Final Kingdom MUSH - User contributions [en]

Elsa

2014-04-02T23:24:31Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Character Infobox |firstname=Elsa |age=18 |image=Cute-Elsa-Frozen-Picture-Wallpaper.jpg |species=Human |sex=Female |height=5' 8" |weight=135 lbs |series=Frozen |sty..."

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=Elsa
|age=18
|image=Cute-Elsa-Frozen-Picture-Wallpaper.jpg
|species=Human
|sex=Female
|height=5' 8"
|weight=135 lbs
|series=Frozen
|styles=Snow Queen, Marshmallow
|hometown=Arendelle
|alignment=Wandering Force
|group=Shadow Lords
|occupation=The Snow Queen
|themesong=Eternal Ice - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-bnCpqCfVI
|quote="The cold never bothered me anyways."
}}
= Logs =
{{Character Logs}}
= Cutscenes =
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}

2013-07-07T18:27:18Z

Msiren:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/07/04
|Location=Traverse Area - Bodhum - Beach
|Synopsis=Fireworks are shooting. People are celebrating. However something comes from the depths, green sickly mist starts to rise from the ocean. People start to run to shore screaming, as few become infected by the mist and crash into the water. What rises from the ocean depths, is nothing good...
|Cast of Characters=Deidra, Rapunzel, Riku, Shadow, Izolde Danefield, Firion, Horned King
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Its time of celebration for some and for others its a good excuse to have a great time, along with a party. Fireworks explode out over the beautiful ocean waters. Caribbean like music plays in the air as people dance about on the sand. Children play as the run across the sand chasing one another and sometimes their own balls which they toss to one another. Though this area remains in a constant state of Twilight and people seem to have come to live with this, as this party is proof of such. Yet something lurks from the depths of the waters. Something that has been summoned to this location unseen by the many who party and have fun. What it is, has yet to be seen, but yet to the tell tell signs that something isn't right start to happen. A woman suddenly rushes back to the shore, people start to quickly move out of the water as parts of the water start to bubble and a mist starts to rise form the water. Fish that have sudden became decease start to rise to the surface of the water. One by one, each of them with a sickly dark mist that rises from their body. Soon turtles and sea creatures that can escape to shore also start to come out in troves running from something that was within the very water....

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield is enjoying her day at the beach..or rather..twilight. She's dressed in her usual attire and using her staff as some kind of sensor, it being flipped upside down with the crystal near the sand. The gem that made up the staff's tip is glowing with a pulsing purple. It was also vibrating slightly. As she continued walking, the staff would light up brighter shades of purple until the Nu mou follows the trail. Finally, when the purple light had turned to an almost white she stoops down in the sand and starts to dig bringing up...a bottle cap. She sighs and pockets it, dusting the sand from her knees and standing again. "Another bottle cap. How much soda water do these humes drink?" She turns towards the source of the disturbance, perking her ears. If anyone was familiar with Nu Mou biology knows just how much effort it takes for them to move their heavy ears against gravity.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' Firion had known it was only a matter of time. Palamecia was making it's move to begin it's conquest of the World of Ruin at large. He'd watched the news of the battle on the Mist Plains. He decided it was time to halt his training once again. He'd made plans over the past year. So many plans, scouted out the country. Decided the best routes by which he could enter the Empire. The problem wasn't entering so much as it was /leaving/. And so he bided his time, he trained.. he was an optimistic person, and knew that all it would require was patience. Now Emperor Mateus was starting to extend his forces out. This was something he could actually attend to, do something about. So what was this patient warrior doing right now? Having a good time of course. One last celebration for the road, before he went out there and began the rebellion once more. Even if it was just a rebellion of one now. The loss of Altair, of Salamand, when the world fell... saw to that. But he didn't dwell on that. Didn't fall into despair. He was a remarkably cheerful person and didn't care about his odds and chances of felling an Empire on his own. Most of the townsfolk in Traverse thought he was an oddity, given that he was a veritable human arsenal. Why did someone need to carry so many weapons on them at once? And all of different kinds. But he just playfully answered that he never could decide on just one. He'd barely finished his first pint, when the screaming started. And wiping away some of the foam from his mouth, he handed it back to the tavern keeper. "Hold this for me. I'll be back." Girded in azure armor and a white cloak, his head covered only by a jeweled bandana, he made his way down towards the dark mist by the waters.. while most people were fleeing from it. While he carried a ridiculous number of weapons, of all types, he hadn't drawn a single one yet, just patiently assessing the situation as he watched even the sea animals escaping. Yeah this was certainly trouble.

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' What Riku wanted was some time to think and figure things out. Sadly, whenever he turns on the introspection the universe has to get in the way of that. He chews on a hotdog thoughtfully as he sits on the beach looking out at the water. He watches the children play and then with a growing sense of unease notices the people backing away from the water. The teenager groans very faintly and sits there resolutely eating his hotdog as the sickly mist rises from the dead fish. "Oh.. come on." he mutters as a turtle slowly pulls itself along the beach past him and Riku takes another bite of the hotdog. Chew. Chew. Swallow. Sigh. He flops backwards in the sand onto the towel he'd been sitting on, an arm over his face.

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' It is nice to relax once in a while. What relaxes some may not apply to everyone-- but for Shadow it is a quiet moment to remember the past. For all the things that happen-- there are always good moments. There are always moments in the future that may also be as good as those. Admittedly, Shadow is not well suited for the beach. Even out here, his entire body is wrapped in that black cloth. He stands mysteriously at the beach-- arms crossed over his shoulder as he watches the light display in the air become mirrored against the water. Interceptor, however, is all about having fun. He barks and runs around the sand-- periodically picking up something and bringing it to the ninja to throw far, far away.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Soon the water starts to bubble closure to the shore line. Before the very sickly green mist moves across the beach itself. Then slowly from the waters something, several somethings, start to rise up. Their armor like that of vikings and knights as they starts to appear from the waters. Their movements almost fluid as any humans and to make things worse; they were animated skeletons of the undead. As they walked upon the beach, the sand under their feet started to turn black, the dark mist most heavy around them and almost trailing off their forms. They hold weapons of swords, axes, and some even with shields. People start to run away, some take steps back, pulling out their cameras and taking shots of the strange event. Yet the undead horde continues to march out from the water. At least thirty if someone was to take a gander. As one of the undead walks by a turtle that tries to escape, its shell starts to decay and so dead the poor turtle within. A tourist taking pictures suddenly trips backwards and one of the undead raises up their sword to strike down, but the man quickly scatters back, throwing his camera at the undead skeleton who slices the camera in half.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield jovial expression falls as the threat makes itself inherently evident to anyone with any combat experience. She spins up her staff to a more battle ready posture and makes her way towards the marching army. She comes to rest a good distance in front of the army, looking around for anyone nearby that might be able to help. The gem on her forehead lights up in tandem with her staff. "What is it about you dead ones that makes you appear everywhere and at the most inopportune of times!"

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' "Woooow!" Bursting from the edge of the city, a young girl gasps happily as she dashes out from among the neon lights and paved streets of Traverse's main districts onto the broad expanse of the lively beach. With her gaze turned upwards at the festive explosions lighting up the skies the teen only barely manages to keep from crashing head-first into the other people that litter the broad crescent of sand, bouncing and weaving back and forth through the crowd, shouting energetic apologies as she attempts to get to a better position to appreciate the fireworks. Rapunzel smiles giddily as she finally skids to a halt in the cool sand. She glances down at her bare feet, wiggling her toes in the sand for a few moments. "Isn't this great Pascal? It's a beach! It's just like I read about!" A small green shape clambers out of her dress, the wide-eyed chameleon coming to rest on her shoulder. Rather expression for a lizard, the creature gazes up at the sky as the girl's attention drifts back to the bright bursts of color and seems almost as impressed as she. Almost. "Hmm. I don't think these are the lights we're looking for though. But they're really pretty!" A sudden tug on her hair causes the girl to glance backwards where several people are struggling not to trip over the excess of golden locks that trail behind her. "Whoops! Sorry!" She quickly starts to scoop her unusual burden up into her arms, turning away just as the strange bubbling water and fetid mist gives rise to the dark undead from the depths. A scream pierces the night as the fireworks die out suddenly. Rapunzel stands bolt upright, spinning around in alarm, and suddenly wielding, of all things, a frying pan. She holds it away from her body with both arms, pointing it in random directions as she tries to locate the source of the noise. It's Pascal who notices the horrid creatures first. Tapping insistently on her arm with his tail, the small lizard uses the flexible appendage to point towards the skeletal warriors before huddling down against her dress, blending it with it's light purples in a flash. "W-what are those?!"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra has a book, has a swimsuit that she manged to get fitted for her and has been enjoying the beach trying to clear her head after the horrors of Castle Oblivion and the Revelations about Isaac's world and the horror connected to Chaos within. She'd been having a pretty grand old time today so far. Then there are zombies? Undead? Again? She sighs as she sets down her book and goes for a tablet in her various beach things looking a bit miffed as she gets up to see just what's going on with the undead. "I was getting my first time off in weeks!" IF it not been part of the network in trouble it had been gummi blocks, undead or Will trying to eat gummi blocks and now it's undead again!

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' Well, Undead. This will make for a nice change of pace. And other than that tourist's camera.. Noone had suffered here yet. Time to have some fun. Firion started to advance towards the Undead horde with an eerie cheerfulness. Then all of a sudden... weapons began to rise out of their scabbards, floating in the air, circling around him. Where there was a bow slung over his shoulder moments before, it was now in his hands. A three pronged lance and a hand and a half sword flew in a circle around him. The air around him heated up, and suddenly those weapons ignited into ghastly white flames. He whistled in an impressed manner, as he got a good look at the axe and sword wielding skeletal horde. "Oh boy, there are a /lot/ of you. I really might have bitten off more than I could chew." Without even pulling arrows from the quiver in his back, they were already in his hand. And the tips of those arrows began to ignite with the same flames. Firing three arrows at once, he aimed to put each one into the skulls of the leading skeletons. Which then exploded with the same flames out of every crevasse, the heat of the blazing explosions spreading across to the horde. And without any discernible motions, there was no longer a bow in his hand, but a runed axe in one and a mythril mace mace in the other, which just moments ago were on leather hooks upon his belt. As he barreled into the vanguard of the horde blithely he chopped with an axe towards the weapon hand of one skeleton, before following through with the mace clattering and sparking upon the helm of another with a buffet. Cleaving through one of them gracefully he spun and continued his footwork to take him further into their ranks. The lance and sword around him were in a whirlwind of motion, defending his flanks and his back of their own accord, dancing as if phantasmal hands held them. Skewering and chopping, parrying and thrusting.

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' 'Do not Want' is the expression on the face of the teenager as he listens to the clattering, clanking advance of the armored things that emerge from the sea. He eats the last remains of the hotdog and then his hand moves to grasp the sword that is laying on the towel next to him. His fingers dig into the leather sheath while the other arm is still flung over his face. He snaps up onto his feet, springing upwards at the same time one hand grips and hand.. the other grips the sheath and abruptly there is a silver haired teenager with a sword in hand and a /very/ displeased expression. "I know, right?" he calls to Izolde, voice crackling with annoyed amusement. "It's down right embarrassing." There is an aura of tension around him that shimmers off him like a heat mirage, a pressure as he drops the sheath to the sands and pushes himself forwards, the silvered metal flashing as he levels it at one of the approaching knights, interposing himself between the now camera-less man and the undead and locking blades with them. "Whoever you are behind this? This is going to go bad for you." he says to the undead. "Just saying."

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Undead. Enemies. They seem to be anywhere-- but this scene in particular seems to be made out of one of Shadow's own nightmares. A peaceful scene disturbed by enemies that come out of nowhere. This doesn't surprise the dark clad man-- taking a deep breath and exhaling as Interceptor starts barking at a skeleton. Chew toy? CHEW TOY! Yes, Interceptor has a weird sense of excitement for this battle. Shadow cants his head to the side to the blonde and her lizard. "Enemies," he offers Rapunzel in mysteriously mysterious mysteriousness. Well, more so obvious obviousness. "You intend to fend them off with... a frying pan?" he asks. Horde of undead? That doeskin surprise him. Girl with a frying pan of doom? Surprise. The ninja makes no effort to engage with the forces yet-- though its just a matter of time before Interceptor bites off more than he can chew. Literally.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion's arrow finds one of the skeletons and blasts the skull almost in half, with the helm flying off. A few of the undead actually step aside of the flying helm. The skeleton hit by the fire almost staggers back. Something about these flames causing it, what seems to be, a great deal of pain? Huh. Firion gracefully moves through them, slashing and dashing. However luck eventually runs out as one of the undead has enough of this and uses the hook of the lance to trip the youth up. Then suddenly amongst the undead. They start to slam their weapons down for him. That and the green mist itself; there is something very vile about it. Something almost poisonous if one isn't careful. Several of the undead continue their advancement. They never seem to run however, they just wal. But when they get in closer, they suddenly do move faster. A few go right for Riku who seems to threaten them, then several more for the others. Some are saved from the undead horde; at least for now.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The Undead horde close in from all sides, at his flanks and at his back, and Firion starts to feel sorely pressed. Time for some breathing room. Turning suddenly, the lance lowers itself behind himself, flattening itself horizontally. He takes a step onto it like it were a springboard, then flips backwards over the Undead which were behind him. As he's flipping over them, a dagger appears in his hands, which he tosses by the blade towards the eye socket of a skeleton which was aiming to skewer him from below as he flipped up. The Lance and sword disappear from their current positions in the horde. One reappears within the scabbard on his back. The lance appears within his hands. And now it was the axe and mace that were floating around him, maintaining circular warding patterns, flying around as if wielded by unseen hands. "Guess I'm going to have to go all out...there really are too many of you for me to take on alone." He gives Riku and the Nu Mou a cheerful look. "...glad that I'm not. Good to see that you're both on board." His armor starts to sizzle, with wisps of smoke trailing off of it and his cloak, moments before his body is limned in a white aura, flames trailing down the haft to the tip of his spear. The floating axe and mace are similarily covered.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield spins her staff around to coat herself in an aura of magical energy that seems to have made her a bit more resilient as her form shimmers a bit. This was just in time for a group of sparkle-hating undead to take some swings at her, to which she blocks the brunt of the attacks with her staff, sending her backwards a bit. She spins up her staff after that and calls down some energy to throw back at the horde of undead, noting the few that were present and attacking with her. From behind her streams of energy form, one of them looking like a lightning bolt that arcs over her shoulder, followed by a frosted snowball, and lastly a gout of dazzling fire, all aimed into the group of antagonists before her.

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku is not in and of himself very menacing at all. A somewhat gangly youth with mirror shades and a sword more impressive than he is. There is a smell of ozone like the air just after a lightning strike and the foreboding pressure of an onrushing storm as he pushes the undead back a step before attempting to cleave straight through the neck bones of the opponent in question. As he does so, a ragged axe clips him on the side as several MORE join the festivities. Riku hisses in pain, drawing in a sharp breath and lashing out instinctively. A flash of light trickles along the edge of the sword as it passes backhanded along the course the axe came from. Riku fades back to take in the new opponent and then steps forwards again. In calm, efficient slashes he slams down at joints. Knee joints. Shoulder and elbow joints. Neck joints. As he slides backwards he smirks at Firion. He looks distracted for just an instant as he looks towards them then waves off the statement. "That's a neat trick." he says to Firion with his floating weapons. "But all out? Nah." he snorts. "..for these thugs?" he spins the sword around once before leveling it again at them. "They're not worth it."

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' And there comes the trouble. Shadow may be standing on the outskirts of the undeapocolypse, but several reach to where he is standing. Candid commentary to Rupunzel aside, there is a matter of creatures wishing to remove his head from his neck. The ninja places a hand on his sword grip-- slashing out in small, quick strokes at an incoming skeleton. It rips at the joints by the neck-- causing the head to plop off spectacularly. It doesn't keep the creature from coming, though. A second strike at the hip helps with that-- though by then he has to sidestep and riposte another enemy-- this one Interceptor is gnawing on the creature's femur with a bark of 'Mine mine mine!' The ninja isn't helping so much as defending himself. Though he could leave, but doesn't. Maybe he is secretly a zombie spy. Zombie ninja.

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' The frightened teen's frying pan isn't any more infused with doom than your run of the mill cast-iron skillet, it just happens to be the first thing she grabbed when the rogue Flynn Rider slunk into her tower unannounced. Turns out it makes for a decent way to knock someone silly. Who knew, right? Rapunzel gives a start and whirls to face the source of the voice. She wasn't actually expecting an answer. Her deadly 'weapon' is turned upon Shadow as well before she realizes he's normal. Sort of. "Oooookay, guy dressed all in black, that's totally normal, right?" She glances down at Pascal out of the corner of her eye while maintaining a fake smile but the lizard just shrugs at her. "Right." She takes a couple steps back, instinctively picking up her feet to avoid tripping over her own prodigious length of hair as she considers what to do. Her gaze drifts back to the beach. As the skeletal vikings draw their rusty blades and move to strike at the fleeing citizens her resolve instantly hardens. Rapunzel frowns, putting her game face on. "We can't let them hurt anyone!" But even as she announces this, she hesitates. Those swords and axes look pretty sharp. She can't risk letting them accidentally hit her hair. She ponders for a moment springs into action, rushing down the beach where people are still attempting to get clear of the monstrous attackers. Sliding a foot under her hair, she kicks it up into her hands and quickly throws it out like a rope towards one of the hapless victims. Amazingly, the massive length of gold entwines around the young man's wrist and she yanks him backwards, pulling the dazed youth out of the path of a swinging axe. "Hurry up and run!" Turning her attention to the two men engaged in fighting the bulk of the enemy formation, Rapunzel bites her lip before deciding to do something foolish. Her hair-lasso is reeled in and sent flying once more; this time, however, she aims at the skeletons surrounding Riku and Firion. The prehensile hair comes in low, attempting to wrap around their feet and trip them up, but she quickly pulls it clear to keep them from trying to hack it apart. She may not be much good at fighting but she can still help out!

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra was enjoying herself on a beach for the first time since she engaged the fair folk. This has been ruined people are in danger, due undead that have just come out of nowhere. She's also fresh out of Phoenix downs so she's going to have to do it the hard way Firion is an unknown but he's here to help as she moves in and no weapons are used by her. Not even her clearly nasty looking talons, No she starts moving to frees and attempt to shatter some of the undead. "Your are not alone, Mister! Also ... umm hi Riku." Deidra continues chanting now in Latin and here comes the ice spells!

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion escapes from the Undead horde and sinks his daggers into a few of them. However all they do is stagger back but continue to advance on, like the mindless lost they are. Riku's own counter attack also knocks a few of them back, however they seem just as eager to press on. Then the rain of magic comes down for the Undead horde, yet something from outside; or perhaps the mist itself; seems to cast aside the magic. The lightning strikes an odd barrier above them, the ice forms around them being chewed away by the green mist into an inky black substance, and the fire gets blast across the front and around them. When Riku then lashes out at the group after him, his strikes meet some of their joints, cracking the bone, slamming some of the armor that protects them and his final strikes being blocked by one of the undead before it staggers back from the impact. The Ninja attempts to come in and suddenly the very undead with blades turn right around and meet his quick strikes to block them as they come in. Each impact was made with a spark of metal on metal. As for Interceptor trying to get himself a femur. A few undead hop away from the dog. Bad puppy. You don't know where they been! Also that dark mist starts to move around the poor ninja dog. He may want to avoid that soon. Then the hair comes in to attempt to trip up the undead. They see it coming in and several of them jump back just in time, before they look directly at the young woman herself. How dare she-- wait did she actually throw her hair at them? This actually caused them to tilt their heads to the side. Deidra starts to chant her Latin and a faint dark whisper may be heard by her and her alone. A counter chant perhaps? Either way as her ice spell slams into something much like the other mages spells did. The ice forming around the skeletons but only melting to a sick black mess by the green mist. However now the whole group falls under attack. Swords swing out. Axes slash and cleave downward. No one is safe now that defends the beach. For the Undead suddenly charge now. The dark mist following them and attempting to effect those whom they attack.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The man is sorely beset, and after a moment is driven down to his knees as the Skeletal horde presses on him with swords and axes. His floating axe and mace cross with his lance in front of him to ward off the worst of it. But despite his injuries, he still seems preternaturally cheerful. "It's a very neat trick. Makes for some great tavern games." Firion actually laughs at Riku in a boisterous manner, flinging the same dagger he'd thrown earlier with his offhand, back into the horde, catching another skeleton in the eye. "I was being /kind/. After all. The Undead have no passion in their soul. That makes for poor, unskilled opponents who have an advantage only in numbers." He spins his lance and grins. "After all..." He puts one foot backwards, running a hand along the haft of the lance, as the axe and the mace suddenly break from their guard position in front of him. "....given how quickly we're about to end this..." He barrels into them, this time, his lance is white hot, and not only skewers, but melts through bone everywhere he strikes. The axe and mace acting of their own accord, glowing in a similar manner as they too strike repeatedly, igniting the bone marrow of every skeleton that they batter or cleave into. "...I'd be a terrible sport not to compliment them in /some/ way." He spins his lance one more time, before planting the butt into the ground, allowing one skeleton to run into it, bringing doom upon itself. He then picks it up while the flaming mass of what's left of it is skewered pathetically on the lance and flings it back into the horde, where it creates a flaming pyre that explodes outwards, spreading throughout their ranks.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield isn't terribly good at defending herself at such close quarters combat with several attacks coming in at many angles. She spins her staff around to try to block the damage from the blades and axes but a few clip through her defenses, including a slash to the side. She staggers back with a loud growl, focusing on her staff again. Her robes start to billow with magical energy as she summons three sparkling fireballs around herself, flinging them all out from her to perhaps clear some space for her next attack of some sort. It was getting hard to see with the mist rolling in; this needed to end quicker than later. "Tougher than I'm used to."

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku laughs at this although his expression is muddled with something else as the sword slams into the bones and he staggers back a step when the blows are deflected. The sluggish green mist grabs at him as a poorly timed strike puts him in the direct line of fire for a sword that just /barely/ misses skewering him. He flies backwards onto the sand and begins to cough as the mist washes over him. Riku rolls back onto his feet, staggering and coughing as he tries to shake his head to clear it. "Yeah." he manages with a wheeze. "It just wouldn't be sporting at all. " He chuckles. "But then.. neither is this." He plants the sword in the sand and kicks one of the advancing warriors backwards into another one. There is a pulse that runs underneath the sand before black thorns erupt from the sand. The thorns attempt to entwine as many of the undead warriors as possible and smash them together if close enough and simply attempt to suck them into the sand and keep them nice and pinned for the guy with the flaming and floating arsenal

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Mistake. That's the thought that immediately runs through Rapunzel's mind as the undead turn their attention to her as well after her bungled attempt to play hero. Her large eyes slowly widen as the realization that she's made herself a target dawns on the girl and she mutters a frightened, "Uh oh." Clang! The sound of metal striking metal resounds across the beach as she instinctively brings up her frying pan to deflect the first swing. Miraculously, the weapon rebounds off the flat surface of the heavy cooking implement but the impact sends reverberations down her arms that cause her bones to rattle. Even poor Pascal vibrates on her shoulder, his googly eyes rattling around. It's not a pleasant sensation. Rapunzel seems as amazed as everyone else probably is that her make-shift weapon actually saved her. She looks at it bewildered. "Huh... can't believe that actually, eek!" There's no time to be impressed. Another natsy looking blade comes in from the side and she only barely manages to push it back, earning another painful clash that sets her teeth chattering. The green mist begins to waft up from the water as well, slowly reaching thin wispy tendrils that putrefy the air around her but all it does is cause her nose to wrinkle up in disgust. Enough of that! Mustering her resolve, Rapunzel lunges in to counter attack, swinging her blunt instrument around in retaliation. The skillet traces wide uncontrolled arcs through the air, smashing into whatever she can manage to hit while she continues to prove her unusual sense of coordination, ducking and rolling about while managing not to get tangled in her seventy feet of hair. Pascal is hanging on for dear life.

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra freezes up she feels something, something it wrong here there is a darkness here, necromancy of the worst sort it's almost demonic really. It bring up her heckles especially after the things she encountered with the TDA earlier. There's a sense of dread are more terrors coming out of the darkness now. Have they sensed something what is coming for them she doesn?t know but she's caught under the hordes attack and she's lucky she's a gargoyle. Had she been human she might not be getting up right now. R%R She continues trying to chant this time focusing on an combination of wind to knock some of the undead off their feet and blow them into the water, following that up with freezing them. She takes stock of all the others here and wonders who Firion is she's never seen that man before.

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Without taking a step towards the undead, he finds himself involved in the struggle regardless. The blonde makes a good point-- a man in black clothes at the beach is probably stranger than going gung-ho with a frying pan. Mist. Mist generally isn't a good thing when coming around creatures of the undead. %TThe ninja whistles sharply-- reverberating nearby to catch the attention of his dog. Poor pooch. Interceptor drops the femur he is trying to acquire with a bark that says 'Ill be back for you later, good sir.' Then the two move. Notably Shadow and Interceptor make their way towards Izo-- cutting a quick swath of the creatures as he looks for bastion in the combat. Something evil this way comes, no doubt, and he doesn't want to be overrun in the process. Slash slash slash-- he does the whole ninja rush with great slashery to make it to the pocket.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion's attack ignites a good deal of the undead. Their bodies are flashes with holy fire and they suddenly crumble to the ground into nothing but black ash itself, swept up by the very winds of the attacks, but consumed however by the sickly green mist. The Fireballs from Izolde slam down around the undead that were here. A few of them knocked back by the explosion and a few of them having to raise their shields and step back a bit before they were made crispy bones for Shadow's faithful dog. The darkness suddenly lashes out at the undead, but something like with the magic, interrupts the darkness with a sudden dark spell that is only whispers on the wind, almost heard clearly thanks to the sickly green mist being around Riku. Words spoke of both magic and something else. The Darkness impacts suddenly a massive sand wall that rises upward before crashing back down into the ground. Though several of the undead from their hidden assistance get almost knocked over, others leap right over the wall and go to knock Riku down on the ground for a moment. They then start to move upon him again. Sadly for the long haired damsel, her wide swings are missing the Undead as their rear back to avoid the swings. Then one in slight frustration due to her aggressive gesture, decides to swing out his sword in retaliation for her arm. Shadow then attempts to run by and get to a pocket of safety with the others, or to some pocket at least. However the Undead raise up their shields to block his attack, then the last one he passes suddenly swings out his axe at the right moment to catch the passing Ninja. This time however, Deidra's magic is able to break through. They are knocked up into the air and then impacted with water, but this doesn't bode very well though as the water attempts to hold them into the air, freezing them where they are. Yet it is then suddenly the Dark Mist explodes outward. Blanket everything with a very thick cloud of its sickening quality. Everything becomes hard to see outward and around. Without warning suddenly the Undead all leap outwards from where they are, breaking free from their frozen restraint and lashing out at the heroes present. Trying to bite onto them and drain them of their very life essence.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The Undead bite, and lash at him. His weapons suddenly pick up the pace and try to defend him, and he puts up a valiant effort, but suddenly he's on his knees, as his stolen life force flows right into the Undead Horde. He looked up, and surveyed the battlefield. There was a young girl who was aiding them while wielding.. a Frying Pan. And she looked sorely beset. Firion had.. a weakness for that. He seemed genuinely touched that the girl was aiding them with her humble weapon. But he didn't want to see her hurt. He saw a little bit of one of his childhood friend's ferocity within her. Time to stop playing around. Time to return the favor for his stolen life force. Attack Defend >Item Run Submenu >>Fast EquiBlood Sword Firion's cheerful expression faded all of a sudden as a blood red blade, with a single ruby at it's pommel disappeared out of it's scabbard and reappeared into his hand. He didn't like this sword at all. But against the Undead.. he didn't really have to feel bad. He'd worked out the problem of it actually reversing the flow of energy against the Undead years ago. Just add /flames/ and suddenly he's feeding on the Undead's animating force again with style. As he swept the blade into their ranks, it trailed behind an afterimage of what looked like sanguine droplets of blood, being flung from it. Each time he touched one of the Undead with it, they crumbled to dust as the mockery of life force was leeched out of them... and he was invigorated, just a little bit with each strike. He decided that it was time to end this.. Suddenly, he lost his grip on his sword. All of his weapons in fact, began to float as one around him. The Wild Rose Sword, The Blood Sword, The Lance of Longinus, The Rune Axe, A Mythril Mace, Yoichi's Bow, the Dancing Dagger. It was an impressive arsenal, all told. A treasure trove he collected.. after his world fell. The Bow went into his hands, and the lance.. it lowered itself down for him to jump onto it. Balancing himself upon the haft of the lance, the other weapons floated in a wheel around him as he rose into the air. He telekinetically weaved them around him in a chaotic wheel so fast that they didn't look like weapons anymore, but the spokes of a wheel. A wheel of white flame. He drew back his bow, and five arrows, their tips already ablaze appeared, nocked. As one, the wheel surged forth into the ranks, and Firion leapt backwards, firing the bow, as five flaming arrows surged downwards, seeking their targets. The weapons all moved as their own accord, slashing a swath through the Undead ranks, before.. Literally teleporting back to him. He landed right back upon the haft of the lance from his backflip, before the wheel moves again in another direction, another volley of arrows is fired, and this time he rides his fiery wheel of death right into the Undead ranks, carrying him through the horde, and outside of the Undead ranks, leaving ashes and embers in his wake if it struck head on. And then as one, all of his weapons thunked right back into their sheathes, his lance upon his back, his bow slung over his shoulder. The man looks tired from the display.. as if it took all of his mental fortitude to do that.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield couldn't possibly mount a defense against so many undead mouths and fingers, all swiping or biting at her. She does manage to prevent more severe damage with proper staff placement, none of them being able to hang on to her long enough to deal extensive damage, but even so, she's getting cut and bruised up pretty badly. She jumps back out of the barrage of attacks, her magic still surrounding her in a mild aura that only intensifies the more damage she takes. The Nu mou is also generating a small amount of wind, likely tied to the light blue aura she's given off. She takes this time to tap the ground three times with her staff to radiate a pulse of green beneath herself, attempting to heal back some of the damage done. "Just a little bit more..."

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Making the advance to Izo, Shadow takes a few cuts. It is like running through a forest of bone-barbed bushes-- and his slashes ineffectually land on shields and steel. At least his initial assumption is correct-- that something evil this way comes. An undead blood frenzy is never good with these kinds of numbers. The ninja draws up his blade to parry a wild slash-- kicking the undead in the face and uses his shoulder to backflip away from another attack. It leaves a pile of three angry skeletons lusting after his ninja blood. Then there is the one behind him-- stabbing with a rusty spear that would have skewered him if not for Interceptor jumping in and taking the shaft by the teeth. Groowll. Woof. "A little more until you join them," Shadow asks Izo in standard monotone-- the ninja being arms length from the Nu Mou by the time the strikes take pause. It would be considered cold and impartial-- but it may be the ninja's own weird way of expressing concern. He takes out a paper talisman from his pouch-- focusing for a moment as he draws his back to Izo's-- releasing the shrouded magic in a way that gives both their bodies a haze-- and their spirit a cool breeze. Interceptor barks-- wagging his tail while things generally go to an undead sort of hell. 'Can I bite one, pleeeeaaassseeee?'

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' The clash of blades and cooking implements continues apace as the battle rages on the beach. Rapunzel, to her credit, manages to fend off her fair share of the undead warriors. Though considering she's a slip of a girl with little more than a hunk of metal and a lot of spirit, her fair share is pretty small. Swinging her weapon around like a maniac doesn't end up doing her a lot of good. Whatever skills they had in life, the skeletons seem quite capable of turning aside her blows and soon enough she is forced back onto the defensive. An angry thrust manages to catch her across the forearm, just enough to nick the surface of her skin, but the pain is intense enough that she almost loses her grip on the pan. Letting out a soft yelp, she throws herself to the side, rolling through the sand as a pair of axes clash together over her head. Rapunzel staggers as she rises back to her feet, clutching her wounded arm gently for a moment. Pascal stares at the small cut with a worried expression but she offers him a reassuring smile. "It... it's not so bad. I'll fix it up later." The girl turns a fierce look back at the warriors on the beach, taking note of the impressive display that Firion unleashes upon the hordes with wide-eyed amazement. But the battle isn't won just yet and she's still got some fight in her. Snatching up her hair, Rapunzel tosses it up towards a beam protruding from one of the nearby buildings and it wraps around the thick metal with ease. She takes a few steps back to get a running start then leaps into the air and swings across the beach, waving her pan around like a club at each of the skeletons she passes in the hopes that atleast a few of them will get clobbered. She aims her path towards the center of the group, figuring that sticking closer to the people who seem to actually know how to fight is better than going it alone. "Watch out, coming through!"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra darkness vs darkness doesn?t work so well but Riku's okay she figures he's going to catch on as he's very damn smart. However they are still out number by the walking dead. What's going on? Oh hell there's a whole bunch of them coming for her. She spreads her wings and is airborne shortly after just evading the things before they can bleed her dry like IRS agents on someone whose taxes are past due. She remains in the air, she's so not coming down into that mess and the ice spells continue to rain down follow by a big old bolt of arcane energy she's not messing about this time. "We can't kill what's already dead but we can break them into such small pieces they can't do a thing anymore!"

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku's eyes widen and then narrow as his attack is so casually shrugged aside. With a wordless yell he charges the undead as they clamber over the wall of sand and trample the remnants of his spell. He cleaves one in half, the back snapping as he swings the sword and then brutally kicks at it's pelvis as the warrior raises it's axe. He blocks another blow with a sword and smashes the hilt into a head, turning it all the way around with a snap. He doesn't have the time to look at the other defenders for help as he gets overwhelmed, although he would have been suitably impressed by a woman wielding a frying pan. He might have vaguely seen something like that once before. The undead relentlessly pile over him as the dark presence he senses looks on. Something about that begins to seriously crack the last remnants of his temper as that dark presence weighs on his mind. The sluggish life stealing fog is all he can see or smell or taste as he's knocked down hard by the undead. Their blades rise and fall and rise and fall and each time, he's a little slower to dodge. The blade in his hands a little more heavy as sparks ring across the surface. The blows are just barely deflected and there is nothing in his lungs but suffocating darkness. Riku reaches for the strength to continue and fails. His hand goes slack on the sword and darkness takes the world away as he passes out. A flash of energy shields Riku from the next and fatal blow. The axe wielded by the undead shatters, the haft blowing away in their hand like so much ashes as Riku slowly pulls himself to his feet. He staggers and sways before straightening up, frowning at the undead. He kicks the feet out from under one of the remaining swarm, a hand lashing out to grip their skull, streamers of energy peeling off his hand as he attempts to draw the lifeforce out of the skeleton and turn it to ash. Streamers of bluish black fog seep down the length of the blade, joining the faint glimmering reflection of light. "Begone." he says quietly and simply, a flare of energy cutting in several arcs like lapping waves across the beach as the sword cuts through the air.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion's mighty attacks washes over the Undead, they start to fall one by one, turning to dust upon the impact of power that was being unleashed. Each of their particles of dust returning to the sickly green mist that was starting to clear up. The more skeleton that went missing, the more the sickly green mist started to fade away. Shadow intercepts some of the attacks along with his faithful canine. The Undead are knocked back, which leads them to getting smashed around by Rapunzel as she comes racing through, knocking their heads together and clobbering them aside. Diedra's Ice Magic comes slamming down and freezes the Undead right in their place. They slowly attempt to break out of their hold however that Frying Pan still swinging smashes them apart before they can break free. However the remaining who are frozen almost escape, but Riku proves whom is the stronger force to be reckoned with. The Massive energy of light and dark streamed together goes cutting across the beach, laying waste to any undead horde that remains. With their crumbling bodies the sickly green mist starts to fade and soon not a presence remains of the undead that were just here. Yet eyes continue to watch for a moment, before slowly even that presence seems to fade away from the field of conflict.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The Warrior in Azure armor remains on his knees, he seems.. diminished from the effort. He quietly watches as the others dispatch the Undead horde. He watches the girl with the frying pan clobber more than her fair share. He watches the talented teenager dispatch the skeletons with streamers of darkness. The Ninja and the Nu Mou add in their efforts. He hoped that it'd all be enough. And it was, as the Sickly Green Mist retreats from the battlefield. And then he gets up, walks over to the others, clasping a hand on Riku's shoulder, speaking in a cheerful manner. "Hey, that was really something. You're going to have to show me how you did that, sometime." He seems actually sincere, not condescending in the least. Nor does he mind that he called upon what was almost assuredly the Darkness. He glances sidelong to Rapunzel, suddenly looking.. abashed, so instead of addressing her, he does so to the group, "I figure, now that we've all shed blood together we should probably introduce ourselves over a meal. Drinks and Dinner on me!" And then he's walking off the beach towards town, as he figures that at least some of the group will likely follow...

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku stands there with chest heaving and slowly the sword drops an inch at a time until the point touches the sand. It hangs slack in his grip as he slowly collapses onto his knees with a faint 'chuff' of sand. The expression of annoyed contempt leaves his face as the sickly green mist does and he coughs raggedly, rubbing his face and looking around tiredly. He slowly gets out a healing potion and downs it, wincing and wrapping an arm around his side as he waits for the healing fluid to kick in. "Hey." he says wearily to Rapunzel as he sees her a little further down the beach. "Nice frying pan." he chuckles, sucking in a painful breath as he staggers to his feet and resheathes the sword. "Hey. That sounds like a great plan. I'm always up for food." he then pauses and replays that in his head. He sounded like a certain food maniac he knew. He facepalms and then laughs tiredly. "Yeah. Maybe we can swap." he says cheerfully to Firion, actually not taking offense (except for the shoulder, which still stings) "We've got the tricks. Now all we need is the party."

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield had just about finished charging up something truly devestating but the young teenager beat her to the punch. She winces as she witnesses the untold destruction in the last few attacks and just like that they'd retreated. She sinks to her knees after that, clenching her sides with a deep sigh. The aid of the Ninja had come just a little too late, but at least he was there. She rests her staff in the sand next to her while the Nu mou regains her composure. She looks down to her side where heavy cut is and starts trying to force herself to stand, grabbing her staff and propping herself on it. "Just as well. Now I'm going to have to find a tailor to get my favorite outfit repaired. Such a shame. It was turning out to be quite the day at the beach."

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Rapunzel lets out an ecstatic laugh as her pan smashes into the first of the undead, whacking it upside the head with a dull thunk that shatters the frozen warrior's skull into tiny fragments. "See, Pascal! I can do it to-whoop!" The chameleon flutters in the wind, clinging to the cloth of her dress as she quickly tucks her feet upwards to avoid getting clipped by Riku's aggressive last stand. Wide-eyed at the display of dark power, the girl drops lightly onto the beach behind the two men and whirls around to bring her pan up defensively. Only to find that the last of the undead have been dealt with. She hesitantly lowers the hunk of iron, peering around to be sure that none of them are left, before giving a confident smirk. "Haha! They're gone!" Then she notices how bad off Riku is and a look of concern overtakes her. She dashes over to his side, returning his greeting with a faint smile. "Ummm... hi. You don't look so good. Are you... oh he's leaving..." She watches both Firion and the dismissive youth head towards town then shares a look with Pascal, both of them shrugging in tandem. "I guess they're okay...?"

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Shadow slowly stands up from his crouching position. He doesn't trust that this was the end of it-- but the last onslaught against the horde was impressive. Its possible it really is a break in the chaos. The ninja holds the sword in hand as Interceptor finally claims that femur-- looking to Shadow as if to ask 'Can I keep it?' The shrouded one sighs and nods. Spoils of war. "It was, wasn't it," replies Shadow as he walks away. All the same, there is no reason to stay around here.

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra just kinda gapes as Riku puts on a very impressive display of marital prowess as he manages to just do a heck of a lot of damage She does all right all things considered and everyone else is just laying things not the horde. Still those things took do many people with a fair bit of power to bring down. She lands on the the sangs taking a deep breath, then sighs. "I can't catch a break this week." She frowns then waves to several new faces. "Hello I'm Deidra..." Also that one lady has more hair than she's ever seen!

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Turning away from the strange warriors who seem to have gotten over their injuries rather quickly, Rapunzel looks to the others who lent their aid in the fight. The masked man in black likewise makes a swift exit and she starts to wonder if that's how people are supposed to behave when something like this happens. Just wander off and pretend like it was nothing? Seems rather silly to her. Fortunately, the women around here seem more sensible. The golden-haired girl wanders over to where Izolde and Deidra have gathered nearby, idly swinging her frying pan around by the small hole on the end of it's handle. She tilts her head to the side, peering at the both of them for several moments. "Huh. My books never mentioned anything like this." Pascal seems equally perplexed by the gargoyle and the Nou Mu's appearances. Trying not to be rude, Rapunzel clears her throat and waves experimentally at the two. "Um... hello! My name is Rapunzel. It's nice to meet you, thoughthecircumstancescouldcertainlyhavebeenbetter," she mutters to the side. "But, um, yeah! It's my first time here. Do... things like this happen a lot?"

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield holds a hand to her side to mend the damage that had been done there and thankfully, it was nothing too terribly serious. Eventually she's able to stand on her own without the aid of her staff, though the ripped fabric from the battle still remained. She looks towards the two women that came a little closer towards her with a smile, knowing a few of them had been present and helping with the undead. She bows her head out of respect. "I used to be quite adept at battle before, but it seems I'm a little out of practice. Then again, I'm also not much of a frontline fighter either so there's that." She passes a glance towards the human with the exceptionally long hair and tilts her head. "And I thought my ears were a liabilty. My name's Izolde Danefield but most just call me Izzy or something like that."

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Rapunzel glances to the side and chuckles, running her hands through her hair somewhat bashfully. "Heh heh, well yeah, I guess it does cause a bit of trouble sometimes. But it's really useful too!" There's a tug on her sleeve and she brightens up as if remembering something. "Oh, right!" The frying pan is held up to her shoulder and the small chameleon scuttling onto the iron surface, taking a seat in the center as she swings it around to show Izolde. "This is Pascal! He's been my friend since I was little." Pascal gives a smug grin at the Nu Mou that reaches from one ear to the other as if being introduced as the girl's friend were something to be incredibly proud of. He lifts a single arm up towards her, giving his approximation of a wave in greeting.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield leans over a little bit to let the little odd lizard creature near an outstretched finger, should he choose to do anything with it. "What sort of creature is this? I don't think I've seen a little lizard-type like this one before. Bigger ones sure, but none this small." She looks up towards the hume with the excessive hair and stretches her back a little bit, her tail arcing back behind her. "Well, There is some merit to carrying around that much hair. Just how long does it take you to wash it all?"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra is still making herself a bit more on the comfortable side she nods to Rapunzel and grins trying to not look too threatening as well she's totally not human after all. Sometimes people just don't take it well and she's come to accept it but given the Nu Mou is not causing any major reaction either? She should be fine, right? She gives Pascal a look and seems pretty amused. "Pretty smart Lizard from the looks of him." the mention of washing Rapunzel's hair makes her pale slightly. The cost on soap alone would be staggering.

