Vertigo

Daggerheart: The Witherwild

The mesmerizing, brush-stroked sky almost made up for the syrupy ale.

Capriccio leaned his elbow on the railing of the pub’s topmost balcony, turning his gaze from the sky to the myriad of branches, vines and rickety bridges below. Having scaled many a building in his life, he never imagined getting fazed by heights.

Alula had been quick to humble him.

There was something about staring down at an entire village built vertically amidst trees that troubled him. Maybe it was the flammability of it all, the knowledge that a simple flick of a mage’s wrist down on the ground could set ablaze an entire village, with those at the top the least able to escape the pyre. At the same time, it was almost an amusing thought; those at the top facing the most danger? Now that was a first.

Despite the uncomfortable feeling looking down wrought, Capriccio had a hard time looking away from the drop below. He only managed it when a Simian woman a few tables down burst into sudden laughter, her companion urging her to calm down amidst her own giggle fit.

Capriccio smiled lazily. The nearly empty balcony basked in the last breath of sunlight, the fruity ale in its cozy bark-cup, the slowly settling silence that tended to herald the arrival of night — it would have been all too easy to forget himself and think of his stay as a vacation, a getaway from the buzz of Haven’s namesake city.

At least, had Capriccio not been cursed with a particularly good memory. Even if he’d tried, forgetting why he was in Alula was impossible. Ever since his arrival, even before he’d found his way to the town’s oldest and most-difficult-to-access pub and spoken himself into getting a room (despite the place’s policy on not accepting outsiders, mind), he’d been on the lookout. What for exactly? He didn’t yet know, but believed he would in time. To be able to spot the unusual, he’d simply have to familiarise himself with the usual, first.

The young bard contemplated another sip of his less-than-pleasant ale, while considering the rebels hiding somewhere among the town’s populace. It had been his hope that some of the rebels might be regulars at the Curved Tail, considering how inhospitable the pub was to those not part of Alula’s original populace, but maybe that had been too naive, too simplistic an assumption. Or maybe the two young Simian women a few tables away were in fact established members of the rebel sect, plotting away at an insurgence over their brightly coloured fruit cocktails. It would make a good song, at the very least.

Capriccio dared another sip of his drink, and started to ponder on the opening notes of A Crooked Tale at the Curvy Tail.

Daggerheart: The Witherwild

Capriccio the Bard

Infernis | Wordsmith Bard_^「lv1」| Slyborne

Background questions

Who from your community taught you to have such confidence in yourself?

My aunt, whose soul I'd wish blessings upon, were I to believe there was anyone out there to bestow them. Mother always complained she spoiled me rotten, that she encouraged me just a bit too much in all the wrong things. She taught me my first magic tricks. She's succumbed to the Sickness by now. They all have.

But, look, all my family has to do is wait a little longer — because for my next trick, I'll make the Sickness disappear.

You were in love once. Who did you adore, and how did they hurt you?

Oh— now, where'd you hear about that? And here I thought it was one of my better kept secrets. Ah, well. Her name was Leanira Dawncrest — still is, unless she's married her Prince Charming by now. I'd always find her at the front row in all my performances, her smile like a dozen suns. The thing about the sun is though, you really ought not to get too close, lest you— well, we all know how that story goes.

How 'bout I tell you another instead? Promise this one's better. So a Clank and a Faerie walk into a tavern...

You’ve always looked up to another bard. Who are they, and why do you idolize them?

You're really trying to get me in trouble with these questions, huh? Naughty. Alright. Well, we've all heard of Diarniasha, of course. A legendary bard of centuries past, a woman who, with a single word could end or ignite a war, whose performances were attended by gods and demons alike, and who we are to thank for a large portion of our written history. A fraud? Well, now, we all have our faults.

Slyborne questions

Who among the Haven Army do you wish to exact revenge upon and why?

The man who poisoned her mind and turned her against me, who had me cast as the villain in his perfect little love story. He can have her, if I can just have my revenge. The night has fallen anyhow, I no longer expect to bask in the sun.

You joined an insurgent group working to free this land from Haven’s grasp. What has given you doubts about the leadership’s methods?

Strong words, strong claims. I'm no more part of an insurgent group than I am another; all I do is record the truth. After all, we can't very well expect the victors to do that, now can we? Doubt is my ink, I must make sure it never runs out.

