The Otter

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

---

@HereComesTheSnow@Psyker Landshark

---

The hovel wasn't terrible, as far as hovels went. The walls were still standing, though a little scorched. The roof had even managed to avoid caving in. The door was missing, and alongside the way the timbers and covers making the walls of the house were shrunk and punctured beneath their lattices, meant that it was left somewhat open to the elements—but that also meant that it was much harder to be taken surprise of while residing in it. A factor that had proven quite influential in choosing it as a temporary residence rather than any of the other ruined buildings in the village; keeping the rain off his head, sturdy enough not to worry about it falling on him, and still open enough that he could keep his ears open made it leagues better than any other choice.

Of course, it helped that it was large enough to fit two.

"Kom, kom," he urged, peering through the latticed wall at the retreating backs of the troops as they hurried away from the ruined home. Behind him, he could hear his current travelling partner hoisting himself back up to the ground floor. Lucky for them, the house had a surprise trap-door cellar; neither had expected, after stopping over in the village, that a division of Valheimr troops would decide to occupy and search it. But with the cellar and some clever rearranging of the mess over its entrance, they'd been able to hide while the hovel was searched. A search that had just ended moments before the taller of the pair, crouched near the open exit, sprung up as quietly as possible to observe the goings-on—and, if necessary, plan an escape.

Shameful, Esben. I haven't even gotten around to warning him that I may need him to die for me. He's likely to view it as a betrayal if I have to use him as bait.

And yet—

Clashing blades. Voices raised, some in anger, some in surprise. Issuing commands. The unmistakable crack of gunfire. His eyes narrowed. "We may be able to get out of this—"

His eyes widened again as two voices made themselves clearly heard over the din, at the name one of them called out, their voice unmistakably mocking even with the sound of combat. "Ranbu no Izayoi, here? Not alone. This could be..." He turned, catching sight of a flash of red moving in off to one side, before disappearing from his view, well past the occupying soldiers. Off to another side, a small bundle of black and grey rushing in, one hand stretching out already.

"Follow close and watch my back, Rudolf!" he commanded. "This is an opportunity we can't pass up." Hopefully the younger wanderer wouldn't question his specific word choice. He seemed too potentially-useful to let him go thinking he could run off at any minute.

As the small black-and-grey clothed mage let loose with a powerful elemental blast, the tall man dove out from his cover—narrowly avoiding stray fire and debris that came flying towards the hovel he had just vacated from the blast and the dying men—rolling over his shoulder and coming up on his feet in a single smooth movement, his sword and his buckler already off his belt and in his hands. He rushed ahead to the rear of the Valheimr line, to a pair of gunners that had narrowly avoided a cleaving razor of wind sent their way. The first fell to a sharp blow to the back of his skull, cranium cracking and brain hemorrhaging as they met the rim of his buckler. The second twisted on one heel, raising his carbine to attack, only to open his own throat against the blade held out just for him to lacerate himself with.

The carbine was kicked up and out of his suddenly clammy hands, and Esben stepped along, the blood spraying past him against the wall of another ruined home. He clamped his left arm down against the blade of his sword to keep it held up, catching the carbine as it tried to fall back to the ground; holding it out with one hand he turned, another nearby gunner falling limply as a fired bullet tore his brainstem asunder. The carbine flew back, Esben releasing it to its own recoil, and taking his blade in hand again.

"Have your duel, samurai!" he called to Izayoi, with a small salute. "I'll keep these others off your back!"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

"Why am I here? I've been sent on an intelligence gathering mission for the Skaeller government, I'm not one of the normal Seeds."

---

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Esben Mathiassen, heir of Baron Cadon

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Race: Sollan

Origin: Skael

---

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class: Rogue

Weapon: A trusty sidesword. Well made, well balanced, but understated in appearance—there's no need to be gaudy with a weapon that you actually intend to use.

