Fantasy Magic ☆ is Dead

[BlightGiver]

From his position, Franco had a good view of the bit of action below. One of the guards to the platform steps went off to do who knows what. The remaining guard, meanwhile, was dealing with a young man. Judging by their expressions and body movements, it wasn't a polite conversation they were having.


A relative of the executionee maybe? Or perhaps...another one of those young kids trying to take action. I swear it will happen sooner or later. he analyzed in his head. Franco, and a lot of people from his generation, always have this nagging fear in the forgotten corners of their minds. As the next generation comes into existence, their ways of thinking will be different. Doubts of current systems, questions of current authorities, all of the want and worry of the type of world the adults have brought them into. And just as throughout history, all it takes is one of these younger people to seize an authority position to change large portions of society.


Hell, it happened 60 years ago with the overthrowing of the mages and even in Franco's generation; the PeaceGuard taking a more "humanitarian" approach to how they dealt with their enemies. Eventually Elysia will be changed again, for the better or worse, by this new generation.


Nonetheless, Franco paid no more mind to this kid and centered his focus back to his duty. The official had apparently finished her vocal exercises. Oh boy, can't wait to hear the "eloquent" way she'll recite a dead man's crimes! The classic rolling of the eyes followed this thought.


@CRiTiCAL ERR0R @Oreocookies

 

[One Mean Ghost]

"You don't talk much, do you Peaceguard girl?" Dante asked, finally breaking the silence after they'd walked a few blocks. He had expected some kind of questioning, or at least some moderate conversation, but the girl hadn't said a word since they started moving. Dante figured that more than likely she was just observing him. Either that or her pride was slightly injured. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that moving the sleeping idiot would have been rather hard for one her size. Of course, calling her on it wasn't in his best interest. After all, all she had to do was claim he was a mage and he'd be next up for the rope. He turned his gaze over(and down) at her, trying to read her.


"Do you have a name? Well, one I can use besides 'Peaceguard girl'. It's kindof a mouthful." He laughed softly as he kept up his steady pace. If she paid attention, she'd notice he was walking slower before, although the pace felt like it was perfect for her. It seemed he could be rather considerate when he put his mind to it.


"Not that my name means much, but it's Dante. Dante de la Cruz. You know, in case you get tired of saying 'citizen' all the time" He informed her with a playful smile in her direction. Frankly, he didn't much care for being called 'citizen' all the time. It felt rather impersonal. Luckily for him, that was not the same last name as his parents. He took on the name of the non-mage that raised him, as it was safer not to have a name associated with mage families anymore.


Of course, there was a possibility she had heard of him. Some of the ladies in the Peaceguard were frequent visitors to 'The Naked Truth'. Of course, they never came in uniform so Dante really had no way of telling which ones were Peaceguard and which weren't. As long as he kept up his act, they never realized he was a mage, and they paid just like everyone else, so there was no reason for him to worry.

 

[Auricula]

Elina Dalca :: Peaceguard




Gold eyes. Elina lost her bearing momentarily. She always found them beautiful. Then she remembered where she was and returned to her senses.


Observing the stranger carefully, the Peaceguard noted with interest that his body was very expressive. She arched an eyebrow in surprise at his gesturing and looked at the gallows then back at him. Her hand still did not leave the hilt of her sword. Tilting her head curiously at the gesturing, mind blanking on what it could mean, Elina took a few long moments to fully register his meaning. She hadn't done such a thing ever since she was a child.


"He broke the law," she explained, hoping she got his question right. "Several laws." Whether those were actually true or not was a different question. Who knew about the fairness of these trials.


Then the man gestured a little more and Elina realised he was asking for a notepad. Alas, she wished she could conjure such a thing out of thin air.


"I don't have one," she answered. "Do you have anymore questions?"


Never mind she might not be able to understand him. Sparing a quick glance back to the gallows, she saw an official stepping up to declare what sort of crimes the prisoner had executed. Her attention returned to the gold-eyed stranger and the official started speaking.


This person in front of her wasn't trying to distract her, right?


@CRiTiCAL ERR0R

 

[Guydaguy]

Remi stared out the window. He was wearing a plain tan apron, brushing dust off the ground of his bakery-slash-cafe, Hartwell's, with his broom.


Remi always thought the name Hartwell's sounded like a fancy restaurant. However, his bakery was quite the opposite. It was on the border of the Shopping District, the Market District, and the Food District. It sounded great when he got the property, but he ended up getting the same, if not less, amount of business as the bakeries in the Food District.


Currently, Hartwell's was empty. Remi was waiting for some loaves to bake. It was another peaceful day in the bakery. When he looked out the window, one of his favorite pastimes, he spotted a dark-clothed man and a Peaceguard woman walking together. He was never intimidated by the Peaceguard. His power was 100% effective in removing his magic, so they never had any reason to suspect.


In fact, it was almost the time of day for him to do so.


At the moment, Remi was hoping for them to walk in. He desperately wanted to make a sandwich or 2 and a few coffees, and how can he do that without customers? Please walk in, please walk in..


@One Mean Ghost @HeartsAbyss

 

[ChiaRoseKuro]

Pallas Katsaros :: Peaceguard




Silence was hard to come by in a bustling city like Highmere, so far removed from the distant village Pallas had spent her formative years, yet though the ambient noise was a little above the pleasant buzz of insects singing merrily in the fields and livestock lowing and bleating and nickering away it was... comforting, in a sense. One could almost lose themselves in the aimless chatter of the crowd, flitting from snippet to snippet with all the lightness of a butterfly, and it was, indeed, something that she found very easy to do. A query about a growing child here, a complaint about rude foreigners there; the city life was nothing like the simplistic day-to-day happenings of a semi-isolated farm, but they offered up their own intrigues as well. The microcosms that existed in the city she'd come to call home were so varied that she could never tire of them, as hateful of her as they were at times, and it was all she could do to keep herself just above of the hustle and bustle so integral to the capital city.


Pallas had barely realized that she was walking far slower than usual when her quarry, probably fed up at their party's silence, broke the peace with a... rather tactless question. Perhaps she had been too comfortable in her patrols, but having someone ask the obvious was almost enough to make her eyes roll; thankfully, though, her inbuilt grasp of common decency prevented her from doing it in the nick of time. The name he'd assigned her, on the other hand, was met with a much more visible response-- namely, that of a sharp frown-- and a burst of indignation in the back of her mind. Treating him with silence wouldn't be prudent, though, not when he'd just called her out on it, so with a shrug she responded with a curt "I don't see a point in filling the silence if there's no need for it."


It didn't seem as though this man thought the same, though, because Pallas had barely finished speaking when he'd asked for her name in a most... unsubtle manner. It isn't my fault you wish to call me 'Peaceguard Girl', she sullenly thought, though her features remained as devoid of her emotions as they had been before he'd called her by such a term. It did, however, surprise her to hear him offering his name not moments after he'd asked for hers, as though he could entice her to do the same if he willingly offered up the information first. Names were, after all, powerful when one was trying to discover information about them-- information about their past, information about their present and, most importantly of all, information about things she needed to know about them-- and now she could return to Blackgate and ask around at her leisure.


