Fantasy Fading Flame (In Character)

[Inheritance]

Lazlo Talonguard​

"Whatever suits you. I am a very capable healer-it is what I was sent here to do. But as you wish, I will heal those who need it." When she turned, he had to fight back a grimace. What was that? Why would she want other people who were very likely to die healed, when she herself could be healed? She would last much longer against the darkness, not these nobodys who clearly couldn't defend themselves the first time!

It didn't take him long to figure it out. She was a guardian of course, and she would probably always put the lives of others before her own. Very noble, but very stupid. If the Archbishop had taught him anything, it was that while it was honorable and kind to sacrifice one's self for another, unless they had more to give to the world than you, there was no point in doing it. The guardian...she would be a good place to start. Until then, he began healing, until he heard the voice of the warrior he had just left speak.
Epiphany


"Stand up. I'm not a squire, I'm a healer." He told Pat sharply. "You fought well, now stand up and save some pride." He didn't like being told to do things, and there was something about this man he wasn't a fan of. Sure the man was a worthy adversary, and if it came to combat Lazlo would much rather be 50 feet away casting spells than anywhere near him; but he could recognize a spark of ferocity not unlike his own within the man. That could either be used to his advantage, or be his own destruction. He couldn't allow that. "Do you need your wounds closed, or do you need someone to read you a bedtime st-"

He was cut off by a man in armor asking him a question. Another soldier eh? No wonder they got hurt so often, where were the other healers? Perhaps bringing these people under the Red Church would be easier than he thought. He quickly turned away from Pat and faced the man, looking him over once before responding.

"Lazlo Talonguard, at your service." He gave a half bow, though his eyes never left Jericho's. "I could explain that for a while, or we can get back to making sure this group is ready for another attack if it comes. Clearly I have been helping people and am not a threat. I am new, and I am here to help. Is that enough?"

Kabboom Midrick

 

[PsychoticOne]

Vik Gonkor and Stravix
Collab w/ ShadeAlucard


Interacted: N/A
Mentioned: N/A

With no one else jumping in to help him, Stravix pointed the guards onward towards the hole. “We are looking for metal ore that i can use to fortify the outpost with. It is typically shiny and has a slight magnetic pull. Trust me, if you are in full metal armor, you will feel the pull.” Stravix said as they walked to the end of the hole. “Scaling this hole will be the hard part, but that is where i come in.” Stravix said as he removed his armor, his sword, and took all the metal ore he had on him out of his pocket and tossed it into the hole. All of a sudden, Light shot out of Stravix’s open hand and hit all the metal, Creating stairs that would lead them into the hole. “Alright gentlemen and gentlewomen, onward into the hole we go.” Stravix said, leading them down into the hole.


30 minutes earlier…


While Vik stood and waited for one of his allies to notice that he was trapped, he began to feel something off further into the darkness behind him. He turned around and stared deeper into the burrower’s tunnel. Although he saw nothing, the half-orc felt a bit uneasy. Instead of worrying too much about it, he looked back up towards the sky. There, he saw a couple soldiers attempting to pull him back up. Vik smiled beneath his mask. Looks like he wasn’t rotting away in this hole afterwards.

Once given the opportunity, Vik began to use the rope offered to climb up. That was until he felt the ground rumble. The half-orc started swinging from side to side, causing him to tightly grip onto the rope to prevent a fall. “Bloody hell” he’d mumble before turning his head around. His eyes widened upon noticing a beast unknown to him. Without even getting a chance to react, it soared towards the merc, widening the hole and knocking him off the rope.

Vik’s back hit the dirt with a very rough impact. The half-orc felt dazed and watched as the giant beast climbed out of the now bigger hole. Vik was very lucky it didn’t notice him. Or perhaps, it ignored him. Vik got up, his left arm now injured from the fall. There was a bit more light brightening up the tunnel which helped reveal the continuing danger Vik had to face. Many burrowers were making their way towards the poor merc. It looks like the original plan of these Darkborne were to have that giant creature be assisted by these freaks, but Vik wouldn’t have it. The orcish merc unsheathed his sword to prepare for a battle that could possibly lead to his death. “Bring it on! I’ll take you all with me!”


Present time…


Stravix and the guardsmen continued their descent into the giant hole, when he noticed what appeared to be...Darkborne corpses...and what appeared to be an unconscious soldier laying on the ground. Stravix immediately looked up at the sky and muttered some words before casting a huge lightning strike out of his hand into the air. Hopefully, someone nearby would see it and come to investigate. “Hey, two of you set this soldier up against the wall, the rest of you scout ahead and make sure there aren't anymore Darkborne menace around here.” Stravix said as he helped the two guardsmen set the wounded soldier up against the wall of the hole. Stravix checked and made sure the guy was breathing before he use a chuck of the metal stairs to make metal stitching to stop bleeding before he looked at the guardsmen. “Keep your eyes peeled while looking for ore, we aren't alone down here.”

 

[Trappy]

Maria

*Pop!*
Maria's gaze snapped towards the direction of the sound, eyes widened before the bright, flickering light of the incendiary round, under a layer of hair caked with dirt, blood and dissipating dark matter. The Light, there it was again with them! But then it was no more... The duo had not noticed in the thick of the fight, but they have strayed further away from the main ally forces than they thought, and the Guardian had to stand her ground against whatever was left of the broken Dark horde in their section, after she'd gone far beyond the limits of her ability.

Breathing was a difficulty by itself at the end of it all. The Guardian struggled to hold onto her consciousness, as clear and concise as it was mere moments ago. Her heart was pounding, and her lungs felt like they'd burst. Such are the consequences of her gifts. But-

"Help is here!..." Collapsing to her knees and leaned onto her pole-arm, Maria waved in the direction she expected her comrades would be. "Buras! We made it!"

Mentioned: QizPizza 's incendiary shot
Interacted: Soviet Panda

 

[Epiphany]

Spoiler: The Fortress

What a horrible night to have a curse...

And there is one. The land feels it. It's felt it for years now. As the Darkborne push farther and farther against the Empire of Light's borders, shadows grow long and the sun barely lights above a shrouded sky. When the sun gives up its vain struggle against the Dark, night falls with a perceptible weight, barely held at bay by campfire, by whispered stories, by hope and by eternal vigilance. And sometimes horror comes from the night. Sometimes in the lone predator snatching an unwary soldier into the thick gloom, never to be seen again. Sometimes the predator isn't alone.

As last night gives way to dawn, the survivors of the Outpost know what few living beings do; what it is to survive an onslaught of the Dark. Stories tell of truly massive engagements, pitting army against army. Last night's fight fell short of that, but only in terms of the numbers involved. The fight was as ferocious as any recorded in the Empire Archives, featuring fell beasts as twisted and evil as ever appear in the records of the scribes. The burgeoning sunrise reveals to disbelieving eyes the scope of the engagement. Trees sundered, walls scarred, blood spattered fields. The Darkborne don't leave bodies behind when slain but the earth itself bears their footprints, their claw marks, the indentations of bodies brought low. And despite a night's hard work, still the dead are being brought in. Sundered armor, broken swords, spent arrows litter the soil, adding to the remnants of the Outpost's already battle-scarred surrounding lands.