Someone you love is a member of the Haven Army. How have you used your position in the rebellion to protect them?

Someone I once loved is the future wife of someone in the Haven army, but I'll forgive you for the misunderstanding. It's not that I've protected her, per se, I— I would like to plead a coincidence.

Backstory

It is common knowledge that Haven holds no love for Gods — but few spare a thought to the fact that Demons aren't held in very high regard, either. Infernis were considered by many as the reminder of just another attempt by higher powers to meddle in the matters of mortals, and their existence was thusly confined into the poorer areas of of Haven. There, many did whatever they could to survive, either skirting the laws, or breaking them altogether.

Capriccio was, for the majority of his younger years, just another young Infernis running errands, picking pockets and begging for his keep — all the way until he found music. Or rather, music found him, as he likes to point out every time he tells the story, each recital more dramatic than the next.

Whatever the truth of it might be, young Cappriccio — a fake name he bestowed upon himself, mind — turned out to be quite skilled a performer. Music, magic, stories, he could do a little bit of it all, even impressing many of the guards on patrol — as, of course, he had been tasked to do. He was a deliberate distraction, a diversion, while his conspirators snuck behind the literal backs of the guards to fulfill their end of the plan.

It was not part of the plan, as far as Capriccio knew anyhow, that he would end up being scouted by a visiting guard captain and taken to the Upper City, to perform for his betters on a proper stage. And yet, that is where he ended up, a prospect that while debilitatingly scary at first, turned rather fruitful quickly enough. Soon he found himself wrapped in fine silks, earning a keep that could provide actual meaningful aid to his family and then some.

All was well — until it wasn't.

The Serpent's Sickness crept up to Haven like its namesake, silent until it struck. Capriccio, among whose duties it had come to be to spread news to the masses, expected his next time in the spotlight to be awfully grim, yet much to his surprise, he was told not to speak of the Sickness at all. He was assured it was not as dangerous nor far-spread as some whispers might suggest, and that any news to the contrary would merely cause undue panic.

Back then, Capriccio truly believed he was doing the right thing. Even as the Sickness slithered up to his own family, he kept on singing and performing as usual, bringing smiles when he ought to have brought the truth. And that was, unfortunately enough, only the start of it.

Just as his flashy performances had once been a distraction from what happened in the dark, as the years breezed past and Capriccio grew, he started to see more and more of the dark side of the oh-so-bright Upper City and its residents. The corruption, the carefully, subtly fabricated truths, the flat out lies. It all culminated to him being sent to Fanewick to chronicle Haven's triumph; the way they had braved foreign lands to bring aid and relief to their people, heedless of danger.

Capriccio did not know all the grim details of what had truly occurred during the conflict, but he did realize that history was about to be once again written by the winning side. That was, unless one of their finest quills would, say, develop a little bit of a conscience, and partake in some investigative journalism of his own.

He'd pack his second finest boots, much better for a romp in the jungle.

The Wild Beyond Witchlight

For a species that supposedly had little capacity for emotion, Sshizna sure felt pissed.

She wasn’t sure what the worst part of her predicament was. Being captured by one of these realm-splitting loons was bad enough, as was hearing exactly what purpose she had been captured for — but to then be forgotten about like some substitutable ingredient for a common brew? Absolutely inexcusable.

Sshizna wasn’t sure how long her captivity had lasted. Time had long since lost all meaning to her — an absolute irony, considering what her studies had focused on prior to Prismeer’s doom — as she had no means to keep track of it. No sun, no stars, no sounds of repetitive routines outside the door. Just darkness, silence punctured at random, and anger.

Until today.

Today was peculiar.

It had started with what sounded like a group of disgruntled visitors, followed by a short skirmish between a witchy shadow and a lornling (good riddance to the cursed thing). And now, footsteps.

Sshizna straightened her back from where she had been sitting, hunched over the lornling’s body mid-dissection. The steps didn’t sound like they belonged to a regular occupant of the hag’s house. They sounded foreign, new, promising.

Hope was an insidious thing, Sshizna knew, yet she could hardly keep it at bay now. She wiped her viscera-covered hands on the hem of her shirt and made her way closer to the stairs, to the extent the walls of her room allowed. She listened, intent, then weighed her options. To speak up and make herself known to a potential enemy? Or to wait, and see, and — potentially lose out on a rare chance of salvation.

She didn’t need to think for long.

