Johann snorted in amusement when Commie suggested a bit of good old fashioned treachery, joking naturally. Being the token Heavy pilot did lead to overrules more often than not, if for no other reason than where his MAS was best suited often times was hard to have experimental or underarmored frames follow along. Such was taking up armoring the Secutor as a challenge, as he was accused of by his ground crew on more than one occasion, though he gave a mock shrug before responding to the jest by playing along.
"We'll see how our illustrious leadership does, and talk later if things need shaken up a little. I'm good to go as soon as everything is loaded up." He downed the last of his coffee at that point, ten minutes would be enough time to load up explosives and get the laser communication sorted out. Still meant mounting up and getting ready to get underway, though he had the luxury of not having to shrug off a jacket or anything excessive. Leah chiming in on backing Option Three basically would have cemented it, though no bonus points for sticking to her guns, not that it mattered much in that regard. Who kept track of bonus points these days, anyways? When the order was given they were gone in ten, Rhino would make himself scarce. He had a MAS to tend to, which mostly meant mounting up as the last minute modifications and explosives were loaded up.
"Right, you got the list already, get those explosives loaded up on the aft bracing, the left arm can access there without interfering with the 170. Get the lift over here, I'll mount up and monitor from the cockpit." Rhino was coordinating with his ground crew the moment he left the tent, directing where the explosives were to be loaded for quick access, and lack of intrusive placement, while getting up in the cockpit to make sure the laser communicator was operating soundly. Rabbit was bitching, again, but the world would be a bit more wrong if she wasn't, still, he replied casually, having snuck some rest in while he could before they had regrouped for the mission chatter.
"What, no bragging the bags are designer? For shame, Rabbit. This is why I get in my sleep where I can, never know when it'll get interrupted." Rhino operated on the assumption that he was always going to have to go long without sleep, and unlike the rest of the team, he stubbornly avoided Rip-Gel until it was unavoidable. That wasn't even including the combat stimms, approved or not, also being indulged in. His methods required a steady hand, and the Gel fucked with that something awful, and it made good material for organizing swaps and trades with other units. It'd be a waste to suck it down like it was going out of style, though for now it was time to focus. Getting the Secutor upright was a bitch and a half under ideal circumstances, and it was the one complaint he would always have. Not like there was a solution, though, but even he had to get in his complaints where he could.
"...four little mechs stomping a long..."
With comms down, Rhino was humming a song under his breath, well in the rear of the formation of MAS as they advanced into the jamming and complete loss of most conventional senses. It wasn't pleasant, but that was to be expected, but it made him acutely aware of just how loud the Secutor was. Under normal circumstances, the roar of weapons fire, rapid thumps of micro-missile launches, constant rain of weapon's fire shattering and deflecting from his layers of armor made it easy to forget he was in at forty-ish feet of heavy metal and heavier arms. He was sticking to the deeper ruins and shadows, focused on avoiding collisions and grinding against the wrecks he used to break up his profile and obscure him from view. The 170mm was stowed, that was too loud, too obvious, too distinct to safely use, even if it was just to swat a drone out of the air, he was going to have to rely on his allies to handle things more than he cared for usually. Too much time spent at the front did that, he supposed.
"...four little mechs creeping and calm..."
Rabbit came to a halt, Rhino also stopping and settling as deep into the shadow as he could, spotting what had brought them to a halt. MAS patrol, seems the diversion hadn't brought everyone to the party after all, and these Coalition pilots decided it was better to go out for a stroll. Right into the path of their continued approach, it seemed, and he focused on identifying whether or not they were going to be in the way or not. If the patrol was just crossing their path, they could wait and let them pass, but if they were heading this way they would either need dealt with, or they would have to try and evade out of sight. Which would be a funnier thought if stealth wasn't as important as it was to their mission currently. The humming died down, letting the silence fill the cockpit, ready to follow the team's lead at a moment's notice.
@Eisenhorn Out of curiosity, when were you thinking Renard earned his Steel rank? I see an intriguing connection potential if it were around 2 years ago, but I feel it might have been more recent based on the bio.
I had not actually nailed down an exact time frame for each rank, in terms of years in each rank, was kind of leaving it slightly vague for this reason. It is absolutely possible Renard happened to be involved in dealing with the particular group of bandits that captured Eustace, which I would be cool with having be the case.
Personality: Renard is truly a byproduct of his parent's best efforts, bringing him reasonably in line with the traits Hundi are best known for. Honest to a fault, rarely even omitting things when asked directly, he does his best to maintain a cheery presence despite sometimes (oftentimes) being a bearer of bad news after an adventure or job ran into unforeseen problems. He treats anyone he is working with as fast friends, and is quick to put past events opposing someone behind him if it was a matter of work. Mercenary and adventure work could lead him to working with people he had fought not too long ago, so holding grudges was a hard thing to do while staying true to his path in life. He would face each challenge, job, or adventure with all he was able to muster, and once it was done enjoy the free time and coin this lifestyle earned. His view of life is one of fighting well, living well, and if need be, dying well.
Even in the middle of a fight, be it from a job or finding himself in another honorable duel, he keeps up this friendly, chatty behavior. He'll make remarks on an opponent's fighting style, metaphorically or literally poking at weaknesses with a grin and complimenting skilled opposition just as readily. He tries to avoid getting worked up in anger, or letting someone get into his head, though this is hardly foolproof for someone who wears his emotions as openly as he does. Still, by his own estimate, he considers himself friendly and easy enough to get along with. Whether everyone agrees with that or not is another matter completely, but as far as Renard is concerned that is beyond his control. He will do his best in life, and as long as he keeps doing so he can look himself in the eye and be content, though he won't rest on his laurels and will keep driving for every higher heights.
Brief Backstory: Renard is the son of two Hundi, his mother a knight in a minor Thaln house, having bested the best of the house guard to earn that position. His father was a mercenary who had been bested by his mother in a duel during his ongoing coming of age journey, who had joined a mercenary company joining in on the violence in Thaln for profit. The two would elect to depart Thaln before Renard was born, both their patron groups drifting into actions that the two stubborn, proud Hundi could not be party to and having a soon to be born son to raise. They returned to northern Ithillin, putting distance between them and their past, and soon after Renard was born.
Renard was raised with two different outlooks, though both colored by the Hundi way of life, as both his parents continued their own lives while raising him. His father, who had taken up a post as a local town guard, drilled him in the usefulness of hunting, of being able to be self sufficient, and a mercenary sort of honor in staying true to a job once agreed, no matter what. His mother, who had taken to assisting in the day to day running and rule of the town, drilled him in the use of spear, as well as tactics when fighting with multiple allies of varying skills. He had inherited his father's spry speed and sharp eyes, though she made sure to reinforce a more traditional knightly honor in her son to offset her husband's meddling. Despite butting heads routinely, they genuinely cared for each other and their son, ensuring Renard had a, by and large, untroubled if intensive upbringing.
Upon reaching his sixteenth birthday, Renard's family and friends came together to celebrate before he struck out on his coming of age journey. He chose to head north into Estival, much to the relief of his parents who had been worried he would choose to head south to find out more about his parent's past, and after receiving several gifts and well wishes, he departed with all his worldly belongings slung over a shoulder. Initially, he almost immediately ran into adventurer's while they were on the job, an Iron rank leading several Copper ranked adventurers on a mission that Renard accidentally finished for them, challenging the bandits after they tried to shake him down. Rather than immediately challenge the adventurers, he found himself sharing a campfire with them, talking about the Adventurer's Guild, the perks and lives they led as part of it.
