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Fantasy The Roaring Sky

Sub Genres
  1. Action
  2. Adventure
  3. Anime
  4. LGTBQ
  5. Magical
  6. Platonic
  7. Romance
Osferth Zylavor
Location: Fort Zeldem

Osferth gave a subtle chuckle. His answer to Cecie's inquiries warranted it, of course, but her reaction was just amusing to his eyes. For someone who lived quite the mundane life before the storm, it would be nothing but words making no sense. Still, there may be those well-versed enough to understand what the Grandmaster had meant - that while he had plans in store for the Stormchasers' journey, he is yet to decide exactly which of them would produce desirable results, due to the evident lack of information with regards to the problem they needed to solve.

Osferth didn't want to reveal the current issue he had, which was the only answer that would most likely satisfy the curiosity the recruits would have had if they already didn't in the first place. Fortunately, Vivienne, a hooved beastfolk, had opted to comply with Cecie's request - rather, demand for introductions from the Stormchasers in the vicinity.

The Grandmaster attentively listened to the words of the beastfolk, keeping mental notes of the matters that she presumably tried to emphasize - which mainly involved her dislike of violence, if he was not mistaken in his assumptions that is.

When Vivienne had finished with her introduction, Osferth followed suit. This introductory process was something that Osferth had planned for a later in the day, but since it had already been initiated, the proper response is to continue until it is finished - besides, it would clear up some time for a different task.

He rose from his seat, as he quickly patted his clothes to remove any possible crumb or dust that may have fallen on him. With a quick scan to see those who were present in the area and those who were not, he began to speak.

"Some of you might already know me by name, and some of you only by title. Regardless, I shall partake in this proceeding, as I expect that all of you will do so as well.", he gave each one of them a short gaze before continuing. "I am Osferth Zylavor. You may address me by my name, but I very much prefer that you call me by the title bestowed upon me - Grandmaster. I would like you to respect this authority granted to me by the Steward herself."

He paused for a second.

"Now as Cecie had said earlier, we have quite a myriad of people here.", he gestured with an open hand, pointing towards Cecie. "Whilst I am, in essence, the leader of the Stormchasers, I implore you to not let our differences stop you from approaching me as you would an ally - whether it be in our rank, race, belief, or otherwise."

He sat back down, taking yet another sip from his glass.

Interaction/s: Vivienne ( AnonyMouse AnonyMouse ), Cecie ( what_if what_if ), and the other people in the area


The God-Emperor of Mankind
Aelfweard Māragas
Fort Zeldem

With indolence, a peal of full laughter came from the back of the room, echoing over the tables and people. As the Stormchasers' faces turned to address this new entrant, most would pause in distaste, surprise, or perhaps puzzlement, not recognizing the figure that some of the others did.

It was a human with a gaunt, almost skeletal physique concealed under a robe, skin pale like a shard of alabaster, lacking in color or texture. It was as if someone who'd died spontaneously decided to get back up and wear a cloak. Black hair, bleached eyes, a delighted smirk.

Aelfweard had been listening from the corner of the room for a while, hearing the people talk. Both his friends, and these... Stormchasers, but what the Grandmaster had said brought some amusement to his lips.

"Excuse me, 'Grandmaster,'" Aelfweard said the word as if it were a cuss. "I'm just having a lark at the joke you said. A heroes' send-off feast, huh? Looks pretty grand for a suicide run. The Steward is sending us off to die running into the eye of the cyclone, but sure, let's get drunk and fatten our resolve on roasted chicken and pork brisket, hm? You've signed up for death, people - the fact that I'm here is evidence enough. Don't buy into any of this bastard's crap, or else you'll end up dead. The Roaring Sky? It's something the Gods sent to punish us mortals for our due arrogance, trying to fix it is just gonna make things worse."

As if completely assured of his self-righteousness, Aelfweard crossed his arms and smirked.

Reinhardt Reinhardt , & anyone else
tl;dr - the edgelord speaks up and ruins the party.

Silver Wolf

Something Random
Location: Fort Zeldem
Interactions: what_if what_if (Cecie), Birdsie Birdsie (Edgelord fucker)
Nearby/Mentioned: Reinhardt Reinhardt (Osferth), Reinhardt Reinhardt (Osferth), AnonyMouse AnonyMouse (Vivi), Cauldhill Cauldhill (Sennen), Ramjammer Ramjammer (Lizrd), Xethyrion Xethyrion (Alentiar), Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer (Byakuren)

There were those who responded to her toast, though during their conversations about the Storm's origins, they brought up some good points, but it took her some effort to not laugh to Cecie suddenly calling Osferth out for being cryptic. Sure, what he said could be seen as vague, but she understood well enough what the grandmaster might have meant. One needed plans for different scenarios. One single plan, no matter or complex or simple would never be enough. And true, not all actions bore fruit. If one were to till the land for seeds, nothing would grow. All one would have would be upturned land. The tilling merely made it easier for the seeds to be grown and planted. The seeds themselves would also be slow to grow, ever slowly growing over months before they could be used for food. Hence, not all actions bear fruit. Not every action has obvious and immediate effects, and that's something Lupa understood well. Training doesn't bear fruit immediately as another example.

Clearly Cecie wasn't one to think it over that deeply, but the woman thought Lupa had claws despite never seeing them. It wouldn't take long to prove she didn't have claws. She was a wolf, claws would be used for digging, not slashing like they would on a feline. The beastfolk girl did have impressive fangs by human standards though. Not by much since she ate cooked meat, but there were still pointy bits that could be used to pierce flesh if she was desperate.

Vivienne was the first to provide a formal introduction, then Osferth, and finally some weirdo who had been quietly sitting in the corner spoke up. Who the hell was he? Once they spoke their mind though, Lupa felt herself feeling rather disappointed. For a moment she looked at Osferth with an expression that begged: "Who the hell is that?"

Once the madman was done speaking though, Lupa decided to stand up and speak herself.

"Then to what end did you bother joining? Personally, I joined not to kick the storm out, but to help people. People are suffering, refugees are entering the Citadel every day, and the cause of it all hangs in the skies. I have made no claim to being a hero, and I frankly have not heard anyone but you make that claim. So, do you think of yourself as a hero? If so, prove it. What have you done for our world? Even if it's hopeless to fight the storm, I would argue otherwise. Even if it were be found we cannot stop the storm, we can still help people. I will not stand by and watch others suffer just because I can't fix all their problems over night."

Lupa finished her short rant and gave a hefty sigh. She noticed she had taken a limelight of sorts and decided, well she might as well introduce herself.

"My name is Lupa. Former Field Offcier of the 5th North Division of the Imperial Army. I was trained by Knight Grendel Kirstan, and am more or less his adopted daughter. As you can guess, my skills lie in combat and leadership. I look forward to working with you all. Oh, and Cecie," the wolfgirl said with a bright smile before taking off her glove to show a regular hand. "I don't have claws." Hopefully the strange man would be quieter. She doubted it, but it may have shown him something at least. Regardless, she would stand by her word, people need help and she will help them. For now she sat down and waited patiently, listening in to the conversation that would unfold.

Sinful Sorcerer

Touhou Enthusiast
Byakuren Hijiri
Location: Fort Zeldem
Mentioned: what_if what_if {Cecie}, AnonyMouse AnonyMouse {Vivienne}, Reinhardt Reinhardt {Osferth}, Birdsie Birdsie {Aelfweard}, Silver Wolf Silver Wolf {Lupa}
Interactions: Silver Wolf Silver Wolf {Lupa}

Byakuren was pulled out of her conversation with the armored man when a loud voice interrupted her thoughts. "This here is a company of the most mismatched people I've ever lain eyes on!"
Turning to see the source of such a bold, yet accurate claim, she was surprised to see the ashen-haired lady from before. It seemed her bantering with the muscular fellow was over, and now she directed her attention towards the rest of them.

"I don't even know if there's a person in there or if it's just a talkin' suit. Look, we're gonna figure this storm out and kick it where the sun don't shine, but it'd be a lot easier with some answers. Like what this group can actually do.

From her brief conversation with Alentiar, she gathered there was indeed a person in the suit of armor. He wasn't the most forward person she'd met, but then again neither was she. If she hadn't forced herself to approach him they may never have spoken at all, but she was glad they did. It was proof that going outside your comfort zone could lead to good things, and she'd make an effort not too be so limited in the way she acted anymore. Having finished reflecting on herself, Byakuren once more focused outwards, more specifically on the opinionated woman. What followed was a barrage of assumptions that Byakuren had trouble following, mostly due to the woman's crude way of speaking.

"Pretty sure the big lizard can hit stuff. I think the reindeer and Sanden are here for hittin' stuff too. Don't even know what Purple Hair has goin' on. I think Lupa's got claws, though I ain't ever seen them. And you've got a plan that apparently doesn't bear any fruit."

Unsure of how to respond, Byakuren was relieved when the woman ended with something she could understand. "That means I want proper introductions, in case ya don't get it. Preferably short and easy to remember."

She had already planned to introduce herself to as many as possible before breakfast was over, but doing it one at a time was taking a while. It seemed the woman was requesting group introductions, something which would simplify matters. Byakuren liked the idea, but she wasn't sure if she could get everyone's attention. She wasn't particularly charismatic, she thought, and the only reason the villagers on her island would carefully heed her every word was likely because she had been made High Priestess. Her word carried a weight back home, but not here. Here she was just another face in the crowd, 'Purple Hair'. Luckily she didn't have to contemplate much longer, as another voice rose up to take charge of the conversation. "What a wonderful idea, Cecie! I'll go first,"

It belonged to a Centaur, a tall and majestic thing with long, curled, white hair and large, brown antlers. Byakuren hadn't noticed her before, perhaps she had arrived sometime recently, but she was certainly hard to miss now. The Centaurs were a rare sight, even here on Valheim, and seeing one for the first time was quite something. Byakuren was nowhere near accustomed to beast-folk, but being in their presence had gotten less and less strange the past few weeks. She had met reptiles and mammals of all shapes and sizes during her time here, and although there was the one or two bad apples, she found that most were good people. Still, the deer-lady was unlike any she had seen before, and it would take some time to get used to her company. Byakuren did her best not to stare, this was a person not some sort of tourist attraction. But to say that she wasn't curious would be a lie, and she was tired of lying; to others but especially to herself.