Still, the walls remain curiously strong. Repaired by hard work, by magic, by the Light and by the blood of its defenders spent shielding it from greater peril. Within its sheltering walls, the Guardians, soldiers, mercenaries and wanderers brought together by quest or ill circumstance find a measure of rest. Time to bind or mend wounds. Time to slumber, for the mind to struggle against nightmares while the body tries desperately to regain a measure of the vigor it spent enduring the Dark horde.

Perhaps miraculously, the guards standing watch allow those who did the fiercest fighting and the hardest work to rest past dawn, until the sun climbs into mid-morning. Meanwhile, the quartermaster and his men see to refitting damaged arms and armor, refletching arrows and preserving the desperately small stock left in the Outpost. The kitchens labor to feed the men and women within, for the several waves of caravans arriving brought more bellies to fill, despite last night's losses. Water is drawn and great baths are filled and heated, for even the most ivory tower commander knows cleanliness is the only defense against blood poisoning, disease and if nothing else a night of fierce fighting results in distinctly unpleasing odors no Viscount willingly puts up with.

Life goes on.

Until the noon hour. While those Guardians and the others who risked their lives for the Outpost are free to sleep, recover and mingle in the morning, soldiers bearing the Viscount's orders spread out about an hour til the midday meal. It seems the Viscount himself intends to address the entire Outpost, both those permanently stationed as well as those passing through. The courtyard at the base of the Outpost's fortifications is cleared of the impromptu tents, campfires and supply boxes that filled it just last night. There's whispers, rumors and ill looks passed among the men by the time the sun crests the sky and the Viscount makes his appearance.

He stands on the second story battlement overlooking the courtyard, the imposing squat tower of the fortress itself framing him. Well-dressed, suspiciously spotless despite last night's battle, the Viscount stands straight and regal as he looks down upon those assembled in the courtyard below him. Clearing his throat, he speaks out in a resonant voice that's plainly practiced in giving speeches and addressing large audiences. "The Outpost stands, thanks to the brave sacrifices of the men and women who gave their lives in its defense. There will be services for those who fell by evening. All those still here are welcome to attend as we honor their legacy." The words ring out and linger as he pauses for a solemn moment.

"Guardian Jericho Audaton, please step forward." The Viscount's gaze fell upon the grizzled veteran who'd rallied so many to the fortress' defense...upon the man who'd defied him. "You and your men were crucial to our defense. Your deeds will be recorded in the Empire's registry as an inspiration to those who wish to join your ranks. And as a caution to those who do enlist. Last night's battle would never have happened, not to that scale, had the Guardians acted with such a lack of restraint. The actions of the Guardians in last night's engagement are a textbook example of the dangers in drawing on so much Light so close to Darkened lands. That you then coopted the good defenders of this Outpost for use in an offense only adds to the severity of what occurred. Only sheer desperation and sacrifice saved us in the end." Casting a stern look down on Jericho and the others in the expedition, he slowly shook his head. "Your bravery is indisputable. But every hour your expedition remains adds to the danger of this fortress being overrun by the next enemy you pull down on our heads."

"You will be reprovisioned with what we can spare, thanks to the safe arrival of our caravans. Your wounded will be given the best care possible today. But by tonight, your expedition will be on its way. I will not see another night with you among us, for fear none of us who hold this fortress will see another day. Everyone who fought with you, everyone who wielded the Light so recklessly, will either join your expedition or find their way back to the Empire, Guardian or no. Even you, Aymeline," he glowers in the Giant's direction. "Especially you."

"Thank you for your service, Guardian Audaton," the Viscount concludes with a sneer, turning his attention back to the commander of the expedition. "You are dismissed."

With that, the commander of the outpost turns on one heel and departs for his tower. And the remaining soldiers stir uneasily before reluctantly shuffling off to catch their lunch...before they put themselves to work helping the expedition be on their way.

Kabboom Midrick Inheritance ShadeAlucard QizPizza Pilgrim59 Trappy Soviet Panda PsychoticOne Octo Girl hostage Unwavering Knight SilverFlight -robert-

 

[Inheritance]

Lazlo Talonguard​

How dare he? How dare this man cast a shadow upon the deeds of the guardians? Yes, the guardians were weak and needed the truth of the Red to reach their true potential, but shoving them deep in the borders to hide and pray did nothing! From someone who spent years fighting on the front lines, he knew that the way to defeat the dark was not to hide, but to bring your faith out. To let it burn all who oppose you, be it the dark or someone in the way of the ultimate goal.

This man was in the way. He called out the guardians when he had no right to. He didn't know the truth, and had no right to take a stance against the light. The man would need to learn... but of course nothing could be done now. A lesson that was burned into his mind several times was the lesson of patience, and here was the time to exorcise it.

However, he could give the man a chance for redemption. He would be given the chance to learn, and it would be his choice to take it. He walked over to where the commander stayed, and slid inside. He quickly made his way to the commander, no weapons drawn but hopefully a bit intimidating.

"Commander, I suppose you were too busy not helping in the battle for you to realize, but the Guardians were the only reason this outpost was not overrun. I recently arrived here, but I've witnessed those who command the light doing hard work, and almost everyone else doing what you do. Panicking and not helping."

This might not have been entirely true-as Lazlo hadn't paid much attention to the man until he started boldly calling out the light.

Epiphany

 

[Octo Girl]

Ruby... A girl that seemed to be in such a weird outfit but bore the insignia of Sjule. She got out of the convoy to find the entirety of the group from fronteirsville that had set out so long ago. Ruby rushed around, trying to find an incursian. As she described the person, she got further and further in. She heard stories more clearly of what this girl had been capable of. Earthquakes, Tsunamis, natural disasters of all sorts. Ruby knew she was on the right path. She rushed through the forces and eventually got to what looked like an infirmary. As she tried to enter she was stopped by a guard. "I am looking for Terra... an Incursian..." She said. The guard nodded and opened the tent.

There lay Terra, unconscious and barely breathing. Ruby rushed to her and held onto her arm. "Terra... you better not fucking die on me.... I just found you again..." Ruby said to Terra as Ruby's hands started to glow blue. Eventually the blue covered Terra's body. But this started to change Terra's body. Her hair started to shorten and her body shifted.

The ex-blonde incursian now sat upright with a lurch as she screamed and coughed. Terra looked down at her new body and started trying to figure out what happened. Terra barely had time to think before she was tackle hugged by Ruby. Terra went from screaming to laughing as she eventually found out who it was. "Ruby!! Oh my god!!! It has been so long!!!" "I know right, Terra!! I am the heir to my clan now!!!" "No way!!!" They started to catch up as they walked out of the tent, after getting cleared by the healers.

