ERode

Lostman Graffiti

The Sharehouse

Iwao had to be losing it if he was expecting a radio to sound out when it was rather decisively turned off. Nothing ominous or ordinary came out of the machine, and instead, his ears simply picked up the ordinary sounds of an empty house. The clock ticked, the faucet dripped, and old injuries seemed to throb in synchronization with it. His own room was quieter, but not by much. The traffic sounded infrequently outside, while the crows cawed frenetically, a flock scattering away in the last shades of evening. The walls were thin in the sharehouse, sound-proofing non-existent.

So he could clearly hear when the radio was turned back on, a distinct click sounding, followed by the garbling of voices as it changed frequencies. Did Sayuri head downstairs after all? Did Fumiko come back? From within his own room, Iwao couldn’t tell, but the program itself seemed normal enough. ‘Tenoroshi Tonight’, an evening news segment done by a Takahiro Tatsuya, reporting on new happenings around the city on June 15. The police investigating reports of gun shots heard in the Northern District. Another missing persons report, this time for a young man with black hair and square-framed glasses last seen in the Northwestern district. And on lighter news, a runaway goat from the local petting zone having escaped down the train tracks stretching from the Southeastern District to the Central District.

The youth was focusing this time. Paying attention. It was easy enough to remember that today was the 14th. A radio gaffe? Or something more?

Iwao would have to wait though. Through the thin walls of the sharehouse, he could hear loud steps going up the porch, followed by a door being thrust opened, then slammed shut. Someone was home.

---

Sayuri’s message went unread.

Well, it wasn’t like that was all too uncommon. If Hiro was going to be so busy that he couldn’t even make it home for dinner, he wasn’t going to be able to immediately read and respond either. Or maybe he didn’t bother reading it because he was already home?
The walls were thin, after all. She could hear it too, the sound of a door opening and then closing downstairs, accompanied by the indistinct murmurs of the radio she thought had already been turned off.

---

Fumiko and Otoya ran hard, and it wasn’t as if they needed to run far either. The skittering of the giant rat continued to dog them, but as they made the turn at the entrance of the alleyway, as they bounded up the steps of the sharehouse, wrenching the door open, the two both noticed that they were no longer being chased. The rat had turned the opposite direction that they had, nothing but a lump of black fur in the amber light of the streets now.

Except...if they narrowed their eyes, was that another oversized vermin, pushing its form out from a storm drain to follow the first?

Fucking gross. Tenoroshi seriously needed pest control, huh?

Western District

“What are you talking about?” Atsushi replied, a brow raised. “I’m an Uber driver.”

The streets were empty, but the detective still obeyed speed limits and uncooperative traffic lights. The ride was comfortable, but the interior smelled of faded air freshener. One hung from the rearview mirror, shaped like a pine tree yet not smelling of either pine nor tree. A couple minutes passed before he replied, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “Did he have her shoes?”

The car pulled over to the side, one of the front wheels grinding up against the curb. Atsushi grimaced; he was a good driver when it came to following traffic regulations, but that was just about it. Outside, the neon sign of ‘Camera & Film’ buzzed like a mosquito, moths bouncing against the surface of the ‘lamp’.

He waited for Aya to exit before rubbing the stubble of his chin.

“Department’s not gotten any reports about missing children. Careful on your way back, Aya.”

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

Whatcha talking about? Pommels exist only for that purpose. How else will you end someone in an honorable and respectful manner?

WitchBlood

Why do that, when you can just kill all the Other Humans, then evacuate to the real world, and laugh as the vampires starve to death?

Skybound

Two Normal People Having A Normal Conversation

_{Outside the Captain's Quarters}

It was only just a door– a standard door like any other on the Fornacis. No golden frills, no heralds announcing guest entrances, and certainly no standardized bowing and scraping as one entered. So why was this door the most formidable one Steph had ever encountered?

She dipped her mop back into the bucket. It was the night of the 16th. Most of the other crew had gone to bed. To the left of the hallway, nothing. To the right, also nothing. It was the perfect chance to investigate.

Investigate my ass! She was normally above such crude language, but a few days on the ship surrounded by unruly crewmembers had already sullied her vocabulary, nevermind her mood. The damned door was locked. Locked! What kind of a captain never shows their face to their crew?

It was a mystery all too perplexing. All of a sudden, a cadre of crew members of the legendary ship had come back after complete silence for years with no leader in sight. There was that Taruva, but from what Steph had seen of him, he didn't seem the type to go launching a call to adventure like this. No, the answer had to lie within the captain's chambers. Something, someone had pulled the most powerful Empyrean crew ever to exist back to its home.

"Mmm?"

