Fandom Bravely Null IC

[InsaneAsylum]

Unfortunately for Gerran, Sarah couldn't hear the man's yells over the piercing scorpion shrieks, the ballistic chicken cries, and her own screaming. The scorpion stayed right on her tail, enraged to the point of insanity over the pain searing on its face. It's barbed tail shot forward several times, barely missing the blonde princess. Just before the scorpion could adjust its aim properly, an arrow sunk into one of the eyes on the side of its head. The scorpion skidded to a stop, its remaining eyes locking onto the offending archer. Before it could started charging towards them though, another small ball of fire struck its side, once again causing it to screech. However, there were more targets for the scorpion now. The ballistic chicken riders had cleared out the bandits, and were running in circles around the monster. The scorpion turned in circles, trying to ram its poisonous barb into whatever is could, and reached out to grab at the chickens, but it couldn't seem to every hit its target. Another ear piercing scream. It stopped its violet outburst to glare over towards the caravan, where its rider should have returned from. The scorpion recognized the ruffled blonde hair of its master being held up limp. Anyone could recognize the flames of hatred burning in that scorpion's eyes. With one last screech, the scorpion dug down into the sand, disappearing into the desert.

----------

Nolan couldn't see anymore. All he knew is that he wasn't touching the ground. Before he had been lifted up he briefly could make out the face of a man's face. He didn't get a great look at it, but he was sure he'd remember it for how painful the feeling in his neck was. Whatever it was. He listened to his words carefully though. He was hurt, and probably a friend of the archer woman back there. It was unfortunate that it had come to this, and at such a sensitive time as well. He was told not to try and rescue her, even Listile thought the idea was absurd. If he could laugh right now he would. He had messed up too soon, and was paying dearly. Nolan's mouth parted as he tried to speak. Nothing came from his lips. He tightened his fists, and slowly opened his eyes as he raised his head up ever so slightly to meet Locke's.

"Call out to her... and she will come," he sputtered out, before falling limp once again. After a few moments, small glowing light blue flakes began to peel off of Nolan. Locke feel the weight on his spear begin to lighten. They cam off faster and faster until Nolan's entire body had dissipated into these glowing blue flower petal like pieces. They spun upwards into the air, before shooting off towards the Grenouille City. All that was left on Locke's spear would be the nobles blood. A book dropped to the ground in a heap atop Nolan’s weapons and clothing, it all had been left behind by his body. If one were to pick up the book, they would find that only the front page was populated. However it only held unrecognizable symbols and letters.

Spoiler: Page 1

GƼᕓ▍ᕓ ⴵƵϺ ϺᕓΣᕓ▍ Ɣᕓ Ƶ ƔƵӨƵϺⴵᕓ ƔᕓƓﬦᕓᕓϺ LԖΛ╥ƼƓ ƵϺЩ DƵ▍ϷϺᕓĦĦ, Ɣ┍Ɠ ƓƼᕓ ĦƓ▍┍╥╥Өᕓ ЦՆ▍ ⴿᕓ▍ЦᕓⴵƓԖΛՆϺ ӨᕓƵЩ ƓՆ ƓƼᕓ Ɣᕓ╥ԖΛϺϺԖΛϺ╥ ՆЦ ƵӨӨ ⴵ▍ᕓƵƓԖΛՆϺ.

They had completed their mission, and all that was left to do was pull themselves together and find out their next move.

 

[Entity.Eclypse]

Inari, Dierdre, Thana, and KaldrAfter attaining the carts filled with rations, there had been an initial surprise from the relatively young ninja. He'd never expected this town to be capable of providing that much without so much as a notice, yet here they were with two full carts. Inari had ordered Kaldr to stay and guard the carts, granting her the ability to relax beneath the covered cart- it was best to keep her from heating too much after all. After this he had entered the tavern with the twins and his traveling 'party'. Upon entering a mixture of strong alcohol, and the familiar scent of somewhat burnt fish reached him and soon filled his senses. To Inari this did little to nothing as he proceeded to survey the area, it seemed that the other females of this group along with the only other male had stationed themselves in the establishment. Keeping this in mind Inari made his way to a corner table of the tavern, he has his back to the wall so there wasn't anyone who could get out of his view. Thana was a different story entirely upon the scent of food even remotely entering her nostrils, she made a beeline for the bar. All that remained next to her sister had been the ghostly outline of where her sister once was. Thana's rapid approach to the bar was met with an expression of surprise more than anything, aggressive guests are one thing- but when an adult patron is watering at the mouth it's a different situation entirely.

Dierdre approached the corner table where Inari had been sitting on his lonesome, "Mind if I join you?" She questioned him as he simply shook his head. With that she sat across from him, looking out to the other members of their traveling group, each of which seemed to have vastly different situations going on. It wasn't long before a group of three others came through the door and announced themselves, Inari's gaze turned to the three of them immediately- they had been searching for the individual who they had just seen get abducted. Dierdre turned to Inari with a look of sudden concern crossing her expression, "Did something happen to lord Otomo? I know he was supposed to be here with a group of nobles..." She muttered quietly "The Pirate Queen was here too... did she?" Dierdre concluded her thought. Inari once again nodded, a feeling of conflict suddenly struck Dierdre. He was destined to be the next leader of the Tiger clan and yet he was already being forced into the corner, if word of such a thing got out then it might endanger his position more than anything. A loud thumping noise drew her from her contemplation, her vision returned to see that the table now boasted four large plates of food and her cheerful looking twin.

"Thana, why in Feurey's name did you buy all of this? There's only three of us here..." Dierdre questioned his sibling with a hint of annoyance presenting itself from her tone, Thana looked at her with an expression that evoked nothing but confusion. "I didn't get you guys anything... if you wanted something then maybe you should've gone up there to get it yourself" The younger sibling refuted before beginning to stuff her face with the contents of the four plates, any ladylike appeal she may have held before was squandered in this moment as she began to eat more akin to that of a wild beast than to a man. Dierdre's eyebrow only began to twitch more as she witnessed her sister's behavior, the irritation was clearly growing, the idea was shelved as Inari stood and walked over to the bar. He had no intention of involving himself in the conversation that the others were having, instead he walked to the barkeep and asked for something. His voice was nullified beneath the sound of the others in the tavern, granted there wasn't any excessive noise, though his lips did move to speak something. The barkeep walked off for a few moments before returning with a filled container. "Strongest we have on the tap, as per request." the man smiled to the masked individual who took the drink and nodded as thanks. As he lifted it to his lips the scent filled his senses, managing to overpower the cheaper ale and strong scent of fish, before seizing his taste-buds as well.

The flavor was extremely strong, as soon as the first drop had hit his tongue it was overtaken by a stinging sensation. The assertiveness of it's flavor had begun with a burning sensation, it felt as though the flesh of his mouth was melting away before backing off and then reasserting itself. When the burning would fade a bitterness would take it's place, it was pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. When the fox-masked man finally lowered the mug, it had been completely drained of the previous substance. With just the few seconds he'd had with that mug it was emptied, as was the feeling he had in his tongue. Sitting the mug back on the bar Inari walked back off to the table in the corner, pressing his tongue against his teeth in attempts to get any remnant of feeling to present itself. With that, he sat back down in his seat and looked back to the situation around him. It seemed that two of the newcomers had already decided upon approaching his allies, surely they would provide enough intel on the situation. That in mind he kept himself isolated from the group, continuing to watch from a distance- he couldn't risk getting close to any of them... it would just make things harder in the end. That in mind he noticed that the two siblings were once more talking about something unimportant, while one stuffed her mouth. His attention went back to the three new women and his other comrades, perhaps he needed to instruct his portion of the group on how to act- since most of them seemed to have their parties under control. Granted one of them had just been by her lonesome, she commanded the wooden puppet fairly well... and the demon arms? Maybe that wasn't the best example.

Reaching up slightly he pulled down on his mask a little, ensuring it had been secured in place, before returning his watchful eyes to the tavern's patrons.​

 

[InsaneAsylum]

Daini pouted a little when the girl refused her offer to get alcohol. However, she asked for tea at least. Daini didn’t like tea. You couldn’t just gulp it down without looking ‘improper’ as Saishoa and San-Bana always said.

“Okay! I’ll get you some tea! I will I will!” She said happily, skipping off towards the bar. She placed her order and looked back at Sheridan with a bright wide smile and a wave. Of course, Daini had also ordered herself some alcohol. Saishoa had said they could drink tonight for walking so far in one day! Plus she’d have to meet everyone else here too. Her eyes locked onto a masked individual sitting farther off from everyone. Ninja didn’t normal relax out in the open. She slowly tip-toed over to him. “Helloooooo are you a real ninja?”

—————

San-Bana scooted closer to Hiroaki. “We’re just here to help keep the young lord safe. Of course, it seems we were a little too late. It was quite brave of him to stand up to the Pirate Queen.” San-Bana paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder to see Rin off eating her life away, and another woman doing an excellent job with the other patrons. “You seem like a brave man yourself, traveling with those two women. Tell me, do they reward you for your courage?” San-Bana leaned in a little closer to Hiroaki as she asked this, taking a sip of her drink.

—————

Saishoa watched her sisters split off across the tavern, and let out a soft sigh upon hearing of Otomo’s fate. She absently spun her umbrella in her hands as she thought for a moment. She almost looked a little annoyed.

“I see, what do you all plan to do now? We were sent to escort the young lord to new Crane Clan head in order to discuss the division within the Clans of Feurey.” As Saishoa spoke, she walked towards Rin, stopping next to her.

“We cannot return empty handed.”

 

[Takumi98]

Vivian's focused wavered as Lanthane moved to look from behind the rock they were at, and she almost tried to see what he was looking at, but whatever it was he had lost interest in and instead got her attention on Rafa as she approached. Vivian perked up, a small smile breaking out on her face at the sight of the other unharmed, and Rafa's own expression softened if only slightly.

"Rafa, you're okay!" She called, earning a nod from the theif, before both women turned to Lanthane as he attempted to flirt in his not so well state, his sister looking confused while Rafa's expression was one of amusement.

"Why, my Lord, you flatter me so! I don't intend on seeing you to the crystal any time soon if I can help it, since our darling Vivian is doing her best to patch you up." Rafa responded with a brief curtsy.

Ashe met the Scorpion Queen's rage with a cold glare as he prepared to fire another arrow when she turned to try and charge him, luckily Sarah was quick with another fire ball and the armored knights moved fast to distract it with their ballistic chickens. When she retreated with one final screech he remained uneasy. Once sure she was gone for good he quickly turned to find his charge, and eventually did with her brother and Rafa about a minute or so later.

"Oh you're alright, Ashe?" Rafa asked, earning a grunt from the redhead. He paused when Vivian's gaze landed on him and with narrowed eyes, the princess seemed to check for herself if he needed any healing. Seeming to be satisfied, the young Grivois nodded and returned to checking over Lanthane's injury to assure herself it was healed properly and completely.

Ashe relaxed then, bow returning to it's place on his back while his arrow returned to it's quiver. Rafa returned her gaze to Lanthane then, elbow resting on Ashe's shoulder.

Motioning to herself, then Ashe, she spoke, "My Lord, I am Rafa, and I'm still rather flattered you've taken the time to talk to the likes of me-" Ashe rolled his eyes here, , but didnt move to get her arm off of him, "and this here is Ashe, Vivi's protector and resident hen mother-" she finished with a chuckle when Ashe did move from under her arm at that quip, but gave Lanthane a small bow of his head in greeting.


"Rafa here likes to joke at others' expesne, so I'd advice to watch out for her." Ashe warned, earning a small giggle from Vivian.


