Current
As a GM, I hate all my players in particular
5
likes
7 mos ago
joining the war on smoking, on the side of smoking
2
likes
8 mos ago
as a patreon reward I will read your least favorite person's handmade custom tabletop RPG homebrew and ask them why they didn't just run it in 5e instead
3
likes
10 mos ago
I started RP before double digit age but you couldn't have gotten an admission I was under 18 under threat of death. Kids just casually admiting it online now is wild.
Again, Kayliss could not express enough just how much she hated cryptic mages at this moment. It was heartening to see at least one of her knives doing something to the primary doll, though she'd likely need to close to melee range to land a telling blow on it. The additional dolls rising to their feet was just adding insult to injury. That bitch just couldn't help herself but overcomplicate something needlessly complicated already. Despite her irritation, Kayliss barely twitched her lips as she drew her short sword and parrying dagger.
She was better suited to fighting single opponents in open battle, and was already engaged regardless. There was no point in her disengaging to help some of the others hold back the oncoming horde. Best to pinpoint weaknesses on the largest doll and bring it down as soon as possible. With that in mind, she followed the lead of Urden and Roger and dashed in after them.
As the mercenary and the griffin knight made their attacks, Kayliss juked around them and towards the back of the main doll. The Crownsblade pinpointed the two shoulder joints from the doll's back, moving in. Both of her blades flipped around point-first, and she drove them towards one shoulder each, aiming to impale both of its upper joints.
A man died to deliver aid to this forsaken fort, and he couldn't even do that properly. "Send help". How descriptive. The dead idiot couldn't have at least given a single word about what they were facing instead of just saying help? Renar shoved his irritation with the situation to the back of his mind as he slid off his horse, retriving his poleaxe from its spot on the steed's saddle before joining with the rest of the investigation team as they strode forward.
They'd had a new addition to the Roses just a week ago: a half-demon raised by the church, capable of wielding mind-influencing magics. The first half, Renar had no problem or care for. If the girl had been brought up for the church for that long and vetted by the Iron Rose, she likely wasn't going to be a problem personality-wise. Her abilities were the hangup for him. Someone that was capable of getting into his head? Renar didn't like that. As honest as he was about his goals, his feelings and methodology were a potential source of friction with more right-minded people, and he didn't need the risk of that getting out. With that in mind, he resolved to keep her at arm's length until he learned more of her magics and how to circumvent them. For now, there was a job to be done.
From what could be seen immediately, Renar didn't like this at all. Unbeknowst to him, his thoughts on the matter were similar to Serenity's. Little evidence of a breach from outside. However this fort was penetrated, it was from within. Whatever was going on here, it was certainly serious enough to warrant their intervention. Now, how to go about this investigation? There was already a quartet about to look inside, and some of the others were still looking around the courtyard.
For his part, Renar looked towards two of the others that hadn't gone off somewhere yet.
"Sirs Steffen and Lein. Care to join me? I intend to check some of the outlying buildings, see if the incursion originated from there. Whatever happened here, I've little faith we'll find it out in the courtyard, and others are already moving to investigate the main keep."
Oh, how he was so, so tired of this. Why every threat Mega and beyond managed to pull multiple forms out of its ass was beyond BanchoLeomon. And this was considering he had two of his own, as well. Avalon bought the entire group the time they needed to acclimate to Moon=Milleniummon's attacks, and BanchoLeomon was no different, dashing and weaving between shards of crystal. His sword swept aside the shards he didn't dodge, and the ones he failed to parry didn't manage to pierce the Gaku-Ran. Good enough. As he managed to duck behind the remnants of a destroyed building, BanchoLeomon chanced a glance around the battlefield, taking stock of the current situation.
Examon had wisely decided not to surface from the water just yet, Beelzemon was still paralyzed and seemingly possessed, and Dorugoramon was...berserk. Wonderful. Useless, all of them. Why was he the only sane one out of all this lot-
BanchoLeomon blinked, forcing the intrusive thoughts from his head. Where had that come from? Even his darker Mode Change hadn't rendered him that hostile to his own allies normally. Then again, it stood to reason that if the crystalline bastard had managed to get inside his head once already, it could do so again. At this point, this entire shitshow of a day had him so worn down that he just processed the thought with grudging acceptance. There was nothing to be done about it, aside from killing the bastard. With that thought in mind, he looked to the skies once more, trying to work out an attack vector against Moon=Milleniummon when he noticed Parasimon in the skies, dead weight in his grasp.
