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Fantasy Converging Fates (IC Posting)

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Standing tall, she waited patiently beside the other two newly arrived to this little... conglomorate of adventurers yet-to-be solidified. she didnt mind waiting a little. her presence was hard to ignore, so it was likely she wouldnt wait long. (if anything it managed to wane off some of the malicious stares in attempts to avoid eye contact with the woman) And indeed she didnt, glancing over as she heard a simple question reach her ears
Goonfire said:
"Who's your companion?"
Click to expand...
"Ah, he would be right-" she began, motioning a hand so her cloak would open, to reveal... nothing. nothing but cloth and some under armor, along ith a few utility belt for carrying some basic adventuring needs and amenities. she scowled slightly as she saw the lack of figure. her eyes quickly scanned the floor, starting near her then quickly fanning out, eyes narrowing as she did so. "Samson!" she said abruptly as her eyes hit a particular dark spot beneath the nearby table that was just subtly different from the natural shading. she quickly moved over, and in one swift motion, scooped up the dark spot into her arms, issuing an indignant "Ghergh-" as it was raised, the woman holding it delicately, yet firmly like how one would hold up a ball with one hand.

The motion unveiled a black creature. almost starfish like in nature, it beheld a deep black skin, rubbery, somewhat shiny, and tough, yet smooth. multiple tendrils sprouted off of its central...mass in basically all directions, many more than an aforementioned starfish, all drooping down due to how it was being held. many small eyeballs dotted these tentacles, getting larger as they congregated towards the center, wherem along with them, a mouth lie, composed of several flaps, under each being a multitude of rows of teeth more than designed for the shredding and piercing of meat.

"This is Samson. He is a mimic, and my ever loyal companion." She said with a smile of pride. It would only be natural for a slurry of questions to float through the mind of those who laid upon the thing named 'Samson', varying from 'Is that safe?' to 'How did the guild allow that in?'

As if trying to pre-emptively alleviate those thoughts, the woman quickly began her statement "I assure you, regardless of his looks, Samson here is a very peaceful mimic. He was born with a condition that prevents him from being able to change his shape as others are able, at most being able to change his color and mimic a select few sounds." She then held the mimic close to herself, stroking a hand along its surface, which it seemed to enjoy. "It will not attempt any hostility aside from possibly feisting for your leftover dinner scraps. i will make sure of it." She nodded, before slightly grinning in a way that looked for more mischevious than it was intended to be. "Would you like to hold him? He is very sweet, even to strangers" she slightly motioned her arms out towards wulfram, gesturing to the mass of tentacles, teeth, and eyes.

Goonfire Goonfire
 
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A delicate finger, one that had never seen a single day of honest work, balanced a copper coin on its tip. On occasion, that finger would flick upwards, sending the coin up until it just about grazed the ceiling, before it fell once more, landing heads upon the extended finger.

Rosaire had been up since midnight. It was the compromise that he made made, living in a village filled with daywalkers like these: he could wake when the moon was up, go about his business with the sunkissed-folks, and then sleep come afternoon and evening. It suited him, really. He was awake right when the nights were getting fun, when people had too many drinks rolling in their guts, when people were getting more and more loose with their purse strings. A little push, a little provocation, a fun little wager, and voila. He had enough coin to get drunk himself. And come morning? Well, the buzz of drink was heavy enough still that he could almost convince himself that his headache came from the hangover rather than the sun.

Convince himself that it was worthwhile to lean his back against the walls of the White Lotus Guild, waiting, watching, counting away the coins he saved to pay for rent, and find that opportunity he was looking for.

A nice, fun party, preferrably filled with cuties with fine posteriors. If he had to camp in a Dungeon, he'd rather spend it with dainty little dolls than being surrounded by the musk of males. It was simply too depressing otherwise. Who'd want to show off to a bunch of musclebound orcs?

It had been two weeks since, and with the new 'emergency' regulations in place, Rosaire was seriously running out of time here. He could practically feel the receptionist side-eye him from across the room, itching to get him kicked out for being a layabout (and definitely not because of the time he spent chatting her up last week). It was kinda dire, really. He might have even felt a bit nervous.

The coin flipped once more, flying straight up, falling straight down.

He snatched it out the air, not sparing an eye towards the pre-determined result.
Phayne Phayne AnonyMouse AnonyMouse

"Grimm, Rella!"

A large group had formed, a potential party that was looking like it was getting more and more full, but Rosaire cut into the fray regardless, a wide-mouthed grin as he slapped his friends on the back.

Friends, perhaps, was a bit of a loose term. They were fellows in vice, more likely. Comrades in indulgence, on the coincidental instances where they ended up. Grimm stank occasionally of someone who wanted to get clean, but who could truly be free of their desires? If he adopted a little bit more of Rella's attitude, why, maybe he'd stop looking like a 50 year old stuck with a child's proportions?

"Should've told me you two were looking for a party too." His crimson eye swept over the rest present. A minotaur lady with plenty to appreciate, a hulk of a...nother minotaur that looked her polar opposite in both frame and temperament, a pale elf with hair that'd probably be amazing if she'd care for it, and...oh Lord. That was a fine package indeed. The serving girls, certainly, couldn't compare. Rosaire ran the tip of his tongue against his canine, then turned his attention to the ones he recognized once more. "Honestly, with the three of us, that's a full set!"

Magical shields for their fire-fisted mage, with whistling arrowheads to provide cover and distraction. The roles were a bit all over the place, but well...best assemble a party for a Party.
 
Location: Sahlsbane, White Lotus Guild Hall​

Marcy grimaced ever-so slightly at Grimm's mention of his 'habits' and 'love of alcohol.' But, by the time he finished speaking, there was a rare smile upon her face. His pledge to live up to the expectations of his party-to-be were sincere. She certainly hadn't expected such conviction. He seemed every bit like a man striving to be his best self. Or at least a better self than what had come before. She could certainly relate to that... n-not that she had done anything wrong, of course.

"I apologize. 'Halfling,' it is," she said, in response to his correction. "Better yet, I shall not call you anything outside of your chosen name, Grimm," she added as she reached across the table to gather the stack of forms.

"Fear not; there shall be no putting pen to paper. You may find this hard to believe, but I have been criticized for being too rigid in my methodology. My previous party felt my leadership was... 'stifling.' I disagree. Rules and a strict adherence to them are key to optimization, but I did allow for some frivolity, you know," the woman went on to say as she put away her various props, clearing the table for the drinks she hoped were on the way. "For example, I would not forbid your intake of alcohol, Grimm. Prohibition is so often a failed doctrine, you see. No, instead I would craft a strict plan, whereby you can only partake at set ours, in set quantities, and at approved establishments, and you would be required to record and submit your fraternization itinerary to me each week for review."

Her eyes met his across the table. She was kidding, right? That was a joke... right? Her deadpan expression and chilling gaze made it impossible to know...

"Anyway, that is all in the past now and I have been forbidden from donning the mantle of leader. Good riddance. Heavy is the crown," she scoffed. "We shall see how the hierarchy shakes out. Three mages does not a party make, but this is a good start. Or 'good enough' anyway," Marcy mused as her gaze drifted beyond the halfling, toward the serving area, where their lupine partymate was laughing with the man at the counter, likely due to some silly thing she had said or done. It seemed that getting drinks was more than Rella's meager attention span could handle.

Fortunately, she didn't have long to ponder Rella's antics, for two figures were already making their way toward the table: the dark elf Assassin and her newfound burly red friend. For a moment, Marcy thought --or hoped-- they were headed elsewhere. But her table's position, with her back to the wall most distant from the room's entrance, meant there was no other place they could reasonably be going. Yes, it was quite clear they were coming here and, as such, Marcy had ample time to fix her resting bitch face... and she required every second of it to do so.

"Good morning, you two! By chance are you forming a Party? You wouldn't have room for two more, would you?" the dark elf said.

Her tone was cordial, not at all the honeyed tones one might expect from an alleged backstabber. For some reason, Marcy half expected this woman to be a seductress or femme fatale, if the word around town was to be believed. Despite her insistence on leaving the past behind, the shadow still lingered and she had to consciously force such thoughts from memory.

The dark elf's companion was a tad more to-the-point: "Well, I think the sign to 'apply here' removes any doubt..." he said.

"Mmm, yes. Would you mind handing me that?" Marcy said to Grimm, with a nod to the wooden sign dangling from his side of the table. "My newfound companions have shown me the value of a verbal recruitment drive. Some find the written medium too impersonal."

"You look like you could use some brawn," the man added, folding his arms in front of him. "The name's Wulfram, and this is Seirina."

"Marcelotte, Grimm, Rella," the minotaur said, gesturing to herself, her halfling companion, and the third empty chair, respectively. She was fairly certain they already knew who and where Rella was, or would find out in short order. "Earth Mage. Wardsman. Fire Mage. You are correct. Front line combatants will round out our party nicely. Perhaps we can... work... something... out...hmm." Her words trailed off as another figure approached the table, capturing her attention.

A tall, unkempt crimson-eyed elf threaded her way through the room, looking very much as if she did not wish to be here. The state of her attire, her hair, her entire being spoke of someone who had quite possibly fallen out of bed and into this room, against her will, and her enormous stature meant this fact was made clear for all to see. She shone like a beacon of failures and faults.

Her height alone would make her stand out, but it was a sense of familiarity, not eccentricity, which made Marcy take notice. As a diehard practitioner of the arcane arts --a real 'mage's mage' if you will-- Marcy had consumed and continues to consume an overwhelming majority of the nonfiction section of Sahlsbane's library, as well as any fiction she felt might further her studies. She even donated a few of her own to the collection. As such, she knew this elf, though she had never put a name to a face. The library is no place for idle chatter, after all.

Most importantly, she had no idea this woman was an adventurer. As the pointy-eared, scruffy-headed librarian shuffled toward them, Marcy envisioned only one possible reason for this visitation: she had somehow forgotten to return a book and they sent someone her size to collect. Not on my life. How dare they levy such an accusation against me. It's preposterous, she thought, already bracing for a vehement rebuttal.

"Would there be room for a third and her companion?" the librarian said. Oh... so, she was trying to join a party. Okay... nevermind.

"Who's your companion?" Wulfram asked, at which point the librarian opened her attire, revealing... nothing. Well, nothing out of the ordinary.

After a moment, she scooped up an inky black mass of eyes and tentacles from the floor and presented it to him as 'Samson,' her mimic companion.

"I oft wondered what was writhing in your coat, stranger, but it seemed in poor taste to ask. In any case, you can scarcely keep track of it, yet we are supposed to believe you have control of this creature?" Marcy retorted. "Furthermore, I don't think I got your name. Or are you the companion and Samson here is the adventurer?"

"It's Ersatz! You don't know Ersatz? Geeez, you really gotta get out more, Horns," Rella exclaimed as she abruptly rejoined the table. She slammed down a large pitcher of red liquid and several empty mugs. The shaman's black wolf had also returned and now leapt up, depositing a thick slab of meat on the tabletop as well. They both threw their heads back and howled in unison... though Rella's version was a bit more of an ear piercing screech which trailed off into laughter. "The pack grows! Eat. Drink. Be merry my brothers and sisters!" she said with a sweeping gesture encompassing them all as she knelt to give the black wolf a hearty round of head pats and heavy petting.

"Grimm, Rella!" Another voice joined the chorus. A red-eyed young man butted in, throwing an arm over the aforementioned adventurers' shoulders in comraderie. A vampire, perhaps, if the fangs were any indicator, and another veteran of their debaucherous activities. "Should've told me you two were looking for a party too." he said as he took in everyone gathered. Marcy did not like the way his eyes feasted upon some of the women in the group, particularly the dark elf. "Honestly, with the three of us, that's a full set!"