The new Terra:

 

[QizPizza]

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[div class=wrapperDiv][div class=bigHeader]FADING FLAMES[/div]

[div class=header]LUTHAX VALYZAN[/div]

[div style="font-size:9px; font-style: italic; text-align:center"]Credit to ElectricPizza[/div]​

[div class=tabWrapper][div class=tab style="border-top-left-radius: 5px;"]POST[/div][div class=tab]OTHER INFO[/div][/div][div class="tabsContent tabsPost"]
INTERACTIONS:
MENTIONS:

Arriving at the battle for the Outpost at its conclusion was hardly exciting, and the Viscount was making every other part of it seem so much more glorious despite his low opinion of the way the Guardians brought it about. Far too much time has been spent doing logistical work in the heart of the heart of the Empire for Luthax's liking. Born and raised a proud warrior, grunt work was insulting at best, and torturous at its worse. The Bloodguard let out a small humph as the speech ended. He didn't need a noble telling him to get off his ass and continue with the mission.

Luthax was sufficiently prepared before he had even gotten to the Outpost, but it never hurt to restock. The half-Incruscan made a short stop by quartermaster to pick up a few extra incendiary light rounds and a clean rag. A quick sharpening and reload would only take an hour at most. Luthax started by sitting at a table and taking out his three flintlocks, laying them out on his cloak. He took the first of the intricately crafted pistols and took the ramrod out from below the barrel. Wrapping the clean rag around the rod, Luthax made a simple scrub to remove the grime accumulated in the barrel of the firearm. After carefully cleaning his guns of any Light crystal residue and charred paper left over from fired rounds, he loaded new incendiary rounds into the weapons. The powdered Light crystal propellant was poured in before the tightly paper bound cartridge was inserted and rammed in with the ramrod.

The process took slightly less than three minutes total for the warrior, but that was easy part. The hard part was making his signature ammunition. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a chunk of Green-Fire* and a knife. Digging the steel blade into the mixture, Luthax began to make small pile of shavings on a rag. The pile of Green-Fire grew as the minutes ticked by. His mind soon zoned out of the task as he watched the other soldiers and Guardians moving about the Outpost preparing for the expedition deeper into Darkborne territory.

The minutes ticked away like seconds, and before he knew it, his knife snagged on a piece of hard metal. He looked down at his hands to see that the knife was caught between the plate and the chainmail beneath the plate. Shavings dusted his fingers and the cloth below. It was more that he needed, even more than he could use, but what could he do? The Bloodguard simply mindlessly continued his task, slicing the cartridges open to reveal the powdered Light crystal surrounding the explosive light crystal core. Using his knife, Luthax mixed shaving by shaving into the powder before rebinding the cartridge with a new piece of paper.

Another tedious task that caused Luthax to zone out as he once again looked at those scuttling around the Outpost. He had wondered who were the other Guardians and the help they picked up along the way. The only one he recognized was the giantess, Aymeline. While he had never met her personally, her reputation proceeded her, and a rose-haired female giant was rather hard to miss. Ever the beacon of hope for those who've heard her name. After working with her and joining this expedition, Luthax would a be a bit of a legend himself. Wouldn't that be something? The Green Flame* a hero instead of the image of nightmares. After a while, his knife once again caught on something that wasn't the paper of a cartridge. This time, the point of his knife was embedded into the rag and the wooden table at which he worked. He had completed all of his ammunition before he had knew it.

Taking the cartridges he made, he packed them carefully into his belt before dusting the Green-Fire from his hands table. His preparations were complete. The Guardian awaited for the others to complete their preparations by staring at scampering guardsmen in their dirty armor. So rushed, so desperate, so vulnerable in the face of the monsters found so far away from the cities...

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LOCATION: Outpost Courtyard

PHYSICAL STATE: Perfect

MENTAL STATE: Distracted.

NOTES:
*Green-Fire: A mixture invented by Luthax that involves copper, brimstone, oils, and other unspecified materials. It is extremely flammable and burns green due to the copper and brimstone.

*The Green Flame: Luthax's title while in House Valyzan. Comes from his green color palette.

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[div style="font-size:9px; font-style: italic; text-align:right"]Code by QizPizza[/div][/div]

 

[Soviet Panda]

The battle had taken it's toll on the Inuin. The Darkmage's attacks had cracked several ribs and broke at least two, the healers reminding him time and time again that he was lucky a lung wasn't punctured. Not to mention the many lacerations he had accrued from lesser darkborne. The healers had only mended his bones with magic, and took care of the rest by more mundane methods, saving their strength for the others. They didn't even bother with attempting to replenish his Light, knowing full well that it'd replenish on it's own with some rest, if slowly.

So when the next day came and they were all called out, Buras was wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages, some bleeding through slightly from reopened wounds in awkward spots, limping, and with a kind soldier used as a post to take some weight off of a badly bruised leg. He had little patience for the Viscount, but from what he could recollect of last nights battle, that Light that the giantess had drawn from had very much been necessary in the end. Who knew how long that creature had been lurking underground, and who knew when it would have attacked. Most likely when there was no one capable of fighting it.

When they were dismissed, Buras grunted and guided the kindly soldier back to where he could at least sit comfortably. He did not have to do much to get ready. He had lost both of his axes in the fight with the Darkmage, a darkborne no doubt running off with them for some unknown reason, and the only thing he had left was Lytle Systra.

Then an idea came to him. There was an armory here, they could spare him a few weapons. So once more he got to his feet, soldier surprisingly still at hand, and went to the quartermaster. What he left with was a two handed axe that could fire off a large Light round. Of course, it was more a hand and a half at most in Buras' massive hands. It would make a fine partner for Lytle Systra, and he didn't have to throw this one like he did for the previous two. Now he just had to come up with a name for it. Any weapon worth it's steel had a name, and this one would be no exception. "Stóri bróðir" he said to himself as he inspected the axe. Yes, that fit quite nicely. Lytle Systra and Stóri bróðir, they would make a great pair.

 

[Trappy]

Gil

The mage did not wait for the haughty Viscount to finish his little speech. Pacing back to the barracks, Gil was absolutely fuming. He did not care if such actions were to be considered insubordination and would drag him through some sort of martial disciplinary later, for in that moment, something strongly reminded the young Enchanter of his patron - the true authority he answered to, and that none of these talkers would be able to really harm him without losing at least a piece of themselves.
Catching himself after tripping over some equipment as he entered the small room that was his designated quarters, the mage cursed. Gil never had the chance to sort out the equipment he brought with him as a result of the surprise Dark incursion last night, but how dare he, the bastard! While these Guardians were out there risking their skin in the Dark, the Highborn fool was busy huddling in a corner dampened by his own making!

But despite his frustration, Gil could not find it to completely regard the man’s speech as lies and nonsense. The Viscount had a point: Dark fiends had been known to be attracted towards the Light, and the presence of a Guardian task force in an outpost deep inside Dark territory must’ve looked like a damned lighthouse to them. Vera and Uri wouldn’t have been so badly wounded like they were if the beasts didn’t rush with such ferocity, or maybe they wouldn’t have been in harm at all.

