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Gillian


Gillian bit into his apple again, eyeing the little Lordling, starting to question how much lee way his position as a Living Reliquary gave him. He decided that eschewing social convention and slapping the little fucker probably wasn't in his wheel house for the moment. Still, the bastard was putting the screws to the minicaptain, and he was starting to doubt the girl even knew it. It annoyed him, even if he silently agreed that the girl had no right to her position. But it was different. He'd have to follow orders. He had a stake in the Rose's and what good they could or couldn't do with this child at the helm. He would live and possibly die on her decisions. This...outsider. He had earned none of that right to question.

"Who cares?" Gillian said bluntly, pointedly looking at Fanlily. "Saint's nothing more than a fancy title with a little divine backing. Living Reliquary is much the same." He said clearly and evenly, trying to pick his words carefully as he skirted some quasi-heretical dismissal of Sainthood. "But you wanna know a secret I've learned?"

"When you might die and someone saves you a bandit is as good as a Saint. It doesn't really matter what you were before..." he adds, taking a bite of his apple once more, munching as he continues. "You just ARE the person who stuck their neck out for them. Elionne ain't special in that regard. Never was."

Gill unceremoniously drops the half eaten apple onto a plate, seemingly finished with it. "And while I didn't know the woman, I can't really imagined she'd care much for things like caliber or worthiness. Can't exactly use either to protect anyone but yourself."
Gillian


Gillian trudged into the party with little fanfare, a decidedly unamused scowl on his face. Hilda had been good as her word when she said he would wear the damnable outfit he was currently in. The woolen robes could be graciously described as 'archaic' at the best of times, the dull blue coat attempting to choke him as if Mayon herself was vicariously communicating her displeasure with him. He stood out like an ornately dressed sore thumb, if a traditional one. Many of the nobles gave him the odd glance, his figure brought to their eyes both by his dress and the clearly grafted limbs of his station. Hushed whispers passing between them as he passed and made no attempt to interact with them. Gillian ignored them. He wasn't here to be fawned over by people who had no earthly clue what these arms really meant.

He opted instead to stay close to the mini-captain, wagering that she would be a thankful lightning rod for any fawning that was to take place. That she would also very likely be the first to meet with the Princess was also a pretty useful, even if it wasn't the Royal Gill was particularly keen on seeing. What he had forgotten to take into account was that the Captain would also attract annoying back handed complimenting nobles as well.

Gill regarded Lord Velbrance like one might a particularly fat fly buzzing around their head. Which was to say, an unwanted common pest that most sensible people would happily slam into the nearest table if social graces allowed. "He's even hovering by the food. How apt..." Gillian said plainly, palming an apple from the buffet.

"If anyone has no fear going into a fight then their either an idiot or arrogant enough to deserve to die." Gillian said, neither bothering to bow or address the Lord properly as he took a large bite of the apple. "As I'm told, Jeremiah fell into the latter category and got beheaded for his troubles, among other things." He added, casually wiping the juice from his mouth onto his sleeve before extending it to the Lordling to shake hands in greeting.

"Captain Danbalion might be green, but not so green that she forgot to respect the danger the situation, however slight. A far better showing than most people three or four years her senior." He said, his tone that of glowing praise despite the implied insult to the Lord. "I'm sure if the other Reliquaries were in attendance, they would agree." He added, knowing full well that atleast one mirrored his own opinion....but he was also pretty sure he and Parnella would be loved to have joined in jabbing at the man if she were here.
Assassin-Lucius


"As the Lady wishes...But it had best not be another nude." He warned in a teasing tone, knowing he could probably squeeze a few more coins out of the girl if it was. Lucius leapt from the private booth, savoring the feel of free fall for a moment before gravity took him, dropping him into the chaos of the stands. He landed hard on the back of a shadow Servant, feeling whatever ephemeral equivalent to a spine snap under his weight long before his spear buried itself into the creatures skull. Light exploded from the otherside of the arena as The King of Knights cut a bloodied swath through the attacks with her noble phantasm.

Frankly, that weapon felt like cheating. And were this a grail war he'd have taken that as a solid indication that killing her master, and leaving Arturia alone would have been the sole option for dealing with her (however much the idea galled him). But thankfully, no such war was in place, and he'd be a fool not to have some gratitude for the massive overkill being on THEIR side. He pushed forward down into the stands, casually flicking his spear into the neck of a shadow as he passed.