With a gnash of his teeth, BanchoLeomon signaled his still-unexpected ally down next to him in cover, speaking louder once he got close.
"Drop him here, we can't afford to babysit him! Not if that thing got into your head like it's done mine!"
She couldn't afford a longer respite from the fighting. Despite the fact that she was still fatigued from her limit break, Izayoi forced herself back up to her feet as Arton defended her and prepared to rejoin the battle. The familiar sensation of time magic washed over the samurai, and she simply nodded to herself as she recognized the haste spell. Magics from a genuine mage almost always exceeded those cast from materia, and the difference in haste from Neve's cast and Izayoi's own usage of time magic in the past was noticable.
Izayoi drew in one last deep breath, took up a high stance, and charged. Empowered by a mage's haste, Izayoi approached the speed she was capable of in her prime, and practically disappeared from vision as she dashed forward with a war cry on her lips. Heads and limbs practically flew off of the first grouping of Blightbeasts Izayoi lunged at, ichor practically raining down from the amputations. Despite that, she still tsked to herself in irritation as she stepped out of the way of the ichor shower, searching for more engagements. While better than when she'd first picked up the sword again, her strikes still lacked the precision and strength she'd spent two decades developing. Galling for someone that was once the pride of the nation and the Emperor's chosen warrior. While there was nothing to be done for it other than to slowly recover that might and experience, a large part of Izayoi still felt shame over how far she had fallen out of guilt and failure.
Forcing the thought aside for the moment, Izayoi drew herself back up as the battle was just about winding down, the combined efforts of the party having finally driven off the last of the Blightbeasts. A flick of her blade flung the ichor off of it, and Izayoi sheathed her sword as she regrouped with the others, still catching her breath.
"It appears that we are victorious." She nodded briefly to Arton. "My thanks for your assistance. Now, is everyone still accounted for here?" An aside glance to Galahad, waiting for any further order from him for the moment.
In the end, empty words. Salvator had seen more worlds than he could count go through the exact same process of oppression and rebellion. Image was easily manipulated by those in power. If the locals hadn't learned that yet, well, he wasn't going to teach them today, clearly. The important thing was that they weren't inclined to light the kid up any more. At least their sergeant had the sense to back down while they were already battered and bruised.
So instead of continuing the pointless debate, Salvator simply let the rebels go on their way. At the end of the day, they had a job to do here, and that wasn't to carry the rebellion on their backs. He turned back to the real briefing and started paying attention. So they were here to secure enemy ordinance and turn it against its former owner. Fine by him. Rasch quietly looked over the battlefield and terrain data that was being uploaded to his comms, memorizing it with practiced ease.
With the informant bugging out now that his job was done, Rasch turned in the direction they were set to head in, doing a quick check of his weapons before moving to take point.
"Right, we've got a timetable to meet. Everyone ready to move?"
The next afternoon, Renar strode through Candaeln's halls once he'd finished the day's training, intent on a task. It wasn't one he wanted to do, but leave it for too long and it could morph into something worse.
A few inquiries to passing knights led him to a side hall, where, lo and behold, he actually had the good fortune to happen upon who he'd been searching for.
”Sir Fleuri.” Renar inclined his head, interrupting whatever Fleuri had been passing through this hall for. ”At the ball, I believe I mentioned that I would owe you a boon for aid rendered. You held up your end of the deal, so now it comes to me. Is there any small favor you'd wish of me?” He needed to clear this as soon as possible, before Fleuri got any ideas in the future about Renar oweing him anything.
"Hmm, small favor?" Fleuri stopped as Renar addressed him. He had been returning from the library, looking for information on some of the unresolved questions his dream had left him with.
Renar wasn't a knight that he interacted with a lot. In fact, Renar seemed almost standoffish with him ordinarily, only having dropped the act when he desired something from Fleuri at the ball.
Fleuri didn't see much point in holding onto the favor owed. No need to hang it over Renar's head. Still, he didn't really need much from Renar. Most small matters could be handled by the castle servants. Larger matters, like those on the battlefield, were not meant to be owed and repaid, but freely shared between oath-bound knight-brothers. A more roguish knight like Lein would no doubt find a use for calling in a favor from Renar, but what good was it to Fleuri?
Actually, there was one thing that he could ask for- answers.
"There is something I would like to ask of you," Fleuri replied. "You seem to be somewhat standoff-ish with me when you don't want something out of me. Why? Have I wronged or offended you in some manner?"
It's probably the thing with the griffin, isn't it?