"Vivienne Yvarra, at your service, Viv' or 'Miss Yvarra' will suffice. I am 'the reindeer' as Cecie so eloquently put it, however the hitting of stuff is not my reason for being here. I have no taste for violence, though I will take up arms when necessary or if commanded to do so,"

Byakuren was glad to hear Viv's sentiment. She wasn't one for violence either, in fact she hardly knew the first thing when it came to combat. She only hoped that her lack of experience in the matter wouldn't hinder the group once out in the field. The deer-lady continued;

"Aaaaanyway, I have --oh gosh-- twenty years of experience as a transporter, escort, guide, and caravan leader." she muttered something under her breath, far too quietly for Byakuren to hear. "You can count on me because I have seen enough of this world to know that it is worth dying for, as are each and every one of you. If our mission is to venture into the heart of this storm, I consider it my duty to get us there and back, swiftly and safely. I so truly look forward to working with you all."

After finishing her speech Viv sat back down again, seemingly pleased with her introduction. And why wouldn't she be? It was short and concise, and delivered in a tone of voice that was easy to understand, even to someone like Byakuren. If she had to describe her first impression of the Centaur, it would be 'dependable'.

Next followed the Grandmaster. His voice, while not as striking as his appearance, still demanding of attention.

"Some of you might already know me by name, and some of you only by title. Regardless, I shall partake in this proceeding, as I expect that all of you will do so as well." With a short pause, his eyes explored the room, taking in the rag-tag group of people before him. For a brief moment his gaze met hers and she felt something unnerving, perhaps it was only now that she realized the reality of the situation. "I am Osferth Zylavor. You may address me by my name, but I very much prefer that you call me by the title bestowed upon me - Grandmaster. I would like you to respect this authority granted to me by the Steward herself."

Byakuren made a quick note in her mind. Perhaps it would be better to call him Grandmaster, rather than Sir as she had before. The memory of their first interaction came rushing back. She had been far too proper with him. Not that he didn't deserve respect as her superior, but she had overdone it, and it hind-sight she must have made a fool of herself. Regardless, the man continued;

"Now as Cecie had said earlier, we have quite a myriad of people here. Whilst I am, in essence, the leader of the Stormchasers, I implore you to not let our differences stop you from approaching me as you would an ally - whether it be in our rank, race, belief, or otherwise."

The Grandmaster sat back down, raising a glass to his mouth and drinking. At the sight, Byakuren noticed that she had gotten quite thirsty herself. And hungry. At first she had chosen not to eat, seeing as most of the dishes were comprised of meat in one form or another, but the hunger had begin to set in now. Surely there was something here she could try. It wasn't that eating meat was 'wrong'; she had no issues with others doing it, but to her it was simply out of the question. The monks who raised her subscribed to a strictly vegetarian diet, and as a result she had as well. She was doing her best to attempt doing things outside of her comfort zone, but this was more than a step too far. At least for now. Taking another look around, she finally spotted some vegetables in the vicinity of the officer-lady who had been talking to the chef when she saw her last. Beans, broccoli, even potatoes lined her plate, the girl had found quite a few edibles. Byakuren decided to ask her where she could find some of her own when a creepy laughter echoed, down from one of the corners of the room.

It was a pale, robed man with eyes bleached beyond recognition. The sheer sight of him sent shivers down her spine. "Excuse me, 'Grandmaster', I'm just having a lark at the joke you said. A heroes' send-off feast, huh? Looks pretty grand for a suicide run." Byakuren couldn't stand the pessimism in his voice. True, they didn't know what exactly the storm was or how to stop it. But better to do something and fail, than to let millions of innocents die. "The Steward is sending us off to die running into the eye of the cyclone, but sure, let's get drunk and fatten our resolve on roasted chicken and pork brisket, hm? You've signed up for death, people - the fact that I'm here is evidence enough. Don't buy into any of this bastard's crap, or else you'll end up dead. The Roaring Sky? It's something the Gods sent to punish us mortals for our due arrogance, trying to fix it is just gonna make things worse."

She tried to sympathize with the man, but found it difficult. It was only natural to feel lost and helpless given the circumstance they found themselves in, but that's exactly why they had to work together to do something about it. She knew better than to judge someone prematurely, but her first impressions of him were far from good. At best, she thought, he was a cynic. At worst, he would try to sabotage their efforts. It was important that they all cooperated, how else would they stand a chance? She hoped they would be able to prove him wrong somehow, and turn her to their side, but only time would tell.

Turning her attention back to the vegetables, she realized the girl in the officer uniform was now standing up. Byakuren was interested to see how she would respond.

"Then to what end did you bother joining? Personally, I joined not to kick the storm out, but to help people. People are suffering, refugees are entering the Citadel every day, and the cause of it all hangs in the skies. I have made no claim to being a hero, and I frankly have not heard anyone but you make that claim. So, do you think of yourself as a hero? If so, prove it. What have you done for our world? Even if it's hopeless to fight the storm, I would argue otherwise. Even if it were be found we cannot stop the storm, we can still help people. I will not stand by and watch others suffer just because I can't fix all their problems over night." the girl let out a deep sigh. Byakuren agreed with her sentiment; they were going to fight the storm because they had to. No matter how hopeless it might be in the end, they had to at least try. For everyone's sake. The officer-girl finally shifted her attention away from the scrawny-looking man and towards the rest of the room. It seemed she had matters to discuss with the rest of them, perhaps she too would introduce herself.

"My name is Lupa. Former Field Officer of the 5th North Division of the Imperial Army. I was trained by Knight Grendel Kirstan, and am more or less his adopted daughter. As you can guess, my skills lie in combat and leadership. I look forward to working with you all." The briefest introduction yet, but not lacking in any regard. Byakuren was relieved to finally know her name; Lupa. Much better than thinking of her as simply 'officer-girl'. Lupa finally turned to the one who started the whole ordeal, the aforementioned Cecie, before removing a glove from her hand. "Oh, and Cecie, I don't have claws."

Lupa sat down and the room once again entered a short period of relative silence, each person giving the others a brief look, not sure who would go next. As for Byakuren, she still wasn't exactly sure how best to introduce herself. Instead, she quietly got up on her feet and made her way towards Lupa, trying not to attract anyone's attention as she did so. Once close enough to see the floppy ears, poking out of the officer's hat, she calmly made her presence known. "Excuse me, Miss Lupa? Can you please show me where you found the vegetables?"


The God-Emperor of Mankind
Aelfweard Māragas
Fort Zeldem

Aelfweard patiently sat through the beastwoman's soliloquy about wanting to help people, with his arms folded. He'd seen countless people like that as a child - idealists, his mother called them. They were people who stood up for unliving concepts. She herself had been an idealist of a sort, and supposedly, so was he.

It's simply a matter of different ideals.

These people are badly indoctrinated, he thought. The damn Empire's got its roots in their heads. This is going to be a pain in the ass. I don't want to break bread with Imperials.

Beside Aelfweard, invisible to anyone else, there stood a man. His skin was bleach-white, with long hair that was somehow paler yet running down in smooth falls. The same man had a cloth blindfold around his eyes and red-black trails running down his cheeks, as if his eyes had been cut out. In stark contrast to his horrifying appearance, he wore a modest but stained dark gray robe, with a length of braided silver rope tying it down like a belt at the midriff.

Aelfweard nearly flinched at his appearance inwardly, but managed to suppress the shudders on his back. It had been easier to dissociate, and harder to control his delusions ever since he left prison, but it was the first time that one of his 'friends' had appeared almost involuntarily.

"There's no use to antagonizing them, Aelf," the Pale Sage advised from the man's side. "If you're uncooperative, you'll go back to square one. And here, cooperation means survival. For all of us." The Sage laid a hand on his shoulder, causing Aelfweard to actually flinch, eyes widening.

"Don't touch me!" he loudly said, almost a yell.

Not right now. Control yourself, damn it.

Aelfweard took the reins of his mind. At his will, the Pale Sage dissolved into mist. Of course, from everyone else's perspective, Aelfweard's outburst was completely random - he was standing alone at the edge of the room, no one even remotely near enough to touch him.

The psychotic man kept his arms folded as he approached, putting one foot in front of the other in a kind of shambling walk. When he started to introduce himself, it bore a heavy sense of resignation, "I'm Aelfweard Māragas. I'm a freedom fighter, although your people call me a terrorist and a criminal. I was trained by the Pale Sage, although you can't see him right now because he lives in my head. I'm here because I received a plea bargain - die here to this storm, or rot in prison for the rest of my life. That's about all you have to know."


Maximum edge achieved. This is so bad.
what_if what_if AnonyMouse AnonyMouse Reinhardt Reinhardt Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer Xethyrion Xethyrion Ramjammer Ramjammer


~ what if I fall ~ what if I fly ~
Location: Fort Zeldem - Dining Hall
Interaction/s: Birdsie Birdsie {Aelfward} and basically anyone who's char hasn't gone
Throughout each introduction, Cecie was hastily jotting down notes. She was so focused on the task that she almost missed Lupa showing her non-clawed hand. Cecie made a disappointed face and scribbled down "no claws." It was alright so far. She had some of their names and an idea on what they were doing here. She waited for the next person to speak.

"...It's something the Gods sent to punish us mortals for our due arrogance, trying to fix it is just gonna make things worse."

Well that wasn't what she was expecting. Cecie took a break from her note-taking to get a good look at this Stormchaser. In different circumstances, this would be a person to avoid or toss a withering glance at on the way out. But as it were, they were going to be travelling, and probably fighting, together.

"So I'll add another weirdo to the list then." Cecie held out her book, making a show of writing something down. With a final flourish, she closed it and placed it on the table. "I don't know what you're deal is Eggward, but if you've got a wizard in there then ya might like makin' rhymes with Osferth. If all ya want to do is die, though, then I can help with that." She raised her arms as if holding an imaginary bow and mimicked knocking back an arrow. "Right to the heart- if ya have one. Anywho, the name's Cecie. I shoot things. I forget things. And I bet on things. I'll risk my life for any of you, but I ain't dying for any of you. Now-" She looked about the room "-I don't think everyone's introduced themselves yet....right?"