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Pascal tilts his head at the finger before climbing over the edge of the pan onto the outstretched digit. His sticky feet allow him to cling to it easily and his skin quickly shifts to a light grey to match her fur, blending in so perfectly it's hard to tell he's not a part of her hand save for the two beady eyes staring up at her. "He's a chameleon," Rapunzel says cheerily. "And he's quite smart. He can change his skin color to match his surroundings. Sort of a defense mechanism against predators. And he uses it to cheat at hide and seek." The lizard turns and sticks his tongue out at the girl which makes her grin but the conversation shifts back to her hair, as it inevitably had to. The teen rubs the back of her head, trying to figure out how best to explain the merits of having so much hair without giving away her secret. "Well... quite a while, to be honest. Brushing it is even worse. It takes /all/ morning."

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield looks down in mild surprise when it shifts to her fur color. The unusual sensation of sticky-suction cup feet was a surprise too. She runs her other hand very gently over the top of it's head to pet it for a moment. "Is that so? I can't say I've seen a similar ability in the creatures I'd known. Quite unique. I like it." She looks back up towards Rapunzel and shrugs towards her. "I'd honestly consider just not brushing it at that point, because mornings are made for breakfasts but I get the feeling that it is rather unruly if left to it's own for too long. Are all humes like that where you are or are you an exception to the rule? Your attire is somewhat similar to some stories I'd heard about Hume Royalty, so it's a fair question. For all I know, those of high class may all have hair as long as yours."

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra says "He is very smart I not actually seen a Chameleon this smart before. I'm honestly impressed." Prehaps there's magic mixed up in this or it's just in Rapunzel's world they are much smarter than the ones from earth. "That does sound like a lot of work honestly. Also I bet the bet head is terrible." Izolde gets a look for a moment and thinks for a moment. "You seem to be a scholar of some sort or am I mistaken?"

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' "You have /no/ idea," she sighs. Brushing her hair is a chore that she's grown used to as it grew and grew over the years but that makes it no less tiring. "But, that's okay, as long as I get it over with quickly there's usually still time for a quick meal." Pascal accepts the petting with good grace but hops back onto the frying pan after a moment and scuttles back up her arm. The lizard vanishes from sight for a few moments then reemerges at the back of her head, plowing through her hair like a mouse shuffling under leaves. He takes a seat on the top of her golden tresses, still looking quite pleased, and she pays him no mind. Rapunzel pauses at the word 'hume', looking confused. "Hume? I've never heard that word before. Do you mean human? That's what we call ourselves." She shakes her head. "As for my hair, I'm pretty sure it's kind of unique. (Veryuniqueactually.) But I'm not royalty or anything like that," she laughs. "Nope just an average girl."

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield blinks at that and eventually shrugs at the lizard when it makes it's way back to it's owner. She looks over towards Deidra and nods slowly. "That wouldn't be too far from the truth. I used to have a very nice laboratory actually. Full of all sorts of magical oddities...but it was outside the city that got transported here. It is now no more. I seek to rebuild it when I can..and make some use out of the things I find around here." She turns back towards Rapunzel and snickers a little bit. "Oh...well yes. That's what they are called back where I used to live. Though I am finding that your kind are very popular everywhere, not just Ivalice."

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra says "Humans are the dominate species on my world as all, there's so few Gargyoles we're thought of as a myth most of the time." She smirks a bit one fang showing for a second. "I don't feel like I'm a myth, I'm pretty sure I'm here. Still it does seem to be humans are prehaps the most common race I have encounted. Though on many worlds they seem to be far better dealing with non humans."

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Rapunzel smiles at the two girls as they speak among each other, clasping her hands behind her back as she does so. However, this sends a shock of pain lancing through her arm and she suddenly remembers the injury she sustained earlier. She can deal with it but she'll need some privacy. Strange creatures or no, she doubts her particular gift is anything but unique and she fully intends to keep it secret for the time being. "Well... it was nice meeting you both! But I really need to get going. Things to do, hair to brush, you know how it goes." The girl gives a bright smile and a wave before turning to head back towards the city, her lustrous hair in tow.

Prelude 1: The Mysterious Mist

2013-07-07T18:27:01Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/07/04 |Location=Traverse Area - Bodhum - Beach |Synopsis=Fireworks are shooting. People are celebrating. However something comes from the dept..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/07/04
|Location=Traverse Area - Bodhum - Beach
|Synopsis=Fireworks are shooting. People are celebrating. However something comes from the depths, green sickly mist starts to rise from the ocean. People start to run to shore screaming, as few become infected by the mist and crash into the water. What rises from the ocean depths, is nothing good...
|Cast of Characters=Deidra, Rapunzel, Riku-Bot, Shadow, Izolde Danefield, Firion, Horned King
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Its time of celebration for some and for others its a good excuse to have a great time, along with a party. Fireworks explode out over the beautiful ocean waters. Caribbean like music plays in the air as people dance about on the sand. Children play as the run across the sand chasing one another and sometimes their own balls which they toss to one another. Though this area remains in a constant state of Twilight and people seem to have come to live with this, as this party is proof of such. Yet something lurks from the depths of the waters. Something that has been summoned to this location unseen by the many who party and have fun. What it is, has yet to be seen, but yet to the tell tell signs that something isn't right start to happen. A woman suddenly rushes back to the shore, people start to quickly move out of the water as parts of the water start to bubble and a mist starts to rise form the water. Fish that have sudden became decease start to rise to the surface of the water. One by one, each of them with a sickly dark mist that rises from their body. Soon turtles and sea creatures that can escape to shore also start to come out in troves running from something that was within the very water....

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield is enjoying her day at the beach..or rather..twilight. She's dressed in her usual attire and using her staff as some kind of sensor, it being flipped upside down with the crystal near the sand. The gem that made up the staff's tip is glowing with a pulsing purple. It was also vibrating slightly. As she continued walking, the staff would light up brighter shades of purple until the Nu mou follows the trail. Finally, when the purple light had turned to an almost white she stoops down in the sand and starts to dig bringing up...a bottle cap. She sighs and pockets it, dusting the sand from her knees and standing again. "Another bottle cap. How much soda water do these humes drink?" She turns towards the source of the disturbance, perking her ears. If anyone was familiar with Nu Mou biology knows just how much effort it takes for them to move their heavy ears against gravity.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' Firion had known it was only a matter of time. Palamecia was making it's move to begin it's conquest of the World of Ruin at large. He'd watched the news of the battle on the Mist Plains. He decided it was time to halt his training once again. He'd made plans over the past year. So many plans, scouted out the country. Decided the best routes by which he could enter the Empire. The problem wasn't entering so much as it was /leaving/. And so he bided his time, he trained.. he was an optimistic person, and knew that all it would require was patience. Now Emperor Mateus was starting to extend his forces out. This was something he could actually attend to, do something about. So what was this patient warrior doing right now? Having a good time of course. One last celebration for the road, before he went out there and began the rebellion once more. Even if it was just a rebellion of one now. The loss of Altair, of Salamand, when the world fell... saw to that. But he didn't dwell on that. Didn't fall into despair. He was a remarkably cheerful person and didn't care about his odds and chances of felling an Empire on his own. Most of the townsfolk in Traverse thought he was an oddity, given that he was a veritable human arsenal. Why did someone need to carry so many weapons on them at once? And all of different kinds. But he just playfully answered that he never could decide on just one. He'd barely finished his first pint, when the screaming started. And wiping away some of the foam from his mouth, he handed it back to the tavern keeper. "Hold this for me. I'll be back." Girded in azure armor and a white cloak, his head covered only by a jeweled bandana, he made his way down towards the dark mist by the waters.. while most people were fleeing from it. While he carried a ridiculous number of weapons, of all types, he hadn't drawn a single one yet, just patiently assessing the situation as he watched even the sea animals escaping. Yeah this was certainly trouble.

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' What Riku wanted was some time to think and figure things out. Sadly, whenever he turns on the introspection the universe has to get in the way of that. He chews on a hotdog thoughtfully as he sits on the beach looking out at the water. He watches the children play and then with a growing sense of unease notices the people backing away from the water. The teenager groans very faintly and sits there resolutely eating his hotdog as the sickly mist rises from the dead fish. "Oh.. come on." he mutters as a turtle slowly pulls itself along the beach past him and Riku takes another bite of the hotdog. Chew. Chew. Swallow. Sigh. He flops backwards in the sand onto the towel he'd been sitting on, an arm over his face.

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' It is nice to relax once in a while. What relaxes some may not apply to everyone-- but for Shadow it is a quiet moment to remember the past. For all the things that happen-- there are always good moments. There are always moments in the future that may also be as good as those. Admittedly, Shadow is not well suited for the beach. Even out here, his entire body is wrapped in that black cloth. He stands mysteriously at the beach-- arms crossed over his shoulder as he watches the light display in the air become mirrored against the water. Interceptor, however, is all about having fun. He barks and runs around the sand-- periodically picking up something and bringing it to the ninja to throw far, far away.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Soon the water starts to bubble closure to the shore line. Before the very sickly green mist moves across the beach itself. Then slowly from the waters something, several somethings, start to rise up. Their armor like that of vikings and knights as they starts to appear from the waters. Their movements almost fluid as any humans and to make things worse; they were animated skeletons of the undead. As they walked upon the beach, the sand under their feet started to turn black, the dark mist most heavy around them and almost trailing off their forms. They hold weapons of swords, axes, and some even with shields. People start to run away, some take steps back, pulling out their cameras and taking shots of the strange event. Yet the undead horde continues to march out from the water. At least thirty if someone was to take a gander. As one of the undead walks by a turtle that tries to escape, its shell starts to decay and so dead the poor turtle within. A tourist taking pictures suddenly trips backwards and one of the undead raises up their sword to strike down, but the man quickly scatters back, throwing his camera at the undead skeleton who slices the camera in half.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield jovial expression falls as the threat makes itself inherently evident to anyone with any combat experience. She spins up her staff to a more battle ready posture and makes her way towards the marching army. She comes to rest a good distance in front of the army, looking around for anyone nearby that might be able to help. The gem on her forehead lights up in tandem with her staff. "What is it about you dead ones that makes you appear everywhere and at the most inopportune of times!"

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' "Woooow!" Bursting from the edge of the city, a young girl gasps happily as she dashes out from among the neon lights and paved streets of Traverse's main districts onto the broad expanse of the lively beach. With her gaze turned upwards at the festive explosions lighting up the skies the teen only barely manages to keep from crashing head-first into the other people that litter the broad crescent of sand, bouncing and weaving back and forth through the crowd, shouting energetic apologies as she attempts to get to a better position to appreciate the fireworks. Rapunzel smiles giddily as she finally skids to a halt in the cool sand. She glances down at her bare feet, wiggling her toes in the sand for a few moments. "Isn't this great Pascal? It's a beach! It's just like I read about!" A small green shape clambers out of her dress, the wide-eyed chameleon coming to rest on her shoulder. Rather expression for a lizard, the creature gazes up at the sky as the girl's attention drifts back to the bright bursts of color and seems almost as impressed as she. Almost. "Hmm. I don't think these are the lights we're looking for though. But they're really pretty!" A sudden tug on her hair causes the girl to glance backwards where several people are struggling not to trip over the excess of golden locks that trail behind her. "Whoops! Sorry!" She quickly starts to scoop her unusual burden up into her arms, turning away just as the strange bubbling water and fetid mist gives rise to the dark undead from the depths. A scream pierces the night as the fireworks die out suddenly. Rapunzel stands bolt upright, spinning around in alarm, and suddenly wielding, of all things, a frying pan. She holds it away from her body with both arms, pointing it in random directions as she tries to locate the source of the noise. It's Pascal who notices the horrid creatures first. Tapping insistently on her arm with his tail, the small lizard uses the flexible appendage to point towards the skeletal warriors before huddling down against her dress, blending it with it's light purples in a flash. "W-what are those?!"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra has a book, has a swimsuit that she manged to get fitted for her and has been enjoying the beach trying to clear her head after the horrors of Castle Oblivion and the Revelations about Isaac's world and the horror connected to Chaos within. She'd been having a pretty grand old time today so far. Then there are zombies? Undead? Again? She sighs as she sets down her book and goes for a tablet in her various beach things looking a bit miffed as she gets up to see just what's going on with the undead. "I was getting my first time off in weeks!" IF it not been part of the network in trouble it had been gummi blocks, undead or Will trying to eat gummi blocks and now it's undead again!

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' Well, Undead. This will make for a nice change of pace. And other than that tourist's camera.. Noone had suffered here yet. Time to have some fun. Firion started to advance towards the Undead horde with an eerie cheerfulness. Then all of a sudden... weapons began to rise out of their scabbards, floating in the air, circling around him. Where there was a bow slung over his shoulder moments before, it was now in his hands. A three pronged lance and a hand and a half sword flew in a circle around him. The air around him heated up, and suddenly those weapons ignited into ghastly white flames. He whistled in an impressed manner, as he got a good look at the axe and sword wielding skeletal horde. "Oh boy, there are a /lot/ of you. I really might have bitten off more than I could chew." Without even pulling arrows from the quiver in his back, they were already in his hand. And the tips of those arrows began to ignite with the same flames. Firing three arrows at once, he aimed to put each one into the skulls of the leading skeletons. Which then exploded with the same flames out of every crevasse, the heat of the blazing explosions spreading across to the horde. And without any discernible motions, there was no longer a bow in his hand, but a runed axe in one and a mythril mace mace in the other, which just moments ago were on leather hooks upon his belt. As he barreled into the vanguard of the horde blithely he chopped with an axe towards the weapon hand of one skeleton, before following through with the mace clattering and sparking upon the helm of another with a buffet. Cleaving through one of them gracefully he spun and continued his footwork to take him further into their ranks. The lance and sword around him were in a whirlwind of motion, defending his flanks and his back of their own accord, dancing as if phantasmal hands held them. Skewering and chopping, parrying and thrusting.

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' 'Do not Want' is the expression on the face of the teenager as he listens to the clattering, clanking advance of the armored things that emerge from the sea. He eats the last remains of the hotdog and then his hand moves to grasp the sword that is laying on the towel next to him. His fingers dig into the leather sheath while the other arm is still flung over his face. He snaps up onto his feet, springing upwards at the same time one hand grips and hand.. the other grips the sheath and abruptly there is a silver haired teenager with a sword in hand and a /very/ displeased expression. "I know, right?" he calls to Izolde, voice crackling with annoyed amusement. "It's down right embarrassing." There is an aura of tension around him that shimmers off him like a heat mirage, a pressure as he drops the sheath to the sands and pushes himself forwards, the silvered metal flashing as he levels it at one of the approaching knights, interposing himself between the now camera-less man and the undead and locking blades with them. "Whoever you are behind this? This is going to go bad for you." he says to the undead. "Just saying."

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Undead. Enemies. They seem to be anywhere-- but this scene in particular seems to be made out of one of Shadow's own nightmares. A peaceful scene disturbed by enemies that come out of nowhere. This doesn't surprise the dark clad man-- taking a deep breath and exhaling as Interceptor starts barking at a skeleton. Chew toy? CHEW TOY! Yes, Interceptor has a weird sense of excitement for this battle. Shadow cants his head to the side to the blonde and her lizard. "Enemies," he offers Rapunzel in mysteriously mysterious mysteriousness. Well, more so obvious obviousness. "You intend to fend them off with... a frying pan?" he asks. Horde of undead? That doeskin surprise him. Girl with a frying pan of doom? Surprise. The ninja makes no effort to engage with the forces yet-- though its just a matter of time before Interceptor bites off more than he can chew. Literally.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion's arrow finds one of the skeletons and blasts the skull almost in half, with the helm flying off. A few of the undead actually step aside of the flying helm. The skeleton hit by the fire almost staggers back. Something about these flames causing it, what seems to be, a great deal of pain? Huh. Firion gracefully moves through them, slashing and dashing. However luck eventually runs out as one of the undead has enough of this and uses the hook of the lance to trip the youth up. Then suddenly amongst the undead. They start to slam their weapons down for him. That and the green mist itself; there is something very vile about it. Something almost poisonous if one isn't careful. Several of the undead continue their advancement. They never seem to run however, they just wal. But when they get in closer, they suddenly do move faster. A few go right for Riku who seems to threaten them, then several more for the others. Some are saved from the undead horde; at least for now.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The Undead horde close in from all sides, at his flanks and at his back, and Firion starts to feel sorely pressed. Time for some breathing room. Turning suddenly, the lance lowers itself behind himself, flattening itself horizontally. He takes a step onto it like it were a springboard, then flips backwards over the Undead which were behind him. As he's flipping over them, a dagger appears in his hands, which he tosses by the blade towards the eye socket of a skeleton which was aiming to skewer him from below as he flipped up. The Lance and sword disappear from their current positions in the horde. One reappears within the scabbard on his back. The lance appears within his hands. And now it was the axe and mace that were floating around him, maintaining circular warding patterns, flying around as if wielded by unseen hands. "Guess I'm going to have to go all out...there really are too many of you for me to take on alone." He gives Riku and the Nu Mou a cheerful look. "...glad that I'm not. Good to see that you're both on board." His armor starts to sizzle, with wisps of smoke trailing off of it and his cloak, moments before his body is limned in a white aura, flames trailing down the haft to the tip of his spear. The floating axe and mace are similarily covered.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield spins her staff around to coat herself in an aura of magical energy that seems to have made her a bit more resilient as her form shimmers a bit. This was just in time for a group of sparkle-hating undead to take some swings at her, to which she blocks the brunt of the attacks with her staff, sending her backwards a bit. She spins up her staff after that and calls down some energy to throw back at the horde of undead, noting the few that were present and attacking with her. From behind her streams of energy form, one of them looking like a lightning bolt that arcs over her shoulder, followed by a frosted snowball, and lastly a gout of dazzling fire, all aimed into the group of antagonists before her.

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku is not in and of himself very menacing at all. A somewhat gangly youth with mirror shades and a sword more impressive than he is. There is a smell of ozone like the air just after a lightning strike and the foreboding pressure of an onrushing storm as he pushes the undead back a step before attempting to cleave straight through the neck bones of the opponent in question. As he does so, a ragged axe clips him on the side as several MORE join the festivities. Riku hisses in pain, drawing in a sharp breath and lashing out instinctively. A flash of light trickles along the edge of the sword as it passes backhanded along the course the axe came from. Riku fades back to take in the new opponent and then steps forwards again. In calm, efficient slashes he slams down at joints. Knee joints. Shoulder and elbow joints. Neck joints. As he slides backwards he smirks at Firion. He looks distracted for just an instant as he looks towards them then waves off the statement. "That's a neat trick." he says to Firion with his floating weapons. "But all out? Nah." he snorts. "..for these thugs?" he spins the sword around once before leveling it again at them. "They're not worth it."

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' And there comes the trouble. Shadow may be standing on the outskirts of the undeapocolypse, but several reach to where he is standing. Candid commentary to Rupunzel aside, there is a matter of creatures wishing to remove his head from his neck. The ninja places a hand on his sword grip-- slashing out in small, quick strokes at an incoming skeleton. It rips at the joints by the neck-- causing the head to plop off spectacularly. It doesn't keep the creature from coming, though. A second strike at the hip helps with that-- though by then he has to sidestep and riposte another enemy-- this one Interceptor is gnawing on the creature's femur with a bark of 'Mine mine mine!' The ninja isn't helping so much as defending himself. Though he could leave, but doesn't. Maybe he is secretly a zombie spy. Zombie ninja.

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' The frightened teen's frying pan isn't any more infused with doom than your run of the mill cast-iron skillet, it just happens to be the first thing she grabbed when the rogue Flynn Rider slunk into her tower unannounced. Turns out it makes for a decent way to knock someone silly. Who knew, right? Rapunzel gives a start and whirls to face the source of the voice. She wasn't actually expecting an answer. Her deadly 'weapon' is turned upon Shadow as well before she realizes he's normal. Sort of. "Oooookay, guy dressed all in black, that's totally normal, right?" She glances down at Pascal out of the corner of her eye while maintaining a fake smile but the lizard just shrugs at her. "Right." She takes a couple steps back, instinctively picking up her feet to avoid tripping over her own prodigious length of hair as she considers what to do. Her gaze drifts back to the beach. As the skeletal vikings draw their rusty blades and move to strike at the fleeing citizens her resolve instantly hardens. Rapunzel frowns, putting her game face on. "We can't let them hurt anyone!" But even as she announces this, she hesitates. Those swords and axes look pretty sharp. She can't risk letting them accidentally hit her hair. She ponders for a moment springs into action, rushing down the beach where people are still attempting to get clear of the monstrous attackers. Sliding a foot under her hair, she kicks it up into her hands and quickly throws it out like a rope towards one of the hapless victims. Amazingly, the massive length of gold entwines around the young man's wrist and she yanks him backwards, pulling the dazed youth out of the path of a swinging axe. "Hurry up and run!" Turning her attention to the two men engaged in fighting the bulk of the enemy formation, Rapunzel bites her lip before deciding to do something foolish. Her hair-lasso is reeled in and sent flying once more; this time, however, she aims at the skeletons surrounding Riku and Firion. The prehensile hair comes in low, attempting to wrap around their feet and trip them up, but she quickly pulls it clear to keep them from trying to hack it apart. She may not be much good at fighting but she can still help out!

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra was enjoying herself on a beach for the first time since she engaged the fair folk. This has been ruined people are in danger, due undead that have just come out of nowhere. She's also fresh out of Phoenix downs so she's going to have to do it the hard way Firion is an unknown but he's here to help as she moves in and no weapons are used by her. Not even her clearly nasty looking talons, No she starts moving to frees and attempt to shatter some of the undead. "Your are not alone, Mister! Also ... umm hi Riku." Deidra continues chanting now in Latin and here comes the ice spells!

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion escapes from the Undead horde and sinks his daggers into a few of them. However all they do is stagger back but continue to advance on, like the mindless lost they are. Riku's own counter attack also knocks a few of them back, however they seem just as eager to press on. Then the rain of magic comes down for the Undead horde, yet something from outside; or perhaps the mist itself; seems to cast aside the magic. The lightning strikes an odd barrier above them, the ice forms around them being chewed away by the green mist into an inky black substance, and the fire gets blast across the front and around them. When Riku then lashes out at the group after him, his strikes meet some of their joints, cracking the bone, slamming some of the armor that protects them and his final strikes being blocked by one of the undead before it staggers back from the impact. The Ninja attempts to come in and suddenly the very undead with blades turn right around and meet his quick strikes to block them as they come in. Each impact was made with a spark of metal on metal. As for Interceptor trying to get himself a femur. A few undead hop away from the dog. Bad puppy. You don't know where they been! Also that dark mist starts to move around the poor ninja dog. He may want to avoid that soon. Then the hair comes in to attempt to trip up the undead. They see it coming in and several of them jump back just in time, before they look directly at the young woman herself. How dare she-- wait did she actually throw her hair at them? This actually caused them to tilt their heads to the side. Deidra starts to chant her Latin and a faint dark whisper may be heard by her and her alone. A counter chant perhaps? Either way as her ice spell slams into something much like the other mages spells did. The ice forming around the skeletons but only melting to a sick black mess by the green mist. However now the whole group falls under attack. Swords swing out. Axes slash and cleave downward. No one is safe now that defends the beach. For the Undead suddenly charge now. The dark mist following them and attempting to effect those whom they attack.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The man is sorely beset, and after a moment is driven down to his knees as the Skeletal horde presses on him with swords and axes. His floating axe and mace cross with his lance in front of him to ward off the worst of it. But despite his injuries, he still seems preternaturally cheerful. "It's a very neat trick. Makes for some great tavern games." Firion actually laughs at Riku in a boisterous manner, flinging the same dagger he'd thrown earlier with his offhand, back into the horde, catching another skeleton in the eye. "I was being /kind/. After all. The Undead have no passion in their soul. That makes for poor, unskilled opponents who have an advantage only in numbers." He spins his lance and grins. "After all..." He puts one foot backwards, running a hand along the haft of the lance, as the axe and the mace suddenly break from their guard position in front of him. "....given how quickly we're about to end this..." He barrels into them, this time, his lance is white hot, and not only skewers, but melts through bone everywhere he strikes. The axe and mace acting of their own accord, glowing in a similar manner as they too strike repeatedly, igniting the bone marrow of every skeleton that they batter or cleave into. "...I'd be a terrible sport not to compliment them in /some/ way." He spins his lance one more time, before planting the butt into the ground, allowing one skeleton to run into it, bringing doom upon itself. He then picks it up while the flaming mass of what's left of it is skewered pathetically on the lance and flings it back into the horde, where it creates a flaming pyre that explodes outwards, spreading throughout their ranks.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield isn't terribly good at defending herself at such close quarters combat with several attacks coming in at many angles. She spins her staff around to try to block the damage from the blades and axes but a few clip through her defenses, including a slash to the side. She staggers back with a loud growl, focusing on her staff again. Her robes start to billow with magical energy as she summons three sparkling fireballs around herself, flinging them all out from her to perhaps clear some space for her next attack of some sort. It was getting hard to see with the mist rolling in; this needed to end quicker than later. "Tougher than I'm used to."

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku laughs at this although his expression is muddled with something else as the sword slams into the bones and he staggers back a step when the blows are deflected. The sluggish green mist grabs at him as a poorly timed strike puts him in the direct line of fire for a sword that just /barely/ misses skewering him. He flies backwards onto the sand and begins to cough as the mist washes over him. Riku rolls back onto his feet, staggering and coughing as he tries to shake his head to clear it. "Yeah." he manages with a wheeze. "It just wouldn't be sporting at all. " He chuckles. "But then.. neither is this." He plants the sword in the sand and kicks one of the advancing warriors backwards into another one. There is a pulse that runs underneath the sand before black thorns erupt from the sand. The thorns attempt to entwine as many of the undead warriors as possible and smash them together if close enough and simply attempt to suck them into the sand and keep them nice and pinned for the guy with the flaming and floating arsenal

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Mistake. That's the thought that immediately runs through Rapunzel's mind as the undead turn their attention to her as well after her bungled attempt to play hero. Her large eyes slowly widen as the realization that she's made herself a target dawns on the girl and she mutters a frightened, "Uh oh." Clang! The sound of metal striking metal resounds across the beach as she instinctively brings up her frying pan to deflect the first swing. Miraculously, the weapon rebounds off the flat surface of the heavy cooking implement but the impact sends reverberations down her arms that cause her bones to rattle. Even poor Pascal vibrates on her shoulder, his googly eyes rattling around. It's not a pleasant sensation. Rapunzel seems as amazed as everyone else probably is that her make-shift weapon actually saved her. She looks at it bewildered. "Huh... can't believe that actually, eek!" There's no time to be impressed. Another natsy looking blade comes in from the side and she only barely manages to push it back, earning another painful clash that sets her teeth chattering. The green mist begins to waft up from the water as well, slowly reaching thin wispy tendrils that putrefy the air around her but all it does is cause her nose to wrinkle up in disgust. Enough of that! Mustering her resolve, Rapunzel lunges in to counter attack, swinging her blunt instrument around in retaliation. The skillet traces wide uncontrolled arcs through the air, smashing into whatever she can manage to hit while she continues to prove her unusual sense of coordination, ducking and rolling about while managing not to get tangled in her seventy feet of hair. Pascal is hanging on for dear life.

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra freezes up she feels something, something it wrong here there is a darkness here, necromancy of the worst sort it's almost demonic really. It bring up her heckles especially after the things she encountered with the TDA earlier. There's a sense of dread are more terrors coming out of the darkness now. Have they sensed something what is coming for them she doesn?t know but she's caught under the hordes attack and she's lucky she's a gargoyle. Had she been human she might not be getting up right now. R%R She continues trying to chant this time focusing on an combination of wind to knock some of the undead off their feet and blow them into the water, following that up with freezing them. She takes stock of all the others here and wonders who Firion is she's never seen that man before.

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Without taking a step towards the undead, he finds himself involved in the struggle regardless. The blonde makes a good point-- a man in black clothes at the beach is probably stranger than going gung-ho with a frying pan. Mist. Mist generally isn't a good thing when coming around creatures of the undead. %TThe ninja whistles sharply-- reverberating nearby to catch the attention of his dog. Poor pooch. Interceptor drops the femur he is trying to acquire with a bark that says 'Ill be back for you later, good sir.' Then the two move. Notably Shadow and Interceptor make their way towards Izo-- cutting a quick swath of the creatures as he looks for bastion in the combat. Something evil this way comes, no doubt, and he doesn't want to be overrun in the process. Slash slash slash-- he does the whole ninja rush with great slashery to make it to the pocket.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion's attack ignites a good deal of the undead. Their bodies are flashes with holy fire and they suddenly crumble to the ground into nothing but black ash itself, swept up by the very winds of the attacks, but consumed however by the sickly green mist. The Fireballs from Izolde slam down around the undead that were here. A few of them knocked back by the explosion and a few of them having to raise their shields and step back a bit before they were made crispy bones for Shadow's faithful dog. The darkness suddenly lashes out at the undead, but something like with the magic, interrupts the darkness with a sudden dark spell that is only whispers on the wind, almost heard clearly thanks to the sickly green mist being around Riku. Words spoke of both magic and something else. The Darkness impacts suddenly a massive sand wall that rises upward before crashing back down into the ground. Though several of the undead from their hidden assistance get almost knocked over, others leap right over the wall and go to knock Riku down on the ground for a moment. They then start to move upon him again. Sadly for the long haired damsel, her wide swings are missing the Undead as their rear back to avoid the swings. Then one in slight frustration due to her aggressive gesture, decides to swing out his sword in retaliation for her arm. Shadow then attempts to run by and get to a pocket of safety with the others, or to some pocket at least. However the Undead raise up their shields to block his attack, then the last one he passes suddenly swings out his axe at the right moment to catch the passing Ninja. This time however, Deidra's magic is able to break through. They are knocked up into the air and then impacted with water, but this doesn't bode very well though as the water attempts to hold them into the air, freezing them where they are. Yet it is then suddenly the Dark Mist explodes outward. Blanket everything with a very thick cloud of its sickening quality. Everything becomes hard to see outward and around. Without warning suddenly the Undead all leap outwards from where they are, breaking free from their frozen restraint and lashing out at the heroes present. Trying to bite onto them and drain them of their very life essence.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The Undead bite, and lash at him. His weapons suddenly pick up the pace and try to defend him, and he puts up a valiant effort, but suddenly he's on his knees, as his stolen life force flows right into the Undead Horde. He looked up, and surveyed the battlefield. There was a young girl who was aiding them while wielding.. a Frying Pan. And she looked sorely beset. Firion had.. a weakness for that. He seemed genuinely touched that the girl was aiding them with her humble weapon. But he didn't want to see her hurt. He saw a little bit of one of his childhood friend's ferocity within her. Time to stop playing around. Time to return the favor for his stolen life force. Attack Defend >Item Run Submenu >>Fast EquiBlood Sword Firion's cheerful expression faded all of a sudden as a blood red blade, with a single ruby at it's pommel disappeared out of it's scabbard and reappeared into his hand. He didn't like this sword at all. But against the Undead.. he didn't really have to feel bad. He'd worked out the problem of it actually reversing the flow of energy against the Undead years ago. Just add /flames/ and suddenly he's feeding on the Undead's animating force again with style. As he swept the blade into their ranks, it trailed behind an afterimage of what looked like sanguine droplets of blood, being flung from it. Each time he touched one of the Undead with it, they crumbled to dust as the mockery of life force was leeched out of them... and he was invigorated, just a little bit with each strike. He decided that it was time to end this.. Suddenly, he lost his grip on his sword. All of his weapons in fact, began to float as one around him. The Wild Rose Sword, The Blood Sword, The Lance of Longinus, The Rune Axe, A Mythril Mace, Yoichi's Bow, the Dancing Dagger. It was an impressive arsenal, all told. A treasure trove he collected.. after his world fell. The Bow went into his hands, and the lance.. it lowered itself down for him to jump onto it. Balancing himself upon the haft of the lance, the other weapons floated in a wheel around him as he rose into the air. He telekinetically weaved them around him in a chaotic wheel so fast that they didn't look like weapons anymore, but the spokes of a wheel. A wheel of white flame. He drew back his bow, and five arrows, their tips already ablaze appeared, nocked. As one, the wheel surged forth into the ranks, and Firion leapt backwards, firing the bow, as five flaming arrows surged downwards, seeking their targets. The weapons all moved as their own accord, slashing a swath through the Undead ranks, before.. Literally teleporting back to him. He landed right back upon the haft of the lance from his backflip, before the wheel moves again in another direction, another volley of arrows is fired, and this time he rides his fiery wheel of death right into the Undead ranks, carrying him through the horde, and outside of the Undead ranks, leaving ashes and embers in his wake if it struck head on. And then as one, all of his weapons thunked right back into their sheathes, his lance upon his back, his bow slung over his shoulder. The man looks tired from the display.. as if it took all of his mental fortitude to do that.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield couldn't possibly mount a defense against so many undead mouths and fingers, all swiping or biting at her. She does manage to prevent more severe damage with proper staff placement, none of them being able to hang on to her long enough to deal extensive damage, but even so, she's getting cut and bruised up pretty badly. She jumps back out of the barrage of attacks, her magic still surrounding her in a mild aura that only intensifies the more damage she takes. The Nu mou is also generating a small amount of wind, likely tied to the light blue aura she's given off. She takes this time to tap the ground three times with her staff to radiate a pulse of green beneath herself, attempting to heal back some of the damage done. "Just a little bit more..."

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Making the advance to Izo, Shadow takes a few cuts. It is like running through a forest of bone-barbed bushes-- and his slashes ineffectually land on shields and steel. At least his initial assumption is correct-- that something evil this way comes. An undead blood frenzy is never good with these kinds of numbers. The ninja draws up his blade to parry a wild slash-- kicking the undead in the face and uses his shoulder to backflip away from another attack. It leaves a pile of three angry skeletons lusting after his ninja blood. Then there is the one behind him-- stabbing with a rusty spear that would have skewered him if not for Interceptor jumping in and taking the shaft by the teeth. Groowll. Woof. "A little more until you join them," Shadow asks Izo in standard monotone-- the ninja being arms length from the Nu Mou by the time the strikes take pause. It would be considered cold and impartial-- but it may be the ninja's own weird way of expressing concern. He takes out a paper talisman from his pouch-- focusing for a moment as he draws his back to Izo's-- releasing the shrouded magic in a way that gives both their bodies a haze-- and their spirit a cool breeze. Interceptor barks-- wagging his tail while things generally go to an undead sort of hell. 'Can I bite one, pleeeeaaassseeee?'

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' The clash of blades and cooking implements continues apace as the battle rages on the beach. Rapunzel, to her credit, manages to fend off her fair share of the undead warriors. Though considering she's a slip of a girl with little more than a hunk of metal and a lot of spirit, her fair share is pretty small. Swinging her weapon around like a maniac doesn't end up doing her a lot of good. Whatever skills they had in life, the skeletons seem quite capable of turning aside her blows and soon enough she is forced back onto the defensive. An angry thrust manages to catch her across the forearm, just enough to nick the surface of her skin, but the pain is intense enough that she almost loses her grip on the pan. Letting out a soft yelp, she throws herself to the side, rolling through the sand as a pair of axes clash together over her head. Rapunzel staggers as she rises back to her feet, clutching her wounded arm gently for a moment. Pascal stares at the small cut with a worried expression but she offers him a reassuring smile. "It... it's not so bad. I'll fix it up later." The girl turns a fierce look back at the warriors on the beach, taking note of the impressive display that Firion unleashes upon the hordes with wide-eyed amazement. But the battle isn't won just yet and she's still got some fight in her. Snatching up her hair, Rapunzel tosses it up towards a beam protruding from one of the nearby buildings and it wraps around the thick metal with ease. She takes a few steps back to get a running start then leaps into the air and swings across the beach, waving her pan around like a club at each of the skeletons she passes in the hopes that atleast a few of them will get clobbered. She aims her path towards the center of the group, figuring that sticking closer to the people who seem to actually know how to fight is better than going it alone. "Watch out, coming through!"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra darkness vs darkness doesn?t work so well but Riku's okay she figures he's going to catch on as he's very damn smart. However they are still out number by the walking dead. What's going on? Oh hell there's a whole bunch of them coming for her. She spreads her wings and is airborne shortly after just evading the things before they can bleed her dry like IRS agents on someone whose taxes are past due. She remains in the air, she's so not coming down into that mess and the ice spells continue to rain down follow by a big old bolt of arcane energy she's not messing about this time. "We can't kill what's already dead but we can break them into such small pieces they can't do a thing anymore!"

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku's eyes widen and then narrow as his attack is so casually shrugged aside. With a wordless yell he charges the undead as they clamber over the wall of sand and trample the remnants of his spell. He cleaves one in half, the back snapping as he swings the sword and then brutally kicks at it's pelvis as the warrior raises it's axe. He blocks another blow with a sword and smashes the hilt into a head, turning it all the way around with a snap. He doesn't have the time to look at the other defenders for help as he gets overwhelmed, although he would have been suitably impressed by a woman wielding a frying pan. He might have vaguely seen something like that once before. The undead relentlessly pile over him as the dark presence he senses looks on. Something about that begins to seriously crack the last remnants of his temper as that dark presence weighs on his mind. The sluggish life stealing fog is all he can see or smell or taste as he's knocked down hard by the undead. Their blades rise and fall and rise and fall and each time, he's a little slower to dodge. The blade in his hands a little more heavy as sparks ring across the surface. The blows are just barely deflected and there is nothing in his lungs but suffocating darkness. Riku reaches for the strength to continue and fails. His hand goes slack on the sword and darkness takes the world away as he passes out. A flash of energy shields Riku from the next and fatal blow. The axe wielded by the undead shatters, the haft blowing away in their hand like so much ashes as Riku slowly pulls himself to his feet. He staggers and sways before straightening up, frowning at the undead. He kicks the feet out from under one of the remaining swarm, a hand lashing out to grip their skull, streamers of energy peeling off his hand as he attempts to draw the lifeforce out of the skeleton and turn it to ash. Streamers of bluish black fog seep down the length of the blade, joining the faint glimmering reflection of light. "Begone." he says quietly and simply, a flare of energy cutting in several arcs like lapping waves across the beach as the sword cuts through the air.

:'''[[Horned King]] has posed:''' Firion's mighty attacks washes over the Undead, they start to fall one by one, turning to dust upon the impact of power that was being unleashed. Each of their particles of dust returning to the sickly green mist that was starting to clear up. The more skeleton that went missing, the more the sickly green mist started to fade away. Shadow intercepts some of the attacks along with his faithful canine. The Undead are knocked back, which leads them to getting smashed around by Rapunzel as she comes racing through, knocking their heads together and clobbering them aside. Diedra's Ice Magic comes slamming down and freezes the Undead right in their place. They slowly attempt to break out of their hold however that Frying Pan still swinging smashes them apart before they can break free. However the remaining who are frozen almost escape, but Riku proves whom is the stronger force to be reckoned with. The Massive energy of light and dark streamed together goes cutting across the beach, laying waste to any undead horde that remains. With their crumbling bodies the sickly green mist starts to fade and soon not a presence remains of the undead that were just here. Yet eyes continue to watch for a moment, before slowly even that presence seems to fade away from the field of conflict.

:'''[[Firion]] has posed:''' The Warrior in Azure armor remains on his knees, he seems.. diminished from the effort. He quietly watches as the others dispatch the Undead horde. He watches the girl with the frying pan clobber more than her fair share. He watches the talented teenager dispatch the skeletons with streamers of darkness. The Ninja and the Nu Mou add in their efforts. He hoped that it'd all be enough. And it was, as the Sickly Green Mist retreats from the battlefield. And then he gets up, walks over to the others, clasping a hand on Riku's shoulder, speaking in a cheerful manner. "Hey, that was really something. You're going to have to show me how you did that, sometime." He seems actually sincere, not condescending in the least. Nor does he mind that he called upon what was almost assuredly the Darkness. He glances sidelong to Rapunzel, suddenly looking.. abashed, so instead of addressing her, he does so to the group, "I figure, now that we've all shed blood together we should probably introduce ourselves over a meal. Drinks and Dinner on me!" And then he's walking off the beach towards town, as he figures that at least some of the group will likely follow...

:'''[[Riku-Bot]] has posed:''' Riku stands there with chest heaving and slowly the sword drops an inch at a time until the point touches the sand. It hangs slack in his grip as he slowly collapses onto his knees with a faint 'chuff' of sand. The expression of annoyed contempt leaves his face as the sickly green mist does and he coughs raggedly, rubbing his face and looking around tiredly. He slowly gets out a healing potion and downs it, wincing and wrapping an arm around his side as he waits for the healing fluid to kick in. "Hey." he says wearily to Rapunzel as he sees her a little further down the beach. "Nice frying pan." he chuckles, sucking in a painful breath as he staggers to his feet and resheathes the sword. "Hey. That sounds like a great plan. I'm always up for food." he then pauses and replays that in his head. He sounded like a certain food maniac he knew. He facepalms and then laughs tiredly. "Yeah. Maybe we can swap." he says cheerfully to Firion, actually not taking offense (except for the shoulder, which still stings) "We've got the tricks. Now all we need is the party."

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield had just about finished charging up something truly devestating but the young teenager beat her to the punch. She winces as she witnesses the untold destruction in the last few attacks and just like that they'd retreated. She sinks to her knees after that, clenching her sides with a deep sigh. The aid of the Ninja had come just a little too late, but at least he was there. She rests her staff in the sand next to her while the Nu mou regains her composure. She looks down to her side where heavy cut is and starts trying to force herself to stand, grabbing her staff and propping herself on it. "Just as well. Now I'm going to have to find a tailor to get my favorite outfit repaired. Such a shame. It was turning out to be quite the day at the beach."

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Rapunzel lets out an ecstatic laugh as her pan smashes into the first of the undead, whacking it upside the head with a dull thunk that shatters the frozen warrior's skull into tiny fragments. "See, Pascal! I can do it to-whoop!" The chameleon flutters in the wind, clinging to the cloth of her dress as she quickly tucks her feet upwards to avoid getting clipped by Riku's aggressive last stand. Wide-eyed at the display of dark power, the girl drops lightly onto the beach behind the two men and whirls around to bring her pan up defensively. Only to find that the last of the undead have been dealt with. She hesitantly lowers the hunk of iron, peering around to be sure that none of them are left, before giving a confident smirk. "Haha! They're gone!" Then she notices how bad off Riku is and a look of concern overtakes her. She dashes over to his side, returning his greeting with a faint smile. "Ummm... hi. You don't look so good. Are you... oh he's leaving..." She watches both Firion and the dismissive youth head towards town then shares a look with Pascal, both of them shrugging in tandem. "I guess they're okay...?"

:'''[[Shadow]] has posed:''' Shadow slowly stands up from his crouching position. He doesn't trust that this was the end of it-- but the last onslaught against the horde was impressive. Its possible it really is a break in the chaos. The ninja holds the sword in hand as Interceptor finally claims that femur-- looking to Shadow as if to ask 'Can I keep it?' The shrouded one sighs and nods. Spoils of war. "It was, wasn't it," replies Shadow as he walks away. All the same, there is no reason to stay around here.

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra just kinda gapes as Riku puts on a very impressive display of marital prowess as he manages to just do a heck of a lot of damage She does all right all things considered and everyone else is just laying things not the horde. Still those things took do many people with a fair bit of power to bring down. She lands on the the sangs taking a deep breath, then sighs. "I can't catch a break this week." She frowns then waves to several new faces. "Hello I'm Deidra..." Also that one lady has more hair than she's ever seen!