"Full? No, young man, we are MORE than full," Marcy said sternly. "And unless one of you are a Light Mage..." her gaze rested upon the fanged newcomer, as if to emphasize her doubts on that matter, "-we are still missing some key strategic elements. This group is too big."

"Big? Naaaaah, I'd say we're 'fun-sized.' Actually, I'd say we need more people," Rella said, as she took hold of Samson and held the tentacled abomination in her arms, stroking it as if it were a docile cat. "Let's make a full sweep, gather up everyone's leftovers into one big supergroup! Hear me out: what if --WHAT IF-- we formed the largest party in guild history?"

As she spoke, Marcy gave the pitcher of liquid an experimental sniff. Nope, not alcohol. Satisfied that it was safe, she began to pour herself a mug and served anyone else who seemed even slightly interested in having a sip. As for the slab of meat the wolf had delivered... she wanted nothing to do with that. However, her attention snapped back to Rella when the girl suggested the preposterous idea of going big.

"White Lotus won't accept such a proposal. Aside from the obvious logistical nightmare, it is financially untenable," Marcy said, adjusting her glasses as she scrutinized the wolf-girl. "Splitting the rewards five, six, or even seven ways stretches it too thin. The largest group I have ever personally encountered was... eight people, I think? They didn't last more than a few months. Larger parties may be found in guild records, but I doubt they fared much better, especially at low ranks."

"Guild's dying anyway. They oughtta be open to somethin' different," Rella said, handing Samson to anyone else willing to try something different. Stroking a mimic was definitely different. "Besides, less adventurers around means the pots get bigger, right? They might even let us take on stuff above our rank if there aren't enough D's and E's around and we can show we've got the manpower. Look, I know you think I'm stupid, but I've given this a lot of thought. Like, five maybe ten whole seconds of thought. Truss me, if ever there was a time to try this, it's now," she said, eyes lighting up with gleeful delight.

"We have seven people here, Rella. Nine if the wolf and spaghetti monster intend to join. Ten if none of you are a healer. That's enough. Quit while you're ahead."

"Ain't about gettin' ahead. It's about helpin' folks," Rella said with an enthusiastic shake of her head. "Buuuut, if you don't think you're smart enough to manage more than a handful of folks, I totally understand," she said with a shrug. "I mean, I thought you was some kind of logatistical genius, but I guess not......"

It's 'logistical,' you idiot, Marcy thought, but said nothing. There was no sense arguing with a fool.

They would need to find ways to increase income while decreasing costs. That meant taking on more requests, more often, or only taking high-paying offers. Or, they would have to control spending: make deals with local vendors to save on weapons, armor, gear, consumables, travel, room and board. Marcy's previous party had been seven people, but they all lived under one roof, so the rent-per-person was relatively low, thanks to her father being the landlord. And she handled things like groceries and meal prep. Cooking for her companions was one thing Marcy missed... though she pretended she only did that to save money.

In short, she made it work and they were able to live comfortably. Marcy knew Rella's proposal wasn't impossible. But was it worth the difficulty?

She took a long swig of the red juice and held her peace, for now. She must not let Rella's foolish optimism get under her skin twice in one day.
Interaction(s): Phayne Phayne [Grimm] | GojiBean GojiBean [Seirina] | Goonfire Goonfire [Wulfram] | Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette [Ersatz] | ERode ERode [Rosaire] | BuggaBoo BuggaBoo [LiLo]
 
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The Wardsman
Grimm
No Party
Guild Cafeteria - Rella and Marcy's Table

"I'd appreciate that, likewise as long as you are happy with it, I will refer to you as Marcy" replied Grimm, recalling that that was how she had first introduced herself to him. "Anyways, you would think I'd be used to such things by now" he laughed, referring to the various 'short' terminologies he has had the pleasure / displeasure of being called. "but I guess, that just shows I've still got some sense of pride for my people. That being said, I'm sure there would be no harm with giving one another nicknames once we all get more comfortable with one another" he paused, glancing in the direction of where Rella was. "Whether we like it or not, I doubt we would be able to avoid nicknames, with how our lupine friend is" he laughed, turning back to face Marcy once more as she continued to speak, her hands clearing the table of her earlier preparations.

It was when she began to speak about her previous party and her role as their leader, that Grimm began to reflect back on his own party and how their two situations seemed to fall on completely different ends of the spectrum. "Thats kinda ironic.." mumbled Grimm, "...my former party... was quite the opposite. Too carefree and too ignorant. We perhaps could have done with someone like you as our leader...someone to reign us in and keep us grounded. Well, at least the rest of them..." he paused, realizing that it would have likely failed either way. Though not because of what a leader like Marcy would have tried to enforce, but rather it was down to those individuals he once thought of as comrades.

Egotistical and too full of themselves, they only ever saw what they wanted to see, believe what they wanted to believe. Despite the support of Grimm, it was only ever their contribution that got recognized and whatever he had done was overlooked or given little regard. It was only when things began to fail that suddenly his 'contributions' were of importance... or as they described it; his lack of contribution. I wonder how my former party would have faired if we tried it her way, perhaps I wouldn't have had to take the fall and find myself at rock bottom... he reminisced, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"If my former party had someone like you in charge, perhaps I could have avoided becoming an alcoholic" he laughed, "You'd probably never believe it, but hand on my heart, I was never much of a drinker prior to being expelled. But... when you're down in the dumps and at your lowest... a nice cold brew always seems to warm you right back up... and before you know it... that one brew becomes two... then three... then seven..." he paused, laughing again. "At least, now.. while it may be hard at first.. I might save a few coins here and there with someone keeping at eye out on certain bad habits... though... between the three of us, I don't think I'd be the biggest problem..." he paused, "uh... that wasn't... a pun or uh.. a reference... to our heights. I.. I just meant.. that... Rella's.. a handful... y'know..." he stopped once he heard the approach of Seirina and Wulfram, their timing impeccable as Grimm was at risk of digging himself into a grave with his waffling.

Like probably most men in the room, Grimm's eyes did wander a few places as Seirina spoke up, it was instinctual and something that seemed to occur naturally though Grimm made sure to keep his thoughts to himself. It was neither the time nor the place for such things, nor was the company right either. Instead, in order to distract himself from such thoughts; he would instead glance over to her hulking companion; a face he could not recall ever seeing before.

While Grimm hated the idea of being judged based on his height, he could not help but find himself being a hypocrite in this regard. A simple glance at the man was enough for Grimm to make the general assumption that he was some kind of physical fighter. He had the height and the physical bulk to succeed as one, so there was little doubt that his skills likely laid somewhere in that region; the specifics a mystery for now. If there were anything else, Grimm would perhaps have to quit being a betting man.

Knowing a bit on Seirina's abilities and with his assumptions of Wulfram, Grimm could not help but feel like the puzzle pieces were slowly falling down into place one after another. It was only a few moments ago that Marcy had made the comment about their party of three being a trio of mages. Had Seirina and Wulfram overheard her and thus come over to offer a pair of hands to balance things out?

Lost in his thoughts, it wasn't until Marcy addressed him that he tore his gaze away from the duo and towards the 'Apply here sign'. "Oh yeah.. sure" he replied, grasping the sign with both hands, before heading over to Marcy's side; the Minotauress proceeding to introduce the pair of them as well as their presently absent companion. "Hey.. can't say I've seen you before Big fella... as for you Seirina.. it's been awhile" he added, acknowledging their arrival before placing the sign down. Though he would glance up at Marcy and then towards the direction she was staring at, the halfling noticing how she had trailed off; something clearly catching her attention.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me?! another one? Honestly... some people have all the blessings" he mumbled to himself, grabbing his chair just as another giant of a woman approached their table. the halfling craning his neck slightly as he observed her approach while clearly dragging the chair around the table to Marcy's side before clambering onto it.

Out of everyone gathered at this table presently, only the dark elf did not at least double the halflings height. Thus, a somewhat displeased expression had managed to sneak its way upon the halflings face. Not wanting it to be noticed, he would turn his gaze away from the gathering and towards the bar area where he was hoping to see a certain wolfish woman approach with their drinks. While it was true that he had earlier hoped to avoid Rella, he now could not deny that he now needed her to return swiftly. A soft tap to his side confirmed a little metallic cannister hidden in his robe, a much needed addition to whatever drink would be brought over. If Grimm was to remain quiet on how unfair life was, he would need a drink. Pronto. Alas, she was nowhere to be seen. A sigh escaping him.

It was Wulframs question of the 'companion' had almost caused Grimm to grimace. His eyes turning towards the large elvish woman as he watched her reveal what it was that she had been hiding. "Is that.. thing..." he coughed.. "is.. Sampson... safe?" questioned Grimm, staring at the mimic and nodding along with Marcy's comments, not noticing the arrival of Rella until her voice broke through the awkwardness. Her howl accompanied by that of the wolf from earlier; the canine once more approaching Rella, perhaps out of familiarity, regardless it was clear that the wolf was already fond of Rella, considering the hefty offering she had brought over; a large chunk of meat. Though rather than the meat, it was the drink that had really garnered Grimm's attention.

"Finally..." he mumbled, using his left hand to reach into his robe for the metal cannister. Alas, his actions would come to an abrupt halt, not once noticing Rosaire's silent approach until he felt an arm around his shoulder and the all too familiar voice of their vampire drinking buddy.

"Oh great... just great...Rosaire..." sighed Grimm, withdrawing his hand from his robe and using it to pinch the bridge of his nose. Grimm was undoubtedly beginning to feel quite overwhelmed with just how chaotic the situation at the table was becoming. An assassin, three individuals who towered over him, a supposedly tamed mimic, Rella and the wolf and now this vampire scoundrel. It was obvious why they were all here.

Like Grimm, Rella and Marcy, they all needed to join a party and they needed to do it quickly, hence it shouldn't really have been a surprise that this happened... heck it was probably less surprising then the lack of a gathering when Marcy's sign had been on full display earlier on. That being said, with everyone coming over; it was evident that chaos and confusion would occur.

His concerns would undoubtedly be voiced by Marcy and unsurprisingly be dismissed by Rella; Grimm's two newest comrades being on two different ends on the spectrum in this regard. Marcy, like Grimm clearly had reservations on the matter whilst Rella was more keen to grab the bull by the horns and go full throttle with the formation of this party.

Either way, with the pair of them voicing their stance on the matter, Grimm after taking Marcy up on her offer of pouring him a drink would once more reach into his robe, grasping the small metallic container; eyes glancing among everyone present as he secretly made his move; the growing chaos causing him to want some alcohol now more than ever.

Though he would find himself reluctantly stopping his antics, eyes looking at Rella then at Rosaire. One of them at least, had a very keen sense of smell.. the pair of them... Grimm doubted they would keep the secret if they caught a whiff of the Rum hidden in his small flask. 'dammit..' he thought to himself, returning the flask into the inner pocket of his robe. 'next time...definitely next time..' he mused, before taking a sip of the non alcoholic beverage and proceeding to listen to the interchange.

...

It wasn't until Rella's last comments that Grimm slammed his mug on the table; a loud audible sigh escaping him as he felt some eyes fall upon him. "Rella.... I get where you are coming from... but I also see Marcy's point. A big party comes with certain difficulties that a much smaller party wouldn't... " he paused, sighing again. "yes, there are probably benefits as well, but we have to be smart about this.." he added, not really caring now if someone disagreed with him. He now had both feet through the door and a verbal agreement to form a party that presently included himself, Marcy and Rella. The last thing he wanted to do was have it be jeopardized by some rash actions and decision making. They no longer had the luxury of failing.

"... before we close the door on all the options... would it not be better for us to first get some answers?" he proposed, leaning back into his chair as both feet swung; unable to reach the floor. "we should probably gather the guilds thoughts on the matter... if they say no or there is a limit.. then that's that. Next, we should probably also gather information on you guys..." he glanced at Seirina, then at Wulfram, then at Ersatz and finally at Rosaire; the halfling glaring at the vampire. He had not forgotten their past grievances over some gambling issue.

