The Otter

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

ghost sword ghost sword

who needs transient curses when you have a ghost sword (it cuts ghosts)

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

"Should I be concerned that the last member of Duke Corrin's household ended up in my hometown and you both found her there? I feel like I should be concerned."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

"I like forests," Fionn was grumbling to himself further back in the line, heedless of Gerard speaking about him just ahead. "But things just keep going wrong in this forest. Losing Rickert, Golden Boars all around Cae Mayl, and now this? The Duke of Brennan goes mad out of nowhere? I don't like it, Echaid." The grey-coated hobby gave a small shake of the head in response, not even bothering to give anything more. As far as Echaid was concerned, a forest was likely the same as any other forest—though he knew that his master was somewhat bothered.

"I mean, really, they named it Sorrow forest," he continued to grumble.

Echaid snorted. "Oh, I know, I know, probably named after somebody with that name, but still. You know what it's like back home, you know how things like to congregate to places with inauspicious names like that. Should we have brought Fiadh? That might have been a good idea."

Echaid whinnied agreeably at that thought; sometimes, Fionn thought his horse liked Fiadh even more than him. "Bastard. You just want to play with her more." Done griping to his horse for the moment, Fionn kicked at Echaid's flanks, riding up to where Rolan, Renar, and Gerard had all convened as the duke's keep loomed. He had to hope for the moment that Renar wouldn't decide to comment on the lack of stirrups, given the efforts that he kept putting in to get Fionn to ride more like the other knights.

"Any ideas on what we're going to be doing here, lads?"

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

that's just an obvious fact at this point, we know how he works

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Hey, now, Callum doesn't know ghost king yet.

His dad probably is against the guy just because all three of the ducal families that the Prossers have been tossing their allegiance between for the last who-knows-how-long were all in agreement on the wizard queen front and Laurent just led the charge in telling him to piss off.

also man why the ghost king gotta be named Lamont, I blame the Campbells for this

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Look, either way, Callum wants to lead the charge against illegal aliens in Arrowfell now.

oh also look at that a new collab yay

this kid is getting radicalized in the complete wrong direction i tell you hwat

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

Tarin, Eagle Inn

---

The dagger flipped over once as the masked man sprung out of its path, landing surely within Callum’s waiting grip. He hadn’t really held any expectation that the surprise attack would work out, so much as he was open to the idea of getting exceptionally lucky—

—A proposition that seemed more and more unlikely as time went by.

He didn’t waste any time, quickly moving as soon as he caught his weapon. The air shimmered around his left hand, seeming to harden into a translucent shield the size of a dinner plate. The greater part of the masked man’s spell passed him by as he made a wide step out of the way, the motes that came close enough to worry over quickly slapped harmlessly aside with the shield, made to defend as well against spells as it could against any blade.

”Aye, let’s,” he agreed, holding both dagger and shield forward as though he had a small sword in his hand. Behind, he heard the sound of the door as the innkeeper rushed out, likely to grab the actual city guard. Hopefully they might come in numbers enough to provide more backup than Anabel’s own had done.

But there was no time to wait for help! Callum lunged forwards, the tip of his dagger aimed to slice inward at the man’s free arm and armpit.

“You really are persistent, aren't you…” The masked man growled under his breath as he stepped back, out of range of the daggers' short width.

His eyes had caught the innkeeper fleeing, and he clicked his tongue. Annoying. There would be the city guard to deal with soon. He didn't have time to play games with this young noble, unfortunately.

His fingers raised, and an assault of electrical sparks filled the air around Callum. Thick enough to make edging through them impossible. If touched, these sparks would cause Daze, stunning Callum with a powerful shock.

At the same time, the masked man sidestepped with his captive Anabel, vaulted a table, and dove for the door. Time was of the essence, after all.