"You should be fine after some rest Lanthane. Does your shoulder still ache at all?" Vivian asked then.

Interactions: Arcanist (Lan)

Mentions: InsaneAsylum (Sarah)

 

[HeyItsBanana]

Mason Arembur


Mentions: Lanthane & Gerran ( Arcanist ) Locke, Hiro, & Shaia ( The Black Knight ) Ashe, Rafa, & Vivian ( Takumi98 ) God ( InsaneAsylum )


Mason did not have the capacity to focus on anything other than his enchantments. Nether the bleeding of his freshly wounded hand, though it was only a fault of his panic to be of some sort of use to his companions, nor the horrific clamor of battle joined could be allowed to break his focus. The air was alive and electric with the singing of steel against steel, several giant scorpions were dead but others, including the horrid queen, continued to rend the ears of all around with their piercing wails. Guttural cries of fear and pain were courted by the gurgling of death all about him, but Mason could not lose focus. He was acutely aware of the people who were in need of his magic, he desperately wanted to assist them all, every muscle in his body matched the clenching of his jaw as they flexed, fighting against himself to remain under the cover where he hid. There were calls to the medic, commands to charge, the uncontrollable and terrifying sqwaking from the ballistic chickens as they haphazardly charged into the fracas, regardless of side you fought for in this battle, Rivienne or bandit, there was only one constant, death.

Though he was no stranger to it, having witnessed numerous citizens passing from disease or other long-term illnesses that simply could not be remedied, this was his first time being completely encompassed by those who's only desire seemed to be the death of those who went against them. 'Is this what it means to be a noble,' Mason asked himself, 'to fight in a battle not of your choosing, to be pointed in a direction and commanded to end the life of another simply because commanded? Are we all seen as expendable pawns awash in a game of higher powers? Does not a single soul in power have the capacity for any form of compassion to those who cannot be reborn to a crystal? Does their life mean less than mine or any others because they will not be revived?' Mason wondered all of these things, shouting them in his mind to an unyielding void that could not provide the answers to what he asked, today would not be the day he found his answers, but the start of a list that he would surely see completed. In his despair he noticed a peculiar sound, that is to say, the sound of silence. There was no more screaming, no longer was the battleground filled with numerous assaults on his ears, it was quiet. He panicked for a moment, realizing that he had broken his concentration, likely due to his somber internal questioning. Though the mental weight of his spell had lifted from him, a fresh emotional one had constricted his heart, he could only hope that the fight had been over before his spell had ended.

His legs were unstable as he rose to his feet, using the cover he had been cowering behind to steady himself, Mason surveyed the area. His mouth fell open as his eyes absorbed all they saw, drinking in the carnage that surrounded him. The sands were littered with arrows, many of them broken from their impact, bodies were strewn about some appearing as the pincushion of a seamstress, others being steadily drained of the scarlet lifeblood that fueled them. The second weigh lifted off of him in the next moments as he spied Lanthane with a group that he did not know, but Mason could see that the child among them was performing healing magic, possibly better than even he could replicate, on his companion. He saw Gerran, still alive and, from what Mason could gather from this distance, uninjured. He noticed Lock and the man he traveled with standing near one of the carts that they had been following in their own, Mason got an uneasy feeling from Locke, there was some malicious energy radiating from him, it was as if he was an entirely different person, and for some reason it brought the white mage fear. To see someone who was seemingly so nonchalant, so full of humor, acting in such a manor meant that everything was not as it seemed. Mason's knees buckled when he saw it, what was likely the cause of Locke's shift in demeanor. He spied the still body of the woman who had been the third member of their group, she was lying motionless on the sand which had been stained by her blood. His knees buckled and his face grew pale, had he sent this woman to her death in trying to assist in the capture of Nolan, he did not know.

Before he knew it, Mason's reactions had taken control of him as his sprinted clumsily on the sand nearly toppling over in his haste. His feet were carrying him, as they always had, towards where his heart knew he belonged. His heart was pounding, he did not have much time, if it wasn't too late already, as he reached the woman's body. Grimacing at the knife protruding from her chest, Mason had dealt with shallow lacerations before but this blade was nearly sunk half into her, the issue would not be with closing the wound, but repairing damage to a major organ like a heart or lung was not something that Mason had ever accomplished before, on top of everything else he was exhausted from the enchantments he had performed. Though he did not see the chest of the woman moving, that did not mean he was too late, there would be no time for second guesses nor the time to hesitate. Mason's hands moved with a swift precision, though the rest of his body looked to be in shambles, his hands were steady as he gingerly removed the weapon from her body, making an estimate of how deep the cut had plunged.

He took one deep breath to steady himself and focused his mind inward, channeling all the magic he could muster. Images of that fateful moment in the alley flooded over him, but he pushed them away, he could not be afraid of failure, he had to try. The first two fingers on his right hand began to glow with light, gentle bells could be heard for any who were close enough, seeming to resonate from Mason himself. As he sunk his fingers into the wound, she offered no response, while this worried Mason he was determined to do everything he could. As he slowly prodded, the mage felt damage to the ribs, nothing major, but hopefully they slowed the blade down. His fingers brushed against something, visualizing where his hands would be Mason summed this would be her heart, he searched the area and came upon the cut. If he could cry out in joy at this point he would have, the wound was not deep into the organ, if she was dead because of blood loss there would be nothing that Mason could do, but if she was just unconscious due to it, there was still a chance for her to be saved. Slowly, just as the time before, the man poured his energy out of his fingertips, picturing a pair of hands mending a torn piece of fabric, and slowly the wound mended together. He strongly desired to repair the damage to her ribs as well, but time would not allow, instead he continued to heal the knife wound itself, light seeking out the damaged areas and pulling them back together.

No sooner had he done all he could, removing his fingers from the now scarring over wound, than he collapsed backwards onto the sand. Sliding partway down the dune, he was gasping for air, it felt as though his lungs could not take in enough. Mason was spent, he could not even muster the strength to open his eyes, but if she had been saved he would not know, as a wave of black overtook him and he fell unconscious. ​

 

[The Black Knight]

Locke was already staring at Nolan when their eyes met. His last words referred to a her, whatever her was. A woman perhaps? Unfortunately, the sellsword was too full of emotion to care. His blonde brows then rose and blue eyes shrank to the size of beads when magic overtook Nolan. Why was his body doing that? Even Hiro’s fox-like eyes opened in shock to see Nolan’s body vanishing.

“He’s a noble,” Hiro explained.

Locke scowled and he felt his fists tighten in his growing rage. “Why is this murderer and thief a noble?” he hissed. He followed the swirling magic petals up to the sky and watched as they shot in the direction of Grenouille City. Locke theorized that he had to have originally been from there. Locke stomped down on the end of the spear, which caused it to seesaw until it was near vertical. He snatched it and then took his sword rack from Hiro.

Hiro watched Locke and asked, “Where are you going?”

“Back to Grenouille City.”

“The knights will probably have him in custody already.”

“I don’t care.”

Locke was just being a fool. Hiro crouched next to the remains Nolan had left behind and brushed aside the clothing to find an assortment of weapons and what interested him most, a book. He picked up the book, brushed some sand from it, and opened it to gaze upon the odd symbols. Why would a thief have it?

Locke returned to the last cart and his heart skipped in surprise when he saw Mason kneeling over Shaia. His fingers were aglow with his shiny magic Locke didn’t comprehend. For a moment, Locke stood there feeling hopeful. After Mason managed to close Shaia’s wound, Locke watched the archer as Mason collapsed from exhaustion. After a minute or two of no signs of response, Locke glanced up at the sky to keep the tears from welling to his eyes. He dropped his spear and sword rack and marched over to Mason. (Note: I received permission from the writer for this portion.) His left foot swung back and he slammed his instep into Mason’s side, kicking the mage so hard that his body rose a little off the sandy ground.

“Get up! You don’t deserve to sleep!” Locke snarled. Hiro’s head snapped in his friend’s direction when he heard his shout. The kitsune raced back toward the last cart where Shaia was and saw Locke hounding Mason. Locke had the front of Mason’s robes clenched in a tight fist as he hefted him up. The sellsword screamed in his face, “You coward! You used my friend to fight your battle because you’re too weak! You should have died instead!”

Locke slugged Mason across the face. Hiro dropped the book and swiftly raced over to latch onto the dragoon. Locke was blinded in his rage that he violently shouldered Hiro off and turned to swing at him. Hiro, as natural as breathing, shoved the palm of his hand against Locke’s wrist, forcing his swing off course. His other palm struck Locke’s chest, causing the warrior to stagger back, and the fox dropped low to sweep his leg around to knock the dragoon’s legs out from under him. Locke winced when his back struck the sand. He rolled onto his side with grit teeth as Hiro rushed over to Mason’s side.

“Harming this man won’t undo what has been done, Locke,” Hiro told him.

“He killed her!” Locke angrily screamed. He rose to his feet and Hiro rose to face him, standing between him and Mason. “He should have kept his head down and shut his damn mouth!”

“It was Shaia’s choice, Locke.”

Locke furiously looked away from Hiro as he recalled the event. He then returned his attention to him and declared, “This would have never happened if he didn’t give her the idea.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do! We have all been together for so long, and this happened because some lowly, piece of shit thought he could use us to preserve his ass!” Locke was shouting passed Hiro at Mason. “This would have never happened if we had just looked out for our own!”

Hiro remained firm. “You don’t-”

“I know you feel the same way! Stop trynna’ act like a peacekeeper and accept the truth!”

Hiro decided to say nothing further. He continued to give Locke his stoic, slant-eyed gaze, until the sellsword found a moment to calm his temper and lost interest in harming the mage. He watched Locke head back over to his equipment as Hiro once again turned to check on Mason.

“I’m sorry,” Hiro apologized to the cleric.

 

[Arcanist]

♕ Lanthane/Gerran ♕
Mentions: Vivian & Co. ( Takumi98 ), Sarah/DM ( InsaneAsylum )
​

Gerran had watched enough men in the past become skewers to monsters to know the princess could suffer the same fate. And from what he could tell, between the scorpion's screeches and its targets unrelenting screaming, she hadn't heard a thing he had suggested to her. He gripped his sword hilt. The longer he stood by and did nothing, the quicker Sarah would find herself impaled by one of its barbs.

Though as Gerran prepared to run in, risk everything to ensure Sarah made it to safety, the riders had managed to pull together and surround the scorpion, causing mass confusion for the beast. Everything that had transpired after went by in a flash. The scorpion had gave one final screech before he disappeared under the blanket of sand, and for a moment, Gerran stood ready, in case the beast decided to surface again with a vengeance. But it never came, and a sort of morbid peace settled over the sands.

Gerran let a sigh escape his lips, one of the few times that he let the stoicism slip. He took those moments to assess the scenes around him. By now, Nolan had completely disappeared, no doubt returning to the Crystal where the Church would be ready to hold him hostage. And dotted throughout the battlefield were...bodies. Corpses that were missing vital pieces. His expression fell forlorn. Somehow, the end of a battle always seemed the bloodiest.

It was only when he scanned the rest of the area that he remembered Sarah. He returned his shield to his back, and sheathing his sword, rushed over to her. Lan and his audience could wait.

"My lady!" Gerran began, hoping to grab her attention better this time. "Are you alright? You're not wounded?"


Lanthane couldn't help but chuckle at Rafa's observation, and he glanced to Vivian. "I'm not sure if it's a blessing or a curse," he began, teasingly, glancing back to Rafa once again, "it could have been so different between the two of us." He pouted. Of course, he would always appreciate someone with the power of healing, one of many magics he could never quite get the hang of.
Lan soon breathed a silent sigh of relief at Vivian turning her attention to another one of her comrades. A brief glance over his shoulder saw Nolan's body disintegrate and travel back in the direction of the city. At least now she didn't have to witness him being in such a way...