Inventory:

• A pair of old daggers. It's always worthwhile to have a backup, especially for those cases where they want you to check your sword at the door. Each is suited to a different use—adaptability is important!
• A curiously designed ringed buckler—from the front it appears perfectly normal, however, there are a pair of firearm barrels on the reverse running the width of the small shield, similar to the more common gunblades used among many of Skael's warriors. The handle of the buckler is in fact two pieces, a very stiff (for safety purposes; can't have the sears releasing when the buckler is used as a buckler, after all) compression trigger to fire off both of the barrels.
• Generalized travelling gear. Hard-wearing clothes, a proper bedroll, canvas tarp, water resistant cloak, rations, things of that nature.
• Spare set of dress clothes. Pictured above. Appearances can prove important, and looking like a regular traveller does not always open up the necessary doors.
• Traditional Skaeller costume. Almost never wears it. Mother made him take it with him in case he found people celebrating Skaeller holidays where he might be expected to wear it. Sometimes wears it when having to launder the rest of his clothing.
• Preserved comfort foods from home. Don't judge him.
• Akvavit.
• Coinpurse.
• One potion. He makes a point to avoid getting in situations where he may need to use it.
• Spare ammunition.

Materia:

• Luck Up
• Parry

Limit Breaks:

• Double Tap. Adopting what looks like a standard guard position, Esben shifts the buckler in his grip and squeezes the two halves of the handle together, firing off both barrels into his target.

---

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details: Tall and lithe, possessed of a thin frame that belies the wiry musculature that benefits his chosen occupation. He may be a noble, one expected to eventually return to an administrative role, but he is not soft. Curiously, he bears fewer scars from training and fighting than one would expect of a graduate of a military academy such as the Garden—but bears more than would be expected that have the appearance and location of resulting from corporal punishment.

Personality: At first glance, Esben appears to be an unassuming young man. His boyish looks are disarming, and he is very forthright and genuine in everything. To some extent, this is an intentional behavior; his stature could seem imposing on anyone who did not foster such a non-threatening personality, but instead he seems to shrink away, sliding into the background, where he can sit in his own quiet counsel, alternately observing those around him and introspecting when his own thoughts take precedence over what he sees and hears.

To assume that such is the sum total of his being is a mistake that has benefited him and his goals multiple times, and with any luck, will continue to do so.

He is a man of strong moral fiber. The actions he takes in service to Skael are an unfortunate necessity, but even then there are some things he will refuse to do.; he goes out of his way to avoid saying even the most innocuous white lie, and never hestitates to rectify it if he is forced to lie, and otherwise is utterly honest about everything he can be. He will refuse to engage in torture even if valuable information could be obtained by it, and he will exhaust every opportunity he can to get others to voluntarily give him or tell him what he needs before he'll resort to thieving it.

Alongside his forthrightness and honesty, he is extremely blunt, with little to no respect for the station of whoever he is speaking to. Another trait inherited from his father, though due to the clear devotion his family has always held to their land and duties, they've managed to avoid making many enemies within Skael's borders acting as they do.

He is not, however, soft at all; as stated, the actions he has to undertake are an unfortunate necessity, but he will see them through. If necessary, he will not hesitate to kill. He has no qualms against making threats and demands and seeing them through if the situation necessitates it, and is utterly inured to violence and pain both, courtesy of his education at the Garden.

Biography: (Bullet points because I'm feeling too lazy to write a narrative for this.)

• Born to the Baron Cadon and his wife. Given a comprehensive education from an early age, including in how to manage his family's fief, dealing with people of all stripes, combat, and more, with extensive input from his father directly.
• Per the recommendation of his swordsmanship instructor and his father's wishes, sent to the Garden shortly after his sixteenth birthday to continue his education.
• His skills are gradually drawn out by the instructors at the Garden, especially by Herr Anders; however, the strong sense of right and wrong instilled in him by his father clashes with some of the teachings he is expected to incorporate, leading to multiple disciplinary sentences before his graduation.
• Witnesses the battle on the rooftops of Solitude when conspirators intended to assassinate the Overseer. Privately wonders what would have come about if they were successful.
• Despite the various infractions, still graduates in the upper third of his class at the Garden. Is quickly assigned to a fact finding mission and sent northward, leading up to the present day.

