The Otter

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

And now, the bad great decisions really start for Arrowfell's stupidest luckiest ginger.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Callum Prosser

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@Estylwen

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Callum was almost instantly accosted by the innkeeper, passing some sort of note across the countertop. "Ah. My thanks," he said with a gracious nod, taking the folded parchment in hand. He drew his dagger from his belt, breaking the hastily-made seal keeping it shut. After reading who the note was from, he wasn't surprised at how basic and messy the seal was; likely the man had had nothing more than a candle to seal it with. "Curious..." he muttered to himself after reading the note. Athius? And Raiden had so carelessly scrawled it on a note, trusting the innkeeper not to read it?

Or truly so hastily? Maybe Athius is where that thing Anabel mentio—

He paused at the sound of some sort of argument coming out of the tavern, the same place that he'd just been thinking about mentioned right at the edge of his hearing. Followed immediately by the baroness's voice in response...seconds later rising higher in alarm than he would've thought possible an hour before. He pushed open the door to the tavern proper, just in time to see some man staring the baroness down, hand clamped tight around her dainty arm.

Not my recruiter, man, come on!

He stood still for a moment, note still in one hand, dagger in the other. He hadn't yet picked a side in whatever this confrontation was between the baroness and Raiden, and now could be his chance to be rid of both; even if his name and face were known to them, he could still make good on an escape, get out of the hairy situation. But he had to watch how it played out first, to know how best to make his escape...

Anabel cast her gaze around the room, desperate for help—her panicked eyes met his, desperate for aid against this man who was more than twice her size and had to be at least thrice her age.

The bronze-hilted dagger that he'd opened the letter with flew end over end, passing between the man's legs to lodge in the wooden floor a couple feet further back. A calculated, low throw; without knowing exactly what was going on or where he stood with everything, he didn't want to aim anywhere lethal. No doubt the man would've been able to evade it anyways, should it prove so obvious, but at least he'd gained some attention and sent a message.

"That's no way to treat a lady or a child, is it?" he asked conversationally, nonchalantly flicking a lock of his reddish hair out of his face, the ring containing the greater part of his Seed turned so that the gem faced inward, out of view. Internally, he was certain he could hear the sound of something screaming—probably some part of himself, horrified at how thoroughly he'd just ruined his own chance to get away—but his focus was entirely on the baroness and the vagrant that had laid hands on her.

Hopefully, by this point, the innkeeper had heard the commotion, or someone outside had heard Anabel's rising voice. Surely she wouldn't be so foolish as to go without guards...if she was, then she was putting quite a bit of faith in Callum. "We were just about to have a lovely dinner together. Can I interest you in not being a nuisance, and leaving us be?"

Whether he intended to follow the baroness or the pie-molesting rogue, one thing was certain: He'd sealed his fate to theirs now, one way or the other.

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

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@Raineh Daze

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For her distaste with the entire mission, Éliane got a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Esben—before he moved to reclaim his daggers from the corpses of the two guards. Even he wasn't willing to get blood on her coat that she hadn't shed herself and risk whatever wrath she might bring to bear while they were out on a mission. "Just nothing too loud," he bid, knowing that their chances for stealth were going to run out sooner or later.

Luckily they didn't waste too much time below and risk the guard patrols coming back around to them before they began to scale the building, though Esben would have preferred they split up and come at their quarry from two directions. He climbed near the rear of the group, bringing the rope up behind as they came to the terrace that Galahad and Izayoi had decided to enter from. He'd had half a mind to try and keep climbing higher, and let the others take charge of the attack from below; still, something didn't sit quite right making a decision like that without any input from the others, especially after what he and Ciradyl had both already done—

"SAMU—"

The guard's scream cut out suddenly, gurgling blood pouring forth from the open hole in his larynx that Izayoi had opened up a moment too late. Esben reached out, grabbing their diminutive red mage by the collar and yanking her back towards the edge of the terrace, before lifting her up to the underside of the eaves hanging over them. "New plan," he said as he lifted her, waiting for her to grab on. He glanced back to the entrance, where the rest of the team had already battered their way in and were moving deeper. "Keep climbing. I'll be right behind you!"

Once she'd grabbed at it and scrambled up to start making her way to the higher floors, Esben went to the railing at the edge of the terrace, carefully stood himself atop it—and jumped, relying on his height to make up the last bit of difference for him to grab on as well. Then he scrambled out and over the edge, coming up behind Miina. "Let's find a spot to get in as far away from the sound of battle as we can, ja? I don't care much if it's a window or we make our own hole."

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

"So that's what's happening while the girl trying to hire me is getting harassed by a Nazgûl, huh?"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

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When Izayoi glanced his way near the rear of the group, he gaze passed right through where Esben had been expected to be standing, catching sight of Ciradyl making her approach to the front of the manse. Esben himself had disappeared as quickly and quietly as SEED's reputation might have led the others to expect the moment he'd seen the opportunity; not long after he'd split from the party he'd seen the tall Faye himself, confirming the suspicions he'd been harboring since she'd left their 'planning' session for her own business.