As much as he hated to agree with the arrogant talker, the company had to get a move on with their quest as soon as possible, if not for the cursed Viscount, then for the poor garrison, Light bless them for the rest of their days. So, it appeared that there was no need to unpack. Gil reached back behind his ear, and with a flourish, a pen was produced from glittering sparks of arcane energy. He had best get on with his assignment as well. Despite what was proclaimed today by the Viscount, truth will prevail - the true accounts of what happened the night before will reach his superiors. Gil began to scribble into the wooden back of his tome as sounds of preparation and chatters could be heard from outside.

 

[Epiphany]

Spoiler: The Fortress

Inheritance

The Viscount is standing just inside his tower, reviewing paperwork brought by two attendants, when Lazlo admits himself into the noble's presence. A quartet of tower guards stand at attention, warding the entrance though they don't block Lazlo's approach.

The noble grimaces out of habit at the rude interruption but his eyes sweep up and down the armored healer before settling back on Lazlo's face. "You're absolutely correct, young man," the Viscount says, tugging mailed gloves off to better hold a pen while he signs a sheet of paper. Straightening once more, the noble turns back to Lazlo and looks coldly at him. "You have recently arrived here. I'm aware of the sacrifice the Guardians made holding the walls, even launching a reckless offensive. None of which would have been needed if they'd been more careful. Jericho's Guardians and their reckless expedition to the ruins stirred up trouble. And when trouble followed them back here, that...that damn Giant and her pillar of Light drew down every monster in leagues upon us! As far as I'm concerned, every injury, every death last night is on their heads!"

Sneering, the Viscount straightens and gestures for the door. "If you're so fond of hard work, by all means join them. I could use a skilled healer, for despite our best efforts to hold the frontier, danger is no stranger to us here. But the last thing I need is another reckless fool. Make your choice, young man, but make it somewhere else. I'm busy."

Octo Girl
While the healers are reluctant to let a patient so critically wounded so short a time ago, Terra's plainly well enough to walk and they have no shortage of patients to finish treating.

Both women find the Guardian expedition in the process of mobilizing. Tents are coming down, supplies are being loaded and wagons are being prepared. It'll be hours yet before the expedition is back under way but they're clearly not wasting any time as Jericho sees to preparations.

QizPizza
Half-Incruscan or not, Luthax's distinctive armor and appearance drew more than a few looks from the soldiers stationed in the outpost...as well as some of those escorting the expedition proper. But the Bloodguard is left alone to make his preparations. Once the expedition is in the field, Guardians may be called on to do more of the menial work but for the time being, the soldiers of the Outpost step up to handle anything needing muscle and repetitious labor. There's a lingering look of awe on their faces as they gaze upon the men and women who'd stood between life and death for them last night.

As for Aymeline, the rose-haired Giant mostly serves as a mobile crane, hauling crates and even whole wagons around. She slept in until nearly noon, exhausted by channeling that torrential Light Network bridge she'd formed last night, and there are still long lines on her face that suggest it'll be sometime before she's fully recovered. Or maybe the haunted look comes from the Viscount's words. It doesn't take an exceptionally perceptive mind to figure out the Giant Guardian is carrying guilt over those who died, grappling with the very real possibility that her outreach to the Light Network to empower her fellow Guardians very well may have escalated the situation it was meant to solve.

Still, she stands tall and straight. The White Warcry, an almost legendary weapon wielded by half a dozen past Giant Guardians, rests against one of the Outpost walls and the white jade-steel alloy looks as magnificent as she does, clad in her burnished mail that gleams brightly in the light of day.

Soviet Panda
The Quartermaster gives Buras a dirty look when asked to replace weapons. But there's something habitual, probably reflexive about the gesture. Thankfully, the caravans that came in yesterday brought a full, fresh stock of arms and armament for the beleaguered outpost. A good axe is all his for the asking.

The wounds remain painful but as the day goes on, sunlight and light duty do much to ease them. It helps that Aymeline stops by Buras, commends him for his exceptional fighting last night, and lingers to put a hand on his shoulder. Her touch carries the Light itself, infusing him with much of what he'd lost, quickening his natural recovery and restoring his strength. The Giant smiles a bit apologetically and walks off, her great shoulders bowed by a lingering depression.

Trappy
Thankfully for the Outpost's soldiers, no one tries to stop Gil on his way back to the barracks. He's able to fume undisturbed. By the time the men of the Outpost begin to circulate back into the barracks, some heading back to sleep to be ready for night duty, Gil's already repacked and well into penning his accounts. There's no telling when the truth will reach the Empire but at least it's safely recorded for posterity...or for his patron. For if the Viscount was a man of some nobility, he wasn't the only one and the right word in the right ear was certainly an option.

Assuming anyone survived this trip, of course...

 

[Midrick]

Pat woke up, sunlight shining, opposed to the crushing darkness of the previous night, he had barely any recollection of the previous night past killing the Heidilisk, at least some sleep had relieved the extreme fatigue, he had been feeling. He had chosen to sleep on the walls, along with some of the guardsmen who were wary of a second darkborne assualt, some of them reeked of the unmistakable stench of strong alcohol. His equipment, what little of it there was, was situated next to him, he supposed some of the guardsmen who had sticky fingers decided stealing from a guy insane enough to be fast balled at a Heidilisk wasn't one to steal from.

His sword was propped up against the battlements, and he grabbed it, its edge still stained by the dark 'blood' of the monsters he had cloven during the night. He had heard snippets of the viscounts speech, he had half a mind to give extort the man for money, he was still a mercenary after all. He decided the viscount probably wasn't even that important to be stationed on a pissant outpost on the edge of imperial territory.

He saw a group of another passed out guardsmen with a case of alcohol, Pat grabbed a bottle and was going to take a swig before he remembered the scene from the armory when they first arrived and the 'nut juice' he sniffed the opening of the bottle and gagged when the scent hit him, it smelled like rot combined with raw sewage, he held it away as if it where a bomb before tipping it and watching the murky contents flow onto the ground, and the grass wither whenever the liquid touched it. "What the actual fuck..." he murmured as he kept walking, not understanding how someone willingly drank the caustic substance.

He passed one of the towers, seeing the new blood from the previous night slip into the tower, he stood watching, after a minute standing and contemplating if he should get involved, eventually settling on yes. He walked up the tower stairs stairs seeing four guards standing, and the armored priest looking man, it seemed the two were in the middle of a confrontation. Pat decided to see if he could wring anything out of the noble after all. "Sorry to interrupt you two, but I don't fight for free noble, and I've come to collect." the noble was a head and a half shorter than Pat, and the guards were on the shorter side as well, he looked to the armored man, and looked back, he hadn't forgotten their exchange from the previous night, and was prepared to introduce his fist to his face as much as the viscount and the guards.