His attention fluttered back to the young woman, introducing both herself and the rather stern looking young man she rested her elbow upon. He chuckled once more, naturally letting the charisma take over for him. "A pleasure to meet you both. But please, Lanthane or Lan will do."

Upon hearing the question from Vivian regarding his shoulder, he glanced to it, moving it slightly. "A little stiff...but nothing I can't handle, " he smiled, before he lumbered to his feet with a groan. "Thank you again, dear sister. Though, I'm sure plenty of others here need your skill and talent."

It had seemed like he disregarded Vivian's advice for rest as he walked away. He did feel his exhaustion settle in him, but he could rest all he liked when he returned to the palace. For now, he lay his eyes on a certain book that had been left behind by Nolan, along with his belongings.

Once he reached the bloodstained grains of sand, Lan reached down to lift the book with his right hand, not wanting too undo Vivian 's good work on his left shoulder. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he opened the book to the first page...only to find illegible writing inside. No, another language it seemed. Now, Lanthane had been exposed to several languages as a young boy with the education he was lucky to have been provided with - but he didn't recognise the print as anything he may have learnt as a child.

His only conclusion was that it was a language far beyond initial comprehension. Perhaps he could find someone who might be able to translate it. Perhaps himself - and the aid of some others - could discover the contents for themselves.

 

[Takumi98]

Vivian listened to the two speak and pouted softly when her brother stood after she told him to rest. It seemed stubbornness was a shared trait in their family.

"I thought I told you to rest. Doctor's orders." She pouted and grumbled, though wasn't too upset over it as long as he didn't hurt himself any worse.

She looked to her companions, and motioned for Rafa to go with her brother as she stood, then gripped onto Ashe's sleeve and tugged, leading him to one of the many dying and injured soldiers strewn about. She was going to need all the help she could get, and even if she heard shouting somewhere else that'd have to wait.

Cracking her knuckles, the young lady released a breath and got to work with determination, having Ashe help her stop any bleeding and set any bones in place while she healed the wounds up from there to try and conserve at least a little bit of her energy. Willing her magic to heal and mend, she'd make sure to motion to any able bodied soldiers not busy clearing out any remaining bandits to gather their comerades once she was done.

"Oh, Ezra you're fine too." She blinked as the ballistic chicken she rode approached and made a gurgling warble as she got to work on a new patient.

"You named it?" Ashe deadpanned. After a moment, Vivian glanced up from her pale patient as to look at the redhead, completely missing the fact that said patient only paled worse at the way the mount eyed their hand. Ashe simply wondered why he even bothered.

"Yes?" She replied, not sure if her guardian was upset by this fact, or if he was going to scold her on the topic of trying to keep the mount as a pet.

Rafa watched this from the corner of her eye as she followed after Lanthane to look over Nolan's belongings. While he looked at the book, she looked at the weapons left behind moreso out of curiosity than anything. She heard someone yelling, but didn't acknowledge it other than a quick glance that way with a frown. Wouldn't do for her to get involved, it wasn't her business currently anyway.

"The church went through quite the trouble for a their. The Scorpion Blades have been around for so long and to suddenly care enough to do all this seems like too much to me." She idly commented, before looking over at Lan.

"Have you found anything of interest, there?" She asked.

Interactions: Arcanist (Lan)
Mentioned: InsaneAsylum (Nolan), The Black Knight (Locke/Hiro)

 

[Arcanist]

♕ Lanthane/Gerran ♕
Mentions: Rafa ( Takumi98 ))​

Lanthane could have snorted at Rafa's comment over the Church's clear insistence on finding an heir. They went through trouble and more to find Nolan. The only question was why they went through such trouble when they had the endless line of heirs to choose from. Lan had always assumed it would be some poor sod with royal blood after Nolan had disappeared, but it seemed that wasn't the case. He was by no means irritated or bitter about it; hell, they could choose anyone they damned well wanted and leave him to his potions. The notion just confused him, made him even more suspicious about the Church and their intentions...

Though, the young man had been brought out of his thoughts by the questioning of Rafa not far behind him, and he let his playful smile lurk upon his lips once more, answering, "Interesting, yes, quite. Unfortunately, I can't quite dicpher the contents." He sighed, closing over the large tome and staring at the front of the book. "I suppose that is what makes it so interesting..." He mumbled to himself, more than to answer Rafa's original question. "Other than that...weaponry, random assortments of possessions Nolan had...nothing of such use to me, it seems."

 

[HeyItsBanana]

Mason Arembur


Mentions: Locke & Hiro ( The Black Knight ) Gerran ( Arcanist ) God ( InsaneAsylum )

Mason found himself back looking into an unfaltering void, the thick blackness was the only thing that afforded his company at the moment. He desired more than anything to scream, but no sound would come to his throat. After this he tucked his knees into his chest and sat, surrounded by the tumultuous gloom, waiting to awaken from this horrid nightmare, not knowing that he would be awakening into a whole different horror.

The pain exploded through his side as his eyes snapped open. Instantly Mason was huddled over and gasping for breath as he clutched the area that had been struck. Through bleary, now tear filled, eyes he could see that Locke was standing over him. Fear burrowed into the white mage's core at that very moment, as he struggled to look to the corpse of the woman, and he could now confirm that she was qualified to be a corpse for his healing had obviously not been sufficient in bringing the comrade back into the realm of the living. It was at this moment when he hung his head in shame and simultaneously was dragged skyward by the titan-like grip of Locke. In is understandable rage he shouted to Mason as he lifted the scrawny man off the ground, “Get up! You don’t deserve to sleep!” It was the last thing he wanted to do at this point, Mason knew that there was other's whom he could save, but he had spent nearly all of his mana even staying awake currently was only because of the adrenaline provided by the blow from this mighty warrior just moments ago.

“You coward! You used my friend to fight your battle because you’re too weak! You should have died instead!” This time his audible blow was accompanied by a tandem physical one as well. It was lucky that Mason jaw had already been clenched from the pain of the previous strike, as this one would have certainly dislocated his jaw. It was not difficult to confirm that this was the hardest he had even been struck in his life. He was vaguely aware of a scuffle, it seemed that someone was coming to his aid, but he was unsure who when suddenly he felt himself thud into the ground, sand making its way into his mouth. There was a quick back and forth between the two, it was now obvious that this man defending him was Locke's other companion, though Mason was still uncertain of his name, and he was quickly able to at least convince Locke that Mason was not fully responsible for Shaia's death.

His world was spinning as he made his way to his feet, relying more than he would have liked to admit on Locke's companion, he stood as straight as he could muster and through his one good eye, the other was rapidly swelling shut, he scanned for Locke. "You're right. I'm not strong, I'm not a fighter like you or Gerran. I'm a coward, if it wasn't for Gerran I wouldn't have even made it past the surprise attack by these bandits, but you Gerran and I share something, something that the rest of these Nobles don't. I was unaware of my nobility until these past few days, for my entire life I live as a commoner, and with it I came to not fear death, but respect it. I've trained my entire life, to do everything I can to ward even death itself for those who don't have the blood to do it for themselves." Through his speech he gained some semblance of steady footing, relying less and less on the man called Hiro, "I cannot wield a weapon with the mastery of either of you, but these hands and the magic they provide have fought more battles than I can count, for those that could not fight for themselves."

Against his better judgement he began to stagger over to Locke, pausing just before him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he spoke the words, the loss of a woman he did not know genuinely stinging him to his core. "My heart is the same as yours, if only I had not been born with the cursed blood of nobility,the wicked stuff that put me on this course, to be nothing but a detriment to our cause." Mason dropped to his knees and looked down at the ground, bowing as low as he could manage, "Please, Locke," His voice had gotten much lower, barely above a whisper, "I tried everything I could to save her, I'd give my own nobility if it would bring her back to you, but I'm not strong enough." The tears evaporated as soon as they touched the sand, and Mason simply wished he could do the same.



​

 

[The Black Knight]

Hiro saw the cleric attempt to stand and he supported him. He even continued to steady him as he shared his feelings with them. Locke stopped and his head lowered as he listened to Mason. Hearing Mason’s voice and hearing him confess to his weakness as though it would make the situation any different made the sellsword angry. Hiro kept a firm grip on Mason when he felt him start to walk unsteadily toward Locke. It was his silent way of warning him but the cleric was persistent. He eventually staggered out of his arm’s reach and Hiro started to debate whether he should let him go near Locke. Both were overwhelmed with emotion—both weren’t thinking clearly.

Locke raised his head, frowning across the desert. “What good are you?” he asked. “You said you’ve fought more battles with your magic, what a load of shit. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a liar and someone who accepts their weakness and does nothing.”

The sellsword whirled and grasped a handful of Mason’s hair. He forced his face down into the sand as he shouted, “Is this what you want? Is this what you accept? You’re a piece of shit in the sand! And you’re okay with that!”

Hiro had rushed Locke and grasped a hold of him, forcing him back away from Mason. The sellsword growled over the monk’s shoulder. “You come near me and my group again, and I’m gonna send your ass back to the crystal!”

The monk bore his fangs at Locke and growled, “Enough.” He then lowered his voice. “He’s a noble. He could have us imprisoned.”

Locke shrugged and through his arms up, whacking Hiro’s hands off of him and spat, “Putting me in prison might spare him from me kicking his pathetic ass again. I don’t even know why he’s here. We’re all gonna die with this guy around.”

Locke stormed away back over to Shaia’s side and crouched to scoop her up into his arms. Hiro looked back at Mason, and then glanced over to Locke. The kitsune turned and knelt before the cleric. “You are what you say you are, so be something else,” was all the monk told him before he stood to follow after Locke. They had to go bury Shaia.

 

[InsaneAsylum]

Chapter 2
Agym​

They had been on the road for two days now, moving at a steady pace near the mountains to keep them pointed North. The days were cloudy, and muggy, and many people were on the road heading south. From the looks of them, they were from northern Feurey. Many were fleeing to the South in order to avoid the inevitable invasion of monsters, much to the despair of the Tiger Clan and Crane Clan. More people in the south meant more people to deal with and keep under control. Nonetheless, some remained in their homes, prepared to defend their way of life to the end. The three new samurai that joined them were very vocal about the happenings of the land. They even told them that the Crane Clan was gathering troops as they spoke in order to repel the West. They supported Otomo's goal, and were more than happy to assist him. However the main power, the Tiger Clan, wouldn't be easy to convince. Many separate nobles were trying to take ownership of the clan and each had their own small armies. If they were to unite them all, having the Pirate Queen would be invaluable. San-Bana pointed out the Rat Clan's lack of presence in the matter, and also asked why Sheridan looked weird.

As they continued north in the back of a wagon, led by none other than Daini who loved hornicorns beyond belief. The two hornicorns that pulled their wagon were both dark brown, and Daini had named them Coco and Chocolate. A small mote of light flew by Daini and the wagon, before spinning around and soaring back to the group in the back of the wagon. It remained in the middle of the group, and if they looked closely, they would be able to see the outline of a humanoid figure in all the light. Without warning the mote suddenly spoke.

"Hey! I wouldn't go North on this road if I were you guys. There is some C-R-A-Z stuff happening up there! Some dudes are burning down a village or something. I don't know why, but it'd suck to get caught up in all that," the voice sounded male, but it had an odd accent to it. "Are y'all nobles or something? You smell kinda like it."

Almost on queue, two men stepped out from the trees in the path of the wagon. Daini pouted and slowed the hornicorns to a stop. "What can I do for you fellas?" Daini asked.

