Partisan

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

It'd be an interesting power in real life.

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

Amanda's walking down a sidewalk-anyone feel free to approach her.

@He Who Walks Behind

'Hey, do you happen to be a meta-human? Because I am too. Maybe we can make meta-babies. Let me know, give me a call.'

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

@Mr Allen J You could send the drug dealer over to Kushi bar, since I kinda said the thugs hang out there.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Myeah I need TJByrum and Eschatologist.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

Terryn Hoffmann

“Virtus Juvat Fideles”

---

All was calm for the time being, so Terryn had more than enough time to pay attention to the possible captains. It was only then that he noticed Saewine was sitting down - strangely enough.. he was about to walk over when he was approached by a man with a fine tunic, and a felt hat with fur trimmings. “Excuse me, gwuard. Where can I find -hiccup- the nearwe... the.. pissing pots..” Terryn internally sighed, but didn't let that much be known as this man was undoubtedly of noble stature. As such it was his duty as a lower man to help him. This forced him to give up his attempts to discipline Saewine and give him a firm kick under his ass, Monarch knows he needs it. With quick steps Terryn walked the man to the hallway and pointed him towards the nearby loo. The man scurried off, walking side to side as he had filled himself up with booze much too quick for the feast. Terryn then proceeded back to the hall, which seemed to have filled up quite a bit over the three hours that they'd been standing there. There was no sign of the king, or any of his children or maybe even his wife yet, though judging from the amount of people in the feasting hall they'd be arriving soon.

And sure enough, it didn't take long for the king to arrive, with his wife at his side walking arm in arm. The whole hall quieted down and Terryn quickly got back into position at the pillar that he was standing near at the start of the day. It was a good moment to oversee the hall, with everyone being seated or standing near the walls, cup of wine in hand, looking at the king like everyone was supposed to. Terryn started looking around, subtly, to see if he recognised these people. Jarrod Blackhall, of Blackhall keep. Rodrik, a merchant living in the Hoffburgt. Trades in weaponry and armor. Marcus Harloin, prince-priest of Coedwin, not a particularily faithful priest. Nice to talk with, though. He recognised a few of the more famous men in the hall, though there were more minor figures here too. And this was just the start, as the hall would likely fill up even more during the night.

“Friends, family, lords and most esteemed guests..” the king opened, standing up in front of his antlered throne, while queen Anne had sat down by now and looked over the hall with a big - albeit fake - smile. Terryn could imagine that after sitting through a hundred of these feasts, you'd get tired of them. Yet queen Anne always had a smile on her face. Admirable, if you asked Terryn. “.. why are you all so quiet?” the king continued, showing off his sense of humor as everyone laughed. The real question was, who was laughing to gain favor and who was laughing because they really though it was funny. Terryn's guess was that none of them actually thought it to be that funny. Nobody laughed this long at a simple joke like this. The king went on with his little speech relatively soon, causing the room to quiet down again. “Now, we will feast deep into the night. Perhaps my son Dorran will even find his future spouse, who knows!” The people again nodded along and spoke to the ones next to them, pointing out possible candidates and women that Dorran might like. After that the king sat down too, signalling that the feast could, now, truly begin.

This was also a signal to Terryn that Dorran would likely be making an entry soon. He would look at his three accomplices and give each of them a nod respectively. It was time to get into an alerted mindset and start paying attention to the people in the room, but also the environments. There were several windows that were opened, that would lead from the garden into the feasting hall. Possible intruders would be able to get in through there. Pushing himself away from the pillar, he'd walk a round around the room. It was normally not an imposing thing to see Terryn - okay, maybe it was slightly so - but with the kettle hat and chainmail hanging from it that covered his entire face, revealing only eyes and mouth. It would be quite imposing even for the most trained warriors in the room.

There were little things that Terryn could see that he'd have to do something about - there were no assassins hiding under the tables, or on the ceiling. Besides that, all they could do was try to dissuade the guests from attacking anyone else. So far that seemed unnessecary. But with that said and done, Dorran entered the room. He was dressed in a fine jerkin, coloured a navy blue color, with fine black trimmings. He looked handsome as ever, and was pretty much the spitting image of his father in that regards. The hall slowly went a bit more silent as he entered but it was quick to pick up volume again. Dorran didn't waste any time getting into the mix and quickly joined a group of noblemen - most were rather old, but that was good, as they had also brought their daughters. It didn't take long for Dorran to make rounds through the room, speaking to everyone, before ending up with a group of the nobles' daughters. He, some other young nobles and the daughters seemed to be having a good conversation together. Probably, it was mostly about families, wealth, and far away family that couldn't make it.