This chance meeting set the tone for Renard's life, who immediately struck out for the capitol on his own since the group he met had a few other jobs to take care of before returning to report their success. Renard engaged in no small number of duels, ultimately coming out of them victorious and with a growing understanding of Estival by the time he reached the capitol and made a beeline for the Guild itself, intent on joining as part of his journey. Sure he could wander aimlessly, and see where fortune and fate took him, but a life as an Adventurer sounded far more appealing, and would give him the chance to actually be recompensed for his time and efforts. He was accepted after initial examinations and trials, assigned the Copper rank as appropriate, and this would begin his long career as an adventurer.
Renard always went for the most challenging jobs his rank would allow, aiming to prove himself and make good on his developing outlook on life, much to the chagrin of some of the less skilled among his rank who he ultimately ended up working with. Not that it stopped him from being friendly with his fellow adventurers, building a reputation of friendly and driven, and would continue pushing to advance in the ranks of the Guild. Reaching Iron in his early twenties, Renard would embrace the wider variety of jobs available to him eagerly, continuing to work steadily on his reputation. He would send regular letters home to his family, corresponding and informing them of his efforts, successes, and defeats, treating it all in stride. He never did end up losing a formal duel that would have led him to being married, something his mother was quietly sad to hear, though he still had plenty of time to have that change so she never brought it up.
Renard's last job as an Iron ranked adventurer would be dealing with bandits who had settled on the Estival/Ithillin border, which should not have been anything unusual for the group of Iron ranked adventurers to handle. It turned out that the reports had not been accurate, and the bandits were more experienced than expected, turning the fight into a rather pitched, dangerous affair. Renard challenged the bandit leader to a duel in an act of desperation to prevent the capture or worse of his allies and him. It took some goading, but the agreement was made, the loser's forces would surrender to the victor, with everything that entailed. His allies were in no shape to argue, and while already worn down from the prior fighting, Renard threw everything he was into the fight. He would rather die than let his allies down, and despite significant injuries, he did manage to lay low the bandit chief for good before he collapsed from exhaustion and injury.
The remaining bandits surrendered, turned over to local guard forces, while the rest of his group helped Renard to a healer so he could recover from his injuries. It was a slow trek back to the capital, though a message reporting the outcome had been sent ahead of them. By the time they got back, Renard had recovered from the worst of his injuries and was able to greet the waiting news in good shape. He had his rank increased to Steel, though he was cautioned to consider other options than a do or die duel in the future, and he celebrated with his fellow adventurers before they moved onto their next jobs.
Renard would continue to prove himself as a Steel ranked adventurer, taking on harder jobs whenever possible, continuing to write home regularly between jobs. He had his eyes set on Silver next, ready and willing to do what he had to in the effort of reaching that next rank in his career, writing eagerly about his excitement and drive to continue bettering himself and reach that next level of recognized capability.
Equipment:
Light Spear - A custom spear commissioned to celebrate Renard's coming of age before departing on the traditional journey to gain valuable experience in both combat and life abroad, the spear is, understandably, the pride and joy of Renard's otherwise modest possessions. Incredibly well balanced, ideal for either one or two handed use depending on the situation and need, and reinforced along its length for both striking with the spear head, in either thrusts or slashes, or striking blows with twirling motions. It was fashioned to suit Renard's preferred style of fighting, and he always keeps the weapon within arm's reach whenever possible.
Dagger - A longer example of its kind, with a slight curve and single edge, Renard keeps this blade handy for both utility and combat, though it is otherwise unremarkable.
Throwing Knives - A bandolier of knives that Renard picked up after learning how to throw knives as part of tavern games, and he now maintains a respectable number of them in an easy to access manner. They are balanced and made exclusively with throwing in mind and not well suited for actual use in melee fighting, to give him an edge when approaching a fight or catching someone off guard. Plus, they are useful for the aforementioned tavern games to win a few bets or to keep himself entertained.
Personal Belongings - Renard typically travels with all his worldly belongings at any given time, which consists of a sleeping roll, small tent (though more of a tarp than tent proper, mostly to keep the rain off him), a comb and grooming supplies for his tail and hair, any money he has earned, as well as a small set of cooking implements for preparing food he either catches or forages while adventuring, or brings with him when going places where forage and hunting is not viable.
Skills: By and far Renard's most developed and noteworthy skill, he is an accomplished wielder of the spear, though by his own admission he would not call himself a master yet. Capable in both one handed use, whether paired with a shield or just to keep an open hand as necessary, or in two handed use as he prefers, the Hundi employs an acrobatic, high mobility style of fighting. Constantly moving, swaying, probing and evaluating his opponent in the opening strikes and skirmishing, he leans on the strengths a spear offers over other weapons of choice and treats each fight like a dance. While ill suited to fighting as part of a tight formation, his style shows its worth in skirmishes and duels where one is not expected to work in tight, shoulder to shoulder tandem.
In addition Renard knows how to use a dagger in close when he can't bring his spear to bear effectively, though this is often in an effort to create space to bring his preferred weapon to bear. He learned to throw knives initially as part of tavern games and ways to pass the time when nothing else needed done, giving him an eye for putting well balanced knives where he wanted them to go. While lacking both the reach and force a proper option for ranged fighting might have, they are quick and handy in a pinch. Beyond this, as far as combat related skills go, he is capable of maintaining combat footing and pacing for extended durations, a combination of endurance and control over his expenditure of stamina, to keep up with opponents he might not otherwise best in sheer skill alone.
Thanks to his father's drills and continued practice, Renard is capable of supporting himself and several allies when cut off, or otherwise unable, to rely on normal supplies. He can put his spear to good use hunting, and he is also capable of foraging and scrounging up food and clean drinking water when its available. Add in his father's cooking lessons as part of this broad skillset and you get a Hundi who is confident in being able to make do far from civilization whenever needed. His mother ensured that he has at least a basic understanding of tactics, though these are fairly straightforward, and he does often end up slotting himself into a battleplan better than coming up with one on his own. At least if that battleplan involves more than bringing everyone's strength to bear directly.
Personality: Renard is truly a byproduct of his parent's best efforts, bringing him reasonably in line with the traits Hundi are best known for. Honest to a fault, rarely even omitting things when asked directly, he does his best to maintain a cheery presence despite sometimes (oftentimes) being a bearer of bad news after an adventure or job ran into unforeseen problems. He treats anyone he is working with as fast friends, and is quick to put past events opposing someone behind him if it was a matter of work. Mercenary and adventure work could lead him to working with people he had fought not too long ago, so holding grudges was a hard thing to do while staying true to his path in life. He would face each challenge, job, or adventure with all he was able to muster, and once it was done enjoy the free time and coin this lifestyle earned. His view of life is one of fighting well, living well, and if need be, dying well.
Even in the middle of a fight, be it from a job or finding himself in another honorable duel, he keeps up this friendly, chatty behavior. He'll make remarks on an opponent's fighting style, metaphorically or literally poking at weaknesses with a grin and complimenting skilled opposition just as readily. He tries to avoid getting worked up in anger, or letting someone get into his head, though this is hardly foolproof for someone who wears his emotions as openly as he does. Still, by his own estimate, he considers himself friendly and easy enough to get along with. Whether everyone agrees with that or not is another matter completely, but as far as Renard is concerned that is beyond his control. He will do his best in life, and as long as he keeps doing so he can look himself in the eye and be content, though he won't rest on his laurels and will keep driving for every higher heights.
Brief Backstory: Renard is the son of two Hundi, his mother a knight in a minor Thaln house, having bested the best of the house guard to earn that position. His father was a mercenary who had been bested by his mother in a duel during his ongoing coming of age journey, who had joined a mercenary company joining in on the violence in Thaln for profit. The two would elect to depart Thaln before Renard was born, both their patron groups drifting into actions that the two stubborn, proud Hundi could not be party to and having a soon to be born son to raise. They returned to northern Ithillin, putting distance between them and their past, and soon after Renard was born.
