Fantasy Cradle of Desire: In Character

[fluticasone]

fluticasone fluticasone

dusk

name

titania iseult

location

dungeon w/ group 1

interactions

vanitas ( lucenti ) carnelian ( 606 ) cyril ( Nano )

His face — remember it!

Pale green eyes flicked between Cyril and the dying guard. Capturing him alive was their best option. She doubted it would be possible, which left only getting rid of him.

To rid themselves of the threat, she had to assess it. Powers - what did she know? He had some form of range that had gotten through Carnelian's barrier. A sword hung at his hip. He'd confidently walked into a group of them, so he either had back-up, a plan... or he thought he could handle them himself when their strongest fighters were distracted with the monster.

“Is that a relic of yours? If so, I shall gladly return the favor.” A relic? What relic—that didn't matter. The only people around her who could have one were Vanitas and Carnelian, and she doubted the new third faction member could be levelheaded enough to use a relic in such a situation.

Three things headed towards them; in the dim light, they were barely visible. But after watching her own projectiles fly past, the man's own relic was nothing. There was a lightness in her body that made her confident she could dodge out of the way in time.

"Carnelian — ignore the serpent and focus on him!"

With little hesitation, Dusk threw her bow in front as her mind raced.

Think. THINK.

Though it was better suited for throwing than being thrown, she wasn't aiming to hit him with it. The bow was useless in these close quarters—it was a distraction to force his path.

As she dove down to avoid the daggers, Dusk picked up anything she could use as a projectile. Her fingers closed over a rock, around the size of a fist.

Head? No—center of mass!

The rock flew; it accelerated at a speed that would've sent wood splintering apart. The daggers earlier were a snail's pace compared to it. She was aiming for his sword arm, but if she missed, it would at least hit his torso.

Cyril saw it coming—

damn it!

— but he was too close and the rock too fast for him to dodge out of the way. She unsheathed her stiletto, hesitant to throw another projectile when she could see Vanitas now moving in.

 

[Dawnsx]

Bippity boppity booo

Cyrus︱Arum

When Cyrus first learned about his stigma, he thought that fate was playing a joke on him. The ability to infiltrate another’s memories, to make them trust and love him unconditionally… He won’t play humble; it was a fearsome power, and he knows it. But ironically, the stigma was useless on the one person that he wanted it to work on.

Be that as it may, his stigma had never failed to get him and his comrades out of a pinch, and this time would (hopefully) be no exception.

Cyrus sensed it the moment his stigma took over Valeria’s mind. Even so, he couldn’t help a flinch when the woman addressed him in a sharp tone.

“I, er– I was threatened!” Cyrus wailed in weak defense. Internally, he offered a silent prayer to any and all who had crossed Valeria’s path thus far. If this was how she spoke to someone near and dear to her, he couldn’t imagine how she treated other people.

With his mind racing to put on a convincing act, Cyrus nearly missed it when Défrayer pulled Meredith out of Valeria’s reach. Valeria reacted almost immediately, whirling around and sending thick vines after them.

With a shout of alarm, Cyrus pulled Stabby out of its sheath. The blade extended as he swung down at the vines. Regardless of whether he was able to successfully slash the vines, he would drop Stabby and throw himself at Valeria.

Grabbing hold of the arm that was holding the cane, Cyrus cried out, ”Please, ma’am! These– these fiends! Their men have my father! If you kill them, then my father will–”

He cut himself off with an ugly, wet sob. He clung onto Valeria with an iron grip and silently willed the others to escape before she could free herself.

Code by Nano

 

[lucenti]

Melios Ceriant | Vanitas

Focused on his target and the glimpses of the monster's thrashes hovering at the edge of his vision, the guard's guttural last word sounded like chimes of a soft handbell struggling against the sounds of ocean waves crashing against solid rock. Though Milene didn't evoke much of an association in Melios' mind, he had no doubt that someone in Arcana would know the meaning of the name. And even if they didn't, at least they had a keyword to start with. Silently, he thanked the man and whispered a small prayer for the unfortunate soul dying so far from anything remotely familiar or friendly. Unpleasant circumstances the man had stumbled into, where the luxuries of empathy and sympathy had no place.

Death was not uncommon for Melios, not since he joined, but it never became easier to witness, to actually inflict; only tolerable when the goal of their mission demanded it. A constant means to an end. A practice so often repeated that Melios had begun to wonder when exactly his hands had stopped trembling at the sight of blood and guts and instead turned into a firm grip.