Of all the things Fleuri could have asked of him, this was what he settled on? Renar barely resisted the urge to frown. He could lie. He should lie. It would be best for everyone involved. There was no point in impacting group cohesion by speaking spiteful truths, even if he was prompted.
But two things stopped him. First, if nothing else, Renar had given his word. He wasn't Gerard or Fionn, but even he wouldn't retract an offer once it was made. Some things just weren't done if one wanted to ensure that others took him seriously. The second? Well. He did enjoy spitting spiteful truths at others just a bit too much.
”I wouldn't have wasted it on this, but I'll oblige.” Renar said coldly, openly letting his frown show on his face. ”You lived a life I could only dream of accomplishing. Fame, prestige, the adultation of our peers. All things denied to me by the circumstances of my birth. And then you threw it all away. How could I not find such a thing galling?”
So it was jealousy. Fleuri knew of the unjust circumstances of Renar's upbringing, but hadn't spoken to him about it. Did Renar wish to be a tournament competitor, only to be denied by the circumstances of his birth.
In his jealousy, he had ignored that he was not the only one who had challenges. In Fleuri's case, it was his family's lack of wealth. During his time as a squire and early career as a knight, a proper plate harness and war horse had been out of his reach. It was one of the reasons he had been so bitter that his mentor had not allowed him to obtain any glory or spoils in the War of the Red Flag. However, he hesitated to bring it up- suggesting that a noble like himself didn't always have it easy- would only anger Renar more.
"I did not throw it away," he stated. "I had an epiphany of the pettiness of what I was doing, and left to pursue a calling higher than that of a glorified entertainer. Everything worthwhile I gained from my tournament career- my armor, my horse, my experience, my reputation with a sword and lance- I took with me when I joined the Iron Roses."
Fleuri suspected that Renar took much of the same things when he left the ungrateful service of House Brias.
"But if I can't convince you, look at yourself now, Sir Renar," Fleuri continued. "The most influential nobles in Thaln witnessed you besting a Crown Knight in a duel at the ball. I don't think you will have any future trouble getting into a tournament slot. Captain willing it, of course."
Frankly, Renar didn't know which was worse. The self-righteousness or the fact that Fleuri had the privilege to call those things that were denied him petty. But it would be petty for someone that was able to simply walk in and seize glory without issue, wouldn't it?
"Don't patronize me." Renar said flatly. "It's always been the same. I have to go above and beyond to win the same privileges afforded to the trueborn by birth, simply because my honored lord father decided to tup a serving wench months before wedding his second wife. This isn't about the actual tournament. Only that I have to seemingly move mountains to be afforded the same chance as most of my peers, despite the fact that my merit shines above theirs." His tone was calm, measured. He'd had years and years to stew on this. Nothing he said was in the heat of the moment.
"For the sake of our continued working relationship on the field, I will admit that my problem is not with you specifically. You are, if anything, a symptom. But it still galls me. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
Fleuri was a taken aback by the venom and bitterness in Renar's words. It was understandeable that Renar was upset at the injustice of his upbringing, but it sounded like he resented Fleuri for having it easier. Such resentment was a dangerous thing, no matter where you were on the social ladder. Was it even possible to dissuade Renar from harboring such contempt?
"Do you believe you would have been satisfied with your lot in life if your father had granted you a noble title, or would you instead harbor resentment for things that even the most meritorious noble men are forever denied in our society, such as captaincy of the Iron Roses? Would it have been enough to have been afforded the same opportunities as the brothers you grew up alongside?" he asked. "No matter how high or low of a position you are born to, it is inevitable that you'll run into someone who has it easier despite inferior merit."
"Of course it would have." Renar spat in response, a fire blazing in his gaze. Sun and Moon help him, that was literally what he had already said. Truly, the term self-righteous idiot was a tautology.
"Did you miss the part where wanting the opportunity was exactly what I'd stated? If you want to understand, do so on your own time. You asked your question, and I've answered to the best of my ability. This didn't give you leave to begin moralizing at me. I can tolerate it from Fionn. Not from you. So if we're quite finished here..." Renar made a show of deliberately turning his back on Fleuri, though not without a final parting comment.
"Rest assured, I'm not about to abandon you on the battlefield by any means. Keep our relationship strictly professional, and we'll have no issues. Is that understood?"