Renard was raised with two different outlooks, though both colored by the Hundi way of life, as both his parents continued their own lives while raising him. His father, who had taken up a post as a local town guard, drilled him in the usefulness of hunting, of being able to be self sufficient, and a mercenary sort of honor in staying true to a job once agreed, no matter what. His mother, who had taken to assisting in the day to day running and rule of the town, drilled him in the use of spear, as well as tactics when fighting with multiple allies of varying skills. He had inherited his father's spry speed and sharp eyes, though she made sure to reinforce a more traditional knightly honor in her son to offset her husband's meddling. Despite butting heads routinely, they genuinely cared for each other and their son, ensuring Renard had a, by and large, untroubled if intensive upbringing.
Upon reaching his sixteenth birthday, Renard's family and friends came together to celebrate before he struck out on his coming of age journey. He chose to head north into Estival, much to the relief of his parents who had been worried he would choose to head south to find out more about his parent's past, and after receiving several gifts and well wishes, he departed with all his worldly belongings slung over a shoulder. Initially, he almost immediately ran into adventurer's while they were on the job, an Iron rank leading several Copper ranked adventurers on a mission that Renard accidentally finished for them, challenging the bandits after they tried to shake him down. Rather than immediately challenge the adventurers, he found himself sharing a campfire with them, talking about the Adventurer's Guild, the perks and lives they led as part of it.
This chance meeting set the tone for Renard's life, who immediately struck out for the capitol on his own since the group he met had a few other jobs to take care of before returning to report their success. Renard engaged in no small number of duels, ultimately coming out of them victorious and with a growing understanding of Estival by the time he reached the capitol and made a beeline for the Guild itself, intent on joining as part of his journey. Sure he could wander aimlessly, and see where fortune and fate took him, but a life as an Adventurer sounded far more appealing, and would give him the chance to actually be recompensed for his time and efforts. He was accepted after initial examinations and trials, assigned the Copper rank as appropriate, and this would begin his long career as an adventurer.
Renard always went for the most challenging jobs his rank would allow, aiming to prove himself and make good on his developing outlook on life, much to the chagrin of some of the less skilled among his rank who he ultimately ended up working with. Not that it stopped him from being friendly with his fellow adventurers, building a reputation of friendly and driven, and would continue pushing to advance in the ranks of the Guild. Reaching Iron in his early twenties, Renard would embrace the wider variety of jobs available to him eagerly, continuing to work steadily on his reputation. He would send regular letters home to his family, corresponding and informing them of his efforts, successes, and defeats, treating it all in stride. He never did end up losing a formal duel that would have led him to being married, something his mother was quietly sad to hear, though he still had plenty of time to have that change so she never brought it up.
Renard's last job as an Iron ranked adventurer would be dealing with bandits who had settled on the Estival/Ithillin border, which should not have been anything unusual for the group of Iron ranked adventurers to handle. It turned out that the reports had not been accurate, and the bandits were more experienced than expected, turning the fight into a rather pitched, dangerous affair. Renard challenged the bandit leader to a duel in an act of desperation to prevent the capture or worse of his allies and him. It took some goading, but the agreement was made, the loser's forces would surrender to the victor, with everything that entailed. His allies were in no shape to argue, and while already worn down from the prior fighting, Renard threw everything he was into the fight. He would rather die than let his allies down, and despite significant injuries, he did manage to lay low the bandit chief for good before he collapsed from exhaustion and injury.
The remaining bandits surrendered, turned over to local guard forces, while the rest of his group helped Renard to a healer so he could recover from his injuries. It was a slow trek back to the capital, though a message reporting the outcome had been sent ahead of them. By the time they got back, Renard had recovered from the worst of his injuries and was able to greet the waiting news in good shape. He had his rank increased to Steel, though he was cautioned to consider other options than a do or die duel in the future, and he celebrated with his fellow adventurers before they moved onto their next jobs.
Renard would continue to prove himself as a Steel ranked adventurer, taking on harder jobs whenever possible, continuing to write home regularly between jobs. He had his eyes set on Silver next, ready and willing to do what he had to in the effort of reaching that next rank in his career, writing eagerly about his excitement and drive to continue bettering himself and reach that next level of recognized capability.
Equipment:
Light Spear - A custom spear commissioned to celebrate Renard's coming of age before departing on the traditional journey to gain valuable experience in both combat and life abroad, the spear is, understandably, the pride and joy of Renard's otherwise modest possessions. Incredibly well balanced, ideal for either one or two handed use depending on the situation and need, and reinforced along its length for both striking with the spear head, in either thrusts or slashes, or striking blows with twirling motions. It was fashioned to suit Renard's preferred style of fighting, and he always keeps the weapon within arm's reach whenever possible.
Dagger - A longer example of its kind, with a slight curve and single edge, Renard keeps this blade handy for both utility and combat, though it is otherwise unremarkable.
Throwing Knives - A bandolier of knives that Renard picked up after learning how to throw knives as part of tavern games, and he now maintains a respectable number of them in an easy to access manner. They are balanced and made exclusively with throwing in mind and not well suited for actual use in melee fighting, to give him an edge when approaching a fight or catching someone off guard. Plus, they are useful for the aforementioned tavern games to win a few bets or to keep himself entertained.
Personal Belongings - Renard typically travels with all his worldly belongings at any given time, which consists of a sleeping roll, small tent (though more of a tarp than tent proper, mostly to keep the rain off him), a comb and grooming supplies for his tail and hair, any money he has earned, as well as a small set of cooking implements for preparing food he either catches or forages while adventuring, or brings with him when going places where forage and hunting is not viable.
Skills: By and far Renard's most developed and noteworthy skill, he is an accomplished wielder of the spear, though by his own admission he would not call himself a master yet. Capable in both one handed use, whether paired with a shield or just to keep an open hand as necessary, or in two handed use as he prefers, the Hundi employs an acrobatic, high mobility style of fighting. Constantly moving, swaying, probing and evaluating his opponent in the opening strikes and skirmishing, he leans on the strengths a spear offers over other weapons of choice and treats each fight like a dance. While ill suited to fighting as part of a tight formation, his style shows its worth in skirmishes and duels where one is not expected to work in tight, shoulder to shoulder tandem.
In addition Renard knows how to use a dagger in close when he can't bring his spear to bear effectively, though this is often in an effort to create space to bring his preferred weapon to bear. He learned to throw knives initially as part of tavern games and ways to pass the time when nothing else needed done, giving him an eye for putting well balanced knives where he wanted them to go. While lacking both the reach and force a proper option for ranged fighting might have, they are quick and handy in a pinch. Beyond this, as far as combat related skills go, he is capable of maintaining combat footing and pacing for extended durations, a combination of endurance and control over his expenditure of stamina, to keep up with opponents he might not otherwise best in sheer skill alone.
Thanks to his father's drills and continued practice, Renard is capable of supporting himself and several allies when cut off, or otherwise unable, to rely on normal supplies. He can put his spear to good use hunting, and he is also capable of foraging and scrounging up food and clean drinking water when its available. Add in his father's cooking lessons as part of this broad skillset and you get a Hundi who is confident in being able to make do far from civilization whenever needed. His mother ensured that he has at least a basic understanding of tactics, though these are fairly straightforward, and he does often end up slotting himself into a battleplan better than coming up with one on his own. At least if that battleplan involves more than bringing everyone's strength to bear directly.
Tyaethe gave the stone blocks another once over, checking for any damage. She had no idea what the arrays of runes covering the man-sized pillars actually meant but that was hardly important. All she needed to do was identify a break in one of the patterns engraved into the… hm, was this granite? She had made sure to ask for something innately hard, after all, that ought to make it easier. It all seemed correct, which meant it was time to actually test the mages' work.
Placing her hand onto the right block and pumping mana into it caused the lines to steadily light up, until the entire block was covered in vibrant crimson.