The two men wore basic armor common to the Tiger Clan's footmen, however the tiger symbol was scorched off. They looked at each other, their hands on the blade at their sides. "There is danger down the road. Turn back now if you value your lives. We are doing what is best, and are handling the situation well."

If the nobles were perceptive enough they may be able to see orange lights peeking over the treeline a distance away. The little floating ball of light whispered to its new friends. "See? Let's head back down the road. Well... unless you want to see what's going on. I don't recommend it though. It's pretty bad for humans to see things like that."

---------------------------------------------​

Three funerals were held after the battle. One for all of the soldiers in the caravan that perished in the fight, one for the fallen bandits, and one private funeral for Shaia. They couldn't stay for long though, for the talented Princess Sarah had more orders from General Goldelle. As the party continued north to the closest village, Sarah explained the orders to the group and Marck. The journey was very quiet besides the groans of injured soldiers and chattering from Sarah. Chicken Knights surrounded the caravan and scouted ahead to make sure the path was safe just in case some bandits wanted revenge. However, no such thing happened.

"So, the general wants us to continue north until we come to Twistix Village. It's a funny place that grows really big mushrooms that do really weird things to you if you eat too many... Anyway... uh... back on topic. General Goldelle wants us to stay there until further notice. However," Sarah motioned to the frail woman in the prisoner's cart. "getting information out of this girl wasn't too hard. She was too frail to put up with too much. Apparently her name is Yoana Ragnan! That's right, the daughter of the Ventin King! Crazy right? Well she told us some stuff about that some old Sage up North. Says he was housing some Ventin refugees, that were sneaking into our kingdom illegally! Apparently prince Nolan was helping them too. We're gonna go meet this Sage and shut down their operation! I don't have anything against the refugees, but we can't have them coming in all willy nilly!" Sarah smiled broadly, and shot a clenched fist into the air. "So, after we stop this illegal immigrant scheme, we're gonna get all sorts of praise from Goldelle, get rewarded, and hopefully not have to fight on the front lines when the church decides to attack the East!"

Sarah obviously hadn't given it all much thought, but the Chicken Knight were under her command, and the remaining footmen were mostly just coming along for the ride at this point. Sarah was leading the pack right now, and it was up to the Nobles whether or not they'd follow her or not to find the Sage. They may have heard of the Sage, sometimes mentioned as a master of magic, but also an outcast who practiced forbidden magic. If anyone kept up with his whereabouts, they might know he lived in a tower near the village they were heading to with a young girl assumed to be his granddaughter.

When they reached the village, it was nighttime. The whole town was walled off by a simple stone wall about eight feet high, and had two entrances. The caravan stopped outside of one, and soldiers began setting up camp outside the village.

"We'll go and ask around about the sage guy tomorrow if any of you decide to come along. If not, you can just stay in this village for awhile. Until then, try and get some sleep or something." Sarah gazed at Lan for a moment. "Want to share a tent with me?" She asked out of nowhere.

Now, the nobles and their allies had the opportunity to finally get some sleep. They could however, go and explore the village if sleep didn't fancy them. Surely there was a bar or tavern of some sorts open at this hour where one could grab a drink. The prisoner, Yoana, still sat in her cage, staring out into the desert in sorrow.

 

[Takumi98]

"Shame that you can't decipher it, but perhaps someone within our group will find the time to, yes?" Rafa hummed after a moment. Leaving the rest of Nolan's belongings on the ground, she took a glance at the contents in the book. She was sure she heard yelling start up again elsewhere, causing her lips to form a tight line in thought.


Vivian finished with her latest patient, tiredly pushing herself to her feet as Ashe helped one of the available knights move their comrade to the others. While he did that, she noticed someone crouched into the sand, and approached them carefully.

"Excuse me, are you alright? Do you need help?" She asked, a hand gently resting on his back, softly glowing with healing magic to soothe and calm as it healed whatever injuries he might have that she could reach with her hand placed where it was. Though after only a minute or so, Ashe had found her and got her attention with a soft clearing of his throat.

"They're gathering the dead. I'm assuming we'll be heading out soon, you need to rest." He spoke up, before he glanced down to the man crouched in the sand with slightly furrowed brows, as if unsure of where Mason had come from. Ultimately, his attention returned to his charge.

Once the funerals were done and the group were on the move, Vivian could barely keep her eyes open as Sarah spoke, but fought to stay awaje so she wouldn't miss anything important.

"Aw, I thought you and I would share a tent, Sarah. It'd be like a sleepover." Vivian mumbled sleepily, causing Ashe to look down at her with a slightly raised brow.

"I believe it's time for you to go to sleep Lady Vivian, you're muttering gibberish." He spoke, watching Vivian rub her eyes as she shook her head and was reminded of how young she was.

"No I'm not, I'm not that tired." She retorted, and Rafa snorted beside her in amusement.

Interactions: Arcanist (Lan), HeyItsBanana (Mason), InsaneAsylum (Sarah)
Mentions: The Black Knight (Locke/Hiro)

 

[Arcanist]

♕ Lanthane/Gerran ♕
Mentions: Rafa/Vivian ( Takumi98 ), Sarah ( InsaneAsylum )
​

One funeral was to be expected after a mission. People were bound to die, to be grieviously harmed in the process. Lanthane, just as he was as a child, was foolish to believe that horrendous damage wouldn't be done. That someone among their own would find their forever home would be under the sand than on top of it. Both Lanthane and Gerran had been at each of them out of respect for the fallen. Even at such a time, Gerran's stoicness came in handy. Or perhaps, it was because he had been so used to being present at funerals, and seeing bodies return to Grenouille frequently. It had become a grim and quite usual occurance for him. The thought unsettled Lanthane through most of the funerals, how this shouldn't have been considered the norm at all. And Gerran thought the same, the reality hitting him at Lan's shiftiness throughout all three of the burials. He had become too accustomed to it.

They eventually found themselves being shoved into caravans and on their way once again, with General Goldelle's orders take precedence. Though most of the trip remained solemnly silent, Sarah's chatter filled the void. Lan's attention drifted in and out throughout. The adrenaline that pumped through him had dissipated, and as a result was left exhausted, and rather sore, no thanks to the arrow that had lodged itself in his shoulder. The prince at least had Vivian to thank for patching him up, but healing magic wasn't exactly a cure-all. The practical 'resting' always had to follow, at least from what he had known; something Lanthane hadn't applied too quickly after she finished up with him. The dull pain made him wish he did.

When Sarah did have Lanthane's attention, it was when she spoke of the Sage, apparently earning the information from one Yoana Ragnan. He remembered that he was known as a prominent magic user, though dealt in some shifty magic, if the rumors held any substance to them. And despite the fact that Sarah's goal in seeing the Sage was to shut down an illegal immigrant operation (in which he noticed her eyes glimmered at the rewards she believed they would earn afterwards), Lanthane wondered if he'd be any more use to them. His gaze moved to the book in his lap. Even after Rafa's suggestion earlier, there hadn't been an ample oppurtunity to find anyone who could look at this book. He doubted highly anyone could immediately translate anything of its contents, which is how his thoughts turned back to the Sage. Considering Nolan carried it on his person, and had been in contact with the Sage himself, perhaps he knew something of the book and its contents. Though, he foresaw a problem if Sarah was to charge in there, magic blazing, and taking a 'no' when it came to a negotiation.

But it was something to think of in the morning, when he didn't feel exhaustion threaten to take him or was irritated by dull pain.

Once finally arriving at the village, and watching the soldiers set up camp, Lanthane was already giving thought to where he would be sleeping. Sleeping in a tent hadn't bothered him all that much, and he very much doubted there would be lodgings inside the village itself (yet, would no doubt have a tavern). He paused in his thoughts, wondering if he had heard Sarah chirping again, only, to hear a question he believed was aimed his way. At first, he was sure that the question had been aimed at Vivian, only to hear her innate disappointment at not sharing a tent with her sister oozing through her exhausted mumblings. It was only when Lanthane gave her other sister his full attention, that he noticed she had aimed the question towards him, and had been seemingly focused on him. He would have found the proposition odd - if he had not been reminded of his desire for his head to hit a pillow, plus, finding that securing a tent or other lodgings for himself would take considerable time.

"Do you really wish to spend the night listening to me snoring ?" Lanthane teased, unable to help himself once again. Though, he did ponder on why she had offered to share a tent in the first instance. Perhaps she felt safer, or perhaps she would feel lonely without someone nearby. Regardless, he hadn't pondered on it, and finally responded, "Well, if you so insist on my company, perhaps it's simply easier for me to accept your offer."

Gerran, who had been looming around the noble in his usual stoic silence, glanced to him, regarding him. Even if he attempted not to let it should, his brow was already lined with thought. He curbed that back, however, as Lanthane glanced back to him and smiled in that sickingly charming way he had a habit of doing.

"You could take the rest of the evening off, if you wish," he began. "Explore the village. It'd be boring for you to hang around nearby whilst I'm sleeping, I'm sure. And even if something were to happen, there are plenty of soldiers to defend us."

Gerran would have retorted in his usual manner about how someone like him was vulnerable as they slept, but bit his tongue in the presence of others. "If...that is what you so wish." He responded in his usual manner. Though, he did share one of their looks; the kind where he could simply communicate they would speak again in the morning. Perhaps he could explore the village, buy himself a drink, wind down after the hellish day they had been presented with. Perhaps he would be better checking up on any others after that battle. After all, not all of them were trained veterans in war...

 

[HeyItsBanana]

Mason Arembur
Mentions: Locke ( The Black Knight ) Vivian ( Takumi98 ) God ( InsaneAsylum )​

"Death," Father Bartholomew's voice rang softly in Masons mind as the funerals were held, "well it's a bit of a rough thing to talk about isn't it my boy." The memories of his youth were flooding to him as they always did, trying to find some semblance of direction in a world seemingly lost, he was but a boy of eight years when he had his first intimate experience with the topic, the conversation he now replayed was born of that unfortunate time. "Death is a fickle thing to say the least, there are times when it comes for those who have accepted such a visit long before it dawns on them, such as the one you see before you." The Father gestured to the elderly man whom lay motionless in his bed, he had passed during a routine checkup, one that Mason had been tasked with witnessing as part of his training. He had simply closed his eyes as the holy man performed some rudimentary healing on him, only to never open them again. "It is the ones such as this man who are the lucky ones, he's lived a life full of experiences, love, and more than one good meal. It is the way that many would prefer to leave this realm, peacefully in their slumber," he offered a supportive smile to the young Mason, "but not everyone can be so lucky. Others are taken from this world before many would deem it their time, and others still are taken from this world by those who deem themselves worthy of passing the judgment reserved for the Gods, but they too will eventually succumb to the very judgment they have passed down and the Gods are not as merciful."

"But," A tiny cracked voice managing to escape the boy, "what is it that white magic like yours can do if it cannot even stop it?" He sniffed heavily, wiping his face that was moist with tears on the sleeve of his robes that were two sizes too big for his skinny frame.

Bartholomew could see that this event had truly troubled the boy, to be this young and have the full weight of his future placed on his shoulders was a colossal burden to bear to say the least, he would treat Mason to a home-cooked meal tonight, that always cheered this pudgy priest up. He continued to gently speak, dropping down to Mason's level to do so, "We healers spend our lives perfecting our craft not to beat death, for that is not possible, but to stave off his reach for those too young to be given to him. That, and to make the passing of those who's time has truly come easier and as painless as we can manage, because no matter who death claims, there will be many left to carry the pain of the departure." Father Bartholomew sighed as he spoke, his own eyes misting from the burdens he carried upon his own shoulders. "You have a good heart Mason," he said, tousling the boys hair, "you're just like me."