Perhaps it was a simple case of adapting to the necessities of battle, the same instinct that had made Melios rush forward the moment Cyril moved and the barrier broke. The hiss of a projectile told Melios that he wasn't the only one using his ability, and the fact that it hit put to rest any concerns about Dusk's lack of accuracy. Of course, his Stigma didn't have much effect on the man —as if the immune monster wasn't the icing on the cake. The only positive thing Melios derived from the situation was Cyril's hint to possessing a relic and, at the same time, his admission that he was partially affected by his ability. Which also meant that the second part of his Stigma had a chance to activate.

Vermillion's buff was a welcome surprise as Melios swung his poleaxe upwards, aiming for the same side Dusk had hit. The metal blade sang in its arc, parting the air in a deadly motion. Immediately after, Melios transitioned fluidly into a forward step and a thrust aimed at Cyril's chest. The move carried the grace of something practised countless times, as evidenced by his loose but confident grip on the wooden handle, ensuring that all of his body's momentum was transferred into the blow. It helped that, with his improved strength, the poleaxe weighed no more than a feather.

Recognising the obvious advantage the range of his weapon gave him over his opponent's long sword, Melios would continue to try and keep Cyril at bay, constantly watching for any gaps in his defences. His nimble feet danced across the wet stone; never rooted to the ground in an attempt to avoid either Cyril's sword or relic at his throat.

During all of that, the mark of his activated Stigma continued to shine brightly on his left hand, and though it would be weak, Melios hoped the lethargy would build up enough to prove useful.

---

Interactions: cyril ( Nano )

Mentions: group 1

 

[Dovinique]

Yenoia Abillene | Amethyst

The scene was a tad complex, Samadhi grappled with a snarling, doglike creature, his muscles straining against its ferocious strength. Meanwhile, a woman in glasses appeared to "recognize" Arum with voice filled with rage as she accused him of treachery. Yenoia watched, her mind muddled with confusion, making her tilt her head as if she was trying to find an answer. The woman's accusations seemed baseless and Yenoia struggled to make sense of her words.

With a raised eyebrow, she fixed her gaze on Arum. "Do you know this lady?" But before his response could reach her ears, her attention was drawn to a soft glow emanating from his hand, "Are you..." Her question hung in the air, unfinished, as she was abruptly interrupted. A swift motion caught her eyes, a vein surged forward with surprising speed. Before she could react, Yenoia was struck with force, a loud thud echoing through the room as her body collided with the wall. A sharp crack reverberated as her head connected with the surface, eliciting a pained grunt as she slumped to the floor and her head landing with another heavy thud.

With a feeble push, Yenoia attempted to rise, a stinging pain resonating in her head as she struggled to her feet. Her body swayed and her vision blurred slightly. She shook her head quickly, hoping to dispel the headache, but it persisted. She then stretched her body cautiously, starting from her shoulders and working her way down to her feet, checking for any signs of serious injury. Pressing against her ribs and backbone, she ensured there were no broken bones. It seemed she had only sustained minor bruises from the impact. She was grateful she hadn't lost consciousness. As her focus returned, Yenoia held her left wrist in her right hand, mimicking the gesture of someone adjusting a watch. A warm sensation emanated from her right hand, and she concentrated, sending signals to her body to nullify the pain. Slowly, the ache dissipated, leaving her body as good as new, though she knew bruises might linger. If anyone else had been slammed as she had, Yenoia would be ready to help alleviate their pain as well.

Once Yenoia was finished, the warmth from her hand disappeared as her stigma deactivated. She then turned her attention to Defrayer, who was half-dragging Meredith but not close enough for her to reach. She tapped her foot impatiently, frustrated not only by the time it was taking to retrieve Meredith but also by her own helplessness to offer further assistance. It seemed that being a support meant a lot of waiting.

Not long after, a comical scene happened, once again courtesy of Arum. His theatrical intensity, exaggerated gestures, and heightened emotions worked wonders in dissipating the tension that clung to the air. If they weren’t in the midst of a life-and-death mission, Yenoia might have let out a chuckle at the melodrama Arum provided. Suddenly, everything clicked into place for her, it was Arum's stigma at work. Though she didn’t know the exact nature of his power, it seemed to alter relationships. Whether her guess was accurate or not, it was clear Valeria was affected.

