Psyker Landshark

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

@Wernher Fuck, sorry, time slipped away from me while I've been catching up with shit. Reply will come within a day or two, and then much sooner from here on after I get my footing back with this one. Just need to catch up on other things I owe first.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

Finally. He'd finally been selected to actually take part in the Valours Tournament. Three years running since he'd joined the Iron Rose, and only now did Renar warrant entry into the tourney. Once again, the perks of being part of the Knight-Captain's retinue.

In prior years, he'd spent his time during the tourneys simply wheeling and dealing as best he could, trying any method possible to ingratiate himself into the good graces of those with power and influence. Being a relative no-name, even as an Iron Rose, and a bastard beside, the efforts amounted to only a few new contacts, often with more underworld influence than legitimate.

This year, though. This year, he was competing. Renar had been preparing both physicaly and mentally ever since he'd been notified that he would be participating. There was no time to be overawed at the sights and sounds: he'd been here before. Would he consider the long, strange, winding road it took to reach his first ever tourney, and to have it be one of the grandest stages in the land? Of course not. It meant nothing if he didn't make a good showing. And damn it all, Renar wasn't aiming to settle for just impressing anyone that had ever had cause to doubt him: he was aiming to win the entire thing.

The pageantry, the spectacle, none of it mattered. Only advancement, prestige, and victory. A savage grin crossed Renar's face as he sat in the tent assigned to him in the tourney grounds, having performed one more check of his arms and armor to ensure nothing would go wrong in the melee. All that was left was to wait for the bracket to be announced. Having the list of participants was one thing, but there was little point in preparing for specific opponents when the potential pool of fighters was so large. But with all of his preparations finished, Renar rose from where he sat and left his tent, intent on roaming the grounds to see whom exactly among his contacts was present this year, and who he could be introduced to as well.

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Brief mention that I'm expressing interest, didn't have the chance in the intcheck before this went up

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

@Wernher Sounds good to me, you kicking it off or am I?

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Rumi Fujou and Beatrice LaForet

---

"Got tired of hiding away, did we?"

Rumi halted in her tracks, an imperceptibly slight smile creaking her lips upward. Not a happy one, by any means. Amused, perhaps. Or mocking. It depended on how one interpreted such.

She should have expected this. Of course the will of whatever was fueling this Grail system just had to rope a ghost of her past in. Damn it all. Beatrice should be holed up in a bar somewhere in London, not face-to-face having this ridiculous confrontation.

“Oh, you’ll excuse me for not throwing myself headfirst into the situation, Enforcer LaForet. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being bulls in china shops.” Despite her words, Rumi surreptitiously slipped a Wraith-contracting talisman up from her sleeve into her palm. While she didn’t think Beatrice would outright attack her, it never hurt to be sure. With only Assassin (spiritually) at her side, she was at a disadvantage without the majority of her resources present.

“Don’t try and be cute, Rumi. Dress it up however you want, we both know what we’re here for.” Beatrice noted the other woman’s grimace and the all-but-imperceivable way in which she prepped herself for their sudden confrontation to escalate into outright violence. Her glare softened briefly, memories surfacing in her mind: was this really what had become of them? Just becoming another part of what the other hated about the insane reality that surrounded them?

The thought hurt: though much like the fury glowing in her chest, it wasn’t anything that hadn’t already been festering inside of her for the better part of a decade. For now, if they were cutting past the bullshit, she had to pull herself together and consider the facts.

Considering Lancer’s not-long-past encounter, it wasn’t impossible Rumi was the mystery Servant’s Master. If so, with him seemingly nowhere in sight and them sheltered within the trees, she had good reason to be alert; but besides it being uncharacteristic for her to be out in the open without some detail at hand, it seemed unlikely that Rumi would seek to instigate unless she drew first blood. Even if she put no stock in the armistice upon their grounds beyond how it could benefit her, she was smart enough to know not to start a fight on the Church’s doorstep unless her back was against the wall.

“Not sure what you’re hoping to get out of it, though.” She discreetly bid Lancer to stay quiet and concealed, a firm tug on their link conveying that, at least for the moment, she wasn’t willing to brook any objections. “We both know the Einzberns’ cup is a total crock of shit.”

