Current
Noble Arms is now either four years old, or three years and eleven months. The third thread had lasted for more than one year.
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1 mo ago
New Interest Check, everybody!
1 mo ago
My Roleplay, Noble Arms: The ASEAN War, will reach its 4th year in June or July. It's been a long journey.
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2 mos ago
Despite its massive flaws, my RP, Noble Arms: The ASEAN War, is still one of the longest ongoing RPs in RPGuild - It turns 4 years old in July and the current thread itself is more than a year old.
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2 mos ago
On 4/14/2026 (on my end), my RP, Noble Arms: The ASEAN War, is now three years and ten months old, and the current thread is one year and four months.
My points on Egypt still stand as they did before. Egypt would exist in a delicate balance of social relationships within the Middle East as was carried out by the Ottoman Empire. Similarly Muhammad Ali exists predominately by the will of the Ottomans that granted him permission to be the ruler of Egypt to begin with and ruling Egypt was a balance of maintaining that cordial feudal relationship with the Ottomans as much as it was having to fight them now and then to maintain independence at arm's reach, as with anyone in the greater Levant, Arabian peninsula, and Mesopotamia who would be as much subjects of the Ottomans as they were independent actors doing their own thing on pure vibe.
And besides the fractious conditions of this RP, the European calculus towards the Middle East and larger Ottoman Empire is always how best to use them as the foil to the Russian Empire. Neglecting the Ottoman Empire to allow them to break down too fast creates a void that the Russians could use to surge back from their punishment and bruising during the later alt-Napoleonic timeline, where even the Persians had the opportunity to nip at the Russian frontier and make gains on them after a little over a century of losing.
Internally in Egypt you have to remember that the departure of Napoleon from Egypt would have been still at best bitter, because he was not a popular figure in Egypt at all and anyone doing rapid western modernizations in Egypt could well be seen as just another Napoleon, even if they are Albanian Muslim and not French. But much of the Egyptian industrialization was fueled by European coal and would or could be very vulnerable to being leveraged that way. All those state centralizations and nationalism that Mohammad Ali did? Not only unpopular to his restless Egyptian subjects but also tasteless for European investors and parties who would source Egypt their most valuable coal to run their manufacturing depots.
A large part of this may just be an overall lack of regional players to drive competitive or antagonistic relationships towards Egypt. But skimming the app it's roughly the same as it ever was.
It's a direct copy-paste as I was using it as an example; not a formal submission. I haven't made a decision on whether to re-apply yet; as you said, Egypt's position is more precarious than the app presents it as, even with a foreign patron.
But as it appears that I'm no longer restricted to the Balkans or Baltics, that widens my options, assuming I do decide to join and find a nation that fits the narrative(s) I want to tell.
Muhammad Ali's Egypt. You restricted me to the Balkans and Baltics because Pagemaster threatened to raze my coastal cities and I decided to escalate and throw a tantrum, which though bad, was also because no one sat me down and explained that Egypt was not doing it all in a vacuum but had a foreign patron (you did do that eventually, btw).
Edit: Revised to tone down Muhammad Ali's ambitions!
History: Taking advantage of the power vacuum left in Egypt due to the departure of the Napoleonic Expedition which had taken it from the Ottoman Empire in the last years of the eighteenth century, Muhammad Ali Pasha, an Albanian commander who was part of the Ottoman forces sent to reoccupy Egypt, used the personal troops under his employ as well as his canny political skills to play the old elites and his fellow newcomers against each other, eventually rising to power as Egypt's new governor. As the Napoleonic Wars wound down, he dispatched his chief rivals, the Mamluks, through a bloody massacre that broke their power forever.
This allowed him to pass vital reforms without interference, such as the nationalization of land and the taxation of charitable endowments. Through a monopoly on trade and the improvement of Egypt's much-neglected agricultural system, he made enough revenue to not just buy Western weapons, but build factories that produced muskets and a shipyard capable of building 100-gun warships (this was IRL). He built dams, and technical schools, and allowed European Businesses to enter the country as long as they contributed part of their profits to his treasury. This allowed for rapid modernization and development, especially as he also sent students to Europe in order to make sure that he had specialists who knew how his weapons worked.
Eventually, he managed to provoke a dispute between himself and the Governor of Syria (which included everything from Antioch to Jerusalem at this time), which he used as a cassus belli for rebelling against the Ottoman Empire and invading it, bringing it down to its knees with his new modernized army, which advanced almost to Constantinople itself until the West sent an ultimatum: Back down or be broken. When he refused, he met his first serious setback, with his forces and navy being defeated and being beaten back to Cicilia, where he managed to save his conquests by making hasty diplomatic concessions, including pledging loyalty to the Sultan in exchange for continued rulership of Southeastern Anatolia and the Levant.
As he reconsolidated his position, the next challenge was a rebellion in Palestine, where high taxes and loss of power caused both peasants and local elites to revolt against his rule. Crushing this rebellion with immense brutality (a dark side to his rule), Muhammad Ali rebuilt his modern army and navy, careful to deal delicately with the Europeans so that they do not interfere. During that time, he sent expeditions south to make sure the region of Sudan was under his thumb, providing valuable gold to further finance his modernization programs while securing the best possible education for his sons and grandsons.
His ambitions were temporarily held in check by his realization that the European Powers would brook no threat to the status quo in the Middle East, and so Muhammad Ali focused on Sudan and the Hedjaz and their development. Sudan was both brutally pacified and searched for mineral resources, while the Hedjaz's cities, including Mecca and Medina, were richly endowed with gifts, and their ruling family, the Hashemites, were given guarantees of a privileged status in the VIlayet. Plans were also made to take advantage of Ethiopia's troubles to the south, as that country was still in civil war...
And even lacking the Austrian app, checking back at what I had written for the OP clarifies the situation in Italy:
<Snipped quote>
So on those grounds I would have to reject a surviving Napoleonic republic at Venice.
The point of divergence is also more or less the Treaty of Tilsit, where Napoleon decided to instead just go ahead and go gamer on the Prussians as a flex and turned around on the Russians when they protested to re-discipline them back into the Continental System, for a time
Considering the need for players, does the restriction for me to restrict my guys to the Baltic or Balkans still apply?
Edit: Yes, you explained that my previous app could only have worked if I had a suitable foreign patron.
Edit 2: Pre-emptive 'Understood' and 'Point taken' for if the answer to my question is 'yes'.
Lingayen Beach, Municipality of Lingayen, Lingayen Gulf - 9/25/2022, 17:15 UTC+8
Noel nodded, saying, "Of course, you can -" before he was blinded full-on by the flash of light from Huo Ren's spear. As he stood blinded by the light, Noel said to Nemo, "You have a healing ability, right? If you can use it, do it now so I can get my eyesight back faster!"