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Turning away from the strange warriors who seem to have gotten over their injuries rather quickly, Rapunzel looks to the others who lent their aid in the fight. The masked man in black likewise makes a swift exit and she starts to wonder if that's how people are supposed to behave when something like this happens. Just wander off and pretend like it was nothing? Seems rather silly to her. Fortunately, the women around here seem more sensible. The golden-haired girl wanders over to where Izolde and Deidra have gathered nearby, idly swinging her frying pan around by the small hole on the end of it's handle. She tilts her head to the side, peering at the both of them for several moments. "Huh. My books never mentioned anything like this." Pascal seems equally perplexed by the gargoyle and the Nou Mu's appearances. Trying not to be rude, Rapunzel clears her throat and waves experimentally at the two. "Um... hello! My name is Rapunzel. It's nice to meet you, thoughthecircumstancescouldcertainlyhavebeenbetter," she mutters to the side. "But, um, yeah! It's my first time here. Do... things like this happen a lot?"

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield holds a hand to her side to mend the damage that had been done there and thankfully, it was nothing too terribly serious. Eventually she's able to stand on her own without the aid of her staff, though the ripped fabric from the battle still remained. She looks towards the two women that came a little closer towards her with a smile, knowing a few of them had been present and helping with the undead. She bows her head out of respect. "I used to be quite adept at battle before, but it seems I'm a little out of practice. Then again, I'm also not much of a frontline fighter either so there's that." She passes a glance towards the human with the exceptionally long hair and tilts her head. "And I thought my ears were a liabilty. My name's Izolde Danefield but most just call me Izzy or something like that."

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Rapunzel glances to the side and chuckles, running her hands through her hair somewhat bashfully. "Heh heh, well yeah, I guess it does cause a bit of trouble sometimes. But it's really useful too!" There's a tug on her sleeve and she brightens up as if remembering something. "Oh, right!" The frying pan is held up to her shoulder and the small chameleon scuttling onto the iron surface, taking a seat in the center as she swings it around to show Izolde. "This is Pascal! He's been my friend since I was little." Pascal gives a smug grin at the Nu Mou that reaches from one ear to the other as if being introduced as the girl's friend were something to be incredibly proud of. He lifts a single arm up towards her, giving his approximation of a wave in greeting.

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield leans over a little bit to let the little odd lizard creature near an outstretched finger, should he choose to do anything with it. "What sort of creature is this? I don't think I've seen a little lizard-type like this one before. Bigger ones sure, but none this small." She looks up towards the hume with the excessive hair and stretches her back a little bit, her tail arcing back behind her. "Well, There is some merit to carrying around that much hair. Just how long does it take you to wash it all?"

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra is still making herself a bit more on the comfortable side she nods to Rapunzel and grins trying to not look too threatening as well she's totally not human after all. Sometimes people just don't take it well and she's come to accept it but given the Nu Mou is not causing any major reaction either? She should be fine, right? She gives Pascal a look and seems pretty amused. "Pretty smart Lizard from the looks of him." the mention of washing Rapunzel's hair makes her pale slightly. The cost on soap alone would be staggering.

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Pascal tilts his head at the finger before climbing over the edge of the pan onto the outstretched digit. His sticky feet allow him to cling to it easily and his skin quickly shifts to a light grey to match her fur, blending in so perfectly it's hard to tell he's not a part of her hand save for the two beady eyes staring up at her. "He's a chameleon," Rapunzel says cheerily. "And he's quite smart. He can change his skin color to match his surroundings. Sort of a defense mechanism against predators. And he uses it to cheat at hide and seek." The lizard turns and sticks his tongue out at the girl which makes her grin but the conversation shifts back to her hair, as it inevitably had to. The teen rubs the back of her head, trying to figure out how best to explain the merits of having so much hair without giving away her secret. "Well... quite a while, to be honest. Brushing it is even worse. It takes /all/ morning."

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield looks down in mild surprise when it shifts to her fur color. The unusual sensation of sticky-suction cup feet was a surprise too. She runs her other hand very gently over the top of it's head to pet it for a moment. "Is that so? I can't say I've seen a similar ability in the creatures I'd known. Quite unique. I like it." She looks back up towards Rapunzel and shrugs towards her. "I'd honestly consider just not brushing it at that point, because mornings are made for breakfasts but I get the feeling that it is rather unruly if left to it's own for too long. Are all humes like that where you are or are you an exception to the rule? Your attire is somewhat similar to some stories I'd heard about Hume Royalty, so it's a fair question. For all I know, those of high class may all have hair as long as yours."

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra says "He is very smart I not actually seen a Chameleon this smart before. I'm honestly impressed." Prehaps there's magic mixed up in this or it's just in Rapunzel's world they are much smarter than the ones from earth. "That does sound like a lot of work honestly. Also I bet the bet head is terrible." Izolde gets a look for a moment and thinks for a moment. "You seem to be a scholar of some sort or am I mistaken?"

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' "You have /no/ idea," she sighs. Brushing her hair is a chore that she's grown used to as it grew and grew over the years but that makes it no less tiring. "But, that's okay, as long as I get it over with quickly there's usually still time for a quick meal." Pascal accepts the petting with good grace but hops back onto the frying pan after a moment and scuttles back up her arm. The lizard vanishes from sight for a few moments then reemerges at the back of her head, plowing through her hair like a mouse shuffling under leaves. He takes a seat on the top of her golden tresses, still looking quite pleased, and she pays him no mind. Rapunzel pauses at the word 'hume', looking confused. "Hume? I've never heard that word before. Do you mean human? That's what we call ourselves." She shakes her head. "As for my hair, I'm pretty sure it's kind of unique. (Veryuniqueactually.) But I'm not royalty or anything like that," she laughs. "Nope just an average girl."

:'''[[Izolde Danefield]] has posed:''' Izolde Danefield blinks at that and eventually shrugs at the lizard when it makes it's way back to it's owner. She looks over towards Deidra and nods slowly. "That wouldn't be too far from the truth. I used to have a very nice laboratory actually. Full of all sorts of magical oddities...but it was outside the city that got transported here. It is now no more. I seek to rebuild it when I can..and make some use out of the things I find around here." She turns back towards Rapunzel and snickers a little bit. "Oh...well yes. That's what they are called back where I used to live. Though I am finding that your kind are very popular everywhere, not just Ivalice."

:'''[[Deidra]] has posed:''' Deidra says "Humans are the dominate species on my world as all, there's so few Gargyoles we're thought of as a myth most of the time." She smirks a bit one fang showing for a second. "I don't feel like I'm a myth, I'm pretty sure I'm here. Still it does seem to be humans are prehaps the most common race I have encounted. Though on many worlds they seem to be far better dealing with non humans."

:'''[[Rapunzel]] has posed:''' Rapunzel smiles at the two girls as they speak among each other, clasping her hands behind her back as she does so. However, this sends a shock of pain lancing through her arm and she suddenly remembers the injury she sustained earlier. She can deal with it but she'll need some privacy. Strange creatures or no, she doubts her particular gift is anything but unique and she fully intends to keep it secret for the time being. "Well... it was nice meeting you both! But I really need to get going. Things to do, hair to brush, you know how it goes." The girl gives a bright smile and a wave before turning to head back towards the city, her lustrous hair in tow.

Rapunzel

2013-07-03T17:38:02Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Character Infobox |firstname=Rapunzel |age=18 |image=RapunzelPortrait.jpg |species=Human |sex=Female |height=5'5" |weight=95 lbs |series=Tangled |styles=Flower Power |hometo..."

File:RapunzelPortrait.jpg

2013-07-03T17:26:26Z

Msiren:

A Subtle Shift

2013-06-17T06:25:52Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/03/07 |Location=Fluorgis - City |Synopsis=Angantyr delivers some wisdom to the young princess as she struggles with the difficulties of being ..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/03/07
|Location=Fluorgis - City
|Synopsis=Angantyr delivers some wisdom to the young princess as she struggles with the difficulties of being an avatar of shadows in a world that detests the dark.
|Cast of Characters=Angantyr Vespar, Leida
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Noon is the absolute worst time of day in the desert. The blazing orb of the sun hangs high above in the sky, shooting its waves of oppressive heat directly down into the sands and the city. Where normally the short awnings and the walls of the rough stone buildings would provide some measure of shade, the high angle of the light circumvents these pitiful shelters and bathes the entirety of Fluorgis in its crispy golden rays. For various reasons most of the Shard Seekers have been away from the city of late leaving the young princess behind to mind the shop as usual. Despite the protection the roof over her head provides within the headquarters, the stifling air and lack of anything to entertain her beyond counting grains of sand has set the girl's feet in motion. The frilly pink and black dress that drapes over Leida's slender form seems rather out of place among the drag browns and reds of the stone buildings that make up the majority of this desert city. Even the townsfolk tend to dress rather plainly though some of the more modern styled outfits can be seen here and there thanks to the city's blossoming trade connections across the various worlds. What really sets her apart, however, is the golden hue of her serpentine eyes as they drift about scanning the narrow alley she treads for something more than dust and discarded garbage. The quartet of crimson horns protruding from her head are fairly new but she's ventured into town over the last few days enough times that people have stopped cowering in fear at the very sight of her. They still avoid her though. Leida slumps against the rough surface of a wall as she meanders through the city with no real purpose. Nearby the cool trickle of water flows through the streets and various aqueducts providing the nurturing life needed for the splashes of greenery that spiderwebs out from their cracked surfaces. The princess makes her way slowly over towards one of the raised stone basins and splashes water onto her face, once more wishing fervently that she was /anywhere/ else right now.

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' Angantyr had come into the city a day ago, but with his run into with Judge Bunny trying to take Sora's keyblade, and the subsequent fight that erupted because A) Evja is a dumb<GOOSEHONK> and B) A Judge, left the Rabbit eating sand, and Ang needing some medical attention. Angantyr finally, however, was back on his feet at full capacity, and has been following Leida for a little more time. For someone in dark armor and large as Ang, he's fairly good about using shadows to conceal himself. But lets see if Leida was too self absorbed to notice.. Angantyr finally breaks from his watch point, drawing a wooden sword which causes some people to initially start scattering...then realizing it was only a wooden sword...then realizing it was ANGANTYR with a wooden sword. He approaches Leida, standing over her with the weapon drawn, and if she doesn't turn around, it lightly (though light for Ang is enough to leave a bump) moves to tap her on the top of the head. Angantyr, luckily, was not Garland Leida. He would have struck to kill.

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' The sudden shuffle of feet is nothing new to Leida. People are quick to vacate the local premises when she comes along of late or atleast give her a rather generous amount of personal space. She didn't mind it terribly. Where once spending several minutes listening to the inane chattering of the local gossiping women would have been endured simply because she was too nice to say no, the emergence of her horns seems to have infused the small girl with a great deal more spine than she was used to having. She had no problems telling people off, as poor Sammy would be sure to testify, except that suddenly no one wanted to talk to her. A few more handfuls of water are tossed into her face to try and clean away some of the constant flow of sweat dripping down through her hair and into her shirt. However, her hand remains pressed against her face as it slowly brushes the water out of her eyes in a downward motion. She stares directly ahead as her eyes lose focus, other senses that she is only recently becoming aware of kicking into high alert for some reason. The shadows seem to speak to her and a tingle runs up her spine as if in warning. Someone was drawing closer. A faint smirk twists the corners of her lips. There could only be one person who would try to approach her from stealth; someone she's been waiting for, if her guess is right. Her hand dips down into the basin once more as if to get more water but instead of bringing it up to her face, Leida spins in a sudden burst of motion and hurdles the small measure of liquid into the direction of Angantyr's face while stepping swiftly to the side to avoid the falling wooden blade.

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' Angantyr gets a face full of water, he wasn't terrible worried by this. Instead of reacting, he instead takes a moment to wipe his face and drink a bit of the water that flows over his smooth face. Water was /delicious/, especially out here in the desert. Slowly he looks towards Leida, who is already moving, avoiding the blade and he raises an eyebrow. "Now when did the little Princess start getting some spine?" he asks, curiously. The look does not escape him, the blade coming down and around again as he points it back towards her. Well, wooden blade. Yeah, scary. "So what has happened to you lately, not already starting to fall to the darkness in you? While I think the reaction is a good step..." he looks at her, trying to sense out the darkness for a moment, "You have to be vigilant against it." he comments as the blade is held even. "Good improv though, I'm impressed...but well, I would have moved for the sand. It would have blinded me." he says, with a grin. The blade swings out in a few more swipes, aiming to test her defenses and put her on the defenses.

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' "Hmph." Leida turns her nose up at her chosen master's appraisal of her tactics, managing to look more like a haughty princess in that one moment than every other time they've met combined. "I thought you would appreciate a drink. It is absolutely-" Her hand goes down to the slender loop of leather affixed to her waist where the wooden sword that was gifted to her for this purpose hangs against the fabric of her dress. It look rather out of place and uncomfortable in that position but having it strapped to her back would be even more silly. The blade slides out in a smooth motion but the parry she delivers to his swings is anything but. The girl flails almost wildly at his attempts to strike her, thanks to the heat sapping away her strength and ability to control the blade. "-dreadful out here! Honestly, who lives in the desert? At this rate my delicate complexion is going to be ruined not to mention the toll this heat is having on my constitution." Leida exhales her disgust sharply after knocking away the probing strikes. "I would far prefer the mountains or atleast somewhere without so much /sand/. Ugh, you have no idea how much effort it takes to get it out of my hair every day."

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' "It's almost like I never lived in a desert for years or anything." Angantyr says, just as sarcastically back to his student. He notices the change in demeanor...and while he can appreciate the backbone... The attitude is not something he likes. He moves in this time, stronger, the blade no longer probing, but instead attempting to strike the blade HARD. Not enough to crack the wood, though he certain could if he wanted too. The point was to try and force the blade from her hand. Today's lesson, apparently, was going to be about control...though he was expecting it to be about willpower. BOY, was this surprising. "People who have no choice, or born here. I would imagine that where you want to go is bad for them." he says, as he finishes the strike. "So what brought this on? Your change, your sudden haughtiness."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida takes a step back after successfully deflecting the first wave of attacks, feeling rather proud of herself and it shows in her face. Her mouth opens to respond to the sarcastic remark but before she can even get two words out the heavy-handed blow drives in towards her body. While an experienced fighter might be able to tell that the strike is harmlessly aimed at her blade, the princess is flustered into a panicked response. Her grip tightens on the hilt of the weapon as she holds it up to ward off the strike. The two practice blades meet with a resounding crack that echoes through the small plaza. The force travels through the weapon and into Leida's stiff arms, jarring her down to the bone and earning a girlish shriek of pain that causes her to drop the sword in surprise. The girl takes another instinctive step back when she realizes that she has nothing to protect her from further blows but finds that words are what follows instead of punishment; atleast for the moment. Her cheeks puff up indignantly at being called haughty to her face and she balls her fists up at at her sides. "Hmph! I am /not/ haughty! I merely decided to stop being a rug for people to wipe their feet on. Is that not what everyone has been urging me to do since I washed up on this miserable little world?"

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' Angantyr smirks a little. He kicks the sword back to her, allowing her to pick it up...or seemingly so. "There is a fine line between having a spine and being haughty. Having delt with royalty in the past..." Angantyr shrugs. "Looking down on others and how they live is a first step. However, I won't say that some people you hang with don't deserve it." Angantyr says with a slightly bigger grin. He waits, as she moves to pick up the sword, he comes in, aiming to aim to bonk the sword against the back of her head. This time, lightly...assuming she falls for it. "Our lesson today is going to be about control and vigilance. It is not enough to know what is there...but to understand how it can strike at you. Darkness is a foe that does not fight straight if it does not have to. It will fight with any advantage it can take...even if it has the advantage. It will try to make it's power absolute...because why crush your opponent when it can crush it completely." "Ever heard the phrase Good looses, because Good is dumb? Darkness often looses because it is arrogant. Learn the weakness...learn to anticipate it, and you'll be able to bend it to your will, and not have it make you think you are."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' The sword spins across the smooth cobblestones when kicked, coming to rest against Leida's feet. She continues to glare up at the much taller, heavily muscled, and imposing man before her as if none of that matters to her in the least for several seconds. Finally, she relents and kneels down to scoop the blade up in her hand once more. After all, the only reason she was putting up with this kind of treatment was to get the training she so badly-- *bonk*. "Hey?!" The wooden sword smacks against the soft spot between her horns with a dull thud. There isn't much force behind it but the move is sudden and unexpected which again leads to an over-reaction on her part. Leida scrambles backwards and rubs the tender new bruise she's sure is forming, taking great care not to slice her hand open on the boney protrusions - again. Of all the things she wishes the darkness would do away with already it's her clumsiness. "You say that like I do not know it already. That forces of evil never play fair, I have read enough stories to understand that much." She continues to back talk him but some of the fire has left her tone and she looks a little pouty as a result of being made a fool of. However, the sword is brought back up diligently. Sweat runs freely down her face already from the extra exertion in the terrible heat, plastering the fabric of her blouse to her body in a very undignified manner. "How do I anticipate it?"

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' "It comes with time." Angantyr says, a bit more seriously. He doesn't regret his actions, she needs to grow, and sometimes a bit of pain will help this along...again, he wasn't his master. Oh boy, he sure wasn't. "You have to always watch, scrutinize everything." he says, with a sigh, "There is a balance, in it that you can only learn...that I can never teach, because it is not the same for everyone, nor is everyone's darkness the same. But you have to watch, you have to listen...understand the darkness in yourself, know it...know it's tricks...the better you know it, the better you can shield your light form it." "That is what I failed to mention too. Light and darkness, there is both in everything, even us." he points that sword at her heart, "That is all there is of yourself. It is the most precious thing you have, more than anything else. You need to master it, as well as the darkness. But that...that is something I can not teach. I will be honest, even I am learning to do that." This time, he lets her compose herself, and the sword is back up. "This training really isn't about sword play. It's a metaphor, I am teaching you in a way you can understand physical. You need a reference, to understand the next step. You will need to learn how to control your own mind, to make the battleground you can control. But for right now, learning this will help you focus. Watch for the unexpected, Leida." he says, and as he says that, he moves forward, aiming to take her next strike, and this time aims to grab her by the front of the shirt. "Sometimes darkness gets desperate when pushed too far. It'll try anything and everything to get at you." he says, attempting to use his strength and leverage to push her back, right into the water.

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida sighs and rolls her eyes a little at his incredibly serious speech. One hand leaves the sword to push some stray strands of hair out of her face that have fallen out of place in their short scuffle. "That sounds like an incredibly monotonous way to live. Being paranoid all the time cannot be much fun." Ofcourse, she's forced to eat those words a few moments later when he rushes in. Her blade comes up to whack at his chest but the heavy metal armor isn't phased in the least by her blow. The 'contest' of strength that follows looks a great deal like Angantyr tossing her backwards like an empty sack than any sort of struggle as the small girl has little strength to speak of. Leida's eyes go wide as she sails into the wide stone basin, creating an unimpressive splash upon entry into the water. The girl disappears beneath the surface for a few moments but quickly thrashes upright with a loud sputter. Her massive locks of raven hair and the poofy dress adhere to her body and face, soaking up the liquid like a sponge. The princess sits silently for a few moments save for the sound of her teeth grinding together like a millstone. A part in her hair allows for one of her eyes to have a clear view at the dark knight and she glares at him as if willing her gaze to burn a hole through his head. "That was totally uncalled for!"

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' "Would you rather I just thrown you into the ground like a sack of potatoes?" Angantyr counters. "There are a number of things I could have done from where I was, I chose the one that would bestow humility into my young charge, instead of breaking all of the bones in her body." "Besides...you looked a little hot, Leida. I was thinking you needed a dip to cool off and keep your head." Angantyr says, with a grin, and then he starts laughing. "Like a cat, you look like right now..." he laughs again, He says and offers a hand out of the basin. Angantyr looks infinitely amused by this whole situation, showing that there was a little kindness in the dark knight. "And yes, it is a life that can by lonely, Leida. I won't lie to you...but I have to ask, is it lonelier than what you were before? I can only give you the tools, what you do with them is up to you. Can you find a way better than I have carved? Please, show me wrong."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' The princess' pouty look returns upon being told off and unable to think of a good counter. She crosses her arms and looks away to hide the faint blush of embarrassment that colors her cheeks upon having her earlier comment turned around in such a fashion. The indignation she displays is quite akin to a wet cat which makes his observation all the more galling. When the hand reaches out to assist her from the basic, Leida swats it away and pushes to her feet. She's not about to fall for any more of his tricks. However, instead of getting out immediately the girl begins to wring out her hair while doing her best to look aloof and unperturbed by his behavior. "Perhaps being alone is for the best. All of the humans that I encounter of late shun and fear me now. And why? Because of a few little horns. You would think I was a monster straight out of legend. Hmph. Maybe I should be. I spend months putting up with their dull stories and pointless gossip, greeting them every day, learning their names - all so they can scurry like mice when I approach."

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' "People fear what they do not understand, Leida. People sometimes hate what they fear. You can hate them, for being afraid of you...or you can show strength and greater character by shrugging it off and accepting that you're showing signs of what they fear. Scorn them not, but instead power on through their fears. Show them that you are still the person you were...or perhaps a different person who is...still a person." Angantyr says. t"Hating them is the trap of darkness. It too is how it lures you in...it tells you want you want to hear, that it's THEIR fault, not yours. Maybe it isn't your fault, but it IS what you look like what puts fear into their hearts. People are creatures of light, we are not. You have to understand that." he continues, "It's a fine line to walk."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Large rivulets of water run down her arms as she squeezes it from her hair creating noisy splashes with each twist of her hands. She continues to look unimpressed by the wisdom being handed down to her. "Hmph! You would have me bow and scrape to them so that I might be accepted as I once was, is that it? Try to please them and show that I am harmless and tame?" Leida gives a final good wring that brings her hair to a satisfactory level of dryness. Stepping out of the basin, she drops lightly onto the street and rounds on Angantyr with nary a pause between her actions. "Humans are cruel and selfish. They care only about what fits into their narrow view of the world. I spent many years at court watching the scurrying and favor-mongering of small men trying to control everything they could. Stamping on the weak and the helpess to get their way. How can you call such beings 'creatures of light'? Their darkness is merely less plain to see."

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' "Oh and I have not certainly felt the sting of such people." Angantyr says, resting the wooden sword on his shoulder, "Had my home destroyed by the Arcadian empire, betrayed by someone in our home, family no less." Angantyr says, "It is not what you think it is...this is the world of light, Humans might have darkness in their hearts, but they are naturally beings of light. We're different, beings of darkness with light in our hearts. It's a strange paradox, but it is still true. I never said you had to be anything, Leida, I said that you have to accept the reason why they fear you, accept that it is a part of yourself, and they have every right to fear you. Don't become embittered, because you'll fall to that darkness. It isn't about them, it is about YOU." Angantyr stands up, "So what, they fear you. You do not need yourself to be defined by them. Show them that you don't need their approval, that you are able to stand on your own feet. You'll find that the strength will either attract the strong willed ones to you, and cause the weak willed ones to scatter."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' "Is not the fact that the weak masses flee at the very sight of me the core of my problem?" She casually sidesteps acknowledging the points of reference to his past, lest those lines of questioning lead to talk of her own. She's covered those bases enough in the last few months to be sick of thinking about it. Despite being the only one left alive to deal with the mistakes she's made that hasn't made it any easier. If anything the guilt she piles on herself is all the worse for her own imagination's attempts to fill in the accusations and outrage that she fears. "I understand well why they fear me, Vespar-san. I merely detest such weakness." Her arms cross over her chest and she turns away, muttering softly under her breath. "They remind me of how I used to be."

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' Angantyr rests a hand on her shoulder, "Yeah, I know. You feel the same way." Angantyr says, "I think we all do, on some level. Admitting it or not is ...well, something not many people can admit to. I think our lesson is over for today, you've learned a lot in a short time, and you have a few more lessons to consider today." Angantyr says as he stands up, "You have to accept what you are. Nothing in the world can change that, but you." he points at her, "Real strength is not about lording your power, or causing fear in others...but about having the wisdom to know when to use it, and how to use it."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida gives a little start at the touch on her shoulder, fearing for a moment that she was about to get another flying lesson. However, all he has for her are words and she shrugs his hand away after they are spoken. The sword is returned to the loop on her belt with more force than is necessary, sending droplets of water spattering off the hems of her sleeves. "Thank you for the lesson, sensei." She says after a few moments, turning partially to face him at first. After a short hesitation her old habits get the better of her and Leida gives him a proper bow. "I will consider what you have told me. Forgive my attitude, being treated like some kind of leper by the world at large has unbalanced my humors."

:'''[[Angantyr Vespar]] has posed:''' Angantyr nods, "I understand," and he does. "I can only tell you to not let it bother you...but it will." With that, he slips the weapon into his pack, and starts walking. "You should go get some new clothes, though I think you'll be cool for a bit." And with that he starts walking, "I'll be around the inn to the south tonight. If you need anything. I head out on a mark tomorrow so I might be gone for a day or two...or maybe I am lying." He says, making her think about it.

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Angantyr gets an annoyed glance out of the corner of her eyes. She didn't have any other clothes. What little money she'd acrued up to this point was spent on buying the dress that Imi picked out for her, followed by the replacement she'd had to buy after the Heartless in the Mako reactor shredded them to the point of uselessness. She still felt bad about that. Somehow it felt like she'd been irresponsible with the gift her only friend had given her and she was trying to hide it by wearing a copy. Thinking about Imi made her want to go visit the strange clone again, if only to see her face when she saw the strange new hair accessories she's acquired. "Do not think to throw me off-guard! I will not be caught unawares." The girl turns away and heads down one of the back streets to avoid attention as she continues her walk around the city. Despite her outwards annoyance, the dip in the water was quite refreshing and she felt like she could stand to stay out of the HQ for a little longer.

On the Road Again

2013-05-27T05:38:24Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/05/25 |Location=Eastern Continent - Figaro Desert |Synopsis=Akari and Aeschere set out from Rabanastre with no real destination in mind. After..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/05/25
|Location=Eastern Continent - Figaro Desert
|Synopsis=Akari and Aeschere set out from Rabanastre with no real destination in mind. After fighting their way through dozens of monsters and heartless, the duo come upon a beach. Tired from a long day's march, they slip into the water to cool off but that's when things start to heat up...
|Cast of Characters=Akari Seran, Aeschere Childs
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The Figaro Desert. It is like any other desert that Akari has come across in her years of traveling: miles and miles of sand heaped upon the earth in unkept piles as if some cosmic being had swept all of the world's dirt and grit into a giant heap and forgotten about it. The sun is a constant plague to life, cruelly and mercilessly casting its withering light down from on high. Here and there small patches of green defiantly stand tall against the oppressive heat only to suffer the ignoble fate of being chewed and smashed apart for the precious water that has gathered inside. Despite the harsh conditions, monsters seem to thrive here, twisted hideous things that have adapted defenses against the heat and lack of water. Armored insects scuttle about in search of prey to drag back to their nests, some openly traversing the dunes while others lurk in carefully hidden pitfalls, lying in wait for some unsuspecting victim to wander near. So far the unusual pair that wander along the dusty barely visible road have encountered no problems so far. Akari's fists of stone seem quite capable of smashing apart whatever stands in their way. Even the thick carapaces of the local breed of giant scorpion seem laughably pathetic protection against her inhuman strength. As the day goes on she encourages her new companion to try and keep up with her seemingly insatiable urge for battle, hoping to find some common ground for them to share. The desert seems obliged to provide for this bloodlust and the more they fight the more attention they seem to attract. She makes a sport of it, keeping tally of her kills and playfully chiding Aeschere for being beaten by a blind girl when she starts to lag behind.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' The Figaro Desert. It's another stinking desert; Aeschere shouldn't be surprised Akari prefers them, and this one in particular. As they took up this path a day ago, it seems like, she's been doing her share of extermination. Trying to do. Trying. Even with her improved reach, it's hard for her to keep up with the dread geomancer. "This is your idea of a good time. This." She struggles to lever a wedge of carapace off the head of her spear, muttering. "Of course it is." She's complained like this most of the way out, though; she probably doesn't mean it. It /is/ nice, really, to be out putting her years of theory into practice. "What's out this way that we're going, then?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari grunts, displaying a small amount of effort as she catches the claw of yet another giant scorpion in her hands. The beast thrashes with dramatic amounts of effort as it attempts to shove the clacking pincers close enough to shear through the tempting target of the woman's bare chest but even the herculean effort it puts forth barely manages to push her backwards a few feet in the sand. She stares at it for a few moments, allowing it to give everything it has to bypass her death grip. The evidence of its previous attempts can be seen nearby, a rapidly expanding pool of brown sludge pouring from the disembodied claw that used to fit neatly into the now gaping socket of the frenzied monster. It's deadly stinger tail likewise sits twisted and broken atop the arched tail but it still attempts to bludgeon her about the head with it to little effect. Eventually, she gets bored of the contest. There is an awful cracking sound as Akari takes the segmented fingers of the claw in each hand and casually pulls them apart. A hideous smell and more of the disgusting ooze explodes from the mangled limb in a geyser of insectoid gore and the scorpion staggers backwards, already in the throes of its demise. The jagged tips of its own claws being rammed into the thing's face finally silences it for good. "No idea," Akari offers nonchalantly as if such concerns were something she hasn't even bothered to think about. "Guess we'll find out when we get there. That's thirty-two for me, by the way."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' The shell segment comes free abruptly, and Chera stumbles back a step. "Twenty-seven. I'm wasting time looking for vitals, I bet." Nothing presents itself for immediate impalement, so she settles for booting the remains of her kill into a slightly neater pile. "Is the only thing in this desert that exists scorpions? I haven't even seen a cactus." She squints at her shadow, briefly, and at their footprints. They're heading south, she can tell about that much. What's south of here she doesn't really know, except a breeze. "Nor a way-station either I don't think. How do sane people travel this?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' "Hmph. Most of the merchants I used to run across while wandering the Great Span had either ample guards or flew across the skies on their personal ships. The cowards." Akari spits in the sand at her feet and kicks it at the still twitching corpse of her newest kill as if the very thought of such people annoyed her. She stares at it for a few moments then suddenly bares her teeth in a wild snarl for no apparent reason. Stomping over to the scorpion, she pulls her leg back in an obvious wind-up. An explosion of sand and noise accompanies the violent shattering of the fallen insect's body and for a few moments the entire area is obscured in a cloud of dust and raining ichor. The berserker wanders out of the cloud still looking as if she's barely holding back the urge to just throw back her head and let out a primal yell. Her teeth are clinched tightly together, eyebrows furrowed in an angry scowl but she manages to keep whatever is fueling her violence in check around Aeschere. "Hrngh... let's go. I think I can smell the ocean."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Waterproofing was among the qualities Aeschere selected her new cloak for, in addition to reversibility. With an expression of vague distaste she wipes a smudge of scorpion juice from her shoulder. It's just on her fingers now, of course. Ugh. "From dust to dust." She turns from Akari to survey the way forward, again. "Still you're amazing. Are we close do you think?" She's gone deaf in the head, maybe, around all this stifling sand, she can hardly picture an ocean, either. Like all of this but with water, maybe. "That'll be a nice change."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari doesn't seem to notice or doesn't care that she's half covered in something that looks like bug snot. The goop drips off her arms into messy piles on the sand. This is probably something one simply gets used to when they bludgeon things into oblivious with their fists. Upon being questioned about their distance to the destination, the geomancer kneels down and places the palm of her hand on the sand. Greater surface area contact with the ground grants her better focus. She expands her senses into the sand, feeling the rippling vibrations of the dunes as the wind blows across their surface, the heavy thumping of yet more insectoid monsters scuttling about, and eventually the gentle lapping of waves against a distant beach. "Not too far. If we move quickly we might--." Her voice cuts off mid-sentence. Something feels off. Akari's scowl manages to shift enough to accommodate a look of surprise, her eyebrows raising as she realizes what this sensation is. Darkness. Akari whirls about, her fists already balling up into tight knots. Small patches of greasy shadow begin to bleed into the sand, bubbling up from under the ground like miniature oil derricks. The patches of darkness quickly begin to take shape as they rise upwards, bearing humanoid features composed of the shadows themselves. Heartless. Decked in what appears to be fine blue silks and stark white turbans, atleast a dozen or more of the bandit-themed creatures surround the pair of girls in short order. Curved scimitars reflect the light off their sharp blades which they menace at them with obvious nefarious intent. "So... it's you again. Alright! Who wants some?!"

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Even to Akari Aeschere would be loath to admit that she was /familiar/ with darkness, but certainly she recognizes it. She knows their type, these Heartless. and she does not care for them. A smile, strangely, returns to her face, but not a pleasant one. Sort of like her mother's. Makes you want to protect your throat. "And there I was asking for something besides a scorpion." She brings her spear to bear on whichever one looks ugliest on her side, and, recalling Akari's five-point lead, decides to open festivities herself, with a probing thrust at one leering shadow.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Heartless have never been the most concerned creatures around when it comes to self-preservation. Infact, many of them seem to distinctly lack any sort of common sense, blindly throwing themselves into combat in their endless search of hearts to devour. Aeschere's lance impales itself cleanly through its target, the fine silk vest offering no protection whatsoever to the supple shadow-flesh beneath. It shudders in noiseless agony, pitching forward around the polearm in a final spasm before it erupts into a small cloud of black vapor that rapidly vanishes into the air. The death of their companion spurs the others to life and they leap about with comical loping strides. Scimitars flash, blurs of grey metal slicing through the air as they attempt to swarm the lancer and take advantage of awkwardness involved in wielding a spear at close range. But Akari is faster. With a roar of anger the geomancer explodes into the midst of the bandit Heartless. She pays no heed to their blades as they bounce and slide along her impossibly durable skin, rushing through their line like a charging rhino and scattering body bodies in every direction. A few of them vanish and die from only this but even as they do so more rise from the depths of the desert to take their place. The majority of them now turn their focus on the raging berserker, recognizing her as the main threat and she happily proceeds to engage them in a free-for-all brawl, pummeling and kicking and crushing everything in a whirlwind fury. Still a sizable group turns its attention to Aeschere once more and she finds herself beset by the small dervishes as they rush in swords swinging.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' A spear has a point; the point of it is to get you through your target's defenses. Chera follows her spear's point through the dissolving Heartless, and moves on to a wide roundhouse sweep, discouraging pursuit. Knives hurt her, unlike her companion, so she's making herself quite busy keeping the crowd at bay. At least they drop quickly. When she has a half-second, she spares a glance Akari's way. Four bandits for each of hers, at the very least, and with just as much zeal and just as little sense they rush headlong into the stone girl's fists, and splash off like broken waves. Eyes front, though, Aeschere; one of the little buggers makes it around her admittedly narrow guard, and cheerfully attempts to sink its scimitar into her shoulder. She rolls aside, swearing; thank gods for armor.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' If Akari's bold charge had been due to any concern for her companion's well-being, that had been forgotten the moment she found herself wading into a proper battle. The sound of her fists crashing down on the slender bandits turns into a staccato rhythm in the background, punctuated by burst of black vapor that hardly have time to fade before being joined by others. The Heartless are falling so fast that their bodies have begun to form a literal cloud of death that hangs overhead but the tide seems to be endless. A sudden surge of bandits rushes the berserker from all sides, a wall of shadowy bodies crashing down upon her. She yells at them in defiance but even her furious strikes are unable to fend all of them off and Akari vanishes under a mountain of Heartless. Swords raise into the air, their deadly tips turned downwards as dozens of the creatures begin to stab wildly into the pile, caring little about who or what they hit in the process. The bandit that struck Aeschere makes a noise that sounds like laughter, its warbling voice echoing as if coming from deep within a well. It hops back and forth on each foot, taunting her with its capering gestures as the others clamber back to their feet, recovering from the low sweep that prevented them from landing a coordinated strike. This time they are slightly more wary. Half a dozen bandits fan out around her in a semi-circle, their beady yellow eyes devoid of emotion or feeling beyond the raw hunger that compels them. After a few seconds one of them gets tired of waiting and leads the charge, rushing in with a shrill cry, it's heavy sword scything outwards.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Is that different from what Akari always does? She was screaming at scorpions all morning, too. If she needs help, she'll say so. Aeschere concentrates on keeping herself clear, as her own admirers form up again, and get serious. They seem to be doing the kung fu movie thing with her now, though; she won't argue. Multiple attackers are hard. This, her first contestant, she answers with another cautious thrust; it dances aside, wise to that particular trick, and makes its heavy-handed slash all the same. Chera parries with the haft of her spear and drives the thing back with a kick-- But she's playing a fighting game, and this is practically an RTS. Her own much smaller mob descends on her in a storm of shrieks and notched blades, and the little lancer, too, vanishes under the press, until an unseen shockwave blows a quadrant of them back and she dives out looking panicked. "Akari!"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' As if the calling of her name granted some measure of power to the geomancer, the earth begins to tremble and shake in ominous portent. All at once the ten foot heap of shadowy bodies shoots upwards in a massive explosion of raw force and rage given physical form. Heartless pinwheel helplessly in the air, many of them popping like punctured balloons in a crackling wave of detonations that almost looks like some dark mockery of fireworks. Akari becomes visible once more as the bandits are scattered to the winds by the shockwave of her unleashed fury. Though the immediate threat of her attackers has been dealt with no less than half a dozen of their wicked scimitars are buried in her back, the wide tips of the blades protruding like some grotesque jewelry from the front of her chest. Despite these horrific wounds, the berserker hardly appears to notice, her head whipping back and forth in search of fresh targets to vent her battle-lust upon. The surviving Heartless begin to rain from the sky in disheveled heaps and she sets upon them with renewed fury, pounding the prone forms into the dirt with a blinding flurry of punches before she leaps to the next. Aeschere's small group seem undaunted by the massacre of their comrades and continue to pressure her with wild swings and acrobatic maneuvers in an attempt to bypass her guard and capitalize on her distraction.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' She is distractible, that is one of Aeschere's many failings; her guard is only perfunctory at best while Akari shows her all of the many good reasons for paying attention to her own damnable fight and not worrying about her companion. The Heartless provide their own reminders, too; a prod here and a slash there, just to show they're serious. Compared to Akari, the lancer does seem like a toy, and her struggles on the defensive are probably laughable. She's not playing to her strengths, though, if she could just get her head around that. There are too many targets for her to track at once; finally, she gives up on it. The next one to come in for her takes a knife, and though it leaves her back wide open, she presses ahead on that line. A handful fall to her haphazard assault, and the rest pursue her, shrieking, in a little circle, until she has them neatly bundled. Skidding to a halt, turning, she meets them with a lance thrust that raises a roostertail of sand, and seems to dim the midday sun. Darkness meets darkness, and leaves little.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The tip of her lance skewers through several bodies with this final assault, pinning limbs and torsos together like a giant Heartless shishkabob. They have only a few moments to stagger weakly, flopping limply like harpooned fish, before they collapse into the void from whence they came once more. A couple are spared this grim fate though the wave of rushing dark energies still robs them of whatever lifeforce drives them onwards, soul-ripping magic cleaving them asunder. A resounding boom and another explosion of sand signals the demise of the last of the Heartless. The darkness receeds just as swiftly as it arrived and within a few moments the corrupted scent of wrongness vanishes from the air leaving them once more to bask in the sweltering desert heat. All together the fight has taken less than a few minutes to reach its conclusion, the random nature of the Heartless' appearances sparing them from a protracted battle of attrition. Akari stands at the center of a small crater of her own making, her fists still clenched in subconscious fury as she searches for another Heartless, a monster, or anything to crush beneath her might. Eventually her dead eyes settle on Aeschere and the blistering heat of her anger dies out slowly as recognition dawns on her. Realizing that the fight is over she takes several deep breaths and lets them out slowly. This process brings to light the multitude of blades still buried in her torso and she slaps the flat of her palm against her chest, ejecting the scimitars with a furious glare as if annoyed by their gall in even piercing her flesh in the first place. After several long seconds, Akari turns and walks over to her companion. The linger hints of anger are still present on her face but she appears to be mostly calm by the time she draws near. She stares at the small girl in mute consideration, mulling something over, before she is overcome by an irresistible urge to grin. "So... wanna compare counts again?"

