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Current Some of the damn quotes from old 80's animation is damn gold. If english isn't gonna cut it, just swap to ones native language and you have yourself some good comedy. Unlike hollywood post year 2000
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Prepare for oblivion...
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36yo today, one step closer to oblivion.
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The pommel of his blade had found it's mark and the blonde man's nose had been initiated, like slamming a bottle of a newly built ship that was ready to set sail for the first time. Much akin to their journey.

The foolish man, if the mage even considered him as such had resorted with some words and tone of voice which potentially marked him as part of nobility, or at least from a family of influence. These things were minor, like a drop of water in the vast seas. Why? Because the man said it himself. Zeidgram didn't know who he were, not like it mattered much. The man had displayed a lack of wits in pointing his weapon at Neve. It was because of pitiful beings such as him that the world were in the state it was in. People overly concerned with material wealth, fawning and pompous pandering each others egos until they would burst open.

No doubt were the blight a result of such arrogance and egos, perhaps the blight was just in striking down against them. Yet at the same time, the blight was unrelenting and didn't discriminate. The world was still beautiful, as long as there were beauty left in it, it was worth fighting for. The red mage dreaded the very thought of being proven wrong, that the world was beyond saving and rotten to the core. In a different world, perhaps he would have brought forth the death of everyone in the world, given the right time and moment. But that was not the world he knew.

"Do you memorize and name every ant you happen to stumble upon while wandering the roads?" The red mage replied back to the blonde man in a hushed tone, almost a whisper. His lips forming an amused and mocking smile.

'This boy is weak in mind and body both. Have abit of anger free of charge, let it fester and bring your own undoing. The limbtaker was right in that at the very least. Only a matter of time before these other groups plunge upon each other like starving wolves, seeking to tear the flesh away from oneanother. May your anger make you stumble at your own fang when such a moment arise.' Zeidgram mused in his own head, before cringing slightly in recoil to Galahad slamming the end of his halberd into the ground and raising his voice.

The red mage allowed his face to assume a blank expression, then he took a deep inhale and let out a sigh. 'Noisy.' He furrowed his eyebrows, but it was a minor inconvinience in comparison to possibly having to deal with these other groups later down the road. Was it up to him, he would poison their water supply before they'd set off. Save them the trouble of having contend with them. Ofcourse a lesser poison which would just render them unable to pursue. The king of Edren, Leonhart had approached and given his own input and attempted to calm down the tension in the air. But all that the red mage heard was what he suspected all along, that the connection between the king and Galahad was strong. Strong enough to know that the dragoon could not be trusted to comply with his plan later down the road. Their interests would clash. Perhaps he could set the limbtaker or the woman which had seemingly sided with the other group against them upon him when such a moment would present itself.

No doubt they wouldn't simply let Galahad have his way and aid in strengthening Edren's position in the world, it would upset the balance. Leonhart had already shown his inability to even keep his own base secure, and the mage knew that in order to have a stable tower, one needed a good base. But even if he considered Leonhart and his family a collection of fools, it might serve better to leave a fool in charge than a more wise and dangerous ruler. According to said king, they were more or less commanded to return to their respective rooms and that he would position more guards over his base, but also providing one of those overgrown meatsticks as a mount, including a wagon and other supplies. The king was eager to send them away, but not to the point of suicidally rushing forth. There was definitely something he knew about the blight which he had not told them about.

Galahad was therefor someone who would have to be dealt with further down the road. Whatever the king had in mind, the dragoon was no doubt in cohoots with it. As if on cue to make matters worse, the limbtaker had spoken up about the lack of a chain of command. She brought forth a valid point, a leader would make things go alot smoother. Potentially. But the red mage's optimism changed into sheer displeasure on hearing her nomination.