"Marcy has already told you guys" he pointed at Seirina and Wulfram, "that we are presently a trio consisting of a fire mage, an earth mage and myself a Wardsman. How about the pair of you... as well as the two of you... begin by telling us what you are capable off. It would be hard to expect any decision to be made without all cards on the table... and we..." he paused, looking at Marcy and then at Rella for affirmation, "... we don't need to know about the past... just what you can bring to the table..." he finished, sighing and reaching for his drink.

Interacts: AnonyMouse AnonyMouse // GojiBean GojiBean // Goonfire Goonfire // Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette // ERode ERode
Mentions: BuggaBoo BuggaBoo (Lilo)


Code by Serobliss
 
"Last successful adventure," Nita corrected Sir Matteo. She hated the black mark on her record, but she knew being up-front about it was better in the long run. "We shared one more quest, but..." Her voice hitched, a pained look crossing her face. The next words seemingly took away her breath and thus her ability to speak.

Nita snapped out of it as Cherreign mentioned her own battles with Chimeras, plural. She sighed. "Oh... This is more experience than I could hope for in one lifetime... and more demotions than I could handle," she replied. To her, it sounded as though the mage avoided blaming guild politics and discrimination. Her own demotions led her to question the guild's logic. Why demote someone whose experience could prove invaluable to higher rank parties and inspire initiates?

Nita paused for a second to glance down at her own outfit. "This? A simple blouse. I wear half-plate armor for quests, but we're not on a quest yet, are we? Rest assured, though—I never leave home without my swords."

Glancing around the room, Nita noticed more people gathering, most quite storied. "We should grab a few more people. Those three might come in handy." She pointed to the table with the three women. "One defied her leader's orders—probably justified, one lost her crew to mutiny, and that one..." She then paused, eyeing the burly shaman. "I don't know much about her, but I heard her party and another disappeared around the same time. I only know she brings the zoo with her wherever she goes."

Topless Topless
 

☠︎︎​


'Flower' - Diviner (Shaman) - 'The Wildling'

Cps0YJH.jpeg

​
A Trio at the table, trying to Converge with 'Killers'...

☠︎︎​

 
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The room was shifting. The temperatures, fluctuating. Several of the cold spots had gone away while new ones had formed elsewhere.

For most Guilds the formation of new Parties was nothing special. Normally a gathering of potential new Party members in a reception area or cafeteria would get no attention whatsoever. But with White Lotus' current situation and all the Parties desperate to be the ones to snatch up the available Quests so they could get paid and continue building their reputations on whatever ashes of the Guild were left, a rather large gathering of misfits like this would certainly raise eyebrows. Not to mention the fact that in the world of Adventurers the faces of jealousy, greed, selfishness, and betrayal were a constant presence.

Listening intently to every turn of conversation, Seirina noted that the Halfling, Grimm as he was called, had addressed her directly and said it'd been a while. She tilted her head slightly in response.

Had it been a while? She somewhat remembered his face since her first ever assignment with her old Party was to take note of all the other Guild Members. But she didn't know his name until Marcelotte said it. No did she recall ever formally meeting him before. Maybe they met in passing between their former Parties at some point? Either way she offered him a pleasant smile and a light bow of her head as she continued observing the changes in the area around them while opting to remain silent on the conversational front until Grimm asked everyone what their Abilities were and what they could bring to the table.

"I'm an Assassin." She chirped.

The word "assassin" held two meanings in this world. If the individual in question didn't live the life of an Adventurer and as part of a Guild then the word was synonymous with "fear" in the criminal underground. They were a killer for hire who chose their clients based on heir own whims rather than a universally accepted or strict code, and were just as unpredictable as they were lethal. Depending on who you ask the fact that they were unpredictable was worse than their lethality.

If the individual in question was an Adventurer and part of a Guild, it simply meant they were a stealth combat specialist. Not as intimidating, but never the less they were usually still a respectable combat unit, and often had more to offer than just sneaking and stabbing.

"In terms of experience my strongest areas are information gathering and close quarters combat. My Skills are, obviously, focused on Stealth and pinpoint striking. So, if you need someone to slip in with a particularly feisty or annoying enemy and identify or attack their weak points, I'm your girl!"

Goonfire Goonfire Phayne Phayne AnonyMouse AnonyMouse BuggaBoo BuggaBoo Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette ERode ERode
 
She was glad to at least have at least partially relieved the fears of Samson being an actual threat to the group. Of course, she was fully expecting some measure of grievance with the creature among them, but she was actually rather happy to answer any questions that they might have regarding samson.
Phayne said:
"Is that.. thing..."
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A sharp chill abruptly surged up grimms spine. Oh no. Certainly not worded like that. In that moment, he felt a piercing gaze weigh on him, red eyes almost glowing from on high, dreadfully. It was immediately apparent that she would not take such a referral to her friend sitting down, regardless of his looks or nature. She would only take the referrals of 'Samson' or 'he' to her companion, and no. less.
Phayne said:
he coughed.. "is.. Sampson... safe?"
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The gaze abated quickly as he corrected himself. That chill remained, but the weight of her gaze had steadily disipated. The metaphorical weight lifted off the shoulders and her face softened a bit. "Such words..." she muttered lowly with a huff, before speaking up "Samson is plenty safe, as long as you arent sticking your hand into his mouth and shuffling it around in there or attempting to pull his tentacles off, he wont do much of anything that will bring you harm. I even took the time to make sure he was as disease free as i could manage."
AnonyMouse said:
you can scarcely keep track of it, yet we are supposed to believe you have control of this creature?" Marcy retorted. "Furthermore, I don't think I got your name. Or are you the companion and Samson here is the adventurer?"
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"Hmm! I feel as though you should have a better idea than most by this point of my capability, ms. Marcy." she said, slightly turning to her. She knew this woman more than well enough. Her frequent ins and outs of the library had forced a mark on her mind of the girls name and rather disgruntled face, given one was required to check out books, and the other was required to be there in order to attempt to check out books.

And in that time, shed shown enough of her cards that Ersatz had gotten a general feel of her character. She always put the books back in the respective spots- a small, but pleasant help. She kept quiet, and kept others quiet. She was a bit shove-y in the matter, however. Honestly, it wasn't uncommon for her rule adhereance to make a bit more trouble than it did prevent it at times, especially when it meant calling someone else out on something as simple as putting a book back a few covers over in the wrong spot.

In truth, she was somewhat suprised to see her here. Ersatz would figure that Marcy would be one of the quicker ones to get picked for a party. Swas clearly knowledgeable, and capable with what she knew, calculative. Somewhat expressive.. rather uptight... binding.... VERY strict..... blunt.......

Hm. On second thoughts, perhaps this made a bit more sense than she first believed.

Irregardless, she continued, a slight sneer on her face. "In all your visits of the library, youve yet to see Samson until this moment. Youve seen it rustling around my cloak, yet youve never seen a spare movement that warranted investigation? A shuffle in the darkness? A blinking eye watching you from afar?" She asked deliberately, the experiences holding a rather pointed measure of truth in their implications of how close she kept Samson. "Regardless of your experiences-" she started again "Samson is merely a bit squirrely when he hasnt eaten yet. I have been a part of another party previously, and they quite enjoyed samsons presence, should i recall. We only divided due to..." a slight breath. A pause... "...conflicting opinions over pay." she said. No question she was hiding something there. "Hence my leave to the library. I needed time." she stated, shaking loose some uneasiness, before clearing her throat "Ah yes, introductions. I am-"
AnonyMouse said:
"It's Ersatz! You don't know Ersatz? Geeez, you really gotta get out more, Horns,"
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"...Ersatz, yes. A pleasure to meet the all of you. Perhaps you and i could find some intrigue in eachothers notes, sometime, no?" she asked to marcy with a smile that, well. tried to look genuine. about the best youll get from someone whos resting face was as sour as hers, something the both of them had in common.

Once samson had been handed off to the others, ersatz gave a quick "excuse me, i have an order i need to get" before walking off to the counter, where they were calling out what she had ordered- the meat special and a pasta and salad with water.

Samson was quite keen to the handling, enjoying being held and coddled. It reminded him of much simpler times... and the experience of holding him itself most certainly was different. His skin glistened with a marked refraction of light into a mess of colors, even lightly shifting its hue to partially match the pants below him. Lightly damp, yet not enough to make one recoil in revulsion. Notably, he purred. Whether that was a noise he picked up, or was just something mimics did was known to very few, but it did show Samson's delight at the motions.

Though with all that said... he absolutely could NOT help but eye up that big slab of meat on the table. Heaven sent to earth. A big brick of flesh, ripe for the chowing and chewing and decimating in a mess. How delicious...! he could hardly resist the thought of the beast of muscle and fat tissue. In anticipation, Samson coiled up in rellas hands, as though preparing to act- only to be forced to relax again as it saw Ersatz returning with two plates in hand, letting out a low "mrruh..." noise. One with a somewhat less glorious platter of beef, mutton, and pork, and the other with a salad plated with pasta at the side. Ersatz promptly sat the meat filled plate in front of Samson, who used his tentacles to grab up the meat piece by piece, before shoving it under those flaps of his, squishing around slightly as he chewed it, any bones going along with it with loud crunches as though it were just slices of apple.

As the talks shifted to the size of the party, Ersatz debated on whether or not to give her input. managing a large party was tricky... but shockingly feasible in practice.
SHOULD the party be able to accomplish a few things.
Travel
Organization
And a careful management of risk/reward.
In her studies of adventuring parties before her first party, she had read of some a rank parties being 15 people or above... able to clear out dungeons within the hour. splitting down halls where applicable, dividing themselves as necessary with minimal risk due to numbers. of course, it didnt mean they were facing easy dungeons that could be cleared by two men. it meant chasing much more high value targets, ones that NEEDED that many men just to excavate it fully. each member would need to be capable and strike at or even above their weight.
For an f rank group.
Um.
A little bit more of a gamble.

"Hmmh... well. usually parties do thin out some before too long, whether it be disputes, necessary leave, or worse... death." she said with a slight hesitation towards the end. "Parties fairly regularly drop at least a member or two if theyre above 5. And, regardless, samson is not someone you need to pay" she said with a chuckle "Consider him a familiar over a fully fledged party member."

At the suggestion of a description of their capabilities, she nodded "Hmm! Not a bad idea. Very well then." she stood herself up "Im what you would call a charmswoman, a support class." she said, opening her book with a swift motion "My magic relies in the pages of my book here. im capable of body amplification and nullification." she said, ripping out one of the pages of her tome, and promptly slapping it on her one exposed arm with the other hidden beneat the cloak. Various sigils and notes on the page glowed briefly, before her arm- that which was rather thin and twiglike, to be frank, suddenly expanded, the muscle mass on it increasing by quite a bit! "this one can amplify strength and magical output, while a nullifying page willl... well, nullify it." she said with a proud little smile.

"And i also have one more thing. a spell of my own design." she said, flipping through a few pages of the tome, before ripping out one more. This one looked... unique, somehow. The sigils were somewhat uncanny. Strange. far from what you would typically see out of such a charmsbearer's book. As she slapped it on herself, there was a brief moment of silence, before the page glowed brightly, unusually, almost somewhat scarily, before-

krk- KRIK-!
KRSH!!
An entirely seperate arm split off from the original! It practically exploded out, stretching outwards with a somewhat shocking amount of force. An entirely new limb, attatched at her shoulder, stretching out steadily, grabbing Samson, and lifting him up, as though to demonstrate. "Not an illusion, not a farce." now this was- REALLY strange. Almost all magic- almost all SKILLS were non-physical- a fireball could cause an explosion, but at the end of the day it was merely concentrated energy released on impact. a grand sword slash was an extension of ones own energy and effort put into a grand slice, not an actual blade made manifest! A buffing spell could increase strength, but it was merely adding ability to transfer that energy through the body to give that enhancement effectively through magic. This was magic 101! any of the mages at the table new that well, but this-

An Entirely New Arm! Just like that! Had anyone done such a thing before...?

