... through time!

That was science fiction bullshit for penny books from a corner store, but Damian acted like it was a morning stroll. It was offensive how powerful he was. Johan was almost bitter at how much weaker his powers were in comparison, but then again, there was always a bigger fish in the sea, and it maybe Damian was the biggest.

Lost Echo rozukitsune ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[EldridSmith]

Ivan didn't hear what Mavior or Zak were saying through the sound of wind causing the sails to crack like whips in the sky above as thunder and lightning raced across the sky as they toiled on deck. Were it not for Asja the piercing cold drops of water and ice would have inflicted his large frame with a severe case of frostbite, but the layers of insulating fat and fur kept him working in top condition. He hardly noticed Mavior hammering away at the mast behind him.

Ivan hadn't the time to acknowledge Adamaris's thanks, but the relief was noticed as he looked into the man's eyes for a fraction of a second. He was grateful for their attempt to help pull in the rope but it wasn't helping much, he was more grateful when they listened to him and started working on getting the supplies and Elriel. He wasn't able to pay much attention to what they were doing on the ice berg as he needed to pull the iceberg closer, but he was able to tell by what little he could hear that they were gathering supplies. By the time he turned back he realized the iceberg was as close as he could get it without risking damage to the ship by collision. He frowned and tied off the rope he used to secure the iceberg before grabbing the copper lump and used it to plate the iron so that it wouldn't corrode, effectively securing that mast in place until clearer weather arrived.

Thankfully Zak and Mavior had already dealt with a majority of the icebergs, but something made his skin crawl, something wasn't right, and it was beyond just the weather. Still he didn't have the time to deal with it now as he now had a Elriel on deck in critical condition and supplies that could be lost. He pulled out his side sword, tied a line to it that was attached to the mast, and threw it into the iceberg before turning the blade into a hook. "Adamaris, the ice is secured, get the supplies, I'm taking him down below!" Ivan bellowed as he easily picked up the man and barreled below deck heading straight for the piles of furs they had bought where he set down Elriel and threw the pile over him. "If you're conscious, get out of those wet clothes and warm up, we need you back on deck if you're able, if not, this will keep you alive until we're free." He remarked before turning to run back upstairs.
Goliath Emphoa Jet ManofManyRoles

 

[EldridSmith]

Zulan was glad Renee was functional once more, he couldn't tell for sure if her mood improved, but she had composed herself, which was enough for now. Gailene seemed to have a small revelation, at least something changed as her demeanor shifted, which was seeming to become a trend amongst the group.

Unlike the majority of the group, Zulan was quite comfortable with the ceiling height as he made his way into the basement full of crafters. A dark thought crossed his mind, a single blast from him could fill the entire room with fire burning up most of the people inside, he'd been used for such things before, he hated the memories that flooded into his mind. He mentally shook himself off the best he could but the thought lingered, and last resort if things went sour he might have to. Truly he hoped this opportunity was one for redemption and reform, but the deadliest poisons were those you thought medicine or nourishment.

He was quick to try and scan the reports for information, but he was too short and there too much information to parse through aside Kwame's name was blazoned upon one of the papers. Zulan merely nodded with regards for the interruption, he wasn't going to test the waters here, it wasn't the time or place. "I've found the more sophisticated the speech the more room for treachery and deceit. So I much prefer talking plainly and bluntly in this situation." He stated as he followed behind, his small stature making it easy to weave through the crowd. As much as sophisticated speech was insightful for philosophy, speaking plainly was mutually beneficial for all. Charlie had tuned him out and was worried about Renee and exploding like a well place trapped at the smallest sign of violence, though she was clearly glad to swap from high minded politics and philosophy to plain talk as she went to talk about the proposal in a joking tone but with hard eyes.

Irina started to speak in sophisticated phrases but quickly cut herself off and spoke plainly, what she saw as the truth: Vincents death would lead to democracy. She then asked if that made them sinners. He waited for her to finish speaking to the group and Galeine before he spoke up. "Charlie is right here, forgive me Charlie as this is about to get philosopical." He stated before turning to Irena. "Seeking to depose a tyrant? A sinner that does not one make, but how one goes about doing so, very much does. A great evil may be felled by a lesser evil or a multitude of lesser evils, but when does such evil stop and the good begin? We must make sure whatever evils we commit are divorced from the good we seek to create so that it may be unblemished. I don't only refer to this as philosophy, but in government. How you set up your government is often how it is ruled. Make sure every drop of blood spilled and violence used to deliver it is measured and precise to minimize the stains. Cut off the rotten limbs no matter how much it hurts. Only then does this have a chance of success. Lest this fail in the making as a blaze taking countless with, or fail after as a noble attempt to be scoffed at by historians. Like Charlie says, sell it to us, because slim are your chances of success, and even slimmer our odds of surviving the attempt." He explained, very wary of the fine line that such situations tread, but unwilling to let such an important message sit in his head. Charlie was often strangely on the same page as him, but in entirely different ways, they certainly made an interesting pair as far as skills and thought process went.
Jet rozukitsune ManofManyRoles Lost Echo