"speaking of our side..." He mumbled, sprinting past a hurdled ball of lesser masters guarded by a trio of servants and throwing himself into a group of five shadows. He ducked past an axe aimed his face, bring his spear up to deflect a sword as it attempted to catch him off guard. Throughout the arena, every friendly servant felt a sudden boost in their speed as he activated his skill; And Salvius Was There. Those at the highest echelon of agility likely felt little change, there was only so much speed one could have after all. But it would sure up the defenses of the lesser servants and make their heavy hitters all the more a threat to the shadows.

"Mores the pity it doesn't affect me though..." He thought, parrying a hammer before driving his spear into the throat of the would be assassin. His hand firing out as he did so and grasping the axe wielder by the collar before driving his knee into the brutes face, dazing him the milisecond he needed to wrench the spear from his now evaporating victim and draw it across the shadows spine. The remaining three shadows backed away quickly, now not so eager to swarm him with their current number. The two sword wielders (and a curiously small shield fighter it seemed), took a defensive posture. Evidentially deciding to stall until their numbers recovered.

That was all fine by Lucius. He only really needed one of them to stay alive to keep the skill going. And with the shield fighter there, a match up he'd admit would be annoying to deal with even if these were relatively trivial foes, it was an easy choice. "DO TRY AND MAKE IT QUICK!" He yelled toward the center of the arena. "THIS TRICK ONLY WORKS FOR A LITTLE WHILE."

@Rune_Alchemist@VitaVitaAR@RolePlayerRoxas@PKMNB0Y@1Charak2
Leith Walton


Leith listened in silence as his captor of choice voiced her explanation, attempting to put some logical frame work into all of this.He found scarcely little worked. The 'shoggoth' as she called herself seemed friendly enough, and he was not one to not accept the hospitality of a good servant. Even one as squishy and semi-transparent as this."...While I did hit my head on the way down...I received no such missive. Mine was merely an invitation to a new world. I agreed only because I assumed it some sort of japery." He grumbled from his place on the ground before Lila broke into her own explanation.

"While that is all well an good Miss Lolla-pffft Lovelace..." He said, idly wondering if blowing raspberries was common in this new worlds surnames. "What is it that you are getting out of this? One hardly expends what must be a considerable effort in bring forth other worldly beings and furnishing them with servants..." He says, gesturing to Vel who....he supposed he needed to start paying now? He was unsure if he'd just gotten an employee or been taken hostage and the girls word choice hardly cleared such matters up. "Not even to mention the probably considerable cost of trans-dimensional postage for the sake of charity. Whilst I'm without a doubt as to my ability to thrive in yours or any other world, I'm afraid I must ask what your catch is."
Assassin-Lucius


Lucius stared absently at the fights, not really engaged with it all. Oh sure, there was no denying the skills of the Knights but it just felt....hallow. Maybe it was just in his nature as a servant of the assassin class, but for some reason a fight not to the death, however reasonable that may have been, just didn't thrill him like a real battle might. He had no real context for that though. He was sure he saw such mock fights in his life, but he couldn't remember any of them in any significant degree.

He was about to ask Marietta if she wished to leave when something caught his eye. Thin wisp of black mist flitted between stadium seats below them, congregating for moments then dispersing. "Master..." He said softly, standing up from his chair and summoning his spear, the weight comfortable in his hand as he felt his boredom subside. "Step away from the window a moment." He sighed dreamily, standing in a lax guard as he took position.

Honestly, he felt insulted. For a variety of reasons. Firstly it wound his professional pride (even if he disagree with the profession) as an assassin that this attack was so open. Where was the elegance? Secondly...that he doubted he or his master were the target. True they'd not actually DONE anything to warrant such aggression. But it hurt his ego just a twinge that the forth coming fun was probably made specifically for someone else.

And then...the stadium exploded into chaos. Lucius watched for the half second he was allowed, witnessing as several masters (or just those lacking the skill to be ones atleast) were struck down before being absorbed. Most were in the stands, where they were more exposed. 'Suffer the cost of paying for the cheap seats I suppose..' He thought idly, waiting for his target. With the public seating area now in chaos it only made sense they would begin their assault on the private booth in three....two...

He thrust his spear forward, the steel shattering the window and embedding itself deep in the throat of a hammer wielding wraith. It gurgled for a moment before crumpling back into mist, a faint sense of surprising radiating off it as it 'died'. "I'm afraid this bets a tie my dear master." He said, not sounding the least bit disappointed. "The fault lies with these folk. I can deal with them if you wish at say...30 cents a head?" He asked, shooting his master a gleeful smile.