Traits:

• Extremely strong moral fiber. Never lies if he can help it. Always tries to rectify it later if he does.
• Introspective.
• Blunt.
• Very limited emotive capacity.
• Gives everybody nicknames.
• Big eater and drinker—despite growing up on some of the best food one could obtain in Skael, he hasn't turned out picky. He just desires to feast at every meal he can.

Relationships:

• Mathias Felixssen, Baron Cadon—Esben's father and role model. The true guiding force behind the man Esben has become and wants to be; while he did not teach his son many of the skills he uses on a day to day basis, he did form the base of his character.
• Ada Eyvindsdatter, Baroness Cadon—Esben's mother. A force of personality to rival the scions of any of the great houses of Skael, if she cared to attempt it. She doesn't—there are better things to waste life on than politics.
• Lene Mathiassdatter Cadon—Esben's younger sister. Possibly even sharper than he is...at least when it comes to things more suited to handling the family's holdings, he's very out of practice at that. Has never shied away from making jokes that she's "The Spare" for the family, it makes their parents somewhat uncomfortable. Other than at his graduation from the Garden, Esben hasn't seen his family since he first left to study. He doesn't want to be reminded that Lene is an adult now.
• Overseer Baramoux—The big boss. Esben's opinion on the overseer is relatively neutral, but he knows that is the person he ultimately operates under, and there's always the chance that his reports end up on the man's desk.
• Herr Anders—An older, retired member of the lesser nobility, the hereditary knighthood (Ridderskapet), hired as Esben's personal instructor in swordsmanship as soon as the boy could hold one. Later, he learned that Anders's primary occupation was as an instructor for the Garden, covering far more than just swordsmanship. Esben still doesn't know his actual family name.
• Dame Commander Éliane Laruelle—She dueled a conspirator atop the roof of the apartment he was staying at while he studied at the Garden. She also put a hole in said roof, and that room was drafty ever since, although that's as much the landlord's fault for a poor repair as hers for making the hole. He was curious to meet her after he graduated and ask about the conspiracy and who uncovered it, but given that his assignment after graduation sent him outside of Skael entirely as a Seed with even more clandestine orders than most, he's mostly given up on that idea.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Fionn nodded as Erich suggested leaving to practice somewhere else. "Likely for the best, aye, but..." He frowned, looking back down at the ground around them. The damage hadn't spread far beyond either of them, but damage had been done; the earth they stood on, previously level and clean, was now an uneven mess that looked like a cross between poor tilling and a pack of moles run amok. It was unsightly, to say the least.

Moreover, it was something he couldn't well leave for Erich to fix himself later on. If he'd made it that way, surely he'd be able to fix it. He just had to try and remember how he'd seen it done.

"Fiadh, Fiadh, you really should have explained some of this to me when we were riding," he muttered, shaking his head. Having whatever knowledge of spellcasting she'd decided to give him was a benefit compared to the amount of studying and practice he'd have to do if he was learning it the normal way, certainly, but it left him in the uniquely difficult position of not actually knowing what he knew. The knowledge was there with only a hazy path to it through the memories of what he'd seen and heard her doing in the past.

He focused again, this time purposefully at the ground beneath his feet. The Niyar's words started to run through his mind again, singing lightly to herself as she danced around the minor devastation she could cause, putting it all back to order. He wouldn't do that, but he could at least fix the soil beneath him and hide the plant roots back under it where they were supposed to be.

"Es glanos."

Without the accompanying violent shaking, it felt like recognizably less of a drain as his energy flowed out, the ground shifting and leveling itself out once again. Within a few moments things were mostly right as rain—it still wasn't perfectly even like it had been, but it had all been restored to a more-or-less natural state. He nodded, satisfied with himself. "Right. I'll follow where you lead, then!"

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Lancer

---

@Fish of Oblivion

---

After slipping away from Beatrice, Lancer had quickly found himself a secluded place in which to hide and watch for any others approaching the church. Inasmuch as he could watch in his intangible form; useful as it was, it was still much more limiting than having his actual physical senses to rely on.

But it was useful nonetheless.