Meanwhile, the head-to-head battle with the Zodiac's Dragon was going... debatably well. As Fukyuko stumbled away, shins scorched by the grazing blow of Huo Ren's superheated spear, the man in question smiled grimly and made to pursue. Allowing his spear to slide down his grip, he extended his effective reach. Blinded and disoriented, the Japanese princess would have no feasible way to dodge his follow-up.
Cruel amber eyes snapped to the incoming pale-haired bodyguard of the princess, and Huo Ren's continence darkened at the continued interference. "Safety?" he hissed all too coldly at her words. His spear's edge flared again without warning or build-up, instead of a mere flash, a continuous near-searing sheen glaring off its length, heatwaves billowing oppressively out from his position. "Know your place in a battle between the Strong, insect." His right arm readjusted his grip on his spear, the blow he had been aiming for the princess beginning to redirect towards the incoming bodyguard, as the heat intensified explosively, the very sand beneath the nearby fighters' feet seeming to glow searingly.
A violent explosion of hissing sand erupted behind Huo Ren, a ringing thump of impact thundering out in time with the dying eddies of a sharp shriek and flash that had torn through the air overhead faster than the eye could blink. With a spray of crimson mist, Huo Ren... went flying, his entire body abruptly ragdolled away from the impact site, tumbling for a brief, uncontrollable moment through the sands.
Spitting sand furiously, the sun wielder staggered to a sense of composure on his knees, his spear having been flung away to pierce the war-torn beach like the grim gravestone of a battlefield from a medieval time. The heat was no longer quite as oppressive in the immediate area, but that didn't mean the sands weren't still hotter than the hottest desert wasteland.
"What?!" His face screwed up in equal parts fury and confusion, Huo Ren boggled... at the sight of his suddenly absent left arm, nowhere to be seen, a trail of crimson following his tumbling path. Snarling, his amber eyes seemed to glow with an inner fiery wrath, even with his spear out of hand, as he glared at the barrier... and the shadow writhing within. "Traitor-!"
Even despite his injury and disorientation, in the absence of his own light and having been bodily spun around by the prior blow, the incoming flare of Nico's presence could hardly be missed. The speedster blazed across the heated sands like a lesser comet, the oppressive heat from below searing into his soles with every step closer. For while he was protected from his own flames, the same did not hold true for others. Even so, he persisted, but the hesitation and hotfoot stepping the oppressive heat would naturally create was enough.
Huo Ren's spear disappeared from where it lay out of his grip. He wasn't fast. No, not by far was he quick enough to physically avoid Nico's attack, especially not severely injured and nearly prone. He was a living artillery, best suited to backline support, a commanding position. Frontline fights, for all that he could crush lesser foes in mass with the best of them as any A-Rank worth their salt could, pit him against a dedicated frontline fighter or two… and even he had to admit, he was in a spot of trouble.
His opponent was charging him head-on, so naturally, Huo Ren responded as any half-competent spearman would. His Noble Arm reappeared in a flicker beside him with one hand gripping the opposite end of the shaft from the head, the functionally instantaneous dispelling and summoning process his only practical way to respond to such a blazingly fast opponent. And so, he repositioned it exactly in Nico’s path, right into his momentum, his straight-forward charge. Huo Ren’s spear, propped up and beginning to glow with heat, was now inches away from impaling Nico upon his own momentum.
Success or fail, Huo Ren grit his teeth in fury and spat. From his lips, an eye-searing burst of blue flames spilled forth like a tsunami in the direction of Fuyuko and Rin. Thankfully, the stream was thin enough at the start that it could still be dodged narrowly by both girls, even if it would still result in nasty burns just from the proximity. Like the Dragon he was bestowed with the title of, Huo Ren exhaled powerfully. Veins of effort and strain bulged on his forehead, and his own skin reddened and flaked from the heat that he had not the concentration to fully protect himself from. The stream of blue fire then blazed white-hot, crashing into Ari’s weakened barrier in a tidal wave of destruction. Superheated sand shone like the sun all around, as the glowing barrier shuddered… cracked… and then shattered.
“Finally,” he couldn’t help but muse. His role to play was almost done. Just one final stretch, one last push through the pain and pests, and he could stop wallowing in the dirt with these insects and their traitorous Snake. The plan was almost complete. He could sacrifice a little dignity now… to revel in absolute victory later. After all, he was The Dragon. He was The Strong.
Horror. It seized her, clawing at her through the tiredness, freezing. So many people, first around her, then gone. No cause visible, and this power fit with none of the Zodiac.
They had not taken that next step quickly enough.
And so when Sophist made his suggestion…
“No!” Callie roared. She looked back at Lingayen, searching rapidly for a temporary position.“You’ll crush anyone who’s still alive - do not tell me you can’t think of better than that!”
Not happening. Not on my watch. Never on my watch.
”I suppose I could try and revert this mass to its original state,” Henri suggested, ”get them out that way… Or maybe not. Too many variables.”
Sophist, however, was already lifting up a large section of earth and soil, digging out a Philippine Marine who had been buried as he did so and letting them float beside Callie and her team. Then he spoke, even as he did it again, and again, and a fourth then a fifth, lifting four more buried soldiers out of the earth as fast as possible lest the enemy buries them deeper. “There, thought of something better than that.”
”That works, too,” Henri admitted while taking a guard point.
An interested pair of blue eyes looked at the marines being dug out, then at Sophist ”You can…” she said trying to gesticulate something being lifted up ”get out the enemy?”
Sophist responded with a nod and said, “Yes, yes I can, if I can move fast enough.”
“Then we do that!” Callie turned her head back, portal already forming to evacuate the soldiery. Need to be fast - no telling their snipers’ positions and we’re horribly exposed here. “Nil, more staves - blast away any cover left the moment they appear. Then you rush ‘em, Sergeant - can portal if needed.”
Setting her jaw, she slotted Charter into position on her rifle. Then, if the blasts haven’t done it… Old-fashioned lead will.
Callie's warning to Sophist not to use his powers in such a manner rang true... but not for the reasons she might have suspected. No... it was far worse.
Sophist had dug into the sands, his gravitational powers wrenching free a couple of hostages, allied soldiers. It wasn't hard to find them. The enemy Arms Master had left them buried beneath the sands entirely but left them each a singular breathing hole, pock-marking the beach and hillside with a smattering of entrances akin to gopher burrows.
Why had she left the soldiers intact? Possibly as an insurance policy. Effective hostages one and all. It would seem a safe bet on the enemy's part that this area would not be subjected to artillery strikes of either the mundane or Noble Arm variety so long as the hostages remained. It was a ruthless, cruel strategy that took complete advantage of the assumption of the opposition's morality... where the enemy might have little to none.
That said, a hostage scenario was only as good as your willingness to carry through with the implied threat.