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Aeschere leans on her spear and catches her breath. "Blood and ashes." She shakes the sand out of her hair, and surveys the general lack of devastation. "Those shouldn't count, there aren't any bodies," she complains, futilely. She wasn't going to keep up with Akari, anyways. "What even Chaos would want with this place I couldn't tell you." Her pack now has a spare trauma plate hung on it, and for the most part it survived the excitement. She's going to be at her cloak all evening with needle and thread, though, probably. For now she just extracts a handful of rag, to address her own minor injuries. "Oh don't grin at me like that, you have to be up like 80 now! Let's don't stand around, they might come back and let me catch up."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari snorts in good humor at the protests, arms crossing over her chest. "Let them come. Battle is something to be enjoyed!" Still, she's not so blind as to be unable to see that her companion isn't quite on par with her level of endurance nor her strange delight for martial conflict. She shrugs and wanders off towards the east, no longer bothering to stick to the road. Perhaps driven away by the darkness or the scent of death that clings to the geomancer like some morbid perfume the monsters no longer harry them as they make the short trek across the last of the dunes. Short, ofcourse, is a subjective term and the journey takes them two more hours, which pass without further trouble. Eventually the smell of salt is carried to them on the wind and is joined shortly thereafter by the sound of waves lapping upon the sands of a beach.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' The road had nothing to recommend it over the trackless dunes, anyways. The scent of the sea spurs Aeschere on-- she can't help it, it's in her blood-- though in the intervening miles she has plenty of time to try not to wonder why she's spending so much time wandering deserts and fighting things. That invites difficult inquiry. It's been... possibly years? since she's been to the seaside, but anyone would appreciate one after this day's march. They enter the green band before the water is in sight, a narrow strand of palms and scrub taking advantage of the ready water. Chera takes advantage of one herself and sets her damn spear down. Ugh. You can't just sheath those things. "Shade! We're saved."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Shade? Akari tilts her head quizzically at the declaration. It's been so long since she needed to fear the elements the thought is practically foreign to her. Despite her power to hold the scorching rays at bay from her skin the exertion of the day's trek has worked up a healthy sheen of sweat and she's perfectly fine with indulging in a short break underneath the wide umbrella of leaves. A sudden itching sensation overtakes her, spreading from the gap between her shoulder blades where the bundle of sword had skewered her like a bunch of billiard darts. She grunts and reaches over her shoulder to indulge the bothersome feeling with a few strokes of her fingers. Healing always itched for some reason. Crisis averted, Akari leans back against the surface of the large palm, using its rough bark to grind up and down against the trouble spots like a bear. She makes a few appreciative sounds in the process, grinding away for several seconds before she finally relaxes in earnest. "Mmmm. There are certainly worse places we could have ended up."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' So long as they ended up somewhere. Chera takes the opportunity to shed her cloak and her pack, and find her canteen. She'll fill it here, later, though it may be effortful; part of the tiny bit of elemental magic she can manage. "If we keep east, here, we reach the port I think." That was what the map looked like, anyways. It isn't as though she bought one. "Here." With half the canteen left, she caps it, and tosses it to Akari. It's important to stay hydrated. "...how long have you wandered here? You were at the Academy, too. I'm not sure I've been here a month."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari turns at the sound of 'here', sensing the motions of the canteen being tossed her way, but it effectively becomes invisible once it leaves the other girl's hand. She reaches out anyways, trying to guess where it will come down, and luckily enough it lands in the crook of her arm. She uncaps the container and tilts her head back, draining most of the contents in a single long swig. The rest is upended over her head and she enjoys the temporary sensation of wetness as the water spreads through her thick hair. "A week or so I guess. I don't really keep track of the time." She tosses the canteen back to Aeschere lazily. "If we follow the beach we should find something."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' "Don't feel like walking yet~" The canteen lands at Chera's feet, and it can stay there for now. "...how do you just, you don't care even about anything, do you?" She tries to make that less flip. "Where you're going, or how long, or if you're winning the next fight. I should admire that, it feels like." Akari will have had plenty of chances to observe Aeschere caring about stuff. Now, for instance. "I suppose worrying doesn't help much."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari frowns a little, not quite sure how to answer that. She stares blankly ahead for a while in mute thought, her body practically statuesque as she allows the tension that usually has her wound like a spring to wind down. Eventually, she just shrugs. "Never had much reason to care... I guess." Her day to day life had never been all that important as she wandered from place to place in her youth. Each day was filled with wandering and fighting, followed by eating and sleeping. Sometimes she met new people and had short conversations, like this one, but most of it was a blur of landscapes and battles. "I'm not sure if I'm someone worth being admired... I just take things as they come at me. Enjoy what life has to offer. Live in the moment."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' "You only get so many," Aeschere agrees, with what sounds like a smile. She's keenly aware of that; really, she'd love to just get out and see some stuff, but she's had to spend so much time just preparing. Long periods in hospital beds punctuated by short bursts of stuff likely to get her hospitalized. "Surely I wouldn't know, anyways. You'd be a legend with a dojo if there was any justice." She relaxes like a professional, does Chera. Conserving her energy is something she has to be excellent at. She sits, still as sleep, under her tree until the breeze dislodges her spear from where she'd leaned it. She catches it, with an indelicate comment, and lays it aside, like she probably should have anyways. "...but, this is what we're doing, then?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The mention of a dojo makes her laugh. "Me? A teacher? Heh." She settles back against the tree again and closes her eyes, stifling a few snickers at the thought. Unlike Aeschere, Akari seems incapable of fully relaxing. Her muscles, while not overly developed, remain taut and flexed as if she expects something to leap out of the shadows at any moment. The breeze from the ocean kicks up around them now, a cool current that ripples through their hair in a pleasing fashion and carries with it the strong hint of brine as if trying to entice them out of their shady retreat and into the water. Akari inhales the scent deeply and rises to her feet. She sports a grin as she turns to look down at her companion. "Well, I don't know about you, but what I'm doing is going for a swim."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' But, but that involves walking! ...not far, she's forced to admit. "First good idea you've had today." She can leave her stuff here, probably; aside from the Heartless they haven't seen anyone who'd mess with it, and she would daresay that they could deal with anyone foolish enough to try. Swimming presents a minor clothing dilemma, but... Well, she'll worry about it in a minute. She stands, and turns to look over as nice a beach as ever she's seen. "Won't you sink, though, only?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari laughs again. She can't remember the last time she's had cause to do so on such a regular basis. It feels strange and better yet it distracts her from the constant buzz of her anger, pushing it into the back of her mind. "Heh, just because I'm tough as stone doesn't mean I sink like one, squirt. Or should I call you shrimp? Might be more appropriate." As if to prove her point, Akari heads off towards the beach at a light jog. Once she passes out from under the canopy of the scattered palm trees she stops long enough to disrobe, shedding her clothing without regards for modesty and leaving it all in a haphazard pile at the base of one of the trees so she can find them again. The ocean seems as equally thrilled to have visitors. Large waves rise up to lap at the sandy crescent, washing deeply inland and leaving behind a bubbling layer of salty foam as it recedes. Akari wades casually out into the rough tide a few feet and then sits down. The water hovers around her midsection, rising up to engulf her from the neck down as the waves flow in and out, but she remains stationary against the powerful surges like a boulder jutting up from the seabed. "Come on in," she calls over her shoulder. "It feels great!"

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' See? Like a stone. Again Aeschere finds herself honestly appreciative of Akari's total lack of concern; who's around but some gulls and a blind girl? And it'll be nice to get out of these clothes, anyways, that she's been fighting in all day. Everything of hers is piled under her cloak, and she crosses the sand at-- a quite brisker jog than her companion managed. "Hot!" She sprawls into the surf not far from her, and creeps out until she can barely touch bottom. "I'll just float off perhaps, I think that'd be nice."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' "Hmm. It might be." Sailing is one thing that Akari had never done much of in her travels throughout the plates. It was practically required to cross the vast oceans of Leviathan but she only did so on public barges and ferries that took the most direct routes between the floating cities and outposts. There was little time to just wander and explore, even if the only thing she might find is an unending field of blue-green water. She immediately resolves to change this. Her senses extend into the sand and the water around her and for a few moments she enters a trance-like state as her mind probes the vast expanse of the beach for signs of a boat. Unfortunately, such things do not manifest simply because her whims demand it. "Tch. Guess it'll have to wait." Instead, she turns her attention back to her companion. While not as strong in her connection with the water as she is with the earth below, she is quite capable of using it in a similar manner to enhance her senses. The shape of Aeschere's body displaces the liquid and that gap provides a sort of negative image for the geomancer to read which gives her an almost perfect view of the small girl's nude form. She smiles again for reasons that are not immediately obvious to anyone but her and she playfully splashes some water at Aeschere's back. "Don't wander off too far now. I can swim but I'm no match for the tides in speed."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' "Not for hours~" Chera sing-songs, and returns fire. Er, water. She sees Akari smiling at her, which... No, it's damn odd, she forces herself to reflect, as she bobs bonelessly on the waves for a bit. ...well, no, whatever. She's barely known the girl for days, how would she know what's odd for her or not? Nobody's as simple as Akari claims to be. Ash procures another face full of water for herself, with or without Akari's help, and forms a question. "...You're that Akari, from school, then. Did you know who I was?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari has the good grace to play along, shielding herself with her hand from the onslaught of splashes. When they eventually die out she leans backwards and allows herself to completely submerge for a time. The rolling of the waves overhead pulls her long ponytail to and fro, the only part of her body that isn't as hard and unmoving as stone. It's reddish-orange color makes it look like the wandering tentacle of an octopus from above. She sits up with a colossal splash just in time to hear Aeschere's question. Akari sputters a bit, blowing at her wet bangs as they settle on her lips. "Pfft. The Academy, huh. Guess it's not surprising that you've heard of me. I'm afraid I can't say the same." She scratches at the back of her neck as she seems to always do when uncertain or nervous about something. "I uh... didn't much care to learn names back then. Seemed like everyone I met just wanted to make fun of the blind girl or try to take me down for bragging rights."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' "Well, I would think that if they took you down they might fairly brag." Aeschere draws a little circle in the sea in front of her; it persists for maybe a moment, the extent of her power. "That wasn't what I meant, though, I... actually never said anything at all to you about it did I, nevermind me." Sigh. "It worked out for me anyways." It hasn't been quite as long, nor is it quite as large a deal, but she remembers another thing she hasn't found time to say, either. "Sorry about running off on you, in the market, too."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' "Ofcourse. Only one person ever did though." She smirks at the thought of that man. What was he up to now? Surely the darkness wouldn't have been able to overcome someone that strong. But then, he was all power and no endurance, so it is hard to say for sure. Pointless to worry either way. If she ever did stumble across him again, however, there would definately be a rematch. Losing didn't bother her, really, so she wasn't out for a grudge. Fighting him was just fun. Akari tilts her head to regard Chera as she mumbles about something. The first part is lost in the haze of her short reminiscing but she does catch the apology and a look of genuine surprise causes her eyebrows to lift. "Oh that..." She waves her hand at the air dismissively. "Don't worry about it. You're a big girl. You can make your own decisions." There is a short pause. "But... thanks."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Aeschere has never tired of being told she's a big girl, all four and a half feet of her; she at least finds it funny these days. "I've found them now, though, so. It wasn't what I thought." The wash nudges her drifting form in Akari's direction. "I don't know what I should be doing now. I asked you already, I know." Akari's hard to approach; it's maddening to the (slightly) younger girl, and prying obviously would be counterproductive. She's probably just overheated, that's all.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari sees her chance for a little amusement here. She's been pondering how to approach the subject without offending her newfound friend or making things uncomfortable between them. She rubs the back of her neck, pondering whether to go through with it, but her nervousness eventually just makes her annoyed. Get it over with already, you wimp, is what she's thinking. th her body almost fully submerged in the water, Akari is able to use her geomancy to manipulate it without much trouble. She uses subtle nudges, altering the course of the waves to push Aeschere closer and closer until the small girl is floating only a few feet away from her side. "You did," Akari responds finally as the foaming surf deposits her catch next to her. She slowly reaches out and wraps her arm around Chera's waist, drawing her closer. She takes a deep breath and then smiles down at her. "You can stay with me for as long as you like. I don't really have any specific goal to offer you but... traveling around, seeing the world, enjoying ourselves... there are worse ways to spend your time, eh?"

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Aaa, she's approached, she's approached! Aeschere squeaks, supplying that amusement, and squirms a bit until she has her feet on sand. "That, that, that..." She struggles against the geomancer's grip, but perhaps without real intent, "...would be good. I think." She finishes in a small voice. Was she wondering about this? She probably wouldn't admit to knowing what 'this' is. She'd tell you that Akari just made an impression on her, after their first meeting.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The smile widens into a grin at Aeschere's meek attempts to wiggle free. Akari does not allow her to. If she really wants her to let go now she'll have to earn it with a display of strength! That and she can tell the other girl isn't really trying. She pulls her even closer until the small knight is held right up against her. Akari's hand roams down along her side, casually exploring just how far she will be allowed to go before some sort of protest is voiced. She gives a playful squeeze to her slender thigh. "I can make it very good, if you like."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' She's out of her depth. Aeschere mostly struggles with herself, it's true. This doesn't make any more sense to her than anything Akari does, it's, she's, look-- Actually, do look; why were you searching for your classmates, Chera? Now that you found them, why didn't you go with them? Why did you stick with Akari? Well, perhaps they'll chalk it up to disorientation, later. "...just, just... carefully, ok?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari lets out an imperceptable sigh of relief. She was afraid that her one and only friend would be the kind to be uptight about this sort of thing. Never in her life has she been so glad to be wrong. She's still not quite sure why it is it mattered so much that this girl she's only known for a few days be into the same sorts of hedonistic vices that she herself enjoys. It's not like there's a shortage of brothels or pubs where she could pick up some company to enjoy for a single night. Atleast, she hopes not. What a terrible place this new world would be if /that/ were true. But since she's been given the green light, Akari fully intends to show off the skills that she's developed in the few years she's been old enough to enjoy adult pleasure. "Don't worry," she says confidently as she pulls Chera into her lap. Her arm wraps around the slender girl's waist once more, drawing her close and she leans forward to give her forehead a soft kiss. "I can be very gentle when I want to."

Connection Established

2013-05-25T16:46:13Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/05/24 |Location=Eastern Continent - Rabanastre - Merchant Quarters |Synopsis=Akari and Aeschere decided to check out the bazaar and end up hoo..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/05/24
|Location=Eastern Continent - Rabanastre - Merchant Quarters
|Synopsis=Akari and Aeschere decided to check out the bazaar and end up hooking up with some old acquaintances.
|Cast of Characters=Rhiannon Zellen, Evja, Artemis Eurus, Alma Hyral, Akari Seran, Aeschere Childs
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' It is mid-afternoon in the city of Rabanastre. The sprawling maze of sun-baked stone buildings are washed in a subtle yellow glow as the sun begins to drop below the artificial horizon created by the towering roofs and massive walls that encircle the desert jewel. Stalls and shops line the streets of the merchant quarter in an unbroken chain of sundries, exotic fruits, dried meats, armor, and just about anything else that can be imagined. Bodies fill every spare inch of real-estate that isn't taken up by one of these outdoor markets, moving in ill-defined chaotic currents that seem to have a mind of their own. For the people that make their livings in this hub of trade activity, navigating the tides of the bazaar is a skill that one develops over the natural course of time. Visitors and traveling merchants in search of a place to hawk or acquire goods are not so fortunate and it's quite easy to pick out foreigners from the stumbling and cursing that follows them around. Akari is no different. Even had she the aid of her eyes, attempting to weave through the confusion patterns of traffic that seem to have no ryhme or reason would be enough to grate on her nerves. As it stands, she is even worse off, as the sheer amount of foot falls on the packed stone beneath her feet is causing a sort of sensory overload to her geomantic stone sight and the stagnant hot winds here are no help either. So it falls to her newly acquired traveling partner to do all the leading today. Akari doesn't much care for this situation. Being robbed entirely of sight makes her feel helpless in a way she hasn't since she first lost the use of her eyes. Her agitation is visible in the permanent frown that has settled onto her face. But with no clear source to turn her temper upon, she's stuck merely being annoyed. "How do they even do business like this? I'd go deaf in a week."

:'''[[Rhiannon Zellen]] has posed:''' It was not often that Rhia traveled, let alone setting foot outside of her lab or Shinra HQ, but now was one of those rare times where her research required that she travel to find the answers she was seeking. Her goals were very specific. She was keeping a list of people to visit, compiled from Turk intelligence with no permission of course. Having taken down the first destination on her list, the scientist found herself in Rabanastre today, in search of her next target. But alas, they were not to be found anywhere. "So troublesome. Truly..." The wutai native mumbled to herself, bringing a hand to her cheek and smiling despite her situation. The activity within this city was without a doubt one of the more tiresome that Rhia had come across. People were everywhere! How was she supposed to pick out a single person within this mess? Nevertheless, she remained calm and composed, smile remaining on her face as her eyes swept across the crowds, studying people meanwhile with a gaze that suggested that they were more test subjects than actual intelligent beings with thoughts and feelings.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Her newly-acquired traveling partner, to be quite honest, doesn't have much better a view of the scene than Akari does. "Perhaps that's the trick," Aeschere shares her own annoyance with her companion, after three attempts to get the attention of the shopper in front of them. Three is apparently her limit; she levers her staff past the man and breaks trail by main force, reaching back in Akari's direction to be sure she makes it through without murdering anyone. What Akari's doing at the market today she doesn't know, but Chera herself has a rather lamentable mission; her first target is a knifesmith, wherever one of those can be found. She thinks she might remember maybe that one was up at the north end? Akari wouldn't know, of course. "All the time here it's like this," she strains to raise her small voice over the din of the crowd. "I might prefer the desert almos-- come on, there was a banner!" The tiny lancer, at least, sticks out from the crowd, or her spear does anyways, its business end covered with a flap of leather and a strip of red cloth like a banner. Nobody's looking for her, of course, though.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' Well.. Rabanastre was certainly hot, in the mid-afternoon. Alma felt like she was baking through her dowdy white mage robes which had several new patches in places she didn't want to think about.. given that it was a fight with a Zombie Wyrm, she felt lucky that she came out of it at all. Her radio was switched off now, and she felt fortunate that Feige Abramson was no longer dictating her every action... so long as the Dennous didn't show up, she wouldn't be forced to turn it back on again. So she felt calmer, despite her preternatural depression, as she busied herself going through the cartographer's stand for possible navigation charts that might have more information for her about the world Ivalice came from. It was all so fascinating, as her data showed that while there were three separate Ivalices... their stars all had the same orientation in the heavens. That meant that they had to be the same world. Perhaps they were from an alternate reality, or from different time periods? It made for some interesting speculation, at least. And if the charts were indeed different.. well that would lead to even better data. She passed by an Astrologer's stand without a second glance. They didn't keep true star charts, they were... the Ivalice equivalent of advice columnists and fortune tellers. She had great respect for the myths of the Zodiac, she didn't have much respect from those who profit off of other's gullibility. It was as she was perusing one of the stalls, that she looks up, then does a double take as she let's out a muffled gasp. It was Akari... again. And the little lancer alongside her looked vaguely familiar... What in Cosma's name? Just how did they keep running into each other! For now, she just kept her distance, remaining still... hoping that by staring, and not speaking, she wouldn't draw significant attention to herself.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari allows herself to be lead around by the hand like a child. In this environment she's got little choice in the matter. Should her companion forge even a few feet ahead the crowds would close around her like quicksand swallowing a stone and they'd probably never find each other again until the market activity dies down once the sun has set. She's already almost made that mistaken once. Not that she thinks either of them would be in any real danger should such a thing occur but being stuck blind in an unfamiliar street packed with people is not something she cares to experience. Her temper is hard enough to control as it is. "Hmm." Akari considers the joking comment seriously for a moment. "Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of giving up my ears as well." The young woman trails along behind her diminutive partner without much input on their destination. She came here mostly out of curiosity than any particular purpose, needing no armor or weapons. There are some appetizing smells in the air though.

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' So there's Artemis, reading her horoscope in the marketplace. She's a Scorpio of course. Otherwise, she hasn't bought anything else yet. She'd come to sell, and had gotten rid of a few animal skins for a fair price she was pleased with. Would pay for materials to help mend clothes and armor in the New Zodiac Braves. The tall warrior is dressed in her blue and gold armor, apparently having decided to say <GOOSEHONK> to being inconspicuous. Her mask matches, and her hair hangs free down her back, nearly down to her knees. Artemis looks up for a moment as someone passes talking about giving up her ears? Shrug. Back to horoscope. "Tch, I will come into a great fortune," she says. "Sure."

:'''[[Rhiannon Zellen]] has posed:''' "No...no...no...no..." None of these people were her target. Rhia slowed down her walk, coming to walk in stride next to the pair consisting of Akari and Aeschere by pure chance. Not minding them at all, she continued her surveillance of the streets. "That uncouth fellow just may not be here. ...Truly a trouble thing if that is the case..." Mumbling out her thoughts mostly to herself, Rhia sighed and looked on ahead, folding her arms within her lab coat's sleeves. ...Well, the next best thing would have been to ask around. And being that the pair were the closest to her at the moment, Rhia's calculating gaze turned to them, making note of the two girl's appearances without much of a change in facial expression. "Excuse me, ladies." Yes, she was referring to Akari and Aeschere. "I do apologize for cutting into your business. But I must ask something.." Pause to let the two of them process the fact that they were being addressed. "Would either of you happen to know of a man by the name of..." Another pause as Rhia produced a tablet device, checking her notes for a moment. "...Angantyr Vespar?"

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' And then Alma was walking backwards a few paces, away from Akari and Aeschere before turning suddenly and running right into the blue-armored woman in a mask As fate would have it, that meant she ran right into Artemis, who was at the Astrologer's booth behind her. "A-Artemis? It's v-very good to see you.." She'd look over her shoulder nervously towards the now trio of Akari, Aeschere, and Rhiannon, before lowering her voice, "W-We should p-probably go, in the o-other direction. T-That woman is d-dangerous.." She'd put a hand on Artemis' wrist... and start walking in the other direction, as if to lead her away.. not that she actually could, unless Artemis wanted to. It looked like the warrior woman could snap her wrists like tissue paper by just twisting them. She really did seem that delicate.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' There's no order to the market in Rabanastre, not this segment of it. Food stalls tarp-to-tarp with jewelers and smiths sharing shelf-space with grocers... Aeschere isn't looking for any blade shop in particular, just some place she can, ahem, pawn something non-vital for operating funds. The press of the crowd forces her to the edges, along the stalls, into Rhiannon's threat zone. 'Would either of you happen to know of a man by the name of... ...Angantyr Vespar?' She's oddly dressed for the city, whoever this women questioning them in. Aeschere gives her a rather stiff bow, and a confused look. "No, I know no Vespar." A local? A criminal perhaps? "Why do you ask?" No, she's clearly no local, that device is exceedingly out of place in Rabanastre. Aeschere tries not to stare at it.

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' A familiar name catches her ear. Briefly she looks to Rhiannon, then to Alma. She doesn't so much as twitch. "Alma. Yes, I am surprised to see you again. Pleased, of course," she comments. "Now, which of them are dangerous?" she asks, not letting herself be pulled away by the smaller woman. Why was that one looking for Angantyr Vespar? He was suppose to do some work for them...if he were taken in for some reason, that work would not be done.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari grits her teeth as the press of bodies drives them to the side of the street and up against the carts. She doesn't say anything, her efforts focused on taking long slow breaths that she hopes will push the rising desire to start battering her way through this nonsense back down. It's working - for the moment. Her pseudo-meditation is interrupted by the sound of a voice that is clearly directed at the two of them. Even in the constant drone of voices she can tell that much from this short distance. Her head slowly swivels towards where she thinks the owner is currently standing though it's obvious via her bleached white eyes that she can't tell for sure. Akari remains silent for the moment. That name is unfamiliar to her as well. She'll let Aeschere do the talking since she's in a better position to deal with people both physically and temperamentally.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' Alma would gesture vaguely, in Akari's direction. Only to turn and find her looking straight at her. She practically apparated back behind Artemis, a muffled gasp emanating from her throat as she repeated over and over, "P-Please don't k-know I'm here, please d-don't k-know I'm here.."

:'''[[Rhiannon Zellen]] has posed:''' "I see. Well, that's a shame." Rhia replied casually, noting things down in the tablet device as she spoke. So they did not know him. A brief glance is given to Akari who had remained silent. Not a big talker? Or maybe she was deaf? No matter. If this one didn't know then surely she didn't either. Pairs usually worked like that. "Well, you have my thanks anyway." Smiling graciously at Aeschere, the scientist brought a finger to her cheek, looking up in thought momentarily before providing an answer. "Well, this Angantyr fellow is a wanted criminal last I had heard. But that is not why I seek him. I have questions to ask. I am gathering information for my research and I believe that he will be able to shed some light onto the matter. ...So to speak." Well, it didn't seem like she was lying. Her words were genuine enough, even if her gaze was somewhat unsettling. It was almost predatory in a way, but Rhia clearly didn't have any sort of guard up. "Well, no matter. I will continue my sweep of the city then. My apologies for taking your time again." That said, the obviously out of place woman turned away from the pair, catching sight of Alma and Artemis meanwhile. There was only a minor raise of the brow before she proceeded to move on. No time to waste.

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis follows to where Alma pointed, eyes focusing on Akari. Really? That one? Artemis looks puzzled, but eh, size is not everything after all. "No harm will come to you, if that is what you are worried about. Has she...bullied you?" Just guessing here! Its a /really/ easy guess. Artemis' eyes follow Rhiannon as she leaves the pair that know nothing about Angantyr. Artemis knows him, it is likely she could contact him. She may, if just to let him know this woman was looking for him. The masked woman gives Rhiannon the look over once more, placing a description into her memory.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' She'd nod her head quickly, "Y-Yes. B-Back in school she used to c-call me l-little r-rabbit and c-chase me around, t-trying to f-fight with me. That's n-not unusual as she fights with e-everyone, over a-anything. She f-fought my e-employer not l-long ago.. and a f-friend, so I've b-been forced into a c-couple of f-fights against her" Alma glances sidelong at Rhiannon, apparently they were drawing stares, she didn't know what to think of that.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Rhiannon presents an odd experience for Aeschere, after days already spread thick with strangeness; it's good, at least, to know that somewhere out there there's a world similar to hers. If Akari shares that impression, though, Chera doesn't know it. All she's heard out of the stone girl is rage since they hit the shops. "Aa, good luck, then?" Chera follows Rhiannon's retreat, spotting Art's frankly blatant figure before an astrologist's barrow; Artemis gets both brows up from the small girl. "How even does she survive in that," she doesn't ask anyone in particular, and her gaze then catches the girl hiding behind the samurai. "Or her?" She aaalmost nudges Akari and points. Nope. Won't do it. "I'd melt." The both of them can probably see her pointing and staring.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Tucked up close to the other girl, Akari can make out just enough of her movements to get the general gist of what's going on. She feels her point at something as the air around them shifts with the movement but beyond that she's still completely in the dark. She also feels the woman who stopped to question them take her leave, judging mostly from her quick apology that there will be no further questions. Akari doesn't bother to point out that she's got no idea what Aeschere is talking about. But she can guess from the commentary that someone wearing lots of heavy clothes has been spotted among the throng of people. "You'd be surprised. Wearing lots of clothing in the desert is important to keep the sun off you. Probably less of a worry in a place like this though. I'm sure they've got water aplenty around to support a city this size."

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis frowns deeply. On one hand, she thinks one must stand up to bullies. On the other, Alma looks awfully delicate and not exactly likely to do well in a fight. Perhaps she had magic at least? Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. "She just /fights/ everyone?" she asks, sound more curious than disturbed. "She's not fighting anyone now...you shouldn't let her bully you. Surely you can fight back? You have magic, yes?"she asks. "People like that will bother you until you show them you will not be bullied anymore, you must understand." Artemis looks to see Chera pointing in her direction, and tilts her head slightly at the woman. Hey, if she wanted to know she could just ask. Indeed, if she is going to be stared at, she may as well wave. Which she does, baring her teeth in what is maybe a smile?

:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' Unintentionally making a point of Akari's remark about keeping a lot of clothing on, a Viera wanders by the group at this point while wearing a large, thick robe of sorts. It was a dark blue shade with white fuzzy trim and overall looked far more extravagant than the other Viera around these parts tended to wear. That being very little in favor of next to nothing. She also had her long silver hair wrapped at several points and held back behind her near the bottom. Of course, Evja had a veil on as normal even as she looked around the marketplace as if idly shopping, nothing really of note about her other than the fact that people here and there were looking at her and giving her stinkeye. Why? Well, it may be noticeable by the others that there was a large glowing symbol on the robe she had on at her back that looked faintly like the Archadian Judges symbol. Did they know it. Otherwise it'd look something like a large scale imposed over a motif of sorts, dull red and glowing faintly. Her shopping basket, held on one arm, contained various things that most would want. Food(Carrots, mostly), tomes, papers, minor things too.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' "Not h-her." She closes her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "S-She fights for the s-sheer p-pleasure of it. If you f-fight her, she f-fights h-harder, b-becomes i-interested in you, and then w-wants to fight again. She gave up c-chasing me after a while... but now that I've b-been dragged into t-two fights against her it seems like she has an i-interest in my m-magic but.. I'm a p-pacifist, I don't want to fight. I j-just j-join in if my f-friends are in danger."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Man, would Ash ever hear you, Alma, if she could hear you. If you're a white mage or some other sort familiar with injury, or even if you really aren't, you can see how much she favors her ribs as she lifts her spear to return a salute for Art's wave. And just 'cause she doesn't hear you doesn't mean she doesn't see you, Alma. She waves to the White Mage, too. The while, she weighs Akari's counter-assertion. "This cloak could be bad enough," she complains anyways. She doesn't precisely look like the desert sort, come to it. "Do they know us, do you think? Woman in armor, maybe ten paces ahead?" Aeschere isn't sure if that actually helps but it's all she can do.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The shirtless brawler sighs but tilts her head towards the fore for the sake of argument. She concentrates on trying to read the wind; the background vibrations from dozens and dozens of people in the area makes her stone sight useless. Unfortunately, it's no good, atleast from this distance. "I have no idea," she says with a shrug after a few moments. "Too much interference. Maybe you should wave them over so we can find out."

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis looks to Alma then, shrugging. "Very well, you will not have to fight her then. I'll try to keep her attention. They're looking at us now, we may as well say hello," she says, then begins to walk toward them, leaving Alma either exposed or forced to scurry forward to remain in Artemis' shadow--and protection. "Greetings," she says to the two, bowing her head slightly. "Is there something I can do for you? I noticed you pointing in my direction," she says, her voice deep and cool. They could be heretic hunters, in which case she might as well get the encounter over with. Or she may just meet a new...friend? What Alma said about Akari fighting for the sheer joy of it caught her attention. Another of Odin's people, perhaps?

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' Well that choice was rather obvious.. she scurried, forward, remaining in Artemis' Shadow. Except she was now chanting in her head something along the lines of... /PLEASEDONTMAKEHERMAD/! Over and over. She liked Artemis after all... She didn't want to have to join in for another fight. She didn't want to offend Akari though with further silence. She would speak up rather meekly, "H-Hello again A-Akari.." And then she'd look to Aschere, giving her an inquisitive look, as she tilted her head, "Y-You look f-familiar.. h-have we met b-before?"

:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' Being a Viera does give certain benefits, such as having big ears. Good-hearing ears. Tall ears twitching a bit, Evja keeps her back towards the group, but listens to them. The accents certainly aren't from those around these parts, and in fact she didn't recognize it either. That, and the name of 'Akari', or greeting if that wasn't a name, wasn't familiar either to any convention she knew. Which is why she was expecting them as either tourists... Or lost people, who were in fact misplaced into this world by the Heartless. Or something. Despite having no interest in the stall next to where she was, Evja turns and begins to shop at a meat stand. A stand that had lots of various monster and animal parts, some cooked some not. All the while those tall ears twitching faintly as she listened.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Can't they be both? Now that she's hobbled, more or less, Aeschere is happy enough to see Rabanastre. She's going to be here either way, she may as well enjoy it. But now, no, she looks up and up and a bit more up at Artemis, wearing the friendliest smile she can find. "No, knight ma'am, it's just that you're a sight I fear. But it must be you're used to it, r..." Was it hello, Akari? Hello /again/ Akari? She turns her smile on Alma. "I... my head is a bit cooked here in the sun do you know, and I'm not sure if we could have. Are you, aa, a friend of Akari's as well?" She conveys by expression what she thinks the nature of Akari's friendships are, although the still-visible bruises help. "My name is Aeschere," she volunteers finally.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Artemis' voice isn't one that the delinquent recognizes. She turns and glances down at Aeschere, shaking her head from side to side in response to her earlier query. "Nope. Don't know these--" And then something like a stammering gust of wind drifts past her ears. Akari squints despite it being totally pointless, tilting her head downwards to peer at the frightened white mage. A moment later the winds confirm it. She probably could have guessed just from the sheer amount of trembling. "Hmph. Still following on my coat-tails? For someone who isn't too fond me, you sure seem to show up a lot." Akari looks back at Artemis, having a much easier time placing her in this close proximity. "A new body guard?"

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Artemis chuckles lightly to Chera, shaking her head. "I'm not knight. Artemis is my name," she replies. "Though yes, I am use to the looks," she looks down at herself for a moment. "It's laundry day," she explains. Artemis turns toward Akari then, eyebrows rising beneath her mask. "Bodyguard? Well, I am that, but not for her. She's got plenty already I believe. No, we are acquainted however, and she is a nice enough girl, so I hope that you will be polite to her. I merely came over to see if there was something your companion wanted of me. When I'm pointed at, I generally decide to just come and introduce myself. Clear up a few things, yes?"

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' The girl would suck in a very deep breath at Akari's accusations, "L-Look. I'm not f-following you. You j-just... i'm b-beginning to w-wonder if W-Whyt is following me around c-cursing me with f-foul luck. And n-no, she's a.. a well, n-nice acquaintance? I think.." She speaks in a voice just as timid as usual before turning to Aeschere, "W-Wait a minute, you do l-look familiar..." She squints at her. "W-Weren't you in my c-class at the A-Academy? The G-Golem class?"

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' It seems that they have a history, Akari and this cleric. Not terribly surprising to Chera, honestly, even if that's a bit uncharitable. "Artemis well, it was just what came to mind. I would have introduced myself perhaps but there was this crowd you saw..." She keeps an ear turned toward Akari and Alma's exchange, meanwhile. It of course should not surprise her than any two given people are acquainted, nor, bless her, that any given acquaintance of Akari's would be unfriendly. Aeschere is aware at least in abstract that she has a more welcoming attitu-- was that Academy that she just said. Chera blinks at Artemis once, and then reorients on Alma, and gives the correct answer almost without thought. "Golem class, yes? Your, are you, aaa..." Maybe she won't be marching to Fluorgis after all.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari also seems fairly surprised to hear this. Her head swivels to the side to peer down at the smaller girl. She stares for a few moments, thinking on all of the names that have filtered through to her at one point or another in the past but drawing up empty. Not that this marks her relationship to the Academy as false. It was a big place. There's certain to be people she simply never crossed paths with though it feels kind of odd that Aeschere didn't know /her/ simply from reputation when pretty much everyone else did. "Well... fancy that. Atleast your class produced one person worth my time."

:'''[[Artemis Eurus]] has posed:''' Ignored by Akari, Artemis frowns slightly. Alright then. She looks to Chera, nodding. "You all went to school together then...interesting," she says. She knows now that the Academy they speak of is not the same Academy as her world. Had there's been lost to darkness as well? "Well then, if there is nothing else...I'll take my leave," she says, bowing to the two and turning to walk away. She looks back to see if Alma will follow.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' Alma recognizes Aeschere. She also knows what she is. And while that would normally... put her in a state of terror, she'd come to recognize that sometimes all the things her father taught her were the boogeymen of her world, such as Necromancers, Dark Knights, Summoners of the Second Gods, Black Mages... not all of them were agents of Chaos. No the boogeymen in her life right now was an amoral scientist and her supporters. Seeing that Aeschere is wounded... well, the girl does something about that, raising a hand, and a soft white glow spreads over Aeschere, despite the lack of actual contact. The light would spread, mending her tender and bruised ribs. She still spoke quite timidly, "I-If you'd like A-Aeschere, I can.. g-get you set up a-amongst the r-rest of the Academy's upperclassmen, if you'd like to f-follow me..?" And she'd turn, as if she were following Artemis, but she'd wait on her answer.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' This is nine of every ten of Aeschere's interactions with white mages, you know. She appreciates it, usually, but she does get to feeling like a case study after a while. "That's the exact thing that I would like." For a fierce and independent warrior, she really comes to bits without having someone to be fierce for. She was set to stride the desert after merely what a trader might have heard on the road, and yet here, her friends have come and found her. She takes the first step after Alma. And yet... her friends have come and found her. She swallows, and turns back to who found her first; "Will, ah, you join," Chera considers, "me, Akari?" The chain of requests now seems to end with the geomancer.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari frowns slowly at the two diminuative girls, looming over both of them like a Greek titan. She allows her grip on Aeschere's hand to slip loose as the girl steps away from her and the now empty hand crosses over her chest to rest on her shoulder. She scratches idly at her neck for a moment, looking off into the distance as if carefully weighing her response. She likes this girl. It seems odd to say that even to herself. She's never really liked anyone. Maybe it's just because she's strong, because she wounded her like few others have ever done. Maybe it's because she didn't call her a monster or a barbarian or any of the other names that have been slung her way. Honestly, she could probably fill a small book at this point. But she doesn't like Alma. She doesn't like her timid voice or the way she cowers all the time. She doesn't like her boss either. Spoiled arrogant rich kid, the kind that used to push her around before she started to push back. The thought makes her frown harder. "I... no. You... go on without me, squirt."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Aeschere figured as much. This way she can scowl at being called 'squirt' instead of scowling about running off. She leans her spear against her shoulder for a moment and reaches into her pouch to find... nothing, of course. Sigh. "Well, I'll, I'll have to catch up with you, then." She turns back to Alma, nodding, and follows her, perhaps reluctantly.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' Alma would just lead her on away, perhaps breathing a sigh of relief once she got out of sight of Akari. And then she'd purchase Aeschere a linkpearl and Ma Belle, plugging in the frequencies for the academy on them.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari watches them leave for a few moments. The crowd quickly swallows them up and they vanish from her ability to track them, leaving her all alone again. She doesn't say anything for a long time nor does she move from her spot against the stalls. With no one left to guide her around, she'd just end up spending the entire day wandering about the market and getting tired for no reason. She'll need her strength to continue her journey.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Aeschere may have had one or more of those, but she currently has nothing but what she's wearing, due to reasons. "...How many of us?" The question has weighed on her since even the moment she awoke here. She'll wait for an answer while she presses lots of buttons on the looks-like-a-cellphone again, perhaps to see if it'll do a trick. It's not that she doesn't understand the thing, her hands just need to do something while her head catches up with things.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' "Nearly twenty." She still seems subdued, almost depressed. Every now and then Aeschere would notice that she glows bright yellow, mending away at her various wounds.. Alma isn't even looking at her as she does this.

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' That's... nearly twenty times better than what Aeschere feared. Yes. She mulls this fact over, too, as she hits the end of the settings menu, and runs out of things to poke on her PHS. She snaps it shut and... doesn't stuff it in her pouch, yet. The shards of the last one are still in there. She watches Alma work for a moment, or rather, watches her not work while stuff gets done, which is more impressive. "...don't wear yourself out," she suggests quietly, after a moment.

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' The girl would continue to lead her along, explaining how the Ma Belle and link pearl work. The healing light would just continue to work it's magic on Aeschere. And when she asks her not to wear herself out, the girl just smiles at her. It is perhaps a touch sad, but it is there. "Your w-wounds are m-mostly superficial. A f-few of your ribs d-don't feel like they h-healed right and you have a c-concussion you d-didn't know about. You'll be f-fine. T-There's nothing so c-complicated that you'll w-wear me out. I p-promise."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' "Well, you know Akari you said." Chera isn't sure any more needs be said on that score, although somehow she says it with a smile. It seems she moves a bit easier as Alma continues her overhaul, though she continues to move with visible caution. "You aren't going to tell me that we've all been in Rabanastre this whole time, I won't hear it." Well, she probably would. "...did, actually, did I not catch your name? I suppose I /must/ be concussed."

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' "Y-Yes. I d-do. S-She's i-injured me t-terribly several times." And that's all she'd say on Akari, really, she was right mentally, nothing else needs to be said. "O-Oh no. C-Cornelia for s-some. C-Costa Del S-Sol for others. T-Traverse town as well... and the Ame-No-Torifune, S-Souji's airship for his e-employees." And then another pause as she considers this information, "O-Oh... t-that makes s-sense. R-Right. I just t-tend to a-assume that n-noone remembers me, I'm r-rather forgettable. My name is A-Alma. A-Alma Hyral. It's nice to meet you Aeschere."

:'''[[Aeschere Childs]] has posed:''' Aeschere is briefly satisfied to have guessed correctly, but it does mean that she's still far from anyone who isn't Alma or Akari. She extends a fine-fingered hand to Alma once the healer introduces herself. "I'll remember you now, you can be sure."

:'''[[Alma Hyral]] has posed:''' Alma would look at the hand for a moment, before finally taking it, gripping it, but... her grip seems.. weak, frail. "I'm glad that you shall."

A First For Everything

2013-05-24T05:14:36Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/05/23 |Location=Eastern Continent - Rabanastre - Inn |Synopsis=After beating the daylights out of Aschere, Akari totes her to Rabanastre for s..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/05/23
|Location=Eastern Continent - Rabanastre - Inn
|Synopsis=After beating the daylights out of Aschere, Akari totes her to Rabanastre for some much needed rest. Somehow, this ends on friendly terms.
|Cast of Characters=Akari Seran, Aschere Childs
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The city of Rabanastre is something of an oddity. Despite being square in the center of the largest desert in all of the Ivalician continent, a barren wasteland barely capable of supporting life beyond the occasional monster and roaming scavengers, its walls are home to a rather staggering population. In addition to this unusual situation the city seems to thrive on trade despite the hostile lands which must be traversed to bring goods to its sizable markets and bazaar. Akari had been quite taken aback to find such a massive settlement after her punishing trek across the Westersands. She had wandered in through its wide gates alongside the caravans of chocobo-drawn carts and traveling merchants, though her cargo was of a different sort. Still wrapped up in her cloak to shield her from the sun, Aschere remained unconscious for the duration of the trip, which was just fine for her self-appointed warden. Akari had resolved to see her impromptu sparring partner into the hands of someone capable of nursing her back to health at the very least. Beyond that, her recovery would depend entirely on her own willpower. Unfortunately, she underestimated the sheer difficulty in navigating the thick crowd of bodies that filtered through the wide streets. Attempts to get information that might lead her to an apothecary or hospital were difficult as everyone seemed to be too busy going about their business to stop and chat. It had taken her the better part of an hour just to find the inn and by then the last of the daylight had disappeared and shops closed up. They would have to wait until the morrow. Akari sighs as she leans back on the lone bed in their small room. There is not much in the way of decorations on the flat stone walls, not that she could have really appreciated them, but the furniture was atleast comfortable enough for the price she'd forked over to rent it. Below the subtle din of conversation leaks through the floorboards from the sizable pub. It is not an unpleasant sound. She might even call it relaxing. The young girl whom had fought valiantly enough to wound her rests at her side, taking up her half of the bed. Aschere has been stripped down to her small-clothes and tucked into the sheets for her own modesty - not that she has to worry about such things when her only company is a blind woman. Bandages are tied in effective but crude knots around the few injuries that needed immediate tending. A foul but clinical odour persists in the air from the medication Akari had purchased to clean the sand and ichor from her body. The smell is acceptable. Good medicine always smells bad. Akari tucks her hand behind her head, allowing her eyes to slide shut. Up here away from the ground, she's lost contact with her wellspring of strength and the fatigue of her journey starts to catch up with her. It shouldn't be a problem for her to take a little nap. Her charge isn't going to be getting up any time soon. She'll just... rest... for awhile...

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' This is a familiar situation for �schere. Waking, from the sleep of death, into the world of pain. She doesn't know how she came to this room, or who put her to bed, or tended her wounds, but aches and the reek of medicine are practically nostalgic for her. Maybe she is home. Maybe it was a dream, these months, and the doctor will be in to see her, and in a few weeks she'll return to school. But, she stirs, and finds that she shares her bed. The sheets are too coarse, the walls are hewn stone, she's ...she sighs about half a sigh, and winces, beginning a practiced stock-taking and function check, as it were. Painstakingly, quite literally, but quickly, because she has not yet resolved who she's sharing a bed with. She levers herself up, with a fair amount of effort, and looks Akari over. Her attacker, yes. Who absorbed everything �schere had, and still struck her down. Ash doesn't want to search for a reason that she's alive, not right now, and her arm is getting tired, besides. She drops back heavily onto the mattress. "Ow."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The sudden thump resonates through the mattress. To a normal person such minor shifting of the cushions probably wouldn't even register in their mind. For Akari, it's like the ocean just rippled along her back. The young woman bolts upright in bed, her eyes snapping open despite their lack of functionality. It is an artifact of unconscious behavior, an old habit learned that never quite stopped happening. She spends a moment staring straight ahead, trying to gather her bearings just as Aschere had done. Without the earth to provide her sight she has to rely on the wind and the stagnant air in this small room is a piss-poor substitute. Eventually, she tilts her head to the side peer at her bunk-mate, more for the benefit of letting Aschere know that she's remembered her presence than her own need to face the small girl. She does not smile but nor does she give her one of her menacing scowls. Akari's expression is relaxed and nonchalant, as if they had bumped into each other by complete coincidence. "Oh... you're awake."

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Chera is staring up at Akari, briefly, while she again attempts to haul herself into a sitting position. She more or less succeeds, dragging most of the thin sheet with her. "I am... it seems so." Her voice is smaller even than normal; she searches Akari's pearl-white eyes, learning little, one expects. "You...you...you.." She'll try again. Forgive her if she's a bit short. "Thank you." A few more breaths. "Why?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari leans to the side as her companion fumbles for the words she's looking for. Her hand digs around in a pocket and produces a small crumpled package from which she withdraws a long slender white cylinder of paper. The crude cigarette appears to have been rolled by hand, small tufts of crushed leaves protruding from it's open end. She pops it into her mouth, cupping both hands around it. There is a spark and the smell of burning tobacco quickly fills the air. She inhales deeply, tucking the package away from sight once more. Akari looks thoughtful for a moment. Her hand rubs against the back of her neck as she breathes in the thick smoke, exhaling it through her nostrils like a brooding dragon for several seconds before she responds. "Hmm. Don't hear people say that very often." She glances back down at Aschere then spins in place on her side of the bed, legs crossed as she turns to face her properly. Akari takes another drag from her smoke, puffing at it casually, clearly taking her time with each snippet of conversation. "Are you referring to my reasoning for lugging you here...?"