Even without actual vision to use, he could still sense the flows of power, and any spirit on approach would be as obvious as the sun at noon. From there he could decide to alert Beatrice immediately or shift back to gather any physical description. In the meantime, he was perfectly concealed from sight, as evidenced by the officer that had completely failed to notice Lancer's presence mere feet away as he patrolled outside the church grounds.

Good for them that they do not have the threats we had to deal with. Indeed, the modern world seemed to have far less to worry about in terms of roving hostile spirits than in his day.

Once he was sure that the patrolman had left completely, he shifted back to his physical form, sinking deeper into the shadowed hedges at the edge of the church grounds. Scanning over the path leading to the church he quickly made note of some that were making their way up—one of whom he'd been sure he had already witnessed coming and leaving not long before. If any of them were Servants, they'd no doubt sense the strength of his own presence soon; that he couldn't sense any of theirs did nothing to reassure him that they might be masters or mere bystanders.

"Be ready, Beatrice. It looks like you may have other visitors incoming."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Fionn nodded as Erich spoke. It only made sense; fey magic might be hard to incorporate in the same skillset that Erich himself had or that Fionn had been learning from Lilia, and on top of that, the man had no clue what Fionn was capable of as a starting point. Asking for some sort of demonstration of what he could manage was natural. Were it pure swordplay, he'd be happy to oblige.

"Aye, well, there lies the problem," Fionn began, drawing his sword. "It was only...oh, about a month ago that Tyaethe figured out I had the talent. I imagine it was her idea to get Lilia to stick around, I'm sure you know how she is about magic." Still, with Lilia's help, he'd at least been able to work out the spell she used to render her weapon non-lethal. That would be a better showing than just making a light at the end of it, no doubt.

He brought his left hand up to the base of the blade, ready to trace the protective spell along it, but as he opened his mouth to speak he realized the words that Lilia had rehearsed with him for the last three weeks had all disappeared from his mind. He could recall the exact rhythm and melody that she always used casting the spell, but even the first word was utterly impossible to grasp.

His brow furrowed in frustration. She'd worked him on it until he couldn't get it wrong, he should've been able to at least say the words in his sleep. Somehow, though, they'd all left him. Some trick of Merilia's little world? He doubted it; if the goal was for them all to get better with what they already knew, removing that same knowledge would be an utterly pointless hindrance.

His foot tapped the ground as he glared at the blade. Once. Twice. Then he sighed, closing them. Multiple choice phrases flew through his mind in response to the sudden forgetfulness, pointless lashing out at the false ground that Merilia had given him to stand upon.

"Krini!" he growled under his breath, a forceful stomp accompanying the word. The energy he'd been trying to focus to his blade went out into the ground instead, shaking violently under his foot for a moment. His eyes popped back open in surprise, stepping back as the topsoil in that small portion of the garden shifted and collapsed around himself and Erich. Surprisingly, he didn't fall.

"...Well, that's...new." At the very least, he was sure that he'd never been taught to make small earthquakes happen. Fiadh had done it a few times when she'd been annoyed enough, commanding the ground itself to shake in response to her mood, and usually sending Fionn himself stumbling or falling when she did. But she'd never—

Fionn blinked. He'd never even known what the words meant before. Now it seemed like he just did.

"Oh." He sheepishly looked over to Erich. "You're alright, aye? This might take more experimenting than I'd thought. Seems Fiadh wasn't too careful about keeping anything I'd already learned."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze

---

"That business in the crypt, right? Well, I can't claim to be one of the ones you actually owe, I was watching over the princesses instead, but I might claim the repayment in their place." That certainly seemed to break the ice well enough; Fionn put his raised hand out forward for a handshake. "Fionn MacKerracher. Would've waited a bit longer to come bother you, but all the ones I'd been wanting to work with back at the castle are occupied with some of the others instead. Lilette's working on the captain, I think Fleuri will get more out of Florian than I would at this point, you know how it is."

He might not have, for all Fionn knew; a man of Erich's place could possibly have had the best teachers whenever he wanted, or maybe instead only had the one in his journey to knighthood. Either way, it wasn't worth considering.