Epiphany Inheritance

 

[Epiphany]

Spoiler: The Fortress

Midrick

With a sheaf of paper in one hand, an irate armored healer on the other, the Viscount stares incredulously at his second interruption. The man probably expected other Guardians or members of the expedition to turn up, objecting to his speech towards Jericho. But being hit up for money appears to take the man a moment to actually wrap his head around.

Then fierce eyebrows draw together as the noble turns to face the mercenary. Visible irritation is apparent on his face as he's forced to look up, and up, just to look Pat in the eyes. His mouth opens to make a response, pauses, and then he just shakes his head as a slow chuckle emerges from his throat. The Viscount turns to his desk and withdraws a huge tome from a binding slot set against the desk head, plainly intended to protect the volume from environmental wear and tear. Flipping it open, his finger index finger runs down a list of names as he says absently. "Being responsible for this garrison, I manage the payroll for every officer, patrol man and auxiliary support staff assigned to it. The Empire always pays its soldiers. Except..."

The Viscount finishes running his finger down the list and he returns to peering up at the tall Pat. "Oh that explains it. Of course. You're none of the above. I didn't requisition you. Whoever you signed up with, collect from them. Now good day."

Sensing trouble, the four guards shifted uncomfortably in their armor. After all, both Pat and Lazlo had been in last night's bloody battle. Not being members of the garrison, there was a good chance they might wield the Light, something none of these men could do. Judging by the looks on their faces, they didn't like the odds. They also didn't look willing to run either. If anything, their expressions settle into a kind of weary resignation. Mortals holding off monsters, well aware some among them were gods by comparison.

 

[Inheritance]

Lazlo Talonguard​

"Aye I'm sure you're extraordinarily busy being unproductive and pissy, but let's talk like men. I'd be happy to heal the men that are willing to see the light, but I am not willing to work under you. Perhaps you missed it, but during combat while we were fighting and you were off getting yelled at, the defenders rallied around the giantess. They didn't really around you, or your "business"." He growled. He noticed the warrior walk in that he talked to briefly, but ignored him for the most part.

"Good day indeed. Often times in life we fail tests sent to us by the divine. Luckily, our lords are merciful, and often give us second chances." He stared the commander in the eye, his faith burning through him. "It is when we fail the second test that judgment and punishment fall upon the damned. Good day."

With that he turned and left the office to look for the giantess.

 

[Inheritance]

( Epiphany above)

 

[Epiphany]

Inheritance
Lazlo's very direct approach does not go without result. The Viscount stiffens but the mailed healer's observations have enough merit to not be so easily dismissed. The soldiers had rallied around the Guardians. And if it was a sign of the stupidity of the common man, that they'd help those who endangered them in the first place, it didn't change the fact that the soldiers staying here still needed to listen and respect him. As such, Lazlo's final salvo is delivered and the healer's able to leave without retort or reply, as the noble is now deep in thought.

@ everyone
Not that it matters much, for that's the last anyone going with the Expedition sees of the Viscount. Instead, soldiers, servants and Guardians alike team up to load up the wagons. The sun is surprisingly bright and warm as the day crosses the noon hour and afternoon settles in. It seems the great battle against the Darkborne last night has loosened the Dark's grip on these immediate lands...at least a little. It makes the work a bit hotter than most are used to, as a result.

The Giant Aymeline handles most of the heavy lifting, which mainly consists of being handed parts of the dissembled wagons so she can lift them over the fortress' entryway and set them down outside. Two teams work as a result, one dissembling inside and one reassembling outside. Provisions are stocked on the north side of the courtyard, by the entryway, much of which is still in boxes from being shipped here by the resupply caravans.

Soldiers joining the Expedition finish up the immediate patch and repair work to their arms and armor and make another pile by the provisions, this time of personal effect bags. Jericho stands in their midst, shouting orders, directing men and getting the job done in a surprisingly swift way.

Within a few hours, the Expedition is ready to go.

Once the soldiers, Guardians and other participants gather outside of the Fortress, Jericho looks down the ancient, worn roadway leading on past the Fortress. He clears his throat gruffly before speaking up.

"Alright, listen up. We have a long way to go and only half a day's light to do it with. We'll be taking the road some of you fuckers took to a certain fucking ruin that resulted in that fucking mess last night." He flashes a grin that's more teeth than humor before giving a short, barking laugh. "On the Light side of things, that's exactly where we're passing through so you probably saved all of us from an ambush. That beatdown we gave the Dark last night was fierce enough, we might get a day or two without more trouble...and I plan to take full advantage of that."

"I want regular sentries marching ahead, behind and beside. Those of you not marching will be walking. We'll switch every two hours so you men stay fresh for a fight, in case I'm wrong. I figure we can make the ruins by nightfall. Once we get there, Guardians will sweep the place to make sure it's still clear. If it's not, we kill it or move on depending on what's there. If it is clear, we make use of those walls and setup camp for the night."

"Our destination is a supply depot, just across the river. If all goes well, we'll reach it by tomorrow. In the meantime, stay alert, stay alive. And remember."

The gruff Guardian clears his throat before straightening up for this last part. "You've been bloodied, you've been pushed, and that fucking Viscount just shit on all of us. It's easy to get mad about it, get resentful about it, maybe plan on doing something to him on our way back. Don't! The madder you get, the stronger the Dark gets. The tastier you smell to it. March angry and you could bring down the Light knows what else on our asses while we're without fixed defenses. I want you to picture our goal, that building and its powers in our hands. Picture your families, your homes. Picture that amazing piece of ass you had two weeks ago. Whatever. But put yourself in a happy place or, Light help you, I'll be kicking your corpse after you've died bringing the Darkborne down on us. Maybe before you die. And I'll do it with a smile on my face."

With that bit of 'inspiring' speech delivered, Jericho gives the move-out order.

And the Expedition rolls forward.

OOC: Feel free to interact, with each other or soldiers or Jericho. Detail your final efforts to join up and perhaps if you'll start by riding or which sentry formation you'll join if you're marching. Story will begin soon!

 

[QizPizza]

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[div class=wrapperDiv][div class=bigHeader]FADING FLAMES[/div]

[div class=header]LUTHAX VALYZAN[/div]

[div style="font-size:9px; font-style: italic; text-align:center"]Credit to ElectricPizza[/div]​

[div class=tabWrapper][div class=tab style="border-top-left-radius: 5px;"]POST[/div][div class=tab]OTHER INFO[/div][/div][div class="tabsContent tabsPost"]
INTERACTIONS: ShadeAlucard (Stravix)
MENTIONS: Epiphany (Jericho)

When the expedition gathered to set out, Luthax was already prepared. He immediately stood up from where he sat and affixed his cloak around his neck and left arm. The Incruscan has had enough waiting. He was getting too restless for his own good. Consequently, the speech that Guardian Jericho gave fell a bit flat on the Bloodguard. He was speaking to those that have been on this treacherous journey since the beginning, and maybe a few strays gathered up in the early stages. For Luthax, his interest wasn't placed in protecting his family, returning home, or any hedonistic practices. He's had his fill of that in the former years of his life. Now, what he desired was to fight, whether it be man, beast, or Darkborne. He belonged at the front lines in the thick of it. Other than that, everything that Jericho said sounded like a decent plan. The real shame was that they had such a large group.