The moment the third hostage left the earth, the ground rippled. A spear of glass -no, something more akin to a fusion between a spear and a sword, unnaturally smooth, slid from it like warm butter and cleaved the briefly relieved soldier in half in a shower of gore and entrails, painting the earth below crimson.
That was far from the end of it.
The screams of horror from the two rescued soldiers were joined by a muffled chorus, as every last breathing hole slammed shut, the earth beginning to writhe. From above, Sophist and Callie through her sight of her Noble Arm could see a portion of the ground shape into a cruel facsimile of a face, a shark-like smile spreading far wider than any human flesh would allow. A hand formed as well, extending a single pointer finger up at the sky.
It waggled chidingly.
The churning earth... began to bleed crimson, a chorus of muffled fleshy crunching and sickening, shrieking grinding of dirt and glass rippling into the otherwise dead-silent air.
A new formation "above" the "face" shifted into a counter, the number going from 247... to 207.
The implication was clear. The blood and viscera. The new sea of crimson earth churned sadistically as if maniacally bathing in their own capacity to inflict horror, lapping up the blood of their victims and spreading them as far and wide as they could manage, surely to the torment of the remaining trapped within. The price for saving all 5 people... had been 40 hostages murdered in as horrifically painful and brutal a manner as the sands could manage, 8 lives for every 1 saved. Why that number? It seemed almost arbitrary. Was it chosen at random? Who could say?
Regardless, for that singular indiscretion, the heroes... now had Tian Fei's attention.
Sophist had no idea what to do and was not afraid of admitting such, “I need a tactician - my specialty is in the occult!”
Suddenly, a voice broke in through the comms; female, authoritative, and also lightly accented, although the language used was clearly English and more importantly, understandable, “You have one, soldier! And these are my men and women you just screwed over, so you’d better listen to me!”
The voice then lightened in tone, “Chief Master Sergeant Lorena Cabral of the Philippine Marines here. Been listening in from Lingayen Town. And I have a plan. Sergeant Janssen - the soldier with the Anti-Magic bubble - can probably go around finding my soldiers so that they can be freed if he had a metal detector and some way to move fast. But at the same time, Sophist cannot fly him around as he uses Magic to fly.”
She then mused, “We still have helicopters and the enemy air force has retreated before the Viets’ ace pilots; we also repurposed civilian drones for surveillance and emergency cargo transport. Volunteer Lindman can make portals, thus speeding up the time we can send a helicopter with a metal detector here.”
“Negative, ma’am!” Oh God God God God - how do they have that precision of control - “I can’t move something that big, not fast, and even if I could I think whoever this is might just pick others of them to kill!” Trying to swallow down the panic, the bile...
We need to find them. We need to find them now.
Callie gritted her teeth. With the earth still shaking, there was a chance she could plunge her vision beneath the ground… But searching hundreds of places would take far too long. “Anyone we have with a detection Arm‽ They I could get here!”
CMS Cabral replied, “No one in the area, sadly. We can get one from Trinidad Academy itself, but even then…”
”All right,” Henri spoke, ”let’s think clearly. The armsmaster will react with hostility to us trying to save the marines but also keeps them alive for now, so there’s at least some use for them. What do we know of this Tian Fei? What is their reach? Does the arms master need to be close by to enact the earth shaping, or could they be on the other side of the city, for all we know?”
‘Tian Fei’ - of course, of goddamned course. Her mind hadn’t even made the connection, caught up in the fates of those around her as it was, but now the lesson rushed back - an earth manipulator, obviously, powerful but not well-known outside her home country, nor her abilities beyond the general understanding of Noble Arms’ limits. Callie gave a nod to Henri, taking a moment, letting herself breathe. Focus now. Focus.
How do we beat that?
“Maximum range is the size of a major city, but I have reason to believe she’d be in the very hills you’re in.” Cabral’s voice.
Right, affecting a huge area targeting everyone spread out to Lingayen’s West - very likely to be somewhere…
If she - no, she might - what other options do you have? You have detection and it’s you.
“Sergeant, get ready,” Callie intoned, just loudly enough for him to hear above the din of battle. “May need you to run, disable, or both, on my signal.” Then she placed Charter to her eye, near-instantly forming a portal directly before it - tiny in size but still offering a window to high above the hillsides.
Another deep breath - only another pulse of tiredness but still an unfriendly reminder of the greater weariness setting into her bones. Callie pursed her lips. From here she could see the devastation of the quake, the fallen trees, the few buildings out here reduced to rubble… In all likelihood, Tian Fei was likely somewhere close to the middle but that was still far too large to search systematically, especially in the chaos.
So Callie did what she had learned to do: she focused on the bond between herself and her Charter, letting her mind, her instinct and her intuition join with it, with the moment, with the vision through it. It would guide her to the answer.
Choking our soldiers? If she still needs to breathe, hers is the only opening left. She can choke on that.
Though she may have thought so confidently, such was easier said than done. As her vision encompassed a good portion of the landmass west of the gulf proper, she could see the mountains now quaking dangerously. The rumble of a crumbling world could be heard for miles. Meanwhile, the western beaches were beginning to lurch and ripple, looking from above to be closer to liquid waves of gold and sickening crimson than any granular substance. It was like a strange earthen tide, waxing and waning as if building up momentum, preparing to lurch over the large channel that separated it from the lone remaining central battlefront. It seemed as if Tian Fei’s main assault was beginning. Had she finally gotten ready? Or had the provocation spurred her to start early? Hard to say.
Simultaneously, all across the sandy, shifting expanse and the majority of western mountains, something equally strange was happening. Sand and earth writhed, veins of the beach crawling into and up the hills and mountains, sliding in betwixt rapidly forming fissures. From those glittering silicon waves and rivers formed… panes of glass?
Indeed, glass. Much like the blade that had rent a human body in half with terrifying ease, but instead more closely resembling unsupported windows. Huge square panes of glass were rising from the mass of sand, 15 feet on a side. The excruciatingly sharp vision of Callie’s Noble Arm could practically see the fusion in motion. Completely sans heat or infrastructure, silicon shifted states freely at its new ruler’s command, crystalline structures morphing and aligning to join in unholy matrimony. A terrifying show of precision and fine manipulation. Macro and simultaneously micro control over not just earth in the traditional sense, but minerals as well. In fact, extending that thought, would that not mean she could control metals as well? After all, they came from the earth too…
But that show could hardly distract Callie from her goal. The holes that had allowed their soldiers to be found had closed up, and no matter where she cast her gaze, it seemed… Tian Fei’s had too. It was an incredible gamble. The enemy, in order to not give away their position, likely had enclosed themselves as well, most likely with a much more robust supply of air than her victims. That was what Callie’s intuition screamed. And if that weren’t the case…
There was an intrusive little thought that maybe… Tian Fei hadn’t bothered remaining amongst her meat shields at all. What if the entire horror show was a glorified and quite literally red herring? After all, her range was clearly enormous. Why in the world would she have to comply with common sense or tactics? If that was the case, then the mountains themselves… Where there were ample hills, crevices and large greenery abound to impair line of sight… why couldn’t Tian Fei hide her own breathing hole in a place near impossible to locate…? In any reasonable time, at least.