Izayoi's reluctance to take the position herself made the red mage ponder as to why a renowned general would simply toss away such a chance, were it because a defeated general had no longer any say? The ability to nominate someone, due to some form of doubt or weariness, was actually a sign of being able to make the right decisions. Therefor it was clear to the red mage, that the samurai was a suitable candidate, despite her seemingly personal matter with Valheim and past events. Yet there were someone else he had in mind that was ideal for the task ahead. He had to put an instant stop to Izayoi's nomination plan no matter what. Even if the dragoon would potentially make some mistake later down the road which could make him seem incapable, it was simply not worth the chance of letting him be in charge of pairings of their group. There were people in the group he had to converse with, and the dragoon was a threat to that. Thus he stepped forwards to almost have a standoff against Galahad.

"I agree with the limbtaker, we've ought to nominate a leader of our entourage. Man or woman, I have no issue following either, but this... Lord? This dragoon? Hmph. Arton, I cannot imagine anyone having anything against you assuming the estreemed role. How about it, will you take such a mantle for the sake of the world?" Zeidgram began to approach Arton as he was about to follow Neve and aid the wounded.

"You'll have my support in such an endeavour, how about it?." The red mage smiled softly while nodding his head to Arton, before hurling a disapproving glance towards Galahad. No matter what happened, Galahad could not be allowed to lead their group. He would ruin everything, there was no doubt in the mage's heart about that. Even the butterslipper was a more viable choice to him. Speaking of said pointy-eared individual. Where did he go? It was something to look into later, for now the mage decided to follow Arton and Neve to aid the wounded. 'I'll mend this broken world. Don't get in my way, you slithering lords of false wealth.'

@Psyker Landshark@Ambra@Ithradine@vietmyke

The red mage couldn't wait to be out of the confines of the city, these overly pompous buildings and the artificial lights that decorated the city itself. Out to a more natural view, the streams, the forests, the plains and hills. So it were with slight annoyance that he followed after Arton, who had given chase after Leifur. Still not without tossing glances over his shoulder just to make sure to keep his back secure from Izayoi. He were not worried about Galahad, Neve or even the seemingly clumsy black mage, Aelphis. There had been some injuries in the rooms, and some decided to stay behind because of them or to tend to those which needed aid. At least that were to his knowledge, some military parade dressed woman had also joined them. Had she'd been at their table? Such pondering would have to wait.

As the viera had guided them down various pathways and down some stairwell, the sight of the courtyard was met with a slight grunt from the red mage as he drew his sword again, no longer confined within some stairwell or corridors, he felt more at ease. Outdoors at last, it was a step in the right direction. Still he intended to leave as soon as possible. These men and women which were fighting off the Valheim assailants were a small matter compared to the larger picture. They had come for one reason alone, to deal with the blight. The thing which affected the most amount of people, no matter where they were from or who they were. As the red mage much like the others came face to face with what seemed to be members from the Unicorn group, and in the distance there had been further fighting.

A tall blonde man belonging to the group had thought it fitting to waste their time by begging for healing. Not only that but it seemed he had some lack of manners and were now pointing his weapon at Neve of all people. Manners were something you learnt, and was reserved for those who deserved it. Clearly Neve was deserving of such at the very least.

'What a waste of flesh, a thickheaded bully and his childish demands. We don't have time for this menial waste of brainmatter...' The red mage's eyes narrowed slightly, before he assumed a more calm expression, taking a few steps forwards, walking up close to Neve as he heard Izayoi's voice coming from the back of the other group. And someone else drawing their weapon on her. Not one to waste a good opportunity, it was natural that he would act.

"Let's not get things out of hand! Girl! What are you doing? Tend to the wounded!" Zeidgram spoke out loudly in an angry sounding manner, almost as if he were giving Neve an order as he stepped up, for a brief moment the mage gave her a wink with one of his eyes as he finished his words. Soon after his eyes and body shifted, his sword slicing upwards quickly from it's relaxed pose, aiming to slam into the gunblade of the blonde man to send any bullets of his up into the sky and away from Neve's face. The red mage would follow his unusually direct action by attempting to slam the pommel of his sword into the man's face, soon after having gotten his blade out of the way. After all. Zeidgram was a healer too. It was their seemingly duty to tend to the wounded, and this man was wounded severely in the head. Nothing that abit of blunt force couldn't momentary cure.