With his sabatons clanking heavily against the stones of the outpost's courtyard, the armored warrior strode towards the front of the formation to serve as a sentry. Being in the front meant that he would be the first to encounter any threat, and the first to get a piece of the action he'd missed out on up until this point. Luthax looked around and picked out the first man he saw. It was a tall man, taller than Luthax, but far thinner, with hair and eyes so blue, it almost hurt to look at. That man looked like an Imperial engineer what with his outfit and all of the armor and ore on his back. An engineer like him would be more suited to the back lines, repairing armor, forging weapons, and constructing siege works. However...something in his appearance told Luthax that this man was more than meets the eye, though hopefully that "more" doesn't involve any brighter colors than his hair. "Engineer, how do you feel about joining me as a sentry in the front?"

[/div][div class="tabsContent tabsOtherInfo" style="display: none;"]

LOCATION: Outpost Courtyard

PHYSICAL STATE: Perfect

MENTAL STATE: Eager.

NOTES: NA

[/div]

[div class="tabsContent tabsOtherInfo" style="display: none;"][/div]

[div style="font-size:9px; font-style: italic; text-align:right"]Code by QizPizza[/div][/div]

 

[Kabboom]

Jericho

That morning, everything was going right. The Outpost squared up into shape thanks to that newcomer, Stravix. Arms and materiel were restocked from the supply convoy. Some letters from back home, as well as some extra gifts from the convoy coachmen have the men's spirits raised high, which was more than welcome; without the Guardians, an aspiring Darkmage, or Lights forbid, a Nightmare Legionnaire might be all that is needed to take the feeble defenses. Feeble especially thanks to that viscount. But he is not Jericho's responsibility anymore. The expedition is all that remains.

He tried to keep his mind on that, instead of his late comrade Eiglen. The sergeant died upon impact, after being flung by the Heidelisk. He'd finally earned his resting place, joining his brothers in arms, the ones who died reclaiming Vasr Hill with Audaton at his side. Brothers, not written in blood, but forged in fire. Eiglen's peaceful now, and may the need for his like never arise again, when they win against the Darkborne. The duty lays on Jericho's shoulders, then, to retrieve the artifact. Finish the war that had lasted for so long. Peace to the people. Justice to the fallen. To Eiglen.

Snapping back to reality, the Guardian leader reviewed the marching formation. The clearing in front had healed from the Dark scars that clawed at the earth in the night. Burrower tunnels were filled by the Guardsmen, being no more than lumps of dirt dotting the green grass. Even the Heidelisk's hole had been filled up to the best of the men's ability, aided greatly by Stravix and the half-Giants. The noon here in the Darkwoods were a mellow kind of yellow, unlike the burning scorch down South, like Kelegris; the faint breeze of wind scratching the brushes of grass, the birds singing their songs to the tunes of marching men. The radiant dandelions were in full bloom, and the occasional sunflower gazed up in awe at its namesake star. A few bumblebees straddled the petals, taking in their daily sips of nectar, hopping from flower to flower.

The scene looked tranquil. But then there were the flies.

The carriers of death and disease. The flies were here as well. In overwhelming numbers, they buzz above the myriad of corpses that lay flat upon the grass, their gaping wounds gushing red streams, and the flies just keep coming. They crawl upon the faces of the dead, their twitching legs desecrating the drained skin of the fallen comrades that have laid their lives in the ongoing 488th Battle of Vasr Hill--

A faint marching song snapped Audaton out of his stupor again. His Wolfhorse stirred uncomfortably, tugging at the reins by shaking its head. Jericho's hands had balled up into tightened fists without him knowing. Releasing the poor creature from its rider's impulsive restrictions, he looked to the source of the song. The convoy was well on its way for a while now, and things were as tactically sound as possible: in lieu of Light-turrets mounted on the wagons, the men had served dual protection, sitting on the wagons with the veils down, dangling their legs over the sides and rear; in lieu of Warwings scouting overhead, the cavalrymen trod in the woods, about twenty to thirty paces out from the convoy, in teams of three: each horse carried its rider, and a Conqueror balancing atop the horse's butt behind the rider - A crude way of achieving height advantage, but more effective than just sitting on the horse nonetheless.

The wagons were the main focus of the convoy, of course; Stravix and Luthax were running sentry duty way up at the front, while everyone else hung a bit further back with the main convoy. The Giants hung at the end of the convoy, both due to their lower speed, and their sheer size; if one of them tripped and fell in front of a wagon, there's no way going around them until they got up again. The regular guardsmen and Conquerors on guard duty marched in teams of five, spread out all over the area, while the ones on rest sat on the wagons. The normal, human-sized expedition members sat on the rearmost vehicles, having a nice rest. The ones worn out were brought back to safer Imperial territory on the resupply wagons; exhausted warriors put a heavy tax on the effort of the able-bodied ones, even more so in the Darkwoods. In the Forest of Terrors, less is often more.

One of the guys on rest had a balalaika, most likely a heirloom from the Northern areas (Ikhvil, maybe?), and all his buddies were obviously intrigued. A light tune resonated through the forest, accompanied by Guardsmen cheering and singing along. Certainly not very stealthy, but the convoy itself isn't that much quieter in the first place. Audaton allowed this breach of silence to last, even if for a moment longer; happy men in the middle, flanked by grizzled Conquerors on the sides would provide sufficient 'masking' from Darkborne, plus it raises morale greatly (apparently, the female Guardsmen swoon over these songs).

The song sounded nice to Jericho. And that was good enough reason to let it go unopposed for now.

(open to interactions)

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Stravix

Stravix was standing there, fuming at what the gentleman said about the outpost. Sure, it was a mess, but Stravix fixed everything up right and they survived for the most part. Stravix was about to turn and go somewhere to cool down when one of the sentries walked up to him. He wasnt entirely familiar with the said sentry, but something told him, the sentry meant business. When he asked Stravix if he wanted to become a sentry, Stravix had to do a double take. "wait, me become a sentry? but im just an engineer...im not sure how i would do up on the front lines with you." Stravix said, trying to keep most of his other abilities a secret for now. Sure, his lightning strikes could do some heavy damage, but he couldnt use it all the time. on top of that, his shields were powerful as well, as long as his concentration wasnt broken. Perhaps though...with going on the front lines, Stravix could learn more?
Interactions: QizPizza
Jazmin and Alex

Jazmin was stil working on Alex's wounds and broken bones when she overheard what the gentleman said. 'we have to leave now? no..i didnt want to go anywhere else till i became stronger for this...' She thought to herself as she continued to work on Alex, fear clearly on her face. Perhaps she could ask one of the stronger members to protect her on their travels? She just didnt know anyone to ask and wasnt even sure if the man that saved her would do it. Jazmin then lost it as her silent tears and sobs softly echoed in the room she was in.