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' �schere will attempt to convince you that she's looking frustrated at her inability to put more than three words together. Yes. Little of that frustration makes it out audibly; "Yeah, I... you weren't going to, to leave me to die, you'd just have killed me. I don't know. I don't know." She blinks at the cigarette; not something she'd seen here, though here travels have been limited. Well, that's a small thing to wonder about now. "My name is �sch..." Ash. "�schere. Fighting people on the road isn't my normal business. I'm sorry I provoked you."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The brawler seems mildly amused by Aschere's difficulty. She seemed more than capable of talking during their first encounter. Had she actually cowed this girl so much that she was afraid to risk provoking her again or were her injuries at fault here? Ultimately, it didn't really matter. "Don't worry about it." Akari taps the glowing embers from the tip of her cigarette into her lap. The rugged cloth of her pants seems to absorb the heat without bursting into flames, something that it's quite used to doing if the sporadic patches of black are any indication. She doesn't bother to put forward the notion that their confrontation was entirely her own fault. Her temper is something she's just learned to live with. The impact it has on other people isn't really her problem. "Have to say though, you put up a pretty good fight... for a squirt." Akari doesn't smile at her own joke. It's not terribly funny. The wound from where Aschere's lance pierced her shoulder has practically disappeared in the short span of time it's taken them to travel to Rabanastre. Oddly, now that attention is drawn to this fact, she doesn't have very many scars at all visible on her smooth skin despite wearing nothing more than some tightly wound gauze on her entire torso. The only noticeable injury is the stump of her right arm. "You can call me Akari. And don't worry. I have no intention of attacking you again, unless ofcourse you're up for a rematch...?" The questioning tone in her voice is equally mixed with amusement. She already knows the answer. Very few people /choose/ to engage in battle with her. It's one of the reasons she has to go looking for them herself.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' "Hah." Ash winces, clutching at her ribs. "In a month maybe." That squirt comment, again... "On a boat." She can't even argue with it, she's definitely a squirt. "You do it for fun. I used to know people like that." Mostly she stayed out of their way, because "I don't have the luxury." She gives Akari a look for a moment, and then shrugs, dropping the sheet to her lap. What's the harm? She's a girl. The trouble isn't that the beating was bad, though it was, it's that she won't recover from it. "I have no choice," Chera admonishes herself, though, quietly. "Akari, so." She tries the name out, and pauses. No, it wouldn't be. "What intent do you have?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Again the scratching at the back of her neck. Akari almost looks out of place in a casual conversation such as this. Even now she seems wound up like a spring, ready to explode into action at a moment's notice. It's been a long time since anyone talked to her. Usually there was lots of shouting, angry or terrified, but not much talking. "Yeah, I guess, I do." She doesn't try to deny that fact. For as long as she can remember, Akari has been on her own as she trekked across the various plates of Galianda. Monsters weren't nearly as abundant there as they are in this new world but they were still fierce and deadly enough to challenge a preteen girl on her own. Eventually, she got so strong that this stopped being true. It became less of a fight for survival and more of sport to her and for some reason nothing else has managed to rush she gets from clashing with a worthy opponent. Sadly, there are precious few of those left. Akari notices the sheet fall but doesn't comment on it. She can't really oogle even if she wanted to, atleast, not in a way that Aschere would notice. Unlike the small girl's naive viewpoint, however, there is something to be gained from enjoying the contours of her frail body for the brawler. She keeps that to herself though. She's come to find most people don't share her rather open stance on physical relationships. Maybe she'll broach the subject when she's got a few less bruises to nurse. "My intent, huh." Akari taps more ash away, having burned through half of the cigarette already. A small cloud of wispy grey vapor floats around her head but the smell carries with it a hint of herbs or some other mixture, almost like incense. Still, it's an acquired taste. "Well... I just wanted to see that you got back on your feet. Was gonna leave you with a doctor but this place is pretty huge. Ended up running out of time for the day so... here we are."

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Naive is probably right, or distracted. "I'm not sure even where a doctor is here. I didn't find one when I looked before." �schere had the same problems with Rabanastre that Akari had; too big, too busy. Also she was broke, but that's a side issue. "If you mean to put me back on my feet, it'll be a while..." Chera certainly appreciates the stoneshaper's, ah, /strength/. She wouldn't know from beauty except that that definitely isn't the outfit she'd choose for Akari. "Where are you going from here?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari shrugs. The last quarter of her cigarette is ground into the rough surface of her heel, crumpling into a small wad of ash and paper. She doesn't seem to feel the heat of the last few glowing embers as they are snuffed out on her calloused skin, the pads of her feet nearly thickened to the quality of leather from never having shoes to protect them. "I have time. This place is new to me. Figured I'd wander around a bit, check out the local sites. I'm something of a roaming spirit, I guess you could say." The shirtless brawler turns and dusts the ash off her pants to the floor now that its cooled down. Wouldn't want to start a fire but she's got no problems making a mess. Akari hops onto the floor afterwards and stretches, bending in various different directions which sends a myriad of crackling pops as her bones readjust from the long period of inactivity. Having her feet on a solid surface makes her more comfortable, even if's wood. Almost as good as earth. "You're welcome to stay with me," she adds over her shoulder after a moment. "If you like."

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Chera is, perhaps, too quick to trust someone she's known for hours, some of which were spent flattening her, but what do you want? She's money on spear work, but paranoia not so much. She smiles, faintly. "I think I do like." Whatever that might sound like. "There was nowhere I was going anyways, not really. A trader had said that he might've heard of someone in, aa, in Fluorgis?"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' That simple comment makes Akari smile as well though she hides it by turning her face towards the far wall. Having some company for a change could be nice. She's never traveled with anyone before. She hopes her temper doesn't cause too many problems for this girl. "Unfortunately, I might as well have crawled out from under a rock as far as geography goes around here. Seems I'm from a different world, if you can believe that. Only managed to find this place by following the road." She gestures idly at the air then rests her hand on her hip, thinking quietly for several seconds. "Not to worry though. I'm sure we can find someone around here who knows what's what."

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' ~Wow, me too~ she would be hopping around and exclaiming if Chera were capable of either. "I'll..." No, whatever it was, she won't. "In the morning, maybe. I don't mean to be a drag, but you're..." She is searching for the word, this time, actually. "Thorough," she decides. Yes. That'll do. Just flopping back down would be unpleasant, so �schere lowers herself gingerly back onto the bed, and fetches up the sheet after a moment. She's careful to leave room, though that's easy, she's so tiny. "I'll get some more rest, I think." She probably isn't off to sleep that quickly, but she seems like she'd really like to be.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari nods back at her and heads for the door. "I think... I'm going to stretch my legs a bit." She can tell the other girl is tired. So is she but her incredible constitution is much more suited to a little discomfort. Plus she didn't get the daylights pummeled out of her. The little squirt's earned some gentle rest without Akari tossing and turning all over her. She tends to hog the bed. The light-globe dims to a barely perceptible glow as she twists the control knob, stepping out into the hallway. For a moment the ruckus of the pub, still rather lively for the late hour, drifts in through the crack but as the door swings shut it quickly fades to nothing. It is a couple hours before Akari drifts back into the small room as silently as she can. She flops down on the floor beside the bed, resting her head on the thin carpet stretched out for decoration. She's used to sleeping on rocks; she's had worse. It only takes a few moments for her to drift off and, as usual, her sleep is thankfully dreamless.

Unfortunate Pitstop

2013-05-23T03:57:12Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/05/22 |Location=Eastern Continent - Dalmascan Sands |Synopsis=A pair of wandering warriors meet at a small oasis in the desert. Tempers flare ..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/05/22
|Location=Eastern Continent - Dalmascan Sands
|Synopsis=A pair of wandering warriors meet at a small oasis in the desert. Tempers flare and weapons clash. Only one will remain standing.
|Cast of Characters=Akari Seran, Aschere Childs
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' The sands of Dalmasca are hot, and wide, putting �schere in mind of continents she was never lucky enough to visit. She was lucky enough to have acquired a cloak in Rabanastre for her trek to the port; she would dread making the passage without it. The faint breeze is enough only to whip sand into her eyes, not to mitigate the still-baking heat. It's all but sunset, now, because she was told that nobody walks during the day. The road, at least, is clearly marked, although for reasons of her own she is merely paralleling it, a few dozen yards off. In the distance, or sometimes not, she hears the cries of things she can only identify as 'probably hostile'. She turns back towards the road as she nears a waystation at a rather marginal oasis. Perhaps it's less likely there'll be trouble here.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Trouble, unfortunately, has a bad habit of finding people when they least expect or desire it. The scorching heat of the Westersands shows no remorse to the poor souls forced to wander its massive expanses. Even as the sun begins to drift slowly and reluctantly down towards the ground the air shimmers with distortions that turn the horizon into a murky pool of colors that bleed together in browns, yellows, and blues. True to the word of her informants, not a soul can be found among the dusty dunes. The oasis is a different matter. While still too early for the seasonal merchants to be making their rounds through the punishing desert, a lone figure can be seen taking shelter. A thick ragged poncho is wrapped about this person, covering their upper torso in dirty brown cloth thick with travel wear. A tall collar or scarf is wrapped about their neck and it obscures their face from sight save for their closed eyes. Akari leans back against the lone tree that this small watering hole has nurtured to life in the midst of the barren wastes. Though she may not bear the dark tan that comes from a life in the desert, her Ifriti heritage has granted her with the know-how to brave such places without fear of exhaustion or dehydration. However, even her geomantic powers cannot protect her from the heat forever. The sound of approaching footsteps causes her to stir slightly. Her head tilts towards the lone figure that draws near, blind eyes slowly sliding open to reveal the empty fields of white. She does not offer a greeting to this person. They are a stranger and she has no business with them. But her curiosity and perhaps a hint of loneliness urges her to atleast take a peek, figuratively speaking.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' The lone figure is tiny, wrapped in a cloak not even arguably less ratty than Akari's, finding her footing in the thick sand with the aid of a spear nearly twice her own length. She pulls her hood back as the sun finally retreats, revealing an islander's tan, and wide slate-grey eyes. She casts, it seems, a fraction of a glance towards the oasis' current occupant, before quickly inspecting the shelter. The shelter proves admirably uninteresting, however. From below her cloak she... unsnaps, it sounds like, her pack, and pitches it into the far corner of the open structure. Stretching, then, she wanders towards the spring; it seems like she's anticipating not liking what she'll see, and unfortunately she manages to include Akari in that when she draws nearer. �schere hastily pastes on a smile, and gives her fellow traveler a nod. "Evening."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' If the smile given her way is returned is it hidden by the fluttering mass of cloth wrapped about her face. No hint of such is evident in her eyes, however. Akari merely stares at the small girl for several long seconds before turning her head to the side to peer up at the sky... in the wrong direction to see the quickly fading sun. "Is it? I hadn't noticed." Her voice has a deeper timbre to it than one might expect from a young woman though not so much that it is displeasing or masculine. The joke likely falls flat as most people aren't able to pick up on ther blindness very quickly due to the fact that she plays it off very well. Her earth geomancy provides another form of 'sight' which makes this possible but only a few people are aware of this fact.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Ash keeps her Eyes shut while her eyes are open, usually; she gets headaches otherwise. But blind or not Akari is quite alive, probably, so this wouldn't have helped. The light has not yet faded so far that she couldn't see Akari's eyes if she tried, but... As it is, she just blinks at her a few times, watching as she scans the east for the setting sun. Well, her response is rational enough, if perhaps somewhat mocking. "Hello, I just meant. Are you headed to Rabanastre?" She stumbles over the unfamiliar name, just slightly, and fidgets with her cloak, out of nerves. To �schere, Akari doesn't entirely resemble the locals, and certainly aside from the cloak her style of dress is odd, even considering the vast spectrum that the trade city provided. "You are, aren't you?" She deduces it, and then announces it cheerfully, as though that were in any way going to endear her to Akari.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari seems to ponder something, her expression taking on a thoughtful mien. Her eyes squint a little and she glances around as if scanning the local area for something. Finally, she just shrugs and leans back against the tree again. "Am I? I wouldn't know," she says with an exasperated sigh. This person doesn't seem to be getting the subtle clues. That kind of annoys her. And now that she's dwelling on things that annoy her, the sand and the heat do as well. The ratty poncho she'd constructed out of some old tarp hadn't held up as well as she wanted and her body was practically soaked with gritty sweat. Ofcourse, she can't use the oasis to clean off. Even she's not callous enough to pollute the only source of drinkable water in what could be miles.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' This person was just trying to be friendly, and getting snarked at isn't really improving her mood either. "I don

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' This person was just trying to be friendly, and getting snarked at isn't really improving her mood either. "...well, you're right, you don't have to be going anywhere. Definitely, if you said you were a wandering ascetic, I'd believe it." �schere's tone is not mmmuch less friendly than it had been. "But if you come from, aa, Fluorgis? I have some questions about the road I'll ask you." The sand must surely be bothering Chera as well, with those boots of hers. She taps a heel against the haft of her spear, tock tock tock, attempting absently to shake some sand off of one.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' For someone who doesn't have sight to rely on, picking up on subtle tone shifts in voice has become something she's quite skilled at. That this small girl, she's taken stock of her general height and build by now through her geomantic means, is getting annoyed with /her/ because of her lack of wits only further starts to tick Akari off. The slender woman slowly gets to her feet. The friction of being pinned between her body and the tree's bark is the last straw for the poncho and it comes apart around her as she rises, practically exploding into tattered strips that disintegrate further as they flutter to the ground. Akari looms a good half-foot or more over the other girl and she doesn't hesitate in the slightest as she steps forward to confront her. The lone arm she possesses comes to rest lightly against her hip but the fingers betray her emotions as they flex and dig into the fabric. Dead eyes glower down at Aschere along with a faint scowl. "Hey. You trying to start something, squirt?"

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Ah, the magic words~ "Squirt, was it?" A deaf man could have probably picked up that subtle tone shift, and this blind girl can probably spot the way �schere's smile has gone a bit glassy. She gets a good look at Akari's face for the first time, and that hypervisory bit of her brain files away the fact that she actually is blind for use in the inevitable apology. Right now, though, it's all offense. "I'm trying," she enunciates, even sing-songs, "to find somewhere I can sit down, and I was trying," she straightens her spear beside herself, "to see whether you were likely to bother me." The polearm rests easily against the little girl's shoulder, now, and she rises to her toes, just, making ready for the action. "The latter, at least, I've done."

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari snorts. It is not a pretty or diplomatic sound. She doesn't seem in the least bit put off by the shift in demeanor. If anything, it only makes her more agitated. The taller girl leans down slowly, drawing her face right up in front of Aschere's. As the distance between them vanishes the scowl turns into a menacing snarl that bares her clenched teeth. "The only thing you're going to 'see' in a few moments are stars." Her head tilts back. There isn't much time to ponder what she is intending to do. Akari's forehead rockets downwards with the force of a sledgehammer, smashing straight atop the likely unsuspecting Aschere's crown as if she is attempting to drive her straight into the ground like a nail.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Well, she asked for it, didn't she? Akari's opening salvo is a classic, straight out of the brawler's book, and just the sort of thing Ash has spent time training to avoid. That requires, however, that she do something. In fact, she's lost in trying to look hard; that 'squirt' comment must've stung. She's slow to duck aside, and Akari's brow meets hers, glancing down her cheek towards her off shoulder. That clears her head, though. "Not for hours yet," she chirps, digging the butt of her staff into the sand and levering herself away from the larger girl. Stumbling slightly, she fights for separation and footing, then lifts the pommel clear of the ground and swings it, sweeping, toward Akira's lead foot. She can't even bet on quickness; she'll have to capitalize on range. Hopping back as the shaft finishes its first arc, she brings the other end around towards the side of Akira's head. "Not that you would know!"

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Akari stumbles as her attack fails to find proper purchase. Using her head as a weapon has several advantages in terms of surprise and providing flexibility but the downside is that such reckless action can lead to being thrown off-balance if it doesn't work. Like now. Tilting forward as she takes a step to catch herself, Akari lets out a growl of frustration. It's a viscous cycle for her: her temper flares, she makes everyone around her mad, who in turn, do things that make her madder. Right now she's not terribly pissed just yet but the next few moments do much to change that. The low spin catches the back of her extended foot cleanly but despite this it strikes with a dull thud and merely slides off. The blow to her head, however, gets much better results and the brawler's face snaps sideways as the lance smashes into her temple. Akari shakes her head, trying to fight back the sudden disorientation of a minor concussion but she recovers near instantly. Instead of leaping straight to the attack, however, she plants her feet solidly on the ground in a martial stance and hunches over as her muscles flex. Earthen power flows into her through the bare soles of her feet. Strength the likes of which she could never attempt to muster on her own fills every inch of her body, hardening her skin as if it were granite. More surprisingly, her right arm suddenly seems to expand and elongate as stone bursts from the stump to create a fresh limb. Despite being composed entirely of dirty brown rock, the fingers move organically and the perfectly sculpted muscles bulge as she flexes again. "I'm going to ram that toothpick down your throat!"

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' The ante has been upped significantly, hasn't it? Never start a fight you aren't willing to finish, Justin told her. He also told her that tricks like Akari's are quite powerful geomancy; Akari isn't just a brawler. Not at all. Of course, that doesn't really change things at all, does it? "You might at that," �schere reveals her admiration-- quite honest-- as she, too, takes this moment to square up and get on her best footing. Where Akari had rent her poncho to shreds, Chera unclasps her cloak and tosses it aside, revealing too much bare arm and leg, and a plate carrier vest of what might be a familiar Academy design. "Come here then and take it~" Nearly at full lunge range, �schere levels her spear at Akari, and steps in just far enough to prod her in the arm with it; the stone arm, as it happens. The blade rings with a sickening vibration, now, and releases one pulse, the exact inverse of a bang, drowning the winds out with its silence for a fractional moment. As it recedes, a chill follows after it.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The problem with dealing with weapons like spears for Akari is that they aren't connected directly to the ground. She can feel the movements of her opponent as she thrust, sense every vibration of the armor's metal plates creaking and twisting with her body, note every subtle thump as her heart beats within her chest. But the probing tip of the spear is practically invisible to her. Akari attempts to compensate, shifting her focus to reading the winds around her. She feels the air begin to move, displaced by the skewering tip of the long polearm but it's eminently clear that the leverage and speed is too much for her to stop while relying on these lesser senses. Gritting her teeth, she plants her feet, slamming one down particularly hard. The ground beneath them trembles with the impact, a hair-thin fracture splitting the earth as it races at breakneck speed towards the small girl. The sands begin to shift and heave underneath her with its arrival at her feet in an attempt to throw her off-balance or shift the course of her thrust but it's too little too late. The lance strikes her solidly. Subsonic vibrations spread through her arm like the ringing of a chuch bell. Her bones rattle within her flesh, teeth chattering momentarily as she attempts to subdue the strange attack with her chakra but the odd vibration distorts her inner energy which, ofcourse, only makes her even more angry. With a wordless berserker yell, Akari throws herself at the spearswoman, fists rearing back as she prepares to lay into her. The impact of her foot on the sand kicks up an unusually massive explosion of dirt, as if a mortar round had gone off under her heel, and the distance between them shrinks rapidly as she practically flies at Aschere like a cannon ball. Both of her fists wail away with incredible speed, each blow somehow both unnaturally powerful and blindingly fast.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Spears are supposed to be the last word against charging opponents, right? You just get them in way of the head and let them do the heavy lifting themselves, right? It's that first part that's the problem, here. Or, rather, most things are the problem for �schere, just as they should be. Receiving a charge requires firm footing, which Akari's first action was to deny her, and it requires the time to brace up and aim, which she just doesn't have. "Saliru!" She screams it as Akari passes her guard, releasing another pulse of silence-- it's black if you can see it. Hell, it's black if you can't-- but it's too little, too late. Akari plows through it like it was nothing, spending a thousand pounds of momentum piecemeal against Ash's chest and arms. The smaller girl is borne backward several steps, knocked to the mud at the edge of the pool. And yet, she rises. Winded, pale through her Levitani tan, she rises, and finding no spear in her hand, fills it with the long knife from her belt. "I've made," she says, "a wonderful," breath by breath, "mistake." She raises the knife to middle guard, and faces Akari, swallowing. With supreme effort, Chera takes a step towards her. "Saliru." It's focused, now. The darkness rolls toward Akari like a breaking wave, and Ash takes another step. "Midaduru sali." The tide of night is in. Three paces out from her opponent, �schere sways to a halt, and throws her knife to the sand at Akari's feet. "Masadaru sali." This last incantation stiffens her, as the fading light of evening dims to storm black, and two blood-red bolts scream earthward, one for each of them.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The final strike that sends Aschere sailing away comes from Akari's flesh and blood fist. It slams into her breastplate like the fist of an angry god and when the power and momentum separates the bony protrusion of her knuckles from the reinforced metal a wide circular indention remains behind. This may have been contributing to the small girl's difficulty breathing. Akari plants her feet on the ground with another loud thump, both arms flexed at her side in the classic horse stance. Instead of immediately leaping to the attack once again, she waits and watches, allowing her opponent to rise once more. "That's right! Comon! Get up! We're not finished yet!" She waves a hand through the air in a dramatic fashion, sweeping it from one side of her body to the other as if to push aside the notion that their battle has been concluded so quickly. She's only getting warmed up. She wants more. She /needs/ it. The darkness that rises cannot be seen by the brawler but it is certainly felt. Her expression shifts from amused aggression to concerned anger in an instant, lips peeling back in a snarl. She doesn't like darkness. It reminds her of the things that took away her home. The foreign words roll past her, their meaning lost on the brutal warrior. Their meaning doesn't matter. She doesn't care. Akari screams in defiance as the first tidal wave of inky black slams against her body. Both arms flex, her entire body going tense as if the rippling of her taut muscles will somehow keep the magical surge at bay. And for a few moments, it looks like it just might. Her feet dig into the soft sand as she is pushed back, her heels creating twin ravines as she attempts to keep her connection with the primary element of earth that lends her the overwhelming strength she draws upon. She loses ground for several seconds and the strain is clear on her face. But suddenly the momentum fades and she stops. Then she takes a step towards Aschere. There is no time as the daggers embed themselves in the ground at her feet. No time to evade the coming explosion that rocks the desert oasis. Pain lances through her as she is lifted bodily from the sands, her muscles clenching in savage fury. A roar of agony escapes her unbidden and it persists until she slams heavily back into the dirt. Akari groans. Dark acrid smoke wafts from her body like vapor. Spots of charred flesh can be seen on her nearly naked torso, small smudge of ashy discoloration against the pale white of her skin. She moves. Rising to her feet, the young woman turns to face her foe. The anger is clearly etched into her face. But she does not attack. The blast seems to have sapped her strength if the heavy breaths she sucks in are any indication. Akari merely glares across the short gap at Aschere, fingers clenching audibly into tight fists.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' �schere's breathing difficulty would probably be worrying, except that this has been by all appearances a duel with lethal force; she'd suppose that Akari was pleased by it, if anything. The effectiveness of her latest salvo seems to have heartened her, though. Still gasping faintly, she reaches up to unlatch the steel chestplate from her armored vest, and drops it to the sand beside her. She luxuriates in the extra quarter of a breath she can draw, now, for a moment or two, before sighting on her spear-- well behind Akari-- and her knife, still at the geomancer's feet. Her options are limited, now. From her belt pouch she extracts a small vial, miraculously uncrushed, and... ...tosses it to Akari's feet. For whatever good it does, it's labeled as an ordinary potion, apparently local. She draws forth a second one for herself, but the bottom drops off, and it drips uselessly up her arm. Oh well. "For a moment," she's up to four syllables now, "can I think about this?" An attentive geomancer will observe something dark, but quite low-key going on around Ash as she thinks about this, and despite her spilled potion she begins to looks at least a little better.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' The glass vial crunches loudly as Akari takes a step forward, her foot coming down atop it. She glares angrily at the offensive object as her heel grinds back and forth on the broken shards but no blood is forthcoming nor does she seem to suffer from this questionable course of action. The precious healing fluids spill messily into the sand, wasted. "What's there to think about?!" She growls at Aschere and takes another menacing step towards her. "All you need to do is fight! Immerse yourself in battle and let your strength determine your fate!" Akari snarls as she feels the darkness bubble up around her opponent once more. The wayward lance and knife are both clearly noticeable on the ground behind her as she casts out the web of her senses. Clearly this person is some sort of sorcerer and has fallen back on her fell magic in their stead. She hates magic. More specifically, she hates the people who rely on it. She grew with nothing but her fists and her own power and carved her path through life accordingly. Those who lean on spells for a crutch tend to be weak, pitiful, reliant on others for their survival. Pathetic. Having exhausted her capacity for words in her battle-lusted state, Akari goes on the offensive again. She lunges, explosively catapulting herself towards Aschere as before. Chakra flows through her arm, dense spiritual energy fueled by her rage welling up into a single point on her fist. She swings, another titanic hammerblow that feels like it could uproot trees and shatter mountains streaking through the air at the small girl. Others follow, a continuous flurry of flesh and stone assailing her relentlessly.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' Those who lean on magic for a crutch are totally different from those who lean on it for a prosthetic arm, of course. This was what Chera feared. It was what she anticipated, too. So, she will let her strength determine her fate. She has let her strength determine her fate; her fate is to be ground into the sands, here. She braces herself, hopelessly, against Akari's new onslaught, but gives ground freely, leading the blind girl in a circle, stumbling, scrabbling, and crawling through the dust until her hand lights on her knife. On its blade, as it happens, but we can doubt that she even felt it. She thrusts blindly forth with it at her blind opponent, winning a pause enough to get out from under her, and scramble back to her fallen spear. With it, she... fails to pull herself to her feet. She barely manages to stay upright on her knees. None of those magical imprecations were actually leveled at her; no, Akari demanded her to use her strength. �schere's strength is surely not in enduring physical assaults, but she's passable at delivering them. Pained unto death, she levels her spear for perhaps the final time, and... releases it. No weapon travels towards Akari, but no true spell, either. The platonic ideal of a lance thrust speeds towards her. �schere collapses, now, her apparent last act being a petulant toss of her knife in Akari's general direction

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' Each impact of her fist against the soft flesh of her opponent sends a wave of pleasure through Akari. She revels in the sensation of the bones underneath creaking and bending in unnatural ways as the subtle vibrations travel down her arm. Even the short bursts of pain that come when her unprotected knuckles slam into hard metal, shredding them raw, are enjoyable. Each of these signs are reminders that she's fighting for supremacy, wielding her power in the way it was meant to be - to prove that she is the strongest. Akari willingly rushes after as the other girl leads her in a circle, either oblivious or uncaring that she has managed to work her way back towards her weapons in the process. The knife lashes out and scores a direct hit against the utterly unprotected torso of the brutish fighter. It sinks deeply into her gut, grinding slowly through the augmented wall of her rock-hard muscles and she grimaces sharply, halting her attack for just a moment to glance down. It seems that moment was all that Aschere needed to scramble away. Akari rushes after her, her aggressive instincts smelling the fear and sensing the inevitable conclusion drawing near. She has no intention of killing this girl, despite her rather monstrous demeanor, but the lancer has no way of knowing this. It is merely the thrill of the fight that drives her onwards and once this one has been settled, she will simply move on to the next. But there is a surprise waiting for her as Aschere snatches up her spear once again. The pole-arm whistles through the air like a ballistic missile and with a sickening crunch, Akari runs into it like a bull rushing a matador. Her own incredible momentum drives the weapon through her body and the thick metal blade erupts clear out of her back as it drives upwards through her shoulder. A wail of true pain erupts from Akari's lips. She staggers to a halt, blood spewing from the viscous puncture wound. It runs in thin rivers down her chest, staining the skin a dark crimson and dribbling down her arms to spatter freely on the sand. The knife hits next, nicking the stony surface of her fake arm but it is completely ignored in the face of the catastrophic impact. But even this fails to stop her. She takes a step forward, teeth grinding together against the raging fire that flows like quicksilver through her nerves. Her empty eyes lock on the kneeling girl before her, nothing but pure unrestrained fury simmering in her twisted mask of pain. Her progress is agonizingly slow, each step forced despite the hideous wound. She doesn't even try to remove the spear. She just keeps coming. After a few torturous seconds, Akari stands before Aschere, looming over her fellow warrior. Her fists clench into tight balls, the fingers practically melding together into a single blob of destructive power. And then, for a moment, she gets serious. Elemental power flows into the geomancer. Her skin hardens as a rippling wave of earth surges through her flesh and with a dramatic flex, four more arms of stone erupt from her shoulders. Bent over nearly double by the pain of her injury and the weight of the rocky limbs, Akari gives her opponent a fierce smile. "Well done... your strength... is plain. But..." All six of her arms draw back, rising upwards in unison in ominous portent like the blades of a guillotine. "IT IS NOT ENOUGH!" And then they come down. The earth around them cracks. Sand geysers upwards in an explosion visible for miles. The world becomes pain.

:'''[[Aschere Childs]] has posed:''' But, �schere's world is always pain. She does Akari the honor of being conscious, to observe the form of her destroyer, but there is no more strength in her to react. Kali comes and unmakes her world. The true form of Akari's attack is, of course, impossible to describe. Violence, of course, commensurate with the kiloton-scale explosion it created; the shelter and its contents are blown to the four winds. The solitary palm bends nearly double, but in truth it's seen worse. The breeze whips away the fines, leaving the gleaming Westersands to settle like a comforting blanket over �schere's still form. Akari may not have meant to kill her, but perhaps that was before she put a spear through her g-- ah, but she moved! Maybe. It's a good think Akari cleared the skies or there'd probably be speculative vultures already.

:'''[[Akari Seran]] has posed:''' When the dust finally settles only one of them remains standing. As it should be. Akari slowly stands up. The spear hinders her movement so she casually reaches up with one of the arching stone arms and yanks it free in a single hard pull. Blood geysers outwards from both sides of the wound but it clots almost immediately as liquid stone bubbles up from inside of her to clot it like caulk. With the battle now over, the bruiser allows her concentration to fade and the quintet of stony limbs crack and crumble back into clumps of raw sand and dirt. She looks down at the girl at her feet with something that mildly resembles worry. Akari is not a killer but her power is difficult to control. More than once there have been challengers who failed to ever get up again. Fortunately, this is not one of those times. A grin splits her face and she leans down to scoop Aschere up in her arm, draping the unconscious girl over her shoulder. Despite her berserker personality in combat and the incredible durability she seems to possess, Akari's body is actually pretty soft and her grip gentle. "Haaah... well then... we've had our fun. Let's get out of this damnable sun, shall we?" She's not sure her words can be heard but she doubts there would be much protesting. Akari gathers up the fallen knife and sheathes it and tosses the cloak over her cargo's back to shield her from getting burnt. Turning towards the nearby city, she paths quickly over to the smoother surface of the worn road, using it to guide her along the unfamiliar way.

Akari Seran

2013-05-17T05:35:56Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Character Infobox |firstname=Akari |lastname=Seran |age=18 |image=Akari.jpg |species=Hume (Ifriti) |sex=Female |height=5'6" |weight=125lbs |series=Final Kingdom |styles=Ston..."

File:Akari.jpg

2013-05-17T05:30:56Z

Msiren:

Demon in a China Shop

2013-05-09T06:36:04Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/05/08 |Location=Manhattan |Synopsis=Leida has found work at a small antique shop in Chinatown. By chance her friends stop in to make a few pur..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/05/08
|Location=Manhattan
|Synopsis=Leida has found work at a small antique shop in Chinatown. By chance her friends stop in to make a few purchases.
|Cast of Characters=Will Sherman, Leida, Emi Dennou, Blackbird
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' The soft chime of the door swinging open jerks Leida out of the drifting daydream that her mind has wandered off into. She blinks a few times to clear the fog in her mind and glances around at the dusty old shelves that surround her, each stacked with nicknacks and trinkets of various sizes. Only a modicum of dim light pours down from the lone working light fixture above. The illumination it casts is clearly insufficient and spread thin across the entire shop, casting everything in a dim and almost mysterious atmosphere. The old man who runs this small business never answered her question if this was intentional or merely due to him being too cheap to get it fixed. Eventually the small girl realizes that she has a broom in her hand and a small pile of grey nondescript dust at her feet. The door chimes again as it swings closed and all at once she remembers where she is and what it is she should be doing. "A-ah! I will be right with you!" Outside a hand-painted wooden sign is affixed over the wide front window. The name 'Ming's Memories' is stenciled in white atop green though the letters are worn and faded from age and lack of maintenance. Having finally separated herself from the Shard Seekers and the free room and board they provided, the young princess has been forced to employ herself in menial labor as a commoner. While she did many such chores while living with her family, to work at the behest of a ruler of the land is not nearly as degrading as being constantly berated by the grumpy owner. By the time she comes around the corner of the back shelves and wanders up to the front desk, Ming is already there. Leida visible winces as he turns a disapproving stare down at her through his wizened half-closed eyes but she knows he will not get on her case while there is business to be done. The girl bows to him as she scampers towards the entrance, moving to find out who it is that has come in so late as their usual customers were part of the day-time crowd.

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi and Imi are making their way through Manhattan. They're looking for a gift for a friend. Emi has let down her hair for the time being, so they look basically identical, though Imi smiles more. The two are about to step inside when they notice Blackbird outside. "ah--it's you. The Network remembers you." Emi says, bobbing her head at Blackbird. "It is nice to see you again. The Network inquires whether you are going inside? We will be going inside in any event, The Network admits as they make their way inside." They reach over, intending to prop the door open--they'll hold it open for Blackbird if she seems intent on going inside.

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird was whirring along Manhatten's streets on her dirt bike getting off from work when she decided on a small detour. 'Ming's Memories.' Hrm. She quirked a smile before parking her bike. Interesting enough to take ten or so minutes to look at. Door open. Knock knock on the glass. "Hello?" She looked about.

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird smiled at the 'twins'. "And i remember you two. Thank you for your help with the power eating bug things." Then she walked inside and returned the favor by putting an arm across the door for the two girls. "I've been meaning to ask after this 'network business, but that kindof takes a back seat to how you two are doing."

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will is just inside. "Yeah, I'm looking for a specifi-... "Leida?" he asks, poking his head around a corner. "You work here?" he asks, having had been here from time to time...after all, sometimes he has to look for things for Isaac and for the noodle guy, because the /CART WAS HAUNTED/.

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' The small girl comes into view several moments after the trio step inside, obviously in a hurry to ensure that she greets them properly. Instead of her usual garb, Leida is wrapped in a simplistic but pretty cheongsam of red silk or velvet. The dress hugs her slender frame in a manner obviously designed to emphasize the curves on her body, an effort that is ultimately futile as she has very little to emphasize. Golden trim and a large black and white 'ying yang' symbol on the chest add a little flair to the outfit but it is clearly a cheap knock off or mass-produced uniform of some sort. There is nothing on her head to hide the demonic princess' horns, which may or may not be surprising to some, and the quartet of crimson wedges jut up from her neatly bound hair which is tied into a pair of buns on each side of her head. The final touch to her ensemble is a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals which she is clearly having trouble with. Leida skids to a halt as she rushes into view, her eyes going wide at the familiar faces. "Welcome to-- o...oh! What... what are you doing here...?!" Her shoulders slump and she looks away, clearly embarrased at being caught doing such common work. "Um... well... I have to pay for my apartment somehow so..."

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird quirked an eyebrow at Leida's horns but made no overt comment. Instead she focused on the hair buns. "Wow... the princess Lea style actually being worn outside of cosplay." Real astoundment at that little factoid. After all how many people do you see wearing earmuff hair buns? At her embarrassment at being seen working she gave a sympathetic smile. "Magic is a wonderful thing but everyone's gotta eat and I've never figured the trick of 'Summon Food." This accompanied by a vague waggling of fingers. ""Now that i"m here though." She looked around the shop at the Antiques and the foax tourist glitter. "I'm actually in the mood for a little new furniture."

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi says, "Sure, we'd be happy to talk about it, The Network is doing well, however, and thanks you for asking." She pauses, hearing Will's voice. It's Will! She smiles briefly, what a pleasant surprise. Wait--that name he said. Leida too? Incredible! What a terrifying coincidence! Emi realizes that Blackbird has elected to hold the door open for them and guides Imi in through first, Emi steps in after. "It's good to have work." Emi adds, once she spots Leida, smiling over at her. "The Network enjoys participating in jobs like this all the time."

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will grins a little, "Work? What's that?" he kids, smiling towards Leida. "No that's alright...we all gota eat." he says, "Though, you know, if you're ever a bit short and need a meal, I'll have to subject you to our witch. She makes food...though a bit veggie for my tastes.." he says before someone else came in.. Talk of magic, Will frowns...seriously, not a high magic place, people! Why do people /not get this/. It's like...can you not walk five seconds in the world of ruin without falling onto a thunder spell? Then Emi and Imi! "Hey guys! And yes, you all seem to work so much. I wonder how you have time to have fun.."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' As usual, none of them seem to understand her feelings of the situation she has been put in. Working a job might seem commonplace for those from modern times but to the feudal princess it's one of the worst blows to her pride she's suffered yet. However, the entire reason for her moving to this abominable place full of machines and technology was to be closer to the Network and with two of them standing before her she cannot seem to muster up much will to complain. Her pale cheeks blossom with red as she gives a timid smile to Imi and Emi in return. "W-well... I suppose so... I will keep your offer in mind, Will-san." Leida fidgets uncomfortably for a moment before remembering that these people are customers even if they are her friends. "Ah! I almost forgot..." The girl bends at the waist and gives them a quick bow, her hands pressing against the bottom edge of her one-piece dress, which is rather scandalously short, to keep it from riding up too high. "Xiawu hao! Welcome to Ming's Memories..."

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird giggled at Will's frustration at magic. "Uh.. Will. I learned what magic i know from an elf in central park. Then again everything kinda went all lopsided I mean I'm originally from LA and first i knew of magic was after the worlds started doing a thousand car pileup on each other." Then her attention turned to Leida and bowed to her. "Hello I'd actually like a few things for my apartment. Clay Glazed Teapot, rugs, maybe something to hang on the wall. Not all of these of course i mean I only have so much money, so maybe start with the tea pot?"

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi sighs. "Will, please, some of us enjoy it." Umi, of course, looks avoiding work to the point that she works at it. "Nevertheless, it is important to enjoy that which keeps you alive." She looks over to Leida thoughtfully and then admits, "Of course... this one suspects that if offered a life of leisure at the expense of never working again, this one would still choose to work." When you're friends with The Network, one should expect some shocking experiences. But of course Emi does not understand the blow of 'working' to one's pride. Imi smiles back at Leida. "I'm always glad to see you about. It must be a strange experience for you." An elf in central park??? Emi decides that's a mystery she'll leave for others, instead turning to examine some wares.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' "Elf in Central park?" Will asks, "Huh..." he says, "Not like...armored and sort of a <GOOSEHONK> right?" He just wants to make sure... Seith was kinda a <GOOSEHONK>. Of course, he just perfectly described Seith... "Well, that's good Leida." he says, whatever one has to do to survive...but he'll make sure to look out for her. Tis' what the lord of hobos does for the people, underprivileged people of course, of his city. "Ha ha...I bet...but I guess if that's how you like to live, then that is good for you! I, on the other hand, live the life of forced poverty." he grins. Of course, one has to wonder...Will is So lucky, he could win anything he wanted...why doesn't he? "Oh right...so I am looking for a strange thing..." he pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. It kinda looks like a ornamental Chinese broach. "I'm running an errand today."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida straightens up and nods sheepishly at Imi. "Yes... it was challenging to adapt to this place b-but... if I can... I mean... um... be closer..." Her awkward attempt to convey the purpose behind her move is interrupted by Blackbird's expressed desire to be shown merchandise. Almost as if summoned by the prospect of a sale, old man Ming is suddenly towering behind the small girl with his arms crossed. Dense smoke billows from the long pipe clenched in his teeth and Leida's eyes widen at the sudden presence. "S-Sorry! Right this way!" Leida practically yanks the program along after her as she darts towards the section of the store containing their Chinese cooking paraphernalia. Ming grunts as his head swivels to follow after her but the rest of the group is left in the presence of the wrinkled and sour old Chinese owner. He gives them each a quick appraising look before reaching up to take the pipe in his mouth by the far end long enough to speak. "You all friends of that girl?" He doesn't sound particularly interested in the answer, nor does he wait for them to give one. "Buy something or leave. No discounts." The piece of paper is snatched deftly out of Will's hands almost before he can unfold it and Ming stares at it with a quirked eyebrow. "Might have this. You wait here, I go see."

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird headshook at will about the elf. "Nah. Kindof a Legolas lookalike. i mean i never understood why people think that's pretty but other than being kind of horrified at me eating meat nice enough." Legion made her blinkityblink and make a sortof Que? face. On seeing Leida's mild panic at having Ming loom over her Blackbird gave an apologetic look. Then when she was shown the cooking section her face lit up. "Oh wow..." There was a small giggle. "I'd expected maybe some artsy 'use only twice a year' stuff but this's great." She reached over to tentatively pat Leida on the shoulder and whisper. "Look I'm sorry if you're not used to work. Trying to help. Could've just gone to Wal-kong or wherever and pick something up but I like little shops like this. More personal. What i want is a decent Wok, A Tea Kettle, and a few other things." She fished her wallet out and counted out a dozen bills. ""Will this be enough for what i want to buy?"

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi blinks back at Blackbird. "Mm" Imi's eyes widen. "...Is that why you're here now? You don't have to do that, Leida, especially if it's difficult for you. We'd be happy to come visit any time you'd like." Emi looks to Ming the Merciless and opens her mouth. Oop no time to answer. She blinks twice and then adds, "Speaking of strange lifestyle choices." She turns her head to Will. "Could you perhaps give me some advice. What do you think Max would like? He has been so troubled lately, and frankly this one expects more trouble around the bend. If this one can alleviate the matter a bit..."

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will frowns as the man takes the paper from him. Well, whatever...but he might have to come back with a lesson for him... Will, was sometimes a little spiteful, but maybe it was also perhaps the best way to get back at him was to make sure Leida succeeded. "Huh...normal elf then. Weird." he shrugs, "Really, they need to stop messin' with our world and teachin' magic...heck, magic's rare enough here as it is...the last thing we need is it becoming common and having street gangs with that wack bunk." he says, and looks back towards Emi. There was a question.. She was always fond of the guy... "Hmm...I am sure anything you got him he would like Emi, even treasure. Max seems to be that kinda man, and he favors you alot. It's easy to see, even without my eyes. I just wonder if it'll be enough in the end.." Will says without thinking. He's worried but...there was a string he saw...a certain inevitability. Max would decide his fate..good or Ill, but it doesn't mean Will won't worry...or try and change. "...Maybe a party? Like get all the TDA guys together?"

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Sighing with relief once she is out of sight of her unpleasant boss, Leida shakes her head up at the woman. "O-oh... no, that is not your fault. I am... not accustomed to such things, is all..." She glances at the money for a moment then looks down at the ground with a distraught expression. "I... Ming-san... I mean... Mister Ming... handles all of the money... I-I just show people around." She's too embarrassed to explain that she doesn't yet understand how American currency works. Counting money isn't something she's ever really had to do before as a princess and the Shard Seekers paid for everything while she was living with them. "However... I can show you his wares... if you like..." Leida walks a little further into the depths of the shop, pausing every so often to make sure the customer is following until they arrive at a long shelf lined with tea pots. Most are cheap knock-off ceramics but there are a few decent pieces that look to be atleast high quality fabrications. They are, ofcourse, much more expensive. Ming trundles into the back room, puffing away at his pipe as he goes and leaving a small cloud of pungent smoke in his wake. The sound of intense rustling and shuffling of objects quickly drifts back out from the cracked doorway, complete with ominous crashes and even the annoyed yelp of a cat as it gets pelted with the flying refuse.