Sergeant Cabral then said, “Qingshe. The former ‘Snake’ of the Zodiac can make us a Super Sonar which can detect underground anomalies, right? We have her give us that then we blast her deep enough to -”
Thunder sounded on the horizon.
Clearly sensing something untoward, Sophist whirled around with a look of unadulterated panic on his face, his attention entirely redirected from the rolling earth below. Shrieks of punctured air ripped closer, as the Egyptian thrust out his hands, a wave of force distorting the air. It happened so fast that only the telekinetic seemed able to respond in time.
The first hit sent him reeling, as an artillery shell winged his barrier and thundered into the sands below with a massive plume of silicon. The only grace was that it hadn't been a high explosive shell, as Sophist staggered, before firming himself against its friends.
Far too fast for him to even consider grabbing the shells themselves mid-flight, he could only defend, as half a dozen more pounded into his defenses. A stream of blood dripped down his nose, but he held, maintaining his secure grip on Callie's team, shielding them behind himself from the sudden assault.
Not for long.
A harsher shriek approached, and Sophist could only shake himself to clear his foggy, strained senses in horror. A missile. One had managed to approach in the time the shells had kept him busy. A hand flung out, bleeding energy from the deadly projectile. But it was too close already-! Too fast-! There was too much energy to bleed it dry before-
-A shift redirected it somewhat, but the missile corrected. He firmed his barrier. He-
Thunder and fire rang with the impact, as four Arms Masters tumbled through the air. Miraculously, Callie's team had seemingly come out only singed and with potentially ringing ears, but Sophist...
The Egyptian hurtled senselessly. Unconscious. A nasty burn crawled across the right side of his body, and his legs... were nonexistent stumps. It was quite likely his Noble Arms had saved him, so long as his body remained intact and undisturbed from further harm. But there was no doubt that it was he who was in need of saving now.
And as Sophist went, so too did his gravitational hold upon Callie’s team, sending them plummeting towards the earth. By fortune or perhaps foresight on the telekinetic’s part, however, the fall was not long, hardly 20 feet up. And moreover, the landing zone was, for better or worse… a bit softer than packed earth.
Callie, Nil and Henri found themselves flopping into the writhing intermittently gold and crimson sands of the western beach, barely missing landing atop the bladed edge of one of the panes of glass below. The waves of sand were surprisingly soft -even if not exactly comfortable- to land upon, and the lurching motions… Well, it was not a place for anyone without sea legs.
Though the roiling motions of the sea of silicon continued unfettered, it was more than obvious that the impact of the four Arms Masters hadn’t gone unnoticed. The sands in their near vicinity shuddered, pulsing like a sonar that had finally spotted prey. And then… a rising noise began.
The panes of glass currently stabbing out towards the sky began to vibrate. And with that vibration soon came a warbling, discordant noise, fit to rattle bones and set teeth on edge. A high sound that pitched up and down, before stabilizing into something ominously comprehensible: speech. Words that could be heard crashing from and against the mountains, as silicon sang.
“Ah~! tHeRe YoU aRe~! There could be no doubt. They were sitting in a sea of imminent death.
Only moments and a lack of quick thinking would seal their doom.
As the poor boy screamed for assistance from Ken, another noise could be heard cutting through the scream. The sound of breaking boards, and shattering glass below them. Not only were there ghosts, but now a new creature had entered the building with them. A dull thump could be heard from further down in the bowels of the building, and a series of thuds gently shook the floorboards. Whatever it was, it was further down, and no doubt one of many new things entering this haunted place. Ken and Jeremy could feel deep in their stomachs, the situation both just got a lot worse, and a lot more interesting!
Ken, meanwhile, had gone back for Jeremy, and the latter could feel a rush of power coursing through him, increasing the potency of his Gifts. Now they can be of some effectiveness, as Ken fought to get several ghosts off his friend.
It was only then that the boy noticed the noise from underground, then said, "Should we go further down? Will you be okay?"
Jeremy's wizard hat-laden head peeked up fearfully from the dusty floor. Quick as ever, Ken had cut down the approaching spectres with ease. He breathed a sigh of relief, though halfway through it turned into a sputtering cough as he expelled the dust that had gotten into his mouth.
"I'm o-a-A-Achoo!" He sneezed.
Abandoning speech for a moment, He got to his feet and dusted off his uniform.
"I'm alright! Absolutely a-ok. We should probably check it out, right?"
He was trying to sound brave but it probably didn't sound compelling with the snot dribbling out of his noise. Jeremy took out his handkerchief and blew his nose into it.
Ken nodded and took out his Ankh of Life, an artifact that needed his aura to conduct more than minor healing. He then pointed the cross-like jewel at Jeremy, sending a surge of healing energy at him which ought to heal any injuries he had.
Then the boy said, "We should; let me take point once more. Also, as long as you're around me, your 'Pause the DVD' power ought to be more potent and your 'Put on the Tuxedo' ability might turn the Tux into an actual straitjacket. As for 'Fork the Tender'... Does it depend on your natural strength? If so, no offense, but even if that's empowered too, it'll be ineffective."
After that, the boy went forwards, expecting some sort of monster in the depths.
"I know, thanks Ken," Jeremy said sheepishly. He knew more than anyone how useful he really was. He followed Ken down the stairs, quietly mulling over scenarios in his head.
The undead follow the dynamic duo, but they linger behind, the sounds of twisted laughter echoing down the hall after Ken and Jeremy. Soon, however, they see a towering figure clad in a red hoodie, camo cargo pants, and black combat boots...
"Hey, I heard this was the place for the multi-school exorcism program. Am I la- ?" The tall, hulking fellow asks before a large blade suddenly slices into his face from above, cleaving in through his cheek and out of his jaw, into his throat. The large boy stumbles, before three figures, all seemingly living, emerge.
"Kenny, Kenny, Kenny...." One of the figures, clad in black combat gear with a hood that hides his face snickers. "Shame you dragged two more suckers into this. Kill 'em all." He declares.
The other two goons with him are a frog-like person, hunched over with one of his arms visibly pulsing with a dark purple hue while the other one looked like a plant human, with skin-like tree bark, and fingers like wooden spear tips. The both of them rush forwards, aiming to run down our intrepid heroes.
Ken lifts up Gimlé, his ring, and projected a golden barrier that reflected, in some small form, the glittering paradise which lay beyond the end of the World.
"Assassins!" the boy roared in rage as their charge was blocked by the shield of hardened light. "Who sent you? My Uncle, or some other sinister force?!"