Unfortunately for him, though, Pallas was hardly willing to give away her tactical advantage and reveal her own name so easily. The less he knew about her, the better it would be for her in the future-- especially if her gut instincts were correct and there was more to him than met her eyes.


So, rather than offering up information to this... Dante de la Cruz... individual as easily as he'd offered it up to her, she'd simply given him a faint smile, before she uttered, "I do have a name, citizen, but I find that using formal terminology keeps a sense of professionalism about my interactions with the general public-- which would include you. As for an alternate name, you're more than welcome to use 'officer'. 'Peaceguard Girl' is, indeed, quite a mouthful."


If he-- Dante-- wanted to get irritated at Pallas for not offering up her name, then that was his problem; handing out names, even to her colleagues, had never been something she was comfortable with, and giving it out to a veritable stranger (and a stranger she didn't trust, on top of that) was just about as likely as her growing wings in the near future, which was to say that it wasn't likely at all. And besides, she thought to herself, as she passed by a bakery store and breathed in a lungful of wholesome well-cooked bread, it'll be interesting to see if he'll get irritated or not. After all, not everyone can act so pleasant all the time...


...right?


@One Mean Ghost // @Guydaguy (obliquely, but still barely there)

 

[Namie]

The city was abound with people walking the streets. They were shopping, playing, and even dating. One such girl did none of the sort. Her blonde hair swayed to and fro as she skipped quickly through the throng of human citizens, making her way to each residence. Her bright red eyes, were focused and intelligent, although still merry despite her doing her job. A courier still needed to have a smile. Svana slipped the papers through the mail slot of a medium sized home and continued on her way.


It was normal for her to take on odd jobs and although she found herself sometimes bitter that she couldn't use her magic to do her job more efficiently, Svana enjoyed the money flowing in. It kept her alive and well despite the circumstances. It was all too often to hear of the executions happening daily and she didn't want to become the next head falling off the chopping block. So, to that extent she had to get even with the humans and blend in. A homeless woman didn't blend in that well. People usually scoffed at the poor souls who were unfortunate enough to become that way whether from widowing or other situations. With enough money in the pocket, you could be any old commoner human and that was good enough.


Svana neared the end of her route and paused by the bakery. It was in a good location being at the heart of most of the districts, touching all the borders. She often passed by but usually had dinner planned out already. A tight budget made her organized but tonight was different. She had forgotten to plan out her day due to being called in to work earlier. A heavier mail-load they said. Svana smiled at the cafe-like appearance, reminiscent on the good old days. She thought to herself, 'A loaf of bread would do me quite alright.' She peered in at the baker dusting the floors. 'Heh, he looks a little lonely too...and I do have his mail. Well that's that then.' Svana approached the doors confidently and pushed onwards.


"Hi there. Its my first time coming in, but I always pass by. Its a really pretty shop sir. So, I've decided to try some of the bread. Haven't eaten much today and just finished my route. Here," Sounding cheery, she reached in her satchel and pulled out a few sealed envelopes. "It's not much but here you go. I guess I'll have a seat, hm?" Svana smiled brightly, excited to try something new. It was often that she got to do so living off of odd jobs. She wondered what he thought of her boyish attire: decent suit pants with a blouse, with her newly cherished scarf and a pair of dark shoes. She looked all the bit a normal commoner. 'If only he knew what I could do' The small girl mused to herself.


Interacting

@Guydaguy


In Passing

@Oreocookies @HeartsAbyss @One Mean Ghost

 

[sorrow made you]

Nope, the woman in uniform didn’t seem to understand what Urie was saying. With a great heave, he let his hands drop and his head hang low. Shoulders slumped, giving an expression of defeat. But then the woman spoke up. So she did understand! Urie looked up at her again, then slowly over to the executionee. He broke laws…? What kind of laws? Why? Why would he break laws? Why was Urie even so curious about this man? ...Why did he want to go see him again?


Urie’s mood deflated even more as the woman told him she didn’t have anything to write with. Ah well, he supposed the best he could do at that point was just stand around and watch. With a slight pout, he hesitated as he contemplated. He had a lot of questions. But were they relevant to what was going on? Probably not. After deciding to not bother the woman any further, he shook his head and took a step back toward the crowd behind him.


What was he doing here again? Something about the man that broke laws… what was he doing with that rope? ...Rope. Rope! That’s right! Urie was going to ask about the rope! Again his eyes darted to the executioner, but this time, he froze in place. He could feel the eyes of the hooded man glare right back at him. Did… the man notice him? Looking around himself, Urie wondered if the executioner’s gaze was on someone else. Though, no one seemed to be as zoned in as he did at the moment. Who was that executioner? And why wasn’t he saying hello like a normal human being? That was a normal thing, right?


Urie blinked and turned his attention back to the peaceguard woman. Extending his hand and waving it at her. He tried to get her attention again. He pointed at the executioner, then tilted his head and shrugged his hands like he had done before. ‘Who is that?’ he was asking, though this time his question may not have been as clear. Again he started to search his person for anything that could have been used as a writing utensil. Nothing. And the cobblestone roads didn’t help. If they had been on a dirt path, he could have at least spelled out in the dust. Here… he was completely and utterly disconnected.


Surely the woman would walk away now. Why answer a question she couldn't even understand? Urie felt a small fire of determination spring up within him. He will find a way to communicate!


@Oreocookies @BlightGiver

 

[Saccharine Cyanide]

The decorated official finally finished her vocal exercises and stepped forward to address the waiting crowd. She scanned the sea of people, giving a particular scouring glance at the young man who was too close to the scaffold, and cleared her throat. "Today-"


That was as far as she made it when she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the scaffold's back ramp. There were audible groans mixed with murmurs from the crowd. A man in a Peaceguard uniform with a white labcoat made his way to the top, slightly out of breath. He had circles as dark as bruises under his eyes, as if he'd gone several nights without sleep. He approached the official, saying something under his breath.


"Official notice from the Supreme Commander," Tale Stroud said, holding out a folded sheet of parchment. "She wants you to read this speech rather than the one you're currently holding."


The announcer opened her mouth to protest, but Tale pointed to the wax seal that clearly belonged to their superior. She took it none too gently from Tale's hands, studied the seal for a moment, broke it, and skimmed the parchment with her eyes. Her eyes grew wide and her face lost color. As the crowd was on the cusp of losing its last bit of collective patience, she began to read aloud.


"Apologies for interrupting this execution, but spare me your ears for a few moments. The execution will resume shortly thereafter.


