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Fantasy Guild of Heroes: Recall Protocol

Jaunt Nemesis
Location:
Lurker in the dream / refugee room
Nearby/Mentioned: Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles Birdsie Birdsie


Gardener Orthodoxy held different to their higher beings than the humans did with their astral creatures. All theirs were either living titans or seeds of hope, not bodiless heretics trapped in past eras. The idea of submission to a higher unbodied will out of professed ignorance was something alien when it was the whole of the high soldiers who chose Matriarchs to cede flecks of divine power in the lineage of war. His, as a tiller, was to be a beacon to light the way for all seeker Matriarchs of that lineage. Thus so did the Orthodoxy decide Tillers must apply themselves even to the weakest of Matriarchs known to them as walls to ensure the sources of all future do not fall. Though with the addition of all human Matriarchs widely complicated any real accounting of a pantheon. Only a few reservations of conduct were deemed outright heretical to the Matriarchy. A young Matriarch Seeker in the training of wisdom certainly wasn't one of those things but the Orthodoxy's walls didn't ask for permission to be ready to defend their future.

A life preserver was a wall against the water as much as Juant's grip on the mark at her ankle was one against the deeper unconscious dark she'd been in. Then she began to dream as Cyrus answered his question and the Tiller dragged down into its waters with her the insectoid's hovering grip on the blanket unmoving as his head and pedipalps fell slack. At first void then an impact of water. On steel? Or was that his head was fuzzy and moist? Two feet that were his moved around a stone fortress of some sort as awareness seeped into an obligated agency with a pause at a door shifting his hands and discovering a heavy package there. He wondered whose weapons these were wrapped in linen. A whisper of insight in his mind as the large painted knight knocked on one door imparting a certain reflexive sense of what the dream required of him.

He felt noise and movement quiver in a human throat that wasn't his as the dream shaped his particular part out of him, "Permission to enter, ma'am?"

So he was to deliver these? A reply from inside let him move the immovable ingress to this inner space and saw the false Matriarch inside. He felt the tingle across the skin as the dream lied the shape of another around him when she looked in his direction. In his arms proved a heavy package physically pulled by the gravity of memory behind that bereft face which saw him set the sword and shield down on the table exactly where memory required. Barely standing as the tingling poured out and across the dream body the memory of another leaving as he set his will in place to follow into this interim place without light to one with a great fire. Transfixed in place by a memory of watching a fortress burn though unsure if it was conquered or lost until the source of wisdom fell somewhere deeper into the void.

A connection to life in a distant orbit he responded to her emotion with an urge to draw a blade of his own but found the metal-covered hands he felt to be nowhere at all. Without a tithe, he could not defend in a place so very deep in a Matriarch's mind. The dream skin still responded with a tense texture at his neck against the steel helmet as something moved through reality. The presence of a louder rumble of speech under the false Matriarch's own whisper. He cared little if the bodiless creature saw him and the defender refused to kneel to such a thing anyway. Listening quietly until the unbodied rammed its fist into her chest. More than willing to throw what he presumed a human fist against the unbodied creature Jaunt instead struggles against the impassible gulf of the dream holding him back without a proper tithe. Though he did not feel the dark encroaching into the dream from an injury thus relented as unsure of what exactly transpired. If it was a gift he nonetheless had a pointed loathing for its heretical method of delivery.

Then the dream was cut off as he slumped to the floor with that mark on her ankle evaporating instantly against her wakefulness breaking the Tiller's death tether. She'd carried the blanket with her when waking just to throw it across the room. A bit unnecessary but she was only in what he'd consider the seeker phase of her life as were many human Matriarchs. Jaunt rubbed his pedipalps against each other to clean off floor dirt then set his blade arms down straining to both listen and remember where he was through his half-burnt hearing surface and returning pain.

Loyalty unto death, Jaunt would betray none of her secrets as the speaker crackled to life, "Damning, false Matriarch? I agree with Averza. There seems to be strength and a future now where a hole used to be. It is good to see you well enough to stand strong. You have allies about you now."

Jaunt knew it was not an explanation the humans would appreciate but the absence of charity toward them he felt at the moment came out in his own answer to Solomon even if the flat tone did not, "And the astral heretics are unconstrained bodiless shadows of the past with little appreciation left for the suffering of the present or future that does not benefit them."

A very hot blast of air pushed dust across the floor from his throat as he calmed down looking to Ellis and Cyrus, "If you are poking holes in the walls I can carry one at a time down the building sides if I throw my hammer down before me. Though... I think these tracking animals of yours can follow a trail of manure among broken grass."
 