Instead, he held up the other hand to show the silvery, leaf-shaped mark in his palm. "Tyaethe figured out I had an aptitude for magic, I've been working with Lilette's daughter on it a bit, and now I've got one Niyar who's invested into me for it; mind if I ask you to teach me some as well?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze

---

While he hadn't expected that his walk down the road would lead to a yet longer trek, it wasn't as though Fionn could really complain—without even asking for any introduction, the servant had just decided to direct him to the misplaced garden without needing any real introduction whatsoever. Despite the various reasons that could easily explain why that was, Fionn was still disinclined to invite any possible ill fortune his way by whining about something inconsequential.

Once he made his way deeper into the garden and found Erich Cazt, however, he finally found himself momentarily at a loss for how to proceed. Generally, he tried to avoid interrupting people who were in the middle of one task or another, which Erich was; however, existing within this little sliver of reality for, presumably, however long Merilia would meant that anybody within might well have all the time they could ever want to devote to their hobbies.

On top of that, he wasn't entirely certain how best to introduce himself or proceed with the Demonbreaker. Any knowledge one had of the other's reputation only went one way, unlike how when he'd first joind the Roses at least some of them knew of the mercenary company he'd been in and could at least guess as to his own background. That was an immediate conversation topic, some common ground, and it quickly did away with the more annoying formalities of introducing himself.

By Mayon, it's as bad as the first time I met a knight.

Rather than agonize over it like he might have years before, however, he strode forwards confidently. There was really nothing better to do than dive in and hope for the best, and luckily this wasn't as bad as another ball might have been.

"You know, I thought Gerard had been exaggerating when he said how large your armour was. I'll have to apologize to him for that." He raised a hand in greeting, making himself relax through force of will in a way he couldn't when his band had come across their first actual knights that they'd worked with during the war. "Erich Cazt, aye? Does Tyaethe get her height from her dad's side, then, or is that just something for all the women you're related to? I can't imagine Veilena will be happy if she's already hit her full height now."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Fionn's gaze followed Cyrus's pointing, picking out the slightly different colour stone after a moment. Once he knew what he was looking for, it did stand out—although having come from the modern city of Aimlenn, where monocoloured buildings like this fantasy of Talderia didn't exist, that sort of differentiating factor had been the last thing on his mind. If he squinted, he thought he could possibly make out a familiar building or two within the outer wall.

Strange. He didn't think he'd ever come that close to the main Cazt estate, always being on the edge of the war. Maybe after, and he just hadn't known it?

He squinted.

No, some of those buildings were definitely familiar from within Aimlenn. But they didn't have the gatehouse or the small moat surrounding them anymore in his time. Well as he could guess, though, the courtyard was probably still a courtyard. Guess they do keep a place in the city. Probably used to be just outside and got swallowed up as the years went on. At least, that was the possibility that made the most sense to him.

"It is, isn't it?" he said finally, in response to Cyrus pointing out how close it was, before starting forwards again with a wave while the tall man still stood next to the street stall they'd passed. "Well, I'm just after having lunch, so I'm going to go get busy. If I'm not back for dinner, just assume I'm staying with the old man. Might see if you can find Gerard back in Candaeln and tell him I won't be joining his practice today."

Fionn had no clue if Cyrus intended to keep following along or not, but now that he knew what he was looking for—and could see that the gate on the gatehouse was invitingly open, making him feel like having Cyrus along to introduce him and get him entry wasn't particularly necessary—he cut a brisk pace down the road. No sense in wasting time, after all.

Across the bridge, through the gate, and then—

"Ah. Great hall has to be in there for sure." Whether the quadrangle enclosing the courtyard had been constructed as such from the beginning or merely the result of the initial structures growing together over time, the primary dwelling was obvious, not only from the fact that it looked as much like a castle's keep with a more civilized façade as like a simple house, but by the elegant, arched door that led into it, large enough to keep any noble procession entertained and moving quickly without overly sacrificing the building's defence. It was still a status symbol as much as anything else—he shuddered to imagine how much heat would be lost through it in the winter—but it would still be defensible.