Drawing upon her inner actress, Yenoia shouted, pointing dramatically at Arum, “Remember, your old man is in our hands!” Swiftly, Yenoia seized the opportunity provided before by Arum, who both successfully cut the vine and hold Valeria, and dashed to Meredith’s side. She dropped to her knees, bending over to assess Meredith’s condition. Grasping Meredith's hand, she pressed her fingers to her wrist to find a pulse. It was there, steady and reassuring for now. As she checked Meredith's pulse, Yenoia activated her stigma, easing Meredith’s pain. Knowing there was no time to tend to the wound properly, she pulled out a handmade herbal tonic she had prepared beforehand. Though it lacked any special healing properties, its soothing scent and the warm sensation it provided would help Meredith relax, perhaps even drift off to sleep if she was too tired. The aroma of the herbs filled the air as Yenoia brought the vial to Meredith’s lips, “There you go.”

After quick tending Meredith, Yenoia turned to Defrayer, who stood nearby, “Would you be strong enough to completely drag her out of here?” she asked, referring to Meredith. Then, she shifted her gaze to Samadhi, who was in the midst of delivering the final blow to the dog-like creature. “If Ematille approves, I would recommend bringing that back to our headquarters. I should be able to save it from death, and you would have something to poke around for your research.”

With her instructions given, Yenoia quickly rose from her position and made her way to the door, ready to depart if the group decided to leave. But what about Arum? She pondered briefly as she looked at him, who was clinging to Valeria as if they were inseparable lovers. She shrugged as she didn’t have a clear answer, she could only hope that he had something up his sleeve.

Interaction: Dawnsx (Arum), Cresion Breezes (Defrayer), ThatWhichShouldBe (Samadhi)
Mention: Ematille

 

[Zariel]

Gripping his blade tightly, Andrius evaded the creature's snapping jaws. Each near miss caused his heart to pound in his chest like a war drum, though the trepidation was not visible upon his poised visage.

In exasperation, the predatory beast recoiled. An eyebrow raised, Andrius watched its massive form shift, confusion flickering in his mind. He had expected another lunge, another chance to dodge and counterattack. Instead, the creature's throat bulged unnaturally. A moment later, it expelled a torrent of water with a roar that shook the very halls.

The force of the water struck Andrius before he could react, overwhelming him in an instant. Panic surged as he was lifted off his feet, his surroundings spinning in a chaotic blur. His chest felt tight as he struggled to breathe, the air snuffed from his lungs.

His body slammed into the ground, skidding across the stone floor before coming to a halt in a shallow puddle. Every part of him ached, but the searing pain was nothing compared to the cold that enveloped him. He coughed violently, expelling water from his lungs, gasping for air.

The knight sat up slowly.

His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, and his inundated hair dripped incessantly. Gritting his teeth, Andrius pushed himself onto one knee. The battle was not over, and he had strength yet left in his body.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" he contemptuously remarked, shooting daggers at the ophidian creature.

Then came the clacking sound of footsteps, growing louder with each second. Still catching his breath from his prior encounter, Andrius looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing with deadly intensity, scrutinising the newcomer emerging from the darkness.

The stranger's voice carried an eerie calmness as he addressed the dungeon guard, stabbing his own, quite literally, in the back. Nemesis was not surprised by the man's cruelty when he attempted to silence the blabbering fool from divulging too much.

As the stranger stepped into the warm light, Andrius took careful note of his features: sandy blond hair, a gilded brooch fashioned in the image of the sun bound to his pale coat, and a shortsword strapped at his side.

Oddly, the stranger was not shy to introduce himself.

Cyril.

But a sudden THUCK, followed by an immediate thrashing and hiss, snapped the knight from his curiosity, and his attention returned to his primary target. The monster once again writhed through the air, hunting after the blade swimming effortlessly just out of reach.

Magpie manoeuvred the weapon with adroit precision, skilled enough to the point Andrius may have considered offering him a place among the First Faction. With an abrupt, calculated thrust, he jammed the sword through the roof of the monster's jaw. The blade pierced through its beak, protruding like a grotesque horn, stained with thick, dark blood.

"Excellent! Amazing work, Magpie!" Andrius cheered.

The monster spiralled in an uncontrollable frenzy, desperately attempting to dislodge the sword embedded in its mouth.