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird nodded once to Leida and pocketed her money. Instead she just started picking up things as she passed. "Don't worry miss." She talked while comparing wok, hefting one in each hand before putting one of them back and moving on. "Before the world pileup I never thought I'd end up playing gopher for a group of squatters living in an abandoned pub but here i am getting things they need since I'm one of the few with a job that pays in money instead of favors." She seemed to shrug at one of the tea-pots. "I don't care if it's reproduction or actual antique so much as whether or not it's functional in a day to day capacity. No sense in buying a thing when it'll break a week later."

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' "We do not have treasure." Emi says. Unfortunately 'anything will work', while accurate, doesn't feel helpful. She wonders if that is because she is over-thinking it. Oh well, these things happen. But in truth, it's not just enough that he'd like it. If he likes anything, then there is no meaning to getting him anything. It has to be something stronger than that. Right? Maybe she needs to think about how gifts work more. "We will have to consider further." She says eventually. She pauses a moment and glances to Leida. "You.../are/...getting paid, yes?"

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' "Emi...when someone says that, they really mean get them something that YOU think they'd like. Something from the heart. Sometimes you can't put a value on something...even if it's something you made yourself, on something that comes from your heart. Max likes you alot, like family, I am sure you'll know what to get him...you really probably know him the best." Will says, with a smile. Emi is like a sister to him, and her tale is one that inspires both triumph and sadness...she is in some ways the embodiment of human's desire to grow, and their abject cruelty to one another. He watches Leida struggle with life...yeah, maybe he'll...mess with things a bit. Everyone needs a hand... And he frowns back towards the back room... He laughs at Blackbird though, "Squatters eh? I know quite a few...sometimes better than you think they are."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida looks up at the tea pots helplessly, not really sure what to say. She's hardly an expert on these things so she eventually just points at the one that looks prettiest to her. "Um... h-how about this one?" The princess turns and peers back down the aisle at Emi frantically waving her hands in a placating motion as if trying to quiet her down. "Aa-ah! Y-yes... I am getting paid, Emi-chan," she says barely loud enough to be heard over the racket coming from the back room. There is a pause which causes her to seize up with a fearful look but eventually the old man mutters something then goes back to digging through old boxes. Leida exhales softly and looks relieved. "Ming-san does not like it when people talk about expenses..."

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird looked the offered pot over, smiled at it and touched this and that before putting it in her bag. "I like it. Thank you." Then to Will she laughed. "I know. I find a lot of good people out and about. It's like Mister Rodger."

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi nods once. "Well, as long as you are getting paid. We can talk about how much later." She can't of course be sure she's not getting her fair share, but she's worried about it. The way this is going. "Mm...Then what would I think he likes?" Imi facepalms. "That is a good question I must face, I suppose." She sighs.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will smiles a little. "Sometimes Leida, being the best at your job requires a bit of...bluffing. Pretending to know things as opposed to actually knowing things. If you look like you know what you are doing, people follow that confidence." he says, with a nod. He nods towards Blackbird, "You'd be surprised..." he says, "Man...Rodger, that's a reference I haven't heard in YEARS..." he laughs and nods once to Emi. "Maybe we can try that party thing too."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida looks skeptical of the advice and she crosses her arms. "T-that sounds like being dishonest, Will-san..." Plus saying that right infront of the person she's trying to sell to doesn't seem like a winning strategy. The girl bows to Blackbird and leads her down towards the next section to find a wok she might like. There are, unfortunately, only a handful of selections and most of them look really old. This is an antique shop, not a market after all. Ming emerges from the back room finally and makes his way back over to the front of the store with a dusty old case in one hand. He shoves the box at Will and crosses his arms, chewing on the pipe while he waits for him to inspect the contents. "You lucky. Have only one left. Very rare."

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird laughs soft. "C'mon. The guy'd been around for ages. Sure it's a kids show but good advice is good advice right?" She stretched and started towards the register with the random brickabrak she'd collected. When she looked at Ming she smiled warmly. "I could throw in a free install of a security system and add you guys to the patrol route the guys I'm organizing go on to try keeping everything in line. Y'know make hte cops job a little easier so they can focus on the really bad stuff instead." Shrug. "But if not that's fine too sir, this is a very good shop. Good selection." Not that she believe the 'last one' line for a moment. "Of course," She added after a moment, "There IS a portal open to ancient china I think. Could try seeing if I could get the guy I know to get you an in wit ha supplier or three from there."

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi smiles. "We'd like to have a party for him as well." She goes quiet for a bit after that, looking back to the wares. She glances over to Ming. She supposes it isn't fair to mistrust someone PURELY because they seem unlikeable and cruel. Maybe they're just grouchy. That's okay. Not illegal or anything. rImi of course continues to be chatty, she hasn't really stopped smiling much at all since her arrival. "Well, some jobs--dishonesty can just be another name for 'customer service'. Some jobs require that you not act as yourself but something similar that only contains pleasantness. This one supposes it is not unlike politics in that regard." "Of course politics might be then said to be a bit common." Emi jokes. "Customer service is a common job." She looks towards the case, then back towards Will. "---Isaac wanted this?" She asks.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' "It's more about trading for something else.." Will asides to her. Will opens the case...stares at the item for a while... "Hmm..." he says, "I Dunno...it doesn't look all that rare to me..." Will says, "I mean, I could probably go down the street...that guy always seems to have what I want in stock.." he grins inwardly, "But I like this place. One hundred."

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' That analogy makes Leida pause as she draws up to the group once more, following quietly along behind Blackbird as she moves to check out. Politics is something she understands atleast a little. Her time in court wasn't much besides sitting around and listening to people heap praise or complaints on others, most of which was composed of hollow sentiment or hypocritical whining. Fortunately, she never had to make any important decisions or actually deal with the dignitaries. Ming grunts and heads over to the counter to take care of Blackbird's purchases and Leida uses his distraction to scoot closer to Imi. "So... you think it does not matter if I am honest... just... polite?" Ming makes a face as he punches numbers into the register, adding even more wrinkles to his face. "He probably get them from street thug who steal from honest businessman like me. One fifty," he says back without looking away from his task.

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird nodded to Ming. "You obviously care for your shop sir." Sher gently took the items she'd bought after putting money down, plus a generous tip. "I wasn't trying to use that talk of importing from China as a bargaining chip. Given the shards have limited resources we need to trade with each other right?"

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi nods to Will, taking in a slow breath. Imi blinks a few times. She scratches at her cheek, tilting her head. "Well." She says. "This one thinks Leida should be herself, but working is a strange thing, you know, now that you mention that. This one supposes it is a matter of practicality rather than a matter of philosophy. It is always better to be yourself, but it is important to not starve because you could not feed yourself because you couldn't perform in aspects of the job that are required or asked for. Survival can be rather dark sometimes, but you can't be yourself if you don't survive." She looks over to Emi and adds, "How would you strike a balance between being oneself and being polite?" Emi thinks it over and adds, "Well, this one wants to be a prosocial person while being themselves, This one was helped by such people so this one supposes she would not have to 'pretend' when it came to customer service. This one genuinely enjoys it and supposes that if someone were to make her 'not' enjoy serving them while at work, she may be a bit unpleasant. Of course, this hasn't happened considerably often. Perhaps by genuinely enjoying it, The Network has a little more freedom to be honest with customers because high quality performance in exchange for low wages renders me troublesome to replace. One lost customer is sometimes inferior to a valuable employee." "Hahaha," Imi laughs. "You're really ruthless about this sometimes, Emi!"

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will stares at Emi... Will is vaguely afraid of her sometimes...but generally because she reminds him of Melody. Melody was frightening... In a good way, but still frightening. Slowly, he looks back towards the old man, and shakes his head, "Product is product, getting it cheap is good, One ten." he says, offering a counter offer. "Besides we both know I can hear out if it was illegal or not, I've returned how many of your stolen artifacts?"

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' Leida stares at the two Legions and exhales softly with an awed sound at the long-winded explanation. Clearly they have thought this through much more thoroughly than she has or perhaps they're just better at difficult social things like this. She really doubts that being herself is the best course of action in the long run as everyone is constantly telling her to be more confident and bold, two things which are very much not like her natural inclination. Likely this is just one more hurdle she'll have to struggle against. "You make it sound so complicated..." Leida lowers her gaze towards the floor in defeat. Ming mostly ignores Blackbird now that he's taken her money. The cash is stored away carefully in a reinforced lockbox before he makes his way back over to the small group at the door. Despite being mid-negotiation, he takes the time to glare down at the princess and give her a push towards the back of the store. "Not paying you to talk, just give smile and nod. Now go clean something." Leida eeps and quickly complies, scooping up her broom once more and disappearing around the corner with a final wave to the others. Ming turns back to Will and grunts in annoyance at his rebuke. "Cheap good for you maybe but I have bill to pay. One twenty five."

:'''[[Blackbird]] has posed:''' Blackbird grunted at Ming. "Work tends t ogo better if you allow help to interact with customers. Talk lets them feel like it's a person, not just a salesdrone." She took what she'd bought and headed for the door. "I'll be back tomorrow for a few other things i saw."

:'''[[Emi Dennou]] has posed:''' Emi reminds Will of Melody? She would take that as quite the compliment! After all, Will married Melody so that's /probably/ a compliment. She'll take it. Emi does not know Melody. Though she does remember, at this point, her conversation with Isaac. She wonders what her life in her home world if she did approach the TDA of that reality. Oh well, she thinks, if she had a knickle for every what-if she could think of--she'd have her own moneybin. It's also possible that Emi overthinks things. Which, really, is probably true when she could have just said 'unemployment sucks, but if you want to be unemployed Will may have some advice for you'. Of course, Will isn't /really/ unemployed by Emi's reckoning, he just doesn't have a job. Except he sort of DOES have a job in the sense that he does things he feels obligated to do? Hmm. THe philosophy of work is something Emi will have to think about further, along with the many kinds of 'work' and 'employment' that are not traditionally seen as such. "Emplomyent is as complicated as people are." Emi says. "There is no perfect employee, but if we were to start from the beginning, being polite isn't the most important thing. The most important thing about employment is to work hard. That is the simplest way to view it. Even skill is often considered less important than effort. Many skilled people lose jobs to people who don't know what they are doing but work hard." She pauses for a moment as Leida is pushed away. Buy something or leave, she was told, and she hasn't seen anything quite like she'd like, so maybe it's time to start leaving. "Will, it was nice to see you again. Omi got hurt recently and Umi is feeling pretty down. IF you could...you know..." She rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it lightly. "But you know, even though Umi is more your type, it seems, this one--also sees you as a dear friend. This one apologizes for not stating so clearly before." She steps back a bit after that and turns for the door.

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will looks up at Ming. "I will pay that, on one condition. You treat her better than your last one." Will says, "And don't gimme that crap about doing it." Will says, with a tone...a TONE. "I'm not gona hear you complain about driving off another pretty young lady because you're being insufferable." he says... "Lan wouldn't have approved of this at all, Ming." he says, pointedly. Emi squeezes his shoulder, and he looks at her, He frowns, and nods once, "Of course...I'll go cheer them up.." and then.. "Hey, you're all like little sisters to me, and I'm glad you're here with us, alright? You've all helped me when I needed it, and that's basicly what friends do?" RELATIONSHIP INPROVE!

:'''[[Leida]] has posed:''' The old man's eyes narrow slightly at the mention of that name. A mixture of bitterness and regret flows through his wrinkled features for several moments. Smoke puffs from the slender tip of his pipe at regular intervals, slow at first but quickly gaining in frequency as Ming chews on the words as well as the wooden tube. Eventually, he grunts and removes the pipe from his mouth, staring quietly at Will. "Alright, you win," he says in sudden flurry of annoyed motion, waving the pipe about in the air above the young hobo. He turns about in place, muttering to himself in Chinese and by the time he's made his way back around to face Will once more he seems resigned. A boney old hand is held out for the money. "Now, pay up and go. You stink up my store."

:'''[[Will Sherman]] has posed:''' Will puts the money down. "So see you next week?" he says, with a sad smile. He takes the box and waves...

A Pleasant View

2013-05-07T23:55:30Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/05/07 |Location=Mullonde |Synopsis=Ophelia receives an unexpected visitor during tea time. |Cast of Characters=Morrighan Alazne, Ophelia |pre..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/05/07
|Location=Mullonde
|Synopsis=Ophelia receives an unexpected visitor during tea time.
|Cast of Characters=Morrighan Alazne, Ophelia
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' The sun hangs high over the sprawling city of Mullonde as it makes its daily path through the sky, marking the time somewhere around the middle of the day. The bright golden glow casts the plain stone walls of the various homes, shops, and structures in a warm and homey atmosphere that makes it very easy to relax. This warmth effuses from the people as well, laughter and smiles being the norm as they go about their daily business under the shadow of the grand cathedral that stands as this holy place's symbol of power and authority. Within the protective inner walls that surround the cathedral several wide patches of land are set aside for the training needs of the holy knights of the order. Dozens of soldiers spar in small arenas and the clash of wooden training blades rattling against each other fills the air in a constant drone. Both men and women go head to head here for the Church makes no discrimination against the gender of those who would uphold the holy tenants of Saint Ajora. Unlike the women, however, most of the men are bare chested as they exercise. The sunlight glistens on their sweat-coated bodies, highlighting firm well-developed muscles and toned skin that has tanned on those who have been here for any length of time. Nearby, in stark contrast to the examples of diligence and hard work, a small table sits beneath the shade of a massive umbrella. Ophelia watches the Templar go through their daily routines with a vacant smile on her face, her head propped up against the surface of a hand. The other quietly stirs a long slender spoon through the steaming cup of tea before her on the table. She sips at it occasionally though seems mostly disinterested in the beverage, her attention fully on the fine specimens on display before her.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' Morrighan usually made it a point to /not/ visit the grand cathedral. Because while she was technically under the church's employ, she wanted nothing to do with their inner workings or day to day activities. If she was needed, someone would be sent to her house to inform her. Rare was it the times that the dark elf would actually step out of the comfort of her residence and into the walls of the cathedral. However, on this day in particular, the mage had little choice but the take a break from her daily personal pursuits, as she was missing a certain tome from her collection. One that she'd require to reference for her work. And thus having visited the library, she was busy making her way out of this damnable place. Her chosen route led her pas the grounds that the templar were using for their training exercises and as she passed, Morrighan glanced aside, slowing down to a stop as she observed. Look at these people. Throwing themselves at each other, drenched in sweat as they batter each other into submission. Truly, the training of a templar was barbaric to her eyes. ...But more than that was the fact that there was someone else present here that did not quite seem to fit the image of these hardworking men and women training to better serve the church. And she was off to the side, sitting at a table under the shade of a rather sizable umbrella. "...And what have we here?" Morrighan muttered under her breath, red eyes narrowing slightly as she hugged the large tome she was secured closer to herself. The sight drew a bit of an amused smirk from her. Curiosity and the need to be out of the grounds of this infernal cathedral collided within her mind as in the end, she wound up standing aside, staring at the woman under the umbrella as mental forces debated upon what course of action to take...

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' "Do you like what you see?" The young woman's lips twist into a coy smirk as she speaks up. Her head does not move but Ophelia allows her eyes to slide lazily towards the dark elf, peering at her through the loose veil of hair that frames her exotic features. She takes a few moments to examine the woman, noting her extravagant attire and ornate hair ornamentation, which only makes her smile more. A noble of some sort, if she doesn't miss her guess. Perhaps this person could appreciate her tastes. Casually and carefully, Ophelia removes her spoon from the tea and taps it against the rim of the cup to shake any loose drops from its polished silver surface before setting it neatly aside. With her hand now free, she gestures at the Templar as they train. "Magnificent specimens, are they not? All of that dedication and faith turned to the simple goal of attaining strength. Mmm and so easy on the eyes as well. Do you not agree?" She inclines her head towards Morrighan, finally looking at her properly as she indicates the seat next to her. There are more cups arranged on the table, almost as if she has been expecting company that never arrived.

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "...Perhaps. Perhaps not." Morrighan replied rather casually, returning to reality upon hearing the question. Oh well, she could entertain a bit of conversation before she left these god forsaken walls. ...Calling a church god forsaken, funny that. The dark elf's eyes leave the woman at the table, returning to the sight of the Templar as they train rigorously. "Magnificent. ...I suppose that is one way to put it. Expending all of that effort. Working their bodies to the bone in order to acquire the strength they so desire. ...I find it laughable myself, but nevertheless..." Holding onto the tome with one arm, Morrighan brought a hand to her cheek, head tilting her head slightly as she observed the trainees. "...I suppose that they /are/ easy on the eyes." That admission caused her to smile slightly to herself. Taking a couple more moments to just stare, Morrighan eventually shook her head and glanced back over to the unknown woman, blinking as she indicates the other seat at the table. ...Well, no reason not to refuse just yet. And so she began to approach, having herself a seat and fixing her dress as she did so. "So tell me. You hardly seem to be among those training here. Rather, you seem to be..." A glance towards the Templar again, and then she returned her gaze to the woman. "...Enjoying the view. Who might you be? I doubt that we have met now." Setting the tome down and out of the way on the table, Morrighan pressed a now free hand against the collarbone area above her chest to indicate herself. "But it would be rude not to introduce myself first. I am Morrighan Lachesis Alazne. A mage under the employ of the church."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia also returns her gaze to the men as Morrighan takes in the sight but her attention shifts fully to the elf once she takes her seat. Once she has settled in, the young woman pours her a measure of tea without asking if she'd like any, merely assuming that to be the case. She isn't really concerned with wasting the stuff either. It isn't a bad vintage but nothing like the fine imports she used to get from her uncle and anything less than the best is a waste of her time. "Ophelia Rosai Lovett," she responds, setting the teapot back onto a fancy plate that looks more expensive than anything that could be affordable on the laughable salaries that the faith of the Church receive. Infact, everything about Ophelia seems designed to display just how wealthy she is. The decoration and embroidery on her armor alone would take craftsmen days to repair should it get damaged in battle and the small pile of slender swords that are propped up in one of the far chairs look no less ornamental. "I am... well twould be inaccurate to say that I am a member of this organization. I work with the Church's officials to further my own goals and they in turn receive my aid when it is necessary." With the formalities out of the way and the tea served, Ophelia leans back in her chair and crosses her legs in a sultry fashion, doing little to hide the flashes of fabric visible beneath her incredibly short skirt. She gives Morrighan a thin-lipped smile, her teeth never showing as she does so. Her narrow eyes dance about the elf's body in a very bold fashion, doing little to hide their journey from her face on downwards. "So tell me, Morrighan," she says after a few moments. "What brings someone of your poise to such a place?"

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "Ophelia then." Morrighan nodded slightly in greeting, glancing over the armor Ophelia was wearing, and then that pile of swords, even the tea set looked to be above the church's pay grade! Certainly none of this belonged to the organization. It only made her more curious. Offering no complaint about the poured tea, she took the cup apparently meant for her to had a small sip. This tea also seemed to be higher quality than the church generally partook in. Minus corrupt officials, but that was neither here nor there! Setting the cup down, the dark elf rested her hands in her lap, following Ophelia's gaze as she explored her body. Feeling no offense for it, she eventually did the same, smirking somewhat as her own eyes shamelessly traveled the other woman's body. Eventually, eye contact was achieved and she began to reply. "I see. Well, I suppose that I am not entirely at the church's beck and call either." The mage spoke softly, maintaining eye contact. "I was specifically requested by them to add my skills to their collective after certain...events caught their attention." Gently, Morrighan took another sip of tea and then continued. "They offered plenty in order to keep me here. It is not hard to tell that they are choosing to expend resources to keep my skills with them rather than against them. It works out for both parties now."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' The response to her visual probing pleases Ophelia greatly and she gives a coy smirk once their eyes make their way back up to each other's faces at roughly the same time. Her first impression of this woman is one of immediate attraction, her calm dignity made all the more obvious against the backdrop of the Church's pompous clergy and scheming officials. And, much like the fit and toned Templar, she was quite easy on the eyes. "I see... that does seem quite like them. The Church is quick to snatch up those they see as threats and burn those which refuse their offer. Like spoiled children, they are. Still, tis less troublesome to be on their good graces for the time being." Ophelia in turn lifts her teacup and takes another soft measured sip, allowing the warm liquid to saturate her senses for a few brief moments. A soft clink rings out as she sets it back down with practiced manners. She weaves her fingers together into an interlocking bridge as she rests her elbows on the surface of the table, upon which she rests her chin as the slender woman leans forward. t"I must confess to knowing little of the art of magic. Strange as it may seem, the blade has always been my calling. My father was one of the greatest swordsmen of his time, you know. Made his fortune traveling the land and he taught me his secrets once I was old enough."

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "I know all too well the machinations of organizations that grow far too powerful for their own good." And it was true. Elves lived far too long and saw far too many things in that time. Some may find such longevity tiresome, others welcomed the time granted to pursue knowledge and the mysteries of the world. Where did Morrighan lie? ...Who knew. Her eyes eventually wandered away, watching the Templar train. In the meantime, she spoke onwards, in reply to Ophelia's remarks on swords and magic. "While you may know little in the art of magic, I must confess to knowing little of the way of the sword." That said, the elven woman returned her gaze to to her current table companion, lips turning upwards in a wry smile. "I never could lift a blade and use it to harm others. Rather, I was taught the ways of white magic by a mentor. However, I was hardly satisfied with just helping others." With an audible clink, she lifted the tea cup to her lips, breaking between her story to take another sip. It was long and pronounced as she took the time to savor the taste. "Eventually, I grew curious enough to explore other avenues of magic. Specifically, dark magic and time magic. A useful set of tools. As it seems these organizations never have enough on hand." Setting the cup back down, Morrighan leaned back slightly into her seat, brushing a bit of hair away from her face as she asked. "So tell me, Ophelia; why is it that someone of such grace and obvious wealth dealing with the church? I must assume that you have far more...rewarding options open to you now."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia's enthusiasm for her new acquaintance wavers for a moment at the mention of white magic, her smile faltering momentarily but she catches herself before it shows too much. Fortunately, the elf seems to have branched out into other areas of expertise as well which puts the vampire a little more at ease, especially upon her confession to not being particularly interested in altruism. People who threw themselves at others with no concern for their own happiness made her sick. "Useful indeed," she says, echoing Morrighan's sentiment. Her own powers could likely be classified as dark magic but, unlike mages, she did not have to spend time learning how to use them. They were part of the undead package, as it were. Ophelia takes another drink as well, falling into a pattern of drink and talk, drink and talk, almost like the two of them were old friends. Though not of noble birth herself, Ophelia's family was wealthy enough to rival many of the nobility in holdings and assets and she did her best to spend as much time away from the dirty peasants and commoners as humanly possible in her youth. Etiquette and manners were an integral part of fitting in to high society and she took to them quickly. Unfortunately, the fiasco of her father's demise followed swiftly by her own had left her in the hands of a brutish and uncultured lout. It feels to her like ages since she's had a proper conversation partner and despite herself she cannot help but continue to smile as they talk. The flattery doesn't hurt either. "Ophelia inhales sharply through her nose in annoyance at the subject that has been brought up as if it reminded her of something unpleasant. "I have the misfortune of being... indebted to a man who once saved my life." Not entirely true, since she was dead at the time, but he did choose not to kill her /again/. "In order to repay that debt I am beholden to obey his wishes. Normally, we would not have stooped to the level of begging for aid, however, the strange darkness that has consumed our world also took with it our base of operations as well as all of our subordinates." She sighs and leans back in her chair. "Until we can acquire enough resources to stand on our own legs once more, we have little choice but to shelter under their wings and they have taken the opportunity to lay their demands upon us, knowing well we can do naught but to comply."

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "Hmn, I see." Morrighan aceded calmly, resting her hands back into her lap and giving Ophelia her full attention. Templar eye candy could only last for so long anyhow. "So it is a debt owed, and a necessary evil of requiring aid enough to find enough time to stand alone once more." She nodded her understanding slowly, and then let out a brief sigh. "A troublesome situation indeed. But not one that is entirely unfortunate I would say." Smirking in amusement, the dark elf went on. "I imagine that it is not too hard to make the most of the task afforded to you. Even if the organization behind you is abhorrent." That said, she chuckled to herself, bringing a hand to her mouth as if that would somehow help her stop. It didn't. "I must say, it is a breath of fresh air to find someone of your stature among these..." Pause as Morrighan takes a moment to look about, as if making a point. "...People. I had almost given up on the possibility of meeting someone who was not an outrageous zealot."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia closes her eyes briefly and allows a soft giggle to let slip, also demurely covering her lips with one hand as if in a mirror of the other woman. "Indeed, your company is proving to be highly enjoyable, Morrighan. How fortunate that you happened upon me." She glances back over at the templar and lowers her hand, revealing the wry smirk that has formed beneath. "Ah, yes... the rantings of an upjumped zealot make for tedious listening and there is naught much else to be found among their ranks. A pity. Many would make for a fine partner, would that they held an equal appreciation for class and beauty as they do the words of their dead saint." The woman shrugs and turns back to Morrighan, resting her hands on her bare legs as she uncrosses and recrosses them again in a teasing fashion. "Atleast there is little harm in enjoying the view... hmm?"

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "Yes, that is true." She replied, lowering a hand. "Nevertheless, I hold no care for those so called zealots. After all, there is something much more interesting before me." Unashamedly, her eyes fell upon Ophelia's legs as she uncrossed and then recrossed her legs. "Beauty is something that should be...enjoyed wholeheartedly, yes?" Her eyes rose then, meeting the not-templar's again. "I believe that I will enjoy working with you, if the time ever comes. Your company would be far more appreciated than the likes of which I have been previously subjected to." Not going to name names of course! That would be entirely rude. Coughfarujacressidavaloscough. "Now then, if you ever require assistance of magical nature, feel free to call upon me, hmm?" All that out of the way, Morrighan lifted her tea cup to her lips, finishing the last of the tea. No need to waste now.

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia smiles openly across the table at her new friend, thoroughly basking in the compliment. Normally, she is not the kind of person to give back to others, but the strange meeting has left her in high spirits. "Indeed, I find it quite difficult to keep my attention elsewhere... and after I went through all this trouble to set up such a cozy place to keep my eye on them too..." She doesn't sound particularly upset by this 'inconvenience' nor does the playful pout she gives Morrighan convey any such sentiment. "Your offer is quite generous, Morrighan. I believe that I shall indeed have a suitable need for someone of your talents in the near future. Perhaps I might even make an offer more... enticing than that which the Church has extended you."

:'''[[Morrighan Alazne]] has posed:''' "Is that so?" A cursory glance is given to those training before her attention returns. "Alas, that pales in comparison to this." Morrighan smiled a rather playful smile in response to Ophelia's pout. Nodding slowly afterward. "Excellent. In that case, I suppose that you should know where I live. It is the large house on the southeastern edge of the city. The one patrolled by a floating magic bit. One can hardly miss such a thing now." With that, the elven woman rose up to her feet, brushing away any sort of debris that may have gotten onto her before taking up the tome that she had come to this place to acquire in the first place. "As pleasant as this meeting has been, I should be returning home. I have much work to do. I do thank you for the tea and conversation however." She stepped away from the chair, setting it back in place before adding. "This is farewell for now. Do take care of yourself, Ophelia. It would be a shame for such a fine specimen to be...lost." She waved a bit after than and then turned and started off, continuing down the way she was meant to have gone before this interruption. Well, perhaps visiting the cathedral now and then had it's merits after all.

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia smiles and returns the wave, sending the elf off with a farewell. She watches her go for a few moments, smiling at nothing in particular. It has been so long since she had someone to talk to like a normal person it almost feels like a foreign sensation. The vampire toys with the thought of turning Morrighan - it would be extremely easy, after all she has been invited to visit her home already. All she would need to do is-- A surge of pain lances through her head even before the thought can finish forming in her mind. An overwhelming wave of disapproval buffets her like a hammer blow and she immediately knows the source. Damn that man, did she have no privacy? She fights back against his control, testing the bounds of the leash that binds her soul to him, but already she knows her display of stubborn pride will accomplish nothing. With great ease, Alexander's thoughts drown out her own in a tide of calm annoyance at her posturing and with regret she relents to his will. "I... I understand," she hisses and the pressure fades away, leaving her with a daunting headache. Ophelia lets out a deep sigh and practically collapses back into her seat. Well, even if she couldn't offer that particular gift to the elf, she might still benefit their organization with her skills and even her master would have to relent on that issue. It was just the two of them, though she has plans to give Artyom his trial soon enough. He'd already proven his talent for handling the work they do and right now they need and scrap of help they can find.

Fran

2013-04-29T13:25:47Z

Msiren:

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=Fran
|age=Adult (Exact age unknown)
|image=Fran RW.png
|species=Rava Viera
|sex=Female
|height=6'2" (not including the ears)
|weight=130lbs
|series=Final Fantasy 12
|styles=Huntress, Red Warmage
|hometown=Eruyt Village
|alignment=Wandering Force
|group=Sky Pirates
|occupation=Master of Weapons
|quote="The Viera may begin as part of the Wood, but it is not the only end that we may choose."
}}
=Profile=
As one of the reclusive forest-dwelling Viera, Fran has lived a mysterious life and her reserved nature leaves much of her history prior to teaming up with the posh sky-pirate Balthier shrouded in enigma. Fran's goals and dreams and even her age are unknown, however, what is known is that she left the secluded Eruyt Village in the Golmore Jungle some fifty years prior in search of freedom from the traditional duties of guarding the forest. By abandoning her homeland, she has lost the ability to commune with the forest and thus is no longer considered to be true Viera by her people. Despite this, Fran has been extremely productive over the years and her natural talents have flourished in many directions. Intelligent and graceful, Fran has mastered the arts of both sword and sorcery, commonly referred to as the 'Master of Weapons' for her ability to adapt to any situation. Her knack for craftsmanship is also apparent in her impressive engineering talents and she is responsible for maintaining the "Strahl" while it is away from port.

=Combat Styles=
==Hunter==

This style emphasizes Fran's natural grace and agility as a Viera. Being from the woods, she has a great deal of experience with handling a bow and her connection with nature, though diminished due to her choice to leave her forest homeland, gives her a vast wealth of knowledge about natural poisons and forest magic, granting her access to a variety of debilitations and support skills.

[[File:Fran-Hunter-FKprofile.gif]]

==Red Warmage==

Being a master of various weapons, Fran is able to shift her tactics to suit the situation. She does not carry around tons of extra gear, pirates often need to be swift after all, so these plans must be made in advance. This style is Fran's preferred travel setup as it gives her the most versatility. She dons some extra armor and takes up a mace and shield, significantly enhancing both her offense and defense, while sacrificing her mobility.

Despite her skill at wielding magic as well as weapons, Fran's focus on her weapon training has left her magical strength quite lacking and as such she tends to focus more on support-type spells rather than raw damage. She is able to cast nearly any magic, however, and things such as the mace's natural affinity for channeling magic and clever use of debilitations allow her to slightly compensate for this weakness. She has also learned to focus her magic through her weapon, allowing her to deliver punishing blows punctuated with deadly elemental power as opposed to the traditional method of simply throwing magical spells about, though she can also use them as such if necessary.

[[File:Fran-Warmage-FKprofile.gif]]

= Logs =
{{Character Logs}}
= Cutscenes =
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}

Fran

2013-04-29T13:24:53Z

Msiren:

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=Fran
|age=Adult (Exact age unknown)
|image=Fran RW.png
|species=Rava Viera
|sex=Female
|height=6'2"
|weight=130lbs
|series=Final Fantasy 12
|styles=Huntress, Red Warmage
|hometown=Eruyt Village
|alignment=Wandering Force
|group=Sky Pirates
|occupation=Master of Weapons
|quote="The Viera may begin as part of the Wood, but it is not the only end that we may choose."
}}
=Profile=
As one of the reclusive forest-dwelling Viera, Fran has lived a mysterious life and her reserved nature leaves much of her history prior to teaming up with the posh sky-pirate Balthier shrouded in enigma. Fran's goals and dreams and even her age are unknown, however, what is known is that she left the secluded Eruyt Village in the Golmore Jungle some fifty years prior in search of freedom from the traditional duties of guarding the forest. By abandoning her homeland, she has lost the ability to commune with the forest and thus is no longer considered to be true Viera by her people. Despite this, Fran has been extremely productive over the years and her natural talents have flourished in many directions. Intelligent and graceful, Fran has mastered the arts of both sword and sorcery, commonly referred to as the 'Master of Weapons' for her ability to adapt to any situation. Her knack for craftsmanship is also apparent in her impressive engineering talents and she is responsible for maintaining the "Strahl" while it is away from port.

=Combat Styles=
==Hunter==

This style emphasizes Fran's natural grace and agility as a Viera. Being from the woods, she has a great deal of experience with handling a bow and her connection with nature, though diminished due to her choice to leave her forest homeland, gives her a vast wealth of knowledge about natural poisons and forest magic, granting her access to a variety of debilitations and support skills.

[[File:Fran-Hunter-FKprofile.gif]]

==Red Warmage==

Being a master of various weapons, Fran is able to shift her tactics to suit the situation. She does not carry around tons of extra gear, pirates often need to be swift after all, so these plans must be made in advance. This style is Fran's preferred travel setup as it gives her the most versatility. She dons some extra armor and takes up a mace and shield, significantly enhancing both her offense and defense, while sacrificing her mobility.

Despite her skill at wielding magic as well as weapons, Fran's focus on her weapon training has left her magical strength quite lacking and as such she tends to focus more on support-type spells rather than raw damage. She is able to cast nearly any magic, however, and things such as the mace's natural affinity for channeling magic and clever use of debilitations allow her to slightly compensate for this weakness. She has also learned to focus her magic through her weapon, allowing her to deliver punishing blows punctuated with deadly elemental power as opposed to the traditional method of simply throwing magical spells about, though she can also use them as such if necessary.

[[File:Fran-Warmage-FKprofile.gif]]

= Logs =
{{Character Logs}}
= Cutscenes =
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}

File:Fran-Warmage-FKprofile.gif

2013-04-29T13:12:17Z

Msiren:

File:Fran-Hunter-FKprofile.gif

2013-04-29T13:11:45Z

Msiren:

Artyom Really Hates Ghosts

2013-04-22T05:54:01Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/04/21 |Location=Tramdine Fens |Synopsis=In preparation for construction of a new academy to train future demon hunters, Ophelia enlists the ai..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/04/21
|Location=Tramdine Fens
|Synopsis=In preparation for construction of a new academy to train future demon hunters, Ophelia enlists the aid of her mercenary geomancer to pave the way.
|Cast of Characters=Artyom W. Valodjn, Ophelia
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' It is mid-afternoon as the small group finally steps off of the pleasant grassy plains and into the outer edges of the Tramadine Fens. Even here on the threshold of the cursed swamp the air is heavy with the foul scent of decaying matter and tepid water. The occasional pile of bones can be seen among the gnarled roots and sodden mud, some still wet with raw flesh as if only recently slain. The starkness of the change is sudden, as if a line has been drawn on the ground where the borders of the Fen begin. The wind also seems to pick up here, howling softly through the hollows of dead trees and craggy rocks. Even if the stories of ghosts taking up residence in this place were little more than stories it's clear to see why few would feel inclined to venture very deep into such a place. The stories, however, are quite true. Ophelia pauses at the border of the Fen, her feet resting on a small patch of dry ground that is the beginnings of one of the only stable trails into the depths that she and her master were able to find. Not that she's particularly worried about getting her feet wet but one wrong step into a pool deeper than she thought and one such as herself could end up trapped in an eternal stasis. It is unlikely that anyone would ever find her again in a place like this. Alexander has refrained from joining them today with complaints about the humidity of the swamp making his old bones ache. That suits the young woman just fine. She doesn't hate her master, despite the harsh and sometimes cruel methods he has used to keep her on the path to maintaining her humanity, but his presence always put her on edge, like that of a disapproving parent, and it was nice to be able to just be herself every now and then. "Artyom," Ophelia says, turning to look back at the massive figure of her hired assistant. "Be wary of your step here. Mud and moss are not the only threats we face once we step inside."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' This job has been quite a long time coming, and Artyom has been making quite a number of preparations! For about a week now, he's been camped out just outside the Fens, making observations and taking notes, surveying the land and deciphering just how the blazes someone is supposed to build a sturdy structure in the middle of a haunted swamp. Fortunately, he has discovered a solution. He has also discovered something else. Specifically, that mosquitoes are awful, and that there are types of wood that do wonders at fending them off when burnt. Furthermore, coating one's skin with a thin layer of sterile clay also helps to fend off any unwanted insects. This is why Artyom is covered in a distinctly gritty film of earth. It gives him a rather dusty appearance- or at least, more dusty than usual. There is an odd apparatus lashed to his shoulders, where a small compartment emits a cloud of fragrant smelling smoke as it burns through a cache of herbs and dried tree bark. A large man has much surface area for bugs to nibble at, and Artyom has taken maximum precaution. He does wish he had actual insect repellant, though- that would be very nice. "Yes," he replies to the High Inquisitor as he takes a step across the threshold into the fens. The ground sinks under his weight, but the damp mud fails to penetrate his rather thick, hide boots. When he lifts his heel out of the ground, the mud seems to coalesce into a broad platform underneath his feet, drastically increasing the surface area of his stride. Precautions. Artyom unfurls a small scroll- it is apparently a blueprint of some kind. He makes a sound of affirmation, and then takes another step forward. "These woods are truly haunted, then? Perhaps we aught to have brought the field mouse or the elder. Though I suppose we will have to make do without a proper exorcist."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' The heavy smoke causes Ophelia to wrinkle her nose in disapproval for atleast the third time since arriving to meet up with him. Event though she can understand the purpose behind his apparent fondness for dirt that does not ease the awful scent that permeates the air. In contrast to the large man she seems to have little worry about biting insects or the like as they completely avoid her for reasons that are not immediately apparent. Ophelia gives her companion a coy smirk in response to his query. "Who says I wish them gone?" She turns and starts to meander down the winding and nearly invisible trail which often to degenerates to little more than raised stones and small dirt clumps that are barely a few inches wide. Her petite feet have no trouble navigating these obstacles, nor does she show any real difficulty keeping track of their path, often chatting at him as they go. "This place belongs to them, after all. Attempting to cleanse the entire Fen would be a monumental task and not one that serves my purposes."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' At least the smoke doesn't smell like death! In fact, it smells almost like a really heavy perfume. Or the inside of a Wutai temple. Neither are particularly pleasant for prolonged periods, however. "Mmn. I can appreciate the security these wandering spirits might provide," Artyom explains, "But it would be nice to have a ward of some manner to keep them away as I work. Unnecessary negative energy can cause disruptions in the working. Makes things more..." He pauses to find the word. And then he finds it. The word is: "Spooky, than they aught to be. Though I have the inkling that this is not entirely undesirable." Artyom follows behind the (much) smaller woman, his steps often entirely missing the narrow causeway between the swamp's edge and their destination. His makeshift swamp-clogs help to keep him from sinking into the fens, however- a fact he is dearly thankful for. "So, speaking of architecture," Artyom rumbles, rubbing at his chin, "Did you have any... preferences?"

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' "Oh? Are you an architect now as well, Artyom? Going to build my dream home for me?" Ophelia laughs in a bemused manner as her eyes wander across the landscape ahead. She waves a hand dismissively at the air over her shoulder. "Do not worry, I shall be able to handle any distractions that may arise as you work." The woman pauses and peers back at him coquettishly for a moment. Her arms reach up into the air in a mock stretch, fingers lacing together to bridge over her head. The action brings her up on her tip toes and the shifting of her armor also pulls the edge of her already scandalously short skirt up to the point where the frilly outer edges of the garments beneath can be seen. "The real question is if you can handle my distraction, non?"