 

[EldridSmith]

Baryn frowned at the mans commentary with regards to mining and people's use. Was there any culture in this place? It didn't seem so and it was fucking depressing and unbelievably boring. "We're very keen on doing something about this situation... and indeed we're not from these lands. The world is vast and none of us here are even from the same land originally. Considering the massive headaches we were given during capture, I've no intention of working with those freaks up there. And working together would be mutually beneficial, but we do need information and somewhere to stay and talk away from our captors." He explained unsure if any were nearby and listening.
Jet @Monbon (Sorry it's short, not much to work with here...)

 

[Lost Echo]

Anya wondered once again, how Ava could be related to Mark. She knew the suspicious man would never have considered eating the food. He’d poison someone else before letting himself be poisoned or infected or whatever the hell that food did. She just knew it had to be sinister.

She shrugged off the larger woman’s explanation. God given powers have limits. How convenient that it fits in the man’s plans. Surely he could have found Anya earlier, then they could have saved Hannah, but no he probably thought her suffering made her stronger or some bullshit. She looked at his show out the window--he certainly had enough power to show off.

“He was an ass.” Anya agreed with Johan. She understood what he’d said: they couldn’t leave this bubble of space, but he wasn’t clear about the bubble. Did it move with them? She glanced at Ava. Was that the magic he’d put in the food? Obviously other people could enter their bubble, since they’d need Hannah to, but was there a special way?

He hadn’t even explained if there was a time limit or how to return. Would they live out the months again? Anya kicked a bit of rubble. It was shit, but she knew adults usually were. She’d manage. She had allies at least. Her gaze caught sight of the yellow booted man. It seemed like too much of a coincidence for him to randomly be there, but did she dare speak? Maybe it would be best to let Johan be the leader here.

ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3 rozukitsune Jet

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe

Mentions: Lost Echo ZackStop Jet

Any explanation of their situation fell on ears that could not fully understand. Brynwyr frowned and considered starting from the beginning again, but she felt more inclined to give up on the matter. Huracan insisted that they shouldn’t return anyway, but rather, they return to his village, where it was safer and someone there could more effectively communicate with them.

“I think that would be wise,” Brynwyr nodded, though, she thought of whom was left behind at the ship, and if any of them were alive. Guilt tugged at her, wondering if any of them lay dying, or perhaps were stolen to a more unworthy end at the hands of the locals here.

“Very wise,” Rhys repeated, observant for most of the conversation. “Plus, we’ll see how the people live and how their communities operate. It’ll be a cultural experience too, if nothing else!” One had to wonder if Rhys forgot about why they were truly here, and how much of the rather violent communities of people he already experienced. He turned to Esther, “And some rest might do you some good too.”

Spivey, though, had that covered with that shelled creature of his. Rhys felt more inclined to walk.

As Huracan began to led them off towards his home, his bravery and bravado suddenly more apparent, conversation turned to metals, more particularly, what Bryn’s was made of.

“Steel, sometimes iron,” Brywnyr added. Huracan broached the idea of trading her armour for their metals, though, despite the riches it might have brought, it would not have brought much practical use to the knight. “Money is no priority for me,” she insisted, and she chuckled, “if I didn’t know better, I would say your offer is just a convenient excuse to steal this suit of armour off me.”

Though, perhaps that wouldn’t have been a bad idea, given the heat of this place. As Brynwyr walked with the group, she could feel sweat run from every pore of her body. It was expected in armour, and a knight had shed their discomfort and simply deal with it, but Brynwyr might as well have gotten into a boiling bath with it on.

Not to mention its properties didn’t make for the stealthiest of travels. The steel clambering attracted the attention of apes who were harmless, and a panther, which only sought to cause harm. The creature was easily dispatched off, but again, only alerted to the inconvenience Brynwyr’s armour caused. Yet, she could not part with it, noting she would need every defence in travelling further into unknown territory.

Eventually, covered in mud and sweat and blood, Brynwyr arrived with the group to Huracan’s home, a network of huts hiding in the treetops above them. Their arrival did not go unnoticed or without suspicion, but Brynwyr needed no translation to know Huracan took much time to convince the warriors to let them enter.