His priority would be her safety, of course. Finding a new master would be rather difficult in this chaos....and frankly finding one as loaded as his current one would be harder. Still, if she'd no objections and was willing to pay his toll he'd gladly wade in. He pauses a moment, looking back where he'd killed the first intruder (both to make sure nobody else was making an immidate attack and to consider his work). "....first one is free of course."
@Rune_Alchemist
Leith Walton


Leith took the moment of pretend unconsciousness to collect himself, at least as much as one can after surviving a fall from terminal heights by the skin of their teeth and questionable physics. Well, unless his sense had failed him, he wasn't actually dead yet. Good sign. The screaming from earlier had not really yet subsided, though it had at least shifted from terror to mostly agitation on the speakers part. There definitely wasn't the sounds of a rampaging beast of legend and fire. And while he didn't have much basis as to what that might sound like, he'd wager it would be a sight louder than what was currently reaching his ears.

He was about to sit up and demand an explanation (provided no dragon was present, a caveat he'd never thought he'd have) when something slick slipped around his waist and wrist. Bravely, Leith called upon his vast cowerdly instincts and frozen stock still, hoping it was just some random fauna that had decide to investigate him and would leave him be once it figured out he was not food. The skin touch his was...bizarre. It was like someone had steamed a squid tentacle, filled it with gelatin and then gave it sentience. With its only set task being to molest anything that came near it.

"Hmm...lets see." Something chuckled with obviously dark amusement, the aformentioned analogy becoming a terrifying real possibility in Leith's mind. "...no pulse? Oh dear. Guess I'll just perform a burial here." It said, Leith feeling a rush of relief that this new creature was apparently both somewhat ignorant of his biology and apparently not so keen on necrophilia.

"..though I am somewhat hungry..." It added, Leith shooting up with a scream and diving a hand into his pocket to retrieve a foam bomb. "I'm alive! Get back you sav...a.." He started, his objections dying on his lips as he came face to face with a...vaguely nurse shaped mass of purple goo. He pauses for a second, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation for what he was seeing.

Failing to find one he turned his attention elsewhere. There was no dragon, thankfully. He made mental note to punish who made him panic like that later. There WAS, however, a plethora of young women (many of whom where wearing what he could only describe as fetish ware. Especially the buxom blonde one with the horns), a floating and presumably demonically possessed child, and a Knight standing there like this was just another Tuesday to him. One of the women, some sort of albino, looked to be on the verge of drooling.

Remembering that being eaten was still up for discussion, Leith threw himself into the Jello Nurse's arm. Practically,...no very literally sinking into her. But he liked his odds with her more than the clearly feral and ravenous albino. "Excuse me but what the hell is going on?! Who are you people! I am armed! And she had first dibs!" He yelled, hugging the slime for dear life and hoping the rabid white haired one and the clearly demon possessed floating child didn't decide to team up.

Gillian


"Most gracious." Gill chuckled, snuffing the still burning fire on his arm out before anything caught fire. Fire safety when you were self immolating was really only a lesson you had to learn once or twice. "Well regardless, thank you for the message. If you have anything else you need please don't hesitate to come find me. Normally on the training grounds or the Butcher's Block when I'm in the keep." He said with a small wave as he turned around, walking towards a...strangely understated set of small buildings. They shared much in the way of architecture with the surrounding keep, though bore little in the way of decoration.

The Butcher's Block wasn't its true name. Gillian very much doubted the three or so buildings, two being barely a story tall and more or less used as glorified storage, constituted having a name at all. It was more an informal title, granted by the more suspicious of their order, to where the various priestesses who oversaw the restoration and maintenance of Reliquaries resided. And, though not as often, were Living Reliquaries were made.

It was honestly a bit rude when he thought about it. The priestess' that oversaw his care didn't EXCLUSIVELY cut people up or work on old magical holy limbs. If they did, he'd imagine it be a fairly boring career overall. It wasn't like there was more than a handful of Living Reliquaries at any given time, and an artifact in storage probably only needed the occasional touch up anyway.

"You're late." A young woman said, voice dark with agitation as she leaned on her staff, glaring daggers at Gillian. Gillian shrugged, making to move past her without a word before her hand shot forward, grabbing the collar of his armor and pulling him to a dead stop. "You're late." She said again, the normal warning in her tone now reaching a fever pitch.