The killing of his fellow student had appalled him, even if that student was not necessarily a fellow Laurel. And now Ken knew that blood called for blood, if only to make sure that such killings did not occur again.
"Jeremy, stay behind me and try and trap one of the enemy using your powers!" Ken stepped sideways to shield his friend. "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe..."
I will not willingly break my word.
Shuddering in fear, Jeremy struggled to find a target, pointing a shaky finger at the assailants, his mind a mess of confusion and terror. Nonetheless, drawing some strength from the boy placing himself between Jeremy and the assassins, the young wizard points a shaking finger at the would-be-killers.
"P-P-Pause the DVD!" He yells.
The plant human freezes in place, halting its approach immediately, cutting down the approaching threats to 2. The boys wouldn't be able to harm him, and he would unfreeze soon, of course...
The frog-like human slammed its hand into the glittering screen, and a sickening purple substance began to work its way through the glittering wall, soon causing it to crumble and break apart. It simply let out croak-like laughter, smoke erupting from point of contact that filled the hall past the screen. This made it all the more alarming when the hooded assassin appears between Ken and Jeremy, blade raised to come down on Jeremy as the assassin grins with malevolent glee, only for the blade to sink into an arm that interjects itself between Jeremy and the hooded figure's kris. The hooded figure looks up to see the lumbering man from earlier, who seems that despite being stabbed in the face was still mobile.
"Fu-" The man in red began, before the assassin moved with an unnatural speed, cleaving off a large portion of the side of the man in red's head, and leaving several blades stuck within his body. To anyone with a simple understanding of the human body, each of the embedded weapons should be a death blow, let alone the brain damage which could be described as nothing more than the utmost over-kill.
Then Ken could tell what was wrong, for there was the spray of something warm, and the smell of iron erupted from behind him. The teleportation, the brutalization of the man in red, it had all taken less than a moment, less than a fraction of a second. All those there, now knew what they were in.
A fight for their lives, where sacrifices must be made, and most likely not all of them would walk away from this.
An immortal? Ken thought about the Man in Red, before saying to the latter, "Keep Jeremy safe, Mr. Immortal!"
Then he cut at the air in front of the Frog-man, letting loose a blast of gale-force wind strong enough to flatter him against the nearest wall, before turning back to the hooded figure as he continued to fight against Jeremy and 'Mr. Immortal' and rushing at him, his own body glowing with an aura of light from Gimlé.
His intention was to tackle the man and bring him down to the ground, helped by the glimmering shield covering him. Then he'd thrust his blade into the man's neck, hoping that adrenaline and selective obliviousness would allow him to drive the sword home and give him his first human kill.
Jeremy, for his part, fell backward and scrabbled away some distance. He was acting on pure, terror-driven instinct as the student in front of him was brutalized (again). He didn't understand the situation at all, but as soon as he could, he pointed at the hooded assassin and said the first spell that came to mind.
"Put on the Tuxedo!" The garb that appeared to surround the assassin was, bizarrely, simultaneously too large and too small, tight in the pants and loose on the upper body, heavily impeding his movements.
"What the fu-" The assassin begins, before he feels the force of Ken's body slam into him. However, as Ken goes to bury his blade into the man's neck, he vanishes in what amounts to a visual disruption similar to the visible movement of heat coming off of the blacktop. The assassin appears above Ken, a blade driving down towards the base of his skull for a singular killing blow, but the blade sparks against the shield surrounding Ken, before it shatters as the loud clap of gunfire causes everyone's ears to ring. Looking where the noise came from would reveal Mr. Immortal standing with a handgun clutched in his hand.
"Missed me!" The assassin snarls, before gargling gave away that he was not the intended target. The froggy human stumbles, clutching his chest as it seems Mr. Immortal poked a hole in one of their lungs. "Fuck, they got Roggie!" The tree man yells, before grabbing his friend and pulling them away. Mr. Immortal, however, seems to not be interested in letting his enemies get away. He begins to fire at the Tree Man who's pulling the dying frogman, blowing off one of the Tree person's arms. "I'm going to use your bones for scrimshaw." Mr. Immortal gurgles out, and despite what Ken had been thinking before, it seems like he was very much not immortal. Without some sort of assistance this stranger would perish from his wounds, and no doubt soon.
Jeremy while on the ground can notice something strange, there was a shimmering on another part of the floor like what happened when the assassin had vanished, and it was right beside Mr. Immortal!
Ken then sacrificed a chance to attack, to regain the initiative, to draw his Ankh of Life, point the small carved item at Mr. Immortal, and send a surge of healing energy, hoping that it worked for the other youth. Hopefully, his own barrier can stand for long enough to hold against a counterattack.
Meanwhile, Jeremy looked up, then down, then up, and then down again. He wondered whether he should pick up the shiny object or not. He wondered whether he should if it was right to do it if he would get stepped on by the somewhat violent gun-wielding stranger... Deciding that finders were keepers, he crawled forward and picked it up.
As Jeremy put his hand onto the shimmering spot, it was like touching a ripping hot skillet, however, it caused the assassin who was still wearing the ill-fitting tuxedo to appear as he goes to slash Mr. Immortal as the Ankh was mending his wounds, leading to the large boy to slam a fist into the Assassin's chest, putting them through the nearest wall into one of the abandoned apartments. Both Ken and Jeremy could see the fiend try to move out of the way, but the Tuxedo binds his movements enough to allow the lumbering lug to launch him.
"Thank you." Mr. Immortal says to Jeremy, before shooting into the room after the assassin.
The other two assassins are slowly making their way backward, Tree-man kicking in a door to pull his friend inside leaving a trail of purplish blood along the floor. Then, the screaming began as the two assassins let out a horrifying noise. Ken and Jeremy see one of the ghosts from before descending from the roof above and pass into Mr. Immortal, who begins shaking violently.
"Damnit!" Ken swore as he pulled out the last of the exorcism talismans he had bought for this situation. Not knowing if these had any real power, he walked towards Mr. Immortal to try and stick the talisman on his head, already having an inkling that the guy would refuse, maybe even lash out before explaining why it won't work.
Jeremy wrung out his singed fingers and looked around quickly, wondering what to do. The assassins were in a bad spot, most likely, but he didn't think he wanted to know what made them scream. Meanwhile, the large student was having his own issues, and Ken was helping. Being with them was probably the smarter choice, though he had no idea what he could do.
Still nursing his fingers, Jeremy nervously jumped through the wall the first assassin had been punched through. "Um, Ken, is everything ok?"
Jeremy sees the assassin laying there, two holes leaking red through the tuxedo as they slowly pick themselves up. He draws a knife from up one of the baggy tux sleeves and moves towards Jeremy, but the wounds are slowing them down, as is the clothing.
"Why...can't..this...be...easy..."