Much to Brynwyr’s surprise, his home was far more expansive once they were raised up inside it from that crude lift. The huts expanded further from what she could see, and operated much like any other village or town in her home would have. Rhys was more invested in the sight of Huracan’s home, while Brynwyr kept her eyes on the locals around them. She was as wary of them as they were of her, a bit like how humans and spiders warily tiptoed around the other.

They followed Huracan to the Grandfather Tree, where he proudly entered and a brief exchange between him and a woman was witnessed by the group. Brynwyr’s hunches ended up to be right; the woman was family to him, though, she noted by her looks compared to the other villagers that she was of a higher status.

Brynwyr allowed her to speak, and went to speak after she had finished, only for Spivey to open their mouth and spew drunken vitriol first. She tried not to show her disgust at their bluntness, and followed quickly after, “Forgive him, it’s been a long day.”

“I believe we are not without our gratitude to you for letting us into your home, so our thanks for that. As Spivey said, we came here with a purpose, but our ship was attacked and we have been stranded here, and most of our crew dispersed or perhaps even dead.” There was no delicate way to put it, and she wondered if she should have been so harsh about Spivey’s blunt nature.

“You mentioned something of a ‘King in Yellow’?”

 

[Arcanist]

Faraji Aguta

Mentions: Goliath Jet @Anne Boolean Lost Echo

​

Marigold, the youngest of them answered, and true to his name. Obnoxiously bright, and when Adrian muttered something about him being bright enough for bait, Faraji couldn’t help but avoid looking at his own golden shirt.

And foolhardy, it seemed. He raised an eyebrow at the man at the mention of him being a victim of their targets, escaping, and willing to take them back to his captors. He would have ran for the hills by now.

Perhaps he couldn’t, hence why he was still here.

Nyaal had asked about their excursions in the Undercity, though, Goliath brushed it off. He seemed rattled after the encounter with the old woman, but he knew Adrian had been too. If they were both rattled, he should have been a puddle by now. But he did not choose to elaborate on their findings, as interest turned to the mysterious Labyrinth they were instructed to find.

Marigold’s retelling was a breath of fresh air in an otherwise bleak and damp slum. He was sure the tale was a little taller than it was meant to be, but wasn’t every great epic the same? It all depended on the narrator, the point of view. It was a worthy distraction that Faraji found himself falling so far into it, that Adrian pulled both him and Marigold out of it.

The image of holding him down and popping a bullet through his head made Faraji shift. Bean always did and still continued to make him uncomfortable. Surely the man wasn’t so bad to warrant such an act upon him? Perhaps that said much about Faraji and the company he kept. He found him tolerable. At least he wasn’t threatening or trying to kill them, like most others in this place were.

His imagination was a little wild and he may have gone off on a tangent…but all great poets did.

Not that he was amazing by any stretch or means, but he had potential to be.

“No need for straws,” Faraji smiled at Adrian, stepping forward. “I can be his guardian, make sure he doesn’t get himself into any more trouble.” He wouldn’t admit to it, but it would be a worthy distraction from all that happened and continued to around them.

 

[rozukitsune]

"You... want to kill Vincent?" While Irina was trying to carefully say what she meant without saying it outright, Reneé's mind slowly lurchedinto gear. Though her own wants and desires had burned away to ash within her - she was still a person made up of her experiences and her life. She had no feelings to attach to the situation perhaps, but memories were memories all the same and it would take a far greater effort of mental torture to make her forget everything that had brought her to this point entirely. She blinked, her dead-eyed stare falling away as she focused on the woman who had been leading the whole party around like dogs on a leash for the better part of the last several minutes. The words tumbled from her lips like a baby bird's first hungry cheeping and they hung in the air for a few moments before her brain got around to trying to work out whether or not it cared. They surprised her probably as much as anyone else, as they hadn't exactly let her know they were just going to fall out of her mouth like that; but now that they were in the air between everyone - Reneé had to consider their implications.