"Nrrgh- though... it is costly..." she said. Though the arm was easy to transfix on, it was clear Ersatz was focusing quite a bit to maintain it. And with a release of tension and a sharp release of breath, the arm collided back with the original, pulling the two back together forcefully into one being again in a slightly grotesque visage of the two body parts fusing. In the end, it appeared that it left nothing behind, the original arm safe and sound, if a bit shaky from Ersatz's focus. she shook it around a bit, like one would with an aching limb after lifting something. "It even works through armor." she said with a chuckle

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Wulfram cocked an eyebrow as the giant elf opened her cloak to reveal no companion at all. He opened his mouth to say something, but movement in his peripheral vision in response to her call quickly silenced him. She presented a glossy black monster with countless tentacles, eyes, and teeth—especially teeth. "So this is a mimic..." he observed, taking interest. When asked if he wished to hold 'Samson', he held out his left hand. "By all means." Though the hair on the back of his neck stood up, he pushed down his initial discomfort and stroked a tendril with the back of his finger.

Wulfram pursed his lips as the party thus far debated the practicality of more than four or five members. Were Rella, Marcy, and Grimm not all back-liners, he'd have thought his stop here in vain. He cast a scrutinizing glance towards this newcomer, Rosaire. By the sound of it, he had a history with Grimm and Rella. Wulfram traced this vampire's gaze, which lingered on Seirina longer than he deemed comfortable. He'd have to keep an eye on this one...

The words of Grimm caught the tainted man's attention. Indeed, knowing your allies' talents was key. Seirina spoke first. "An assassin?" he echoed in surprise. "Not sure what I expected, but it's a welcome skill set."

He surrendered Samson in time to let the eerie woman demonstrate her abilities. "Charms? Oh yeah, I've seen one or two charmsmen before." He watched the spectacle of her thin arm beefing up, imagining how he'd look with even more muscle. However, his thoughts were cut short and his jaw dropped in horror as another glowing page made Ersatz's arm split into an additional limb. "GODS!" he exclaimed, having covered his mouth in a rather animated fashion. "Never seen a charmsman do that. Dunno if I want to without a stiff drink. How did you even develop that?"

After allowing himself a deep breath and a swig of a fragrant liqueur from a flask in his hip pouch, Wulfram finally spoke up. "Hard to top that, huh? I'm just a 'bluntsman'. Not much to it; I stand on the front lines and rearrange faces with these." He gestured to his belt, which had both an iron mace and a wooden truncheon sheathed on the right. "I'm new to this whole guild thing, but not to fighting monsters. Used to be a militia sergeant over in Braam. You know of it?"

Braam was a small town known for several reasons, primarily its blackberry harvest and its breweries. Its proximity to a B-rank dungeon and its history of devil incursions meant it played host to many adventuring parties over the years. Its militia, originally a simple town guard unit, was well-prepared to aid them in every endeavor except the dungeon. Roughly a quarter of Braam's citizens had red skin and horns, and typically three to five other minor alterations.

Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette Phayne Phayne AnonyMouse AnonyMouse GojiBean GojiBean ERode ERode
 
The Wardsman
Grimm
No Party
Guild Cafeteria - Rella and Marcy's Table

Two hands clasped around the mug containing the non-alcoholic brew, Grimm would lean back into his chair and listen; ears perked whilst his eyes scanned the most recent arrivals to the table as well as glancing up towards the minotauress every now and then to gauge her mood on the matter. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if it was his place to have been so straightforward with the quartet that had arrived given he had no desire to take a lead role in the formation of this group. That being said, this newfound party had only just come into existence and he could not allow for it to be jeopradized so early into its infancy. Thus, he could not help but wear his 'serious' cap for now; studious eyes window shopping the potential new comrades.

Taking a sip of the alcohol free bevvy, he would turn to face Seirina; the dark elf the first to speak among them as she revealed herself to be an assassin. For many, such a reveal may have evoked a particular reaction from those close enough to hear, given the vast and often negative connotations associated with such abilities that frolicked between the line of good and evil, yet for Grimm at least he had remained rather composed. For a long standing guild member and one that was keenly aware of the particular stories that surrounded several members, the news of Seirina being an assassin had just as much 'shock factor' as someone telling him that the sky was blue.

Alas, it was once she began to go into more specifics, did Grimm finally inch forward in his seat, though both hands still remained firmly around his drink. Despite the particular stereotypes with her ability, it was good to hear that there were particular areas within the scope of 'assassin' that she excelled at; skills that he knew he lacked and doubted the two beastkin held outside of information gathering. With the right tools and the right stimulation, he would have probably spilled the beans many times over to any of the women here right now with or without a particular skill or ability to aid them. He glanced at Rosaire then at each of the women present. Knowing his lecherous ways, there was no doubt, they would all be able to gather information from him.

He glanced at Rella, then at Marcy to see their reactions before turning to face the other absurdly tall woman; the elf and given how things had progressed thus far, it was evident that she and Marcy knew each other to some extent. Though beyond what they had revealed, Grimm could not guess nor did he have the intention to pry.

Right now, it was more important to take note of what everyone here could offer to the party and how balanced/unbalanced the party would become should they join. Thus, when she revealed that she was a chamswoman -a fellow support type ability-, Grimm could not help but lean in with intrigue. Considering the pressure and stress he underwent being the sole support class in his former party, it was rather refreshing to see another potentially join the party. Curious to see what a charmswoman could do, Grimm watched with focused interest as she began to advertise her particular skillset, buffing and potentially debuffing friend and foe alike from what she had showcased; a support style that differed from his own.

Taking a sip of his drink, Grimm's eyes remained transfixed upon Ersatz as she spoke of a particular skill she had developed herself, one that Grimm was eagerly awaiting to see yet one he might regret seeing upon the reveal.

A torrent of liquid would quickly spit out of Grimm's mouth as his eyes widened in shock, the shocking appearance of an additional appendage sprouting from the Elven womans arm was something he would have never expected, let alone imagine in his wildest dreams. It was simply unheard of, such a skill. "W.. what in the world... that... thats an illu...." he paused as he watched the new appendage reach out and grab Sampson; the elven charmswoman quelling his question with both action and talk.

Mind blown, Grimm would do his best to clean up the mess he made before falling back into his seat the halfling feeling somewhat lightheaded considering what he had just witnessed. If the sudden growth of the arm wasn't shocking enough, the fusing of the appendages as the skill was ended was just as bad. "... that.. that's certainly a first..." he mumbled, his thoughts turning towards other applications of her charms. Could he perhaps generate more barriers if he had more arms? Would it hurt having another arm grow from his own shoulder?

Plagued by thoughts, he would quickly shake himself out of it before turning to glance at the red hued muscle man. If the pattern was to be followed, it was his turn to showcase a skillset that trumped even that of Ersatz and Grimm wasn't sure he could mentally handle it if that was the case. Thankfully however, normality had resumed and the revelation of his ability had fallen in line with what Grimm had assumed only a few moments ago. Just like his build had suggested, he was a musclebound front liner and by the sounds of it, a rather experienced and skill one considering his former role as a Militia seargent. "Heard of it, yeah... however I have not had the fortune of ever visiting the place as of yet." replied Grimm, who was still somewhat recovering from the earlier shock.

Three of the four had now spoken up and revealed their abilities, it left only one. Rosaire. Grimm had some knowledge on the vampires particular skills, given it could be argued that they were acquaintances... despite how much Grimm would love to deny being associated with this scoundrel.

"... and you Rosaire... I never figured you to be the quietest of the bunch... cat got your tongue? or is it the lack of alcohol that is keeping you so tight lipped?" jabbed Grimm as he glanced at the vampire. "Come on now... don't be shy now that its your turn to show and tell" he continued, piling pressure on the vampire.

GojiBean GojiBean Goonfire Goonfire AnonyMouse AnonyMouse ERode ERode Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette


Code by Serobliss
 
Well. While this wasn't exactly a warm reception, Althea had expected as much - she was acutely aware of how little she had to offer, compared to many of the guild's other adventurers. Even the fading White Lotus had its fair share of experienced and unusual members, and she could hardly blame anyone for being skeptical of her meager skills. Someday, she would be able to prove them wrong - she hoped - but that all depended on getting experience first. A foot in the door was a start, more than she'd had when she woke.

"I would be honored, Captain," she replied to Salka with a small, deferential nod.

The Captain, at least, seemed friendly. The intimidatingly muscular Diviner... Althea found it hard to meet that intimidatingly steady stare, but she made the effort, managing to maintain eye contact until the larger woman clapped her hands loudly, in apparent assent to her question. The sound made Althea jump a little in her seat, so focused had she been on not backing down. Freed from the woman's gaze, she looked down at the meat offered to her - the smell was tantalizing, even though she had just eaten, and it was certainly more appealing than the porridge.

Besides, it would probably be rude to turn it down... The problem, of course, being that there were no utensils around. She reached out to pick at the meat with her hands and got smacked with the ocelot's swaying tail. Well then. To avoid further conflict, she pulled the plate close to herself and (hopefully) out of the way.

As she made her best attempt to eat while keeping her hands fairly clean, the crow's uncanny voice attracted her attention again and she looked up, her attention immediately drawn across the room to the larger group gathered around Marcelotte of A'ethelgarde's table. Several of the folk there were nearly as large as the minotaur herself, and several of them had the look of fighters. As she watched, one of the tallest individuals ripped a page from a book she carried, slapped it onto her arm, and -

No, that wasn't possible. Grew another arm? Another solid, flesh-and-blood arm? Althea let a piece of meat drop from her fingers as she stared. No magic she knew of could twist anatomy in that way - what had that done to the woman's joints, to her tendons and muscles? How would she heal something like that, if asked? Her fingers twitched, curious to probe that impossibly complex shoulder - and then the second arm collapsed into the first.

But the wolf wasn't making for the crowd, she realized; there was another group, smaller, three women at the bar, who she approached instead. They looked to include two humans - both carrying blades - and one elf, who... Althea squinted, frowning. Was that the Immortal Office? Surely not; someone that accomplished would have a party, wouldn't she? If not, it would be a coup to recruit her. And she's far enough removed from society to pose little risk...

"They do look like a... promising group," she commented, still a little distracted mulling over what she had observed. "Captain, should we approach them if they do not follow LiLo back, perhaps?" Althea herself had no confidence in her ability to break into a gathering, but Captain Salka seemed to have more than enough confidence, and Flower's sheer presence would command attention. She would be content enough to be in their shadows, and perhaps draw less attention that way.
 
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BuggaBoo said:
Dancer. Dancer is Pack Alpha? Smiling Jaguar smiles on Pack Alpha.
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Salka gave a quiet scoff, the kind of sound that those on the sea once knew to be the portent of her judgement. Whether one might taste the edge of her blade or enjoy the small mercy of being sent overboard alive while she took her share of the plunder. "And now you're calling me your pack alpha? Doesn't that contradict what you just said?"

BuggaBoo said:
This pack. 3 here is... 'seconds'? Need fighter. Need killers.
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Every sentient being in this world was defined in part by their Ability, the gifts of the supposed gods. But only the closed-minded would allow that to dictate their preconceptions of every person they met. When it was found that Salka was a Dancer per her ability, the people of Maridu whispered that she certainly seemed to lack the bearing and discipline of a showgirl, a trained performer. And yet, it was the precision, balance, and timing granted by said Ability that enabled her to become the scourge of the seas, as Helia Blackmore once was. Her fame was growing, and many had learned to fear her blade and her gun, as her reputation as a duelist became greater. Was it the case that despite their far more suitable ability, Vega refused to challenge her openly because they feared defeat at her hands? Or perhaps they didn't want to kill her, and justified their action by the far more "merciful" option of poisoning her and setting her adrift, almost certainly to her death.