“After what El-Melloi and Tohsaka imparted about the ritual? We both know that we’re here because it would drag us into the situation regardless of our wishes. I simply aim to see exactly what’s going on here.” Terse, succinct, and it even had the benefit of being true.

“I have no interest in achieving Heaven’s Feel or reaching for whatever poison pill this Grail would seek to grant. But merely having the Command Seals is a death mark. And even you aren’t quite so naive to believe that surrender would extricate us from the situation so easily.” Her smile still didn’t quite reach her eyes. Even back then, it was a rarity.

A mental command ordered Assassin to hold position for the moment. Evidently, the Enforcers hadn’t turned Beatrice into quite so much of a dog that she’d lash out yet. The spiteful part of Rumi’s mind supplied that, at least. A much quieter, barely noticed one only provided that it seemed time hadn’t done much of a number on the redhead.

“Let’s not have a redux of our last spat, Beatrice. Stay out of my way, and I’ll endeavour that we don’t cross paths more than we have to. Neither of us are working at ends here, and I’d hope we keep it as such.”

“Well, you’re half right. If I didn’t want to be here, I could have just picked up the finder’s fee and left the vultures to have at it.” Beatrice cracked a smile of her own as Rumi responded; and while hers also fell a little short of reaching her eyes, it was more than a little saw-toothed. “Let the anoraks fight over the privilege of getting eaten alive in their first actual trip outside the workshop.”

Well that morbidness aside, assuming her time with those walking corpses hadn’t dramatically bettered her chops as a liar, it seemed that Rumi hadn’t completely lost her mind. Her own circumstances were proof enough that getting marked by the Grail was a call that one couldn’t hope to fully shirk, as she’d colourfully outlined; and considering her own motivations, she couldn’t fault curiosity, healthy or otherwise.

In-between whatever truths the woman was speaking, however, there was a characteristic avoidance of a definite answer to her question. Rumi was many things, but whimsical was rarely one of them. Her actions were weighed on a scale that considered how much it benefitted her power and status, and while it was all well and good to say she had little choice in participation now she’d been marked, the Grail rarely if ever directly chose those who didn’t have some insane aspiration they were reaching for.

She had something to gain by being here, that much Beatrice was sure of. And if she was as alert to their old teacher and classmates’ warnings of the rot festering within the Grail, the only real answer remaining was that she sought the prestige of fighting in a Grail War: and ultimately, the prestige of winning.

“Anyway, don’t you go losing any sleep because of me.” Beatrice half-shrugged, shaking her head as she laughed mirthlessly. “Believe it or not, I’m here for work as much as pleasure. As much as I’d love to jump right in and crack some skulls open, the anoraks have me sniffing around for whoever set this shitshow of a Grail up. Just tell your well-dressed friend to behave himself and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

So she’d already seen Assassin, then. How? Assassin had in no way revealed himself…themselves at any point that could be linked to her. Well, as long as Beatrice wasn’t aware of his Class just yet, this wasn’t a real concern. They would still have words later, of course. But speaking of concerns…

“You threw yourself knowingly into a Grail War simply because of a job?” Rumi sniffed scornfully, shaking her head. Of course. Of course. It couldn’t ever be simple with her. There just had to be something to muddy the waters. “Those two back at the Clock Tower will be ever so glad to hear of such. You may even send Tohsaka into conniptions, down memory lane.”

“Well. Dismantle the Grail, and I’ll still come out ahead. So even though you hardly require anyone’s permission aside from whoever’s holding your leash, go ahead and run as freely as you wish, Enforcer dog. But do let me pass. I’d prefer to get the formalities with the Catholics over quickly.”

The fury in her chest welled up again, along with a handful of other emotions Beatrice quickly pushed back down before they could become anything more than a slight waver in her countenance. Part of her struggled to reconcile the domineering necromancer with the quiet, painfully timid young woman who’d been her first real friend at the Clock Tower; another felt a strange ache seeing her standing so confidently on her own two feet, for however much of her soul she’d sold piecemeal to achieve it.