It was at this point where Mason looked up from his sleeve and met Bartholomew's warm glistening gaze, "Does this mean I'll be as big as you too?"

This brought a rumbling laugh to the priest, who stifled it as best he could through his chuckling reply, "Only if you eat as much as I do." The man added a wink as he hoisted the child onto his lap, "No, Mason, what it means is that you will have an extra difficult time being a white mage, you will connect will everyone that you help, you will see them as family even though they may be strangers you've only met that moment. It means that you will personally carry every loss on your shoulders, you will grieve the same as a family member would, but there is also a great benefit to being such a way. You will try with all your might to save everyone, regardless of who they are, or how hopeless it seems, and it is that spark that will bring you to the greatest heights. You will save many people with your heart Mason, but you will be certain to remember those who you can't."

"I will be certain to remember those who I can't." Mason spoke the words under his breath as the burial for Shaia commenced. "I may not have known you long, or well, but in the brief time we experienced I know that there is a person that you were particularly important to. He may not like me now, in fact if Vivian hadn't healed my wounds, my swollen face would have confirmed that he hates me. I swear to you, that I will do everything in my power to keep him alive, this is my promise to you. I'm sorry Shaia." Though, just as Father Bartholomew predicted, he held every loss close to his heart, it never grew easier. Every new death added to his shoulders a weight that could not be lessened, but it also steeled his resolve to become better. Death would be stalled with his own hands, he would fight the reaper tooth and nail before he would allow any to fall.

The Ballistic Chicken riders had been being guided by a woman named Sarah, sent by the intimidating General Goldelle, whom had the mission to not only accompany them, but extend their orders. The group was to seek refuge outside a nearby village and wait for further orders. More than half of the young cleric wanted to return to the capital, retiring to the church and tutelage of Father Bartholomew, but the weight on his heart gripped tighter, reminding him of not only his promise, but his personal desire for adventure. Mason was sure to choose a different cart than Locke, nothing good would come from being in close proximity to him so soon after Shaia's death, he instead decided to pack himself in with the supplies brought by the reinforcements and Sarah. It was uncomfortable and cramped, but it was not because of this that he was unable to find sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Shaia lifeless and still. Locke's words would flood his mind, screams of "You coward!" and "You should have died instead!" echoing endlessly in his mind, suffocating his psyche, barring him from any form of restful sleep. It was dark when they reached the village, and though Mason had been able to rest his body, his mind was still quite dense with the schlock of gloom. As much as he desired to simply remain where he was for the night, his legs were beginning to cramp and he needed to clear his mind as best he could, his journey was only beginning after all.

It was a beautiful night, the moon's glow sent a cascading array of silver light streaming though the area. The orange and yellow flickering of both torch and candlelight poured forth from windows and door frames, slightly askew in their imperfect construction. The night was silent, so much so that if one were to listen carefully the murmurs of families gathering for supper and the tenacious ones who were up for a few rounds of drink after a hard day congregating at the tavern. Yet the warmth of such a close knit gathering of people paled in comparison to the immaculate display of the heavens above. Mason looked skyward and his jaw dropped, there were so many stars! Twinkling and shining with numbers that rivaled the grains of sand in the desert they had just passed trough, each one a flawless gem with infinite facets made of the purest light each one so perfect and dazzling that Mason could not fathom how each one did not outshine the other, yet still they mingled and danced among themselves each one giving way to another nearby. It was truly a marvelous spectacle, such a view that would make any question just how big the world was, and how small a part they played in it. During his moment of reprieve the man had not noticed the group of young children playing nearby, it seemed as though they were catching fireflies, while their numbers aged from true children to those that seemed closer to adulthood, they were all playing together joyfully, laughter filling the air and finally grabbing Mason's attention. It seems they too had taken note of the white mage, some pointing and giggling, while others continued play. With and earnest wave and a smile from Mason the gates were open and he was soon mobbed by the group.

He was instantaneously mobbed with questions, "Who are you? Where are you from? Why are your clothes so big? Do you fight people with that stick thing?" Before he could respond he was laughing quite heartily, as he gestured for the kids to calm down so he could respond. "My name is Mason Arembur, I'm a White Mage from Rivienne. These robes are big because," he stopped for a moment, thinking, "well I'm not sure why, but it makes them very cozy, and no I don't fight people with that stick, I use magic to help people who get hurt." All of the younger crowd were enamored with Mason's explanation, several of them asking more follow-up questions, however the older group began talking among themselves more seriously, their eyes darting back and forth from Mason to their conversation. Not missing this, the priest walked over to the group, "You know someone who needs help don't you?" he asked plainly and was greeted with a sheepish nod, wasting no time he responded, "Take me to them."

As Mason was led into the village by a boy a few years younger than he who had introduced himself as Tito, little ones still badgering him with questions, the others trying their best to contain the rabble of the younger herd, he listened, "It's our father," Tito said, "he hurt his back a few days ago while working the mushroom fields, and he has been bedridden since. He's too stubborn to let himself heal, he keeps trying to push himself because he fears we will not have time to complete the harvest if hes out of commission." Mason had picked up the littlest companion at this point, placing her upon his shoulders letting her distract herself with the tangled mess that was his hair, but was dutifully listening. They had reached the home, he could tell by the frustrated shouts that came from inside, "I need to be working the damn fields Tina!" A raspy masculine voice exclaimed, "Ain't no way we gonna finish in time if I'm not out there!" Mason looked to Tito as he heard the voice, Tito nodded and took the little one from his shoulders much to her dismay, opening the door as he did so.

"You are all back early," the voice came from a sturdy tan woman, whom Mason could surmise was Tina, "and you've brought a guest, who might yo-"

"He's a healer mom, he can fix dad." Tito interjected accompanied with an echo of "Fix" from the small girl.

The room was silent for what seemed like an eternity before the father spoke, "We ain't got the coin for no fancy pants healer, you know that Tito." It seems all frustration had left the man, all that was left was a hollow somberness of someone who had the solution to all his problems dangled in front of his nose, but could not muster the strength to grab it. "Sorry to waste your time priest, but we cant afford to pay 'ye." the man winced in pain as he turned to face Mason, grabbing his back as he did. "Be careful Orlic," Tina was quick to his side, assisting where she could, "you need to rest." Watching the broken man being guided back to his room Mason spoke up, "Let me at least learn of what kind of injury you have, so you can better treat it, check-ups are free after all." The two were quick to oblige him, not wanting to pass up an opportunity like this. It was mere moments before the damage was surmised, the man had torn several muscles in his lower back, bed rest would eventually help but at the rate he was fighting said rest it would take months, and even then it may not heal properly, but such was a simple fix for Mason, and so he did it. No sooner had the warmth washed over the man, bringing a questioning look from him, than he realized what had happened.

Orlic leaped directly to his feet, and went to his wife, sweeping her up in his massive arms, twirling her as though it were nothing. The kids cheered, Tito cheered, Tina cheered, and Mason tried to quietly make his way out the door during their celebration but was stopped by a powerful grip. "I can't just let you go unpaid, you've really done a miracle here." Orlic said sternly. Unable to physically fight the grip Mason played dumb, "I told you I don't charge for check-ups there is no coin nec-" His weak explanation was cut short by a monstrous rumbling in his stomach. The room went quiet for the second time that night before Orlic released the loudest belly laugh Mason had heard in a long time, it was loud enough to perhaps rival even Father Bartholomew at his most jovial. "Then let us at least treat you to dinner while we discuss payment." Orlic pulled the small man inside and pulled the door shut, Tina and several of the children beginning the task of cooking a large supper. Somehow, Mason knew that neither he nor Orlic would remember to bring up payment during such a delicious meal, and he was more than happy with that.

 

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[div class=Heading][div class=header]Rin, Hiroaki, & Kaiyo[/div][/div]

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With a full and satisfied stomach, Rin, Hiroaki, and Kaiyo continued steadfastly onward with their unusual assembly of Feurey natives. The past two days proved fascinating. Though they were still reasonably new associates, Rin felt an overwhelming connection with each of them. Maybe, Rin thought, it was because she sought for a family amongst them. Deserting her own clan settled more and more uneasily within her. The three samurais that joined them after their battle entertained Rin. Maybe Hiroaki would finally loosen up and find a woman amongst them. She was beginning to believe him to be gay.

And Sheridan was a force to be reckoned with. She was also a child Rin felt a strong innate desire to protect. Though, in reality, this 'child' was older than Rin. Then there was Inari and his group. Number one mission, above finding The Sage: Pet. Kaldr. At. All. Cost. One day she would be able to do such, and get the ninja to speak more.

Opting to follow on foot, Rin and Hiroaki silently trekked along with the procession. Kaiyo, sitting within the comfort of the caravan, perched her chin on the palm of her hand and gazed out the window. Piercing magenta eyes observed her sister's actions thoughtfully, wondering why she would choose to walk. Her eyes then fixated on Hiroaki who walked alongside her. Rin's ever obedient lapdog. Kaiyo muttered disapprovingly under her breath. Then, with a roll of her eyes, focused back on the group and new, albeit small, member within the wagon.

Quirking an eyebrow, Kaiyo listened to its forewarning.

Beside the caravan, the softened turf deadened Rin's footsteps and the caravan's turning wheels drowned out the remnants of any noise left. Resting between the tip of her shoulder blades and the nap of her neck was her lance. Bent at the wrist, her hands draped indolently off the weapon. The humid weather produced tiny droplets of sweat on their foreheads, and Rin's hair clung to the nape of her neck. Neither of them minded, though.

"Rin," Hiroaki spoke.

Rin shifted her body towards Hiroaki, her lance moving accordingly. Hiro deftly evaded the weapon as he bent backward. "Hm?" Rin coaxed, paying no mind to his actions.

"Maybe you should store your weapon correctly. You might injure someone."

"If someone is stupid enough to walk into a lance, they probably deserve it," Rin countered, turning to face forward once more. Again, Hiroaki bent backward, evading an injury. Just before he was to reprimand his companion, his heightened senses picked up on approaching figures who eventually emerged from the safety of the trees. Daini, masterfully guiding the wagon came to a stop, and Rin and Hiroaki followed suit. When the two men glanced at each other, Rin and Hiroaki mirrored their actions. Though unspoken, the two felt something off about the men.

Hiroaki defensively folded his arms along his broad chest. Rin kept her lackadaisical stance but furrowed her brows at them. "What do you mean you are doing what is best? What exactly is it that you are doing?" She demanded, unaware of what the tiny creature in the caravan was warning about.

The distinct mustiness of burnt wood collided with the two's senses before anything else. Rin wrinkled her nose, the scent prompting her to scan over the canopy of trees. An ominous tangerine glow flickered and licked at the heavens, and smoke began to rise above the treeline. Hiroaki noticed as well, waiting for the two to speak up.


Interations: InsaneAsylum | Mentions: Misuteeku Entity.Eclypse
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[The Black Knight]

The walk across hills of sand and nothing felt private. He felt the weight of Shaia’s body in his arms, and it grew heavier the further he walked until he was forced to his knees. The sand gave beneath them and Locke looked over his shoulders, seeing Hiro approaching. He held back his tears and set Shaia’s body aside. He stood and drew his sword from his sword rack. He dragged the tip in the sand, drawing a rectangle to mark how long and wide they were going to dig her grave.

“I think this will do,” Locke stated with a smile.

Hiro didn’t stop walking. He stepped over Locke’s drawing and rested his hands upon the sellsword’s shoulders. Through his kitsune, slanted eyes, Hiro gazed Locke in his own blue and bewildered ones. The monk told him, “It’s okay Locke. You can cry.”