Sasha Korneev

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Sasha remained still while everyone else was introducing themselves and the plan for their escape was set but unfortunately she was barely listening to it due to her internal screaming due to how embarrassed she was at how out of place her introduction was compared to everyone else. She drilled it into herself to make it look as impressive but at the same time cool as she could for hours in the mirror and she was completely outmatched, further training was needed if she was going to try and make friends out of her work. Though one would wonder why was she assuming she'd get off time considering they were what amounted to a revolutionary cell masquerading as refugees.

"You should just all get extremily pissed, that's a good way to make friends. It's also a great way to make enemies." Was the first comment as he was always ever so helpful.

The hero would stand up; "Don't worry about Midnight, when the time comes for us to escape she'll escape into the night and find her way back to me." her mount nodded as if she understood human speech, it was weird that it was more helpful than the elite mages and warriors in her mind.

"If that's what you were going to do Cyrus-sama then I will project my spirit on the astral plane to keep track of the guard patrols, wait for me to return to know when it's the most opportune time for the operation to commence." She said as she sat down in a meditating pose awakening in her inner world to the freeloaders in her mind.

"So who are you gonna leave in charge when you're gone? I'm don't want to." Asked the mana-ghost who gave her the ability to leave her body in the first place, he just wasn't one for leadership positions.

"Adventurer 1." She responded without hesitation.

"Oh wow really? I'm honoured you trust me but I'm the newest member and you took over my body, aren't you worried about me?" Asked the elected keeper of the body.

"Eik is already drunk, the meat head will try something dumb like just going out and shooting everyone like he was in a fps title, the tree pervert will try to delete all non-plant cell life on the planet and I'm pretty sure you're one of helping npcs who have to be nice to everyone, so you can't betray me."

"Oh right, well. Good luck out there!" He hoped her well, at which point her spirit left to go survey the area.

In the real world the rest of the party would just see Sasha meditate for a brief moment, change her position to resting on her knees and turn to the rest of the group with an out of character friendly and kind smile, which was more unsettling than her just having a blank expression.

"So, how is everyone feeling about all of this? Escaping a country is pretty stressful, does anyone want to talk about their feelings? Remember, no matter what you think your emotions are valid :)." Adventurer 1 speaking through Sasha's body.

Birdsie Birdsie lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Swire Swire
 
"I'll have you know," she said, glaring at Solomon. "Badmouthing a knight's patron deity is a great way to earn their ire."

Her gaze then turned to Elisimore, and continued with, "Some of us aught to know better than that."

Even though some such as Averza gave encouragement, it was rather dulled due to the fact her god had basically called her unworthy. She had dedicated her life to what she believed to be his teachings, only for him to outright state she was not worthy. Something else bugged her about the way her weapon reacted too. It wasn't necessarily rejection, but rather a resonance she felt from the artifact. Aegir had stated that his blood would replace hers, but she had no clue how much of her blood was her own. Granted, a dragon's blood, and an ascended one at that, was a hefty boon to give. It would certainly explain her sudden recovery. Alas, the true answer would elude her today. There was much more pressing matters at hand, like how to get out of this tiny border outpost. While some had tossed out ideas, she added in her own thoughts on the matter.

"The way I see it, we may not need to escape. Hear me out, if the guards were willing to let us in and stay, they might be willing to let us leave. Not to mention, we have the opportunity to rest, however brief. With even a sliver of Cyrus's mana, we would easily be able to escape through force or more direct methods should we choose. Once we're across the border or heading to it, the guards have to consider more than just us. How will their encroachment on Espana's territory be seen should it be caught wind of? I know I've had to sit back in the past and watch wretches flee for hills because it led outside our jurisdiction as Albion knights."


For all intensive purposes, what she said was true to her experiences. Of course, there would always be a factor of risk, but in her mind sneaking out or using force should be a last resort in these situations, they wouldn't want to raise the suspicions of the guards who had allowed the kindness of sanctuary if that was indeed what they did. All they needed to do was cross the border at this point, and considering their closeness to it, she hoped it would be a simple task with little complications.

Sophia looked to the potion she was given and with just some hesitation downed it in one go. After dealing with the potiony aftertaste she didn't feel much different, but she hoped it would at least be rich in iron.
 
Averza Reyes
Relieved at the change of topic and renewed focus on their escape, Averza returned to her original position, relaxing lazily on one of the boxes.