No, she could not countenance being looked down on like that. She shifted her shawl to the side, revealing her saber hanging off her hip in its sheath, and one of her revolvers holstered under her arm. "You think I'm just a pretty face and a light step? If it's a killer you want...I know a sword as well as I knew my enemies' hearts. And I know how to work with a crew, but I'm no one's 'second'. When the swords come out, you can talk to the spirits, and I shall leave the magic to you, Althea." Here she regarded the elf for a moment.

"But you are right about one thing, Flower." She took a moment to regard the table Flower gestured at. Two swordsmen, and ah, another mage. It seemed like she had been pointed to yet another treasure. Of course, the three may have already had plans of their own: a party of three was common enough, and quite sufficient even for harder quests if they were ones where subtlety or a more focused application of force was required. And yet, Salka would indeed try to claim their cooperation. Few things worth striving for were easy. "On the seas, every pair of hands is an asset. Allow me."

With that, she strode towards the table where the two swordsmen were, turning on the ball of her foot once before reaching them, brushing her hand past her head in a casual approximation of a salute. "Ahoy!" But she chose to address the mage first. "I spotted you spying on us there." She didn't, not at first. But assertiveness made a good first impression. "Might you and your friends care to join swords with us? And your precious magic, of course."

BuggaBoo BuggaBoo Solivagante Solivagante Goonfire Goonfire Topless Topless
 
Marcy (& Rella)​
Location: Sahlsbane, White Lotus Guild Hall, cafeteria​

"Rella.... I get where you are coming from... but I also see Marcy's point," Grimm said. "A big party comes with certain difficulties that a much smaller party wouldn't... Yes, there are probably benefits as well, but we have to be smart about this."

Though Marcy did not smile, she appreciably studied the halfling. He was proving to be one of the more reasonable and even-tempered people here... and not just because he agreed with her. His palpable distaste at the vampire's arrival also proved he wasn't kidding about leaving his booze-soaked, dice-riddled lifestyle behind. However, to her suprise, Rella also nodded, proving that she, too, could see reason. But Marcy wasn't naive enough to think this meant the beastkin was backing down.

"I know, I knowwww. That's why we have people smarter than me to make it work," the silver-haired wolf-girl said as she dragged more chairs to the table, scooting them into position behind each person who had gathered. If nothing else, Marcy had to commend the girl's ability to put her overabundance of energy to good use. By the time she was done and took a seat herself, there were more people than table. They might as well have arranged a bunch of chairs around a stool - it would have had the same effect.

Grimm went on to ask of everyone's capabilities, which seemed a logical place to start if they intended to form a party. The dark elf was the first to speak up:

"I'm an Assassin," Seirina said. "In terms of experience my strongest areas are information gathering and close quarters combat. My Skills are, obviously, focused on Stealth and pinpoint striking. So, if you need someone to slip in with a particularly feisty or annoying enemy and identify or attack their weak points, I'm your girl!"

"Oooh, close quarters. Me too," Rella chirped in as she picked at the lump of meat the wolf had deposited on the table. She tore off a strip and stuffed it in her mouth. "We're gonna... have fun... together," she said, between chewing.

The dark elf's skills offerered exactly what Marcy expected of her. However, what impressed her more was the woman's ability to sell herself. Seirina was concise, yet informative. Her delivery sounded somewhat rehearsed, yet still personable. Of those gathered around this table, she was one of the least eccentric, at least at first glance. Combined with her other assets it makes one wonder how she hasn't found a party yet, Marcy pondered. Surely, mere rumors aren't this potent?

Rumors and hearsay have no place at this table. Once such things were removed from consideration, Seirina seemed like a very good pick.

Ersatz spoke next, announcing herself as a charmswoman. Marcy's gaze lingered on Samson as the lanky elf spoke, unable to ignore its obtrusive presence as it gorged upon a platter of meats. Despite the librarian's insistence that Samson does not require "pay," Marcy's analytical mind could not get past the thought that anything that eats imparts a cost and, to be quite frank, she could not see any return on investment for feeding a mimic which can't mimic. Samson was a pet, not a hunting dog or messenger bird or a mount. Its only purpose was emotional support and entertainment... two things Marcy saw little value in.

And I do not find him entertaining in the slightest. But to each their own.

But even the most well-oiled and finely-tuned machine must leave gaps in its tolerances, room for inefficiency. Marcy was not so arrogant as to think she was above such things. Her fine robes and the golden trinkets adorning her horns were proof that she also contributed to the party's waste and excess. In moderation, of course.

Ersatz's demonstration of her abilities elicited shock and awe from many of those gathered here, but Marcy remained unfazed, even as Grimm cleaned up the mess he had made. Her only response was a a slight furrowing of her brows, a barely-perceptible bit of confusion which slowly degraded into... disappointment? The look upon her face might be misconstrued as jealousy by some --and perhaps, on a subconscious level, it was-- but mostly she struggled to find it within herself to entrust her life or the lives of her companions to such an unorthodox suite of skills. These anomalies required further analysis.

"'Vast potential, but lacking in purpose,'" Marcy said, parroting a phrase she had heard far too often in her own upbringing. Despite her judgmental tone, it was an ackowledgment of Ersatz's skill as a mage. Had she, perhaps, found a rival? Every party member has to have at least one, right? "Your, erm, unique, talents intrigue me. Should we venture forth together, I will have many questions... Ersatz," she said, testing the feel of that name, in case it grew to mean something someday.

"I just wanna know if she can make mah boobies bigger," Rella said with a wicked smirk at Ersatz. "Rest up, Book Lady, cuz I'ma need you to hit me with some of that 'support,' later," she said, lewdly cupping her rather underwhelming bosom. "Gonna get soooo many free drinks tonight," she said, smacking Ersatz on the shoulder, while grinning at Grimm and Rosaire.

The minotauress merely rolled her eyes and looked to Wulfram as he began to speak, a welcome distraction from this sideshow. However, the way he had gawked at Ersatz's demonstration, Marcy wondered if he, too, was considering some 'enhancements.'

She was mildly surprised to see he was a newcomer to the guild. Poor timing on his part, but that explains why I've never seen him before, she thought. He did, however, have experience of a different kind and she certainly welcomed that.

"Braam, you say? I suspected as much," Marcy commented, quite diplomatically. Due to her horns and complexion, she has been mistaken for a denizen of that town on ocassion. Most people can see I am obviously not, but every once in a while, I get a stupid one. *sigh* Aaaanyway... "From one horn bearer to another, welcome to the Guild. You may find it less eventful than where you're from, but it has its moments."

"Tell him 'bout the admission fee. Two bottles of blackberry mead," Rella said, extending her open palm, as if she expected him to just pull some booze out of his back pocket and fork it over. But she quickly rescinded it with a peal of shrill laughter. "Hahahaha, I'm kiddin, big fella. If we're doin' introductions, I guess I'm up, aye? Rella. Best girl. Punchy pouncy fire mage. Part-time tank, full-time fuckarounder. Rearrangin' of faces happens to be my favorite pasttime, too. Reporting for duty, Sarge!" she said, sitting up a little straighter as she saluted the bluntsman. "'Cept I use theeese," she added, cracking her knuckles. The reinforced gauntlets dangling from her hip probably suggested as much. "Born a Fire Mage, but I have studied the way of the fist. Like to be in the thick of it, ya know. I may not be as sneaky as an Assassin or as hard hittin' as you, my chonky red friend, but I know how to keep 'em guessin' and keep the heat off ya, so you can hit the ones who matter."

Marcy's concerns about a fire mage serving as a... 'tank'... were only marginally reduced. If nothing else, she had to admit the beastgirl seemed aware of her role and made a decent enough sales pitch to the people to whom her contributions would matter most: the other frontliners. She was with her party for a long time. They wouldn't keep her around solely for the laughs, so there must be somehting to it, Marcy thought.

"Well, I suppose it's my turn now," Marcy said, exhaling as she paused to adjust her glasses. "I was the leader of my previous party for twelve years and I am quite proud of our record: Ninety-eight percent success rate. Five casualties. Zero fatalities. I will not be leading this party for... reasons.I.shall.not.get.into... but I am willing to assist in any way I can. If you find clerical work, research, and general guild beureacracy daunting, my door is always open."

"Other hobbies include watching paint dry, doing taxes..." Rella muttered under her breath.

The little side commentary earned a sharp glance from Marcy, but there was no change in her tone, cadence, or visage. "As an Earth Mage, the command of rock and stone are my current specialties, though I am working toward expanding my repertoire into vegetation. I can provide ranged support and crowd control. The A'ethelgardian way produces mages of the highest calibur, with an emphasis on mastery of the basics through mastery of oneself. The mind is both a fortress and a factory and magic is not a plaything or a roll of the dice. As such, my mana manipulation, mental fortitude, and efficiency are second to none. You will find me to be a reliable asset on and off the battlefield."

Interaction(s): Phayne Phayne [Grimm] | GojiBean GojiBean [Seirina] | Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette [Ersatz] | Goonfire Goonfire [Wulfram] | ERode ERode [Rosaire]
 
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Phayne Phayne AnonyMouse AnonyMouse GojiBean GojiBean Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette Goonfire Goonfire
Rosaire looked at Marcy, his odd eyes gazing into her own.

Then, his eyes narrowed, his mouth turning up into a crescent-moon of a smile.

“Hey now, I’m actually agreeing with you here. I get the feeling that no one here’s a proper Healer type, so that’s why I’m so kindly offering to take two of these fellows outta here.” The vampire turned his gaze towards Grimm, a slim hand resting on the grumpy halfling’s shoulder. “Though it seems like my buddy here’s taken quite a shine towards you. All got our types, mm?”

Whether this party remained the super-party of Rella’s dreams or fractured into a smaller selection wasn’t any of Rosaire’s business though. He was simply confident that he’d be able to slide in somewhere. Call it a gambler’s intuition or something; by the next hour, he’d have at least one baddie to keep company on those long, adventurous journeys. And for now? He was willing to let the others introduce themselves.

The dark elf, somewhat predictably and somewhat not, was an assassin of the adventuring sort, with a positive inflection to her tone that seemed at odds with the femme fatale impression he developed at a first glance. It was cute though, that kinda act. He dug it, for sure.

The pale elf, also somewhat predictably, turned out to be a magic-kinda fellow. Though a Charmswoman by divine definition, she possessed a familiar that looked obscenely monstrous. And more impressively, her magic could…alter one’s physical force? It was a bit too loud and visceral to be stealthy, but the amount of uses one could have with a third arm? That surely made up for the strain involved. And there was that statement too. Working through armor. Give the enemy an open, exposed arm, still connected to their blood, and then poison it. A simple, clean method of dealing with almost anything!

Compared to that, really, Wulfram was just too typical, too regular. Big strong guy with big, heavy weapon. Probably some tragic story behind his whole ‘former militia sergeant’ thing. Maybe he was a good drinker, but he was probably also the super serious type. The sort to happily serve as a sergeant beneath the horny-lady Grimm was gazing so wistfully towards. Maybe those three should just form a party, and Rosaire could have all the remaining ladies to himself?

Rella, of course, was Rella. “Careful,” he said, winking towards her as she dreamed of how Ersatz’s unconventional magic could enhance her womanly attributes. “Don’t think replacing your bits with arms is gonna do many favors at all.” Rosaire appreciated her though. Adventurers were all about freedom, after all. If you wanted to maximize your divinely-granted gifts, you’d do so in the army or something.