 

[Slop]

Ezra, the Mad Scholar​

As tension and discomfort sank from the balcony into the asphyxiating air blanketing the Imperial fortress; gradually intertwining with the tenebrous dusk mist dominating the landscape, soldiers, mercenaries, self-proclaimed vigilantes, paragons of chivalry, misfits, abominations and pseudo-immortal mages alike scurried about mentally. Those who had just granted audience to the proclamation of their exile were stumbling over each other’s mindscapes as their brainwaves aligned in collective thoughts. The state of contemplation and introspection which was shared chiefly amongst the Guardians permitted the converging of their respective consciousness at a unified, metaphysical point beyond the perception of sublunar beings. Though the respective eyes of those who did possess them did not meet, invisible strings attached to their essences tugged them towards each other with equivalent force, notwithstanding their distances. In a fruitless attempt at detaching himself from the unbreakable web of consciousness, Ezra turned his attention to the active light cell powering his chassis, internally gauging how much energy remained in reserve. His arrival earlier was masked by a conflation of sorcery and social tension, allowing him to stealthily approach and confront Jericho without detection from his target nor the crowd. As if pulling Jericho away from the darkness of the consciousness web and into the light of the material world, Ezra gently placed his mechanical hand atop Jericho's shoulder, eliciting a strange physical stimulation resultant of the warm fumes of operating machinations and deathly chill of an undead's bony hand seeping through gears and plates.

"It appears my absence has incurred some.. misfortune. Forgive me, I exhausted what remained of my provisional light cells on transportation. Circumstances seemed bent on impeding advancement. However, I am revitalised, and my chassis is operating at maximum efficiency. In addition to my continued cooperation, I will impart unto you a token of apology and appreciation for ensuring the survival of the Guardians. Though I am well aware of your competence and ability to lead them well without my aid, I had failed to fulfil my role as a custodian and the responsibilities imposed unto me."

His voice was weighed with both presumptuousess and solemnity; it sounded as sincere as it did arrogant, giving him a distinct aura which disrupted outward impressions. Though elusive, Ezra was not dishonest. He was indeed tasked with the overseeing and aiding of the Guardians whenever appropriate; and though this duty aligns with his own endeavours, it would be unfaithful to the truth to say that he did so without the slightest hint of reluctance.

"Here. Little as I've seen you utilise it in it's full functionality, I've noticed that your weapon is light cell-powered. This is a prototype self-renewing cell; tuned to perfection by yours truly - or rather, about as perfect as its nature permits. For fairly evident reasons, the compensation self-renewing energy sources demand is far too great for its own good. It is so much of a hindrance, it effectively deprives it of any realistic utility and feasibility. Your weapon, however is not in the slightest power-demanding. Its prototype, in fact,was designed by no other than me, and unearthly efficiency was one of the criterias the royal division demanded the project meet. I've ranted on for long enough as I have. Forgive me. I'm certain this novelty will be of much greater use to you than it would to me."

 

[Unwavering Knight]

Pryonn & Kaatl

The march was a somber act, a procession of the battered-yet-unbowed. At the forefront marched the knight, the blood that had caked his armor drained away meticulousely, giving him a visible, striking shine even in the forest's dim. A statuesque figure, banner over his shoulder, his hulking frame gave doubt as to his supposed humanity, a suspicion fed by the care with which he kept any inch of skin hidden. The fairy on his shoulder, gleefully waving and pointing at random forest-objects, was but one of the things serving to file his edges off. The impressions he gave the soldiers around him was of dualistic nature: Of course, all afforded him the sane respect granted all of Guardian status, doubly so due to his actions during the outpost-fight, and to the youngest his apparent calm and springful step conferred a measure of confidence.

But to the cynical sort, the wizened and jaded men and women that had seen many comrades fall in battle, this Guardian's increasingly lighthearted demeanor came across as increasingly dubious. Indeed, the more somber and pressing the weight of their mission's burden whilst set against the fear of unknown danger lurking in the canopies around them became, the more blithesome this knight's mien shone, seemingly crossing into the realm of the unhinged. It helped little when word got around from which order this knight hailed, easy as it was to discern with how he enjoyed to proclaim himself 'Knight Repiner!' to any that asked.

"Suicidal, that lot." some uttered. "Death-seeking, this one...?" some suspected. All these sayers went silent when Kaatl's gaze fell on them. Outwardly, the fairy's appearance remained that of the childish, cute compatriot. But those that had the will to return her stare were made to reckon as her eyes were sharp as steel and exuded an intent of such vehemence that even seasoned veterans felt a cold chill run down their spines, a step taken back in bewilderment.

The knight merely strode on, seemingly oblivious, a spring in his step as his banner fluttered behind him.

Suicidal?

Death-seeking?

He gave a chuckle that slowly turned into a hum, a carefree tune emanating from his helm as he strode. "It has never been a time more worthy for me to live than now!" he spoke with cheerful tone to none in particular, his merriment continuing.

Suddenly he halted in his step, helmeted head tilted in thought. "Ah, there was a matter!" he emitted, turning around in his stead with a pirouette, his steel-gaze set upon his target. "Good man Audaton!" he called, his free hand waving towards the man as Pryonn strode towards him "This knight would have a word with you!"

Making his way over, he was inevitably faced with the sight of a rather eminent figure addressing the imperial Guardian, a sharply-dressed frame that offered the officer something to seize - an object exuding the tell-tale energies of light. Kaatl greeted the two with her usual unabashed demeanor, a friendly wave and a curious coo towards the light-cell, greedy curiosity in her cerulean eyes. "Hail!" The knight's own voice rang with cheer "Good sir Audaton, there was a matter I have been brooding on, it was from way back when we were still making our way to the outpost - when those bandits ambushed us and made the ill-conceived attempt of luring a hulking creature against our strength of arms. After that battle, my Lady Terra, Kaatl and I explored the monster's cave, and we found a peculiar set of items; a nameless grave, its only seeming offering being this pendant." the knight produced the item, offering it to Jericho for inspection. Inside the rusted locket lay a clock that had lost its hands, the only other thing of note being the message scratched into the worn metal: 'E.R. - Time Is Fleeting'.

"I have not been able to make much sense of it." Pryonn stated with light regret "Can you make something of this?"



Addressed: Kabboom

Mentioned: Slop

 

[Unwavering Knight]

The righteous duo of fairy and knight left Jericho to his contemplations, the man excusing himself to scrutinize the trinket with budding interest. Taking his leave, the knight set to the task of searching for his Lady, inquiring amongst the soldiery for the location of the blonde, diminutive incruscan. He was instead pointed to an immaculately-haired maiden whose face bore all the features of his beloved! Beside her was another, a fiery-haired gal, the duo of them locked in reminiscence-born conversation.