She listened to the plan slowly get hammered out, alongside some weird comments about manure and emotional support, at which point Averza shot questioning glares at the respective speakers. Either way, this was getting more and more elaborate than it really needed to be. Before the plan could evolve into something more akin to a plan to break out of the Lazarus Fortress, Sophia stepped in with a more calming solution. Averza internally sighed at the fact that anemic one made the most sensible suggestion so far.
"I'm all down for a bit of destruction but this is just a little much, don't yall think. It's as Sophia says. At most, they'll send a messenger to whoever lords over that territory, probably. And it's not like we aren't already wanted anyway. If we can make it across the border through the official channels, it'll be much better. And if not, then we can make a break for it. No manure, no therapy session, no weird distractions."

Averza rolled over to her side and got herself into a more comfortable position. "We can setup the runes and what not first, in case it all goes to hell. But before all that, we desperately need a full day of rest, and not a coma-induced one." She yawned as she rested her head on her arm. Soon she drifted into the land of slumber.


 
Cyrus of Trostenvald / Elsimore Bellathriel

"Very well," Cyrus acquiesced, though clearly unhappy. "In that case, we shall rest until tomorrow arrives, and see what comes."

"You, in particular, might need a night's rest, old man," Elsimore suggested. A crooked smile adorned his face, mocking with its pursed lips and narrow eyes. "It's been a rough awakening and it's not healthy for an old bone like you."

"Hmph. Fine. Then stand at guard, apprentice."

"Hahahaha!" Elsimore burst out laughing, but stood and walked over to the door. "As you say..."

[READY FOR TIMESKIP]
 
Black Ops Captains/Cruz
LOCATION City of Recordar
INTERACTIONS June Verles June Verles


Prelude:

Light bounced off the shaded air returning a hazed mirror of blood and within the fog's spiraling descent Cruz found her answer. "We all have to breathe eventually." This was the final thought that rampaged through the synapses in her brain. It would only take seconds for the agonizing loneliness within her mind to rest, the burning toxins pierced her lungs through the very pipes which she used daily. But the particles within the tinted poison she now inhaled would only cloud her mind, robing the last remaining right the Order hadn't taken from her, freewill.

Twelve hours earlier the Order had used the newly acquired location of the resistance's primary operations as a weapons test for leading developed tools of war. The weapon in question was a high-density compound that enforced a single overriding will over any who embraced it. This in itself wasn't the last unique property, packed within the fibers of magical essence was the ability to dissipate only when all life in the area had inhaled the concoction.

Within three hours of the attack, over eighty percent of the resistance had left their long incubated flesh behind to travel onward. The last remaining lifeforms used all available means to hold back their unconscious enemy. Under the city existed a series of networking tunnels used for secrecy. Placing several barriers at key points stalled for time, but after nine hours their magic reserves dried and all options fell to zero.

Three hundred lives prepared to close the curtains when the cloth walls fizzled out, the red shadow of their finale swarmed into the vacuum of their untouched lives. Those as unfortunate as Cruz, who were able to hold their breaths for quite some time, watched in horror of the more fortunate that were subjected to the ease of inability of choice. A chaotic grinder of human contortion formed upon the stage, while the shining light of heat lit the bodies of the actors into flame. The screams of the crowd erupted into fear of being forced one by one onto the stage of a single will...

Kill everyone.

The stage of wood and strings almost reached silence during the unique appearance of the puppet Cruz on the stage. A scream of fear echoed from shards of remaining will deep within her soul, as the last strings of the fog tightened on her.

The raw strength and prowess Cruz possessed were far beyond that of any other player. She silently bore witness to her body crushing the splintered wood of the other puppets with her hands, slicing through their soft strings before snapping their pinewood components into unrecognizable fragments. At the last moments of the performance within Cruz, after two hundred and fourteen wooden dolls had exited the stage, the director who was born of construct, and as mechanical as the toys it now controlled, disappeared.

Two hours later an insurgent team serving the Order would search the city to find eighty-six missing persons. A report filed from the major scientist explained that due to the weapon's heavy use of magic, the conditions set forth required, rather than optionally, dissipated the gas instantly upon all subjects within the area inhaling the toxin. The test was considered a partial success and the weapon was revised with proper specifications. The city of Libertad was reduced to nothing but ruins and the eighty-six souls have never been seen since.


Present:

Years had passed since Cruz has lost her pure ideas, before Argon was a machine willing to do anything required to free her people. A delay of moments passed after Argon had let go of the conversation, but she refused to associate with him. Finally, she turned around to give him an empty stare, one from leader to an insolent child. "Weak." She spoke, pulling out a single-shot projectile weapon.

"If you lie in this room one of your teammates dies. That was your first test. Sofia, scan him." With this Cruz held the gun toward Syi as Sofia walked to Argon and his mind meshed with hers.