"Weapons! Drop them! Or I'll skewer this man's jewelry to the point he would have to do a manhood measurement contest against girls in order to not feel wounded!" Zeidgram yelled out towards the group ahead of them, the tip of his sword moving to point towards the blonde man's pelvis. Ofcourse he had no intention of cutting the man's family tree down by a couple of generations, then again in order to maintain a fine garden you would have to remove weeds and cut off excessive branches. No doubt things wouldn't spiral out of control... further. They had work to do, more important work as far as he was concerned.

Zeidgram gave a slight shrug to Galahad's reply. "I shall take your suggestion into consideration." He said in a bored tone, before turning his gaze away from him and then to Arton who had asked if Leifur and Noelle were alright. It was in a calm tone the mage replied back to the tall warrior. "As in not dead or severily injured? Then yes. They are indeed alright to my knowledge." The bluehaired sollan allowed a moment to toy with his hair using one of his fingers, waiting for Arton to return to the hallway and the rest to form up.

The voice of what he assumed were one of the soldiers rung into the air, followed by some brief interaction between Neve and Izayoi. He sighed softly, looking down at his red coat. Somehow a small drop of blood had landed on him when Leifur had dealt with one of the assailants. That's why he so much more prefered to dispatch his enemies through magical means, it was much less messy. Then again, perhaps it was unavoidable in this quest of cleansing the world, that one would eventually have to wade through the grime to get something done.

He couldn't help but hold each of the realms with contempt, it's self-absorbed leaders which had allowed this blight to spread to this point. In addition to all their petty wars and bickering over material wealth. A part of him felt that they deserved everything that was coming their way, yet at the same time there were still people remaining in the world which had the... light? Yes, that's what he would label it. People who were able to see through the display and charade put before the and see things for how they were, and from there set forth to alter the world. A balanced world was needed, but not a stagnant one. How many of the lords of the realms wanted to seize the power behind the blight? Too many. That's what he was certain of. They would use the power to make their own realm reign supreme, then give rise to more useless wars based on greed.

The red mage ceased his ponderings and set his red eyed gaze on Arton which had returned to the hallway.

"Indeed, it does seem like our dear limbtaker is enjoying herself, and judging by the recent re-colouration of the walls, I suspect the negotiations are over." It were with determined steps that he passed by Galahad and Arton, hearing Arton and Izayoi's voice behind him. The mage braced himself and stood still for a moment, his right hand near his belt, ready to defend himself would he need to. He suspected there might be some probability of strong... reactions. The limbtaker had some clear deal with Valheim, of that he was certain.

"If there's something war should have taught you, limbtaker. Is that it is easy to take lives, but much harder to save them. Don't get too carried away with olden foes, be in the present and focus on the future, lest it shall elude you forever. The past cannot be changed either way. Much like our task haven't changed, to Osprey we should go. If you do wish to save others that is? Unless you people have gotten a change of heart? In such a case, I will be on my way alone. My resolve have not faltered, not for a moment. Let Leonhart and his followers deal with these reckless raiders..." The red mage kept looking over his shoulder, his red eye darting towards the others, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

Much like Leifur had stated, the armored gunmen had indeed saved them the trouble. Sadly the red mage's plan to take the paralyzed one prisoner was cut short by Leifur, which had found the man to be an improvised but nontheless effective shield. It couldn't be helped, as much as he wanted to pry open these soldiers for information, they could most likely only offer a very basic piece of information. Perhaps it had all turned out for the better, after all they didn't have the time to... coddle them. The most important part right now were to leave the situation they were in.

