Avatar of WilsonTurner
  • Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
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    1. WilsonTurner 12 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
Current Spontaneously moving to a new account- OfWindAndRain.
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10 yrs ago
Born too late to explore the world; born too early to explore the galaxy.
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Bio

I'll eventually get a real bio in here.

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Zmeis snorted, and toasted with the rest of them. Downing his glass, he brought it down with an audible clap!, claiming their attention. "Me and my hovercraft can create a diversion- no one outside of very high military operations use such a thing. If I come in, and one of you dressed up right is escorted by another of us more obviously one of us, then we could draw the Kill Team after us, letting them think we have already located and evacuated this young'un."

He slid out of the booth, and waved for another drink from the bartender. Taking the bottle from the man as he went to refill his glass, he slapped a rough payment into his hand, and started drinking from the bottle. About three shots' worth, he came up for air, and glanced at the other Immortals. "What? I think better under pressure when I'm half drunk. And my system's super resistant anyhow. Whaddayall think of my idea?"

As he took another swig, Monsoon started speaking from his speaker. "It would be advisable to create something physical, rather than virtual. The Kill Team is experienced, but will not be able to verify the legitimacy of sudden actions, and will be forced to move in pursuit."
He waved vaguely at their surroundings, moving easily in his suit. "We're on the ship. See, the point of this was to put resources and crap on the planet. Then they found out that I had actually designed it for a small crew to be inside. They didn't like that- had me remove it, and I had to redesign it to be smaller and more cost efficient. And then they found that the chances of automated construction 'bots working correctly after all this time would be very little, and looked to their two great uncertains for help. And so we're now sitting in the tacked on mess hall, complete with flavored nutrient paste, and a single bunk bed. I have the bottom bunk, by the way. I have a problem with... heights."

He grimaced inside the suit, even though it was completely unseen, and that the bunkbed's lower bed wasn't even a foot off the flower, and the upper bed was only five feet above that. Next to it was the nutrient paste machine- a small touchpad screen, with a nozzle underneath, and a small dispenser that had small plastic cups, and a hole to put used cups into for recycling. Next to that was a table. In the middle of the room were three different multi-purpose workout machines, and on the opposite side of the bunk bed is a single stall for showering, and a stall next to it for going to be the bathroom

Surveying this, all in this small room, he said, "Hope sweet home, for about two days."
/me is now the accordion.
/me cannot, for he is trapped in interdimensional police car

/me is the pillow.
/me replies, "That's what she said."
No, he's the Kill Team leader grunt.
@ClocktowerEchos
Why'd you post a picture of a girl?
I thought you were supporting guys?
Oh, they battled for hours, it seemed like, constantly going back and forth, as evenly matched as two fighters could be- she was faster and lighter, but didn't have the range or enough speed to get to him without getting sliced herself. Neither had the advantage, not really- they were an even match, this time, now that neither of them were underarmored or overarmored.

Their battle was over in just over an hour and a half, when he heard a steward knocking on the door, calling, "Suh Aulfr Volsung! Your fathah requests your presence in the dining hall for a feast to celebrate the Full Moon!" Aulfr, naturally, jumped into a sudden slip in Rayt's defenses, shoved her away, and then sheathed his sword, stepping back, all smooth and practically in one motion. He quickly walked towards the door, unlocked it, and opened to admit the steward, dressed similar as he. They stared at each other, and the steward sighed- "If only the Oberjarl had fashion sense."

It was a clear sign of rebellion- had Aulfr been loyal to his father, the steward would probably already be dead. But because he wasn't, he agreed amiably, "Indeed, if only. Good thing I'll be able to change that soon, isn't it?" The steward looked up, sharply, and nodded. Task finished, he turned and walked back down the hall, knowing that he had just switched sides, and that his charge knew the way.

So he waved at Rayt to follow, reminded her not to bring her mask and such, and continued on.

~-+-~


It had not been a 'good' feast, compared to others. Half of the usual jarls were absent, away with their treasures, reorganizing and preparing ships for the oncoming winter. As people who had a tendency to raid Ardany, "Those Xhangs," pirates, and other merchant vessels whenever they could, they needed transportation- thus, ships were very important.

The next feast would be better, with better food, most people, and a happier atmosphere. This one was somber and relatively quiet- No business to discuss, no disputes to be settled.

Until, finally, near the end of the meal, a Jarl stood, a great big burly guy, known for being somewhat reserved, but always loud in opinion. He was even more ridiculous than Aulfr, as a devout supporter of Oberjarl Bjorn, even going so far as to wear the jester's hat, claiming it to 'be as sign of wealth and power in Benti.'

Nonsense, of course, but the first thing he did when he spoke, finally, was demand to Aulfr, "And why did you bring Ardanic scrum into our hall, Volsung?! Why is she so... confident. Servants should be beaten down, not encouraged!"

Aulfr gazed at the standing Jarl, who was, in his own right, an impressive fighter. But he was all brute, all brawn, and little brain- though he was clever at cracking open vaults. Either way, he had just challenged Aulfr's power, and Rayt's presence. So, standing, he replied evenly from the Oberjarl's side, "As the Oberjarl's heir and son, I decided to purchase a slave, who also happened to be the prestigious Death's Maid, or more commonly, the Fourth Devil. Having tested her skills for myself, I am confident that she'll make an excellent guard for the Volsung family, and as an excellent... servant, to me."

But the man wasn't done- "And how do we know she is any good? How do we know you are any good? We haven't seen you swing a sword in weeks! Are you ill, Volsung?"

Aulfr gazed down on him with an iron stare, before waving Rayt forward. "And so my rough-cut gem, born among the mud and squalor of this world, will prove that she can shine. Please, face her, and if you can beat her, then I will allow you to face me."

The man stared back, unreasonably angry. It was obvious, of course- Oberjarl Bjorn had probably taken him aside, and threatened house and holm if the man didn't bring down his son's move.

Aulfr smiled, and leaned back to watch Rayt deal with the Jarl in the square inside the four tables that they sat at- the Oberjarl, his heir, and company at the head table, the middle-class of politicians sitting on the tables to the direct left and right, and the lower class or the visitors on the table opposite. In the middle, a pit burned with fire- at the Oberjarl's beckoning, servants appeared, straining to carry sectional grates, which they laid over the fire pit to allow for a flat area to fight at.

And so the other Jarl came forward, already pulling out a warhammer from his belt- against the unarmed Rayt.
@ClocktowerEchos
I am not.
Oh well. I shall be the gentleman, and not help my fellow men in their quest for Guild domination.
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