Vivienne Yvarra
At the Mess Hall​

Vivienne listened intently to each introduction, even that of the emaciated man as he insulted Grandmaster Osferth, the Empire, and everything they had gathered here to do. If his words upset her, she didn't allow it to show. Her look teetered between compassion and confusion as she looked upon him. She didn't understand him, but she understood he was hurting. Most interesting of all was that he didn't insult the others. His vitriol was aimed squarely at the people in charge: Osferth, the empire, even the very gods.

In his own twisted way, he was trying to save them or warn them, proving he had more left in his heart than hatred and cynicism.

The centaur considered saying as much, to break the tension, but Lupa spoke first. She announced her purpose and eloquently swatted down the man's harsh words, even going so far as to demand he prove his legitimacy. Vivienne was in agreement with her until that moment. No one needed to prove anything. The Storm would test them. Any other measure besides that was of dubious importance. So many tests and unknown variables lay ahead, it seemed foolish to drive wedges into the party now when there was no telling who or what could be of value later.

In the end, he might actually be right. They might discover the true nature of this storm only to find it is so infinitely beyond their capabilities that all hope is lost. What if none of them measured up? What if no one, in all the world, measured up? Why take even one piece off the board when you don't even know what the game is yet? When he confessed his crimes, Vivienne was convinced that this was the Steward's intention: put another piece on the board. His presence might amount to nothing, int he end... or it might mean everything. This young man was not sent here to die -- the Empire had plenty of means of doing that. He was sent here because the world might have need of him. He was sent to do some good... or die trying. Why could he not see that?

When Cecie threatened to help end his life, Vivienne had heard enough. She hoped the woman was only joking, but one should not joke about such things.

"Cecie... no," Vivienne said softly, giving the other woman one of those withering, 'disapproving mom,' looks. She was awfully good at it, despite having no children of her own. Or a mother, for that matter. "He's just afraid. Frankly, we all are. Anyone who isn't is either a fool or due a healthy dose of hubris. It's not right to insult or tease him, even if that is how he chose to address us. Mr. Maragas has shown us the sort of man he is... and now I shall show him what sort of people we are."

She turned her attention to Aelfweard, who was still too far away for her liking. She wanted him to feel welcome and loved; all people should feel that, regardless of their past. "I, for one, am glad to have you," Vivienne said with a bright smile as she gestured to the chair nearest to her. "Come have a seat, Aelf. May I call you Aelf? I'll get you a plate. What do you like?"

Direct Interaction:
what_if what_if (Cecie) Birdsie Birdsie (Aelf)

Mentioned / Present:
Reinhardt Reinhardt (Osferth) Silver Wolf Silver Wolf (Lupa) Ramjammer Ramjammer (Band'lur) Cauldhill Cauldhill (Sennen) Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer (Byakuren)​


Confirmed Memelord
c399553811937742fc58fe1892f86166.pngBand'lur Wallbreaker
Tagging: Literally everybody

Nearly everyone he'd ever met was of the opinion that Band'lur should remain quiet. He was too loud, too crass, and a tad too foolish to be allowed to run his mouth as he pleased. This of course never stopped him. If left to their own devices, most people would be content to remain quiet, depressingly so. There was a time and place for silence, of course, but a food-laden table where the ale flowed like a river was not that place.

He was glad then that the overbearing mannerisms he'd be asked to tone down again and again made people a little more apt to talk. As it was, the Stormchasers were practically strangers to each other, and that wouldn't do. The Beastman was always committed to giving his fullest effort to whatever task he set himself to, but it was always nice to know if the people working at his side would do the same.

Band'lur wasn't so naive to think that anyone at the table would lay down their life for his sake, but he hoped they'd at least pretend to care about whether or not he died.

Of course, not every word said was kind, or positive. That was to be expected, given the variety of personalities surrounding him at that moment. Band'lur leaned back marginally in his chair to see the ever stern faced Sennen. Band'lur flicked his tongue inquisitively in the other man's direction. The smell of smoke and hot ash clung to him faintly. Either the mark of the other man's way of living, or his preferred brand of magic, the Beastman couldn't say. Band'lur found him funny in a way. His distaste for wider civilization was clear and he had the world-weary look of a nomad. If he could growl any louder, he'd have been mistaken for a Beastman.

"Well, yeah there 'aint no walls that need breakin'. It's a storm. Storms don't got walls, everybody knows that." Band'lur's crooked grin belied the teasing nature of his words and he waved a large clawed hand in the air dismissively. "Truth be told, I don't believe it was the Gods neither. I figured they'd have just done us all in rather than drag it out."

He leaned over to nudge Vivienne with a broad shoulder playfully. "Huh, maybe you should see about getting some horseshoes and prepare for the ass kicking we're gonna give this thing since it's clearly not the work of the Gods." He chuckled merrily, if quieter than was the norm for him as to not cut through the other conversations going on around him.

Band'lur nearly choked on the ale he was drinking at the sound of Ciecie's voice rising above the others. "Pretty boy? The man has a name, yanno. 'sides." The Lizardman jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I'm the pretty one here. HAH!"

Despite his outwardly jovial nature, the large Beastman was forced to agree with both Sennen and Cecie in some manner. He was pretty sure that they all weren't being sent headlong to their doom. But he was yet to see any proof of the apparent plan the Grandmaster hinted at. The Lizardman could never understand the Human obsession with subtlety. Very few of them sounded smart when they did it and were instead infuriating to speak to. The Lizardman had to admit that they were nowhere near as bad as Elves in that regard, however.

"Well, I do like action." Band'lur admitted evenly. "But I also like having a clear target. 'm not the guy you send in to navigate the intricacies of warfare or somethin' like that. Just tell me what all needs punchin', and I'll do it to the best of my ability." The Lizardman had less in the way of skills compared to the rest of his companions. He had no skill with weapons save for simple things like a spear or dagger, and even those who saw more use in the way of catching dinner than anything else. He wasn't as well read, he didn't know a lick of magic and wasn't as well traveled.

Band'lur supposed that if he were anyone other than himself, he'd have been more intimidated. Less sure of himself and his capabilities. He did, in quiet moments, admit to himself in a begrudging manner that he wished he had more ways to help others. But then again, he wouldn't have been allowed to join the ranks of the Stormchasers if he was completely useless. The Lizardman knew that he was big and strong, and even if he was afraid he tried not to show it. Being just tough enough to keep going had gotten the Beastman farther than most would imagine. It was enough. It had to be enough.

Cecie, ever outspoken, wasn't as sure. She was right to want a better idea of just who she was throwing her lot in with, and the Lizardman couldn't fault her for that.

He could however, fault her for her lack of a working nose.

The Beastman jabbed a clawed finger in Alentair's direction. The man had yet to speak more than a few words to the purple-haired woman beside him, and he was known to be an oddity amongst a group of professed oddities. But Band'lur was positive that he wasn't three gnomes in a suit of armor or whatever idiotic rumor surrounded him on that particular day.

"That's just a guy. There's a whole human guy in there, I can smell him." Band'lur said gruffly with a notable tone of finality in his voice. He rested a large arm on the table and leaned forward to get a better look at Cecie. "And I'm Band'lur Wallbreaker, if you already didn't know. I hit things, and people. And I can hunt, and skin a rabbit and all the crap a hobo livin' in the woods should know how to do."

His gaze flickered towards Vivienne as she listed her skills particular to the art of trading. "I say we put her in charge of makin' sure we don't get cheated out of our coin when the time comes to buy supplies. She seems to have a better head for it than me at least." He looked back at Cecie and held up a palm in a supplicating manner.

Lupa's apparent lack of claws wasn't as distressing to the Lizardman as they'd have been on another of his kind. She was a wolf after all, one a little farther from the beast aspect of her heritage than most. He did idly wonder if the girl possessed a bite stronger than him. He'd have to ask at a later time.

"But don't go worryin' your head lil' lady. 'm sure everyone here is at least smart enough to not go causin' trouble the first chance they get."

Band'lur was not a man to pretend he was right all the time. He knew when he was wrong, and he knew when he was beat. Ocassionally your prey escaped, or you were the prey and you had to swallow your pride and find a solution. Mistakes were made all the time, and one simply used them as an opportunity to learn.

There was not a damn thing he considered worth learning from the absolute skeleton of a man that came shambling into the hall.

His voice was stronger than what one would expect from a man that was clearly half starved. And it seemed that a lack of food hadn't dulled his attitude one bit either. Band'lur didn't quite know what to make of the man other than that he was loud and obnoxious. And not in the fun way like him. The weird and uncomfortable way that meant he never got invited anywhere and had people making up excuses to not spend any time with him.

"I can tell this guy was bullied as a kid." The Beastman thought dourly before shouting across the room at him.

"Well, if yer plannin' on acting the part of jackass, at least have a seat and a meal while yer doin' it. No need to yell across the Fortress at us."

He cocked his head as the man shambled closer, muttering to himself in a way that bespoke a particular madness. The man, Aelfweard, wasn't long in proving its source. Being locked in a prison for who knows how long to never see the light of day would harm a man in ways more than physical. The mind was as strong as a person could make it, but just as with any muscle in the body, it could be strained and injured beyond repair.

A long lizard tongue flicked in the man's general direction, and Band'lur had to fight back the urge to shudder. Aelfward smelled as bad as he looked. No doubt they allowed little in the way of bathing in prison. But there was something else clinging to him. It was indiscernable, and the Beastman was quick to right it off as the aura of magic that clung to almost everyone that practiced it.

His gut instincts said something else entirely, however. Band'lur pushed aside a sudden and great need to bite the man. It wouldn't do to maim him while he was fresh from prison, even though his list of crimes made the Lizardman think he'd be deserving of it. It would have been rude, and he didn't want to ruin breakfast.