What colour had her magic been before the vampirism? It was such a long time ago. If it hadn't been for talking with Gertrude making her think back, it might have been hard to remember but… gold. Same as her mother, same as her mother's family… all the way back, as far as she knew. It was probably tied to their general mana levels.
Tyaethe shook her head. Enough of that, this was ready for testing. One block, charged as much as it would go; one finely-made but ordinary longsword, which would actually damage if smashed carelessly into stone. Wielding them, one vampire paladin in mostly good health…
She surged forward with a yell, swinging the blade round – nothing special, no real intent behind it, but still more than enough to cut through most casual opposition. There was a muted clang and a flash of sparks when the sword hit the rock and—
Nothing. No damage to the rock; no damage to the sword. The light had dimmed slightly but that was expected, the mana channelled to more productive ends. It seemed that the mages up at the college might have done it, then: a target actually tough enough to emulate dragon scales, or even more… without destroying the weapons of whoever was attacking it. Not something that Tyaethe normally cared about, her standard sword was leaning against the wall nearby, but it was a nice feature in case someone else wanted to use them.
A grin spread across her face. Then, if she charged it up again and did this properly…?
This time, she focused. Everything about this swing had to be perfect; she had to account for a weight that wasn't usually there, tighten her footing from good enough, push her meagre body to its limits as well as relying on magical supplementation. Tyaethe knew she could split armour like butter, this had to be better. A blow that could split open a dragon.
This time, there wasn't a clang. Sword met rock with an ear-splitting screech, the light flaring out of control before – on reflex, the paladin ducked, something going whizzing just past where her head had been.
When her vision returned… the enchantments obviously hadn't held up. There was a clean diagonal split through what had been a single block before, the chiselled runes stark and ashen against the rest of the stone. An entire chunk of it was missing and probably what she had ducked. And all through the stone, a spiderweb of cracks radiating out from where it had cut.
As for the sword… there was a faint sizzle as molten metal dripped off what had once been a well-crafted blade. To her, it was ultimately disposable, but still…
It was quite the varied stream of expletives.
"Tu es un roc inutile," she spat, giving one of the halves a good kick. It, annoyingly, fragmented into a hundred more pieces.
After a not insignificant amount of effort and refinement, it was time to head to the training yard to test the tincture Rolan had been working on. The quicksilver concoction was a refinement on recipes he had been able to find in his studies, using more accessible materials as well as being tailored to himself. It was something he was both looking forward to, and dreading, depending on how this turned out. If it went well, he had a steady supply of concoctions that can bolster both his speed, reflexes, and awareness to make use of those improvements. The dread came from the possible side effects, but there was only one way to find out, but as he walked out onto the training yard, a clang and shower of sparks distracting him from his thoughts.
Tyaethe, swinging at a glowing rock, for some reason? Not her normal sword either, was she just testing some sort of magic or enchantment? Rather than speak up straight away and interrupt, Rolan observed from what he thought was a safe distance, tucking the quicksilver concoction back into his satchel for now. Leaning slightly, he could better see some of the glowing crimson magic coursing through the rock. Testing ways to bolster defense, though he doubted that given her not so subtle stunt fighting the Bloody Lord. Though as she reared back again, Rolan took a step back on instinct, seeing the focus going into this next swing. He was not ready for what came next though, that much was certain.
The ear splitting screech, and blinding flash that silhouetted the vampire, made Rolan throw himself out of the way, feeling something tear into his cloak as it nearly took his shoulder and arm clean off as well. He felt the brief tug before, as his vision recovered, a glance confirmed what he was already fearing. A massive hole had been torn in his cloak, right through where he had it already repaired, which effectively undid the stitching that had repaired the part he had damaged during the fight with the Gannek. Oh, good, he was going to have to get this repaired again. He looked up in time to see the molten remains of the sword she had been using, then came the string of cursing and stomping the now ruined rock, shattering it fully.
"If you're trying to break into mining, I think you just might be on to something if you had a sturdier 'pick'."
Rolan dusted himself off, mostly making sure he had not missed any other impromptu rock shrapnel being hurled around that had nicked him, before walking around to look at the messy remains of whatever Tyaethe had been trying to swing away at. Not much to tell from what was left, not that he was familiar with enchanting or anything magical, which he assumed was the intent before its quite thorough destruction.
"Very funny. I was expecting it to bounce off, it was supposed to be harder than this," the vampire replied, for once not automatically reverting to the correct language and instead giving another bit of rock a poke with her toe. No, that one had fallen apart as well.
Rolan blinked, realizing that Tyaethe was continuing to carry on in the language that he was not going to be able to even begin to follow, let alone decipher, at any point in the immediate future. Likely beyond into the not so immediate future, but that was a problem for another time. He did his best to keep an even expression, though the fact he didn't immediately reply, and stared for a few moments, was plenty of indication he was not following. That was before he spoke up to say much the same, of course.
"I would smile and nod along, but I did not follow a word of that, at all."
"It's just Ithillane…" Tyaethe said, sighing and repeating her answer, adding, "It definitely wasn't supposed to fail explosively."
"A colorful language to be sure, though well beyond me."
Rolan walked over, prodding some of the broken and shattered bits of rock with his own boot. He wasn't sure what to expect, just broken gravel and, given the brief explanation from Tyaethe, disappointment.
"For not trying it did explode rather well. If there was any hope of controlling it, there could be some use for that. I am curious though, what was the intended outcome?"
"I wanted to make something as hard as dragon scale," Tyaethe explained, walking over to the other rock and charging it up until it, too, started to glow an ominous red. At least she didn't have a sword in hand, "Volkstraad's scales, at that. Something to practice against and let everyone else test their strength on."
Without warning, she spun and slammed a fist into the pillar – it glowed a little, but stopped without any damage. Or, for once, a damaged arm. "Not just reinforced, but able to absorb the blow without damaging the weapon. Obviously, it wasn't up to par if I could just cut it in half."
Rolan furrowed his brow as Tyaethe began to explain the actual intent behind this impromptu explosive. Something to replicate not just any dragon scales, but Volkstraad's? He was not certain there was even any single material that could even come close to that, short of the scales of another dragon, and that would still fall well short of the mark.
"Fortune willing no one alive should need to get through scales that tough, but I won't argue against having the option to use something like them for training. If enchanting rock doesn't work, would enchanting dragon scales, or at least something stronger, be a better start?"
Like sourcing dragon scales would be easy or even practical, but it was a genuine thought experiment if nothing else. Rolan did start ducking on instinct when she whirled and slammed a fist into the pillar, but nothing. No broken arm, no damage to the pillar, just like it had never been touched. He began thinking out loud, at the mention of absorbing attacks, not just stopping them.
"No, given the state of both sword and rock, it was not. Stating the obvious, given the longsword's new career as a dagger, I know. A stronger base material might not be the answer given you want anything hitting it to survive unscathed..."
"The rock's just a canvas," Tyaethe answered, finger tapping against the runework, "When I went to the college for this, it took a while for them to make the enchantment small enough to be practical without needing to pay someone like Ardor to do it. I wasn't really paying attention to how it works, it just uses the mana directly to repel it… I think it's some sort of specialised barrier. Had to lend them one of the scales I kept for comparison."
The college being involved made sense, given how much magical prowess would be needed, someone there was bound to be able to help. Or quite a few someones, if Rolan was estimating just how much effort went into the enchantment. Not that it did any good, but he was still at least giving the problem thought. Amusing as it was that he might come up with something the entire College missed, that was incredibly unlikely. Unfortunate that Ardor couldn't help, though a talent for smithing was a far cry from highly experimental enchantments and magic. Putting that aside, he focused on the runework instead as he continued theorizing on possible solutions, at least possible ones for someone without any experience with magic and how to use it.