A voice, from the shadows. Velvety, calm, and yet, unmistakably deadly.

"Whatcha doing there?"

Smooth movements, totally relaxed. A man with hair the color of midnight, and a suit custom-tailored to his proportions. There was a smile on his face, unbothered and unthreatened, and he closed in without causing a single floorboard to creak.

"Lookin' for something, Miss?"

Steph nearly slipped in her own mop water. "Ah! No, nothing at all. I'm just, erm, cleaning the floor!" She hurriedly splashed some more cleaning fluid on the floor, nearly skimming the man's shoes with the soapy fluid.
I didn't hear him approaching at all?

"Cleaning the floor?" The tall man nodded, swaying on his feet. "Industrious, ain'tcha? Trying to get into that room too?"

"N-not at all. I wasn't doing that. Trying to get into the room, I mean. I most certainly am cleaning the floor. Trying to get into the room would be something far above the station of a janitor like me."

"Eh...you don't clean inside rooms?"

"Well... this one's locked. It's bothering me a lot." Steph said. "Oh, um, because of my janitor's soul! I can't stand knowing that there could be dust or grime or dirt on this legendary ship. It simply doesn't do! I've already tried knocking, getting a key, looking for anyone to follow inside, and–" she realized her words and shut her mouth fast.

"Mm, can definitely approve of that self-starting attitudeee." He nodded heavily, arms crossed. "Still, it's too late for you to be working, ain't it? Can't recommend that at all..."

"Hm? Who're you to be questioning my worktimes? It's a manner of pride for me to stay out of sight during the day. Workers must remain stealthy, inconspicuous so as not to disturb their superiors. I learned that from... my mentor."

He smiled, before taking off his hat and bowing slightly.

"I'm the Captain."

A pause. Steph's hurriedly closed jaw dropped.

"Just kidding. Cain Darlite, medic and all. Would rather not have to see you at the medical bay, y'know? Overwork's a killer."

"Ah. That was quite mean-spirited of you. I am Stephanie Erona, janitor. Pleasure." Her expression indicated that it was anything but.
"Do not worry for my health, please. I have trained for years to reach my current state of performance. This is perfectly within my limits. Have you much experience with those of the overworking sort?"

"Sorry, sorry. Thought a joke would lighten things up a bit, y'know? You're looking hella tense after all." Cain laughed. "Seems like everyone's some sort of nightowl, honestly. Just yesterday, I came into the kitchen to see Merry and Nia still going at it. And the head doctor basically doesn't even leave her office."

Another pause, this time more thoughtful.

"What sorta training have you been up to though? Never thought there was anything that'd allow people to work so late without longtime drawbacks."

"Endurance training. Of... the janitor kind. I also sleep during the day. How about you? Surely a doctor has better things to do than slinking about in the late hours of the night. Do you not have any patients to care for?"

"Nocturnal habits, I see. Noted, noted." Definitely noted. Gonna have to add that to the report. What was her name again...Stephie? "And nope, not anymore. Thought I'd walk off the buzz n get some sleep. Anyways, captain's sleeping too, so you'd probably do well to wait till they wake up before cleaning their room, yeah?"

"The captain is... sleeping?" Steph thought for a moment. "Hold on. Who's the captain? Do you mean former captain Branka?"

"Can't be former if she's still alive, y'know?" Cain shrugged. "Old crew's making decisions all Izma-style right now, cause no one wants to replace her."

"I... see. Do you know who called the crew back together, then?"

"The ship, obviously."

"You mean the ship as in the Taruva? Or like, the ship as in the boat itself? Forgive my question, but I'm rather unfamiliar with this sort of abstract speaking."

"They're one and same, are they not?" Cain brushed his magnificent hair back, and began to philosophize. "Soul and body, taruva and boat. We're all just pilots of our own vessels, whether crafted of flesh or wood or stone. When one speaks of your deeds, do they not mean both the intent of your spirit and the motions of your substance?"

"I... what?" Steph blinked. She'd never been one for philosophy, only bothering to go through the minimum motions at the Academy. "I suppose...? Mr. Darlite, thank you for the lesson. I'd never thought of it that way." She did a slight bow– it was only polite to do so after someone taught you something,.

"Oh no, Cain's fine," the slightly-drunk medic chuckled. "Honestly, I should be calling you Miss Stephie or something, considering seniority n all."

"Seniority? Oh, but you are a doctor, strange as you might be, while I am only a janitor. What sort of seniority is this?"

"The seniority of age? And technically, I'm an assistant. Super technically."

"Seniority of age? Why, I-" Steph stopped herself. She'd taken on a fake age for the sake of the mission, saying she was 25 rather than 29, but still... "Hmph. How rude. Were I not a woman of morals, I would put you in your own medicine bay."