He huffed loudly at the man and pointed to an empty chair. "Sit down and eat, yer so damn thin you can't even cast a shadow. Not sure what the hell we're supposed to use you for. You look like you might blow away in the breeze."


angry fluff
Sennen Heydari
Fort Zeldem - Interactions: Ramjammer Ramjammer what_if what_if AnonyMouse AnonyMouse Birdsie Birdsie

A new character had appeared that seemed intent on making enemies with everyone present. Cecie gave a assertive and to-the-point introduction before sitting back down next to Sennen. At this rate, the introductions would never be done with. Sennen looked around the room and saw a few Stormchasers patiently waiting their turn to introduce themselves while Band'lur went on another rant. "They never shut up do they?" Sennen said to Cecie, referring to the trio that had been discussing all sorts of things, from the origins to the Storm to the ethics of our interactions. Band'lur, Vivienne and Aelfweard clearly had a lot to say, and it was starting to irk the young Stormchaser.

As a sentence was being finished, Sennen spoke out loudly before anyone could derail the conversation further. "I'm Sennen," He introduced himself without standing up from his chair. "and I'd rather not spend my evenin' listenin' to banal ramblings (looks at Band'lur), bleedin' heart platitudes (Vivienne) and paranoid delusions (Aelfweard)." Sennen paused for a moment and lowered his voice to take on a slightly less aggressive tone. "So how 'bout we move on with the intros aye? As I said, I'm Sennen and I can fight. Can't do voodoo shit. Who's next?"

Sennen laid back in his chair with his arms crossed, as if waiting for someone to follow suit.
Interacting with: everyone but nobody in particular​
Oh, now this was terrible.

She'd hung back just in case. First impressions were everything, after all, and she didn't want to come off as some eager beaver who showed up to everything too early. So, even when she'd woken up early, thanks to that plank of wood she was expected to use as bedding, Deirdre hadn't left her quarters. She squirrelled herself away to the closest study desk she could find, a poured over her notes for what was quite clearly, clearly too long.

Deirdre hid her frame beneath the long, morning shadow of a support beam, as she scanned the mess hall with as much efficacy as she could from afar. Through the slight viewport that the door afforded, she could already see plenty of people bustling about, their... Debatably merry banter leaking out into to courtyard in the form of muffled beats of sound.

She considered at least that she wasn't completely and utterly late. Whenever she had an early morning appointment like this, she recalled the time when she'd almost missed her flight from Holhold, and shuddered. She couldn't even imagine how demoralizing it would've been if the group had left without her, so she supposed their continued presence within Zeldem should've been a reassuring one.

But, then again, there was just so many of them. And they were so boisterous, too.

Or, well, they at least sounded very boisterous, given the acoustics.

"Nn." Deirdre let out a small whine, and started to drum one of her sets of fingers against her beam of structural-turned-emotional support. It occurred to her that with every moment she let pass, introducing herself was probably only to get more and more awkward. Heavens forbid, if she stayed here long enough they were going to eventually walk out of those doors and find her clinging to the wall like, well, like a spider. She swallowed hard at that thought; if she was going to make a fool of herself regardless of what she did, she'd rather she did it by biting her tongue or doing whatever else it is that she was worrying about happening.

Right, then. Giving the wall one final, firm drumming, Deirdre took one step forward that led into another, and another, and another, until she was eventually standing stock still in the mess hall's doorway. Both pairs of her hands clasped one another, and for a moment the only part of Deirdre that moved was her eyes. They darted from each resident of the hall from the next, in a sort of way that totally ensured the Deirdre wouldn't be logging any useful information at all from the rapid, unfocused set of glances.

"Um. Hello." She spoke stiffly, and then gave a jagged bow. "Sorry I didn't get here earlier."

With that, Deirdre's frame relaxed and she made the long walk to the longest end of the long table. She tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to hide to tightening of her face as embarrassment overtook her. No name, no title, not even the faintest whiff of an introduction, and the only actually sentence she'd gotten out was an apology. If Lady Zinzin had been here, she'd probably have beaten her over the head for that.

Ugh. Her stomach was starting to hurt, and now she wanted to call herself an idiot. She didn't, but it was only because she was pretty sure that talking to herself right now would just make her look like an even bigger fool than she already did.
Osferth Zylavor
Location: Fort Zeldem

Osferth's mood soured as Aelfweard revealed himself to the gathering. Of all the additions to Stormcrest, Aelfweard was one of the few that he wasn't keen on. The man, despite his current pitiable state, carried quite a terrible reputation - not only for what he had done but more so for how he is.

The moment he saw the papers pertaining to the man, he knew that Aelfweard was sent here for a purpose - what it was, Osferth wasn't entirely certain, nor did he had enough of an interest to figure out. In his mind, the deranged man was most likely sent here by the nobles who opposed Osferth's placement as the Grandmaster, in an attempt to sabotage the Stormchasers, if not to tarnish Osferth's name and The Steward's reputation as well.

However, he was immediately cleared of such feelings upon witnessing the reactions from the rest of the Stormchasers. In fact, he didn't expect it at all. He simply couldn't help but laugh at the scenario that unfolded - someone who was once infamous for his acts of terror quickly dismissed by a group of varied people, some simply seeing him as a frail, inept man.

Relieved that one of his many concerns about the group was resolved on its own, he took yet another sip from his glass. With attention, he listened to those who continued the routine of introductions, occasionally keeping mental notes of his observations and the impressions the recruits left upon him.

His gaze eventually shifted to the newly arrived recruit - a beastfolk who bore a few more appendages than the average humanoid, carrying a name he had, unfortunately, forgotten at the moment. It's a good thing that the group was in the middle of introductions, that should help him out in remembering who she was.

"There is no need to apologize.", Osferth addressed her. "You've arrived at quite a good time, we're in the midst of formally introducing ourselves to the group."

He, then, turned to answer Sennen's inquiry. "I believe we have but a few left who are yet to tell us of themselves.", he said, gesturing towards those who were yet to partake in the introductory rites - the armored man known as Alentiar, the youthful girl of mysterious origins with the name Byakuren, the multi-limbed beastfolk that had recently entered the hall.

"Would you like to go first?", he asked the four-armed beastfolk.

Interaction/s: Deirdre ( The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit ), Sennen ( Cauldhill Cauldhill ), Alentiar ( Xethyrion Xethyrion ), Byakuren ( Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer )


~ what if I fall ~ what if I fly ~
Location: Fort Zeldem - Dining Hall
Interaction/s: Cauldhill Cauldhill {Sennen} Ramjammer Ramjammer {Band'lur}
Cecie had a lopsided grin from her own morbid joke. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say, but it made her feel better. For a moment, her thoughts turned to home and her family waiting there. Jokes and pessimistic allies aside, whatever the storm was, whatever it threatened, she was going to ensure that nothing - and no one- got in the way of them putting an end to it.


The soft-spoken voice drew her out of her thoughts. She looked over to Vivienne, who was giving an exceptionally withering glare. Cecie’s smile faltered. Her jovial mood was ruined by a pang of guilt...which quickly passed and was replaced with mild irritation. It’s just a joke, she thought.

As she composed herself, Band’lur leaned towards her and spoke up. Cecie instinctively leaned back as his hulking frame towered over her.

"Talkin’ armor is cooler though.” She muttered after Band’lur so graciously explained what Alentair was. “Well at least I was right ‘bout the hitting.”

Cecie opened her notebook to jot down the lizard’s name, not seeing Band’lur’s outstretched hand for a good few seconds. When she noticed it, she glanced between Vivienne and his open palm.
“What? Ya want money? Well ya ain’t getting none of my cents unless ya win it.”
Which reminded her of an earlier game of cards. There was something about that and the staff from before that tugged at the back of her mind. She was just about to remember when Sennen interrupted her thoughts.

“They never shut up, do they?” He said.

Cecie quickly stifled a chuckle. The last thing she needed was another one of Vivienne’s disappointed looks. As he finished his ‘introduction’, she gripped the edges of her seat and moved herself, chair and all, a foot away from him.

“Don’t mind me.” She said. “I’m just leavin’ space in case someone starts throwin’ punches. Maybe you should sit with Eggard. Keep the targets together an’ all that.”

She was so preoccupied with avoiding collateral damage, that she barely noticed Deirdre’s entrance. Cecie did manage to notice that the group seemed to be getting bigger, which made her worry about the number of pages in her book. The worry was quickly forgotten as Osferth began talking. When he finished, she turned to Deirdre expectantly, pencil at the ready.
Interacting with: everyone but nobody in particular​
Oh, thank goodness. Deirdre's frame loosened as Osferth spoke at her, and the knots her stomach had tied itself into during her brief stint outside started to untangle. Now that she'd actually made it inside the dining hall, the size of the crowd didn't seem that bad. Or, well, it actually did seem quite large, but the people seemed a whole lot less intimidating than she was expecting. When she'd applied for this venture, she'd been expecting to be spending the next few months of her life saddled up with a bunch of scary, grizzled military-men, but there only seemed to be one of those present.

Well, there was one other very grizzled looking person, but that was in a different manner entirely.

"R-right. Sure." Deirdre nodded at the Grandmaster's invitation and rose from her seat. Her voice shook a little as she spoke. It'd been years since she'd had to introduce herself like this, and she hadn't liked doing it even when it was a regular part of her life.

"Good day to all of you." Deirdre bowed, again, as she greeted the rest of the hall, also again. "My name is Deirdre. Er- Just Deirdre, for clarity's sake. I'm new to this whole adventuring thing, so please take care of me." Ah. Deirdre's eyes shot wide open when those words escaped her lips. "That was a mistake! Let's take care of each other, okay? Each. Other. That's what I meant." Deirdre stammered out a correction to her blunder, and then cringed. Both internally and externally.

"Thank you again." That was it. Deirdre cut off the rest of whatever it was she was planning to say, and then her bottom hastily refamiliarized itself with her seat. She stifled the urge to groan at herself, and made a mental note to rehearse the next time she needed to do something like this.

At least with that out of the way, she could relax. Stretching an arm across the table, Deirdre reached for the tastiest looking thing she could find, which ended up being some exotic-looking meat, and then picked it up and started nibbling on it right out of her hands.