"Even a specialized barrier would still, at its core, try and stop something until overwhelmed if I understand correctly. Like falling, falling is harmless, landing is the problem. Rather than a barrier, is it possible to have a potent slowing effect put in place instead? Something that would bring anything incoming to a near standstill, perceptibly stopped, when charged like that. Same feedback, but if overwhelmed it would hopefully not violently explode?"
"Anything that overwhelms it is going to carve through the enchantments for sure. If they're still charged…" the vampire made a gesture with both hands that was probably meant to give the impression of explosions. "Changing the mechanism wouldn't help."
Changing the storage would. Use gems as a reservoir, keep them well out of the path of any errant swords. But they were talking storing a lot of energy to recreate the toughness Tyaethe remembered, and that didn't change that this one had caved before it used up the full supply!
"The magic has to go somewhere, especially if overwhelmed, then."
Which was why the entire setup had exploded. The end goal, something to emulate the toughest scales to ever be encountered, made this particularly tricky to even begin puzzling out. Adding a way for the excess magic to escape after a failure might prevent an explosion, but wouldn't actually help accomplish the end goal. Part of him wondered if it was even possible, at least conventionally. Witches didn't play by the same rules, as far as he understood them which was barely, maybe one of them could do something. He was hesitant to suggest it though, at least directly, since if that was a reasonable option surely Tyaethe would have pursued that first instead of dealing with the College. He would at least ask the question indirectly, given this was all well outside his knowledge.
"I suppose there is no one else who can provide the expertise needed for this project of yours? That isn't a Witch, I suppose."
"Not unless we could find time to go to Ithillin or Veldt and see what their colleges can do," Tyaethe sighed, poking another bit of rock and watching it fall apart, "I don't get it. They were so confident, and then it failed as soon as I gave it my all…"
She turned and poked the other rock a few times. "Well, do you want to give it a try? It should still be good practice for anybody else in the order." "I am sure there is some way to justify a trip abroad, you never know what is going to come up next in this Order..."
Rolan mused, watching Tyaethe prod the ruined remains of the rock again. Part of him was thinking that the College underestimated just how much force she could put behind a single swing, when really putting her mind and might to the matter, and he raised an eyebrow and shrugged when she asked if he wanted to take a crack at it.
"No harm in trying, at least. I have no confidence my crossbow would even get close to passing through a dragon's scales, so I can at least give it a few swings instead. Though holding up to my swings will hardly be impressive."
Rolan drew his arming sword with a practiced motion, having been drilling a great deal in the mornings, before looking at the rock that Tyaethe was prodding. Once it was properly prepared, assuming there was any other need to, he would settle into a neutral stance, before leading with an overhead swing. He was putting his full strength behind it, no sense holding back on the first attempted strike. The sharp clank that echoed out was indeed a far cry from what Tyaethe had accomplished, feeling the vibration up his arm that he expected from hitting solid stone. Let alone enchanted to replicate dragon scale. He would gamely try to make a few more strikes from different angles, including a thrust, before giving his sword a once over. Nothing wrong with it, despite obviously swinging away at solid rock, which was at least something to admire.
"Something tells me the College can't account for your capabilities. Would be my guess at any rate."
The paladin outright looked crestfallen before marshalling her features. "That would be… disappointing. If I have somehow improved, but have no way to measure it… I know everything can be cut, but…"
The muttering continued on until she shook her head. "I guess it isn't even terribly useful as a training tool? It's a proof of concept, but without a way to tell what it would have cut, and a failure even with a lower mana input being destructive…"
"Nothing is indestructible, even if it is a matter of figuring out how. I wouldn't say it is surprising you've improved, it's not like you have been idle after all. None of us have."
Rolan had a thoughtful expression as he considered the question on its value as a training tool. No, a sufficiently sturdy rock was not exactly an ideal training target. Even training dummies had their limits fairly quickly, though they were mostly good for drilling technique and posture, there was only so far someone could go on training targets. But he suspected it had a use as a benchmark, of sorts, which would at least salvage the work that had gone into the project so far. Maybe if she couldn't change the way it worked, she could change its intended use.
"Who says it has to be a training tool? I figure maybe you could use it as a test, any of the Knights who can cause it to be destroyed through their own capabilities, be it magic, strength of arms, or a combination thereof, is close enough to be useful should a dragon become a problem. Best choice of who to bring, since no one should hunt anything like that alone–"
"Hunting dragons alone is perfectly fine," Tyaethe insisted, taking a step closer, "If you're strong enough to take one on, it's better, no need to worry about someone else not being good enough, or the dragon losing interest, or – well, Volkstraad was a special exception, getting through those scales to hurt him was nearly impossible."
"Really, with something like that," her gaze took on a much sharper edge, "Having someone else try to help without a plan is just asking for everyone to get hurt."
Rolan found himself getting cut off, Tyaethe insisting that hunting dragons alone was all fine and well. For a vampiress blessed by Reon, perhaps, but that did not extend to everyone else. He stood his ground as she she explained her point of view, the why to hunting alone and that Volkstraad was an exception, one that proved the rule. There was that arrogance, at least he considered it arrogance, in other people being an unwanted distraction. The sharp edge in her voice as she lead into acting without a plan being a danger to everyone tipped him off to what he thought was coming next. Here we go, she was going to get into his interference with the Bloody Lord after all, lucky him. Still, he had every intent of defending his actions, and while he did not allow a hard edge to creep into his voice in turn, it was stubborn.
"When you're one of the chosen of a goddess with vampiric power and the experience to back that up, sure you can look at things that way. From where I'm standing, the entire point of an order of knights is to work together to overcome threats most cannot handle alone. Being the heaviest hitter doesn't change that, by my estimate. Even if you don't see the plan, being waist deep in the slaughter."
"Please, I wasn't that much older than you when the order was founded. Cyrus and Sescille even less," she waved dismissively, "And when we got to fight Rozenalt, we knew not to jump in because it seemed opportune! Trusted each other to signal for help if it was needed and handle ourselves otherwise. Two of us to keep the Hunt at bay, one to tangle with Rozenalt, and all the while trying to stay out of Faerie."
The wistful tone died off as Tyaethe started pacing, "Jumping in nearly got you killed. It nearly cost any chance to win. Do you think I didn't have a plan from the start? I told you all: keep away from the blood. We couldn't bring down Rozenalt conventionally before, and more than one of us just invited those spells. Things that weren't able to bring down any one of us, but stopped us from attacking. If he stayed focused, then we were in danger, but there was opportunity!"
At least she wasn't hammering in that Rolan and Gertrude were somewhat less survivable too much?
"If he had time to focus on someone else, to regain his balance and think, then the entire trap would be ruined, and then what?"
Rolan made no attempt to interrupt as Tyaethe started getting into dismissing his prior comment and beginning to lecture. It had not been a case of seeming opportune, it was opportune. One or two more deep blows would have cracked his armor open, and his attempt to retaliate against the huntsman while riding with Gertrude had, in the grand scheme of things, been manageable. She spoke on a different time, different allies, and a different level of familiarity between those in the fight. Then the pacing began and wistfulness faded, and still, Rolan did not move, simply following each movement with his gaze. Her idea of a plan was vague at best, a warning against blood and nothing else. Hard to plan around that when, from outside observation, she was throwing herself into a suicidal assault. That was before she called down Reon's light on the two of them and nearly went down with the Bloody Lord.
"If the circumstance shifted, we would have adapted. A vague warning to stay away from something is not a plan. My entire skillset is to interfere, to ensure the victory of those I support, including you. His response to the attack left him open to your follow up, which confirmed he couldn't sustain a defense on multiple fronts. Another strike or two like that, and that armor would have cracked and left the abomination below exposed."
Rolan pulled a vial from his pouch, holding the vial up in the air to reinforce what he was about to say. At this point he did not have the patience to be calm, his tone quiet but laced with a low anger. She had called down a grand display of holy flame on the both of them, combusting herself in the process and requiring Ser Fionn to come to her aid, without calling for help either, but if she could conjure a grand spectacle, she could call forth a precise execution. There was no need to test her standing with the divine, all it would take is one miscalculation and that was that. The best of them reduced to ash.