Fleuri paused. He wasn't sure what he could say to make Renar less angry. If he had been more diplomatic, if he hadn't blundered through this conversation, would he have been able to turn aside the vitriol? Or did Renar just want to be angry? Despite everything that this knight had achieved and gained, he seemed more interested in stewing in his own bitterness than holding any appreciation for the blessings and opportunities that he did have.
It actually stung him a little bit, because Fleuri greatly admired Renar's rise to nobility. Nevertheless, Fleuri considered the insight gained from this conversation- the knowledge that Renar hated him- to be a potentially useful piece of information. It was better to know that he was despised so that he may be able to raise his guard than to remain blissfully unaware and vulnerable.
"I understand," Fleuri answered as he began to walk away, without looking at Renar. "Thank you for repaying the favor, Sir Renar. This conversation has been most informative."
Goddesses, but she despised inscrutable magic users. As tempted as Kayliss was to uncork her bottle of antimage venom and aim for the Witch, prudence restrained her. If this truly was some sort of demented test, escalation would only end poorly. The Nem merchant apparently fleeing the battle almost had Kayliss hurling a dagger into her back before she'd begun screaming for the rear guard to join in the fight. Well. That was sensible, at least. She'd let her live for now, then.
Instead, Kayliss turned her attention back towards the Doll and the demon holding it back. The problem with fighting animated objects was that her techniques and training centered around killing the living, with such things as blood vessels and weak, fleshy spots. It was likely too much to hope that this Doll was shoddily-crafted enough to simply come apart with judicious application of force on a weak joint, but doing nothing wasn't an option here.
With that in mind, the Crownsblade reached up to her bandolier and took a brace of throwing daggers into her hands, darting to the side and starting to hurl them one by one at the Doll, testing its sturdiness by hurling individual daggers towards what would be weak spots on a living being's body. Joints, neck, wherever the wood was thinnest.
A Witch. Well. That explained the capacity for mass slaughter. A vampire wouldn't have left this much spare blood lying unconsumed. Ironic, that those practicing forbidden magics were butchered by a bigger fish in that regard. Despite the very real danger standing before the Lions, Kayliss didn't go for her weapons. She wasn't trained to be an idiot. Besides, by all accounts, their objective here was complete. So long as whatever the Witch was planning here didn't threaten crown and country, it really wasn't any of their business.
Kayliss didn't bother speaking any words of thanks or giving questions to the Witch. It was above her pay grade, especially with the Commander being present. And besides, questions would have been pointless. The woman clearly had enough might to not be obligated to answer anything they asked with the truth. Instead, she quietly stepped next to Velvetica, bending down slightly to murmur in her ear.
"Commander. With all due respect, if this doesn't threaten Velt, we ought to just adapt to the situation and let it go." Her piece said, Kayliss stepped back, one hand reaching for the vial of mana-inhibiting poison she'd brought along just in case the worst occurred.
Renar sat in Candaeln's extensive library, several tomes scattered on a table before him as he scrawled with quill and parchment.
"Worthless." He murmured under his breath, crossing out his latest attempt as he moved further down the sheet. The knight turned to one of the old books he'd been perusing, flipping through several pages before landing on something that seemed to appeal to him. After a few more repeats of the same process in other books, he picked his quill back up and returned to scribbling something down, it not being legible without an observer drawing closer.
"Strategizing your way into a victory against Dame Lilia?"
In the gloom of a library at twilight, Serenity emerged from a neighbouring aisle of ancient tomes, her form illuminated by the lantern she carried. Her other arms were ladened with books as well, some bearing familiar titles. Treatises on martial arts, observations of duels between the masters, and scrolls on histories so far back as to have become mythology.
She didn't sit at Renar's table though. Goddess knew that Serenity preferred seclusion when it came to her own study.
"Not quite." Renar said easily in response, glancing up briefly just to confirm Serenity wasn't accompanied by anyone he'd rather not talk to at the moment. Fortunately, it seemed she was perusing the library's contents on her lonesome as well. Even with that, Renar debated briefly to himself on how much he should tell her. Then again, it was entirely possible she would recognize what he was doing, making the point moot.
"It's come to my attention that I'm rather lacking in magical weaponry. I'd had a brief chat with the castle smith this afternoon about the matter. He'll inscribe runes into my weaponry for me, but I'm to study the designs myself for what I want. Unfortunate that this sort of thing was never within the purview of my education. Now I'm stuck cramming years' worth of runic systems into my head."
"Hm."