"This morning, the water supply was laced with copious amounts of a deadly toxin." The crowd began to stir in alarm; the auditor spoke more loudly and quickly. "A toxin which is completely harmless to the general population, but fatal to the small portion of people who have for too long exploited Highmere's hospitality. Mages, be warned: if you have drunk or washed this morning, you were already exposed to the toxin. And your time is limited."


The official stopped to wipe glistening beads of sweat off her brow.


"Mages...have infiltrated even the highest echelons of our established order...seeking to re-establish the power they once wielded and abused. This must be stopped." The orator's breathing was becoming heavy and ragged. She squinted at the parchment, as if having a hard time making out the words. "Th...this...this official, for example...was...was exposed..."


The orator suddenly dropped the parchment. She clawed at her chest in apparent agony. And then, without another word, she collapsed on the scaffold floor.


Tale had not left the scaffold, but was standing nearby. He gingerly stepped over the body, trying not to look at it, and picked up the slip of parchment. He began to read in a listless voice without nearly the amount of presence as the deceased official.


"The State is merciful. There is still time to save yourself by turning yourself over to Blackgate, where we hold the antidote. Furthermore, the city will be under lockdown for the next week. For your own safety, please don't attempt to leave the city."


Tale adjusted his glasses and read the last bit before he turned to Griy. "Oh, and it says at the bottom: 'Please continue the execution as scheduled. Apologies about the announcer.'"

 

[One Mean Ghost]

Dante chuckled softly. "Fair enough, Officer. I can respect that kind of professionalism. I suppose a name isn't important. After all, what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweetly, were it not a rose called.." He chuckled softly. He stopped for just a moment, listening to the strange change of procedure for the hanging. He turned his head as he listened, as he did, his eyes widened in shock, much as did the entire crowd at the mention of poison. When it was all over, he slowly set the man he was carrying down against the wall..


"I can't believe this... I thought the Peaceguard was put in place to protect the people from the evil Mages... but this... this isn't protection... There's no trial, there's no justice... this is pure genocide.." He murmured. "The Peaceguard aren't even hiding it. This is pure, unadulterated Genocide." He stepped away from Pallas, shaking his head as he watched her.


"I'm sorry, but I cannot help you any longer. To associate with any organization that would engage in outright genocide goes against everything I believe in. Not to mention... It wouldn't surprise me if they use this sort of thing to murder political dissenters. There's no trial after all. They can kill anyone they want and argue that the poison only killed mages." He murmured, letting his train of thought tumble out in his words before his gaze fell upon Pallas again.


"This isn't just about mages... this is a purge..." He breathed, slowly stepping towards her instead of away as the realization hit him. "Who else are they targeting? Are they only targeting political opposition, or are they also targeting the poor? What about the physically impaired? What of the orphans? Do they intend to use this to decrease the surplus population? How many are going to die from this? How many innocents are the Peaceguard prepared to kill in this thinly veiled Purge?" Dante hissed, his eyes flaring with the first bit of violent intent since she had seen him. He bit his lip, turning his gaze away from her as he tried to contain his agitation. So many innocent people could be wiped out by this. Not to mention himself... Granted, he knew he hadn't been compromised, but how long could he hold out if the poison stayed in the water?


"Here I thought the Peaceguard in this day and age was supposed to have some kind of Honor.. But there is no Honor in this... This is unspeakable...." he shook his head, taking one last look at her. "Goodbye, Officer of the GenocideGuard... I won't disgrace the ideal of 'peace' by using it for those that wear that uniform any longer..." He glanced at her Uniform with disgust before he turned and started away, leaving her with the injured, unconscious man... The gears in his head were already turning.


There had to be some way to stop this... The antidote was in Blackgate. Getting in there would be difficult, if not outright impossible, and getting out would be another story entirely. There weren't a lot of options. What he really needed was a solid plan...

 

[BlightGiver]

Franco Griy: Executioner


Did I just hear that correctly? Franco eyed this "Dr. Tale" closely. Not exactly the best way to do things, but it works...I guess. The gaze of the Reaper traveled to the large crowd. Maybe he'd be able to tell which citizens were mages by their expressions alone. Surely, only those that will be affected by this poison will act negatively, right? The large numbers of frightened faces proved Franco's ideas wrong, though as many citizens were clearly distraught at this news. Or perhaps, he was proven right and there were just this many mages blending into society this whole time.


Despite this turn of events, Franco still had a job to do. "Well, at least you're not dying to the poison." he told the man he was about to kill. "Well, time to get this show started." Franco faced the crowd and smiled. If it were not for the bad news they already heard, the citizens' expressions would have turned sour at this moment. The disgusting and morbid smile was all they could see of the Reaper's face thanks to his large hood; a smile that stayed as he pulled the release lever. The criminal struggled for a few seconds before the noose did its job. cutting his life short.


As per code of conduct, Franco punched the convict's body a couple of times to be completely sure he was dead. No movement, no life. The rope was cut and the corpse fell down the trapdoor into a bin under the platform. This bin is later collected for disposal of the body, or whatever it is that the higher ups do with it. With a job well done, Franco stretched his arms and walked to the stairway facing the crowd. Ah, and here come the glares. Comes with the job, then again, it's not like I never received this kind of look prior to becoming the executioner. He traversed down the steps and past the guard being held up by some young lad. A quick glance in his peripheral vision was enough to see the kind of fashion choice the boy possessed. The clothes kids where these days... he smirked a tad and shook his head.


Franco's next destination was usually back to his home; although this time, he felt like celebrating. Maybe I should check out one of the cafes in the shopping district. All this murdering can make a man quite hungry. He weighed his options for a bit, stopping his pace for just a second.


@CRiTiCAL ERR0R @Oreocookies @Saccharine Cyanide

 

[ChiaRoseKuro]

Pallas Katsaros :: Peaceguard




Respect was a hard thing to gain for Pallas, considering the position she was in and the associations the (rightly) fearful public made of her and her comrades, so it was surprising to find that this man was listening to her as though she didn't represent some notion of evil so commonly associated with Peaceguards. Granted, she didn't exactly understand where that view stemmed from-- apart from the power-hungry and incredibly green recruits, along with a few of the higher-placed individuals who had... decidedly quirky... attitudes towards the Peaceguards' creed and purpose-- and Dante was most probably acquiescing out of a sense of fear for the consequences of disobedience rather than anything else (especially since she'd taken such a blatant interest in him and his twofold interference in the day's peace), but it was still nice. Respect, after all, was not at a level that she could ever hope to rightfully assume from everyone. Respect was earnt, and the fact that she had somehow earnt it with this total stranger was nice.


Suspicious, of course, because nobody sucked up to another without reason, but nice nonetheless.


Slanting her mouth in an approximation of a smile, Pallas tuned out her quarry as he rambled about names and roses, but her mind quickly refocused when the beginnings of a clamorous uproar buzzed in the Central District. Puzzled and a tad wary, a quick readjustment of her bearings was enough for her to lose both that sad excuse of a smile and her foggy thoughts as she tuned into the official's inexplicable deviation from her usual execution duties. By the time she'd collapsed and died in front of the assembled crowd-- and wasn't it funny that the crowd came for one execution and found itself privy to two?-- she had been left reeling, dumbstruck by the announcement that was a joke, couldn't be anything but a joke, just had to be a joke, and yet...