Callum grit his teeth as the air around him filled with dancing sparks, built around him almost like a cage. The man had evaded his attacks multiple times over—first with a lucky dodge, the second by managing to throw himself back enough to make space such that a fast cut couldn’t even catch him after the thrust failed. He’d come back into a guard position...

...Just to find that he’d been put in time out.

Unable—unwilling—to step through his new cage and risk whatever fate awaited him for testing the magic, he transferred the dagger to his left hand, gripping it alongside the ephemeral shield that hovered just beyond his knuckles. He spun on the ball of his foot as the man passed him by and hopped over a table. He didn’t need to be free to hinder this man, he just had to shift his focus...

Not the spear, not the spear...

The green gem on his ring glowed, and through the tavern’s open door back to the inn, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass was unmistakable from behind the desk where the innkeeper met his visitors and kept their primary weapons secure. A sword flew into view of the doorway, throwing its scabbard backwards with a single spin, dropped slightly as it did so, following the smallest gesture of Callum’s hand—and the kidnapper would find the end of it cleanly positioned to slice into his diving head as it spun.

The sword spun, almost in slow motion, as it soared towards the masked man.

Before there was a sickening crunch as the sword sank into the man's head.

He froze there for a long moment. But there was no tell-tale sign of collapsing, no sinking to his knees and toppling over. No. Instead, the man slowly moved his hand, gripped the sword, and pulled it out.

The man scoffed, tossing the sword at Callum's feet. “Boy, you still have so much to learn.”

Despite the slice through his mask, he seemed in perfect health. No blood, no sign of injury. It was strange.

Thunderous footsteps approached the tavern, and the door burst open. Guards of a higher level, wearing arcane robes and hands held at the ready, stormed the room, semi-circling around the masked man and the captured Anabel.

“Halt! Let go of the girl, and surrender!” One of the guards shouted.

The masked man simply laughed, looking over his shoulder at them. He hefted Anabel once, like a shrug, before levelling his masked eyes at Callum.

“Seems our little dance has been cut short. Perhaps I'll see you again, little man.”

In a swift, fluid movement, he hurtled Anabel at the guards. In the next instance, he had a small tube in his hand with a latch. He snapped it taut, and it exploded in a flash of light. And, as the light faded, so too had the masked man disappeared.

The sword lifted again into the air after being tossed to the ground; regardless of whatever magic let the man survive a sword burying itself halfway through his skull without damage, it wouldn’t stop Callum from making the effort to cut him apart entirely if it was necessary. With the more adept guards stepping in, however, it seemed the effort wouldn’t be necessary. Anabel was thrown forwards, caught by a pair of the robed guards, and the would-be kidnapper—

—Blinded them all for a moment and disappeared without even the sound of footsteps to mark where he’d gone.

The glowing motes surrounding the red-haired squire disappeared alongside their maker, fading away and letting him step forward to take his sword in hand rather than leave it floating in the air. While he might have preferred that they could capture the man, the fact that he’d not been able to abscond with his target was enough of a win to count for salvaging Callum’s, thus far, terrible day.

”Tsk. Foreigners.”

Unfortunately for Callum, his scabbard was back near the innkeeper’s desk where it had been thrown back, past the threshold that the guards now stood in, closer to the outermost door they’d burst in through. Somehow, he doubted they’d let him get past with the sword still drawn, not while Anabel was still recovering her breath from being so bodily hefted and thrown around. ”Bruised, my lady?” he asked mildly, ignoring the guards for a moment and focusing back on Anabel herself. ”You should be alright otherwise, I hope; I know you were surprised, but I was being careful not to put you in any more risk than the situation already held.”

Anabel pulled herself up with the help of the guards, a hand over her abdomen where all her weight had been hung from. She quietly gritted her teeth, refusing to cry, squeezing her eyes.

Before her breath settled, and she opened her eyes a bit.

“I… need to get back to Her Majesty. She needs to know…”

Her eyes turned up to Callum. “Will you come with me?”

The guards, however, were far more wary. They eyed Callum with distrust, suspicion. “Drop the sword, young man.”

