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Blargh, finally finished all that NPC stuff. Will probably make Character tab Zeroth Post look better later, but for now...IC post in 2-3 days. Maybe even tomorrrow if I'm feeling fancy.
Y'all can feel free to continue posting in the IC where appropriate; I will be doing an update in 2-3 days, after I finish up my work in the Characters tab.











































Sarnai startled when a voice called out in her direction, her head immediately snapping upwards to see a Hahralian archer with clothes that were probably worth more than the Milky Toast Lizard.

"Sorry, but could you please repeat that?"

Clearly he would not though, as he made an art out of drawing an arrow and sighting his target, his posture evoking the heroic visages of puppet shows back in Dranabris. Where else but in Hahral could you see the act of archery made into performance, where the thrum of a bowstring became music? What more poetry did you need beyond the gaze of a bowman, settling upon a distant target, a certain future? Sarnai watched, even as a part of her mind was aware of the difference between a bow and a crossbow, even though she had already seen plenty of other Hahralian archers show off their arm when she stepped into these proving grounds.

And he was posing for quite some time, wasn't he? Perhaps making a show of his strength as well, to keep a bow at full-draw for so long?

After a moment, she decided that this was as good a time as any to start retying her boots.
DRIFTOOOO!


Back and forth the scales swung, always tilting in one direction or the other, but the tilt now...

The dragon's contagion leaked in through the holes that Otis had made in the carriage's window. Alto, their best chance to actually fell these Ethos-wielding bandits, was thwarted nonetheless, a grievous injury inflicted in a split-second exchange. Could Iraleth, Chunji, and Rio hold them off long enough?

Probably not.

Ok.

"Kann, get Davil out. Fianchetto, you leave as well. Michael, wake up and follow them. Or stay behind, if you're still confident." Otis holstered his firearm and retrieved his sewing equipment, slotting the unfinished embroidery into various pouches around his belt. Popping out of the door soon after, the Strigidae swung right on over to the seat once occupied by the driver-mannekins, brushing aside the wooden debris that littered the area. Throughout all this chaos, the horses remained untouched, unharmed, unbothered, no doubt under a similar sort of brain-altering spell that he had once applied upon his own Adapa. It made them entirely obedient and wholly fearless; it also meant that they were easy to control, even for someone whose encounters with horses could be counted with only his fingers. At least, that was what Otis decided would be the case.

The student seized the reins, having given the occupants of the carriage only a few seconds to vacate before he put his plan into action. With a wild cry, the horses entered into a trot before speeding up into a gallop, heading straight for the headless tower. Otis grit his teeth together, a free hand slapping his goggles down over his eyes as his mind burned with calculations. Calculations on inertia and momentum, on angles of approach and the construction of the skeletal tower, on how much maneuverability the carriage actually had. Too much of it was a gamble, too much of it reliant on quick calculations dependent on too much rounding. There was a wriggling thought in the back of his mind, about how much easier this entire thing would have been if they weren't forced to wear that essence-nullifying ring. If Alto, at least, hadn't been forced to wear that ring.

Oh well.

The horses frothed at the mouth from the physical exertion as they stampeded faster and faster towards the skeletal tower. Its warding blows had been weakened, and what could cause men to falter would be light work for a burdenbeast to withstand anyways; the vehicle powered on over perilous terrain, Otis almost flying off his seat with every bump and hole in the earth. And, at the last moment, Otis drew out his firearm once more, pulling both reins with one hand to the side while aiming the barrel at the carriage shaft.

The horses turned. The carriage followed.

A crack of the bullet sounded, accompanied by the splintering of wood as the structure could no longer bear the strain and snapped apart, sending the side of the carriage smashing right into the skeletal tower. If his calculations were correct, it would be enough force applied to the poorly-constructed 'undead' to send it falling down upon the bandits.

And Rio. And Iraleth. And Chunji. And Alto.

But Otis didn't have the time to think about them. He, after all, was far more airborne than he'd like to be, having been launched during the initial jackknifing of the blue carriage.


"Oh Lev! You look as delicate as ever!"