In the back of her head she hoped that she, at least, wouldn't be the only screw-up today.


The God-Emperor of Mankind
Aelfweard Māragas
Fort Zeldem

Aelfweard narrowed his eyes minimally as he sat down. The lizardman seemed to be at least appropriately hostile, but what about her? The centaur woman seemed too friendly, almost to the point where it tickled his paranoia something fierce. He'd seen that kind of demeanor from people before - not spies, never spies. A good spy doesn't stand out.

It was from other people, but he couldn't remember. Aelfweard looked across the table and saw the people - a congressional of men and women waiting to die - sitting at it and enjoying their feast, and momentarily, he felt weak and small.

"It's always the same," the Pale Sage whispered, unbidden.

Whatever he was going to say didn't really matter, so Aelfweard shut him out. He wanted to be unbothered for once - it was going too fast. All of the delusions and fantasies were coming in like water into cracks in a rock, and he needed to keep them out. At least for a couple of days longer.

"Call me whatever," Aelfweard finally answered, having waited a good while to do so, tearing his gaze away and frowning. "It doesn't really matter, does it? As for food, just bread and water is fine. I'm used to military rations. I can't stomach anything with too much flavor."

Silver Wolf Silver Wolf Ramjammer Ramjammer Cauldhill Cauldhill Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer AnonyMouse AnonyMouse what_if what_if Reinhardt Reinhardt


Confirmed Memelord
Band'lur's head snaps towards Sennen and places a large hand to his chest in mock offense. "Banal?! My good sir, I would never. We're in public, and at the dinner table too!" The Lizardman lets out a wheezing laugh and slams his fist down on the table at his own, idiotic joke. Whether anyone else found it funny was irrelevant, he was having a great time.

The Beastman straightened his posture a tad, brows lifting in marked curiosity as yet another of his kind shuffled into view. "Turnin' into a real menagerie innit?" He chuckles gruffly, watching the woman slide into a chair meekly. She looked the quiet sort, and Band'lur couldn't help but wonder if she even wanted to be there at all. The Lizardman, in his coarse way, tried to comfort the girl, but he wasn't sure if he was making things better or worse.

"You listen to the Grandmaster, 'aint no need to be apoligizin' to this lot. Unless you stab me between the ribs, I got nothin' to be mad at ya for." He waved a clawed hand in the air dismissively in an attempt to dispel the woman's concerns. He wasn't quite sure it worked as the woman he learned to be called Dierdre, launched into an incredibly awkward introduction and then apologized *again* for a minor slip of the tongue. The Lizardman fought back the urge to rub his temples. Had they been anywhere else, he wouldn't be concerned about the spider not being the life of the party. But if they were going to be in close proximity for the duration of their trip, it wouldn't do for her to be fearful of her companions.

And so Band'lur leaned back in his chair, flashed her a sharp toothed grin and started running his mouth. Again.

"I got a question for you. You ever punch four people at once with all those arms? Is that a thing you can do? 'm not sure of the logistics of it, but 'm pretty sure it's possible. If I had four arms, I bet I could fuck a lot of people up. Yer lucky."

Sinful Sorcerer

Touhou Enthusiast
Byakuren Hijiri
Location: Fort Zeldem
Mentioned: Silver Wolf Silver Wolf {Lupa}, Xethyrion Xethyrion {Alentiar}, Birdsie Birdsie {Aelfweard}, what_if what_if {Cecie}, Ramjammer Ramjammer {Band'lur}, Cauldhill Cauldhill {Sennen}, The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit {Deirdre}, Reinhardt Reinhardt {Osferth}​

With Lupa's help, Byakuren had finally found some foods edible by her standards. She had returned to her seat next to Alentiar, who had yet to say much, and began pouring herself a cup of herbal tea. Re-energized, she continued listening to the others as they proceeded with their introductions. The man with the bleached eyes went first, his name was Aelfweard and he called himself a freedom fighter. Next went Cecie, but not before making some sort of threat upon Aelfweard's life. Band'lur followed, his large frame unable to contain his even larger sense of self. Finally the muscular fellow seated next to Cecie gave his own introduction. His name was Sennen and although Byakuren struggled to understand his words through his rather thick accent, she could tell the man was growing impatient. He felt the introductions were taking too long, that much was clear as day.

That's when yet another person made their entrance into the already rather full dining hall. It was another beast-folk but she seemed very different from those already present, and not just in terms of appearance. Unlike Band'lur, Lupa and Viv, who all seemed rather outgoing, the group's newest member looked anything but. Her face contorted in utter embarrassment, the girl made a stiff attempt at a bow and apologized for her late arrival, much like Byakuren had done earlier. She had only just taken a seat when Osferth spoke up;

"There is no need to apologize. You've arrived at quite a good time, we're in the midst of formally introducing ourselves to the group. I believe we have but a few left who are yet to tell us of themselves." With these words he gestured towards a few people who had yet to speak up, Byakuren were amongst them. She began to feel guilty for not doing so already, but try as she might she still couldn't formulate anything of value. Osferth turned his attention back to the shy beast-folk girl, "Would you like to go first?", he asked her. Byakuren felt a little bad watching the Grandmaster put their newest member on the spot like that. She had only just found herself a seat, much less anything to eat, but Byakuren didn't put her thoughts into action. Perhaps she didn't find the words, or maybe she was still too shy herself to openly disagree with her superior's choice of action. Regardless, the beast-folk stood back up and began to clumsily introduce herself to the group. Her name was Deirdre, no last name, and she was new to this whole thing. It was a very short introduction, and they didn't learn anything noteworthy, but perhaps that was to be expected as the girl had been put on the spot with no real time to think. Still, her lack-luster attempt made Byakuren feel a little more comfortable somehow. The nervousness she had felt previously was starting to wither away. No matter how badly her introduction would go, at least she wasn't the only one to make a poor first impression, she thought.

With Sennen's impatient remarks still fresh in her mind, Byakuren stood up on her feet with a sense of boldness uncharacteristic to her. With one hand she carefully grasped the tea-cup from earlier, and in the other she held a small, silvery spoon. There was no large bell to ring everyone's attention in, so this would have to do. A light clinking sound escaped the porcelain surface of the cup before echoing out throughout the hall. It had been louder than expected. "Excuse me.", Byakuren said before giving a quick bow to the surprised gazes. "My name is Hijiri Byakuren, but Byakuren will do."
She gave a brief pause, setting down the tea-cup before continuing; "I am from a small island, far east of here. The storm's reach is farther than you maybe think, it affects us all. That is why I come here, to help fight it." She looked down, closing her eyes for a moment with clenched fists. A look of resignation. "But...", she continued "I do not know how to fight. I am weak, but I think together we can be strong." She looked up once more, opening her eyes in the process. With a hand outstretched she gazed forward, partly at the crowd, partly at her own fingertips. "What I do know is a power of the mind. I have learned how to make the body stronger; so the strong can be stronger still, and the weak can have a fighting chance." Letting her hand fall back to her side, she slowly looked around the room at the people who she would fight alongside; die alongside if need be. Each were stranger than the last, but all were here for a reason. Her gaze finally stopped at Osferth, the one who had been entrusted with the burden of leading them all. "Let us do our best together, and thank you for having me." With that, she gave a deep bow and returned to her seat. She had said what she needed to say, now all that remained was to listen to the rest.

_Line 213

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Myvyryium Vyrybyryium
Open Fields --> Fort Zeldem
Interacting with: Everyone

"Indeed, you'll do nicely."

The young wizard looped the plant's stem around his finger carefully, giving it just as strong a tug as needed to free the flower from the ground, its roots coming with it. Reaching for the bag hanging from his belt, he produced a small vial, slipping the roots into the glass before examining the plant with thorough silence as it bent in the breeze. The low rumble of thunder and heavy breeze had long become a constant, relegated to the back of the journeyman's mind as he went about his daily business, much as it was for many others. The terror of the storm had become instead a pressure, weighing on the back of the world as it struggled to continue forward. Yet, it was times such as this when the darkness and the clouds became most apparent, at least to Myvyryium. The young man looked up to the clouds, watching them rumble and spark against the far-off mountains as he maintained his silence. It was not too long ago, he felt he remembered, that he had made his way through not too dissimilar fields; the sun was bright, casting clear and colorful greens and blues throughout the hills and the sky. One could hear birdsong, then, and the stillest of lakes formed mirrors to the mountains and the white wisps above. All that, now, seemed a distant memory.

"Master Vyrybyrium! Master Vyrybyrium!" called a familiar voice, shaking the spellcaster from his thoughts. He turned, pulling his cloak around him a little more tightly as it fought the breeze on his behalf. Toddling through the low grass on two studs used as legs came his bag, followed by his staff and sword, both hopping along on their tips not too far behind.

The wizard nodded deeply to his returning friends. "Ah--how did it go?" he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly in anticipation.

"Went proper well, Oi'm happy t' say," the bag chattered on, giving itself one last hop forward in order to draw nearer to its master, "right chock-full've tha stuff now, ain't I?" The bag, previously using its top flap to speak, now flipped the leather cover over, revealing a full pile of flowers and herbs carefully piled within its interior, before slipping closed again. "Whippoorwill did most'a tha cuttin', see, an' old Oaken'ead over dur's done most'a tha lookin', right tall sommat 'e is--we 'ad a right proper supply chain we did!"

"I look fowaerde to nevaer sullying my blade vit a targette as lowly as ghrass again," the blade muttered to itself.

"What's about yoeurself an' old Billow then? How'd yae two make oot?"

The wizard raised his vial to his eyes once more, watching the small, seemingly insignificant flower for another moment. He turned the flask this way and that, examining the root structure with a brief bout of renewed interest before lowering his claim and tucking it into his hanging bag. "I think we made out alright for one morn."

"Proper good then, seein' as though I might not be any proper judge'a time since the sun's gone away, mind ye, I'd say we were supposed tae be oer at the Fort a long while back!"

"I don't think there's much to worry about," the wizard said, turning to look in the direction of the Citadel, its towers rising just barely above the hills and through the gloom, "from my understanding, nothing too pressing was bound to occur today."