Through a haze of jumbled impressions and dark emotions and no this can't be right I was never informed of this had the water supply really been poisoned and what if I'm a mage and I didn't know it will I die oh god I don't want to die even if I know I'm not a mage I just can't be a mage-- a cold, clinical part of Pallas quietly slipped to the forefront of her mind, allowing the confused being she had become to fade into its vague, jumbled mental monologue. Overreactions, unfounded accusations, a sign of violence, loud rambling, capturing attention, bullshitting attempts to discredit-- she smiled thinly and watched as he flung out one childish retort and beat a hasty retreat.


"It's not genocide if the mages aren't classed as people, citizen," she muttered to herself as she took up the lightly stirring drunkard and dragged him the last few feet to the medical clinic-- pity, really; she'd been so close to getting him to play pack mule and carry the drunk the whole way. "And the clear announcement; he certainly wasn't listening. Tsk, tsk; what a mistake to make. It'll save on pointless wool-gathering in the archives, at the very least."


Slipping out of the medical clinic and wending her way back towards the gallows, where she could see the original executionee for the day getting his rope cut for his final descent into his penultimate resting place, a generous-sized bin custom made to fit corpses of nearly all sizes, Pallas found it easier to push her way through the unresisting people, no thanks to their shellshocked natures. Casting nary a glance to the masked man standing before her partner, she uttered a curt "A word if you will, Comrade Elina," before she faded back a little and fingered her scabbard, dearly wishing she could've simply drawn it and cut down anyone looking remotely agonized. But there was a lead to follow and she couldn't afford to succumb to her impulses-- not ever, and especially not in a crucial moment like now.


And even if she ended up being wrong, even if the cowering mess in the back of her head was really correct and she was being far too hasty in the face of all this chaos, Pallas was almost certain that her quarry had been a magic sympathiser, if not a mage.


Which meant, of course, that she needed to follow up on it. With or without Elina, really-- but if she could help it, then with Elina would be best, in case her straightforward skills weren't enough to take down someone who could bring a giant to his knees.


@Oreocookies // @CRiTiCAL ERR0R (obliquely, but still there)

 

[M03M03]

Mirage Aradd

Daylight filtered through the ruin windows making shadow and light chase each other with wild abandon on what was left of the ancient leaf strewn floor. Mirage had found the half-shelter late last evening, a testament to a mysterious time, long forgotten. The ruin sat on a hill overlooking the grand capital city, three walls left more or less intact, now more plant than stone and as solid as any new building. The fourth wall positioned toward the city was broken down to the point that one could almost imagine that the small ancient building was originally built with only three. Mirage knelt by the glowing embers of her fire watching the ominously still capital and debating her next move. How she feared that city...oh yes, it held the peace guards but that was the least of her problems...she had been hiding and running since those armored, faceless predators had invaded her home and chased her away. It had been several years since that time and Mirage had changed physically but the woman was sure that a drawing or a person still held the likeness of her face deep in their storage vaults wheather physical or mental it did not matter. Still...her home and those guards were a long ways away and distance cracked communication. Minor concerns though, compared to the shear number of people moving, sleeping, eating, drinking, thinking, planning, stealing, laughing, hurting, and killing….so many potential predators...and perhaps some prey. Both types unbelievable more dangerous than the thick antlered elk, the great gray bears or even the silent white lions of the towering mountains that they and Mir called home. Those creatures were predictable... Mir’s fellow humans were not. There really was no choice...Mir was almost out of coins and the medium pack she brought with her was stuffed with the furs of her meals that she refused to waste...it was disrespectful. Letting out a deep sigh and giving her fear a shove Mirage summoned up one positive...it would be great fun to find out the secrets held in the city and perhaps she could rile a few people up while she was at it. Taking her pack the white-blond female stamped out the dying light of the embers and picked up her bow before heading out toward her destination.


Walking through the towering gates of the grand capital after the guards noted the types of weapons she was carrying. Mir looked around with acute unease on her face, this strange man created habitat was alien to Mirage Aradd, who had lived most of her lifetime on the side of a mountain, her only company her grandparents, the mountain predators, the mountain prey, and the silent roar of rain or snowfall. With her pale skin, shoulder cropped white blond hair, her dark silver blue eyes and her pitiful height of only five feet, Mirage stood out in this city of mostly tall darkly tanned people….and she did not like the distinction one bit. Deciding it was better to walk than stand out in the open Mirage picked a direction and walked paying no outward attention to anyone or anything... though in truth she was glaringly aware of the movements of those around her... “I need to find a place to sell the rabbit furs...and a place to get some food and drink.” Mirage muttered under her breathe.


@ Anyone in the area

 

[Guydaguy]

Remi looked up slightly at the customer, smiling lightly. He's definitely seen her walking around this area before, delivering letters and whatnot. "Mhm. Take a seat, Miss," Remi gestured to the seat nearest to them with a nod of his head while skimming through the letters. A bunch of junk.


He tossed them on a different table close to them, and actually took a look at the courier. A pretty, young looking girl. She was wearing quite the boyish clothes; but then again, it's probably not going to be comfortable walking around town in a dress. Man. If only she knew what I'm capable of.. Remi thought to himself, before wiping his hands off on his apron, leaning the broom against the table and clearing his throat.


"So, what would you like today? The menu's over there," he said,and pointed behind him with his thumb, at the chalkboards hanging from the roof, on top of the counter. He then waited for her to tell him her order, still giving her a small, but friendly smile.


@Namie

 

[Auricula]

Elina Dalca :: Peaceguard




The more Elina looked at the gold-eyed stranger, the more she felt he was just very curious. And naive. Or maybe he was a country bumpkin? She wasn't too sure how to judge him off his clothing and actions, to be honest. Perhaps he was the morbid sort...? As she entertained those thoughts, she watched him and her surroundings carefully. It would be foolish to let her guard down.


Her gaze was directed elsewhere when she noticed waving at the peripheral of her vision. Turning back to him, she watched him gesture again. Except...it completely flew over her head this time. Was he asking the same question? Wait, was he asking about the executioner? Then what about the executioner? She frowned intensely.


"I'm afraid I don't understand," she admitted.


Her training did not involve gesturing of this nature, unfortunately.


Displeasure rippling through the crowd caught Elina's attention and she looked away, though still keeping part of her attention on the masked man before her. Upon hearing the new announcement, her head snapped to the gallows. The orator fell. Her bottom lip trembled. She gave in and a delighted smile graced her lips, crimson eyes warming.


Splendid.