On the one hand... killing Vincent was killing Nye, probably. Charlie and the others weren't wrong to be hesitant about such a plan if there weren't some kind of back up plan in place to immediately replace the man. And even if that worked ... oh... there would probably be a war. If not overtly at least silently... the Nobility as it was would not put up with being subsumed by some kind of will of the people. Preposterous. They were the chosen ones whose position was pre-ordained. It wouldn't be enough to simply remove the head from the shoulders, if Irina wanted such drastic change in the epicenter of the world then she was going to have to think a bit bigger. Everyone above Reneé would have to go. Actually come to think of it those in her own branch of Nobility were by and large complacent with the way things were as well. Maybe some of them could be talked to and convinced, but she knew her own parents would not be among them. Those people had and would have sold her out at the first opportunity if it would get them closer to the higher ranking nobles. After all, they'd only bothered to have children to try and correct their own failures to elevate themselves when they'd had the chance. Then there were the lower classes too to consider. Sure, their lives were sometimes terrible and trod upon... but if people like Nihall and Zulan could look to the city with hope of a better life surely it's own dregs did too. Was that so bad? And then there was the Centurions to think of and all of the other military personnel who would either side with Vincent or side with Nye in general... the problem was huge.

She shivered and turned her head away, looking down at her feet. Nye was her home. The only home she'd ever known. Sure, things there weren't perfect but were they really so bad that people deserved to lose their lives over it? Her memory flashed to the very recent scene of a man being beheaded by the frothing madman they had escaped to get here and her eyes narrowed with her inner anguish as she tried to imagine the same happening to Lord Vincent. That it could be herself pulling the trigger of the guillotine.

No. No, she couldn't. That was too much for her young, optimistic heart. Still, what exactly could she do to stop them? Her ability to wield her magic was laughable - she'd never taken those studies seriously and no one who had ever trained her had really been doing it for more than just show. After all, what did a starlet need of power? Reneé had never needed to be able to do more than look good. Happy. Peppy. A symbol of cheerful youth for others who had less to rally around and raise above themselves on a pedestal of what Perfection looked like and pray someday they themselves could attain even a fraction of it. She could hardly hope with that sort of background to try and stop Irina or even be much of an obstacle if she tried to get in her way.

For a moment, her eyes flicked over to Charlie who was busy being the voice of the group for the most part. Reneé wondered what the rough-on-the-outside but marshmallow-on-the-inside Mccraggian was really thinking behind her carefully measured arguments. Would she jump at this chance? She did seem morally gray... a loose cannon and mercenary for hire. Reneé hoped though that whatever she ended up choosing for them all: there would be some kind of really good plan under it all that would reveal the tomboy's heart of gold that the naïve ex-starlet truly, honestly believed that she had deep down. Regardless though, it was clear Reneé had to get stronger if she had any hope of protecting anyone from the unnecessary cruelties of this life.

Jet ManofManyRoles EldridSmith Lost Echo

 

[ZackStop]

Ilana was pleased with her work, able to successfully cut off those determined to torment a woman and ripping her away from her home. This way, there was nowhere for them to run as the large stone structure reached several feet above their heads. She almost smiled, though she would have no way of knowing if her lips had creased open even slightly. Too much was going on. Even the others found themselves in their own deadly bout. But the priority still remained; saving the girl.Felix had already began to make another push to eliminate the villains, certainly with the intent to kill, but Ilana was more on Isaac's side on keeping them alive. They may know what's going on but the girl was clueless having only just arrived to this place. She wanted answers and with enough intimidation it was a guarantee these guys could give her some insight.

Ilana rushed back to her feet after her display of will power and grasp on her earth magic, but what should have been the sensation of her feet flat on the ground quickly became something else. It was as if she was leaving her body behind as she rose up. A feeling of dizziness and nausea came over her as she in fact did not making it up to her feet, but instead stumbled, planting both hands in the dirt to avoid her face colliding with it. She quickly gripped her fingers around her mouth while everything around her became muddled.

It all caught up to her at once and pushing her magic was all her body could muster. There was nothing she could do at the moment but try to regain some semblance of balance. She tried to bend the earth below her, but like a muscle pushed to failure nothing came of it. Not even a pebble could find a way off of the ground it came from.

"I'm useless like this." She thought to herself behind panicked eyes. She gritted her teeth, internally screaming at herself to get up. She began to take deep breaths in hopes she would be able to join the fight once more. Hopefully Felix could hold them back until then.

Jet ManofManyRoles

 

[Emphoa]

Rat could feel the chill running right down his spine.

But despite the chaos that felt like was running around him, he tried not to let it get to him as he listened to everyone speaking around him, and he finally fixated his gaze right onto Mischa with his eyebrows furrowed just a touch tighter. Especially as he watched her merge with her familiar and he felt himself frown even deeper. He sucked in a breath, he readied himself as he reached out and squeezed her arm.

"Just don't be rash." He murmured quietly, and he listened as she spoke about her intentions. Flying across his path. Just hoping that he wasn't a good marksmen was hard for Rat to just accept. But even as his chest clenched tighter at the thought, he swallowed the words that wanted to protest more than anything- because he didn't know if he could handle losing them, would it be his fault if he couldn't stop the man in time?