Locke blinked and then laughed, “I thought you were gonna kiss me or some weird shit.”

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed or afraid. You can cry, Locke.”

Locke looked away from Hiro and then inhaled a quivering breath. The monk stepped forward and embraced the warrior in a hug as Locke finally gave in. He dropped the sword and returned the hug, holding his friend tightly as he wept into his shoulder. Hiro stared solemnly across the desert, crying internally for he couldn’t recall the last time he really wept before his training at the Crane school. He understood how Locke felt and even though he couldn’t physically cry, he was crying spiritually and emotionally for their lost friend.

Digging Shaia’s grave was the hardest thing Locke had ever done, and he was thankful that he didn’t have to do it alone for Hiro was there to bear the same burden. They both dug it. It wasn’t six-feet-under, but it was deep enough that the buzzards wouldn’t find it and that the sands would keep her buried. What bothered Locke was that after a few days, they wouldn’t be able to find it to pay their respects. They didn’t want to mark her grave for fear of robbers disturbing it. The whole ordeal was one Locke never wanted to experience, and he was a fool for thinking this day would never come. He was just reminded how short life could be and how every day spent together was precious.


Locke’s party had split away from the main group to go explore the village—well, it was actually to find the nearest tavern. It was the quietest evening they had ever spent together. Locke and Hiro sat opposite of each other in The Black Flagon. There were five empty steins on the table. Locke’s face was flushed from his inebriation and his head hung over the back of the chair he slouched in. The silence felt like it was growing thicker by the second until Locke grasped the armrests of his chair and raised his leg. He brought his boot over the table and slammed his heel down, causing the steins to topple over with a clatter.

“What is going on here? I ordered food an hour ago!” he roared.

Hiro gently sniffed the air and frowned at the odor. What was that? A young chef in the kitchen thought the same as she stared down at a bowl of brown sludge with strange dumplings floating in it. She had followed the house recipe, and she couldn’t believe it came out to something so horrid. The chef’s name was Melody. Her hands gripped her white apron, twisting wrinkles into it as she sweated beneath her gown. Her large blue eyes were wide and cheeks pink with embarrassment. Shaking her head frantically, her purple locks swept back and forth as she clenched her eyes closed and said, “I can’t! I can’t serve this!”

“What was that?” a man’s voice exclaimed behind her. It was her employer, Chandler.

Melody went rigid as a chill shot up her spine. The head chef was staring over her shoulder at the bowl of what was supposed to be chicken and dumplings. To his eyes, it looked like the usual slop the tavern always served.

“Our customers are angry. Stop fooling around and go serve them already!”

“Ye-yes sir!” Melody whimpered. She poured a second bowl of the gunk and briskly entered the main room. It hurt her pride to serve something so atrocious. When she took the job as a cook, she thought that she was going to be able to freely cook how she wanted. Her dream was to have her own restaurant where she could share her mother’s recipes with the world, but her current job wasn’t granting her much freedom to stray away from the usual, awful tavern recipes. She approached the table of one irritated young man and another one who wore a stoic and passive face. They both appeared to be warriors from the gear they carried and their muscles—not that she was staring or anything!

Locke dropped his foot and sat up eagerly in his seat. “Finally.”

Melody froze. She stood there holding the bowls. Oh no! My body won’t move. I don’t have it in my heart to serve these poor customers this pig slop!

Locke narrowed his eyes at the girl. “Are you gonna serve us or not?”

Melody clenched her eyes closed and shook her head.

Locke arched a brow. “What? You got our food right there.”

“I…I can’t,” she squeaked.

Locke then became suspicious. He frowned sternly. “It’s poisoned, isn’t it?”

Melody’s face flashed white and she exclaimed, “No! Of course not!”

Locke then slammed his fist upon the table and yelled, “Then give me my food! I’ve had a long and horrible day, and I am at my wit’s end. The least I could do is fill my belly with some decent food!”

Melody had jumped at Locke’s outburst and fearfully—she didn’t want to be yelled at again—she started creeping toward his table. Baby steps. Her hands were shaking so much that the slime started spilling over the edges of the bowl onto the floor.

He had a horrible day. This food would only make it worse. I don’t serve food like this! Melody thought.

She summoned some internal courage and suddenly surprised Locke with a scream that sounded like a war cry. Melody threw up her hands, tossing the bowls of gravy and mystery lumps over her shoulders to spill and shatter across the floor. “Yaa~ah!”

Hiro and Locke were both staring wide-eyed at the girl. Hiro glanced over at the brown goop that splattered across the floor and wrinkled his nose in disgust. So that’s what that terrible smell was, he mused.

Locke on the other hand saw it as good food gone to waste. “Are you crazy?! I waited my entire life for that bowl! That’s it. I’m out of here.”

Chandler appeared stomping from the back kitchen and stared in shock at not only the broken dishware but the mess all over the floor. “What is going on here? Melody!”

Melody’s eyes flew open in surprise. She glanced back at her boss and then in fright when she watched Hiro and Locke stand. She ran over to them. “No; please wait! That was a terrible dish. I couldn’t serve it to you. Please, let me cook for you!”

“Terrible? You’re saying my cooking is terrible! I’ve been cooking at this tavern well before you showed up!”

Melody boldly shouted back, “I’m sorry, Sir. But I couldn’t force myself to serve that for human consumption!”

“WHAT!?”

Locke carelessly continued toward the door. “Sorry, I’m not waitin’ another hour for a measly bowl of shit.”

“WHAT ARE YOU CALLING SHIT!?”

Melody became nervous. They were losing customers. Growing desperate, she exclaimed, “It’ll be free!”

“WHAT!?”

Melody shouted back, “You can take it out of my pay!”

Locke stopped right in the doorway and Hiro abruptly halted. An impish smile curled the sellsword’s lips as he repeated, “Free, you say? And how many years will I have to wait for this free food?”

“Thirty minutes…an hour at most but it won’t be for one meal!”

“You’re not gonna waste my supplies! If you don’t like cooking in my tavern, then you can GET OUT!” her boss bellowed.

Melody felt her heart skip as though it had been struck by lightning. She whirled to face her boss, her mouth open in shock, before she bit down on her bottom lip. She gazed down at the floorboards as she started to untie her apron. Tears rolled hotly down her cheeks as she muttered, “I just wanted to share my mother’s recipes. I wanted to make people happy…”

A shadow passed her and Melody raised her head, blinking the tears from her eyes as she gazed at the back of Locke’s dark-haired head. The sellsword marched right up to the tavern owner and smiled brightly in his face, while the man frowned at him.

“If you think I’m gonna pass up a free feast, then you’re out of your mind,” Locke told him.

“You better get it fro-”

Locke had drawn his sword so fast that the tip dragged across the wall behind Chandler and the edge stopped just before his neck. Hiro’s ears were standing on his head beneath his helm as he thought, This human…

Melody’s hands clapped over her mouth, stifling her sudden harsh gasp.

“Hush now. You don’t get to speak,” Locke told him. “This tavern is now under my control.”

Hiro frowned. “Locke…”

“You’ll go to-”

Locke bent the blade closer to the owner’s neck and said, “Bup-bup-bup! No talking. It’s temporary. You’re gonna let this girl cook us some free food, and then we’re gonna eat it and be out of your hair. If you gotta problem with that, then things can get a little difficult.”

The owner growled and held his tongue. The room fell silent. Melody was still holding her mouth. An irritated knot appeared at the back of Locke’s head as he yelled, “Are you gonna cook for us or not?”

Melody dropped her hands and quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Uh-yes! Right away.” She raced over to the kitchen, tying her apron as she went. She stopped to look at her…well…she didn’t know if he was still her employer or not but she still acted like he was. “I promise you’ll love it. Just give me a chance.”

The girl vanished into the kitchen and Hiro’s frown softened. This was another situation that would have conflicted with his teachings. What Locke was doing was wrong, but then it was…Hiro didn’t know how to explain it. What he did was actually kind…Locke was willing to take an entire tavern just to give a human girl a chance to prove herself. It was…It was madness!

“Hey uh…Pete. Watch the door in case we get any visitors!”

Hiro’s hand rose to grasp his forehead as he groaned in emotional anguish. He was even using pseudonyms.

“I don’t know why I follow you,” Hiro grumbled.

Locke flashed Hiro a large and innocent grin that the kitsune imagined himself punching out—especially if the whole ordeal went to shit.

 

[Misuteeku]

Sheridan Sasaki​

Sheridan skillfully answered all of Daini's question as they traveled towards their next destination. The woman inquired much about herself. From her age, to her curse, to her clothes, and to pretty much everything that was considered 'unique' about her. It didn't matter if some of the questions sounded a little off and rude, Sheridan wasn't doing much as of right now. She had completed her bird puppet and didn't have any other projects in mind. Though the one she did have in mind for was her goal. After the completion of the bird puppet, she could finally focus on that goal. All she needed to do was find a good medium for her next puppet and experiment with it until she finally succeeded. When they met the Sage, she would like to engage a conversation with him due to his wealth of knowledge in the magics.

Though, she did feel something that she had felt many times throughout her stay with her caretaker. Annoyance. Despite her maturity, people in her group were constantly looking after all. Time to time she could swore fox mask gave her the occasional concerned stares and the damned glutton gave her a piece of candy. She all but appearance when compared to an adult. With a sigh she pinched the bridge of the nose. This was the one of many boons that came with staying at the hermitage. Besides having to deal with her psychopathic caretaker, she had mainly the whole house to herself. She could build her puppets, research the dark arts, and drink some nice warm tea. She didn't forget that the girl gave her alcohol instead. Thankfully, she savored her drink instead of chugging it all down like the glutton.

The wagon came to a stop, which lead to Sheridan stopped as well. Walking to the right side of the wagon, she looked to see what was going on. Daini was talking to some of the Clan's foot soldiers that were obstructing their path. Frowning, she did notice that whatever symbols were on their armor was scratched off. Wasn't it dishonorable to relinquish the symbol? She had a read it on a book once, but that might of been something else. With the Glutton and her boyfriend distracting the guards, she hid behind the wagon and took out her bird puppet. "Survey and report back to me..." She whispered to the bird. Dark magics bled out of the bird before going back into the gaps.

The bird puppet fluttered and it flew away from the wagon. Sheridan watched as her puppet stealthily fly away from the wagon. Whatever the soldiers were obstructing their path for, it must of been important. Going back to the right side of the wagon, she frowned she saw a glittering being in the distance. While she wasn't knowledgeable in terms of creatures, the strange light was a little suspicious. It didn't help through her communion with demons left her being paranoid over strange sights such at these. Though it was better to be safe than to be sorry. She would have an eye on the strange light.

​

 

[Entity.Eclypse]

Inari, Dierdre, Thana, and Kaldr
Interactions/Mentions: Misuteeku FoldedPages InsaneAsylum Continuing to sit at the table within this tavern had given a decent insight to the people in this area, particularlly the fisherman and other lower-ranking individuals who spent their leisure here. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed another individual approaching, she seemed far too energetic in comparison to what he would've liked to see. Outside of that she had left the small girl for a moment, surely she would move away again. Though the bouncier attitude of the woman reeked with naivety. The response to her question, which was likely lackluster, came out as a simple nod.