"He is telling the truth." But Cruz took no time with her interrogation. "Explain your plan."

"Two days from now the King will give a speech. You will assault the capital city to draw away their attention. The attacks will result in a lockdown, and we will take advantage of that and steal the King from the Order."

"What insurance do I have you will succeed?"

"If we fail then our dead bodies will be found and Albion will be held responsible. If not we have the central piece in overthrowing the Order's false ideas of paradise. Albion likely could threaten to invade and the public would panic at the loss of their King. If we succeed in taking Espania, Albion asks for an alliance. For Espania to help defend against enemies of the throne."

A long pause followed. Cruz has many failed attempts to disrupt the Order, all small in the long run. An entire country willing to give resources for this cause would be a large asset. "Why now?"

"The Guild of Heroes has returned. They will likely seek an invasion of Albion to dethrone Lord Script, he needs allies."

After this Sofia gave another node to inform that he was telling the truth.

"On one condition, I will be taking one of your team members as insurance that you won't betray us. If anything happens I kill them. In return, I will personally accompany you to guarantee success." Argon had little to say in return, it was risky to try to continue without them.

"Well, suppose that's me." Inir casually read Argon's mind and made his way over to Cruz, who change her target from Syi.

Afterward, all antimagic wristbands were removed, and Inir was placed within a prison cell to remain until they returned. Cruz left Issac to watch over their prison and the remaining resistance planned with Cruz for a short time after as to their actions for assaulting the capital. During this time the Black ops members were free to move around and speak with anyone.

Several minutes passed before Argon made his way to Lenin. "Doctor, I was asked to give this to you." Argon handed a small letter to Lenin. "Of course, you will not tell me anything about what it says. Whenever you are done with your business let me know and we can leave."

Within the letter was a small ring and a note.

 
Last edited:
Jaunt Nemesis
Location:
Nearby/Mentioned: Hanarei Hanarei | ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe


Jaunt's over tempered breath cooled as the cooler head of Averza prevailed. The lineage of wrath had a predilection for violence so it was good that there were false Matriarchs here that did not share it. He considered the matter and nodded, "If they will just let us leave then there is no reason to make more enemies? Yes, it is good wisdom, Averza. I think my blood has been up to war for too long today." Alteras Alteras

His instincts told him he was not talking to the same being as was there before, in false Matriarch Sasha, though there was precedence for such a thing and replied to that what speaks through her, "I feel suspicious of this silver brazier burning in my head now, Acolyte. This thing of Cyrus demands much of me to burn threats with it." June Verles June Verles Birdsie Birdsie

The herbivore had an iron stomach and a large one at that. a grinding noise of his mandibles as he shoveled into his mouth some of the crate of fruit. Spoil for humans would do nothing to him and the loud cracks of their pits echoed as he chewed. It didn't take long before he'd had his fill though didn't need a bedroll given he could sleep frozen in place. Though after fetching the bedroll Sopha had kicked away scuffed the dirt off of it as best he could. His armor back on kept him warm enough and set his blade arms side by side on the floor with the bedding on top. Though his warm breath's normal petrichor scent made it smell a bit more like a moist fruit orchard at the moment. He fell into sleep himself though the painted knight unconsciously drifted between nearby dreams of his allies doing whatever the dream required of him.


The next morning Jaunt didn't have eyes to open as much as he became aware of the bedding in front of him. If anyone was sleeping there he simply stayed perfectly still until the rest awoke. The burns on his back had healed enough that he felt itching where numbness used to be so reckoned there was skin again. A light shake of his abdomen told him the punctured panolymph cell from that dagger finally softened as well.
 
Sasha Korneev

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Hours passed as Sasha spent transposed into the Astral plane, keeping an eye on the border crossing and it's garrison, she kept an active watch on every single one of their guards, their schedules, their breaks whatever they did in their breaks, the sheer audacity they had to commit things that should be done behind a lock and key by yourself with the other guards casually like this was normal. Why were they slapping each other with towels so hard? It was leaving permanent marks, it made no sense. But Sasha was willing to sacrifice her waning mental health for the good of the team for surely the team would follow the plan, leave the tent and go for their escape, it would only be a bit more time.

But a bit of time turned into multiple dozens of minutes and that turned into hours before soon the sun was rising, Sasha thought it would be a beautiful sight if she wasn't on her important mission-

...

The sun was coming up? What time was it? Immediately she would make a break for her tent and jump immediately back into her body. It felt tired, she was hot and there a steaming vapour in the air. Did the tent get hit by a strange magical evaporation ray which incapacitated everyone but also smelled really nice and aromatic, a very filling savoury tint to it. She opened her eyes, she was making soup. everyone else was asleep or coming to.