Mr. Immortal's body seizes for a moment as the talisman is placed on his forehead before he grabs it and looks at it. "..What the fuck is this thing?" He asks, his voice sounding different. "Was this supposed to do something?"
Ken says, "Oh, I thought a ghost was possessing you and that I should exorcise it."
Then he continued, "Wait, is a ghost possessing you?"
Then the boy turned towards where Jeremy was, and with a flick of his sword, sent a gust of wind at the assassin, a gust strong enough to knock him off his feet and to the floor.
The wind rushing past the boy seemed to wipe something away, and it was as if he could see more clearly now. Jeremy stared at the assassin on the floor numbly, as the red stain grew wider on the white dress shirt, dripping down onto the dusty floor. He turned his head to the large student, who even now, was covered in horrific wounds. He found himself staring at the hole in his head, wondering how it had felt, wondering at how unphased he was with such a large wound.
And then, abruptly, he felt bile building in the back of his throat as his breakfast came up to meet him. In a haze of emotions, Jeremy ran back out to the hallway and promptly threw up, gasping and retching as his stomach emptied itself, taking his emotions with it. After it was done he felt... worse, but also a little better.
Mr. Immortal looks at Ken for a good few seconds, as though he was wondering how to reply to him. The assassin was knocked to his ass by the wind gust, but slowly once again began to rise up, blade in hand like some sort of horror movie slasher. "It'll...take..more than...that..." He began before Mr. Immortal looks over and raises his weapon toward the assassin. "Should I?" He asks Ken as if trying to divert the conversation away from if he's possessed or not.
Ken shook his head and said, "We need to interrogate him first."
He then said to the assassin, "Who sent you? My Uncle? It seems he's gotten tired of sending Ninja..."
"Alright. If he does anything fucky, he's getting one between the eyes." Mr. Immortal says, moving to gently pick up Jeremy with his free arm, holding the poor boy's underarm like a sack of yams.
"You've got a few people out for your stupid head. I figured, hey, spoiled little shit, easy paycheck." The assassin says, glaring at Mr. Immortal the entire time. The two are locking eyes, looking for any sign to strike the other.
Ken retorted, "I'm not that important to have multiple people after me; don't flatter my 'spoiled' little head. But go on; tell me who issued the paycheck - I might let you and the rest of your merry little band live."
The boy tried to keep his face an even mask, hoping against hope that the assassin would not realize that he didn't plan on killing except in the heat of battle.
Ken held out the Ankh of Life, made of semi-precious malachite, in front of him, and said, "I can heal you. Not enough to get you in fighting shape once more - I'm not that foolish, but enough to save your life. Unless of course, someone has taken steps to ensure that you die before telling me anything..."
Which is probably the case, the boy thought, suddenly aghast.
The assassin laughs. "So you can toss me in prison? No..thank you...But I will give you one final bit of advice...Should have let your big friend shoot m-"
BANG
Mr. Immortal's firearm fires, but the assassin vanishes from sight. "FUCK!" Mr. Immortal yells, looking around. He begins to stomp off towards the room with the other assassins, carrying poor Jeremy around with him to make sure that Jeremy is fine.
Ken followed Mr. Immortal, looking apologetic and yes, guilty about how he had gotten himself and other people in trouble.
Mr. Immortal rounds the corner and takes a step back. "Oh, that's nasty." He says, before closing the door to the room the assassins were in. "Uff. I don't think you wanna see that buddy. They're, uh, not gonna be a problem. We need to head to the basement." Mr. Immortal begins, as he begins to make his way toward the stairwell.
Ken nodded, before asking, "So, if I may ask, how did you survive being so injured? Do you have an undead physiology?"
"No, no, it's complicated. I... can't really explain it." He says, seeming a bit shifty about avoiding death as he begins going down the stairs. Each of his steps causes a board to bend and warp slightly, with loud creaking and the faintest of cracking noises being heard with each step.
The boy nodded again, before he said, "I feel bitter about not checking for assassins. And also getting multiple bounties on me."
And feeling flattered by all the attention, even if it's negative, Ken thought. I hate my ego when it leads me wrong or is poised to lead me wrong.
He knew that what he had said to Doctor Nightman was right, that he had an 'ego problem', an ego problem that he was failing to address. And his allowing his ego to hollow out his psyche and create a pus-filled abcess where a stable mind should be has brought him closer to perdition.
But Gods! It felt so good!
"It'd be sorta hard to check for assassins. Don't beat yourself up, I have enemies too." Mr. Immortal says, as they come up to a door barring them from the basement.
Mr. Immortal looks at the door, looks to Ken, looks to the door, looks back at Ken, and then slowly lifts up his gun while still looking at Ken for approval.
Ken gave it by saying, "Shoot."
"Um, can you put me down first, though?" Jeremy interjected. "Please?"
"Oh, right. I honestly thought after you barfed you passed out." Mr. Immortal says before setting Jeremy down on his feet, dusting him off slightly.
"Thank you for the manners. Now, please, both of you cover your ears." He says before he aims at the door with his gun, giving just enough of a pause to let his newfound allies put their hands on their ears.
Ken did so and used Gimlé to project a golden barrier around his head as well. Jeremy crouched down next to him.
Mr. Immortal puts three shots in the door, two in the hinges and one at the seem where the lock goes into the door frame. He then kicks it, sending the door flying backward, and he stomps in. He starts looking around as if trying to find something, which was very strange. "It's got to be here still..." He mutters, a wild look growing in his eyes.
The other boy realized that there was a potential danger somewhere, and so waited, positioning himself protectively before Jeremy before asking, "Mind if I ask what you're looking for?"
Mr. Immortal walks around until he hears a creaking noise before he lifts his foot and kicks down, a piece of metal bending around his foot as he does. He stumbles backward, kicking that leg until the metal bent sheet goes flying. "That." He says, pointing down. If the two boys look down in the hole, they would spy what looks like a hidden space with some mementos inside, teeth, tied bows made out of hair, and several photos.
The photos are of numerous people, ranging in age, the hair colors in the photos being the same as the bows of hair placed with them. To those drawing conclusions, it'd be quite disturbing.
"Is it a curse of some sort?" Ken asked.
"Trophies." Mr. Immortal says, before kneeling down and looking further in. He reaches over and pulls out some sort of device that looks like a laser pointer.
"I'd say whoever put this here knows we found out." He begins before he starts looking around. "Help me find something to burn all of this."
It was a good thing Jeremy had emptied his stomach beforehand. Turning away from the macabre scene, he swallowed down the bile building in his throat before speaking.
"There was a kitchen, back there. I'll go look through it." He set off at a nervous lope down the hall, going into a jog, and eventually breaking into a sprint. The sooner he got there, the sooner they could be rid of this place.
Ken nodded again and said, "I'll accompany Jeremy," before going to do so.