"My Lady!" he called, worry in his voice as he ran towards them "What happened to your golden mane? Did some foul warlock cast a curse upon you?!" Coming to a sudden stop just feet from the friended pair, the knight's steel-shod foot stomped upon the ground as he spoke with unadulterated passion that was only slightly marred by Kaatl's emphatically puffed out cheeks that expressed her own stalwartness "Tell me what hair-heisting hijacker took from you your leonine lavishness, that I may avenge your luscious lockes of luck-lathered luxuriousness!"

Suddenly, as if only just taking note of her, the knight's attention turned to Terra's companion before either of them even had the chance to reply to his impassioned outburst "Who is she? A servant-girl? A lady-in-waiting? Or perhaps..." he tilted his helmed head "... a bridesmaid? Quite bold, my Lady, but we can not get married yet! Before I accept your proposal, I am honorbound to inflict the seven sacraments of chastely charming chivalry upon you!" Perfectly theatrically, the knight's free hand made a grand sweeping gesture, a motion mimicked with visible enthusiasm by the fairy on his shoulder, causing dust to whirl up in melodramatic fashion as he declared with glorious grandiloquence "Hear ye, bridesmaid! For this knight shall implicate you in a grand conspiracy to win a Lady's noble heart! We shall huddle in corners, scheming in ways most suspect right 'neath the oblivious gaze of my damsel-dearest, crafting ways of grand romance with which to attain her affections!"

The knight-and-fairy-duo's expectant gazes settled upon Ruby, either supremely unmindful or simply uncaring for the fact that he shouldn't have said these particular plans of subterfuge out loud. All around them, formerly grave-faced soldiers eyed them with a mixture of confusion and restrained amusement, several making huddled jokes at the pompous Pryonn's expense. The knight's embarrassing display surely warranted a verbal smackdown and several of the footmen looked forward to a fine spectacle that could take their minds off the bleak forest's pressing aura.

Octo Girl

 

[Octo Girl]

Terra slapped Pryonn as he mentioned Bridesmaid. Her face still red. "And this, Ruby.... Is the Pryonn I was telling you about..." Terra said as she crossed her arms and huffed. Ruby could do nothing but laugh her ass off. "And if you are to know Pryonn… No curse other than my normal one.... My body changed after Ruby here saved my life and pumped me full of Mana... I seem to have enough to work my crystals on my own for a while as well." Terra said while motioning her head to Ruby.

Ruby was finally able to calm down a bit but still laughing. "I can now see what you mean... I didn't believe you at first." Ruby said in between breaths. "Hello Pryonn, My name is Ruby. I am an old friend of Terra's and I was only returning the favor." She said with a smile as she started to laugh again as she saw Terra's little huff and red face.

Unwavering Knight

 

[QizPizza]

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[div class=wrapperDiv][div class=bigHeader]FADING FLAMES[/div]

[div class=header]LUTHAX VALYZAN[/div]

[div style="font-size:9px; font-style: italic; text-align:center"]Credit to ElectricPizza[/div]​

[div class=tabWrapper][div class=tab style="border-top-left-radius: 5px;"]POST[/div][div class=tab]OTHER INFO[/div][/div][div class="tabsContent tabsPost"]
INTERACTIONS: ShadeAlucard (Stravix)
MENTIONS:

"Wait, me become a sentry? But I'm just an engineer...I'm not sure how i would do up on the front lines with you."

"You will perform well. There shouldn't any attacks from Darkborne like last night, so rest assured. I will slay any Darkborne that dare cross us." Luthax walked with the engineer at the front of the expedition. He didn't particularly care if the engineer could fight; Luthax could. The Bloodguard could hear the sounds of music and singing a short distance behind them. The main caravan was certainly in high spirits, which worked to the group's advantage, but Luthax was disappointed that they might avoid a Darkborne encounter entirely. That said, it might be for the best since the engineer might fall to anything greater than a Darkwolf. "Besides, it's not likely that Darkborne would be attracted to us, with the sort of merry commotion behind us. Just take in the view and look out for wild beasts. If you spot a Darkborne, don't fight until I am with you. I can...tutor you in the ways of the blade."

The armored Guardian placed his hand on the shining White Steel* blade etched with glowing green runes. It was an masterfully crafted weapon, clearly the work of a dedicated Whitesmith*, so Luthax was not embarrassed to admit that he had little to do with its creation. When Luthax requested that his friend forge a White Steel sword for him, he merely expected a greatsword, but his friend went above and beyond. The end result was the Bulwark Paradox, a beautiful weapon with more gimmicks than Luthax could've ever asked for.

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LOCATION: In Front of the Convoy

PHYSICAL STATE: Perfect

MENTAL STATE: Eager

NOTES: *White Steel: A steel alloy that is known for it's pale coloration and it's ability to be enchanted. Compared to regular steel, it is softer, but the capacity to be enchanted is preferred over physical durability.

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[Unwavering Knight]

Pryonn and Kaatl

The embarassed slap cast upon the knight produced little more than short, metallic din and a sad look from Kaatl. "My Lady." Pryonn tilted his helmeted head, eyeing Terra from a different angle "... If you want to indulge me, you will have to hit harder." A hollow chortle emerged from his helm, a sound wholly at odds with his usual merriment.

"Old friend, you say..." the knight echoed after Ruby introduced herself. In an instant the knight gave a courteous bow "Fairy Kaatl and Sir Pryonn we are, good missus!" Beneath the visored helm, unseen eyes parsed the fiery-haired with increased interest "Seeing as you are an old compatriot of my Lady-Dearest, I ask that you bequeath upon me an arcane secret of hers:" Pryonn took a deep, reasonably dramatic breath, seeking to impress upon Ruby the sheer and epic weight of his inquiry "What is my Lady's favorite dish? Give me a quest to learn this mystery, fiery missus, for a lovestruck knight shall end armies and move mountains to earn his heartful sovereign's favor!"

Octo Girl

 

[Inheritance]

Lazlo Talonguard​

After leaving the office, he found himself searching for the giantess that was targeted by the commander. How that man infuriated him, with his closed mind and his absolute ignorance of reality. He should be tied to a tree and burned! Perhaps even stoned to death while the Red Church watched. But not now...as much as the commander angered him, he knew there were much more important things at hand. He listened to the speech with disinterest, not needing any speech to rally him. His own flame inside his soul would guide him through anything, and the speech fell on deaf ears on his end.

At least, until he mentioned the light, where Lazlo found himself snickering. What did he know about the light? What did any of these people know about the light, except for what false churches and stories had told them. He rolled his eyes and waited the rest of the time until they moved out.

As they moved, he stayed quiet, though he was constantly watching. He wanted to see how much potential the group had, and whether or not they deserved the truth. Some of them had it, even Jericho, despite his very backwards view of the light. After observing for a bit, he went over to Jericho to talk to him.

"So can I ask..." he began quietly, "What brought you here?" It was an awkward question, but he didn't care. It was important to not just observe, but to talk to those who may be worthy in the eyes of the Red Church. If he could convert this man, the rest would fall like dominoes. Of course, he could get any of them at will-he just needed a bit of time. And of course, they needed to be worthy.
Kabboom