The executioner walked down the steps afterwards and passed her. Elina turned her bright smile on him, uttering a soft greeting and turned back to the citizen. Her smile had disappeared by the time she faced him, stoic expression giving nothing away. Save for the brightening of her eyes, that is. Elina wasn't too bothered by this announcement least of all worried she would be affected. Her blood was as normal as can be.


Then Pallas appeared out of seemingly nowhere and asked for her. She sounded urgent. Elina focused on Pallas fingering her scabbard. Turning back to the masked stranger, Elina said, "You still can't go onstage."


She turned and left, grabbing Pallas' free hand on the way and led her to the clearance zone where they could have some sort of privacy. Elina looked up and smiled at Tale, softly chirping, "Hey." Then she turned to Pallas.


"What's wrong?"


@Saccharine Cyanide @HeartsAbyss @CRiTiCAL ERR0R @BlightGiver

 

[sorrow made you]

Buh, so she didn’t understand… What a pain. A new movement behind the woman caught Urie’s attention and his pantomiming antics ceased as he looked over. A male made his way up the steps and to the woman who was making an announcement… And the announcement turned even more grim than it already was.


Toxins in the water. Now that would send anyone into a panic. Urie should have been panicking.


But what exactly was a mage again? He was one, right? Staring blankly at the stage, he tried to make sense of it all. It was in the water… He had drank the water earlier that day. Did that mean he was going to die too? The thought stirred within him, making him somewhat uncomfortable. But wait a minute. If he were to die from drinking something, that meant it would be killing him from the inside out! Did that mean… would he be able to feel it?


The wave of panic was quickly replaced by morbid curiosity. The desire to actually feel something was strong, even when his life was on the line. The whirlwind of emotions within his head were expressed with a blank stare. At first, he didn’t even register the orator woman’s death on stage. Eyes refocused and he took a few steps back.


What happened to her?! She just collapsed! Was it the toxin? If that was the case, why weren’t others collapsing around them? Urie gave a quick look around to find there were other panicked faces within the crowd. People were not happy with this announcement. Anyone who had any kind of mage blood--whether they knew it or not--would have been effected. How many would die? But wait! There was an antidote at Blackgate.


Where… was Blackgate again?


Almost too quickly, Urie looked back to the peaceguard woman he had been trying to communicate with. Her attention had been grabbed by another woman with a similar uniform. They worked together. They knew each other. Were they friends? Nono, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. Did he need to go to Blackgate? Maybe he should stick with the peaceguard woman. Maybe she would know what to do! Right. She definitely would know what to do.


Slinking back to avoid being a part of the duo’s conversation, he held his ground so that the shuffling crowd didn’t toss him about. Unfortunately, it happened anyways with his short stature. Letting out a small grunt, he spun off of bumping into one person and side stepped in order to not be trampled. Still nearby the two women, he watched them and their conversation. At the same time, he looked around for the man that had given the notice for change in announcement. The glasses guy. He definitely would know where Blackgate was. Right?


@HeartsAbyss @Oreocookies (mention) @Saccharine Cyanide

 

[ChiaRoseKuro]

Pallas Katsaros :: Peaceguard




The first time Pallas had severed a soul from its body, she had turned so numb that it'd taken a comrade dying before her eyes to snap out her self-induced stupor, but years had passed since her first kill and now, all she could think about was sending yet another soul on its path to the afterlife. Curling and uncurling her fingers around the shaft of her katana in an unusual display of agitation, her eyes darted around and locked with the few people who made eye contact with them, just daring them to give her a reason to unleash her pent-up emotions, but...


No, you can't hurt civilians. They are not the ones you seek right now.


A voice of reason amidst the jitters suffusing her mind. A voice of reason for no more than three seconds, and that was all it took for Pallas to stop her convulsive, agitated movements and let her eyes drift to her approaching partner. It was a blessing that she'd been given years of mental training, really; even if she'd complained about it at the time, just like how she'd nursed her bleeding calluses and wept over the stinging, deep-seated aches that left her sleepless until the early hours of the morning, it had, at least, given her the foundations that would keep her alive and well during her time as a Peaceguard, however long that may be. Though, of course, the notion of being 'alive and well' varied from person to person.


It was not a thought Pallas particularly cared to dwell upon, really, especially when she was more interested in the more immediate things in life. Like, for instance, the hand gently pulling her towards a restricted area near the execution platform.


For an instant, Pallas almost baulked at the thought that Elina had seen the tangled mess inside her mind, somehow divining the puzzlement and concern that had stirred up at the unexpected announcement not minutes ago. Thankfully for her, though, the more rational parts of her mind reined her overactive suspicions (a blessing in most cases, but only a curse in this one) and directed her to her memories from a scant minute ago, where she'd been the one to request Elina's presence. Suspicions shifted from one person to the next, from a comrade in arms to a charming man whose smiles and graces were only skin-deep, and in an instant her eyes hardened and cleared, gaze focusing in a sharp look that expected attention and everything else it entailed.


"Do you recall the man we had observed taking down the giant in the initial altercation we witnessed together, comrade Elina?" Pallas asked, knowing that her partner had told her to desist from her formal ways but uncaring of it in this present time, when the issue she wanted to raise was so much more important. "I accosted him as he was getting into another altercation with a drunk and, based on his reaction to the recent toxin announcement, my observations of his character and my initial suspicions regarding his combat abilities, I have reasons to believe that he is, at the very least, one who sympathises with mages." Drawing in a steadying breath, she continued in an unwavering tone. "My proposition is that we either confront this man, who goes by the name of Dante de la Cruz-- which he has told me to be his name, though I suspect it may be a lie to throw us off his trail-- or tail him to ascertain if he happens to either know a mage or be a mage; what course of action we take is up to you, comrade Elina, as both appear to be viable options to me."


In actual fact, Pallas was simply uncertain about the path she should take in accosting this individual-- but no horse would drag that out of her anytime soon, not when she was still fighting to maintain her usual veneer of control and calmness. It was true that she believed both to be good options-- confronting him might force him to slip up earlier than if they simply tailed him, but allowing the man to incriminate himself would make for incredibly damning evidence he could not circumvent if he tried-- but having her mind occupied by possible altercations to each plan left her unable to determine which of the two were better. Besides, forcing one upon her partner would be tantamount to dictatorial orders, something she heavily disliked on account of the general leniency in positions of authority within the Peaceguard's ranks, and so giving her partner an option was, all in all, a better choice.


Unaware of their surroundings and the general chaos beginning to break out around the execution area, Pallas was therefore unaware of whether any individuals were eavesdropping on her conversation. It didn't matter if anyone did, though, unless they happened to be sympathisers of this Dante de la Cruz character-- and even then, she would simply have one more person to convict and place behind bars, thereby doing her part in eradicating the mages which she had been taught to hate with such a passion.


But that would come later. For now, Pallas had only one thing she wanted to do-- and that was catching the apparent mage sympathiser she had within her sights.