"Adventurer 1, what happened?" She asked the caretaker of her body in her inner mind palace.

"Oh well, I was just working on breakfast, I know soup isn't usual but it's easy to make and serve and I thought our friends would appreciate a savoury meal to keep them fed if we're going to be travelling more." The man responded with the warmth and candidness of a mother making pancakes for her child on a Monday.

"Not the stew, the mission, what happened?"

"Oh the mission, they decided not to go through it." He clarified.

"And... you didn't do anything?"

"Well I thought they seem to approve and everyone seemed in dire need of a decent rest and it wasn't really my place to speak up, I'm glad we came up with a non-violent alternative, we shouldn't annoy the guards since they're hosting us."

At this point Sasha, tired and in sheer disbelief asked one more question. "Where did you even get the ingredients for soup?"

"Oh, Michael helped me grow them."

"I was apprehensive about helping feed a bunch of fleshies, but Adventurer 1 convinced me when he said he was making soup. It's the superior calorie delivery method balancing both nutrition, taste and expedience." Why did the dendrophile have such a strong opinion about soup. Why weren't they attacked in their sleep? Why were they allowed to make soup inside a tent?

With the soup finished, Sasha dejected would make her way to a corner and just bury her head in her knees tired mentally, physically and emotionally.
 
Dr. Lenin D. Arwin

Location: Rebel Hide Out Interactions: Swire Swire


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The exchange between Argon and Cruz was watched by the scientist like a proud parent, she was so proud of him being able to stand on his own after that loss, look how he was telling the rebels who was really in charge! If she didn't want to embarrass him publicly she would have really teared up at this point. Regardless, thanks to this positive interaction they were back to being able to use their magic and free to walk wherever they wanted, except for Inir of course.

At that point she received the letter, raising a curious eyebrow at the captain. "What is this, a complicated game of telephone? How exciting." She responded in a joking tone with a little smile as she cheerily opened the letter reading it quickly.

They had the exact name of whoever was charging Inir in it, how did they know who was going to be there? Was whoever behind writing these letters really good at guessing or was a diviner in charge? Oh well, she was fine playing a part in this play if it would lead to more development for Argon and his squad.

Dr. Lenin would go a random spot in the large open cave and sit back against the wall, still smiling as they rocked their head left to right. Of course this was just a plot to convince everyone else that nothing was going on. In reality her brain has already made it's way through her ear like a octopus through a pin hole leaving behind what amounted to a repeating hologram, but made out of his old flesh.

The remote brain moved across the ceiling of the cavern with it's veins and arteries like a abominable spider, making their way to the prison before it positioned itself above Isaac's head. It waited there, until a drip of it's own blood fell on the man's head making him look up in confusion.

Before he could scream in terror, Lenin's brain already had fell on his face and squeezed it's way into his smooth stopping his screams. Like a parasite it ate it's way through the back of his mouth and his skull before cannibalising the guardsman's own brain, absorbing their memories and mannerisms before taking control of the body.

"Isaac" shook his head, it was always so difficult to get acclimated after taking someone over. Turning towards Inir in his cell, the doctor would spit the ring out, wiping it on his shirt before extending it to the operative.

"Here you go my dear, now don't break my cover." He said as he put a finger over his mouth, the Doctor's smile on Isaac's dead face before turning around to continue his shift.
 
1647898772970.pngAnother rising sun, another day of walking from one place to the other with just her own voice for company. Well, her voice and a small group of flies that seemed to take a liking to her for some reason. As she trotted lazily down the dirt road, Hermy swished her dark tail flippantly in annoyance at the irritating little bugs that relentlessly followed her. The Satyress grumbled some obscenities under her breath and shook her haunches in an attempt to get rid of them. Nope, no use.

"Dah, go find a carcass or something," Hermy grumbled, "it'd probably taste better." she added as she took out her wineskin and popped it open. She had not been walking for long but already felt a craving for it. Taking a long swig of wine, she took a moment to look around where she had wandered. Not that she cared too much. Hermy was not one to stay in one place for too long, she had spent too much of her life in one place and she did not enjoy it.

The first couple of decades of Hermy's life had been unpleasant. Too many people, being told what not to do all the time, being shoved into water and almost drowning... The Satyress shook her shaggy head at the thought. People tended to be worthless in that regard. Being out on the road alone was a lot more preferable. She could go where she want, drink as much as she wanted with nobody telling her otherwise.