~On the Road Again~

Through some stroke of luck, Inari had managed to maintain his silence throughout the whole two days of traveling. It was easier said than done in all honesty, mostly maintained by sitting completely still and giving off the impression of sleeping... which wasn't entirely false. From time to time he would glance at the members within and outside of the cart, any break they had taken to let the hornicorns rest was an opportunity. For some reason, the rations Inari had attained for himself and Kaldr would practically disappear, so instead, he opted towards hunting. It was beneficial in many ways since it let Kaldr get some exercise, and it kept both of their senses sharp. Needless to say, a few rabbits had provided decent sustenance in the past few days. Outside of that Inari now sat towards the back of the cart, Kaldr had laid down beside him and pressed herself close as the Twins continued to talk among the rest of the group. Inari had been lost in thought for but a moment, pulled back to reality as he noticed some form of light a little ways ahead. Turning his head to face it, he immediately noticed as it grew closer and closer before revealing itself to them. Some sort of small humanoid being? Perhaps this was a ghost or a forest spirit?

Soon enough the small figure had begun to speak, stating something about something strange happening further ahead. Inari looked through the front of the cart and stared up at what appeared to be an orange light of some form. His eyes widened beneath the mask as the scent of smoke returned to his senses, they were still quite some distance away but the scent was one that he could never mistake. "Burning a village down. What would they do that for?" Thana asked in confusion before taking another bite from a whole loaf of bread she had found in one of the bags. Dierdre looked to the fae being in concern as well, Kaldr now lifting her head and staring through the front of the tent. Inari recognized what this was pretty quickly, a quiet whistle escaped his lips which led Kaldr to move closer to Dierdre and Thana. Tapping Dierdre on the shoulder he nodded to her and then to Kaldr before moving out the rear of the wagon. "What does that mean?" He could hear Dierdre mutter quietly before their attention was drawn to the front of the cart, the two individuals who had presented themselves appeared to be in an argument with the spear-woman and her companion.

The moment the two men looked to one another he began to move. Taking that brief moment of evasion, he moved to the side quickly and vanished into the brush, he did his best to maintain the oh-so needed silence and carefully made his way towards the two men. With extreme caution, he'd managed not to disturb the foliage or fauna enough to make excessive noise, and in a matter of moments, he would find himself positioned up a tree. He stood atop one of the branches off to the side of the left-most soldier. Slowly he drew a blade from his waist, it was a relatively small blade- only about as long as one's forearm. But it would serve it's purpose if either guard chose to get too aggressive. Ensuring that he had stationed himself out of sight from allies and enemies he prepared himself to strike, all he needed now was a signal.​

 

[Takumi98]

With the knights of Rivienne making camp, Rafa assisted Ashe in finding a tent for their charge, and once the man got the young Noble to actually start sleeping by humming a lullaby, she slipped away to the tavern to save him from any type of embarrassment. For now, anyway.

Feeling the cooling sand under her feet, Rafa smiled to herself. It was a sad and tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. She needed a stiff drink and hearty food to warm her belly and aid her for a good night's rest otherwise she'd think too much about the sights and smells of blades tearing through flesh and blood soaking into sand.

Stretching her arms above her head and lifting to her toes momentarily in a full body stretch, her joints popped and she grunted slightly. The tavern in sight, she put a slight pep in her step and began to quietly hum a small tune she remembered hearing her father sing as he sharpened his blade, something about a lady in red or another. She never remembered the words since he never remembered half of the lyrics anyway.

Upon approaching the door she gave a push, her humming having stopped as she made her way inside. Something was off with the atmosphere the moment she stepped foot inside,but she didn't catch it with her eyes right away.

'Tense air, perhaps I should try and make time in the morning? ' She thought idly. Then again she might as well stay and get a couple men to buy her drink and food, she did come all this way after all.

"Excuse me," she started, eyes landing on Hiro instantly as he was the closest in her line of sight, giving a slight tilt of her head. "You wouldn't mind having a meal with a lady, would you?" She asked simply. Her gaze moved to Locke then, and a single brow rose as a small thoughtful hum escaped her. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her blade a moment, contemplating her next course of action even as her stomach growled.

Interactions: The Black Knight (Hiro/Locke)

 

[InsaneAsylum]

That Mushroom Village​

As the night settled over the Rivienne Party, Sarah sat at a small bench in her tent reading through a tome. Every couple of minutes she would glance back at the still form of her brother, Lanthane, sleeping soundly in the deep blue sleeping bag she had provided for him. It was a bit too big for him, but he never noticed. He had fallen asleep almost instantly after snugging himself in there. Sarah stared down at him for a long moment, before smiling devilishly. She shut her tome and decided she had better get ready for bed as well. They had much to do tomorrow, and unwinding would do her well. Staring a scorpion in the eyes as it charged at you was no easy feat! She stripped off her outer layer of clothing, tossing it onto her bench. She then pulled off the leather armor she wore beneath it. The leather was relatively thin compared to the armor a soldier would normally wear, but Sarah didn't like too much weighing her down when she casted spells. She tossed the rest of her garments to the side and quietly approached the sleeping Lanthane. She crouched down next to him, and slowly slid into the sleeping bag. Her body pressed tightly against his, but somehow he didn't wake up.

"You must've really worked hard in that fight huh..." Sarah whispered as she wrapped her hands around Lanthane's waist, giving him a tight hug. "I'll help you recover swiftly brother."

Sarah wriggled about for a moment, before letting out a quiet gasp, followed by a sigh of relief. Lanthane would no doubt be waking up at this point, and wondering why his sister was embracing him inside the sleeping bag with such vigor. The sleeping bag had heated up incredibly, likely due to Sarah's love for her brother. If Lanthane felt around, he'd would discover Sarah's lack of clothes, and his own lack decency from the waist down. Sarah's head was tucked besides Lanthane's next as she let out soft comforting breathes next to his ear.

These sort of things weren't uncommon in Rivienne noble families. Marrying off often meant splitting wealth with other families, or lowering your chance at one day being the family on the throne. However, if you kept the blood in the family, it would be far easier to claim purity of your own bloodline. Commoners didn't take part in this practice, but had little issues with it. It had been the norm for centuries after all, so why should it change now? After all, Sarah didn't have much of a chance at ruling Rivienne. Her only chance was to secure her future with someone who did have a shot.

--------------------

As mason sat eating dinner with the family he had assisted, the front open open a shut. A scraggly haired young man walked in, older than the other kids, but younger than the adults. He was likely the eldest child.

"Sorry I'm late you guys, I was trying to finish up out there but my boot got stuck in the mud for awhile. I'm going to go back out and try to find it later... Did you guys see those soldiers? What're they doing all the way out here?" The young man paused as soon as he saw Mason. He knew he wasn't from the village by the way he dressed. "Who is this? Is he one of the soldiers?" He asked. his voice sounded a little worried, as if the soldiers posed a threat to something of his.

--------------------------------

Inside the tavern an old man sat in a far corner taking short sips of a mug full of alcohol. He smiled joyfully after each sip, and rubbed his hand over his bald head. He wore simple brown robes, and a walking cane leaned on the table beside him. He watched the scene unfolding without much care. He only worried about taking the next sip from his mug, and rubbing his hand over his bald head. He had a short white bear that was groomed to a point below his chin too. It had a few flakes of food stuck in it. Suddenly, he called out.

"Would anyone care to bring me another cub of ale?" The old man yelled this quite loudly, drawing the attention of many who were already shocked at the hostage situation taking fold.

 

[Arcanist]

♕ Lanthane/Gerran ♕
Mentions: Sarah/Old Man ( InsaneAsylum ), Locke/Hiro ( The Black Knight ) Rafa ( Takumi98 )​

Lanthane was relieved to eventually leave his companions - and to eventually dismiss Gerran of his duties and push him in the direction of the village - for his mind had been dulled by fatigue, and his body grew heavier as it ached for sleep. Once they had gotten inside the tent, Lanthane set to readying himself for slumber. He would have thrown everything off if he could, given the lingering, sticky heat that remained even during the night, but he afforded himself some decency with his shirt and his pants, seeing as he was sharing with Sarah. Barely regarding the obviously wide sleeping bag he crawled into, he yawned a, “Goodnight, Sarah…” before he had conked out within a matter of minutes.

Being caught between the realm of consciousness and an almost dream-like state was an odd one. Lan could hear the distant sounds of rustling, but he couldn’t quite place what they were nor would his sleepy mind allow him to acknowledge them. He was certainly dreaming, but he was faced with shapeless images wrapped in darkness. Lanthane believed he could hear his sister whispering. Perhaps it was to herself, over something in that fat tome of hers, or maybe it was to him. He convinced himself it was nothing to worry himself over, again, not quite registering something outside the realm of pictureless dreams.

Yet, Lanthane didn’t remain there entirely. He felt an odd, yet comforting warmth rise up in his body. It was one he recognised as not having experienced for some time now. He grunted somewhat at the sensation, feeling himself rousing from his sleep. He realised someone was...pressing against him? The noble didn't complain at first; having gone without another human’s company for some time made him crave the sensations and the pleasures of the moment further. Whatever woman was breathing so quietly against him, making such an array of soft sounds made the hairs on his body stand up. Lanthane’s body shifted the slightest bit, and it was then he realised the other person sharing this intimate space with him hadn't a thing on them, and it seemed some item of clothing had gone amiss from his waist. And when he finally shifted his head to get a glance at the mysterious figure, he felt his blood turn ice-cold.

Sarah?!

Lanthane froze. Any time he thought about moving his arms or his legs, they felt heavier than a house. Lanthane opened his mouth, willing something to come out, but he only felt a quiet gasp escaping his throat; one he cursed for giving his consciousness away. He lay there, unable to pinpoint an emotion he wasn’t feeling. Whilst his mind was riddled with questions of how, why, when, he also debated on where he would go from here. Lanthane wasn’t oblivious to this kind of thing working its way around noble families, nor was anyone else. But it hadn’t meant Lanthane ever considered being parley to this notion, no less to Sarah.

He refused to cry out. It would only cause a scene, attract attention, and the last thing he wanted was anyone walking in on...whatever this was. Lanthane also knew, however, he couldn’t just lie here and wait for this to finish. He eventually felt some semblance of feeling returning to his limbs, and mustering up some courage, he managed to raise his hand up. Lanthane tried not to let it brush against anywhere inappropriate - not that the situation could devolve any further - until he finally found her shoulder, pushing against it.

“S...S-Sarah…” The older brother rasped, only beginning to formulate the words he wanted to. If he did this quietly, they wouldn’t have to draw attention. They could sort this out between the two of them, and no one would have to know about it. “G-get off me…!”


To say Gerran was a wandering, lost pup, would be describing his situation rather well. He would admit he had become almost dependent on Lanthane being around and acting as his charge. He had devoted what was believed to be a short lifespan of a knight on Lunacresta to an apparent ‘bratty’ lord and a war that wasn’t his own. Those two things, and the added concern and love he had for his father and his sister back on the family farm, were the only three things he had willingly dedicated his life too.

Gerran Perall was depicted as a boring, serious man, and it was an image he had no qualms correcting.

He walked the dusty paths of the village’s interior, watching as those working in the fields a few stones throws away had ceased their work for the day, and were returning home. Though having never set foot in Twistix, he felt an odd nostalgia well up inside his chest. The fields the villagers humbly tended tom and the lack of grandeur here that the capital Grenouille offered, reminded him of the village he and Sela - his sister - had frequently travelled back and forth to. The sensation in his chest had turned to a thick tightening; a longing to return to what seemed like much simpler times. The only grasp he had on his past were the frequent letters exchanged between him and Sela, for his father stubbornly never learned to read or write, but their mother had actively encouraged it for her children. Gerran was glad she did.

It was then he decided he would construct a letter over some ale. Having an aim that didn’t include Lanthane in the equation, he made his way towards the tavern, earning the odd cautious stare from one or two villagers, no doubt because his armour outed him as a soldier.