He had expected that there would be something going down at the gathering of champions, such a call could be heard by all, those who came to aid and those which came to hamper it. But even he didn't expect Valheim to be soo mindlessly assaulting the place. That is if they were from Valheim, he had never met anyone from there. There were also a slight possibility that these men were faux, perhaps working on behalf of Leonhart himself, draw attention to Valheim and away from his own land. The more the red mage thought about it, the more likely it seemed that what they were looking for were to be found in Osprey. Wherever it would be, he would have to be the one to grasp the situation in his own two hands.

'I'll rather break the world, than let the world break me...' He repeated his mantra to himself, as he quickly dashed over to his gear, taking on his small backpack, but not before taking hold of a small mirror he always carried with him.

Zeidgram snuck over to the doorway, throwing a brief glance to Leifur and Noelle, before holding out his hand in a stopping motion. Soon after the man opened the small rounded mirror and used it to peek around the doorway and into the corridor. In the reflection he could see a fifth soldier standing in the corridor, his weapon aimed at the doorway. A big glass window visible in the back of the corridor. The red mage allowed himself a not to subtle sinister grin, before he closed the mirror and gently tossed it out into the corridor in the direction of the man to catch his attention, before the mage reached out with his arm and casted a spell.

[Solid Shock!] A noisy spell, accompanied by some ripples in the very air itself. The soldier in the corridor was sent flying by a shockwave, hitting him in his torso and stomach, hurling his armored body like it were a ragdoll until it was met with the shattering noise of the beautiful window.

'Free like a bird, why don't you try fly like one? With the gentle flick of a fingertip, went your chances like a sinking ship...' The mage mused in his own head as he darted out into the corridor after giving the all clear signal to Leifur and Noelle, whereof they liked it or not. Zeidgram blew out some air through his mouth, how tiresome it was to waste good spells on useless things. The red mage quickly pocketed his portable mirror before calling out to Leifur and Noelle.

"To the other rooms. Let's move. The corridor provides no cover. Unless you count the heap of louts over yonder. At least it doesn't seem to be our louts." The red mage made quick steps towards one of the other rooms, just outside of it were a heap of three soldiers lying in the corridor. The red mage quickly stabbed each one of them with his sword. Were they alive? Uncouncious? Dead? It didn't matter, they were dead the moment they ended up in the way. He had no sympathy for them, much like any other being they made their choice, now they would have to pay the consequences for the path trodden.

The mage gave a quick glance into the room which held Galahad, Arbora, Neve and Arton. "Pardon me, Lord Caradoc. I do not mean to interupt your not-coddling session, but I believe assassins free-of charge were not amidst the commodities offered? Let's take our leave shall we? Once you have recuperated." The red mage allowed a slightly amused smirk to decorate his lips as he clearly was teasing Galahad, before he flung a wink in Neve's direction.


Neve's cheeks had gotten a hue which the red mage found most suitable, and while that colour was fine to behold...

The table of the kirin had begun to reveal it's many other colours. Galahad and Izayoi had suggested that the group would move towards Osprey, while it wasn't necessarily the worst choice on the list of things, it wasn't the place which he had held in first place himself. The ruins of Lunaris had much more alure. But he knew he would have to chose his battles in order to win the war, thus Osprey would have to end up being the destination.

'Ranbu no Izayoi. I know this name... the limbtaker. She's the one who sent all those men and women to the healers, and even more to the graveyard. Seems the rumors of her death were false after all, but I am not one to believe fully into mere rumors, gossip and hearsay. Fairytales are a completely different matter though. This woman is akin to a beast, yet even a beast has right in their basic instincts. Her statements of the other groups waiting to lunge at oneanother rings true, for such is greed. I know it all too well. Her desire to go to Osprey is a personal matter no doubt, just how many lives have she ruined and what has she to show for it? To ultimately find herself at the doorstep of her old enemy? The irony would be sweet, would it not be so tragic. Even a broken clock shows the right time at some point during the day. Time will however tell if the furious feline will bend or break... a little poking might yield profitable results.' The bluehaired man pondered as he observed those by his table, his attention setting on Galahad momentarily.