@Oreocookies // @CRiTiCAL ERR0R (obliquely) // @Saccharine Cyanide (obliquely)

 

[BlightGiver]

Franco Griy: Executioner


Blackgate. The name echoed in Franco's mind as he journeyed down the nearly empty streets of the Shopping District. He recalled that name being mentioned once a long time ago. Way back during his training, Blackgate was mentioned once (albeit with a bit of taboo-like undertones). Those that were to be transferred to Blackgate were given a slightly modified training agenda. What they did, Franco did not know; these special trainees withheld whatever information their superiors gave them. So ultimately, Franco assumes this "Blackgate" is just bad news.


So the antidote...it's really there? What is the Supreme Commander trying to pull? If they get as many mages to show up as they expect, surely it will be a bloodbath. To him, the whole situation was neither good nor bad. If the mages show up, they either get imprisoned or killed. Society as a whole would surely feel better, knowing the threat of mages living among them was no longer a possibility. Then again, the mages could retaliate(?) No, that couldn't happen, not when there was a risk of poison.


Franco was entangled within his own thoughts; the many shops and restaraunts did not register to him as places to relax and eat. Perhaps there were mages at the execution. Is there a risk of them contacting an outside source? The threat was there. With the many changes in the trading industry, it wasn't too farfetched to expect on of the mages in Elysia to have connections with outsiders. The only way to know for sure was to get to Blackgate and observe the outcome. If he's lucky, maybe he'll be called there for extra reinforcements. If not, maybe he'd have to sneak in there; with the threat of being considered a mage. If I can at least find the entrance to this "Blackgate", I can be there to see the immediate results (if anything actually happens.)





Amidst the many shops with food in their display windows, there stood a café; Franco shrugged as he walked in its direction. He opened the door, listening to the pleasant ding of the bell hanging above. Inside sat a woman, viewing the many food options listed on a chalkboard; also a young man behind the counter, most likely waiting for his customer to make a selection. Franco walked to the two of them, his loud footsteps echoing off the walls of the somewhat small shop.


@Guydaguy @Namie

 

[Guydaguy]

Remi looked from the woman, who was thinking about her order, to the newcomer. Remi recognized his clothes, his face.. It was the executioner. Remi was surprised and a bit scared, but his face showed nothing. He smiled, and leaned off the counter. "Hello. Welcome to Hartwell's," Remi greeted the executioner. He then gestured to the chalkboard menus above the counter. "Feel free to take a look at our menu." Remi then looked to the woman. "Made up your mind yet, miss?"


@Namie @BlightGiver

 

[M03M03]

Mirage Aradd

​

After wandering around in the godforsaken maze of man, women, child and building, Mirage gave a low animal like growl of frustration. How could a man made habitat, supposedly made by logical, strategizing minds be more confusing than the haphazard habitats of nature? Never had the young woman been in such a confusing place, with every other house bearing the same characteristics as the last, the smells mixing together to create a scent that should have been pleasant, except that it would wind around a person like snake, clogging up the senses.


Moving toward a random individual Mir started to pose a question...only to be ignored. Turning to look around Mirage continued to hail the people crossing the brick street, walking along the road or just huddled in groups. Each and every time she was rebuffed with a common rudeness that seemed unusual to the short women, even for such a large city. As the people who rebuffed her continued to gather in numbers, Mirage started to notice the body language she had originally overlook assuming it to be normal for the citizens.


Stopping, taking a deep breath and running a cloth wrapped hand through white blond hair and mussing it up in the process, Mirage Aradd took several more deep breaths to slow her racing heart. Dark silver blue eyes darted back and forth noting the fearful glances, hushed whispers, and lowered heads. If she was too take the behavior as unnatural the logical conclusion would be that the people surrounding her were full of fear and anger...why?


Mirage’s unanswered questions remained unanswered as a solid form bumped into her from behind. Letting out an almost animal like yowl of pure unadulterated fear, (Which Mirage noted somewhere in the back of her mind, was not normal behavior for a human and perhaps she should practice getting rid of the little quirks she had developed from spending too little time with her fellow man.) Mirage half fell half rolled forward, away from the threateningly solid form of man, propelled not only by the force of the impact but also by the dark memories that swirled just underneath the silver blue of Mir’s eyes. Twisting once her feet regained traction Mirage crouched, looking for her attacker...only to see a man with the same preoccupied look of those around her stamped firmly on his face. Slowly easing up from her position, as Mirage realized the action had not been intentional much less threatening, the female released the dagger she had taken hold of with her left hand. Luckily the weapon was out of sight beneath the duster the female wore, she disguised the action my brushing off her cloths.


Not that it would have done any good...the man standing before Mirage was more than a foot taller than herself and probably twice as heavy, not an inch of it fat. Narrowing her eyes Mirage guessed, with ironic humor, that her dirk would have bounced right of the imposing form. It was not until that moment that Mirage realized that the guy was not stopping...at all…. “STOP, DAMMIT.” Silver blue eyes flashing with anger and perhaps some fear, Mirage held out a hand as if to hold the man back, but continued to back up unwilling to let herself come in contact with another human.





@One Mean Ghost

 

[Auricula]

Elina Dalca :: Peaceguard




Pallas was agitated, Elina noted apathetically. The crimson-eyed woman always found it mildly bemusing that she could be so stoic whereas Pallas was so prone to showing her true emotions. Then again it was hardly unsurprising. Elina used to show a lot more but months of training and one too many slip-ups trained her.


She patiently listened to her partner. So she wasn't the only one who shared the same suspicions about that man. Elina didn't reply straightaway and only regarded Pallas with a small smile. Really, she had to admire how strait-laced the white-haired woman could be.


"Pallas," Elina gently replied and set a hand on her left shoulder. "Your bloodlust is showing." But she didn't bother telling her to calm down. She liked seeing (and stoking) the fire in Pallas.


Mulling over the new information Pallas had given her, Elina pretended to consider the various options.


"Let's confront him," she said at last. "Plus if we can get him to reveal any abilities of his - if he does have any, that is - that would prove advantageous too."


When really, all Elina wanted was a good fight.


@HeartsAbyss

 

[Saccharine Cyanide]

After he had finished reading the last bit of the announcement, Tale couldn't help but scan the crowd to gauge the response. He was not surprised by the collective reaction: a combination of doubt, confusion and fear. There was also anger and, strangely enough, a scattering of people seemed elated by the news.


He heard a sound nearby and recalled that he was still at an execution. As he turned to look, the doomed man happened to lock eyes with him. Maybe, in his desperation he somehow thought the Peaceguard scientist would step in. But Tale turned away. He heard the trapdoor open, the rope snap taught, and then there was silence.


Funny. After all this time, he still wasn't accustomed to seeing people die. Maybe....


Maybe it was because he could never look.


He turned, hurried down the scaffold steps and picked Pallas and Elina out from the thinning crowd. They weren't speaking loudly, but the crowd was so hushed that he could make out what they were saying.