The two boys set off to find a kitchen, and inside it's easy to rustle up all sorts of flammable materials. Grease, oils, cleaners, the works. However, if the boys needed to discuss something away from Mr. Immortal now might be the time...
"Um, Ken," Jeremy said suddenly. He was carrying some of the things they had found when a thought suddenly occurred to him. At the same time, he was reluctant to voice his opinion. "Are you... sure that we can trust that guy?"
Ken frowned a little and mused, "Somewhat, but not fully. He has his own agenda but it does not involve killing us, otherwise... I feel he would and could have done so by now."
Jeremy scratched his head. That was true enough, he supposed. And the large student had done quite a lot to help them. Probably more than what was reasonable. But still... "I mean, it's just... I wonder how he knew about that room. The bounty didn't mention it, and none of the adults seemed to know about it either."
The boy shared his speculation, "I think he's an undead of some sort and this is tied to his previous life."
"I guess that makes sense..." Jeremy said absentmindedly. "Wait, huh?" He stopped in place and tried to process what he was hearing. "So he's... a ghost or something?"
Ken shook his head and said, "Zombie of some sort."
Jeremy's mouth opened and closed. That would explain a lot.
"I don't know anything about zombies, but I guess so." He said. He had never been fond of zombie movies. "Anyway, let's get this stuff back to him."
They should probably do their job first. There would be time to think it over later.
After another set of nods, Ken began carrying flammable materials back to 'Mr. Immortal', hoping that Jeremy followed him too.
When the boys return, they find Mr. Immortal looking at a picture as his head jitters on his shoulders, the movements highly unnatural. After a few moments, his head snaps towards them with a slight crunching noise. "Oh, good, you're back. Just, uh, come here with those." He says, looking over what was gathered, hunching down to do so. Jeremy is able to get a good view of the photo Mr. Immortal is holding, and it looks familiar like he'd seen it recently...and it does not look like Mr. Immortal at all.
He wonders if he should ask. He probably shouldn't pry, but if he doesn't ask now, then when would he?
"Um, is that -" Jeremy starts. He's not sure what to ask. Is it his brother? Father? Himself? He knew so little that it was difficult to know what he wanted to know.
"Is that your friend in the picture?" He says, finally.
Ken listens in while at the same time putting down the flammable materials he carried in front of Mr. immortal before saying, "I echo Jeremy's questions."
Mr. Immortal slowly looks over at the two boys. "A friend, yesssssssssss....a friend." He repeats, before picking up some of the flammable items. He begins to pour them into the pit, and around the room, making a hell of a mess. "You two might wanna...head outside..." He hisses, and his movements become more erratic and violent as he pours and moves.
Jeremy complied, walking back the way they came, trying to remember which hallway was which. Before he left the room, however, he looked back at the immortal student. He felt that he should remember this scene. He felt like he should watch until the end. But, he probably didn't have the right to do that. It seemed rather personal for the giant student, and it felt wrong for him, a complete stranger, to intrude on it. Jeremy turned away.
Ken turned away as well, following Jeremy. It was time for them to go, and maybe collect their rewards. He feared for 'Mr. Immortal', however; he felt as though the other youth might do something which can hurt himself, but what?
Then it hit him - His exorcism tag had failed but he had no other method for exorcism... That didn't mean that he shouldn't try.
So he told Jeremy, "Jeremy, go ahead of me - Collect your share of the reward and if we don't return in 24 hours, our shares. I have to do something."
Then the boy hurried back to where 'Mr. Immortal' was.
Mr. Immortal stood above the pit, the room now awash in flammable materials. He looks over toward Ken and frowns. "What do you want?" He asks, thumb ready to flick open a lighter in his hand, a moment away from fiery oblivion.
Ken asked bluntly, "Are you possessed? I saw that ghost enter you, which either implies possession or... consumption."
"....No?" He asks in reply, as if unsure. It wasn't a very convincing statement, all things considered. "Why do you ask?"
The boy was plain as day when he replied, "If you're possessed, I can't just allow the ghost inside you to kill you in a fire. My exorcism tags might be useless, but I have... Other measures."
Ken faced Mr. Immortal and said, "Two options. One is negotiation, the other is brute force. I'm trying the first option, by the way, so tell me; why do you want this building to burn?"
"Tell me, how do ghosts form? Demons, normally, but not all the time. You saw the crawlspace, you saw the trophies. Fill in the gaps." Mr. Immortal says, fist clenched on the lighter. The moment was tense, for Ken knew if that lighter sparked, the entire room would go up in flames.
Ken nodded and said, "There was a serial killer here. He caused the ghosts. You're a legitimate spirit of the dead."
His lip slightly curled a little upward, "So, is the serial killer, who may or may not be also an occult ritualist, dead as well, and if not, why don't we try and find him? Alternately, if the real problem is that his 'trophies' are keeping you tethered into this world, we can find another way of destroying them without fire..."
"I'm tired, little man. I've been where a while, gathering strength. I don't know how long it'll take for me to do something like this again. I just want justice. This was his building, he had all the keys. How was I supposed to keep safe?" Mr. Immortal speaks, but it doesn't sound like him anymore. It sounds like a woman, distraught and reeling. "How else will you let me out? I'm stuck here until it's all gone. The others too, who're currently using those two goons as meat suits who tried to kill you."
Ken nodded and said, "A fire will spread, and innocent people might be hurt. Plus the person you possessed might die, and his death is not desirable."
He drew his sword and said, "If destruction is what's needed, there is a better way than fire. It's going to take a lot out of me, but I can collapse the building with wind if there isn't a risk that said wind would just spread and fan what fires there are."
Facing 'Mr. Immortal'/Ms. Ghost, Ken said, "Here's my counter-offer - I'll let you into my body, and we can destroy the building together without fire. If you reject this, I'll just use brute force despite the fact that brute force is dumb most times."
"Really? You'd take that on yourself?" They asks, extending a hand for Ken to take. "Fine, then we shake on it." They offer.
Ken can feel the air grow cold, as the offer is made. Is he ready for what comes next?
Ken shook on it, very deliberately leaving his mind open for the woman's soul, but keeping a reserve of willpower just in case he needed to force the ghost out of himself if there was any treachery planned.
It was like feeling the creeping ice of death crawl into his veins, and soon Ken felt like he was living in a haze.
"What interesting powers you have. Your mind is a cluttered place, boy, but roomy. Much roomier than the big lug, he has so much, and all in order, filing cabinets for days." She speaks, her voice like cold winter rain dripping down Ken's face. What happens immediately after is a daze, Mr. Immortal being escorted out of the building to sit down where he could rest. Then Ken, or both of them, turn to face the building. "We could combine our plans. Light it ablaze, but use your winds to keep it contained. It'll burn to cinders without anyone else being harmed." The Voice speaks, making Ken feel ill as they do. Possession was not a pleasant experience.