Vermillion rushed to Andrius' side, his face pale with concern. He placed his arms around the knight in a pitiful attempt to help him stand. But prideful as he was, the latter was quick to bat away Vermillion's hand.

"I'm fine," he snapped, rising to his feet.

When Vermillion insisted Nemesis to assist the others in dealing with Cyril, he hesitated, glaring at the monstrous creature that still thrashed and hissed in its death throes.

Will just the two of them be able to hand this thing?

Deep down, he knew that even Vermillion and Magpie working together wouldn't be enough to ensure victory. They needed more manpower. Given how The Chariot operated, it made sense for the group to perform a joint assault on the monster, leveraging their increased numbers and stronger enhancement.

But there wasn't time to debate the strategy. Andrius simply nodded and turned his attention to the stranger. He was confident he alone could deal with their new friend, swiftly. He would make quick work of him, freeing the others to join the fight against the monster.

The blue-eyed knight hurried to the others, slowing to a gentle stroll as he approached, finding Dusk and Vanitas already engaged with the newcomer, each of them holding their own. Andrius stepped beside Vanitas, who had his spear levelled at Cyril's chest, his eyes locked onto his opponent's every movement.

Andrius placed a firm, commanding, hand on his comrade's shoulder.

"My thanks to you all," he said, addressing Vanitas, Dusk, and Carnelian. Nemesis then glared baleful blue moons at their aggressor. "I will take it from here."

He ran his palm along the flat of his, staring at his own reflection in the metallic surface.

"Go, help Vermillion and Magpie defeat the monster... Meanwhile, I will tend to this new 'friend' of ours."

Once they left, Andrius twisted his blade, placing one hand on the pommel, and the other hand on top, he drove it into the stone floor. The sonorous ding echoed through the hallway, the sharp ringing note seeming to hang in the air.

As the sound faded, Andrius's eyes began to glow a brilliant blue flame, a glimmering light that pierced the dullness of the dungeon.

"I'm about to wipe that puny smirk off your face," he warned, his voice cold, threatening, and steady, disinterested in any witty retort. "You're about to face judgment."

NEMESIS​

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Akseli Arbeit — Rattler

As they went through the secretive corridors of this manor, Basil began recounting his capture and eventual imprisonment. Akseli's attention was keen, but the quietude of his mind was disturbed like pebbles tossed into the tranquility of a pond beneath the midnight sky, the moon's reflection rippling unseemly. He marshaled his breathing, his footfalls, unwilling to unsettle the half-dark, dusty quiet of the flagstone they were passing through — besides Basil's explanation. Again, the feeling that they were scurrying like red-eyed rats crept over Akseli. He allows that when he first joined Arcana, these secreted missions weren't unexpected, but he had grossly underestimated their importance, ubiquity, and necessity. In his ignorant inexperience, he had believed that Arcana possessed the cunning and might necessary to directly mount attacks against the monarchy. These notions were quickly dispelled by both verbal instruction and Akseli's own musing upon deeper inspection.

Akseli's greatsword weighed heavily on his shoulder. He shifted, readjusting his stance. As the weak light came from the wall-mounted fixtures, it played on the edges of Akseli's helm, giving the Engine'er a wicked, cruel outline in the pale darkness of these stone corridors. Akseli's thoughts drifted to his fellows in the Third Faction: Magpie, Carnelian, and Samadhi. How had they fared on their mission so far? It felt strange, almost perverse to be dwelling on another's progress, wondering how they're handling it. As if his very mind could curse them with failure beyond measure for daring to wonder. Perhaps, he was simply being superstitious.

When Basil concluded his recollection of being beaten, bound, and incarcerated, they reached the end of this secret passage. For whatever reason, Akseli felt like it lasted too long. As they entered the room, seemingly an expansive storage room, the Engine'er spotted the cleanliness of it as opposed to the corridor they just left, running gloved fingers down the length of a wall, barely a mote of dust — clearly, this place was used more often, it felt exposing as though their backs were unarmoured, waiting for a cold, merciless blade to plunge deep.

The door of the storage room creaked open, Akseli spun, bringing his greatsword to bear immediately. The subtle mewling almost disarmed the Engine'er, then came the delicate footfalls of a woman causing Akseli's body to tense, his grip tightening on his weapon.

His grey eyes, as stark as the moonlight, fixed the white-haired woman. She moved imperceptibly, almost-impossible for his too-human mind to recognise the swiftness of her movement. Still, his reflexes kicked in, moving to strike with his greatsword from left to right before the patter of a liquid resounded behind him. It was a wet, precise noise immediately snatching his attention.