"Dante de la Cruz?" Tale butted in. "That's an unusual name. It doesn't sound familiar to me, or I'd be more of a help, sorry.


"Oh, yes. I imagine you want answers. That's what you wanted with me, right?" Tale said, glancing at Elina. "But perhaps right now isn't the best time. I don't trust this crowd, and I can see you're in the middle of...something..."


Tale trailed off, becoming aware that he was being watched. He looked left, right, and then it occured to him to look slightly downward. A strange young man with a mask that almost completely covered his lower jaw was looking at him; no, it seemed more like the young man was looking for him.


Tale was startled into taking a step backward, and had to apologize over his shoulder when he bumped into someone. "Er...hello. Is there something you need?"

 

[ChiaRoseKuro]

Pallas Katsaros :: Peaceguard




Time was forever the enemy, forever the taunt lingering just out of reach, and a source of great anxiety for Pallas in tense situations-- but now, more than ever, did time appear to be that mocking adversary laughing at her behind all her thoughts and concerns. With every second that slipped by, it would be harder and harder to regain contact with the suspect and accost or tail him, depending on what Elina wanted, and... it's not like you could do anything on your own. It was true enough, though-- her fighting prowess heavily depended on assistance from her stealthier comrades, she did not possess the physical strength or raw power needed to overwhelm an opponent, especially an opponent almost a foot taller than her, and going into a situation where victory was not certain was tantamount to extreme idiocy or death, if her opponent so happened to be magically powered-- but knowing the truth and accepting it were two completely different circumstances.


Had she not been so small, and had she not been so powerless, Pallas wouldn't need to rely on others to do jobs that, in more favourable circumstances, she and she alone would be more than adequate completing.


It was probably a good thing that Pallas wasn't prone to unnecessary movements, because the suddenness of Elina's hand upon her shoulder would've made for a pretty strong flinch, had she been prone to it. As it was, though, it took her a while to process her comrade's following words and that she was, indeed, expressing rather unwanted and highly unneeded behaviour as a result of her agitation towards the suspected mage sympathiser. Bloodlust indeed, she pondered, as she forced her limbs to still and her facial expressions to shut down and register a more professional attitude-- both for the sake of herself and her status as an ever-vigilant Peaceguard. It will do me no good to act rashly in such an important time-- especially when there is the opportunity of ridding the world of the pestilence that is magic.


Elina had opted for the more rash option, though, and despite Pallas briefly considering the possibility of disagreeing and suggesting the notion of tailing their quarry (because this Dante character wasn't just her suspect anymore, not when she'd gone and engaged her comrade in assisting her), she decided to let it pass. It was probably better in the long run, anyway; if he managed to catch wind of their plans, he could misdirect them and potentially avert their suspicions, thereby protecting himself and whoever he, in turn, was protecting in the scant moments between her informal assessment of him and a formal, legally sanctioned investigation of him. The only issue was that there were so many factors that could go wrong, really. What if he was innocent? What if they unintentionally involved innocent bystanders, should he prove to be guilty and use the milling crowd to his advantage? Working with Elina for a number of years had allowed her to notice that she had far less boundaries than she herself did, and there was no concrete answer to the question of what she'd do if things escalated too far. She couldn't count on her comrade to cease and desist in the same way she instinctively counted on herself to do just that.


More jumbled thoughts, more doubts surfacing and threatening to overwhelm Pallas whole, and yet another voice to penetrate through the suffocating darkness of her mind. Not her comrade's voice, this time around, but it was still a comrade's voice. Annoyance at her carelessness in letting someone other than Elina listen in on her suspicions warred with the natural deference one showed to their comrade in arms, but the latter won out and, with a slight bow, she greeted the male-- the announcer after the original one had died, her mind dully noted-- and frowned lightly at his comment. "An unusual name may either point towards a lie or clear-cut information; but thank you for sharing what you do know of our suspect," she tonelessly uttered, filing away his comments in a compartment of her mind, but his additional comment on answers intrigued her. What did Elina want with this male Peaceguard? Answers to what, exactly? Before she could ask, though, he'd faded into the crowd, taking him and his knowledge with him.


Bugger. Later, then.


With nothing else to stand in her way, and with her mind relatively clear for the time being, Pallas gave a curt nod to Elina and curtly echoed, "Let's confront him, then," before she began striding purposefully through the crowd. She didn't need to look back to know that Elina would either be behind her or making her own way to where she was clearly headed for-- the shopping district, where their suspect had been last reported to go. Of course, it could be misleading information on his part and she didn't exactly pretend to be a good judge of character, especially when her thoughts were clouded by a certain sense of confirmation bias, but it was... something to work with, at least.


Whether that something would end up being nothing, though, would have to be determined later. Preferably after she found her quarry anew and engaged him in a confrontation.


@Oreocookies // @Saccharine Cyanide (obliquely, through a line of conversation)

 

[One Mean Ghost]

What was he going to do? If that poison stayed in the water long, it would no doubt kill him at some point. He needed to drink water, after all... And what of everyone else targeted by it? Who knows just how far the Peaceguard would go anymore... Pretty soon they'd be openly killing in the streets. They were already close to that point, what with beating up random civilians just for bumping into them. Something had to be done to change it, but one could one Mage do against the entire Peaceguard? Short answer, not much. True, he could probably thin their ranks a little bit if it came to that, but there had to be a peaceful solution to it.


His Sensei had always told him that violence should only be used as a last resort. Violence only begets more violence. If any force must be used, only use the bare minimum to end the conflict. He had always endeavored to live up to those teachings. Even earlier, he only used the bare minimum he had to in order to stop the conflict. Of course, he knew the Peaceguard likely saw it as him starting trouble, even though in both instances anyone with half a mind could easily tell he hadn't been the aggressor. At the very least, he had public opinion on his side. Though, if the Peaceguard was getting this blatant with their abuses of power, he wondered how long public opinion could keep him out of BlackGate.


Then again, he likely had supporters even within BlackGate's walls. Some of the female PeaceGuard officers were known to frequent 'The Naked Truth', after all. He didn't know how high up the chain of command they got, but it was something, at least. Then again, he had little doubt many of the male officers would love to see him killed for much the same reason the drunkard from before did... It's not like he deliberately went after married women. He couldn't control who came to his performances, but of course he still got blamed for it... It wasn't exactly fair, but it was just how things are.


So lost was Dante in this train of thought, he didn't even realize that he had bumped into a young woman. Her... whatever you call that unearthly noise, snapped him out of his thoughts as he blinked, his eyes focusing on her as she yelled at him. "I'm terribly sorry...." He bowed respectfully. "I guess I was a touch distracted.... I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.." he straightened up, his calm eyes gazing at her, taking in her body language, and the untold message her eyes sent. For some reason, something about him scared her, though he couldn't quite figure out what.