Arriving inside the tavern, he had expected the usual scene. Patrons falling all over each other, a drunkard passed out in the corner, those waiting on customers avoiding gropes and other distasteful gestures, but even Gerran couldn’t contain the surprise that made its way into his eyes when the tavern was caught in a tense silence. For several moments, he stood, his eyes darting from one end to the other. It seemed people were either staring at something - or someone - or avoiding staring at all. He could hear subdued whispers from those afraid to break the silence. Finally, his eyes landed on the source that supposedly caused this switch of atmosphere.

Locke, standing with a blade barely inches from what seemed to the tavern owner’s neck. Gerran figured he must have walked in after a series of events had occurred. Either way, the scene didn’t paint the young man in a stellar light, with or without the context. He’d have to find out what happened, gauge things from there. His companion, Hiro, looked troubled by the man’s antics, and it seemed the woman that Lanthane insisted on complimenting had only just arrived to this as well.

At the same time, a bald, elderly man had been shouting about someone providing him with another cup of ale. Gerran would have happily provided one for him and himself - had Locke’s apparent hostage situation not given him cause for worry. So, he treaded carefully further into the tavern, before halting, maintaining some distance from Locke, before he posed his question.

“Is there a problem here, Locke?” Gerran asked in the most matter-of-fact way he could have, trying not to seem accusatory one way or the other. That wasn't to say anyone would take it that way.

 

[The Black Knight]

By the time Rafa and Gerran arrived to the tavern, amidst the hushed quiet, there was a smell that permeated the interior. It was the smell of spice. Something foreign to a tavern that produced diarrhea in a bowl. Warm meaty, onions, garlic, butter; it smelled like heaven. Even Hiro found the smell more pleasing than the dumpling soup—it should not have even been mentioned in comparison. Chandler, even with the blade held against his neck, was amazed by what he smelled.

Hiro, standing before Rafa and Gerran, did not allow his slanted eyes stray from them (were they even open?). The kitsune answered Rafa, “We are about to have dinner once the chef is finished cooking. If you want to eat, then you should have a seat.”

The fox then added, “Surely a meal is a wiser choice than an unnecessary scuffle.”

He didn’t tell her directly that he had seen her slight action, but the monk hinted to her. She was in the bubble of a warrior who specialized in close-quarters combat, and he gave her an option to be smart about her decisions.

Hiro didn’t stop Gerran when he decided to pass him. He had spent a longer time with him than he had with the woman before him, and he trusted him more than her. An old man called for a drink, and Hiro knew that neither the tavern owner or Locke could serve him. Locke wasn’t going to let the man move. Hiro told Rafa. “I’m going to go serve this man a drink.”

He told her his intentions for he trusted that she would have made the smarter decision. Hiro turned toward the bar to follow behind Gerran. He rounded the counter to prepare a mug for the old man, while the knight questioned Locke’s actions.

Locke turned a blue eye over his shoulder and saw the confused knight. The one Shaia had said could probably best him with a sword. Whatever. He knew his sword skills were average, but…whatever.

“There’s no problem here. Have a seat. Relax,” Locke answered. He refrained from telling Gerran about the meal because he honestly didn’t want to share it. Little did he know that Hiro had already offered a portion to Rafa if she chose.

The tavern owner seemed to have calmed once he was able to inhale the culinary aromas that leaked from the kitchen. His eyes were wide in awe. “What…is that coming from my kitchen?”

Locke smiled and lowered his sword convinced that not only did Melody have a good head start but she had already left her impression on her boss. “That is the smell of good food. All you had to do is give her a chance, but you fired her.”

Chandler blinked and then narrowed his eyes at Locke who had a pseudo-innocent smile on his face. “Wait…I didn’t…I take it back.”

Locke shrugged his shoulders. “You can’t take it back. I already hired her.”

“WHAT!? Since when?”

“The moment I got a whiff of what’s comin’ out of that kitchen.”

“You haven’t hired her yet. She still thinks she works for me!”

“You made her cry. She’s gonna jump right on my offer to get away from a fat asshole like you.”

“HOW DARE YOU! You and your friends can-”

Locke’s knee rose and cracked against the tavern owner’s crotch like a mallet against walnuts. Chandler’s eyes bulged as he folded over, hands naturally going to grab his tenders. Locke then struck the side of the man’s head with the pommel of his sword, sending him spilling over unconscious. The knight turned to smile at Gerran. “Like I said, there’s no problem. The tavern is under my control until that girl back there is finished cooking and there’s food in my belly. No one is getting in the way of my free meal.”

Hiro had just set the mug down on the old man’s table when he made an uncomfortable face at Locke’s behavior. He just hoped no one created drama and that Melody hurried. Locke was getting more and more aggressive when he was starved.

 

[Arcanist]

♕ Lanthane/Gerran ♕
Mentions: Locke/Hiro ( The Black Knight )​

Locke’s suggestion was easier said than done. Gerran hadn’t yet moved to take Locke’s advice - despite with the mercenary’s eye fixed upon him. The longer he stared at the blade at the tavern proprietor's neck, the more uncomfortable he grew. Despite witnessing the man’s handling of a sword, he had rather awful visions of the one he held at this moment sinking further into one of the man’s many neck rolls.

The knight decided on an approach of negotiation, until the plodge of a man commented on the whiff that had wafted in from the kitchen. Again, there was a visible confusion in Gerran’s eyes. He wondered if the man had some sort of ailment that affected his sense of smell, only as he listened in more to the conversation that took place after, he started to pick up pieces of what preceded the event he had stumbled upon.

Gerran couldn’t help but shift his gaze the man and Locke in their brief back-and-forth, trying to catch any piece of information he deemed useful. Naturally, Locke’s final comment was met with screams from the man held at swordpoint, and Gerran went to step in to discuss some compromise. “Perhaps it’s best i--”

That call for negotiation came too late. Gerran watched as Locke’s knee connected with the man’s nethers with such force, it almost made him squirm at the action. As if the damage hadn’t been done, Locke insisted on striking the man whilst he was practically down, and he felt the space between them rumble as the man finally fell. Gerran was clearly processing the moment even as Locke spoke. He eventually turned narrowed eyes towards him.

“Was that a threat?” The man questioned, unwisely coming out with his musings rather than to think before he spoke. It was rare that Gerran would rise to anything with such an undertone, but he felt a sudden urge to. At least, he did, until he noticed Hiro’s discomfort surrounding the situation. The air was stifling, and it wasn’t from the aromas of the food. Gerran kept a heavy gaze on Locke, though, behind that stare were a multitude of thoughts.

The group had already suffered their first blow; the first of many blows that would no doubt be dealt. And the first one had understandably hit some harder than others. Grief manifested itself in strange ways, Gerran had discovered over the years. To cause further tension amongst them all in their group would only cause further problems down the line. Perhaps it was best to swallow his pride, not cause a fuss. For his own group's sake, and the patrons' own sakes too. It had been a difficult day on all of them, after all, and most especially Locke.

Gerran shook his head, stepping back from Locke. He had his qualms about Locke’s behaviour, that much was obvious, but it was best to treat the situation sensitively. “I suppose I should heed that advice,” the man forced himself to say, unable to help his eyes moving towards the tavern owner, feeling his nose wrinkle slightly at the sight. He supposed he'd be having two ales tonight.

 

[HeyItsBanana]

Mason Arembur
Mentions: Sarah ( InsaneAsylum )

The modest home quickly filled with the aromatic sensation of a home cooked meal, a sensation that Mason was quite attuned to but hadn't experienced in what seemed like years. Much to his surprise, the entire gaggle of children that had accompanied him here were the children of Orlic and Tina, he had come to this conclusion when half of them, the older half, began helping their mother in the kitchen without prompting, some peeling vegetables, others starting a fire in the large pit in the center of the room, placing a grate over the top as well as a large pot that could only be described as a cauldron. The younger half of the children seemed much more content in playing with their newly healed father, except the one whom Mason had carried most of the way here, she was content to simply cling to him as the two men spoke candidly, Orlic leading the conversation.

"So what brings a man of the cloth," Orlic started as he scooped up one of his many children, tickling them quickly before their joyful screams of laughter led him to a chuckle of his own, "this far away from his home? I always thought you capitalfolk would be happy resting on your keisters, safe within your walls." There was no hostility or intended insult directed towards Mason, and he could sense this. There was a brief pause before the cleric spoke, having to piece it together himself, "That is actually a tough question for me to answer Orlic," he began, shifting the small child who was surely falling asleep in his arms, "part of me, after an unfortunate loss on this very trip, desires nothing more than to return to Rivienne and resume my training at the church, the fruits of which you have experienced yourself." Mason paused for a moment as he looked out the nearby window, gazing longingly to the skies above, a wanderlust pulling his heart in a direction that not even he could guess. Looking back to the massive father that he was speaking with, he continued, "Then there is another portion of me, weak now, but growing in strength every moment, that calls to me. It's voice beseeches me to go out and experience the world and everything it has to offer. I have lived behind the very walls that you mentioned and was content, even happy, but now that I have taken the first step I fear that I have awoken something in myself that not even I was aware of. Something," Mason continued with a laugh, "that, if I do not watch it carefully, will take me to the very ends of the realm and quite possibly the end of my life."

All of the little ones around them, save for the one who, as predicted, had fallen asleep in Mason's arms, were intently listening to the two men talk, from Orlic describing the intrinsic values and different techniques of farming the giant mushrooms that this village was known for to Mason speaking of his life in the city, of growing up in the Abbey and learning from one of the greatest healers in the city, even of his discovery of his noble lineage. When it came to more recent events, the battle in the desert in particular, it was difficult for Mason to speak of it, he did not want to relive such fresh memories but continued because he felt this was part of his penance. Orlic had placed a massive hand on his shoulder during the story, if size were the only comparison Mason could be mistaken as one of Orlic's children, but the support was not lost on the priest. He finished his story so far, just in time for Tina to bring them plates of food, her offering condolences for his loss, she had obviously been listening to his tale with just as much interest has her husband. With food being served however, talk turned to topics much more enjoyable, the children spoke of the activities they did today, Orlic expressed his desire to get back int the field and finish the harvest, some of the children were wrestling or making some other sort of fuss while others were trying to avoid eating anything that remotely resembled a vegetable on their plate. It was chaos, but it was family, and it made Mason miss Father Bartholomew dearly, a single blissful tear falling from his eye before he quickly wiped it away, Mason was not sad, he was ecstatic to see such love in one place.

About halfway through dinner the door opened and another young man walked in, he was younger than Mason, but it couldn't have been by much, he spoke of losing a boot of some sort in the field, and of the number of soldiers who were setting up outside the town. There was a decided tone of mistrust when he mentioned the soldiers which made Mason tense visibly. Then the two locked stares for a moment, Mason smiling as the boy shifted nervously. "Who is this? Is he one of the soldiers?" firing off the questions quickly and sharply. It was Orlic who spoke first, before Mason could stop him, "Mason is a guest, mind your manners boy!" the sharp command came, silencing the entire room. Shaking his head and patting the air Mason stood up to greet the boy, who was obviously unhappy with his fathers command, "I'm Mason, a priest from Rivienne. I am traveling with the soldiers, but it would be a stretch to say that I am one of them." It was at this moment that Mason realized the briefing that the group had received on the topic of the sage, and the apparently illegal operation of the Sage. "I also, on a personal matter, seek the council of a sage who is said to reside near here." While this was not the entire truth, Mason did wish to speak with him before Sarah could get a hold of him, after hearing of how she garnered information from the captive they had taken, even if they were a prisoner, he did not agree with their treatment. He wanted the Sage's side of the story before he would judge the situation.

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