'As expected from that man, he is going to follow in the wake of the closest thing resembling a firebreathing dragon. That feline woman. But he does bring up a fair point, which is likely one half of a broader truth. That the blight is manmade, or as I would label it. Warped. Changed. Manipulated. The silence of the light as these people label it is no doubt connected to the blight. Someone has found a connection between the worlds of mortals and gods, a gateway into the very ether itself no doubt. And in their arrogance and greed, tried to become like gods by using an artificial device to attempt to control it. Which has led to the world becoming blighted. A lesson for the mortal realms, an expensive lesson, but a lesson nontheless.' The man's judgemental gaze continued on it's way, looking over Ibraham, which had recently joined them by the table.

'A fortune seeker like many others, but this man is dangerous. Those who speak alot or not at all, those are the kinds one ought to be wary of. This man seems much like the gil-hearted mercenaries, the type who will change his footing depending on where the wind blows. His words are no doubt as reliable as the black mage were in fetching butter, or sending the limbtaker as a diplomat to Valheim itself. Still there may be some uses for the man, for someone who knows where to twist... and turn.' Zeidgram had offered a friendly smile towards Ibraham, a greeting gift and promise of times to come, then the red mage offered a polite nod to Arton, allowing his piercing gaze to attempt to borrow into the man's own eyes.

'This man shows much promise, out of the ones present, he and the blonde woman bears the most promise. They appear to be genuine, if they are not then they've play the game better than I. If such is to be my loss, then there's no more fitting an end. It takes a master, to stop a master.' It was with calm expression on his face that his gaze wandered over to inspect Leifur and Aelphis, the latter which had so ineptly dropped the butter and proclaimed himself a black mage. There was something about the black mage that made him feel instant contempt for him, such a seemingly carefree and panicky figure, so reckless in his proclaimation of being a black mage. It had made the red mage's skin crawl, and would his own master not have been struck down, and had been present he would no doubt have died from embarassment alone.

But all things considered, Zeidgram still knew that whilst the sharp-eared faye did indeed seem completely useless... looks could be deceiving, and if he would take the boy lightly it could prove fatal. The dark powers were potent and to not be taken lightly, even in the hands of this... child? He should know as he wielded that power himself, even if such were not common knowledge. Black mages were feared for a reason, his master had hid his powers for a reason and so had Zeidgram followed in the same steps. People were quick to judge those who wielded those powers, even more so than whose who used white magic. People like his father and the self-rightious fools would never have understood such a pathway, even if the red mage only chose to tread upon it half-ways.

While he had not pondered on it much, he could ultimately only pass his complete respects to someone who walked at the edge, someone who strode into the twilight zone. His father and his mentor, white and black, light and dark, both had gone far enough that it had blinded them. Like nature, magic... the ether was meant to be kept in balance.

That said, even the red mage couldn't stop a chuckle when he heard the black mage dropping the butter. It felt like such a primal thing to do, laugh at someone else's unfortune, but it did pack quite the punch. The whole idea of humor made him think of Galahad, did that man even have an ounce of it in him? He didn't seem the sort. Neither did the sellsword viera, Leifur. A simple man, if one were to trust his introduction. A man who went where he was told to go. If there was something the red mage could not stand it were those kind of people, not because he didn't see them as being useful or capable, but it made him think of the mindless guards that patrolled the various settlements. People who didn't think for themselves and instead let others do it for them. What made the matter worse to him were that often those people which did end up making the choices for them were often even more the fools. Compared to the guards however, this viera sellsword seemed capable, his words were not elegant or refined, but they were more beliable than most.

Then there were the flamehaired young sollan lady which had been for the most unremarkable in her words, but remarkable in the manner that she stood out amidst the table for that very reason. She was asking others for what they thought, a good idea if one wishes to know the thoughts of others. Zeidgram knew he had to keep a close eye on her, much like the overly talkative one named Ibraham.

It had also been with a slight smirk that Zeidgram took being refered to by Arbora.