"Do it," Ken said. "I can always use my ring to put up a barrier should anything go wrong."
He felt like he was talking inside a dream, struggling with the weight of sleep and sickness. But he can endure this. He had to, or else he wouldn't be who he wanted to be - A good ruler. A hero. Someone who made sacrifices and didn't demand any that he would not make himself.
The next few moments were a blur, the building cascading into smoke and ruins, the glittering light a backdrop to hellish flames. As the building was consumed, the sickness began to lessen as the influence of the specter lessened, a grip released. "Good..for now, I sleep to recover. We will find him and kill him together. The one who did this. Then, I shall go, but not before giving a gift." The voice whispers, as Ken slowly began to feel himself again save for a pit in his stomach, what felt like a stone.
Ken nodded and said to himself, "It seems I got an obligation..."
Did I just get a stomach stone?! he thought incredulously.
In the background, almost drowned out by the crackling of flames, the sound of small footsteps quickly grew louder as Jeremy approached him.
"Ken, are you alright!? What the hel-" He skidded to a stop, panting half with exertion and mostly with panic. "What the heck happened!?" Contrary to the older boy's advice, it seemed he had opted to stick around. He looked around, seemingly worried that he couldn't see the immortal student.
Ken patted Jeremy on the head and said, "Got possessed. Willingly. I think I have new powers and responsibilities now."
Jeremy blinked at his statement. He looked at Mr. Immortal vomiting in the bushes and then back to Ken. He paused for a moment, and if one listened closely enough, they could probably hear the sound of gears clicking in his head as he put 2 and 2 together. He frowned, and then asked him again.
"Are you sure you're alright? You look... really under the weather, right now." Well, he was about 90% sure that he wasn't fine. But he knew Ken was stubborn, and Jeremy felt reluctant to pry. He seemed somewhat... determined.
"I'm....not fine, but I'll get there," Ken speaks, his own voice passing his lips without his command. His head slowly turns to look at Jeremy, a warm smile on his face as he pats Jeremy on the head again. "New responsibilities come with new issues, but I'll get past em. How about we go get our rewards?" He asks, Ken feeling like a puppet in these few moments.
"I second thaaat. I'm gonna go drink Rhea's supply of ginger ale to get over whatever the fuck this is...Uhhhhggggg...Note to self, create a spirit barrier so this can't happen ag...Again-.....BLUURRRGGGG-" Mr. Immortal begins, before upchucking again.
The Spirit laughs within Ken's mind. "You should watch that big oaf. His soul is rotten to the core, the exact kind of person you despise...the exact kind of person your Uncle utilizes. Maybe you could turn the tables and utilize someone like that yourself?" The Spirit asks Ken with a mischievous tone.
Ken nodded and thought back, I could use the help, yes.
He then reasserted control of himself and spoke in his own voice, "So, Jeremy, Mr. Immortal, want to come with me to get some ginger ale once we get the rewards? I'm paying!"
An offer. Made with just the right words for 'social lubrication'. A bit cynical, but a start to his quest, a quest to become better than Chinami and Reverio... combined.
From the shrubbery, a hand shoots up, with a thumbs up. "Sounds..great..."
Jeremy opened his mouth, but then he closed it again.
"Sure, I guess?" He said tentatively. That may have been against his better judgment. He was still unsure about the immortal student, and he was rather tired after everything had happened. But then again, maybe he shouldn't leave Ken alone right now, and Mr. Immortal had helped them out quite a bit...
Mr. Immortal follows, pulling himself free from the shrub he had been using as a resting spot. The boys are able to collect a bounty on the job, after explaining just why they had to burn down the building, Ken being surprisingly articulate thanks to some subtle nudging. Their payout is a whopping three hundred dollars, split three ways means for less than three hours of work, each boy made a fat stack of cash.
"So, you said you were buying?" Mr. Immortal jokes, gently slapping Ken on the back, as the boys head off for some well-deserved rest and relaxation...
After a tad bit of discussion on Discord, I edited both Regil's and Regina's backstories to fit the lore of the RP in accordance with what was discussed. If there's anything else that needs addressing, please let me know.
Erisse had unfinished business with Michael and Andras, and watched the two of them talk to each other, and then Andras go back home, alone. She was at least glad that Michael had realized he loved the girl; the latter seemed to have so little love and affection in her life.
We take what we can from these campaigns, were her thoughts as she teleported onto a high rooftop, using her aura of familiarity to befuddle the Rhean police's minds and hide her presence - The Narrativias knew the dangers of flouting the laws of the nations they encountered, especially nations which were not innately unjust, but it was a necessary evil in this instance as she followed Andras home with short bursts of teleportation. And a new romance blooming is not something to laugh at.
Then she broke out the wiretapping equipment as Andras arrived home, well aware that what she was doing counted as stalking but deciding that recording and maintaining the story was worth the risk to her morals. She has a counselor whom she is keeping her 'nocturnal activities' secret from. She also does not seem to have good relations with her parents. And she also has anxiety issues.
Then a thought struck her: I should leave well enough alone. I've found out what I wanted.
Years of following after Kyros, her brother, and having to repair the damage he had done, the wreckage both physical and interpersonal which he had left in his wake, had left Erisse unfit to resume her duties of recorder, mentor, and helpmeet. She had lost all appetite for meddling in others' tales, even if it was for a good cause, and like her brother, was prone to dealing with her problems with a burst of overwhelming firepower, albeit for different reasons than he did; impatience rather than a desire to show off.
Some Fairy Godmother I am, were her thoughts as she left the rooftop of Andras' house, removing the wiretapping equipment as she went. I made things worse instead of better, at least for you. And the worst part is, doing something about it would just wreak more havoc.
Is this necessary? she asked herself as she teleported back to the small house where she had been staying, a residence owned by the Narrativia family; her dimensional space was too dreary plus her few contacts with the outside world needed to know where she was. Kyros once accused us of being stalkers and meddlers, no better than villains ourselves - The sort of villain who does despicable things behind high ideals. Maybe he is right; maybe we need a better way. God of Stories, please give us one.
She prepared to bathe, dress herself in her nightgown, and then sleep, her thoughts gloomier than ever as she thought, What good is our knowledge if our methods of gaining it corrupt our psyches? Can't true heroes take care of themselves, just this one? God of Stories, please give me an answer...
Present Day
She had drifted off to sleep; there had been no answer in her dreams. So Erisse Augusta Narrativia changed to her 'work clothes', got into a small car she had paid for with gems of her own creation, and drove off to her favorite breakfast joint. Once she had gorged herself on pancakes, she was going to see if Michael and Andras had developed their romantic relationship.
But who knows, anything can happen. I can change my mind and go to either The Great Rhean Library, or to Clausewitz's, or some other area with a good story...
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