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' "Well, there is a fundamental difference in a building with a basement and a building without a basement. This is only setting the foundation, but I'd need to know the approximate dimensions for this territory, and how deep it is to go into the earth. Otherwise there could be problems during construction." Problems such as 'accidentally hitting the bedrock' and 'whoops, there goes the left wall of the house.' Of course, it seems that the issue of dimensions and landscaping aren't the only things that will be occupying his attention today. Artyom produces a sheepish grunt as he fights his eyes away from the hem of his employer's skirts. Instead, he focuses on his own heavy footsteps as he makes his way through the fen. At least Ophelia isn't as overt about this sort of thing as certain other people. He can definitely appreciate classiness. "I will try to keep my mind focused on the task," Artyom murmurs, "Though it seems it might more difficult than I had first expected."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' That brings a more honest smile to Ophelia's face and she gives him a playful wink before continuing on into the deeper parts of the swamp. It takes them the better part of two hours to reach the spot that she and Alexander have scouted out as the best potential site for their new training facility and upon arriving it is easy to see why. A large patch of solid earth stretches for several acres in the middle of the Fen. Heavy vibrant forest encircles a large portion of the clearing, broken only by a few gentle hills and a natural spring that has broken through the surface and winds in a snaking path down the far side into a small pond. Dense bogs still pocket the place here and there but they seem to be the only real obstacles preventing this stretch of the swamp from making a perfect location to build. Ophelia sweeps her arm out in a grand gesture upon arriving as if showing it off to the geomancer. "And here we are. My little slice of home. Well, once we do a little remodeling ofcourse."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' There was not much mixing in Galiandia. Terrain was largely segregated by the divisions of the great plates. The mountain was the most mountain-like mountain that ever stood. Ramuhan plains stretched on for miles, and were covered by a near perpetual lightning storm. Elements and terrain did not often mesh and blend- not like this. In many ways, the World of Ruin's strange division of distinct landscapes were more normal to the Titan than any truly continuous world. But there is certainly a great deal of beauty to be found in nature's alchemy. "...I see," he says, after a moment. He takes a step into the grassy grove, and finds its land a great deal more solid than he had expected. After a moment, the Titan nods, "This is an excellent location. Will need to fill in the holes, ensure the bedrock is stable, and then everything should work out well." He thinks for a moment, then asks, "How large, about, do you want the building? And the courtyard."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Artyom's response is a little more subdued than she hoped for but Ophelia pushes that minor disappointment aside and strides out into the open field itself. She motions for him to follow and leads them up to the top of one of the nearby hills which gives them an excellent view of the entire area. "I want to rebuild the Academy that Alexander and I opened in Ordallia. As of now, our forces have been lost... to whatever darkness has consumed the rest of the world. Only the two of us remain." She points down at the terrain, indicating a spot for him to look upon. "We will need a sizable facility to train replacements. Housing for several dozen, storage for provisions and supplies, space for training, and... containment. It will need to be quite sizable. Atleast here," she drags her finger sideways, marking out a rather large section of the open space. "To here."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' Artyom can't exactly help being a stoic sort of guy. It kind of runs in the family! Titans tend to be more temperate in general. Ophelia outlines exactly what it is she wants in this new home of hers. Artyom listens attentively, idly making notes on a small, hand-held scroll, as if he were making a rough sketch of the manor's general layout. It's not a very extravagant design- though what can you do when your job is mostly just 'set up the floor plan.' "Not sure how solid the terrain is, hereabouts." Artyom rumbles thoughtfully. "Could try to put in a basement, but it would probably flood unless I cover the walls with clay and stone. Mmn." He begins wandering, dragging the massive stone weapon along behind him as he starts weaving a massive pattern into the ground. "If that's not necessary, the job should be relatively simple. Needs more stable ground for more stories, if desired. Could make more distributed facility more easily. Integrated structure is heavier, more likely to sink down over time." "Could /also/ put up a wall, maybe. Hm."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' "Choose whatever design will make it the most sturdy," she says with a shrug. "As much as I would like to consider things like fashion and form, the reality is that we are likely to come under attack eventually. It is in the nature of our organization to make powerful enemies." Ophelia watches him work for a short while though the mutterings and patterns he weaves quickly leave her bored. She finds a nearby tree that offers some shade against the sun, leaning back against it and closing her eyes. It shouldn't take long for their disturbance to draw the unsavory denizens of this place out. And just as she suspects, it takes less than half an hour before the first signs appear. It starts with the wind. Howls and moans drift through the trees, louder and more forceful than before as if something is pushing the voice of the air into a frenzy. All sounds of nearby life die out, the birds and skittering creatures going silent all at once as if it were orchestrated. Ophelia smiles and opens her eyes, tilting her head to the side to glance towards Artyom. "Here they come."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' "Mmn, I'm not performing the construction, only the act of clearing the land, so these decisions can be explored further at some later date." It's not like he's going to be raising an entire structure here today. That would be ridiculous- and also a little bit difficult considering he'd need enough raw material to build an entire structure, and that's not exactly just lying about. And so he works. His circle takes shape around an area quite a bit larger than Ophelia's specification, to ensure that he was completely clearing up any unwanted sinkholes and bog-patches. There's no need to be reckless or overly specific about this kind of thing. The more territory, the better. It will be much easier to build anything here, if the land is broad enough to store material on-site. The pattern in the earth is similar to the one that he had etched in the fallow field south of Mullonde, weeks ago. There are a few modifications here and there, however- such as the inclusion of a greater density of Sowilo glyphs to ensure the bog dries properly. But nobody needs to know too much about the fine details. Suddenly, there are sounds. And then, there are none. Artyom looks up from his work and his charts, peering over to where Ophelia reclines amidst the boughs of her tree. "The spirits do not appreciate my work. Unfortunately, I will be occupied with the glyph array for a while longer, still. I will also have to leave my weapon in the array's center-point while the ritual is cast. I leave myself in your capable hands, Lady Lovett."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia smiles coyly back at him and then gives an elaborate bow. "I shall be sure to provide an entertaining show for you, Artyom." The Inquisitor moves down from the top of the hill to stand a little closer to where he is working though not enough to get in his way or disturb the carefully drawn glyphs on the ground. One of the masterfully crafted katana is drawn forth with a casual grace as she approaches and she flourishes it a few times, showing off her incredible coordination and warming up her muscles in the process. The silence is finally broken the sound of unnatural wailing, a piercing eerie howl that seems to permeate the air. All around the field the air distorts and wavers as ethereal humanoid shapes force their way between the barrier of life and death. The ghosts hover above the ground, their legless forms draped in tattered robes with heavy cowls that hide their faces in deep shadow but the hungry cries they emit are more than enough to betray any intentions their expressions may have hidden. Ophelia gives a final flourish before sheathing her blade and smirks at the haunting apparitions. "Hmph. I was expecting more of you. And no signs of the one who leads you... no matter, the cries of your doom shall draw him to me!" The first of the ghosts gives a mocking laugh and fades away only to reappear beside the small woman. It reaches out for her, invisible hands attempting to clutch at her pale flesh and draw the vitality and defiance from her body. But it never touches her. A flash of steel rips through the outstretched arms and the rotten cloth suspended by their spectral form drops lightly to the earth. The ghost gives a pained wail but its cries are silenced a moment later as the chisel-tipped point of Ophelia's katana is driven into the gaping maw of the cowl that covers its head. The creature spasms, its robes fluttering in an invisible wind as it dies a fresh death. The blade of her sword glows a faint crimson red as it feasts upon the essence of its victim, drinking up the pain and suffering that has bound this poor soul to a cursed unlife. The spectacle lasts only a few moments and then it is over. Ophelia whips her sword to the side slinging ectoplasm from its polished surface before sliding it neatly back into the scabbard at her waist. "Ah... such a wonderful flavor you have. My blade shall dine well today. Hmmhmmhmm..."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' Artyom dislikes ghosts. Artyom actually dislikes a great number of undead subtypes- especially the ones who do not remain in their graves where they belong. Those who have already been interred- who have been buried but yet remain among the living are abhorrent by the Titan's strict standards of what is kosher and what is not. So long as something has been interred, he believes, it should remain there unless it is not truly dead. Undead who have never been buried are noticably exempt from this rule. But he still doesn't like ghosts. This is because ghosts tend to be cocky, intangible jerks who like to wave the fact that you can't club them over the head without dipping into mana reserves all up in your face. He also rather dislikes how ethereal they are- it's unnatural, to lack solidity to such a grievous extent. But he has other things to worry about than dealing with a horde of advancing spectres. Artyom has land to etch and a foundation to lay. The wailing spirits cause him momentary pause as they rush out from the wood, screaming and howling like all the furies, but he toils on. Despite his earlier worries, Artyom only allows himself to be very briefly distracted by Ophelia's rather... Impressive display. Vicious and impressive being synonymous in this particular situation. He makes another pass through the glyph's center before rumbling, "I am nearly done. Five to two minutes!"

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' The other ghosts waste no time in joining the fray upon seeing their comrade fall, if such creatures even consider each other allies in that manner. More likely their shared bond in undeath stems from the eternal torment that has driven their spirits from the grave and their hatred of the life that now mocks their existence standing before them. The one problem with this being that Ophelia isn't even alive herself. Two more ghosts go down in the next few seconds, neatly cut apart by the vampire's deadly blades. Despite no trace of holy magic being wielded by the woman there is no signs of the spirits simply dispersing and reforming as if oft the case for their kind. Each ghost that falls leaves only a pile of moth-eaten robes and an unearthly howl of fear and suffering to mark its passing. However, despite Ophelia's clear prowess at handling her swords, the sheer numbers of the fiends continues to grow. The tide of battle slowly begins to shift from her dazzling displays of showmanship that sees her opponents scattered to the wind to a desperate struggle to maintain her ground as more and more monsters rush to feast upon the faint traces of life that reside within. Artyom is not forgotten, either. The ghosts press upon him several times, trying to get at the hearty and abundant source of flowing vitality that dwells within his stocky body. But each time Ophelia seems to come out of nowhere, dancing among the distracted spectres and leaving naught but death in her wake. "Nnrgh!" The sound of nails of a chalkboard echos through the clearing as she deflects yet another strike against her from the front, pushing the offending ghost away with clear signs of effort. Another takes advantage of this moment to rake its horrid claws across her exposed back, leaving a trail of thin red lines that begin to trickle blood. She spins about instinctively, cutting down the foolish monster who dared to strike her, but atleast a dozen other such wounds marr her armor and delicate skin. "Take your time, Artyom," she calls out to him light-heartedly. "This fight is just starting to get interesting."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' It bears repeating: Artyom dislikes ghosts. He makes a sound of mild surprise when one of the spirits manages to close in quickly enough to actually threaten him. Supernatural cold washes over his body as the creature draws near, meeting a bulwark of solid, vital energy. He does not need to resist it for long as the huntress cuts the creature in two, reducing it to mere ash and old rags. But she cannot possibly keep this up forever. The creatures draw closer and in greater numbers with every moment he tarries. But to rush would lead to a mistake- and a mistake, when rearranging geography- can have very dire consequences, indeed. Consequences like 'accidentally killing them both.' And so Artyom takes his time as quickly as he possibly can. He moves with renewed purpose and direction, weaving his blade through the earth as swiftly as he can manage without making a critical error in the geometry of the complex geomantic array. "Bit longer--" Artyom grunts, "One minute, need only to make it to the center--" He turns as his weapon touches again on the circle inlaid into the earth. His stance pivots as he presses onward hauling the massive across the land with the sound of a plow milling through a field. The Titan winces at he screeching spirits before finally- after what seemed like an eternity- he arrives at the circle's absolute center-point. Artyom releases a breath he did not realize he was holding. The Titan grunts, raising his blade mightily overhead- and then drives it, thunderously- into the center of the glyph. The air stagnates. The land goes quiet. And then, the glyph blazes with terrific, inner light. At its perimeter, colossal standing stones rise from seeds of quartz. Artyom steps back from his blade as it thrums with all the force of the earth itself. The land rumbles ominously- he turns towards the onslaught of spirits-- Artyom frowns. "There are more than I realized." His stance widens. A foot slams heavily into the wet earth even as the light of the ritual builds all around him, mana pouring into the symbol in preparation for what will come. Out of the earth rise two long, heavy weapons. One: a bastard sword that seems be composed entirely of gnarled, thorny bramble- it resembles a club more than a blade. The other, a cleaver made of stone, its single blade hewn of solid crystal. Artyom grips the tools at the hilt and draws them, in one motion, out of the earth. "Ophelia," the Titan rumbles, "The spell will take some time to charge. We can only hold them off now."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia carves her way out of a small ring of ghosts that have managed to encircle her, decimating two of them with swift strokes of her katana that neatly bisect the apparitions down their center. The blade glows red for a moment as it absorbs their essence but quickly finds its way back into her sheath and the Inquisitor darts across the glowing terrain to stand beside her hired blade. "Well," she huffs, "I was starting to feel bad for taking all of the fun. There still seem to be a few left for you to play with though." It's clear that the short battle has taken a toll on the woman. Sweat glistens on her skin like a fine coat of oil, beading down the side of her face in thin rivulets. Blood intermingles with it as well from several thin cuts where the ghosts managed to get in close enough to leave their marks before being destroyed though the amount seems to be very little so perhaps the wounds are not as bad as they appear. Ophelia turns to look over her shoulder at Artyom with a slightly more serious expression than usual. "Do not be careless. These spectres can drain your life away and muddle your wits with a touch." She narrows her eyes and scans the battlefield again, whispering to herself. "Any moment now..."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' "Of course," he rumbles, "However, I am not as proficient with these as I am with my weapon of choice. But, I believe I can handle this much. Moreover--" Artyom steps over one of the lines he had carved into the earth. Dim, tellurian light plays across his clay-covered leathers as he raises his two weapons to a ready stance. For any other man, these would require two hands each- but Artyom is a Titan. He fights like a titan, and that means knowing how to maul like one, too. "I did not exactly come unprepared for this." His shoulders shift, unintentionally revealing a strangely brilliant, spherical gem set into a very temporary-looking medallion clasped under the wrap of his cloak. One bold spectre approaches, its spindly claws tearing, ravenously, through the air. Artyom lashes out, swinging his earthen weapon into the spirit's flailing limbs with a heavy, rather unusual 'thud.' The ghost looks rather confused as what seems to be a thin layer of sand coats the outline of its intangible form before trapping it wholly in the physical realm for only the briefest of moments. Artyom smirks as he shifts his weight, throwing every ounce of his might into slamming the wooden weapon into the spirit's now quite solid skull, causing the entire form to collapse into a mound of inert soot. Artyom can't exactly destroy them as permanently as his employer- but the magic of the Earth is also the magic of stagnation, of graves and tombs and the solidity of form. While he cannot break a spirit, he can certainly reduce a grounded ghost to its component motes for a good long while. "It will be five- maybe ten minutes before the spell finishes. We must endure until then."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia hangs back for a moment to rest after nearly five minutes of continuous combat. With the sun still hanging in the sky her body is significantly weakened, perhaps even more so than when she was merely human. Were she able to use her full power these pitiful creatures wouldn't even slow her down but as it stands she's nearly on the brink of collapse and Artyom's timely intervention is more than welcome. Not that she's going to point that out. The spirit of her sword stirs restlessly as he smashes one of the ghosts apart with his strange magic, its ravenous hunger pining for the dark life force that escapes back into the air. She puts a hand on its hilt, stroking it gently as if it were some restless beast. "Easy... there will be plenty more to come." And there are certainly plenty of ghosts left. The deaths of their fellows doesn't seem to slow the encroaching horde down in the slightest and they scramble and claw at the air in their rush to strike the pair down and gorge themselves on their life energies. Ophelia carves up another pair but earns herself another nasty cut in the process. She goes down to one knee, staggering as her body begins to fail despite her stubborn insistence otherwise. As if this single act of weakness were a summoning spell for disaster, another ghostly form rises up from the earth. Much larger than all of the others, the spectre is clad in a dark cape that hangs from a skeletal torso. A boney fleshless skull protrudes from the mass of cloth, twin demonic horns curving up from the sides towards its empty eye sockets. Massive razor claws hang limply at its side but their heavily muscled fingers clench and flex idly as it looms before the small woman. She coughs out a laugh, tilting her head upwards to take in this viscous creature at a glance. "Hnn... so there you are..."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' The battle does not seem to be going particularly well. Or rather, Artyom feels suddenly validated of his concern at entering this forest with only two able hands. They did not merely attract a horde of spirits- their business stirred up one of the most ancient spectres of the forest. But there are more spirits here than just the one. Far more. It's enough to overwhelm even the most able of warriors- if they stood alone. Artyom grunts, hewing several spirits down at once with a single cleave of both, mighty weapons. Each ghost turns to sand moments before being shattered into a fine mist of particulate matter and rapidly decaying negative energy. But there are many spirits, and only one Titan. They move in as he brings his weapons back around, slipping into his guard. One rakes its claws across his chest, the spectral talons slipping through his armor and raking at his very life-force. The Titan fights back a gasp as he leaps away, clutching at his chest. He cannot move the earth to swallow up these spirits. They are not zombies- they are incorporeal, spirits, capable of slipping into the material realm just long enough to tear the flesh as well as the spirit. Artyom hates ghosts. He really, really does. Again, he draws his weapons through the pursuing, predatory spirit. Again, it turns to sand and is reduced to a swirling mass of granulated ghost. But they come in droves- unending- unstoppable. Too many for one man. Too many for one man and a vampire. "But-" Artyom murmurs, his fingers reaching under his cloak, "Two and--?" One spectre, closer than the others, notices as the Titan pauses in his retreat toward the circle's central point. It unleashes a screech of triumph as it charges, claws outstretched to tear the man's heart out through his chest-- It does not. Its spindly fingers come to a halt at a point two inches over his breast. It is arrested there by an unearthly light. Artyom steadies himself as the creature tries, but fails to free its arm in time to avoid being torn to shreds by the advancing glow. The Titan breathes- "Ancient, I am borrowing your power for a moment." Tendrils of tremendous, living power surge across the surface of the Titan's arm as he knocks the ghost away. His voice roars to a terrifying crescendo before he slams his fist into the loamy earth. At first, nothing happens- and the spirits crowd in, descending on the apparently vulnerable man. Then, there are thorns. Crystalline roots tunnel out of the ground to ensnare the horde of spirits. The circle beneath flickers, a fraction of its accumulated power being channeled into the glistening emerald gnarls and tangles, causing them to glow and thrum with the living aspect of the Earth itself. It would not be enough to kill them- but the energy radiating out of the growths would be sufficient to impair their movement. A cocoon of brambles surrounds the colossal man, wrapping him in a protective layer of thorny vines. The growth surges down his arm, into his wooden weapon, transforming it into an arboreus mirror of his colossal, stone sword. There is a sound- a sound of wood and stone tearing loose. Artyom surges out of his protective, wooden cocoon, his flesh streaming with blood torn of his own flesh by the thorns that had raked across his skin. He roars with all the sound of all the rage of the land as he draws the bramble blade high to run the greater spectre through-- But would he be fast enough to make a difference?

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' The ghastly skeletal face of the Deathscythe shows no emotion as it completes the transformation from haunting spectre to full bodied horror. Twin points of burning hellfire ignite within its empty eyes and turn downwards to peer into the soul of the young woman kneeling at its feet - only to find nothing there. Impossibly the twin rows of exposed teeth tilt and crack into a mocking grin upon this discovery and it opens its jaw to belt out a dark hollow laugh. Ophelia merely laughs back at the creature, pushing back to her feet with some effort. "You think knowing that will save you?" The fist impacts with her chest before she can even move to respond and the Inquisitor gives a muffled gasp as the air is hammered from her lungs by the massive ball of muscle that is the abomination's hand. She sails backwards and skips across the ground several time, finally coming to a halt when her slender frame wraps itself about the roots of a tall tree. Dull pain shoots through her body and a well of blood erupts from her mouth as she coughs. Well, that didn't go as planned. Artyom's battle cry draws the attention of the Deathscythe back his way and it grins at him as well. The thorn-encrusted sword drives into the thick folds of the cloak that drapes about the massive skeletal torso hanging in the air and he is rewarded with the sound of bones grinding and snapping. The wraith lets out a bellow of dark pain but instead of falling to the ground it brings its heavy claws up and wraps them about Artyom's thick neck, easily encompassing even his colossal stature in a vice-like grip.

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' This is certainly unexpected. Artyom grunts, satisfied, as his brambled blade impales the massive, spectral creature. That he is surprised when the monstrous undead takes his throat in its wicked, soul-chilling claws is somewhat of an understatement. He feels the beast strangling the breath and life out of his body, unable to make a sound save for the weak gurgling of a man being, slowly, asphyxiated. The very stuff of his soul, gradually ebbing away. There is no help from Ophelia. She lies, half-dead, by a tree. He is all that's left, and now-- Is this how it is to end? Murdered in a swamp, with only one other person to tell of his story. Or maybe that's for the best- it's a terrible shame, death by being strangled by something that is only /half/ there at best. Artyom grits his teeth. He whispers a curse, its meaning lost to a rasp of painful gurgling. But though it is unheard, what Artyom said was this: 'Mountain Father Claim You, You Unburied <GOOSEHONK>' The creature's fingers tighten, cutting through the fabric of Artyom's cloak- and exposing the brilliant Magicite burning over his collar. The Titan's jaw tightens as the gemstone's light pours over his torso. This creature is strong, strong enough to ground its existence in the material plane. Strong enough that it has ribs and bones that can be broken-- Yes. That's it. There's still one thing he can try. Artyom fights back the pain, focusing on the land beneath his feet. Subterrannean thunder roars, deep underground as the plates that form the very foundation for the World of Ruin buckle and pop, their kinetic power transformed into spiritual, and sent racing up through the legs of the geomancer who begs the power of the Earth. A pulse of magic surges into his colossal, wooden blade, causing the thorns to grow and expand, crucifying the creature's physical mass against a mess of yew and bramble. Simultaneously, his blood congeals, unnaturally, over his wounds as his body pays the price for channeling such primal force- thick arrowheads of stone and shale erupt from the tears across his skin, staunching the bleeding but tearing painfully at nerve and muscle and bone. The stone presses out of his throat, slipping between the Deathscythe's fingers. He says again, more clearly now as he releases his sword, one hand rising to wrestle the creature's talons from his throat. "Mountain Father--" the Titan grits his teeth, twisting his grip to bend the beast's arms in a direction no living limb was ever meant to twist. The other arm reaches back, summoning the stone-and-crystal cleaver from where it had fallen, earlier. Artyom roars, swinging the heavy, serrated blade into the Deathscythe's skeletal limbs, "--Claim You!" There is a tellurian crack as he swings his weapon, over and over again, into the monster's hollow form, his magic solidifying as much of the Deathscythe's spiritual form as it can, while his brawn hews those portions away-- But there is an army of ghosts, though they may be slowed by thorn and magic, and only one Artyom. He can hold out for only so long. Fortunately, it should not be much longer, now.

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Cries of spectral pain emanates from the massive undead skull as it is forcably ripped out of the aether and dragged into the prime material plane. The transition from etheral to corporeal is not particularly damaging to it, however, the massive thorns piercing it from the inside out and the heavy stone cleaver hacking away at its exposed limbs are a different story. One of the Deathscythe's arms comes away with a sickening crack and the deadly curved claws spasm and twitch even as they disentegrate into little more than a pile of ash and dust. The army ghosts renews its attack, hissing with anger as they are whipped into a frenzy by the powerful apparition's domineering will. Several of them carve into Artyom's exposed flanks, raking bits of life away and leaving painful sympathetic wounds where the half-real claws pass through the flesh. But again their single-minded attacks prove to be their undoing. A whirling circle of steel sails through the air, slicing through half a dozen of his attackers like a buzzsaw before it implants itself to the hilt in the forehead of the towering Deathscythe. Another blade flies past him and then another and another as Ophelia unleashes her array of deadly weapons from range to drive the undead host away. The ornate weapons sail strange curving arcs through the air that seem defy the laws of physics, weaving back and forth to riccochet among the ghosts before they all come to a dead stop in the air, hovering in a loose circle around the battlefield. Ophelia grins, wiping away the small river of blood flowing from her nose as she takes a step forward. "Do not count me among the dead yet. I am not so easily defeated."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' Spectral claws tear through the Titan's sides, ripping through spirit- and then flesh. Artyom yells as the terrible sensation of having your very spirit ripped to shreds screams through his psyche. The only possible way to describe it is through metaphor: The sensation is not unlike having your most cherished childhood memories inverted and left twisted and ruined in an awful mess of incomprehensible stuff. That's not what's really happening, of course. Not yet. But it certainly could be the Titan's fate, should he fall here-- But it seems Artyom isn't quite as alone as he thinks he is. Ghost-flesh meets enchanted steel, each one screaming a final death-wail before disintigrating into mere atoms of aetherial mass. The air around the Titan seems to clear, a weight lifted from the world in one fell swoop. Artyom gives a weak smile that quickly turns into a confident smirk, swinging his stone cleaver into the massive spectre's forehead one last time before leaping back-- To where his greatsword rests, buried in the earth. The light pouring from it reaches a crescendo as its master's hand closes around the hilt. "It seems," Artyom breathes a sigh of relief, twisting the hilt of the blade to stir the raw, tellurian might suffusing the bog underneath- and triggering the spell, "That this is our victory, Lady Lovett." Artyom surges forward, tearing his greatsword from the center of the glyph. The stone ensconcing the blade falls away in great sheets of soil and rubble, revealing a massive, scintillating, crystalline sword underneath- one that seems paradoxically larger than its own sheath. Underneath his feet, the land shifts and transforms, moisture draining away as the earth hardens and solidifies. Heavy subterannean stone is realigned and fused, forming a strong foundation under several meters of compacted soil. At the borders of the spell, cairn-stones rise protectively from their quartz seeds, strengthening the land by gathering the energies of the earth itself. The air saturates, growing thick with moisture and 'solid' magic. Tellurian energy surges across the circle, mingling with the spectral bodies of the ghost army, and rendering them, temporarily, very much creatures of the material plane. But they are not Artyom's target. With the final embers of strength in his body and spirit, the Titan surges toward the Deathscythe, his crystal sword looming ominously overhead like the blade of a final guillotine. "Thirst not! Hunger not!" Artyom roars the final words to the traditional Titanic Burial Rite. "Return to Ash! Return to dust!" He pivots, swinging his colossal weapon, blazing with terran magic, into the greater spectre's demonic mein, "Become one with the Earth!" If this isn't enough-- Artyom does not even know.

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' The demonic eyes of the undead abomination flare with defiant light in the face of Artyom's bizarre magic. In death there is no fear, such emotions burned away and replaced only with hatred and sorrow. Rather than retreat to preserve itself the creature gives a piercing wail and rushes to meet the titanic man halfway. It's remaining claw reaches out, massive scything fingers for which it is named latching around the crystaline blade as it comes crashing down. Impossibly, the heavy blade slows and then stops, mere inches away from cleaving the terrible monstrosity asunder. It struggles visibly to hold its own doom at bay and the remaining ghosts swirl and converge on the pair, intent on weakening Artyom in order to give the Deathsycthe the upperhand. Ophelia lets loose an utterly amused laugh from behind. "You fools really do not learn your lessons do you? Very well, I shall deliver a lesson in pain anew!" The small woman's eyes begin to glow from within as she draws upon the wellspring of unholy magic lurking within. Even in the daylight her supernatural powers boost her above the power of normal humans and she displays that very power strength for these cursed souls. The swords hovering all around the battlefield begin to glow with unearthly light, each one blazing in an aura of eldritch flames of various colors. The spirits within the blades respond to her call as she takes up an ancient stance, speaking words that call out to their lust for battle. "There is no room for hope. Hope is for dreamers and poets. We have our will and our weapons and we shall dictate our own fate!" The soft glow permeating the swords erupts into a raging flame as Ophelia's will resonates with the spirits within. In a flash, she moves, racing towards the first of the blades hovering nearby. Her hand closes about the hilt and then the samurai seems to move even faster, turning into a blur of motion that no human eye could hope to follow. Only the thin trail of fire from the blade she wields marks her passage across the battlefield as she slashes down a pair of the ghosts. Her trail carries her to the next floating sword and she sheathes the first in its proper place as the fire within dies out, its wrath spent. Ophelia dances across the land, destroying dozens of spectres in the blink of an eye as she travels from sword to sword in an eight point star. Those struck by the ghostly flames are frozen in mid air, their bodies convulsed and twisted in a single moment of pain, locked in that brief point of time. The final surge carries the Inquisitor to her blade which lies buried in the Deathscythe's broad skull. She appears upon its head as if through teleportation and pulls the enchanted katana free with a great heave. Dark ichor and blood-red fire erupt from the wound in a geyser as the creature screams in frustration and pain. Her blade snaps downwards, a crazed mixture of elation and adrenaline in Ophelia's face as she carves its arm away and Artyom's mighty blade is finally allowed to fall, severing the Deathscythe's tenous link to unlife in a single collosal strike. The sound of Oboro-Muramasa sliding back into its sheathe is the catalyst that sets off an overwhelming chain reaction. Every one of the ghosts caught in her deadly storm of blades suddenly snaps back to life as if freed from her spell, only to explode into showers of etcoplasmic goo and demonic fire. The mastermind itself lets loose a final screech of outrage before even its voice begins to fade and its body crumbles to the ground, decomposing in a matter of moments until even the ash that remains is blown away in the wind.

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' Despite the endless march of the restless dead- despite the arrival of their champion, the Deathscythe- despite the fact that the spirits have torn into Artyom's body and will more thoroughly than nearly anything else he has encountered thus far- despite all of that, they've come to this. With devastating, calamitous finality, the Titan's colossal, crystalline sword cleaves through Deathscythe's now thoroughly physical form. Artyom fights through the pain- physical and spiritual- to utter a final, devastating roar as his sword slams into the earth. A shockwave blasts outward from the epicenter, releasing all the power of a tectonic collision at a single point of impact. Ripples pulse through the thick, stagnant gloom, before exploding outward in a colossal air-burst that scatters ash and ectoplasm alike into the sky, marsh and earth. As the shockwave passes, the land underneath completes its metamorphosis, hardening and solidifying into a strong foundation for a new, enduring structure. Great, stone cairns stand at its perimeter. Runes climb across their surface, providing a makeshift, auspicious ward against evil spirits who might seek to enter it- though how effective the runic scriptures will be away from their plane of origin is questionable. Artyom- weakly- raises his weapon, his wounds beginning to seal over, knit shut by crystalline thread and stone sutures- though his spirit will take much longer to heal than his flesh. The sword shimmers briefly, before a mass of discarded stone whirls about its crystalline edge, sealing it, once more, in a stone sheath. He drops to a knee, resting his weight on his massive weapon. "Ghh-" Artyom coughs, "I was not expecting... So much resistance. Perhaps I should have prepared more in the way of countermeasures." /Or/ they could have dragged the Churchmouse along. That would have been nice. His eyes dart toward Ophelia as his shoulders rise and fall with no small amount of effort, "Are you alright, Lady Lovett? It appears that the ritual was a success."

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' Ophelia remains frozen in her final pose, one hand resting on the scabbard at her waist that contains the great demonic presence of her primary blade while the other still clutches its hilt. The explosion of wind that results from her companion's collosal strike flutters her short hair and skirt wildly but the billowing cloud of dust that accompanies protects her modesty - not that she really has any. Once the dust settles, she takes a moment to survey the result of their efforts. The broad expanse of flat earth that stretches out around them is pleasing to see; it will make a fine foundation for her new home. The woman turns casually to smile at Artyom and strides over to his side. A hand is placed on his shoulder as if in a friendly gesture, though if he is paying much attention he will notice that she is leaning rather heavily against his stocky frame for support. "You did well, Artyom. Perhaps I will be able to put my trust in you, after all."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' A victory is a victory, even if it results in being completely exhausted afterwards. Artyom most certainly does not teeter and fall over when Ophelia leans on his shoulder, but that might be because he has a sword to balance on, and because Ophelia is also relatively light-weight compared to his colossal mass. "I'm glad I had an opportunity to prove my worth," Artyom chuckles- not darkly, but definitely a bit sardonically. "Fortunate that this creature found its way to us to die. Though I had thought you didn't wish to take this land from the ghosts?" Pause. "I suppose these were only a fraction of the spirits haunting these woods, hmn?"

:'''[[Ophelia]] has posed:''' "Yes. This place has a dark history of suffering, more than we could ever hope to quell on our own." She runs a hand through her hair, smoothing it down into a semblance of order before flopping down on the dirt next to him. At this point she's too worn out to care much about looking demure or proper, something that she is decidely glad Alexander is not here to see. "The mere threat of their existence will provide a barrier to keep out many undesirables who might wish to strike at us. And they are a good source of training and entertainment as well."

:'''[[Artyom W. Valodjn]] has posed:''' "I see," Artyom breathes a tired sigh as he finally rolls over onto his side with a heavy /whud/, leaving his sword jutting out of the ground. At least the incense burner on his shoulders is still keeping the mosquitos away. "Well, at least, for now, we've earned a moment's respite. The cairns aught to help keep the weaker spirits away. Hopefully." Hopefully. "Though it should still be possible to send recruits into the swamp to--" --die-- "--cut their teeth on the spirits lurking throughout these fens." Artyom also never wants to have to do this with two people ever again. Artyom W. Valodjn Really Hates Ghosts.

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Desert

2013-04-13T16:18:38Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2013/04/08 |Location=Fluorgis - Airship Port |Synopsis=Fran awakens in a strange new world, filled with things both familiar and somehow not quite ..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2013/04/08
|Location=Fluorgis - Airship Port
|Synopsis=Fran awakens in a strange new world, filled with things both familiar and somehow not quite the same. Her first contact turns out to be a Judge - who is also a viera?
|Cast of Characters=Evja, Fran
|pretty=yes
}}
:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' Late at night as it is, a lot of the traffic has simply died down within the city. Most have simply packed up and gone to their own things and those that are still out are amongst the guard, or those trawling pubs, or those who have business out such as perhaps clans. And of course those that are coming from the airport. Among those mulling around on the path from the airport into the city itself is a generally familiar sight within the city. A Viera draped in a white robe with an emblazoned symbol upon the back that those of most land with Judges in them would recognize as a Judges symbol, even if it isn't quite the Archadian symbol. That, and the Viera wasn't armored, so who knew for sure. She was sitting on a bench off to the side with one leg crossed over the other while eating idly from a plate heaped high with various vegetables. Just another night for this Viera, one of many in this city.

:'''[[Fran]] has posed:''' With the advent of several new steady trade routes, thanks to the strange jigsaw puzzle of various worlds, the skies above Fluorgis are in a constant state of activity. Even as the sun falls below the horizon and the harsh desert sun gives way to the biting cold of night the flashing of tiny moving lights can be seen flitting about in the air as sky ships of various shapes and sizes make their way to the port. Commerce waits for no one. Not everyone who traverses the clouds aboard these mighty constructs does so for mere business, however. Pleasure boats, military scouting vessels, and pirates alike cruise through the sky around the world. Some are kind enough to wear their colors on their sleeves, expecting the respect and recognition that flying their flags will bring, while others prefer to remain discreet and subtle. The "Strahl", unfortunately, has no need of such brazen displays for its elegant hull to be recognizable. Sporting a design completely unique after years of modification and overhaul, the vessel is the trademark symbol of an infamous duo of sky pirates throughout Ivalice. Trouble seems to follow wherever this ship makes port but few people in this so-called World of Ruin are aware of that - yet. The appearance of the pirate fighter is not what stands out, however, but the manner in which it arrives. Dark black smoke billows from several terrible wounds upon the vessel's hull as it limps slowly into the port. The alarms go out, sending all available mechanics rushing down the wide halls of the facility to deal with whatever trouble may be ailing the crippled craft. Upon the clamps sealing down about it, a veritable army of moogles swarms the "Strahl". Several of them are sent skittering away as a large ramp unlocks and drops heavily to the deck with a sharp hiss, the pneumatic pistons meant to steadily lower it down failing catastrophically. Another cloud of dark smoke pours from the opening and for several seconds nothing but acrid ash is visible. Finally, after several long moments, a figure emerges from the fog. Fran staggers out of the wrecked hold of her craft, one hand pressed to her side against the surface of a wound that is more painful than it is dangerous. Despite the rather pitiful condition of her ship, the viera looks little worse for wear and she casually turns to find the leader amongst the technicians as he approaches the tall demihuman. "By the stars, kupo! What happened here?" Her waves a tiny little hand in the air to clear up some of the smoke as he speaks, the bright red pompom on his head bouncing animatedly. "My ship has suffered damage," Fran says dryly. "It will need repairs." "I can see that, kupo!" The moogle spins about and thrusts a wrench into the air triumphantly. "Worry not, kupo! We'll see your vessel restored, good as new!" Fran merely nods one. "My thanks." Her gaze drifts out towards the empty desert, taking in the sights available to her that might give some clue as to where she has ended up. "I do not know this place. I thought all ports of call within Ivalice to have been touched by my travels. Tis strange to find such an obvious place amid the emptiness of the sands. Tell me, what is this town?"

:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' A viera's nose was certainly a good thing and when it came to thinks like smelling smoke, it wasn't that hard for them to do. Thankfully. Or perhaps unfortunately. Either way, Evja found himself attracted to that scent as he raised his head to pear towards the airship port not far away. Ships in trouble? Well, hopefully not Heartless again. With a sigh Evja placed his plate down and stood up before beginning to stride towards the chaos that seemed to be arising from a wounded ship. Yet, upon getting there, wandering into the main area and seeing the group of mechanics, moogles and others, surrounding a wounded Viera - he hesitated. He didn't want any part of Viera, but he also had that damned altruistic streak in him that was screaming 'hurt person at least offer help'. Thus Evja reached up and pulled off the cloak that he had on before walking towards Fran and offering it towards her. Beneath the cloak the Viera had on a long black dress with frills and puffs and ... really, it looked more like a hume ball outfit than anything any self-respecting Viera would wear. But, she was waring it, even if she wasn't /that/ shapely. "Here." Evja spoke softly, extra softly as he was when having to deal with Viera. "You should at least cover yourself with this for the time. Sand does not the wounds well when they mix and the wind likes to blow here. Heartless, or... something else?" The question went unresponded to immediately from Evja mostly because he wasn't quite the welcoming committee and he didn't properly hear it anyways.

:'''[[Fran]] has posed:''' Even before Evja steps up to offer the cloak, the dark-skinned viera pirate turns her head to regard his approach. The smoke filling the air had stifled her sense of scent but her eyes and ears still worked just fine and her kind were a fairly rare sight beyond the borders of their various reclusive homelands. However, despite the kind offer, Fran casually refuses with a shake of her head. "That will not be necessary. Tis naught but a minor wound." She makes no outward comment upon seeing the manner of attire that her fellow viera has clad himself in but a faint sparkle of amusement touches the corner of her eyes. Spend enough time among the humes and some adopted even their stranger traits, it seems. "So, this is your first time here, kupo?" The head mechanic draws her attention back downwards as he answers her question after politely waiting for Evja's arrival to be dealt with. "You're in the famed City of Flowers and Commerce, Fluorgis, kupo!" "Fluorgis." Fran says the word as if trying it out but shakes her head once more. "I have never heard of such a place. Within what borders does this city lie? Are you of Archadia? Rozarria?"

:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' "...suit yourself." Evja responds to that, quick to turn and pull the cloak back over herself with a twirl before turning back towards Fran and look at her more properly. With that attire he can only assume Da... yup. She even asked, speaking of Archadia and Rozarria. "It would seem you are not quite familiar with things..." an astute 'observation', not one really so much as a retelling of what she just said. "We border on Rabanastre, actually, and are but a flight away from Archades. However we are our own land. Jylland, if you have heard of such. Not aligned currently with any other group or nation so much as accepting aid here and there from those who want to offer." That, and Evja's nose crinkled a bit beneath the veil 'she' always wore. "Though please come and clean yourself, the smell of blood is not something I enjoy and I cannot imagine any of our kind finding such pleasant. Or dress it, or something. Unless you enjoy your current manner." The offer seemingly remains open even as Evja turns and begins to wander off towards wherever.

:'''[[Fran]] has posed:''' The moogle nods and wanders off to begin overseeing the repairs on the "Strahl" when Evja steps up to handle the explanations. However, his words leave her with only more questions. How was it even possible that a city of such size and supposed fame could be so close to Rabanastre and yet she has never heard of it? Nor does this land of Jylland sound familiar. Something strange is afoot and she will find no answers standing about. Fran takes the time to fish a rough set of design documents from a pouch, handing them off to one of the moogles so that they can affect better repairs. Ofcourse, nothing of the unique modifications that she and Balthier have made to the experimental fighter are presented on these plans. Any tinkering to be done on such things would fall to her, as usual. Such was the price of maintaining their secrets. With that detail handled, she turns and stalks off after the mysteriously veiled viera. There is no hurry to her steps, either this person would wait for her or they would not, it matters little to the pirate. There are dozens of other places she can gather information about this city, assuming it has the usual fare of pubs, taverns, and clan halls.

:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' The cloaked Viera wasn't walking fast enough to outpace the other. In fact, she was pointedly walking slow enough that in case the wound was actually causing any problems walking that she didn't get lost. New to the city, new to this land... and by the sound of it perhaps even new to this world. So that may be why she didn't answer the Heartless question earlier. Reaching into her cloak Evja pulls out a long silver whistle and blows soundlessly on it. A few moments later a Chocobo pops out of a quickly appearing and vanishing portal before trotting over towards Evja to give him a nuzzle. Patting him Evja turns and offers towards Fran, "If you want a ride, feel free. I can take you to wherever you like. There are taverns and inns and eateries and clothing shops. I could also take you to my home if you want - about a minute by Judges route. There you could clean yourself up in privacy and I could give you something more... covering if you wish." This Viera, at least, was a lot more modest than Eruyt Viera, or for that matter Rabanastran Viera.

:'''[[Fran]] has posed:''' Fran shows no signs of impairment from the wound upon her side, striding gracefully down the main hallway of the Fluorgis airship port. The concern shown for her sake allows her to catch up to Evja in short order and she moves to stand beside him as he calls forth his mouth with magics that are quite impressive, by her standards. Her eyes narrow slightly upon on the feathery beast. She's naturally had need of their special knack for getting around swiftly over the course of her pirating and adventuring careers but something about riding them always felt slightly wrong to her. Perhaps she simply didn't like to see anyone in captivity, even if it was a common practice. She much preferred to ride in the air, in any case. "Your offer of hospitality is kind. But I am afraid I must refuse." Even though this person claimed that their land was not a part of either Empire, the mention of judges gives the pirate pause. Rozarria had no Judges and Arcadia allowed none but humes to serve in their military, especially among seats of power such as the Judges. Her short time spent in the Imperial city had shown her no signs of other viera even living there. Everything about this scenario is strange. Perhaps this was merely some small nation that has risen out of a conflict overshadowed by the threat of the Empire's encroachment. That they would go as far as to mimic Arcadia's methods of law enforcement is rather disturbing. She doubts that this will be a safe haven for long. Best to effect repairs upon the ship, acquire supplies and information, and be gone before anyone manages to recognize her. The comment about covering up causes her to pause as well and she once more compares Evja's attire to her own in her mind. Viera rarely wore such garments, their long limbs requiring the freedom to move about. Yet another oddity. "I am quite content with my choice of attire. Merely point me to the nearest tavern and I shall take up no more of your time."

:'''[[Evja]] has posed:''' "...very well." Evja mumbles quite simply before fishing around for something in the cloak as if searching. "Mmph, I must have left it at my home. No matter, I am sure you can find a map of this city elsewhere if it suits you. Continue along up the road a ways and a quarter of the ways to the center of the city you shall find a tavern on your right." Hard to actually show proper concern for one who doesn't want it. Plus, Evja wasn't about to force himself onto another Viera. Too many reasons not to, including not chancing the risk of getting caught. "If you do need something however, do ask about for me with the city guard. My name is Evja, Judge Magister Errant - a title with no power naturally but all the same. If you need anything, I live here. Or often enough am here or there." And with a click of the Viera's heels he turns and quite simply begins to walk back towards a bench on the side of the area where he had left his -- food... Which is now being eaten by a moogle. "Sigh."

:'''[[Fran]] has posed:''' The directions are absorbed and filed away and Fran offers a curt nod in reply. "My thanks." Now that the other viera has given credit to her suspicions, she wants nothing to do with her. Even if this strange city was just some sort of copy-cat to the Empire, such obvious similarities could not be glossed over. Silently, she turns and wanders off into the deeper parts of the city. A wide variety of demi-humans fill the streets which does much to ease her concerns but these oddly opposing dynamics only serve to confuse her further. She finds herself wishing Balthier were around and not for the first time offers a short prayer to the Gods that, wherever he is, he is alright. It will take more than an unusual crash to put an end to her partner. However, the fact that she found herself alone within the cockpit of the "Strahl" upon coming to was troubling. What exactly had happened? Perhaps with time she would find the answers as well as her friend.

Fran

2013-04-11T01:32:22Z

Msiren: Created page with "{{Character Infobox |firstname=Fran |age=Adult (Exact age unknown) |image=Fran RW.png |species=Rava Viera |sex=Female |height=6'2" |weight=130lbs |series=Final Fantasy 12 |sty..."

2013-03-17T13:21:33Z

Msiren:

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=Ophelia
|middlename=Rosai
|lastname=Lovett
|age=Early 20s
|image=Ophelia.png
|species=Not a Vampire
|sex=Female
|height=5'10"
|weight=130lbs
|series=Final Fantasy Tactics
|styles=Demon Hunter, Blood Knight
|hometown=Ordallia
|alignment=Forces of Restoration
|group=Church Of Glabados
|occupation=Inquisitor / Demon Hunter
|themesong=Blitzkrieg - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2_LJpFh3bY
|quote="One finds life through conquering the fear of death within one's mind. Empty the mind of all forms of attachment, make a go-for-broke charge and conquer the opponent with one decisive slash!"
}}
==Profile==
A child of mixed heritage, Ophelia took to the study of bushido at a young age, overcoming the prejudice and elitism of the nobility to follow in her father's footsteps as a great warrior. His death when she was still young did nothing to discourage the girl's ambitions, instead driving her to the point of obsession so that she might avenge his loss upon the monsters of the world that had taken him away. As with all tales of revenge, hers ended in tragedy and only the timely intervention of an old demon hunter by the name of Alexander Cromwell spared her the indignity of becoming a monster herself. With his aid she learned to manage the curse that has befallen her and over the last thirty years absorbed his wealth of experience in slaying the demons of the world. The Church took notice of their efforts and through collaboration created the Cromwell Foundation, a school for training future hunters. Now with the rise of the Heartless and the sundering of the worlds, Ophelia finds herself once more alone with her aging master, desperately trying to quell the tide of darkness while maintaining the secret of her own.