… Things couldn’t go back to the way they were. And even if it were possible, now was hardly the time to get caught up in what could have been.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve had them taking it in turns to give me an earful.” Beatrice’s smile lingered for a moment, before it faded as she met Rumi’s scornful stare with renewed intensity. “But I made my decision once, and I’ll make it again.”

“I’ve wasted enough time already, and by the sound of it, so have you.” She took a step forward, watching for any sudden shifts in the other woman’s demeanour; and seeing her own composure hold steady, she took a second and another after that, before making to walk past her, keeping her eyes trained forwards even as she continued to speak. “But a word of advice, before I go. A fight to the death is an entirely different beast than a knife in the back behind closed doors. You’d do well to remember that, if you really plan to make it to the end.”

“Funny. By all accounts, Grail Wars are far more about closed door deals and ambushes than true deathmatches. Or have you learned absolutely nothing over the years? We are magi, Beatrice. There is nothing to be taken at face value.”

Rumi didn’t look back, instead starting to make her way towards the church. How…vexing that Beatrice had hardly changed in their time apart. Truly, the strong were privileged in how foolish they could afford to be.

“I’d say to try and stay alive, but the concessions I could wring from your clan for the safe return of your Crest would override any such sentiment. So…be useful, yes? Up until you get yourself needlessly killed, that is.”

But Beatrice was already gone, the outline of her figure swallowed up by the darkness of the wooded path out of the church grounds. In the distance, the sun continued to sink into the line of the horizon, and as the faint orange glow of the dying day yielded to the oncoming darkness, the lights of the cityscape came into stark relief.

The first night of the Sako Holy Grail War had arrived in earnest.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Ranbu no Izayoi

The surreptitious Esuna did its job, and the smith blinked in confusion for a moment at his vision and balance suddenly clearing up. After a few seconds, his mind cleared up enough to recognize that in this estate, anyone unfamiliar was likely a guest of the lord and refusing them would be a terrible, terrible idea. Suitably sobered up, he scrambled to take Galahad's armor in, swearing that repairs would be finished as soon as possible, as well as any other equipment the Kirins cared to have fixed up.

For her part, Izayoi just sighed, giving Miina an appreciative pat on the (good) shoulder before turning back the way they came.

"Well, come then. We can only hope the others have finished with their meeting by now. With any fortune, we'll not have to stay any longer than another night."

__

"A full day?" Izayoi murmured incredulously once the Skaelers had returned to the group and Esben relayed the gist of what had been discussed. "We're to tarry here for twice the amount I'd hoped for, then." Her face scrunched, as if she'd just bitten into something particularly sour.

"How unfortunate, though I can understand why he would have thought that, looking at the lot of us as we are." She sighed, shaking her head. "Very well. As I understand it, several of us could use the extra materiel he's promising, regardless." She looked towards Rudolf and Chisato in particular.

"Don't think I'd not noticed your lack of materia in recent days, boy. And you," Her head inclined towards Chisato. "-could make use of armament outside of blades and bombs, whether it be from materia or weaponry. Regardless, I would hazard to say we could all do with additional equipment, so long as it's being handed out. Two nights, then."

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Ranbu no Izayoi

SMACK.

Izayoi dope-slapped Rudolf on the back of his head, sighing irritably.

"Enough cheek, boy. This patron of yours has taken you in for five years. One should think you would have learned something of gratitude in that time." Was...she sassing him? Regardless, she moved on quickly afterward, nodding to both Galahad and Esben.

"Very well. I take it Esben and Rudolf at the least will go to meet the Viscount. Galahad, are you to join them or otherwise?" She gave his kit a once-over, checking over his chestplate. "The damage the Behemoth did to you was not insignificant. A trip to the smithy would not go amiss, I'd think."

___

Regardless of who accompanied them, Esben, Rudolf, and Elly would be shown to a sitting room to take tea and await the Viscount's arrival. It took upwards of twenty minutes for the nervous, harried lord to finally arrive, murmuring quietly under his breath about how perhaps now he could finally stop making excuses that he was fairly certain one Lady Lambert didn't believe.