'Such an inquisitive way to arrange your words, too bad that you are wrong. The girl is in question, a young woman, besides eavesdropping is such a unladylike thing to do. So take that hippety-hoppety and turn it into quippity-stoppity. Speaking of foundation of trust, I shall remember to summon that one for later. I wonder how you'd fare in a true joust of words, surely a different flavor than farming for carrots amidst the tribes.' The man mused in his head, before he stood up to introduce himself.

"The name is Zeidgram, I am a mere caretaker and a mender of the great cathedral of Lunaris. Unlike so many other capable champions here, I find myself insufficient in your esteemed presence. Thank you for allowing someone as boorish as myself to join such a prestigious quest." He had offered a bow to those present, his hair falling over his eyes as he did, obscuring his ambitious gaze, and the glimmer in it. He could feel his very core laughing at his own display. But it didn't matter, it all served a purpose. Whereof they label him a fool or some noble-want-to-be, they would gradually show to him their true selves whilst his true self would remain shrouded, amidst the blinding light and the engulfing dark. For if they would find out his intentions, no doubt they would attempt to stop him. It couldn't be helped, because people could only understand that which they have experienced, wasn't that so? Perhaps a few of them would see through his guise, if so they would be rewarded well.

As inquisite as Arbora and Galahad had been, neither one had been able to see that what he had shown them was a display, an act. At least that was what he could tell. To most present, they would simply see a world of raining gil or a big table with food. What the red mage saw was greed, gluttony, poison and underlying ambitions. The king himself is after the source of the blight. The power to subdue the world. What caused the Edren and Osprey war to begin with? Were it just for abit of land? Some insults or mistakes? Or was it because of something that was found. Something precious, something priceless. Something which could upset the balance of the world. Whatever would lie ahead, there was only one person he knew he could trust fully with this quest. Himself.

Some time later...

The kirin group had been given rooms and split up into smaller groups, when the red mage finally saw who he would be spending the night with he was met with disappointment. Out of all the people available, these two were about the two worst options present. The two quiet types, he couldn't learn a thing from them without prying, and if one were to pry then one would reveal oneself to such people.

Zeidgram found himself looking out the window of the room he had been assigned to, the view was different from Lunaris. It felt far too artificial, but knowing fully well where he were and how people had flocked to Leonhart's call, he had to take in the view abit. How many of those that had answered the call had been genuine and who amongst them were agents serving foreign powers? The man shook his head softly as he walked over to inspect his gear which had been delivered to the room, making sure everything was there, and sniffing his waterskin and supplies for traces of poison. He could have sworn he packed a red hat with a feather? Oh bother. He allowed himself to take abit of jerky into his mouth after some consideration and some water, after all he had not eaten anything at the feast below, neither drank anything. He did however prior to his arrival, it was all a precaution.

'It doesn't matter. Edren, Drana Asnaeu, Osprey, Skael and Valheim. Neither shall seize the power behind the blight. The balance of the world lies in the hands of the grey, guised under the blood-red moon. Like the double-edged sword, my Kiltia. The path trodden is narrow, cold and sharp, yet one must thrust forwards if one desires to pierce through the deceptions and illuminate the truth... isn't that right, Danube? The current of the river may be strong, but blood is thicker, and isn't it far more interesting to see one wade against the current than simply allow oneself to be swept away by it?' He allowed himself a few silent moments to himself before hurling glances to Leifur and Noelle, he however chose to remain silent. That's when there were sounds of a commotion outside of the room.

'This better not be the black mage again. No. It sounds louder...' He furrowed his eyebrows while grabbing hold of his sheathed sword.

"Missy and gentlebunny, we have company." He said aloud as the door was opened and some figures came into the room. They were most certainly hostile. Like he had previously made clear to himself, it didn't matter who or what these things were. No matter who had sent them, the quest would remain the same. With that in mind he drew his sword and pointed it towards the uninvited guests. What or who were they? It didn't matter. They would dissappear forever.