==History==
Because of it's borders with nations on the eastern side of the continent, Ordallia was exposed to more of the culture and fighting styles from these locations which normally only rarely saw use in Ivalice. Samurai and monks were the most common of these warriors to wander from their homelands and spread their teachings, though the deadly arts of the ninja were not unheard of outside of these distant countries. As such the nobility of Ordallia often had personal bodyguards or mercenaries trained in these professions which gave them access to an entirely different form of lore.

Hailing from the distant lands to the east, one such man traveled to Ordallia long before the onset of the war. His own nation was undergoing a crisis. Food and water were scarce due to conflict and drought and dozens of noble families had fallen to infighting and war. Rather than sell his honor to a rival lord after failing to defend his home, Sasaki Miyamoto slowly wandered his way to the west as a mercenary for hire until he found himself in the Ordallia.

Despite the lack of outright war, conflict was a way of life among the squabbling nobility. Assassination attempts were not unheard of nor was skirmishes between rival houses over land disputes or resource management. Sasaki had little trouble finding himself work as the bodyguard of a wealthy merchant. As it turned out the man's success had little to do with his talent for selling wares for he was a member of a local crime syndicate that operated a highly profitable black market.

Though his new lord's business was dishonorable, Sasaki could not simply leave or breach his agreement. Therefore he took on the jobs that were given, many of which involved bullying local competition or hunting down rivals. Several attempts were made on the merchant's life over the course of a few years and Sasaki thwarted all of them, eventually earning the man's respect and trust.

Though he had no intentions of ceasing his operations, he did manage to appease the samurai by offering his daughter's hand in marriage, whom he knew Sasaki had fallen in love with. The two were wed soon after and soon had a young baby daughter. Because he had abandoned his homeland, Sasaki insisted that she be named in the local fashion and given her mother's family name. Thus Ophelia Rosai Lovett came into the world.

A decade passed and Ophelia grew up strong and true under the tender care of her parents. She innately took to the handling of a blade and Sasaki began instructing her in the ways of the samurai from a young age, doing his best to instill in her the importance of honor and sacrifice as well as a respect for the spirits that dwell within all things. Her skill grew swiftly as did her knowledge and it seemed that Ophelia would be a worthy heir to follow in her father's footsteps.

The next decade saw the young child blossom into an amazing woman. Ophelia became just as renowned for her father in the art of swordsmanship and her beauty drew admiring fans and would-be suitors from across the land. However, unlike her father, the youthful samurai was vain and proud. Her grandfather doted on her and spoiled her with constant gifts and attention and she quickly grew snobbish and aloof. Ophelia loved showing off her skills and frequently challenged people to duels for minor trifles just so that she could prove who was top dog.

Ophelia became something of a local icon to many of the people who lived in the moderately sized city. While she could easily have had any job she wanted working as a bodyguard or simply mooched off her grandfather, she chose to open a dojo and allow people to pay to learn from the best. She was a cruel and harsh teacher, however, and only those who were truly devoted to learning the art managed to last long under her tutelage. This method of weeding out the weak certainly produced an elite group of students but her father began to fear that she was only using the classes as an excuse to exercise her love for violence.

Around the time she turned twenty years old, the outlying farming settlements fell under a terrible curse. A ancient vampire, fleeing from the destruction of his last home, settled into the ruins of an abandoned castle deep within the nearby swamps. One by one people began to disappear to satisfy the cravings for blood that he required and the creature began to grow bolder as he regained some of his strength, creeping closer and closer to the city itself as the months passed.

During one of his trips into town under the guise of an old beggar, the vampire caught wind of the local gossip about the beautiful but deadly samurai girl. Curious to see this for himself, he began to observe Ophelia for several days and during that time he took great interest in her clear love for battle. She enjoyed stomping out lesser creatures and this feature of her personality resonated within the vampire's unholy heart. He desired companionship and he knew who was the one he would chose to give his gift to.

Unfortunately for the undead monster, Ophelia's father was very overprotective of his only child. He was almost always present to keep an eye on her and she was well guarded even into the night by personal guards and servants. Several attempts to get close to her while she slept failed despite the array of powers at his command and he was loathe to use brute force in fear of sparking up another hunt, or worse, alerting the demon hunters to his presence.

Eventually a plan formed in his mind. Ophelia's love for her father was clear and with her hot-tempered disposition anyone who brought harm to him would surely draw her ire. Therefore, all he had to do was lure the father into a trap. The vampire discovered that one of the merchant's hidden warehouses was not far off from his resting place in the swamps and he quickly set about dispatching all of the guards and turning them into ghouls. Every attempt to investigate met with the same fate and eventually the merchant sent Sasaki at the head of a large group of mercenaries to find out what was going on.

The next day a lone man returned from the expedition, half dead and with dire news. Everyone had been slain by terrible fiends including Sasaki. When Ophelia heard this news she flew into an emotional rage. Commandeering another large group of soldiers, she set off immediately to avenge her father against whatever had dared to strike him down. And thus the trap was sprung.

By now the vampire's army of undead had grown rather sizable. When they arrived, the group found the place swarming with the undead. Zombies and ghouls littered the entryway and attacked immediately upon their arrival. They cleared them out with great difficulty and moved deeper into the complex but what they found here was far more surprising.

Sasaki and all his men had been raised as ghouls and they set upon the unwary group with an unholy frenzy. The remnants of the entire group was decimated swiftly and Ophelia found herself face to face with the reanimated body of her father. Just as the vampire had suspected she was unable to bring herself to strike him down and he disarmed and bound her swiftly for his new master. The vampire revealed himself then and told her his plans for the young girl as well as his offer of immortality.

Horrified, she tried to refuse him but she was in no position to argue. Without regards for her angry demands or pleas for mercy, the vampire drank of her blood until she passed away, thus securing her unholy existence. However, unknown to the creature, his old nemesis had finally managed to follow the rumors and trails to his new location and he set upon the monster moments after Ophelia's fate was sealed.

When she arose the next day, Ophelia cast her gaze up to find Alexander Cromwell looming overhead with a pitying look in his old eyes. He apologized to the girl for not being fast enough to stop the vampire's plans. Alexander was a demon hunter, he went on to tell her. He specialized in hunting down unholy abominations like vampires and ghouls and he had been unable to end the monster's life when he stormed his previous abode several months before.

As fate would have it, Alexander had also known her father many years in the past. He had spent much of his middle years living in the eastern lands and learning of their combat arts to better train himself for the battles he would face. During that time Sasaki had managed to save his life when a neighboring lord attempted to invade and the old man had promised to return the favor one day but never got the chance. He did see one alternative, however.

Alexander had learned many dark secrets during his time hunting down demons. Instead of killing Ophelia on the spot, the mercenary drew out his knife and cut open his finger. He offered her his blood and by doing so bound her to his service as a servant. In this way he was able to control her dark urges and blood lusts for only with his permission could she take a life unless defending herself. He took her under his wing as an apprentice and she was forced to leave her family behind for no one could ever be allowed to know the truth of her existence.

For the next twenty years Ophelia learned from her master, absorbing the centuries of knowledge that had been passed down from hunter to hunter. She became an expert on everything dark and demonic, every creature that crawled in the night or feasted on human flesh. And all the while her own powers continued to grow stronger. Her already bloody disposition became something of an issue and it became more and more difficult for her to restrain the urges that came with the dark unlife that sustained her. Alexander was only barely able to keep her under control at time and so he focused her training on channeling this darkness into her swordplay. With discipline and willpower, she maintained control.

Before the Fifty Years' War the two neighboring kingdoms of Ivalice and Ordallia dominated the western half of the world. Though time has lost the manner in which these two nations were formed, it is known that the nobility of the two lands are tied together through royal bloodlines and the two nations have enjoyed a mostly peaceful relationship with each other.

However, this did not stop Ordallia from invading and annexing Zelmonia, a small but once independent state bordering between Ivalice and themselves nearly one hundred years prior to the war. The bitter wounds this left politically festered over the next fifty years and eventually Ivalice sought to strike back by secretly providing the means for the small country to weaken its oppressors. But instead, the Zelmonian nobles petitioned the king for direct intervention on their behalf which began a series of border skirmishes.

King Devanne of Ordallia died not long after without naming a successor to the throne. With no children of his own, his cousin Varoi VI was named but the king of Ivalice saw the chance to take an even greater prize than Zelmonia. As Devanne's uncle, Denamda II proclaimed himself the rightful heir to the throne and declared war against the nation of Ordallia.

Leading his armies personally, Denamda invaded Zelmonia with the three orders of his greatest knights. They fought valiantly and won battle after battle, driving the Ordallian's back at every turn. However, just as they drew within reach of the border the king fell ill and died soon after without ever being able to return to his home.

The Ivalice army became lost and confused due to their leader's death and this chaos was used as an opportunity for Ordallia to strengthen its army and defend their borders. To the public eye this consisted of hiring more troops from local lords and mercenary groups, purchasing better gear, strengthening fortress walls and increasing training. However, the nobility of the land were afraid that their forces would not stand up to the military might of Ivalice's famous Knightly orders and they turned to more treacherous tactics such as attempted assassinations of important military figures, raids on supply lines, bribery of key officials, spying and other such things.

During this stalemate, another nearby military nation attempted to invade Ivalice. Romanda was ruled by Varoi's blood relative and thus his intervention was inevitable, however, King Denamda IV and his army managed to hold off the invasion through the aid of Fovoham's ruler, Grand Duke Barrington and his special assassin group called Khamja. After three years of continuous fighting, Romanda was forced to retreat.

In addition to the horrors of war, the conflict gave rise to a great surge of monster activity. Dark forces took advantages of the corpse-ridden battlefields to bolster their forces and Ophelia was forced to wage a shadow war with these insidious threats lest their interference cause the downfall of her nation. However, she could not be everywhere at once. At her urging, Alexander sent out a call to all of the other hunters that he knew of as well as hiring mercenaries who had proven themselves trustworthy. Though no where near an army, they were able to form small task-forces that scoured the countryside regularly and thus managed to keep the problem in check.

Their activities did not go unnoticed, however. With so much political intrigue among the nobility, spies were everywhere and eyes were always upon them. Eventually, word of their quiet heroism reached important members within the Church of Glabados and these people decided to offer their aid to such a noble endeavor - quietly ofcourse. Though wary at first, Alexander and Ophelia found little reason to turn down this offer and eventually a bargain was struck and the Cromwell Foundation was born.

Outwardly an academy for military training, the Cromwell Foundation took on any students who met their criteria and could afford their fees. The money went to supporting the needs of their hunters and the older members who could no longer fight or were too wounded became instructors at the institute. They became renowned for their efficiency and the skill of those who spent time there but little beyond this became public knowledge. Those who showed promise were secretly inducted into the true organization and in this way the ranks of the hunters were maintained and their secrets preserved.

This continued to be true throughout the war. The forces of Ivalice never managed to breach the borders of Ordallia and the academy remained unmolested. Constant vigilance from the hunters kept the monster population in check and the though the Church requested regular reports, they remained a separate entity free to operate on their own.

All of this changed with the arrival of the Heartless and the shattering of the worlds. Upon urgent request, Ophelia and Alexander rushed to Mullonde to help defend the temple. They found the Heartless swarming about in a great battle with the Templar and rushed to their aid, though Ophelia was careful to keep her unholy abilities restrained in the public view of others. However, when the battle was over they found that the world beyond the walls had altered inexplicably.

Thrust into the strange World of Ruin, Ophelia and Alexander, cut off from their comrades have taken shelter with the Church. None within the clergy know the truth of the girl's unholy existence though those who have been taken by the Lucavi suspect that she is different somehow. In order to keep any clashes of authority to a minimum the two hunters have been granted honorary status as inquisitors which allows them to come and go as they please without the fear of questions that might bring forth uncomfortable answers.

=Personality=
==Personality==
Despite the ultimate fate of the young warrior, Ophelia is an incredibly upbeat and optimistic individual who takes her situation rather well all things considered. Outgoing and straight-shooting, she is a 'doer' who lives in a world of action. If she's not constantly in motion and striving towards a goal or objective of some type then she's not happy.

Ophelia has a strong respect for tradition and authority - when they don't get in the way of getting things done. Rules and laws are seen as guidelines for behavior, rather than strict mandates. She is quite blunt and straight-forward in her approach to problems, more than willing to plunge right into things and get her hands dirty. If Ophelia has decided that something needs to be done then her 'do it and get on with it' attitude takes precedence over the rules. Despite her rash attitude, her excellent ability to quickly improvise an innovative solution to a problem usually overcomes any difficulties that arise.

Risks exist to be taken as far as she is concerned and her enthusiasm for danger and violence is often the source of more problems than they solve. However, Ophelia has her own strong belief in what is right and what is wrong and will doggedly stick to her principles. The Rules of the Establishment may hold little value to her but her own integrity mandates that she will not under any circumstances do something that she feels is wrong.

Because of her nature Ophelia has an uncanny ability to perceive people's attitudes and motivations. She picks up on little clues which go completely unnoticed by most others, such as facial expressions and stance. She is typically a couple of steps ahead of the person she is interacting with and uses this ability to get what she wants out of a situation.

Ophelia also has a flair for drama and style. Fast-moving and fast-talking, she has an appreciation for the finer things in life due in part to the cushy lifestyle that she enjoyed thanks to her uncle's ill-gotten wealth. She loves to gamble and spend money, especially when feeling depressed, though this is rare as she loves to have fun and in turn is a very fun person to be around. She gets excited very easily about things and can transfer this energy into motivating others to action.

The downside to Ophelia's rapid-fire approach to life is that she rarely stops to consider the consequences of her words or actions. She can be hurtful to others without even being aware of it as she generally does not know or care about the effects her words have on others. It's not that she does not care about people, her decision-making process simply does not involve taking people's feelings into account. She makes her decisions based on facts and logic.

As such she does not have a very strong trust in her instincts and is suspicious of anyone who relies on their 'intuition' to make judgement calls. Occasionally she will have strong intuitions herself which are usually way off-base, but sometimes are very lucid and positive. The unreliability of gut-feelings makes her naturally distrustful of them, however.

Having faced countless monsters and horrors that inhabit the dark corners of the world, Ophelia has become rather numb to the concept of fear. Her practical and spontaneous nature makes each enemy a problem to solved or an obstacle to be overcome and she genuinely enjoys the challenge posed by strong opponents to the point that she tends to throw herself into dangerous situations simply for the thrill of it. The more twisted and dangerous her foes the better.

Over the years the girl has also been forced to wage an eternal war with the beast that slumbers inside. Her curse calls out for blood constantly and it is only through keeping herself busy and distracted that she is able to fend off the desires that it forces upon her. However, when she is thrust into the heat of battle this becomes an even more arduous task as the sight of blood makes it extremely difficult for her to keep calm. While the pact with Alexander will not allow her to rampage freely, revealing her vampiric nature to others is equally undesirable as the Church will likely not be so keen on giving such a monster the right to continue living.

In addition to this, Ophelia has always had a sadistic streak. She revels not only in the thrill of battle but in causing pain and suffering to living creatures. Every scream, screech, howl, and cry of pain is music to her. When a creature lies bleeding and dying at her feet, groveling and begging for mercy with a look of utter fear in its eyes is the only time she feels truly alive again and the devilish curse of her blood only makes these tendencies worse. During the day when her powers are weak this influence is easy to ignore but the night brings with it greater power and greater strain.

=Abilities=

==Abilities==
Vampirism = Though being one of the dark undead is considered to be a curse, it does come with a rather impressive list of supernatural abilities.

Longevity - Upon being bitten a vampire's aging process slows to a crawl to the point that they can live for several centuries if not millenia for ones that grow particularly powerful. Their undead bodies can no longer suffer from disease or sickness but they can be carriers for blood-borne plagues. High resistance to damage and the ability to regenerate wounds at an accelerated pace are also benefits that are gained upon becoming a vampire, however, they are still able to be killed by severing the head or destroying their heart. Ophelia is relatively young for a vampire but she is capable of regenerating fairly quickly, especially when her powers are unleashed and there is ample blood around for her to utilize.

Superhuman - The full extent of a vampire's unnatural physical limits are unknown but even fledgling vampires are strong enough to rip apart humans with their bare hands and wield weapons of great size with ease. Their physical speed can also become quite incredible and running up walls or dodging bullets can become simple for them.

Blood Drinking - Vampires are not required to consume blood to survive, however, not doing so affects them in several ways. Their power is limited when not well fed and they must sleep in coffins filled with soil from their place of birth or they will grow even weaker. When they do drink the blood of a living sentient creature, they can choose to absorb the knowledge and memories of that being, though these thoughts may be fragmented and difficult to decipher. It is difficult to keep secrets from a vampire that has tasted your blood, however.

Blood Rage - Failing to drink for long periods of time can send a vampire into a blood rage where they lose control of their actions. During this haze they will wildly seek out the nearest source of fresh blood, ignoring any and all rules of decency or taboo to reach it upon which they will savagely attack their target, biting and drinking them until they are drained completely dry. Obviously, this will be a problem if it happens in public. The stronger the vampire the longer they can go without blood. Ophelia needs to feed about once a week to avoid raging out.

Creating New Vampires - Not everyone bitten by a vampire has to become one. Vampires can feed without killing their victim though the bite marks will still be noticeable and likely to arouse suspicion. Only those who are killed by being drained of blood can become vampires. Obviously, Ophelia is strictly prohibited from creating new vampires and she takes precautions to ensure this doesn't happen. There are other methods of creating vampires but they require dark magic that is not inherently a part of a vampire's skill set.

Fascination - A vampire can attempt to dominate the mind of a weak-willed individual by making direct eye-contact with the person. They cannot fully control them but they can implant suggestions and hallucinations to attempt to make them do what they wish such as making themselves less/more threatening, paralyzing the victim to make them easier to feed on, or making them want to open the door for them.

Sunlight - Exposure to sunlight does not instantly kill a vampire, though it is very uncomfortable for young vampires to be in the sun for long. This can be easily rectified with an umbrella or hood or full coverage clothing. All vampires, regardless of their strength are significantly weaker during the day. This is true even in places where the sun does not shine such as underground as the curse is tied to the concept of day and night. Traverse Town is an odd exception to this rule since it has no day at all. Weapons or attacks that harness UV radiation are particularly potent on vampires.

Shape-shifting - Another skill that takes great amounts of power to perform, a vampire can alter parts or all of their body. This allows them to either take on the full form of a great monstrous bat in the case of older more powerful vampires or simply grow bat-like wings for the purposes of flight in the case of younger vampires. Ophelia has the latter power.

Telepathy - Vampires can speak telepathically with any of their fledglings.

Precognition - All vampires can see into the immediate future (a couple seconds at most) which gives them the ability to read the attacks of their opponent which assists in dodging. This also makes them nigh impossible to ambush unless they are distracted or asleep.

Supernatural Sense - Vampires can sense supernatural activity if it is in close proximity to them. This allows them to tell when items are bearing an enchantment or a curse or if a being is supernatural themselves such as werewolves or demons in their human forms. Sufficiently powerful creatures can hide their presence, however, such as the Lucavi.

Harmful materials - Silver is particularly harmful to vampires. Weapons made from silver can cause more serious injuries that require longer than normal to heal. Blessed silver is even worse and can be considered the 'ultimate' anti-vampire weapon. 'Holy' symbols, materials, and relics can be very dangerous if touched.

Water - Vampires cannot cross large bodies of water without an external means of locomotion. Puddles and streams are fine but anything larger requires a boat. Being fully submerged in moving water completely paralyzes a vampire no matter how strong they are.

Physical Characteristics - All vampires have elongated fangs that can be difficult to hide if care is not taken. Their eyes are always red as well though young vampires can take some time for this change to occur. Ophelia has taught herself never to flash her teeth when she smiles and talks.

Oboro-muramasa = A sword already possessed of a malevolent nature, Ophelia's fall to vampirism caused the spirit contained in the blade to grow in strength and form a deep bond with her. Her unholy thirst for blood now manifests itself through the katana and whenever she strikes an enemy with this blade it feeds upon the blood spilled just as if she herself had done so. This nourishment counts towards her need for blood to avoid going into a rage though it is not as 'filling' as normal feeding.

Iaido = In addition to her dark soul blade, Ophelia has a large collection of various swords gathered from all corners of the land. Each made by a different smith and in a different fashion, these blades each contain their own unique spirit which she can draw out with an ancient technique to unleash their fury or aid upon the battlefield.

=Skills=
==Skills==
-Not a Vampire

-Swords for Every Situation
-No One Expects the Glabados Inquisition!
-Seriously, Not a Vampire
-We Have Ways of Making You Talk
-Guilt and Confession are not Related
-Iron Maiden - Not Just a Band
-Did I Mention I'm not a Vampire?
-Church-approved Miniskirt
-Organ Music Aficionado
-Capes are So Passe
-I Have a Secret - I Am... A Vampire!

=Logs=

== Logs ==
{{Character Logs}}

=Cutscenes=

== Cutscenes ==
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}
<div id="nomoretabs"></div>

Ophelia

2013-03-17T13:20:54Z

Msiren:

{{Character Infobox
|firstname=Ophelia
|middlename=Rosai
|lastname=Lovett
|age=Early 20s
|image=Ophelia.png
|species=Not a Vampire
|sex=Female
|height=5'10"
|weight=130lbs
|series=Final Fantasy Tactics
|styles=Demon Hunter, Blood Knight
|hometown=Ordallia
|alignment=Forces of Restoration
|group=Church Of Glabados
|occupation=Inquisitor / Demon Hunter
|themesong=Blitzkrieg - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2_LJpFh3bY
|quote="One finds life through conquering the fear of death within one's mind. Empty the mind of all forms of attachment, make a go-for-broke charge and conquer the opponent with one decisive slash!"
}}
==Profile==
A child of mixed heritage, Ophelia took to the study of bushido at a young age, overcoming the prejudice and elitism of the nobility to follow in her father's footsteps as a great warrior. His death when she was still young did nothing to discourage the girl's ambitions, instead driving her to the point of obsession so that she might avenge his loss upon the monsters of the world that had taken him away. As with all tales of revenge, hers ended in tragedy and only the timely intervention of an old demon hunter by the name of Alexander Cromwell spared her the indignity of becoming a monster herself. With his aid she learned to manage the curse that has befallen her and over the last thirty years absorbed his wealth of experience in slaying the demons of the world. The Church took notice of their efforts and through collaboration created the Cromwell Foundation, a school for training future hunters. Now with the rise of the Heartless and the sundering of the worlds, Ophelia finds herself once more alone with her aging master, desperately trying to quell the tide of darkness while maintaining the secret of her own.

==History==
Because of it's borders with nations on the eastern side of the continent, Ordallia was exposed to more of the culture and fighting styles from these locations which normally only rarely saw use in Ivalice. Samurai and monks were the most common of these warriors to wander from their homelands and spread their teachings, though the deadly arts of the ninja were not unheard of outside of these distant countries. As such the nobility of Ordallia often had personal bodyguards or mercenaries trained in these professions which gave them access to an entirely different form of lore.

Hailing from the distant lands to the east, one such man traveled to Ordallia long before the onset of the war. His own nation was undergoing a crisis. Food and water were scarce due to conflict and drought and dozens of noble families had fallen to infighting and war. Rather than sell his honor to a rival lord after failing to defend his home, Sasaki Miyamoto slowly wandered his way to the west as a mercenary for hire until he found himself in the Ordallia.

Despite the lack of outright war, conflict was a way of life among the squabbling nobility. Assassination attempts were not unheard of nor was skirmishes between rival houses over land disputes or resource management. Sasaki had little trouble finding himself work as the bodyguard of a wealthy merchant. As it turned out the man's success had little to do with his talent for selling wares for he was a member of a local crime syndicate that operated a highly profitable black market.

Though his new lord's business was dishonorable, Sasaki could not simply leave or breach his agreement. Therefore he took on the jobs that were given, many of which involved bullying local competition or hunting down rivals. Several attempts were made on the merchant's life over the course of a few years and Sasaki thwarted all of them, eventually earning the man's respect and trust.

Though he had no intentions of ceasing his operations, he did manage to appease the samurai by offering his daughter's hand in marriage, whom he knew Sasaki had fallen in love with. The two were wed soon after and soon had a young baby daughter. Because he had abandoned his homeland, Sasaki insisted that she be named in the local fashion and given her mother's family name. Thus Ophelia Rosai Lovett came into the world.

A decade passed and Ophelia grew up strong and true under the tender care of her parents. She innately took to the handling of a blade and Sasaki began instructing her in the ways of the samurai from a young age, doing his best to instill in her the importance of honor and sacrifice as well as a respect for the spirits that dwell within all things. Her skill grew swiftly as did her knowledge and it seemed that Ophelia would be a worthy heir to follow in her father's footsteps.

The next decade saw the young child blossom into an amazing woman. Ophelia became just as renowned for her father in the art of swordsmanship and her beauty drew admiring fans and would-be suitors from across the land. However, unlike her father, the youthful samurai was vain and proud. Her grandfather doted on her and spoiled her with constant gifts and attention and she quickly grew snobbish and aloof. Ophelia loved showing off her skills and frequently challenged people to duels for minor trifles just so that she could prove who was top dog.

Ophelia became something of a local icon to many of the people who lived in the moderately sized city. While she could easily have had any job she wanted working as a bodyguard or simply mooched off her grandfather, she chose to open a dojo and allow people to pay to learn from the best. She was a cruel and harsh teacher, however, and only those who were truly devoted to learning the art managed to last long under her tutelage. This method of weeding out the weak certainly produced an elite group of students but her father began to fear that she was only using the classes as an excuse to exercise her love for violence.

Around the time she turned twenty years old, the outlying farming settlements fell under a terrible curse. A ancient vampire, fleeing from the destruction of his last home, settled into the ruins of an abandoned castle deep within the nearby swamps. One by one people began to disappear to satisfy the cravings for blood that he required and the creature began to grow bolder as he regained some of his strength, creeping closer and closer to the city itself as the months passed.

During one of his trips into town under the guise of an old beggar, the vampire caught wind of the local gossip about the beautiful but deadly samurai girl. Curious to see this for himself, he began to observe Ophelia for several days and during that time he took great interest in her clear love for battle. She enjoyed stomping out lesser creatures and this feature of her personality resonated within the vampire's unholy heart. He desired companionship and he knew who was the one he would chose to give his gift to.

Unfortunately for the undead monster, Ophelia's father was very overprotective of his only child. He was almost always present to keep an eye on her and she was well guarded even into the night by personal guards and servants. Several attempts to get close to her while she slept failed despite the array of powers at his command and he was loathe to use brute force in fear of sparking up another hunt, or worse, alerting the demon hunters to his presence.

Eventually a plan formed in his mind. Ophelia's love for her father was clear and with her hot-tempered disposition anyone who brought harm to him would surely draw her ire. Therefore, all he had to do was lure the father into a trap. The vampire discovered that one of the merchant's hidden warehouses was not far off from his resting place in the swamps and he quickly set about dispatching all of the guards and turning them into ghouls. Every attempt to investigate met with the same fate and eventually the merchant sent Sasaki at the head of a large group of mercenaries to find out what was going on.

The next day a lone man returned from the expedition, half dead and with dire news. Everyone had been slain by terrible fiends including Sasaki. When Ophelia heard this news she flew into an emotional rage. Commandeering another large group of soldiers, she set off immediately to avenge her father against whatever had dared to strike him down. And thus the trap was sprung.

By now the vampire's army of undead had grown rather sizable. When they arrived, the group found the place swarming with the undead. Zombies and ghouls littered the entryway and attacked immediately upon their arrival. They cleared them out with great difficulty and moved deeper into the complex but what they found here was far more surprising.

Sasaki and all his men had been raised as ghouls and they set upon the unwary group with an unholy frenzy. The remnants of the entire group was decimated swiftly and Ophelia found herself face to face with the reanimated body of her father. Just as the vampire had suspected she was unable to bring herself to strike him down and he disarmed and bound her swiftly for his new master. The vampire revealed himself then and told her his plans for the young girl as well as his offer of immortality.

Horrified, she tried to refuse him but she was in no position to argue. Without regards for her angry demands or pleas for mercy, the vampire drank of her blood until she passed away, thus securing her unholy existence. However, unknown to the creature, his old nemesis had finally managed to follow the rumors and trails to his new location and he set upon the monster moments after Ophelia's fate was sealed.

When she arose the next day, Ophelia cast her gaze up to find Alexander Cromwell looming overhead with a pitying look in his old eyes. He apologized to the girl for not being fast enough to stop the vampire's plans. Alexander was a demon hunter, he went on to tell her. He specialized in hunting down unholy abominations like vampires and ghouls and he had been unable to end the monster's life when he stormed his previous abode several months before.

As fate would have it, Alexander had also known her father many years in the past. He had spent much of his middle years living in the eastern lands and learning of their combat arts to better train himself for the battles he would face. During that time Sasaki had managed to save his life when a neighboring lord attempted to invade and the old man had promised to return the favor one day but never got the chance. He did see one alternative, however.

Alexander had learned many dark secrets during his time hunting down demons. Instead of killing Ophelia on the spot, the mercenary drew out his knife and cut open his finger. He offered her his blood and by doing so bound her to his service as a servant. In this way he was able to control her dark urges and blood lusts for only with his permission could she take a life unless defending herself. He took her under his wing as an apprentice and she was forced to leave her family behind for no one could ever be allowed to know the truth of her existence.

For the next twenty years Ophelia learned from her master, absorbing the centuries of knowledge that had been passed down from hunter to hunter. She became an expert on everything dark and demonic, every creature that crawled in the night or feasted on human flesh. And all the while her own powers continued to grow stronger. Her already bloody disposition became something of an issue and it became more and more difficult for her to restrain the urges that came with the dark unlife that sustained her. Alexander was only barely able to keep her under control at time and so he focused her training on channeling this darkness into her swordplay. With discipline and willpower, she maintained control.

Before the Fifty Years' War the two neighboring kingdoms of Ivalice and Ordallia dominated the western half of the world. Though time has lost the manner in which these two nations were formed, it is known that the nobility of the two lands are tied together through royal bloodlines and the two nations have enjoyed a mostly peaceful relationship with each other.

However, this did not stop Ordallia from invading and annexing Zelmonia, a small but once independent state bordering between Ivalice and themselves nearly one hundred years prior to the war. The bitter wounds this left politically festered over the next fifty years and eventually Ivalice sought to strike back by secretly providing the means for the small country to weaken its oppressors. But instead, the Zelmonian nobles petitioned the king for direct intervention on their behalf which began a series of border skirmishes.

King Devanne of Ordallia died not long after without naming a successor to the throne. With no children of his own, his cousin Varoi VI was named but the king of Ivalice saw the chance to take an even greater prize than Zelmonia. As Devanne's uncle, Denamda II proclaimed himself the rightful heir to the throne and declared war against the nation of Ordallia.

Leading his armies personally, Denamda invaded Zelmonia with the three orders of his greatest knights. They fought valiantly and won battle after battle, driving the Ordallian's back at every turn. However, just as they drew within reach of the border the king fell ill and died soon after without ever being able to return to his home.

The Ivalice army became lost and confused due to their leader's death and this chaos was used as an opportunity for Ordallia to strengthen its army and defend their borders. To the public eye this consisted of hiring more troops from local lords and mercenary groups, purchasing better gear, strengthening fortress walls and increasing training. However, the nobility of the land were afraid that their forces would not stand up to the military might of Ivalice's famous Knightly orders and they turned to more treacherous tactics such as attempted assassinations of important military figures, raids on supply lines, bribery of key officials, spying and other such things.

During this stalemate, another nearby military nation attempted to invade Ivalice. Romanda was ruled by Varoi's blood relative and thus his intervention was inevitable, however, King Denamda IV and his army managed to hold off the invasion through the aid of Fovoham's ruler, Grand Duke Barrington and his special assassin group called Khamja. After three years of continuous fighting, Romanda was forced to retreat.

In addition to the horrors of war, the conflict gave rise to a great surge of monster activity. Dark forces took advantages of the corpse-ridden battlefields to bolster their forces and Ophelia was forced to wage a shadow war with these insidious threats lest their interference cause the downfall of her nation. However, she could not be everywhere at once. At her urging, Alexander sent out a call to all of the other hunters that he knew of as well as hiring mercenaries who had proven themselves trustworthy. Though no where near an army, they were able to form small task-forces that scoured the countryside regularly and thus managed to keep the problem in check.

Their activities did not go unnoticed, however. With so much political intrigue among the nobility, spies were everywhere and eyes were always upon them. Eventually, word of their quiet heroism reached important members within the Church of Glabados and these people decided to offer their aid to such a noble endeavor - quietly ofcourse. Though wary at first, Alexander and Ophelia found little reason to turn down this offer and eventually a bargain was struck and the Cromwell Foundation was born.

Outwardly an academy for military training, the Cromwell Foundation took on any students who met their criteria and could afford their fees. The money went to supporting the needs of their hunters and the older members who could no longer fight or were too wounded became instructors at the institute. They became renowned for their efficiency and the skill of those who spent time there but little beyond this became public knowledge. Those who showed promise were secretly inducted into the true organization and in this way the ranks of the hunters were maintained and their secrets preserved.

This continued to be true throughout the war. The forces of Ivalice never managed to breach the borders of Ordallia and the academy remained unmolested. Constant vigilance from the hunters kept the monster population in check and the though the Church requested regular reports, they remained a separate entity free to operate on their own.

All of this changed with the arrival of the Heartless and the shattering of the worlds. Upon urgent request, Ophelia and Alexander rushed to Mullonde to help defend the temple. They found the Heartless swarming about in a great battle with the Templar and rushed to their aid, though Ophelia was careful to keep her unholy abilities restrained in the public view of others. However, when the battle was over they found that the world beyond the walls had altered inexplicably.

Thrust into the strange World of Ruin, Ophelia and Alexander, cut off from their comrades have taken shelter with the Church. None within the clergy know the truth of the girl's unholy existence though those who have been taken by the Lucavi suspect that she is different somehow. In order to keep any clashes of authority to a minimum the two hunters have been granted honorary status as inquisitors which allows them to come and go as they please without the fear of questions that might bring forth uncomfortable answers.

=Personality=
==Personality==
Despite the ultimate fate of the young warrior, Ophelia is an incredibly upbeat and optimistic individual who takes her situation rather well all things considered. Outgoing and straight-shooting, she is a 'doer' who lives in a world of action. If she's not constantly in motion and striving towards a goal or objective of some type then she's not happy.

Ophelia has a strong respect for tradition and authority - when they don't get in the way of getting things done. Rules and laws are seen as guidelines for behavior, rather than strict mandates. She is quite blunt and straight-forward in her approach to problems, more than willing to plunge right into things and get her hands dirty. If Ophelia has decided that something needs to be done then her 'do it and get on with it' attitude takes precedence over the rules. Despite her rash attitude, her excellent ability to quickly improvise an innovative solution to a problem usually overcomes any difficulties that arise.

Risks exist to be taken as far as she is concerned and her enthusiasm for danger and violence is often the source of more problems than they solve. However, Ophelia has her own strong belief in what is right and what is wrong and will doggedly stick to her principles. The Rules of the Establishment may hold little value to her but her own integrity mandates that she will not under any circumstances do something that she feels is wrong.

Because of her nature Ophelia has an uncanny ability to perceive people's attitudes and motivations. She picks up on little clues which go completely unnoticed by most others, such as facial expressions and stance. She is typically a couple of steps ahead of the person she is interacting with and uses this ability to get what she wants out of a situation.

Ophelia also has a flair for drama and style. Fast-moving and fast-talking, she has an appreciation for the finer things in life due in part to the cushy lifestyle that she enjoyed thanks to her uncle's ill-gotten wealth. She loves to gamble and spend money, especially when feeling depressed, though this is rare as she loves to have fun and in turn is a very fun person to be around. She gets excited very easily about things and can transfer this energy into motivating others to action.

The downside to Ophelia's rapid-fire approach to life is that she rarely stops to consider the consequences of her words or actions. She can be hurtful to others without even being aware of it as she generally does not know or care about the effects her words have on others. It's not that she does not care about people, her decision-making process simply does not involve taking people's feelings into account. She makes her decisions based on facts and logic.

As such she does not have a very strong trust in her instincts and is suspicious of anyone who relies on their 'intuition' to make judgement calls. Occasionally she will have strong intuitions herself which are usually way off-base, but sometimes are very lucid and positive. The unreliability of gut-feelings makes her naturally distrustful of them, however.

Having faced countless monsters and horrors that inhabit the dark corners of the world, Ophelia has become rather numb to the concept of fear. Her practical and spontaneous nature makes each enemy a problem to solved or an obstacle to be overcome and she genuinely enjoys the challenge posed by strong opponents to the point that she tends to throw herself into dangerous situations simply for the thrill of it. The more twisted and dangerous her foes the better.

Over the years the girl has also been forced to wage an eternal war with the beast that slumbers inside. Her curse calls out for blood constantly and it is only through keeping herself busy and distracted that she is able to fend off the desires that it forces upon her. However, when she is thrust into the heat of battle this becomes an even more arduous task as the sight of blood makes it extremely difficult for her to keep calm. While the pact with Alexander will not allow her to rampage freely, revealing her vampiric nature to others is equally undesirable as the Church will likely not be so keen on giving such a monster the right to continue living.

In addition to this, Ophelia has always had a sadistic streak. She revels not only in the thrill of battle but in causing pain and suffering to living creatures. Every scream, screech, howl, and cry of pain is music to her. When a creature lies bleeding and dying at her feet, groveling and begging for mercy with a look of utter fear in its eyes is the only time she feels truly alive again and the devilish curse of her blood only makes these tendencies worse. During the day when her powers are weak this influence is easy to ignore but the night brings with it greater power and greater strain.

=Abilities=

==Abilities==
Vampirism = Though being one of the dark undead is considered to be a curse, it does come with a rather impressive list of supernatural abilities.

Longevity - Upon being bitten a vampire's aging process slows to a crawl to the point that they can live for several centuries if not millenia for ones that grow particularly powerful. Their undead bodies can no longer suffer from disease or sickness but they can be carriers for blood-borne plagues. High resistance to damage and the ability to regenerate wounds at an accelerated pace are also benefits that are gained upon becoming a vampire, however, they are still able to be killed by severing the head or destroying their heart. Ophelia is relatively young for a vampire but she is capable of regenerating fairly quickly, especially when her powers are unleashed and there is ample blood around for her to utilize.

Superhuman - The full extent of a vampire's unnatural physical limits are unknown but even fledgling vampires are strong enough to rip apart humans with their bare hands and wield weapons of great size with ease. Their physical speed can also become quite incredible and running up walls or dodging bullets can become simple for them.

Blood Drinking - Vampires are not required to consume blood to survive, however, not doing so affects them in several ways. Their power is limited when not well fed and they must sleep in coffins filled with soil from their place of birth or they will grow even weaker. When they do drink the blood of a living sentient creature, they can choose to absorb the knowledge and memories of that being, though these thoughts may be fragmented and difficult to decipher. It is difficult to keep secrets from a vampire that has tasted your blood, however.

Blood Rage - Failing to drink for long periods of time can send a vampire into a blood rage where they lose control of their actions. During this haze they will wildly seek out the nearest source of fresh blood, ignoring any and all rules of decency or taboo to reach it upon which they will savagely attack their target, biting and drinking them until they are drained completely dry. Obviously, this will be a problem if it happens in public. The stronger the vampire the longer they can go without blood. Ophelia needs to feed about once a week to avoid raging out.

Creating New Vampires - Not everyone bitten by a vampire has to become one. Vampires can feed without killing their victim though the bite marks will still be noticeable and likely to arouse suspicion. Only those who are killed by being drained of blood can become vampires. Obviously, Ophelia is strictly prohibited from creating new vampires and she takes precautions to ensure this doesn't happen. There are other methods of creating vampires but they require dark magic that is not inherently a part of a vampire's skill set.

Fascination - A vampire can attempt to dominate the mind of a weak-willed individual by making direct eye-contact with the person. They cannot fully control them but they can implant suggestions and hallucinations to attempt to make them do what they wish such as making themselves less/more threatening, paralyzing the victim to make them easier to feed on, or making them want to open the door for them.

Sunlight - Exposure to sunlight does not instantly kill a vampire, though it is very uncomfortable for young vampires to be in the sun for long. This can be easily rectified with an umbrella or hood or full coverage clothing. All vampires, regardless of their strength are significantly weaker during the day. This is true even in places where the sun does not shine such as underground as the curse is tied to the concept of day and night. Traverse Town is an odd exception to this rule since it has no day at all. Weapons or attacks that harness UV radiation are particularly potent on vampires.

Shape-shifting - Another skill that takes great amounts of power to perform, a vampire can alter parts or all of their body. This allows them to either take on the full form of a great monstrous bat in the case of older more powerful vampires or simply grow bat-like wings for the purposes of flight in the case of younger vampires. Ophelia has the latter power.

Telepathy - Vampires can speak telepathically with any of their fledglings.

Precognition - All vampires can see into the immediate future (a couple seconds at most) which gives them the ability to read the attacks of their opponent which assists in dodging. This also makes them nigh impossible to ambush unless they are distracted or asleep.

Supernatural Sense - Vampires can sense supernatural activity if it is in close proximity to them. This allows them to tell when items are bearing an enchantment or a curse or if a being is supernatural themselves such as werewolves or demons in their human forms. Sufficiently powerful creatures can hide their presence, however, such as the Lucavi.

Harmful materials - Silver is particularly harmful to vampires. Weapons made from silver can cause more serious injuries that require longer than normal to heal. Blessed silver is even worse and can be considered the 'ultimate' anti-vampire weapon. 'Holy' symbols, materials, and relics can be very dangerous if touched.

Water - Vampires cannot cross large bodies of water without an external means of locomotion. Puddles and streams are fine but anything larger requires a boat. Being fully submerged in moving water completely paralyzes a vampire no matter how strong they are.

Physical Characteristics - All vampires have elongated fangs that can be difficult to hide if care is not taken. Their eyes are always red as well though young vampires can take some time for this change to occur. Ophelia has taught herself never to flash her teeth when she smiles and talks.

Oboro-muramasa = A sword already possessed of a malevolent nature, Ophelia's fall to vampirism caused the spirit contained in the blade to grow in strength and form a deep bond with her. Her unholy thirst for blood now manifests itself through the katana and whenever she strikes an enemy with this blade it feeds upon the blood spilled just as if she herself had done so. This nourishment counts towards her need for blood to avoid going into a rage though it is not as 'filling' as normal feeding.

Iaido = In addition to her dark soul blade, Ophelia has a large collection of various swords gathered from all corners of the land. Each made by a different smith and in a different fashion, these blades each contain their own unique spirit which she can draw out with an ancient technique to unleash their fury or aid upon the battlefield.

=Skills=
==Skills==
-Not a Vampire
-Swords for Every Situation
-No One Expects the Glabados Inquisition!
-Seriously, Not a Vampire
-We Have Ways of Making You Talk
-Guilt and Confession are not Related
-Iron Maiden - Not Just a Band
-Did I Mention I'm not a Vampire?
-Church-approved Miniskirt
-Organ Music Aficionado
-Capes are So Passe
-I Have a Secret - I Am... A Vampire!

=Logs=

== Logs ==
{{Character Logs}}

=Cutscenes=

== Cutscenes ==
{{Character Logs|Cutscenes}}
<div id="nomoretabs"></div>