“You there!” She hissed at the strangers through the door. Her voice was hoarse from unuse, words sticking to her throat on the way out. “Approach, ssstrangers. Ssset me free, and you ssshall not regret it.”

Shoujo⁴: Hatsukoi Reunion

Posted! It’s been a bit so apologies if I remember planned stuff wrong, but went with the assumption that Ryuu saw Eikichi as a kid a few times via Mikako’s friend group, but since he would’ve tried to avoid getting too close, he wouldn’t immediately be able to place his face. He might’ve seen him around a few times in present day around town, but without a name to attach to him, wouldn’t have thought much from afar. Also probably wouldn't be aware of his reputation yet.

Shoujo⁴: Hatsukoi Reunion

__________________________________________________

Man.

As if running head first into someone in a scene straight out of a comedy anime wasn’t enough, the dude he’d ran into had to be really damn loud, too.

Lying on his back with little intention, will, or ability to get up, Ryuu let out a loud groan and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would somehow hinder his ability to hear too. His head was pounding from hunger, exhaustion and quickly mounting annoyance, and now that his legs had stopped moving, he could barely tell they existed anymore. The thought of just… staying there on the floor, surrounded by the squeak of shoes and the distinct smell of wooden floor was tempting, but so was getting up and socking the guy quoting the damn school rules, so. Decisions.

Reluctantly, Ryuu pushed himself up to lean on his elbows, eyes opening enough to glare daggers at the guy now standing in front of him. A guy who… looked vaguely familiar, Ryuu realised with a start. But how? This was his first school day in ages, and he doubted the face of someone he’d seen around town a few times would’ve sparked this kind of sense of… recognition? So where…?

Guided by his sudden curiosity and annoyance over a misplaced sense of familiarity, Ryuu jumped up to his feet and leaned disturbingly close to the guy in front of him, eyes narrow. From afar, and potentially from the other boy’s perspective, it might’ve looked like a threatening gesture, but really, Ryuu was just dumb enough to think that somehow getting his face closer to the other guy’s might make the picture clearer. It didn’t, and that pissed Ryuu off even more.

What he wanted to ask was ‘who are you again, I feel like I’ve seen you before.’ What came out instead was an angry, demanding: “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Symphony on High

💀

20 | Female | Maverick Alternative | So(ME)thing On Your Mind
Kiss & Make Up | Handgun | Physical | We Are But Dust and Shadow
Hellspawn | Streetside Devil
Friends on the Other Side | Shadow | Abyssus Abyssum Invocat
[Obfuscate, Intangible] Damage X (6), Restrain (4), Blink (4), Minor Heal (2), Summon (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Homing (2), Avoid (2), AoE (2), Bend (0), Transplace (4), Quicken (0), Full Extend (4), Scatter (2)

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 1250
PHYSICAL: D | ARCANE: D | CHAOS: E | 1138

Amanda’s time riding behind Ciri was made much easier by the girl not mentioning their height difference, nor it being something Ciri noticed, for once: all her attention was strictly focused on what was ahead - and then, in one swell leap, below - her: mooks who needed their ass kicked.

As her horse’s hooves clacked on the floor of the foyer, Ciri clocked the pretentiousness of the place. A straight up golden fountain? Really? Ugh, talk about gaudy. She noted Trixy who’d waited for her, Stacy in her absolute element, and— well, shit. The nuns, flanking the huge tiger man she’d seen last operation. Big Tony, or Timmy, or Jimmy, or something.

At the nun’s words, Ciri cackled.

”See, that would be a pretty damn tempting offer,” she conceded, twirling her gun to the rhythm of her racing thoughts. Her hatred for Gemini - for the most important thing in her shit-ass parents’ life - had never waned, just forced to take a backseat with everything else going on as of late. She always knew she couldn’t exactly take all of Gemini down alone, and that a full blown war with them was pretty far down Maverick’s wish list, so she’d settled to just biding her time and waiting for an opportunity.

Now, she was offered an opportunity, and maybe once upon a time she would’ve been dumb, desperate and angry enough to accept it. Maybe if Billy hadn’t been standing right there next to her to shut it all down anyway, maybe if Maverick wasn’t specifically teaming up with Gemini to take on an enemy worse than the government goons themselves, maybe if Gemini wasn’t already falling apart at the seams to a point just letting them do their thing seemed like the most surefire way to their doom.