It didn't take long for Bjorn to show up too, not dressed up like his brother was, and still in battle ornate, wearing his usual armor with the sign of the Servants on it. He was also wearing his sword, not uncommon for feasts like these although most preferred a more ornate sword, where as that of Bjorn was simple steel, with no ornate things on it what so ever. The hall didn't have the same reaction to Bjorn entering as they did to Dorran, which made Terryn feel a bit sorry for him. Bjorn was, by a long shot, a better man than Dorran was. Though he wished not speak ill of Dorran, he was a son of the king, and that meant he was above Terryn. But Terryn also felt Bjorn was above Dorran. Not that it mattered what Terryn thought. Rather than mingling around with other nobles, Dorran walked over to his regular group of friends. They were also all dressed in more combat suitable attire - and most also had Servants' insignias on them, although some had that of the Robed Swords. They were all relatively young too. The real job begun now, however - keeping an eye on Dorran and ensuring his safety.

---

Caterina Meitelde Grochain

---

Caterina was still busy getting drsessed with the help of atleast four of her maids, although she'd lost count about halfway in and she was quite sure it was more than four at this point that had touched, dressed, undressed, dressed again and adjusted the various powders and coals on her face at this point. She had had enough at this point, speaking out to them kindly but firmly, “Please, I think I'm done now. I'll do the rest myself, you girls hurry over to the feast yourself.” The girls sighed with relief, as did Caterina, before they hurried off to the feast themselves. It felt kinda sad what she was about to do, but she did it anyway. Without help from her girls it was a bit more difficult but after about ten minutes of wriggling and wrangling she finally got out of her dress again, shivering from the cold as she was almost completely uncovered at that point. Caterina didn't want to emberass her father even more by wearing a tunic and a set of trousers, but she simply couldn't do what the other girls did. There wasn't a way she would be holding her breath in that corset, whilst walking around trying to not break a rib.

So, she dressed in a much easier dress, colored navy blue, a color that caterina rather liked. It was also much looser fitting, whilst still being moderately fashionable. Ofcourse, she'd probably turn a few heads. But if anything, other women would want to be like her, and her dress would become more fashionable. Women did anything to gain royal favor, mostly in way of dress and speech - even a girl that was untrained in politics, like Caterina, knew this. So she wasn't too worried. Ofcourse, her hair was braided. More so, it had been braided for hours on end. It was braided on the sides, that would then go to the back of her head, towards her ponytail. It wasn't as intricate as some of the other ladies had their hair, but it would do the trick. As she was about to leave the room, she stopped herself before leaving and looked back, at the chair in the corner. On it was her burgundy and gold jacket, that she always wore. She wouldn't be able to leave it behind, but it was a silly thing to wear over a dress like hers. Well... Caterina quickly ran back and grabbed her jacket, and put it on. Maybe the other ladies would wear a jacket to the next feast, too.

She flew down the stairs, atleast that's how fast she was going, in an attempt to be at the feast even quicker. She wasn't a fan of the feasts generally but her father was, and she didn't like to dissapoint him so she had promised herself to show up. It was also a chance to see her oldest sister, Aren. She had missed her laugh, as it was one of the most cheerful laughs in all of Broacien. She had cried a lot when Aren was departing to live with her new husband in the Barren Wastes. She didn't understand, at that time, why Aren would go to live in such a desolate land. Now she understood, and envied her sister. She'd give up a lot of things to be able to explore those lands. She entered the hallway leading to the feasting halls, and slowed down her pace. She had to slow down and catch her breath again if she wished not to look like a wheezing, breezing fool. One... two... three... she said in her mind, catching her breath as she did so. After she had calmed down her heart and breath, she opened the doors to the hall and headed inside, proceeding down the middle lane towards her father. She'd be sitting at the royal table, along with her sister Aren, her husband and her other sister Erica. Perhaps Erica would invite a knight to sit with her, to keep her company, but as far as Caterina could tell Erica hadn't done so yet. Perhaps she was waiting for a certain person to arrive? Coedwin was quite far, after all, and Caterina knew that Erica fancied a certain knight from there. It remained to be seen what would happen tonight. She'd sit down and notice some of the women looking at her, but Caterina was unable to discern why, or in what manner. Maybe they were judging her, maybe they were inspecting her more closely to find out what to dress like next year. Who could tell? Certainly not Caterina, although at this point Caterina didn't care. Her father didn't give her any weird looks, despite the jacket and dress, so it was probably alright. She looked over the hall, noticing the guards standing there. She recognised Terryn, a former castle guard she'd like to talk to in earlier years of her life. She waved at him shortly, only recognising him by his characteristic way of dress, and his large monarchist cross hanging from his chest. He was probably the only castle guard to so openly wear items like that. She knew he couldn't wave back, and as such the wave was more to show that she remembered him. Surely he'd appreciate that.. she hoped.

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

I think it could. It might be different than healing, as in, it might shut the wound and that's it, since I doubt it would actually restore it to it's former form or shapes.

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

You told me to remove that, you dunce.