"This is what I opened with, a paralytic potent enough to kill a warhorse if properly applied, compensating for whatever was under that armor being resistant, directly into the armpit of his dominant side. You were not the only one with a plan, any strike I landed creating an opening to press the advantage, and frankly looking at the condition you were in after the fact? Your plan looked like you were just trying to take that abomination with you. At what point does hubris overcome grace? What if Reon had taken you then and there, the flames carrying you to her domain, and left the rest of the order in mourning over the loss of their best? I am not entirely convinced you would have called for help even if you needed it, and what would you have those who care about you here do then?"
Rolan sighed and, once returning vial to the pouch, rested his hands on his belt.
"I am not going to apologize for doing what I think is going to accomplish the most good. No plan survives a first encounter with the enemy, and if my death is ensuring the success of a better, then I can go gladly."
It wasn't impossibly fast, but there was a blur as the vampire stepped forwards and pulled the vial back out, holding it up to the light and removing the stopper. Wasteful? Even a few drops, dripped onto the burnt stump of a blade, could be useful – but at least she wasn't wasting Rolan's entire supply in whatever she was doing.
Ah, slashing the melted blade across her own arm, of course. And waiting. Waiting… and still moving.
"Rozenalt had been dead centuries," Tyaethe sounded slightly befuddled, "If this wasn't tested on… never mind."
"This is why you don't just jump in because you think you can help! If I'm so indispensable, then trust me to do the one thing I'm good for! Trust the other knights to know their limits!" The broken sword was dropped to poke him, which was preferable to a restoppered paralytic being sloshed about… or the blood dripping everywhere else, "And if you're going to do things like this, we need to be able to account for it beforehand!"
The flow of blood dried up, the pooled mess neatly gathering itself up into one spot, and Tyaethe's anger burnt out, "There wasn't time to explain everything I knew about Rozenalt's abilities. It would have to be done in one blow or he could just as easily buy time, and if anyone had died… I wouldn't want to add necromancy to the list."
The vampire held out the vial to be retaken. "Why do you think it's acceptable for you to die with a full life ahead of you, just to secure a fleeting advantage? I've lived long enough, and if Reon thinks my services as a paladin are over, so be it. You? At least try and reach your peak, first."
Rolan furrowed his brow when Tyaethae snatched the paralytic back, making a show of using a small portion on the ruined blade and applying it to herself, remarking the Bloody Lord had been dead centuries now.
"There is no accounting for what influence being the head of the Wild Hunt had, ignoring the fact any other option on hand would have actively been detrimental to you."
He got a word in edgewise before she continued berating him for having the nerve to do his entire job, as far as he gathered, in the Captain's retinue. It was not a matter of trust, it was a matter of ensuring their success by any means necessary, taking the poke without moving, continuing to fix her with a steady gaze.
"Trust, but ensure. Rozenalt was the primary threat, and target, so someone had to act. By your own estimate, if there was no time to discuss what the abomination was capable of, there was no time to account for my own intentions. Doubly so since you would have just told me to stay out of it. But now you are quite aware that, yes, I will interfere in a pitched, life or death battle should the opportunity arise to create an opening, which given the follow up deep cut into his armor, it did."
Rolan took the slightly diminished reserve from her when offered, sighing at the questioning as to why he thought it was acceptable to die with a full life ahead of him. She kept assuming that the risk of death was any greater than interfering with any of the other fights. The veiled woman's strikes that could pass through space without physically reaching would have put them at far greater risk than the retaliatory tendrils from the Bloody Lord had.
"Take one critical look at the Captain's chosen retinue of knights, and my skillset is the one most easily replicated, or is otherwise ineffective. Besides that, death was risked no matter which fight I lent my crossbow to, or none at all given the unfriendly skies during that engagement." Rolan shook the stoppered vial before returning it to the satchel he kept everything else in.
"When I agreed to join the Order, I did so with the full intention that it would be until I was dead, or dismissed for no longer being useful. If my death can spare one of the others who have grander intentions or, in the Captain's case, far more life ahead of her than any of us, their own end I would answer that call gladly. Until then, I'll keep honing and expanding what I can offer to at least be useful in the interim."
Without warning, Tyaethe moved, an expanding mass of blood-laced shadow that solidified and congealed into polished black metal, the gold trim shining brightly in the sun – a mass located stubbornly behind Rolan, one hand wrapped round to tap against his throat. "You think that helped? That such a superficial insult to his pride actually damaged him?"
Her voice was still uncannily flat, metal pressing against the man's back, "His first response was easily dealt with, yes, but what about the second? Or the third? Do you think you both would have fared better than I did when he attacked with everything? I didn't want to provoke Rozenalt to that in favour of setting the trap, or do you really think my plan was to get my arm torn off?"
The pressure of Tyaethe leaning forwards was like being pressed by a tree, until it was suddenly gone, the unarmoured paladin back, leaning against the glowing rock. "If I could have kept him from realising there was any risk for just a bit longer, I wouldn't have had to get that extreme."
Did she regret it, though? Not really; she had finally won, and pain was old and familiar. Adrenaline did the rest. But it wasn't a feeling she was ever going to forget.
"Don't sell yourself so cheaply. If you didn't have merit and potential of your own, you would never have been accepted in. We don't need sacrifices eager to die for a fleeting gain."
Rolan was not exactly in a position to say a word, even if he wanted to, when Tyaethe advanced and planted a black mass squarely behind him. The tap on his throat set his nerves on edge, though, even more so than the sudden advance. It was the fight or flight instinct that had been screaming at him almost the entire time he was part of either the fight with the Gannek, or the Wild Hunt itself. He suppressed it, though it wasn't like there was anywhere to go even if he wanted to, opting to stay silent. At this point, what else was there to say on his part? Regardless of intent, refusing to back down had led to this, and that left very little to readily say in rebuke. Even if Rolan did not believe that the Bloody Lord would have had the luxury to be able to turn his undivided attention on the flying duo, at this point it would not be helpful to bring up.
Enough damage had been done as it was, it seemed, without continuing to dig further. Once the pressure was released, Rolan briefly rubbed where his throat had been touched, suppressing the instinct to disagree on merit and potential. Not much of either if, when faced with anything beyond trials and humans, his actions had been, if one was feeling generous, overall a break even between nominally helpful but unneeded, and actively detrimental when looking through the entirety of how the mission had progressed. He had nothing else to even bring up in response to the argument over actions during the fight with the Wild Hunt, sticking to not digging even deeper than he already had.
"Is there anything else I overlooked that I am not aware of, then?"
"Well… obviously, if you're going to specialise in poisons and the like, you need to be better at identifying what your target is," Tyaethe started, "Rozenalt is an example. Even without knowing who he was, there was nothing under there but blood, bone, and magic…"
The vampire ran her finger up and down the glowing runework, brow creased, "Don't ask me how. I can barely see anything and our senses don't match well. You'll need to find your own way. Then find something better for cases like this than mere poison. Holy water as a base? Oil? I can bless those if you need them."
"There was not exactly much time to tailor make something to deal with the Bloody Lord, otherwise I would have taken the time to prepare something more fitting. I used what I had on hand to the best effect I could."
Rolan sighed, focusing on the fact that, yes, he should expand what he carried on him at any given time. Of course identifying what would be most effective was easier said than done, and that was without the vampire confirming just that as well. It added more to his list of things to dig through and commit to memory, especially if he was given the luxury of even a small bit of forewarning to prepare for something. He didn't bother bringing up how tricky spotting what something was, with no magic or enhanced senses, before having something on hand that would impact it.