The flaxen-haired knight neither set her own books down, nor did she leave. As far as she was concerned, there was little need for her to explain anything unprompted, with regards to the theory of runic ensorcellments and arcane armaments. Plenty of examples existed in both history and the present, from the blessed blades of the Reonite paladins to the ancestral weapons hoisted within the tombs of the duchal houses. One didn't have to stay at a tavern long before tales of storm-cleaving axes and demon-burning longswords began slipping past the lips of bards and manchildren.
There was a touch of curiousity though. "Why learn? The smith knows more than you would, no matter how much you read."
"I at least need to know what I want. There's little point in leaving it all up to him, and that dwarf doesn't have the time to sit me down and explain what there is in the first place." Renar shot back, glancing between two separate runes in different books each. Hm. Based on what he'd learned, overlaying these would...cause a catastrophic explosion. Damnation. Back to the drawing board it was.
"Besides, I'm not one to let someone else choose a magical weapon for me at their whim. Time I spend here now on this means a weapon that suits myself better in the end."
"Start with what you want, and move backwards from there. Little point in learning everything when you only need a few things."
But she couldn't fault him for simply wanting to learn either. One of the great variables in combat was whether or not your opponent possessed magical artifacts. Though some were foolish enough to make it obvious from the get-go, others possessed a greater sense of subterfuge and cowardice, holding back an effect until it could be leveraged for maximal gain. If one could form an educated guess, based off of a glance upon the inscriptions within a blade, that certainly helped stave off death.
On the other hand though, an amateur's knowledge was just as likely to harm as it was to help. And the Mage's College was just a short walk away...
Ah, Renar and his secrets.
"Oh?" Renar quirked an eyebrow at Serenity's words. More accurately, the ease of which she'd given out advice on this topic. It'd be too much to hope for, but just maybe...
"Could it be that the Arcedeen family education included knowledge of runic script and symbols? By all means, I'll accept advice if it gets me to my goals quicker." That, and he didn't quite have much else in the way of options. His lack of magical talent meant the Mage's College would laugh him out the door, even being an Iron Rose. And frankly, he wouldn't blame them. In their position, he wouldn't take a chance on a magical blunt of a knight without sufficient amounts of bribery or political pull that he didn't quite have access to yet.
She set her books down upon the table.
"And what are those goals?"
"I should think it would be obvious." Renar riposted, his expression unruffled. "You've seen us out in the training yard with Lady Lilia. After the Demonbreaker, it's obvious that our rate of improvement isn't fast enough without more drastic measures. After all, I intend to survive to reap the benefits of being a knight of the Iron Rose." Not to mention his blood-boiling dream the other night. Would that Edwin rotted in the darkness forevermore.
Serenity rolled her eyes. "If you wish to survive, do you wish to do so with a magical shield? Ensorcelled armor? Boots? Do you wish to run through the air? Be hidden from sight? Mimic the barriers of wizards and witches?"
The lantern flickered, shadows distorting in the firelight.
"Your goals are obvious. Now make them concrete."
"Something not so obvious at first. There's little point in having tricks that the enemy will see from a mile away." Renar took a moment to consider, one hand scratching his chin.
"The smith likely won't take more than one order from myself at a time, considering he's plenty of other work to do for the Roses. So let's start with something that either expands my arsenal or makes what I have more effective. I've been looking into the runes of keen striking and haste. That, or something a tad more esoteric. If I'm looking at some of these correctly, it'd be feasible to combine the runes of activated light and sound to disrupt the enemy, correct? But that also bears the risk of friendly fire, of course."
"Keen strikes are good. Haste only helps if your mind can keep up. And light and sound..." Serenity let out a laugh. "If you don't bind it to a thrown weapon, it wouldn't end at simple friendly fire. At best, you'd end up deafening yourself."
At worst, you'd be fighting undead, so that would be all that it would do.
"Fair points. The latter was more of a pipe dream, anyway. I use the occasional throwing knife, but having to retrieve a specific one in the midst of or after a battle would be needlessly tedious. Keen strikes with a minor haste effect, then? I'm certain my mind will be able to keep up with a stronger effect once I've done more training, but that's of no comfort in the immediate future."
"A rune of Returning would help with retrieval and add a second vector of attack." Talented knife-throwers could accomplish that with skill alone, but they exclusively accomplished that with curving trajectories. A dagger that flew forwads and then backwards though, was something far less expected. "Your proposal is otherwise fine, yes." Unimaginative, but not every weapon needed to be legendary.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Though I had expected you to desire something more along the lines of enchanted pockets, filled with infinite sand."