"Hilda. The trip was lovely. I missed you as well. Just counted the minutes till we were reunited." Gill drawled, making no effort to escape. It would have been a lost cause anyway. Once Hilda had spotted him, it was pretty much a guarantee he was going to end up on a table. And, sadly, never in the fun way. Try as he might.

"Thats SISTER Fristone." She scolded as she dragged him into one of the buildings, spare furniture pushed to the side and a wide table placed at its center, a small shelf sitting beneath it with a variety of arcane tools Gill couldn't begin to understand the use of. "Disrobe. How are your arms? Did they perform adequately? Any lag in motion or discomfort?" She asked, releasing him finally.

Gillian spared her the comment about it being traditional to buy him dinner before asking him to strip and began to doff his armor. "Damnedest thing Hilda. They fell off mid fight. Ran right off into the sunset. The captain had to fashion me new ones out of fairy dust and horse ejaculate." He huffed as he struggled to free himself from his undershirt, his arm length making the task far more difficult than it had any right to be.

"As charming as ever. Hold still." Hilda scolding, helping him free himself. The otherwise embarrassing assistance being somewhat old hat to both of them at this point. "With an attitude such as that it is a wonder you are unwed. Lie down."

Gillian obediently followed the command, flinching as the cold wood brush against him. "I hardly think you of all people should be criticizing my sex life." He grumbled as he felt hands brush along the overlapping plates that connected to his spine, carefully lifting each. It didn't hurt as such, but it was still too alien to ever fully get used to and he found himself forcing the instinct to flinch away from it out of his head.

"Do not mistake my lack of interest in sex as inexperience in other avenues of romantic conquest. Clench your left fist." She said, examining mechanism that Gill was deadly certain he didn't want to know about in action. She reaches into the small shelf, pulling out a thin wand with an odd green yellow crystal on its end. "My vow of abstinence shouldn't be confused for your vow of obstinance. You're lagging slightly. Which is why you shouldn't take skipping our sessions so lightly."

Gill scoffed but didn't argue. He couldn't feel the lag but if Hilda said there was lag, there was. "Skip these? And miss out on the riveting conversation? I would never." he said as faint ghost sensations rumbled through him as the wand began its work. They sat in silence for a moment, both so the Priestess could concentrate on her task and so Gill could concentrate on not leaping from the table as the Mayonite fiddled with what he was pretty sure was the second most important part of his nervous system.

"So...who was the girl you were speaking to in the court yard?" She asks, finally putting away the dreaded wand and flicking his spines closed. "Princess' attendant. Apparently we're going to a party. Totally into me. Jealous?" Gill chirpped, happy now that the worst of it was over and flexing his left hand once more, feeling the almost slight improvement.

"That statement might bear more weight were you a woman. In more ways than one." Hilda snipped back, moving to examine his arms. "You're attending then? I can have the formal dress for a Reliquary sent up to your room."

Gill groaned, burying his face into the grain of the table. "Mayon's Button no." he said, Hilda reaching up and pinching his cheek painfully as reward. "Language." She said coldly. "And its traditional. And you would look handsome in it."

"I will LOOK..." Gill rebutted, shooting the woman a pouting glare. "Like the worlds most fanciful amputated asshole."

"Reon's Burning Sphincter of Might is both dignified and deserving of your respect. It is no less a Reliquary than your own." Hilda responded, stone faced as she met Gillian's shocked and dumbfounded stare.

"I...that....that is a thing? We have something like that!?" He asked, suddenly feeling VERY grateful for his arms.

"No. That was a joke and you are an idiot. You ARE wearing the formal robes. End of discussion." She said, standing and leaving to retrieve the offending garments in question. Leaving Gillian to sink into the table and wonder if the Captain was going to have this hard a time with the news.

....And giving whatever hopes he might have had of actually impressing Alisha a summary execution.
Leith Walton


Leith examined the strange invitation before him a moment, its mysterious contents whirling about his (if he were being humble) overwhelming brilliant mind. Such an odd little thing...a prank from his siblings perhaps? There was no return address nor any means of identifying who it was for. And given his family's lacking experience in handling their own postage (having servants for dictation was such a wonderful thing) that would be the most likely explanation. Still, that was a matter he could deal with later. Perhaps ask Daddy or the help where the letter had come from. If he were in a speaking mood.

Turning from his desk Leith began to exit his study, intent on finding his siblings...only for his stride to meet unforgiving air. Below him an...admittedly lovely verdant vista regaled him with its splendor. Majestic evergreens and deciduous peppered the landscape surrounding a clearing housing a crystal lake, the grasses he could see as being unmanicured but lush in their own wild fashion. In other circumstances, he'd have stopped and taken in the view. However that was rather hard to do when said view was hurtling toward you at the speed of hate.