"Oh, you too practice the Janitor Arts, capable of crippling a man with a single broom sweep?" Cain raised his hands in mock surrender. "Was jokin' bout the age thing anyhow. I'm like, one year older than you. But formality's just weird anyhow. We're both grunt workers, eh?"

"I suppose. Cain it is, then." Steph frowned. "I'm not specially trained, I simply go through life with adequate protection. Anyone working on a ship should be able to defend themselves."

"You'll be the first one I run to when the pirates start boarding then," Cain winked.

"...I've said too much," Steph murmured to herself. "Erm... it's been a lovely talk, but I think I must be going. Um. Back. Is that what people say? I need to... get to the top deck and clean there. Goodbye!" She grabbed her things and began to leave.

Ah, hold on a minute."

"W-what?" She stopped.

"A tip from one floorsweep to another: clean rooms during midday, cause it's real uncomfortable for a janitor to slip into your room at the dead of night."

With that, Cain dipped his head down in the facsimile of a bow, before disappearing down the hallway, humming a quiet tune.

WitchBlood

So crossbows work too? What about ballistic knives?

Cacophony Concord

Ask around and find out. Can't say it's easy though.

Cacophony Concord

Aaand posted. I'll get something else up for Versa tonight, and hopefully I can get Shovel indoctrinated and a Discord established too.

Cacophony Concord

The old man grasped Ari’s hand as she knelt down, five silver gleaming in her palm. Dragging it up close to his nose, he drew in a deep breath, taking in the aroma of precious metal. A shiver ran down his spine, and he swept the coinage off her hands next, cradling them like one would with a child. “Thank you,” he blubbered, “Oh, may the s-”

Then, Raymond spoke up, about the talismans, with Amulak soon following up.

The old man froze, turning his face up towards them.

“It’s…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down against his weather-beaten skin. “…been so long! Oh, bless the Sun’s Providence, bless the kindness of the Immortals! To take pity on an artisan such as myself, oh!” Hands still gripping the five silver, he thrust his airs skywards at an angle, before prostrating himself so low that his forehead bounced against the pavement. “Yes, yes, silver, twenty, please! To have lost such hope, only to regain it once more! Blessed days, blessed benedictions!”

The old man pulled himself back up, before bringing his hands up over his mouth, muffling the words he spoke within. A soft light peeked out from the gaps in his fingers, and when he removed his hands, there was a paper talisman. The color of the paper looked yellowed by age, while dark red symbols marked its surface. In the light of midday, it looked almost glossy.

“This right? This had to be! I was famous for these! …before misfortune fell at least. Please, I can make as many of these as you want!” He made a grab for Ari’s hand once more, but missed. “Twenty silver for one, fifty for three!”
_{@Searat@GreenGoat@Psyker Landshark@Haha}

---

She was even more imposing up close.

Easily two meters tall, if not more, the ogre smith wore a thick leather apron and shorts, clothing light enough to show off thighs that could absolutely crush watermelons. Her red skin was pockmarked by small burns, and veins bulged out from her forearms as she wielded a short-handled hammer with a head the size of a bowling ball. Sweat seeped into her sooty bandana, and her white hair was cropped short, more of an overgrown buzz cut than anything else. She hammered away at the weapon in her tongs a couple more times, before quenching it in oil and turning to Lugh.

“Silver coins?” The blacksmith leaned over slightly, hooking her hammer over the straps of her apron. “You…ah, new to these parts. Kiddo, ya gotta get that coinage changed to rishis if ya wanna do business round Horoshi. Find a bank or somethin’, otherwise yer probably getting’ scammed.” She leaned closer to him, glaring at Lugh with her coal-like eyes, taking in his posture and his countenance. Only a couple inches separated their faces from one another. A moment passed, then another. She frowned, a flicker of resignation or disappointment in her features. The blacksmith stood up straight once more, cracking her neck.

“I can see yer eager to get goin’ though. Not a numbers lass m’self, but with twenty…feel free to grab any two things from that wall over there. Armor pieces are separate though.”

Pointing in that direction, the ogre smith motioned towards a rack of rudimentary weapons, shields, and armor pieces. Though basic in design, they seemed sturdy, reliable. It wouldn’t cause any explosions when you swing them, but it didn’t look like a scam either, at least.
_{@Cu Chulainn}

World Beyond the Lexicon

Alas, if Kress was more savvy, he'd just stock the dorm room up with condoms and contraceptives and leave them to their flirting.

Cacophony Concord

Eyup, that's understandable. I think I'll make a discord after all, so I can just @ people on there about whether they plan to post or to wait.