"How long do blessings even last? Regardless, I'm already working on a significantly expanded list of mixtures and the like to have on hand for general purposes, both to pose a danger to anyone who is a threat, and to provide some tangible benefit to myself. Need to keep up somehow. That was why I even was out in the training yard before being explosively distracted, it is someplace I could safely test the effects of a beneficial mixture."
"Blessed is blessed; unless you profane it somehow or dilute it too far, it's not something that runs out," Tyaethe answered, "A handy thing to keep on hand if you get one of those magic pouches."
"So… what were you planning to test?" At least the interest seemed genuine?
"Something to keep in mind if I get my hands on a magic pouch, then. I can at least say I know how to not dilute something to being ineffective."
When asked about what he intended to test, Rolan pulled another vial from his pouch, this one having a quicksilver coloration. Fortunately for his health, it only had that appearance and consistency of it. He couldn't comment on the taste yet, but he couldn't imagine it would be good for him at all. He was actually confident and, one could argue, almost pleased with the mixture as he explained it.
"The first of an entire group of mixtures, that can amplify physical and, in theory, mental qualities. This one should bolster speed, reflexes, and general ability to respond with those boons. My own recipe, tailored specifically for myself, taking the most potent effects from several other mixtures I have found recipes for. Not only should be significantly more potent than any of them alone, but safer for me since its custom made rather than something generic for public sale. Granted, I can't know the side effects without testing, and its better to test in a safe place."
Rolan popped the cork on the vial and, in one smooth motion, threw it back and swallowed it down in one go. Moments later the expression on his face could only mean that however it tasted, it was genuinely foul and made him want to vomit it back up the moment it flowed past his tongue. He half doubled over, but once the taste faded he straightened back up and experimentally went through some basic motions. His eyes had a silver sheen over the dull red, settling in as the mixture took full effect. As he began testing his full range of motion, it was visibly apparent he was moving appreciably faster than normal, having to correct for the new speed of each motion so he didn't flail through each test of his full range of motion.
"While I can't quite put to words how awful that tasted, bile chased by acid might be an understatement, it certainly seems to be having a noticeable impact. Nothing feels wrong yet either, fortunately, so this might be a good base for other mixtures..."
"Hmm… tag me."
"Right, better than my original plan at least."
Rolan would make a quick lunge forward, pushing off his left foot to try and tag Tyaethe on the shoulder, pushing to see just how fast he could move with this new mixture fully in effect.
The vampire darted sideways almost immediately, smiling, and then continuing to dodge… although Rolan was getting closer and closer all the time, it seemed that was more of an attempt to slow herself down and cut it as close as possible. But it was still far from the overwhelming speed of pulling something from his pocket before he could react, Tyaethe actually looking like she was dodging rather than just casually stepping aside. The biggest clue that they were still going fast, though, was how much her hair whipped around.
"Oh, that's pretty impressive! If you can get a better baseline, even this mixture…" she called out, ducking. Not getting out of breath was particularly unfair.
"Baseline improvement is constant, part of the morning routine."
Rolan did not have the luxury of not having to eventually catch his breath, meaning his initial response was much shorter. He did have a respectable reservoir of stamina and energy to burn, even if Tyaethe was making it apparent she was deliberately slowing herself down, so he kept up the attempts. He could see how fast her hair was moving, which he knew was not something he could have kept up with before, and while it was not going to move faster than the eye could see yet, it had potential. That was just this mixture, as he grew the variety available to him he could continue to expand on getting close when he needed to in certain qualities. Once several minutes of this had passed, Rolan stepped back, catching his breath, the mixture remaining potent even after relatively focused effort.
"Seems like it also won't burn itself out after a few seconds, either, which was a concern given the relatively small amount. I might not be catching you anytime soon, but fortune willing vampires aren't going to be part of the opposition anytime soon. As long as nothing comes up once it wears off, I can use this base to begin expanding to other amplifications and boosts."
"Just remember that single dose toxicity isn't the only thing you need to worry about. It might be good once, but what about two or three?" Tyaethe added. An odd thing for the vampire to know about, really.
"I didn't expect to hear anyone bring up concerns over toxicity. How much do you know about alchemy?"
It was a genuine curiosity, though toxicity was a valid concern. Part of why the initial testing was single dosage, in case it was unusually problematic, but she wasn't wrong. A buildup over several doses could be dangerous, especially if he tried to start mixing different mixtures in short order. Antidotes would be added to the works to help offset any concerns, though the safest bet would be avoiding mixing different mixtures with different effects until he had a good grasp of all the effects of each.
"Very little," Tyaethe admitted, "I just had a lot of hands-on experience with medicine when I was young. It's one of the things that got explained when I was asking why some things were limited."
"I guess never enough for everyone is more universal than would be ideal, if medical supplies were that scarce. Speaking of, I should probably get my hands on a few more satchels and the like, so I can carry more supplies, poultices included. Never know when someone will get hurt in a bad place at a bad time."
An isolated upbringing did help reinforce how scarcity made things complicated, and Rolan had learned to stop asking the question 'why' to lean meals and leaner supplies early on. Of course most people weren't stubbornly raised in the woods but that was beside the point.
"Scarce…?" Tyaethe sounded confused, "I was raised alongside a duke's family. Not poisoning me was the actual goal."
"Which is why you mentioned things being limited, I took that the complete wrong way at first. Having nobility overdose would not be ideal, no."
"Generally not," Tyaethe said, attention drifting back to her stone block, "I really need to figure out how to improve this, if it's no use for me. Maybe get some sort of frame that can… measure? I have no idea if that's feasible."
"Given I have a great deal more to dig through, research and planning wise, I can keep an eye out for anything that might be helpful for your project as well. What's one more thing at this point?" It was about all Rolan could feasibly do to help in the situation, and his original plans to test had been accelerated thanks to Tyaethe's help so it was something at least.
"If you happen to have time to bless a few vials of holy water, it would be appreciated, otherwise I'll improvise. Best of luck with your project, though, I'll be sure to let you know if I come across something." Rolan would excuse himself at that point, assuming Tyaethe had nothing else to say at that point. He had no idea about measuring either her striking force, or the ability of the rock to sustain said force. There was more to do and prepare, and condensing that into what time was left before they were called to arms again would be tricky, no doubt.
"There should be holy water in the chapel, just let me know how much you take," Tyaethe said, before going back to her thoughts. This had to be useful for someone…
Johann continued to nurse a coffee cup as the others chimed in and made arguments for their own outlooks, both agreeing and disagreeing as appropriate. Commie agreed, cleaning up the operation zone would benefit both their own end goal, and that of the planetary invasion overall. Hex was all for the infantry operation, he could not say that was surprising but by the same virtue, it was still outside most of their formal wheelhouses. Yes, they cross trained in operating dismounted and doing so damn well, but that was as much to survive having their MAS shout out from under them as it was to perform infantry operations. She was at least making a good argument, but he could not bring himself to agree with it, not when their core skill set was MAS piloting. It was what they brought the most weight to, end of the day, so stick to what they were best at. Boss finally spoke up last, laying down the final decisions, at least as far as it would be decided.
Option One was out, a bit disappointing but ultimately not unreasonable either. As mentioned it didn't put them any closer to their overarching objective, even if enabling better air coverage would be useful down the line. The mention of some sort of Ace bogging down 233rd Armored Cav was worth keeping in mind, given their own encounters recently. Never could tell when an ace or experimental weapon was going to rear its ugly head again, so worth keeping eyes wide in that regard. Option Two was likely out as well, though with a nod to the argument from Hex, before focusing on Option Three instead. Hit the power, force the Coalition to adapt and have to reroute power. Hell that could have an impact on the anti-air grid in place, if they were lucky, though he had no argument against option three.