Knightmare slumped, body connecting with the floor hard. Akseli dropped his greatsword, clattering against the stonework, he went beside her body, lifting up his visor to see better. Her throat had been torn a wicked blade, blood pooling on the cold stone beneath her. Akseli's hands pressed on her neck, closing around the wound. Fingers wetted crimson, his voice shook in the gloom of the room. Panic prowled at the edges of his mind, subconsciously Akseli understood that he was one focused thought away from freezing. So he kept himself busy. "Neck wound." Akseli rasped quietly, hurriedly recalling his father's teachings about injuries to the neck. "Cloth, gauze, anything now!" Akseli called to Spinel and Basil, begging one of them to act.

Interactions: Nano (Spinel & Basil)
Mentions: The rest of Third Faction;

 

[OldTurtle]

Dorian Alfieri | Ematille

This was already a fiasco of the highest degree. Between Arum's sudden application of his Stigma and Samadhi and Défrayer both charging forward without an ounce of caution, it seemed they were taking to their responsibilities with a tad too much zeal. Sometimes Dorian questioned whether becoming the Second Faction's leader was worth the trouble. Wrangling the troublemakers would test even the patience of a saint -- and he knew very well sainthood was beyond his reach.

At any rate, Samadhi could handle himself, as he demonstrated with an apt display of skill. He must have been among the most physically-inclined members of Spinel's followers, head and shoulders above his perpetually-sickly leader. No Vermillion or Nemesis, but enough to toy with Valeria's little beast. The ghastly creature couldn't land so much as a single swipe on the tall man. Were Dorian a different man, he might have even felt sorry for the pitiable thing. As it was, his heart failed to stir at the sight of its plight.

Défrayer, on the other hand, was as maddeningly single-minded as always. Really, that one alternated between brief moments of genius and clarity and a confounding haze of lunacy. Dorian vastly preferred the former over the latter. Paying little attention to Valeria's cane -- a relic, as apparent to the eye as any other --, they swept in to snatch away Meredith's limp form. Oh, the fool, without an ounce of knowledge on the woman's capabilities? Perhaps he should send more of his faction off to Vermillion's crucible. For all his distaste of the man, he had an understanding of strategy that clearly eluded a few of those present.

As Valeria whipped around, Arum's distraction not quite enough to fully capture her attention, and her cane snapped up, Dorian moved forward. Hands snapping out, the lanky man reached out to seize Défrayer by the shoulder and drag them down. The thorned vine cracked through the air abovehead, viper-fast and narrowly missing both by a hair's breadth. If not for Arum's swift intervention, it might very well have taken both their heads. Biting back a curse, Dorian scowled behind his mask. So much for secrecy; now that he'd revealed himself, it would be nigh impossible to disguise himself again. Well, the midst of battle was no time to criticize them, despite his immediate urge. That could wait a short while.

"Quickly," he snapped brusquely, shoving himself up to his feet. With Arum continuing to interfere with the Arva matriarch, there was a brief moment of respite.

Leaving Défrayer to help themselves up, Dorian leaned down and seized Meredith by the other arm, helping ferry her toward the waiting Amethyst. She met the three partway, dropping down to begin treating their fallen comrade. As she busied herself with the girl, he cast a glance around the small room. Samadhi across the chamber, readying to summarily execute the aquiline beast, Arum clinging to Valeria's skirts with great, heaving sobs -- my, the boy was quite the actor, wasn't he? --, and... where had that one-?

Ah, there -- a subtle glint in shadows behind Valeria caught Dorian's eye. Pawn, sharp scissors in hand, reflected the light of her lamp with their blades, just bright enough for him to pick up. She gestured rather unsubtly at the distracted Arva with a sharp motion. For a moment, he paused. They'd already achieved their primary goal here, and time was already growing short. But... the opportunity to strike at a major supporter of the crown was one rarely found, and Arcana would likely never find the Arva so vulnerable again. It was too tempting.

Mind set, Dorian responded to Pawn's silent request with a single, sharp nod. Stepping away from Meredith and Amethyst, he retrieved his watch from his pocket.

"No," he denied the pale-haired woman's appeal and turning to instruct Samadhi. "Finish the beast off and take Death aboveground. We have no dire need of the creature that justifies hindering our speed with its weight." Instead, he pressed his fingers against the side of his watch and without hesitation cranked it fully to the maximum.