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

Junichi Ikaido, “Joshua.”

---

“Fuckin' fiends..” The young man that called himself Jun walked down the concrete stairs that led up to his appartment. He had just finished watching the news show with 'Molly Schuler', some half-male looking bimbo with a pin-striped suit. Who wore that kinda stuff. Tsk. After that he had thrown on his black slip-ins and his navy coat, before putting an unlit cigarette on his lips and walking out the door. His dog, Wotan, had yelped angrily as Jun left the house. But he was used to that by now - damn dog wouldn't want to be alone even if it meant he could chew up the nearly broken chairs.

The concrete stairwell was cold, both the concrete itself and the air in it. It was another of those shitty days - it was warm outside, but the stairwells were always cold as shit. And that never sat well with Jun. Though it was always nice to return from a warm day at the docks, to walk into that cool stairwell and have a break from that sweaty weather. Anyway.. today he had a day off for a chance - Ricardo, his boss, had deemed fit to close the docks for the dockworkers a day. Probably, that had to do with the attacks. “Mwuess I can fank the Fiends f'r tha..” he said, his words coming out a bit malformed due to the cigarette in his mouth. However, now that he had a day off, he'd be clueless as to what to do for the day. He could visit his mom and pops? Possibly, but that meant he'd have to endure the talks about how his little brother was being a rascal again, and was smoking like Jun. Too much shit for one day. Maybe visit Ame. Wait, no. She called herself Amy now, since the Americans kept going “Ame? No dear, you pronounce it Amy..” Fucking Americans and their rude manners. He'd reached the bottom of the stairwell by now and still had no idea what he was going to do. He gave himself one last time to come up with something. If I don't think of something before I lit my cigarette and step outside..

Welp, he didn't have to choose anymore. Right before he got to light his cigarette, the face of a known person popped up. “Sup Pwatchy',” Jun said with a light smile, though his words were still somewhat muffled due to the cigarette, he was happy with the spontaneous nickname that he came up with for this idiot, with his stupid eyebrow patch. “Yo, Jun. Where were you last night man? Shit was cray-cray.” he said, pointing at the patch he had on his eyebrow. Maybe this idiot was at the festival when the shit hit the fan. “I was mworking man, Ricardo got mwe working overtime last night.” he said, finally lighting the cigarette and proceeding down the stairs completely, turning the corner with his friend 'Patchy' in tow. “Man, those fiends are crazy shit. I don't know if my boss can deal with them. Maybe it's time to lay low, what'ya think Jun?”

Jun inhaled deeply and then let the smoke roll out his mouth before taking the cigarette off his lips to speak. “Ah, you got some pocket money after that last deal we did. Maybe you should tell your boss that you want some time off. Prob'ly he's not dumb enough to go toe to toe with the fiends.” Jun omitted the fact that if his friends would back off, lay low for a time, that meant that Jun was out of the circuit too. His position as dockworker allowed him to sneak stuff into boxes that were meant to go onto the ships, so he was a prime candidate for doing some jobs on the side for the Yakuza bosses. And his friends were only minor players, not even full initiates. They were merely wakagashira-hosa, underlings. It'd be some time 'till they were initiated as kumi-in, enlisted men. Untill then they were stuck rolling with the street gang they had created, the Yellow Men. A stupid name if you asked Jun, but it was a remnant of their childhood years when they faced common remarks about their skin color. Instead of crying about it they made it their own and hence forth they were called the Yellow Men, a group of kids running around stealing food from supermarkets, stealing snicker bars from gas stations and running past old ladies and grabbing their purses. Lucrative for a 14 year old.

But now they were older and into even more lucrative stuff. Armed robberies at times, a kidnapping even, and most notably drug trafficking. Mostly in service to a Yakuza boss that didn't want to be tied to the crime that he awnted done. But it earned a good amount of money that the Yellow Men obviously spent right away on booze, women and other useless shit. Jun might've been the only one that was only marginally involved by helping out, and as such he didn't get much money from it, only a bit of pocket change that could help him save up for later. But since that accident in the docks last year, he'd have spent all of that just on the hospital. “So where we going, Patchy? And how'd ya get that patch.” Patchy didn't seem to mind the new nickname and simply answered “We're going to the regular spot, the Kushi bar. The other Yellow's are waiting there. That patch? It's nothing, one of the damn fiends kicked me in the head when I tried to get away from that massacre. .. obviously I killed him after that.” Okay, now that was a blatant lie, but Jun kept that to himself and simply nodded at the man. They were headed for the Kushi bar, the regular meeting spot for the Yellow Men, and other tough looking thugs.

Verthaven: A Bloody Paradise [Completed]

@Mr Allen J Pretty easy for me to make Jun involved in crime since his friends are.

Marches of Man: the Black Shields. [ALWAYS OPEN]

If I don't get another IC post I'll probably post tonight and advance the plot.