Which brought up the question, really, about how such a well-educated bureaucrat with a magic that was just as obstinate as herself ended up being an adventurer rather than a merchant or a mine-owner or a military lass.

Honestly, an adventurer’s budget couldn’t even afford all the sparkly stuff that hung from her anyways. Rich girl running from the family to prove that she didn’t need daddy’s help? Another kinda story common for these sorts.

And now, finally.

“You know how it is, Grimm,” Rosaire said, teeth flashing. “It’s only gentlemanly to let the children and women go first. No offense to you, big guy.” A friendlier salute towards Wulfram, before his hands returned to his side, holding onto the halfing’s hat. “I’m Rosaire. One hundred percent success rate, no casualties or fatalities, least when I’m performing for the ladies. Ah, but before you say anything, Rella, drunken performances don’t count.”

Which reduced the sample size massively…but horny-lady didn’t need to know that.

“And as for what I actually do? Well, I’m a Thrower.”

A flick of the wrist sent Grimm’s hat flying in a wide, graceful arc across the Guild, before it naturally landed back atop the wardsman’s head.

He flipped his palms face-up. “See? One hundred percent success rate.”

And a moment later, a die fell from the ceiling, landing upon a ‘six’.
 
The (In)Glorious Adventures of "Sir" Matteo
(And the suffering of her best friend Cherreign)​

"Well that's reassuring of you to say that." Cherreign spoke as she glanced over to the growing group of adventurers. She nodded at Nita 's suggestion to gather more party members. "I agree. The more, the merrier, as they say. Martina, want to meet some new people?" As she asked, Cherreign would saw someone had approached the trio bearing gift. It was also by then that "Sir" Matteo had already took notice of her presence...and started gawking at her physique.

"O-O-O-OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" "Sir" Matteo's sound of astonishment had echoed throughout the room as she circled around the shaman with interest. "V-Verily such a well-toned lass as yourself have cometh forth to the presence of the glorious "Sir" Matteo, the Slayer of Giants and Dragons, the Destroyer of All Evil, the Champion of Justice and the Emissary from Hell!" She spoke proudly as she get herself close to the shaman, her face closed in one of her toned arms. "Such magnificent bodily built. Art thou can tasteth it." Out of completely nowhere, "Sir" Matteo stick out her tongue and proceeded to lick the arm of Flower.

Regardless of the shaman's reaction, Cherreign, disgusted, wasted no time to immediately tackle "Sir" Matteo down to the floor and hold her tight as the knight struggled to break free. It's a good thing that the elf is actually WAY stronger than she looks. "Unhand me Lady Cherreign! One must admire the body that only men could achieve!" "Sir" Matteo screamed. "By straight up licking her?! You need to be taught some self-restraint!" Cherreign angrily yelled as she kept her hold tight. She glanced over at Flower and said "I apologize for my friend here. She can be quite the loose end if she sees something interesting, such as yourself."

Goonfire Goonfire BuggaBoo BuggaBoo
 
"'Spying'? That would imply we meant to be stealthy," Nita answered the dancer's call, accompanying her two new companions in approaching the neighboring trio. Nita's eyes locked with Salka's as she beckoned her. "Please, let us unite at one table and—"

Sir Matteo made a beeline for the chiseled Amazon to almost comically admire her physique. Nita's eyes narrowed and her mouth went agape in response to the brazen act of licking the shaman. So much for tolerable eccentricities...

Taking a seat as Cherreign wrangled her friend, Nita gave an unamused sigh. "Well, that was... a memorable introduction, I'm sure. If your stomachs were not turned, then perhaps your ears will yet be receptive to our bid. I am Nita, and I believe you now know Martina—er, 'Sir Matteo'—and Cherreign. We wish to form a party, the same as you. We offer the martial skill of two polar-opposite swordsmen, plus the fury of elemental water."

BuggaBoo BuggaBoo Solivagante Solivagante Nellancholy Nellancholy Topless Topless
 
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Wulfram's grin nearly spread from ear to ear as Rella spoke in defense of a larger party. He took a seat in the chair provided, his posture quite relaxed for a militia officer. "Ey, thanks for the warm welcome. Now I get the concerns, but take it from a man who knows: a larger but well-coordinated team can move friggin' mountains. We won't get to that point overnight, but a great party and some potions are an investment worth making." The way he saw it, even a mediocre white mage was worth keeping happy, because angering one's healer could have dire ramifications—the literal difference between life and death. Perhaps that was why healers were so rare among the lot.

The horned man guffawed and slapped his knee at Rella's plotting to use Ersatz's skills for easy drinks. Her sense of humor was welcome against bids to split up and number crunching that made watching paint dry look favorable. "I think those types of guys are looking for bigger melons, not more melons," he remarked before holding his bottle closer. "Here. You joke, but a sip every now and then is good for morale. Ya won't see me plastered on the job, but off-duty? I'm like the strawberries: red and wild! Hah!"

Rosaire was another can of worms entirely—a showoff, but not without warrant. He smirked and returned the salute, silently wondering if he was counted among the women or the children. Given the likely mixed opinions he garnered with his oversimplified explanation of his talents, he drew his mace gently. "Think I owe you all further details. See this? Flanged heavy Mace." His finger traced over one of the flanges while he continued. "Shatters armor and bones, and my skills add force to further addle 'em. I'd do a fancy demonstration like Rosaire here, but vandalism won't win us any favors."

AnonyMouse AnonyMouse ERode ERode GojiBean GojiBean Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette Phayne Phayne
 
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'What a group' was her first thought as she watched and listened to the events and conversations unfolding around her. But at the same time she couldn't say that she found any of them unpleasant. The path of Grimm's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. But she didn't react. Plenty of people looked at her... assets... on a fairly regular basis. She was used to it. So long as he kept his hands to himself they wouldn't have issues.

Rella seemed particularly pleasant. She was bright, energetic, and almost too honest. But she was charming in her own way. The way she told Seirina they'd have fun together while nomming on her meal, and the way she spoke so casually to Marcy, as she called her, earned a legitimate chuckle from Seirina which caught the Dark Elf off guard.

When was the last time? She wondered.

The minor bit of hullabaloo about Samson had also caught her attention. But if she was being honest she thought he was kind of cute. In an odd, monster sort of way of course. But cute all the same. And then... The demonstration of growing another arm by Ersatz happened.

Seirina's face remained calm, but her body froze. No blinking. No breathing. Nothing.

She then blinked twice before rubbing her eyes gently with her fingertips, and blinked twice more once finished.

"Gods above." She muttered softly.

As the arm rather disgustingly merged with the original Seirina's calm exterior finally broke as her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she visibly urped and swallowed a lump in her throat before looking away from Ersatz.

Heavens help me, that was horrifying... Her eyes momentarily slid back to Ersatz. Someone PLEASE tell me she can't do that with other people's bodies... She thought.

When Rella asked if Ersatz could make her "boobies" bigger Seirina nearly broke into full on laughter. A scoff snuck through as she covered her mouth with one hand and turned away from everyone while breathing deeply through her nose. In fact, she was lucky to be facing the other way as what Rella said next about getting free drinks put her on the brink. If she'd been facing Rella's direction and saw the gesture she made... Well, the deep flush in her face and the twitching of her shoulders as she fought back the laughter made it clear.

Wulfram's remarks about being like strawberries when not on duty weren't helping either and forced Seirina to take a few steps away from everyone for the sake of her now aching ribs.

If nothing else, this Party was going to be a highly entertaining one provided they all managed to figure out the logistics. Speaking of...

Thank goodness the conversation started turning towards the very real possibility of Party formation. Marcelotte, despite being a former Party Leader, opted not to lead this one. But her willingness to support was appreciated. Seirina's memories of her old Party members lazing about while she and the Leader did basically everything weren't memories she cared to relive.

After taking a moment to breathe and calm herself, redonning her calm exterior, she rejoined the group and raised a hand.

"I'd like to pass on the Party Leader position as well. I'm not really cut out for it." She chirped.

"May I suggest we save Party Leader for last and figure out payments first? Based on my observations of other Parties the standard distribution method isn't really suited to a Party's longevity. There's too much room for the money, or a lack thereof, to create jealousy, resentment, hostility, and other negatives which can all creep in over time and tear a Party apart. How would everyone feel about an even split model instead?"

An unconventional method of pay for Guild Parties. But, she wasn't lying. Seirina had seen many Parties over the years tear themselves apart because of the weighted pay favoring the Leader and front line combatants and giving the least to the back line support units. If their newly forming Party, big as it was shaping up to be, was going to survive then they needed to eliminate as many potential negatives as possible.

Phayne Phayne Goonfire Goonfire ERode ERode AnonyMouse AnonyMouse Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette
 
once the arms had fused back together, Samson, having finished the platter of meat, promptly skittered back under the cloak of his adventurer owner, swiftly making his way up the cloak and peaking a few of his eyes out from the neck of it. something which Ersatz seemed to be willig to pay little mind to.

in fact, paying no mind to sampson was rather easy. as she recieved all of her reactions from across the table for this new magic- from shock and awe, to the disgusted, to the 'PLEASE dont use that on me', and to the inevitable speculation on whether such a magic could actually perform out in strenuous situations as adventuring- elicited a grin from her. not a smile, per se, but a grin, that type with upturned lips that said 'this mad scientist WILL be attempting this magic on you, regardless of choice'. it was abundantly clear that despite her disdain for being here, this attention from her work and... newfound opportunity welled a certain feeling within her.

surely it wouldnt be... THAT harmful, right? i mean she seemed to handle it relatively painlessly. hopefully she wasnt one of those people that didnt feel pain, right? right??

the not-so-subtle twinge of uncertainty lingered in everyone but the elf's mind, visible on each of their faces in different ways. Ersatz personally ignored this.

AnonyMouse said:
"I just wanna know if she can make mah boobies bigger," Rella said with a wicked smirk at Ersatz. "Rest up, Book Lady, cuz I'ma need you to hit me with some of that 'support,' later," she said, lewdly cupping her rather underwhelming bosom. "Gonna get soooo many free drinks tonight,"
Click to expand...

that grin, however, rather rapidly faded into the aether, replaced by a low scowl as the subject of... more awry uses for her bodily enhancement arrived. augh. she should have anticipated something like that. she was half tempted to give rella a prompt whap over the head with the spine of her tome, though they were not near close enogh companions to give her the grace of comitting to such actions yet. and checking her priorities, she stayed her hand, stuffing her tome back into her cloak for the time being.
"apologies, but my magic isnt for such purposes" she said, stoutly in response. "besides, my magic enhances the muscle attributes, not... fat tissue" she said, grumbling the last portion of the sentence. "if you tried it, you would sooner look like a troll on steroids than you would a slut worth the eye of a man!" she stated. "my work is for practical application and practical application alone!"

and yet, as she spoke, a thought rang out in the back of her mind. "...perhaps having something to gaze at every once in a while wouldnt be too bad..." she was rather thin. and with that came being rather fla-
.
-without hesitation, she buried the idea as though it were a corpse of the accursed, never letting it surface enough to be expressed in any manner, except furthering her rather irritated look on the subject.

"haaa..." after a brief breath, she was relieved to see the conversation drift in the direction of the parties management. she gazed around the area at the group.

2 front liners
1 flanker
1 physical ranged attacker
1 magical ranged attacker/support
2 supports.

not... the WORST lineup shed ever seen, by far. enough to be able to split into two groups with a clear team composition each when needed, and enough for each of them to hold up one another when need be. even if the lack of a proper healer was not precisely within the cards at the moment. though this was far from the worst of the conversation to be had amongst them.

speaking of, there it was. the worst of the conversation now! leaderism and pay this was the part she dreaded, both due to past experiences and simply despising the discussion of money. and yet it was necessary. already, two of the candidates were putting themselves out of the races. and being realistic, she promptly put rella out along with, making 3. with herself making no plans on announcing a non-existant desire to lead, she would instead, state calmly "passing on leader role" bringing up the total to 4. 3 remained.