Immediately, he felt the effects. It was as if he had a magnetism about him, a larger-than-life presence that drew all eyes to his body. His false auburn curls fell perfectly about his shoulders, without so much as a single strand out of place and his actor's mask caught the light magnificently, its gilt surface glowing. Even his ratty costume, originally chosen with the intent of concealment, felt as if it were some important vestement, fit only for the greatest of figures.

"Foolish boy," he boomed, voice resounding throughout the stone chamber. One hand point imposingly at Valeria and Arum, while the other drew his dagger. Underneath his gloves, his Stigma glowed white. "Do not think that woman will save you and your father now. The Arva are scum of the earth, nothing more than lowly dogs of the crown. Loyalty means nothing to their kind, or they would not have been so readily betrayed by even their most longstanding allies and servants. Ha! Every last one, eager to watch the House burn."

---

Interactions:

Mentions: Group 2

Location: Underground, Arva Estate

 

[nios]

Scene 001

Pawn

Emersyn Illiro

The ounce of generosity to look after Arum's back sizzled into a vapor. The outstretched hand retreated to her side as she didn't anticipate for Valeria Arva to interact with Arum as if they knew each other. To say the least, their sudden interaction startled Emersyn and forced her to immediately steer herself away from the pair as quick as she could. While Valeria Arva remained preoccupied by Arum's hysterics, delivered vines to dispel the other group members, and even use her mutated creature as a weapon, Emersyn situated herself safely within the Arva woman's blindside where she quietly observed the situation before her.

As Arum sobbed against the woman's arm like a desperate child, Emersyn's nose scrunched behind her mask. She tried to remain rational as she visually picked at his hysteric behavior, but as fatigued as Emersyn was, her mind eventually cradled a singular idea: Arum could be a traitor. She suddenly recalled his recklessness back in the observatory and every memory she had of him became distorted by her paranoia. How had we not noticed? The snake! The traitor! Emersyn had set her mind to eliminating the threat.

She retrieved her weapon from its holster and kept a calculated gaze on the sobbing figure. She would show him mercy, at least. She'll be quick. Yet, as Emersyn slowly began to rise from her crouched position, she paused. Would there be consequences for killing the traitor? What would become of her if she wasn't recognized for her loyalty to the organization, but rather, a murderer and kicked out? Killed even? The sliver of transparency nearly brought Emersyn to give up and rush past the pair to assist Amethyst and Defrayer. However, Emersyn's gaze transfixed on Valeria Arva instead. Yes, there was still that option...

The next thing Emersyn sought to do was grab Ematille's attention from across the arena, but alas, it was already absorbed by the others in the group. She tapped her finger against the ground as she pondered her available moves. The only possible options to get him to look her way would be to either yell at him, run across the room, or to throw something at him... But to sacrifice her only advantage and blow this opportunity? There was no way. She knew her faction leader would understand her the moment she gets his attention, so it was just the matter of "how to get him to look my way...," she mouthed until her eyes were flashed by the torch light reflecting off the scissor's exposed blade. Emersyn winced as she rotated the blade's face toward her once again. Perhaps if I... Curiously, she positioned the glint toward Ematille's direction.

​

The excitement of her plan working was short lived as Emersyn quickly realized she did not think of what to do after Ematille was focused on her. Should I wave? In truth, she was not expecting her plan to work at all. But out of fear of wasting time, Emersyn jabbed her pointer finger in the direction of Valeria Arva and hoped the faction leader wordlessly understood her intentions. A thrill zapped through Emersyn once she received his nonverbal approval. It hadn't registered to her yet that she was grinning behind her mask. Emersyn prepared herself once she recognized Ematille was shifting Arum and Valeria's attention towards him. This is it, she realized and proceeded to sneak behind Valeria. She previously snapped off the pivot holding the scissors together and the detached pieces dangled from two fingers in one of her hands. Meanwhile, her other hand held the torch in a tight grip--- as if she was prepared to do something with it.

"...Ha! Every last one, eager to watch the House burn."