The red mage began to quickly cast his spells in quick succession, the first [Stun Cloud] spell was hurled at the closest enemy, temporary paralyzing him. The following spell that was hurled shortly after targetted the man next to the first target. [Spirit Surge] A beam of light shot straight into the other enemy's chest. This had been the most potent white magic spell he knew, it was used to end fights in a swift and merciful manner. Much unlike the black magic which his mentor taught him, but in the current company, for the time being these powers would have to be concealed. At least to these two whose nature he had yet to discern.

@Ambra@Vertigo@Lucky@Cu Chulainn@vietmyke@Psyker Landshark@Ithradine@Ogobrogo

There had been a variety of reactions to his words, some were eager to simply get a move on already. While the matter was an urgent one, and he felt that the sooner they would be on their way the better. The darkhaired sollan on the opposing side of the table looked like he had seen battle and overall seemed to be a warrior in his own right. While he didn't exactly strike Zeidgram as someone remarkable, the red mage knew that looks could be deceiving and that his final judgements on the man would be done later. Lord Caradoc, the hunter of the dragons had stood up and offered his views on things. While his response had been a calm one, it was also filled with some useful information about what kind of man he were.

'A man hunting dragons, a path very different from one where you are hunting for words... or other things. A man who wouldn't coddle his peers, yet I suspect he has been the subject of pampering since his birth. A man who goes out to slay dragons to prove he's a man. I need not to climb a mountain to prove something to myself. For with the clarity of mine path being trodden, I already am above such.' He mentally mused to himself as he observed the tall and graceful dragonhunter straight across the table.

It was then that a mystrel spoke up, a stark contrast to the soft tone used by Galahad. Her mouth were spitting fire, which took the shape of words and went on to become sentences. Eagerness, anger and with such a defiant and unyielding tone. It was something which Zeidgram didn't enjoy being at the other end of, hotheaded people were harder to read than those of a calmer mindset.

'This one has a temper... a lack of self-discipline and there's a fire there. I wonder just what makes her... burn? I suppose I may find out in dear time, those whom are patient will be rewarded in the end. Yet those which do not seize a moment when it presents itself are truly fools. I do not wish to count myself amongst them. Despite it all, the old crone seems to speak directly from her core, that is more than can be said for most people. An admirable trait in itself, but a fatal weakness that others may exploit. Perhaps abit of... resistance training could do wonders?' The mage pondered as Izayoi finished addressing the room, then the red mage knew that if he didn't seize the moment, it would slip away. He couldn't allow that to happen with all the things stacked in his favor.

But alas the king, Leonhart had apparently been waiting for such a moment himself and seized the moment first. It was with some inner irritation that he had been prevented from hurling out some words towards the mystrel on the other side of the table.

'Oh what a pity. Oh well, I suppose it cannot be helped. But that mystrel is no lady at all. Claiming that these tables are filled with fools and brigands? Then would she not be the biggest fool of all? Because she would be sitting by the very same table as those she'd label to be that very thing... outmost laughable.' The sollan allowed himself a soft upturn at the corner of his mouth, his ear taking in what the king was saying, it wasn't necessarily a bad speech by any means, but to the red mage it offered nothing new than what he already knew. That the blight had to be stopped, and whatever thing was pulling the strings behind the scenes. The red mage had already his theories of what the reason could be, yet such a pathway was often forked, where the dark and the light could both render one blind.

'Ten million gil? Hah... no doubt such a sum would sway many a heart to such a cause, to the point their minds would lead them down a path of corruption. They say wealth is a sort of power, used by those whom have it against those which do not. They would likely even try to buy themselves out of death itself if they could. People's hearts and minds are too easily swayed. My heart cannot be bought by such a thing.' He mused to himself waiting for the king to finish his speech and the onlookers to have a moment of whispering and gossip. He knew all too well just how fond the rich were fond of doing that, and no doubt those which were not would be overjoyed by promise of wealth. But life cannot be bought. What use were coin to the dead? He chuckled to himself, before taking hold of his goblet and standing up again to support Leonhart's inspirational speech, offering a nod to the king first and then to others present, til his gaze finally settled on the empty goblet he had lifted up.