Deeming it pointless to confront her over it before the work was done, he'd continued along, making a quick and stealthy circuit of the mansion's grounds. The front entrance through the walls was obviously out of consideration; even with the reduced presence of Valheimer soldiers in the city, it would still be far too obvious and noisy to take. Forcing their way in through one of the side entrances would still prove difficult, but with a little helpful timing...

Esben scaled a building across an alley from the walls. While in decades past the mansion may well have been a veritable castle on its own, urban expansion had since brought shops and homes pressing in closer and closer to the walls than would be truly defensible from a military perspective, short of demolition to clear the space again; it had been more expedient to abandon it entirely and allow it to be bought up by the wealthy, who had less to worry about such considerations. Indeed, no high-profile crime lord would be stupid enough to so outwardly refortify, making their position all the more obvious.

The wall's peak was five more feet up; he ran along the roof of the building he'd scaled, leaping off and grasping at any handholds he could find and pulling his eyes just over the top of the wall. Down below, he could see guards making their circuits through the garden; slowly, and not particularly alertly, by his estimation. Between whatever deals they'd made with Valheim and double dealing with Ciradyl's cell, they seemed to have lost any real caution they may have had in years past.

Not that it mattered much, as the real professionals would be the ones deeper inside, closer to their boss.

He heaved himself up entirely onto the wall, and moved quickly back to where the others had been set to prepare their infiltration. It didn't take long, the most delay he had being timing his movements with the patrols going about, and once having to drop back down and climb hand-over-hand past one of the side gates, another time taking a moment to note Ciradyl's entrance to the mansion proper.

Then, he came back into view, first a sudden shadow among the starlight before his golden hair was revealed as his hood was thrown back. "Guards are slow about their rotations," he reported, utterly heedless of the planning the rest of the team were just making. "There's a side gate just west of here that's about to be completely unwatched except for the guards standing right at it in another minute. Better to take that than waste time ferrying people up and over into the gardens. And I'd be careful trying to jump right onto the central building—walls are thin here and we shouldn't risk too much noise."

He pulled his hood back over his head, the dark fabric of his cloak once again blending in with the low light. "I'll have it open for you. Be quick." Then the quiet sound of his light, urgent footfalls was the last they heard from him as he took off westward along the wall. He crouched low as he approached the gate; a pair of patrolling guards had just passed, walking deeper into the gardens, leaving the pair inside the walls standing bored. With deft, practiced movements he sent his daggers flying, and both struck true, one into a guard's eye and the other in the other's throat. Both slumped against the wall, heavy clothing dampening the sound of whatever concealed armour they may have worn.

With one last glance to be sure the patrolling guards hadn't heard anything, Esben jumped down, unbarring and opening the gate to look outside for the rest of Team Kirin, at least whoever did elect to take the side entrance. "Quickly, inside, inside—two of you, drag these bodies outside and try to make them somewhat hidden. Izayoi—" He turned quickly to the one Ospreyan of the group, pointing a thumb back at the mansion proper. "Your educated guess is better than any of ours, since you're the one that has experience with where the important people might stay in places like this. High or low?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

<Snipped quote by The Otter>

Possibly. I mean..I can...show the conversation that was had with Vita.

@Taka

are you sure that will end well for you

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

chat is this a bit

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

...trying to introduce a lot of world building elements into an established setting without having asked any of the GMs first.

@Raineh Daze

migratory harpies flashback moment

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher and Gertrude Jäger

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Fionn cursed as Thrinax’s wing flicked slightly, on of the fingers knocking his blade aside with nary a scratch; it was all he could do in the moment after to draw it back in as Gertrude pulled up sharply, the both of them immediately buffeted by a hefty gust as Thrinax twisted in place. She dove again as soon as it was clear they wouldn’t lose control, throwing the broom into a tight, spinning turn, up and under the dragon’s jaw.

Even feeling his heart trying to rise into his throat from what felt like a free fall, Fionn still swung up as they passed under the dragon’s head, as much to harass him as anything else—maybe enough to force him to change his angle, and not directly bathe Renar in flames trying to climb upon him. In another moment he was upside down, clenched legs and hand keeping him held to the broom for dear life—and right side up again just as quickly, his teeth as clenched as everything else.

”Póg mo thóin!” he growled. ”Good flying, I think, but I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it. I feel...chomh ciotach le muc i sciamhlann!” He nodded to himself, seemingly entirely unconcerned that Gertrude wouldn’t have the faintest clue what he’d just said. As always with the northern Veltish knight, sometimes nothing was better to express himself than his native tongue, listeners be damned.

Gertrude snorted, though less in derision and more in a facsimile of amusement. Of course she had no idea what that dullard had said, but she understood it. She’d nearly forgotten how it felt to train on her broom for the first time. If Fionn was anything like her, she’d get the opportunity to see him vomit his guts out when they hit the ground.