The fall began in earnest, Leith reflexively reaching up and grasping his hat as though it might save him. Details became hard to register in his mind. He was falling he knew that. And by the sounds of screaming, he was not alone. It was strangely comforting to know he was about to die with an audience, a fact he filed away for later.

Remebering his place as an English Man,he resolved himself not to panic despite the danger. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH" He screamed, with the shrill piose and dignity his heritage demanded as he flailed his arms about wildly in a refined manner. Despite, in his mind, having sorted the issue right out, gravity rudely paid him no mind and continued to fling him towards the ground.

As the earth rose up to meet him, Leith shut his eyes tightly, praying that Newtonian physics might just leave him alone if he pretended REALLY HARD that it didn't exist. As he hit the ground he felt....that he didn't. Where searing pain and death should have been he felt nothing. Cracking one eye open gently he checked just to make sure that he was, in fact still falling. "oh..." He said aloud, looking at the no longer rapidly approaching ground. "I...I can't believed that worked..." He laughed as he hung upside down mid air.

"An object in motion stays in motion my ASS Sir Issac!" Leith yelled, laughing somewhat hysterically. "I knew some loser from Middlesex was nothing more than a hack piece of shiiIIIIII-" He began, immediately landing face first as the universe administered some vicarious revenge for the aforementioned physicist. Leith groaned as pain shot through him, his neck aching from where he landed on it. He'd survived atleast...that was something.

Keeping his eyes closed (as that seemed to be working out the best for him) Leith listened as bodies dropped next to him. He was about to get up to see if anyone needed help when the word "DRAGON" followed by several explosions reached his ears. He promptly decided staying exactly where he was and pretending to be dead was maybe the best option.
Gillian


Gillian bit down his reaction as the girl revealed herself to ACTUALLY be a Lady in Waiting. Part of him shouldn't be surprised. "First time I use that old line and I get it in one. Part of me is starting to suspect Reon does this shit on purpose..." He thought, chuckling despite himself. He'd expected the girl to get flustered as the 'oh so noble knight' made a pass at her or perhaps see the obvious flirt for what it was and slap him. But this was perhaps more amusing.

"Rest assured Alisha,..." He said, comically mimicing the girls curtsy with hem of his tabard. Less out of not knowing how a gentlemen was supposed to respond to such a gesture (not that he did as there were probably stumps more gentlemanly than him ) but more in the hope that he might squeeze a laugh or two out of the girl. "We appreciate the pageantry. Even if not all of us are so well versed." He adds with a laugh as he righted himself unsteadily, apparently having dipped lower than he really needed have for that curtsy.

"I am Gillian Reynaud of La Reine, Living Reliquary of Twined Arms of Dawn and Grace. Successor to Patrica Tailguard of the same. And so on.." He said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. The full title was as long and dull as its beginning suggested and he'd not subject the poor woman to it as he had. Not that he could remember much after that first part. "But please just call me Gill. And I hope you think it not too forward of me but I've two small request I'd hope you see to on behalf of the order."

He stands to his full height, a stern look crossing his face as he does so. For a brief moment, one could be forgiven for thinking him actually of some merit to his rank. Back stiff, shoulders squared and artificial arms folded comfortably behind him radiating their beauty and threat in equal measure. Like the outspread wings of a hawk as it delivered a killing blow. "The first being that, as I recall, Her Highness wished to see the weapons we carry. If it pleases The Lady I ask that a space be put aside for us. Not every weapon we cater to is as....precise as a blade." He said firmly, raising one hand (well away from Alisha) and allowing magical flames to engulf it but spread no further. "If a demonstration is to be in order, I would wish to see Her Highness' work is not wasted due to an accident. However that minor chance that may be." He said, adding that last part quickly. If only to reassure the girl.

"The second..." He said, voice dark and grim as though he were about to ask of her some terrible deed. He postured lowered itself, so as to bring his eyes level to her. Though maintaining an arms (well...her arms atleast) distance. "Is that you do me the honor of the first dance of the evening." He chirped, voice immediately dropping its hard edge and returning to its normal levity. Hey...It wasn't everyday you were in a position to score a dance with one of the Princess' retinue. "Or be squarely slapped by one." He thought, realizing he'd given Alisha an optimal position to do just so with no small amount of amusement. Either way, win win for him.


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