'If the goblet is half-empty, or half-full. That is what most ponder. But what if it is empty? Ever pondered on that have you? The power behind the blight, I shall grasp it with my own hands.' Zeidgram allowed his eyes to wander to Neva.

"Red suits your cheeks well, pretty missy." He said in a quiet and soft manner towards Neva, his lips forming a soft smile, his eyes trying to lock into hers. He seemed to blow some air from his lips out into the room, as if he was sighing or from relief.


It was with a calm and assertive manner in which Zeidgram observed the vast room in which they were all gathered into, like sheep into a pen. The nobles and their overflowing display of wealth in decoration, food variety, expensive fabrics and clothing. It was enough to make him feel disgusted, it was because of pompous people too lazy to see beyond their own golden goblets that the world had gotten to the place it were in. Not just being taken by surprise by the blight, but by their wars that seemed to serve no purpose other than to waste lives for no other reason than possibly greed. Greed was such a dangerous thing, it was a thing which he had experienced himself, but never taken to that degree. While he had been eager like any young person in his younger years, he had grown much since then and were no longer tempted by things which could potentially destroy his body and mind alike.

But all those thoughts were to be reserved for later, as now there were more pressing things to concern oneself with. Having looked over the various people that had answered the king's call, he became pleased as his eyes wandered over them. He knew some of these people, he was certain of it. But it didn't matter, in time he would certainly get to know them all, much like they would come to learn just who he were. Right next to him sat a young woman, which seemed to have some trouble reaching what appeared to be drink that the more thickheaded brutes at the inn's would find themselves indulging in. Honey was one of it's ingridients. He was certain of it. Nontheless he still reached out with his arm and hand to take hold of the flagon, before bringing it in to hand it to Neva. It was then with a soft smile on his lips and a tilt of his head, that he looked her face over, looking at her reaction before he allowed his soft tone of voice speak out, it was low, like a whisper to her alone.

"Such a fair young rose does not need this honeyed drink to be sweet, for you already are. Take it from a man who can tell a diamond from the coal, a rose from the weeds and beauty from bleak." His lips formed each and every word in an elegant manner, his eyes looked over Neva's facial expression as if there were words written all over her face, which he could decipher with just a glance or two. He offered a slight upturn again, at the corner of his lips before he rose up from his seat, taking hold of his empty glass, clinking a fork upon it to get the attention of the people gathered.

"Your majesty, lords and ladies. They say the blight has vanquished the light, today we can clearly see that isn't the case. For here are capable champions from all over the realms, civil and martial both. Ready to do what is needed for the good for all the realms. At the very forefront of this grand task, before this blight upon our world, is you... your majesty and your loyal subjects. Which is no doubt more than enough reason to spark the flames of admiration in people across the world near and far, and for those who may still have their doubts of just what is at stake.

They need not look further than upon all the fair and brave young women which has answered such a grand call, pillars of shining starlight, in these darkest of hours. If men such as myself were not to be moved by seeing these wonders, and by your majesty's divine call, how could we ever be able to face the world as men? What say you men? We are not going to let these beautiful, yet capable young women do all the hard work all by themselves are we? What say you, Lord Caradoc?"
Zeidgram bowed gracefully with his head and upper body, before elegantly reaching out his free hand towards Galahad, his palm facing the ceiling of the large room. As if he was just handing over the attention of the entire room over towards Galahad.

'You who handle dragons, let see how you handle these...' The red mage thought to himself as he softly offered a polite nod towards Galahad and then towards the King and his entourage, before finally sitting back down. The moment had presented itself, and either one would seize it, or it would slip away forever. It wasn't about showing off to the pompous nobles, or the king. It was to guage how the entire room would judge him, and in turn what he could learn from them. Were the Lord Caradoc bold enough to speak up before the king, would he chastise the red mage. Many were the scenarios, but either way one would have to be prepared for either one.

Cut by a thousands ducks!
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