GojiBean said:
"May I suggest we save Party Leader for last and figure out payments first?
Click to expand...

at the request of shifting over to the idea of payment, she nodded slightly "this may be best. what do you have in mind-?

GojiBean said:
Based on my observations of other Parties the standard distribution method isn't really suited to a Party's longevity. There's too much room for the money, or a lack thereof, to create jealousy, resentment, hostility, and other negatives which can all creep in over time and tear a Party apart. How would everyone feel about an even split model instead?"
Click to expand...

brief pause. interesting. Ersatz considered it. "mm, no. we cant. then whoever does take up the mantle of leader will inevitably feel higher pressure with nothing further to show for it. it will cause a sharp divide within the leader of the group and the rest of the adventurers for having to bury such a burden. the only way to make something like that work would for there to be no leader, and for us to come to decisions unanimously, or possibly democratically... hmm."

"its occured before..." she stated with slight uncertainty, moreso over them running along with the concept rather than the possibility of having heard of it. shed most definitely heard of it before. parties with no leaders- or parties where everyone was the leader. it was typically only allowed when all of the people involved were believed of being capable leaders.... or very particular situations for the guild. and this WAS a rather particular situation for the guild. particular ENOUGH, though? she couldnt say for certrain. she bit at her thumb. "the primary issue with such a thing is that it ultimately slows decision making- sometimes to a crawl, and even to a halt."
 
The Wardsman
Grimm
No Party
Guild Cafeteria - Rella and Marcy's Table


Casting an annoyed glance towards Rosaire, the unneccesary remarks of the vampire coupled with his actions had been more than enough to cause the halfling to get increasingly annoyed. While he had to reluctantly admit that there were times where his company did liven up the party, this was not one of them. For all intents and purposes, Grimm was trying to act professional during such an important occassion, to showcase his better sides to potential party members as oppossed to the side of himself that would occassionally succumb to his own inhibitions. Rosaire's presence however was a ticking time bomb, one that wasn't really helpful in the situation, given Rella's presence here as well. Two troublemakers that would undoubtedly rope Grimm into the mess.

"100% success rate at being a pain in the ass..." sighed Grimm, as he refixed the hat back into its preferred position atop his head. Whilst doing so, he would do his best to restrain himself from responding in a more fruitful manner. His colorful use of the existing vocabulary would instead be saved for another day. Instead, after taking another sip of his bevvy, Grimm would close his eyes and allow himself to get lost in his own thoughts; the same scenario unfurling within his imagination. Only, within this fantasy came the benefit of suffering zero repercussions for his actions; rather if he so willed it he could even imagine a chorus of cheers and adoration after he acted out.

A small smirk would creep upon Grimm's face as he lost himself to his fantasy, the halfling wardsman easily pleased with the freedom in which he could act within his own imagination. Like an overlord playing with mere toys, he would manifest an orb like barrier into existence; its golden glow encapsulating the vexatious vampire within its domain; like a bug caught in a trap. A bug, ripe and ready to be crushed.

The halfling, courtesy of the freedom he had in his own mind, now towered over his trapped little toy; the overlord that was Grimm slowly extending both hands outwards, palms facing one another and pushing against some invisible force. With every inch of his palms coming closer to one another, the orb like barrier would begin to diminish in size; compressing the air and those caught within as the space continued to shrink, crushing this helpless version of Rosaire until ultimately culminating in an audible squelch. The climax causing that small smirk to grow in size. If only....

Alas, such a sight would only exist within his own fantasy and would remain as such so long as he was at risk of repercussion for acting upon such thoughts within the real world. Instead, he would reluctantly leave such pleasant thoughts to his own imagination.

Opening his eyes once more, he would rejoin the present discussion halfway through the discussion about leadership, noting how Marcy, Seirina and then Ersatz had opted out of the role already. That left himself, Wulfram, Rosaire and Rella; a thought that caused Grimm to shiver ever so slightly. Knowing far too much abouth both Rosaire and Rella's shenanigans, Grimm could not help but feel queasy at the mere thought of one of them being the parties leaders. God forbid it would be a miracle if the party lasted a week with either of them in charge.

"I guess out of everyone here, that leaves four of us as the options for the leader..." sighed Grimm. "I'll, make that choice easier. I have no desire to be the leader of the party, I know myself well enough to know that I am not fit for that position" he paused and glanced towards Rella then at Marcy. "Had I not been called over by Rella, nor invited by Marcy. I'd probably still be lingering in a corner of the room; wishing for things to magically get better for myself...The lack of conviction to step forward on my own makes me a poor choice for the role. I am merely here to do my role as a wardsman, to be that wall that shields us from danger" he finished, taking the final sip of his drink and planting the empty mug on the table.

He would cast his gaze upon Wulfram, who despite his lack of experience as an adventurer probably had the best CV for being the leader out of the remaining four options, given his former role and responsibilities. Out of the available options that had yet to rule themselves out, Wulfram would have Grimm's vote of confidence. That being said, Seirina's comments about the split of payment as well as Ersatz's remark on the unfairness that places upon the leader would lead to very minimal progress on the matter.

"An even pay is probably the best choice of action for those outside of the leadership role... However I also agree with Ersatz that it would be unfair for the leader to take more responsibility for no additional reward" he paused, this time glancing at Seirina; then to Wulfram; then to Rosaire and finally at Rella. Unlike earlier, a new almost domineering aura would begin to permeate off of Grimm, the halfling glaring at the four aforementioned adventurers who would all be classified as the main combatants of the party; should it be formed. If there was a time for him to release some of his pent up frustrations as well as to potentially avoid a repeat of his former parties demise, then that time was now.

As if feeding off of some innate anger that Grimm had kept hidden and buried deep within himself, the next words that would come out of him, would be spoken in a cold and deadpan manner, devoid of any possibility for negotiation or compromise.

"As a supporter, I do not see myself as any less important than those whose gifts allow them to perform on the frontlines. Your gifts may allow you to snatch the glory, to bask in the adoration of others; however it is the gifts of us supporters that enable you to survive as long as you do. While it is true that our lives may be in your hands, it is also true that your lives are in ours" he continued to speak coldly, eyes hidden behind his shades still transfixed upon those four that he was addressing in particular. "If we cannot agree to an even payment between supporters and combatants outside of leadership roles, then I for one cannot agree to the formation of this party" he finished, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. Despite his small demeanour, this was one thing he would not budge on.

"I will not go through that again..." he mumbled to himself under his breath, referring to the clear disparity within his former party between combatants and supporters and how he as the sole supporter was forced to suffer for it.

GojiBean GojiBean ERode ERode Goonfire Goonfire Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette AnonyMouse AnonyMouse

Code by Serobliss
 

☠︎︎​

'Flower' - Diviner (Shaman) - 'The Wildling'

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​
A dubious Convergence of 6...
☠︎︎​

 
As the two trios converged, Althea stood and discreetly wiped her fingertips against the inside hem of her tunic, removing as much of the meat's spices and juices as possible. Though she'd eaten fairly little, it had been deliciously flavorful; if nothing else, this Party seemed like it would eat well, if Flower and her companions were willing to hunt for them on a regular basis. And it seemed that she had been right to accept the gift, as the much larger woman gestured her closer and pressed their foreheads together. The animals seemed to be friendlier towards her, as well - though the ocelot still swatted her with his tail. Nonetheless, acceptance from three of four was a badly-needed victory.

Her optimism was somewhat lessened by what appeared to be a conflict between Captain Salka and Flower, and she half-raised a hand as if to intervene - but the swordswomen and the Immortal Office had arrived before she could decide what to say. And they were... explosive. Althea stepped back, almost hiding behind Flower as the shorter swordwoman lunged for the Diviner with a shout of admiration. At least, she assumed it was admiration, though the attempt to lick Flower's skin was... the politest term was 'unusual'. The Diviner's swift evasion put Althea entirely behind her, which the smaller elf did not mind in the least, especially as the swordswoman and the Immortal Office crashed to the ground in a rattle of armor.

Thankfully, the second swordswoman seemed to be much calmer, and made a proper formal introduction. Once the noise had settled and Cherreign seemed to have Sir Matteo restrained, Althea edged around Flower and raised one hand in greeting.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. My name is Althea, Light Mage; and I believe you have already met Captain Salka." She stepped out further and bowed from the waist in Cherreign's direction. "And if I am not mistaken, you are the legendary Immortal Office, are you not? If the opportunity arises and you are willing, I would be honored to learn anything you have to teach." As thorough as her education in mana control had been, there was no matching the experience of a millennium.
 
Salka nodded as Coal landed on her shoulder, allowing him to move with her. Was it a function of Flower's Ability that she already felt reassured by his presence?

As it happened, it was not so much that Salka and her newly formed, still very vestigial crew was approaching the swordswomen and the mage. Nor was the reverse occurring as well. Rather, the two were taking the initiative towards each other, like two fleets meeting to parley. Or perhaps, to dispense with the broadsides of balls and chain shot and instead go for boarding action at-

-ramming speed!

The...eccentric knight-errant lunged towards Flower, a motion enabled by Salka nimbly twisting to the side as if to make room for a dance partner or to evade the thrust of a rapier by less than an inch. Flower, for all her bulk, knew how to move like someone who understood the fact that mass, at least to a living being, did not need to be an impedance to swiftness. She dodged the laughable "attack" as well. What ensued was a frankly laughable pantomime on the floor, the knight and the mage wriggling and grabbing at each other like the principal players of some ghastly puppet show. Such energy she had seen before in the eyes of many aspiring sailors, overflowing as they dreamt of adventure at sea and the wealth gleaned from its inexhaustible hoard by many means. Surviving aboard a ship armed for battle would either temper such boisterousness or fan it further, and either would be a useful asset if directed properly.

Of the three, the one most in a state to address Salka's group was the other swordswoman, the far more dignified one. Salka chuckled and smiled, drawing her arm forward and bowing slightly in a gesture made to complement her interlocutor's dignity. "Worry not, fair knight. If the sea cannot turn my stomach, what more a little...theater. I must warn you, a crew that has Salka's blade is never a crew that pays much service to the honor of knights. But somehow...I feel that will not much impede your friend." With a backhanded compliment towards "Sir Matteo", Salka continued to speak to Nita. "If you will join me in spite of that, then wherever the winds take us, I welcome the flash of your sword on our adversaries and the work of your arms that wield it. "

And of course the elf woman, who was the subject was a water mage. Salka had heard of the title "Immortal Office", though their paths had yet to cross and what Salka imagined was a polymathic scholar wasn't a top priority over sea hands who were ready to focus on the disciplines of navigation, fishery, botany, appraisal, and of course several disciplines of warfare. To hear that she was a water mage...despite what one might expect, Salka wasn't automatically impressed.

The Sea Sirens had clashed with a crew or two who had water mages among their number back in the day. Even at sea, they proved unable to perform rumored miracles or abominations like calling up a storm, or a tidal wave that could wash Salka's fleet away while sparing their own. And yet, having them draw up a wall of water to weaken the impact of bullets, or cause a boarding party to slip as they charged...perhaps it was Salka's turn to benefit from those little advantages.

"Up you go, then." Salka turned her hand up, offering assistance to Cherreign to get up off the floor. She leaned down slightly, her fins flaring slowly like a lizard's frill while Coal peered down at the mage as well. "Do you agree with Lady Nita, Immortal Office? Will you lend however much time of your venerable life to the duties that the Guild will doubtless entrust to my crew?"

She made no move to assist Sir Matteo.

BuggaBoo BuggaBoo Solivagante Solivagante Topless Topless Goonfire Goonfire
 
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Phayne Phayne AnonyMouse AnonyMouse GojiBean GojiBean Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette Goonfire Goonfire

“Damn.” Rosaire flashed his teeth. “Tongue really loose today, eh Grimm?”