No doubt the oak door that filled it was thick enough to weigh twice or more what Fionn himself did.

A thickness that was confirmed as he knocked hard upon it, his strikes barely sounding out a dull thud rather than the drum-like beat he might normally call forth.

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Arthur Howell

---

@Octo

---

...

As I walk back to the bedroom, wrapping my hands back up to hide the marks along the one, I find myself struck by the very displeased face of the girl sat at the edge of my bed. I really can't imagine what problem she might have with the nemaki—it's nice cotton, well made, not some cheap polyester or anything like that—but evidently it's much less to her liking than the clothes she'd decided to keep wearing underneath it.

I sigh.

I'd hoped she might decide to leave, however she got in, but it seems she's intent to continue with this game until I can get her to a mental institution. I just have to figure out how to do that while attracting the least attention to myself; no doubt, one foreigner having such troubles with another might negatively impact my ability to ever come back if they take my name down and all.

"Look, if you hate it that much, I should have some spare stuff that will mostly fit you," I grumble, gesturing offhandedly at the closet. "We're not walking around with you dressed like you walked out of a Holy Roman Empire class reunion." Then I hear knocking at the front entrance. I sigh again. "Stay here. I'm going to grab the food and put off explaining this as long as possible."

Within another few minutes we're back in the main room seated at the low table, with a few dishes in front of us. The old man noticed the girl's fine shoes almost instantly, but I think he took me at my word when I said she was a relative I'd forgotten to list as another guest. Now we're splitting the food he brought between us, and as much as I'm thinking about what to do with her, I'm also thinking about getting something else to eat back in town. Either way, there are a few other ground rules that need addressed.

"Alright. So, before we get too deep in things, what's your real name? And I'd appreciate it if you just call me Arthur when we're around people. I don't want to have to try and explain away the whole master thing."

I don't really want to try and explain away any of it, but as long as she's with me that's probably what I'm going to be doing.

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Arthur Howell

---

@Octo

---

For a moment, it looks like her entire delusion is about to come crashing down like a car flying off the road trying to turn to fast at a mountain pass...but it doesn't happen. She pouts for a moment trying to get back on track, before saying something about...

"...My hand?"

She must have seen the marks on my right hand. Now she's trying to use them to justify her being here, before going on about...some fate and mana nonsense and continuing to be disappointed that I'm not a woman, I guess. At least she doesn't seem to be threatening. I look over to the entrance, expecting to see some sign that she'd dragged in the mud from outside, especially without having taken her shoes off where she was supposed to, only to see that it's untouched. Nothing's been moved, not even the shoes that I left in the way because I was in a hurry to get in the shower, there's no mud or anything from outside, and glancing back at her, I see:

She's spotless. No dirt or mud anywhere on her, not even a single wet spot from the intermittent drizzles that have been coming down since I got here.

"O-kay, sure, let's say I am your master for now..."

I'm not sure just what is wrong with her, but so long as she's not being a threat, I think I read somewhere once that the best course of action dealing with somebody so delusional was to just play along and keep them from getting themselves or anyone else hurt. Trying to argue back could just cause problems. I look at the clock, and sigh.

Dinner's coming in just a couple minutes. Looks like I can't be free of her until after I eat. I drop my raised fist, pointing over at the door to the bedroom. "You'll find a spare nemaki in there. Go change into it, and put your shoes in the shoebox by the entrance. Put mine in too while you're there. The owner of this place will be coming by soon with a meal for me—we're going to have to apologize and tell him you're my cousin or something that I forgot to mention would be joining me when I first booked this space. I'm going back to the shower to dry off my hair and get dressed. Don't mess with anything."

I doubt she'll listen to that last command, but I can hope. I turn around, walking back to the shower.

"Holy Grail War, Ludwig the second...She must have gone digging through my things before finding that handkerchief. Claiming she's some long-gone king, too. Did she go looking through my things, find my name, and decide that we should go searching for some mystic cup?"

Weird. But, if she's convinced she's King Ludwig, that's probably why she was hoping I'd be a woman despite being named Arthur. That's the only explanation I can find that explains this ridiculous circumstance.