For all of his size and muscles, he was more of a gentle giant. Despite constant combat training under his Sensei, he still preferred the less violent paths to resolving conflicts. Of course, at a glance it was hard to believe it. He had the build of a fighter, after all, and the long dagger he carried on his back hip was more than a little imposing, even if he seldom ever drew it forth from its sheathe.


"You're new in town, aren't you? Is there something you're looking for?" He asked curiously, his head tilting just a little as he watched her. Something about her clothes and the way she responded to getting bumped gave him the distinct impression she wasn't used to the hustle and bustle of this big city. At the very least, talking to this stranger served as a momentary distraction from the dangerous situation he and all the other Mages in the city believed themselves to be in...


@Falling Nebula

 

[M03M03]

Mirage Aradd

​

Lowering her hand and brushing off her duster Mirage eyed the the tall stranger with unease as he bowed. Her mind was chasing itself in continual loops, fear running itself out until eventually there was nothing left but anger. So nonchalant was this man's attitude as he smoothly apologized with a silver tongue while at the same time inquired if she was looking for anything in particular. It was obvious he was used to getting out of trouble…(With that body and that silver tongue he probably got into a lot of it...especially with the ladies, Mirage noted looking him up and down with piercing eyes.) It was equally obvious that the man was adept at talking his way out of it.


Not this time.


Not after he had resurrected the fears that had plagued her since that mountaintop she had once called home...fears and memories she had been sure she had outrun.


Taking a step back so that there was a safe distance between them, (That fear still lurked...it never really went away when others were present...especially males.) Mirage narrowed her eyes. “It is quite obvious that you were not looking where you were going. Yes I am new to town. Yes I am looking for something...actually several somethings now that you mention it. And no..I doubt you are ‘terribly sorry’ as, lets face it, no human is truly concerned with the feelings, pain, or thoughts of a complete stranger...if we were there would be no such thing as war. I can assure you though, that you are going to be ‘terribly sorry’ once you personally escort me through this man made dizzying jungle of rock, noise, and flesh.


I need a place to sell the furs I have collected. I need a place that sells maps. I also need a place to eat, drink, and rest that is out of the way of all this continual loop of unending noise. My name is Mirage, I am 'terribly sorry' for the time you will lose in helping me.”


Giving a huff of breath Mirage waited for his reaction arms crossed while her silver blue eyes darted back and forth taking the sounds and sights of people, young, middle aged, and old. Taking in the sights and sounds of animals, young, middle aged, and old. Taking in the sights and sounds of the buildings, young, middle aged, and old. So much information crammed into such a small place in time and space that the world seemed about to explode. It did not help that Mirage was hungry, thirsty, and tired despite the fact she had already drank, eaten, and slept more than her share that morning at the small ruin overlooking the capital. Her power required her to double all of those important needs...and the crowd of information the city had forced into the woman’s senses the moment she had stepped in made her more tired than usual.


@One Mean Ghost

 

[ChiaRoseKuro]

Altair Payne :: Peaceguard




In the depths of Blackgate, somewhere amongst the near-deserted barracks where squadrons of Peaceguards had been assembled, given instructions and dispersed to their day's duties, was Altair's sprawled form. With his prim, standard-issue military cap askew on his face, and with his uniform ruffled beyond belief, one might imagine that he'd been decked in the stomach, so awkward was his position inside those barracks. It was hard to see if there was something wrong with him or not when he was just about fully covered from head to toe, save for a sliver of chin peeking out from beneath his cap and a bit of one knee, from where his trousers had hiked up a little, but there was definitely something off about his whole appearance.


That 'something off' only became evident to the casual viewer when Altair snuffled and gave a little snore, though.


Rather than training, attending to his duties or, for that matter, doing anything a normal human being might do at such an hour, Altair was fast asleep-- in someone else's bed, no less, because he'd been kicked out of his own cot enough times to realize that snoozing in it when he was supposed to be up would mean trouble for him. Of course, there was no doubt about the fact that he was going to be in trouble, one way or another (especially when he showed up for his duties, as he'd inevitably have to do), but if he could delay it for as long as he could then, well, why wouldn't he? It was everyone else's fault that they liked to get up at the asscrack of dawn-- they were the ones who were strange, not him. He just happened to like being up when the sun was up too, thank you very much. Preferably when the sun was very much up, and not just blinking its bleary eye behind a sliver of horizon.


Grumbling a little and rolling around in the cot he'd picked for today's sleep-in, Altair found himself awaking quite unceremoniously when he managed to roll right off the bed. As he got to his feet with a groan and laboriously straightened out his clothing, he didn't bother checking the time; it wasn't as though he would make things better by doing such a useless task, after all, so why bother? Stretching his arms out at the end of his preening session, he poked his head out the door and allowed his body to follow, merging in with the other milling individuals so seamlessly that it wouldn't have looked as though he'd woken up just minutes earlier. He really had to congratulate himself on being so smooth, really he did.


Rather than waltzing up to the place he should've reported to for his duty hours earlier, though, Altair hung around a few milling Peaceguards and eavesdropped on them, just in case they happened to know where the majority of his colleagues were today. Amidst talk of more (probably) phony mage charges, boring tidbits about everyday life that he slotted into his mind for future reference and other useless information, he managed to glean something about an execution, and a surprise development. Toxins in the water, huh? he mused, gargling the mouthful of water he'd just obtained for the specific purpose of picking out said toxin. Well, at least the mages won't know there's something off with it-- unless they happen to have special tastebuds. I wonder if anyone will mind if I rip their tongues out for examination~?


Giggling to himself at the thought, and drawing a few scandalized glares for it, Altair strolled back to his quarters (after ensuring that nobody capable of tanning his hide was in sight of said quarters) and retrieved his cane, before he tapped his way out. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to bring a bow outside, the mere sight of it was enough to draw looks, much more than those one got for wielding something as commonplace as a sword. Perhaps people thought him a pansy and so were obliged to examine his masculinity when they saw him with a bow. Perhaps they were inviting him to shoot an arrow in their face, just to prove that the bow was just as effective a weapon as a sword. Whatever the reason, though, carrying a bow in any instance outside of combat was supposedly strange, and so he contented himself with the pouches of poisoned needles he had hidden beneath his jacket.


At least he could jab it up someone's behind if they annoyed him too much, which he certainly couldn't do with an arrow. No matter how skilled he was with his bow, he had yet to figure out the magical art of making his arrows curve upwards-- whereas a needle slotted in between his gloved fingers was more than capable of doing just that.


Speculation about jabbing things up people's arses aside, though, Altair was pleasantly surprised to waltz outside and find himself looking at what seemed to be mayhem at his destination, the execution block. With a muffled giggle and a glint of excitement in his eyes, which he hid with a tilt of his hat, he left the barracks behind and began moving down to Highmere's centre-- where, no doubt, a good number of mages were panicking their heads off. If he'd woken up earlier, he could've possibly seen all the chaos unfold before his eyes...


But no matter. A mage was a mage, and killing whoever he was allowed to was better than nothing, at least.


( open for interaction! )