Anabel turned to look at them, wincing slightly. “This man saved my life. He's with me. With House Furino.”

The guards hesitated. One stepped forward. “You'll take responsibility of him, Lady Furino?”

Anabel stood a little straighter, trying to appear taller despite her small stature, and nodded her head. “Yes.”

The guards stared for a moment, looked at each other, before nodding, and withdrawing their swords and magic. One glanced at Callum. “You best be thanking your lucky stars, young man.”

Callum had been about to answer Anabel’s request before the guards spoke up instead, issuing commands and then veiled threats after they were ordered to stand down. Given the effort that he had just put in to try and delay the kidnapper long enough that he couldn’t just abscond with the little lady, he was more than a little insulted by it all. He walked through the guards over to where his scabbard had been tossed, carefully sliding the sword back in, before facing the one that had just addressed him.

”I rather think you’re the ones who should be thankful for how lucky you were, no?” he replied coldly. If he wanted to be charitable, he might assume that the one who had spoken up was a junior member, fairly fresh to the field...but that didn’t mean that such injudiciousness should go unaddressed. ”I can’t imagine any of your prospects would have been very bright had he managed to make off with her like he intended. Why don’t you be a good boy and see to those other two, instead of embarrassing yourself trying to threaten me?”

He pointed at the first two guards that had run in, Anabel’s personal entourage, who were still lying senseless on the floor, before turning back to the little Lady Furino. ”When do you intend to leave? I haven’t even unpacked any of my things, so I can be ready as soon as I carry them down and grab my horse.”

The guard that had addressed Callum had turned a shade of red, turning abruptly and grumbling under his breath. The semi-circle dispersed, guards moving to attend to the collapsed men, while others went to find the innkeeper.

Anabel glanced an eye to her men, her face a careful mask to hide the horror that was sinking in. She had almost been taken, after all.

“Within the hour. If we ride hard, we can take a ship to the Grand Bank from Hathforth before Her Majesty leaves for Athius.”

Lady Furino turned her little self to Callum, looking up at him. “Thank you. I… don't know what would have happened to me had he taken me away. Her Majesty will want to see you, of course. She will likely reward you.”

Callum gave a noncommittal shrug. ”A mess like that isn’t something that anybody should just stand by and watch,” he replied—loudly enough that no few of the tavern’s remaining patrons, who’d been present before the fight began, could hear. ”That accent wasn’t anything from Arrowfell. It’s one thing if we’re all at each other’s throats, but letting outsiders try and play their games with us is a step too far.”

He was, perhaps, a bit annoyed that Raiden had left town so early, and not been around to get browbeaten into helping with the fight against the would-be kidnapper. He doubted that the man would help entirely willingly—he didn’t seem the sort—but such lofty ideals as mutual respect and honourable conduct were the bread and butter of members of Callum’s chosen profession, and sweeping others up into such high expectations was a matter of course. On top of that, the man did at least look like he knew how to fight.

He looked around the tavern once more; the robed guards were all attending to their own business, the chastised one pointedly avoiding his gaze, but none of them let Anabel venture out of their line of sight. Compared to before, she likely couldn’t be any safer. ”Well. I’ll be up to gather my things, then. Get a drink, would you? They should have some sort of small ale here suitable for ladies of your stature.”

Those parting words, with an accompanying pat on Lady Furino’s shoulder, were delivered with an entirely straight face that he managed to hold until he made it up to the room where he’d expected to stay the night. He unwound the belt from around the scabbard of his sword, putting it back on around his waist, before hefting the pack that held his few sets of extra clothing and travelling gear. The only things left were his horse and spear, both together in the stable below.

He drew out Raiden’s little missive again, looking down at it with a furrowed brow and a sigh.

”Really. Athius? What, has the queen figured out how to turn us all into fish now?” He shook his head. Despite being from a town that was so focused on fishing and maritime trade...