Upon Ematille's last words, Emersyn forcefully swung the torch upside Valeria's head. The relic's carefully and meticulously refurbished glass shattered and elicited a dull thud across Valeria's temple. Emersyn could only hope Amethyst wouldn't be too crossed with her for destroying it. The damaged torch would be dropped on the ground once Emersyn followed through with its momentum. Then, once she's finished recovering from the first attack, Emersyn swiftly distributed her blades into both of her hands and will attempt to slit Valeria's throat from behind, her arms nearly wrapping around the blue-haired woman.

#interaction: @Group02, Nano

#location: Arena, Arva Estate

#tags: fuvaleria

Code by Nano

 

[Nano]

Cradle of Desire

Scene 001

Bloody_Death fluticasone Zariel lucenti A Murder Of Corviknight 606

With no time to move out of the way of the fist-sized rock propelled by Dusk’s Stigma, Cyril would attempt to block its trajectory with his sword. A sharp clang echoed throughout the damp corridor, and the impact would send the sword spinning through the air and fling the blonde’s swordarm to the side. However, to his benefit, Vanitas’s decision to strike from the same side as Dusk would allow the blonde to lean into that momentum to barely dodge out of the poleaxe’s path. The self-assured smirk that had been present upon the blonde’s face never dropped, aggravatingly nonchalant much like the cloth of his coat brushing past the shaft of the passing weapon. As his sword clattered uselessly upon the dungeon’s floor, he torqued his body into a quick spin, aiming a powerful kick into the green-haired man’s side that would have sent him crashing into the wall had Vanitas not nimbly dodged out of the way.

However, their engagement would come to a brief end, interrupted by the earth-shattering screech of the serpentine beast. The smell of briney, burnt flesh and ozone would fill the corridor, and Cyril turned his head to look impassively upon the now limp body of the beast lying at Vermillion’s feet.

As if the Fischken’s death had washed away any and all desire to fight, Cyril merely jumped back one pace and shrugged when Nemesis addressed him. “Sorry, I’m not interested in your Judgment or whatever religion you’re trying to sell.” With a sigh, he removed a second dagger from the inside of his coat, this time using it to stab into the center of the hilt of the roseate dagger in his left hand.

“Here’s a little gift,” he laughed, throwing the dagger in his hand into the floor by Nemesis’s feet. The moment the blade hit the ground—or someone’s weapon should they be daring enough to deflect it—the dagger exploded with a bright flash, burning any who were too close without taking sufficient cover.

In the aftermath of the blast, pieces of rubble rained down from the ceiling, though not enough to damage the structural integrity of the dungeon enough to send its walls crashing down. Past the rain of rocks and dust, not even a shadow of Cyril’s figure would remain. However, the faint glimmer of the blonde’s sword shone in the distance, pristine despite the harsh treatment it had endured.

OldTurtle nios Dovinique Cresion Breezes Dawnsx ThatWhichShouldBe

Arum’s stigma proved to have a tight hold on Valeria’s psyche, given that the noble had yet to execute the redhead for daring to rub his snot and tears upon her formerly neatly arranged clothing.

“Get off, you damned mongrel!” she snarled, but her attempts at pushing on Arum’s head to remove herself from his clutches all ended in vain. Her ire grew, coloring her pale cheeks an angry red, and the look in her eyes quickly turned murderous. However, before her ever tightening grip on her cane could result in anything catastrophic, a glass lamp would come smashing into the side of her head. One final push alongside the impact from the lamp successfully shoved Arum off of Valeria, while the blue-haired woman stumbled backward as her left hand flew up to the site of impact. Shards of glass embedded themselves painfully into her temple and eyelid, and the blood running down her face caused her to instinctively close her eyes, leaving her prone to further attacks.

Before Em could wrap her arm and gouge her scissors into Valeria’s neck, the monster on the verge of execution suddenly perked up, as if getting a second wind. Its svelte body nimbly wove itself out of Samadhi’s range, flipping into the air and sailing past the Arcana members to throw Pawn away from its master with a sudden swipe of its tail. Despite the injuries littering its body, it curled protectively around the noble, as if ready to lay down its life—rather strange behavior for what was supposed to be a mindless beast.

From where Ematille had dragged off Death and left her in Amethyst’s care, Meredith gazed at the aquatic canine and weakly whispered to the other members nearby, “Put her out of her misery…”

Worthlessplebian Bloody_Death OldTurtle

Akseli’s hurried urging pulled Basil’s attention from where the mysterious woman had disappeared back to her victim. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it in an attempt to regain his composure, the medic held his hand out toward Spinel. “Medkit. Now. You carry one, right?”

