[center][h3]Knight Sylvestre and the Cereal Killer[/h3] Location: Oldtown Plaza [@Propro][/center] A pointed look of suppressed rage greeted the Cereal Killer's laughter, and it only intensified as the man seated himself. Perhaps stunned by the sheer boldness of the display, Cyril held his tongue until Runch finished speaking. Instead of moving to attack, however, the vanguard stamped his polearm's butt into the ground and ignored the most recent question to give his own two cents. “You're a cocky one, huh? It takes balls to whip out a book in your enemies' faces, and to drop your guard like that.” Though she said nothing, Juniper's killer glare echoes his sentiments. “Since it utterly doesn't matter, I might as well tell you we were attacked,” Cyril continued. “But it's all just sewage circling the drain. You spit in my face, then talk nonsense. Of course I'm convicted enough. We both are. We're standing here, aren't we?” He snorted, then in dry humor corrected, “Well, one one of us is. Point is, even if it isn't worth it, even if we're in the wrong and this Crucible makes monsters out of us, we're not going to stop. That's why we were chosen, isn't it?” With the hand of the arm to which his shield was attached, he reached back up to resume adjusting the screw. “Though you're pretty rude, not to mention hypocritical,” Cyril drawled, “I can see you're a half-decent fellow. I'll try not to kill you.” Juniper winced. “Don't let that fool you into thinking he'll take it easy.” She gestured to her legs without taking her eyes off her soon-to-be opponent. Her face held a cold smirk. “Eugh...I almost feel sorry for you. Against us.” As one, the pair split apart. Cyril circled right and Juniper circled left. Their coordination belied preparation and planning, though Runch could only guess how long. The two gave him a wide berth, and while combat-ready, did not make an initial move to attack. Silence reigned, interrupted only by the wind and the muted [i]tick-tick-tick[/i] of the vanguard turning his screw, restlessly working at it to try and make it feel right once again. “Whenever you're ready, pirate,” Knight Sylvestre spoke after a moment. “Stand, and deliver.” [center][h3]Inari[/h3] Location: Deadbeat Sky [@Kapuchu][/center] Stepping into the dining hall, especially after crossing the vast atrium, made for quite the transition. In contrast to the spacious, cathedral-esque design of the rooms and even hallways seen thus far, the dining room would not have looked out of place as a mess hall in the average fortress. Of course, the dark wood of the table was immaculate, its polished surface given a luster by the radiant sconce crystals, and every other furnishing appeared to be of comparable quality, but by far this place stood out as the most ordinary and homey of the chambers in Deadbeat Sky. At the far end of the hall, the rectangular table splayed out into a bell shape, and eight distinctive seats marked its long, curved edge. Of the lot, only one was occupied: the second to the left. Carreau himself sat there, his helmet nowhere to be seen, paused to watch Lily and Brucie come in. Before him sat a plain china dish laden with stew, as well as a goblet full of water. Verrine, the only other being in the room prior to the entrance of Lily's group, sat a short distance away along the side of the bell. Between the owl and the slime, an intricate tureen lay with its lid removed and set aside, a ladle peering from the top. “Ah, there you are. That didn't take long at all.” Carreau's golden eyes fell upon Brucie's new armament. “Just as I'd expect from our prized artificer.” His gaze turned wistful as he glance to his side, focusing on the second-to-right chair. “I'm sure Highroller would be proud, were he here, and had he cared more for his 'children.'” Caught with a spoon in her mouth, Verrine took pains to extricate it stealthily and sneak it back onto the napkin beside her dish. She looked Lily's way and waved. “Hiya! Come on over. Stew's great!” Carreau clasped his hands together. “It is a breach of etiquette from a lord, but I'm afraid that we have no servants to attend to menial tasks like setting places or serving food. I was going to do it myself, but Verrine here insisted that she do it--that it would be an honor” He glanced at the slime woman, who struck up a vigorous nodding, her face comically serious. “Of course! To have a Great One doling out plates and ladling stew? It's unconscionable!” Shaking his head, Carreau addressed Lily and Brucie. “Perhaps because I am her creator, she refuses to listen to me when I suggest that I am unworthy of such lavishness. Humility is a virtue I must come to better terms with, after all...” Stuck in the logical conundrum of wanting to heed her creator's wishes and wanting to treat him with proper respect, Verrine said nothing, and decided to go for another mouthful of food instead. The moment the meat, potato, and vegetable entered her system, it dissolved into nonexistence. Carreau meanwhile, indicated with a hand that Lily and Brucie should sit. The places prepared for them lay at Verrine's left side, placing them approximately across from their host. [center][h3]The Murder[/h3] Location: Street Mall [@Propro][/center] Having watched with eager eyes Samuel's fingers descending toward his pocket, only to be stymied, the merchant affixed him with an annoyed glance. Before the Murder even finished his question, the ugly man was waving his hands in placation, as though trying to brush aside the interruption. “Yes, yes, tournament competitors. Who else do you expect? Nobodies from the College? Hah. Except for splinter group, they are uninteresting, unmotivated. I care about people with a goal: something that they must do, that the whole nature revolves around. Like you! Interesting, understandable, motivated. People like that, I can help.” A wide, ghoulish grin had overtaken the vendor, who'd crossed his arms. “So! Will you let me take it off your hands, or not?”