"Feel free to load up the demo charges on Secutor as well, won't slow me down noticeably anyways." Better to have them and not need them, even if a 170mm HESH shell could probably do a hell of a lot of damage as well. He could also swap out weapons on the Secutor if they had them, and someone suggested it, but as far as he was concerned it would suit the mission as it was. Well, once the laser communication module was installed of course, but given that was the direction they were seeming to be going, better to already start planning ahead on how he was going to conceal Secutor. Lot of letting others lead and run recon, most likely, and sticking to the larger ruins whenever possible.
As Toma walked away from the sparring ring, he could hear his partner getting pestered by a variety of critiques and backhanded remarks. Easy to judge and critique from outside the ring, especially given the several bruises he could feel forming under his formal attire, significantly dustier now than before his sparring match. Had the match continued on, he had every suspicion that Ashraf could have simply outlasted him, closing whenever he brought magic to bear and opening the distance whenever he brought his mace into the fray. Though, again, it was easy to critique and consider what ifs after the fact. Toma did not consider it a victory, not in a militant sense, though the number of eyes and follow up chatter to such an event certainly implied it had done what he had hoped and gotten attention on him. Ashraf as well, though that was far from a concern of his when it came to earning his place in the hopefuls.
Upon arriving at the archery targets, the commotion and noise Toma had caught before having to focus fully on a skilled opponent was explained. A lightning wielding archer, likely from the same nation as Ashraf though a completely different cloth entirely, metaphorically speaking of course. The wrecked remains of the target said it all, as far as the noble was concerned, though it seemed the archer was intent on chattering at some lowborn woman with a crossbow. Most of the estate guards carried crossbows when on patrol, they were relatively easier to use and just as effective in the right hands, if not more so, than a proper war bow. The addition of lightning magic did tilt the scales, but that was not due to the effectiveness of the base used to deliver said magic. Would be like crediting a frozen spear head to the fact that a flanged mace held more value than a studded truncheon. Different tools and use, but same end result, a caved in skull for whoever was on the receiving end.
The ambient temperature dropped again, though not as intensely as in the arena, as Toma willed several shards of ice into existence. Unlike the bolts or arrows of the other two, these had the weight and potency of daggers, balanced to be thrown, or magically launched, rather than used in a melee. Ignoring the numbness settling into his arm again, he would begin practicing once more, launching the frozen shards into the target he had elected to use, several down from the lowborn and electric foreigner. Each strike lacked the overt, flashy nature of the lightning arrows, but there was something to be said for a subtle, well placed strike. Should the lowborn wish to make a point, he would have suspected the best way to do so was to place her first bolt where it would have left a real target dead. Several lightning strikes were flashy and made a spectacle, but if the end result was the same, who was the wiser. The showboat, or the professional?
Given where Toma chose to practice his magical attacks at range, however, it gave him an ideal spot to listen in without being overt about the matter, not waiting for anyone to comment or interrupt before he could get to his magical drills. It was also a demonstration that, sometimes, one must simply carry out what they intend to do and not wait to be granted permission by someone who insists on chattering after making a grand display. Poor form to make a strong opening statement and then try to grant someone no chance to make their own reply, however meek it may turn out to be, though he made no overt comment on the matter. Not with how little he knew about either, or their overall intent on how to demonstrate their worth as future Wardens. Still he kept an ear out in case something worth learning came up in the conversation, Toma had no intention of surrendering a chance at gathering information about his peers, and possible rivals, while he had the chance.
Rolan had kept his silence and focused on learning what he could from what was shared and spoken about, barring one thing in regards to when they were offered trinkets, two of three, to take with them. One for the sister, one for themselves. A ring, rather plain and unassuming at first glance but first glances were never wise to take as truth when dealing with the Fae. Or much else for that matter, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. The second was a glass frog, green, small enough to look big in a child's hand. Cute, but he had to admit to himself that he saw the least potential in that, either as payment to the sister or as the order's prize. Last was the black dagger, which caught his eye immediately, though he did not speak out of turn. It was not his place to decide what was taken, though he did lean over to quietly offer his opinion after Gertrude cast a vote. The Captain had final say regardless of the vote, the most any of them could do was offer advice and work from there.
"My recommendation is the dagger for ourselves and the ring as tribute, given the danger's we are facing a possible weapon beyond normal means could prove useful once puzzled out."
With that Rolan returned to his position in the group, still as on edge as he had been the moment they set foot in the Queen's domain proper. He was spending more time than he cared to admit beyond the world he knew, in more ways than one as of late, and would be quite pleased to be back where he knew the rules and how they worked without needing to guess at the intentions of beings that commanded them fully. Gertrude got herself a stick for all her troubles, blackened and no doubt something of either grand importance, or a complete ruse to leave her chasing her own metaphorical tail over what it could possibly be or mean. Anything was possible there, given the Moonlit Queen had stolen the Duke's wits due to feeling neglected, as if she had monopoly over the man's attention. The more they learned, the more they could look into once back to Candaeln, and Rolan had a great deal of work to get caught up on. Alchemical, martial, and research as well given these shards were becoming quite the problem. No, not the shards, someone bent on collecting them as if there was some grand prize awaiting them at the end.
Rolan was not in high spirits.
The more he had been able to gather and learn while still in the Duke's holdings, both from the Moonlit Queen and beyond, indicated a single individual of power and knowledge, or a group playing at being only one it was hard to say. Cloaked, with a striking white mask with a single stylized eye that apparently matched the description of something pulled from a dying Golden Boar. While he had not been present with the Captain or her retinue for that, he had been briefed on it before being cast into the not quite dreamscape of a world for training. An individual with the skill and knowledge to maneuver the Moonlit Queen into storming off, leaving her vast riches exposed and vulnerable, only to take one singular thing and vanish. Played the Fae effortlessly, using information not even the Duke's own were privy to, from what he had been able to gather. All to gather more of the Shards, gathering even a few of those pieces in one place would not bode well for anyone involved.
Upon returning to Candaeln, Rolan had thrown himself utterly into his studies and training with an intense zeal, not even giving himself the luxury of a day's rest. There was too much to do, too much to catch up on, and too much to puzzle out to rest on his laurels for a 'job well done' as he might have a few years ago. He had to restock his alchemical mixtures, start on his latest recipes so they would be ready for the next pitched fight, and research this cloaked figure. More specifically, the white mask and singular eye, that was specific, something he could latch onto. He would spend every moment between lunch and well into the night in the library, pouring over a mixture of alchemical treatises to refine his recipes, expand what he knew how to make, and dig deeper into what he could learn so he could properly begin twisting and altering recipes to suit him.
One such experiment was coming to fruition in his quarters, a half dozen vials of fluid that had the coloration and consistency of quicksilver, brews intended to amplify the reflexes and speed of anyone who consumed them. Rolan was acutely aware that he would eventually hit the limits of what he could train and condition, so he would turn to alchemy to give him the edge he would need. He was starting with what he knew and was already confident in, his speed and reflexes, to push them even further past what he might be able to muster naturally. The side effects would require trials to discover, but the only way to do that was through use, and he would not, could not, ask anyone else to do that in his stead. Once ready, in another day or two, he would take them to the training yard to begin testing the limits of what the potions could do, and what his body could withstand should they have unforeseen side effects.
In the interim, waiting for the potions to be ready for consumption and testing, Rolan was digging through anything in the library related to the Shards. Not to locate the next one, like the Captain was, but rather looking for references, signs of, or indications of this figure, this white mask and stylized eye. It was easy to miss if you weren't looking for it, he had been musing on the ride back to Candaeln, so if he could begin puzzling out if this masked figure was an individual or, more concerningly, an organization, he could put a name to the face. Once he had a name, he could begin hunting down leads, tracking the individual or group, anything. They wouldn't need to know where the next shard was if they could stop this at the source, and he trusted the Captain to know how to read through a text and put two and two together. If she needed any help she would ask, otherwise he would be intently focused on his own studies, research, and redoubled training regiments each morning.
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