Despite the brusque manner in which the request was delivered, the redhead was quick to comply, saying nothing about Basil’s attitude while retrieving the necessary items from his earring. After handing the supplies off to the medic, Spinel secured his steel rod back in his hands and walked toward the door of the storage shed.

“Rattler, stay here and assist Basil. Do what you can. I’ll keep an eye out and contact Ematille and Vermillion. We’re leaving once Knightmare’s stable.” the redhead stated before cautiously peering out the corner of the doorway that had been left wide open. However, Eloise would be nowhere to be seen, vanishing just as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Whilst Knightmare was being treated in the storage room, Ematille and Vermillion would suddenly hear a voice telepathically transmitted directly into their minds:

“Knightmare’s down. We’re retreating after she’s treated. What’s your status?”

Code by Nano

 

[Zariel]

As Nemesis was about to catechize Cyril, the latter had no intention of lingering any longer. The grotesque creature that had once served as their 'sentinel' now lay slain behind Nemesis, its foul blood seeping into the stone floor.

Unveiling a hidden dagger, Cyril hurled the blade at Nemesis. Instinctively, Nemesis' eyes darted to the dagger at his feet. He noticed the cracks spreading along its surface, and, in a fraction of a second, understood the imminent danger. The dagger was about to explode in a blinding flash. Had his sharp judgement and keenly attuned senses been a sliver dimmer, he wouldn't have been able to dodge backwards in time to evade the blast.

"Tsk!" he hissed.

When the smoke cleared, Nemesis' gaze fixed on the spot where Cyril had stood moments before. His assailant was already fleeing, melting into the dark corridors of the dungeon. The knight was about to give chase, his fury propelling him forward, when the surrounding walls began to tremble violently and rocks started to fall from the ceiling.

"Hmph!" disappointed, his flaming blue eyes faded as he deactivated his Stigma.

Nemesis turned away from Cyril's escape route, rejoining his team, who were now gathered around the monster's carcass. He looked down upon the lifeless creature with loathsome revulsion. The putrid stench of death clung to the air.

His attention shifted to their leader, who stood opposite. Their typically cheery and determined visage had been abruptly marred by an odd, yet telling, look of vexation. Nemesis raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry, questioning the cause of his leader's sudden discontent, though he had his suspicions.

"Vermillion?" he asked, awaiting orders about their next move.

NEMESIS​

 

[A Murder Of Corviknight]

looking for schrodinger's image

Leif Sterna | Magpie

Tags: Bloody_Death fluticasone Zariel lucenti 606

As with most missions, everything seemed to move at a rapid pace with barely any room to take a breather. Leif only had a moment to briefly glance at the situation that the other half of their team have gotten themselves into with their unwanted guest (or were they his unwanted guests?) before Vermillion’s spear was being tossed into his hands. It was only experience from catching (possibly explosive) bits and pieces of relics rolling off tables that allowed him to catch the spear without fumbling.

With a quiet and calm hum, Leif shifted his grip on said spear to move around with it more easily before following Vermillion’s orders and stepping a good distance from the water.

The now observing teammate let out a low whistle as he watched Vermillion go after the monster without much hesitation. With a little struggle, Vermillion managed to eventually reach the top of its head and use the stuck sword as a conductor to electrify it before it could fly into the water with the blond still gripping onto it stubbornly as a badger.

But before they could even feel satisfaction in bringing the monster down, a loud and bright explosion drew his attention back towards the other half of the team.

"That,"

Leif started cheerfully as he dusted himself off with one hand,

"was not me! So someone please make sure to be my witness later when I have to report to Spinel."

After glancing back in the monster’s and Vermillion’s direction to make sure the monster was really dead and Vermillion was relatively unharmed, Leif stepped around the falling rocks and closer to the rest of the group to regroup. Once he got close enough to the rest of the group and subsequently the explosive dagger that was likely a relic, he swiped the dagger off the ground with his stigma and let it float behind them at a (assumed) safe distance.

"Unfortunately, this is a deadend for us, I think. I’m assuming the direction that the other guy left through is the only other way deeper in."

He shrugged towards the unstable and rumbling side of the labyrinth,

"it’s too unstable without getting trapped in."

"That and…"

his eyes casually slid over to the direction of the guards. His expression, while pleasant, had a vaguely pitying look to it.

"...With the exposure, they might not live long enough to be interrogated if we don’t get out soon."