”I hate boats.”

ArrowFell: The Wizard Queen's Court

"LOCK THE BORDERS!

BUILD

THAT

WALL!

REPEAT AFTER ME: NO NAZGUL IN ARROWFELL!"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

---

Even without having a clear view of her face, it was remarkable just how expressive Ciradyl could manage to be; the voice was obvious enough, but her mood was remarkably easy to discern as it shifted back and forth from the body language that accompanied it. Squirming under the combined gaze of all the rest, shifting back and forth–locking up like she'd been struck as soon as Hien's entrance became obvious, and, slowly, relaxing as first Esben and the others all spoke in turn.

"You see?" he whispered as Rudolf began to speak, leaning back over her shoulder once more. "Most of us are too familiar with this way of doing things to hold too much of that against you." He fell silent again as a flash of light caught his eye, reflected off of Rudolf's knife...as the swordsman observed his own reflection in it for a moment. Hmm...

He turned back away from the rest, leaving Miina to give her comfort to Ciradyl, heedless of Eve having moved up next to him except to continue keeping any important information on the papers out of her sight, and pulled his buckler back off of his belt. While the outside had long since lost its polish through use, the reverse, especially beneath his grip, still maintained its mirror finish. He set the papers face-down in his lap, held the buckler just so...

Brought up a free hand, shaking soot and who-knew-what-else out of his hair as best he could. The dust and grime showed just as clearly in his blond locks as in Rudolf's stark white; he'd expected it on all his clothes, certainly, though despite his own relative lack of involvement in the fighting proper–and the amount of time he'd spent with his hood completely up to block the tell-tale shine of his hair–it seemed it had gotten all over.

Well, at least Ciradyl was well coated in Mizutani's blood, so he wasn't terribly worried about that. Galahad was busy pointing out what none of the rest of them had, yet, as well, and with everything else he doubted that she'd even noticed; if anything, she was likely more concerned with how much any of the rest may speak up in regards to the astoundingly poor decision to try using them all as a distraction rather than actually trying to work alongside them.

Still, though...

"Eve?" He hung his head forward a bit, turning so that the girl could get a look at the back of his head. "Not too messy in the back, am I?"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Esben Mathiassen

---

Esben turned, glancing at Ciradyl as she confirmed what Mizutani claimed...and offered no further words to explain herself. Arton's outburst went almost immediately ignored—even if he didn't listen to Izayoi, the others would be enough to contain him—as he pulled out a few of the papers he'd been reading, holding them back over his shoulder towards Izayoi, who read them over quickly and came to what sounded like much the same conclusion he had.

"She still feels guilty about it all, why else?" he replied in response to Izayoi and Hien's questioning. "A popular musician turned rebel leader, forced to make all the sorts of decisions that one of you learned to later and the other has been raised from birth to make? It can't be an easy thing."

He held up the rest of the papers in his hand over his and Ciradyl's shoulders. "Certainly not having to work with someone like Mizutani Tane to get the work done, but that's beside the point. General Hakamichi was one of the first to perish in Valheim's invasion, but his lieutenant, Mikado, managed to avoid immediate death. Neither one was particularly known for military prowess, even as far south as Skael, but Mikado started gathering together whoever he could with the goal of making another push against Valheim or dying in the attempt. A waste of lives, much like Izayoi described her own presumed last battle. Better to siphon away those who weren't fanatics and let the others waste themselves, it was early enough to expect such as Valheim was cementing their rule.