"Aye master, but ye got tae understand," the bag said, toddling forward slightly in an attempt to press a little more urgency into its insistence, "bein' late's na way tae set a proper wizardly impression!"

After a brief pause, the wizard turned to go, starting off down the hill toward the imperial capital as his things hopped and toddled to follow. "We'll be quick about our return, then, if that satisfies," he replied. His sword hopped up, slipping deftly into its scabbard with a single brisk motion, while his bag lept up and onto his shoulders at the offering of an extended arm. His staff was the last to rejoin the wizard, hopping a little more briskly in order to catch up before slipping straight into Myvyryium's waiting hand. With a quick spin of the staff, he started off, bounding lazily down the hill, one foot tip-toeing after the other.

With each contact of his foot against the grass and following push into the air, his lazy drifts took him farther and farther with little effort, his rhythmic leaps seeming less like a necessity for movement and more like a formality, possessed with the upright gentility of a man coaching his partner through a waltz. The grass brushed lightly past alternating feet at the end of each horizontal hop, the brim of his hat flickering in the wind while his cloak trailed along both sides of his bag. His shortcuts kept him off the road, passing from hilltop to empty hilltop with only a single brisk, polite bound between them.

He slowed for only a moment as he came across the shore of a nearby lake, just enough to make his steps even more cautious than they already were. He reached down with the ball of his foot and offered the water the same slight push that he had offered the ground, the small affair doing little to change the brisk, upright nature of his movement. And, just as before, he skimmed along with little obstruction, the water rippling from the wind beneath and a few droplets lifting themselves from the surface and trailing off after his foot as a circular ripple denoted each step.

"Mama--!" exclaimed a young traveler on the roadway winding along a parallel shore. She pointed toward the lone figure out upon the water, her mother overcoming her surprise after a second of silence.

"That must be a wizard," she said lowly, lowering her voice against the pattering of the cart, as if to ensure the magical traveler did not hear. The two watched in silence as the lone man crossed along the middle of the lake, pulling his cloak more tightly around him as he cut through the brewing wind. "You know," the woman said, "they say that when you're traveling, seeing a wizard on his way is a sign of good luck."

The girl turned, following the straight line in which the wizard was bound to the spires beyond the hill. "He's going to the capital," she stated with equal quietness.

"Then that means it will be safe there, just as mommy told you," her mother replied, reaching to encircle her arms around her daughter's tense shoulders.

Myvyryium's boots left the water and rejoined the shore, bounding up the nearby hill as he crossed the last rise and field before the fort, the city still rising in the distance and fed with a winding trail of wagons. Clutching both hands around his staff, he offered a single effortful hop, bicycling his legs through the air as he took himself just over the fort's ramparts, his boots barely scraping the stone as he cleared the fort's defenses--much to the startled confusion of several guarding archers.

His landing in the courtyard did not stir a single spat of dust, instead carrying the same lightness as his skips through the hills. His cloak fluffed itself by its own accord, doing away with specks and grass and other unwanted attachments as it, seemingly, made itself presentable on its own. With that, the wizard turned toward the main halls, the light tapping of his staff against the ground as he went forming the sole heralding of his arrival. The doors opened on their own as he grew near, something which he nodded to them for, as if expressing a sense of thanks. Such was the case for every door he came across as he made his way through the fort's halls, the tap of his staff echoing off the walls on his way to the dining area. As the final set of doors parted, the wizard briefly adjusted his high collar, eyes glancing about those assembled from just above his small, humble nose. Seeing as no one seemed to immediately note that he was late, he decided to begin unceremoniously making his way to one of the still-empty seats at the table.


Vivienne Yvarra
At the Mess Hall​

"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful," Vivienne remarked, infinitely pleased that Aelfweard had chosen to sit with them instead of brooding alone in a distant corner. She would be lying if she said she enjoyed his company, but this small step brought him a little closer --literally-- to being someone she could understand and, maybe even like.

Once he was settled in, she rose and clopped over to the tables of food to get him something to eat. He said he only wanted bread and water but, as she gazed upon the spread, she just couldn't bring herself to do that to him. He wasn't in prison anymore. Nor was this the military, where they were forced to eat tasteless rations. Numan and his people had worked hard on this feast and Aelf ought to experience it, to its fullest.

Besides, he clearly needed the nutrients.

Vivienne gathered up some bread.... and cheese and fruit and some small portions of meat and vegetables and a rather large sweetroll, caked with frosting. And, last of all, a tall glass of water. She wasn't sure what he liked, if anything, so the portions were kept small and varied, giving him little samples of many things. Unlikely as it seemed, she silently prayed something on this plate would give him a shred of happiness.

"Oh, hello there," the centaur said, gracefully sidestepping the small multi-limbed woman who had just entered. She appeared to be some form of spider beastfolk, but painfully shy. While the spider-girl introduced herself, Vivienne made her way back to the table. She balanced Aelf's plate on her forearm, held his glass in her hand, a second helping for herself on her other forearm, and a foaming tankard of ale in her other hand. While any barmaid or tavernkeeper might feel this sort of thing was commonplace, Viv truly envied the lass's four arms at a time like this.

She arrived and very carefully placed Aelf's plate in front of him with a friendly smile, just as Band'lur asked something about being able to punch four people at once. "He's right, you know," Vivienne added, grinning at Deidre as she sat down. "I once back-kicked two men in the face, while throttling a third." She seemed awfully pleased with herself as she made a gesture mimicking her hands wrapped around someone's neck. And, then, her face suddenly contorted into a frown: "Not that I condone that sort of thing," she hastily added. "Its just... if you're going to do a thing, do it right." She gave one final wink, before adding, "Besides, they started it."

Vivienne returned her attention to her food and drink as the purple-haired girl announced herself by lightly tapping a teacup. Apparently, she hailed from an island. Now that was interesting. Viv had traveled much of Valheim. Although she was aware of the existence of lands beyond these shores, foreigners were somewhat rare. And, oddly enough, this young lady called herself 'weak.' Journeying into a foreign land all by oneself, to end a strange, otherworldly cataclysm is not something a weak person would do.

"Weak?" Vivienne said. "Dear, no one here is weak. We have all risen to the occasion. Anyone who finds the strength to stand in the face of this," she gestured to the ceiling, but clearly was referring to the storm hanging above their heads, beyond these walls, "Has rid themselves of the stigma of weakness and now dons the mantle of strength." Her little speech was not specifically meant for Byakuren, though the words were said in response to the girl's introduction. Vivienne's eyes circled the room, meeting each and every one of them as she spoke. "Together, we are strong. Stronger than this storm. Stronger than the hopelessness and despair it has brought. In the absence of a sun, we are the light of Valheim. And we will rise, together."

Direct Interaction:
Birdsie Birdsie (Aelf) Ramjammer Ramjammer (Band'lur) The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit (Deirdre) Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer (Byakuren)

Mentioned and/or Present:
what_if what_if (Cecie) Reinhardt Reinhardt (Osferth) Silver Wolf Silver Wolf (Lupa) Cauldhill Cauldhill (Sennen) _Line 213 _Line 213 (Myv)
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Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
20 Minutes Ago
The tumultuous tempest continued to thunder above the heads of the mortals that lived beneath it. Some prayed for its departure, hoping that it was but a temporary freak accident created by some Gnomish artificer. Alas, their Aestara must be sleeping or, probably, still conked out from last night’s revelry. Such heretical thoughts would have been punished in days long past, but this strange event had done more than just rob the people of their faith. Steingrimr downed another mug of Kragbrew ale as she mused over the state of the world. The sting of strong Dwarfen ale was possibly, unarguably, the best thing to wake up to, and not a lot of people had the opportunity, or the stomach, to taste such exquisite brew. She patted the two barrels next to her. They cost a pretty shilling, they did, but nothing quite turns the spirits up as Dwarfen spirits. Hopefully, the lot at the fort would appreciate the gift. Of course, one does not just stop by a Kragbrew brewery and not stay for a sample of their finest ale. Most extramountainous communities like these were not the kind to serve ale on a common basis, after all, and she learned this after several bad attempts to order hard liquor over breakfast. What did they mean, no ale at seven in the morning? As far as she knew, ale didn’t take until night to be comfortable enough to be served. It wasn’t a fancy lady that needed to be taken out for dinner first. Pure bosh, all of it. She would never get used to the customs outside of her home. She scoffed, as she pushed the empty mug away, and picked up her fifth. Really, no ale in the morning. She nursed her mug in her hands, feeling as if she had quite forgotten something she was supposed to do today. She thought for a bit, and absent-mindedly patted the barrel beside her once more.

Wait a tick. Barrel? She closed her eyes, and dropped her mug of ale. “Oh, piss on that, Aestara.

Present Time
No sooner had the centaur made her speech, did a particularly thick accent echo through the halls behind the doors to the mess hall. “Shite! Shite! Shite! Feckin’ shite! I’ve gone and done it again!” Like a bowling ball through towering pins, a crimson shape burst through the doors cacophonously. Steingrimr Shatterarmour stood at where the doors had previously been, hoisting upon her shoulders two sizable barrels with the Kragbrew brand stamped on them, looking no worse for wear. “Aye, I’m here, no one panic. I am alive and well and still here for the whole business of giving that sky a grand-- oh, push off, you feckin’ thing!” In the midst of her announcement, one of the doors had rebounded, swinging back to her, only to be unceremoniously punched away. She stepped forwards to avoid breaking the door when it came swinging back again, and gave a little bow that only Dwarfs were probably capable of. “Many apologies, Grandmaster, I hope my tardiness hasn’t spoiled your breakfasts. Aestara knows it’s already bad enough.” With that, she let out a loud chortle. She glanced at the centaur, then at the violet-haired lass, and came to a sudden realisation that something must have been said before her sudden arrival. She paused, at first wondering if she should apologise for interrupting something, or spoiling some mood.