Meanwhile, what Kirins didn't join them had the option of either roaming the grounds or making their way to the castle smithy. Said blacksmith turned out to...be drunk. At midday. Izayoi took one look at the staggering, slurring mess of a bald man operating the castle forge and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Can I...ergh...help yah? Lord ain't the most friendly type, so yer here for something important, no?" He took one look around at Izayoi, those who came with her, and the state of their health and equipment. "...Yah look like shite."

Digimon: Recompilation

Vemmon

Location: Gateway
Skills/Items Used: None

Even through the haze of pain and recompilation it found itself in, Vemmon was just barely lucid enough to recognize when it was being addressed.

”Guu…” It groaned piteously, this time in analog. ”...query…acknowledge…initializing…status.”

Siobhan’s Digivice would buzz again, this time spitting out what looked to be a diagnostic log on its screen.


BIOLINK ESTABLISHED. LOADING…LOADING…

VEM.MON STATUS:
AUTOREPAIR INCOMPLETE. DEFRAGMENTATION REQUIRED.
ERROR: REPAIR TOOL INACCESSIBLE. SEEK EXTERNAL REPAIR.

Outside the confines of text, Vemmon managed to raise its head, peering at the woman curiously.

”Designation…Vemmon. Requesting…reciprocation…”

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Ranbu no Izayoi

A few more days later, once everyone was as reasonably recovered as could be, the Kirins took their leave. Days passed. The climate grew colder to the point where snowfall became common. Dirt paths gave way to paved concrete, the occasional metal carriage passing by the party on the road with loud honks of a horn. Blightbeasts attacked twice more over the days, though only in smaller, easily dispatched raiding parties.

As bid by Cadmon a week ago, the party entered the lands of Viscount Breien. While not entirely out of the way of their intended path towards Falcon’s Nest, the party had to divert for a good few hours on the main road in order to reach this territory.

For the most part, the land was exactly as had been described: well-maintained and as prosperous as was possible for a snowy tundra close to the heart of Skael. Frost had already begun to set in for the season, with kale and root vegetables notably planted in the fields they passed. It was past midday by the time they’d finally reached the castle gates, with Izayoi shooting Esben and Rudolf a look as the guards verified their identity.

”This little detour had best be worth the trouble. I would be somewhat cross should Demet’s recommendation to come here result in something less than significant materiel aid, yes?”

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Lieutenant Aria Dvalin

The alarm in her cockpit blared, and that was all she needed.

“Multi-lock achieved! Firing for effect!” Aria depressed the trigger, and a veritable swarm of micro-missiles came screaming out of the Armatus’s shoulder-mounted launcher.

The pirates scattered as they noticed, to little avail. No matter how many they evaded or eliminated with point defenses, the nature of the SPAMRAAMs meant that eventually, one or two would get through. And even if they did, it left the pirate ACs distracted and open enough to be dispatched by her lancemates, as evidenced with the Baron.

For her part, Aria swapped from rifle to saber as soon as her salvo was launched, manuevering the Armatus in at high speed in order to bisect one of the pirate machines right after it was rocked by a missile barrage.

“Kill confirmed!” Right afterward, the tactical situation changed once more, and Aria glowered from her cockpit as she checked the readout. A frigate in reserve? Pirates weren’t this smart. Something was wrong here. At least their resident stealth expert was doing her job correctly, which left it up to Aria to make up for any hole in the line, lest the others be overwhelmed.

“Lance, Armatus. Complying with Indomitus’s request, intercepting enemy frigate. AC lock maintained, firing one more salvo for effect!”

Another burst of micro missiles to distract the pirate ACs and hopefully leave them vulnerable for the rest of the Lance to take advantage of, and Aria broke off. She swapped the Armatus back to its rifle, boosting haphazardly and erratically to try and throw the enemy frigate’s lock off while she attempted one of her own. In the meantime, Aria leveled her mech’s rifle, took aim, and began to fire, hoping to knock out more than a few of the ambushing frigate’s turrets before starting an actual attack run.