While the halfling’s delusions were kept entirely in his head, the expressions that reflected upon his face nevertheless spoke of quite a sordid tale. The others didn’t seem to mind all that much though, especially not when the topic of leaders and money were brought up. The Vampire Thrower fancied himself a bit of a drifter when it came to parties, but he could see how an even split would be a bit of a mess when it came down to things. It wasn’t just a matter of the differing risks involved, after all. It simply had to do with costs. Could Wulfram equip and feed himself on the same budget that Grimm could?

Still, he didn’t dwell on it too much. Ersatz brought forth discussion and the rule of the mob as a way to get around being a leader, but Rosaire?

He placed his hand on the table.

“Well, I’ll put my name for leader then.” No doubt another action of his which would doubtlessly aggravate Grimm. “Used to be the second in command for the Ember Pact, ‘fore the boss man got hitched up by this countryside noble and people went their separate ways. The way we did it over there was to evenly split, then have everyone contribute a tenth to a Party Purse, which the leader had the privilege of owning.”

He picked his dice off the table, rolling it over his knuckles.

“Leader could use the purse in any way, so long as it benefited the party. Throwing feasts for morale, helping frontliners make big armor purchases, playing the market, you know the deal. Worked out pretty well, even!”

The dice balanced upon the tip of his finger and, with his eyes narrowing, disappeared with a flick of the wrist.

“So how ‘bout it? Even split with contributions made to a Party Purse, with little ol me to make sure it goes to good use.”
 
Rella (w/ Marcy)​
Location: Sahlsbane, White Lotus Guild Hall, cafeteria​

Yikes. What ya got against big titty women? Rella thought, her face contorting to comical degrees of confusion as she gave Ersatz a sussy side eye for shooting down her amazing idea. And what’s so wrong with lookin’ like a troll on steroids? Maybe some folks are into that. Don’t judge!

Geez, why do all the tall ladies gotta be so SERIOUS? The air up there must be strangling their brains. Fortunately, Wulfram --easily her favorite troll on steroids-- came to her aid, swooping in with a bottle of Braam's finest to pay his entry fee. "Mmmm. Don't mind if I doooo," Rella sang as she gleefully accepted it and began fiddling with the cork.. But she stopped and sheepishly glanced at Marcy and Grimm, like a child with their hand wedged in the cookie jar who suddenly remembered the awful toothache last time they committed this same offense.

She had sworn off of drinking until she found a party. But this is close enough…right? I mean, we're practically a party already! Why wait!? Rella thought as she pondered diving right in. Unlike some people, who drank to drown out life's low points, Rella drank to amp up life's high points. And what was this moment, if not a high point!? And Wulfram's comments about being 'red and wild' really had her raring to go. Rosaire and Grimm were a hoot, but she was looking forward to having someone new to cut up with. She had even gotten a giggle out of Seirina, c’mon!

But... maybe now wasn't the right time. One sip wouldn't hurt, but it also wouldn't help. If Rella held on a little longer, she could prove to them --well, one naysayer in particular-- that she was capable of self-control and the rumors about her were grossly overblown. I'm just as serious about this as you are, she thought, feeling the weight of Marcy's gaze bearing down upon her. Just not as fucking BORING about it!

"Save it for the first 'w,' Red. We gonna make strawberry jam, fam,” Rella said with a snicker as she passed the blackberry liquer back to Wulfram, just as he finished showcasing his truncheon. She wished she had at least sampled it a bit. Hopefully, it would be worth the wait.

But she immediately turned to Ersatz with a mischievous glint in her lidded eyes. "Seeeee, just the thought of me with massive mamms made him fork over the goods," she whispered, prodding the knife-eared beanpole of an elf with her elbow.

As the conversation shifted into talks of leadership and pay, Rella began to tune things out. She busied herself by fiddling with a stubborn piece of thread dangling from her well-worn shorts. Then, when she lost interest in that, she started rocking back and forth in her chair, making a steady ‘click’ ‘clack’ ‘click’ ‘clack’ as its wooden legs tapped the floor. And then, when that wasn’t entertaining enough, she tipped her chair up onto two of its legs and miraculously remained balanced like that, using only small adjustments of her arms and tail. Despite it being a marvel of physical prowess, this was still infinitely less distracting than the sound of chair legs tapping the floor while others debated the very serious issues.

Ugh… soooo serious.

Marcy, Ersatz, and Seirina were quick to take themselves out of running for the leadership position. Even Grimm shied away from the position. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he seemed different today, not quite as upbeat as usual. Shouldn't he be excited!? They'd found a party... e-even if there were still a few minor details to work out. So, why was he in such a mood? This was Rella's first time hanging out with Grimm in the daytime, or at least in a place that doesn't reek of booze and shouting gamblers. Obviously, he'd be different. But Rosaire seems the same... for better or worse. Every time the vampire opened his mouth, Grimm looked like he wanted to feed him a brick.

Meee toooo, but that's why Rosaire's so fun, haha! He's such a goober, Rella thought as she studied the back-and-forth playing out across the table. No one wanted to be leader. And that was fine by her.

Rella’s chair came back down with a loud thump when Grimm said he wasn't eligible because he 'lacked the conviction' to step forward on his own. "Huuuuuuh? Wut this?" Rella said, confused. "You strolled your happy little ass over here all by yourself, Grimmy. Didn't take much convincing. All I did is shout your name from across the room and wave my arms around like this," she said, pantomining the 'very subtle' technique she had used to lure Grimm into her trap.

"And he looked ever-so-delighted as he did so," Marcy commented. The sarcasm went right over Rella's head.

“Look, I have a knack for bringin' folks together," Rella said. "I'd nominate myself for leader, 'cept I kinda agree with the brooding book lady: we don’t need one. It's not like we're actually F Ranks, right? No newbies here,” she said following up on Ersatz's suggestion that they operate democratically instead of nominating an overlord. Technically, Wulfram was a newbie, but he seemed like a quick study. “We all know the drill, and most of ya seem pretty reasonable, sooooo... everybody can jus’ uhhhm, do their own thing, I guess? This pack don’t need an alpha.”

"You are... half right," Marcy said wearily. "But leaders come in varying degees of authoritativeness. We don't need an overlord. We don't 'need' someone to bark orders and issue commands moment-to-moment. But there is a lot more to it than that, Rella. A party's leader serves as its representative --a spokesperson, if you will-- for internal disputes or when outsiders wish to voice concerns or commendations. Or worse... if they wish to file a complaint about a party member's actions or seek recompense for damages. To whom should such a person report? You? Me? They could go to the guild, of course, but I would rather we keep such matters in house, if possible. That's where a leader steps in.”

At this, Rella briefly cast her eyes down in shame. How many times had her previous leader had to stand up for her, make excuses for her, bear the weight of-

No. She shook her head to clear those thoughts. That's not why it all fell apart. And, even if it was, now wasn't the time to think about it. She doubted that's what Marcy was trying to dredge up. Rella merely nodded at the woman's words. She didn't totally agree, but didn't want ot rock the boat either. She was torn. On one hand, she agreed a leader --a good leader-- should be paid for the efforts. On the other hand, who gets to decide what 'good' means? Her previous leader thought bearing that cross gave him the right to do as he pleased...

As the conversation shifted toward the pay structure, Rella began to tune out again. She really hated getting into this stuff, which is probably why she was slightly underpaid in her previous party. Her gear and attire could attest to the fact that she wasn't exactly living high on the hog. Rella was a simple girl with simple needs. As long as she had food in her mouth and a place to lay her head, she was good. But, she also wasn't naive. Not everyone else was so simple and when money got tight, parties fell apart. Based on the faces of the people around this table when the subject of pay came up, she could tell they each had had their own bad experiences.

But Grimm's stone-faced ultimatum definitely caught her off guard. Partly because she had never seen him like this, but also because his words seemed to be directed at her.

"Eugh, whatcha lookin' at me for?" Rella snorted. "Friendly fire! I got the supporter rate in my ol' party. You're preachin' to the choir, pal," she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest. For a moment, she kind of felt bad for him, until he started acting like every frontliner is trying to get a hand in his pocket.

Surprisingly, Rosaire spoke up with a great idea. That made two shocking revelations in the span of a few minutes. His suggestion actually calmed Rella down a bit... after she finished laughing at his offer of being leader. "Ah, Rosie, you're so funny," she said, clutching her sides. "Oh... oh, shit, you're serious."

"Denied. And stop laughing," Marcy said, looking from Rosaire and then Rella. The wolf-girl straightened slightly, but couldn't erase the smirk from her face. "You've a ways to go before I feel you have the temperament of a leader, Rosaire... but my vote is just one of many." she shrugged and shifted her attention to Grimm. "Let's stow the aggression for a moment, shall we? Your ultimatum is warranted. The attitude accompanying it, not so much," Marcy said. She spoke to him directly, unfazed by the halfling's sudden change of demeanor. "You clearly feel quite strongly about this, so if you wish to talk about it, I am willing to lend an ear later. But let's allow cooler heads to prevail now, please. Division between combatants and supports runs rampant in this world, but I have not seen it at this table... yet."

Rella stifled a small giggle and completely forgot about being upset. That makes twice now Marcelotte was trying to talk with Grimm alone. So sweet. Maybe Rosaire was onto something, hahaha. They say opposites attract. Rella's attention was locked in now, but for all the wrong reasons. She had a mental image of Grimm sitting on Marcy's lap and telling her all of his woes, like a therapy session with a big, comfy, couch with horns. Oh shit, here comes the laughter again. Rella looked as if she might literally explode if this keeps up.

"In any case, you have made your stance clear, Grimm, and clarity is key in negotiations, so thank you. I offer a solution not unlike what Rosaire has proposed," the minotauress went on to say, shifting to everyone, not just Grimm. "I reject even pay, because I was raised on the belief that greater results should reap greater rewards. Results are what matter. Not risk. Not role. I propose a democratic merit-based system.

"In my previous party, we split the purse three ways. The first third went to household expenses. This was, of course, because we all lived under the same roof, at my manor, and I was very transparent with where and how that money was spent. That was the party coffer, not my personal funds, and others could pull from it as needed, as long as there was consenseus and transparency. It covered things like rent, travel expenses, basic upkeep, and meals. Everything else is disposable income to do with as you please, because you will still have food and a bed... even if you squander it all at the bar."

She did not look at Grimm, Rella, or Rosaire at that last bit. This woman's self-restraint was second to none. "I have no idea if we wish to utilize the same living arrangment.. but that's not really the point. The numbers can be adjusted accordingly," she paused to lightly clear her throat. "The second third was evenly distributed amongst everyone who participated in the quest. No questions asked. Anyone who came, got at least that, regardless of performance. However, one third, split seven ways isn't much.

"That is where the final third comes in. You can think of it as a bonus. After each quest, we would discuss how best to divide it. If you want a greater cut, you can say so. If you feel someone else dropped the ball, you can even request they receive less," Her gaze swept across the party they had gathered here. "We have a relatively even distribution of combat roles and support roles, so I don't think there will be any issues. In my previous party, there were arguments in the first few months, but it all settled out, once everyone realized what is expected of them. The leader had final say, but I rarely had to step in. As I said, communication is key. After years of adventuring together, we often found the bonus was distributed evenly --unless someone had a hero moment or really fucked up-- but that was because we had gelled as a team and synergized well. That equal pay was not simply given as default... nor should it ever be, in my opinion."
Interaction(s): GojiBean GojiBean [Seirina] | Phayne Phayne [Grimm] | Goonfire Goonfire | [Wulfram] | Little_Red_Cassette Little_Red_Cassette [Ersatz] | ERode ERode [Rosaire]
 
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