Then, in pure Dwarfen fashion, she thought 'To feck with that.'. This was no time to be dour and serious, this was a time to celebrate their first official gathering of the souls! And nothing says 'celebrate' more than copious amounts of ale! Introductions and ale! There were a lot of people, and not a lot of ale, but she could reasonably run back and send for more if it came to that. Besides, some of these strange ones didn't drink, imagine that.

I’m Steingrimr Shatterarmour, daughter of Gunnar Shatterarmour, and I come bearing the finest liquor in the realm to celebrate this occasion!” She dropped the barrels onto the ground, and beamed brightly at everyone present in the room, before spying two familiar souls that she was somewhat well-acquainted with. “Oy! If it isn’t the wizard and his magic tools, and the archaelogie spider! Hello, friends!” She moved past the crowd, pushing past them with much more ease than her diminutive size would suggest, taking the spider’s hands in hers, and shaking them vigorously. “I cannae believe me eyes! Who’s next, the family elf?! How are you doing, friend? Do find me if there's another cave to dig up!” She let out a loud, roaring laugh, before moving to the wizard, similarly bowling past everyone between her and him, and repeating the same shoulder-dislocating shake of his hands. “Good to see you, friend! Still keeping up with your ventriloquist act?"

Directly Interacted:
_Line 213 _Line 213 The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
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Interacting with: simj22 simj22 Ramjammer Ramjammer AnonyMouse AnonyMouse
Deirdre stared at the hulking lizardman as he spoke to her, or rather, at her. Her brow furrowed as her teeth gnashed away at her meal and she caught herself wondering, did she really look so violent that punching people was the first thing she'd bought to his mind?

"Um." She swallowed another mouthful of her meal, and then shifted the half-eaten chunk of meat into one of her lower palms as she spoke. "I'm not sure if I've punched one person with one of my arms, let alone fourfold. It always seemed like it'd hurt. Does it hurt? And also- By the looks of it, um, Mister Lizardman's? Arms are four times thicker than all of mine combined. I bet you could punch the meat off of my bones with just one of them if you really tried. I believe the muscles in horse legs are supposed to be quite, um, effective, too"

Deirdre cast a sidelong gaze in thought, and wondered if she'd just said something rude. She really, genuinely hoped not. After all, the big guy did look like he could powderize her exoskeleton with a sneeze.

"Um, sorry about the apologies, too. It must've been annoying." At that, Deirdre gave the other two beastmen a small nod as if to say 'that will be all' or 'thank you for dealing with me', and then returned her attention to her meal. Or, at least, she would've, if not for the sudden lightning bolt of dwarvish energy that sent the doors flying open, and her almost out of her seat.

When Steingrimr burst into the room, Deirdre jumped out of her skin and her meal dropped to the floor with a limp thud. She swore, she wasn't usually this skittish, but all the pressure of the upcoming venture seemed to be getting to her. That, and there was also the fact that small people bursting through doors was ingrained in her mind as one of the coming signs of she-who-is-not-very-happy-at-her-right-now.

After she'd taken a brief moment to collect herself, Deirdre moved to collect her poor meal from the floor, and only then did she notice that her hand was currently being molested by the recently arrived false harbinger of the gnomepocalyse.

"Er. Hello?" Deirdre's eyes fixed on her assailant, and she felt a spark of faint recognition in the back of her skull. Before her mind had the chance to catch up with what was going on, though, the dwarf had already moved on, and Deirdre's hand remained fixed in place until she recalled just who the other woman was.

"Miss, um, Latterharmer?" Was that it? She was reasonably sure that was it. "From the Nichtgloom expedition, was it? The pottery we found there was really quite exciting, wasn't it? I think you'd be quite excited to learn that the urn you almost broke is sitting quite proudly in a museum right now! It ended up belonging to an old king, believe it or not." She smiled to herself, scooped her meal up off the floor, and then took another bite.

Finally, she was doing something right this morning.
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A Man With No Face
"Take a deep breath, Virion. This is what we prepared for. Isn't it?"

Virion took a slow breath, allowing the steady flow of the cold, outside air fill his lungs as he sat upon the grass; just a few dozen meters from Fort Zeldem. Despite all the commotion, be it, newly-arrived members of the Stormchasers that had made their trek over the previous days, he sat there; his hands together with his fingers interlaced. A part of him wished to assist those that were transporting materials to-and-from the Fort but he had to resist. This was a time for insight, for meditation. Hours spent in the sun as he collected his thoughts and ideas. He had spent his life preparing for such a momentous event and yet his mind had been all over the place. A part of him felt a pang of shame in that, in having a sense of doubt and uncertainty.

His wife was depending on him, and for him to do his best! How could he do his best when his own mind seemed to be waging a war against him. The man shook his head and rose to his feet before giving a few stretches. All he had to do was work his hardest, yes? All he had to do was assist the others. This was a group after all, and he refused to be the weak chain in the link. He was going to do his part, and ensure to help the others do the same. That's when the realization hit him; he hadn't even had the chance to introduce himself because of his foolish doubts. Hours spent in those training halls and ensuring his swordsmanship was up to par and yet he hadn't even thought of greeting anyone. Those trips to the library in search of holy texts! The studious tendencies that he'd developed had worked against him. Damn!

He was quick to return back inside, side-stepping and navigating the halls until finding the small armory housing within the forts walls and found his way to the armor stand which contained the generations-old plate armor that had protected him for years. He placed a hand against the cool metal and stared at the reflection of himself in the polished steel. With a grunt, the man got to work placing the armor upon himself, a task he'd learned to do by himself with haste. It wasn't long before he was finished, and the familiar weight of the antique on his body gave him a sense of comfort. He gave a customary knock against the chest piece with his armored fist and smiled. A paladin couldn't introduce himself with a look of worry!

He left his blade behind as he made his exit, where he watched a familiar-looking dwarf make her way into what appeared to be the way to the mess hall. He quickened his pace, barely managing to get close enough to the entrance as he heard the dwarf make her hearty introduction to those within the room. He leaned into the doorway and peered in; only for his long hair to get into his eyes and cause him to merely stand up straight and stand at the door. His eyes were quick to move about the room and take in the appearance of those around him, with a particular dwarf and human causing him to briefly smile as he looked towards the others. A man with armor not unlike his own, a spider, a centaur, a far too large lizardman, and far too many others to count.

"Ah..greetings, everyone!" The man gave a small wave as he started his introduction. "I'm Virion Ravaren, perhaps some of you who are more devout may know of me?" He let out a small laugh before clearing his throat. "I'm a man of Thiestro, in particular! If anyone wishes to speak to me regarding theology, I'm more than welcome to entertain you!" With that little speech over, the elf made his quiet exit from the doorway and towards the dwarf. "Ah, well if it isn't you, Stein! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by you and Myv being here. But..it is very nice to see you both again." He gave a nod to the arachnid woman and pointed to the short dwarf just a few feet away from himself and raising his voice to compensate for the distance and commotion of the mess hall. "She's a handful, isn't she? Though I'm glad to see some of us are already acquainted!"

Interacted with or briefly mentioned: _Line 213 _Line 213 simj22 simj22 The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit Ramjammer Ramjammer

Silver Wolf

Something Random
Location: Fort Zeldem
Interactions: Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer (Byakuren), simj22 simj22 (Dwarf Loli), Xethyrion Xethyrion (Alentiar), The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit (Spooder)
Nearby/Mentioned: Reinhardt Reinhardt (Osferth), AnonyMouse AnonyMouse (Vivi), Cauldhill Cauldhill (Sennen), Ramjammer Ramjammer (Lizrd), Birdsie Birdsie (Edgelord fucker), what_if what_if (Cecie), _Line 213 _Line 213 (Wizrd), CerpinTaxt CerpinTaxt (Virion)
It was a minor thing to help the purple haired lady who smelled far older than she appeared to be, but Lupa also made sure to maybe not point her to the braised vegetables. If someone was asking for just vegetables, she could take a small guess. Normally, if she wanted vegetables she would find the ones paired with meat, but it was important to have some variety on a plate. She also ended up giving Byakuren some bread, which was an obvious one to her at least. Bread was made of grass all things considered. Sure, it was actually grass seeds ground up, fermented with yeast, then baked, but all that aside it might as well just be grass.

After her initial glass of wine, Lupa began looking out for other things to drink. Ale, cider, beer, whatever she might be able to get her hands on. She didn't have to worry long about the fun juice running out as a small little figure barged in carrying an entire barrel of...something. If it was hard liquor, like Whiskey or Brandy, that would be fairly welcome. Though, seeing as the new arrival was a tiny little creature commonly known as a dwarf, and possibly smaller, or was it the armor? Lupa couldn't tell. She grabbed her now empty mug of ale and slammed the table multiple times.

"Fill 'er up!" Lupa declared to Steingrimr after the dwarf introduced herself. It was clear from a minor tint in her cheeks that despite the cleaned off plate that had been once filled, Lupa had somehow managed to still get tipsy only after a few drinks. Well, she was done eating anyway. It was a large plate of hearty strong food. "I'll always expect a dwarf to bring good drink!"

Normally Lupa would be trying to rapidly hold conversation, but she had a basic idea of some things. She really did not want to go running her mouth on day one in any way that might offend people. Day one of meeting comrades was supposed to be bridge building, not burning the ropes being placed to gap the distance. The weird malnourished man was an exception. There was no reason to ruin the mood aside from being a jerk. At least it seemed Vivi had more patience than Lupa regarding him. Not only that, but the three newcomers had history. It wasn't too surprising in of itself, but it was very fascinating. Clippings of information such as Deirdre being an archeologist were pleasant to hear. Lupa was actually grinning gleefully when Deirdre introduced herself. She could tell pretty quickly that the little spider was precious and she began to feeling something awaken in her. Perhaps motherly or sisterly instinct as she had been the youngest in her own family, well, adopted family anways.

Rather there was one more person to introduce themselves, and Lupa stared right at them. Growing a bit more buzzed, and quite rapidly thanks to the addition of dwarvish drink. Dear Aestera why was she such a lightweight at times like these? Why did wine and ale have to go down so easy and taste so good? Well, there was a bridge she had crossed, and there was no turning back.