Speaking of drinking, Hermy had a flimsy enough concept of time during sobriety so that was virtually non-existent right now. After another period of time passed, Hermy paused and leaned against her staff for support, looking around wherever she had managed to wander. At this point the wineskin was fairly empty. Not to worry, there was more where that came from... she hoped at least. Hermy pushed her messy locks from her face and took a moment to process where she was. Okay so... now the issue of direction. Where exactly was she supposed to go? Just wander around the wild probably. She was a Satyr after all, weren't they supposed to be drawn to nature? They were also drawn to wine. At the thought of that, Hermy would periodically (every few minutes) take a swig from the wine-skin that hung perpetually from around her shoulder, adding to her haze. It didn't matter to her in the long run, again, Satyrs. This was common.

Something did manage to break through her thick skull though; what sounded like voices nearby. Hermy's velvety ears lifted a little in curiosity. Looking to her right, she noticed something interesting. Tents? What were people doing here?

(Mentions: Nobody. Open to interaction)
 
Solomon of Abyrdshire
Location: Albion
Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

Solomon, for his part, was toasting some of the bread rations he'd brought along for himself. He applied a bit of the dried garlic flakes he had in his seasoning stash, making make-shift garlic crouton affairs. Soup, in his experience, went rather well with them. The young man was used to waking up in the early mornings, a product of the necessities of farm life. He didn't mind it, he always liked the cool morning air, and the sense of peace he got waking to the sounds of birdsong. As the party stirs, Solomon waves to them, smiling. It was nice to have people to share breakfast with. For one thing, that soup smelled really good, even if that Sasha girl seemed... odd, sometimes. Well, they all had their weird stories, so he couldn't really judge.

"Good morning! We've got soup and croutons."

The young man greets the roused adventures with a chipper note in his voice.
 
Averza Reyes
Averza rolled to the side and lazily propped herself up as the smell of soup greeted her nose. The sound of a boy yelling cheerfully brought her sleepy mind back to the fore. But even with added clarity, food was the only thought in her mind at that point. She got up onto her feet with a bit of a struggle, her body aching slightly from sleeping her armor.

With a yawn, Averza greeted those who were awake with a simple "morn'n" as she made her way to the soup. As she consumed the soup, her mind truly began to run.
No one disturbed us, and we were even able to treat ourselves to a meal. Hmm.. Let's see... The guards more than likely still don't know we're fugitives. So maybe Albion still lacks a communication system on par with the guild's... Or maybe they do know and just decided it's better to pretend we aren't here. Considering we did hold off an attack from Kyro's elite while we were weakened, it could just be the man did the math and decided it wasn't worth stopping us at this point.

She turned to look at those who were awake, somewhat concerned at Sasha's current state of depression and Solomon's oddly optimistic vibes. "Ha... Seeing as we weren't disturbed, it is very likely the guards have no intention of detaining us. Either they don't know who we are, or do but just don't want to deal with it. Let's keep it that way."

Putting down the bowl of soup, she delicately readjusted her armor and belongings before opening a gap at the entrance of the tent for her to look through.


 
Claire Motoye

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Claire stirred a bit later then she ought to have. The exhaustion she had felt had taken more of a toll then she had realized. She practically jumped up glancing about as she noticed others awake looking on with a tinge of red on her cheeks from embarrassment. She shook her head shuffling as she slowly stood herself up, having not equiped herself during the knight choosing her lighter garb, having to equip the few armor pieces she had on back on. Perhaps not the most prepared for danger though she prided having some comfort... something she also learned was valuable as something to balance. Not that she could say she was exactly the most experienced to know when it might be best to practice the most caution.

"Oh ah... um.. morning..."
She muttered shuffling to get herself up and ready. She shuffled a bit trying to make herself look decently presentable glancing over hearing a bit of what Averza had said giving some light nods. Truthfully she wasn't sure if she really would be easily identified. It wasn't as if she had been part of the guild before this, granted she had been seen with them in the latest scuffle. Very few would likely know she was part of the guild now... or at least traveling with them. She also had the benefit that outside someone physically explaining her appearance or being seen around then Guild members it would be quite difficult for random people to identify her as part of the group. She could recall the awkward moment of her training getting lost in the forest with the typical tracking magic not working making it a hassle for her to be found.