"Have I mentioned that actually worked on Lady Lilia? I'm almost disappointed by that." Renar smirked ruefully before shaking his head. "Storage capacity would be appreciated, but I'll make do with what I have. It's not as if there isn't plenty of dirt to go around. In any case, I'd prefer not to be reliant upon any one gimmick."
The bastard flipped through the tomes until he found the runes he sought. "Your consultation has been appreciated, though I'd hope I'm not holding up your own research too much. I don't suppose you'd deign to share what you were looking for tonight?"
"Ah, right." Serenity snapped her fingers. "Get a rune of Durability too. Doesn't matter how powerful your enhancements are if a sufficiently precise strike can chip the inscriptions and destroy the entire system."
Of course, even if Renar had forgotten it, she doubted that old dwarven master would simply exclude it. Such things were standard, perhaps even expected. Any immortal-slaying Paladin would have the bare minimum, after all, of a weapon that would not break no matter what duress it endured.
"And it's on the spine. I'm studying more styles and techniques."
"Understood." Renar nodded, jotting the appropriate runes down on his diagram for later. Keen Strikes, Minor Haste, and Durability. More would be pushing the stability of the runic matrix on a mundane weapon. Three would have to do for now. "My thanks. You've saved me no doubt hours of trouble." He stood up, starting to stack the tomes to return to their shelves.
"Techniques, eh? I'd noticed you've started to accumulate trophies of your own. Working them into your repertoire?"
"Yes."
It was a memory that carried both pride and hatred that snagged upon her mind. Recent insults, no matter how grand the achievement and result, nevertheless stuck so easily to one's mind.
"Did I ever tell you that Damian's a piss poor duelist?"
...Who? Renar stretched his mind to days back when Serenity and Gerard had discussed the battle in the tombs with himself and Fionn. The only ones there of note had been the Demonbreaker, the witch that got away, and...ah. The vampire. That narrowed it down.
"Yes, I'd suppose borderline-immortality allows one to get away with mediocrity in certain areas. Though I share your seeming offense. Hundreds of years to spend and not striving for mastery in anything you do? Truly, age is wasted on the long-lived." He definitely wasn't insinuating displeasure with certain others. Not at all.
"Human history outlives the immortal soul, and unlike immortality, knowledge is attainable within a lifespan."
She was slipping into old habits again.
"That is to say, next time I face him, I'll outduel him with a common sword and take his head." A smirk. "And I'll do it without having lost my arm first."
"Hah." Renar smirked back, taking the stack of tomes into his arms. "I wish for your success, then. It'd certainly be something to see, at least. I'll certainly strive to do similar, myself. To our mutual victories, then?"
"Nothing in this room to toast with, but I'm expecting to be the first you cross blades with after you get your new weapon."
Fire burned, within lantern and within the lioness's gaze.
"And you know what I feel about wishes, Renar. Cut that crap."
"By all means, make me, if you can." He riposted, striding off to return his books to their proper places.
After his own duel had concluded, Renar stuck around for a bit longer, smirking at the byplay between Gerard and Fionn before nodding politely to Sir Nicomede. With neither of the other three exactly chomping at the bit to get started yet, Renar just hefted his quarterstaff onto his shoulder and started to walk off. Something off in the distance caught his eye.
"In any case, I'll see you gentlemen at the usual time tomorrow. Lady Lilia, if you care to join us for training, we typically occupy this field through the morning and most of the afternoon. You're always welcome to stop on by."
One wave goodbye, and he sauntered off back to the rest of the training ground. By all accounts, the duel between Serenity and Fanilly was in full swing. And...wasn't that one of the senior knights with Dame Tyaethe and Sir Fleuri? The one who'd taken up a desk job thanks to her child? Thinking back, Renar did recall that she was evidently supposed to have trained the Knight-Captain. So that made sense as to why she was observing, at least.
As he drew closer, Renar approached just in time to hear about the...dreams. Ah. That explained quite a bit. So it was Dame Merilla testing most of the Roses. Rather personal for a test. Despite the irony of the dream being a wake-up call, Renar still wasn't exactly pleased with some of the questions posed to him during it. The witch had no business asking those things of him, to say nothing about what she could have hypothetically asked of some of the others. With a frown, he stormed past Fleuri, Tyaethe, and Lilianna, placing his quarterstaff on a weapon rack as he strode past.
Member
Xaltwind
Savo
The World
Antlers
Fish of Oblivion
Scrawl Banditta
Bacon
Jinxxed
Lunamaria Hawke