"Hey! Big-" hic "Big boy in the black armor, what's your name? I feel like I've...heard of you somewhere. Not that I need to know, but you're last to introduce themselves. If yurr shy don't worry," Lupa leaned across the table, which was now mostly empty thanks to Brand'lur, and pointed her mug haphazardly at Deirdre. "This precious little spider, Deirdre, did a great job sticking out to introduce herself. So let's gooooo~!"


The God-Emperor of Mankind
Aelfweard Māragas
At the Mess Hall​

More people came into the hall. There was an arachnidfolk lady, a dwarf with no beard, and even that up-and-coming spectacle called the Raven. He'd never met the Caskatrieth known as Virion Ravaren in person, but during the nightly beatings, the guards liked to avail him with stories of people who were doing better than him.

He observed them with a lidded, sideways gaze, as he put a fry into his mouth.

These people are so loud.

The loud noise was one of the worst things. He'd experienced true hell in prison. He was blindfolded the entire time, and chained to a wall, unable to move or remove his blindfold. Most of the sounds he'd heard was the rattling of chains, or the guards talking at night. Or, naturally, his own pathetic whimpers and cries for mercy.

He crushed a fry by accident. Damn it.

Although the people in the Mess Hall weren't a problem, he wasn't sure if he could take the Roaring Sky. If their loud conversation bothered him, then it would be a hundred times worse when thunder screamed directly into his ears, marshaling wind and storm to bring forth all of the worst aspects of having to rely on one's senses for power.

Just for a moment, he looked across the table, and activated the Māragagan, a subtle dark violet mist filling his irises like gas in a see-through container. He imagined there was a Crimson Soldier there, sitting opposite of him. A faceless, opaque being of red, with thick burnished skin. Utterly featureless. No one else could see it.

"Scout my room," he whispered, a transient mumble to anyone without supernatural hearing, the meaningless drivel of a madman. "Make sure it's free of any traps."

The Soldier nodded, then walked away, ethereal footsteps unheard by anyone save for Aelfweard, who ate another fry and noted to thank the centaur for her kindness, later when they were on their own. If he started treating her like a friend in public, and she reciprocated, it'd taint her reputation with his own.

For some time, Aelfweard simply enjoyed his time being in a relative spot of ignorance. These people didn't seem to mind who he was - at least, not as much as the people who guarded him. He'd expected fear, or revulsion, but received mostly nonchalance. It was a good atmosphere for someone like him; he could eat in relative peace, left unbothered. He actually started to enjoy himself a bit too much, when suddenly, the white-haired beastfolk started bothering one of the first people to enter the room - the quiet guy in black armor. Aelfweard saw red at this; a drunken Imperial cur, debauched with corruption, bothering an innocent.

For a moment, Aelfweard considered making a scene. But he was deluded, and he remembered what one of his delusions had said, only minutes ago.

There's no use antagonizing them. If I do that, I'll go back to square one. Find another solution and cut through.

"Leave him alone, you drunk," Aelfweard loudly contested, managing not to screw his face into an expression of utter hate. "He can introduce himself on his own time, on his own rules. I'm sure he doesn't need pushing from you." That last word came out a little venomous. There was an element of vindication to the whole thing, but he chose not to push further.

It took a couple of seconds for the redness to pass off into crystalline realization, that he'd actually violated one of his own directives, antagonizing her. Aelfweard felt immensely dumb, but chose to double down and look down at his plate without apologizing, both fists clenched.


Silver Wolf Silver Wolf (Imperial Mongrel) Sinful Sorcerer Sinful Sorcerer simj22 simj22 Xethyrion Xethyrion The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit Reinhardt Reinhardt AnonyMouse AnonyMouse Cauldhill Cauldhill Ramjammer Ramjammer what_if what_if _Line 213 _Line 213 CerpinTaxt CerpinTaxt (Everyone Else)

_Line 213

| || || | __
Myvyryium Vyrybyryium
Fort Zeldem
Interacting with: Everyone (in particular, simj22 simj22 , CerpinTaxt CerpinTaxt , The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit , Birdsie Birdsie , Silver Wolf Silver Wolf )

Myvyryium turned as the door opened again, a new arrival appearing when he was but a few steps away from his chosen chair. The wizard blinked twice and lightly as a familiar voice hit his ears, wrapping both hands around his calmly-held staff as the stout figure approached with two barrels of her chosen poison. He had expected them to show sometime or later, though it was something of a surprise that he had not seen them properly until just now. Granted, he had not been spending a great deal of time in the fort--which likely had a great deal to do with the unfulfillment of that particular expectation--though with the dwarf's penchant for the spreading of a certain amount of charmful rowdiness, part of him still expected that he would see her sooner rather than later. And if she was here...

He looked up to the entranceway in expectation for several seconds, though he immediately pulled his attention back to the dwarf as her voice sharply hit his ears again. He offered a half-bow, his things rustling slightly with his movements. "Ser Shatterarmour," he said politely, though with a certain amount of pep in his voice that denoted no small amount of pleasure at seeing her again, "I see you have done well to keep yourself in high spirits."

At the mention of a 'ventriloquist act,' the sack on the wizard's back stirred slightly, before breaking its intentional silence as its lid flapped upward. "An' whoer you callin' a 'ventriloquist act,' ye footstool-sized pile of gobbie-spit? Turn me 'round master, I wan'ta see fer myself if she still looks like a struttin' pet boiler in that o'ergrown patchjob, walkin' 'round with a big red potlid an' a--"

The sack was cut off sharply, letting out a muffled exclamation as the wizard reached around to deliver a sharp elbow to his own bag. "Let us be kind to our old companion Ser Shatterarmour, please," he stated lowly, before looking back to the dwarf in question and offering another half-bow. "...The Familiars are doing well," he explained a little more delicately, prompting a murmuring, unintelligible grumble from his bag. "Though, I am surprised to hear you did not encounter Ser Ravaren on your way here."

The wizard looked up toward the door again as yet another figure stepped through. Ah, there he was, the elf--and not a moment too soon. Where one of the three went, the others were sure to follow, he always felt. He smiled from behind his collar, though to the rest of the mess hall, he seemed to possess the same blank stare he had worn since stepping in. "I suppose the elf will indeed be next," he stated in response to the dwarf.

As the last member of their merry band drew nearer, Myvyryium offered yet another half-bow. "Good-day, Ser Ravaren," he stated with his same happy, yet even-toned politeness, "I trust you have been well-kept in some respect as well," he said, momentarily looking to Steingrimr, "you seem nearly as well-spirited as Ser Shatterarmour today. A rarity, if ever there was one." Though one could likely interpret such as an insult to the elf, to those more familiar with the group's dynamics, it was nothing if not a testament to the dwarf's enduring vitality. The spellcaster looked to the spider-woman as the elf spoke, inclining his head to her as well. "I suppose I should not be surprised that you and Ser Shatterarmour are acquainted; her way with people has always been--"

He found himself cut off sharply by a commotion on the other end of the table. He glanced back to the man in the corner, before flicking his eyes toward the fox-eared soldier with which he appeared most readily confronting. The wizard fell silent again for a time, before looking back to the elf and the arachnid, and toward the other end of the table once more. "...Have we perhaps come at a bad time?" he asked no one in particular, "or have nerves served to present a problem already?" He took a moment to glance around at the group. "Mm, might I suggest some Eremenny-wort Tea? I cannot say I was planning on using so many so soon, but I should have enough for everyone."


Through adversity to the stars.


The girl was right by all accounts. There were people that were praying and hoping for the Stormchaser's victorious conclusion to the fable that was The Roaring Sky, an event that would undoubtedly inked into the books of Valheim history. However, to say that Alentiar's goals aligned with everyone else's would've been a lie. Certainly, the heroic part of his personality wouldn't mind saving the world along with his new comrades, but it was also something that was inevitable. Because either way, whether or not the Stormchasers was to be successful in their ultimate mission, would decide the fate of the sentient world - rendering his efforts useless, if the outcome were to echo destruction.

Alentiar merely nodded at Byakuren's words, remaining silent as he couldn't find the right words to say as a response to her glistering eyes of hope. It was refreshing, certainly, to talk with someone of such agreeable moral values.

Because the ruckus that was the brat who was so adamant in absorbing the attention of the atmosphere was an individual who thought differently to Alentiar. The mind of a despairing individual who lost in life, believing that they have outlived their values. Or that was the idea that Alentiar had when he heard such words escape his mouth a few minutes ago, which was being mended by the other Stormchasers who engaged in a debate with the man of subject. Not that it mattered to the mercenary, he wasn't interested in trying to change people's mind when he couldn't accept even himself.

But as attention was slowly starting to creep up on him like a sore thumb - for obvious reasons being that his silence and black armor, Alentiar felt as if this would be the proper time to finally introduce himself, although it'd probably be quick and informal.

Alentiar stood from his seat and walked towards the main crowd, half-bowing at everyone as he announced his introduction to his new comrades.

"My name is Alentiar Zelthorn, a former guild manager for the Steelborne Guild, back when it was still active. I joined the Stormchasers to-. . . to get rid of the Roaring Sky, because I heard it was going to be. . . catastrophic, if we left it unsupervised. My strength will hopefully be of use to this brigade. I look forward in fighting side by side to you all, and if you ever need your life saved in exchange for someone else's let me know."

That last sentence definitely didn't need to be said. Upon realizing his introduction's oddity, Alentiar lowered his head to face the floor, contemplating his existence as he remained silent all the way thought, until finding the courage to apologize for his strange choice of words.

"Sorry about that. Please accept my apologies. It's been a while since I've worked with such a large group, the tension tends to not help with my words. What I meant to say, was that I have your back no matter who the enemy is. If there's ever a situation where one of our allies is injured, please, carry them and escape to the nearest safe haven. I'll distract the monster with all I have, so don't you worry about my well being."

. . .

The double realization hit him a few seconds after his final speech. To say that he was even mildly proud of it, would be the most obvious lie that Alentiar could ever tell.

Regardless, there was no correcting his words after that mess. It wasn't like he told a lie to make himself sound pretentious. Everything he said was true, from his name to the statement about his willingness to become the bait if necessary for the group.

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