"That's good, right? I mean... if that does become a concern I could go off to handle tasks to help keep a low profile if it comes to that... I don't think I'm linked too much to the guild so I should be able to pick up things like food or other good we might need without too much chance of an incident." She spoke seeming a bit unsure about if really offering such a thing was needed but feeling as if she wanted to at least pitch the idea, hoping she wasn't being silly and forgot she had done so the night before.

lil_kreen lil_kreen Alteras Alteras Silver Wolf Silver Wolf @Captain Gabriel Birdsie Birdsie June Verles June Verles ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe
 
Jaunt Nemesis
Location: Albion
Nearby/Mentioned: Hanarei Hanarei | Alteras Alteras | ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe | Noble Scion Noble Scion | June Verles June Verles | Birdsie Birdsie


Jaunt had already wound his speaker up when soon after waking earlier. Though it was difficult to tell whether a creature without eyelids was sleeping, or just not moving. An instinctual vigil for hostile presence during the night of an attack that never came. He would have been more vigilant overall during the night but toward morning the number of false matriarchs in the vicinity slipped him from dream to dream. Rested to some degree or at least less rampant than before the blanket slid away as his arms grabbed it from underneath to pull his blade arms outward. All his legs were free enough to head to the soup and judder his head rotating back and forth to smell the air passing over the regrowing sensory zone on the top. His hearing had come back first but with awareness of just steam and something pungent but unidentifiable, his sense of smell still seemed a bit muted. A finger pressed to the small speaker and the pads on them gripped it to lift and clack into the holder strapped to his cephalothorax.

He returned the greetings of Averza, Lady Motoye, and the potential threat, "Good morning, false Matriarchs, I am ready to work to our aims. While I share the values of the lineage of wisdom I will prepare for war. I think our good fortune is gained by a more pressing dark task of theirs."

Though it was a bit disorienting to emulate the human habit of nodding he did so at Lady Motoye, "Yes, I think your newness will be useful. I am very conspicuous. I had a few false Matriarchs with Tithes if any still live. Degraded, now, but still there. A couple are traveling merchants if one asks of me at any of you by sudden familiarity to them. They will know if I am near when they hear each other again."

The spider popped up a bit on his blade arms so he could look down into the pot with a terribly ungainly posture for the eight-legged creature. Soup? He wasn't sure how to eat hot fluid when he didn't have lips. Pour it in perhaps. His secondary eyes rose the alarm of instinct at an onlooker as the compressed posture relaxed backward to stare at the satyress. Rumble Fish Rumble Fish Another false matriarch? By the top half at least he thought. A more alien mind left him with no real impression at this distance. He grabbed an empty metal ammo container from his underside, thumped some bits of dirt out onto the floor, then gingerly padded a finger to the ladle to get soup into his new 'bowl'.

He moved over to Sasha in her corner and rose the ammo box of food pad-clamped to one hand as his speaker echoes the flat voice beside the unblinking many-eyes, "Did you have your own, false Matriarch Sasha? Your green acolyte reminds me of false Matriarch Croana. Always fighting to exhaustion to keep the green zone in our broken badlands. Still pressing on but you should still eat. Have you seen enough to tell if the enforcers have changed their routine to account for enemies? We may yet have oppressors to till under the green."
 
"Women, Jaunt," Elsimore said with a facetious voice, speaking through parted teeth as he locked his teeth around a loaf of bread, and started putting on his shoes and lacing them, "they're called 'women.' I do realize they sometimes behave like alien black widows that want to suck you dry of any animating force, down to your marrow, but..."

As he noticed the glares he was receiving, Elsimore stopped, but a crooked smile now adorned his face. Clearly, he was in a good mood.

After several minutes of breakfast, Cyrus groggily awoke. The ancient wizard uttered an exhausted sigh then moved up to sit on his bed's edge. "Good morning," he said, though none of his spirit was in the greeting. "I had forgotten the... deleterious effects of abusing one's spirit to the same degree to which I had yesterday."

"Any croutons?" Elsimore handed a bowl over. After staring at the croutons in utter disdain for a second, the old wizard's expression softened and he accepted the bowl, starting to eat them one by one. "Hey, we're getting out of here today, right? Cyrus? I have no intention of staying in this damn, rat-plagued oubliette for even an hour longer than necessary. I'm fully restored and feeling a sprightliness after yesterday's casting. Actually, I'm feeling a mighty bit stronger, and I'm betting the farmboy is too. If they attempt to keep us here, I'll blast the fuckers and he can punt them." He was, of course, referring to Solomon.

"It's too early for this," Cyrus lamented, one hand pressed against his temple. "I had a vision as I slept. The Guildmaster visited me and several others, in a shared dream, and he offered some advice and an explanation of his strategy. Apparently, he's got a plan to tour every capital city on the planet in a sequence. This part of the continent is up for a pick-up in a week from now. As such, we have around eight days to reach Laurellia's capital, and even then, we'd be cutting a little close. As such, we have no time to waste - even by charger horse, Draguiluçon is almost seven nights away, and that's assuming we move with amazing rapidity and sleep more than six hours every night."