He wasn't sure about that.

He snapped his eyes right back onto Mischa and the words she spoke touched a chord.

He opened his mouth to speak before his head snapped over the moment that the arrow was pulled out from Leon's wound and he couldn't help but grimace. "Fuck- you should have- you should have left the arrow in." He insisted, his eyes a bit alarmed. "Pulling it out will only worsen the bleeding-" He cut himself off, it was too late to change anything about it now and he quietly cursed the thought as he looked over at Mischa.

"Yeah- Yeah we need to tie it up, we need to find him some help soon as possible, some _healing._" the boy insisted, and he gave Yua and Leon a little look, worried, afraid that anyone would be lost in this adventure right off of the bat.

He let out a shaky breath, then, and he snapped his eyes right back onto the red head beside him where he shut his eyes- calmed his nerves, and he spoke again. "I can have a few things arranged... I..." He met her gaze, and his own become so much more stern, harder. "I won't let anything happen to you." He went through the tools he did have, pulling up his grappling claw with a breath. "I can get him with this- it'll pull him towards me while he's too focused on you. If I get him close enough I can smack one of these bad boys on him- unless you think you could manage it."

River held up one of his devices, it was small, discrete- from looks alone one could struggle to tell just what exactly it did.

Jet Goliath ManofManyRoles

 

[Emphoa]

Evaline was mostly quiet as she looked down at the files with furrowed brows- a small puff leaving her lips as she thought of the task ahead in such a chaotic place. She was in agreement that it was interesting, but it all felt too... She couldn't quite put her finger on it, and instead she focused her gaze onto Kilderkin and Kwame. "There has to be more to the reason that he would hide such information, even from Kwame..." Evaline mused over the thought, but tried not to linger too much over it.

A quiet sigh left her lips and she straightened up.

"There's not much more we can do about it, now." She decided, quieting when Kilderkin continued to speak... and she gave a gentle dip of her head of agreement, her eyes settled back onto Kwame's form with a small smile tugging at her lips. "Truly, the trust is more than appreciated." She admitted, pausing for a few seconds.

"I agree, on voting, nonetheless." She finally murmured, and she felt herself fall more at ease at the thought of being trusted enough- her opinion and thoughts being valued by the man as she placed her hands onto her hips. "I agree on broaching the lead, I don't believe there would be any other direction to take as I can see it.... Perhaps it would be fitting to try and find Irina."

She was sure, that even if Irina _didn't_ do it, perhaps there was more that she would have known, that the knights wouldn't be aware of themselves. "It might help us with some leeway into this investigation if we speak directly with her."

Fred Colon Jet

 

[ZackStop]

The others were far more interested in what Damian had to say than Ren, who chose to focus more on what was to come. Let them sort out mental heavy lifting, something that was nowhere near his forte as apposed to his knowledge on gears and tools and things that go tick. Example being the shield he had on his lap.

Sitting criss cross on the floor of this strange shop, the boy with the strangely blue hair tried with minimal success to 'bind' a rune to his magnum opus of a weapon, meant to be the perfect marriage of attack and defense. With all his mechanical know-how, Ren couldn't wrap his head around the act of using a rune. He figured there was a magic to this whole binding buisness.

"Binding, binding. How the heck does this work?" He thought to himself. Everyone was preoccupied with Damian and his cryptic way of wording things, excluding Ava of course. She was more interested in the food. Ren was tempted. His stomach had begun growling having had nothing to eat for several hours, but he was warry about the feast that had appeared. They'll definitely need some time to rest and nourish themselves before the operation.

Setting the rune aside, Ren gave up on it for now. He had a melancholy expression about the task at hand. It was just so messed up, evil for lack of a better term. But he didn't have a lot of time to dwell on it as everything began to change. He wasn't tuning in too much about their conversation but they must have said something to Damian, something that sparked the world around them to warp with images. Images of the past or the future. Ren couldn't tell. It could have been both, but it didn't last long. No more than a minute later and they were back outside in the bleak world they left behind in search of answers. It's air hit them with a different warmth than the shop that had very quickly began to feel stuffy. At least here the air was open for better or for worse. It was an industrial area after all; not exactly clean.

"Well. Now what?" He asked as he was mostly lost for words. Ren gave Phalanx a little pat before lifting his bag up and looked to the other. They seemed disgruntled to say the least, but he was mostly unaffected by Damian's behavior. He hadn't yet noticed the man with yellow boots but quickly put his attention on the psycho chick.

Jet Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3 rozukitsune