Lorelei rose up to greet them, giving the proprietor of 7th Haven a quick hug. He was about as skin-and-bones as she remembered last time, but those were certainly some good skin and bones that he had. Her gaze lingered on the collarbone that peeked out from his loose shirt, before taking a step back. "And life has been quite wonderful as of late. Got a pay bump and a couple of adorable new co-workers, so I thought I'd show them off a bit. I'm sure you'd like them some more than the Section 6 folk that I brought around last time."

At least, from the perspective of having socially well-adjusted customers. From the angle of having money to spend? Well, the cyber-cops often started up further along the pay ladder, if only due to the extra education required to be halfway competent at their work.

She sat down as Lev did, crossing her legs as she turned towards Barbatos. "Oh, Lev and I have known each other for a long while, back when I was still working with Section 2. Bit of a long story, Barbs, but the gist of it was that it involved a fiery romance and kickstarted his smoking habit."

If Lev wanted to add more, she'd let him, but there was business to be done.

"We're looking into the Saniwa today," the woman said after a pause. "Any news from downstairs trickle up about them?"


There was no closure.

He hadn't witnessed anything.

To the end, all Ferrucio faced was the face of some mangy ogre, slobbering over his face as it prepared to crush his skull to pulp. There was no catharsis in this, no euphoria to be found in watching the Patriarch hold his ground. No acknowledgement, not when he had long lost personal attachment to the Kaides name. Inhuman might clashed against the demonic strength that felled the kingdom, while mere mortals scrambled in the muck, survival instincts reducing them to mere beasts. And when reality broke, when even legends shattered in that limbo between life and death, when his soul was rent by the fragments of Aura, what remained was still...

...a mongrel, unsated.


It was a beautiful day.

Birds chirping outside the window, sunlight illuminate the dust motes in the air. A bed that he sank in, and covers that smelled like nothing at all. His pillow was made of something much softer than canvas and stone; his clothes felt soft against his skin.

It was surreal. He rubbed his eyes. Felt his face. Rolled his tongue over his intact teeth. Sat upright, then practically hurled himself out of his bed in a hurry to roll up his sleeves, his pants, his very vision obstructed by bangs that were unfamiliar yet nostalgic. Thinner skin. Unscarred, uncallused skin. And the sight outside his window.

It was a beautiful day, blindingly so. Had Kaidisyum always looked like this? In the window, his own reflection was found, a transparent image of a self he no longer recognized. Gawky limbs and hair that masked half his face. A hunched neck and sallow skin, pockmarked by acne. Had he ever looked like this? Ferrucio swallowed, lost in this mirror image, lost in his thoughts. Had it been all a dream, a nightmare that was finally broken upon his imagined death?

He didn't want to dwell upon it.

He wanted to leave, now!

He reached for a light cloak to pull over his clothes, slipped his feet into a pair of boots, and left his quarters without a thought. Ten years passed, but he knew where the kitchen was still, knew where the cellar was. None of the servants batted an eye as he moved down corridors and hallways. Another errand perhaps, another order to be fulfilled by the mongrel of the Kaides for his betters. He slipped past the heat of the cooking fires, snatching a heel of day-old bread. Another few steps and he pocketed a bruised apple or two. His gaze lingered briefly on an assemblage of eggs, before he reached for the remains of a wheel of cheese instead. Enough for a breakfast in his youth. Enough for three days, in his 'yesterday'.

Ferrucio left through the servant's door.

Perhaps today was an important day, but at the moment, all he wanted was to bask in the sun in a place with a view.
Yah, you can still control em yourself. Probably less so once I do assume direct control though.
IC up.

Kinda wanted to update the Character tab first, but it is what it issssss.

For the Expo gang, feel free to describe the specifics of your corpo booth and, idk, introduce yourselves to each other for networking purposes. You can make up NPCs as well, so long as they're not there to sandbag for your characters.

For the patrol duo, feel free to make up small-scale incidents to respond to. Think more misdemeanors than violent crime. Feel each other out n all; iz early in on the patrol.

Crowvette, you can make up the scale of this particular concert that Cas will be attending. Could kick things off at the start of the concert, the middle, or the end; just make sure there's a handshake event after it ends. And Yankee, have fun on your (IC) day off!
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