"Alright," said Elsimore, putting down his emptied bowl, "I'll have a chat with the guards. I am in a colorful mood today, and I want to share it with them."

"Someone go with him, I beg," Cyrus called out, while Elsimore stood and picked up his staff, lute, and blade - not a good sign. "Don't let him kill anyone."
 
"Someone go with him, I beg," Cyrus called out, while Elsimore stood and picked up his staff, lute, and blade - not a good sign. "Don't let him kill anyone."
Solomon of Abyrdshire
Location: Albion
Nearby: lil_kreen lil_kreen Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Hanarei Hanarei Alteras Alteras Birdsie Birdsie Swire Swire Noble Scion Noble Scion June Verles June Verles

Elsimore's particular... 'interesting' statements on women earned him a stare of complete bafflement and shock on Solomon's part. The poor boy was left feeling as though his hearing had gone off during the night. But then Cyrus calls out for someone to head out with the mage and Solomon very nervously grabs his sword, strapping it to his side as he heads out after Cyrus. Cyrus was kidding, right? Elsimore wasn't that bloodthirsty was he? They were the Guild of Heroes after all, heroes didn't just go around killing people willy-nilly did they? He didn't think he'd every have to consider these rather basic ethical dilemmas, but here he was.

"Let's just be reasonable here, Mr. Elsimore, er, we don't want a fight if we can avoid it, do we?"
 
Jaunt Nemesis
Location: Albion
Nearby/Mentioned: Hanarei Hanarei | Alteras Alteras | ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe | Noble Scion Noble Scion | June Verles June Verles | Birdsie Birdsie


Jaunt looked over at Elismore and clapped his pedipalps together in sharp claps, a sign of irritation, and retorted, "Don't give the guards a reason to dislike us, Elismore. All have my respect until I learn otherwise. If I call a false Matriarch a woman it is because I am about to bury an apostate below a musty hidden basement that smelled suspicious to everyone but me."

Cyrus was likely the one to recognize his reference to one quest Jaunt was accused of malfeasance. The quest holder with a task to suppress vengeful spirits at her home had gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Though the spirits lingering about the home were indeed quelled when the council investigated they said nothing when questioned. Neither did the Tiller. Her orphan child who inherited the 'cleansed' home advocated for Jaunt to be released from prison soon after. He'd cared for the tot whenever he was between missions from his mother to capture vengeful spirits. Absent any evidence the council was forced to agree though they deeply suspected something had gone terribly wrong. Though the child was young to inherit the house he seemed well adjusted so the town allowed it. Jaunt, however, politely refused to attend the memorial later held for his mother.
 
Hermy.png
The Satyress was content to watch all of this unfold for a while. Though she could not help but feel a little envious about the soup that they seemed to be consuming. Hermy hadn't eaten much in the last few days so to say she was a bit peckish would have been an understatement. The main induvidual that got her attention was the spider. False matriarch what on earth did he mean by that? With a roll of her shoulders, the Satyress pulled up her wineskin and wandered over, only giving the leaving pair a glance as they walked past her.

"Hey so eh," the satyress piped in without waiting for much of a gap, "I hate to interrupt the beginning of a recreation of some horror story I once heard involving a spider and false prophets or whatever, but I'm just wondering if any of you nice folks would mind lending me some of that soup, or if not soup then even just a bowl or something would work. Tin can? I mean, pfft, I could probably eat a rock or something but I'd rather have something that tastes decent, y'know so c'mon."

She did not seem to take a breath as she spoke but chose to stop there. Despite her brash opening, Hermy did not expect much from these folks. Probably throw something at her head and telling her to get lost or they'll cook her on the spit instead. Either way it was some form of social interaction so she did not entirely care either way. The Satyress picked at her teeth and looked around the area. They seemed to make a nice little camp for themselves around here, and seemed to be nomadic.

"So, what are you lot, some sorta commune or something?" she opened the wineskin and took a fair swig from it, "I was in one once, not for long though. Ate some guy's bong after a weird night and next I woke up they had flung me in a ditch somewhere outside it. Guy was an ass anyway so had it coming. It tasted expensive so hopefully he had to pay through the nose for a new one." as she spoke she took out a small brush from her bag and started absent-mindedly brushing her tail, totally ignoring the wild mane of hair on the top of her head that would have benefited from it more.






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Nearby: Hanarei Hanarei Birdsie Birdsie Noble Scion Noble Scion Alteras Alteras ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe June Verles June Verles
 

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