Gross, yes, but also funny.

“Not to your taste?” Gertrude taunted, the usual bratty sneer on her lips, “Well, I can’t blame you. It takes a certain caliber of mage to handle something like this, especially while casting and observing.”

Gertrude would frankly take any opportunity for self-aggrandizement, though she left out that soul partitioning made every aspect of her borderline insane feats that much easier.

They were safe for a moment, rounding around to face the great beast a second time as the others, saving themselves from the immediate reprisal, started to resume their assault. Valour. Thrinax said he wanted to see their valour, was that it?

Fionn’s fingers flexed along the haft of his weapon. ”Gertrude...you’re not worried about a little fire, are you? Someone as strong as you certainly knows wards to keep even dragonsflame at bay.”

Gertrude couldn’t help but look back at Fionn. Dragonsflame? From one of the most powerful creatures in recorded history? Where the hell would she even get context for that? He had to be joking. His expression, however, told her that he was not.

That manic grin on his face might have been chilling enough to keep those flames at bay, if dragonsflame cared about metaphor. Gertrude returned his insane grin with her own.

“Are you daft? You’re mad as a March hare! How the hell would I have the opportunity to know that?” she laughed uproariously, “Still… maybe if I started a chant right now and put as much magic as I could into a flame ward. But why would I risk that?”

Even as Gertrude said this, however, Gretchen had changed the chant into a defensive spell. If Thrinax wanted valor, then he likely wouldn’t be running away with his tail between his legs.

”There’s the confidence I was looking for!” Fionn exclaimed, his grin growing wider. It was nearly past the point that it could be likened to a normal human expression at all—a row of white shining in the starlight like a dog baring its teeth before a strike, or a shark smelling blood in the water. Whatever he’d come up with, he certainly seemed quite pleased with it.

Or, perhaps, he saw a shot at some sort of glory and he was ready to take it heedless of the consequences.

“Confidence? Out-and-out madness, more like,” Gertrude snorted. He hadn’t answered why she’d possibly risk this, especially with how selfish she’d acted all along, but at this point he didn’t need to. They both understood what they were doing. They’d implicitly agreed on that much.

Fionn had his reasons, and Gertrude had hers. She hadn’t been able to make as good a showing as she would have liked so far, but her pride would not go quietly into the night. She was just aggravated, seething, young, and crazy enough to take that gamble.

He glanced over towards Thrinax just as the unmistakable, quiet snap of Rolan’s crossbow sounded down below. ”Strong a shield as you can, Gertrude, and if you could get as low over this thing as you can that would help even more. Push it as fast as you can, too.” He hefted up his makeshift polearm, couching the butt end of it just under his armpit.

Like Renar had shown him to use larger Thalnish lances, not the light sort he was used to whenever he had to ride a horse in battle before joining the Iron Roses. Tightening his grip, he uttered—”Grandesce!”—and the sword at the end of the staff once again became suffused with light, a spectral blade growing larger and past his sword’s actual blade, twice as large and wide as it was before, glowing like a new star in the sky. Back to the first spell he’d used in this entire test; Sometimes, all you need is a bigger blade.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Gertrude growled, swinging a leg over the broom. Side saddle was more comfortable, but if she wanted speed, she’d have to cut all the wind resistance she could. She clinched, and hung horizontal over the broom.

”Try to come at his head from the side first, and do it fast enough that he’d rather try to burn us out than just twist away—then just aim right for his mouth. I’ll keep this as steady as I can, but if I have to rest it on your shoulder to keep my aim, well, you’re strong enough that shouldn’t throw you off, aye?”

“Don’t get shy now, schweinehund. You’ve put those stupid paws on my shoulders enough that they might as well be a second home. Do what you have to, just make sure we win.”

Gertrude didn’t tell him that she wasn’t strong at all. That she needed magical enhancement just to get around like a normal person. But being strong or not didn’t matter, as long as they got it done. If she braced as hard as she could against the broom, she could support the weight.

Gertrde got Thrinax’s head in her sights, and went at him at full speed from the side. Fionn leaned down as well, bringing his feet up behind him to brace against where the bristles lashed to the broomstick, his blade still held high as they started to gain speed. As much as he didn't expect that the two of them would walk away from this charge, it still felt better to brace himself for the impact than to not.

”We'll put a hole in your hide yet, dragon,” he uttered grimly, the grin not leaving his face. They accelerated rapidly to a break-neck speed, far faster than any horse Fionn had ever rode upon. He lowered his glowing blade towards Thrinax, the fore end of the haft resting against Gertrude's shoulder as the committed to their fate as a giant missile.

As they streaked across the sky like a shooting star aimed at the dragon, he couldn't resist roaring out in challenge: ”Bás! Buaidh nó bás! BÁS AGUS BUAIDH!”