"Or one of the provincial governors, Ikezawa, who had been one of those during the war with Edren calling on the common people to be ready to take up arms and fight to the last, fostering fear and rage in equal measure, and primed to do just the same as Valheim came to her door. She'd sooner scorch the earth and wipe her people out than swallow her pride and fight for the future. Better to have her poisoned and claim what resources could be recovered before she committed everybody she had to a pointless death. Ibarazaki and Tezuka, both known for their rivalries during the war with Edren, who were attempting to each play Valheim against the other while trying to consolidate their own power bases...and were sacrificing villages' worth of innocents to do so. Drug them, kidnap them, and hand deliver them to Valheim while rescuing those who could prove actually useful to the cause, and let the rest run into hiding or waste themselves in singular efforts as they saw fit. General Satou—"

"That one shirked his duty to the Emperor and the nation during the war," Izayoi cut in, disdain evident in her tone. "I do not recall him commanding in the field." Esben nodded once, before continuing, almost certain he'd be interrupted again, "And his lieutenants, Setou, Mutou, Nakai, and Shirakawa—"

"Useless city samurai, the lot of them. Unworthy to command, much less fight." Esben was almost certain he'd caught the hint of a nod from Hien at that interruption, as Izayoi's disdain passed into outright derision. "Ja. All five had seen fit to declare themselves rulers all their own, attempting to carve out their own little fiefdom where Valheim's rule was weakest. Certainly, the citizens of the area welcomed local rule, but they didn't know what they were going to be dragged into had such ill-formed plans been given any time to come to fruition. If such ill-formed rebellions as those were left to proceed as they would, then Valheim's shackles might instead have been a noose on the populace." He tapped Ciradyl on the head with the papers in his hand, turning slightly to look at the rest over her shoulder.

"Instead, a certain singer who was known to the general managed to gather information on his and his lieutenants' troop movements when they had yet to drag too many others into their insanity, and leak that intelligence to the new governors at a party hosted by a local, ah, businesswoman. It all comes together quite nicely, and there are names of others in here who are working other jobs in this safehouse right now, or out hunting down other scraps of information and gathering up as many useful people as possible, and it all allowed Ciradyl to ingratiate herself enough with the occupiers to guarantee a measure of safety for all of those to operate within...or to learn Hien's fate and work to avert it."

Of course, there was more than just that all that Esben had been able to piece together from the details in Mizutani's papers, though he figured that should be enough to illustrate it for the rest. Mizutani had thought much of it came down to her benefit, with enough of those that were rescued from a sure death in other ill-advised resistances set to work as moles within the crime lord's own network. It was a well-orchestrated plan, not without its own hiccups, but completed well enough to ensure that someone with the actual skillset and understanding to see it through to the end could take the helm.

"Now, Valheim contents itself with harsh taxation, strict curfews, and occasionally making an example out of criminals not normally severe enough to warrant the effort. Stricter now after what we've done, of course, but that couldn't be helped. Under the guise of a collaborator and with the help of those she pulled around her who did know this world before the occupation, she managed to keep the citizenry relatively safe, and secure one of the rare leaders left in this country who understands the politics as well as the battle. I have little doubt that any of those I just mentioned would have left Hien to die for nothing more than their own egos, not for any worthwhile reason. Any others in these pages that might have attempted a rescue were likely too incompetent to meet with any success in the effort or to try and use the death to their advantage when they inevitably failed. Their records in the war with Edren suggest as much."

He glanced to Izayoi, who nodded back, having spied some of those others the same as he had. Of course, her views on the competence of those already mentioned were much the same; even as useful as some of them may have been in war proper, they weren't built for the sort of work that a resistance required. Neither was Ciradyl, if he had to guess. "Regardless, though, that's quite a bit to have weighing on the conscience for someone who didn't already have years of preparation for making these sorts of choices. As easy as it might be to understand, logically, why Chisaki's occupation exists and that most of the nobility don't have anywhere near the virtue their titles imply, it's another thing entirely to have to dive head first into that world. Most people aren't cut out for it, and usually castigate themselves over it quite a bit." His eyes narrowed looking down at the paper on the top of his now-truncated stack, before he let out a short laugh of appreciation.

"Ah, planting evidence against some of the local nobility who were actual collaborators, ensuring that Valheim removed them for you? That had to be Chisaki's plan, yes? Old trick. Always love it."