And, most importantly, “If the offer wasn’t coming from your bullshit-spewing mouth.”

Fuck the nuns. And the tiger, too, probably, even though he looked pretty cool and clearly knew not to open his mouth to ruin the image. Ciri narrowed her eyes at him, trying to pry into his thoughts to hear what he refused to say out loud. The nuns were tricky bitches, but at least she somewhat knew what to expect from them.

Ciri’s trigger fingers were itching, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of hostility — or even before that, if Billy didn’t have other ideas. She offered him a split-second glance; a chance to object, before shit hit the fan.

Daggerheart: The Witherwild

Doing a writing catch up day tomorrow, so posting then!

Symphony on High

💀

20 | Female | Maverick Alternative | So(ME)thing On Your Mind
Kiss & Make Up | Handgun | Physical | We Are But Dust and Shadow
Hellspawn | Streetside Devil
Friends on the Other Side | Shadow | Abyssus Abyssum Invocat
[Obfuscate, Intangible] Damage X (6), Restrain (4), Blink (4), Minor Heal (2), Summon (2), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Homing (2), Avoid (2), AoE (2), Bend (0), Transplace (4), Quicken (0), Full Extend (4), Scatter (2)

[Gold Projectile][Quicken][Scatter][Summon] = -112

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 1250
PHYSICAL: D | ARCANE: D | CHAOS: E | 1138

"... Ew." Ciri had half the mind to ask whether Billy even knew what that meant, but decided that she was probably much happier not knowing. So, trying to get rid of that particular mental image, she swung herself up atop her newly formed ride.

As her horse dug at the ground and the sound of revving engines filled the parking lot, she caught a familiar face she hadn't seen in a bit. Amanda, tearful, trying to join the Gemini side of the operation. Whatever she and the Gemini chick were discussing was drowned by the engines, but Ciri could figure out what the girl was after even without hearing a single word.

Revenge. And the girl wasn't going to get it fighting some goons on the first floor.

Honestly, Ciri wasn't sure whether bringing Amanda along had been such a good idea in the first place, considering the scale of the mission and her age and mental state, but— hey, not her call to make. It shouldn't have even been her problem. But... honestly, she would be pretty pissed if the girl went and died now, after everything she did to get her out of that diner alive.

So.

"Hop on!" Ciri called out after a moment of thought, patting a spot on the mount's back behind her. "We'll kick some tiger ass first, then see where we go from there. Just stick close and do what I say and I promise you get to be where it matters!"

Would be much easier to keep an eye on the damn girl if she stuck close by.

—

Five. Five guards, caught with their figurative pants down, was what Ciri saw as they approached the building. Seriously, that was it? Were they fucking underestimating Maverick?!

Well, not for long.

As she started upon a cast, Ciri dug her heels deeper into her horse's sides, intending to plant its hooves into the closest guard's face. Hopefully, her little spawnlings would swarm and distract the rest of the guards long enough for the rest of the Mavs to run them through — or over, as it were.

Daggerheart: The Witherwild

Will update the actual image later; got those pupil dilating drops at the optician's what feels like ages ago by now, but for some reason my eyes still look like a cat's chasing a laser-pointer and I can't see the screen properly without a lot of straining lmao. But at least writing this real quick so we don't wait on me--

Those Who Believe

Though Haven is known for its history of deicide, not all who inhabit its borders shun the gods. Nestled in the mountains to the north, the Cloister of the Faithful houses a few hundred believers who have taken it upon themselves to live a life of seclusion and discipline in order to repent for the sins of their forefathers. What exactly goes down within the cloister's walls high up on the mountainside is unknown, though those who claim to have seen it themselves number in the dozens.

Some call them a deranged cult, conducting all manner of horrors in their attempt to appease the gods, while some swear them to be a peaceful, quiet lot who offer aid to any who wander to their gates. There are rumours of them seeking to overthrow the current system of governance, to seek to resurrect Shun’Aush, to even be responsible for the Serpent's Sickness - and yet, there are also rumours to the contrary, spread by people who swear the monks cured their loved ones via magical means, even before the discovery of the red flowers.

Whatever the truth, one thing is for certain; the monks are in possession of magic of some sort, as evidenced by the hood of stars that spreads out above their cloister at night, visible even from the ground.

Daggerheart: The Witherwild

Getting back to this tmrw!